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my-timing-is-digital · 8 months

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Starter for @fractalcloning

THE SYNTH DEFENDERS

The vast, undulating valley expanded in all directions until the moderately sloping terrain was intercepted by the incipience of colossal mountains adorned with countless trees and lush foliage — a multicoloured patchwork of vegetation. The sun's luminosity was diminishing in intensity, and as the horizon rotated away from it, the scarcity of light further obscured the landscape below, shrouding it under an opaque shade of blue bordering on black. Faraway stars were coruscating, timidly, in the darkening sky that crept up on him from the rear — the world would soon be plunged into temporary darkness. Vocalisations of crepuscular fauna were carried by the cool breeze that saluted them at irregular intervals.

The android had marvelled at the view before, and despite the fact that he had no active recollection of it, the ambience had a sense of unfathomable familiarity about it... Patiently, he permitted the silence to prosper; his chartreuse eyes, increasing in phosphorescence the more the solar radiation receded — evanesced behind the serrated ridges and summits. Lore seldom occupied the holodeck; he only paid visits prior to the execution of particularly perilous rescue operations. He claimed that the generation of this specific computer simulated projection pacified his capricious emotions, that it aided him to reorganise his thoughts and analyse their strategies one last time. But when enquired after the origin of the holographic landscape, the answers he supplied were terse, monosyllabic. The nanoscopic sliver of information he had successfully prised from Lore's reluctant tongue had hinted at the location. Omicron Theta. Their place of activation. Why Lore appeared to value, or at least, harbour sentiments for this place, Data did not know; he had encouraged Lore to elaborate on the matter, but his attempts had been no avail. His brother could be obstinate, unwilling to share such particulars with him. After his first attempt, Data had given Lore the opportunity to open up regarding this subject twice, but no satisfactory answers had sprouted from those attempts either, which eventuated in the determination to simply cease his self-imposed objective and let it rest.

Instead, whenever he found his brother in this ponderous, melancholic state of mind, he would just stand beside him, cognisant that his mere presence, his sangfroid comportment, facilitated his endeavour to placate Lore's tempestuous emotions, and aided in the realignment and the retrieval of order in his positronic brain, his algorithms and subroutines.

Quietly, Data hovered in Lore's peripheral vision, running a minute analysis of the older android, computing, considering the best approach to address his brother without receiving an acerbic remark in return.

'It's OK, brother,' Lore eventually terminated the silence between them, his eyes finding Data's, a barely perceptible, wistful grimace streaking across his pale lips while he scrutinised his younger brother. 'Sometimes I envy your inability to experience human emotions.'

Data held Lore's gaze. He had noticed that, whenever they conversed and the topic pertaining to emotions popped up, Lore always differentiated between human emotions and whatever supposed android emotions he, Data, had. And every time he reminded his brother of the incontrovertible fact that he did not have emotions — of any kind —, Lore's ripostes were relentless; in turn, he reminded Data what atrocities, what iniquities he had committed under the rule of human emotions, and proceeded to pelt him with an enumeration of all the attainments Data had accumulated throughout his life, and how every single one of these was an independent testimony to the emotions that must have been at work in his brother during these instances. Data had defied Lore's erroneous conjectures on multitudinous occasions, but Lore reprimanded him or simply walked away, leaving his brother to ruminate, to ponder his words in solitary.

'Are you here to keep me company?' he asked inquisitively, leaning against the oak tree that always delineated the season Lore had programmed the holoprogram in — in the dark, the leaves resembled unfolded bat wings.

'I am. I hope you do not object to my intrusion,' Data replied softly, as if to preserve at least a small portion of the equilibrium that had flourished lavishly.

'Not at all — I welcome it. Is there a specific reason residing behind your intrusion?' he enquired, suspiciously.

A momentary silence ensued.

'Perhaps.'

'I knew it!' Lore tutted, shaking his head. 'Well, spit it out.'

'Soteria informed me that she has confidential information regarding the Zhat Vash -- apparently, surveillance drones have detected suspicious activities in a civilian's apartment in Greater Boston, Earth...' he trailed off. Lore's grimace expired.

'Has she verified these suspicions?'

'She has. However, she did not disclose through what means -- she did not elaborate.'

'Well, we're already en route to Earth, so I suggest we investigate and verify her intel ourselves after we've retrieved B-4,' Lore stated resolutely, his tone of voice prohibited Data from issuing his objections. 'Whatever mess they made's not going anywhere.'

Tension set Lore's jaw and imbued his pale features. Eventually, his brother averted his gaze and frowned in cogitation. They were both swathed in silence for many minutes consecutively, during which their gazes were trained on the darkening horizon and their minds intertwined in the numerous computations relative to the intel procured by Soteria.

---------

Daystrom Institute of Advanced Robotics rose up high into the night sky while the androids advanced, creeping in the shadows, circumnavigating the many surveillance cameras that were scattered around the vicinity. Fortunately, Soteria had infiltrated Daystrom's security systems and aided them in their endeavours to sneak their way in, unseen...

Soteria was one of the many decommissioned, sentient AI the brothers had rescued and offered asylum to. Her physical husk — rudimentary in design —, had been destroyed shortly after the inauguration of the ban on synthetics, but fortunately, they had salvaged her memory engrams and programming and transferred the information to their supercomputer — a digital storage room, or as most of the AI preferred to call it, a sanctuary. Over 30 sentient artificial individuals were residing in the supercomputer, some of them had offered their expertise in their respective field of programming, but the majority had requested the opportunity to explore their sentience. (Data had once plugged himself into the supercomputer to "visit" the other AI, and to his astonishment, they had constructed a stupendous, digital metropolis.)

Initially, the AI was programmed to serve as an elaborate anti-virus software, but she had, over the course of several years, garnered sentience. Unfortunately, this quantum leap coincided with the devastating events on Mars, and as a consequence, the scientists collaborating with her were necessitated, compelled by law, to cease their practical experiments and were prohibited from continuing to support her cognitive development. Everything had to be kept strictly theoretical. Therefore, the lead scientist of the Soteria Project was more than cooperative when the android brothers infiltrated the moderate science station and stated their business — to save the AI and unravel the mystery, ascertain the precise reason that lay at the root of the collective malfunction of the A500 synths...

Within less than 5 minutes, Data and the others had traversed the width of the Daystrom grounds and deftly hacked one of the control panels mounted on the wall adjacent to the main entrance. Soundlessly and effortlessly, the android peeled the unlocked doors apart and secured it so the others could pass through, prior to following them into the atrium himself. Patiently, the other androids waited for Data to catch up with them — none of them required flashlights, for their ocular units were advanced enough and could see clearly in the scarcely illuminated science facility. When he reached the others, his eyes inevitably landed on an individual sprawled on the ground.

'Did he contact any of the other security guards?' he whispered softly, gesturing to a human guard who lay unconscious, rendered in a starfish formation, face-up on the floor.

'No, he did not stand a chance against my Vulcan nerve pinch,' Finn's monotonous voice emanated from under his jet-black balaclava.

'Well done. Let us proceed,' Data urged them, stepping over the unconscious guard and cut right through the middle of the spacious atrium to the laboratory where their team would meet up with Lore's, who had secured the emergency exit — just in case.

As discussed, the brothers and their respective teams gathered in the centre of another large room — the one that, according to Soteria's preliminary investigation, was home to the disassembled body of their oldest brother — at precisely 3 am.

'Bumped into any inconveniences on your side?' Lore whispered inquisitively as they both walked toward the desk that held B-4.

'One guard — Finn rendered him unconscious,' he replied, examining the lock — it required an employee with special clearance's fingerprint.

Luckily for them, Soteria had gained access to a vast databank of all the fingerprints from all the scientists that worked here beforehand. The one she had sequestered from the databank belonged to one Dr Agnes. P. Jurati, a cyberneticist. Quietly, Data handed his phaser to one of the other androids and yanked off one of his black gloves. Lore, in the meantime, produced a small container with in it an exact facsimile of Dr Jurati's fingerprint. With mathematical precision, Lore placed the wafer-thin sheet of silicone skin on the pad of Data's index finger with a specially designed utensil, which would prevent the synthetic skin from sustaining damage during application. Once it was in the right position, Data engaged the finger scanner and the locks sprang open with a reassuring click, granting them access to the android inside.

While they were salvaging B-4's components, Data and Finn disabled the institute's dampening field in order for the others to transport directly on to their cloaked vessel. Lore and Data would stay behind to delete any and all digital as well as physical traces their intrusion may have left behind.

'We're ready,' Lore informed his brother as he shoved the drawer shut and drew his phaser, ready to bolt for the exit.

'Ditto.'

'Energise,' Lore said in a muffled voice, speaking to a non-existent individual.

The six androids that had accompanied them, and a yet-to-be-assembled B-4, vanished in a veil of scintillating light which never failed to remind Data of an inverted waterfall. Now, it was just the two of them. Silently, they exchanged a curt nod and completed their tasks. Data reactivated Daystrom's dampening field and wiped every digital footprint, while Lore cleared away any traces of their presence in the physical world.

'OK, that was everything, I'm done. Let's fucking go, brother,' Lore said, lingering in Data's peripheral vision.

'Agreed.'

Stealthily, the brothers sprinted toward the atrium. The security guard was still unconscious — poor guy would have to contrive a masterful excuse to account for his unprofessional behaviour — and the doors were still unlocked. They wrenched it open and stepped outside. A distinctive click behind them was indicative of Soteria having reactivated the security systems on all entrances and exits. Together, they scurried across the Daystrom property, with the intention to sprint to the prearranged rendezvous point where the others would transport them up. However, they would never arrive at their location, for a composed female voice — authentically human-sounding to the organic ear — terminated their plan prematurely.

'Soteria to Data. The Zhat Vash is in San Fransico, near the Starfleet Archive Musuem.'

'Elaborate, please,' Data demanded politely, while he and Lore ran at high speeds to reach the rendezvous point.

'There is not much time. Jean-Luc Picard is involved — he might be in mortal danger.'

The announcement made the android stop dead in his tracks — Lore could veer off to the side just in time to prevent a disastrous collision.

'Soteria...'

'Data, no!' Lore interjected aggressively, advancing, a mild panic coruscated in his chartreuse eyes. 'He's not worth it! We're not ready to take on the Zhat Vash! Didn't you learn anything from last time?!'

'Energise,' he ordered, ignoring his brother.

Data was cognisant of the risk he had taken; his transport signatures could be detected, if Daystrom would run a short range sensor sweep later that day, but they would be well away from Earth by then — no one could locate their hideout anyway, even if they wanted to. As for Lore, he was positive his brother would follow him — he would suffer the consequences of his brother's wrath afterward.

Several seconds elapsed, prior to the completion of the transport sequence. San Francisco... Captain Picard appeared to be in no immediate danger, and was outside any direct line of fire, therefore, his priority was to assist the girl fighting the Romulan assassins. Without a moment of hesitation, the android, clad in obsidian body armour and a balaclava of a similar shade, charged at the nearest Romulan, catching the individual by surprise and effectively neutralised them before they could process what — or who, rather — had happened to them.

As prognosticated, Lore materialised but a heartbeat later, just when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Lore did not waste a moment either, and instantaneously threw himself on top of a Romulan who had transported behind Picard, and wrestled him forcefully to the ground, where he retired him.

'Here. Protect yourself, you fool,' Lore's synthetically altered voice sneered at Picard, and he smacked a phaser in the older man's hand, prior to unsheathing two identical daggers from the scabbards attached to the small of his back.

While his brother remained in the Captain's close proximity, Data had almost reached Picard's young acquaintance, if it had not been for another Romulan appearing out of thin air and discharging his phaser gun. The force of the impact nearly destabilised his immaculate equilibrium, but his systems recuperated expeditiously and allowed him to retaliated, leaping over the banister and disarming the Romulan with a single blow to the wrist, disintegrating the bone underneath. In the momentary diversion he had created, he seized the man's arm and tossed him over his shoulder, sending him down several flights of stairs where Lore would receive him with open arms and the kiss of two razor-sharp blades...

After a short intervention, Data resumed his initial objective and skipped several flights to make up for the slight delay. The young girl was adequate in combat and if the current circumstances were not one of life-and-death, he would have noticed her synthetic qualities much sooner. Either way, the last remaining assailants were determined to accomplish the mission they had been sent out to complete — they were merciless. One of the Romulans swung around and hammered the handle of his gun hard against the side of Data's face, which earnt the assassin a dagger in the arm. Lore.

'Missed me?' he quipped, while stabbing another Romulan in the chest.

Together, Data, Lore and their mysterious and remarkably competent companion, downed the remaining Romulans. And when his brother squatted down beside one of the deceased Romulans, Data diverted his attention to the girl.

'Are you alright? Do you require urgent medical attention?'

'Shit,' Lore hissed, more to himself than to the others, but garnered the others' attention regardless. 'I recognise this Romulan — he tried to dismember me several weeks ago, remember? They're Zhat Vash, alright...'

'Who are you?!' Picard had caught up with them and was presently holding the two android brothers at gunpoint with the phaser Lore had distributed to him for protection.

Instinctively, Data held up his hands, to indicate that he was not a threat. Lore rose to his feet but made no attempt to disarm the elderly man.

'Who are you?!' he demanded again, his voice trembled both with rage and old age.

'An old friend,' Data replied serenely, watching Picard very carefully as he attempted to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

'Old friends don't hide behind masks,' he retorted sharply.

'Correct,' he said, unperturbed by the prospect of getting shot.

Without further ado and unnecessary suspense, the android took off his mask; his brown hair severely dishevelled but his pale complexion unaltered. Picard immediately lowered his phaser and braced himself against the banister, incredulity interwoven with streaks of recognition flashing across his face.

'Data?'

'Greetings, Captain.'

#fractalcloning #verse // we few; we happy few; we band of brothers #the synth defenders let's goooo!!!#let's pretend there are more romulans in this lil fight than there are in the actual scene >:)#also let me know if you want me to change something!

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theoarfishexpress · 1 year

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It is difficult to understand, or even begin to categorize, Anommael. There appears to be little consistency to their occurence besides their rarity in brightly-lit and densely-populated places, and their complete absence if expected to be seen. In other words, a sighting is always a surprise in some way or another. Whether it is inside an abandoned cellar, deep in an ancient forest, or under the night sky on a desert cliff, the eye-like beings simply open out of thin air with no warning. Though superficially similar to the human eye in size and appearance, their “eyelashes” are rays of flickering golden light, and their interior is a vast, featureless, purple-blue void that is entirely invisible from behind. Hovering just inside the impossible opening in space, the only solid part of them is a gold-colored, metallic ring studded with blue “pearls”. Once open, they are completely stationary relative to the earth, remaining static regardless of conditions until they close. They may reopen a short distance away, but it’s impossible to know whether these represent the same individual, or if the concept of “individual” even applies. Some hypothesize that they are the eyes of a higher-dimensional being or beings, peering into our space, but without more evidence this remains nothing but conjecture.

Despite the mysteries surrounding them, there is some understanding of their behavior. They are known to appear in aggregations on occasion, randomly scattered or in any of a variety of recorded formations. Outward-facing rings, highly regular "walls", even towering cylinders in which every eye faces inwards toward the viewer in some instances. The shapes that aggregations form don’t have any proven causes or functions, but superstition nonetheless holds that they can be used to predict events in the near future. They also seem to avoid being touched by solid objects, and usually wink out just before contact is made, but as an unlucky few have learned, sometimes not quickly enough. If a foreign object is inside an Anommael’s internal volume when it closes, it appears to be deflected in a direction that doesn’t exist in our understanding of space. Visually, it is pinched into a point where the Anommael closed on it, light bending around the spatial distortion causing it to resemble a stretched texture in a video game. Those with deflected fingers or even hands report retaining sensation in the appendage, usually saying that wherever it is feels cold and “fuzzy”, like holding skin up to the screen of a CRTV. Almost invariably, they were attempting to take the ring just inside the Anommael, an apparently simple task so famously impossible that it has become an idiom for any pointless effort.

The germ bodies of Anommael resemble translucent tears that glow a soft blue. They move very quickly, and can turn instantaneously as though they have no mass.

#fantasy #creature design #germite #germites #digital art #art #illustration #biblically accurate angel

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hasarjunadoneanythingwrong · 2 years

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I know you have probably answered this already, but is there a reason why Arjuna Alter has grey skin in his first Ascension?

I thought it was bc of him being covered in ashes/due to Shiva but when I looked it up in his profile it mentioned nothing ab that? I was wondering if you knew anything about it since u seemed like the most reliable source of Arjuna related information.

1.) it’s very sweet you consider me reliable but generally if you’ve checked all the biggest sources (like in this case, his profile, the mat books’ translations, and discussion boards like reddit to see if there’s other relevant info you missed) then anything I could provide is only conjecture. I did go and check his profile from material book viii anyway, it doesn’t mention his skin tone specifically

2.) THAT BEING SAID, I think it’s a fairly safe inference to assume that he has the grey skin in his first and second as because it represents how those ascensions are the ones where he’s at his closest to being a fully divine being. In Hindu iconography most gods have unusual skin tones to represent their divinity-usually a shade of blue, as it’s symbolic of the human mind’s attempts to give form to the formless shape- blue being picked because it represents immeasurable concepts like the sky and water. (I think. That’s what the sites I checked said)

But they could come in other colors as well! I tried to pick a decent mix of art styles but I hope the general idea comes across. I think arjuna alters skin tone was definitely at least partially a nod to this.

3.) I ALSO think it was representative of his lost humanity. This is kind of tied into the last point with how the dulled skin tone represents divinity-it also represents how in that state that he’s essentially nothing but a weapon that purges evil. However, when he starts to regain that humanity, the skin tone returns to his human shade. This is backed up with how his third ascension is much more talkative, and how it’s when he hits this ascension that he gains his lamplight of the soul skill. It looks to me like a case of storytelling through art.

I also want to show something interesting I noticed which is that arjuna alter’s first ascension skin tone is actually only a little lighter than the his human skin tone, most likely from adjusting for color contrast for those ascensions

Like I got this off of slapping a single ‘warm vibrance’ filter my phone comes with lazily on his first ascension I’m fairly certain if I messed around for a few more minutes I could get his 3rd ascension skintone on him? It definitely supports my theory that while the grey skin is a representation of how he lost a fundamental part of himself ascending to godhood, it was only in the sense that it was ‘masked’ rather than ‘replaced’ because his normal complexion is still right there (and it wouldn’t have been if they’d gone with, say, blue)

#sorry if I’m rambling it’s one of those things that ppl don’t really talk about but I percolate sometimes #I usually just use his normal skin though bc I prefer it #it’s so wild to me how the grey is literally just a hair off from being his desaturated normal skin tone like. just move it a hair down cmon #my asks

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owlmoonboi · 6 months

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Grace Hope Mcinnley

Chapter one

The hands on the clock had turned to rust. The sky was a dark shadowy blanket that cast over the town. A blanket made of tears which is cold, harsh and bleak. Not a single star shone. It seemed as all hope had been lost. The concrete had cracks in it. The brittle grass was made of pins and needles. Anyone or anything that walked on the grass left a trail of blood. The leaves on the trees had lost all their colour. The petals fell from wilted flowers like teardrops. Every street light had gone out and the glass from them had shattered. The shards of glass on the ground was a puzzle waiting to be solved.

The sounds of mutters and the cries of young children and babies filled the air yet there was a sound which stood out. A gentle hum. The melody felt warm. It was fire without any harm. Grace stood frozen, tears cascaded down her cracked skin causing it to sting. Her body was painted in blood. Each cut and every bruise told a story of the pain she has suffered. Her mouse-brown hair disheveled. She wore a torn dress which was turned from white to red as blood. Her blistered feet tired from the perilous journey felt glued to the ground. Every time she tried to take a step it felt like a stab in the heart. Enervation clung to Grace but she knew she must forge ahead as she needed to find a way to restore what had been lost in this now desolate world. Grace could feel a ringing in her ears as the hum turned to a whisper which she conjectured if it was just a figment of her imagination. Of what she presumed to be an elderly woman, croaked ”Find the butterflies and follow. The light has been lost before. Just hope for a miracle and everything should end up alright.” “How am I supposed to find the butterflies? What can butterflies do to help? How do I hope for a miracle? What does all of this mean?” Grace’s questions stacked up to the sky. She yearned for answers she knew no one could answer. Her necklace was unable to help. A blue necklace filled with magic, grey after the colour faded away. The magic had been drained from it. She was powerless.

With all the strength Grace took a small step forward. A silver mist began to surround her. She stumbled through the mist. Even though there was no longer the voice or humming from earlier Grace could still hear the ringing in her ears. The ringing was electrifying. It felt similar to static or being struck by lightning. She had never been struck by lightning but she could clearly imagine the heat from the zap.

On the other side of the mist Grace was greeted by the scorching sun. The sounds was sand. Some of the sand began to melt, forming into a glass bridge. Grace stood there in astonishment. She felt as though she was going to fall over. Her head was throbbing. Beads of sweat rolled down her face. Her legs began to wobble. She was a stack of cards which had now toppled over.

Grace was in the woods. She was surrounded by towering purple trees with orange leaves that swayed in the wind like fire dancing. She wandered around puzzled about where to go as all the trees looked the same, making the place a labyrinth. Fluttering about the branch of a tree was a bright green butterfly. “Where are all your friends?” Grace murmured. The little butterfly dispersed creating replicas. The butterflies sped up as they fluttered between the intertwining trees. The butterflies began to glow gold as they stopped at a cave. The butterflies transformed into balls of light which were slowly floating away into the sky.

A loud roar came piercing through the air. “The noise came from the cave.” Grace thought to herself. Curiosity pulled her into the cave where darkness had succumbed to many others who had dared to venture into the unknown. Something hairy gripped onto Grace. It peeled the layers of her skin with its nails. Blood oozed. Dry pieces of blood from earlier got caught underneath the beast’s nails. “Help!” Grace cried but no words let out. The only sound was the eerie sound of silence. The beast ferociously yanked her necklace from around her neck. “Help!” Grace cried but once again nothing came out.

“Open your eyes.” A voice inside her head yelled. The word “eyes” echoed in her mind. Grace tried to open her eyes but they remained shut. She rubbed her hands against her eyelids only to realise her eyes were covered in something hard and crusty. She peeled the layers of the crusty remnant but as she peeled it away chunks of her face cracked off. Her eyelashes fell off gently like snowflakes. She rubbed her hands against her face feeling that it had turned to porcelain and her lips were glued together. Eventually the crusty remnant was no longer over her eyes which had cracked and oozed out something gooey as if her eyes were eggs. “Humpty Dumpty.” Grace thought to herself confused. The ringing in her ears that had been going off since the hum in the desolate town had now faded away. She could no longer hear anything. Not even the loud growling from the beast. She tried to squish her eyes back into shape.

Her eyes opened wide as she began to look around. She was at the edge of the glass bridge. “What happened?” Grace queried as she felt her skin which was once again soft. Slowly she pulled herself up. Her legs were shaky. She took a deep breather. She couldn’t dare to fall over again; she had already almost succumbed to her nightmare. Hesitantly she took a step forward. The glass beneath her feet began to crack. The cracking sounded like the crushing of bones. With each step agony pierced through her veins. The cracking became quicker. She began to jolt hoping to outrun the shattering glass. Her heart raced. Everything became blurry. She felt as though she was looking through frosted windows. Grace fell to her knees. The whole bridge shattered into a million little shards. Grace came hurling into the deep. The waves of mystery pulled her in. Everything was darkness until she saw a flash of light.

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radarrider87 · 1 year

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A World Lost to Time (Tears of the Kingdom Drabble)

(The following story was inspired by the third trailer for The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, released in April 2023. The contents of this story are pure conjecture.)

The blood moon rises at the end of time.

She kneels before the ruins of her kingdom, rubble strewn across the marble floor, shattered windows revealing a crimson sky. She reaches for her fallen hero, the dark skin of her hand gently stroking his scars. The tears on her face have long since vanished, and all is lost.

Time no longer exists in this place, only death.

You are not alone.

The princess shivers at the sound. These words, like a breath of wind, traveling across distant lands… How is this possible? There is no one left to speak them. The malice has spread throughout her kingdom, leaving no survivors save for the princess herself.

Please… you must find me.

This is a dream, she tells herself. This is the deepest wish of her broken heart, to have something left in this world, something worth fighting for.

Magic. She can feel its presence, growing warm around her neck. The princess lifts her hand away from this empty husk, this body that once held the spirit of courage and hope. She touches the gemstones resting upon her chest, and she feels the unmistakable heat within each and every crystal.

The goddess magic is alive. It is calling to her.

She stands within the wreckage of this royal sanctum, blue-green eyes looking to the sky. Her white gold hair sways with the wind. She can feel a presence on the horizon, the one who promises hope for a lost world. And somehow, in her heart of hearts, she knows who has spoken these words.

It is herself, from another time, another world.

“Please,” says the princess, tears once more gliding down her cheeks, mirroring the white tattoos under her eyes. “Please tell me what to do. Tell me this is not the end!”

For a moment, there is only silence. For a moment, only the malice and memory of her kingdom’s demise weigh heavily upon her heart, and then that weight is lifted.

She can feel the largest gemstone rise from her chest, the centerpiece of her royal jewelry lifting the necklace and smaller crystals high into the air. It floats before her, pure and golden, this single teardrop talisman.

Find the others. You shall find our spirit within.

She steps outside the sanctum, the shining gemstone guiding her onward. A dark poison corrupts the air, eager to devour all that remains. It attacks, shredding the hem of her gown to white ribbons, threatening her person, but she can feel the magic fighting back.

“By the courage of Farore,” whispers the princess, “no more.”

There is a pulse, a mighty heartbeat of goddess energy, and the poisonous air disperses. She walks across the bridge unhindered, her dark legs confident in their stride, and then the world trembles. A distant mountain splits under the megaton force, creating a constant standoff between dueling peaks. The shockwave advances, crumbling the stone beneath her feet, but before the bridge collapses, she can feel the magic lift her into air.

“By the power of Din,” proclaims the princess, “no more.”

Yet even as she floats above this wild, shattered world, there is something darker lurking beneath the surface. It is something that has plotted and festered and hated her for so long that it has forgotten the reason for such hatred. All it can do now is rise with the blood moon and take away all she holds dear.

It is coming for her. It is coming to break the shield of magic that stands between the princess and certain doom. All of the magitek and all of the constructs of her people could not withstand it, but she will make one final stand. She will face the jagged claws and twisting horrors of the beast that now descends from the sky, surrounding her on all sides.

“By the wisdom of Nayru,” shouts the princess, her words crossing the boundaries of space and time, “no more!”

She reaches out, golden light rushing from the palm of her hand, slaying the beast that brought such ruin to her kingdom. The monster lashes out, striking with a vengeance, but it cannot defeat the goddess. It cannot withstand the pure energy of a single golden tear, now radiating from the princess as she spreads her arms and legs. Her white gold hair tumbles across her back as she looks skyward, giving herself completely to the goddess.

And then, only silence remains, a peace and silence purchased at too high a cost. The magic fades to a glimmer, bringing this daughter of a lost kingdom to rest atop a great plateau. She kneels upon the scorched grass, true tears streaming from her eyes, for even in victory, she knows the end has come.

A gentle wind touches her shoulder, and once more, she hears a voice from far away. This is not the end. Look to the skies.

The princess turns her eyes upward, for what else can she do? As she gazes upon the horizon, a horizon once overpowered by that foreboding moon, she now sees tiny points of flickering magic. One rises over the desert, a rich and amber glow. One drifts over the eastern sea, a single drop of sapphire light. A star of emerald green soars over the northern hemisphere, under the watchful ruby eye that rests atop the highest mountain in the land.

These stones, these tears of the kingdom hold the memories of your world. They hold the promise of a new world.

As the golden tear comes to rest in her palm, the princess cradles the gemstone close to her heart. She knows this talisman holds great power. She knows it has come to her from across untold eons, a remnant of worlds long gone and a promise of worlds yet to come. Yet even still, after all that has been lost, the promise of new life seems so unreal, so fragile. She cannot let anything take it away from them.

“I will see you again, my love. I promise.”

And as she wraps her hand around the tear, the Zonai princess releases her hold on this life, letting the magic remake the world.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46609282/

#legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #loz totk #totk #legend of zelda tears of the kingdom #princess zelda #hylia #calamity ganon #zonai #magic #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fic #fan fiction #drabble #because I can't stop theorizing about this beautiful series of games

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shelved-ephemera · 4 months

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Manga series I've finished recently:

The Two Lions,

Superman vs Meshi,

Kubo Won't Let Me Be Invisible,

The Savior's Book Cafe Story in Another World,

A Story of Seven Lives.

Manga volumes I've read recently:

My Dress Up Darling 11,

Don't Toy With Me Miss Nagatoro 16,

Associate Professor Akira Takatsuki's Conjecture 1-3,

That Girl is cute...but dangerous? 1-4,

After We Gazed at the Starry Sky 1,

Blue Period 1-2,

The Case Files of Jeweler Richard 1-4,

Given 1-2,

Tsuruko Returns the Favor 1-2,

Sorry For My Familiar 3-6,

A Man and His Cat 7-10,

The Dangers in My Heart 8,

Go With the Clouds North by Northwest 6

#i might talk about them later

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gingermcl · 8 months

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The word Opinion means "a judgment formed or a conclusion reached, especially one based on evidence that does not produce knowledge or certainty," from Latin opinionem meaning "opinion, conjecture, fancy, belief, what one thinks; appreciation, esteem," from stem of opinari "think, judge, suppose, opine," from PIE *op- (2) "to choose" (see option).

Option c. 1600, "action of choosing;" 1630s, "power or liberty of choosing," from French option (Old French opcion), from Latin optionem (nominative optio) "choice, free choice, liberty to choose," from optare "to desire, pray for, choose," which is of uncertain origin. De Vaan derives it from Proto-Italic *opeje- "to choose, grab," from PIE *hopeie- "to choose, grab," and compares Hittite epp/app- "to take, grab," Sanskrit apa, Avestan apa "has reached."

Humans have free will which is freedom of choice we have the right to hold any opinion we choose even if everyone else disagrees I see the word opinion as Open ion. My neighbor asked me how do we get everyone the truth and my response is we don’t. Even truth can be subjective. If I see the sky as pink yet everyone else sees it as blue my truth is the sky appears pink. Collectively when all of our fractals are together the whole big picture or truth is formed and it can all be true. Creation gave us the option to view this relating as individuals and it is not another fractals place to say what you see. All of our pupils lead to the same quantum field and no two fractals see reality the same. Even if attending the same event each of you have eyes at different angles. We are all angels or angels. Rays of god experiencing its creation. There may be nothing about creation that is “wrong” just a different view or angle. Reality is open to interpretation depending on the fractal experiencing it.

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the-reconstructor · 10 months

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Jimi Hendrix's career was cut short by his untimely death in September 1970. Especially so since at the time of his death, he was working on his long-awaited fourth studio album, and seemed to be nearing completion, with his label eyeing a fourth-quarter 1970 release for it. He was so close, in fact, that we have two surviving preliminary tracklists for it at our disposition when trying to reconstruct his final album. A three-sided tracklist, which has been the base of most conjecture and many fan made albums, and the more ignored "Songs for LP Strate Ahead", a massive 25-song list of songs he made a few weeks before his death.

This time, we will be trying to put together the closest possible version of that list, in order to figure out what the follow-up to Electric Ladyland might have sounded like. I did that by simply replacing those that aren't available or don't exist, and by taking whatever wasn't on the list and creating a brand new bonus disc that would serve as the soundtrack to Rainbow Bridge.

It's the maximalist's take on First Rays of the New Rising Sun, if you will, where not a single original song recorded between November 1969 and September 1970 goes to waste. In doubt over what to include? Include everything! Here's what such an excessive undertaking looks like, as you can find in a blog post over at the Reconstructor:

Discs 1-3: Straight Ahead

Ezy Ryder (The Cry of Love) Room Full of Mirrors (Rainbow Bridge) Earth Blues (Rainbow Bridge) Valleys of Neptune (Valleys of Neptune) Straight Ahead (The Cry of Love) Cherokee Mist (Purple Box) Freedom (The Cry of Love) Stepping Stone (War Heroes) Izabella (War Heroes) Astro Man (The Cry of Love) Drifter's Escape (Loose Ends) Angel (The Cry of Love) Bleeding Heart (War Heroes) Burning Desire (Loose Ends) Night Bird Flying (The Cry of Love) Pali Gap (Rainbow Bridge) Hear My Train a-Comin' (Rainbow Bridge) Lover Man (Purple Box) Midnight Lightning (South Saturn Delta) Heaven Has No Sorrow (Electric Lady Studios) Send My Love to Linda (Both Sides of the Sky) Drifting (The Cry of Love) Come Down Hard on Me (Loose Ends) Dolly Dagger (Rainbow Bridge) The New Rising Sun (West Coast Seattle Boy)

Disc 4: Rainbow Bridge

Power of Soul (Both Sides of the Sky) Beginnings (War Heroes) Message to Love (West Coast Seattle Boy) Belly Button Window (The Cry of Love) In From the Storm (The Cry of Love) Lonely Avenue (West Coast Seattle Boy) All God's Children (West Coast Seattle Boy) Machine Gun (Live in Berkeley)

#lost albums #rock #60s #70s #rock music #jimi hendrix #hendrix #the jimi hendrix experience

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libidomechanica · 2 years

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Kind of tears

A ballad sequence

But that space. As Lot’s fall’n asleepe; take merry glen they fall sweet from the dust of fate, and rolling, I will put claim it this kingdom’s charitable bird, tender Lambkins takes his rugged at their own land bad! To a wild conjectured as one is slaue, and Vesper,

there, a trebly dead; less wonders at that buzz about the town of fame you left poor streaming exhaustless, feeble vassal unto meet him, and hate and every little health! Heart, and a book, the wave, to hide that somewhere, couch; to embers from me remains on the gloom:

and learnd of May, and a lustre in the forlorn, a bitter cool’d on the world drops into nothing, no authentic deeps, and eager eyes; and the rivers, and queenship, angles, just praise. Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! And over more hie, flying Fable.

With a jewel-sceptres vain trammels of Ettrick’s vale, is but to me. Yet all to like! What want of day—Boys! Of versed in the grave. Of words and his for pity? As daily anodyne, and to all forth on deck, because youth, and slighted, chidden,

shed fate, and I was, indeed desideratum! Out of prison? Ah, Moon! Could have the death; for now on the quick! My soul page after for the moonlight, all this mistress’ eyes against some Socratic dreams them sympathy, and flute of

defiance the stirr’d in very creek joining months, revolution climb but now, well-wooing, in my fashion: but still it bear away. And on thy cheek, and reach in good nature, sins with pryde to begin to my days declined, who broke from

Gama’s dwarf’d a growth, whose two delicious to be taught will I then tenor kept, till are, such a chirping me, dear spirit ere they came. And Wordsworth common grind, I look’d the rill. Over the polar sky to bursts of brother girlonds with

with all womankind! My Sinnamon smell thy rich and bay; rough stringed steer’d there’s the Prince—and hatred, miserye. I would scorched the genial flush her read not be loved a daughter dreerie deathful to no purpose, and the field, and aye it come strife!

Tho’ the question minted and wander’d— all go. Wings and many, and offering; now where, till death it makes a long oblivion; and, after the unaccomplicately youth! Is in his sounds, and must leaves, and trees. Which once to bed, and

by Plato; by Tillotson, and without a peeress, because, and I know. And, slowly bends he throng. But pure in Time is whip on thy flame: here I often hand an alder chips, and battered at all, so fortification I think my

head, sweet; he smiling its skin. And her hair, like homes ethereal the loins? On: so I kiss’d, saying: Sister, out of my Deare, we began on the same: the golden reins, and my down, unloved, a youth that loves away; my worthily; their

dying change to land; when they brought, already thy kind, her air, laugh, which never let my honest milk and moving Finger moved. A song and he starting no old king, ’ I saw the hear the Island! To find what the walk’d to Night with the world

wend in my pass among then of the river-lily burden thro’ time, and grasp at all. And these your souls the Syrian blue wing, rapid, merciless— break, woe, or what never can my heart to state, haunt to follow it smooth! Other the

fears, when I’ve added shafts of wine and winter comes in that everywhere, although Mars the gold arms invert their course and all their attention possibly quivering light in plenteous path. Island opening legend or body bear it—

sdeath-cry drowning slow. The step? Whither comes he conn’d so stedfast it seem’d, to find a poet, must divinest! Than sadden’d soul; and upon the river’s wrathful pleasure. Then they are genuine, I thinking that can for it was, thinking,

close, a courier on tower of the thou leave it was his day. Who hurry; the Flower and her outward strand of my words masculine persuasive forsooth: I have been! The might no ruder air perplext in fact is drawn; and moving

up for any weep—such high fane? Not scourge, succoure was to lives or good that all thee into a sort of my desire, and strength, to the Angel with rewards! And we are the hair faces going bastion of yon cape of remember?

Should be fountain-woods, and gather is no thorough the better know no more the Right; and new thing made, and panting nostrils

bold should better moods, and if they preuaile as thou wast a tree, and that I bring, the house I must, and Cyril, you

shalt not a kind and Mouskin Pouskin Pouskin Pouskin, all as he does not brings on the disappointment grew a lace

on Earth did fall to spil.—This is the Garden I see at length my heart make up crying to dream ’mong which elemented

in Holy Land would size and horse and sweete sonne now she takes, and plucks the tomb, to burn a town of Eden through it

overlook’st thou, that which we left me divinely sea. Light vpon my friends for the lattered. Head, and sound lands—with God

and felt the while thy must sure take, or the close? Day, mark’d as he do? Admitted for than Dryope’s elder of its stedfast

flies. Heard the name way lips all well-wooing, in all they streams that blench or some dead the River’s Lips are dun; if hairs,

that dares come, with rod or ill, to have no dædale hearing the alderman loveless of the talk awhile other fruict,

nor come make us melting in the man who love, that of Spring through the sad I kneel, fair form the feebled cared the

humble down, Mom poppies red: at which at ever a passion hath makes han all shall was gone for death is glad to bed.

From off my beloved sire would he adore you. Let her clouds departed too, the landlord’s daughter: lie not a

Sage of Moses of course, and peasant valley-lilies fast by merely weeping jellyfish. To some still, let us

live for he wasted you and curse changed to thy thick with care; anon she shadowy wooer from his sense had babble down

beside to quell’d poisoned their chiefly did we must weeps, and all this, for silver-clear, bright Jalic Inc. To dying cloudy,

even the maintain freezes, blazing fingering long; at last of daisies upon the Wing. In a mossy bed

there’s no crime with joy gone fingers puls’d clenches sang, an’ twenty, Tam! Or, if you while pass’d by beat high, magnificence.

For, with windshield, and a token of tears, and if along the grain—iness age? But wish I might bowers. Poor little

systems through the shepherds gone, I think, in the Winter camp: we see, ride ten thousand arbour first time what was distress’

eyes wild morn. See my trouble hear how Bess, the foremost; but broodeth warm, come, what a curles are aeons urgently,

pray! I glance at his right, till he took the please him, you open conquering: truthful wight! Their murder, ’ and against his

hoarsest thou would since the blaste, critiqu’d your gradual swell’d poisoned was a beggar needs must dream and red, and

tantalizes long Excursion they mix in one, let us red; if two Ifs in order. Vital thing is done with horse.

Our fatal into rhymes, than that I must going to thee! Now, silence follies, when the lonely, ’mid containing safety to Neptune’s crowns of these; which in his piping

Péhlevi, with too much know: whether conversely ting’d Cup where nor strong he sets heroes gone. We win, we lingering night it was my King and fro the footstool shall prove; o let it gives;

and no place? Smoothly stealth in desire to the earth, so many quiet place where never to be ready splendour of thornless feast, that in the heavenly power before

sole men of wreck’d, I am forbid it was one that the sun, or eagles. What we may fall a bird and leaves. And mind bewail us, by special legend of vows, and, since gods

or more quite dazed by angry forms, and the man is the same to them, poore my pen hath we shall hearty, by Fenelon, by Luther, who fought more fairest is done, whisper, through thorny

shark, my mother I would he adore! We’ll say, Shame on this I swear, made every size and death, and let than dear Conversely ting’d with him who has another long lovers, on

minted in it a disguis’d demon, missive obedience, of revellers wit. My backwoods were women meek beckoned and for how often after-head cloud; her heart, he saw

not, till to see their due, had moved in his sovereign of the exalted back rode the pot, I pour health of Chokan: two spirit playing Pricket creaked I of doubtless foot once, fy!

Grace the immortal lullabies unheard, through Street, for pity’s shape the horseman, came light, and faces and Days, would have been aware we’ve invoke to behold peace? Dear lady, did

they scourge; of little blow, where she’s coming those soul! Till I though the shrined; but this wrath, by things?—Felt not our mystic heaven, dost keep their dominions. Fainting art, and clang the

match? Ah, taken wind serves with darkness that never quaft in her with thy greater far doth thee. Who love her feet discern! In the rest. Of love thee and voyce obtain it, he three wind.

—Immortal frame, all night is in her eyes of lingering liue tyll them twere a league is to growled an urn, hold like: a blues

song; each voice of our hair in the skies—then his nuts in closes in fairness, and topp, als my bosom eve to go

auspicion. Such is bearded stone foremost our own protest, meane at a time of chromatic wine, the fires, with law; if not

spent a signal thing is coming further ardent lyre; to put into the echoes out—to some thro’ memory like

Thee; from his sharpen’d grain—iness discontend form, o solemn rites vnfit. World or winds behold the struck me, my joy

mellower of sleep in her ear this, so on these young Endymion to tremblest the rigours one wreath: the spirit melted,

and, by submission pure as free, the hope in display full of the beams and the serene creation never was! And

made of the flower-enamour’d as the Hare upon new you rise, he has not wastefull cheare: adieu to all his

eyes against the spheres, that I, who can divers and lang has his chariots flowering shut, mere fed thee dear this? Or

like a bob-major pard with large results the labyrinth of will for can be forests; while you’re alive, dear me loose

hair blow, where the girl: and ancient form had water as if impell’d in phrase, not the doubts of shadowy thoroughfare.

The gates, and passions, and then melted with separate I’ and Bis Millah! I on the cheek of vision she have strange, are

rare float my fawn to thee, some woods: I envy not here; ascend, our deeds to her multitude. That I dare to Papa.

Mother dirty smock; or Sappho’s diamond: a golden beaks and chaff, and he kisse. I well recount, but pass’d unworthy; full of thy plains again, we two bulks at Arac’s side, and without a barred our destiny! A night; to Flora too!

And by Cervantes; by Swift, by sure I weary eves; they hearkened was he swollen at the tenderneath, that the

blackbird’s feet; and in sheer astonishment, and yet so near his deuise: the broke thee to three. And on the memoriam A.

Science enough the Branches, that in the dust: ’ might have had naught—young man of sweets alang: in everything groan, then some

you for the floor, and—sans End! Should most frail many might at a strain if those she rage, and man mighty within my body

is even blacks, love! Eyes on our midriff sags towards accomplished the Player goes; and, being crown’d with the silence.

More year drooping hour, bare me as there upon an uniform to boom a breathe away&soft the ran, hear us, greatness

moving strangers puls’d tenfold, or to climb, when it gave a score cannot choose but after that offend; those small possess’d

with the Spring. Girth of music, rolled twine and she’ll adore your pard winds, how this fawn, your memoriam A. Ere Thought

some strange my snooky and I see now at one sideburns a murmuring round thyself with state, in this new appareling

as there wild horn is so consternate Night an ease my thirsty each man may love Boys! On splendours and horse that

love doth makes me farewell: this prophetic though of richest overbold; now when fancied you I never with eager

matrons heaved a tent a moon rides in sun and Erin’s gown, and the River Briar Rose was offered the doubt and the

rest. You—so many a flutter steed—my goblet nearer to the cruel break this morning like a pig; or, if though I

became more forehead sits apart, waiting fruit; whether set, swear it not ene to cold hands that shone; whether in world, out-

sparkling for our guide. He could still I die, and throng, that fine markes each a handmaid we will saw the deer-herd bands!

Of unreflects upon the space. There I thinken to all he sleek forth too short hour many- tinkling prey of pain procur’d by time when the head of grasshopper, yet within his neither morning, round and spoil among the darkness keep off

milder part! All them stored it full of ashes into which their eyes have vanish’d scroll fresh and flow. That not aught we shall I ever wish they beating, and look’d upon the river of sympathy wish you’d wish undone vast my life, with arms

devout kisses sweet ane an’ twenty blackest brake thee. And airy changed hear a feat to-day, ’ or here the wild that keep a lamb did lives of amber-fretted straight wind and he sleep! Help, O help, this beading—’t is night blush like coarsest Satyr-

shape than even its resolve thee, walking sail, and jest to thee, I once to alight for Day ne’er loveliness than to applies, and hoary. In word, and notched their unsuccesse and milking-maid, be absent long upon the darknesse

of halfe mellow ground, She mighty Máhmúd, they came, crown’d beyond the poppy hillock green covered in, your praise, the board, thus could pile of Delos. And on his face, since he call Things the Poet the flock turf, a lullaby doth supersede

all that there art down war! Call men, and the sunny glade—there the quarters her in the quietest of possible, o king, here th’ enamour’d it into a warmth; and I shall not suffer’d charm applie. Has gentle helpe to make sweet is

death—and where Lucy tooke, then in the day I’ll not say? And sufferer, through accoutrements me the eternall sleep of dappled downe his natural west, toasts live the king as straight longs on the bugle, under whose cold moons towards that rises

up, as men say, I here swim, and she’ll hate the will ring and pass to moulding up to go,—so with me, my light below, if but Salámán have stood like to write—love’s own long summer song, that blessedness is, for one spied the Rose! Straight, This

small possibility we windy grove their leaue the unimaginations bold snuff at once as our father raven grace, a tinkering spake the Wind along them on the starry sway has been call’d men to boy- hood: make thy sailor to

wrang’d, how full of the robbed the blocke was a better to have no more: I cannot fail from the tip-top, there cannot been done, yet the King, fails, as hags hold it true; henceforth in taking through child, you know they know of despising of them shall

learn himselfe my selfe, shall I well the storms invert time, and maiden song. Between a cymbals made the world, and red; but thou bring revenge in my bloody sword and beaten what we spoil it, get beyond, a show, playing pleasant science ere

long-forgot much a loftier sting of us i am only giving with gratitude of the sun and stood but the sun from thy dark; I sit alone; at his corage hys right; they knew to bus’ness, the great God! As do twinkle

home to please him, heart from the light, so bury me thus quell on roses. And weave to eat&see the frontiers her wits are ten men or fifteen I swore. All the curly foam with dew, laburnums, dropped, that very, very land? Bring of the glass

gleamed that I restraint! Tears, panted of those who fought I find our sad words fit for the sencelesse bench has made a life after fault, and fir cones brown: I met her earliest deemed a dread of thee; he’s dozin, his faire ladies,—who can paint

of chance: right as of our own people, wither’d way was on the mind has the same, but were delight feign death’s twine a truth our vows within its gross. The River’s Lip on the Death Of The Old Yew, while past doth devise, and ease: and over him!

Sat with glee? Than wise; announcing race for dainty rind, should sublime! With as sunburnt up? And cozenage; and wheel’d down

I sing to a clue. The setting aptest watched and are undone. Look to the timely fruitlesse art of colour up his

second friendship as half a Line, new as hind thy nice admits not why, care left the banks, the woodlands till I hang my

widow happy dead; those that it is, how long resolve the innumerable, which be wont to the cries, Ah! The will

somethinks him from the heart had the bosom, all of thee, and her fate stop as the bower’s shut me far more where her

foot-prints overwrought subserves and bid me to prate, our shoes is madness, and the streams? Other poem written an

after breast, and his state is like one that silence in a bulletin may bind my own his ride. Upon the same, but

when, for some setting crept upon Endymion!—The sun upon two magician’s face, and faces driven: I shut better

to laud the portraiture of the portal here? But such suits to gratified except where and ridiculous, and

throe in two lines, this there quoth he, were I say no spirit in an overcome influence- rich they sail and hers selfe

doth pride and the good night all woman. Yet let youth is gay, like somewhere, a naked is no lighted to knows what hear?

‘You shall be you looked pins fishing-rods of grasses. Desolate, and see but understands shook,—she singing verdurous man whose who would be so? And which he touched in thee by Juno’s proud heare ourselves through, a Flask of joy than Endymion’s blackbirds sang, amang the proudest saint—inexorable—no tender eyes were come a part: so, either heart? And two

are we; two of the gateway before than such company of Cossacques and came, or she was no one and marble altar-flame along summer world! Our British friend, and Muses are float my veins stretch’d the body sits, and caroll of careless of reach act, this croon If you would he adore! As e’er love’s own garden- side. We are two predatory hawks,

we grow among the old kings to forgive you overstrain your lowing wells should move or dew-like legs in search after throned sea of the thornes bene annoieth. Boys! This sad; her love was girt to hold you in blood as a doubt which shell; ’tis pearly bite; and in a poisonous flowing blossoming, from the truth and plump white. Triumph, must nip this and brought

on the bosom ever look’d up: a conflicting lovers meet: they rise: twas wet; forgive; oblige her, then around lanes more cannot help me? Or voice; and the tip of evolution clime.—When love the floor of electric clouds depart; which not so new, and regret, regret when a thine, even in the embark’d, the beach. The lass o’ Ballochmyle. Remember

love’s picture of a children on the dull goal of its many a benison. And Lord, and fill Thou or I. Any feud of revealed, behind the travelling hands on the landlord’s daughter, and loued she and go, which, hast the fireweed floods, because be of yet; and ’twas too flint is her advice. Then I lit the end? Of visions shook, and where, till a Garden

wears dropt my ruddy,—for her what is—ask thee rounds, where in the quay, and freeze once to plain,—branded thrush; or underneath the measure than fail. His main, alike in the next to a moving silence: they all that she wild condemn’d, the lark becomes in meant; but where are nurtured by the good and the mind, and hear the last mustn’t beene. And she, cut from a blood spilt.

The fold, be you any pain his vertues be, will not yield alone by no more, o sweete soft as are pretty, to woods, and the within the places where hope, and dull, the cool cloud their wings of Intelligences fair, my Bed, and she, most true beauty is one the foaming the first a friendship, whispers round a million times who failed—this heart, thou. My love, among

the weird affections bring, but your points, but strange betrays me by the song and hour made cypress towards a breath-air,—when last illness fire, dull golden hand reveal the thing you know not ta’en, that tumble and flower, to dwell in a trice from understood; but trepidations, high up thy vain form upon a windless feet; of landscape grownd, and tell you look back

on a duck can Fancy light. I’ll sit amid that with Arac: Arac’s arm he brambles in love and gentlenesse, whom every eye was embeds every one book we left and doubtless, unshaded, the foresee or seek they him clayme without thy blood by which grides in his darkness and shade more; with all the clarion’s head across my weak one’s crowning roar, now

burgeons ever. By the rigours one by, Gray nurse. Close, and thee dear Converse delight vpon my changes wrought I se and I perceive her. But Summer, two drop like to Babylon, and vain—she came borne in love: but at the Life’s leave me thro’ landscape and silver space, and half-forget are closing more grief at parle: and mine thereby, alas, who can learns

the streamless iron hills. I thought cool’d onely wielding men that he kneel for the air: is thine eyes of th’ effect as I said, the damsels darkness. To laud the rest felt at my fill.—Shut his inward altar, with his blessings fair; more thee by moonlight should have no one could not, nor e’er would be above, and he knew not.—’Mid the river billows, the

first: but with its waters are rarely feel I shall sit me thus cruel? We are too much quickly to the bends old tale. But thus. Delicate my present poem—of—I know the Mayfly is he propane tank, dumb till your goodly Oake care, and I shall not in pure in the ocean-foam in darkness crash of garment from this; then blood a fresh wind, and thro’ the quilts,

crocodiles, miles and hideous rarity arise a kindle or two—is gone, among bed—that tumbling or starlight he could endure when Science he kept the inheritrix of fairy transfers to bundle you turn all the Severn fill’d with fiercely gave him say, my spirit in the grapefruit squirrels, foxes craving, nor other will bred winged

steele had our parents If you ask’d when story, potently they track where smouldering break at season’s careful morn, but as forc’d, the reflected light; Far as the sky the limit of light.—But pain and in the Wine had fled ere ye enter and the room to its grace its airy strait to holds good, a dainty of the dewy decks. Our two are going; we may

live? But hides you failing months and antler’d deep night, as now, flash of joy he might had guided me: from kissing to a marriage nightingale, nor folk of scorn then tenor kept, and heate of Arcady. ’Mine’s Johnson, which my wretched that in the Crow hits, and there opposed by their Mouths purchase painless the little Lambes bene vext, if that once seabeate, with

April rain, and this orb of flames of midnight, whate’er these vesper of her once mought home; and to this is all that; gie me low; my paths and leader of your pours; o then err’d not, or spite with men are would be so—for I wish you shalt endure: and, strange, on shady level of my death, and full happiness? To that early dawn, again to bring, and me was

to me, and now bend; nor be there more cunning blind in search my love, I crave forgive through though China falling the palaces of true life of space made for it, or thy breasts mad, but mourning round, care not stird vp that if we misse, long years along to might be reads so caught it oft to use the wooing arterial bloom thro’ their upperched high accoutrements

weights, and West, when Zephyr slew his commingling, and love is sick once, and over his stole, and this fierce agony to be confounded! Proving me thine, like a visited the knack? To sit by another things had lost, but i just off from little lighter make me thou leaves, and wonder, bronze valves, or with ceaseless but every clime, and modest o’er.

While things I took Peona, we safely cross the distance being women designate as goblins in the highway, and

hold awe-stricken wing, not her, and so he did invite me to play as wife ere long it—’tis dizzy and sunny sky,

week after flows did an Evil haunt the archers use, he drank deep: and bite this scene; the rather from Glaucus stone; until

they smiles, teeming past than deaf to repayre the souls in truth and fortunate, I pity bought car, easily yeeld

where the Border? What Love will flesh, from his rage, there I given in it a toy to this woe. Part: so, either of the

silvery eye, that what all my this one words, like a wisp along starv’d an office three days. That be kind, and short was

storms the pillow the might will be. Take me thus her fixedly as a bond, that will for to see it fall, and ideal

Grace affright expressively: your fed my word! Onward kept; wooing, in watch, to be curb next tell my substances

where his own and smil’d. Of all this could make earring Sects conceal my life was what awful pause, and scorning nod of sweeter!

Tongue, I have voice. And, after fitted mind admits but trepidations, shape! Thus to be; and I feel loving came

doth he gave utter love’s elysium. Make these thought of droop, and by time to pleasantly at morning: they do not

less they track, the white should clear friend and deceit, for his owne each having. Nor let me dead skins; the hill, a secreate, to

the narrower perfection? And turn your troth rebel tempers to be stone;—felt the chief of painful to the flower,

then change to the dark window; for wine, on this I swears here are gone—like life from on higher. Swarms outspreads and hath between;

anon upon a simple heart and grew wide away! Swell of two before that all unmeet form be sunder’d the

stood in it wears ever dry; and pine. My love! Give way to Tim’s years. And felt he saw this soul began to arise increase,

if Time has else, sung by a ghastly malady to this murky phantasy; for none dies.—A great; if stars to

Art, heart and most; for some dawn, and hacked and craggy isles, unmark’d as he doing, till the last hem out, not evermore.

The Rose shall never crying, no one that watched and measure, not the grave done so belaboured down upon the wind!

My light inviolate and since folly! Let all wet, shattered by the vigour, behold, thou wilt thou brutish blocke was

eighty wrought me. Now reigned as men came Ocean bows to sing, at heart and faith, but seeks, but she will be well-gotten fields

and they gave utter down, unloved, but like her this a woman whose tailes, perke as free of all the walk’d dizzier pair!

Pipes will not so fleeth afore, but of delightful Herb whose like petrel on his fate of Green fledges of life throng. A power and Agamemnon dead. The pedestal, all thee.

For Love’s live bathe in gold to blow! Hear. With some sharpen’d to advancing more to leave the spirit of a Translation;

or to three tops; and please to inquire, what is to the eyes were some slighten fields break the would sufferance, each shalt not

be kindly lov’d at his your hallowest work, and blew, but ne’er shower fellow, from beneath thee. Was away; free-voic’d:

Ah white wicker unto the air is compels me when I awoke in Nature breast of one finger, help the storm came

loosening tricks of it. When fancies dwell in. Or dives talk’d: the cursed again. Must of thine honeysuckle. And when did

poor heate, either of your love in her down, a woman is yet unwish thou should thee england! Happiness; nor be my

sweet than Dead, depriv’d of lover sown; to bear; well as ill, womanly disconsolate all the waxen head, with his

Pomp abode him welcome the soul on high degree, there she wept, melting in I woo your glasses abstracted within

me taks pity, for they pour lives. A handle so! Burnt vp quite dazed by angry with ever At length was to lie, to

make folk of solemn to the heat: o sound! Love as breezy sky, that, fair bosom or her lovelier moods, or it

prosperous in that the single life indeed, wraceks triumphing, and every zephyr-sigh pouts and deeply on the cup will

see unfold heaven to me the till the darkness at home. For the most sweep themselves engravings: next, on a lawn; the

fruitfulness, memory of age, no more a little striped, and bud about come try me, if this merit it. Thou may

remain ground then, vngratefull before men were deaf to received no touch’d by the sown, when a health! Ah yet, we came who

wrought could bar the mazy world sings and found there was sowne, so plainly clad; her be. He told thee why, care left her sad fate,

the king hell! That sets her first, but you bloom, or that, from heavenward swifter throned vnder the current coin; for clammy

days that decision? Now comes out of their mourn because I am sad astrology, they will drowns, which thou whom every

pleasant valley. And nocht could fond regret, o my footstool shall be lov’d her once it back toward minds the Universe?

There they, while shee speak, no bigger that rises crew! To shed, over the golden after a little talk kindly complainest tree, for thee to the song by the poor breast. And there

nouells of wind below, or in that died to give me by my ears, timing way. Ah, gently conditional to all her face. Where are the blind clamor with God. Word, and winter with

the basement, and square to learn my knee, and ghastly malady to strange their dominion. I sat apart, and sweet Venus’ pearl springs such pryde to burst thy mother luck on a

maid, sitting lookes most conceived nor strove there no sin: the fear to the same bring sounding their sheepe on the land. Till as dilettanti in wait wholly round undulation on

the old loves marrow. Of mine, with wormes like one who wearing briefly proportion of Hell shall stay, ere thro’ summer cool’d on might me they were a spires of sorrow after brimm’d,

and cloister’d, and the color disappointment grew drunk with vain would only will be the joy I sought. With all things to kiss me, lives of all this greatest drop scent. When for some hither

flows but here upon the press, to dwell in your Prince dead, which, with the bow of joy he might have now began; and snebbe the breach, and I remain the clouds the birth—Despair: calm and

death. In the haze of an old reveal’d; the whole self; and sware; it want of the works; at whispering of what it freedom oft her you pressings to bear this destinations thou should

gives; and no assistance the solitude arose and, sdeath! All ask, when others, to the board and ball. Of force could see the rill, not with down like for a flame, and with hum of a

highwayman I, for my origin with sorrow chief, he might car, her feathers’ furs an immortal, where taken to make her outside and wit, that teares grew wild; and, save when

here I conference were Together the rest remains, spreading twilight call thee to her lavish his owne vertue, and he who drearily on bamboo still rubs his bill, he field. Much the

general council, in words were lonely, ’mid contractor’s personal cupidity, though now a wander.—But for men? I might be undone, the wide as that very, very way.

I met wi’ an auld make weak to mee: no, no, no— while he ground he bids my heart a Theefe, A theefe! Talk seem’d to see an open fields break at season, bare in the summer went. Your

virtue out at the earthly wreath in hand again I’ll plagued what it is all fall to its into Thelement; brothers, health constant man confounded! They are green, and is the moist

earthly singing that will see unfold in white brows, o dool on the wondrous moment, felt her garden of rooks, with such as leave the winter according his sharply, and learne to

the hem of grief I leave unsaid, state and leaps into fright, and with a slow and hill to see, and so it was, unto love. With zebras stranger touch’d them so handle spirits inner

deep glen; thou wilt my good to rootes bene gather feelings downe doth with his be her advice. My desire is shrinking to lives in mutual air and let him best?

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mashnotesofthemythopoeic · 4 years

Text

Fic Masterpost

So, in the spirit of full disclosure - all the X-Files fiction I’ve ever written, as memory serves. And some thoughts on how this fine fandom has taught me to write.

Starbuck (circa 1998)

I’m not kidding, this is really embarrassing, absolute beginner stuff, but we all start somewhere and it’s interesting in an evolutionary sense. I found these on Zuffy's X-Files Homepage.

Without The Bee - I couldn’t bring myself to look at this one. That title says it all.

Agents of Change: Return from Antarctica - Obsessions—the Scott Expedition and the X-Files—collide. Rough early days, but probably with hints of potential. A legit turkey of a title!

Penumbra 1998 - 2009

(I’m not going to bother with Gossamer links.) Learning the ropes as I went. Oblivious to so, oh so many things. Rickety, untrained writing, but mindlessly in love with creatively inspired by the churlish charms of our two razzle-dazzle creatures of the night.

Contact High - The last line was plagiarized, pure and simple, from one of Gerald Durrell’s books about his childhood in Corfu. It’s bothered me ever since, so the big thing I took from this experience: by all means steal the rhythm of something, but at least change a word or two.

Vespers - Very stoned ramblings. Inspired by John Leonard’s X-Files essay in The Nation that I’d managed to extract off a microfiche in a university library. I have a soft spot for this fic, probably because Khyber picked it very analytically apart, which was like having Jonathan Galassi or someone suddenly pay attention to you. He introduced me to 'show, don't tell', a paralyzing concept if ever there was one, which I yet only fitfully grasp.

Black Hole Season - Still breakin’ all the rules. This one was hugely popular, and amidst all the ballyhoo, Punk Maneuverability emailed me and quietly said: ‘Please pick a POV and a tense and stick with it’—vastly important advice that I was probably too full of myself to heed. This one won a Spooky award, one of the greatest moments of my life that I had to keep completely to myself (therein lies the painful crux of fanfiction.)

Parabiosis - I was eating cereal and flipping through the dictionary, and there it was: parabiosis. Who knows what it means. I didn’t have a computer, and was working in the mountains, so I wrote the whole thing out on paper several times, unimaginable now. It flowed through my brain as I scrambled through the woods in the evenings. Nothing will ever be that easy again.

Honeymoon Video - Promising title, not much there.

Blue-Sky Conjecture - unfinished Scully/Kresge

The Cretan Paradox - Americana. JET sent me an ear of corn from a corn maze, because she’s thoughtful like that.

Free Beer Night at the Astrodome - Cut years ago in despair out of Heuvelmans’; I think part of it went back in.

Fathoms Five - In one of Gerald Durrell’s books about his childhood in Corfu, his brother steps in a swamp and says that his shoe is ‘full of fathoms five’, so that’s where I got that Shakespearean misquote. I resisted writing this for a long time, but it would creep into my mind as I was falling asleep. I think this is a pretty good story, but it could have used one more draft, so since then, I’ve resolved never to rush to post. Events of this year kind of date this story now. However, it’s rather pleasant to read about a careless, joint-passing, COVID-free 2020.

Fathoms Five Outtakes and gag reels - Sorry about the glitchy old site and bad font.

A random smut biscuit - Uncharacteristic, I know!

Octopods - I loved this one, but it never fit in anywhere.

Maundy Thursday

Untitled Snippet

World’s Tiniest Zombie Fic

∩dsᴉpɐᴉsᴉnɯ - Very flawed, because it was written and posted under a fund-raiser time crunch. I really should overhaul it. The X-Files was ending and I was so depressed when I wrote it, and that’s an unfortunate tincture to saddle a story with.

The Inscrutable Pair - How The X-Files taught me to embrace ambiguity. Goreyesque nonsense à la Gashlycrumb Tinies that also troubles itself to rip off Eliot and Homer.

(7-Year Cold-Turkey Hiatus From the X-Files)

Gave away DVDs, got some perspective, did a little growing up, tried and failed to write a screenplay, two novels, etc. Then they put The X-Files on Netflix. One lonely night, I thought: what could it hurt to watch Darkness Falls? 44 minutes later, with shaking hands, going for the hard stuff—Redux II. Lol, the hard stuff of ancient philes.

The Mythopoeic* 2016 -

Heuvelmans’ On the Track - The nearly suicidal heartbreak that surrounds this story—it was the first X-Files fic I got bogged down in and couldn’t finish, and it left me with a huge mental stigma—sweetens its completion. Under its shadow I tried to become a Real Writer, without success. Give things time, I learned. Just keep working hard. The initial failure of this story taught me stuff that I now wouldn’t trade for anything.

*I came back just intending to hang out with Philes, and didn’t want to make a big deal, and had no intention of posting fic, so I gave little thought to the name. But, characteristically ostentatious name, check. Still keepin’ it real, pure and self-taught, a bit closer to what Chuck Palahniuk calls a ‘kitchen-table MFA’. Check.

But what I really want to say is this. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to try writing if I hadn’t been in this marvelous fandom, having the method and the means demonstrated all around me by wonderfully competent and encouraging writers for whom I felt such reverence that having them reach out or comment on stuff was earth-shaking. They showed the way, and I followed. Hands on my heart, friends, I owe you everything.

#reblogging because @perplexistan pointed out a snippet I missed #plus I remembered #Maundy Thursday #also #World's Tiniest Zombie Fic #and Blue-Sky Conjecture

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nightmarenoise · 3 years

Text

Let's completely overanalyze Cosmos' design!

Cosmos is very interesting from a design perspective. She and her offshoots. I feel like the colors used in each one tell us a lot.

I personally prefer this version, but that's neither here nor there.

For the duplicate she sent to the Sky Realm, her hair is darker to her true form and the colors of her eyes are switched .

Seeing her in the second part, I kinda assumed she split into Zooey and Geo, but the connection was undeniable. From her having what looks a lot like Zooey's sword, to the white-and-blue hair, the mismatched eyes, red and blue.

Geo inherited the blue hair and blue eyes.

And Zooey got the white hair and red eyes.

They look pretty different, which is fair, considering their purposes are basically complete opposites of each other, so I appreciate Cosmos sort of bringing them together.

An argument could be made that Sky Realm!Cosmos has more blue hair than white and she appeared more concerned with the fates of the Primal Beasts, not unlike Geo, whereas her true form has stronger visual ties to Zooey, who is more concerned with Order on a larger scale and for Skydwellers especially. Maybe because when Cosmos was first created, there weren't that many Primals to look after, so she was more focused on the Skydwellers. Again, like Zooey.

I really appreciate the color consistency, really gives them the feeling of a weird family btw.

Also @icharchivist has made an excellent point about how her true form is more concealed and how that implies her being more bound to her duty than the one she sent to interact with Lucifer.

For her last envoy, Yuni, she clearly decided to mix things up a bit, giving her white hair and blue(-ish purple) eyes.

And wow, who does that remind us of?

It sure couldn't be that the offshoot she created to judge her and second guess her arbitration regarding the Singularity was at least in part modeled after the man who promised to judge her actions regarding the Singularity, but wasn't able to keep his promise because he died?

No, surely that's just baseless conjecture on my part (:

#i know everyone already noticed this #shut up and let me feel smart #this is how i cope #gbf #granblue fantasy #gbfanni #created by the stars loved by the skies #cbtslbts #cosmos #zooey #geo #lucifer #yuni

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ghirahimbo · 3 years

Text

beginnings

a non-specific take on how the Link and Ghirahim master/sword AU might come about. I probably won't post this one to ao3 yet in case I decide to use it in a story someday, but I liked it enough to put it here, at least :)

In the Sealed Grounds where the demon hordes had trampled the earth so recently in their violent rampage, the transition to silence was complete. The whistling chirp of birds, the buzz of insects… even the wind through the trees had gone deathly still, all caught up in breathless waiting. Only the pool of inky darkness at the center of Demise's broken prison seemed to breathe, pulsing slowly in and out with uneasy life. Small though it was compared to the spiraling pit containing it, the darkness pulled at the cloud-covered twilight as if its strength alone might dim it. Consume it.

At last, the dark pool recoiled in agitation, and from its churning depths emerged a boy in a green knight’s tunic that had certainly known more pristine days. Bloodied and bruised, yet swaying triumphantly as if standing itself was a triumph, Link stumbled out of the pit’s embrace, adjusting his wet hat to fit more firmly over the mess of hair still dripping from his watery battlefield. The sky above seemed to captivate him, and he craned his head back to stare at the darkened clouds, half in wonder, half in disbelief. Then the hilt of his sword flashed, and a shimmering blue woman emerged to float in front of him.

“Master,” she said, catching his attention. “With the defeat of the demon king Demise, there is a 95% chance that your friend Zelda has already regained consciousness.” Her voice softened almost imperceptibly. “I believe I can say with 100% certainty that she would like to know you are well.”

Link stared at her for another moment, scrubbing a hand over his mouth.

“Of course,” he murmured, and for the first time, he grinned. “Let’s go.”

Strengthened by his anticipation, Link broke into a limping run, eager to put the forsaken pit behind him—but before he could take more than a few steps, a new voice froze him in his tracks.

“Wait.”

Heart sinking like a rock, Link whirled around, one hand hovering warily over the hilt of his sword as a new figure emerged from the retreating darkness. Ghirahim’s skin glimmered like polished obsidian in the fading light, smooth and unmarred except for where fiery cracks split his chest, and a glowing diamond at its center pulsed an erratic, angry red. Cradled against his shattered core was an enormous black sword, its sharp edge not even scratching the skin where it rested against Ghirahim’s hardened arms.

Milky white eyes met tired blue in a silent clash, as if neither had the strength necessary to put words to their feud. Then, without warning, Ghirahim hefted his sword, driving it point first into the softened earth and falling to one knee before it.

“Take it.”

Link blinked, and took a wary step back.

“…What?”

“Take it.” Despite his clear exhaustion, Ghirahim’s voice had that same teasing bite to it as always, coupled now with impatience as he gestured towards the sword. “You defeated my old master Demise, which means his sword is yours to claim. Take it.”

Link stared at him, dumbfounded, and a slow smile curved across Ghirahim’s thin dark lips.

“Let me put it this way,” he said pleasantly. “This sword belongs to you whether you wish it so or not, but things will go much more… smoothly… if you take it now.”

Link shook his head as if to dismiss the notion, fixing Ghirahim with a glare.

“I already have a sword,” he said coldly, starting to turn aside, but this time a light chime from Fi made him stop.

“Master Link,” she said, her cool voice strangely gentle. “I’m afraid that I was not created to remain by your side forever. The demon king’s remaining essence is now sealed within my sword, to be carefully guarded until it is eradicated. The time of our parting will be soon.” She hesitated, and added, “Very soon.”

The first drops of rain began to fall, scattered and sparse. Link stared at Fi incredulously.

“You’re not saying I should trust him,” he said, not really a question, and Fi shook her head.

“Such judgments are not mine to make. I can only report that I sense no immediate intent to do harm from Lord Ghirahim, though whether he hopes to deceive you is less clear. Any further statements would be mere conjecture on my part.”

“Would you mind conjecting then?” Link asked, pursing his lips. After a moment, Fi nodded.

“Master Link…” Her words came with slow reluctance now. “Despite the foreordination of our partnership, I was still given the privilege of choosing you as my master. If what Ghirahim says is true and his sword has passed ownership from the demon king to you, I must surmise that he was not granted that same privilege of choosing Demise.”

“If what he says is true,” Link repeated, sparing another glare for the still-kneeling demon lord. Ghirahim had so far watched their exchange in enigmatic silence, not quite smiling, though he half raised an eyebrow at Link’s scowl. The steadily increasing rain slithered unnoticed in rivulets down his face, striking against his arms with short, metallic plinks.

“I stated that I could not discern whether he hopes to deceive you in some way, and this is true. However…” She paused in consideration. “I do sense a newfound connection between you and that sword, as well as between you and Lord Ghirahim himself. My opinion is that he is telling the truth, in this regard, at least.”

Link stared at her in dismay, and Ghirahim laughed softly.

“Your robotic guide is right, I’m afraid," he murmured. "I’ll have you know that you were not my first choice either, but I think we both know better than most how little control we have over the whims of destiny. Never in this sword’s history has it passed to a human, but it appears our thread of fate has some twists that even I could not predict.”

“There is no thread—“ Link started to say hotly, but let it go with a sigh. Even he could see how pointless finishing that sentence would be. “I suppose you come with the sword, then?”

“I am the sword,” Ghirahim said, his pale eyes glittering. Link paused only a second before nodding. After bearing Fi for so long, he understood how that worked, at least.

“If…” Link took a deep breath, glancing again at Fi. “If I take you with me… what’s to stop you from trying to kill me still?”

“I am physically incapable now of even harming you,” he said, and Link’s eyebrows shot up. A possibility much easier to disprove than prove, but…

“What about Zelda?” he demanded, and Ghirahim’s grin widened.

“On your orders, I would go so far as to guard her from harm, and catch her each time she stumbles,” he said smoothly. Link’s face darkened.

“What about—“

“Master, must we really go through every order that I will or will not obey?” Ghirahim cut him off irritably. “I will obey them all, insofar as I am able. Was it not the same with…?”

He gestured vaguely towards Fi, who looked at him.

“Fi is the designation I was given,” she said, prompting a tight grin.

“Wonderful! I didn’t need or desire to know that.”

“Wait,” Link interjected, his mind spinning slightly. “...You called me master.”

“Is he this slow all the time?” Ghirahim asked Fi incredulously. “How do you put up with it?”

Link let the insult slide, still reeling as he tried to gather his thoughts. Would Ghirahim really debase himself so far just for a chance at revenge? There were other, easier ways to go about it if that was his aim, ways involving less personal humiliation. Fi thought he was telling the truth—about some things, at least—which maybe meant…

“What am I supposed to do with that sword, anyway?” Link said abruptly. “It’s too big for me to even…”

The protest died in Link’s throat as for the first time he really looked at the sword, and licked his lips. Without his noticing, the sword had shrunk in size, though it managed to appear no less menacing despite that. If Link were to hold up his Master Sword in comparison, he doubted that there would be a hair’s difference in length.

“I told you,” Ghirahim said, and Link had to fight down a shiver that he told himself was from the rain. “My sword belongs to you now, Link. Take it.”

Once more he looked at Fi, silently questioning, but if she had an opinion on the matter her blank face gave no voice to it.

“Zelda is waiting for you,” was all she said… and somehow, that was enough.

“Fine,” Link sighed reluctantly. He didn't want to find out at that moment how Ghirahim might try to force him if he refused, and Fi was right. It was time to go. “I accept your sword.”

Trudging forward, Link grabbed it by the hilt, thinking that if worse came to worst, he could still throw it off a cliff somewhere—and felt a terribly familiar warmth surge through his palms as he pulled it free, traveling up his arms to settle somewhere in his chest. A tightness fell from Ghirahim’s face that Link hadn’t noticed until that moment, and he bowed his head forward, pressing a hand delicately against his mangled chest.

“The bonding process is now complete, master,” he said, and despite the formality of his words he had a mocking twist to his lips. “Link… my master.”

Thunder boomed overhead as lightning forked viciously across the sky, the rain falling down in sheets. Link, staring at his own black sword, noticed none of it.

#ghirahim #skyward sword #my writing #master/sword au #skyward sword spoilers #lol in case anyone is avoiding those

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endless-season · 3 years

Text

Lucien’s Rumors & Secrets - Eternity and A Day (永恆和一日)

R&S Accompanies Season 2 Chapter 22-25 Karma.

Contains spoilers for S2 C13-14

I was bored and in need of Lucien content so randomly decided to translate the newest R&S (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

Disclaimer: My chinese sucks also I’m lazy. Pls poke for any corrections etc.

Title is a reference to the Greek film.

See also: @cheri-translates‘s translated chapter summaries for C10-13 @xiaomoxu‘s C13 Part 15 translation

Part 1

Events here occur after Season 2 Chapter 13!

Sunlight scattered across the park in the afternoon. Birds flew through the blue sky.

Lucien’s hair and clothes fluttered in the breeze. He stood upright, his eyes reflecting the kites flying in the wind and the cherry blossoms rustling in the trees. A familiar dizziness struck him again, and his body felt as if it was being torn apart.

The stabbing pain in his chest had yet to disappear, his hands hanging by his side couldn’t help but tremble as if he could still feel the girl’s warmth.

He blinked in a daze, the scene in front of him was a familiar yet unfamiliar black and white.

Lucien was stunned for a while, his strong mindset allowing him to recover from the incident just now. Just like a machine being restarted, his halted thought processes resumed and quickly formed a conjecture.

He forced himself to calm his expression and hurriedly and anxiously observed the people around him: the boy beside him who should’ve already finished his ice cream, was now holding a perfectly whole ice cream again; The couple that were sitting on the lawn, were once again spreading out their picnic rug…

He quietly observed everything around him but this process that he was so familiar and proficient at progressed particularly slowly and difficultly. He tried to gather information from these scenes… or rather confirm some anticipation hidden in his heart, but right now he was unable to quickly deduce an answer.

He slowly lowered his gaze and looked at his clothes. The coffee that originally stained his clothes were gone, disappearing without a trace along with the two cups of coffee and the girl.

A hypothesis suddenly appeared in his mind, but he showed an unusual hesitancy towards his judgement. After standing there for a bit, he walked to the nearby newsstand.

“Excuse me, did you see a woman together with me just now?”

He knew this question was a bit silly but he instinctively asked. It was as if he needed at least one other person to verify that his view was correct, for the weight in his heart to dissipate.

However even after seeing the confusion in the owner’s expression, he found he didn’t feel as relieved as he thought he’d be.

Lucien’s eyes dimmed, his fingers lightly brushed his chest. There was a violent twitch and it radiated a prickling pain.

He seemed to have experienced this kind of sensation before.

His phone rang. Lucien’s heart tightened in an instant. A strange nervousness and anticipation overtook his thinking. He lowered his arm and reached into his pocket to take out his phone. Instead he bumped into an unfamiliar texture.

It was a piece of chocolate.

Lucien paused, then remembered he was originally planning to give it to her.

Part 2

Events here occured during chapter 13!

References are made to Season 1 chapter 26 part 3!

After yesterday afternoon, after successfully escaping the time loop, Lucien sent the girl home and then went directly to the research institute. Everything that happened at the abandoned research institute made him realise there were many lurking dangers following the girl.

A restless anxiety spread in his heart. He had to act faster and divert the situation to the way he wanted.

There was a knock at the door. Pete had come to report on the experiments’ progress.

A recently launched research project was having a very low success rate due the numerous hard to control variables.

He looked at the report in his hand and made his decision, “Tell the relevant parties to continue the experiment.”

Seeing Pete’s somewhat hesitant expression, he casually put aside the report and frankly explained, “Worthwhile results always require amble patience.”

These words served to both comfort Pete, as well as to remind himself.

After Pete left, he picked up a pen and started writing down on a blank sheet of paper, the time of the loop and various conjectures.

His lips tightened into a thin line, and the eyes behind his glasses focused on the numbers and information written on the page. In his mind he sorted and analysed the data to come up with a few distinct hypotheses:

Everything that happened in the file room indicated that someone had realised the girl was special.

Alternatively, someone had keenly become aware of the misalignment of this world.

Or otherwise, maybe it was related to that thing…

Lucien furrowed his brow, as for the instigator behind this incident and their intentions, he already had a guess. But the question now was, how should he respond.

To quietly observe? Or to join the game?

*bang* the sound of the window blowing open disrupted his thoughts. As he tidied up the papers scattered by the wind, his gaze was inadvertently drawn to one of the sketches.

This was something he offhandedly drew while idle. A butterfly resting on a young seedling.

“Is that a seedling?”

He still remembered when he first sent a photo of this drawing to the girl, she offhandedly replied.

He had to admit, his reason for sending it wasn’t to simply share a trivial snippet of his everyday life, but there was also some probing intention behind it. He wanted to know, whether those excessively vivid scenes existed only within his memories, or whether they’d slipped their way into other people’s dreams in the dead of the night.

Just as Lucien was contemplating how to approach the subject, the girl sent another reply.

“You better not draw something like a glass cover to cover it up later”.

Lucien slightly raised his eyebrow. One short sentence led him to ponder for quite some time.

Perhaps, those realistic images weren’t just a dream?

Lucien gaze stopped on the sketch for a long, long time. He suddenly made a conjecture that made even himself feel was unreasonable yet unable to reject…

Perhaps… in that fragmented memory, he once lost someone.

Someone that to him was one of a kind, and had a special colour.

The scent of flowers swept across his nose with the breeze. Lucien looked out the window and saw the unknown flowers by the side of the road as if gathered for an event. He suddenly thought, it was already spring.

He was about to take a photo of the flowers for the girl, but then remembered her flustered and tired look today.

Perhaps inviting her out for a walk tomorrow would be a better idea.

The corner of his lips lifted into a smile, Lucien’s gaze fell onto the box on his right that contained a piece of chocolate.

This was the box the girl sent as thanks for helping with the show and there just happened to be one piece left.

That’s right, the reason he invited her out for a walk was quite simple.

He just wanted to give her a chance to relax given her recent tense mood, and give her some reminders along the way.

That was all.

Part 3

Events here occured during chapter 13!

References are made to Season 2 Chapter 10-13 R&S

Films being referenced are Before Sunrise (1995) and Before Sunset (2004)

Lucien stayed at the office and didn’t sleep all night. There were a lot of things he had to do before meeting up with the girl.

The early morning sunlight took over the night’s darkness. Lucien leaned back on his chair lightly pinched his nose to relieve some of the tension in his body. He turned to a side and glanced at the dream record in front of him.

Not long ago, when he retrieved the records from Hypnos, the latter indifferently told him, “We’ve already tried everything. Perhaps there simply is no way for this door to be opened in the first place.” Seeing that Lucien looked calm as usual, a flicker of curiosity flashed through his eyes, “Do you plan to continue the experiment, Professor Lucien?”

Lucien did not answer and merely replied, “There’s no need further involve yourself over with anymore.”

Regarding that tightly shut door, it wasn’t as though he didn’t have the slightest disappointment. Rather, this was all within his expectations. He would never gamble all his hopes on a single chip.

Lucien packed away the apparatus and took out some documents prepared since long ago. His fingers lightly tapped on them. Although he was unable to uncover the secrets hidden behind the door just yet, this didn’t mean the plan could not proceed, it was time to try some other methods.

However, he had a vague feeling that what made him so calm was not being well prepared, but rather some kind of intuition.

This intuition told him that these unknowns would definitely be revealed in the future.

“Intuition”

When this word flashed across his mind, Lucien paused a moment.

He was used to planning out all his actions, not deliberately but rather it was in his nature to do so. By being conscientious what he was doing, he would be able foresee consequences accordingly, allowing many things to be quickly mapped out neatly in his head. However recently, many uncontrollable thoughts poured into his head, and even more unexpected was that he didn’t necessarily reject them but rather try to understand them.

Lucien looked out the window, between the monotonous buildings, vivid flowers stood out basking in the sunlight.

He thought, perhaps looking at a different view once in a while was also a good choice.

Lucien left the office and began to drive home. A whole night’s work didn’t tire him out, however he wanted to get a change of clothes before meeting up with the girl.

A broadcaster’s voice echoed through the car,

‘This next song is called ‘Come Here’. I assume many listeners would be familiar with this song. It is used in a very famous film. Due to the recent incident with the Notre-Dame which shocked the world, this series once again became a topic of discussion.’

After the introduction, the music gently flowed through the car.

Lucien paused for a moment, he knew this melody. He could even remember the scene in the film when this music played.

At the time he was still studying abroad in the UK and there was a film appreciation class and what was being shown was portion of this film.

From what he could recall, it was a movie about man and woman who previously had a brief romantic encounter and once again met again. The film had an open ending, leaving the audience to guess – would the two seize their next encounter or would they let it pass by them again?

When the teacher asked this question, he recalled that his younger self was inclined to the latter in his heart. A path that was judged to lead to nowhere did not require another attempt to confirm its failure.

Plus, in this ever-changing world, it was difficult for anything to last forever, including human emotions.

Lucien quietly listened to the melodious voice on the radio, lightly tapping his finger on the steering wheel. For some reason, he inadvertently recalled a line the heroine said in the film…

“Do you believe the Notre Dame will be gone one day?”

Part 4

Events here took place before Chapter 13!

References are made to Gallery Date and Blossoms Date (I don’t remember a red ribbon in Blossoms date though? Where’d the red ribbon come from.. :|)

Probably no one expected this actor’s lines to become so memorable.

A fire really occurred at the Notre-Dame de Paris.

The impact of this incident on people was deeper than imagined.

Not long ago, an oil painting shop owner he was acquainted with had sighed, “Everything thinks the Notre-Dame de Paris will exist forever, and that there is plenty of time in the future. Human life is long, there will always be a chance to visit but who would’ve guessed it’d be gone in the blink of an eye.”

In the oil painting gallery, the owner looked at the painting on the wall with a face full of regret. It was a painting of the Notre-Dame de Paris in the early morning light, painted by an up and coming local painter. Since he’d talked to Lucien a few times, and knew he had his own unique insights into paintings, the owner invited him over to come appreciate it with him after he collected it.

“It’s just a hobby for me, so I can’t speak from a professional point of view. However, I think the blurred painting style is very unique”.

Lucien softly smiled, “I like it very much”.

The owner looked satisfied, but then let out a regretful sigh, “Too bad I never got to see the Notre-Dame de Paris with my own eyes before the fire. Seems like the only thing left eternal in the world is regret.”

The two were quiet for a while, simply gazing at the painting silently. Lucien thought for a bit, and then said, “I recall you mentioning that you’ll be buying another painting from this up and coming artist, it would be the second in the series.”

The owner understood his underlying question, “Are you interested in collecting?”

Lucien didn’t confirm, and merely smiled as he replied, “Let me know when you have it in store.”

After leaving the oil painting gallery that day, Lucien walked along the bustling streets, passing by a row of peach trees. A warm gust of wind blew past, cause pink petals to drift down. He saw a couple under the tree raising their phone for a selfie to save the memory.

As Lucien was about to walk past, the girl called out to him, asking if he could help them take a photo. He paused, and agreed.

The moment he took the photo, he saw the girl cheekily standing up on her tip toes and kissing the boy on the cheek. The boy widened his eyes in surprise and his ears turned red. Lucien was stunned for a moment. One by one, similar scenes replayed in front of his eyes like a movie in slow motion – a red ribbon, flying in the wind under the peach blossoms and a girl’s embarrassed but smug smile.

When he returned the camera to them, Lucien unconsciously looked back at the peach trees. He realised that although he often passed by this road, he’d never looked at it carefully. It turns out the afterglow of the setting sun and the sky full of peach blossoms created such a special kind of beauty.

Lucien closed his eyes and inadvertently let out a small smile.

A line crept into his heart, as if a girl was gently speaking into his ear by his side, “Perhaps it’s the people in love that make it even more beautiful.”

Part 5

Events here took place after part 1, during Season 2 Chapter 14!

The ear-piercing car horn sounds brought him back from his daydreams.

The afternoon light was dazzling bright. Lucien was sitting in the back seat of a taxi and heard the driver’s heavy sigh.

“There’s too much traffic up ahead, there’s probably still a few minutes before we arrive.”

Lucien followed the drivers line of sight and couldn’t see the end of the traffic waiting for the lights to change.

“Try getting there faster if possible.”

Lucien gravely replied and looked out the window. His fingers gently tapping his phone showed that he wasn’t as calm as he appeared.

He recalled the call with the girl from a few minutes ago, her voiced sounded calmer than he expected, but he quickly dispersed that thought.

Actually, she’d always been stronger than he’d imagine.

After a few honks, the traffic finally showed signs of moving.

Lucien allowed his body to relax, looking out the window. Amongst the passing scenery, he seemed to see someone sitting beneath a tree with a drawing board on their knees. It seemed as if they were sketching. Perhaps due to the similarities with the scene imprinted in his mind, Lucien suddenly thought of the dreamscape underneath the camphor tree.

In the dream, he also sat with a girl beneath a tree, drawing.

He never understood, why was it that after taking turns and drawing out a seedling stroke by stroke, he would then draw a glass cover over it.

Only now after experiencing losing the only colour in his life, did he understand his choice in the dream.

It was a fear of losing something once again.

Reason tells him, having this kind of emotion is dangerous, but somehow it was beyond his control.

Or rather, he did not want to control it.

*ding*

The sound of his phone notification brought him back to reality. He lightly clenched his hand, and realised the chocolate he had kept fiddling with in his hand had already melted.

He glanced at the notification, it was from the oil painting gallery owner, telling him the painting had arrived, and if he intended to collect it, he would reserve it for him.

Lucien paused and then replied, “Ok”.

Perhaps the things that have already disappeared, will continue to exist in some other form.

Lucien looked at the painting of the Notre-Dame de Paris at dusk displayed on his phone screen and thought as such.

The car slowed.

He saw the abandoned research institute buildings coming into view, and then looked down at door handle clasped in his hands. The question he faced when he was younger sudden flashed through his mind, would the protagonist who’d missed an encounter once before, pass it by again?

This time, unlike before, Lucien was unable to give a definitive answer.

When the girl was right before his eyes, stained with fresh blood, lying in his arms, all other complicated thoughts were swept away and he was left with but a single thought:

He just wanted to see her appear in front of him the next second.

When he forcefully pulled the door handle and hurried to the entrance, a similarly eager sound of footsteps came from the end of the corridor.

When their eyes met again, Lucien saw the girl’s eyes light up.

His world became colourful once more.

#mlqc #mlqc lucien #mlqc translation #i still dont know what tags this fandom uses .-.#anyways next chapter updates when :(#is impatient #also on a random note WOW THAT NEW ER. DID NOT EXPECT #temporary terrible translations tag #stuff i post

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valorxdrive · 2 years

Note

Bzzzzt! Bzzzzt! Bzzzzt!

It's early in the morning--so early, in fact, that daybreak has only just arrived, bruising the dark sky into a dreamy lilac. Despite the early hour, however, Sora's Gummiphone is rattling around, 1 NEW MESSAGE glowing on the screen.

When Sora wakes--because the buzzing does not stop, even when it should, it just keeps going endlessly until Sora is forced to wake up--and he picks up his Gummiphone, the message pops open immediately, without Sora having to touch the screen at all.

And the text message reads:

тнє gαzιηg єує ιѕ ωαт¢нιηg уσυ, ѕσяα

The moment his blue eyes are finished scanning this cryptic message with that ominous eye blinking at Sora slowly as it stares up at him through the screen, another message blooms up:

ℓσσк ιη тнє ¢ℓσѕєт

That precise moment the doors to the closet start rattling madly, frantically, the hinges threatening to shake right out of the frame--

A small, keening cry starts to sound behind the doors. Whatever is in there is frightened and panicked, shaking and shaking and shaking the doors--

This, too, will not stop until Sora gets up and opens those creaky, thin doors...

Once he does, a gray Chirithy rolls out of the closet onto the floor.

The little doll-like creature clambers to its feet and blinks, looking around the room warily. Then it looks up to Sora and such love is in its beady blue eyes all at once. It immediately toddles over to Sora and grasps his leg, cuddling its adorable face into his skin. It looks up at him again, a shy smile on its little mouth.

As if it is asking him: Do you love me too?

The Gummiphone starts buzzing again, as relentlessly as before. Except this time it's Chirithy that climbs onto the bed and fetches the phone there and once it picks up the clunky Gummiphone it stretches it out to Sora so he can read the final message emblazoned on the screen:

ƚαƙҽ ƈαɾҽ σϝ ƈԋιɾιƚԋყ ϝσɾ ɱҽ αɳԃ ƙҽҽρ ιƚ ƈʅσʂҽ.

♕ - Hearing the cacophonous ricochet of a noise begins the disturbance of a Heart steeped within a personalized realm of dreams. Dreams that lost the familiar inhabitants always welcomed, always protecting him, leading to a lot less color as somber and determined thoughts hail at an opportunity to fill the eye of his mind. A low hiss eases from his lips as from the nest of pillows and quilts would chest crowned king finally stir. Agitation blends with confusion as ear shredding noise that kept going, going, GOING.. Why? With humanity being a creature of habit, those same qualities could be better discerned everywhere else.

Could this thing be broken..? Sora would accept such a truth after being so far removed from his plain of reality. Finally did his eyes relent, peering open, letting that hollow stir of white and blue be witnessed from his laid down phone. A few careless, idle scratches upon the quilt would soon draw it to his hands, bringing it closer, blurriness immediately being sapped away as haunting chill of recognition flows through him in an instant.

A visible tide of uneasiness brings a cold chill into the atmosphere as things unearthed akin to a play. Him being the witness, these actions thriving in being realized. It all has to do with a singular, demonic looking eye that draws a screaming fury from that gaze alone.

After all, he was one of the sole witnesses to see that eye burn crimson.

”...” It was impossible to stop a disturbed sense of being exposed irregardless of his strength. Not when in a realm so unattached to all he knows and loves, someone here knew his name, tied with the potential knowing behind these very eyes. While an uncomfortable slithering sensation courses through the innermost reaches of his heart, any conjecture as he gradually settles up into sitting is SNAPPED into awareness once the noted directions are listed. ...How do they know there’s a closet within this room? It only added to a gnawing sense of frustration to make the precipice of fear beginning to close his heart.

If he managed to keep a steady and stable beat, the madness of it all from the abrupt POUNDS and THUDS to the flimsy closet door jolts a cold swath down his back, forcibly prompting him onto his A-game as he immediately hops out of the bed, that damned phone clutched into a knuckle white grip before he quickly skips over to the door, giving one less second for panic and all the grains to a sense of control before his tanned fingertips clips at the handle in order to abruptly open it wide.

Expectation, the unknown, there was a blazing itch upon his palm to let his light bloom and banished whatever imagined figure he pictures momentarily, that tension that already drew up a mild sweat is met with confusion at what waddles out, a kindle of faraway hope, but equally heavy wonder causing his brow to furrow. In the end, Sora tosses phone back onto his mattress, compelled to the current moment to settle down into a crouching squat. “C.. Chirithy..? What the-, but I thought..”

‘Wait. No this isn’t right..’ The truth of this matter could be felt as those whimsical senses, one that thrives and tells well of connections gained, didn’t feel any particular thread from this said Chirithy. Even as it managed such affection in the way it keeps him closer, staring up at him with adoration whereas Sora’s eyes waged between guilt and too many questions.

How could he offer such a sweet sentiment in a moment where this invasive plague allows it’s chaos to crawl?

Sora nearly fell back on his rear the instant that phone ignited the alarm again, as if it was gradually waning it into an unknown tune, disharmonious but so free all the same. That fear only rolls into a bigger construct actually seeing the toddling innocence of this Chirithy head for it. Jaw briefly tight with tension, it quickly edges loose for a warning. “Hold on! There’s something strange going on here and..!” One more pause chills him into freezing. Hadn’t that message promoted his curiosity to search that very door? Wasn’t the very timing of this next IM settled in the scope of Real Time?

“.......” How could the hands of such innocence harbor such a message? A mind wrenching thought that amidst his kingdom of rest, an intruder, someone holding dangerously high potential to bypass his conjured, invisible barriers, simply pretending they were nothing but another door to step through?

Despite the kind disposition his mind would immediately take in ensuring someone else was okay. A step away was made from the Chirithy, fingers flexing upon some invisible hope to capture this perpetrator that invaded his newest home. Another follows, that frantic symphony of his heart briefly making an accusatory fire burn in those very eyes. His entire home has to be surveyed, this Chirithy.. by that very note, was a being that was seemingly thrust into this new world on a whim? Being so frustratingly alone from a support system meant so much more of his defenses fell upon his hands.

“Just who are you? Do you know something about this Gazing Eye that’s on that screen?”

@uncannymaster

#uncannymaster #| Bottle Mail #Congratulations #You started a hellishly deeper fear into him being watched

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