jimothyworldbuilder

[jimothyworldbuilder]

Rest In Peril

Blood seeped through his shirt, and the gap, and into the soil. He could hear his heart in his ears and himself hyperventilating. He knew that was bad, it made him bleed faster, but he couldn’t stop himself.

If he couldn’t stop the blood loss, he had to get help as quickly as possible. He tried to push himself off the ground, so that he could see around himself or at least grab someone’s attention, but his arms were too weak. He yelled out, but his ears were ringing, and he couldn’t even tell if his yelling was audible. He couldn’t even pull his legs up to his body and use them to push himself along the ground. He felt cold. He tried to clasp at a rock, he wasn’t sure why, and noticed it was wet, even though there was a drought, and he realized the wetness on it was his own sweat. He felt thirsty.

Shit. Shit him. Shit father shit mother shit everyone. He should’ve never left. He should’ve never been excited about this. He should’ve ignored everyone and stayed home. He wished he’d eaten bread and cheese instead of the hunter’s stew that morning. He wished he’d never drawn a picture of his personal hero with a stick in the sand in front of his friend. Everything he’d ever done was a mistake, because it had led him here, about to die bleeding out in a dry, ugly field for no good reason.

He could turn his head, at least. He shifted it, trying to look around even though the world was spinning and his vision was fading.

The spinning stopped, and far away and close and he could not tell if she was real or fake, was an old woman. She looked older than both his grandmothers, but also a blur that he couldn’t see the features of, and she walked towards him with a cane. All and none of her weight was on it, and even though it felt like she was getting closer she always seemed the same distance away.

She reached out a hand that felt so close he could feel its warmth and far away at once.

He just needed to take it. He knew it. He moved his hand. He moved his hand. He moved his hand. It would feel for a second like his arm was moving, but it would reset whenever it was about to appear in his vision.

He could see more of her, now. Not her. Her clothes. A crown of the native flowers that grow atop where people have been buried. Her eyes were yellow and bright and seemed to glow, the way the eyes of the wild dogs, the ones that had to be chased away whenever they were seen trying to dig up graves, did in the darkness.

He moved his arm. It moved into his field of vision this time, and they clasped each other’s hands, and she began, with strength and ease he didn’t question, to pull him away.

[jimothyworldbuilder]

"The Pash Sucks." - Glorious Plato

The Pash sucks. The Pash is a stupid. The Pash should grab that rock over there and hit the Pash’s with it. The Pash should try to do a backflip so that the Pash lands on the Pash’s head and breaks the Pash’s neck. Plato continued, yelling directly into Pash’s mind. It been at it for at least an hour. Plato was perfectly capable of speaking normally, if it even counted as speaking when it was being done directly into someone’s mind, but refused to whenever it was angry at Pash.

Shut up, Pash responded with a thought. Pash was sat down, cross-legged, and trying to focus as he whittled away at the wooden spear’s tip. There was a flock of runner-birds nearby. One of them already had an injured leg, so it would be easier to hit if it ran before the spear was thrown. Plato might shut up if they ate something.

Ooo, I am the Pash, I have hands and I need to concentrate to use them! Plato snaked around among the layers of Pash’s skin, making it itchy. When Plato stayed still, it could be mistaken for a tattoo. But I’ll never use them how Plato wants! Nooo, because I am too stupid!

Using them how you want got me kicked out of my home!

Shut up!

Plato was still angry about the day before. They’d spotted a man and a pregnant woman sitting by a campfire and eating. Plato tried to convince Pash to sneak in and steal their food, and Pash refused and avoided them instead.

A breeze began to roll through the grassland. It carried the smells of sweat, blood, a rotten corpse, body odor and something else, which Pash didn’t recognize. Plato went silent. The hairs on Pash’s body stood on end and he began to sweat.

Plato? Pash asked. Plato being quiet was never good.

Finish the spear.

What is it?

A reason to finish the spear.

Pash’s hands shook. Plato moved along Pash’s skin to his left hand. It stopped shaking. He kept carving, faster now.

The spear was done. Sort of. Pash would have time to improve on it later. He pressed his hand against the ground to get up.

Do not get up. It will see your head above the grass.

What do I do then? A drop of sweat fell down Pash’s chin.

Get ready to throw it, and slowly turn to your left until I tell you to stop.

Pash did it, slowly shifting himself around, but keeping his throwing arm ready.

Now, just a tiny bit to the right- perfect. Plato moved up Pash’s left arm and along his chest, then down his right arm. The parts he moved over naturally moved into their perfect positions and stopped shaking.

Plato put extra effort into Pash’s hand, which made it feel a little bit numb. Throw it.

It flew through the grass. As soon as it hit something with a thud, there were the sounds of wailing and something moving through the grass towards them.

Pash didn’t need to be told to run. He could already feel its rotten breath over its shoulder and hear it running at him. Plato was screaming something at him but he was too busy running and being terrified to hear him. He ran right towards the middle of the runner-birds, which at first casually stepped aside for him but suddenly began sprinting and scattering when they saw whatever was behind him.

One with an injured leg, that he’d been planning to throw his spear at earlier, just about kept pace with him for a bit. The others were either far to the sides or far ahead. It fell behind him, then there was a sound like a butcher’s knife hacking through flesh and Pash could feel blood spattering onto his back.

He kept running.

-         

Hey. Pash. You can stop running.

Pash fell to his knees and rolled onto his back. He could hear his heart in his ears. What was that?

Just a hadula.

You said a week ago that those only eat plants.

This one was infected with a nasty disease. Made it an exception.

There are diseases that make plant eating animals try to eat people. Pash sat up. Great to know.

It is not great to know at all, Pash, you sick piece of garbage.

What?

Pash is trash. Pash likes it when nature is collapsing.

Nature’s collapsing.

Pash is so stupid that he cannot see nature collapsing in front of his very eyes.

I didn’t see the hadula.

Pash is a stupid idiot who cannot see in all directions like the great and glorious Plato.

[jimothyworldbuilder]

Short Story: Ange and Luda

 “Hngggg.” Ange made his best imitation of the sound from that game. It was easier with both their noses blocked.

Luda snorted and crisps fell from his hand onto his lap. He took off his mask and immediately started gagging.

Ange leaped back as far as he could. Further than a normal person would’ve been able to. As and Ls couldn’t tolerate one another’s smells.

Even after the mask was cleaned of snot and put back on, an awkward silence persisted between them for several minutes.

“Why do you think it is?” Ange asked.

“My teachers say it’s disease.” Luda scratched the back of his hand. “We’re infected with different diseases. We’re each immune to our own diseases, but could catch something that would kill us from each other.”

“Mine just got mad at me when I asked. Said it’s God’s will and there’s nothing good in questioning God.” Ange stood up. “I got an idea.”

“What?”

“We should find kids in other categories. Like, the Bs and the Cs and stuff. Ask them what their teachers tell them.” Ange snapped his fingers. “It’ll be like Mutual Hostages!”

“Don't the mutual hostages all kill each other?” Luda slipped a crisp into his mouth.

“Mutual Hostages: but everyone’s friends!” Ange snapped his fingers again.

“We might get in trouble, though. We’re already not meant to be talking to each other.”

“Are you scared?” Ange gestured for Luda to finish the quote.

“Cos out here, if you got no spine, we take your spine.” Luda pushed himself up against the wall behind him. “But one more thing.”

“What?”

“The only place besides here I can access is the one with the Ses.” Luda pronounced the last one as Esses, even though Ange had always been taught is was Susses. "You'll have to handle the Ps and Js."

-        A month later.

Their quest for a new member, one that wasn’t an L or an A like them, had failed on both ends.

People lived in different districts depending on their letter, so that they could take off their masks without getting sick.

Luda and Ange had just so happened to have the same spot where they’d run to, curl up and cry any time anyone for any reason was horrendously mean to them (especially when it was A's parents, who definitely and undoubtedly meant “I wish you were never born” whenever they said “no you cannot stay up until 4am watching Mutual Hostages and all of its sequels you have school tomorrow”).

They’d just encountered each other by coincidence. But no matter how much they willed it to happen, they weren’t running into any Ps, Js or Ses.

Ange kicked a can towards Ludo. “I have an idea.”

Ludo caught the can under his foot. “But you’re dumb.”

“Nuh uh.” Ange waved his hand. “Anyway, what if we sneak into the other districts to find kids who might talk to us instead of waiting for one of them to appear in front of us.”

They stared at eachother.

Any kid might instead report them, or run away screaming scared that they'd caught a plague. In other words, they'd need masks.

[jimothyworldbuilder]

Crashland Invasion: Aramis's Biography

Prologue

I’ve written this biography with the intent of it being available solely to my wife (hi, wife! I love you!), children, friends and anyone else I personally say can read this.

If you are not among that chosen few and are reading this, I kindly ask that you stop and go do something else. My wife tells me drunk driving is more fun than ever these days.

If you choose to continue to read this anyway, I unkindly ask that you leap off the nearest cliff. If you survive, I ask that you do it again, until you don’t.

Additionally, the aliens don’t even show up until the latter half or so of this biography, which is a biography. This biography, being a biography, also continues to be a biography, focused on being a biography, a biography that represents my experiences, actions and thoughts, as a biography is supposed to do. Geo-political and alien shenanigans will only be explained insofar as I was involved in or affected by them, because this is a biography.

Also, I am French, and so cannot ensure the mental wellbeing of anyone who reads this. Extremely real scientific studies have confirmed the French brain has less in common with that of an actual human being than even the most unusual, cyborgified, brain-chipped, drugged up and mentally conditioned aliens. You are functionally reading into the mind of an eldritch horror, staring into the void. It might stare back.

Part 1: Hitting My Head, Shitting My Pants

My earliest memory was of me when I was I think four years old, maybe three or five. In a playground, there was me, and there was a butterfly. Butterflies and me don’t go well together.

Little me chased the butterfly, jumping every now and then, and not looking at my surroundings. The butterfly swooped and swerved around my hands. If butterflies can feel fear, it was probably terrified.

My face slammed directly into a metal pole. Blood poured from my nose. It was probably the most pain I’d felt in my life.

Next, my bowels gave out. I realized I was surrounded by other children. It was probably the most humiliation I’d felt in my life.

Maybe my mum was so grossed out that she wanted to pretend I wasn’t her kid and ignore me. Maybe she just didn’t care. Or found it entertaining. I remember that she was looking blankly at me for a while, and then got up and started walking home, while I struggled to keep up behind her. Shit clung to my legs, and blood clung to my face. 

[jimothyworldbuilder]

Rule 174: No Pillow-Fighting

Brija knelt beside her bed, head bowed towards a window and hands clasped in prayer.

The sun had begun to peek over the horizon. It pierced through Brija’s tangly blood-red bush of hair and right onto green, feral eyes and pale, freckly skin.

Brija whispered. “Blessed torch, give me-”

A pillow slammed into the back of Brija’s head. Her face smashed against the wooden floor. Blood gushed from her nose, down her lips and dripping off her chin onto her hands and the floor. Despite the sun shining onto it, Brija’s blood was black with fuel.

“Shush!” Hulla got out of her bed, which was next to Brija’s, and raised the pillow above her head. She had angry, fire-blue eyes and short, messy, dirty-blonde hair. Her skin was pale, but not as much as Brija’s. Hulla was taller than most adults, despite (allegedly) being (allegedly) thirteen (allegedly), like Brija. It was weird that they were related, however distantly. “I’m tryna sleep.”

Brija balled her fists. She lunged at Hulla. Hulla twisted around Brija and hit her with the pillow again, sending Brija to the wall opposite their beds. Brija caught herself, then fell.

She landed in Dohnt’s bed, on her hands and feet. Dohnt’s skin, hair, teeth, the inside of her mouth and the whites of her eyes were an inky black and blended together, like a starless night sky. Within that sky stared a pair of glowing yellow eyes. Brija stared back into them.

“Is there a witch in my bed?” Dohnt’s eyes got bigger. She was leaning up towards Brija. She illuminated the room with fire in her palm. Her fire always burned the hottest and brightest. It was weird that they were related, however distantly.

Brija scrambled off Dohnt and her bed. “I’m no witch!”

Hulla walked towards them, squinting against Dohnt’s firelight. “But you’re noisy.” She cracked her knuckles and looked down on Brija. Her frown had turned to a smile. “And it’s too late to go back to sleep.”

They both loved fighting. Brija bounced onto her feet. She’d blast Hulla’s face with fire. Hulla couldn’t be burned, but her vision would be obscured, and Brija would be able to-

A grey finger snapped into Brija’s range of vision. It was Alma’s, pointed at the door. The door opened. Brija was certain that Alma could see the future, or through walls, or had super-hearing. Paired with her never talking, it was creepy. It was weird that they were related, however distantly.

Maid was standing in the doorway. She’d never told them her real name. She was smiling and twisting her cane in her hand.

Being one of their caretakers was supposed to be a punishment. She’d never said what for. She had burn scars and a limp from times they’d resisted her discipline. They rarely resisted, and she enjoyed tormenting them.

She especially liked leering over Fetti. She’d been taking cover behind her bed in case Hulla sent Brija flying in her direction. Fetti was small, timid, and kind. Brija didn’t find it weird to think they were related, though she couldn’t place why.

They were walking down the mountain road. The Avnekki, the man-eater-men, carved it sometime before the Krysa, the demigods, destroyed them. It was raining. Heavily.

Maid hadn’t beaten them. She said she’d been ordered not to beat them until sundown, because they were doing something special today. Under threat of beating them ten times as much if they resisted, she instead smeared dung from the cheese hoddits on their faces. Only Alma was exempt, but Maid never punished her.

Dohnt grabbed Brija’s shoulder and leaned into her ear. The rain had been washing the dung from their faces.

“Wanna sneak into town with me?” Dohnt whispered. “Tonight.”

The rain was too thick to see the town, but it was there. Down the mountain, and a two-hour walk. Shorter if they moved how they’d trained to.  

“Why?” Brija cupped some water in her hands, the heavy rain only needed a second to fill them, and rubbed her face into it, hoping to get rid of any remaining dung.

“It’ll be fun. I have friends there. Some of them are cute boys.” Dohnt poked Brija’s face.

“I don’t care about boys.” Brija swatted Dohnt’s finger away.

“So, a witch was in my bed?” Dohnt faked a vomiting sound.

Witch. Long ago, witches were feared, especially by those born with abilities like Brija and her relatives. Witches killed, captured, took organs, and altered bodies away from what the gods had chosen for them. They, their witchdoms, and their monstrous armies were destroyed by the Krysa, the demigods. Nowadays, witch meant gay or bisexual person. Brija didn’t know why.

“There’s a Jarlen. You could fight them.” Dohnt waved her fist.

“Okay I wanna go now.”

Their heads were smacked from behind. Brija recognized the smack and turned around. It was their teacher, and distant relative, Genna, who pinched Dohnt’s ear. “No towning. We might start a journey tomorrow.”

“Where?” Brija asked, ignoring Dohnt’s whining. Genna still hadn’t let go of her ear.

“Kryspire.”

It was a city built by the Krysa, the demigods, and the country’s capitol.

[jimothyworldbuilder]

Ever wondered how magic in the Afterworld works? No? What is an Afterworld? Shush, it's time for your education!

Yummers in, magics out.

[jimothyworldbuilder]

Welcome to the Jimothy Worldbuilding (and memes) youtube channel!

No, you cannot escape once you're in!

[jimothyworldbuilder]

Here come the Miruns - no matter how charming their social awkwardness gets, do not let them kiss you!

Miruns are the only humans in the Afterworld with a natural capacity for telepathy, which they achieve by biting out and eating one another's tongues!

[jimothyworldbuilder]

Hide your blood and hide your babies - the vampires are here!

Afterworld vampires are a bit more biological than the more mystical vampires of other settings - but that doesn't stop them from being dangerous, fascinating, and prone to big egos!

[jimothyworldbuilder]

And along come the Tummens, the ultimate humans of war!

[jimothyworldbuilder]

Say hello to the Krysa, Lamara's royal magic bloodline with crystal bones, teeth, and abilities!

[jimothyworldbuilder]

This video explains all the groundwork concepts for how the Afterworld works - and is excessively long because examples are included!

[jimothyworldbuilder]

Say hello to the beautiful cover of the Afterworld blog!