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kelpan · 6 months ago

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Hello!

I can't tell you how good it feels to be getting a chapter out only about a month after the last update, instead of, you know, four 😅. But for any who were concerned after my last authors note, I can say I am doing a bit better than I was, a fact I'm both grateful for and still getting used to. I had a surgery at the beginning of this month, which took me down for about two weeks to recover from, but I can say it was well worth it, as I'm already seeing improvements in my health. Just trying to take it all one step at a time, even when bad days still arise.

If anything, it gave me plenty of time to work on this chapter and get it to a place where I'm happy with it. Only two more chapters left in Act 1!

Also, it was my birthday earlier this past week! Gemini season has begun! :D

Credit for the OC Chrysanthemum headshot goes to wwispie on Etsy/Instagram!

Ao3: Petals on a Stream of Stars

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Act 1, Chapter 13: Once Lost, Now Found

Wednesday

7:45pm

Chrysanthemum

Outside the walls of the daycare, the low lighting grew dense and heavy, lit only by harsh emergency lighting. Everywhere stood masses of confused patrons, huddled in groups of various sizes in shops or along corners. Somewhere, Chrys heard a mechanical voice stick out amidst the chaos, dissonant against the flow of human ones flooding the air. She dashed forward, following the direction of the sound. A human staff member may not be able to contact an animatronic, but perhaps a robotic one might.

Just a ways ahead, she found the source of the voice; A single staff bot currently attempting—and failing—to corral a large family into remaining still enough to be scanned. While expressionless, Chrys could swear she heard exasperation in the bot’s monotone voice.

“Guests, please remain in place. Scanning will commence—GUESTS. Please remain in place. Scanning will commence—GUESTS. Please remain in—”

“Hey!” Every face in the vicinity turned to look at her. She disregarded those that were human and spoke only to the staff bot. “Are you able to get a message to an animatronic? It’s urgent.”

Head cocked, her request was met with a blank stare. A red laser pinprick lit up the center of its oval iris, washing over her.

“Employee designation recognized. Request granted. What is your message and intended recipient?”

The family huffed from behind the bot, but she refused to let them distract her from her goal. If they wanted this to be over sooner, they should have been more patient and cooperative in the first place.

“Uh, for Sun.”

“Sun is off-line. Choose available recipient.”

“Wait, what?” The bot’s response made her pause. “But I literally just saw him a couple of minutes ago.”

“Sun is off-line. Choose available recipient.”

“Oook then… uh, what about Moon? Is he available?”

The bot remained silent for a moment before answering, the sound of a fan revving signifying his inner query. “Affirmative.”

“Great!” She pumped her fist. “Then, uh, tell him he needs to go to Kids Cove as soon as possible. I have reason to believe that’s where Marigold’s gone. You know, the missing kid.”

The staff bot bobbed its head before returning to duty. “Received. Message sent.”

“Great, thank you!”

Hopefully he gets there quickly…

Task completed, she let her feet lead the way back, letting the frustrated bot return to his unenviable duty. Though with each step, her assurance wavered. A peculiar knot still remained lodged in her chest, weighing on her. But why? She came to a halt when a flash of pain shot through the inside of her cheek, catching up to her that she’d been chewing at it without realizing it.

This didn’t make sense. She’d done what she sought out to do; Give someone better suited to help Marigold in this situation an advantage, point them in the right direction. That’s all that she could do, right?

So why did she feel so dissatisfied?

A single thought repeatedly clawed to the surface, eating away at what was left of her confidence. What if… what if she was wrong? What if her deductions meant nothing, and she was pulling help further away from where it really needed to be? Should she have thought to check it out herself first, and called for help later? Was she just wasting everyone’s time, sending them on a wild goose chase?

She groaned, the butts of her palms shoved to her eyes as she spun in place. She didn’t think this through! Stupid, so, so stupid! If she’d bungled this she’d feel like the worst sort of person—a detriment, with the audacity to burden others with her incompetence.

Looking out from beyond her hands, she found herself standing in the space between the front gate of the Daycare and the path which led to the elevator. The realization dawned on her that this would have been the most likely path for the party to have followed upon returning to the Daycare. What were the odds that this was where Marigold had run off?

While things weren’t crystal clear, her eyes had had enough time to adjust to the dim space that she could make out some of the graphics and advertisements around her, scanning for anything that might have caught a child’s eye. A cut-out for Roxy Raceway, a poster of Freddy singing, and—there! Protruding from a wall, a mounted arrow sign, pointing down a conjoining hallway, with the words “Kids Cove” written at its center, surrounded by what looked to be an image of palm trees.

Bingo!

Her body took off of its own volition, and soon the slap of her sneakers joined the cacophony of the crowd as she jogged, deftly avoiding wayward packs of confused and irate people until she reached her destination; A wide open and decorated archway that once would have made for a inviting display, now cordoned off by an array of wooden crates, opaque sheets of plastic and caution tape, with two signs bookending the haphazard mess of clutter. Flashlight in hand, Chrys drew close, using the light to read the message.

“Kids Cove.” She breathed. “Closed for renovations. Do not enter without special authorization. Fazbear Entertainment will not be held liable for any harm received past this point. Well,” she sighed, craning to try and look beyond the blockages. “Trying to find a lost kid counts as special authorization, right? Right. Of course it does.”

After a minute of examining the area, she discovered a small opening between the sides of two crates, just large enough for her to squeeze through if she dropped to her belly and shimmied on her side.

“Guess I know how she would’ve gotten in…”

From the floor, nothing but a void greeted her beyond the crates. No light, no glow, only an inky abyss, one that even her flashlight couldn’t overpower, at least not from this angle. Positioning herself down to an army crawl, she ignored any dust her movement kicked up, though they made her nose sniffle, and inched her way through. Once she could stick her top half out on the other side, a quick look confirmed her suspicions; No emergency lighting present, not like the rest of the building. The air felt oppressive against her skin, tickling the hair on the back of her neck. If Marigold managed to make it in this far before the lights went out, there’d have been no way for her to have found her way back out again on her own.

“Marigold?” She called, pulling herself to her feet and stepping carefully into the dark, the flashlight acting as her anchor and her guide, lighting her way past the abstract and colorful shapes partially revealed within the minuscule circle of light.

With a bit of examination, the abstract shapes revealed themselves to be different kinds of playground equipment. Jungle gyms, slides, swings, all in various shades of underwater or muted jewel tones, with most still in some incomplete form of assembly. She had to hand it to those two attendants. For as infuriating as they were, it appeared as if they knew at least a little of what they talked about.

The further in she went, the more apparent it was how secluded this section of the pizzaplex was from the rest of the building. None of the fanfare from the guests outside could make it this far, making every sound more pronounced within the silence. Her footsteps, her breathing. Though she was here with good intentions, she couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps this wasn’t the wisest of decisions. Ignoring the goosebumps which prickled across her arms, she pressed on, reminding herself that she was an adult, and there was a kid in need right now. It was her responsibility to keep herself under control.

“Marigold?” She called out again, her voice bouncing throughout the room. “Marigold, can you hear me?”

Waiting for the last of her echoes to fade, she held her breath, hoping to better catch even the softest of sounds.

“… Miss Chrys?”

She whipped to the side with a sharp gasp, flashlight darting to try and locate its source.

“Marigold?” Chrys repeated, hesitant to trust in what she heard as the real deal and not just a figment of her imagination.

“Miss Chrys!”

“Marigold!!!”

Certain now without the shadow of a doubt, Chrys rushed ahead, narrowly avoiding the scattered pieces of unfinished playground equipment littering the floor.

“Where are you? Are you hurt? Don’t worry, I’m—AHHH!”

Her words switched to a shout as the floor disappeared out from under her, stomach lurching as she sprawled forward, arms outstretched in a desperate attempt to cushion her fall. Her flashlight flew from her grasp, the beam darting about in erratic streaks, before going out with a bang and a crackle, leaving her blind in the dark as she hit the ground.

“Miss Chrys!!!”

Marigold’s terrified voice shrieked in her ear, closer than ever before, adding to her disorientation. Her knees and elbows smarted, having taken the majority of her weight in the fall, and her shoulder ached, but overall, that seemed to be the worst of it. The fall must not have been that bad, though to Chrys it felt like she fell a good couple of feet, at least.

“Miss Chrys, are you ok???”

Reminded of the present by a pair of tiny hands yanking and tugging at her shirt, Chrys shook herself from her daze and did her best to focus.

“Marigold, is that you? Oh, I’m so glad to—oof!”

“I’m sorry!!” The girl launched herself at her so hard she pushed the air from her lungs, and clung to her as if she were a lifeline. “I thought big brother would be here, his office is here, he’s always working! But then it was all blocked off, and I wasn’t sure if I should look behind it, but I wanted to find him so I tried, but then there was nobody, and, and then, then the lights went out, and I didn’t know how to get back, and I tripped and fell and now my ankle hurts and… and… WAHHHHHH!!!!”

The girl spoke in a single, fluid torrent, her words a bleeding mess of incoherent emotions and distress. Her tears broke into full bodied sobs, her breathing disjointed by deep gasps of air.

“Hey, hey!” Chrys sat up, scooping the wailing child into her arms. “It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re safe, that’s all that matters. Everything’s ok, shhhhh…”

She rocked in place, patting gently along the child’s back in a soothing motion, keeping her little murmurs of reassurance soft and calm and steady.

“There you go, that’s it,” Chrys said, sensing her efforts were taking effect. “Take a deep breath for me. In—” She demonstrated the motion first, pleased when Marigold imitated. “And out. Good, good.”

The poor thing sat on her lap tucked in the fetal position, head nestled up under Chrys’s chin. She hiccupped and sniffled as her tears ebbed, snuggling in as close as she could.

“Marigold,” Chrys asked, pausing to consider her words before continuing. “What’s going on, why did you run off? We were all so worried.”

The girl coughed, the sound heavy with mucus, and curled even further inward. “… he promised.”

“Promised? Promised what?”

Silence hung heavy in the air around them, until after another wet cough, Marigold continued. “Big Brother promised he’d celebrate my birthday with me. But… everything’s been so bad lately. Since Grandpa didn’t wake up, all Mama and Papa do is shout and yell and cry, and Big Brother is never home anymore! I just… I just wanted everyone to smile again, like when mama and I first moved in… he promised!!!

The wails started anew, face pressed into her chest, the tears soaking through the already wet fabric as she worked herself up again. Chrys winced alongside each of her pain-filled cries but remained silent, giving her the space to release all the pent up grief and confusion bottled up inside. She knew how it was to be so overwhelmed that you couldn’t think straight. Wrapping her arms fully around her shaking frame, she held the girl close, cheek pressed to the top of her head, rocking gently back and forth. Words wouldn’t help here. Just presence and kindness. To know it was alright to cry, to know you were safe while you let it all out, give voice to the ache that refused to leave.

To know you weren’t alone.

A memory appeared in her mind then, foggy, but there, of her mother holding her in a similar position soon after her Dad had died. Oh, how she’d cried and cried, inconsolable, but her mother had let her, holding her tight as the soft melody she sang soothed her frazzled nerves…

“When the Sun sets…”

The same song found purchase in her own throat now, vying for space amidst the child’s cries. Chrys sang just above a whisper, a purposeful breathiness intermingling with each note.

“And the Moon rises…”

Marigold shifted, turning so as the side of her face rested against Chrys’s chest, where her heartbeat was strongest. Chrys ran a gentle hand over her head, caressing the soft curls.

“The stars will dance for you. As the petals blow, from the trees embrace, carrying away your light. And there I’ll go, to the waters edge, to sing with you again….”

Marigold’s breathing settled as the last note faded, the music having won against the sorrow. The empty air around them no longer carried a sense of unease, but rather that of a comforting shield, protecting them in an otherworldly cocoon of peace and quiet.

“What… what song is that?” Marigold’s tiny voice asked, her sniffle the loudest.

“Just… a lullaby my mother taught me. It always used to help me whenever my heart hurt. Maybe it can help yours too.”

Though she didn’t reply, Marigold seemed content with her answer, snuggling in closer and twirling a lock of hair as they sat together in comfortable silence. They should start trying to find their way back soon, Chrys knew, alleviate everyone’s worry and return to enjoying the rest of the party, but… she couldn’t find it within herself to move the exhausted girl quite yet. Poor thing could use an extra minute or two.

Though, despite her wishes, fate seemed to have a different plan. A sharp clang, thin and metallic, rang out from the darkness, shattering their illusion of solitude. Marigold gasped and stiffened. Chrys remained silent, listening.

“Monster…” Marigold whispered, in the tiniest of voices. She trembled, attempting to back further into the safety of her arms. Chrys adjusted, using a free hand to wipe the wet strands of hair out of Marigold’s tear-soaked face.

“It’s ok,” Chrys replied, reassuring. “Maybe something fell, or…” In the distance, a soft tinkling sound resounded through the void, active, and growing closer by the millisecond. It took Chrys a split-second to realize what it was.

“Bells… they’re bells! Oh, thank goodness. Marigold, it’s alright, that’s no monster, that’s just Mr.—”

“No!” Marigold screeched, fighting against her “No, no! Monster, monster!!”

Tugging against her hold, her behavior grew more frantic by the second, forcing Chrys to struggle in order to keep Marigold still. If she slipped up and let her run off into the dark like this, she could only imagine how badly she could get hurt. She had to figure out a way to get her to calm down before things got out of hand.

Wait, the flashlight! Of course!

Everything always seemed scarier in the dark; it’s why night-lights were staples in childhood bedrooms. Marigold just needed to see that there was nothing to fear! Deciding to try, Chrys switched her hold to a single arm, just long enough to snatch the tool from the ground and smash the defiant button, hoping to make the stubborn thing work through sheer force of will alone.

“Come on, come on!”

The jingles grew louder, only to stop just before they would have reached them, the lack of noise louder than the sound itself. A red glow began to break through the darkness surrounding them, illuminating the dark shapes around them bit by bit. Marigold exploded the second she noticed, kicking and clawing as if her life depended on it, her tiny nails digging into Chrys’s arm hard enough that she could feel the sharp pricks of pain and warm wetness bloom across her skin. Dropping the flashlight, Chrys abandoned her previous plan and focused solely on restraining Marigold, certain now that she would inevitably harm herself in such a state.

“Marigold, stop! It’s alright! Relax! There’s no monster, I promise! You have to calm down!”

A sharp “crunch” from the side interrupted her just then, followed immediately by an eruption of light which split the space between, blinding as her pupils constricted.

Blinking against the pain, snippets of vision registered as her eyes adjusted. Blue fabric against yellow stars. Grey and blue endoskeleton. A sleeping cap more hood than cap draped over thin shoulders. And a silvery, crescent moon face, framing blood red, glowing eyes, the very same which had stared down at her while she lay on a concrete floor.

Marigold screamed.

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chateaunoirsims · 4 months ago

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❦ What a FACE ❦

⤬ I think I did my big one with Iris. I thought to myself - I need a character that embodies a siren and Iris was like “don’t worry.. I gotchu 😌”

Something is dropping tomorrow and after that the casting call video drops and we officially are in Resonance series territory!

Dissonance has 2 more episodes left which I have started working on so do not fear dissonance fans ! Genevieve is still the OG 🫶🏾

#simblr #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #sims #storytelling #sims 4 legacy #sims4 pictures #resonance #my screenshots #myedits #ts4 edit #I honestly forgot this I even edited this picture #i think I had like done it and then forgot about it #it’s a lil something cute I guess #hope to post another one tomorrow #excited!!#yippee

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juniper-sunny · 2 years ago

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The Art in the Heart -

We Had Everything AU

An alternate ending for "The Art in the Heart" where Iris doesn't almost-drown at the end of Chapter 20. Life has different plans in store for both her and Silco…

Written for TAITH!Reader using the name of my OC “Iris”. You can find her character profile here. || WC: 1.66k

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 3.5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 7.5 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21

taglist (open): @sherwood-forests @deny-the-issue @let-the-monster-out @ariaud @joscelyn02 @quirkykaty @20smith @silcoitus @crunchlite

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

Against all odds, Iris, Sevika, and Leksy make it to Janna’s Hearth almost entirely unscathed. Well, they’re all drenched and suffering from mild skin irritation, but that’s easily remedied.

Amidst relieved tears and hugs from Nyle, Cuny wants to scold Iris for her recklessness. She’s too tired to care. Too tired to notice Vander, Benzo, and the other Children continuously shepherding people into the orphanage.

Silco freezes at the sight of an exhausted, miserable, soaking wet Iris, covered in a large blanket. As much as he might want to move towards her, throw his arms around her and hold her tight, brush her dripping hair out of her face, he doesn’t. The lump in his throat is painful and doesn’t go away when he swallows. But he finally gets a move on when Vander calls out to him.

Much to Iris’ annoyance, Silco starts volunteering at the orphanage again. Cuny, Teema, and Kharon all offer to ask him to stay away, but she says it’s fine. As much as she might be hurting, it’s more important that the people at the orphanage get help. For all his other faults, Silco is some of the best help there is.

He has an ulterior motive, now that he’s no longer with Iris. On top of helping the children of the Undercity, his visits to the orphanage are his way of staying close to her. He doesn’t plan on approaching her again, but he can content himself with seeing that she’s well, at least physically.

His proximity is too hard for Iris to put up with. She takes on more commissions from Piltie clients and gets a contract position with the Topside Galleria. Sure, it’s hard work and it takes her away for long stretches at a time, but she gives all of her earnings to the orphanage. It’s a sacrifice she’s willing to make.

At one exhibition unveiling, she’s mingling with lots of different Pilties. Including one young Grayson.

When Iris ducks outside to catch some fresh air, they bump into each other. Grayson is working security, on patrol when she catches a glimpse of the painter sighing deeply. Both women are tired of socializing but still bound by obligations to stay, both social and professional.

The two of them make small talk. Grayson admits that she doesn’t know much about the art scene, but is still charming, kind, and beautiful enough to make an impression on Iris. She offers to grab a drink for the guard before apologizing for her mistake.

“I’m afraid I can’t at the moment. I’m technically on the clock.” “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—” “That’s quite alright… but I hope that means you’d like to grab drinks with me tomorrow?”

Flustered but pleasantly surprised, Iris says yes. After all, Grayson seems alright for a Piltie… right up until she says she wants to become an Enforcer.

Grayson is genuine in her compassion for the Undercity and sincere in her belief that she can change the system from the inside. Iris wants to believe her, so badly… but Grayson is just one person. The painter struggles with the cognitive dissonance of getting friendly with a future Enforcer for a little over a month.

But there are one too many kids who come to the orphanage, scraped up and angry after confrontations with law enforcement. All because the Enforcers don’t like the way the “gutter rats” look or loiter around in their own turf. Stopping the romantic entanglement before it starts doesn’t hurt as much as when Iris got dumped by Silco, but she still spends some guilty, sleepless nights for almost “betraying” the Undercity.

Life goes on, years go by. Iris meets and develops a crush on Scar, and is a little sad to find out that he already has a partner. But she’s more than happy to help with their upcoming baby.

Viktor, now approaching his mid-20s, asks Iris to visit him. He and his brother-in-science Jayce Talis are on the verge of presenting some new technology to the Council. It’ll be a while before the city fully embraces “Hextech”, but he feels confident enough in his achievements and the man he’s become to confess that he’s nursed a crush on her for years.

She lets him down gently: she cares about him a lot, but no more than any other child she’s helped take care of at the orphanage. Although she made him feel less lonely during his formative years, he shouldn’t confuse that attachment for romantic feelings. Iris’ own feelings for him are purely platonic and motherly. Privately, with an age gap over 10 years, she thinks that she’s too much of an old woman for him. Over time, Viktor realizes that she’s right. Their relationship stays friendly.

Conditions in the Undercity improve, thanks to the Children of Zaun gaining clout as a politically-minded organization. More and more of their entreaties to the Council are succeeding at a slow and steady rate. Over the years, Silco’s visits to Janna’s Hearth become fewer, dwindling to three times a year. He doesn’t get as many frequent updates on Iris’ life. But she’s moved on, healed enough by now to smile politely at him and say hello.

He still loves her. He regrets making her leave. He’d take it all back if he could. He hates that he can’t make her smile or laugh like he used to, that she doesn’t look at him with joy and love anymore. The inconsequential small talk the two of them make is so precious to him, more than she’ll ever know. In his more irrational moments, he feels jealous of the children that she hugs and kisses.

When those feelings strike him, he throws himself into his work. The Children of Zaun don’t go on mercenary missions anymore, but crafting proposals to the Council and real estate planning for the Lanes are engaging enough for him to forget about her, if only for a few hours. It makes him an extremely productive man.

A few more years pass. Finally, finally it happens: Topside agrees to formally recognize the Nation of Zaun. Silco is being granted a seat at the table. A Councilorship. On his visit to share the news with the orphanage employees, Iris isn’t there. He tells her colleagues that The Last Drop is having an open bar that night to celebrate. The whole of the Lanes will be there, and he hopes that the staff of Janna’s Hearth can make it too… Iris especially.

It’s busy and crowded at the pub. Silco is impatient and nervous for Iris to arrive. He’s sitting at the bar, fingers drumming restlessly on the countertop. Barely maintaining a facade of polite gratitude when people come up to congratulate him. When he sees her arrive, it takes everything he has to not bowl over other bargoers to run over to her. Instead, he plays it cool, staying on his stool, waiting an agonizingly long time for her to finish greeting Sevika and Benzo.

He’s so ready— more than ready— to tell her he did it. He and the other Children have seized independence for the Undercity. There’s more work than ever to be done, but he wants to do it with Iris by his side.

She finally approaches him, greeting him with a hug. His first one with her in years. He can’t help but get his hopes up. Sevika, Benzo, and Vander gather around the two of them. As much as Silco loves his friends, he resents their presence at this very moment. Invading what should be a private moment.

Vander offers Iris a drink. Just like all those years ago when she first arrived at The Last Drop, purely by accident.

Maybe it’s fate, Silco thinks. How poetic it would be if the romance was rekindled in the same circumstances that he almost asked to kiss her. All those years ago.

She refuses the drink, just like she did that first time. All those years ago.

“How far along are you now?” Sevika asks. “About eight weeks.”

Silco freezes. Iris looks self-conscious and laughs. Sevika— who clearly already knows something he doesn’t— says that she might as well tell everybody. Iris didn’t want to take the spotlight away from Silco and the other Children… but she’s pregnant and engaged!

She figures now is a good time as any to invite the Children to her wedding, tentatively scheduled for next year after the baby is due. Silco is too heartbroken to be surprised that she’s inviting him too.

His speech that he drafted and practiced almost a hundred times over… begging for forgiveness for abandoning her, fervently promising to make up for lost time, vowing to never leave her behind again… none of that matters now.

The tiny, unbroken part of him that is still sincerely happy for Iris manages to speak up. Offering congratulations and wishing for her good fortune, leading a toast for her happiness. Embarrassed at being the center of attention, she’s quick to turn the toast into a celebration of everyone’s accomplishments and the inevitable progress that everyone’s hard work has brought about.

Less than a year later, Silco visits Iris in the hospital after the birth and meets her partner for the first time. He congratulates them both. He doesn’t know why Iris offers to let him hold the baby— a beautiful little girl. He refuses politely, trying not to imagine what it would be like in another life where he’s the father.

He doesn’t attend the wedding— too busy with Councilor business. It’s only partly true. But the wedding presents he sends (high-end painting supplies for Iris and her spouse, and nontoxic fingerpaints for the baby) has her gushing with gratitude.

Eventually, he moves on. Finding love with a single parent, ecstatic and grateful that he still gets to experience the joys of fatherhood.

Both Iris and Silco find happy endings… just not with each other.

#Arcane #Arcane fanfic #Silco #Silco x Reader #Silco x OC #Arcane Silco #Silco Arcane #my writing #The Art in the Heart #TAITH

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greetingfromthedead · 8 months ago

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C84: Epilogue

For more information on the series (tags, CW, etc) click the banner!

Series Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Chapter: 84/84

Words: .8k

No particular warnings for this chapter.

← Previous Chapter | Thank you!

Singular notes echo from the large building. The blonde man often stands by the piano, the fingers of his right hand looking for a melody that has escaped him. Each day, he finds solace in the familiar sound of the instrument, hoping that one day the tune will resurface and bring back the forgotten memories.

"Remember anything yet?" the young girl called Lina asks as she holds the tray with a pitcher and a glass. "It's okay if not. You can take your time. By the looks of it, you've been through a lot."

The singular searching strokes on the keys don't stop as she speaks. The tones linger uncomfortably in the air. Their dissonance seems to mirror his inner turmoil. Lina watches intently, her eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and compassion, as if she can sense the weight of his unspoken pain.

"It's all over now. You're safe here with us. You know that..." She continues, not deterred by the fact that the tall man doesn't look at her or give her an answer. "...right, Eriks?

Lina stands in the middle of the room for a bit longer, unsure of how to help the strange man. He doesn't scare her in the least, but there is something lightly unnerving about the lost way he is. She walks closer to him to offer the water she brought and maybe distract him from his troubles.

"Could you..." His voice is quiet and hesitant. "Could you tell me again? How you found me..."

Eriks doesn't speak much, his mind is a ghost town of memories that are no longer there. Just a few fragments here and there, but he has no recollection of what happened to him or how he got to be this way. He doesn't know who he used to be. Only shadows fill his thoughts. He often asks Lina or her grandmother about how they found him and brought him with them. Lina places the tray on top of the piano and takes a deep breath. She understands his yearning to piece together his shattered past. With a gentle smile, she begins to recount the tale for what feels like the hundredth time.

"We found you after the tragedy of July. You are one of the lucky ones who survived. You were in the crater; your clothes were burned badly, but by some miracle, you weren't injured. You were lying on a weird layer of debris; it felt like wilted lettuce—strange and a bit leathery. I think they were the same things as that one." Lina points at something on top of the piano next to the tray. "They were all black and brown except that one; you were holding it in your hand. I wonder why this one looks different than the rest."

Eriks lifts his hand from the keys to gently pick up the singular blue iris from the top of the piano. He twirls it between his fingers as he looks at its beauty.

"Granny called it a flower. She said it would die soon, but it has been like this for a while, so who knows?" Lina shrugs and pours Vash a glass of water. "Anyway, we threw you on a cart, and since you didn't look injured, we brought you home. Nothing much more about it. Here, Eriks, drink."

She reaches the glass to the man, who is too mesmerized by the blossom to notice her outstretched arm.

"Lina!" Granny's voice calls from somewhere upstairs.

"Coming!" the girl hollers back. "I'll just leave it here for you, Eriks!"

She puts the glass back on the tray. She gives the man another look; he seems so focused on the flower, and she hesitates before running to the stairs to go help the elderly woman. As Lina hurries up the stairs to assist Granny, she can't help but wonder about the mysterious man. His fascination with the blossom intrigues her, and she can't shake off the feeling that there is more to his story than meets the eye.

Eriks tilts his head, and the long hair falls more onto his face. He feels like he should know the significance of this simple thing in his hand; his heart is crying out for him to remember, but there is nothing coming to his mind. He lets out a deep sigh, turns around, and heads through the saloon-style doors.

Since the beginning, the vast open desert has been inviting him, like there are paths carved into it he needs to walk again, but he has no idea where they start, where they lead, or who they are inviting. Eriks is happy here with Lina and her grandmother; he helps them out the best he can while trying to remember what he was doing in July in the first place. As he steps out into the scorching heat, a wave of nostalgia washes over him, as if the desert holds the key to unlocking his lost memories. The sand crunches beneath his boots as he walks. Eriks can't help but feel that the answers he seeks lie just beyond the horizon, concealed within the vast expanse of the desert.

The wind rushes over the dunes, and he sees it picking up dust and sand. The rush of air flows through him; it makes the button-up shirt flap while it caresses his scarred body and teases his senses. It plays with his hair, pushing it away from his face and lingering for a moment on his cheeks. Another gust of air dances along and whispers in his ear. He could swear that, once again, like many times before, the breeze called out his name, if only he could remember it.

For more information and chapters, check out the MASTERLIST.

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#tempest wind #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #Trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #Humanoid Typhoon #vashxreader #vash x reader #x reader #plant boi #Vash the Stampede

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exploring8709 · 9 months ago

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I'm all demons

I'm feeling really raw right now and I'm not really sure why.

Well, honestly, I don't have to stretch too far to figure out the inciting moment. But the "why" of it. I thought I was ready to explore a little. Try some things out. And write about it to try and exorcise some demons. But today, I'm feeling I'm all demons.

I may have lost myself in the moment. Amanda at dinner last night knew it, but she was kind enough not to be offended. She seemed even happy for me. Happy for me that I was excited. Not knowing, though, the extent of what I was up to. The problem is, I did enjoy myself. I was very present in the moment, and enjoyed every minute of it. But I may have unlocked something that perhaps I'm not ready for. Or not able to articulate.

I felt bold and adventurous when I called him. It felt like the right path to walk. The road never traveled. He seemed almost like he was expecting me to call and made no effort to hide it. That fucker. And I was butterflies all day. I wore pretty patterned tights that l though accentuated my legs for him. A short skirt, sweater and oversized blazer. Not that it really mattered in the end. My tights were ruined in a fit of passion. Never going to waste Wolfords like that again.

I cried after. Thank god I was able to leave first. I felt so vulnerable. Not that he took advantage of me, or forced me, or coerced me. I called him. And I was open to everything we did. I guess I just couldn't process everything. Not the emotions. But yes, the emotions. But more the implications. I didn't want him to see might like that. I didn't want him to think it was about him because it wasn't. He's off on a plane tomorrow and good riddance I say. But now I'm left with this mess to deal with and I don't know where it's all coming from and where it's going.

Chloe and I went to a spa "club" today. It was perfectly timed as I just needed some time to unpack. Of course, I unloaded everything on her. Everything that I could articulate at least. There we sat in our robes and slippers lying on a super comfy couch together and I unloaded my sex life on her. She admitted that Trevor is much bigger than her (thank god she didn't see me blush and look away . . . I know girlfriend . . . I've heard you), but his size always made her feel safe. Protected. It was never a dissonant part of their lovemaking. The contrast was never something they explored. It was just his ying, to her yang. I hate those two sometimes. Now I feel like a deviant. We laughed though. I needed that at least. And a massage. And multiple heated rooms. And sitting in a pool.

Iris Apfel died on Friday. It was her glasses that drew me to her. Like Anna Wintour's hair. Iconic. I never saw myself in her style, but like fashion and art, she inspired me. I wear a lot of navy, black and gray to work, but always with a splash of colour, or jewelry that stands out. When I was younger I enjoyed mimicking her style layering. Mixing designer pieces with vintage store finds. I was never going to be as bold as her, but she always extolled the idea of finding your own style path; to take risks.

Well, these risks have, so far, have left me all demons.

More is more and less is a bore.

Thank you Iris.

#diary #dear diary #diary entry #singlegirl #singleinthecity #financegirl #iris apfel

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starwarsrecrimination · 10 months ago

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Character Spotlight: Abeloth

Is Abeloth the major antagonist of Recrimination? The answer is... complicated. It depends on what version of events you believe. As the Beloved Queen of the Stars gains power and influence, the fabric of the story itself begins to snarl, warp, and unravel. She has spent millennia trying and failing again and again to escape the prison her own Family trapped her in, but before she was the Bringer of Chaos, she was a Mother. And before that- she can hardly remember herself. But change is coming to the galaxy, and she intends to take hold of her own fate at any cost.

For much of the planning process, I had simply no idea how I wanted Abeloth's story to go. In earlier versions of what eventually became Recrimination, she was more of a final boss, fought by the Jedi in the World Between Worlds. When digging further into her backstory, however, along with reconsidering the overall tone and structure of the project itself, I decided to let the characters and audience get to know Abeloth a little better. "Bella" acts as a companion, providing insight and guidance, but her role in the increasing deterioration of character's mental states and the actual structure of the show itself is increasingly suspect as the story progresses. Each season brings new distortions in the form of blink-and-you'll-miss-them scenery changes, corrupted or dissonant audio, delayed, suspended, or accelerated motion, and model breakage, and each season Abeloth grows closer and closer to attaining her goal. While she can appear in any form, the versions of her presented below, which I've dubbed "Lottie", "Bella", and "Abeloth" respectively, are some of the faces she presents as her own depending on her mood or whatever her goals may be in a particular interaction.

Visuals and descriptions under the cut:

This visual was created using @/_tougennkyou's Picrew, which can be found here.

[Image ID: An illustration made using Picrew. The subject is a young girl with pale skin, long white-grey hair tied back with a white ribbon, pale grey eyes, and an uneasy smile. She wears a white jacket and long white skirt, and her legs are bare and taper from flesh-toned into pure white. Blood-stained bandages wrap around her throat and right upper leg, and her hands are clasped as if in prayer in front of her face. The background is pale blue, with a pale gold moon behind the subject and pale hands with reddish fingertips reaching out from the top of the frame. End ID.]

This visual was created using @/sunflower.stoian's Picrew, which can be found here.

[Image ID: An illustration made using Picrew. The subject is a woman with white skin, shoulder-length white hair, eyes with black sclerae and pale white-blue irises with no pupils, and a gentle smile. She wears a light blue sleeveless dress with a scalloped neck and a teardrop-shaped chest cutout and matching dangling earrings with blue beads at the ends. The background is pale blue, with sketchy white clouds and an opaque white circle directly behind the subject. End ID.]

This visual was created using @/brightgoat's Picrew, which can be found here.

[Image ID: An illustration made using Picrew. The subject is an older woman with blue-white skin freckled with purple, long white hair, eyes with swirling black and white sclerae and no irises or pupils, and a scowl that shows sharp teeth. She wears a low-cut grey dress in the style of an evening gown, a thick ornamental necklace with black jewel accents and repoussage detailing, and earrings in the shape of masks, with each featuring one side with an eye and the other blank. White roses appear to be growing underneath her eyes, and a jagged purple scar reminiscent of lightning splays across the bridge of her nose. Rimmed in red, a black eye with a white iris sits in the middle of her forehead, and white hands grasp at her scalp and stretch out behind her head like a crown. The background is a realistic beach under a starless black sky, with distorting particle effects overlaying the image. End ID.]

#character art #id in alt #three images this time! bella (middle one) is the one she uses the most though

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scattered-irises · 8 months ago

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Hi everyone, here is a folder full of all my horrible experiments. Some highlights include:

Dance the Night ft. Kaito and Christopher

A Cruel Chris' Thesis

Chris tries to sing Chinese opera

Washing Machine Heart ft. Kaito

Rolling in the Deep ft Chris

AND MANY MORE

#zexal #shitpost #christopher arclight #kaito tenjo #iris' dissonances

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thekimspoblog · 10 months ago

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Gross FotD but...

Iris managed to pop their dislocated shoulder back into place, but it's still sore. Even without this handcuff cutting off the circulation in their ankle, it wouldn't be a good plan to try to bumrush the armed guard. They've been locked up in this gangster's cement basement for over a week, and it looks like they're going to be trapped down here for a while longer. They would have to wait for the perfect opening before making their move. Just try to keep their strength and their sanity until then.

A cockroach had been scuttling around the corner of the dungeon. It would wander out of view, Iris would sleep for a few hours, then when they'd open their eyes, the insect would be crawling towards them again. After three days, the animal was finally within reach. If Iris strained against the shackle, the tips of their fingers could just barely graze the rough brown carapace. The touch still made Iris's skin crawl, but at this point it was hard not to see the roach as a makeshift pet. This was the only other living thing Iris had seen in days; it was Iris's sole source of entertainment for the foreseeable future. Iris managed to kill some ten hours cycling through possible names for the little guy, making a game out of predicting whether the creature would pace clockwise or counterclockwise next. They knew they were probably imagining things, but there was almost a sense of affection, the day the twitching little legs finally climbed into the palm of the prisoner's hand. Did the insect just come close to get a taste of Iris's sweat and blood, or was this some level of intelligence and trust?

The light was dim, but Iris was able to hold the cockroach up close enough to inspect it. God, it was ugly; a face only Mother Nature could love. Iris's sister, Fille could see the beauty in all animals; Fille was just that kind of person. And at least Fille wasn't the kind of vegetarian who only opposed the killing of cute animals; Iris could respect anyone's worldview as long as it wasn't shallow or hypocritical. Fille was of the opinion that if you don't have the stomach to kill an animal yourself, then it was cowardly to outsource that dirty work to anyone else. Iris was inclined to agree; commodity alienation and cognitive dissonance rots the soul; a lack of farm-to-table thinking was a major factor why the world was in the mess it was currently in. But Iris loved meat too much to give it up, so while the siblings shared a set of principles, they had reached opposite conclusions. Fille could be judgmental; darling sister wasn't exactly subtle with her misgivings about Iris's controversial line of work. If Iris knew their sister, she was probably stewing right now, upset that Iris had tried to take on the Bauer Syndicate by themselves and of course gotten their stupid ass captured. It would be fine; when Iris got home, they would prove this mission was nothing they couldn't handle. It's not like they WANTED to make Fille worry; it wasn't their fault Fille loved them! But if Iris didn't take care of these technocrat thugs, who would?

Even with a dislocated shoulder, a groaning stomach, and the toes on their right foot turning purple, Iris knew they were exactly where they needed to be, doing the only thing they could ever be fulfilled doing. Men like Bauer treated everyone like animals; if not chattel to be used and then slaughtered, then vermin to exterminated outright. By embracing their role as a pest, Iris took a little bit of power back from him. They were PROUD to be a fly in the ointment. If Bauer wanted wanted them dead, Iris was damn well going to make him work for it! Most people would be demoralized to be chained down here in the dark, with the rats and the roaches, but Iris wasn't most people. They could make their own light even in total darkness. They could look at a civilization-ending drought and see an opportunity for reform; they could look at a disease-carrying insect and see a symbol of endurance. Iris held the cockroach up to the narrow shaft of light and smiled at it... then stuffed the invertebrate into their mouth and chewed hard, trying not to think about the texture. They swallowed. Fille might not have given in so quickly if she was here, but Iris was sure eventually Fille would have eaten an animal too. Dad had always taught them: "Principles are important. But survival comes first".

#breaking bad #better call saul #fantasy of the day #Iris Wexler-McGill #cw gross #action hero #not fluff exactly but still recycling crime drama tropes

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dinobot · 1 year ago

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something in particular that i felt about higurashi was that a lot of the terrible comic relief (notably excluding irie jokes, which is another topic of great cognitive dissonance for me) feels like it happens between the kids and not between the kids and the viewer and while a lot of the sexual stuff is heightened to cartoonish levels because higu is a cartoon it is rooted in like...the real absurd/awful sexual jokes teens tell with each other and play on each other.

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mercurialbadger · 1 year ago

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Having a lowkey argument with sis about plurality as a self-identifier and it's a fun one because, in her view, failure of plural community stems from the same reason Castanedan servic community or the soulbonds or the tulpamancy or the summonning community or, even earlier, multiple communities have failed - being plural kinda makes it obvious that private property is entirely nonsense.

While in my view, while the above does exist and motivates hate towards community, internal issues have a bit of a different nature, and have more of a specific nature to this iteration.

The starting point is our bioinformatician friend's thread about how the label 'plural' within plural community means little beyond convenient roleplay to push teens' emotional buttons.

Like, PluralKit is an invaluable resource for self-discovery, like pronouns test drive tool and everything, but like. There's a culture about communication not translating into action, about, well, diluting standards of personhood, I guess? It is very much not normie.

I think it is a genetic feature of cognitive dissonant "this is like being trans, but entirely different from being trans", "this is like having disease after being cured" approach, but also a heavy heritage of many of previous communities being outright gnostic cults, and considering the presence of existential psychoanalysis and positive psychology in modern plural community? It's not very far away.

Sis compared this aspirational identity of being "a system" to teenage bully group, and yes, I do not argue about the bully part, but I do put on my Makarenko hat and point out that these people are not on good terms with each other, there's probably a genetic reason in the way community is structured, the reason they act like teens.

Iris thinks that maybe giving them grass to touch will fix it, and here... I am not so sure. It can get worse.

Because in my view, if you give a teenage bully group vodka, money and firearms you don't get adults, you get a Saint Petersburg kommunalka circa 2000, or, worse, East Coast USA Homeowner Association.

Should we abandon 'plural' as a label? No, it's basically dying anyway, but we can milk it for exposure.

#nelke.txt #my life #terrible #plural negativity

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artwithoutblood · 1 year ago

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I’m looking at the First Six and trying to piece it all together. *wild theories begin*

We all know Dorian /pos (bottom right).

The entity above Dorian (middle right) wears a veil so I’m wondering if that’s Delusion.

(middle left) They look like Eri with the bob, pose and clothing/silhouette but have wavy hair instead. I think I saw Aeron putting on this appearance like a mask when they said they could look like anyone. I wonder if this is the original demon of Delirium that gave up the mantle? Or maybe it’s Delirium themselves rather than the previous holder or the Eri we know. Delusion being there too might support this.

(top left) I’ve seen her face and hair before when Aeron was wearing them, switching rapidly between many who were probably these guys. I’m not sure yet who she is.

(bottom left) She looks oddly like Iris who I think will become a recurring character. Will she perhaps undergo the demon process to try and cure her of the parasight then, and take a demon mantle?

I don’t think I’ve met the Fog before, not sure which one she is. Perhaps she’s from God Is In The Radio which I still do need to check out.

Other thoughts -

I’m wondering if the actual demons are the entities with the D names/titles, and the characters we know are more like their representatives on the physical plane. Who have nicknamed and visually customised themselves to their taste. Kind of like angels do the ‘form you can understand’ thing.

This is maybe why they need to fuse their matter with human bodies, it’s material required for embodiment on the physical plane. They literally need to be made flesh. (And it’s why Genesis still needs hair conditioner. He’s a physical avatar. Or do I have this the wrong way around and Delusion, Delirium, Dissonance are the physical manifestations affecting the world? Dissonance isn’t seen when Genesis kills you but it seems it is heard - is it acting through Genesis as a vessel?)

And maybe the ones that were once human need to mesh rather than just be taken over like a shell. So it’s more complicated and painful - if it fails they are destroyed or die. They could retain a fragment of their old consciousness (Eri is still traumatized from life and so is Dorian) and prefer to retain some resemblance to their form in life.

(I wonder if I am looking at the wrong demon for Delirium? Going by the hair the demon I think is them had dark skin and a wavy bob when Aeron wore their appearance. Pre-demon Eri was pale and had long straight hair before cutting it. But Delusion does look different to Aeron.)

Maybe the form we’ve met is just chosen by Eri who kept and hates too much change from his original body. Or maybe there’s a limit on how much you can change an original human body and he just made a few adjustments to feel more comfortable in his gender, plus adopted the haircut (but he did that pre-demon?) and dressed in the archive style.

Dori does still look mostly like he did in life too, aside from the demon eyes and muzzle. (Did Delusion punish him with the muzzle in the same mocking way they pranked Eri with the snake demon eyes? Did silver tongue Dori try to manipulate or lie to them? 👀)

I can’t find the post with the timeline of when they all met though, I don’t remember it matching up like that. And Dori must be extremely forgiving if they’re besties and get intimate. But then Dori does expect forgiveness and intimacy of the murdered Fallen so… When he says he doesn’t know who has the key, is he lying? Aeron does make it look like the muzzle is off. Casanova has a key around his neck. Maybe God did it when Dori went to Hell or maybe Dori made a bargain with Aeron/Delusion during or after being killed. Do you need to still be alive to become a demon?

Idk how the demonification process works or what the rules are. I’m just busily looking for clues and grasping for the lore of the little guys.

My concepts of all this are also somewhat shaped by the Endless from ‘Sandman’. ie. Death appearing as the mortal Didi, or demi-mortal Daniel inheriting the mantle of Dream/Morpheus but slightly altering the form. Morpheus also had a supernatural accessory as keeper of his realm (helmet).

Not a comparison! AWB is its own new thing. Just saying I’m coming from some preformed understandings about archetypes/gods/angels and demons that might not be true here.

[gets out my reading glasses]

the middle-right is greed. she lives in opulence, and i based her design partially off mourners. greed, named prudence, likes her luxuries quietly. she decorates her hands in gold, but the paint melts off. she likes it that way. gilded. she doesn't flaunt it, and she prefers to keep to herself.

gluttony is the one to the middle-left. they're a hunter who likes fine things. i dont know why i gave them a long, fur coat. i think it's because it was cold. it rains with freezing rain, and he indulges. he does not discriminate in the flesh he salivates over.

top left is limbo. i wrote something about her that i can't remember now. there are lots of lost souls in her caverns. she walks with a lantern and cares where she can. there is a lively community of souls in the caves of limbo.

you are correct about what will happen to iris. bottom left is anger. he hurts himself and others in his rampages, sinks into the swamps and swims around. he just loves to fight.

top right is lust. she walks along the water, strolls through the sand in a long, white dress. references to the birth of venus. she is a virgin of eternal light.

you're more or less correct. the D names was just because having three with the same letter was satisfying on my tongue. they can change their forms at will. aeron does it more often. genesis does it when he feels he needs to. erebus refuses.

in ways they're vessels. due to story reasons, the only entity you see in awb is delusion. for delusion, it lives in aeron's chest. they're the same entity. they act separately but together. aeron can cut their chest open to allow "delusion" more control. they blend together when aeron spaces out. delusion observes life through the eyes of everyone it has ever come in proximity with. it is looking through your eyes right now. it lends aeron with the ability to scan for people to find them, as long as they know who the person is.

dissonance for genesis is used more as a tool. like a weapon fused with his spirit. it is in his music, in his instruments. genesis can use it to create awful sounds in certain proximities to find things or to wreak general havoc. but it's used mostly for the love of music. it's also a bit harder for me to design dissonance. i'm already redesigning delusion. delirium doesn't really need a physical form because it's in the words. you picture delirium yourselves when you read.

the entity and the body are the same, but it comes down to the love of the human world for how they present. the molding with flesh stuff i added just because i thought it was cool, but it can also be because the entities are sort of manifestations. they cannot make physical interactions. you will make a contract with something that looks human, not a ball of energy.

the ones that were once human were chosen by forces they can never hear in more than screams. it is painful. dorian cares little for his time as a human. he remembers it, but he knows that is not the person he is now. erebus is just mad at the world and how it has treated him every step of the way.

delusion and dorian look similar (in delusion's current form, which i may redesign) for other undisclosed reasons. aeron and dorian met when dorian was still alive, but aeron had no say nor any involvement over dorian becoming a demon. no one has a say unless they force it. their meeting was accidental.

genesis does mention he once tried to turn a human into a demon who ended up going insane. brutus hungers for flesh and the sinews in your shoulders like a rabid dog. if the person does not erupt into gore, they erupt into hysteria.

just as limbo must always be in gloom, just as lust may never touch another person with her skin, dorian must be chained. i have no reason for this other than "muzzle look cool" and angst. i do not know who has the key. it doesn't matter for dorian's story. he is fine as-is.

casanova shoutout btw i love cannibal sweetheart he just jumpscared me in this.

#10:16 ask #awb ask #aeron ask #dorian ask #genesis ask #erebus ask

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