#outer finite au

[gemteeth]

I've decided to do some digging into making a little more dynamic DC character. Cassie is a Speedster by birth but was also chosen to have Kryptonian powers. She's an eighteen year who lives in a small town in North Dakota.

#oc #original character #speed force #speedster #dc comics #dc universe #okay to reblog #okay to interact #my art #the phantom flash #cassidy deerhart #outer finite #outer finite au

[sugarwithtea]

namaste bangtan | ot7 collab

Namaste, The tannies are on a tour. Where you ask? India. A country they have never visited, but when we dive deep in the world of fiction, they are exploring the country with a sweet tooth for love and history. It's not a concert tour, if you were skeptical. It's one which will lead them to know the colors of diversity, colors of spicy street food and colors of a country with millions of adventures.

➳ A desi BTS fanfic collaboration hosted by @sugarwithtea , @btsstan12 (ao3) and @apotatomashedbybts

Title : Obbanti Author : @btsstan12 (ao3) Pairing : Author!Seokjin x Photographer!Reader (f) Summary : Broken. That is what Jin felt when he decided to travel to India. His only reason to travel was to mend his broken heart, and that he did, when he met you. With tender gaze and pretty smile you mended his heart, but only later did he realize that his mended heart hurt more than his broken one. He had travelled to forget the memories of one but returned with the memories of another and just like that he had another incomplete story. Rating/Genre : pg-15, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst Location : Karnataka

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Title : Dui Pakhi (Two Birds) Author : @apotatomashedbybts Pairing : Idol!Yoongi x Reader (f) Summary : Since the beginning of time there has been two different energies - finite and infinite, masculine and feminine, inner world and outer world - existing in duality but unified by love. In Rabindranath Thakur's words - "Only in love are unity and duality not in conflict." Just as the unpredictable spring rolled in, love brought another two opposite energies together - freed and caged, Yoongi and you. Mutual attraction stemming from admiration for each other's craft pulled you two closer and Yoongi found himself in India, walking with you, matching his steps with yours and soaking himself in colours of the outside as well as inside. But what if that particular gravity is not enough against the unrestrained love you both have for your own worlds? What if your wings are too weak to hold each other? Rating/Genre : 18+, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut, travel au, idol au Location : Shantiniketan, Bolpur / West Bengal

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Title : Teri Hasee Ka Noor Author : @moonleeai Pairing : Hoseok x Reader (f) Summary : Hoseok takes best friend duties seriously and makes it his mission to cure your winter blues. He intends well by surprising you with a tropical vacation but it starts off colder than anticipated. Hoseok fixes his mistake in time for the hot weather to stir something in both of you. Rating/Genre : 18+, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, travel au Location : Kashmir and Goa

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Title : The Pink City Author : @sugarwithtea Pairing : Author!Namjoon x Guide!Reader (f) Summary : The colour of love? There's a lot of debate on it. But when I ask you what love is, do you see hues of red? A splash of colours, golden, red and white — ones which represent love, peace and happiness? What happens when you mix the colour of love, red, and the colour of peace, white? You get pink. Namjoon is in the pink city of India, and even though he doesn't search for love, he stumbles upon it when he meets you, his guide for his months long stay. Will he be painted pink? Or will he go back colourless? Rating/Genre : 18+, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, travel au Location : Jaipur / Rajasthan

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Title : The Homeliest Home Author : @tangy-tangerine Pairing : Idol!Jimin x Reader (f) Summary : You have never been good at building, so establishing a home far from home was weighing down heavily on your impulsive dream of moving away. Just when the air of the new city begins throttling the joys of your life, you choose to give in for a week; a week of the luxury life that brings that glow on the elites of Pune. What you would have never expected was bumping into a group of bulky men and from in between them, a soft, gorgeous smile and dreamy eyes meeting yours. What better time to meet your favourite idol than when you need him the most Rating/Genre : 16+, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, slice of life, travel au, idol au Location : Pune / Maharashtra

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Title : Family Ties Author : @blog-name-idk Pairing : Artist!Taehyung x American-born Indian!Reader Summary : Your boyfriend Taehyung is everything you've ever wanted in a partner. Kind, sweet, funny, attentive – the two of you fit together like puzzle pieces. Except, well, he's not Indian, and your very traditional grandmother does not approve. Rating/Genre : 18+, fluff, angst, established relationship Location : -

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Title : The World Is A Garden Author : @madbutgloriouspond Pairing : Student!Jungkook x Florist!Reader Summary : Tired of working to live, you embark on that over seas that younger you was always day dreaming of. With a new attitude in a new country, you meet a boy bright like sunshine. Will something blossom between you? Rating/Genre : 18+, fluff, mild angst, strangers to lovers Location : Gangtok / Sikkim

Read Here

➳ no official taglist, please follow the authors or their personal taglists to be updated. ➳ all rights reserved by the respective authors. ➳ please show love to all the authors, thank you.

#namaste bangtan #bts collab #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #bts #bts fanfic #namjoon smut #yoongi smut #hoseok smut #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #desi bts

[martuzzio]

A Space Outlaws primer for My Reality, Yours: what you need to know

Read My Reality, Yours here

Hi everyone! My most recent fic My Reality, Yours is set within my Space Outlaws Hermitcraft AU, which has a lot going on: weird terms, Hermit lore, wacky sci-fi, and more. To help make the fic (and the AU in general) easier to jump into, here's a list of in-universe things to know! This post is currently spoiler free.

I'm most likely going to update this multiple times as I publish more chapters of the fic. If there's something in the fic you don't understand, let me know and I can add an explanation here! Conversely, if there's something here that you want to learn more about, I will happily elaborate in an ask or dm :D

My Reality, Yours hub

The Space Outlaws AU hub

Character backgrounds and lore

Non-MRY-specific character trivia

General AU ideas (Spoiler free!)

Admin: The leader of a political group of any size.

Common: The Universal standard for spoken language. Many people either speak Common as their native language or learn it as their second. As most things in intergalactic settings are communicated in Common, it is recommended for individuals who travel away from their home civilization to know at least a rudimentary amount of the language.

Comms: Short for communications. Comms are the technological devices people use to speak to each other, whether it be by audio, video, or text. Comm units are mandatory for all air-and-spacecraft. Most people carry a comms unit with them — all of the Hermits have comm units installed in the gauntlets of their space suits.

Dimensions: The Universe is split into three Dimensions: the Nether, the Overworld, and the End. These Dimensions are relatively the same size and lay on top of each other without overlapping. The Overworld is like our real-life universe (lots of outer space with galaxies scattered throughout), while the Nether and End are inspired by Minecraft (seemingly endless generations of their respective environments, though with much more biome/region variation). At the very outskirts of each Dimension, the exterior edges gradually trail off into Void.

Galactic: An alphabet used by countless languages across all three Dimensions. Common's written form uses Galactic, which makes Galactic the Universal standard for written language. Many people either use Galactic as their native alphabet or learn it as their second. As most things in intergalactic settings are written in Galactic, it is recommended for individuals who travel away from their home civilization to know how to read and write it at the basic level.

The Hermits: A legendary group of interdimensional outlaws. The Hermits are one of the longest (if not the longest) established independent political organizations in the Universe. They’re lauded for their range of positive influence despite their miniscule numbers — over the course of millions of years, the Hermts’ ranks have almost never exceeded fifty individuals at once, yet the group has majorly impacted countless civilizations from all three Dimensions. Because of this influence, the Hermits and its members are considered household names. The Hermit Trading Card Game is one of the most popular interdimensional games on the market, which several of the current 26 Hermits consider to be one of their biggest achievements in life.

The Hermit Craft: Xisumavoid’s spaceship and home base for the Hermits. The Craft is a massive outer-space-only ship that can easily accommodate hundreds of thousands of people. No one knows how it was constructed or where its ultra-advanced technology came from. The Craft is fully self-sustaining and includes areas like the bridge, archives, kitchens, greenhouses, the engine bay, hangars, machine bays, labs, personal quarters, and more.

Rifts: Portals that connect one Dimension to another. Rifts are the only way to travel between Dimensions. There’s a finite number of Rifts in the Universe so civilizations tend to cluster near them, making them important trading routes and cultural hubs. They vary wildly in size, shape, and color, so many of the most well-trafficked Rifts are given unique names by the locals. The larger and more important Rifts often have a dedicated space station manned by Rift Guards to help organize the flow of traffic.

Space suits/space armor: Interchangeable names for the highly advanced suits the Hermits and other space-faring individuals wear. These suits can vary wildly in appearance and function, but they’re all designed to withstand extreme situations — from the vacuum of empty space to intense combat. Many of the Hermits obtained their suits before joining the Hermits group, which is why almost none of them match visually.

Void: True nothingness, where nothing can survive. The Void is completely barren of everything (down to even the smallest particles) and therefore is impossible to inhabit or explore. “Void” is often included in swears and other exclamations. For example, “good Void” is a common exclamation of surprise, frustration, anger, etc.

#hermitcraft #space outlaws #my reality yours #my art #this post will likely update several times

[spacenutspod]

When you think of a black hole, you might think its defining feature is its event horizon. That point of no return not even light can escape. While it’s true that all black holes have an event horizon, a more critical feature is the disk of hot gas and dust circling it, known as the accretion disk. And a team of astronomers have made the first direct measure of one. According to Newton, if you drop an object from rest near a planet or star, the object will fall straight down, tracing a linear path until it strikes the planet or star. Einstein says something slightly different. That straight path is only possible if the planet or star isn’t rotating. If it is rotating, then space near the planet or star is twisted. It’s an effect known as frame dragging, and it means our object will be pulled around an object as it falls. We have measured frame dragging on satellites near Earth, so we know it is a real effect. Near fast-rotating black holes the frame-dragging effect can be immense. This means as gas and dust start to fall toward the black hole it’s swept out into a disk around the equatorial plane of the black hole. All the gas and dust are superheated, which builds up tremendous pressure. An accretion disk can generate strong magnetic fields, emit powerful X-rays, and even power jets of gas that stream away from the black hole at nearly the speed of light. Most of the black holes we’ve identified in the Universe have been through the high-energy effects of their accretion disks. But the physics of black hole accretion disks are complex, and we don’t yet fully understand their dynamics or even have a precise gauge of their size. We do have a basic gauge of the size of accretion disks. One of the things we’ve noticed with quasars is that they can fluctuate in brightness. Quasars are supermassive black holes with a radio-bright accretion disk. Given the finite speed of light, the rate of fluctuations gives us an upper bound on the size of the accretion disk. So for example, if a quasar fluctuates on the scale of a year, we know the accretion disk can’t be larger than about a light-year across. The most accurately measured fluctuating quasar is 3C 273, and we know its accretion disk is about 1.5 light-years across, or about 100,000 AU. But this is only an upper bound, and the accretion disk could be smaller. Without a direct measure of an accretion disk, we rely on computer simulations to estimate its size. But this recent work has measured the accretion disk of a supermassive black hole directly, which gives us a step up in understanding black holes. The double peak spectra of the oxygen emission line. Credit: dos Santos, et al To achieve this, the team used a different approach. Rather than using brightness fluctuations, they measured the emission lines of a supermassive black hole at the center of a galaxy known as III Zw 002. Using the Gemini North telescope, they were able to study a particularly bright emission line of hydrogen and one of oxygen. Both of these spectra presented a double peak feature. This double peak is caused by the rotation of the accretion disk. As the disk rotates, light from the portion of the disk rotating toward us is shifted toward the blue spectrum, while light on the portion of the disk rotating away from us is redshifted. The effect is most significant on the outer edges of the disk, hence the appearance of a double peak. From this spectral data, the team determined that the black hole is about 400 – 900 million solar masses, and its axis of rotation is tilted about 18 degrees relative to our line of sight. The peaks of the hydrogen line are about 16.8 light-days from the black hole, and the peaks of the oxygen line are about 18.9 light-days from the black hole. That means the accretion disk is around 40 light-days across. This result is just the first step. The team continues to observe III Zw 002 and hopes to be able to study how the accretion disk precesses around the black hole over time, which will tell us about the dynamics between the two. Reference: dos Santos, Denimara Dias, et al. “First Observation of a Double-peaked O i Emission in the Near-infrared Spectrum of an Active Galaxy.” The Astrophysical Journal Letters 953.1 (2023): L3. The post Astronomers Precisely Measure a Black Hole's Accretion Disk appeared first on Universe Today.

#space #astronomy #news #science

[house-of-1000-corpses]

241 songs bangers for any occasion

1.MASTODON - Blood and Thunder 03:48 2.RED FANG - Wires 05:43 3.DYING FETUS - Second Skin 04:42 4.OBITUARY - Sentence Day 02:49 5.DEATH - Pull The Plug 04:26 6.AMORPHIS - Black Winter Day 03:50 7.MYRKUR - Leaves of Yggdrasil 04:00 8.NOTHING - Say Less 04:15 9.TORCHE - Admission 04:00 10.BARONESS - March to the Sea 03:11 11.THE DILLINGER ESCAPE PLAN - 43% Burnt 04:31 12.PIG DESTROYER - Trojan Whore 01:34 13.NASUM - Scoop 02:21 14.NILE - Cast Down The Heretic 05:45 15.SUFFOCATION - Catatonia 03:55 16.INCANTATION - Entrails of the Hag Queen 04:33 17.NEUROSIS - Through Silver In Blood 12:11 18.HIGH ON FIRE - Blessed Black Wings 07:43 19.YOB - Ablaze 10:13 20.WINDHAND - Diablerie 05:20 21.MONOLORD - THE LAST LEAF 05:14 22.BONGZILLA - Amerijuanican 06:46 23.GATECREEPER - From The Ashes 03:59 24.EXHUMED - Ravenous Cadavers 01:49 25.FULL OF HELL - Burning Myrrh 02:12 26.INTEGRITY - Hymn, For The Children of the Black Flame 02:16 27.GISM - Endless Blockades For The Pussyfooter 03:46 28.CONTROL DENIED - Expect The Unexpected 07:16 29.NECROPHAGIST - Only Ash Remains 04:11 30.OBSCURA - The Anticosmic Overload 04:16 31.REVOCATION - The Grip Tightens 04:10 32.GRUESOME - A Waste of Life 06:00 33.ZOMBI - Breakthrough & Conquer 03:46 34.GENGHIS TRON - Board Up The House 05:54 35.SURVIVE - A.H.B. 04:25 36.THE ALBUM LEAF - Ambo 04:53 37.CEREMONY - Turn Away The Bad Thing 04:02 38.BORIS WITH MERZBOW - Away From You 07:35 39.ROYAL THUNDER - Parsonz Curse 06:57 40.KING WOMAN - Hierophant 07:59 41.CLOAKROOM - Seedless Star 07:37 42.AUTHOR & PUNISHER - The Speaker Is Systematically Broken 04:14 43.DISFEAR - Deadweight 02:52 44.IRON REAGAN - A Dying World 02:24 45.TOXIC HOLOCAUST - Nuke The Cross 02:47 46.CANDY - Super-Stare 04:01 47.RINGWORM - Death Becomes My Voice 05:19 48.INTER ARMA - Citadel 06:40 49.PRIMITIVE MAN - Menacing 08:00 50.UNEARTHLY TRANCE - Famine 06:14 51.LYCUS - Solar Chamber 10:41 52.DEVOURMENT - Cognitive Sedation Butchery 04:53 53.SKINLESS - The Optimist 05:42 54.DEVIL MASTER - Black Flame Candle 02:46 55.OUTER HEAVEN - Bloodspire 04:15 56.GENOCIDE PACT - Conquered and Disposed 04:37 57.COFFINS - Hour of Execution 04:55 58.MAMMOTH GRINDER - Superior Firepower 02:38 59.LIVING GATE - Heaven Ablaze 03:35 60.REPULSION - Maggots In Your Coffin 01:45 61.AGORAPHOBIC NOSEBLEED - Agorapocalypse Now 02:25 62.MISERY INDEX - Fed To The Wolves 03:47 63.MORTICIAN - Rabid 02:01 64.BRUTAL TRUTH - Sugardaddy 02:36 65.HUMAN REMAINS - Rote 03:31 66.-(16)- - Me and the Dog Die Together 03:05 67.ALABAMA THUNDERPUSSY - Motor-Ready 04:21 68.ASG - Avalanche 04:17 69.CEPHALIC CARNAGE - Endless Cycle Of Violence 04:14 70.CHERUBS - Sooey Pig 04:44 71.COUGH - Haunter of the Dark 07:50 72.CRIPPLE BASTARDS - Non Coinvolto 02:04 73.DISEMBOWELMENT - Your Prophetic Throne Of Ivory 07:40 74.EX EYE - Opposition/Perihelion; The Coil 12:29 75.GADGET - Pillars Of Filth 01:20 76.GRAVES AT SEA - The Curse That Is 11:14 77.HAEMORRHAGE - WE ARE THE GORE 02:15 78.HORSEBACK - Mithras 05:04 79.ILSA - SHIBBOLETH 02:39 80.INDIAN - The Impetus Bleeds 06:40 81.INVERLOCH - Distance Collapsed (In Rubble) 08:39 82.IRON MONKEY - Crown of Electrodes 04:21 83.JOHN FRUM - Presage of Emptiness 04:47 84.LOCRIAN - Arc of Extinction 07:16 85.MARUTA - Hope Smasher 02:19 86.MIRACLE - Light Mind 04:49 87.THE OBSESSED - Sodden Jackal 04:23 88.PINKISH BLACK - Concept Unification 05:13 89.PUBLICIST UK - Slow Dancing To This Bitter Earth 03:36 90.RWAKE - Leviticus 07:17 91.SUMERLANDS - The Seventh Seal 03:46 92.TERMINAL BLISS - Clean Bill of Wealth 00:51 93.TRAPPIST - Victims Of A Bomber Raid 01:38 94.TRUE WIDOW - Four Teeth 06:16 95.WEEKEND NACHOS - Jock Powerviolence 01:23 96.WRONG - Culminate 02:33 97.USNEA - Lathe of Heaven 09:44 98.VICTIMS - The Horse And Sparrow Theory 03:41 99.ZEKE - Two Lane Blacktop 01:37 100.ZONAL - System Error -ft. Moor Mother 04:06 101.ARCADEA - Infinite End 03:28 102.BLACK SALVATION - In A Casket's Ride 07:03 103.BRAIN TENTACLES - Fruitcake 02:35 104.ABSCESS - Naked Freak Show 01:15 105.ABYSMAL DAWN - Inanimate 04:15 106.AGENDA OF SWINE - Gethsemane 01:08 107.ANAL CUNT - Radio Hit 01:11 108.ANATOMY OF HABIT - Radiate and Recede 20:11 109.ANTIGAMA - Pursuit 01:16 110.ATRIARCH - Entropy 05:53 111.BEDEMON - Child Of Darkness 04:12 112.BENUMB - Once And Never Again 01:00 113.BIRDS OF PREY - Hustling the Coroner To Overlook the Strychnine 03:27 114.BLACK ANVIL - May Her Wrath Be Just 04:25 115.BLACK TUSK - Bring Me Darkness 03:05 116.BLOOD DUSTER - Porn Store Stiffi 01:33 117.BLOODIEST - BROKEN TEETH 07:31 118.BRIAN POSEHN - Cuddling 03:55 119.BROUGHTON'S RULES - Reversers 03:50 120.BURIED INSIDE - IV 06:07 121.BURNT BY THE SUN - Soundtrack To The Worst Movie Ever 02:32 122.BURST - Where The Wave Broke 03:36 123.BUZZOVEN - Mainline 05:30 124.CALL OF THE VOID - Bottom Feeder 01:42 125.CAR BOMB - Gum Under The Table 03:27 126.CHRIS CONNELLY - Wait For Amateur 02:05 127.CIRCLE OF ANIMALS - No Faith 04:21 128.CHRISTIAN MISTRESS - Over & Over 02:41 129.COALESCE - Have Patience 03:11 130.COLDWORKER - The Interloper 02:38 131.COLISEUM - Defeater 02:01 132.COLUMNS - Mudfucker 01:18 133.CRETIN - Ghost of Teeth and Hair 03:54 134.CRYPTIC SLAUGHTER - Lowlife 02:32 135.CULTED - BROODING HEX 19:13 136.DAVIE ALLAN - Buzz Saw Effect 02:36 137.DAYLIGHT DIES - Four Corners 08:11 138.DEAD WORLD - The Machine 08:06 139.DEATH BREATH - Death Breath 02:55 140.DEKAPITATOR - The Storm Before the Calm 06:39 141.DISRUPT - Domestic Prison 02:00 142.DON CABALLERO - Railroad Cancellation 05:16 143.DUKATALON - ZX 06:23 144.DYSRHYTHMIA - Appeared at First 03:06 145.EAST WEST BLAST TEST - Magnetic Field 00:51 146.ECSTATIC VISION - Don't Kill The Vibe 05:00 147.EMBALMER - There Was Blood Everywhere 01:51 148.ENEMY SOIL - Sentencing 01:39 149.EXIT-13 - When I Get Low, I Get High 02:36 150.EXPULSION - Altar of Slaughter 01:43 151.FACEDOWNINSHIT - NPON 04:19 152.FATHER BEFOULED - Sacrilegious Defilement of Deranged Salvation 03:20 153.FLESH PARADE - Backstabber 01:14 154.FUCK THE FACTS - The Wrecking 04:39 155.GENERAL SURGERY - Slithering Maceration Of Ulcerous Facial Tissue 01:11 156.GENOCIDE SUPERSTARS - Hatestomp 03:08 157.GOD MACABRE - Lost 04:01 158.GOBLIN REBIRTH - Requiem for X 04:16 159.GRAVES OF VALOR - Suffocation of the Last King 03:45 160.HAIL! HORNET - Beast Of Bourbon 03:11 161.HARVEY MILK - The Anvil Will Fall 07:34 162.HALO - Buried In Light 04:37 163.HEMDALE - Delicious Gory Fun 01:11 164.HERO DESTROYED - That's An Axe 03:27 165.HOODED MENACE - Elysium Of Dripping Death 11:33 166.HOPE DRONE - Riverbeds Hewn in Marrow 10:39 167.HOWL - Horns Of Steel 03:26 168.HUMAN REMAINS - Weeding Out The Thorns 02:37 169.INEVITABLE END - The Severed Inception 04:04 170.JOEL GRIND - The Invisible Landscape 02:12 171.JUCIFER - Blackpowder 02:16 172.KARABOUDJAN - Den Svarta Ön 07:32 173.KILL THE CLIENT - Vicious Slaughter 01:06 174.KINGDOM OF SORROW - Enlightened To Extinction 03:47 175.KRIEG - CIRCLE OF GUILT 05:20 176.LENG TCH'E - The Fist of the Leng Tch'e 01:50 177.LIBERTEER - Build No System 01:34 178.LOOKING FOR AN ANSWER - Tapias De Cementerio 02:07 179.LORD DYING - POISONED ALTARS 03:47 180.LULL - Moment 1 01:08 181.MAGRUDERGRIND - Sacrificial Hire 01:32 182.MAN MUST DIE - Kill It Skin It Wear It 04:18 183.MANTAS - Evil Dead (Death By Metal Demo) 03:22 184.MERZBOW - Woodpecker No. 1 06:43 185.MINDROT - Anguish 07:11 186.MINSK - Within And Without 07:57 187.MORGION - The Serpentine Scrolls 10:33 188.MORTA SKULD - Sacrificial Rite 03:26 189.MOSE GIGANTICUS - The Left Path 04:13 190.MUMAKIL - Brothers in Slavery 01:20 191.MURDER CONSTRUCT - Compelled by Mediocrity 02:44 192.N2K2 - Mourning 03:54 193.NOISEAR - Inevitable Extinction 01:00 194.NUM SKULL - Ritually Abused 04:27 195.NUX VOMICA - Sanity Is For The Passive 12:40 196.OBLITERATION - Goat Skull Crown 04:40 197.OPPROBRIUM - Voices From The Grave 03:23 198.ORIGIN - Finite 03:08 199.PAN.THY.MONIUM - The Battle Of Geeheeb 11:55 200.PENTAGRAM - Forever My Queen 02:25 201.PHOBIA - Rehashed 01:05 202.POISON BLOOD - The Scourge and the Gestalt 03:40 203.PRIMATE - Draw Back A Stump 01:26 204.PUTRID PILE - The Satisfying Dead 02:50 205.PYRRHON - Balkanized 04:46 206.RABBITS - A Tale Of Tales 04:44 207.RAZOR - Hypertension 03:19 208.REGURGITATE - Putrid Serenity 01:44 209.ROTTEN SOUND - Superior 01:28 210.RUMPELSTILTSKIN GRINDER - Grab a Shovel (We've Got Bodies to Bury) 04:51 211.SATAN'S SATYRS - Succubus 03:40 212.SAYYADINA - Their Control 01:04 213.SCOTT HULL - Il funerale di Bonnie 03:47 214.SACRILEGE - Shadow From Mordor 04:50 215.SERPENTINE PATH - Essence Of Heresy 03:47 216.SOILENT GREEN - It Was Just An Accident 04:12 217.SPAWN OF POSSESSION - Apparition 08:24 218.STEVE MOORE - It's Complicated 02:41 219.SUBARACHNOID SPACE - A 09:16 220.TERMINAL SOUND SYSTEM - Silt 06:43 221.THE COUNTY MEDICAL EXAMINERS - Morgagnic Anatomics 04:14 222.THE END - Throwing Stones 03:29 223.THE GREAT TYRANT - Closing In 07:42 224.THE HIGH CONFESSIONS - Chlorine And Crystal 09:35 225.TITAN - Wooded Altar Beyond The Wander 08:00 226.TOMBS - Merrimack 03:56 227.TRIAL OF THE BOW - Father of the Flower 04:07 228.TRIBES OF NEUROT - Primordial Uncarved Block 06:24 229.ULCERATE - ABROGATION 05:50 230.ULTRAMANTIS BLACK - Prescription Culture 01:04 231.UNKIND - Vihan Lapset 02:45 232.UPHILL BATTLE - Ripped Off Face 03:29 233.VVEREVVOLF GREHV - Audio Processor 04:45 234.VIDNA OBMANA - The Insane Brightness 05:33 235.VIRAL LOAD - Methlab Machete Massacre 03:07 236.VOIVOD - God Phones 05:07 237.WEAPON - Vanguard Of The Morning Star 04:19 238.WOLVSERPENT - Within the Light of Fire 16:24 239.BASTARD NOISE, SICKNESS - Death's Door 16:09 240.PSYWARFARE - Au Regal Des Voraces 20:02 241.THE SOUL REBELLION ORCHESTRA - DOLEMITE 03:01

#mastodon #red fang #obituary #dying fetus #death #pig destroyer #nile #suffocation #baroness #full of hell #gatecreeper #exhumed #revocation #gruesome #toxic holocaust #abysmal dawn #some favs

[hotpotrandomfics]

Fifth Year AU: A  Reckless Caregiver and Confession

Summary: It has been a few weeks since the werewolf incident and Jason is trying to get back into his usual habits. Thought the boy hasn’t really let himself rest and today was the last day before he collapsed if not for a certain witch...

Word Count: 3,849

It was an earlier Saturday morning at Hogwarts, and the school was buzzing with students running to go to Hogsmeade for the first time or causing silly mischief to each other or the rival houses. Merula was at Quidditch practice and was a bit out of focus. Her frienemy was nowhere to be seen in the stands. She wondered where they were because they always came to watch Slytherin practice.

"So, if I add two Mistletoe Berries then my Antidote to Common Poisons will work fine?" asked a first-year Slytherin.

"Yes, but remember to keep attention to detail. Professor Snape doesn't appreciate any explosions in his class and will take house points." Jason yawned as he looked through the first-year notes and nodded in approval. "Now then can any of you three remember the counter curse charm?"

"Um, Infinite Incatium?" said a Hufflepuff first year.

"No, you?"

"Infinite Ractium!" a Gryffindor first year shouted.

"Shhh!" Madam Pince hissed at the study group.

"No shouting and wrong again," Jason pinched the bridge of his nose sighing. "Please tell me you all have been studying as I said to?"

The small group of first and second-year students looked at the Slytherin Prefect laughing nervously. Some seemed down disappointed as they knew he'd get upset. For the past few weeks, Jason had been tutoring many younger students. Jason had been famous with many of the younger students and praised as the "Nice Slytherin" and other variants of the sort. He didn't mind the compliments but didn't like his House being demeaned by those words. The students had been making progress albeit slow progress. Jason would almost spend at least three to four hours tutoring them. All of that plus his duties as a prefect, searching for the vaults and studying for his O.W.L's he'd been pushing his limits and only enough sleep to make it through the day.

"Finite Incantatem," Jason said as ran a hand through his hair, "remember it now because I won't be the one taking your test for you. You all need to be independent. Okay?"

"Yes sir." said one of the second years.

"You don't need to call me 'sir.' I'm only four years older than most of you. Anywho, you all know what you need to study on so take your time but not too long."

The study group responded to Jason and went back to studying their notes and calling Jason when needed. He had an easy way to explain how to go about solving the problems without answering. Doing that gave the students confidence in their knowledge and understanding of their academics.

After another hour of tutoring, the students left, and Jason was packing his satchel with his notes of his O.W.L's and the vaults. Somehow they always got mixed. As he made his way to the threshold leading out of the library a swing of dizziness hit him out of the blue causing him to lean against the doorframe.

"Well aren't you a sorry mess," said a voice Jason knew too well.

"I tend to look like that a lot from the gossip I hear apparently." Jason looked down at Merula in her Quidditch uniform. Beads of sweat rolling down the tips of her cheek. Somehow he found that seeing her like this made his heart beat fast. "H-hi Merula, how are you?"

"I'm amazing as always, but you seemed like you just fought a chimera or something."

"I did fight one some time ago." Jason laughed as he stood straight feeling the dizziness fade slightly.  "But not today, just a little tired after tutoring a few people. I'll live."

"I see." Merula eyed him with a raised eyebrow. "Well, I do hope the next time you fight a chimera I get to watch you fight it."

"Please don't wish that on me," he laughed then raised a hand to his mouth and yawning. "Anyway, I got to head to a meeting with Professor Snape."

"Why don't I accompany you?" Merula looked at Jason while fiddling with a piece of hair.

"W-well I always enjoy your company," Jason blushed while looking at her with a soft expression. "Shall we get some air before I meet Snape?"

"I don't see why not but it's raining so we should watch our step," Merula smiled leaning close to him prompting her chest.

"O-okay then." Jason's face became more flushed as she stared at him with the gems she called eyes. "Why is she so beautiful?" ran through his head.

The two Slytherins walked down the corridors of the castle till they reached the outer edge of the courtyard watching the rainfall. They chatted about the tutoring Jason was doing. Merula talked about a lot of the tricks she did. Some dangerous but somehow she pulled them off though Jason pointed out her little scratch on her elbows causing her to get defensive. That made him laugh even more.

"Oh stop laughing you buffoon!" she pouted. "I swear Aurelius I'm gonna-"

"Help!" shouted a Slytherin first-year boy.

The two fifth-years turned to the boy and looked at him seeing he was covered in scrapes and soaking wet.

"Jason, my sister fell into the Black Lake!"

"Calm down," Jason said as he kneeled to the kid's level placing a hand on his shoulder while speaking in a gentle voice. "Tell me what happened."

"We were skipping stones off the cliff to the east and these Gryffindor third years were harassing us, and then my sister tried to step up to them but slipped on her robes and-" the boy tried to say more but was choked up.

Without a moment's hesitation, Jason ran off leaving Merula with the young Slytherin boy. Merula followed behind and told the boy to find a teacher. She didn't know why but she had a feeling in her gut something worse was going to happen. Within a few moments, Jason had made it to the eastern cliff of the lake dropping his satchel and tossing his shirt, and diving into the lake off the cliff.

"Oh Merlin, please tell me that idiot didn't just..." Merula ran to the edge seeing Jason's stuff on the ground. "Aurelius, where are you?" she mumbled while looking at the surface of the lake. She started to panic slightly and started calling his name out.

A few moments later Jason broke the surface with the girl and making his way to the shore. He pulled his wand from his pocket and focused on the water in her lungs slowly dragging it out. The girl cough as she took a large gasp of air and looking around panicked. He carried the girl on his back while Merula met them with Jason things and a sigh of relief.

"You're an idiot and very reckless at times you know?" Merula looked up at the shirtless giant blushing and trying to avert her eyes from his torso. "Seriously, who dives headfirst into a lake from a cliff?"

"This idiot I guess," he laughed while patting her head gently, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Merula swatted his hand away while looking at him and reprimanding him for his carelessness. She normally wouldn't give a care at all about what he did, but she didn't want him to get hurt over something ridiculous or daring. The two dropped the girl off at the hospital wing to be examined by Madam Pomfrey. Professor McGonagall had shown up with the girl's brother.

"Mister Aurelius De Leone. Miss Snyde. I see you two are- the boy put some clothes on!" Professor McGonagall said sternly. "We are not barbarians here."

"Apologies professor," Jason said as he took back his shirt from Merula who didn't seem to keen on returning it.

"Thank you, now then this young man explained everything to me, and I see you've taken care of the matter?" she inquired.

"Yes, professor."

"For selflessness, I am granting twenty points to Slytherin."

"Thank you, Professor!" The two Slytherins said in unison.

A few minutes later Jason and Merula were walking down a corridor. Jason was regaling her in the meeting he had to have with Snape. Most of it was regular reporting on how Slytherin as a whole has been.

"So Aurelius," Merula looked at him, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Why do you ask?" Jason looked at her curiously.

"Come now; I'm not easily fooled. I can tell you're not alright. You've got bags under your eyes and as far as I can tell you're overworked," she looked at him with what seemed to be a concern in her eyes. "I mean that whole stunt you pulled off somehow an hour ago and still have the energy to spare?"

"When you put it like that it sounds like I'm not normal," as he did what was between snicker and yawn, "Merula I'm fine."

"Seriously? You fell asleep in Flying class and almost dislocated your arm." She frowned while placing her hands on her hips. "Not to mention you  tried showing the Depulso charm to first-years and almost knocked the cauldron through a window."

"Yeah but-"

"But nothing! Your shoulder hasn't fully healed, and you're still being reckless! Do you ever thinking of yourself?!"

"Merula I..." Jason muttered as his vision started to get dull.

"And you," she started to mumble while fiddling with pointer fingers in a circling motion, "missed me practicing too."

"Merula..."

"It's frustrating enough seeing you do all this while trying to find the vaults. Aurelius, I'm worried about you too believe it or not." Merula stomach felt like it was in knots trying to find the words to convey how she felt. "After the Greyback debacle started to realize I care about you. I care a lot actually and I-"

As Merula began uttering the words, she been digging to find but saw the tall boy lean against the on the verge of collapsing. She called for him, but everything sounded distorted as though Jason was underwater. He felt cold as he still hadn't changed his clothes after the whole lake fiasco. He tried to keep himself steady but felt his knees bulk and started plummeting forward to the ground. Luckily something soft and warm managed to keep him from hitting the ground.

"Hey, Jason?!" Merula called out to him as he muttered gibberish incoherently. "That's it; you need your bed and to change as well." She said as she tried to lift him.

"N-no, I got another study group to tutor later." He groaned trying to keep his balance but failing.

"Like hell you are! I'm taking back to the dorm!" Merula said as she slugged his arm over her shoulder.

"Merula I'll be fine. I swear I'll be fine-"

"No arguing!" she shouted while her eyes clashed with his. "Let someone else help with your burdens. You're not a one-man army so don't be so hardheaded about me helping you. You idiot."

Something about this concerned Merula made Jason's heart skip a beat. The last time they were this close was when they were running for their lives. It was amazing that a girl no more than 5'2 could hold a 5'10 boy was hilarious but scary too. He as he leaned his weight on her shoulder caught the essence of her flowing along his nostrils that was beyond intoxicating and made the dizziness amplified because of it. But it's wasn't a bad scent he thought.

After a few minutes of struggling, Merula managed to get Jason back to their door without too much trouble. No one was in the dorm from the look of it.

"Okay, let's get you upstairs?" Merula was glancing at him to make sure he was still conscious. "Hey now, don't pass out on me because we'll both fall."

"R-right," Jason muttered as they made their way to the boy's dorm. "Sorry if the room might be slightly messy."

"I think I can take a little messiness." Merula chuckled as she pushed the door open. "Huh, you call this messy?"

The two stepped in and walked to Jason's bed that was most well-kept in the room. His nightstand and a picture of what Merula assumed was his family. The nightstand was stacked with notebooks and parchment sticking out, one of the covers was "vault notes," and another was "tutoring guide."

"Alright, sit down, and I'll grab your clothes."

"You don't have to"

"I'm doing it whether you like it or not! Now sit!" Merula growled as she lowered him down on his bed.

"Yes, ma'am."

Merula went through his drawer pulling out a tank top and his pajama pants. She placed them on his nightstand while she grabbed his towel he slung on his chair. She began drying his hair gently. The sound of thunder roared through the castle causing her to jump on Jason. A storm must have been rolling in, and everyone who's out in Hogsmeade without a doubt won't be able to come back anytime soon.

"Sorry, are you okay?" Merula looked up at him nervously.

"Y-yeah." He blushed as he felt her chest pressing against him and her breath grazing his neck. "Are you okay-"

"I'm was caught off guard. Not like I'm scared of thunder; don't be ridiculous." She said defensively.

"I didn't say you were scared did I?" he smiled at her nervously.

"No, you didn't," she muttered as she pushed herself up from his chest. "You need to get changed," she said as she started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Um Merula, I can handle getting changed you don't need to"

"I said I am helping you now shut up." She said trying not to blush as she looked down at him. "It's not like this isn't weird for me." She glanced down at his chest seeing some of the scars he bared. "Why do you have these?"

"You don't want to know." Jason crimsoned with embarrassment.

"Tell me," she asked as she traced a finger down a scar located on his abdomen.

"Some are from back home. Some from the vaults or whatever mess I find myself," he looked up at her.

"And from saving me," she mumbled as she pushed his left sleeve off and tracing the newest one to his collection. "You don't know how to think of yourself."

"Never have," Jason laughed softly as he pushed himself on his elbows. "Did I ever tell you how pretty you are?"

"What? Now I know you're losing it." Merula couldn't help but smile at the compliment despite herself. "Let me finish this so you can sleep and get your senses back."

"I'm being serious Merula."

"Just keep quiet for like five minutes and stop being weird."

What felt like an eternity passed by with Merula helping Jason get changed. She let Jason handle putting his pajama pants on while she had her back turned. She was tempted to steal a glance at his bare body. The sound of the belt from his pants hitting the ground rang in a loop in her head. By the time she couldn't bear it as she snuck a glance seeing he'd secured his pajama pants but still didn't have his shirt on. Was his back always that muscular she thought as she eyed him and bit her lip. Jason sat back on his bed despite his not wanting to while his back was turned to her. All of a sudden Jason felt arms wrap around him and something soft and firm pressing against his shoulder blades.

"Merula?"

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" she asked as she placed her forehead to his left shoulder holding him tight.

"I do."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? I thought even you would notice." Jason placed a hand over hers. "Or at least have an idea."

"I guess what you said a few weeks back was just my hopeful thinking or the blood lose getting to your head." Merula smiled as she turned his head to face her. Eyes locked. "Should we continue where we left off that day?"

"I thought you wanted me to get sleep?" he teased as he caressed her cheek.

"I will do as I please thank you!" she smirked as she cupped his chin.

"Then..."

The two leaned into each other finally having their lips met for the first time. It was soft and gentle like the petal of roses grazing the other or the sensation of when a gentle stream grazes the skin. The two parted blushing while smiling at each other. Jason turned to face her leaning in to renew it. Merula obliged by pulling him gently from the nape of his neck while he inched her closer by pulling her by her waist. Something in her snapped as she climbed onto his lap kissing him more passionately pushing him down. Jason wrapped his arm around her pulling her close to him. Hands were reaching and clawing each other's bodies. Fingers were brushing the supple lines of waist and chest, trying to feel more and more as the hunger rose. Their lips and tongues continued battling more ferociously as the tension from the years just spilled out. They parted briefly to catch their breath before they renewed it he took control and pinned her down kissing her more sensually.

"Why didn't we do this sooner?" She asked as she pecked his lips softly running her finger down his chest. "Bloody hell, I didn't think you'd be such a good kisser."

"I've wanted to for the longest time but feared you hate me or kill me if I tried anything," Jason smiled at her kissing her again. "And this my first time kissing anyone too."

"I probably would have hurt you in the past but I..." she blushed as she looked at the daunting man over her. "I'm happy I can give mine in exchange for yours."

"Merula I care about you deeply and-" before he could finish she placed a finger to his lip.

"I know, and honestly I feel the same. Jason, I like you too." She bit her lip as she caressed his jawline. "I have for some time now."

"Merula," Jason smiled as he looked into her gorgeous eyes that encourage him to think things any boy would keep quiet about.

The two gazed at each other with such intense lust and continued with their duel of the mouths. Merula wrapped her arms around his torso slowly dragging her nails down as she grew more desperate with their activity. He moaned as her nails marked him, he usually protests pain, but this was one he could get used to.

"You need to get to sleep," she whimpered as Jason kissed along her jaw to her neck. His breath was tickling her but somehow made her excited. "I'm serious Aurelius. Jason, please~."

"S-sorry, I don't know what came over me. I guess I was just excited to kiss you and finally-" Jason blushed as he started to ramble nervously.

"You fancy me a lot?" Merula pushed herself up on her elbows and smiled at him.

"Since our first year." He scratched the back of his neck while smiling down at her.

"Seriously? Why didn't you say anything?" she moved up to sit and looked at him taking his face into her palm.

"I was afraid you'd reject me." He looked down feeling his nerves jump at her gentle touch. "We fought for so many years and I know I said mean things to you out of my insecurities and pain. Stuff I regret to this day even though all I wanted was to keep close to you. I'm sorry."

Merula looked at him dumbfounded. Sure, they fought in the past but back then Merula was filled with anger and loneliness. She never really hated him; in fact, she felt like Jason was one of the few people capable of understanding her. He cared for her and tried to be a friend to her even when she repeatedly pushes him away. If there was a thing that made her feel happy in this world was that this boy, -this man, never gave up on her and always reached out his hand.

"You don't need to apologize," Merula pulled him close, bearing his face into her soft and plump bosom. "I will admit I acted like an arse to you on one too many times. So I understand why you would have been angry at me."

"Still I..."

"Jason, you've done so much for me, and I have my answer for your question." She kissed the top of his head. "Well I gave it to you moments ago before we started our 'duel' and I fancy you too. So um does this mean we are, you know?"

"Boyfriend and girlfriend? If the most intelligent and beautiful witch in all of Hogwarts would have me be then yes." Jason chuckled.

"Okay, then but I got some conditions. One, I can only be yours, and you are mine. Two, we have to keep it secret for a little while. I don't want your friends to think I bewitched you."

"You already did with those eyes of yours." He giggled as he felt the dizziness slowly come back.

"Oh quiet you! Three, most important, n-never be reckless for my sake. I almost lost you and me -," Merula was caught off by Jason giving her a peck on a cheek and offering a playful wink.

"Can't follow the last one because I do it again and again." He smiled as slowly lost consciousness. "You're important to me," he muttered as he drifted into slumber from his exhaustion.

"Guess so," Merula smiled as Jason's head was nuzzled in her breast. "Sweet dreams Jason," she whispered as she caressed his hair gently.

An hour later, Merula snuck her way out of the boy's dorm and made her way into her room. She laid down in her bed grinning like a fool in love, which she was, and couldn't help but squeal happily as Jason and she are now an item. Truth be told Merula had fancied him for some time but was too nervous to say anything. Now, it was as if a dream came true, and kept giggling about it until a second-year Slytherin girl walked over to her holding what seemed to be a box of candy in the shape of a heart.

"What?!" Merula looked at them with a raised brow as she sat up on the edge of her bed.

"Excuse me, Merula, um do you know where Jason is? He supposed to have a study group in the library."

"He's resting now, and you'll have to wait till he gets some sleep. Aurelius has been working his hide off to help you a lot so let the man rest!" she growled. "Study amongst yourselves."

"Yes ma'am!" the girl ran out terrified.

She sighed as she laid back down and slowly drifted off into sleep. It seems she needed to sleep too and knew her dreams were to be filled with nothing but happy thoughts thanks to her new joy.

#harry potter hogwarts mystery #hp hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm fanfiction #hphm fic #fanfiction #fanfic #jason piscius aurelius de leone #merula snyde #jason x merula #jacob's sibling x merula

[blissstreamingvf]

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Bliss est l'une de ces histoires de type Twilight Zone / Outer Limits qui, lorsqu'elles sont présentées à un niveau élevé, semblent convaincantes. Avec son mélange de science-fiction existentielle et de romance basée sur des personnages, il semblerait être aussi proche d'une prémisse à ne pas manquer qu'on peut l'imaginer, malgré cela, il manque en quelque sorte - et de loin. C'est peut-être le cas d'un cinéaste qui mord plus qu'il ne peut mâcher. Ou peut-être est-ce que l'intrigue ne rend pas service à la prémisse. Ou peut-être est-ce qu'il y a trop de problèmes non résolus, juste en dehors du cadre de la caméra, qui nous fait souhaiter que Mike Cahill ait trouvé le budget pour une mini-série.

C’est étrange à quel point lire sur quelque chose peut être tellement différent que de le regarder. Owen Wilson joue Greg, un travailleur malchanceux qui travaille dans un centre d'appels technique qui offre de nombreuses excuses mais pas de vraies solutions. Parce que Greg n’est pas bon dans son travail, quoi qu’il en soit, il est congédié. Cependant, avant la fin de sa rencontre avec son patron, il y a un peu de bagarre et Greg est le seul vivant dans le bureau. Il fait donc ce que ferait n'importe quel drone qui se respecte: cache le corps et se dirige de l'autre côté de la rue vers un bar pour prendre un verre. Là-bas, il rencontre Isabel (Salma Hayek), qui prétend qu'elle et Greg sont des âmes sœurs. De plus, ce sont les seuls humains «réels» dans une sorte de réalité virtuelle étrange. Elle prouve son point en ingérant un cristal puis en utilisant les «pouvoirs» qui s'ensuivent pour sauver Greg d'être arrêté pour homicide involontaire. Elle invite ensuite sa nouvelle connaissance perplexe à la rejoindre dans un saut mondial. En cours de route, il en apprend un peu plus sur sa trame de fond et pourquoi il se sent obligé de griffonner des images d'un observatoire et d'un palais. Il découvre également que la réalité est surfaite, en particulier lorsqu'elle menace d'effacer sa fille bien-aimée, Emily (Nesta Cooper), de l'existence. L'un des terriers les plus dangereux pour un film comme celui-ci - qui est plus fantastique que la science-fiction hard-core - est une tentative d'aller trop loin dans la mécanique de la situation. Prenons le jour de la marmotte, par exemple. Il n'a jamais tenté d'expliquer la situation - il l'a simplement laissé se dérouler. Un argument similaire pourrait être avancé pour Another Earth de Cahill. Dans Bliss, cependant, il y a un long tutoriel sur l'importance des cristaux - bleu vs jaune, avaler vs renifler. Je suppose que l’intention est de construire le monde, mais la vérité de ce qui se passe (que Greg et Isabel courent dans une simulation ultra-détaillée générée par ordinateur) rend toute cette exposition dénuée de sens.

Owen Wilson et Salma Hayek n'ont aucune chimie, ce qui est un problème car ils sont censés être des amoureux des étoiles. Pour sa part, Wilson erre dans la partie semblant étourdi, déconcerté ou les deux. Bien que ce genre de performance fonctionne au début du film, il cesse d'être efficace une fois que Greg s'est soi-disant réveillé. Hayek, reconnaissant apparemment que le film a besoin d'une injection d'énergie que sa co-star ne fournit pas, va souvent trop loin. De temps en temps, Bliss donne des indices sur ses intentions thématiques mais les résultats sont trop confus pour qu'ils laissent une impression. C'est un peu comme le pilote original de Star Trek, "The Cage", sur ce qui se passe lorsque les gens comptent plus sur la vie dans une simulation virtuelle que sur le monde réel. Cependant, alors que "The Cage" a fortement plaidé en faveur de l'existence de chair et de sang comme étant la plus importante, Bliss semble arriver à la conclusion opposée. Au centre de la confusion du film se trouve la fille de Greg, qui n’est pas réelle mais qui compte trop pour lui pour se laisser aller. Le film essaie de suivre ce fil mais ne dit jamais clairement si l'obsession de Greg pour la fille est louable ou ruineuse et la fin, qui est destinée à fournir un semblant de clôture, finit par se gratter la tête.

(Si vous êtes toujours intrigué, cela est disponible sur Amazon Prime, donc si vous avez le service, tout ce que vous avez à perdre, c'est quelques heures de temps.)

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[kurtty-drabbles]

Grounded au

N/A: will this be an Oneshot or will have more? No idea and this can sort work with Caroline au. LK could have known about Zaorva but never had the time to interact with her…The seeds are planted here.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @bamfoftheundead @everykurt

Zaorva is no stranger to situations like this. No, in all the infinity and finite, this is not new and certainly won´t be the last time she´ll be here. Galaticus is gazing upon her - a look invoking pity and annoyance at the same time. Galaticus do know it won´t be the last time she´ll be in this position- and begins his speech. Why bother with formalities? Maybe, in the end, Galaticus likes traditions.

“Zaorva, Mother Celestial…you understand why are you here?” he asked sighing in a weary tone and at the same time amused(hiding pretty badly) as Zaorva nods in her humanoid form and speaks looking at the rest of the Outer Family.

“Yes, I have meddled into the affairs of Pheonix ” she looks at the FireBird who is impassive or trying to be. “and meddle with Knull´s plans as well” and looks at Knull who is completely taken peering at her mere form and is impossible to know what he´s thinking or feeling.

“Yes, how you meddle with their plans?” Galaticus asked non-interested but doing a semi-decent in pretend to care for this entire situation. Death is knitting a new scarf.

“I managed to persuade the King of the Shiars to marry with one of my Immortals causing a hole in the dynasty …and with this marriage, the war was over and the plans Knull was crafting turned null” and Zaorva dares to crack a smile as if she´s pried of a secret joke and Knull is imaging it is something about to the fact he´s the void.

“How you plead?” Galaticus ask as if it is an old dance and one he´s not fully interested in.

“Guilty. And to skip formalities, I accept my punishment. I also apologize for my sister for meddling” she looks back at Pheonix who accepts the apologies (never seemed too angry but still remains in the trial. Maybe she too gets used by Zaorva breaking rules) and then to Knull. “And to the void, I apologize for ruining your plan of destruction” she offers checky and Knull would smile if he wasn´t too intrigued.

“So, since I´m guilty and accept my punishment…let´s wrap this up” she request. Pheonix and Galaticus exchange glances and nods. Knull now is a bit in the dark as he never once was in the trials until know…is this common?

“In that case, Zaorva, Mother Celestial…I hereby sentence you…”

_______________________________________________________________________________________

And Kitty Pryde looks at the sky feeling the vibration of the carriage-is a bumpy road as the coachman promised- noticing how the sky is especially blue without one single cloud in the sky or at least in her peripherical view. She was a citizen in the city of Gal (a small city on the planet of Skalo) and took the carriage to go as far as away she can.

The coachman has to speak louder-not quite screaming but almost because the carriage makes noises thanks to this bumpy road- so Kitty could hear him clearly.

“You´re a lunatic. I only accept in taking you to …that place because of the payment” he speaks grumpily. Kitty can sense his fear and is understandable really. “Are you tired of living? Look…” the man stop the carriage and now tries to plead for Kitty´s life one last time. “That thing we now must call king is evil beyond imagination…whatever you´re hoping to accomplish …but Knull will destroy you completely” and finishes. “Go back…please, ask me to go back” he begged and Kitty wonders if he´s begging for her life or his.

“Don´t worry. I know what I´m doing”

“No, girl…you really don´t!”

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Knull conquer the planet of Kalos and all the others in this constellation with quite easy. No one was a match for him and no one forgets how cruel and sadistic he can be with his enemies, even the ones that haven´t opposed him yet.

And his palace is one to reflect his power- there´s a sense of luxury, of course, and there´s also a sense of dread and danger- and many Skrulls are at least sane enough to show some courtesy and respect to their patron.

One Skrull named Vicent - a hybrid from Earth of 685 and the Empire of Skrull and fully embraced his heritage- enters in the chambers where Knull resides and the curiosity of this Skrull is peaking.

“My lord” Knull didn´t bother to gaze back to the Skrull in question. “May I ask a question?” is always important to ask permission from IT if nothing else.

“As I´m in good mood…better not bother me with inane questions” a silent warning and the Skrull can take a hint and hopes this is not an inane question or won´t upset his patron.

“Why you remain on this planet? We could offer something far better…if you so wish” and Knull looks displeased by this question and the Skrull wonders if this will be his last moment on this existence, however, Knull takes his attention back to the balcony.

“Is a strategic position” Knull replies and is an honest answer. Kalos has a great position and it helps him to plan his next conquest, however, Knull can do this in any place (there´s no limitation for him) and his real reason needs to remain private. “Plus, this is a pretty planet. I like the organization. 4 sections that rule this planet and all of them obey to me…I like it”

And is answer enough as the Skrull leaves.

And…she seems to make the ambient prettier.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Kitty Pryde notices the opulence of his palace right away-she did that as the coachman run for his life and didn´t even collect his payment- and notices the servants working in the area. A palace to be like this needs staff (not really, he can keep the palace with the power of his mind. He likes to see his servants struggling) and Kitty can pity them as to be fascinated by everything else.

It is completely different from my old town.

A guard speaks to her. The man is wearing something akin to Ancient Egypt -no one in this constellation is ignoration about Knull´s preferences in fashion and Kitty knows this by all the books she read- while having some modern touches. The problem is not the fashion, but, his power each guard has a piece of Knull´s power and can kill easily.

Ah, a nice way to display I´m powerful do not fuck with me!

“I want to speak with Knull”

“Poor Soul!”

_________________________________________________________________________________________

And henceforth the guards-as they are walking a band of 4 with Kitty- keep exchange glares until they´re in the throne room. Knull strives a fearsome figure. The guards bow at him, never once looking into his eyes, but Knull does not seem to care or mind.

Now, Kitty is alone with Knull and now can gaze at his face, well, mask-everyone knows he´s an Outer God and he uses masks left and right and even if she couldn´t access this piece of information…she could sense this creature looking at him is not the real face.

“Uhm, a new soul in my palace” his voice is baritone and she detected an accent who is not familiar to Kitty. “Tell, Katherine Anne Pryde. Tell me what are you doing here…” he trails off smiling widely and is not inviting.

Uhm, you look like a buffon when you like that!

“You forget I can read minds!” he states amused for some reason. Kitty rolls her eyes. She hopes he does not want to brag about his powers. “Oh, I can see why you wouldn't fit in at the lovely cottage of Mr. Wilson…A strange woman…and impatient to the booth. Not a marriage prospect Mr. Wilson would like” Knull mocks lightly and Kitty huffs at this but takes a breath in and out to gain her patience. What´s the point in fighting him?

“I´m here to work for you” Kitty summarized nicely and Knull is peering at her soul. She has nothing to hide and if Knull wants to see her sex life, well, he should know she would make a great wife in that city (she had many prospects of marriages but they all bored her. It was a boring life in that city)

Knull does not mention her so-called promiscuity and how the men and women were throwing at her feet. “It seems you were popular…why went to my palace? What you think you would get here?”

“Answers? an interesting life? Gal is stagnated …I´m sure you must love this and use it to corrupt people, but, that city is completely lost in time. All the fashion, food and even way of speak are forever stuck in time” KNull chuckle darkly at her. Is part of her punishment and he has to admit is pretty light comparing what he usually endures.

“Answers? Oh, do tell me, pretty woman of Gal. What you´re seeking so desperately aside a good laid” and Kitty didn´t seem to be offended and to be fair Knull wasn´t offending. He couldn´t care less about sex…

“Where is Zaorva?” she asked and waits for his reply none. “I know you´re an Outer God. I know you must know her and know where she is…and if this breaks some rule among the Outer Gods…you´re free to kill me, but, I want to know where is Zaorva”

“Everywhere and nowhere” and he laughs as this counts as the truth. “But what I can do with you? A checky woman that makes fun of my mask…” the few humans that are watching the scene are closing the eyes as sure he will torture her to insanity. “Well, I like pretty things…So, stay in my palace, Kitty Pryde but don´t expect sex with me”

“Your loss!” she said and everyone wonders if this woman is as insane as he is. Knull calls his servants and order him to take

#grounded au #A prequel for another prequel #Caroline au #lovecraft Kurt #Zaorva #Zaorva does not give a fuck or does she #kurty yet #knull

[feynites]

So my internet’s been out for the past few days. But I got it back now! Huzzah! And while it was down I played some games, including an interactive horror/fantasy game that I got free on Steam, called Lake of Voices. I recommend it if you’re into such things, the art is beautiful and the story has some fun twists and turns. It’s also got romances! It’s short but it’s one of those games where you’ll want to play it a couple of times to get the full story.

Anyways, it also gave me wicked Dirthalene feels. So I wrote a thing that’s not really an AU of the game’s story but more just inspired by elements of it?

Mostly mazes and guides and spooky shit. This is only part one and it ends in a cliffhanger, of sorts, so head’s up!

And happy October everybody! :3

(Edit: almost forgot to tag @selenelavellan)

When Dirthamen first built the labyrinth to cage his brother, it was in a remote region, far from any settlements.

 A mountain basin surrounded by thick wilds. A place where his brother had secretly constructed his own spirit vault, secure in the knowledge that the odds of anyone finding it were minimal. Dirthamen had laboured for years to create the labyrinth. To make it not only a place where his brother could be contained, but where he could live, too. Filled with puzzles and challenges, trials to overcome, and opportunities for Falon’Din to attain the personal growth and self-realizations that might save him from the dark path which Dirthamen’s own poor counsel had set him upon.

 It had not worked.

 Dirthamen’s counsel and ideas remained poisonous to his brother, who had raged against being contained, and over the years had reshaped the labyrinth into a place of increasing danger and instability. Dirthamen was forced to build outward, in order to keep Falon’Din contained. He was forced to reconsider the challenges of the maze, and make the outer layers more hostile towards his brother, in order to discourage his escape. Falon’Din’s wrath and anger only seemed to grow with each new ring that was built; but through great effort, Dirthamen at last secured the structure against his brother’s escape.

 It took centuries.

 By the time the last wall of the labyrinth had been put into place, the remote mountain basin was no longer quite so far-flung from the edges of mortal society. Villages began to crop up. Campsites and settlements built by wandering nomads were made. Trade routes and hunting grounds began to spread through the thick wilderness, and for the first time in an Age, Dirthamen found himself spying elves in the distance. Hearing their voices ring out, speaking the language he had only heard whispered by spirits for centuries, or shrieked by his brother in incoherent rage.

 He does not know what to make of it. But he is wary of the development. His brother always was able to sway the hearts of mortals, and Dirthamen fears that they might have come to worship him again. To break apart the labyrinth and free him. Which would not be good. Falon’Din is not ready to be freed; the cost to the world around them would be too great to permit it.

 But he did not design the labyrinth to be difficult to enter. Only to escape.

 The first few elves to venture inside do not appear to be priests. Dirthamen attempts to dissuade them, but when he approaches them outside of the labyrinth walls, his form seems to alarm them. They race inside in an effort to escape him, and as he pursues them through the maze, he is reminded starkly of the fragility of mortal elves. Two of the four elves do not survive the first ring of the maze that they enter. Yet another is lost to the varterral guards of the second ring. The fourth makes it far enough for Falon’Din to find them. His brother attempts to seize control of the mortal’s mind, and when he finds his powers too depleted for such things, he traps the elf instead. It takes Dirthamen several weeks to relocate them, and by the time he does, the final mortal has perished in a most terrible fashion.

 Falon’Din’s interest is heightened, however. He seems to realize, after the fact, the implications of having been rediscovered.

 Dirthamen does not think anything good can come of it.

 He attempts to dissuade further intrusions from mortal elves by placing warnings around the labyrinth. This seems to work, for a time. Most travelers heed them. But as the settlements in the region grow and develop, the warnings lose some of their effectiveness. The basin is nestled between a large port city and several interior villages. Going around the labyrinth takes weeks - even months, if landslides have cut off other pathways. Passing through the labyrinth would, theoretically, only take a matter of days - the temptation to conquer the trial and open up a viable trade route seems more compelling to mortals than Dirthamen can countenance.

 He knows time is precious to those with finite lifespans. But he cannot see the logic in risking certain death for a matter of days.

 The second group of mortal elves to attempt the labyrinth does not fare better than the first. Falon’Din makes more efforts to seize control of their minds, but that ability is lost to him. The labyrinth will not allow it - mostly by accident, in fact. Dirthamen’s wards are meant to keep his brother from manipulating their bond and controlling him, and yet, they seem to work well enough at preventing other forms of control as well.

 It is interesting, even if the discovery still comes on a wave of death and tragedy.

 Eventually, more elves come. An explorer establishes a camp near to the labyrinth. Mortals who seem versed in magic and the mechanics of the world begin to investigate the borders of the maze, and at first, do not venture inside of it. Dirthamen watches, dispatching Fear and Deceit to observe the comings and goings, and is wary that at last a group of his brother’s worshippers have come to try and dismantle the walls. They do not seem adequately equipped for such a task, however, and after a time, Dirthamen comes to realize that they simply seem… curious?

 They take tracings of the wards he has made. Draw pictures of the structures along the outer walls. When the varterrals cry at night, and the sound reverberates throughout the basin, Deceit spies several mortals making furious note of the noises and debating the possible sources.

 It is several weeks before Fear overhears the mortals speak of venturing inside.

 An impending disaster.

 Falon’Din is not aware of the camp of mortals just beyond the outer walls of his prison. But he is always attentive, these days, for any signs of outside presence in the labyrinth. He wanders often, and does not sleep. Beyond the need for rest, now, as the maze changes him in ways that even Dirthamen could not have anticipated. He has kept the bones of the other mortals he slew. They remind him of death; of the position he himself once held, as a guide to the space beyond the veil.

 A guide…

 Dirthamen hesitates at the thought.

 While his ability to track Falon’Din’s movements is imprecise, he is generally aware of where in the maze his brother happens to be at any given time. Near or far, north or south; the interior rings or the external ones. If the mortals are so set upon entering the labyrinth, perhaps… perhaps he could at least help advise them on where to go?

 But the last time he approached the elves, they fled.

 Dirthamen considers the matter a great deal, before at last sending Fear and Deceit in his stead. Deceit takes on the form of a mortal elf, while Fear remains a raven. The pair approach the camp of elves, and are brought to the expedition’s leaders. Deceit attempts to counsel the elves to leave the labyrinth, to explain that it is dangerous. The mortals do not seem to take their words at face value, however. They seem to think that Deceit is ‘superstitious’ and strange, but they are interested in the concept of a ‘local’ to the region. They ask many questions which Deceit cannot answer. They grow frustrated.

 Dirthamen’s social ineptitude is proving costly again.

 Despite his efforts, the mortals go through with their plan to send elves into the labyrinth. Deceit and Fear go with them; navigating the maze is far easier for Dirthamen and his aspects than for anyone else. The elves attempt to mark the entrance which they came by, but that is not how the labyrinth works. Once they are inside, there is no means of backtracking to exit by the same way again. The walls shift, and the mortals must find a new exit.

 Fortunately, there are several options for that. Deceit advises the expedition members stay in the outer ring. Some listen; others do not. Cutting straight through the maze, they believe, is the fastest way out. The group splits into two, though the elves attempt to maintain contact via magical threads and charmed items. Those fail to work in short order, however. The labyrinth sucks the magical energy from them. It creates illusions. Designs once meant to build trials for Falon’Din, pluck up the same from the minds of the mortal elves - though at least, with Deceit and Fear present, the varterrals do not hunt them.

 The group heading towards the center of the labyrinth lose contact with the others. As they venture closer to Falon’Din’s location, Fear leaves Deceit to attempt to warn the group away. The mortals ignore the raven, until it is almost too late. Falon’Din is able to capture two of them, and subjects them to his… methods. The third elf flees as his fellows are mutilated, and at last follows Fear, who flies at a distance to avoid their brother’s chase. It is luck, far more than design, which has the maze shifting in a fashion that distracts Falon’Din just long enough for Fear to lead the survivor back towards the outer maze, and find a path that rejoins with the others.

 The survivor - Elrogathe, his name is - trembles and shakes, and speaks with haunted eyes of the monster at the center of the maze.

 His fellows are forced to carry him the rest of the way. But the make it through to the nearest exit, following Deceit, and leaving behind the bones of their less fortunate colleagues. The doorway takes them to the other side of the labyrinth; and so they must trek back along the exterior. Some of them take more notes. But many seem only to eager to be gone from the maze for good, and their recountings once they return to the camp are filled with horror.

 Dirthamen wonders if this will be the end of it. If the experience, now with witnesses to attest to it, shall prove harrowing enough that the mortals will give up on venturing near to this place.

 He hopes so.

 But the camp does not disband. The leaders seem most intrigued by Deceit’s usefulness in passing through the labyrinth. Another expedition sets out - but this time, the elves seem more inclined to simply do as Deceit advises. The group does not split up, and the center of the maze is avoided. Falon’Din can move where he likes, however. Dirthamen must spare a great deal of his own focus for tracking his brother, in order for Deceit and Fear to lead their party through the passageways that do not intersect with his location. At times, the mortals pass close enough that they seem to become aware of his presence. Their voices drop into silence - which is good - and while some of the trials of the labyrinth have put them seemingly at odds with one another, they nevertheless walk more closely together, the closer Falon’Din’s presence comes.

 And yet, they make it through.

 Perhaps that is a mistake. Dirthamen does not wish death upon these mortals, but when an entire party is able to safely traverse the labyrinth, interest in further trips is only encouraged.

 He tries many things. Deceit refuses to accompany some groups. Those groups do not make it through, however, and Dirthamen feels immense guilt for their deaths. The mortals begin to offer Deceit payments, rewards, even a title as Guide. Deceit accepts, if only to stave off more death. But as months turn to years, the position affords Dirthamen some modicum of control over the situation. The mortals realize that entering the maze without Deceit is a death sentence. So they are able to refuse some escorts, to deny some elves access to the interior. Those who might be more susceptible to Falon’Din’s influences, or those who seem too apt to ignore Fear or Deceit, or even those who do not have the sturdiness to withstand the labyrinth’s trials. Dirthamen begins to modify some of the outer layer. He cannot make the place easier to escape, for that would defeat its purpose. But he can make some of it less hostile towards the mortals who attempt a crossing.

 It is a great deal of work, though. And as he expends his energy on this, Falon’Din gluts himself on the bones he has collected, and grows eager for more.

 The mortal elves, too, investigate much of the magic of the labyrinth. Indeed, the seems to become a more pressing point of interest for some of them than simply traversing the distance itself. Few traders are willing to take the risks presented. Though, some attempt it. Not many who pass through the labyrinth once are willing to take the trip a second time. But some do. The most curious, the most eager to gather information from the spellwork woven into its walls, sometimes muster the wherewithal.

 A decade passes. The faces at the campsite come and go. Some who have been involved in the project from the beginning start to remark on how well Deceit is ‘aging’, and so after a time Deceit creates the illusion of an apprentice, to maintain the appearance of mortality. They modify their appearance to begin to look older, though it seems they are imperfect at it. It is easier, then, to simply falsify a scenario wherein Deceit is killed within the labyrinth, and their ‘apprentice’ - who is merely Deceit’s projection - takes over the role of Guide.

 After that, Deceit merely wears a slightly different-looking guise, and answers to another name.

 Though many mortals remark that ‘Sairal’ is not as exemplary a guide as their predecessor. Dirthamen is somewhat surprised when a memorial is erected; he had not thought the mortals terribly concerned with Deceit or their persona. But perhaps it is more symbolic, in the end. Mortals often seek guidance, and they had deemed Deceit a guide. The ‘death’ even seems to discourage others from attempting the labyrinth at all. Many seem convinced that if, in the end, Deceit could be claimed by the maze, it truly was a risk too great to tempt.

 Sairal’s services are less fervently sought.

 Though, there are also some who take it upon themselves to attempt the labyrinth alone again. Bold elves who seem to believe they can become ‘guides’, and somehow gain prestige from it. It takes several fruitless ventures, and many more deaths, before the idea is quashed. And then there is another development. One of the nearby settlements deems an elf in their community to be corrupted by the presence of a malevolent spirit. Dirthamen does not know what to make of it, when they force this elf into the labyrinth. Though through Deceit’s new persona, he gathers that the local elves believe that the labyrinth was built by the gods to contain a dangerous and powerful abomination.

 Which is a slight underestimation, but not wholly invalid.

 In that mindset, however, some elves have decided that exiling further ‘abominations’ is a valid use of the space. The convenience of simply discarding unwanted persons into the maze seems to hold appeal - once the first prisoner is sent in, more follow. Few of which are actually touched by demonic energies of any kind, in fact.

 It is not good.

 The prisoners fall prey to Falon’Din, and their deaths feed into his hunger, and the strength of his will as well. Deceit attempts to dissuade this behaviour, but the mortals do not heed them. Dirthamen is forced to adapt the labyrinth again, and Fear is given the task of trying to guide the exiled prisoners through the maze. At length, some begin to make if through. Those that follow Fear and can overcome the trials, and are lucky and quiet enough to evade Falon’Din. Strangely, it seems that elves who make it through the labyrinth are, after some debate, cleared of their charges. The mortals determine that their survival is a redemptive act. Dirthamen is uncertain what to make of it, as in essence, the hope of the labyrinth is reformation. But it was meant for his brother. Still, the space does shape trials for the mortals themselves to conquer.

 He supposes it is an unintended function, but at least Fear does not lead the mortals out only for their own kind to spill their blood outside the walls instead.

 Five years after Sairal has become the Guide of the Labyrinth, a man deemed an abomination is condemned to walk the pathways.

 It has been months since Sairal’s services as a guide were retained. The labyrinth’s new role as a form of legal punishment seems to have reduced interest in his services even further. Fear goes to try and help the newest prisoner avoid detection by Falon’Din, but not twelve hours later, a young woman beseeches Sairal to give her passage through.

 When Sairal attempts to explain that they are not permitted to traverse the labyrinth within twenty-four hours of a prisoner’s sentence to it, the young woman attempts to bribe them. She seems fiercely determined, even claiming that she will go without or without the guide’s services.

 It is very curious.

 She is a striking figure. The name she gives them is Selene. Like moonlight, then. It suits her.

 Dirthamen thinks her face would be one that might haunt his memory if she died.

 So Sairal takes her coin, and goes with her into the outer ring of the labyrinth’s walls.

  ~

  The condemned man is named Des.

 Fear gathers this from listening to him talk to himself. Des is clearly not enthused to be in the maze. He spends the first hour of his time by the first wall, attempting to feel his way across the surface; obviously in search of some kind of exit. Fear watches. This is not the first time they have seen a mortal behave this way. Some pound at the walls. Others scream or cry or plead in terror. The outer ring is dark, but it is not pitch black.

 Des only searches, however, before exhaustion seems to claim him and he sits for a while instead. He does not look as if he was kindly treated before he came here. There are bruises on his arms and legs, and he likely has not been offered food or water for too long a time.

 “Okay,” he says to himself, as he sits in the dark. “Other people have done this. You can do it, too, Des. Just… keep to the outside. Just like she said. Around, not in. Around, not in…”

 His breaths catch. Fear can feel Des’ fear through the labyrinth as well. He is afraid that he is going to die.

 Under the circumstances, that is a very reasonable thing to fear.

 Fear follows the prisoner silently. He is easy to track, not as quiet or stealthy as some. Occasionally he speaks to himself, and every once in a while his hand will brush over a warded segment of wall, and make the runes glow. That seems to bring him some comfort. Fear notices the mortal deliberately pressing the runes, after a while, to better navigate the smooth floors and darkened passageways. He hesitates at the first turn he comes to. There is still only one direction to take, but it bends inwards. For several long moments Des searches around himself, as if looking for another route. And then finally he resumes his trek. Keeping his hand upon the wall, as Fear senses Falon’Din begin to stir in the far-middle-west portion of the maze.

 He is still a significant distance away when Des encounters his first Trial.

 The labyrinth latches onto something of his thoughts, and begins to conjure up whispers. Shadows that trail behind Des and echo his footsteps; only to vanish whenever he turns to look. The walls shift subtly to cover the runes, until the mortal’s searching hands cannot find any. His footfalls halt, and hesitate again, and after a while he begins to stumble.

 “It is going inwards…?” he murmurs to himself.

 The sound is echoed back at him in whispers that make him flinch, and freeze.

 The path has not changed directions. But after a few minutes, Des seems to become convinced that it has. He begins to backtrack. Following his original path backwards too far will not lead him to an exit, however; and following it further still would take him to the second ring, and that much closer to Falon’Din.

 Fear brushes a wing against the ceiling of the maze. Along the path ahead, an illusion paints itself across the tops of the walls; the impression of sky and light, spilling in through ‘cracks’ in the maze structure.

 Of course, there are no such cracks. But the light seems to draw Des’ attention back towards the path he had been taking.

 He lets out a shaky breath.

 “That’s… that’s daylight,” he says to himself. “Okay. That way.”

 He begins to walk again.

 “Of course, it could be a trap,” he muses, under his breath. “At least it’s brighter, though. And who I am I to resist the allure of shiny things? No one. Clearly.”

 Fear wonders if the man is a thief. This seems an extreme punishment for such a minor offense; however, the values of mortals can often be baffling. Des continues to murmur to himself as he walks. There is not much light, and the labyrinth seems compelled to frequently draw him into darkness. The floors tilt and the whispers say terrible things to the man, but on balance, this trial is far less harrowing than some.

 After a time, the walls of the maze grow higher. The light Fear conjured drifts further away. They flapping of their wings echoes, and the sound gives Des pause as they err just enough to cast the shadow of a wing over him. He looks towards them, but in the darkness they hide in, cannot actually see them, in the end.

 A minute later, the prisoner swallows.

 “This isn’t so bad, really,” he says. “Piece of cake, in fact, I don’t know what everyone’s always complaining about.”

 Turning forwards, he begins to resolutely walk again.

 Two hours later, he is flagging. He seems to feel as though he has been walking for days, rather than minutes. The darkness has won out, but Des has managed to keep his path straight by using his hand to anchor himself to the wall. He is sweating heavily, and his breaths are becoming laboured. He feels weighted. The whispers and the darkness are dragging upon him in earnest, now.

 “Demon child,” they say. “You killed your own mother. You know, deep down inside. That’s why you are really here. Here where you belong.”

 “In the darkness.”

 “With nothing, with no one.”

 “Do you think death awaits you here?”

 “No, demon child. There is nothing here. That is what awaits you.”

 “You will wander here forever in the dark. No respite or mercy will find you. No comforts. No peace.”

 “This is what you have earned.”

 Eventually, Des collapses. He falls against the wall, breathing heavily, and it is clear he will not make it to any exit without assistance. This is what some of Dirthamen’s modifications are for, however. Fear weighs their options, before descending to perch on one of the darkened sconces, on the wall across from the exhausted elf.

 The sound of their wings seems to draw his attention. He blinks, unseeing, and tenses.

 “What’s that?” he asks. “Don’t tell me some bird managed to fly into this place…”

 Fear taps at the wall.

 Speaking has never been their strong suit. Particularly not since the last time Falon’Din managed to catch them, several centuries ago. But they can caw, and they can tap their claws. And after a moment, Des seems to decide to follow the sounds they are making.

 “This is probably a trap,” he tells himself, in a ragged, rasping voice. “Selene would be saying ‘don’t just follow strange noises in the haunted maze, Des’. Hypocrite.”

 Fear caws.

 “You’re probably not even a real crow.”

 Fear caws again. Des staggers, but finally he comes to an archway. His hand slips from the wall to the opening, and he stumbles. All but falling through, and then blinking as several runes light up. Bright enough to illuminate a small room, with a running fountain, and several fruiting bushes arranged around its basin.

 For a moment, Des stares uncomprehendingly at the sight.

 Then he pulls himself hastily towards the fountain, and begins to gulp down Fear settles onto a carving above the fountain, and watches as Des drenches his face and shoulders in water, and drinks, and drinks, and then examines the berries. After a moment of scrutiny, he shrugs tiredly, and begins to eat them. After the first bursts on his tongue, he consumes many more. Until finally he sags onto a mossy patch of floor, and falls asleep.

 Fear focuses their attention on Falon’Din’s movements, as more hours pass. They also glean things from the other aspects, as well, but more distantly. By the time Deceit is negotiating passage with a strange and determined young woman, Des has woken up again.

 The elf stares up at them for several long, inscrutable minutes.

 Then he shifts himself onto his knees.

 “I don’t usually do this stuff,” he says, quietly. “And at some point I’m going to have to find a corner to piss in, which doesn’t seem… uh… respectful? But, no intentional disrespect is meant. For the record. So if you’re, you know.. listening. Dirthamen, God of Knowledge and Secrets, thank you very much for sending this bird and also I would like to not die in your heinous death trap. I’ll build you a shrine or something if you keep helping me out here. You’re the best, definitely my favourite of all the gods I don’t believe in. Or didn’t believe in. That’s not a firm ‘no’, just a really strong ‘probably not’. So… cheers, I guess?”

 Fear blinks.

 Des makes a few odd gestures, which seem vaguely similar to some mortal praying customs, and then gets up and, as foretold, finds a corner to relieve himself in.

 When he is finished, he seems to be feeling somewhat better. Though he hesitates for several minutes before crossing the threshold back into the pathways of the maze. Fear can feel his trepidation, his reluctance to go back to the darkness and the danger, the whispers, and a fear of something even more than death. The sense of timeless void is not taking long to wear upon this one.

 At length, however, he sets out.

 With their presence now known, Fear does not bother to disguise it. Des seems to find it encouraging, in fact. While some who traverse the labyrinth seem to recognize Fear as ‘Deceit’s Raven’, and believe them to remain in the maze in search of a ‘lost master’, others have branded Fear an ill-omen and a dangerous illusion of the pathways. It is not uncommon for them to be attacked, or viewed as ‘mocking’ the travelers.

 Des does not seem to take either approach, however. Instead, he appears to believe that Fear is a boon sent by Dirthamen.

 It is strange to have a mortal make an accurate assessment, for once.

 Fear’s focus on Des is distracted when Falon’Din begins to move swiftly towards a new location. He does not appear to be heading towards themselves or Deceit, however. Despite having occupied the labyrinth for centuries, Falon’Din is not adept at navigating it. The space is designed to challenge him. His interest has him moving closer to the center of the labyrinth, which has Fear letting out a slightly sigh of relief.

 That keeps him far away from the relevant points of interest, for now.

 When they turn their attention back towards the prisoner, it is to realize, however, that the labyrinth itself is reacting more strongly to Des’ sustained presence.

 Wraiths are beginning to manifest.

 Projections created by the labyrinth and pulled from the background noise of Des’ thoughts. Unlike the shadows of before, these ones are solid, and capable of inflicting physical injuries. Fear watches as they begin to manifest. Des keeps moving, which is good. He seems to have noticed some of the odd sounds, and the shift in the atmosphere around him.

 “Bird?” he calls, quietly. “Are you still there?”

 Fear caws an affirmative.

 “Okay. Don’t come down here. I think there’s something… I think something’s following us.”

 Fear caws another affirmative, and Des begins to speed up. He does not have much energy, however. Despite the water and the berries, and the sleep, he still seems to be tired. The labyrinth itself weighs upon him. The shadows here are heavy.

 It is not long before a wraith finally forms and manages to catch up to Des.

 It takes on a shape caught somewhere between wyvern and wolf, and charges at him. With a startled curse, Des breaks into a run. The wraiths are complicated constructs. Without their target, their existence cannot be maintained; yet they are driven to manifest some aspect of the creator’s fears. Originally the energies that make them were designed to provide Falon’Din with challenges to overcome. However, his presence has somehow perverted them, and now they are mostly prone to pursuing mortals through the labyrinth and feeding off of their terror.

 Most wraiths do not actually catch their targets, nor wish to. But the fear of being chased is often enough to drive their victims to more dangerous parts of the maze. And the snapping, snarling jaws of the wraith have every change of injuring Fear, too.

 They fly slightly ahead, and hope to direct Des towards the correct passageways. But the elf is too focused on evading the wraith. He runs with little regard for direction, after a time, losing track of the outer wall and then staggering down random corridors. More wraiths join the first, which only amplifies Des’ fear and makes him more desperate. The walls of the labyrinth distort around him, trying to pen him in, and succeeding in driving him deeper towards the next ring. Fear caws a warning.

 The wraiths lunge.

 Des makes a sharp turn and flings himself through the archway to the next layer of the maze.

  ~

  Deceit and Selene have barely crossed the threshold into the maze when Selene begins to visibly search for something.

 “Des?” she calls. “Des! Can you hear me?”

 Deceit watches, curious, as Selene makes her way towards one turn in the path, only to reverse course and head for another. She calls out for ‘Des’ several more times. But even as she does, her gaze rakes over their surroundings with obvious interest. The outer layer of the maze is dark, but Deceit is particularly good at illuminating it. The light from their staff bounces off of the smooth, black walls, and coaxes veilfire into the sconces set inside them.

 This is not the first time that someone has come into the labyrinth in search of one who was lost here. They are not entirely surprised; such people are typically the hardest to deter from entering of their own accord, with or without a guide. And Selene had threatened just such a thing.

 Although, they are still somewhat surprised to hear her calling the name of the exiled criminal who Fear is currently with.

 “You knew the prisoner,” Deceit surmises.

 Selene hesitates.

 “I know him,” she corrects. “He’s not a criminal. I mean, Des has his faults, but he didn’t murder anyone. He doesn’t deserve to be here.”

 Deceit tilts their head.

 “No, he does not,” they agree, readily enough. “There is only one being that deserves to be here, and he has been in residence for a long time.”

 Selene falters, somewhat.

 “You’re talking about the monster,” she guesses. “The demon at the heart of the maze.”

 Deceit nods.Though, at the moment, the demon is slightly west of the heart of the maze.

 They are somewhat surprised when Selene reaches out and grasps their wrist. They wonder, for a moment, if she intends violence. Threats or coercion. Those are also not uncommon, from mortals within the maze. However, her gaze turns beseeching.

 “My father crossed the labyrinth, when he was younger,” she tells him. “He went with your mentor. He never spoke to me about it, but I found his notes on the journey once, when I was cleaning. He saw the demon. He described it as being like a fallen god, and my father was not given to romantic over-exaggeration. Who could possibly think it’s justice to subject someone like Des to something like that?”

 Deceit considers this. Very few travelers have seen Falon’Din and lived to tell the tale.

 “Is your father Elrogathe?” they wonder.

 Selene halts in surprise.

 “I… um. How could you guess that?” she replies.

 “Not many travelers have survived seeing what he saw,” they explain.

 After a moment, Selene sighs.

 “I guess your mentor told you a lot. Alright, yes, he is,” she says. “But I would appreciate it if you didn’t spread that around. I’m not supposed to be here. And after this, Des and I are going to disappear, and not come back. We don’t need anyone hunting us down to drag me back to the clan.”

 Deceit nods, though they do not entirely understand.

 Selene gives them an entreating look again.

 “So will you help me?” she asks. “I just need to find him. Then we can all leave, I don’t care if we make it to the other side or not. So long as we get out alive.”

 “That is a good perspective,” Deceit commends. “But it would be better to try and make our own way out. Entry and exit points in the labyrinth are difficult to predict. Your friend could very well be nowhere near here, even though we both came in by the same gate.”

 Indeed, according to their sense of Fear, Des is on the opposite side of the maze.

 “No. We have to find him,” Selene insists. “Before they took him, I told him everything I knew about the labyrinth. All the things I’d read in my father’s notes. He’s still alive, and if we can just figure out where he is, you can lead us out.”

 “He may find his own exit before we encounter him,” Deceit explains.

 Selene does not seem convinced.

 “Just…” she begins. Then she lets out a long breath. “Where might he be? Do you know?”

 They consider this matter for a moment, and then nod.

 “I know.”

 “Then let’s go get him! I swear, I’ll find a way to send you more money, to compensate. I know it’s dangerous,” she says. “But if you really think that no one other than that monster should be in here, then please, help me rescue my friend?”

 After a moment, Deceit lets out a sigh.

 “We may head in that direction,” they decide. “But if we reach an exit first, then you are leaving. I will come back to find your friend myself.”

 Selene takes in a breath, as if to speak. But after a moment, she only lets it go again, and nods in agreement. Deceit cannot escape the impression that she is only feigning capitulation. But the advantage in this situation is still their own; they find themselves hoping that Fear will safely guide this ‘Des’ out before Deceit and Selene reach an exit, because they suspect that even if they get her safely back outside again, Selene will return to try and find Des if he cannot be produced in short order.

 But she does not seem keen to press the point now, as Deceit begins to lead her along the outer ring of the labyrinth.

 Much of this ring’s magic is focused on illusions, and spatial distortions. Walls grow and shrink, shadows spread, at times the floor looks like water, at times the ceiling seems like a deep and dark mirror. The air can be oppressive, and hallucinations are not uncommon. That is in addition to the actual illusions, that pluck and pull at material from mortal minds.

 It does not take long before the pathways they are traversing decide to become cramped.

 The walls grow tight. The spaces narrow, and solid. Deceit must move their staff sideways to keep hold of it, while Selene struggles to pull herself through. Unlike her guide, she cannot simply narrow her frame in discreet ways that make it easier. Her hands press against the walls, and her bag scrapes and rattles as she pulls it along behind her.

 “Is it all this tight?” she asks, sounding short of breath.

 “No,” Deceit tells her. “It is feeding off of your subconscious and fears. The walls are attempting to crush and confine you because you feel trapped.”

 This is not an uncommon feeling within the labyrinth itself. But it must be rooted in something deeper for it to manifest like this.

 Selene smacks a hand against the narrow passage, and lets out a stuttering breath.

 “So, what? You’re saying it’s a… a mind-over-matter thing? If I stop being afraid then the passage will get bigger?”

 “No,” Deceit replies, with a shrug. “We do not have time for you to reach internal philosophical equilibrium on the confines of your life. Eventually, though, the labyrinth will pick up on something else to manipulate.”

 “...Oh.”

 They push on for several more moments. Though the space does not get tighter, Selene seems to think that it is at many points. She does not complain the way that some do, but it is clear that the longer the situation persists, the more distressing she finds it. Eventually, her words fall away, and she goes quiet. Deceit does not think her outlook has improved, however. It seems more that she has simply reached a point where she is no longer able to move and speak at the same time.

 After several hours, they do manage to reach a resting point, however.

 The narrow corridor gives way to a small fountain chamber. Selene sobs, once, and drops to her knees once she has the space to do so. Her muscles are trembling, and her elbows are bruised. Deceit hesitates for a moment, before venturing a hand to her shoulder. She does not seem to take the gesture badly. While she recovers, they head over to the fountain, and retrieve some supplies for her. There is a single fruiting pear tree, and a basin of clear, flowing water. Fruit is not always the best food for mortals, but there was only so much that any aspect could coax into growing within the labyrinth.

 Selene has supplies of her own, at least. She does not seem to recollect the existence of her pack until Deceit brings her a pear and a freshly filled waterskin.

 “Where…?” she asks.

 Then she seems to notice the chamber they are in, for the first time. Deceit supposes she was so relieved to simply have space, the rest of it must have escaped her attention.

 “How is that growing?” she asks, looking from the pear to the tree. “There’s no sunlight here.”

 They shrug, by way of answer.

 Selene seems dubious of eating the pear, or drinking the water.

 “Is it safe?” she asks them.

 “Quite safe,” Deceit assures her. “Chambers like these are only in the outmost ring. Venture deeper inside, however, and anything like this would be an illusion. The maze is a prison. It is designed to draw its prisoner back towards the center of it, to offer temptations and tricks that make finding an exit more challenging. Sometimes it will use unpleasant measures, but sometimes it will create enticing lures, as well.”

 “I’ll keep that in mind,” Selene says, and then tentatively takes a drink.

 Though her initial movements are careful, before long she is draining the waterskin, and then devouring the pear. She opens her pack and retrieves some of her own supplies, and even offers Deceit a strip of cured meat and some travel bread. They decline, gesturing towards their own rations. An illusion, but one that helps in situations like these. It will do no good for mortals to waste their precious supplies on one who does not need them.

 “We should keep moving,” Selene decides, when she can find her feet again.

 “This is a marathon, not a sprint,” Deceit advises her.

 “I’ll rest more readily when we’ve found Des.”

 Without much recourse to her stubbornness, Deceit can only acquiesce, and show her to the exit from this fountain room.

 They direct Selene towards the safest paths they can, as they attempt to reach Fear’s position. Still, the labyrinth responds to the presence of the minds within it, and with a growing aptitude for creating disturbances. Before long the path of the maze begins to sink into water. Black and still, creating an obvious sense of depth as high walls sink into it. As with the shrinking passageways, Selene fares well enough at first, but begins to flag as they are forced to swim. Phantoms pass by in the darkness above them. Spirit fragments that leech the heat from the corridor, and begin to show flashes of images. Deceit only sees a little of what it shown, too busy swimming to note much beyond a man with red hair, and a splash of crimson blood. But Selene’s swimming strokes falter. Deceit has to extend her staff towards her to help her make it to the next ledge, and when they climb up, she seems frantic.

 “Did you see that?!” she asks.

 “The fragments are pulled from reflections of your thoughts,” Deceit tells her.

 “But did you see?”

 “No,” they admit. “I was focused on swimming.”

 Selene looks like she’s trying to decide if she believes them or not. After a moment, she lets out a breath, and sags against the ledge.

 “We should not linger here,” they advise her. Wraiths can form in these corridors, and if they are not moving, they will be easy to catch and harass. Selene shivers, but after a moment, she permits Deceit to help her to her feet. The labyrinth’s water clings almost like oil to her skin. Her face seems pale in the light of their staff, but after a moment, she starts moving again.

 This segment of the labyrinth seems to want to offer them many branching tunnels, after that point. The air lightens somewhat, but only to reveal what seem to be dangerously crumbling ruins. The faint scent of smoke clings to the stonework, in the place of slime and dank. But despite that, the cold remains, and the water on their skin makes the smoke cling to them.

 Between the crumbling stones of the walkways, Deceit sees flashes of images. Like the ones visible while they swam.

 “Don’t look,” Selene asks them. Or perhaps says to herself, as well. Deceit keeps their head up, and that seems to ease her some. Though as they progress, the images seem to appear in more places. Never with enough clarity for Deceit to glean much from them; but apparently with enough context that Selene is deeply unnerved by what they might witness.

 It makes her want to leave this corridor, Deceit can tell. But all of the turn-offs only lead deeper into the maze.

 After two hours, they have to restrain her from turning down the nearest archway that promises a change of scenery.

 “Not that way,” they say, firmly.

 Selene swallows, but does not protest. As they direct her down the same path, one of her hands closes around their wrist again.

 After a moment, they decide to permit the contact. While letting people touch them can be dangerous, they do not think this will be one of those situations. Selene seems to fold in on herself as they start moving again. Deceit cannot change much about the labyrinth’s format - though they created it, such complex magics have long since developed past their ability to deliberately control without extensive renovation - but they can shift the light of their staff so that the images are less visible. More muted; like reflections on the surface of a lake.

 If it helps Selene or not, they cannot tell.

 But it is inevitable that the labyrinth begins to develop wraiths, before long.

 Most they pass by without Selene even seeming to notice them. But eventually a heavy, dragging rhythm of footsteps starts to follow them. Deceit turns, and notes the wraith. It has taken on the form of a tall, red-haired elven man, but with distinctly corpse-like qualities. When Selene notes the wraith, she freezes up. Rooted to the spot, as the figure lurches closer.

 Deceit prods her.

 “We must keep moving,” they say.

 Selene backs away from the wraith, and then takes off at a run. Deceit keeps pace with her. To their relief, she still lets them direct their course, but no matter how fast she manages to go, the lurching wraith remains the same length of distance behind them.

 “It is an illusion,” they tell Selene. “But do not let it catch you.”

 She lets out a ragged breath.

 “If it’s an illusion… then why can’t I let… let it catch me?”

 “Because it is a very solid illusion.”

 Selene makes an odd sound, somewhere between an incredulous laugh and a pained groan, and asks no further questions in favour of breathing while she runs. They cannot hold their pace indefinitely, however. At length, Deceit begins to slow; and after a moment, despite her obvious reservations, Selene follows their own slackening pace.

 The wraith remains the same distance away from them regardless.

 “I do not think it will get much closer,” they say. “So long as we maintain a steady pace, we should be fine.”

 Selene shakes her head, but does not actually voice a dissenting opinion. It’s clear that she is intensely disquieted, nonetheless, as they wind their way through several more corridors, and do not lose their persistent stalker.

 Deceit is curious, of course. But they have learned that voicing such curiosity tends to make things worse, in terms of traversing the labyrinth. And Selene does not look eager to clarify the meaning behind the shape of the wraith or the fragmented visions; if anything, it is the opposite.

 The pace being set remains grueling, however. When they slow down too much, the wraith does start to close the distance. But no matter how fast they go, they cannot gain any grew ground. Every inch of space they lose to catch their breath seems gone forever. The wraith’s gaze is blank, but every so often it breathes out a wordless sound, accusatory in nature; and Selene futilely redoubles her pace. They make their way through yet more corridors, until she begins to outpace Deceit; and their efforts to coax her back seem to fail.

 Eventually, she breaks out into a run again.

 “Leave me alone!” she calls back at the wraith.

 “Selene! It is not real!” Deceit reminds her.

 She does not seem to hear them. Her legs carry her towards the next turn in the maze, and she makes the wrong choice; heading deeper in, rather than remaining at the outskirts. Deceit speeds up to catch her, and correct the mistake. They grab her arm, but it is the wrong move to make. Selene cries out in fear, and flails away from them. Her feet slip across a smooth patch of weathered stone flooring, and her balance is lost, her limbs too tired to recover. Deceit sees a flash of fear across her face - directed over their shoulder, at the wraith behind them.

 Then she falls into a pool of inky black water.

 The currents are strong enough to drag her down. The environment weighing her, feeding off of her desire to get away from their pursuer. But a mortal elf can drown in the labyrinth’s water, as surely as she might drown in any lake or moat. Deceit secures their staff to their back, and then jumps in after her.

 In the water Selene looks ghostly pale. Her hair fans around her head, and her fingers reach towards them. They strike a rune on one of the nearby walls. The glow illuminates things, but more importantly, it triggers the maze into shifting. They swim downwards more determinedly, watching as the waters beneath Selene open up; though it still seems to take her by surprised when she goes from sinking to falling.

 The black pool becomes the pitch-dark shadows of the ceiling above, as they two of them tumble downwards, and land several corridors over; just shy of the next layer of the maze. Deceit lets out a breath of relief, while Selene coughs and sputters. The wraith is gone, at least; if they can manage to avoid encountering any more, they might be able to make it to where Fear and Deceit are without much further incident.

 As soon as the thought occurs to them, however, Deceit becomes aware of Fear’s own growing concern.

 Des is running from his own wraiths.

 And he is faring worse than Selene. Deceit is caught, for a moment; watching through Fear’s senses as the exiled criminal speeds through corridors and is herded deeper and deeper into the labyrinth. Their breath catches as he flings himself into the next layer of the maze.

 No.

 “...alright? Sairal?”

 The urgency in Selene’s tone snaps them out of Fear’s mental space.

 She is kneeling beside them, soaked and wide-eyed, looking desperately worried. At least until they meet her gaze. Then some of her fright seems to ease, and she lets out a long breath. Which turns into a cough.

 “Sorry,” she murmurs, afterwards. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I mean. Are you alright?”

 Deceit pats their chest, and offers her a nod in answer.

 What are they going to do? Selene will not leave the maze until they find her friend, but her friend has now gone deeper than they are. Fear has led travelers out of the maze from deeper places before, but most of them were experienced explorers who had gone in deliberately, with supplies and some notion of what might befall them. Des has nothing, and the inner rings cannot sustain him. Unless Fear can find a way back out to this level again… his fate is sealed.

 Although.

 There is chance… if someone were to bring supplies from one of the outer layer fountain rooms, if he had more help than what Fear can offer…

 Deceit hesitates.

 They have no way of conveying this information to Selene without giving up more about themselves than would be wise. Her brows remain furrowed as she gently urges them to sit back.

 “I think we lost it,” she says, after a moment. “Do you… do you know where we are? Where we should go now, to find Des?”

 Deceit weighs their options. Des may be doomed, but they could still save Selene. But if they get her out of the maze only for her to come back in search of her friend again, the situation will be more dire than before. They can sense Falon’Din. He is… closer to Fear’s location than they would like, though still not near to the aspect, or their charge.

 With a heavy breath, Deceit gets to his feet again.

 “We passed the point where we should have encountered your friend,” they say. “That means that either he has gotten out himself, or he has gone deeper into the maze.”

 Selene pales.

 “Des is alone,” she says. “With these things around… what are the odds that he actually got out?”

 Deceit remains silent for a long moment.

 “We are only a few hours away from an exit,” they say, at length. “I can see you safely out, and if your friend is not there, I can then come back for him myself. I will be faster on my own.”

 The comment makes Selene flinch, for some reason. Before Deceit can really respond to that, however, she levels them with a resolute gaze.

 “He went deeper,” she says. “Didn’t he?”

 Again, they do not answer. There should not be any way for them to know.

 Selene shakes her head.

 “I can’t leave him.”

 They sigh.

 “Then we will need to find another fountain room, before we set out again.”

  ~

  Fear flies swiftly as Des crosses the threshold into the next ring of the maze. They shift their form, increasing their size, and grow just enough to snatch the falling elf’s arms with their talons. He cries out in surprise, but Fear has no time to waste, as their path has veered straight across that of a patrolling varterral.

 The archway becomes a blank wall behind them. The varterral rears back, startled at the sudden flurry of activity before it. The pursuing wraiths follow, and that ends up being a good thing. Their dark claws skitter across the labyrinth’s floors, and they streak into the path of the varterral, which proceeds to target them with its riled instincts. It jabs at the illusions, and buys Fear enough time to swoop down the corridor and flap their way up a nearby ledge, and finally deposit Des onto a safer path.

 He is wide-eyed and panting as their own strength gives out for a moment. Fear shrinks back down to their normal size, and then they flop onto the ground.

 They are not certain why they went to all that effort.

 This prisoner does not stand good odds of surviving.

 Des continues to stare at them in astonishment. At least until the sounds of the varterral and the wraiths fighting seem to jolt him from complacency. Fear nearly bites him when he suddenly reaches over and scoops them up; surprise, more than anything, stymies their reaction to the unexpected contact. But Des does not try and twist their neck or break their wings. Instead he tucks them under one arm as he begins to put more distance between the two of them and the labyrinth’s squabbling denizens.

 “Shit, shit, shit,” he swears. Clearly at a loss for where to go. Fear could show him, if they could just catch their breath; but instead the panicked elf hurries them along, winding through passageways in an obvious effort to find a path back the outer layer.

 It is not long before this segment of the labyrinth begins asserting itself, however.

 Roots start to appear along the passageway. At first they just make traversing unsteady. But then the walls themselves start to turn to wood and bark. Gnarled trunks and branches sporting razor-sharp leaves, and tangled, stinging vines. The sounds of more varterrals follow behind them, though, and so Des barely hesitates before heading into the tree-like passageways.

 “This isn’t so bad,” he says.

 Fear works themselves loose from his grasp, recovered enough to fly on their own power. They flutter up towards the best pathway. Des has to crouch and crawl and climb by turns to reach them; each new segment they come to seems more overgrown and tangled than the last. But Des is not wrong. Despite the difficulty in traveling, the cover of the trees holds an illusion of safety, too.

 There’s just one problem.

 None of these passageways lead where they need to go.

 Fear manages to find a way out of the network. However, Des is reluctant to follow. The path away from the center of the maze is dark, and empty. But the path closer to it has opened up into a segment of the labyrinth which resembles a pleasant grove. A waterfall gurgles, flowing into a gentle pond, and a blanket of flowers releases sweet meadow scents into the air. Fruit trees bend beneath the weight of plump and ripe offerings; bright enough to look like party decorations. And a seemingly-discarded keg of wine leans against a ruin stone, looking ancient but also well-preserved.

 “Come on, birdie,” Des says. “Let’s just take a break. I need a rest.”

 Fear caws insistently, and motions towards the other passageway.

 “But this is even better than that other place you showed me! Look, we can go that way afterwards. Don’t you want some fruit?”

 With another caw, Fear flies up closer to the correct passageway.

 Des looks pained.

 He shoots a glance back towards the grove.

 “I’m gonna level with you, Birdie. I am not good at resisting temptation,” he says.

 Fear feels their frustration mount as the fool elf then turns away from them, and heads into the illusion instead.

  ~

  Fear is mad.

 Fear is very, very mad. At Des.

 Deceit hesitates as they cross the next threshold with Selene. Just long enough for her to regard them with some concern. But they pull her along through before she can remark on their hesitance, and then both of their attention is consumed by the sounds of agitated varterrals.

 The entrance vanishes behind them. Selene watches it go with apprehension, before turning towards the hostile sounds awaiting them. The chamber they are in is large. Exposed. It gives off a quality that makes Deceit think of temples, and of the new tributes and shrines that the elves at the camp beyond the labyrinth tend to build. Etchings of the sun mark several high pillars. Elgar’nan’s visage glowers down at them from the end of a long walkway; and yet, as they progress, Deceit is given to the impression that the space is outdoors. The light is orange, but perhaps that is the glow of evening, falling across some kind of ceremonial pavilion. The scent of smoke clings to them again.

 Selene is clearly disquieted.

 “What are those sounds?” she wonders.

 “Varterrals,” Deceit supplies. “They are guards, of a sort. If they are making this much noise, then it’s likely we are not too far from where your friend has ended up. Usually they are silent, unless they detect intruders.”

 “Are they going after Des?” Selene asks, urgently.

 “Yes,” Deceit supplies. “But they are not difficult to avoid, as long as one runs and does not attempt to fight them.”

 “We have to get to him first,” she insists.

 Deceit examines the chamber around them. There are several exits leading out from it. They take a moment to shift their senses towards Falon’Din, as well. He is… not as far off as they would like. But still not close enough to merit excessive concern. The trouble, of course, is that he is quick. And if he should realize that there are mortals in the maze, he will become much, much more difficult to evade.

 After a moment, they indicate the passageway to the furthest right.

 “That one,” they decide. “It will take us closer to the varterrals without venturing deeper into the maze.”

 Selene does not argue, or question their expertise. Which they appreciate. They head through the archway, and find themselves in a mirror-walled corridor. Their shadows throw distorted shapes. Selene keeps her eyes ahead, which is wise. Some of the things seen in the reflections are… not easy to look at.

 And it means she does not spy the black shadow wings that unfurl behind Deceit’s reflections. Nor note the way their image shifts, from humble Sairal to the one they had first worn in the camps.

 Selene herself is wreathed in a halo of fire, that makes the corridor flicker with the reflected light.

 The first turn takes them to another chamber. Or what seems like one. In truth, it is just more of a passageway, but the illusion creates a sense of space. Shelves crawl up along the high walls. Illusionary corridors lead past them, and lanterns illuminate yet more of the same. Rows upon rows of sturdy stone shelving that glimmers with preservation runes, and holds a seemingly endless trove of scrolls, books, and tomes. Perfectly sealed, and written on in the ancient tongue.

 Selene stops in her tracks, and stares at it all.

 “It’s an illusion, right?” she asks. Deceit notes the symbol of Dirthamen hanging, ironically, over the exit.

 “Yes,” they confirm. “There is nothing there but more walls, and a single true pathway that leads deeper into the maze. But the more you give into the illusion, the more depth it will attain, and the greater its hold on you will become”

 Selene sighs.

 There is a slightly wistful note to the sound. But then she follows them down the correct turn, and only clasps her hands together, as if to resist the urge to reach for a book and test their claims.

 They pass through more libraries. And workshops. Seemingly ruined rooms, that pose as exposed parts of the maze, and display themselves as half-broken fragments of the magic used to create it. Those are the hardest to pull Selene away from, as she wonders aloud whether or not this might actually be a broken part of the labyrinth - and how valuable it would be to learn more about the spellwork used to create such a place.

 The third time they are interrupted, Deceit gives in to an inexplicable urge.

 “I know a great deal about this place,” they say. “If you are so curious, then I would be happy to share some knowledge with you. I promise it will be more accurate than anything the illusions themselves tempt you with; the knowledge they offer can only reflect your own knowledge back at you. Which is not invaluable, but would not help with your current aims.”

 Selene’s cheeks darken at their comments. They wonder if they have given offense; but after a moment, she pulls herself away from the exposed crystals and ‘crumbled’ side passage, and falls into step alongside them again.

 “You were taught by Deceit, right?” she asks them. “I heard about them, before they passed. People said they were brilliant. It must have been amazing to study with them.”

 Deceit blinks.

 “Brilliant?” they ask.

 Selene blinks back at them.

 “What? You don’t agree?” she asks, uncertainly.

 “I would not disagree,” they say, after a moment. They shrug. It is a useful gesture, and one they are glad they picked up on before they took on this guise. It looks much less stiff on Sairal. “I simply did not know they were held in such esteem. Though I suppose that would explain the unfavourable comparisons between us.”

 Selene frowns a little.

 “You seem very adept at all of this to me,” she assures them. “I don’t see how anyone could compare you unfavourably to your predecessor. My father’s notes didn’t even mention any safe resting places, and you are helping me even though… even though it is dangerous, and you don’t even know if I can get you the payment I promised.”

 “I do not do this for money,” Deceit assures her. They mean the comment to soothe any worries she has that they will abandon this effort if she cannot offer them adequate compensation. But the comment just seems to make her curious.

 “I guess there are easier ways to make a living,” she muses, voice a murmur. “But then, why…?”

 “It is personal,” they say. They attempt to keep their tone apologetic.

 Fortunately, Selene does not take offense. Some have, in the past. They find Deceit suspicious - Deceit does not suppose they can blame anyone for that, in the end.

 “...Legacies are hard to put up with sometimes,” she says instead, after a moment. Her gaze slips towards the walls, and the passage before them turns sharply uphill. The incline is steep enough to stave off further conversation or inquiries. The next few temptations they pass go unheeded, and Deceit manages to keep them clear of the agitated varterrals. Unfortunately, the maze conjures up several dead-ends and even abruptly stops in a wall of thick-growing trees; too tightly interwoven for them to make their way through.

 But at length, they discover a narrow, rickety staircase. Battered by inexplicable winds and dangling above a seemingly endless darkness. The bottom of the staircase opens out to a chamber that seems like a combination between a forest festival and a grand ballroom. An open night sky spreads overhead, and wraiths dance as revelers, while music plays and various unclothed figures undulate against one another in shaded corners. Long tables offer a vast array of wines and food. Selene flushes, and looks shocked at the sudden furor of noise and activity.

 Deceit is less surprised. Fear is ensconced in one of the nearby trees, and cawing irately at the elven figure currently pouring mouthfuls of illusion down his throat.

 A moment later, Selene herself spots him.

 “Des!” she exclaims.

 The elf looks over as Selene rushes to their reunion. Deceit is uncertain of what to expect - a romantic embrace, a tearful clutching of arms, or even a rush of apologies. They have seen many reunions by now, though, so they are not entirely taken aback when Selene hauls off and smacks the other elf.

 “What are you doing?! You’re in a deadly maze! This is all fake! Why are you sitting on your ass drinking the air and letting those - those things get close enough to trick you?! Didn’t I tell you this place was dangerous? I told you to keep to the outside! This is not the outside, Des! You went further in!”

 Des gawks.

 “Selene?!” he asks, clearly astounded. His gaze flits over towards Deceit, and then back to his friend.

 Finally, Fear thinks. Now maybe he’ll leave.

 Des does stand up, at least.

 “What are you doing here? How did you even get here?”

 “I told you I wouldn’t let them do this to you,” Selene snaps back at him. She gestures towards Deceit. “I used my dowry to buy the services of the actual labyrinth guide. We’ve been looking all over for you, to help get you back out again.”

 Des looks flabbergasted.

 “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done!” he finally declares. “Don’t you know this place is a death trap?”

 “Don’t you?”

 Fear flies over to Deceit and alights onto their shoulder, which seems to draw the mortals’ attention away from their argument.

 Des’ eyes narrow. After a moment, he takes a cautious step back from Selene - who frowns at the movement.

 “Wait,” he says. “How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

 Fear caws at him in irritation.

 This? This is what he thinks is a trick, after hours of falling for the most obvious illusions in here?

 Deceit wonders if the man failed to realize that everything around him was false. Or if, instead, he knew full well - and had simply resigned himself to a more peaceful and indulgent end than death via monster. He would not be the first, though most who attempted such things were usually found by Falon’Din anyway. Or else they learned that death by dehydration was not an enviable fate, either.

 The thought reminds them of the waterskins they filled with Selene before heading in from the outer ring.

 “It’s not a trick,” they say, and toss one to the elf. He catches it, though he still seems wary.

 Selene sighs at him.

 “How can we prove it?” she wonders.

 Deceit shrugs.

 “We can’t,” they say. “Either he’ll take the chance or he won’t. But none of this is real. If he remains here,the monster will find him. Or he’ll die of thirst while drinking imaginary wine. But, the former option is more likely.”

 Selene gives her friend a hard look.

 “I’ll carry him out myself before that happens,” she says.

 Des sighs.

 “Alright,” he says. “I suppose you could be real. Especially since everyone still has their clothes on, and that guide of yours is sort of plain looking. No offense. But my imagination tends to be much more colourful than that.”

 Deceit only shrugs again. Though they are surprised to find themselves feeling vaguely annoyed, too. They cannot place why. Sairal’s appearance is deliberately neutral. It has helped somewhat in reducing the instances of harassment on a few fronts, though it seems to be contributing to their reduced popularity as well.

 Des is a handsome elf, and Selene is strikingly beautiful.

 Deceit frowns, slightly.

 “Des!” Selene protests.

 “What?”

 “Sairal came to help!”

 “You just said you paid them to!”

 “That doesn’t mean you can be a jerk-”

”How was I being a jerk? I was just making an observation…”

 The pair of mortals bicker for a while, as Deceit tries to unobtrusively check their reflection in the surface of a nearby pond, and Fear’s annoyance grows. Eventually, Fear breaks the disruption with an irate caw.

 Selene points at them.

 “That’s a raven,” she says.

 “Well spotted,” Des quips.

 She gives him a look, and he subsides.

 “Elrogathe mentioned ravens in his notes,” Selene continues, pointedly. “He said they helped guide him out of the labyrinth. Deceit used to train them to assist travelers who became lost in the maze, didn’t he?”

 “I think Dirthamen sent it,” Des counters. “Birdie’s been keeping me company. It even saved me from one of those spider things - it can change size. It’s magic.”

 Deceit glances at Fear.

 Fear responds with the equivalent of an internal shrug.

 Selene comes closer, and gives Deceit a look that makes them think she is expecting them to illuminate the situation. She ventures a tentative hand towards Fear; and when they offer no protest, lightly pets at their feathers. Before she can ask more, however, Des finally moves from the segment of the chamber where most of his lounging seemed to be happening. The wraiths posing as revelers take note; they glance, faceless, to where the four of them are standing.

 The shift in the atmosphere is not lost on either Des or Selene, either. Selene’s hand freezes next to Fear’s head.

 The wraiths begin to murmur with indistinct whispers.

 “I think it is time to go,” Deceit says, calmly.

 “Which direction…?” Selene asks.

 The wraiths start to move towards them.

 With a swift turn, Deceit shoves Des towards a tunnel half-hidden by the decorative overgrowth.

 “That one!” they say.

 Right before the wraiths begin to charge.

#dirthalene #maze au #des is... not a good person to be confronted with these kinds of challenges #*cough* #long post

[nasa]

Voyager: The Space Between

Our Voyager 1 spacecraft officially became the first human-made object to venture into interstellar space in 2012. 

Whether and when our Voyager 1 spacecraft broke through to interstellar space, the space between stars, has been a thorny issue. 

In 2012, claims surfaced every few months that Voyager 1 had “left our solar system.” Why had the Voyager team held off from saying the craft reached interstellar space until 2013?

Basically, the team needed more data on plasma, which is an ionozied gas that exists throughout space. (The glob of neon in a storefront sign is an example of plasma).

Plasma is the most important marker that distinguishes whether Voyager 1 is inside the solar bubble, known as the heliosphere.  The heliosphere is defined by the constant stream of plasma that flows outward from our Sun – until it meets the boundary of interstellar space, which contains plasma from other sources.

Adding to the challenge: they didn’t know how they’d be able to detect it.

No one has been to interstellar space before, so it’s  like traveling with guidebooks that are incomplete.

Additionally, Voyager 1’s plasma instrument, which measures the density, temperature and speed of plasma, stopped working in 1980, right after its last planetary flyby.

When Voyager 1 detected the pressure of interstellar space on our heliosphere in 2004, the science team didn’t have the instrument that would provide the most direct measurements of plasma. 

Voyager 1 Trajectory

Instead, they focused on the direction of the magnetic field as a proxy for source of the plasma. Since solar plasma carries the magnetic field lines emanating from the Sun and interstellar plasma carries interstellar magnetic field lines, the directions of the solar and interstellar magnetic fields were expected to differ.

Voyager 2 Trajectory

In May 2012, the number of galactic cosmic rays made its first significant jump, while some of the inside particles made their first significant dip. The pace of change quickened dramatically on July 28, 2012. After five days, the intensities returned to what they had been. This was the first taste test of a new region, and at the time Voyager scientists thought the spacecraft might have briefly touched the edge of interstellar space.

By Aug. 25, when, as we now know, Voyager 1 entered this new region for good, all the lower-energy particles from inside zipped away. Some inside particles dropped by more than a factor of 1,000 compared to 2004. However, subsequent analysis of the magnetic field data revealed that even though the magnetic field strength jumped by 60% at the boundary, the direction changed less than 2 degrees. This suggested that Voyager 1 had not left the solar magnetic field and had only entered a new region, still inside our solar bubble, that had been depleted of inside particles.

Then, in April 2013, scientists got another piece of the puzzle by chance. For the first eight years of exploring the heliosheath, which is the outer layer of the heliosphere, Voyager’s plasma wave instrument had heard nothing. But the plasma wave science team had observed bursts of radio waves in 1983 and 1984 and again in 1992 and 1993. They determined these bursts were produced by the interstellar plasma when a large outburst of solar material would plow into it and cause it to oscillate.

It took about 400 days for such solar outbursts to reach interstellar space, leading to an estimated distance of 117 to 177 AU (117 to 177 times the distance from the Sun to the Earth) to the heliopause.

Then on April 9, 2013, it happened: Voyager 1’s plasma wave instrument picked up local plasma oscillations. Scientists think they probably stemmed from a burst of solar activity from a year before. The oscillations increased in pitch through May 22 and indicated that Voyager was moving into an increasingly dense region of plasma.

The above soundtrack reproduces the amplitude and frequency of the plasma waves as “heard” by Voyager 1. The waves detected by the instrument antennas can be simply amplified and played through a speaker. These frequencies are within the range heard by human ears.

When they extrapolated back, they deduced that Voyager had first encountered this dense interstellar plasma in Aug. 2012, consistent with the sharp boundaries in the charged particle and magnetic field data on Aug. 25.

In the end, there was general agreement that Voyager 1 was indeed outside in interstellar space, but that location comes with some disclaimers. They determined the spacecraft is in a mixed transitional region of interstellar space. We don’t know when it will reach interstellar space free from the influence of our solar bubble.

Voyager 1, which is working with a finite power supply, has enough electrical power to keep operating the fields and particles science instruments through at least 2020, which will make 43 years of continual operation.

Voyager 1 will continue sending engineering data for a few more years after the last science instrument is turned off, but after that it will be sailing on as a silent ambassador. 

In about 40,000 years, it will be closer to the star AC +79 3888 than our own Sun.

And for the rest of time, Voyager 1 will continue orbiting around the heart of the Milky Way galaxy, with our Sun but a tiny point of light among many.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space: http://nasa.tumblr.com.

#nasa #space #voyager #voyager40 #spacecraft #exploaration #interstellarspace #interstellar

[gemteeth]

Raising up a superhero when you aren't

#oc #original character #dc comics #dc universe #the phantom flash #jordan kaine #jor-kai #cassidy deerhart #okay to interact #okay to reblog #my art #outer finite #outer finite au

[blogueericdescarries]

Ford Bronco Sport, la petite Bronco, Lightning, le F-150 tout électrique et plus

Le 19 mai 2021

Pourquoi aura-t-il fallu tant de temps à Ford pour raviver le nom Bronco? Certaines marques légendaires de ce constructeur lui appartiennent toujours : Bronco, Maverick, Thunderbird, Ranchero, Mercury et j’en passe. Il y a fort à parier que toutes pourraient revivre sur un nouveau modèle. Mais, malgré le fait que Bronco n’aurait jamais dû disparaître, la marque n’aurait jamais dû se retirer du marché.

Pour ceux qui ne connaissent pas l’histoire de Bronco, sachez que le nom est d’abord apparu au milieu des années soixante sur un simple petit véhicule tout-terrain qui devait alors faire concurrence à la Jeep CJ qui commençait à peine à connaître une grande popularité. À cette époque, les excursions hors-route devenaient de plus en plus populaires, surtout dans le sud-ouest américain. GM a mis quelques années à reconnaître que ce créneau de véhicule pouvait avoir un potentiel de ventes (what’s new ?) mais le géant américain a alors choisi de créer un véhicule totalement différent en créant le Chevrolet Blazer K-5 et son pendant GMC, le Jimmy, tous deux alors basés sur un pick-up de pleine grandeur raccourci. La formule a connu un certain succès alors que Chrysler (nom de l’époque) en est venu au Ramcharger, une version raccourcie du Dodge Ram. Ford a donc été forcé de revoir son Bronco sous la forme d’un F-150 aussi raccourci.

Toutefois, la crise du pétrole a forcé les constructeurs automobile de rapetisser leurs véhicules et Ford a choisi, au début des années quatre-vingt, de créer une autre version de son tout-terrain sur une base de pick-up compact Ranger. Ainsi est né le Bronco II qui a connu, pour sa part, un certain succès. GM a suivi avec ses petits Chevrolet Blazer S-10 et GMC Jimmy S-15.

Avec le temps et «l’évolution», tous ces véhicules ont laissé leur place à des VUS de plus en plus grands et plus gros dont l’Explorer et autres. Pendant ce temps, Jeep, maintenant propriété de Chrysler, DaimlerChrysler, FCA et maintenant Stellantis, a continué de progresser et de connaître une popularité et une reconnaissance mondiale qui lui sont devenues propres. Ford s’est bien aperçu de la situation. Ce géant américain nous a donc présenté un premier véhicule conceptuel lors d’un des plus spectaculaires Salon de Detroit. Mais, rien n’est sorti de cette aventure jusqu’à l’année dernière. Ford avait alors choisi de vraiment «raviver» la marque Bronco. Toutefois, tant qu’à y aller, pourquoi ne pas pousser plus loin et créer une «famille» Bronco? Le premier résultat de cette philosophie en a été la nouvelle Bronco à deux et quatre portes à venir, un véritable tout-terrain sur châssis rigide (basé sur le châssis du pick-up Ranger comme c’en fut le cas pour la Bronco II) capable de concurrencer le maintenant très populaire Jeep Wrangler! Toutefois, l’idée d’une famille a poussé les ingénieurs de Ford à créer une Bronco moins «agressive» pour les amateurs de la marque. Malgré qu’il soit capable de prouesses hors-route modérées, ainsi est né la Bronco Sport, un sorte de VUS compact affichant un air de robustesse mais conservant des caractéristiques et des dimensions de VUS urbain.

La nouvelle Bronco Sport est la version compacte de la Bronco à venir (Photo Éric Descarries)

L’explication est peut-être un peu longue mais elle doit répondre à une question qui m’a été souvent posée lors de mon essai hebdomadaire de la Bronco Sport : «C’est ça la Bronco?». NON ! Ça, c’est la Bronco SPORT! Pour expliquer rapidement la situation, la Bronco (à venir) est partiellement basée sur le châssis rigide du pick-up Ranger. La Bronco Sport, elle, est basée sur la plateforme C2 de Ford qui, pour le moment, se trouve sous la dernière version de l’Escape (et elle sera la plateforme de la mini-camionnette Maverick à venir, un autre «sujet», si je ne m’abuse, de la famille Bronco!).

Même de l’arrière, la Bronco Sport affiche un look plutôt robuste! (Photo Éric Descarries)

Cela étant dit, la Bronco Sport est un VUS compact plutôt urbain disponible en quatre finitions, base, Big Bends, Outer Banks et Badlands. Toutes sont à traction intégrale mais alors que la version Big Bends se veut plus élaborée que celle de base, la version Outer Banks (du nom des bancs de sable à l’est des Carolines aux États-Unis) est beaucoup plus élaborée alors que la Badlands se présente comme la plus aventurière du groupe.

Le véhicule qui m’a été prêté par Ford du Canada était une version Outer Banks de finition très agréable (avec une peinture d’un ton de gris appelé…Area 51 !). Mais, malgré son allure très robuste, il lui manquait quelque chose d’évident : des pneus plus agressifs! Il était chaussé de pneus Michelin Primacy A/S parfaits pour de longs trajets sur autoroute mais pas tout indiqués pour des excursions hors-route aussi faciles fussent-elles!

Revenons à la case départ. Ce qui est le plus accrocheur chez cette Bronco Sport, c’est son design très «camion» qui se distingue grandement des autres VUS compacts sur le marché. Au lieu d’afficher un look «soccer mom», cette Ford semble prête à attaquer des sentiers! Au lieu d’une ligne «aérodynamique» avec des phares effilés, la Sport se distingue par un avant très carré et des phares ronds. Le pare-brise est à un angle plus prononcé et le toit plus carré! La calandre est simple mais reconnaissable alors que les ornementations sont en plastique blanc plutôt qu’en métal chromé.

Il fut facile pour moi de comparer la Bronco Sport à une Escape car ma compagne roule en Escape. J’en ai donc une à la portée de la main. Malgré qu’il soit du millésime 2017, elle peut servir à une certaine forme de comparaison. Outre les différences physiques, la première constatation me fut de noter que la Bronco Sport m’a semblé légèrement plus spacieux à l’intérieur. Toutefois, je dois vous dire qu’au volant, la structure de la Bronco Sport m’a paru nettement plus rigide que celle de l’Escape que nous possédons!

Alors que notre Escape est mue par un quatre cylindres EcoBoost turbocompressé de 1,5 litre, la Bronco Sport qui me fut confiée par Ford du Canada avait aussi un moteur EcoBoost de 1,5 litre turbocompressé mais cette fois, il s’agissait d’un bloc à TROIS cylindres. Je m’en suis aperçu aussitôt que j’en ai pris possession ne serait-ce que par le son qu’il produisait!  Toutefois, ne vous laissez pas tromper par le fait que cet EcoBoost n’ait que trois cylindres! Il développe tout de même 181 chevaux et 190 li-pi de couple ce qui lui permet des accélérations de 0 à 100 km/h en quelque neuf secondes grâce à la boîte automatique à huit rapports! Définitivement, on est loin des trois cylindres des Geo Metro des années quatre-vingt-dix! (le petit EcoBoost est aussi disponible dans la Ford Escape) Le reste est presque identique à la mécanique de l’Escape 2021 avec lequel la Bronco Sport partage la plateforme. Toutefois, l’utilisateur de Bronco Sport Outer Banks a le privilège d’utiliser la commande rotative G.O.A.T. (Goes Over Any Terrain ce qui veut dire Aller sur n’importe lequel terrain) qui indiquera à l’ordinateur quelle fonction donner à l’antipatinage et autres commandes électroniques pour conserver une bonne adhérence sur la «route» incluant «sand» (comme dans les Outer Banks) et «snow». Évidemment, avec les pneus Michelin Primacy d’origine, je ne me risquerais pas sur un terrain boueux (fort possiblement que je changerais ces pneus pour de plus agressifs dès la livraison du véhicule) mais la garde au sol du Bronco Sport peut aider à négocier un parcours plus «exigeant».

Même le tableau de bord semble plus robuste, ne serait-ce que par son design plutôt simpliste. (Photo Éric Descarries)

Un rapide coup d’œil à l’intérieur nous indique que les designers de Ford ont voulu conserver un petit aspect «robuste» à la Bronco Sport. Le tableau de bord est d’une grande simplicité avec un bloc d’instruments (très lisibles) devant le conducteur et un écran bien intégré au centre. Le coffre à gants est plus bas devant le passager. La console est simple aussi avec quelques commandes rotatives incluant celle du choix des vitesses et celle des choix de terrains à parcourir (commande rotative G.O.A.T.). Le volant (encore une fois assez simple) est, toutefois assez chargé de commandes. Les sièges sont confortables, sans plus, mais avec un matériau relativement robuste. Les places arrière peuvent être à l’étroit si les passagers ont de grandes jambes mais l’espace disponible est passable. L’espace de chargement est semblable à celui de l’Escape mais avec un seuil assez bas. Remarquez, sur les photos que le plancher de cet espace cargo est recouvert d’un plastique encore une fois robuste mais surtout facilement lavable, tout comme les carpettes aux pieds des occupants. En passant, la visibilité y est très bonne tout le tour.

Les places arrière peuvent être étroites aux personnes avec de longues jambes. (Photo Éric Descarries)

L’espace de chargement peut être équipé de points d’arrimage et de robustes carpettes facilement lavables. (Photo Éric Descarries)

Sur la route (et même hors-route) !

J’ai déjà amorcé l’image de performance de la Bronco Sport avec le trois cylindres un peu plus haut dans ce reportage. Les accélérations ne sont pas foudroyantes mais elles sont acceptables. Quant aux reprises, elles sont confortables en autant que la boîte automatique réagisse rapidement. Dans une situation sur autoroute, j’ai eu la désagréable surprise «d’attendre» plus d’une seconde avant qu’elle ne réagisse en rétrogradant. Mais ce ne fut que la seule fois.

Derrière le volant, on note que le capot de la Sport est très présent. Il ne plonge pas vers l’avant ce qui serait bien en situation de stationnement mais au moins, le conducteur sait où le véhicule s’arrête. La conduite est aussi agréable et précise que tout autre VUS de sa catégorie mais il faut spécifier que sa suspension est juste un peu plus sèche que celle des VUS de tourisme. Malgré tout, j’ai tourné la commande des comportements à Sport ce qui m’a donné une suspension encore plus ferme mais pas inconfortable! Et les changements de rapports de la boîte de vitesses deviennent plus longs et plus espacés. Le ronronnement du moteur n’est pas désagréable. La direction est précise et le freinage bien à point. Mon petit «road trip» hebdomadaire dans les Laurentides a été des plus agréables!

Le «petit» moteur turbocompressé à trois cylindres est étonnant. (Photo Éric Descarries)

Mais, je me suis aussi permis une petite balade dans la pépinière de mon ami Pierre Archambault à Laval (Pépinor) dans les chemins de tracteur de son grand domaine. Cette route de terre avec ornières profondes et quelques buttes et côtes a facilement été négociée par la Bronco Sport. Notez que je ne l’aurais peut-être pas fait s’il avait plu car, malgré leur grand confort sur la route, les Primacy n’ont pas de rainures assez agressives pour la boue. Après avoir consulté mes amis et conseillers de Pneus Premier Choix à Laval, si le véhicule avait été mien, j’aurais choisi un Yokohama Geolandar G015 A/T ou un Toyo Open Country AT3 ! Mais, sur la terre sèche, c’était plutôt amusant!

Et vous aurez compris que les manœuvres de stationnement sont relativement faciles avec un véhicule de ce gabarit équipé, de plus, de caméras du système Co-Pilot 360 ! Et pour le remorquage, Ford annonce une capacité de 2200 livres selon l’équipement choisi.

En ce qui a trait à la consommation, le petit trois cylindres m’a surpris. Malgré mes «folies», j’ai obtenu une moyenne de 8,3 l./100 km alors que l’ordinateur de bord indiquait 7,9. Ce n’est certes pas si mal pour un petit VUS aussi agréable à l’œil. Car c’est vraiment là son grand attrait, son design unique qui invite à l’aventure!

Si les études démontrent que le prix moyen d’une voiture neuve au Canada est d’environ 42 000 $, vous serez contents (et étonnés) d’apprendre que la Bronco Sport Outer Banks dont il est question dans ce reportage affiche un prix final de 40 199 $ ce qui implique son prix de base de 34 199$ et 4100 $ d’options dont l’aide à la conduite Co-Pilot 360 de 850 $, les carpettes de caoutchouc de 250 $, la carpette pour le compartiment de cargo de 150 $, l’ensemble de remorquage de Classe II de 600 $, les belles jantes de 650 $, le système d’arrimage du cargo de 200 $ et l’ensemble Big Bend (toit ouvrant, système d’avertissement de marche arrière et tapis de recharge pour le téléphone) de 1300 $. Ajoutez à cela les 100 $ de la taxe fédérale d’accise pour le climatiseur et les frais de livraison de 1900 $ !  

Si vous n’avez pas nécessairement besoin de la plus grande puissance du quatre cylindres, il y a de fortes chances que le travail régulier du moteur à trois cylindres vous comble. Quant au succès du Bronco Sport…devrions-nous en douter?

Le Ford F-150 Lightning enfin dévoilé

Ça y est, Ford a levé le voile sur la version toute électrique de son populaire F-150. Qui plus est, il portera le nom de Lightning. On le distinguera surtout à sa calandre dont le contour est illuminé.

Le Lightning 2023 à venir se reconnaîtra à l’illumination supérieure de sa calandre. (Photo Ford)

Rapidement dit, le Lightning sera mû par deux moteurs électriques, l’un pour l’avant, l’autre pour l’arrière ce qui en fera un véhicule à traction intégrale. Parmi les grandes innovations, notons une suspension arrière indépendante, un coffre à l’avant (où il y aurait eu un moteur thermique) et surtout un prix qui débutera autour de 68 000 $ au Canada (alors que la concurrence nous annonce des pick-up à plus de 100 000 $).

Il y a un coffre (avec prises de courant) là où il y aurait dû avoir un moteur thermique! (Photo Ford)

Toutefois, le F-150 Lightning ne sera disponible qu’au printemps de 2022 en tant que modèle 2023. Nous aurons donc largement le temps d’en parler!

Une Versailles hors de l’ordinaire

Notre ami lecteur Gaétan Boucher a trouvé cette photo d’une Lincoln Versailles modifiée en cabriolet sur Internet. Connaissant mon intérêt pour cette marque (qui n’a été créée qu’en berline à quatre portes), il m’a fait parvenir cette image. Alors, quand je gagnerai le Gros Lot, je ferai modifier la mienne en conséquence. Quelqu’un connait-il un carrossier hors-pair?

Photo via Internet

Enfin, merci au lecteur Richard Delisle pour ses bons mots!

[mel-stiel-blog]

Moi, Simon, 16 ans, Homo sapiens de Becky Albertalli . Gros coup de cœur sur le livre et sur le film. Mais d’abord parlons du livre. . Nous suivons Simon qui a 16 ans qui a un grand secret. Il est gay. Et il a une correspondance avec un mystérieux Blue. Mais un jour Martin, un de ses camarades le découvre et le fait chanter. . Voilà un petit résumé. Maintenant rentrons plus en profondeur du livre. . Déjà WoW. Juste WoW. Il est rapide et simple a lire et pourtant il fait passer tellement d’émotions. C’est un livre qui fait du bien, un livre avec un jeune faisant partit de la communauté lgbt et SPOILER. qui finit bien. FIN DU SPOIL. . 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 Les personnages sont tous attachant, bon sauf un. Et je trouve le livre très humain et réaliste. Avec un bonne représentation et qui tient très bien le suspense sur qui est Blue et jusqu’au bout. Bon je ne suis pas très objective mais c’est lié à mon énorme coupe de cœur. .🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 Bon au début je le trouvait un peu trop rapide mais je m’y suis faite et justement je trouve que cela s’inclut bien dans le livre et l’histoire. . 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 Maintenant spoiler Je trouve que l’auteur a fais un bon travail de représentation : deux personnages Gay font un qui est noir. Un personnage bisexuel et des poc. . Tout le moment où Simon se fait outer par Martin est très réaliste. Sa réaction, ce qu’il ressent la réaction de ses proches. Aussi bien dans le livre que dans le film. . Mais les meilleurs moments sont ceux qui ne sont pas dans le film. . 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 Fin du spoil. Si je dois mettre une note 6/5 (toujours très objective). . 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 On se revoit bientôt pour une critique plus objective. Et je pense lire ses autres livres. A bientôt Mel #bookstagram #livre #book #lovesimon

#book #livre #lovesimon #bookstagram

[orbemnews]

End of the world: Astronomer explains Earth's scorching future when planet 'skims' the Sun Although the Sun is the burning hot centre of our solar system, the star will unavoidably run out of fuel in about five billion years. When this happens, the Sun will go through a destructive process and come out on the other side as a much smaller white dwarf. The intermediary stage, however, the so-called red giant, will be a real cause of concern for whatever life is still on Earth billions of years from now. The Sun provides us with warmth and heat, not because it is a ball of burning gas, but because it goes through a continuous cycle of nuclear fusion. At the Sun’s core, atoms of hydrogen are fused together into the larger element helium, which releases tremendous amounts of energy. The process is so powerful, scientists on Earth have been trying to harness it in a bid to supply us with clean, renewable energy. But the amount of hydrogen the Sun can fuse is finite and when the star is about twice as old as it is now, it will burn through all of its fuel. READ MORE: Black hole breakthrough: UK simulation observes first ‘backreaction’ An imbalance in the forces acting within and outside of the star will then cause it to swell like a balloon in size. Dr Mark Morris, a professor of astronomy at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), explained: “There’s every expectation that in about five billion more years, that our Sun will swell up to become a red giant. “And then, as it gets larger and larger, it will eventually become what’s called an asymptotic giant branch star – a star whose radius is just under the distance between the Sun and the Earth – one astronomical unit in size.” To put that into perspective, one astronomical unit or AU is about 93 million miles. Dr Morris added: “So the Earth will be literally skimming the surface of the red giant Sun when it’s an asymptotic giant branch star.” Once the Sun runs out of hydrogen to fuse at the core, the core will collapse in on itself. But the nuclear reaction will continue in the Sun’s outer laters which will still have some reserves of the gas. The core will grow hotter and expand the outer layers outwards until they consume Mercury, Venus and stop short just before Earth. An average star like our Sun will produce in the process a white dwarf – dead but still incredibly hot stellar core. And the outer layers that have spread into the solar system will, in time, create a planetary nebula – a roughly spherical cloud of ionised gases. However, the red giant will not be as hot the Sun is right now. Dr Morris said: “A star that big is also cool because they’re cold – red hot versus blue hot or yellow hot like our Sun. “Because it’s cold, a red giant star at its surface laters can keep all of its elements in the gas phase. “So some of the heavier elements – the metals and the silicates – condense out as small dust grains, and when these elements condense out as solids, then radiation pressure from this very luminous red giant star pushes the dust grains out.” The dust will carry gas with it, in essence, expelling the Sun’s atmosphere with it. By that point, the Sun’s core, the white dwarf, will become exposed. Of course, there is no guarantee, humanity will be around to witness this but if there is still any life left on Earth in five billion years, it will likely go out with the Sun. if(typeof utag_data.ads.fb_pixel!=="undefined"&&utag_data.ads.fb_pixel==!0)!function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s)if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod?n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments);if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n;n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0';n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0;t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0];s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window,document,'script','https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js');fbq('init','568781449942811');fbq('track','PageView') Source link Orbem News #astronomer #Earths #explains #Future #planet #scorching #skims #Sun #World

[powerdragonmoon]

Lycopersicon esculentum

Chapter 1: Hallowed and Hollow

A small idea for a Halloween oneshot that grew into something more...

Let’s blame @mardimari @xiueryn​ and @leoqueen082​ for this one! (I’m trying to fite a writer’s block so it’s a little experimental! Hope you enjoy!) 

Happy Halloween! A Chloe witch!au

(ao3 link) 

She remembers what the tea leaves had said, the glints of light reflected off crystal, the lines on her hands. Every reading that took place all those years ago when she was just a student learning her trade, young, carefree and wild. Each one repeated over and over, each one with the same result.

Grow, they said. Soil and dirt, they whispered. And she shudders at the thought of getting her hands dirty. Weed, prune, plant, water. Care and nurture. Words her tongue could not properly give meaning to…and colours that held too much meaning.

Red.

Lots and lots of red.

In her eyes she saw work, toil, and stress. In her premonitions she felt pain, pain from the past and pain in her future. And so she ignored the summons, instead finding better uses of her time and magic. Foliage flashed into glitter and red bled into glamour. She worked hard, but it was work that came with an ease that was comfortable to her and held little to no challenge. Even better, it came with glory and praise…fanfare and celebrity.  

That soon morphed into monotony.

Still, she watches as the years passed, she delves deeper and deeper into her studies, her performance. She tries to blaze trails of her own making, yet still falters in trying to join the crowd. All around she looks on as others found their place. Their familiars step out from uncharted realms: wandering stray cats that purr in the presence of those they protect, songbirds that tweet and twitter from tree to tree and shoulder to shoulder; shadows that lurk, watching over their chosens.

In the ghosts of her reflection she finds no one by her side…

The whispers get louder, the visions clearer and clearer.

Now, when she closes her eyes she sees flowers. When her hands reach for a quill, she feels the grit of soil. Each spell that is cast grows dimmer and dimmer.

She is tired.

There is a void in her heart that even magic doesn’t seem able to fill. No sparkle of glitter or flash of white can quell the emptiness. Glinted gold is just a outer coat, hiding the hollowness, masking the abyss. Superficial.

When she reads her own palms, she sees leaves and petals in each line.

It is draining.

But she is stubborn and she continues on.

When she passes the shop, her feet seem to drag her in unwillingly, even as she glares at its tacky pink sign. However she is soon under the spell of colours and blooms, in a room overflowing in green and filled with scents of a thousand unseen worlds. Her annoyance is quickly smothered by wonder, complete awe as she stands enamoured in the flora—

That is until a bee buzzes in her ear.

She yelps, breaking the spell and swatting at the annoying insect. In her surprise, she knocks against a nearby counter, sending a potted plant to the ground.

With a flick of her wrist, she casts some magic that just barely catches the plant, but it still knocks harshly against the floor, sending a horrible crack along the ceramic. Chloe flinches at the sound. She floats the plant back atop the counter to inspect the damage and grimaces at the nasty gash on its side…she was never good at healing spells.

Nearby, a black cat meows. In response Chloe glares at it. The cat is shiny and black as night. Its fur sparkles in the sunlight like stars she does not know the astrology of. A long tail puffs out behind it, shifting from side to side and Chloe purses her lips, silently wanting to remedy the situation before anyone noticed. She hopes this cat keeps its mouth shut. But its continued whining says otherwise.

The cat meows once more, this time louder, jumping from its ledge where it had previously been bathing in the sunlight to advance towards her. Its bright green eyes glow as it passes through the shade cast by the towering leaves.

“Shoo!” Chloe waves at it, before bristling at the sound of a door opening. She looks up across the counter to see a walking pile of flowers.

“Mon Minou?” the flowers speak, petals and leaves shaking slightly as they move forward into the shop. Chloe cranes her neck spotting a pink apron between the foliage, small hands wrapped around stems, and bare legs peeping out from below, slightly off balance.

The cat purrs, following the voice and rubbing itself against the owner’s legs.

Chloe steps back, feeling as if she is suddenly interrupting an oddly intimate moment. The shivers down her spine tell her she did not belong. She needs to escape.

However, it was then and there that her extravagant heels decide to voice otherwise. They clang against the tile flooring, sending an echoing cacophony throughout the previously peaceful flower shop.

The leaves shake, and the air grows heavier. Shadows weigh into her bones before she jumps in fright at an unseen touch. Vines wrap around her being, freezing her and she chokes on words stuck in her throat. The light dims. Spells lay dormant under her skin, her glitz and glamour lay useless, camouflaged by the rising walls of invasive weeds.

Dark magic.

Chloe gasps one final breath as she feels the floor melt underneath her. Gravity takes its hold on her as she feels her being break into bits and pieces, each molecule ripped and cracked into stardust. Each particle becoming smaller than the last, yet limitless in its own expanding galaxy. Endless, yet finite. The weight of eternity presses down against her heart and she succumbs to its burden, falling boundless yet chained, captive yet freed, into the pits of a thousand black holes.

Until something snapped…wicked and wild.

Haunted and terrifying…

And bright.

#ml fanfic #chloe bourgeois #miraculous ladybug #happy halloween #spoopy #witch!au #(trying something new...and doing minimal editing...hope you enjoy! and sorry for any errors/tense issues!) #i just needed to try spewing out something #OTL #my writing #powder writes #flkjas;lfkja;slfjkaslkfja;sd #i dont know where this is going but its very different then i originally planned #blame mari for the memes #shay for the magic #and x for the motivation #originally thought this would be a chlonath story...but now im not sure???? #we'll see what chloe decides... #witches #magic

[wine-k]

The Absolutely Huge and Incredible Injustice in the World

   The Absolutely Huge and Incredible Injustice in the World    

By Ron Padgett

What makes us so mean?

We are meaner than gorillas,

the ones we like to blame our genetic aggression on.

It is in our nature to hide behind what Darwin said about survival,

as if survival were the most important thing on earth.

It isn't.

You know—surely it has occurred to you—

that there is no way that humankind will survive

another million years. We'll be lucky to be around

another five hundred. Why?

Because we are so mean

that we would rather kill everyone and everything on earth

than let anybody get the better of us:

"Give me liberty or give me death!"

Why didn't he just say "Grrr, let's kill each other!"?

A nosegay of pansies leans toward us in a glass of water

on a white tablecloth bright in the sunlight

at the ocean where children are frolicking,

then looking around and wondering—

about what we cannot say, for we are imagining

how we would kill the disgusting man and woman

at the next table. Tonight we could throw an electrical storm

into their bed. No more would they spit on the veranda!

Actually they aren't that bad, it's just

that I am talking mean in order to be more

like my fellow humans—it's lonely feeling like a saint,

which I do one second every five weeks,

but that one second is so intense I can't stand up

and then I figure out that it's ersatz, I can't be a saint,

I am not even a religious person, I am hardly a person at all

except when I look at you and think

that this life with you must go on forever

because it is so perfect, with all its imperfections,

like your waistline that exists a little too much,

like my hairline that doesn't exist at all!

Which means that my bald head feels good

on your soft round belly that feels good too.

If only everyone were us!

But sometimes we are everyone, we get mad

at the world and mean as all get-out,

which means we want to tell the world to get out

of this, our world. Who are all these awful people?

Why, it's your own grandma, who was so nice to you—

you mistook her for someone else. She actually was

someone else, but you had no way of knowing that,

just as you had no way of knowing that the taxi driver

saves his pennies all year

to go to Paris for Racine at the Comédie Francaise.

Now he is reciting a long speech in French from Andromache

and you arrive at the corner of This and That

and though Andromache's noble husband Hector has been killed

and his corpse has been dragged around the walls of Troy by an

     unusually mean Achilles,

although she is forced into slavery and a marriage

to save the life of her son, and then people around her

get killed, commit suicide, and go crazy, the driver is in paradise,

he has taken you back to his very mean teacher

in the unhappy school in Port-au-Prince and then

to Paris and back to the French language of the seventeenth century

and then to ancient Greece and then to the corner of This and That.

Only a mean world would have this man driving around in a city

where for no reason someone is going to fire a bullet into the back of

    his head!

It was an act of kindness

on the part of the person who placed both numbers and letters

on the dial of the phone so we could call WAverly,

ATwater, CAnareggio, BLenheim, and MAdison,

DUnbar and OCean, little worlds in themselves

we drift into as we dial, and an act of cruelty

to change everything into numbers only, not just phone numbers

that get longer and longer, but statistical analysis,

cost averaging, collateral damage, death by peanut,

inflation rates, personal identification numbers, access codes,

and the whole raving Raft of the Medusa

that drives out any thought of pleasantness

until you dial I-8OO-MATTRES and in no time get a mattress

that is complete and comfy and almost under you,

even though you didn't need one! The men

come in and say Here's the mattress where's

the bedroom? And the bedroom realizes it can't run away.

You can't say that the people who invented the bedroom were mean,

only a bedroom could say that, if it could say anything.

It's a good thing that bedrooms can't talk!

They might keep you up all night telling you things

you don't want to know. "Many years ago,

in this very room. . . ." Eeek, shut up! I mean,

please don't tell me anything, I'm sorry I shouted at you.

And the walls subside into their somewhat foreverness.

The wrecking ball will mash its grimace into the plaster and oof,

down they will come, lathe and layers of personal history,

but the ball is not mean, nor is the man who pulls the handle

that directs the ball on its pendulous course, but another man

—and now a woman strides into his office and slaps his face hard

the man whose bottom line is changing its color

wants to change it back. So good-bye, building

where we made love, laughed, wept, ate, and watched TV

all at the same time! Where our dog waited by the door,

eyes fixed on the knob, where a runaway stream came whooshing

down the hallway, where I once expanded to fill the whole room

and then deflated, just to see what it would feel like,

where on Saturday mornings my infant son stood by the bedside

and sang, quietly, "Wa-a-a-ke up" to his snoozing parents.

I can never leave all the kindness I have felt in this apartment,

but if a big black iron wrecking ball comes flying toward me,

zoop, out I go! For there must be

kindness somewhere else in the world,

maybe even out of it, though I'm not crazy

about the emptiness of outer space. I have to live

here, with finite life and inner space and with

the horrible desire to love everything and be disappointed

the way my mother was until that moment

when she rolled her eyes toward me as best she could

and squeezed my hand when I asked, "Do you know who I am?"

then let go of life.

The other question was, Did I know who I was?

It is hard not to be appalled by existence.

The pointlessness of matter turns us into cornered animals

that otherwise are placid or indifferent,

we hiss and bare our fangs and attack.

But how many people have felt the terror of existence?

Was Genghis Khan horrified that he and everything else existed?

Was Hitler or Pol Pot?

Or any of the other charming figures of history?

Je m'en doute.

It was something else made them mean.

Something else made Napoleon think it glorious

to cover the frozen earth with a hundred thousand bloody corpses.

Something else made . . . oh, name your monster

and his penchant for destruction,

name your own period in history when a darkness swept over us

and made not existing seem like the better choice,

as if the solution to hunger were to hurl oneself

into a vat of boiling radioactive carrots!

Life is so awful!

I hope that lion tears me to pieces!

It is good that those men wearing black hoods

are going to strip off my skin and force me

to gape at my own intestines spilling down onto the floor!

Please drive spikes through not only my hands and feet

but through my eyes as well!

For this world is to be fled as soon as possible

via the purification of martyrdom.

This from the God of Christian Love.

Cupid hovers overhead, perplexed.

Long ago Zeus said he was tired

and went to bed: if you're not going to exist

it's best to be asleep.

The Christian God is like a cranky two-thousand-year-old baby

whose fatigue delivers him into an endless tantrum.

He will never grow up

because you can't grow up unless people listen to you,

and they can't listen because they are too busy being mean

or fearing the meanness of others.

How can I blame them?

I too am afraid. I can be jolted by an extremely violent movie,

but what is really scary is that someone wanted to make the film!

He is only a step away from the father

who took his eight-year-old daughter and her friend to the park

and beat and stabbed them to death. Uh-oh.

"He seemed like a normal guy," said his neighbor, Thelma,

who refused to divulge her last name to reporters.

She seemed like a normal gal, just as the reporters seemed like

     normal vampires.

In some cultures it is normal to eat bugs or people

or to smear placenta on your face at night, to buy

a car whose price would feed a village for thirty years,

to waste your life and, while you're at it, waste everyone

     else's too!

Hello, America. It is dawn,

wake up and smell yourselves.

You smell normal.

My father was not normal,

he was a criminal, a scuffler, a tough guy,

and though he did bad things

he was never mean.

He didn't like mean people, either.

Sometimes he would beat them up

or chop up their shoes!

I have never beaten anyone up,

but it might be fun to chop up some shoes.

Would you please hand me that cleaver, Thelma?

But Thelma is insulted by my request,

even though I said please, because she has the face of a cleaver

that flies through the air toward me and lodges

in my forehead. "Get it yourself,

lughead!" she spits, then twenty years later

she changes lughead to fuckhead.

I change my name to Jughead

and go into the poetry protection program

so my poems can go out and live under assumed names

in Utah and Muskogee.

Anna Chukhno looks up and sees me

through her violet Ukrainian eyes

and says Good morning most pleasantly inflected. Oh

to ride in a horse-drawn carriage with her at midnight

down the wide avenues of Kiev and erase

the ditch at Babi Yar from human history!

She looks up and asks How would you like that?

I say In twenties and she counts them out

as if the air around her were not shattered by her beauty

and my body thus divided into zones:

hands the place of metaphysics, shins the area of moo,

bones the cost of living, and so on.

Is it cruel that I cannot cover her with kisses?

No, it is beautiful that I cannot cover her with kisses,

it is better that I walk out into the sunlight

with the blessing of having spoken with an actual goddess

who gave me four hundred dollars!

And I am reassembled

as my car goes forward

into the oncoming rays of aggression

that bounce off my glasses and then

start penetrating, and soon my eyes

turn into abandoned coal mines

whose canaries explode into an evil song

that echoes exactly nowhere.

At least I am not in Rwanda in 1994 or the Sudan in '05

or Guantanamo or Rikers, or in a ditch outside Rio,

clubbed to death and mutilated. No Cossack

bears down on me with sword raised and gleaming

at my Jewish neck and no time for me

to cry out "It is only my neck that is Jewish!

The rest is Russian Orthodox!" No smiling man tips back

his hat and says to his buddies, "Let's teach

this nigguh a lesson." I don't need a lesson, sir,

I am Ethiopian, this is my first time in your country!

But you gentlemen are joking. . . .

Prepare my cave and then kindly forget where it was.

A crust of bread will suffice and a stream nearby,

the chill of evening filtering in with the blind god

who is the chill of evening and who touches us

though we can't raise our hands to stroke his misty beard

     in which

two hundred million stars have wink and glimmer needles.

I had better go back to the bank, we have

only three hundred and eighty-five dollars left.

Those fifteen units of beauty went fast.

As does everything.

But meanness comes back right away

while kindness takes its own sweet time

and compassion is busy shimmering always a little above us and

     behind,

swooping down and transfusing us only when we don't expect it

and then only for a moment.

How can I trap it?

Allow it in and then

turn my body into steel? No.

The exit holes will still be there and besides

compassion doesn't need an exit it is an exit—

from the prison that each moment is,

and just as each moment replaces the one before it

each jolt of meanness replaces the one before it

and pretty soon you get to like those jolts,

you and millions of other dolts who like to be electrocuted

by their own feelings. The hippopotamus

sits on you with no sense of pleasure, he doesn't

even know you are there, any more than he takes notice

of the little white bird atop his head, and when

he sees you flattened against the ground

he doesn't even think Uh-oh he just trots away

with the bird still up there looking around.

Saint Augustine stole the pears from his neighbor's tree

and didn't apologize for thirty years, by which time

his neighbor was probably dead and in no mood

for apologies. Augustine's mother became a saint

and then a city in California—Santa Monica,

where everything exists so it can be driven past,

except the hippopotamus that stands on the freeway

in the early dawn and yawns into your high beams.

"Hello," he seems to grunt, "I can't be your friend

and I can't be your enemy, I am like compassion,

I go on just beyond you, no matter how many times

you crash into me and die because you never learned

to crash and live." Then he ambles away.

Could Saint Augustine have put on that much weight?

I thought compassion makes you light

or at least have light, the way it has light around it

in paintings, like the one of the screwdriver

that appeared just when the screw was coming loose

from the wing of the airplane in which Santa Monica was riding into

     heaven,

smiling as if she had just imagined how to smile

the first smile of any saint, a promise toward the perfection

of everything that is and isn't.

                                                                                                               Ron Padgett, "The Absolutely Huge and Incredible Injustice in the World" from Collected Poems. Copyright © 2013 by Ron Padgett.