#moth's unnamed project | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mightbeorphanedidk · 8 months ago

Note

Hi!!! I fuckin love your works. Saw you got banned LMAO what did you do

Are there any new fics to be written, or are you still working on those WIPs you mentioned

LMAO Thank you sm! <3 I had a little oopsy daisy with the moderation and my posting privileges have been revoked until the 24th of April.

Edit: can't reply to you guys either so sorry about that 😭😭

I am still working on those requests and WIPs, but I do have a few smaller ideas that I have planned! I was actually going to ask you all which to do first, so I know what's in high demand when I get back. I'm writing these in the order that they're in on my megadraft so.

1. Epilogue for "Sex Sells," The Moth Cries As He Runs From The Rampant Deer: I'll just be explaining what happened to Val after getting his ass kicked, with a bonus news report about the incident. Nothing too snazzy.

2. Story about languages in the hotel (unnamed): I heard a hc floating around that in Hell, everyone speaks their native language (So Charlie Latin, Alastor Creole French, Angel Italian), but there's a sort of translator to remove language barriers. This fic is a sickfic as well, in which not ONLY does the illness make you speak your first language, it has you blurt out the truth of what you think without second thought. Everyone at the hotel is fallen victim to it.

3. Sleepy times yayyyy: Literally just a 5+1 fic. 5 times Alastor is tasked with putting everyone to bed, 1 time he's being put to bed.

4. Hunger fic: Charlie deals with a difficult client, but ends up giving them a room. Everyone hates him, so Alastor decides to do something. Charlie doesn't exactly approve of Alastor’s snack and bans him from eating anything that Charlie doesn't give him herself. Alastor now deals with hunger, locked away in his room, until he finally snaps and goes against the princess. Charlie tries to fix her mess, Alastor goes full-on predator animal mode, and everyone else is just along for the ride. Heavily angsty, and relies on the hc that Alastor's hunger is only satiated by sinner flesh.

5. Radiosilence psychological fic: Something greatly weakens Alastor and Vox finds out. He uses it against him, kidnapping the deer, and melds his brain while he's weak. A slowburn(?) Fic of Alastor’s mindset, while in Vox’s captivity, going from "I need to get out of here and kill him" to "I can't live without him" each time Vox puts him under hypnosis. No g(rape) but very messed up. Also, predicted to be the length of the Angel AU i wrote.

6. Nightmare fic: So Lucifer uses his funky magic to project Alastor’s dreams onto a screen. Don't ask me how. Instead of cheesy romances or cliche power-possessing dreams, Lucifer sees something much, much more messed up. And damn, he regrets it so much.

7. Non-consensual drugging fic: Another torture fic. Lilith injects Alastor with a drug that makes him see everyone around him as someone he loves. This was in attempt to get him more attached (and ergo more obedient) to her but it backfires when he manages to escape to the hotel just as she inserts it. Ensue Alastor freaking out about why his mother is staring at him from the bar but also in the kitchen and simultaneously coming down from the stairs, when in reality, everyone’s just going about their days.

This might not have made sense, so sorry about that. I'll put up a little poll for you guys to pick which you're more excited for. That way, I'll work on it and make sure I post that first when I get back. :)

"Author pick what YOU wanna write!!" i wanna write all of tjem and idk which to prioritise. You guys pick first.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #ao3 stuff #archive of our own #fanfiction #one sided radiostatic #hazbin vox #chapter updates #customer service at its finest

10 notes · View notes

writeintrees · 1 year ago

Text

please ask me about my wips!

Claws in the Canopy: my primary novel following a biologist named Bennett as he explores an alien planet and picks up an animal companion along the way

An Echo of Sapphire: my 2022 NaNoWriMo project. multiPOV with two main characters Ari and Moth who rebel against a corrupt megacorporation

✨Unnamed Prequel WIP✨: dualPOV following Flora, a crew member on a ship traveling to a new planet and Arlo, a hypersleeper who wakes up fifty years before he is supposed to

or any of my short stories including Seal Bay Summers and The Woman in Purple

#writeblr #writing #milo speaks

24 notes · View notes

kristal · 2 months ago

Text

Scared Shirtless (A illustrated Legacy of Kain OC origin story)

A origin story for Cambriel, my Legacy of Kain (Zephonim) OC. Also Crossposted to Archive of Our Own for easier viewing.

Mature rating and setting written in First Person (Cambriel's POV) until the end, where it swaps to 3rd.

Content tags:

Violence, Blood, Death, Horror, Don't trust vampires. Mention of bugs/insects

Characters:

Cambriel (OC) , Zephon, Raziel (for a bit), unnamed Zephonim

SUMMARY:

Being a human in Nosgoth during Kain's crusade is suffering. Being a human tailor no less. Supplies are low, your family's prized source of sericulture is dead and gone. Things are starting to get desperate... But this lonely tailor suddenly gets a mysterious benefactor one night. And Cambriel quickly learns that this becomes the one client he wishes he *never* agreed to.

My name is Cambriel. I’m a tailor and a weaver. Sericulture and tailoring been my family’s trade for centuries even before the vampires came. It is a delicate art that was passed down to me, and… i'm the last. My family and my apprentices I had trained years prior had all been killed long ago by those monsters.

I’ve been told that I should train another…but i’ve already lost 3 of them in my 25 or so years of business in this village to those blood sucking vultures. It’s honestly been a miracle that i’ve made it this long. As life is fleeting in this world. Making it to the age of 35 and not being horribly slaughtered or enslaved is a miracle…But I rather not talk about my losses and instead focus on my stitchwork... It helps me keep my mind at ease between all the chaos outside.

Materials have become harder to come by for my village. Deliveries are rare due to vampire raids outside the village’s walls. Cotton is scarce as more and more crops fail each year. It’s gotten so dire that we’ve started to use scraps of older clothing. A tear along the seam? An easy fix with a needle and thread. A hole? I’ll patch it. I’ll try to make it match, but beggars can't be choosers.

I wish I could get my hands on fabrics other than cotton…but it’s become impossible. My loom has been collecting dust for about half a decade now. And my family’s trade secret of farming silk moths had failed twenty years ago. I tried my best with what I had. I tried to keep their favourite food alive, but all it took was a disastrous crop failure to seal their fates.

When the last of my silk brood died, many did not make it to pupation for me to harvest their cocoons or even breed them. The last of my moths died mid metamorphosis. They were so small… It had created it’s cocoon, but it never emerged. I tried finding more in the wild, but it was impossible. They were wiped out decades ago along with their food source. I just had to accept it. So I placed that small silk cocoon inside of a glass jar. Sealing it shut to keep its remains away from the elements and potential scavengers as a memento mori of my family’s history.

I hate to admit it; But their sudden loss hurt me more than losing my apprentices.

So I was left all alone to my own devices. The sounds of my sewing machine stitching together patchwork patches. I was at ease in my home, my monde.

Every night I had a strict regimen. I locked my doors, shut my windows with shutters and locked them from the inside as soon as the sun started setting in the smoke filled skies. Vampires lurked in the night and I refused to answer my door. I’ve heard the yells and screams of unfortunate victims who had fallen prey to them. I’ve even had one slam against my own door as I covered my ears in my bed or pushed the pedal of my sewing machine harder. Hoping the noise would drown out their screams. I wished that the nights were not full of such terrors.

But everything changed after that one night.

It was just after 10 when I heard a loud knock upon my door. Such knocks at this hour only spelt trouble. I ignored it at first until they knocked again.

And again

And again…

“What is it?!” I yelled at the stranger on the other side of the door as I walked over to my desk and grabbed my sharp shears for protection.

“You’re a tailor, are you not?” The stranger spoke.

“I'm closed. Come back tomorrow morning.” I replied with a yawn.

“No. It’s urgent. ” The stranger interrupted me. “My lord requires your services. I need it by tomorrow night.”

“ Tomorrow night?! Do you realize that ill need–”

“I brought the materials.” They interrupted me again. “It is in this parcel. Along with the commission fee.”

I raised my brow. They caught my attention with the mention of a commission fee.

“Fine. Leave it hidden by the door.” I demanded the stranger. “I will take a look at it in the morning, and it will be done by dusk tomorrow. Just get out of here, before they arrive.”

“Of course, of course…I’ll watch my back. I’ll be back tomorrow night.” I listened as the stranger dropped the supposed parcel onto the ground and walked away.

-----

I awoke at dawn and opened my door…This stranger was true to his word. There was a small wax paper parcel wrapped with twine thread. A small letter slipped underneath the twine as I took it into my home. I placed it upon my work desk and carefully opened it. Cautiously peeling back the wax paper as my eyes widened in shock at the sight.

It was silk.

My eyes and my hands couldn’t believe it. It was perfect. I’ve never seen silk this perfect…It had no imperfections and it had a golden sheen when it was caught in the light. Inside was also a spool of white thread and some gold coins. Who the hells was this mysterious benefactor? I thought as I eagerly opened their letter, which contained their request.

“Please embroider my master’s coat of arms onto this silk.”

That was it. Nothing else was written except a drawing of this mysterious benefactor’s sigil. I didn’t recognize it at all. Was this from another colony far away in Nosgoth? I shrugged as I got to work.

I didn’t complain. Embroidery was a simple task I missed doing. I had to stop to conserve my threads as it got harder and harder to get materials. I was finished by mid day as I placed that luxurious silk back into the wax paper and tied it back together. Just before dusk, I placed it back outside of my door before I locked everything away.

The clock struck 10, and once again there was a knock again at my door. I grabbed my shears and held it tight.

“It’s by the door. The parcel.” I yelled at the stranger as I heard them pick it up and unwrap the package. As I heard them let out a gasp.

“It’s perfect! Your stitches are so clean…my sire would be impressed at your work”

Sire? How odd.

“Hey.” I asked the stranger outside. “Where did you get this silk…?”

There was a long pause.

“Would you like to know?” the stranger’s voice seemingly changed at such a question. I felt my heart skip a beat and sweat between my fingers holding my shears.

“My master has a whole collection of fabrics, threads and silk. Would you like to see? ” The stranger asked me. “ I can bring them to you. My master has been looking for a tailor after all.”

“Has he?” I was still on edge with this stranger and his master. “…then bring them. If he pays as well as he did yesterday. I will do any of his requests.”

I wish I didn’t say that. I wish I could take that back.

“Perfect!” the stranger giggled with glee as I heard their heel turn in the dirt and begin walking away from the door. “I’ll return tomorrow night with his requests, Cambriel.”

Wait…

How the hells did he know my name…?

-------

Every night for two weeks straight at 10, they would knock bringing more silk, cotton fabrics and precious thread for his projects. Their master’s requests got more and more complicated as the deadlines grew closer. My hands ached. My eyes twitched at the lack of sleep as I tried to keep up with their demand. I tried to take small rests, but my anxiety was running wild.

Whatever this….person was. Or their master…I wish they would let me rest. As i’ve caught a glimpse of them–or someone peeking through my window rafters in the night. Watching me sew for their master or toss and turn in my bed. Whatever it was, it was watching my every move at night. It had gotten to a point where I was beginning to hallucinate. Days and nights weaved together as the clock ticked away. I’d see bugs on the side of my vision or a crawling spider on the fabric. I’d try to swat it away but it never leaves.

Shirts, coats, pants, garments, drapes, some capes… the list goes on and on as I place my head down on the kitchen table, between my arms only for a moment’s rest.

Only a moment…

I still have 5 hours…

---------

“...Cambriel.”

SLAM!

“Cambriel, this is highly unprofessional of you to not talk to us.”

SLAM!

“After all we’ve given to you, I thought we were friends.”

Huh…?

I raised my head, blinking in confusion as my blurry vision finally made the connection of the noise of splintering wood to my front door being bashed in.

It’s 10 at night. It was them.

Adrenaline shot through my veins in panic as I reached out and grabbed a sharpened pair of scissors–my only way to defend myself as the door was finally breached. Falling to the ground with a thud as the moonlight poured into my home. I finally saw who this mysterious stranger was.

“Oh, Cambriel. it’s not smart of you to avoid us.” The stranger stepped into the room. He was lithe, had short, jet black hair and stood tall. His ears pointed and his hands only had 3 digits. Oh gods…

It was a vampire.

I was dealing with vampires.

A second one walked in standing taller than the other and barely wearing some strange type of armour. It barely covered his skinny chest and connected to a shoulder plate.

“I’d even brought my sire–”

Fight or flight. I didn’t dare listen to that vampire or let him finish. I dashed towards the staircase, knocking down anything in my path to potentially slow them down as I ran into my room and quickly shut the door.

I began pushing my drawer over to the door when a voice was heard right behind me.

“You don’t need to do that, Cambriel.” The mysterious voice laughed. As I turned around. watching that second vampire from downstairs easily open and crawl through my window. How the hells did he get up here?! I thought I locked it. I–

“You’ve just trapped yourself in with me. Human.” The vampire smirked. “You should be proud to get my attention. It’s rare for you human cattle to show talent.” He teased me.

“Step back!” I threatened weakly with my scissors. The days without sleep had taken a toll on me as I watched him walk closer towards me. I blinked and he was suddenly in front of me, grabbing my wrist and slamming my body towards the wall as the scissors fell towards the floor.

“Do you really think a pair of scissors would hurt poor old me, Zephon? One of Kain’s sons?!” He hissed. “Come now, you’re a smart human. You should know better than to threaten your patron, and your savior.”

“What the hells are you talking about, vampire?” My eyes narrowed at his words.

“Oh! Good, I must have arrived early. Lucky you.” Zephon smiled. “This village is going to be razed to the ground. And all you humans who can still function will be used for blood letting, breeding and if you’re lucky, slavery.”

“How the hells is that lucky?!” I hissed at him as he rolled his eyes and grabbed my neck. Pinning me to the wall with a ‘shush’ like one would to a troublesome child or pet.

“But that’s with the other clans. I see your potential, Cambriel. The others do not and would waste it. You would make an excellent tailor for my clan; the Zephonim. And we have all the tools, fabrics and threads you need…” His spare hand reached beside my head to ‘pull’ something from behind my ear. Like a child’s magic trick. “...and some friends.”

He opened his palm to reveal a white silk moth. Fully formed and healthy. My eyes were wide in shock, tears forming at seeing one alive after so, so long. The sounds of glass breaking and screams outside my window shook me back into reality. The other vampires like Zephon had warned have finally arrived, and began their carnage in the village.

“Time is running out, Cambriel. What will it be?” His claws are still holding my neck in place.

“You can either die here, become a slave to the other clans…or join us Zephonim. We will take care of you. Your every whim and request granted. I will promise you protection and that you will be a slave no longer. I will elevate you.”

It was a deal with the devil. I bit my lip in frustration, peeling some of the dried skin as I debated internally on my lack of choices.

“....I’ll go with you.” I mumbled. Resigning to my fate to a vampire.

“Excellent choice, Cambriel.” Zephon applauded as he finally let go of my neck. “To get out of here, you must believe in me with what I'm about to ask of you next.”

“What is it?” my voice hoarse as I rubbed my sore neck, now marked by Zephon’s claws as I watched him carefully.

“Put this on as a blindfold.” As he pulled out a familiar piece of silk from a pocket. It was the same one he first worked on weeks ago. That cursed piece of silk that damned him into this situation. I grit my teeth as I put it on to block my eyesight. The rest of the loose silk covered the rest of my face.

“It has my sigil on it. The other vampires will know not to touch you, unless they want me to execute them for killing his new favorite.” I stood still. Listening to him as he placed his clawed hands upon my shoulders. Leading me forward towards something.

“One. Two. Three paces forward Cambriel.” Zephon whispered close to my ear as I followed his words. I felt a breeze hit my chest. “Now turn.”

“Where are you moving me towards?” I asked him.

“Hush.” He placed one of his claws upon my veiled lips to silence me. The lieutenant looking towards the window. “Remember what I told you, to trust me for a moment? Well…”

He shoved me back, the back of my legs tripping and–

Oh gods!--

FWUMP!

“I lied.”

----------

The sickening noise of a body hitting the ground caught Raziel’s attention as he looked over to his left towards the tailor’s home. …It was indeed the poor tailor’s. Cambriel’s head had cracked open and blood pooling out from his fatal wounds after hitting the cobblestone path leading to his home.

“Did you really have to do that?” Raziel groaned as Zephon crawled out of the home's window to look down at his handiwork.

“Well yes , and no.” He laughed as he crawled his way down. “He barricaded the way out. I'm not going to show him the way with a blindfold on–or have him whine or complain as I take him home. So having him temporarily dead is just easier to carry back.”

Raziel rolled his eyes at his brother, pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhaled loudly. “Right…May we begin with the rest then?” looked over to the village below.

“Of course, brother dear.” Zephon looked down at Cambriel’s broken corpse as he grabbed the tailor’s arms and hauled him up. “I held my part of the promise. The rest of those humans I don’t want. So you can keep those and do what you’d want with them. As i'm sure you’d like more blood for your banks.” The skinny vampire chuckled as he inspected the tailor's fatal head injury, fresh blood still dripping down from his crushed skull as the Zephon patted down his bloodied hair.

"As for you.." Zephon mumbled to the corpse. "You're going to have a bit of a headache, But you're going to one of my star fledglings~" He giggled as he began dragging Cambriel back towards his new home.

----------

#ao3 fanfic #legacy of kain #legacy of kain OC #cambriel #origin story of sorts #cross posted to Ao3 last night to archive it #First fic for LoK I just love the setting of Nosgoth #Zephon #cw: blood #cw: violence #zephonim #cw: bugs #lmk if i missed a tag im new to this

3 notes · View notes

van-goghs-smoking-skull · 6 months ago

Text

WIP GAME

Thank you for tagging me, @osiris-iii-bc

RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Fics:

Tangent

A Toast to Hell (Fragments)

Dream Cycle (WIP status until I die)

[unnamed and not posted online] (I'm thinking maybe 'Blessed Are The Meek' as the title, but it's not set in stone)

Drawings:

Visiting friend (moth)

Game idea:

Cardstalk

Music:

Nothing at the moment or in the near future

Tagging: I have seen a few pals already tagged so I’ll tag the ones I haven’t seen around, @awesome--fangirl, @panthermouthh, @watercolourferns, @lupinedreaming, @endreal, @vinceaddams

(TBF, with 23 projects unfinished, I'm not holding the last one to the 'tag as many people as you have WIPs' rule, though to be perfectly honest, I'm not holding any of you to that rule, and I'm not even requiring you to participate - this is a fun WIP game, and not meant to be anxiety-inducing)

#wip game #writing #drawing #music #textiles/sewing #art of any kind

3 notes · View notes

transskywardsword · 4 months ago

Text

with Here I Go, Pretending To Be You nearing its final chapters, and with it my TOTK swap au almost being completed, I’m getting ready to start a new project and would love some input. A few weeks before totk came out I started A Moth Drawn To A Flame, a sidlink au exploring Hyrule a year after the Calamity was defeated, which was never finished as it didn’t mesh with totk at All. Ive been wanting to redo it and rewrite it and finally finish it for ages now. I’ve also had another story bouncing around my brain, a revalink angst fest taking place pre calamity from Revali’s pov. Is there one in particular yall would be more interested in?

- Moth Drawn To A Flame (sidlink with alternating POV, post botw, political intrigue/political drama, hurt/comfort with healing from trauma, competent Yiga Clan, accidental child accusation and raising, happy ending)

- Unnamed Revalink Fic (pre calamity, Revali pov, enemies to lovers, potentially one sided/unrequited, lots of world building and character developing, especially with the champions and in the Rito, sad ending/mcd)

6 notes · View notes

your-local-grubdog · 2 years ago

Text

Pikmin Fandom Monthly: February 2023

Welcome to the first edition of Pikmin Fandom Monthly! This is just a little monthly series I'd like to do where on the first day of each month, I share neat fan projects from the pikmin fandom made in the previous month! For this I will be focusing on creative projects (so no analysis or theories, at least for now). For this first edition, all entries will be ones that I have found and enjoyed but in the future I hope to have some that were recommended to me as well! (Most of these entries are from Tumblr as a result, oops.) No images or snippets will be posted to these: all entries will be links to where the artists have posted the original work!

Please feel free to leave suggestions in the comments about how to handle this series in the future and of what March 2023 works should be included in the next edition! Any creative pikmin fan work is welcome, so long as it was made during this March.

This will also be cross-posted to Pikmin Park!

With all that out of the way, here are our categories!

Multi-Page Fan Comics and Visual Ask Blogs

We only have one of these for this month, that being Pikmin x Weirdcore - a visual ask blog over on Tumblr! It's fairly surreal, but it's been a lot of fun thus far! Olimar, Louie, and the Koppaites have all crashed on PNF-404 (again) and have been separated (again). This time, however, it seems a beast that is other-worldly even to PNF-404 is after them now. Quick warning, the artist has stated that there will be violence, glitchy imagery, and body horror in this one!

Fan Art and One Page Comics

Aka the largest collection I've gathered this month!

Firstly is Professor Pikton by Buttery Cuties! A purple pikmin dressed up like Professor Layton to celebrate the upcoming games in both franchises, how cute!

Corromon drew this Olimin, which simply looks great! Poor Olimar certainly needs a hug, though.

Higgy also drew Olimar - two Olimars, in fact! The sketchy style and expressions are very pleasing to look at, and I adore his little boots.

Next up, Alph (rightfully) worries over Louie's eating habits in this short comic by Cirtus. The style closely resembles how the characters look in-game, which is a very nice cherry on top of how sweet and charming this two-panel comic is.

SparrowOvO drew this amazing art of a baby snagret sitting with a very spooked ice pikmin. I don't even know where to start with this one - the colors, lighting, texturing, and expressions are all just so good. This may easily be my favorite out of this month's fan art!

Zombunny drew three of our four new leaders with Oatchi! They're all so adorable, and this looks great (as for where our unnamed bald friend is, he is reportedly in jail for tax evasion, among other crimes. (For legal reasons, this is a joke.))

This next entry is apparently older art, but it wasn't posted until this February, so here's this really cool idea for a phosbat variant: the Beguiling Phosbat by vehemoth-phosbitch! This beautiful little beast can withstand sunlight and is based more so on the luna moth (and maybe the flying fox as well, but I may be wrong).

Louivi drew this gorgeous piece simply captioned as Smokey Progg. The colors, the textures, it's all so good an so very haunting. Perfect for the little horror that is the smokey progg in game!

And last but certainly not least is the only piece of fan art that didn't come from Tumblr: this beautiful art of all four of our new leaders hanging out, made by Porinu! They all look adorable, each with their own pose! I particularly like how our unnamed pink friend looks - she seems so curious and even innocent to a degree.

Fanfiction and Written Ask Blogs

Once again, I only have one piece for a category. This time, it is Safe in A Father's Embrace written by PiperRose90. This story may be very short, but it is also very sweet! Olimar must make sure that Louie and Alph will be okay for the night - they are practically his sons now, after all!

Other Works

Firstly is this amazing little sculpture of a pyroclasmic slooch by Tete's DIY! This video shows their process for making the little sculpture from start to finish - including how they made the "fire" really glow!

Creative Sushi did this wonderful little cosplay of the Hocotate Freight Ship! It looks fantastic, and all of the little details really show how much love and effort went into the creation of this cosplay.

Kevin Fagaragan animated this adorable concept for a pikmin 4 ending - don't worry, there's no spoilers! Just overwhelming cuteness as the pikmin hang out and dance with Oatchi.

And to wrap all of this up is yet another animation! In Wooden Turtle's Do Not Pet the Baby Snagrets, not even Olimar can resist how adorable these new additions to the pikmin planet are! But, ah, it seems that leads him into a bit of trouble...

Thanks for sticking around until the end! I hope I get to do more of this in the future, I really want to be able to show off what the fanbase can do! Please, give any and all of the artists featured here a follow - and feel free to suggest works to be featured next month! I'll see you on April 1st with the best of what March had to offer (with minimal fooling around... probably).

#pikmin #pikmin fandom #borb screams

24 notes · View notes

thevalleyoftriumph · 1 year ago

Note

11 13 5

11] give a general summary of the plot/world/characters.

OK SO I HAVE. A HANDFUL OF STORIEZ that i havent commented on publicly yet so im choosing my umm actual original story. instead of my like roblox ocz. ok ? ok.

so uhh the story is [dropping the z's] unnamed. as of rn. bcos i cant be assed. BUT! its a very modern fantasy esque kinda thing but like Real casual about it. humans and vampires and werewolves and robots and androids and all sorts of things you can think of, theyre probably there.

while its relatively close to our world [save for The Everything] theres also things like magic, ghosts, etc. one of these things is these little void. emotion eater things. theyre created by a strong collection of negative emotions in one area, and they eat em! usually this results in temporary relief for any individual people they eat from, so theyre not really a Bad thing, but a lot of them around an area or one following someone is Usually not a good sign. sometimes theyre also created by people with unfinished business dying, but being unable to finish that business is what seperates them from ghosts.

the plot of the story follows acheron, a moth boy going to college for psychology and stuff, and who deals with a HELL of a lot of depression. he had lost his best friend recently, and ontop of childhood trauma, is just straight up Not Having A Good Time. despite doing good in school and having friends he loves and who loves him, he cant seem to get any better - until one day, a void creature named snapdragon starts following him around, trying to convince him to be its full time food source.

he rejects its offer, because if he wants to get better, he wants to work through his issues on his own terms at a natural pace. instead though, he soon learns that snapdragon has its own issues - namely, being it wasnt born like this, and was instead murdered as a once living person. so, it bargains with acheron, and convinces him to let it stay so that he can help it find out who killed it, bring them to justice, and let it finally move on. obviously, things dont go as planned, and a bunch of stuff happens :3

13] how long have you been working on this project? what has changed from the outset?

oh a few years now, if i had to say! the idea came to me innn 2020 i wanna say? and i only started working on it 2021/2022. pretty new but its been through a bunch of reworking and stuff.

most of whats changed as been character designs! the story has stayed relatively the same, but designs themselves have been tweaked a few times. ive been considering redesigning acheron and finally getting around to designing his friends [other than his One[1] friend w a design rn] but ahhh im lazy <3

other than that uhh. god probably how i characterize snapdragon has changed the most. its still a very classic flirty kinda-mischievious guy, but its general personality has Def been reworked from its original. :3

5] pick a theme song for the tv adaptation.

OK THIS ONE HAD ME THINKING A BUNCH BECAUSE IIII COULD NOT THINK OF ANYTHING but after some thought and consideration [and a lot of rummaging thru my youtube songs playlist] ive decided onnn

"end the dance." by chonny jash :]

#kitkat chitchat #kits ocs

3 notes · View notes

clanofjones · 10 months ago

Text

Fourth(?) and final batch!!

L to R, top to bottom:

@noisygardendragon/@iisthings, @mostlyvoid-partiallyturtles, @just-another-tired-gay-artist, @wingstobetorn, @chaos-potat, @randyzorra, me ^^, @ghosty-0w0, @mikey-rottmnt

The next update will be all songs with partial coloring, and other logistics.

As usual, lmk if I need to change anything!

#moth's unnamed project #others sonas #sona ref #sona ref sheet #line weight is all over the place so ignore that lmao

36 notes · View notes

tehaspy-spec-evoposting · 1 year ago

Note

for you

Aww, thanks man! Just for this I'm going to give you a rant about my newest project

(Also now I know how happy I'm making people now that it was done to me)

Oh hey I know how to make a cut. Now time for Gaianos.

Somewhere in my Tale Of Humanity as that's just where I shove planets that I develop now, there lies a star system with a peculiar planet. You see, this planet, which I call Gaianos after the greek gods Gaia and Thanatos, is incredibly far away from its (as of yet unnamed) host star, yet it's tidally locked towards it. In fact, it's so far away that it took until life on it was in a golden age in order to make the sun-facing side uninhabitable.

This is still in its early stages, but here's the gist. In the early ages, the north part of Gaianos (relative to the terminator line as it's tidally locked) was an ocean, with the largest landmass being about the size of zealandia (look it up). As time progressed, a lot more solar energy made it to the planet, eventually making all the oceans more north than about three degrees north of the terminator line evaporate. It doesn't do that until life is in a golden age though.

The only two lifeforms I made were both for the end times, and here they are.

The Silicophytes are a group of plants that live just about as far north as life can go. They survive by having a silica shell around their leaves(?). They'll diversify immensely to come later, but this project was started yesterday, so I haven't built those future plants yet.

The newest lifeforms I made are a group of terrestrial, radially symmetrical aliens called the Aliennots (descendants of the Anemonots). They move using three legs, and they have two eyes on the base of each leg. Once again, they're new, so I haven't made much with them.

Anyway, do you like it moth?

#if anyone wants more worldbuilding the dopamine I get from asks is so good ASK ME #loreposting #The Tale of Humanity project #aspie infodumping #I love you (platonic)

3 notes · View notes

whump-town · 4 years ago

Text

God’s Gonna Cut You Down

Hear me out: I have no idea what this is but I’ve got three thousand words of this shit and it just keeps coming so before I throw myself into this new project, I’m gonna let you guys dip your toes in and see if you guys like and then I’m going to keep going anyways but--

Anyways, stay tuned for my rendition of Hotch’s backstory:

November 2, 1971

Virginia in the fall finds itself choking on tourists ambling about wherever they can find a high spot to rest. Stopping to watch deer jump out from the underbrush or hear receding birds shrieking their discontent at being found. The mountains draw in lots of attention but they’re hard to miss from a distance and there’s something about woods that draw the curious dangerously close. Moths to the light, there’s something about hearing the woods call out that never makes people question things as much as they should. Never thinking to back away until it’s too late.

In a 50s Crosley station wagon, Aaron Hotchner is born silently. His father’s large hand over his still, pale chest as he makes no move to draw in a breath. It’s the woods calling his unnamed body-- attempting to lure the baby away from the life that awaits him. In the woods, deep where there is no warmth or chills only comfort and ease. Where he’ll never know the sting of the palm urging his little lungs to work across his face. He’ll be safe from the monsters that await him in the future he doesn’t have to have if he just comes to the woods. To their safety and their love.

Two blue eyes crack open and for a moment all that is shared in that car is silence. Stuck right between life and death, abated breath. A soft whimper leaves the newborn’s bluing lips, squirming his limbs as he struggles on in this life that he has chosen. His mother pulls herself up to look at her son and husband, fearful of both of their silences that seem to continue to stretch dangerously on. She’s meant only with fear and the sight of her baby’s struggling limbs falling limply as his little chest remains still.

“He’s not breathing, Mary.”

Aaron Hotchner is born during heavy rainfall, a peculiar way to find Virginia in November. The chill of the outside air rests heavily over him and when he is placed on his mother’s chest she recoils from the feeling. Shocked and overcome with fear for the child she has felt grow within her. The baby who delivered such strong kicks to her ribs and bladder now still and unmoving on her chest.

“We have to go to the hospital.”

Clutched to his mother’s breast, she makes whispered promises. Attempting to lure her baby closer, to be louder than the woods her husband speeds through. Come home. Come home. She brushes her finger through the mess on his face, wet and sticky. His little arms and legs are drawn tightly to his chest as he rocks back and forth as the car barrels down the road.

“Just stay,” she pleads. “I’ll protect you.”

The hospital tears them three ways.

His father’s angered shout sounding out behind him, making him jump, and for the first time in all his life, he gives a lively jerk. Little eyes peeling back open and lips parting. “Did daddy scare you?” a nurse coos. She rubs her finger along his sternum, making him squirm away from her and the unpleasant feeling. “There you are, sweetie. Go ahead and cry for me. Let me hear those lungs.” They press a stethoscope to his chest, listening to his lungs and attaching wires onto him. Still nothing.

“He’s a little bluish, hands and feet too.” A nurse coos, trying to get some reaction out of the baby seemingly content on just staring back and allowing his limbs to be pulled and moved at their will. “Heart rate is good. Respirations low, no cry. He’s about a four on the Apgar.” Not good but it’s something.

A priest is called in the dead of the night. He comes down the long winding hall, seemingly floating along a breeze as his long coat snaps back from his waist as he walks. The night is unsettled, he can feel it where his ribs meet his sternum. Just over his heart. Death walks alongside him but it’s not a race, it is up to neither to see how tonight turns.

The priest enters the room without a knock, the room’s occupants wait for him. He can feel their unease fill the room to its brim. What a way, he thinks, to greet a child into the world. No wonder the poor thing finds itself in such trouble so soon. Born to young parents, not the youngest he’s seen but they still carry that light in their eyes he only sees in the young anymore. He officiated their wedding, the first person to greet them into this new world as Mary and Richard Hotchner. Since that day nearly a decade ago, he has been called to their side many times. The Lord has not found this couple as fruitful as their peers. Much younger couples, in and out of wedlock, have conceived and brought babies to term.

Today, the priest prepares to pray for another poor soul. To recite scripture and confirm that all in due time, Mary and Richard must have faith. God will give them their chance. Maybe not this time or the times before that but in time. Everyone has their time.

The old priest hovers over Aaron, wrinkled hand resting just over where Richard’s had willing life into his little chest. His palm is met with warmth and if there was a diving rod for the religious, he would know it. As he knows here the shaky breathes of the newborn awaiting the most important decisions of his short life. “He has a good heart,” the old priest croaks. He moves from the bassinet, smiling at Mary.

She’s a beautiful woman, with or without the bruises marring her pale flesh. The old priest takes her hand, stroking the back of her knuckles while she watches him with fear. She already mourns the child, he feels it. “Born into the rain,” he whispers, with a hopeful smile. “A symbol of promising harvest, you know.” He glances at Richard, sees that distrust and anger that burns brightly in the tall, thin man. He speaks to Richard now, draws the young man in with a voice as old as time itself. “God,” the priest promises, “he’ll do right by your family, Richard. Have faith in him, in that boy.”

Mary sniffles, shooting a glance at her husband before turning to the priest. “We’re going to name him Aaron,” she tells him, shivering as though feverish. With a shaky smile, she pulls her blanket over her arms, hiding them from view under the look of drawing her limbs closer to draw comfort.

The old priest forces a smile, “it’s a good name. Strong. The name of Moses’ older brother, as I’m sure you already know.” There was once a time when Mary was just a girl in his Sunday school classes with lopsided pigtails and a bright, eager smile. Smart as a whip, it’s what he thought would get her out of this suffocating town. She got herself stuck in Richard’s fence, wire cutting down to the bone, and she learned to stop moving. Now they wait for the flies or something bigger, something worse to come along and end her suffering. No farmer with his sawed-off shut gun. A slow, bleeding end.

Aaron, the priest repeats back to himself. Exalted. Enlightened. He looks over at the bassinet, to the little fist the baby has curled around one of the wires snaking in and around his body.

Bearer of martyrs.

With a sad sigh, the priest already knows that boy’s fate.

#ps his eyes are blue bc some babies are born with blue eyes that darken overtime #don't overthink it #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

57 notes · View notes

themulberrytree · 4 years ago

Text

character sheet.

full name: Shallan Davar pronunciation: Sha-Lahn Dah-var (fuck IPA i am not doing that shit again)

nicknames: strong one (by hoid), love, dear (by adolin), storming woman (mostly by kaladin)

height: 5′6″ age: 19/20 (rosharan years) / 21-22 (earth years) zodiac: gemini (donut ask me when her bday is i donut have a date yet) languages: (spoken/written): veden (native), alethi, azish, selay (moderate skill in speaking only) thaylen (reading/writing only).

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour: rich, deep red, only red. eye colour: bright blue skin tone: shallan is very fair, though she spends as much time in the sun as she can, so her face is dusted with freckles. body type: slim and slender. unlike the curvaceous body type often seen on alethi women, shallan is much smaller both in figure and stature. she could be mistaken for delicate, at first glance. as she spends more time training with her blade, her body becomes much more defined and muscular, but she will never achieve any kind of bulky muscles, she simply does not have the body type.

accent: her natural veder accent would be considered low, given shallan’s isolation out in the countryside. she can speak in a more posh (re: acceptable) accent, but she has little reason to do so. dominant hand: right posture: shallan has the posture of a perfect vorin lady, back straight and shoulders back at all times. when sitting, her freehand always covers her safehand, placed delicately in her lap unless she is sketching. when walking, her hands are clasped in front of her. she is rarely animated in her posture when speaking, and depending on her company, she works hard to blend in. when alone, shallan may slouch when studying, or do her work in a very unlady like fashion on her bed. if she trusts her present company, they may witness this lapse in acceptable posture, but only if she trusts them.

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth: jah kaved hometown: some hick town in the middle of the countryside. birth weight / height: 6 pounds, 3 ounces. 18 inches. manner of birth: natural first words: pa siblings: (all elder, all brothers) helaran, balat, twins: wikim and jushu parents: lin davar, and an unnamed mother, malise davar (step mother), all deceased. parental involvement: shallan remembers a somewhat happy childhood (although the likelihood of that being the case is up for debate). her mother taught her how to draw, and was in charge of shallan’s education in the early years. much of her early years have been forgotten due to the trauma of shallan’s witnessing (see: committing) her mother’s murder. she did not speak at all for half a year afterwards. from that point on, her father became overbearing, and with each year he was less of the man shallan had first known. he was violent towards two of her brothers and the servants, often scaring away tutors, so shallan’s education in those critical years was sporadic at best. her father demanded complete obedience, and any deviation on her part meant that a servant got beaten in her place. in order to spare them and placate her father, shallan worked hard to draw little attention to herself and obey. it was her father who also chose her devotary (purity) rather than her having the opportunity to choose for herself.

ADULT LIFE

occupation: she is the ward of jasnah kholin, having managed to convince the woman she was worthy of wardship at seventeen. after being taken in, shallan begins her education in scholarship, fine tuning her skills in making logic based arguments, study, and critical thinking.

on the shattered plains, she secures work with highprince sebarial as a clerk while maintaining the work in finding urithiru that she started with jasnah, and working to infiltrate the secret group known as the ghostbloods.

she latter assumes a more public role as a knight radiant, the first of the order of lightweavers in centuries. while her status as a radiant is known, she works very hard to keep her work covert. she deals in spywork and information, and uses her lightweaving to form disguises for herself and associates. she has also used her abilities to battle unmade, work oathgates, and help run reconnaissance in kholinar.

as highprincess, her duties would include helping manage affairs of the realm and detecting intrigue to better aid her husband.

close friends: lmafo what are those????? jk, her brothers, later adolin, renarin, kaladin, jasnah (sort of, more teacher/student) wit/hoid (when he’s around). relationship status: verse dependent, married to adolin kholin in canon financial status: her family is destitute, and shallan herself has little experience in personally handling money. that being said, she knows how to balance finances and plan expenses. when working for sebarial, she manages to secure a comfortable pay from him, her later marriage secures her financial security, though her status as a radiant could’ve done that too. driver’s license: she could probably drive, but would be terrible at it due to the fact that she’d keep lookin out the window. she has little experience on horseback, but can manage. criminal record: technically none yet, having managed to get away with murder twice. she had also stolen successfully from jasnah kholin.

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation: bisexual romantic orientation: biromantic, could be polyromantic preferred emotional role: submissive (someone pls force her to accept comfort i am beggin) | dominant | switch | unsure preferred sexual role: submissive | dominant | switch | sex repulsed | libido: she’s basically DTF anytime and anywhere, and yes, i wish i were kidding, but she’s just horny on main. turn ons: she’s into more traditional kinds of attractiveness, people who look put together. but she really enjoys some kind of hint at wildness, hair that won’t quite stay, a kind of subtle ruggedness. post-battle disheveledness is HOT. allow her to talk about her studies, things she’s working on or wanting to start, she’ll love that. don’t be afraid to talk about your own interests, she goes off on her own a lot, so she’ll want someone with their own hobbies too. be kind, be willing to grow and change and share. be there if she asks. laugh at her absolutely fucking awful jokes. on the more physical side, not being afraid to show affection in public. that spot on the neck below the ear? yeah, kiss it. leave a mark. kiss the inside of her wrist. do not be afraid to be rough with her, she’s not easily hurt and she doesn’t always like being treated like a china doll. go to town. BUT you must also be good at taking your time. tenderness is a good trait to have in every day life, but if you can translate that into the intimacy of the bedroom, give her a slow buildup, ur golden. turn offs: unnecessary rudeness, lack of independence. anyone who treats her like she needs protecting, or thinks she needs to confine herself in some way, for any amount of time. never laughing at her terrible jokes, or indulging her seemingly random curiosities. being a skybreaker. love language: physical touch is primary, but quality time and words of affirmation are also great. relationship tendencies: shallan has a tendency to fall fast. even when she’s telling herself to be careful and take things slow, it’s easy to pull her in and have her grow an attachment on a superficial level fairly early. she’s good about letting the other person lean on her for support, but she’s not so great when it comes to sharing anything deep about herself. she has a habit of trying to mold herself into what she thinks the other person would like, and clinging to that. if confused she might play around with feelings, though she’s not fully aware she’s doing it. she’s big on positive reinforcement, she’ll let you know if she enjoys your company, and when she’s invested in the relationship, she’ll look for fun ways to spend time with that person. she might attempt to appear more serious and mature than she is, but her silliness will slip out. when she loves though, she loves completely, and a distracted heart is settled once she makes a decision about what she wants.

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song: flowers, from ha.des.town iris, goo goo dolls moth’s wings, passion pit: this is more a general vibe. i picture it when shallan is in a creative spurt. sun, sleeping at last: for the same creation aesthetic. fire drills, dessa (for when she finally Snaps. and also some lines just really Hit)

hobbies to pass the time: drawing is the big one. she’s always got her sketchbook and something to draw with on hand. it’s an art she’s perfected and uses it both for her lightweaving, and to relax. she enjoys scholarship, exploring history is of a special interest, but taking a closer look at the local flora and fauna is just as fun. she’s naturally curious, so if something grabs her attention, she will want to take a look. she also enjoys discussing what she’s working on with other people, sometimes just so she can use them as a sounding board, but also because they might have insights she doesn’t. it’s very fun for her to explore ideas. she likes going on walks, exploring the area around her. just spending quality time with people she enjoys too. mental illnesses: Dissociative Personality Disorder is the big one. ADHD, PTSD, some depression. physical illnesses: None. left or right brained: right fears: CONFINEMENT. she fears vulnerability and relying others, but she also craves it quite a bit. she fears being understood completely because she’s certain there isn’t anything left to love if someone were to see everything. she fears what she can’t understand, and losing the people she loves, more than she already has. self confidence level: extremely low. she projects an air of self confidence, but frequently downplays her talents. she finds it completely astounding that adolin might actually find her attractive in any sense, let alone be interested in her as a person. her trauma and what she precieves as crimes has left her feeling hollowed out, because she is so terrified of someone really Seeing her, she works hard to hide those corners of herself from others and often feels like she’s failing at even that. vulnerabilities: shallan keeps secrets. too many of them. and she can often dig herself into a pit and struggle to get herself out, and even when she’s in that deep, she has difficulty asking for help. she doesn’t always think things through. her dpd can leave her particularly vulnerable depending on which personality is in control (veil in particular has trouble seeing the Big Picture). it’s easy to goad her into a fight (of the verbal variety) and she will stop at nothing to have the last word. if you have members of her family to hold over her, that’s a good tool. and shallan cannot resist a good mystery, that is a surefire way to pull her in.

tagged by: @luck-crowned tagging: @marblecarved (for mary, emma, or horace!), @melnchly (meg or ros), @minastiriiths, @arturiusrex, @gxtenoughnxrve, @ambiidexter, and @arborvitas

#c. shallan #this took me several days of fact checking the books for some shit lmafo #anyway meet my garbage daughter

13 notes · View notes

transsexualism-archive · 4 years ago

Note

the writer ask based on your fics. leo nikolayevich tolstoy hates you

fuck you!!!!! (affectionate)

Rules are: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

(okay, so i only did five, because anything written earlier than 2016 makes me want to keel over and die a violent death: i didn't know english very well back then, also it's all too cheesy. i also omitted the very first lines here and there because they don't work stand-alone and i'm too self conscious about my works and this was hard to go through and why am i doing this @becumsh i hate you)

Craigslist missed connections: the bitter kind of emptiness I feel without you is unlike any other kind of emptiness. A hole in my chest, just under where my ribs meet. I try to hide it but sometimes it feels everyone can see right through it, see how I lack. See how I yearn.

I miss you and, if this is what love feels like, I love you. So much for closure. I wonder if you knew that already, that I love you. Was it written on my face? Did you care to read it?

unpublished as of yet, 2018-2021

spock is standing on the porch. it's late enough that the air is chilly, but the heat still rises from the ground. he's smoking again. jim looks at him from where he's sitting, spock's silhouette sharp where the light from the house catches it.

doctor put his hands over my liver, told me my resentment's getting weaker, 2020

There is a degree of comfort still in what little prayers he remembers, in his rosary, in reciting John to himself as he tries to force his mind not to fall asleep. It's soothing and familiar, like the slightly damp darkness of the church.

mary prays the rosary, 2016

Jim Kirk is not a religious man, but there is a certain holiness to be felt at the altar of another's body, at the rocking cradle of another's hips. It's nature to hide himself in the warmth of pleasure, in the simplicity of movement that is intrinsic to everything that is human, that is living. It's nature, Jim tells himself. It's the pull of the tide, the primal rush that leads the moth to the flame.

story not told but torn apart by greedy hands, 2016

(i know this one and the previous one contradict each other shhh)

Water dirtside had that distinct metallic tinge, Leonard remembers: iron, blooming red like blood in your mouth (or on your hands, on your clothes; rubber gloves and gauze don't do much to keep it away, keep it inside– the bleeding slows to a trickle, then stops, you break the patient's ribs trying to start his heart again). Water dirtside tastes like iron. Kissing Spock tasted like copper, like sucking on nickels.

stumble into love with (awkward, perfect grace), 2016

Afterwards, both of them will remember this careful slide into love with a peculiar sort of fondness.

As it usually happens, at some point the memories of a better, happier time will become the only things that keep them from falling apart and away.

This is how these memories were made.

mazel ra, mazel tov, 2015

my favourite lines are probably from the Unnamed Secret Project and the one about the altar of one's body. i used to have (and still kinda do) this notion that i need to come in strong and that the first paragraph is the most important because it's where the reader decides if they're interested in the story or if they'll click out. i don't know if my writing style necessarily changed, recently i read through some of my stuff and it seems pretty consistent with what i write now, both in terms of stylistics and in terms of grammatic peculiarities. i think i have a pretty distinct style

so idk i don't have any conclusion please read my stuff but only the good ones and not the bad ones

#asks #idk what to tag this as #public embarassment on internet dot web #the au #long post #personal

1 note · View note

leowyattv · 5 years ago

Photo

Steep Grade Fadeaway

Day is a Monday, lease On life’s right side of the low- Lying greens, order’d by law, Creases, offering a hand to hench- Men handy for odd-jobs re- Pression & phobia with wolf spider Ire stocking its stuffing, venom Plenum spokes from eight- legged gait, unipolar police Police who didst to citizen do South bayway sword maneuver —dune ballooning din—kill them :: moths from mothta spread— I’m a member of.— online soap seas cap’n gown loan shark says-he’s—sore lark admin the sole soul food restaurant— vessels contain company that’s it—company THE THING IS IS VANDAL SURE-FOOT’D SHOE YOU’LL DISAPPOINT ME —Dianne of diagnostics Prism blend’d light, you mean honestly ~ i ~, ere Administration's penchant for pens & Cagey humors, pent up & alloted limited stock On pinterest’s pinner plot Would extraction begin, even Helices interr, interject Baby Christ’s liverwurst extrusion, Redux of suede luxe ever does thine slow- f[x] fool on a lark's wing in folly err; But general, the nut sacks, please, topp'd Sweetener glaze (never for gays) Sweat frosting from ecclesiast's evac- Uation jizzum, eat- ery just a- Round the bend over good That IndyCar 500 cock. So: so-so soho block where— Erstwhile free- thinking myth- ology passes heavy limbs Creaking in wind [was thinking we’d] Flower fourteen curls Back & forth, Codify desert sublation, Cue gay porn infinity loop on eternity's Cloud backup-drop forever projected, For your children, Mike, your kids. & this — this (my) ((his)) cursive slick mercurium thick, pen flood in- flux counter-sunk & dumb- Bows, ties, sells quill at marketplace With expertise’s durable advisory, reed Screeching in its rubber friction drift, which quells not squad disruption, squall, Abuts up with a spade to fabled proprietary lines; Umpire enraptured, raptor Pack kinetics study anonymous groups, For scrimmage near miss Miss, the MRSA Merck's Near-fatal tithe. < h o w t i g h t b i r c h b a r k f l a k e s o f f t o g e t h e r ash :: coils :: winch :: draw- in-the-dark rhythms inn-like, quiet, keeping with Queen Mariah Carey's Kierkegaardian wish :: Of lactic acid & Jehoshaphat Edicts, alliances spat at by Jehu So cordage tension its elastics tests :: Hell moans red Waves a porcupine pelt let through Spires sharp with bone, in- Scriptions of pass’d down teaching King-toppling :: hull groan gore, little system submarine ultrasonics, Realty a reality drive, divisions Splints tack’d on ulterior Versions, separation goods Another marketplace subsumption, a- Ah ah, Monarch’s ampersand Armory & orphanage growth paradigm. Mama, in the maw Of a monster it appears When spat to mangrove’s entanglements In whose rootless cloak Womb-like repair’d did I float On Tidal pressure’s pat turns Of wave phrase & coastal sound. Grammy’s telegram Faroff drawing graph’d out In double bass clef, whitebread from the top of Wonderbread ridge, Omi? [[[ hives, hexagon life-rafts Ashkanazi Jews descendents in whose Nameless lineage bow’d heads lean past stalk & branch ]]] Holocaust a hologram to fool’s corner; Survived, devised lives, could I Then, they this disbelief hold After the fact hush, scattering creed, Belief like layers of sound same Overlaid, distortion via copying; this Terrain vague makes us Hungry for disbelief & away,— Shame at sensation’s predicate, we’re not we’re not were not them—then. Characters glynne & surrowe, iyse foes may say will not into world will For will’s sake. Gardner rescinds Offer for cylinder Heads, standing wave pressurized In tubular body, met with lip Aperture shifts & valve Select valve depressions trumpet Walls down, & Solomon’s temple’s walls Shake each brick laid If coded into video- game; mechanics of Megafauna’s jaws dent don’t puncture, dental spread of broom’s Bristles or concrete finishing screed. The lady grabs the keys & allows generations a soul’s Movement to buoy faith :: Clay takes on new shapes for Good, naked bracing Against surface, thrust short Rink’s fire firefly-stud’d, freight’d glows The fright force against density Darkness offers, suspension Cradle, safe durational rock shock’d By freight trains penetrative Expansion, gaseous fits in confines small; Cobbler’s shop a shack, canister Tremolo goes to tumble-wash, Eviction of nuns at Juniper Monastery, things object through Inaction, plants guard fruit from gulls’ gullets, Gourd raft or instrument & species disembark :: Parnassus lamb on spits, spurn Wager’d against poignant Stellation of spur’s star’d points, stud’d. It is rather lonely. Welter Weights waste excess swells In waist’s weight-gain, Spotted once then trimmed, deemed High hinderance if loot’s to be tuned up, then taken; Blood from thin laceration Above the right eye releases threads Of blood; hand held, yes Triads, amps per kilojoule of One grain of sand, which Between toes react, duststorm Shakes clapboards & window-garments, The fornification of conceivable indivisible parts :: Things poole gryn, Graham to you This, saturate, this saturnalia. Wherever sea rummages earth’s crust Sage’s city wisdom, said to overturn off- Compass underpass or Souls inhabitance Herenow splatoon ever in unum Pluribus, A well. If it gets to, it’s off in bramble patch again; Cavernous sediment down- Loads by way of remaining in stasis, Adaptation & change proceed With gradients of such nuance one is Sure as one can be Organisms are a constancy unmoved. English ivy, spry & welcoming Enough to juncos & finch-song, Strangles any individual offering A vertical support, a tall host, From whose apex, were One to climb douglas fir In that Spanaway house’s lot, one would note Yellow blazes from Scotch broom, an infantry Under which camas flower & prairie grass Die off; ecologists hear & provisions provide public. Nova scorch Canopy, What’s happened to it all Primates of later eon ask? Sand shook; mud slid, loosed from Roots once anchoring mass, Hook enters the base Of the bait, loop line Doubles & knots, casting out guesswork When fisheries bring ghostnets to Foreground & shore. Rasas. & family still Standing :: Burgess brothers Twin lute & nylon-string, Summerfield Tectosilicate feldspar recovers & with Katy & makes musical games to train good weapons, voice leading & harmony Accompaniment, just.— It promised. no ~ i ~, quotient, quarrel Quest-kill objective, quarantine, Can inquiry proceed experimental Without explorational? INgenuine (this venue, come now) To even ask, but to Figure this out buy redrawing What was that, Those shapes making layers first, Maybe dimensions, second? Sinkholes clog eventually. Can yonder’s crayon-wax Out rear windshield Make out landscape’s Attendees & absentees alike? The tipoff bid for children’s hospital Sutures lawmaker to industry Profit-centers, pediatric morbidity rallies, Shipping vessels on glass beds spit Beads of bleach, sleet freeze Hardening to barnacles, sharkfin decor, Trim efficiencies, sin, sign, nature, what Remains in speech decoder’s translation? Mama’s got through villanelle Format, perforated loss, refrains Rebounding sound given shape By lack surrounding it, cradling it, even. Shedding it, scalar skin or bark; Magnitude without direction; A temper vestibule in- Vests, jackets a body in Truncated coat, technics fold, inter- Ruptions :: hundreds die as baseline Nuclear arsenal refill Fun, a planting pot fresh with Manure, fertilizer funds, & dirt With paradox, halving lives A speculative endurance, Populating a futurity with Untraceable elegance, Like mycological spore, or mycelial Masses; like cryptocurrency Exchanges in blockchain Relationship & exchange verifiable With uncompromising math With extraneous dialogue In the wind; like let them be naked Physicists sporting labcoats Only, as a group Sure of dark matter’s Not being there, its criminality A subversion, defying Paradigm parameters, & the glottal Stop at this epistemological Dissolution, erotic even, A flush heating bodies up At the limits, the proximity Of other bodies, the desire For physical embrace & exchange enough, nearly, To assume such kingmaker species a half-life well off Into future, plutonium megawatt power-station Giving life to groups finding Each other, once again, beneath Night’s luminous bodies, Beneath moon’s thievery, Held by shadows, deep black density In whose unmappable infinitude a species Approaches a release from print, rose Compass, gold arrow, landscape & waterway Florescent with spectra of blue & volcanic reds, shorn from it, then, Held in what is after all, unnamable, Of near-absolute incompatibility With kingmaker species & yet, That which gave any of it The possibility of accidental beginning.

#poems #poets #poetry #poemsandpaintings #poemsandimages #poeticstories #writerscreed #artontumblr #whateveritis

3 notes · View notes