#Sky Lit Artifice

[lec743-my-art]

Merry Christmas Secret Santa @primary-visions

            The day was coming to an end. The sky was painted with bright oranges, light pinks, and stark purples and indigo, just enough light for the three travelers to see by as they made it to their destination. The town was small but thrived on the travelers that must pass through to reach farther lands. There was a comfy inn called Drunk Rats. There was an obvious sign of forgers and black smith smokestacks further in town, but the three travelers were too tired to truly explore the town further than what they could see. Well, the only human of the group was tired. The two automatons traveling with the human could continue for forever if they so choose, but it was time for the two to check if anything needs oiling or if dust needs to be taken out of gears. Staying at an inn was a great place to check for such things.

            “Oh! This place is so cute looking. Do you think I should have my house here?” Soliel asked as he examined the old but sturdy building they were entering. His metal hands touched at the wood gently as he walked with the others.

            The inn wasn’t overwhelmingly loud, but it was noisy with low talking as a dwarf bard near the fireplace strummed on her lute. Candle holders caked with the remains of past candles sat against the support beams of the building as the newly lit candles’ lights danced, giving the whole place a soft golden glow.

            “You say that about every village or town we walk into,” Hati stated, ribbing his follow automat with playfulness and annoyance.

            “There are so many good places to live at!” Soliel said, getting defensive. “I want to live at the perfect place.”

            The human companion, the artificer of the group, sighed at their bickering. They left Hati and Soliel to bicker like siblings that have been together for far too long as they approached the owner of the inn at the front desk.

            “Hi. Do you have room for the three of us? We’ll just take one room.”

            The human woman looked like she was nearing her golden age. Maybe in her fifties if the gray in her blond hair told them anything. The front desk woman had on a very low-cut dress that was brown and blue in color. It looked nice on her. She looked at the artificer and then at their bickering companions behind them. “Are those things yours?”

            The human companion sighed in disappointment at that. “They’re my friends.”

            There was a pause as the older woman looked at the artificer with one cocked eyebrow. They didn’t elaborate to the woman, so she shrugged then said, “It’ll be two gold pieces per night stay. Do you have any horses or livestock with you?”

            “No, it’s just the three of us,” they said as they dug out ten gold pieces. Then they placed them on the counter and the woman took the money and placed a key in its place.

            “Your room will be upstairs, on the right, at the end of the hallway.”

            “Thank you.”

            They went back to their automaton buddies. They overheard them fighting over hypotheticals about how they would handle fighting a bugbear. Hati was proudly saying he’d demolish the bugbear with the perfect strike while Soliel gave him the most leveling look an automaton could give when his face is only a mask of an artistic sun.

            “Okay. Let’s go boys. I hear a bath calling my name.”

            “Coming,” they both cheered as they followed the artificer up the stairs.

            The next day, as the sun rose, Soliel was the first to rise and he went to explore the little town. It was full of people. Mostly humans, as he’s accustomed to seeing, but he has also noticed there’s another thriving population of lizardfolk as well, along with a small, odd population of dwarves, elves and half-orcs. It really did seem like a nice town, with old but well-kept buildings, a flower shop, a sizable food market, two smith shops, a ceramic shop and a stone and wood cutter shop. Soliel circled back to the food market to buy a little snack for his sunshine friend but as he browsed what the food stalls had to offer, he noticed that there really wasn’t much to see. The portions were much too small for what size they should have been, or they were so old that they were starting to rot a bit, which isn’t a good sign.

            Soliel looked to the current food stall owner, who’s stall that he was browsing, and it was a young lizardfolk man sitting behind the cart. He was maybe in his late twenties or early thirties. His scales looked dull, and his face looked gaunt, like he hasn’t had a good meal in a while. He was wearing a simple tunic shirt and it hung off him loosely.

            “Excuse me my good man.”

            The lizardfolk man blinked a bit, like he was taken out of his thoughts and then he turned his snout towards the automaton. He blinked some more before his eyebrow ridges raised higher on his face as he regarded Soliel. “Yes?”

            “I was just wondering, is your town coming across hard times recently.” The bardic automaton motioned towards the lizardfolk’s wares for emphases.

            The lizardfolk man sighed as he leaned back into his chair. “No. It is not recently. It’s been four years.”

            “Oh my! What’s wrong?”

            “Look. I don’t have time for your curiosity, stranger. Either buy something or leave.” He didn’t say it with any power. He sounded like a man who’s extremely tired.

# # #

            “What do you mean he won’t tell me more! I rolled high on my charisma! I persuaded the heck out of him!” Sun whined to you, the Dungeon Master.

            “Look Sun, that’s just all he’s willing to answer. He doesn’t see you as a threat but you’re just an automaton to him. He doesn’t know your backstory, so he doesn’t think you’d understand anything more than what he said.”

            Sun slouched in the kitchen chair as he crossed his arms with a huff.

            Moon chuckled playfully as he rolled a twenty-sided die between his fingers. “You should have threatened him if you wanted more information.”

            Sun sighed, his voice box glitching to give it a gravelly affect. “That’s not the point of my character.”

            From across the kitchen table, Moon shrugged with little remorse at him.

            “So are you going to leave the lizard man alone, Sun,” you asked.

            “I’ll buy those carrots and leave,” he said in defeat as he leaned his flat face up to the ceiling in another show of pouting.

            You nod and then turn back to Moon. “Okay. What is Hati up to then as this is going on, Moon?”

            Moon gave a thoughtful hum as he considered his choices.

# # #

            Hati snuck through the gray alleyways of the town in the early morning. Having left his little artificer to sleep alone as soon as Sun left. He was scouting out the town for the richest people he can steal from. Some small part of Hati could practically hear Soliel say how he shouldn’t steal from people or how wrong it is. His long-time friend and assumed brother isn’t wrong, but Hati doesn’t care. He likes the thrill of stealing from the rich and using it for himself to buy whatever he wants. He sometimes even gives what he steals to the poor kids they encounter on their travels and that usually shuts up Soliel.

            Eventually he came across a government building that was just starting to wake up. At least that’s what it seemed to Hati from his observations. The automaton snuck into the building through a locked back door. The few people he crossed as he snuck through the government building were some general staff that were talking about how hard it’s been to feed their kids and when they are going to be able to farm properly again. Hati shrugged at that as he continued his way to where he deduced the mayor’s coffers to be.

            He narrowly avoided being caught by the mayor’s secretary as he was trying to unlock the door that led to the mayor’s office and therefor to their coffers. The secretary was running out of the office after getting news of some kind. Hati didn’t care for what for, he just wanted money and to get out of there. He inspected the mayor’s office to find it looking drab. Usually, a head of office has a luxurious setting with unnecessary gold-plated items. Hati mentally shrugs at the lack of finery. Relegating it to the town being too small for the mayor to get away with. He found the safe and unlocked it with ease. All that was in the safe was a pouch of thirty silver pieces.

# # #

            “Ah! What!” Moon complained over Sun’s laughter.

            “That’s all you find Moon,” you repeat.

            “Noooo! My character isn’t interested in stealing if it’s not gold. How does a government office not have gold!” Moon ranted.

            “Well, obviously this town isn’t doing so well,” Sun stated with smug satisfaction.

            Moon could only grouch some more against Sun and you.

            “Will you now check to see if there are any papers or documents for why this town is falling on such hard times?” Sun pleaded.

            Moon mechanically sighed, then said, “Fine… What do I roll for again DM?”

            “Investigation.”

            Moon took his twenty-sided die and tossed it on the table. It made little clacking noises before settling. “What does a 12 get me?”

            You cleared your throat. “You’ve been in plenty of offices before. You easily spot that there is a locked filing cabinet in the back right corner of the room, behind the mayor’s desk.”

            “Alright. Let me just roll for Slight of Hand and unlock this sucker.” Moon rolled his twenty-sided die again. “Yes! An eighteen! So all together that’s a twenty-seven.”

            “Tell me again why you chose to be a ranger and not a rouge,” you asked.

            “It’s too on the nose,” Moon said with a shrug.

            “Sometimes, being on the nose isn’t so bad,” Sun stated.

            Moon gave his sunny counterpart the best dead pan look that a robot can when their face is frozen in a permanent smile.

# # #

            Hati muttered to himself as he looked through the papers. Documents of the dead. Documents of newborns. Documents of housing. Reports on farms. Hati decided to look through those a bit more closely. From his quick scanning of the texts, Hati found that the town is having a bit of a bear problem. He would have looked more into it now that his curiosity has been piqued, but then he heard someone running down the halls towards the office he was in, and he had to bail out of the nearest window. He initially tried to jump through the window while it was closed, but he wasn’t strong enough to break it and instead had to open it and then jump out the window. He jumped with the grace of an egg falling out of a nest and hurting himself as he landed on the ground. He quickly ran back to The Drunk Rats Inn.

            The Artificer was drinking water-down beer for breakfast as it seemed that was all the Inn Keeper and Cook were able to provide as food, when Hati and Soliel came back from their exploring. Hati was walking like his ass was broken and Soliel was holding the sadist bundle of carrots the Artificer has ever seen.

            “What have you two been up to?”

            “Something is wrong here,” they both said. Then in sync both automatons turned to each other and pointed at each other at the same time, saying, “You too?”

            “Slow down. Why don’t you two sit down with me and then tell me what’s going on,” The Artificer stated.

            “Uh… Soliel, do you mind giving me a hand?”

            The sunshine robot rolled his head as he let out a mechanical sigh. He sat the carrots on the table in front of their human friend then he pulled out his ukulele and sang a little song to heal the broken machinery of Hati’s ass.

            “Thank you,” the moon themed robot said cheerfully.

            Soliel only grumbled a bit in response as he sat down with him and the Artificer. Hati went first telling the group about what he found, and he rolled his head as they told him how much they disapproved of him trying to steal from people… again. Then Soliel talked about his little romp through town and how lovely it is here but also how everyone doesn’t seem to be all that well fed.

            “You think that has anything to do with those bear problem reports you found, Hati,” the Artificer asked.

            “I don’t know how a bear or even a group of bears could make things go so wrong around here. I would think the local rangers would have taken them down by now.”

            “Maybe they don’t have rangers in this area,” Soliel suggested.

            The Artificer stood up and took the carrots with them and said, “Welp, there’s only one way to find out. Let’s go talk to some elderly.” The Artificer took the carrots with them, taking a bite out of them as the three of them walked, unfazed by the bad taste of the old carrots.

            The three of them found the town square. There were young children gathered together talking or napping under the shade of the buildings and trees. A few young adults were cleaning the town square, making sure it’s clear of dirt and leaves. The elderly was in their own corner sitting around tables and playing boardgames of some kind. The three adventurers approached the elderly. Only one acknowledged their approached as he looked at them suspiciously.

            “What do you strangers want?” The old man had a long gray beard, and the sun shined on his bald head, as if he somehow took the hair on his head and decided to place it on his face to shake up the last years of his life. He was rail thin, but he still had a fire in his eyes, like he’d use his skeleton-like hands to cut you open with just his fingernails.

            “Well, my friends and I have noticed that your town seems to be having a hard time,” the Artificer started, “and we’re trying to figure out what’s wrong so we can help if we can. So what’s going on?”

            “No! That’s none of your concern!” The old man stated as the other elderly nodded in agreement. Except for one lady who was hidden by the crowd saying, “Uh, we could use the help actually.” The old man turned towards the old woman’s voice and yelled, “Ah, shut up, Linda, they weren’t asking you!”

            Hati took a step forward and lend towards the old man, then said, “Well now we are.”

            Soliel was already walking towards Linda, “Pardon us.”

            The old lady was bald, and you could obviously see that she didn’t have any teeth, but she still had a smile on her face that made the initial hostility surrounding them, seem dimmer.

            “So what is going on, Madam,” Soliel asked politely.

            “There’s this monstrous bear out in the woods that has three heads—”

            “Bah! Your eyes are bad! It was a normal bear!” The old man stated.

            “We weren’t asking you, now shut up,” Hati told off the old man. He was officially cowed by the moon themed automatons’ words.

            “Please continue,” Soliel gently coxed Linda to continue.

            “There’s this three-headed bear in the woods. It’s been giving us trouble ever since it’s been here. We’ve sent out so many rangers after it, who have never come back, that it’s felt useless to even ask for help anymore.”

            “Well, we’re willing to help. We can take care of it for you,” Soliel said.

            The old man spoke up with a shake to his voice, “Pah! What makes you three so special? I bet you’ll be asking for money for this service you are wanting to do.”

            The Artificer quickly spoke up, “Of course. It’s only just enough money to support us to the next town we travel to. We need to eat and survive as well.”

            The old man grumbled to himself as the other old folk nodded to that sound logic. The three of them get as much information as they can out of the towns folk and they bargained that if they succeed in killing the supposed three headed bear, they would be paid thirty gold pieces. Once everything was settled, the three adventures gathered their things and made their way into the nearby forest.

            As the three of them walked through the forest, Soliel decided to softly strum on his ukulele to pass the time. Their human friend was lost in their own thoughts thinking about what new magical buffs they can add to their automaton friends. Hati took the lead as the ranger of the group and was trying to find bear tracks. After an hour of walking, Hati had suddenly stopped, and the other two-party members ran into him as a result.

            “Dang it, Hati, what was that for. I was on a rhythm,” Soliel complained.

            Hati put a finger to his face mask and made a shushing noise. Then in a whisper he asked, “Do you hear that?”

            The three of them stood silently in the softly lit forest. All that was heard was the slight rustling of the breeze through the trees.

            “I don’t hear anything,” the Artificer whispered. Soliel nodded in agreement with them.

            “That’s right. There’s nothing. Not the sound of birds. Not the sound of wolves. Or dear or ferrets or any other animal that belongs to this forest. It’s too quiet. It’s like not even the insects are here.”

            The Artificer felt goosebumps prickle their skin and Soliel huddled closer to them as they gripped their ukulele a little tighter.

            “Did this bear just eat everything that’s in this forest?” The Artificer asked as they seriously took in their surroundings.

            Hati took out two arrows from his quiver for him to grip in each hand. “I would bet good money on that being the case. Let’s keep moving. I know we’re getting closer to it.”

            After that, the three of them got lost in the woods for an undetermined amount of time, because Hati was too proud to say he got lost after saying something that he thought made him sound cool. Eventually, the three of them got back on track. At a clearing in the woods, the party then found a big, dark cave with dried blood splattering its entrance and bones scattered everywhere.

            “I think it would be nice if one of us knew necromancy,” the Artificer whispered.

            “Yah, we could raise a whole skeleton army here,” Soliel whimpered.

            “Welp, no time like the present to get this done,” Hati said. Then he ran screaming into the cave making his friends jump at the sudden noise.

            Exasperated, Soliel yelled, “Hati why!”

            The lunar automaton moved too fast for them to react and all they could do was watch him disappear as his voice echoed inside the cave. The two of them stood quietly as it got quiet in the cave.

            “Oh good. It seems the bear isn’t in it’s cave right now,” the Artificer sighed.

            Soliel felt a hot, wet breath on the back of his scrawny neck. The solar automaton whipped around so fast it made the human jump and the two of them came face to face with a bear. Its head is so large it was as long as Soliel was tall. Its eyes were blood shot, and drool dripped down its fuzzy maw. Then something moved around the neck of the giant bear, almost hidden and blended into its long, dark brown shaggy fur. It was two more heads, smaller than the head in the middle, but still just as dangerous looking. For the longest moment, the two of them stared down the massive creature as it sniffed at them. All six eyes then shifted to the Artificer.

            “Oh, no…” They said as they started to back up from the encroaching bear.

            In a panic Soliel cast Confusion on the three headed bear, music filled the air making the world seem wobbly and weak. His human friend shook their head against the music, resisting the magic the solar automaton cast. The three headed bear wasn’t so lucky as it recoiled and stood on its hind legs, looking as tall as a two-story tall building.

            “Sorry!” Soliel yelled.

            “It’s good! I’m good!”

            An arrow shot forward and then hundreds more followed suit. The bear cried in pain, but only attached a near by tree. The two heroes turned to see Hati standing at the entrance of the cave, his bow smoking from using the spell Conjure Volley.

            “So, the cave is empty.”

            “Oh, you don’t say,” Soliel snapped back.

            “Now’s not the time to argue,” their human friend yelled as they took special manacles out of their bags and placed them on their arms. Then like angel wings, four giant olden mechanical arms appeared on their back, having casted Bionic Arms on themselves. “I’m going to try and pin its heads.” They climbed up the bear, using the arrows lodged into its hide as leverage to climb up faster. The human managed to get on top of the middle head of the bear, but just as they were about to grapple the jaws shut, clarity came back to the bears eyes, and it immediately tried to shake the Artificer off. “Aaaaa! Heeeeelp!!!”

            Soliel strummed on his ukulele and sang a song called Hold Monster. Immediately the three headed bear was still, but its body trembled as it tried to fight off the magical hold it was under. The human sighs in relief.

            Hati shot two arrows from his bow at the bear, both striking true. The second arrow caused thick spiney vines to spout out of the ground and wrap around the three headed bear’s hind legs. Even though it couldn’t open its mouth as it was still being held down by Soliel’s magic, they heard it cry viciously from the pain.

            The Artificer placed a pair of hands on each head, then used Taser. A charge of deadly electricity raced through the bear, causing its fur to smoke. Then the bear managed to break free of Soliel’s magic and one of the smaller bear heads managed to grab the Artificer by their boot. The bear shook them around before releasing them. The human flew through the sky and hit their back against a thick tree trunk and flopped to the forest floor.

            Soliel reactively ran towards their human friend but as he tried to get to them, the bear managed to catch him with its paws and sent the automaton flying backwards, making him disappear into the bushes of the forest. The bear then got to work on biting the spiney vines off of its body.

            Hati let loose another spell of Conjure Volley. Hitting the bear mostly in its back as it was in pain but still focused on getting itself free from the vines. The lunar automaton pulled out two arrows from his quiver and then charged at the bear with the arrows held high above his head.

            The Artificer struggled to get back on to their feet, even when using their extra limbs as crutches. They looked up in time to see Hati flinging himself at the three headed bear. “Hati! It’s not even restrained anymore!” Their friend ignored them as the ranger robot continued to stab the now free bear with his arrows. The bear set its eyes on the human and growled hungerly at them as they started to lumber towards the only flesh and blood being within a hundred-foot radius. The Artificer pulled out a disk from their bag and as the bear got closer and opened its jaw towards them, the human threw the disk into their mouth. The bear retracted a bit, finding the odd disk tasting funny, then the human magically set it off and the disk blew up like a bomb in the bear’s mouth. The middle head gurgled in pain as the other two heads howled in pain with the middle head.

            Soliel managed to finally drag himself out of the bush and came back into the clearing seeing that Hati was hanging on to the bear’s chest hair, and that his human friend was essentially cornered by a bloody mouthed bear. The bardic robot shook the leaves out of his ukulele and then started to strum Vicious Mockery, telling the bear how stupid it is and how weak and pathetic it is and how it doesn’t belong in the forest. It shook the three headed bear to its core. Hati barely managed to get out of the way as the bear fell to its stomach.

            Hati aimed an arrow into the sky and as the arrow fell towards the downed bear, he cast Conjure Barrage and hundreds of arrows rained on the bears back. The bear let out a weak roar.

            The Artificer kept their distance from the bear as they pointed with three hands at the creature. Then they let loose another Taser spell at the bear’s head. With one last weak gargle, the bear died before the three of them. The three of them sighed in relief.

            “That was rough,” the human stated as they wiped sweat off their brow.

            “That was an invasive species if I’ve ever seen one,” Hati remarked as he put away his bow and arrows.

            “Yah, and maybe next time, don’t just run headfirst into a problem,” Soliel scolded his fellow automaton.

            “It’s dead, isn’t it?”

            “Guys, let’s cut its head off so we have proof we did the job. Soliel, do you have any juice left to heal me. I’m not feeling too good.”

            The solar robot got it’s ukulele in position, “Of course.

# # #

            “And then the three of you managed to drag the heads to the town and the towns folk rejoiced and had a big celebration in your honor for actually defeating the monster that has been terrorizing them for years. You were given your thirty gold pieces like you were promised and extra travel supplies as an extra thank you for what you three did. The end.” You said, finishing the campaign.

            “Yay! Happy ending,” Sun said as he clapped.

            “Thank you for this. We really enjoyed playing this with you,” Moon stated.

            “Of course. I’m happy you two were interested in trying it with me.”

            Sun nodded with a giddy mechanical hum and Moon held your hand. Then the three of you cleaned up your dnd mess and continued your day doing chores and personal hobbies.

#my art #digital art #fnaf #fanfiction #secret santa present #DCASS2023 #for primary-visions

[caffeineivore]

Night Train

Liminal Spaces Pt 3, A/Z, PG13-ish?

Taking the midnight train rarely bodes well in this city. Zavier is accustomed to a strict hoodie down, headphones-on, no-eye-contact policy on those occasions, sharing that cold subway compartment with emaciated druggies sleeping off a binge and dead-eyed transients traversing through a merciless world that's forgotten them. He doesn't love this place and time, but there aren't that many jobs-- legitimate ones-- available to a boy from the projects who never grew up knowing any but the absolute wrong people, and the night shift paid far more than the day shift.

Tonight isn't too awful, because for the first two stops, the compartment is completely empty, and Zavier takes the time to enjoy the rare solitude. Despite the lateness of the hour, the subway is lit almost hectically bright in contrast to the darkness of the tunnels. He gradually lets his posture relax, a wiry, golden-haired young man with a deceptively pretty face as he slouches against the seat-back, and then he sits bolt upright as the subway car comes to a halt at the next station and the doors slide open. Growing up in his neighbourhood, he'd conditioned himself to be hyper-aware of his surroundings even before he'd taken the security job, ready for anyone and anything.

But the slim, blue-eyed apparition who steps into his compartment doesn't bear the faintest resemblance to the usual characters as she takes a seat across from him, all spotless scrubs and sensible shoes and eyes like a clear sky before dawn, somewhere far away from the grit and streetlights and artifice of the city--- somewhere with starshine and moonlight. She says nothing when his gaze meets hers, but affords him a faint, unapologetically kind smile. It should put his back up, and give him every single reason to look for an ulterior motive, and yet it doesn't.

(Hours later he would still have no idea what on Earth possessed him.)

"Late night."

He really doesn't talk to people on the subway even in the light of day-- who even DOES that? -- but even if he did, it would logically not be to state the obvious to a girl with the type of face that was found on priceless paintings in art museums.

She, though, simply nods, answers as though this were completely normal instead of batshit insane. "Yes, it really is. It has been a long day."

"Are you getting off work, I suppose?" Even as his mouth makes stilted conversation without any input from his brain, Zavier can't quite piece it together. "I didn't know there was a hospital close by."

"I had a house call, subbing for a colleague out on his honeymoon. Everyone deserves that time with the person they love." That smile again, soft as snowfall, deep as the moonlit sea. "Are you also leaving work, or going in?"

"Beginning, not ending, I'm afraid." Zavier gives a self-deprecating shrug. "Down in the warehouse district. I get off at seven. The pay's not bad and the schedule works well enough with grad school."

The darkness of the tunnels gives way to the bright lights of the next station-- Zavier's stop. It had been two stops already since she'd gotten onboard, and he hasn't the faintest idea how the time had passed in such a brief conversation. Even in the glare of those lights, the unflattering harshness of them, she's delicate and lovely and almost not real, like a soap bubble rainbow against concrete. Zavier gets up, his legs taking him by rote towards the door, and glances back over his shoulder at her. "Well, goodnight."

"Be safe out there."

The door closes behind him and the train pulls off before he can even catch another glimpse of her through those windows, and he makes his way out of the station, down the barren city streets. He's restless in a way that has nothing to do with danger lurking in the dark shadows, and curses silently to himself that he didn't even ask for her name. Then shakes his head, incredulous, at that train of thought.

Just a stranger on the night train, just a moment in time, never to be repeated. There's no reason for him to see her again, or to feel a desire to.

#fanfic #senshi/shitennou #writing #A/Z

[cloudbattrolls]

Lamb and Knife

Torvah Verdan | 465 sweeps prior | Civitrecce Shoreline

Civitrecce slept, aside from its skeleton day crew, swathed in light protective clothing as they flitted among its buildings, wary of exposing even an inch of skin. The valley lay quiet in the humid heat, Alternia’s diurnal wildlife roaming freely but unable to get past the invisible walls of force surrounding the fledgling city.

Only Torvah, skin turned to metal to protect them under their favored bright dress, sat at ease on the city's nearby beach as their artifice stood next to them.

The yellowblood put a slim finger to the sand, tracing an approximate shape of a vertebra as their companion watched. Then they added representations of other organs, blood vessels, and bones.

“You don’t remember any of this, yes?”

The artifice, dressed in simple gray clothes, fidgeted. Its bladed hands, barely more than knives with a minimum of padding and basic joints, intertwined nervously. Its fluffy tail tip twitched, the heavy extremity curled around its body.

“No, creator. I don’t. There’s just…feelings. I don’t think I was…distinct until now. I was…” It paused, trying to find the language. 

“Conscious. I was part of a consciousness. But I did not retain. I was not me. I was…a possibility. Infinite possibilities, splitting off again and again. There was no time, no space, not as you know them.”

Torvah’s green psiionic’s eyes gleamed in fascination. “Thank you. So, you don’t mind? Being this way now?”

It paused, eyes of the same green looking into its maker's. “Mind? I don’t have a choice. But, I don’t mind. I can still feel it. It’s all around us, like you say.”

“Ah…” said the lowblood, sighing with jealousy. “How wonderful. Such connection. If only trollkind could feel as you do…perhaps we would hurt each other less.” 

They shook their bald head sadly.

“I have no idea.” Said the artifice bluntly, stretching out its arms, metal melded to dead, repurposed flesh. 

“This world is very violent. You might be driven to insanity and more violence if you had to deal with more sensations than you currently feel.”

Torvah paused, looking slightly embarrassed. Their pointed ears flicked.

“Ah.”

It got up, and began walking off over the warm sand, tail dragging behind it.

Torvah, befuddled, watched it.

“Where…are you going?”

The masked body didn’t answer. Then it started walking into the water.

Torvah sprang up and walked after it.

“Arty! No! You’ll rust! There’s things in the - “

It dove under the waves.

The cyborg tried not to panic as their creation disappeared from sight faster than they could follow. Why was it acting this way?

Several gray-hair inducing minutes later, it reappeared dripping wet and tangled with seaweed, holding an oyster.

Torvah stared at it.

“Why…did you do that?”

It looked down at the oyster.

“Should I have not?”

“Well…” 

The Machinat didn’t really have a good answer for that.

“Please let me know before you do it next time.” They added in as kind of a voice as they could, making a mental note to update its code.

They shook their head, focusing instead on the bivalve held gently in the clawed metal hands.

“You can’t eat that, Arty, why did you go get it? How did you know it was there?”

It petted the oyster.

“I didn’t. But I am…aware. There are things that might be. Things that were. Things that are. Time is so changeable now. I wanted to hold something solid. This is all very different. The world is frightened here.”

Torvah went still.

“Frightened?”

It looked up at the red-lit sky, its metal faceplate gleaming in the sun’s rays.

“Frightened. Of trolls. Of other things. But, I am not afraid of you.”

There was a slight attempt at what Torvah thought was comfort in the usually flat tone.

“Why not?” Said the yellowblood, baffled but fascinated.

Arty turned, and went to put the oyster back in the waves, going deep enough to ensure it would sink again, before returning and answering.

“You will all die some night. I will not.”

Torvah performed the mental equivalent of a record scratch.

“…I think it would be best if you didn’t say such things around the others.”

“Why?” It said, puzzled. “They would want to know I’m not afraid of them, yes?”

“That’s…wonderful, Arty.” Said Torvah slightly desperately. “But it would unnerve them if you also mentioned that they will die and you won’t. Trolls don’t like being reminded of those things.”

“Oh.”

It sounded despondent. Its tail drooped, as did its head.

Torvah tried to give it an encouraging smile.

“We must seem very strange to you.”

“Not really.”

They paused again.

“I don’t know what is strange for you yet.” It said. “Then I will decide.”

The logic was sound. And yet…

“Ah…very rational. Yet, I think I may have to alter your code a bit. I can see now it isn’t nearly extensive enough to manage you.”

It tilted its head.

“You will make me different.”

Torvah tried to smile. “We all change, all the time.”

“You shape things to your wants, so many wants. I wonder - what if I had more wants?” It mused. “Would I be more like you? Do you want me to want?”

The Machinat was beginning to develop a slight headache.

They went over and clapped their soaked creation on its shoulder.

“Well! Let’s get back. At least you’ll dry off soon enough, in this heat.”

It looked down at itself, soggy clothes and all.

“Oh. Yes. The wet. It lingers.”

Torvah laughed, they couldn’t help it.

Arty’s tail flicked.

“That’s a nice noise.”

“You’ll find things to laugh about too, I hope.” The lowblood said warmly.

“Haaaaa…ha.” It said, poorly copying the sound, voice croaky. 

“Not quite.” Said Torvah, as they walked off the beach and back onto the grass. “You’ll learn. You just need time.”

“I will make people laugh.” The artifice declared. “Then they might like me.”

“Ah…maybe.” Said Torvah, feeling incredibly fond of but also worried for their creation.

“Oh.”

It said, despondent again.

“We’ll work on it.” They assured the guardian, and together the pair walked back toward the city, each untouched by the powerful sun overhead.

#cloud writes #torvah verdan #guardian artifice #this is a gift. it comes with a price.

[flyoutfate]

🌌 The Twinkling Graves 🌌

The source of light setting over the top half of the floating island, only to rise over the bottom half. Two separate, but beautiful ecosystems. The sky lit up purple by a distant planet, turning the entire land around purple as well. Everybody living there treats it as if it were sunlight - as if it weren't the most beautiful thing ever to other eyes.

The Cluster of Rest - an entire continent/planet sized area devoted to sleep, rest and recovery, as well as holding the Graves' own Graveyard, and Queen of Death. The capital city, Insomne, celebrates death by dancing the bodies of the deceased through the streets, letting the bodies themselves lie in their graves. Those graves are open graves, allowing the bodies to cultivate crops.

A sack cloth man, with button eyes and a stitched mouth, his belly prominent over his pants and under his night shirt and long nightcap, known by some as Father Midnight. Highduke of the Cluster of Rest, he handles the sleep aspect.He bleeds golden sand, and dreams.

A fey prince who wears pauldroned pink robes, a swirling, crystalline mask and a black under suit, a master of druidic magic, who seeks only to protect a legacy he does not understand. Chantac, the Mournful Heir, sits in a lonely throne, awaiting the truth.

A city built on floating adamantine cubes, run by dwarves and gnomes, technology flourishing with artificers, the cubes never hitting one another, infrastructure built on the switching of gravity.

An entire Cluster devoted to entertainment, bards, dancers, magicians, parties, plays, balls.. all of it. Vegas-style arcana, with beauty in every street.

A Cluster that trains druids and rangers to combat or control insects to prevent the crops being destroyed, as nothing in the Twinkling Graves ages beyond peak maturity. Immortals, all, even the bugs. Even the plants, and people.

Two dead gods, holding each other in a final embrace, the fate that met them millenia upon millenia ago lost to time, palaces built on their bodies and light from their loving forms shining upon the orbiting clusters. After all, the Twinkling Graves has that name for a reason.

#dnd #twinkling graves #campaign #god i love my writing

[spmcomic]

[bursts down ur door] im here for the dvd commentary ask meme, tell me abt this >:]: The song was meant to be her magnum opus, but upon facing the reality of the sight, how could she ever do it justice? Lazarus paused. I guess I never will, the voices mused together. It stood, on the hill, for a long moment. The packages on its back pushed its knife-legs into the soft ground, so much softer than it was at home. (man, tumblr really dont let u format asks huh)

The moonlight…

Something was wrong. What was it?

There should be three moons, the voices whispered together.

Neima hunched over her stone in the dead of night, pausing every few moments to turn her head up and examine the moons. Their light played off each other: sturdy bronze, icy blue-white, and airy reflective gray between the two. She jabbed her quill against the rock, crumpling the tip. With a snarl she tossed it away, grabbing yet another out of her cup. She dunked the end of it in her ink and very nearly chewed on the tip while she contemplated the three heavenly bodies. Ink dripped off her nose, leaving her whiskers quivering in the multicolored light.

How could you translate such a sight into music? The moons hung serenely in the sky, blotting out even the stars in such a wide circle. The way the colors lit up the long strands of dead grass, bounced off her slate, twinkled at the end of the quill… Neima’s brow furrowed and her ears drew back. She shuffled her stiff feet, trying to force some feeling back into them. They would be out of phase again soon. The next collection like this wouldn’t come around for another two years. She had to make her decision. Bronze, and white, and blue, and gray… The cold and the stillness and the crisp smell of the dew collecting on the rough stones. What notes brought them to mind? What might another instrument accomplish that her trumpet could not?

The song was meant to be her magnum opus, but upon facing the reality of the sight, how could she ever do it justice?

Lazarus paused. I guess I never will, the voices mused together. It stood, on the hill, for a long moment. The packages on its back pushed its knife-legs into the soft ground, so much softer than it was at home.

It could never get home, could it? From the very beginning… the Artificers had total control over Lazarus’ fate, and had ensured it was trapped forever. The voices never had a chance. Even if Lazarus did get home, the voices had been gathered from across time, from across the countries and tribes and regions. Where could Ishani fit, in this new world? Where would Timur? Bryagh? Kai? They had never heard of some of the ideas the other voices shared- the Mayors- the quills- the games- the armored mounts-

-

(from theia and gaia)

god. this whole bit. i think this was one of the first strong images i had for the entire fic, honestly. i wanted to evoke that artist's struggle to capture your own mind, with neima. because she is an artist- all of the people within lazarus were full, thinking, feeling individuals with their own lives and goals and inner worlds. the snippets we'd seen up until this point conveyed that, of course, but this one was… vivid, personal, and i think it's a fear that a lot of artists struggle with. the fear that you won't get to make what you wanted to make, you won't get to say what you wanted to say, before you die. and all of the leporids on douma face that lack of closure.

neima is one of the two or three souls that is specifically named during arc 5 of the comic, so i wanted to make sure she had at least one prominent appearance in theia and gaia. she's not the only artist in lazarus of course, and all of the souls are very important within the core, but neima is one of those personalities that easily bubbles to the top in this kind of environment. bryagh and ishani already get a lot of the limelight in this fic, so i wanted to touch on a few other characters within the crowd and make sure they're just as involved in lazarus' turning points as the two folk heroes.

so neima gets a moment of both lost hope and new companionship and awareness, a bit of a rebirth for lazarus. she brings lazarus to its senses with her lost dream, the group realizes their similarities and differences, and the implications of those differences, but they also all get to figure out what they want to do next as a group. all of them have lost dreams. all of prolagus will become lost. again, it's that symbolic lack of closure for their whole species coming to the forefront here.

i hope that scenes like this drive home the tragedy and downright horror of the pixls' situation. not only were their lives taken away, but everyting they wanted to DO with those lives. all the things they never achieved because they never got the chance. as an artist, this idea is terrifying to me. what happens if i hesitate at a critical moment? what happens if i die before i get to finish my project? neima doesn't entirely die, but she is permanently unable to pursue her art after being taken by the artificers.

i think specifically i wanted the moonlight to be emphasized here because moons are so… specific to planets. mars has entirely different moons than earth- mercury and venus, no moons at all. from the "surface" of a planet like saturn or jupiter, the moons must also just look like a dozen tiny dots. what about the ring of saturn? the sky is always a fantastic way to drive home an alien environment especially in a sci-fi story.

in this case, and i do always love perspective reversals, the familiarity is actually with the more alien planet to us. because the leporids might be different from us / the artificers, but they are still people and they still had a home that was familiar to them. in that sense, i wanted the artificers, the more humanoid species, to have the more familiar and friendly environment. the ground is softer, the weather is more mild, they only have one large moon on this world.

haha man it's hard to gush when i'm put on the spot like this. i feel like i'm out of things to say, but i have a million more things to talk about.

i remember all the editing this fic went through, but this scene is actually one of the ones that didn't change much between the three-ish drafts. it was always going to be the midpoint of the fic, the point where lazarus finishes processing its grief and is able to snap out of the haze the artificers cast on it due to this vivid (and very relatable, to the whole crowd within the robot) memory. it's the point where lazarus realizes that it's going to have to change tactics if it wants to make any kind of difference in its situation. it exists in the present rather than the past now. its rebellion takes on a more subtle form. and now, with these memories settled and connections made, it's in a position where it can learn the system and make allies before it attempts to overthrow the artificers' program.

thank you for asking about this. there's so much thought and work that went into theia and gaia that got left unsaid because it was a side project for the comic.

#spm #super paper mario #paper mario #pixl #pixls #ask #ask meme #captainshyguy

[spoke-n-languish]

I am not a saint, but neither am I a sinner… and forever, I am not “sandy-claws”: trying to hide a mess, “a sent’mental-in clown”: entertainment for anyone’s 3-ring circus, “insanity clause”: my delusions of squalor are not drafted to get out of Dodge without due diligence shown, “Mz/s.δeηπ¿¢‘°?c”: I’m≠1d2-faced grinchmas(gnome)past shelf-life~O4gettin’cookies/toys&4givin’gourmilk…

Please, understand that although I have a gift for self-depravating sarcasm which tends to (+/-) both humbly lower my perceived appearance from that of an egotistical ass-hat to a more awkwardly-comfortable level which allows ruffled feathers to calm down and eventrally umbrellas me from being pecked to death under a sky-blacking cloud-swarm of incoming lit-pitched forks hurled by an angry mob of intellectual superiors, missile weapons lobbed by winged assailants above &… as well similarly from primary sapiens holdin’ home turf advantage here; and (-/+) in pendular-fashion underplays with my authoritative respect or aura of brilliance earned from whatever podium I’d just stepped to in addressing prior to deliverance (a hard lessen for one to understand perhaps in sacrifice albeit necessary for me indubitably).

Just as pretty as the above clearly is, to clarify, it doesn’t really say anything that hasn’t been said. My desire to find and hold positive in balance is not an “act” I am “playing at”. In correction, I have tried to explain that I am not doing anything wrong - if it helps, alright as I haven’t been well… fairly assessed. Roughly drafted is better than a premature out/¿Ꮴ?. Just chalk it up to showing incremental work progression towards making things better all-around.

The varied difficult faculty of communicating honestly with enrapt audience as a group sequestered individually (yet each alone having limited aperture in contrast by comparison for awareness of mutual shades in spectra, respectfully) to convey a final solution for an unsolvable problem with no requisite constant yet provided all known variables aren’t given from such an immutable stance permitted, in my mind isn’t as easy as it sounds. Perhaps as way of illumination I may describe things in biological terms.

Natural balance is always the outcome of any artificial adjustment in an ecosystem. This is an unerring fact. If any species is added, removed or reintroduced its niche within the environment creates ripples much as a stone thrown into a lake. The ripples eventually fade and the lake always returns to its natural placid state: that is natural balance. On a larger scale, human artifice has affected by cause of much bigger ripples to effectively and irrevocably change and even destroy entire ecosystems… temporarily. As once the machinations of mankind cease “rippling ” the scales back & forth, nature will evolve and once again find its level. The guiding principle in ecology is much like in medicine: first do no harm. I can’t say I know much about what is involved in technological or financial industries, but in biological ethics, Life is important (it’s right there in the title!). So, whether creating ripples or waves, it is important to understand the other organisms sharing your pond before cannon-balling directly for center mass. In all ways this immutable natural law is universally parallel to the philosophical social construct known as Karma: not the biblically subjective ‘Karma’ which seeks an “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth” brand of justice/revenge which does adequately create a deterrent against crime but also, in the words of M.L. King Jr., “leaves everyone blind”. Ironically, ‘True “Blind” Justice’ (judgement without bias) tempers the thirst for vengeance (the need to set wrong to right and make things fair) with the understanding compassion of balance… which has the spirit of Karma, just applied subjectively.

[jamesmckennastudio]

A I

I couldn’t not do it. I googled “ai art creation," clicked on the first result, and sent in a few text prompts. My first was “zombies at Trump Tower.” I had no expectation. The resulting gothic melee showed me I had, in fact, had an expectation, and the AI’s image is a pretty good first shot. Certainly I could not have done better in four seconds. The result of the next prompt however—“overstuffed chair landing at JFK Airport”—disappointed. It’s a moody airport lobby as imagined by Chris van Allsburg.

I kept trying. “duchess and whale having lunch in Times Square”: fail. The next—“race riot by Thomas Kincaid”—returned a gondola plying the central canal of a peaceful, if smoky, 18th century European town with a glorious sunset beyond? Undeterred. I tapped in “Demoiselles d’Avignon by Rembrandt,” to which the AI responded with sophisticated humor: a mashup of Southeast Asian erotic statuary and a Breugal hellscape lit by a gaudy lamp straight from an Orientalist harem painting. OMG! Where do I start? We had hit our stride.

With one credit left, I tried for the moon: “the apotheosis of Clarence Thomas.” The result is Mordor on a spring morning, garish and fire-red, but with a peek of blue sky and a non-committal lavender horizon. Now the AI knows who Clarence Thomas is. An earlier prompt—“George Washington and Kim Kardashian on a date”—had a returned a Colonial style portrait of the pair showing subtle perception of feeling and intent. And the sitters are clearly George and Kim. So famous faces, and even a sense of their personalities, are within the AI’s scope. But in the AI’s “Apotheosis” no living being appears. It’s just a real bad place that might, some day, get better. Is the AI reading the news too?

As I posted this, I considered not using the “studio” hashtag. However, that’s exactly the current debate. This is my art. Or is it a collaborative piece with an AI? Or is it not art at all? Art is made by people. “Art” comes from an earlier meaning of “artifice,” which is the product of a person’s handiwork. The object before us may be interesting and/or pretty, but if it’s not made by people, it’s not art. Can typing a few words into a text box be considered adequate to claim authorship in an image as art? Jenny Holzer might be cool with that, and I could be convinced. But now we’re in a different place, because no one’s going to pay for a text box. They want the picture. And the picture, that’s what we do. 

#hauntologystudio

[quillandread]

Come Inside by Jaidyn Groth

Tales From Netherün is a free, fantasy e-zine of 3 short stories published every second month. All stories take place in a shared world, all characters live beneath the same sky. 

www.quillandread.com/subscribe

Content Warnings: Child endangerment, mild peril

The circus tent was alone on the field. Surrounding trees grew tall and wide; ancient warriors guarding this vacant clearing. The crops had been cleared away after the fires during the final month of tosamne, when the air was dry, the sun vicious and the grass vulnerable. Juna knew it was only a matter of time before the weather turned and this forest would be knee deep with sudden water and debris. Creatures from beneath the ground would make an unwelcome appearance, teeth bared and eyes hungry and no one would be allowed out after dark again.

But for now, she was safe under the stars. Except for the tent.

How could Tio be so stupid? She'd warned him. Told him not to listen to the boys under the bridge. But Tio had a curious mind and a desperate need to seek out answers. So, of course, when Juna had woken up and seen his bed empty, she'd known that he'd left in the middle of the night and journeyed through the whispering forest, ignoring the jibes and jests of the trees, all so he could see if the tent was real—if the magical circus had finally come to Hynne.

An inquisitive breeze whipped around Juna, urging her forward. She heard the words from the forest on the tail of the wind and shook her head free of its lure. She wasn't here for that. She needed to find Tio.

Walking towards the tent felt like a dare. She silently cursed the boys under the bridge for spreading lies and stories about the circus. With each step through the charcoal and ash field, she thought of ways she would punish them for tricking Tio. Everyone knew the circus was more than lights and magic. Everyone knew that people who went to the circus never seemed to come home.

Ahead of Juna, the small tent glowed red. Through the single flap, an effervescent golden light wove towards her, seeking her out like the wind.

She was doing this for Tio, she reminded herself as the light caught her trousers. Goosebumps pebbled her bare arms and she swallowed. It was strange, the feeling that passed over as she reached for the tent flap. It was as if she was finding something she'd always searched for. Like a wish was being granted. A dream realised.

She pulled back the flap and stepped inside.

It was colour she saw first. Colour and chaos. Then her ears exploded with the sound of drums. And fiddles. And the whistle of a stray pipe.

The circus was larger than she expected. Bigger than it should have been. Wilder than any rumour she'd ever heard. From the outside, the tent was barely big enough to fit a few people. Inside, it stretched and shivered as it shrouded hundreds and hundreds of visitors and performers. Above her head, nethered people swung from one platform to the next. Several had remarkable similarities to cats and reminded Juna of the family of strays that lived by the river. Others had horns or bluish skin. Juna was transfixed watching them swing and flip and somersault through the air, ignoring the hustle and bustle of the tent below.

To her left, a tunnel of brightly lit stalls wove in and out so that if she looked through the middle, she couldn't quite see where they ended. Vendors did parlour tricks; some turning paper to flame in an instant and others magicked a coin from behind someone's ear. If any were actual artificers, Juna couldn't tell. She'd only met one artificer and he'd been a cruel old man with one dark eye and one light. She shivered at the memory just as someone collided with her shoulder and sent her tumbling into the closest stall.

'Oy!' hissed the vendor.

She turned to apologise, but when she did, the vendor's face blurred until it was nothing more than a mask of black where a face should've been. Swallowing, Juna stepped away from the stall and backed into another.

'Care to see your future?' a voice whispered like honeysuckle and mint.

Behind her, a hand of bone and gold crept towards her from beneath a cloak of black and she flinched away from the touch.

Everywhere, people pushed and shoved and laughed and cried and some reached for her and others shied away and music rang out and pockets of silence enveloped her and all the while, Tio was lost in here somewhere and the circus would never give him back and she couldn't breathe.

'Juna.'

From the back of the circus, behind fire-breathers, sword-swallowers, cats who spun and danced and tall men with long beards and tired eyes, Tio's voice echoed.

'Juna.'

Juna spun, searching for her brother's tuft of dark brown curls. 'Tio? Where are you?'

'Come find me.'

Tio's juvenile voice was full of mischief and Juna knew she should stop playing. She never won at these games. Tio was too clever despite being five years younger than she. She'd spent the better part of her life chasing him through Hynne, trying to keep up with his riddles and stories, but he always bested her.

Her heart squeezed. If she didn't play this game, she might not have another chance. He could lose himself in the dark and she'd never see him again.

With the smell of citrus and pastry and something like vanilla filling her nose and drowning out rational thought, Juna decided she'd play Tio's game. And this time she'd win.

Pushing passed a man with a smile of sharpened teeth, Juna clenched her fists so tightly that her nails bit into her palms. Good. Pain would keep her focused. She had to stay focused. She had to find Tio. She had to find—

'Your future, dear?' whispered that honeysuckle and mint voice and even though she was a few stalls away, the voice brushed her ear... as if lips were caressing her skin.

She dug her nails in deeper. 'No,' she said aloud to no one and continued to push through the crowd.

Cackles filled the air all around her, soft at first, until it was as if everyone was laughing. Visitors and performers alike leered at Juna as she fumbled through the crowds, searching for her younger brother's face. But it wasn't Tio she saw. It was hundreds of unfamiliar faces, each blurring as her eyes settled on them, making it hard to focus. Even if they were right in front of her, they seemed to wobble, like the lines around them couldn't commit to existence.

Was this what the circus did to people? The boys under the bridge spoke of spells and fun and magic, but the adults had whispered of lost souls and faceless creatures and children stolen from their beds. Juna swallowed the lump in her throat and pressed on.

Someone with a cold stare stepped into her path.

'Hello,' the man said and in an instant, his blurred face transformed. In place of his nose and mouth was a long hooked beak. The man's cool blue eyes darkened and darkened until they were so black that Juna thought she'd fall right into them and never come out. 'Do you want to come with me?'

Something icy settled in Juna's bones and she shook her head furiously.

Look away, she told herself. Don't look at him.

But how could she stop looking at the man who looked like a bird? How could she continue on when she had so many questions and almost everything in her was begging her to stay put?

Stay.

Stay.

Stay.

'Come find me, Juna.'

'Excuse me,' Juna muttered and as the words left her mouth, she felt the hold on her break. Stepping around the bird man, she kept her eyes on the ground until she was sure she was safe from his intense stare. Until she was certain she wouldn't lose herself to whatever stalked behind the bird man's eyes. When she turned back around, the man was gone.

'Tio!' she called out, but where every other sound rang loud and deafening, her voice was small and weak. She tried again, but this time, the words lodged in her throat. Coughing, she clutched at her neck. The words were in there, half-formed and desperate to be free but they wouldn't come.

'Let me tell you your future, girl,' came that voice again.

Around her, people swam and blurred and her eyes hurt from looking at them and her lungs screamed as breathing became as hard as lighting a fire with wet wood and there was that bird man again and she couldn't speak and what was this place and where was TIO?

'Breathe, sweetheart,' said no one and everyone all at once.

Juna took a gasping breath of air. She could taste vanilla on her tongue as she did, or she thought it was vanilla. Perhaps it was something else.

The crowd cheered as a nethered acrobat flipped in the air and landed on a tightrope high above their heads. Looking up, Juna thought for a moment that the circus tent took a deep breath.

She needed to get out of here.

Opening her mouth to call out for her brother, she thought better of it and continued on. Several times, as she shuffled down the endless tunnel of vendors, she thought she spotted the bird man, but she would blink and he would vanish.

Time passed and Juna's legs grew tired and her throat ached. She couldn't see or hear Tio and it seemed as if she'd only walked five feet. Every time she was sure she'd almost made it to the end of the stalls, she'd turn and find herself back at the start. Fury and impatience willed her to continue, but the longer she stayed, the more she found herself smiling and gaping in wonder at the dancers and sorcerers. The colours were spectacular and the performers were magnificent and perhaps that fire-breather would teach her that trick if she asked nicely enough.

'Juna.'

'Your future, dear?' someone asked and this time, Juna smiled and turned to face a small, aged woman.

'Yes, please,' Juna said.

This woman, like everyone else, shimmered around the edges. Moments ago, Juna would've tripped over trying to run away, but now, she enjoyed the way this woman glittered. Why had she been trying to get away? What was so scary about a shiny old woman?

With frail, clawed fingers, the woman in question held out five cards before Juna. Face down, the cards were decorated with intricate gold lining. The lines twisted together into a pattern she didn't recognise, but if she squinted, she was positive it was some kind of creature.

'Pick one.' The woman shook the cards to punctuate her point.

Nodding, Juna let her hand settle over the cards. Maybe she imagined it. Maybe it was the pulse of the chaos and frenzy inside the circus. It didn't matter. She was sure she felt a thrum from the middle card. She pulled it out with ease and raised it up to her face.

It was Tio.

'What is this?' Juna breathed. Her brother's face was distorted into a mask of terror and his eyes had been blackened by ash. 'I don't understand.'

The woman cocked her head. 'Your future, dear.'

Shaking her head, Juna handed back the card, feeling the pleasure and excitement leave her. The shimmering dulled and the woman's face became smoke and shadow. A cackle rose up from everywhere and nowhere, enveloping Juna, suffocating her.

Tio, Tio, Tio, she chanted to herself as laughter blurred her senses. I'm so sorry. Maybe I'm too late.

And maybe she was. She was only a child. What did she think she could do to save Tio against this place? Against this sinister vision that vanished as quickly as it appeared? Against this legend turned real that whispered of thrills, but left only pain in its wake? Maybe she was too late to save Tio from becoming another lost child.

No.

'TIO!' Juna shouted and the laughter ceased. She took several steps away from the shadow woman, feeling a surge of strength in her body.

Behind her, the bird man materialised for a moment before disappearing into thin air—as if he'd crossed from one plain to the next. Juna didn't understand. This place, whatever it looked like, was far more sinister than she'd ever guessed. The boys under the bridge had spoken of lights and magic and beauty. They'd said the circus was full of fun and excitement. Tio had been tempted by those lies. Juna, too, if she was being honest. But now, surrounded by people who changed faces as easily as flipping a page in a book, she wanted nothing more than to leave and never come back.

But first, she had to find Tio.

'TIO!'

All through the tent, Juna ran and shouted and ran and shouted and pleaded and cried and maybe if she yelled louder he would hear her and what if it was too late and he was already in trouble and maybe he'd disappear into thin air like that bird man and she'd never find him again and what would she do?

He was all she had.

'Breathe,' nobody said.

Juna took an unsteady breath. She was at the beginning of the tent tunnel again. Frustration boiled in her veins.

'Breathe.'

Her next breath was clearer. Stronger. And just as she prepared herself to sprint through the tent and push past these creatures of mischief and madness, she saw a tuft of dark brown curls.

'TIO!' she called, but her brother didn't stop. Instead, he darted in and out of the stalls, sprinting passed jugglers and people with painted faces. Juna raced after him, narrowly avoiding a cage of purple toads and one large black crow. The crow screamed as she ran past and the sound was so human and so afraid that Juna almost stopped.

'Juna, come catch me.'

'I'm coming, Tio,' she whispered.

'Over here. No, this way. You're not listening to me. This way. Yes, come on, Juna.'

Something pulled at the back of her mind. Something told her that this was off. That Tio sounded strange. Different. Wrong. But as the tent took another breath, she willed herself to continue on.

Between tight spaces and furry creatures, over crates of smoking glasses and under tables laden with potions and knick knacks, Juna followed her brother's voice until she finally emerged from the endless tunnel of stalls and into a huge amphitheatre. A huge field stretched out in front of her, surrounded by rows and rows of seats, each filled with faceless people who hummed quietly to themselves. From the roof, dancers spun and tumbled, tangled in multi-coloured fabric. They were beautiful; each movement so graceful that Juna couldn't look away. But she had the unsettling feeling that no one else was watching them. No, she had the eerie sensation that everyone's eyes were on her.

Behind her, the tunnel of vendors went silent.

'Come over here, Juna,' said Tio.

Juna walked across the field, keeping her eyes trained on the shadow at the far end of the amphitheatre. From so far away, she couldn't tell what it was, but everything in her told her to keep moving. Keep going. Get to Tio.

'Almost there.'

The humming from the audience grew louder.

'You've almost got me, Juna.'

The shadow twisted in front of her, slowly taking shape.

This wasn't right. This wasn't right. Where was Tio? She needed to leave. They needed to leave right now. This was—

The humming grew.

The shadow twisted.

Leave. Leave. Leave.

The humming...

Leave.

Louder.

Louder.

Lou—

It stopped.

And in front of Juna, the shadow settled in the shape of a grey door.

'I'm inside, Juna,' said Tio from the other side of the door.

Fear bubbled in her chest and she looked from the ominous door in front of her to the crowd watching her every move. Even the dancers had frozen above her head, their blurred faces staring down at her.

Stepping around the door, Juna saw that there was nothing on the other side except the rest of the field and more and more seats filled with faceless people. Surely, if she opened the door, she'd be stepping right out on the other side.

'Come inside, Juna,' said Tio.

She couldn't go home without Tio. She couldn't leave without him. She had to be brave. She had to open the door and go inside. And when she finally found Tio, she would make sure he never did something like this again. They would go home and she would make him lettuce tea and tell him a happy bedtime story and in the morning she would yell at the boys under the bridge for being so stupid and everything would be okay. It would be okay.

'Come inside.'

She opened the door. Emptiness greeted her—a shroud of darkness and space. A hand reached for her, made of gold and bone. It stopped a breath away from her, waiting.

'Come on, Juna.'

Something murmured behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she found the circus almost empty. Every seat was vacant and instead of light and noise from the stalls, there was a silence that spread like a chill.

And alone on the field was the bird man.

Juna swallowed.

'Juna,' Tio said and when she turned, she saw his face, hazy and shrouded in darkness.

'I'm coming,' she murmured and stepped inside.

Tio awoke in his bed. He'd been dreaming of claws and teeth again. Sitting up, he looked over to the other bed on the far side of the room. It was a small room at the back of the house and he knew that Juna didn't like sharing, but he liked knowing she was there. It was especially good on night's like tonight when he could still feel teeth on his skin and the hot breath of a scary creature against his neck.

'Juna?' he whispered, squinting at her bed. 'Juna, I had a bad dream.'

She didn't reply.

He couldn't stay in his bed by himself. He had to get to Juna. She gave the best hugs anyway. She'd make him feel better.

Holding his breath as he swung his legs over the bed, he began creeping across the wooden floorboards until he reached Juna.

'Juna,' he whispered. 'I had the dream again. Juna?'

He pushed at the blanket on the bed, waiting for the groan from his older sister. But it never came. For, what he'd thought was Juna's body tangled in bedsheets, was merely empty air.

His sister was gone.

The End.

visit www.quillandread.com if you want to learn more.

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

Kit & Ty’s reunion (Fan Fiction) - Part 4 - The First Kiss

Just because... I NEED this. 

Characters by @cassandraclare.The events take place three years after the Dark Artifices.

As Kit looked up at the sky, rain starting pouring down his face. “I should have anticipated this. The sky was full of clouds”.

“Cloud”, said Ty. “One of the words you like.”

Kit turned to look at Ty, who was staring at his right shoulder. “You remember them?”

“Whisper, cloud, secret, highway, hurricane, mirror, castle, thorns”. Ty spoke them so fast Kit barely had time to register them.

In answer, he smiled and whispered, more slowly, “Glass, twin, apple, whisper, stars, crystal, shadow, lilt”.

Ty’s eyes lit up and crinkled at the corners the way they did when he was very surprised.

“I have new words I like, you know” said Ty, after a moment.

“You do?” Kit was staring at Ty’s eyelashes. Drops of rain were captured there, like diamonds glittering on a dark curtain. His wet hair was plastered to his head, dark wet curls partly obscuring his forehead and cheeks. He was so beautiful it hurt.

“Love, two, kiss, kite, lips” whispered Ty.

Kit’s eyes widened and immediately searched Ty’s, and that’s when he realized that Ty's gaze was no longer directed at his shoulder, but at his lips…

*****

Kit made a move toward Ty, but Ty had already raised his hand, as if to stop him. In the same movement, Ty gently pressed his long calloused fingers on Kit’s lips, tracing their shape, uncovering their smoothness. He was whispering softly, so low that Kit could not make out the words.

Ty’s other hand came up as well and he was staring at Kit in wonder as his fingers moved slowly across Kit’s face, caressing the line of his jaw, stroking his cheeks, smoothing his eyebrows, leaving a trail of heat everywhere their skin touched. Kit closed his eyes, as if it could slow the fire burning through his body.

Ty exhaled, as if relieved by Kit’s reaction to his touch. He brought both his hands on either side of Kit’s face then, gently cupping as he pressed his mouth to Kit’s jaw, not exactly kissing, but rather enjoying the experience of his lips against Kit’s skin.

“Ty-“ murmured Kit, in a daze. He felt his knees buckling under him and gripped Ty’s shoulders to steady himself. Ty gasped in surprise and stepped back. Kit moved forward to tighten his grip, and ended up pushing Ty against the wall.

They both froze, staring at each other.

Ty swallowed and whispered “Did I- did I do something wrong?”

Kit laughed at that, shaking his head. “Ty- you know, you are the cleverest person I know, but sometimes I swear...”

He crossed the very small space left between them. Ty’s lips were still parted in surprise as Kit crushed his own lips against them, using the opening to taste Ty’s mouth with his tongue. Another gasp from Ty.  Kit barely had the time to silently curse himself for being so forward – this was their first kiss, he ought to do things more slowly – long, urgent fingers were already moving up his back, his shoulders, and down again, resting for a few seconds against his hips before going up again. It was as if Ty was drawing a pattern, butterfly’s wings, on Kit’s back.  Gentle at first, his strokes became more and more demanding, until Ty’s hands slipped under Kit’s shirt and nails were digging into flesh. Ty seemed to be lost in the need to touch Kit, every part of Kit, as if his life depended on it. Well, if Ty was not being careful, why should he restrain himself?

Kit met Ty’s eagerness with his own, and it quickly became a chaos of tongues, bites, desperate touches. Kit could taste rain, metal and musk, as his mouth continued to explore Ty’s – or devour would be more accurate. It was as if they were naked, skin against skin, through their water-soaked clothes. In that moment, Kit’s experience and Ty’s lack thereof did not matter. Neither of them could identify who was doing what, as they entangled their limbs and melted their bodies under the pouring rain.

#cassandraclare #cassandra clare #cassandra clare fan fiction #the shadowhunters chronicles icons #the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc fanfiction #tsc fan fiction #tsc fandom #tsc #tmi fanfiction #tmi fanfic #tda fanfiction #tda fan #kitty tda #tda #kit and ty #ty and kit #kit x ty #ty x kit #kitty blackstairs #kit herongraystairs #kit herondale #tiberius blackthorn #ty blackthorn #fan fiction #the dark artifices #lady midnight #lord of shadows #queen of air and darkness #the wicked powers

[ablockforwritersblock]

Writing Prompt #400

Fireworks lit up the nights sky, leading to shouts of awe and wonder. If the happy crowd had been paying more attention, they might have seen the pair of eyes and hands that each flash lit up as the rogue used the loud sounds to make their way into the locked artificer's shop...

#writing prompt #prompts #prompt #writeblr #writblr #writing prompts #writers block #ablockforwritersblock

[yespolkadotkitty]

If you are taking requests. Reader is a chef that does at home cooking classes. Henry's family hired her to do a private cooking class for Henry's birthday. Henry decides that he needs more classes so books her for the month. Then takes her to Italy to source ingredients and wine.

Sweep Me Off My Feet, pt 1

“Dance, sweetheart?”

You looked up from your after-dinner macchiato to see Henry standing before you, hand out in invitation, his radiant smile showing just a hint of shyness. He cut a fine figure in his linen shirt, open at the neck, no tie. 

Rose-gold street-lights lit the Venetian piazza, casting long shadows and an air of romance over the entire area, cloaking it in mystery.

The two of you had spent a dreamy day together, exploring the picturesque Island of Sant Erasmo. The biggest island in the lagoon, Sant Erasmo was famed for its delicious local produce and its wine. After meeting the local farmers and hearing about their lives and crops, you had enjoyed a private vineyard tour and wine tasting. It had been such a leisurely, beautiful day. You had tamped down your annoyance when dinner time came. You’d wanted your time with Henry to last forever.

Helplessly, you suddenly felt this idyll slipping through your hands, sand through an hourglass.

Too much, too fast.

The anxiety of it all had churned in your stomach all through dinner – a delicious seafood risotto, littered with fat, garlicky prawns and butter-soft scallops, with a side of freshly baked, herbed breadsticks.

“Really?” You asked, nervous. You were an excellent chef but an awful dancer. “Why?”

“Because we can. Everyone else is,” he insisted, a grin tugging at his lips. It occurred to you that you had seldom seen him so carefree. “I do love to dance, you know,” he added, cheekily, and the mischief dancing in his blue eyes drew you in, irresistibly.

You shifted, trying to fight the battle between your wish to dance in Henry’s arms, and your intense discomfort at doing anything that involved co-ordination in public.

Finally the hopeful, boyish look on Henry’s handsome face won you over and you took his hand. His fingers closed around yours; warm, reassuring. He pulled you towards him, spun you around for a second. Giddy, you leaned into him as the string quartet outside the café started to play a gentle waltz. You breathed in the now-familiar scent of him, the tang of coffee and a kiss of woodsmoke and cedar.

“This is absurd.” But you rested your free hand on his broad shoulder just the same, and let him lead you in the steps. Heat radiated off his body through the pale, grey linen shirt he wore, and you looked down at your feet. “When was the first time you waltzed?”

“I Capture the Castle rehearsals. They didn’t use the footage in the end.”

You looked up into his eyes. They looked almost blue-black in the half-light as he met your gaze.  “Shame.”

He laughed softly. “It wasn’t. I was twenty-two, all gangly limbs.”

You’d seen the film. His character, Stephen Colley, was so beautiful in the flush of youth that it had hurt to breathe, looking at his rosy cheeks and lean build. “I sometimes – and it’s ridiculous – forget that you’re so…. Famous,” you breathed as he swayed you gently, confidently.

“Good.” His gaze dropped to your mouth, and that gorgeous tumble of chocolate brown hair fell into his face, a little long, a little messy. The way you liked it - that errant curl that teased his forehead was your favourite. “That’s what I wanted.”

The expression on his arrestingly handsome face – so naked suddenly, not a trace of artifice – made you bold suddenly. Or perhaps it was the alcohol. But you were in Venice with a man who made your heart turn over with joy with your chest. You were dancing a waltz in a piazza. Rose-gold light kissed everything, bathing the city and your heart in a kaleidoscope of fuzzy joy, and just for now, you would be brave. You would believe in magic, and you would believe in happy endings.

And you wouldn’t think further than this beautiful, vibrant, kind, man in your arms. He was solid and real and right now, he was yours.

Tears burned your eyes as your heart constricted. Right now, he’s mine. Yes, you would be brave.

And you would pay whatever cost would be levied later. And it would probably be high, but you suddenly couldn’t care.

“Is that all you want?” You tucked his tumbled hair back behind his ear. It felt so soft. That unruly curl sprang forward.

You’d surprised him. You knew because he held still for a long moment before continuing with the waltz. Someone else might not have noticed the slip, but you did. In some ways, you had never stopped noticing everything about him, ever since the day you’d met.

“Oh, sweetheart. You know what I want.” His words were so soft, they were nearly carried away by the notes floating off the nearby violins. But still you caught them. “You.” He swallowed and you watched the movement of his throat, transfixed for a second. “Any way I can get you. Any way you’ll have me.”

His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you a fraction closer. You pressed your face into his neck, loving the rasp of his stubble against your skin, knowing you had reached a tipping point. 

He wanted to make love to you. 

“Tonight?” Your words came out squeakier than you’d hoped. You wondered if Henry would laugh.

He didn’t.

“Tonight,” he confirmed, his voice dropping half an octave.

You stopped dancing, and he mirrored you . You both held still for a long moment. You closed your eyes, knowing that your decision was about to change everything between you two. Maybe forever.

Breathing in, you opened your eyes again. Henry stood before you still, so solid and real. And yours, for now anyway.

And you would take the now, for as long as it lasted. “Henry.”

“Yes, love?” He brushed his lips over yours, gently, a simple kiss without pressure, but a question all the same. He tasted of bitter black coffee, and of rich, sweet chocolate.

“Take me back to the hotel. Right now.” Before you could lose your nerve.

* * * * *

The rosy streetlights of Venice winked at you both as Henry navigated the maze of little streets. People gathered here and there, but the late hour meant it was mostly quiet. You could smell the salty edge of the lagoon, the heady scent of wine, the richness of chocolate and cream. Snippets of indistinct Italian reached you from far away windows.

Henry paused in a quiet alley to get his bearings. Behind him, the moon shone down on you both, bright and silent, hanging like a lightbulb in the endless black fabric of the night sky.

You slipped your arms around him as he pulled his phone from his pocket, bringing up Google maps. “Hmmmm. I swear it was just the next street along….”

The alley was silent and dark. And really quite nice, as alleys went. Closed shop windows were lined with flower boxes, the wooden containers bursting with campanulas, ivy and heliotrope. Their perfume filled with the air, mingled with Henry’s intoxicating cedar scent. 

You felt…  brave. Bold. Aroused.

“What if we didn’t wait until we found the hotel? “ you asked.

Henry’s gaze shot to yours, his mouth opening slightly in surprise. “Sweetheart, we shouldn’t-”

All the pent up desire you’d felt for this man in the months you’d worked together bursting out of you like a dam breaking. You grabbed the lapels of his button-down shirt - Henry, chic and casual in a linen shirt with no tie and the sleeves rolled to his elbows just about killed you - and pressed your mouth to his.

Dimly, you heard the clunky thud as his phone fell to the street floor, unnoticed. He slid his hands around your waist and pressed you to him, and you thrilled to the evidence of his need for you pressing urgently against your stomach. “Oh my God, Henry,” you murmured, aching already, wet under your pretty dress.

“Are you sure, love?” he bit off against your mouth, and you thought he sounded like a man on the edge of control, his words guttural and raspy. “Be. Sure.”

He pulled back and gazed into your eyes, and you saw something just a tiny bit feral in the blue depths. It made the pulsing need inside you kick up several notches.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With a low growl in his throat, Henry scooped you up. You scissored your legs around his waist as he ravaged your mouth, the day’s growth of whiskers on his cheeks scraping at you pleasantly. He moved his attention down to your neck and you arched to give him better access. 

Henry moaned your name throatily as you squeezed a hand between your body to cup him through the denim of his worn jeans.

“Want you, now,” you murmured, impatient, your heart hammering. 

Henry deftly leaned you against the brick wall, keeping you held up with one arm whilst he undid the fly of his jeans with the other. You tugged his shirt tails out of the denim, covering him a little, and then you let yourself play.

He fell into your hand, no underwear barrier, hot and heavy and large, better than you’d imagined, all steel in velvet, and you savoured the stuttered, shuddering breath he let out when you palmed him, stroking until you found a rhythm that made him chant your name like a prayer in that gorgeous accent. 

He boosted you up a little higher, easy with his upper body strength, and you used your free hand to pop open the buttons of your shirt dress so he could lavish attention on your breasts. Your nipples peaked at the kiss of balmy breeze of the Venetian night. His tongue was warm and wet and his touch there sent a direct spiral down between your legs.

“Now,” you whispered urgently. You kept one arm around his neck, teasing the hair curling at his collar anchoring yourself as he reached down and toyed with you, working your thin cotton panties aside to feel how wet you were. You knew what he’d find and your heart raced as he groaned against your neck. 

“Baby girl, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”

You mewled a response and a hot rush of pleasure filled you as he circled the tight bud at the apex of your body. And the sudden, sharply delicious orgasm made you gasp out loud. You were beyond caring if you were discovered, the pleasure eclipsing any small doubts you had.

Henry brushed a gentle kiss over your mouth before he slid slowly, painfully slowly, inside you. You tilted your hips up just a little, and he pushed right into the hilt.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed, and the expletive in that cut-glass British accent just destroyed you.

Then he started to move, bottoming out each time he thrust back in, and all coherent thought flew out of your head. His pelvis brushed your clit with each thrust and you bit your lip, trying desperately to be quiet, and only partially succeeding.

It was over quickly, both of you too aroused to last long. Your muscles convulsed around Henry’s cock, and you bit down on the curve where his neck met his shoulder to keep from crying out. Moments later, Henry followed you over the cliff, groaning into your hair, his chest heaving with the effort of being quiet.

You wound down slowly together, floating back to Earth. Henry gently set you back on the ground, frowning.

“I meant to have you in a bed, the first time.”

You grinned, feeling like a goddess, leaning up to kiss him, your body still trembling from the tiny aftershocks of really good sex. “No, but now we can enjoy round two at our leisure in the hotel.”

His delighted laugh echoed into the balmy Venetian night, and you held hands and walked the rest of the way back together.

******

Two months earlier

Your boss called your name and you looked up from the day’s menu to be prepared. Cooking was your calling, no doubt about it, but even working as a sous chef in a five-star hotel could be a drag when the clientele could be so exacting.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

Your boss beckoned you into his office and you crossed the kitchen briskly in your chef’s whites.

The best-looking man you’d ever seen waited in the tiny manager’s office, all dark hair and smouldering blue eyes, broad shoulders and lean hips.

“Mr Cavill, this is the best sous chef I’ve ever had,” your manager began, adding your name.

The stranger held out a hand, a smile tugging at his lips. “I can’t wait to work with you.”

To be continued....

Tagging some folk who may like this: @chamomilebottom (thanks for the gifs!) @brexrif @mary-ann84 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @hnryycvll @henrythickcavill @henry-cavill-obsessed @ohjule @iloveyouyen @summersong69 @ly--canthrope @the-soot-sprite @littlefreya @dancingwendigo @fishcustardandclintbarton @gardensofwhimsy @wondersofdreaming @dr-kayleigh-dh @mrsaugustwalker @andahugaroundtheneck @pinkzsugar @geralt-of-baevia @radaofrivia @princess-of-riviaa 

[vilegroove]

Lyrics from 'Dark Tales From The Insulation Booth' (03/31/21)

For all those hip-hop purists and anyone wanting to get down with that Hank Solo lingo.

STEM CELL RESEARCH

It goes counterintelligence, Berenstein psy-op Schwarzschild radius, holographic mind job I’m a ticking time bomb stuck inside this nightmare It’s warfare for the welfare of the poor From tenement to parliament the charlatans of artifice In shadows stocking armaments or ornaments with arguments Coordinates are carpeted while Harlequins are marketed Unfortunate subordinates are targeted by Artemis I sit solo, spit a mental freestyle No polo, UH I spent it on these re-fries Meanwhile I filleth up the syllabus In real time and if I spill enough to pick it up I just might reach minds Smash atoms, push phantoms into chasms Is it a random happenstance Or a predetermined anthem? Step inside a web this some spider vs fly shit Step into a world this some Illuminati eye shit What would you do if you had no shoes? And you had no rules and you had no school? What would you choose? If the choice ain’t yours Ain’t your chore, Ain’t your war, Ain’t your battle, Ain’t your fight You’re just standing in line man waiting to die They pulling strings with grizzled fingers While the stem cell research helps them linger Tempers up, fear the farming In a cave under threat of a terror bombing Nails clawing, the cause of flesh wounds Supply and demand panoramic cesspools Inhale jet fuel on the way to school man Chemtrails forming the new pollutant Confusing the students and keeping them stupid Obtuse attitudes, man, these dudes be ruthless On point to the point I barricade the joint Inhale, exhale man this tasters choice Blue bloods eschew mud, chew cud like us cattle We battered and bruised up but we still fucking battle Never let em get to you - Ask me bout the subterfuge War and peace entwining in an ever whirling centrifuge Veteran rookie: Dichotomy so sue me Used to Hank Solo now I roar like Wookie

SHARK TANK (feat. CHIEFFY)

[VERSE 1 - HANK]

Christ I get wicked when I'm alone and I'm lit Smoke clones and then spit till I foam at the lips My ego cast a shadow that could cause an eclipse And I can't get through doors cause my head won't fit I'm starvin' like Marvin, lookin' for a target I'm barkin' dark jargon like I'm stalkin' park joggers My though pattern is laced with dark matter Fight alien races is space an spark blaster I spit lines for like minds who smoke kind I write rhymes with weight that warp space time Ante-up I'm about to erupt Krakatoa flow all over Like I'm bustin' a nut, spray paint Jackson Pollock All over her gut - Dirty Harry on the mic But you ain't sweeping me up I'm a sad sap but I can rhyme not half bad Cause I been mixing words since I was sperm Inside my dads sack Yakkity-Yak Don't talk back, as a matter of fact Rewind the track back so you can practice your rap I'm high gloss your skills are not polished You're whack and lack knowledge Go back to clown college - Fuck taxes, pay homage I'm glad you acknowledged Hank is just flawless I'm bank your just wallet

[MAIN HOOK × 2]

I'm cold like deep space I master this pace Knock you flat face In fact my sharp skates Cut circles round you lark fakes Question what marks make Shave you to carp flakes For use in my shark tank

[BRIDGE - CHIEFFY]

Let’s jump in it, I’m with it I’m finna kill it and stay I've been the realest Since dealers was Shitting diapers away Blank face I don’t keep it at bay

[VERSE 2 - CHIEFFY]

No whale watching, I’m hopping But no landing, I’m offing to each planet I’m locked in, nigga said I’m a Martian You niggas fandom, I’m popping But got plans to just pop him I’m a man no ones stopping Fire plans imma watch them gain Burn away just like Mary Jane I put away, she too nice for days, make way Cause I’m burning all the mainframes No place to lay I ain’t keeping all you plain janes Just some grams and Violas In my denim jeans, we keep it real Chef Chief serving up them fiends. Mother Fucker.

[MAIN HOOK × 2]

Hank: Alright, let's go home

Jay: One more take

LET ME TELL YOU (feat. AQUAKULTRE)

[VERSE 1 - HANK SOLO]

Calling all cars, calling all cars check No red on neck no death stars left Cloud nine? Found my rye moldy Back bent over like a lawn chair folding Cats maw scolding, guts on fire Eyes why at the sky as the pyre grows higher Seems unwind from his old grey coat, Whether freestyle rhyme or line from a note Spine unaligned all in a twist, Time on a line s'all in the wrist Hood up, man-boobs, thyroid leaking, Ballpoint sketch like a fanboy geeking I'm open in the middle I'm closed at both ends I'm a villain to my family I'm a hero to my friends Grasp at the last straw sinner to his kin, Juxtapose foes who just oppose this.

[HOOK - ARETHA FRANKLIN]

People let me tell you, I work hard every day I get up out of bed, and put on my clothes 'Cuz I got bills to pay

[VERSE 2 - AQUAKULTRE]

(Don't fall a-haha) When we drive, we feeling all the trees get the breezin The Cuts is Vile, I like the way he mistreat em I can give 'em bars a plenty that’s critical but I'd rather heal with words, that’s medicinal It's time to give a good vibration Break bread and conversate over good libations The frustration no hesitation, will arise Higher then a peregrine falcon in the sky Peace to the nieces and nephews I raise And the son I don't got, father figure I stay You know we got it, I figured I be The Martyr For working class guppies Just tryna make it to supper And we keep it very clever, Uh HUH, yo Whatever the case I waste no time Serving em with a taste But foist let me put on on my woirk boots and grab a dairy milk before I make it to curfew We Breezing

Juxtapose foes who just oppose this.

DOWNLOAD FOR FREE AT VILEGROOVE.BANDCAMP.COM

#lyrics #hip hop lyrics #emceelife #dartmouth hip hop #youtube #vile groove #hip hop #groove #underground hip hop #halifax #ambient #mashup #free music #hank solo #chieffy #dartmouth rap #halifax rap #instrumental #halifax hip hop #halifax music

[unlockthelore]

A Request

When seeking a reprieve from the weight on his shoulders, Aether chooses to fly. But someone is always there to bring him back. This is part of the Where The Soul Lies Down series on Ao3. For more fics in this series, follow the where the soul lies down tag on this blog.

Ragged wisps of clouds clung to mountain peeks from neighboring isles. Their bluffs etched in sun glow reminded Aether of the guards lighting lanterns along the village’s winding roads. He’d flown overhead, only slightly weighed down by the book clasped tightly to his chest, and sore wings flapping against a warm, stiff breeze. Air rushed up to meet him. Wind currents keeping him afloat til just outside the city’s outskirts. When he looked back, the once dimly-lit huts were aglow. The local’s chattering pursuing him as he rushed into the forest, taking the trails marked by trees with a five-pointed flower engraved on their bark.

To where would it lead him, Aether was certain. He ran despite his feet’s protest as they stumbled over roots and kicked through the undergrowth. He tumbled forward when a loose vine jilted him backward with a snag on his right wing. A groan hissed between his teeth as he snatched the vine free, brushing his fingers over the amber canvases soothingly.

His feathers ached as he retracted his wings quickly, wincing at the soreness. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to fly with something so heavy. Although, if he’d gone on foot then there was no telling if he would have been caught leaving or not.

Tipping his head back while rubbing at the tender flesh at his shoulder blades, Aether gaped in disbelief. The once blue-green sky was violet-tinged, its depths glimmering with stars, and warning that his time would run out if he didn’t hurry.

So, he ran.

Away from his thoughts and the hustle and bustle of the bazaar. Merchants, artisans, and couriers exchanging wares and information alike were pushed to the reaches of his mind while he urged his body to move as quickly as it could. His forearms ached as he hugged the book so tightly it might have flattened against his chest. Pain scratched at his throat and tears sprang to his eyes as his lungs begged for air. Their pleas denied until he’d broken free from the underbrush, leaves sticking out of bangs fallen over his eyes.

Gasping for air and staggering forward on quivering legs, he careened forward and dropped to the wooden planks of the landing pier with a dull thud. Aether laid there for a long while, his eyes half-lidded and exhaustion creeping upon the edges of his sight. His hold on the book loosened for half a second. It wouldn’t have done anyone harm if he laid here for a while, he told himself. Surely enough, he would be able to rest and the intrusive thoughts rattling between his ears would settle.

His cheek pressed against the warm planks, rough and itching as he dragged his head to one side, grimacing at the wood’s grit and pinches. That was a silly thing to think. After all, if it were that simple then he could have stayed in the village with his sister and avoided running himself into the ground. Almost literally.

Aether drew himself up painstakingly slow, the book tucked in the crook of his arm as he settled with his legs tucked beneath him. The world twisted and churned around him, darkness crept along the edges of his vision and blurred his sight. His head swayed forward as he sighed and toppled backward in the soft, damp grass. Drops of water arose from where he laid, splattering against his cheeks and his arm, the excess wetting his back through the thin fabric of his tunic. Cool and refreshing against his skin albeit making it far more difficult to stay awake.

His eyes struggled to remain open but darkness engulfed the starry dusk sky and pulled him into echoes of memories.

An artificer with hair as red as the runic wand she’d been tending to smiled widely, streaks of dust smeared across bulging cheeks nearly coating her long eyelashes. She’d practically lit up the room - both literally and figuratively - from the sparks coming off the wand. Her bounding steps coming to a stop before them and out the corner of his eye, Aether could recall someone else was there with him but his attention was taken by the woman���s chipper, pitched voice: Well, it isn’t everyday you see sisters working together.

Aether shivered and bit the inside of his lip, dread pooling in his chest as the woman reached out. Her image rippled and dispersed in shards across his mind’s eyes. Replaced by another of an elderly man hobbling across the busy road with one hand set firmly upon Aether’s shoulder. He could recall the gnarled wrinkles in his fingers and his nails pressing down like a falcon’s talons. Yet, the man’s eyes were gentle and he weaved wonderful tales of his childhood adventures in comparison to those of his family.

You remind me of my granddaughter.

Aether tried to take it as a compliment. Apparently, his granddaughter had intelligence to match her bravery and willingness to listen to the ramblings of an old man. When he laughed at his doddery, Aether tried to laugh along but his chest felt tight and he bid the old man farewell before rushing off to the inn where he and his sister were staying. Lumine hadn’t been there at the time. Likely speaking to the owners to receive their pay for their courier-work. She’d return with a pouch full of coins then they would argue about what to eat for the night. An argument ending in several ‘one-more-time’ rounds of rock-paper-scissors before they split their reward and their food before turning in for the night.

Ordinarily, that is what would happen.

Today though, Aether snagged one of the books from the foot of their shared bed and climbed through the window just as he’d entered. Sparing a longing glance over his shoulder at their temporary residence, Aether quietly hoped Lumine would appear through the door to ask him where he was going or come with him. When neither happened, he leapt out into the dusk in hopes of finding his own peace somewhere on the isle.

Aether rubbed at his eyes and shook his head back to the present. He hardly noticed when the sun shone its last, and the sky darkened, clouds barely visible against the deep blue. Aether lifted his head to stare down his nose at the pier’s ledge then sighed. He’d barely made it to the ledge when his strength had given out. So much for the endurance training he’d been going through. Now, he’d have to try and summon the energy to return. His only hope was that Lumine wouldn’t be upset with him.

The strength to keep his head upright waned and he toppled backward to lie against the grass once more. His eyelids dipped, gaze barely missing the twins suns ascending as he flattened himself against the ground. “Wha— woah!” Aether lurched upright, narrowly missing colliding with the person looming over him as he struggled to an upright position. The book toppled off his lap and landed on the grass with a wet thump. A soft sigh met his ears and he twisted around, kneeling in the dirt. Lumine, lifting the book to her stomach and brushing off its dirtied cover, looked to him with furrowed brows and unsmiling lips.

“I was wondering where you ran off to.”

Aether winced, rubbing the back of his head. Those words were said with such concern that it felt like a blow across his neck. “Sorry,” he murmured to the grass. After a beat of silence, he peeked up at her to see her staring down at him worriedly. Her eyes gleamed in the moonlight and softened when their gaze met. What was his expression, he wondered, for her to seem so concerned.

Lumine sank down to her knees and touched the soaked sleeve of his tunic, pressing water from it as she rubbed the fabric between her fingers. Aether thought to warn her that she’d dirty her trousers but from the furrow in her brows and her pinched lips, Lumine wouldn’t have heard him anyway.

Silence. Tension. Even the air was oppressive, and he wondered what he could do to make his twin smile rather than fret over him.

“Did you check everywhere..?” He mustered a smile and dropped his hand to his bent knees when she glanced up at him. “When you were looking for me.”

Lumine regarded him quietly as if she were determining whether or not to answer him. Then, she smiled and for a moment Aether felt everything was right with the world. She shuffled up to her feet and tucked the book in the crook of her arm. Her free hand extended to him, fingertips wet and soft as a flower’s petals as he grasped them to pull himself up.

“Didn’t have to,” said Lumine, her fingers squeezing his aching ones then loosening their hold. She wasn’t letting go of his hand and he was wise enough to know not to pull away. Nor did he want to. “I know where you go when you’re thinking.”

Aether snorted at that. He highly doubted it. They were together often on their travels but he went off on his own occasionally to find interesting spots. Although, he did tend to share them with Lumine when his curiosity got the better of him.

Huffing, Aether said, “No way. You just got lucky.”

“I know you.”

Lumine leveled a flat stare at him. Aether had seen it plenty of times mirrored on his own face, and while he wanted to laugh, echoes of voices from earlier spiked a wave of disgust down his spine. He pressed his lips together defiantly and slipped his hand free of Lumine’s. Her mouth fell open and the look of concern had returned but he turned away before his mind could dwell on it.

Wooden planks creaked beneath his soles. Suffocating, isolating pressure biding in his chest until it stole even the wind’s solace from him. It wasn’t until the toes of his boots reached the pier’s ledge that he stopped walking. The way forward was nowhere. He couldn’t leave unless he flourished his wings and left his sister behind.

His sister.

Lumine had been remarkably quiet while Aether walked on. His thoughts combined with the pressure in his chest clogged his chest, leaving room for little else. Aether swallowed his apprehension and peered over his shoulder. At the other end of the pier stood his sister, an almost ghostly figure against the deep shadows lingering over the wood. The book held close to her body and her eyes refused to leave his own.

Had she been staring at him the entire time?

Aether wondered what he could say to explain how he felt. How he wished his sister knew everything so he could feel silly for running from her side. For all of his cleverness and curiosities, answers eluded him in droves and silence reigned between them. Guilt gnawed at his heart as Lumine’s gaze lowered and her eyes shuttered, shoulders curving inward and head bowed. It wasn’t right.

Although, a tiny part of him wouldn’t allow him to simply run back to her side. Guilt paired with apprehension created a dangerous reaction. Nothing. He did nothing as his sister curled in on herself, hurt by his lack of closeness. Aether’s shoulders sagged with regret as he turned toward the distance and stared out at the rising moon. Then, his eyes fell to the world below, blanketed with clouds.

He could hardly bring to mind countless theories of what dwelled beneath the cloud-like sea. No one in their year, let alone those who came before them had ever come to know the world below. Some had even come to believe there was nothing beneath but an endless abyss filled with shards from dying stars. The further one went, the deeper the darkness would become until they knew no more.

A tale most would take as a warning, but Aether considered a challenge and a lesson.

He curled his fingers into fists, pressed tightly against his sides. “… Hey Lumine,” called Aether, voice low but echoing loudly in the night’s quietude. “.. Would you love me… even if I wasn’t your sister?”

The words flew free from his lips as a weight lifted from his shoulders. Now that they left him, he couldn’t bring them back no matter how much he tried. Seconds seemed to stretch into infinity without a reply. It would have been more bearable to simply throw himself from the ledge and find if the rumors of the world were true. But then, something encircled his wrist and he jolted upright, only able to take a half-step backward before Lumine was pulling him closer. Her eyes were wet. Dew-like tears clinging to her eyelashes with every blink. Aether didn’t know how to respond. He’d wondered if he would have seen disgust in her eyes, or hear her disregard how he felt.

We’ll always be sisters.

Those four words which brought him comfort when they were small children only made his stomach churn now. Lumine’s face crumpled and she squeezed his wrist again, making Aether’s skin crawl with the non-answer.

“Lumine..?”

Lumine blinked rapidly at the sound of her name then sniffled. A pale pink beginning to flush her cheeks. She slowly nodded, her hold on his wrist easing.

Aether sighed then turned toward her, grasping her hand tightly. “That doesn’t mea-”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t -” Lumine trailed off, squeezing his fingers.

They stared at one another. Lumine’s hold on his hand so tight that Aether was certain his fingers would turn colors before long. His stomach lurched with fear as her lips parted.

“I will always love you,” said Lumine. Her sharp tug on Aether’s hand nearly had him tumbling into her. A yelp echoed in his ears and his eyes shut tightly, waiting for the air to rush around them. When nothing came, he cracked open his eyes.

Golden threads, fine and light, swayed before his eyes like the wheat fields they’d passed over on another isle. Like a sea of gold laid out before them, blazing bright beneath the sun’s rays.

Aether let his chin rest against Lumine’s shoulder, jaw quivering as he fought against the warm wet stinging at his eyes.

“Never forget that…”

 ----------

A sharp tug drew Aether back to the present. He yawned and blinked lazily at the fishing pole in his hands, nose wrinkled when the line swung. Balmy weather paired with the salty sea breeze made for an enticing mid-afternoon nap. However, his stomach growled in protest and reminded him why he was sitting here fishing to begin with.

A few nudges from the fishing pole brought his attention back to the crystalline waters, disturbed by the tide rolling up to the shore, washing his sand-covered toes. While he waited, Aether wondered if this was what the world below would have been like in that realm. Would his sister have enjoyed to see something like this if they hadn’t fallen into that trap before?

Aether sighed and pressed his thumbnail to the five petaled flower carved into the fishing pole’s side. Some habits never seemed to change.

Another tug, too sharp for him to ignore, nearly jolted him forward and his eyes flew open as he reared backward. The line yanked taut. He truly hoped that he didn’t have to replace this one as well. It’d taken forever to weave together one sturdy enough. But thankfully, the line held and with a sharp enough pull, his catch broke free from the water’s surface.

Aether’s jaw fell open and he scrambled to drop his fishing line, wading through the surf to grab the tiny figure hurtled through the air. The solid, heavy thing crashed into his chest and he stumbled backward, falling onto his behind as the waves rolled over his legs. Aether groaned in time with someone else’s and adjusted himself, peering down at the cherubic face of a little girl.

#genshin impact #genshin impact aether #genshin impact lumine #genshin impact paimon #fanfiction #my fanfiction #where the soul lies down

[spmcomic]

So, about that arc 5 of yours…i’m still really interested in the robots. Who did they use to be, before they got turned into machines consisting out of mixed souls? What drove the tribe of artificiers to commit such cruelty?

THEIA AND GAIA

Cover

Chapter 1: (part 1 | part 2)   Chapter 2: (part 1 | part 2)

Chapter 3: (part 1 | part 2)   Chapter 4: (part 1 | part 2)

In a word: pandemonium. Infinite colors and faces swirled past, tiny shattered fragments of conversations and images that overwhelmed anything outside this moment. Thirty voices called out at random, incoherent, unable to form words. They raced across the frenzied space, bouncing off an invisible boundary to their new universe of jagged half-voices, murky images, a lack of scent… Where were the scents?

The voices paused- nearly thoughtful, even with no words for thought- as all at once they realized the missing sense. In the sudden quiet, new voices- distant, foreign, full- bubbled into the space.

“I told you. This one is doomed.”

“No, the eyes are still lit up. Look.”

“Do youknow how much energy it takes to keep this thing running? The generator isalready shorting. Do you want to cause another power outage?”

“It’llmake it! Its Power Core isn’t even damaged yet.”

A pause.Then… “Fine. Three more minutes. If it doesn’t fuse, then we throw it out and stopwasting Head Merletaph’s grant.”

“She’ll killyou if she sees you threw out an uncorrupted, undamaged Power Core…”

Whatdoes it mean?

Again,the voices united in chorus against the chaos. Then, the chaos threatened toonce again overtake them as thirty half-formed opinions lost track of eachother, before they regrouped around their growing anxiety. Where was the smellof the fields- the metal- the caves- the heat- the livestock- the city? Thevoices faltered without any answers, and questions left the space.

Wemust work together, enough of the voices realized as one, and the crowdgathered its energy. There was no scent here, but they found some kind ofextension. A limb. The voices poked together curiously, and the space twitched,shuddered, and fell. The fading images finally slipped away, curling intosomething more solid- like dirt settling in water- mixtures resolving in abeaker- tea leaves strained from the drink-

Thespace hung suspended several body-lengths from the ground. Or… not several, thelimbs, they touched the stone below them already. Thirty voices turned theirhead to examine an arm. Knives settled inside white porcelain, new andunstained- like the most unnatural pottery-

“See? Itold you. You have to be patient with these things.”

Thespace shifted, and the vision swung around to match. They found two flawlessfork-legs on the side, bolted to the ground…

“Don’ttell me what’s what, sophomore.”

Ears. Whereare my ears? The space surged upward, but no outside motion followed. Thehead clumsily twitched, and the space fell again as thirty opinions scattered. Agentle rocking motion reconnected their attention, and the head turned oncemore, to the other side. Two more limbs rested against the ground, tilted at anawkward angle, not supporting the weight of the…

The body…

Theycouldn’t turn the head far enough to see what the back looked like, but theymade out a tether leading upward out of sight, and some kind of white armor-some kind of exoskeleton- some kind of rigging-

Thelimbs again lost their support and the space hung briefly before regaining itsbalance. The tether. The head could not turn very far upward at all, but asimilar shape across the room caught the voices’ attention. The metallic farwall provided a distant reflection, fragmented by a network of glowing loosecurls and hard angles. Just behind the glow, the voices could see a harness danglingfrom the ceiling and supporting the bulk of…

Thespace wanted to blink in confusion, but it had no eye lids. An enormouswhite-armored bug stared back, resolving into easier view as the light faded. Thespace lifted its arm again, twitching the knife-fingers. In halting jolts, theycame toward the face, gently touching a stone mask- a porcelain helmet- a sheetof metal against the anvil- with a hard clink.

“Mark itdown, Mercy. Attempt one-thirteen at the Lazarus was, finally, asuccess.”

“Is itviolent?”

“It’snot coordinated enough for that yet. I’ll show you.”

Footstepsechoed across the metal and stone of the room. The head turned to watch twobeings approach, their forms mostly hidden under thick, colorful cloths. The beingshad small heads, and no visible ears- impossible to tell their intentions- whatis their rank- why is there no scent-

“Standup,” the taller one commanded. The space simply stared, as it drifted back andforth in the harness, its fork-leg joints swaying. Too many legs.

Don’ttell me what to do, the voices snarled, a few overpowering the crowd, revealyourselves.

“I knowyou can understand me. Stand.”

Theshorter one was focused on some kind of panel- sheet- stone- and handed thetaller one a glittering object- sculpted rock- jewelry?- without looking up.

Thetaller one held up the gleaming piece of metal in a naked, pale hand. “Lastwarning. You’d best get to it,” the creature sneered.

Thethirty voices easily came to an agreement, and the space let all six of itslimbs go slack to rest fully against the harness. The being’s face hardened,and it pressed its long, skeletal thumb into the metal. “Stand.”

Thespace jolted, once again overcome by chaos, the thirty voices screamingtogether in their sudden, unbidden desire to stand at any cost. The legs andjoints straightened of their own accord, and once the buzzing shock wore offthe space found itself upright.

“I’llmake a note. This one’s another troublemaker,” the shorter one sighed.

“Heh,well, we’ll see if it changes its mind when Head Merletaph gets a look at it.”The creature turned back to the space and pressed its disgusting, bald handagainst the metal piece again. “Hold still.”

Again,the voices clattered against each other in a mess of shards and static, and thespace found itself rigid.

“Don’tdo that too much…” The shorter one clicked its tongue as it stepped forward andbegan moving its terrible, long-fingered hands around the harness. The spacewould have recoiled, if it could move.

“Yourname,” the other creature began, pacing in front of the space, tormenting thevoices with its ability to move- gloating over its victory- such insolence-just like the Warlord used to- “Is Lazarus. Whatever you were called before isnothing, now. You have been…” A pause as it rolled the word off its tongue, “capturedby the Tribe of Artificers, and you now serve their purposes. By yoursacrifice, we progress forward.”

“Leftside clear.”

“We are locatedin a city called Underside, on a world called Douma. That’s right,” it hissed,showing some of its blunt teeth under the shadow of its hood. “You’re not evenon your world anymore. You have no means of going home. So don’t bother withit. It’s just a waste of everyone’s time. And you do not want to wasteHead Merletaph’s time.”

Thedazed voices coalesced briefly. This was… a prepared speech… The thoughtscrumbled before they could agree on any conclusions.

“HeadMerletaph is the leader here. The Mayor, the Warlord, the Den Parent, howeveryou little rodents want to think of it. You do what she says, without question,no matter what anyone else tells you. If you don’t… Well.” The being waggledthe metal piece in its hand. “Let’s just say you’ll do it anyway.”

“Rightside clear. Let me check the head wires. Finish up.”

Thetaller one stopped pacing. “Don’t worry, it’s not all bad. Stay in line, andyou’ll get treated better. We’re not like your Warlords. We’re simply verybusy, and if you waste our time, there will be consequences. Now, comewith us.”

Thetaller one lowered its metal piece and the space’s limbs released. It stumbled,struggling to balance outside the security of the harness. Thirty voicesfollowed the glinting metal down into the folds of the creature’s shroud. Theknife-fingers flexed, supported by a long protrusion at the wrist that reachedall the way to the ground. But the balance… It could hardly stand, even withsix legs. The space ached for a tail. The two creatures stayed far ahead, outof its reach, as it hesitantly picked its way across the stone floor and downthe small step into the larger ring around the chamber. It wobbled and stumbledlike a newborn- like one of the mounts, standing for the first time- like mysister when she survived-

Thebrightness outside of the chamber was staggering. Thin whirring joined the voicesas the eyes adjusted, bringing the city into focus, and focus the voices did.Across a great chasm, rows and rows of buildings etched the cliffside. Anglingthe head upward, they saw that this side of the ravine matched, except for a distant,enormous pillar that reached even above the lip of the cliff and pierced thesky. Bridges and long threads crossed the gaps, and distant white speckslingered in the air. The sky stretched in a thin line between the two walls, anunnatural blue-pink, it should have been the color of the sea, what wasthis place?

The twocreatures led the space along a narrow walkway. The head and eyes turned restlessly,tracking every moving thing, every shrouded figure, every porcelain monster.Ahead, the buildings clustered higher around the base of that great pillar. Chatterpassed back and forth across the balconies and walkways, up and down the cliffside, interrupting the hushed, confused thirty voices as they struggled to findany one detail to agree on.

“Are yougoing to tell it-”

“What?No, that’s your job-”

Ah. Thetwo leading creatures. Their bickering brought a center to the madness. Theeyes flickered between the two of them, unsure which was talking. The shorterone turned back, found the space’s attention on it, and returned to its shufflingwalk. It cleared its throat.

“Lazarus.Welcome to Underside- don’t fall into the mantle, there. You are a transportbot, designed for climbing and navigating the dense woodlands above. You willbe collecting supplies from the surface settlements and delivering them to theDepot buildings on this side of the chasm.”

Thespace clambered to the edge of the balcony and, with the new length to theirneck, the voices peered over the side. Below what seemed like endless layers ofbuildings, the bottom of the ravine was not dark, but rather radiated a hotlight- molten- the anvil- like a thin thread of fire-

The clangof the hammer pounding the metal against the anvil filled the hot room. Sweatdrenched the weathered fur on Timur’s shoulders and head, blasted repeatedlywith dry air from the furnace behind. He paused to lick his scarred paw, as he avertedhis eyes from the glowing metal and considered the shimmering air above itinstead. All newborn weapons were too brilliant to stare at directly. It was areminder of the basic respect owed to the warrior, to the battle.

That’swhat the proverb hung on the wall behind him proclaimed. He pulled his paw awayfrom his mouth and reached absently for the emerald on the pedestal beside him.When his finger pushed into the burning hot air hanging in a loose spherearound the fully-charged gem, he hesitated. Best not to just grab it- he’dalready lost two fingers. One more and he’d be working one-handed. You neverquite knew what these things would do until the weapon was complete.

Thevoices paused. Timur, they whispered, and one of them resonated inreturn.

“TheDepot building is up this way,” the shorter creature prompted. “We’re passingthrough the R.P.C. so Head Merletaph can get a look at you.”

“You’dbest remember,” the taller one added. “That’s where you drag yourself if a legbreaks off.”

A largerporcelain creature, asmall body carried by enormous arms, lumbered by and momentarily blockedthe space’s view of the two figures. The voices urged and pushed together,skittering their long awkward limbs to stay behind the monster, keeping itbetween them and the beings. But the body was weak and clumsy. They stumbledand scratched against the hard stone- no, not stone, too soft and rough-

Thewhite-armored creature held out one of its mighty arms and steadied the space.They locked eyes for a brief moment.

“Don’t,”was all it said, before moving on, leaving the space with its back legssplayed, the voices scrabbling for comprehension.

“Well?Come on!” The taller one’s domineering tone was becoming grating. The voices reachedto lay back ears and raise hackles they no longer had before giving up andstumbling back to the other two, jabbing the ground with their forked legs asthey went.

Theother being didn’t look up from its slate- slab- from its- whatever it was- butthe taller one made a huffing noise. “Meridian,” it muttered. “It’s gettingerratic…”

“We’realmost there. Just keep the controller in your hand, you can stop it if it getstoo close.”

Everythingabout the Den Father screamed “do not approach” as he reclined on his couch offurs and beads. His bristling fur exaggerated his already hulking form in theshadow he rested in. But Ezra was a messenger, and she had her news to deliver.Even still, her weight settled forward on her toes, ready to bound away if theDen Father even twitched. Her old, worn tunic caught uncomfortably on her mane.She pulled it down and adjusted her belt, then tiptoed forward and bowed herhead, flattening her ears against her neck. She met his fiery bronze eyes,glittering in the darkness.

“Sire…Princess Nechash has also succumbed to the Plague.”

Eachstep on this strange stone sent a jarring shock up the knife-limbs. Thesensation was not quite pain, but certainly not comfortable. Ezra, hummedone shattered voice, among the rest.

Perhapshearing the strained clacking behind them, the taller figure bowed its head. “Canyou believe Karchner hasn’t replaced its walkways with concrete yet?”

“Karchner’sfull of idiots, Mercy. The city could burn down and they still wouldn’t takethe chance to fix the walkways.”

“Theydon’t have the budget for it anyway…”

“… keepwasting it on their teleporters and time machines…”

-

Next

#foureyedowl #ask #spm #super paper mario #pixls #theia and gaia #thanks for waiting guys #it took me almost 9 months to write this #i hope you enjoy the ride! #it's my birthday! have a nice picture #or rather... multi chapter story lol

[cipheramnesia]

Will you tell my fortune?

Thank you and here is your fortune.

Many years ago, when the sky was closer to the earth, and the ocean poured endlessly from the edges of the world into chaos, the Shadow Carver lived on the highest mountain between the sea and the sky and the void which lay between.

No one knew how she got to the edge of the world. Some say the void became a person and could never go back. Or she climbed up from the chaos of the ocean and could never set foot on the world below. Or the sun placed her there when his chariot passed across the sky. Or the sky himself plucked her from his head to guard the place neither he nor his mother the world could touch.

At her side she carried a knife called Sadness, forged of her own silver blood. It was rough, and thick, and without art or artifice, yet held and edge sharp as sight. She had needles of her bones in a little leather case. Her hands were strong and her shoulders could hold the worries of the earth and the sky.

The Shadow Carver made the darkness where men and beasts could live, the shadows and the clouds and the closed door rooms where no light would enter, which was neither chaos nor void. Each day she carved out the void with her dagger Sadness. She held the void in the rushing chaos, molding it into shadow shapes, sewing them with bone and threads of her blood red hair, and letting the shadows stretch over the earth with the setting sun to find their place among men and beasts. From some shadows fell rain, and in other shadows fires were lit. Some hid secrets, some hid truth, some hid those who were scared and alone.

She could see and feel where her shadows fell, but never came down from the mountains. Sometimes she wished she could, or more than wished.

There was a time when the sky came to her with a task to weave a cloak the size of the world. It was for the Lady Night, who walked a gentle path behind the chariot of the sun. The Shadow Carver saw her sometimes as the sun's light faded behind her mountain, face and hair so black, nails whiter than her own silver blood and sharper than Sadness, one wide eye, the moon. The Shadow Carver thought Lady Night beautiful.

She carved the void for Night, one sliver after another, the edge of the world wavering under the impenetrable and unseeable shapes and sounds and colors of void. She spun thread from chaos, in all colors and endless shapes and unlike any before, lashing the void together, folding and weaving and smelting and stretching and carving and chiseling it for thrice thirty days till a blackness spilled from her forge and loom. It was darker than any shadow, a place for light to fall into and never return. Its threads were the threads of her life, its seams were the feeling of her strong hands curling tight. Her eyes and heart and hopes all found their way into the depthless dark of the Lady Night's cloak.

Day after day she watched the chariot of the sun settle and the cloak of the Lady Night spread over the world, while the Night's eye the moon cast a watchful gaze below and showed men and beasts the paths of safety. Sometimes the Lady's eye fell upon her and she ducked into her modest house, heart pounding. Sometimes she merely sat inside and watched a flickering candle burn til sweet sleep overtook her. Dreams, she thought, could not find her so far above the world.

One long day she waited it seemed far longer than ever in hopes of a glimpse of the the beautiful dark face of the Lady Night and perhaps would have waited longer still had not a dark hand with silver nails come gently to rest on her shoulder, her own dark cloak slipping around her, and a strong arm pressing her deep into the darkness as they turned from the setting sun to let the candles flicker down together.

#cipheramnesia #fables #fairy tales #fortunes

[solomon-rincewind]

Yolen Part 1:

I lay in my bed, feeling sorry for myself. Today I had been feeling terrible, I liked to kid myself into thinking that I wasn't ill at all but couldn't keep up the visage once I stood. So, I avoided standing and lay in my bed with the curtains of the room closed and music playing in the background.

The music stopped.

"Hello Ross."

I sat up with a start, my head instantly feeling like it was about to burst. "What the..." I started, looking around for the source of the voice that had just called my name.

"Hello." I caught sight of the source, it was my speaker, glowing as it spoke. "I suppose you should brace yourself for what comes next."

"What's going on?" I asked the speaker, getting up from bed, I still felt a little queesy but I was pushing past that. "Is this a joke?" I walked to my door to open it.

"Good luck. Arcanum." Said the speaker.

I opened the door. Normally I would've seen the hallway of my apartment, that is not what I saw right now.

"Jesus." I muttered as I looked out of my room to a field of grass and houses thousands of feet below. "The hell is this?"

Tentatively, I poked my foot out of the threshold, instantly I was thrust from my room by the foot, flung out into the open air. I spun, trying to reach for the door but my room wasn't there, nothing but blue sky as I started to descend. "Aaaaaaaa!" I screamed as I fell, too panicked to register my clothes evaporating, too terrified to see the grand city in the distance, too worried to notice that my illness had gone. I passed out.

--

I awoke to the smell of straw and urine. "Oh god, that stinks." I opened my eyes and finally noticed that my hands were bound with thick ropes and I was sat in a stone cell with wooden bars separating my from the other prison cells. There was no one else in the other cells something strange floated in front of my face. A green screen like what you would seen in a video game.

NAME - N/A

RACE - N/A

LVL - 1

HP - 100

HP/s - +0.1

MP - 80

MP/s - +0.4

JOB - N/A

INDIVIDUAL SKILL - GENESIS/DESOLATION

STR - 10

AGI - 10

CON - 10

INT - 15

FTH - 2

ABILITY POINTS (15)

'What is this?' I asked myself, I'd seen things like this before, in videogames and manga. It was without a doubt a status screen. If I was someone else I would probably have freaked out or assumed it was all a dream, and yet I didn't, I knew from the bottom of my heart that this was reality.

'I wonder why the name and race are blank?' I reached towards the name section, the word glowing brightly before another window and a keyboard appeared in mid air.

CREATE NAME... ... ...

'I guess this thing wants me to make a name.' I had realised my situation pretty quickly, I had fallen from the sky into a fantasy world and was locked up because they didn't know what I was, I was even dressed in Skyrim esc prison clothes.

YOLEN ARCANUM

CONFIRM NAME? Y/N

I pressed the Y and was brought back to the main stat screen. I felt like something had changed, but my name was still Yolen.

"What the..." Something big had changed. I no longer held any attachment to the name Ross, infact when I thought of myself the name that I had just written popped up in my head.

"I guess it really is real."

I pressed the race button, my finger not actually touching anything but the screen still lit and another window opened.

RACE WILL GIVE EXTRA BONUSES AND SKILLS TO -YOLEN- LIST IS AS FOLLOWS. PLEASE NOTE THE CHOICE WILL CHANGE THE COMPOSITION OF -YOLEN-

HUMAN

ELF

DWARF

HALFLING

GNOME

DRAGONBORN

UNDEAD

DEMON

CELESTIAL

SLIME

GOBLINOID

BEASTKIN

ELEMENTAL

GIANT

ORC

There sure were a lot to choose from. I hovered a finger over celestial and a separate window opened again.

CELESTIAL

A HEAVENLY BEING, DIVINE IN NATURE AND AWE INSPIRING TO THOSE WHO LOOK UPON IT.

+5 TO INTELLIGENCE AND FAITH. +2 TO STRENGTH.

GAIN SKILLS CELESTIAL FORTITUDE AND CALMING PRESENCE.

It hadn't made me instantly choose the race which I was glad about. But the presence of skills jogged my memory on something on the main screen. I directed my attention towards the main screen, the other windows faded a bit and spun to my peripherals. I pressed on the individual skill with genesis/desolation next to it and another window opened up.

GENESIS/DESOLATION - LVL 1

INDIVIDUAL SKILL POSSESSED BY -YOLEN- IT IS THE VERY ESSENCE OF CREATION AND ITS COUNTERPART DESTRUCTION -YOLEN- CAN CREATE MATTER FROM HIS IMAGINATION AND DESTROY MATTER HE TOUCHES AT WILL. CAPABILITIES OF THIS SKILL GO UP WITH THE SKILL LEVEL.

MANA COST - 0

The skill level was only at one but it had a lot of potential. "Alright, let's give it a try." Focusing on the ropes binding my hands I tried to make an exact copy, just not binding me.

Small, dully glowing dots of blue light popped into existence, coming together in clumps, slowly changing colour and texture to make the rope.

"Wow." I muttered to myself in amazement, dropping the rope to the floor, now I focused on the ropes around my hands and tried to destroy them. Black lines spread across the rope like veins, draining the colour from it before it crumbled to dust and disappeared. "That's useful." But I didn't want to rush anything so I picked up the rope I had made, destroying it and making a copy on my wrists, once again binding myself.

Turning my attention back to the race screen I pondered my choices, checking a couple of others.

In the end I narrowed it down to celestial, demon(fallen), elemental(Lightening) or undead(ghost).

"Honestly got no clue, I'll flip a coin, celestial and demon or elemental and undead. Heads or tails." A coin appeared in my hand, I flipped it.

"Heads." So, celestial or demon.

The coin went up again.

"Demon it is." I hovered a finger over the demon and read it's description.

DEMON

SUBRACE - FALLEN

A CELESTIAL, FALLEN FROM GRACE AND CORRUPTED BY SIN.

+5 TO STRENGTH AND CONSTITUTION. +1 TO INTELLIGENCE AND AGILITY.

GAIN SKILLS HELLISH FORTITUDE AND CORRUPTING INFLUENCE.

FALLEN SKILLS - GAIN DEEP TRAVERSAL

'Alright, let's do this.' I confirmed my race choice.

RACE CHOSEN, -YOLEN- ENTERING TRANSMUTION STATE.

'What?' I thought, before passing out.

--

I awoke, looking over my body for changes, there were several. My skin was almost ashen it was so grey, my previously weak and unnoticeable muscles were now larger and defined, more of an agile build. No wings though. Not sure if I was glad or disappointed at that fact. I reviewed my stats, expanding the skill windows.

NAME - YOLEN ARCANUM

RACE - FALLEN

LVL - 1

HP - 100

HP/s - +25

MP - 100

MP/s - +0.5

JOB - N/A

INDIVIDUAL SKILL - GENESIS/DESOLATION

STR - 15

AGI - 11

CON - 15

INT - 16

FTH - 2

ABILITY POINTS (15)

GENESIS/DESOLATION - LVL 1

DEEP TRAVERSAL - LVL 1

HELLISH FORTITUDE - LVL MAX

CORRUPTING INFLUENCE - LVL 1

My HP regen had gone up greatly, and my stats had improved. Checking the screen I also noticed the unused points. I pressed on them to check.

ABILITY POINTS

MAY BE USED TO INCREASE A STAT BY 1 PER POINT USED.

I had no idea when I would get anymore of these so I thought long and hard on what I would upgrade, in the end I decided to check the jobs first.

JOB

-YOLEN- MUST CHOOSE A JOB TO PERSUE, JOBS GIVE -YOLEN- EXTRA SKILLS AND ABILITIES, SUCH AS SPELL CASTING OR MARTIAL ARTS. THE JOB LIST IS AS FOLLOWS.

NECROMANCER

WIZARD

WITCH

WARLOCK

SORCERER

TRANSMUTER

ELEMENTALIST

ENCHANTER

ILLUSIONIST

ARTIFICER

SMITH

COOK

MERCHANT

APOTHECARY

ALCHEMIST

BUILDER

RANGER

DRUID

SHAMAN

WITCH DOCTOR

TAMER

THIEF

ASSASSIN

ACROBAT

SCOUT

FIGHTER

BARBARIAN

SHIELD KNIGHT

CLERIC

PALADIN

PRIEST

SPIRITUALIST

SHRINE MAIDEN

MONK

WITH THE OPTIONAL CHOICE OF.

MANA WEAVER

#original story #story #isekai #fantasy #in another world #litrpg