#venture into a different dimension is “what should i wear damn”

[xylophone888]

thinking about how rincewind went from thinking that the world must abide by some unknown rules cause how can it not (his whole "trees don't talk" thing despite trees very noticeably talking both to him and others) to being able to accept literally anything as normal and expected (shapeshifting kangaroos? space travel on a flimsy wooden plane-rocket-wtf else thing? a huge magical sentient supercomputer? ok idc whats for lunch)

[etherian-affairs]

New celebrations and old issues aka, I made a fic about two OCs Jim, from HR and an OFC

(Submission, A Jim from HR fanfic oh my God. @helilart look at this.)

New celebrations and old issues

  A short story about a genetically enhanced Horde administrator and the tired planetary advisor he employs getting ready for a party.

  *******************************************

Year 2068 Horde Planet - 28B-0003 - Tellus

  “Jimndak, sir?” the assistant intoned, not even trying to keep her annoyance and exhaustion out of her voice this time. They had been at this for well on four and a half hours now. “I really don’t see why we’re still shopping, you already have several nice dresses.”

  Here, it turned out, was another very exclusive and high end clothing boutique deep in the Old City. One of Jimndak’s favorite boutiques and the very few that knew of his body dimensions on hand.

  A low groan was heard from one of the dressing stalls and the door to it opened, revealing its occupant. The creature that revealed itself was definitely not of this world originally. At seven and a half feet tall, with dusky blue skin and a stubbed nose and long ears like that of a bat, Jimndak cut a terrifying figure. The grey, skull-like markings along his face and sharp, talon-like hands only added to that.

  The gorgeous dress the creature was wearing and how well his body wore it, did absolutely nothing to contradict that first impression of fear. The attitude the alien displayed next, however, would change that.

  “Oh come on, Mira.” Jimndak whined, hands on his hips and now pouting. “You love dress shopping with me.” His deep voice was tinged in exhaustion too and his normally toussled mohawk was drooped with sweat. Mira had watched her administrator all day and his near manic actions were startling to say the least.

  While normally active, Jimndak wasn’t one to exhaust himself like this. Not without reason.

  “I do love shopping trips with you.” Mira assured, relaxing deeper into the seat to rest her sore back. “But not one that makes me go all across town and takes several hours. Besides, you haven’t told me why we’re going to great lengths in finding the "perfect evening gown”, as you put it, in the first place.“

  —————-

A few hours earlier–

  Half a world away from the Capitol and the Space Dock, the Old City was a quiet respite from the hustle and bustle the Capitol City teamed with. The older buildings were repaired years ago, verdent gardens and winding parks growing alongside them. The people, her people, living and playing almost as easily as they did before the Horde came and claimed their world.

  She, and the other Planetary Advisors before her, had made sure of that.

  They parked their Mothership far away and had taken a hovercraft to reach their destination, in an attempt to keep the locals from being frightened. But the Supplanter’s large size and tall, angular design made it impossible to be unnoticeable. The vessel floated next to a steep mountain range several dozen miles away from the Old City, glittering in the evening sun and its vertical engines glowing a deep purple while in idle.

  At one and a half miles in height and nearly a quarter mile in length, the omnious Mothership dwarfed everything in the area except for the mountains it was parked next to. Even though its main armaments hadn’t been fired in over a decade, it was created to dominate. To control everything in its path and to dole out punishment if desired by its commander.

  Again, there was an attempt to try and be inconspicuous with the thing, but it was an admittedly poor attempt on their part.

  So the atmosphere within the city was tense, at first. But after a while things went back to normal. Or as normal as things could be with a warship hanging around.

  "Do you think we should have parked the ship…behind the mountains?” Mira questioned, grimacing at their ship’s poor attempt at blending in with its surroundings. The floating skyscraper stood out from the jagged and natural peaks of the mountain.

  They just exited their hovercraft when they noticed just how conspicuous the Supplanter was. And honestly, Mira wasn’t suprised in the slightest when her travelling companion didn’t give a damn about it when he answered back.

  “Too late now, I’m not going back.” Jimndak shrugged, before walking away. “This is only our first stop of the day, so we best get a move on.”

  “How many more are we going to have and why are we doing this?” the assistant asked suspiciously, looking back at the administrator with a slight glare. “You only said we’d be dress shopping.”

  “I’m going to find the perfect evening gown, amongst other things, and you’re going to help.” Jimndak proudly told her, his eyes and teeth glowing a deep magenta as he pulled his assistant gently into the first store. “I’ll tell you more soon enough.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this.” Mira mumbled to herself as she was dragged along into the store. The surprised gasps of the other shoppers greeted them both as they entered and Mira sighed deeply. Thanks to this impromptu visit, no one in the area had been alerted by their arrival ahead of time.

  Today was going to be a long and tedious one, she just knew it.

  ———————

Present time–

  “So, please Jim, tell me what’s happening.” Mira lightly demanded, sitting up in the plush chair to look up at him better. “You’ve been going at this nearly all day and you still haven’t told me what’s this is all about.”

  The Horde Administrator looked down at his assistant, ears tilting in several directions in an attempt to hear any eavesdroppers. Jim already knew it wasn’t really needed since all the shoppers and many of the employees left the shop just as quickly as he and Mira had entered. He sighed heavily before taking the seat next to his advisor, almost sprawling in the chair, not caring about who might see him in this compromising position. Didn’t really matter, the only other person here besides his advisor, was the shop owner in his office.

  “There’s ah-” Jim stuttered, the words difficult to say. The Horde Administrator looked at the ceiling for answers, naturally finding none. He knew about his assistant’s dislike of Horde social gatherings and he knew she wasn’t going to enjoy hearing about this one either. Truth be told, he wasn’t looking forward to it either.

  “There’s a Queen’s Ball happening in less than thirty days. I was sent word of it yesterday.” He finally spat out, looking back at his advisor’s face once he was finished. The way her dark skin paled and how shaky her body became, Jim knew he had to clear up what the actual Ball meant, and quickly.

  “Does that mean-” Mira whispered, her throat now becoming tight and dry. Her stomach already churning in fear.

  “No!” Jim nearly yelled and winced at the frightened jolt his advisor had thanks to his too loud voice, his ears now drooping. The Administrator had to reassure his advisor soon, or else she was going to have a panic attack.

  “No.” Jim began again, quieter and calmer this time. Jim sat up in his chair and turned his body towards Mira, lightly grasping her hand, knowing it would help her. He didn’t understand why it helped, this wasn’t covered in his programming and training, but it usually worked when his advisor was having an episode.

  “It’s not like the Conqueror’s Parade. Lord Mirdak will not attend this function. As far as I know he’s still several hundred thousand quadrants away in the Delphiatmo Galaxy.” Jimndak explained. “The Ball is one of Queen Eldara’s grand parties she has every few years.”

  “And why haven’t I heard about this until now?” his advisor asked, her voice stronger but hands still slightly shaking. “This is her planet. I thought she only came when HE came too?” Lord Mirdak conquered the Tellusian system, but it was Queen Eldara who ultimately controlled it. Horde Generals always moved forward in their conquest.

  Queen Eldara liked pretty things and Tellus was a gorgeous planet. Naturally she had to have it and requested the world for herself.

  “The Queen specifically asked for your presence this time.” Jimndak replied, still petting his advisor’s hand. “She’s been curious as to why you’ve lasted this long as a Planetary Advisor.” At five years and counting, Advisor Mira was one of the longest lasting Administrative Advisors Tellus ever had. Most of the others lasted two years at best, before burning out and walking away.

  “I have a job to do and I’m planning to keep doing this until I die one way or another.” Mira stated, her eyes now looking at her Administrator, the hazel colored iris’s burning with some eternal flame. “I don’t see how that’s noteworthy.” Her job was to protect her planet and was going to do that with the only resources avaliable.

  The Horde Administrator gasped at the vibrancy of his Advisor and he had to swallow a few times before he could speak again. There was a reason he made her his Advisor. Why she grew into someone he could actually call a companion.

  “Th-the Queen does things that are only known to her. She’s…mercurial and hard to read on most occassions.” Jimndak professed, his knowledge of his direct boss just as poor as everyone elses.

  “Do I really have to go?” Mira ventured to ask, knowing there wasn’t a way out of an apparent Queen’s Summons. The narrowed brows and deadpan look her Horde Administrator gave her answered that question.

  “Ok , fine, I get it I have to go. But what am I gonna wear?” Mira queried. “I’m probably not allowed to wear just my work clothes, right? Just come waltzing in the Queen’s throne room wearing a shirt and pants. Ha! Then you would be needing a new Advisor.” She chortled, laughing at her own poor joke. It was terrible, but it made her feel better.

  Jimndak perked up at her question, ignoring the bad joke, and stood Mira up along with himself and guided her to another section of the boutique. The new wing was full of suits, all in different cuts and colors. It wasn’t something Jimndak was fond of, but his Advisor was always a fan of pants and layers.

  “I know you can’t choose to not go to the Queen’s Ball, but you can choose what to wear.” Jim reasoned, gesturing to all the suits Mira could pick out. “We have thirty days to find appropriate clothing and get them done to our specifications. So, take your time.”

  “…I really don’t know what to say.” Mira whispered, in awe at all the different types of suits she could see, and imaging herself in nearly all of them. She tightened her grip on Jimndak’s hand and made the Horde Administrator look back at her.

  “Thank you.” she smiled, feeling a warm blush move across her face. It was strange to her but it felt right.

  “I’m glad you feel that way.” Jim said back, feeling an odd sensation of heat on the edges of his ears. Normally a sensation like this would have startled Jimndak, but now, he liked the warmth.

  They both hoped the other didn’t know what that meant and slowly let go of the other’s hand, with Jimndak looking to find the store owner and leaving Mira to find the perfect outfit.

  **************************************

  Hope you and Helilart enjoy what I wrote. It was actually a lot of fun and I’m probably gonna write more.

:) love, Bad Ass Anon

======

I’m losing my mind.

In a good way.

[memoirsverse]

Dresden Files/The Authors of Paradise: Dark Days

This is a crossover fan novel featuring my own characters and world of The Authors of Paradise, blended with those of Jim Butcher’s The Dresden Files. This derivative crossover work is being written for the sheer fun of it, with no financial gain. Jim Butcher owns Harry Dresden, The Dresden Files, and all associated characters. I own Evelyn Alvar, Arabella Thorne, Thornebridge Manor, The Authors of Paradise, and all associated characters. I’ve taken the two worlds, mashed them together, and whipped up this meandering thingamabob. Mmm, tasty. 

This novel is rated M for Mature, because it’ll get bloody. This chapter isn’t bloody, though; just dreadful.

i. Evelyn

I emerged in a room that shifted and warped, always in motion, always changing, and turned my attention to the figure standing at the far end. A softly glowing, color-changing mist curled around my ankles as I walked past impossible staircases and other Mobius-like structures, approaching the figure. It stood dispassionate, sexless, an endless void that glimmered with distant stars. Its name was Thornebridge, and this was the form it took in this place.

If I looked too deeply into that void, I would be drawn in, tumbling helplessly for eons as every potentiality, every reality, every actuality, every universe seared itself indelibly onto my conscious mind. I would know the truth about myself if I did that. I didn’t want to know. I most certainly did not want to know. I was confident it would drive me mad.

My bare feet settled into place, concealed by the mist, as I stopped directly in front of Thornebridge. I was wearing the filmy white thing that I always wore when I Traveled, and hair the color of moonlight tumbled over my marble-toned shoulders. I’d seen my reflection before in this form. I looked like a marble statue with intensely purple-jewel eyes, inhuman and profoundly alien. I had grown accustomed to it, but I still didn’t understand the why of it.

“You have something to tell me?” I ventured finally. I would never be entirely comfortable talking with Thornebridge-- if talking was the right word. The entity had its own language, one that didn’t often translate well into English, or any other language with actual words.

The response was instantaneous. From out of the mist, a great tower pushed its way out of the hidden ground, rumbling like thunder as it grew to a great height. Dust and debris rained down from it as it stretched higher and higher like some kind of monolithic tree, until its top vanished into the star-studded, nebula-swirled darkness above. A pair of winged figures circled the tower, armed with swords, their wings beating the air into a whirlwind as they flew around and around and around it.

A low, animalistic growl surged behind me, and I turned to see a man dressed in robes and expensive finery, crowned by four inverted pentacles that spun around his head. The man looked like a photograph in negative exposure, black and white, light where he should be dark and dark where he should be light. He ran at the tower and leaped on it, clawing at its base, digging to its foundations, tearing off huge chunks of stone and dropping them into a large canvas bag he carried slung over one shoulder. The two angels didn’t seem to see him, continuing their high-altitude patrol.

I sighed. The overall message was obvious, but the details were still obscured. “Who’s attacking you?” I asked.

The robed man vanished from his place by the tower and appeared before me so suddenly that I took a couple of steps backwards. I took a breath to steady myself and turned my eyes to Thornebridge. “But who is he?”

The human-shaped starry void said nothing. Of course. It stood still, its head turned towards me.

I could look into its void and See...

Shaking my head, I motioned with my hand to the diorama. “If you want our help, you’re going to have to be a bit more clear than that. Okay?”

Thornebridge just watched me. This was apparently the entirety of the message; I wasn’t going to get any more unless I Looked.

I ran my hands through my hair and sighed again. “All right, fine. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

Thornebridge nodded, and the scene vanished, replaced once again with the Escher-like environment. Closing my eyes, I let myself phase through the layers of reality, back to whatever dimension my Traveling form was held in. I felt the threads of silken energy close around me like a cocoon, and my conscious awareness faded to gentle black before becoming aware of the weight and solid mass of my everyday form.

I lay there for a minute, eyes closed, letting my consciousness re-align with physical reality. Slowly, my senses re-connected and began to filter information back to me: the lingering scent of incense, the soothing flow of the meditative music that I had set to play in a loop, the spongy feel of the mat between my body and the hardwood floor, the slight chill in the room that raised gooseflesh over my arms. It was September, and morning, and my stomach informed me that I had not yet eaten breakfast.

Opening my eyes, I stretched, then rose to my feet. The room my housemate Arabella and I had designated for communication sessions with Thornebridge was sparsely decorated with a couple of small tables, a bowl for incense, a scattering of candles, a few carefully placed crystals, some calming prints framed on the walls, a small rock garden, and an iPod set up with a meditation playlist. It was simple and zen, intended to cultivate the kind of relaxation needed to put one’s self into a deep trance.

I turned off the iPod, blew out the candles and the incense, and left the room in the heart of the house, winding my way through corridors that never seemed to follow the same path. I had gotten lost on multiple occasions while trying to find my way through the less stable portions of the house, until I had learned to open my senses enough to navigate my way to the space Arabella and I lived day-to-day. 

I saw the door, and my senses told me it was the one that led to the mundane part of the house. It was always a different door, sometimes massive and intricately carved, sometimes simple and rustic. Today, it was narrow, arterial red, and half my height, sporting an ornate silver knob. I turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped out of the dizzying instability of Thornebridge Manor and into the dimensionally stable, comforting warmth of the house’s living space. 

The difference in energy always takes a moment or two to adjust to. It’s a little bit like waking up from a dream, as reality re-establishes itself around you, solid and fixed. After taking a few slow breaths and doing a little grounding exercise by placing my palm flat against a wall and feeling its solidity, I moved on, making my way to the kitchen. 

_________________________________________

The coffee tasted hot and sweet as I sipped it from my favorite old coffee mug, which depicted a calico cat similar in appearance to my own Nimue, batting playfully at a Victorian-style fairy. The house was strangely quiet and felt vast and empty; Arabella had left town to attend some sort of bookseller’s conference. Slowly, I ate a breakfast of eggs, biscuits, and fruit, as I held my battered, leatherbound notebook in my left hand and read over the notes I had written on this morning’s communication with Thornebridge. A well-worn deck of tarot cards, its colors faded and its edges tattered, rested beside the notebook.

I took a bite of scrambled eggs, set my fork down, and flipped through the cards, withdrawing the Tower, the Emperor, Temperance, and the Four of Pentacles, laying them out on the table beside my plate. Chewing thoughtfully, I studied the cards, static images embodying the living diorama I had seen in the communication room, but I came no closer to achieving clarity. The only thing I knew for certain was that someone was attacking Thornebridge, someone Arabella and I-- the Guardians of Thornebridge Manor-- had not yet seen or encountered.

That... was not good. There was an endless list of reasons why that was not good. But I still had precious little to go on. It would be nice, I thought, if the damn house would learn to speak English.

An alarm sounded on my phone, alerting me that it was time to get ready for work, so I put my plate in the dishwasher, returned to my bedroom to dress, made sure my cat and Arabella’s dog Ghost had plenty of fresh water, checked on Virgil the ferret in his little house, and hurried out the door to drive to the shop. There wasn’t a lot I could do until I had more information, and I certainly wasn’t going to figure out the puzzle sitting here all day.

_________________________________________

I own a little shop called Boreas Curios, Antiques, and Odditites. It’s a quaint little place, sharing a storefront with a pizza parlor and a jewelry store, and is situated directly across the street from Arabella’s place of business, an antique bookstore that she inherited from its former owner when he retired. It was something akin to kismet that the two of us spent years working in these places, across the street from one another, before we met for the first time through completely unrelated events. And it wasn’t for a lack of browsing each others’ shops either-- I love books, and Arabella is a bona fide pack rat and loves to collect all sorts of strange and wonderful things. And vice versa. We just always managed to visit when neither of us was in our respective shop.

The shop was slow throughout the morning, giving me time to sort through inventory and clean a little bit as I tried to shake the lingering feeling that something wasn’t quite right. I chalked it up to the vagaries of my communication session with Thornebridge and carried on. A few minutes to eleven, Violet breezed in through the front door, smiling brightly at me with her black-lipsticked lips as we greeted each other. Her hair was short and spiky, black tipped with blue, and she wore black-and-white striped stockings on her arms and legs, a green corset, a knee-length black tulle skirt, and a pair of worn old army boots. She waved at me with a black-fingernailed hand and disappeared into the back of the shop, re-emerging a short time later wearing a blue apron that absolutely clashed with her getup.

I didn’t mind her eccentric way of dressing; in fact, I felt it fit the atmosphere of the shop perfectly. She cashed in to her register, and then set about helping me sort through a box of mini-Furbies that had been programmed to say diabolical things. The store rang out with sinister phrases such as, “I am Lord Beelzebub, hear me rooooar!” and “Sacrifice your virgins on the altar of the Goat King!” for several minutes as we inserted batteries, cataloged everything in the system, and put the Furbies in a wire bin near the register. The Diabolical Furby Collection was Violet’s idea, and I thought it fit nicely in with the theme of Strange and Bizarre I had cultivated in the shop. After all, I kept a constant supply of haunted dolls on a shelf situated on the back wall. People loved creepy things. They always sold well.

Right around 1:45, just as the lunch rush had mostly dissipated, the sky went dark, not gradually, but in a quick fade, as if somebody had used a dimmer switch to turn off the sun, cloaking the world in night. 

Violet, looking up from where she was ringing up one of the last customers in the store, frowned. “Um. Evelyn?” She paused, then added, “Did somebody forget to pay the sunlight bill?” The joke fell flat as her voice trembled a bit. 

I was busy staring through the glass door, blinking in confusion. The slight uneasiness I had felt earlier amplified itself, evolving into the kind of dread that speeds up the heart rate and sends butterflies swarming through the stomach. Violet clearly felt the same, but it was probably just from the inexplicable celestial event. Right? 

“What in the blazes...” I murmured. Casting a glance at Violet and her equally confused and anxious customer, I strode across the shop and out the door, peering up at the sky, searching for the sun. Violet joined me a minute or two later, after shooing the customers out and locking the door.

“Is... is it an eclipse?” she asked, doubt slowing her words. I shook my head, but pulled my phone from my apron and began pulling up an online almanac to be sure.

“Probably not,” I said. “Wouldn’t have gone dark that quickly.” I scanned the almanac long enough to determine that there had been no eclipses predicted for the day, and then my phone went dark.

So did the rest of the block. All around us, the lights illuminating the buildings flickered out, plunging the world into heavy darkness. Even the cars on the street died, rolling to a stop. I heard the metallic clatter of a car wreck somewhere in the near distance, and somebody screamed.

The creeping dread flared into visceral, heart-pounding terror, and for a moment, I was lost in it. I wanted to fall to my knees, pull at my hair, and moan with it. I wanted to dig into the ground and hide from the darkness, to curl into myself, to lose myself to the fear, to be consumed by it. It coiled around me, a primal, atavistic horror that threatened to strangle the life from me. I was barely aware of Violet next to me, frozen and trembling with the same terror.

A long moment passed, and the dread eased of its own accord. It still lingered, pulsing softly on a psychic wavelength, but it no longer threatened to drive us mad. I found I had indeed fallen to the ground, and slowly got to my hands and knees, reaching out to help Violet to her feet. The girl was still shaking, her blue eyes wide in the gloom, but she let me stand her up and steady her.

“What was that?” she cried, but then seemed to realize how near to panic she was edging, and took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. She leveled her gaze on me and said, “I’m going to guess you’ll be leaving the shop to me for a bit.”

I hadn’t ever told Violet about my other job, the one where I worked for the sentient spirit of a dimensionally transcendent and unstable house, but the girl wasn’t stupid. She’d picked up on the fact that I had a tendency to deal with the out-of-the-ordinary things that seemed so often to happen around me. I sighed and ran my hand through my short, wavy hair, a deep chestnut with hints of red and a stark contrast to the flowing silver locks of my Traveling form. 

I turned on my heels and strode around to my car, a 90s-era silver Accord parked in the employee-designated spaces in the parking lot. Violet followed. Unlocking the trunk with the key set I had in my jeans pocket, I removed the emergency bag I kept packed and ready. “Close the shop,” I told her, then frowned. I had been about to tell her to pack up and go home, but she lived several miles away and it seemed as if the cars had all died too. “Stay indoors, keep the doors locked, and watch for looters.”

“That baseball bat still under the counter?” she asked.

“Yep,” I said, and paused. If that feeling of dread had been city-wide, it meant we’d be dealing with mass panic, and panicked people can be violent. “But don’t try to be heroic, okay? If anybody gets violent, just get on out of there. Find somewhere safe. There will probably be some sort of organizational effort to keep things under control, maybe a place for people to gather for shelter, a church or something. Try to find it if you can’t stay in the shop.”

“Gotcha.”

From the bag I removed a pair of silver rods, slender, about the length of my forearm, and etched with runes, then slung the bag over my shoulder. 

Then, taking a deep breath, I stepped into the darkness.

[osmw1]

Dimension Wave  Chapter 33 — A Battle under Moonlight

It was our fourth day out venturing on the Sea of No Return.

The waters were calm, making for easy experience and loot. That was of course a good thing, but a few problems had surfaced.

“We’ve finished all the food that we brought.” “… ‘Kay.” “Oh, and we’re also out of bait. Once we eat through the fish I’ve caught, then we’re out of luck.” “W-Whatever shall we do?!” “There’s nothing worse than an empty stomach~”

We never planned to be on a long voyage. I mean, when I said that we brought food, it’s really nothing more than just simple rations. Well, it’s not like I can’t fish without bait, but it’ll be a little tricky to feed all six of us. My cooking skill isn’t that refined either, so it’s more than likely it’ll result in a few failed attempts. That means we absolutely need to obtain and maintain our supply level.

“It ain’t all bad though.” “What do you mean?” “See, we’ve been without fresh water for a few days and we’re alright, aren’t we?” “… I see.” “Altorese is indeed correct.”

It’s true. Water should have been a problem long ago. I remember someone saying that if you go hungry in the game, it might become a problem once you’re finished playing. It probably has something to do with the program that brings us back to real life. As my real life friend once said, Dimension Wave is like a dream that you can vividly remember. There’s something sad about that, but hey, at least playing this probably won’t hurt your school grades too bad, unlike video games. … Let’s get back on track to the problem at hand.

“It’s a game after all. We might feel hungry, but that’s just a virtual thing and we won’t die from hunger. Worst case scenario might actually be overeating.” “I don’t think that far ahead… Well, anyway, let me see if I can’t do anything about getting us more food.”

In the end, I was thrown back into fishing, which was what I wanted to do from the beginning. No more high-quality bait means that I won’t be able to catch us anything big like tuna but I’ll still be able to get smaller fish. Here was where my shining lure came into play. Since it’s always lit up, I’ve been using it as my light source at night. I also found out that the lure can’t catch me anything during daytime, but it attracts squid at night. Or so says Alto anyway.

“Hello, shining squid lure.”

Makes sense that you need a squid lure for squid. I mean, it looks like a normal lure… except for the part where it lights up. In any case, I could solve our hunger problem with it. Let’s get that squid. Not that I can catch anything but squid at night. In mere days, I caught myself close to 500 of them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

“I bite my thumb at thee, Miss Kizuna!”

Such were the hurtful words hurled unto me. Even Sheryl needed to vent her frustration of too much squid. That was by shooting them out of her ballista.

    Day in, day out, it was me, my fishing rod, and squid. Never mind the fact that I had over 1,000 of them in my inventory. What a lure. I still stood by the words I said that day at that time at that location: it’s worth every penny.

But there’s something about the Sea of No Return. Not sure what it is, but monsters come out only during the day. Even back at the outskirts of the First City, monsters would come out at night. What, did the devs want to give us a break or something? Seems highly unlikely. In any ordinary RPG, you’d find old clichéd dungeons like The Labyrinth or The Endless Desert where every route takes you down a different path and you can’t get out unless you solve a puzzle. It kinda feels like that. It’s getting close to a week out here at sea and we’re all getting a little stressed. Of course, the fact that we only have squid definitely contributes to it. We’ve gotta do something about this.

“Are they biting?” “… Oh, it’s you, Shouko.”

I was a little surprised when someone spoke to me since I get lost in my thoughts while late night fishing. Shouko sat down beside me and gazed up at the moon. The moon’s out tonight… It sure looks bigger in this world than the real thing. Big as it is though, it doesn’t shine very bright.

“Nature sure is wonderful.” “Something bothering you?” “Oh, no… Though I realize this world was created by people, who would think that a single storm would change all of our lives?” “Yeah, you’re right.”

We were unlucky getting sucked in by the storm, but I didn’t think that would result in all six of us living together on this ship. Up until now, we all had our individual rooms at our accommodation. It almost feels like we’re on a field trip together, at the risk of sounding like I’m taking this a little too lightly. But especially because of that, we must find a way to get through this together. Games are designed to be figured out if you pay close enough attention to the details. If we can’t find the answer, it means we’re not looking hard enough.

“Kizuna, you have a bite.” “S’alright. Squid aren’t that hard to catch.”

The tip of my line was bobbing up and down.

… No, wait. That’s no squid.

I had tirelessly fished for the past few days, so I know what squid feels like. There’s nothing but squid around here at night and it’s not because of my light-up lure. But that’s the problem. I’ve caught a thousand of them but this ain’t one. This had to be a rare catch. Literally. Anyway, time to reel…

“Come!”

—Kathunk! I’ve had a bite like this before and it’s a day and night difference compared to my normal catches. This… this was it. This was the Giant Herring.

“No, can’t be. This is more powerful…!” “Kizuna, it’s pulling our ship.” “… Damn! Go get Sheryl for me! I need her Harpoon skills or maybe…” “On it!”

I didn’t have the mental capacity to track Shouko as she disappeared under deck. My full attention was on the tip of my fishing rod. The line was connected directly to my cranial nerves. And when I felt it, I pulled… and reeled.

The reel, a compatible pairing to deep sea fishing and lures, was a new addition to my rod. It wasn’t too easy to the hang of it, but it provides a lot more leverage. The complex part is casting with a lure. It seems like it’s not too dissimilar to how they work in real life. Anyway, trust me when I say I feel like I’m one with my rod.

“… Here, Kizuna.” “Sheryl, you think you can use your harpoon and hit where I tell you to?” “… Possibly.” “Please! I won’t be able to do this alone.”

I mean, harpoons were originally for spearfishing anyway. It makes for a perfect weapon against a huge sea creature. That’s why I don’t think anyone would be more suited for this job other than Sheryl.

“… Where?” “Hold on…”

While we attacked and defended, I also tried to locate where the aquatic animal was. My mind and my rod are one. I… should know where it is. It should be like searching through with my mind, probably. Oh, I see. The Crystal of Mediation must’ve pulled its aggro. Maybe that’s why I was able to catch a thousand of them squid. But this… thing… I feel its hatred searing my skin. And it’s…

“Right there!” “… Bomber Lancer.”

A mid-tier skill for Harpoon-type weapons. It was a mid-range combat skill where you throw the harpoon like a javelin. With one hand on the cord, Sheryl chucked her harpoon out with an explosive visual effect. The missile audibly sunk deep into the creature. Reeling it in was instantly easier, but it started moving again.

“How many more can you do?” “I’m fine.” “I’m counting on you.” “‘Kay.”

It wouldn’t sit well with my pride if I let Sheryl do all the heavy lifting. As difficult as it was, I kept on reeling. From time to time, her harpoon would whiz by… It was strong enough to nearly stunlock the bastard. It helped immensely as I tried to fish it up.

“Keep it up!” “Mm.”

The battle dragged on, wearing down on our spirits. At least our enemy’s stamina is also being exhausted. But of course. It’s a 2v1. No way we’d lose.

“Sheryl, our next bout will end it!” “… Aight.”

With her harpoon gripped firmly, I signaled her to attack with all her might. And our enemy…

    “… I mean, I get it, but.”

We fished up—or rather, hunted—a humongous squid. It’s apparent that it’s related to the Giant Herring. Thank you very much. We couldn’t exactly heft it up on board, so we had it towed along with a rope. I mean, I say hunted, but we’re not sure yet if it’s a monster or not. “Kraken” wouldn’t be an unfair name for it. … I mean, Sheryl took it down with her attacks, so I guess it is a monster? Anyway, the harpoon is perfectly suited for fighting sea creatures.

“… Kizuna.” “Hmm? What’s up?” “I think you should gut it soon.” “Why do you… Ah, whatever. Gotcha. I’ll do it.” “Hm.”

I didn’t get the feeling she would answer even if I were to finish asking her, though there was something like a gleam in her eye. I guess shooting squid out of the ballista would’ve been effective, but eating nothing but it is another story. Not to mention that Sheryl had eaten the most out of any of us. … Maybe she likes squid? I decided it would’ve been wiser to not ask her and just to gut the Humongous Squid in silence. What I got was:

Water Deity’s Tentacle, Water Deity’s Fin, Water Deity’s Head, Water Deity’s Arm, Water Deity’s Mantle, Water Deity’s Heart, Water Deity’s Eye, Water Deity’s Shell, Top Quality Squid Ink, Top Quality Trimmed Squid

Just like with the Giant Herring, I received a surprising number of items from gutting. Maybe all of them boss creatures are like this, eh? And I suppose it was originally a squid turned water deity? Hmm, I wonder… what kind of weapons I could make with these parts…

“Sheryl, we’ll discuss it with everyone else, but have these items.” “… You sure?” “Why do you question it?” “Hm.” “I don’t have any ulterior motives. I just feel like it would be better if you held on to them.” “Hm.” “Call it a gut feeling. Speaking of which… that was kinda uncharacteristic of what you said earlier.” “… Not really.”

Whatever. Not like it’d help if I hounded her over it anyway. In any event, I handed over all the items I received by gutting the Humongous Squid. We’re still undecided, but it’d be nice if she could make a good weapon out of its parts.

“Kizuna! Sheryl!”

While we were basking in the glory of defeating the Humongous Squid, Shouko called out to us in a less delighted tone. I’ve seen her flustered only a handful of times since we’ve first met.

“What’s wrong?” “The ship is moving by itself.” “I’m pretty sure that’s what ships do.” “No, I don’t mean it like th—” “Kizuna.”

Sheryl interrupted Shouko as she pointed upwards. Our sails were furled. I looked around. A calm night without so much wind or waves. There was no one using Helmsmanship. And yet, despite so.

… Our ship was traveling at an unnatural speed.

contents: /prologue/ /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /ch013/ /ch014/ /ch015/ /ch016/ /ch017/ /ch018/ /ch019/ /ch020/ /ch021/ /ch022/ /ch023/ /ch024/ /ch025/ /ch026/ /ch027/ /ch028/ /ch029/ /ch030/ /ch031/ /ch032/ /ch033/ /next/

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[authorsofparadiseroleplay]

Dark Days, Chapter One

This is a crossover fan novel featuring my own characters and world of The Authors of Paradise, blended with those of Jim Butcher’s The Dresden Files. This derivative crossover work is being written for the sheer fun of it, with no financial gain. Jim Butcher owns Harry Dresden, The Dresden Files, and all associated characters. I own Evelyn Alvar, Arabella Thorne, Thornebridge Manor, The Authors of Paradise, and all associated characters. I’ve taken the two worlds, mashed them together, and whipped up this meandering thingamabob. Mmm, tasty.

This novel is rated M for Mature, because it’ll get bloody. This chapter isn’t bloody, though; just dreadful.

i. Evelyn

I emerged in a room that shifted and warped, always in motion, always changing, and turned my attention to the figure standing at the far end. A softly glowing, color-changing mist curled around my ankles as I walked past impossible staircases and other Mobius-like structures, approaching the figure. It stood dispassionate, sexless, an endless void that glimmered with distant stars. Its name was Thornebridge, and this was the form it took in this place.

If I looked too deeply into that void, I would be drawn in, tumbling helplessly for eons as every potentiality, every reality, every actuality, every universe seared itself indelibly onto my conscious mind. I would know the truth about myself if I did that. I didn’t want to know. I most certainly did not want to know. I was confident it would drive me mad.

My bare feet settled into place, concealed by the mist, as I stopped directly in front of Thornebridge. I was wearing the filmy white thing that I always wore when I Traveled, and hair the color of moonlight tumbled over my marble-toned shoulders. I’d seen my reflection before in this form. I looked like a marble statue with intensely purple-jewel eyes, inhuman and profoundly alien. I had grown accustomed to it, but I still didn’t understand the why of it.

“You have something to tell me?” I ventured finally. I would never be entirely comfortable talking with Thornebridge-- if talking was the right word. The entity had its own language, one that didn’t often translate well into English, or any other language with actual words.

The response was instantaneous. From out of the mist, a great tower pushed its way out of the hidden ground, rumbling like thunder as it grew to a great height. Dust and debris rained down from it as it stretched higher and higher like some kind of monolithic tree, until its top vanished into the star-studded, nebula-swirled darkness above. A pair of winged figures circled the tower, armed with swords, their wings beating the air into a whirlwind as they flew around and around and around it.

A low, animalistic growl surged behind me, and I turned to see a man dressed in robes and expensive finery, crowned by four inverted pentacles that spun around his head. The man looked like a photograph in negative exposure, black and white, light where he should be dark and dark where he should be light. He ran at the tower and leaped on it, clawing at its base, digging to its foundations, tearing off huge chunks of stone and dropping them into a large canvas bag he carried slung over one shoulder. The two angels didn’t seem to see him, continuing their high-altitude patrol.

I sighed. The overall message was obvious, but the details were still obscured. “Who’s attacking you?” I asked.

The robed man vanished from his place by the tower and appeared before me so suddenly that I took a couple of steps backwards. I took a breath to steady myself and turned my eyes to Thornebridge. “But who is he?”

The human-shaped starry void said nothing. Of course. It stood still, its head turned towards me.

I could look into its void and See...

Shaking my head, I motioned with my hand to the diorama. “If you want our help, you’re going to have to be a bit more clear than that. Okay?”

Thornebridge just watched me. This was apparently the entirety of the message; I wasn’t going to get any more unless I Looked.

I ran my hands through my hair and sighed again. “All right, fine. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

Thornebridge nodded, and the scene vanished, replaced once again with the Escher-like environment. Closing my eyes, I let myself phase through the layers of reality, back to whatever dimension my Traveling form was held in. I felt the threads of silken energy close around me like a cocoon, and my conscious awareness faded to gentle black before becoming aware of the weight and solid mass of my everyday form.

I lay there for a minute, eyes closed, letting my consciousness re-align with physical reality. Slowly, my senses re-connected and began to filter information back to me: the lingering scent of incense, the soothing flow of the meditative music that I had set to play in a loop, the spongy feel of the mat between my body and the hardwood floor, the slight chill in the room that raised gooseflesh over my arms. It was September, and morning, and my stomach informed me that I had not yet eaten breakfast.

Opening my eyes, I stretched, then rose to my feet. The room my housemate Arabella and I had designated for communication sessions with Thornebridge was sparsely decorated with a couple of small tables, a bowl for incense, a scattering of candles, a few carefully placed crystals, some calming prints framed on the walls, a small rock garden, and an iPod set up with a meditation playlist. It was simple and zen, intended to cultivate the kind of relaxation needed to put one’s self into a deep trance.

I turned off the iPod, blew out the candles and the incense, and left the room in the heart of the house, winding my way through corridors that never seemed to follow the same path. I had gotten lost on multiple occasions while trying to find my way through the less stable portions of the house, until I had learned to open my senses enough to navigate my way to the space Arabella and I lived day-to-day.

I saw the door, and my senses told me it was the one that led to the mundane part of the house. It was always a different door, sometimes massive and intricately carved, sometimes simple and rustic. Today, it was narrow, arterial red, and half my height, sporting an ornate silver knob. I turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped out of the dizzying instability of Thornebridge Manor and into the dimensionally stable, comforting warmth of the house’s living space.

The difference in energy always takes a moment or two to adjust to. It’s a little bit like waking up from a dream, as reality re-establishes itself around you, solid and fixed. After taking a few slow breaths and doing a little grounding exercise by placing my palm flat against a wall and feeling its solidity, I moved on, making my way to the kitchen.

The coffee tasted hot and sweet as I sipped it from my favorite old coffee mug, which depicted a calico cat similar in appearance to my own Nimue, batting playfully at a Victorian-style fairy. The house was strangely quiet and felt vast and empty; Arabella had left town to attend some sort of bookseller’s conference. Slowly, I ate a breakfast of eggs, biscuits, and fruit, as I held my battered, leatherbound notebook in my left hand and read over the notes I had written on this morning’s communication with Thornebridge. A well-worn deck of tarot cards, its colors faded and its edges tattered, rested beside the notebook.

I took a bite of scrambled eggs, set my fork down, and flipped through the cards, withdrawing the Tower, the Emperor, Temperance, and the Four of Pentacles, laying them out on the table beside my plate. Chewing thoughtfully, I studied the cards, static images embodying the living diorama I had seen in the communication room, but I came no closer to achieving clarity. The only thing I knew for certain was that someone was attacking Thornebridge, someone Arabella and I-- the Guardians of Thornebridge Manor-- had not yet seen or encountered.

That... was not good. There was an endless list of reasons why that was not good. But I still had precious little to go on. It would be nice, I thought, if the damn house would learn to speak English.

An alarm sounded on my phone, alerting me that it was time to get ready for work, so I put my plate in the dishwasher, returned to my bedroom to dress, made sure my cat and Arabella’s dog Ghost had plenty of fresh water, checked on Virgil the ferret in his little house, and hurried out the door to drive to the shop. There wasn’t a lot I could do until I had more information, and I certainly wasn’t going to figure out the puzzle sitting here all day.

I own a little shop called Boreas Curios, Antiques, and Odditites. It’s a quaint little place, sharing a storefront with a pizza parlor and a jewelry store, and is situated directly across the street from Arabella’s place of business, an antique bookstore that she inherited from its former owner when he retired. It was something akin to kismet that the two of us spent years working in these places, across the street from one another, before we met for the first time through completely unrelated events. And it wasn’t for a lack of browsing each others’ shops either-- I love books, and Arabella is a bona fide pack rat and loves to collect all sorts of strange and wonderful things. And vice versa. We just always managed to visit when neither of us was in our respective shop.

The shop was slow throughout the morning, giving me time to sort through inventory and clean a little bit as I tried to shake the lingering feeling that something wasn’t quite right. I chalked it up to the vagaries of my communication session with Thornebridge and carried on. A few minutes to eleven, Violet breezed in through the front door, smiling brightly at me with her black-lipsticked lips as we greeted each other. Her hair was short and spiky, black tipped with blue, and she wore black-and-white striped stockings on her arms and legs, a green corset, a knee-length black tulle skirt, and a pair of worn old army boots. She waved at me with a black-fingernailed hand and disappeared into the back of the shop, re-emerging a short time later wearing a blue apron that absolutely clashed with her getup.

I didn’t mind her eccentric way of dressing; in fact, I felt it fit the atmosphere of the shop perfectly. She cashed in to her register, and then set about helping me sort through a box of mini-Furbies that had been programmed to say diabolical things. The store rang out with sinister phrases such as, “I am Lord Beelzebub, hear me rooooar!” and “Sacrifice your virgins on the altar of the Goat King!” for several minutes as we inserted batteries, cataloged everything in the system, and put the Furbies in a wire bin near the register. The Diabolical Furby Collection was Violet’s idea, and I thought it fit nicely in with the theme of Strange and Bizarre I had cultivated in the shop. After all, I kept a constant supply of haunted dolls on a shelf situated on the back wall. People loved creepy things. They always sold well.

Right around 1:45, just as the lunch rush had mostly dissipated, the sky went dark, not gradually, but in a quick fade, as if somebody had used a dimmer switch to turn off the sun, cloaking the world in night.

Violet, looking up from where she was ringing up one of the last customers in the store, frowned. “Um. Evelyn?” She paused, then added, “Did somebody forget to pay the sunlight bill?” The joke fell flat as her voice trembled a bit.

I was busy staring through the glass door, blinking in confusion. The slight uneasiness I had felt earlier amplified itself, evolving into the kind of dread that speeds up the heart rate and sends butterflies swarming through the stomach. Violet clearly felt the same, but it was probably just from the inexplicable celestial event. Right?

“What in the blazes...” I murmured. Casting a glance at Violet and her equally confused and anxious customer, I strode across the shop and out the door, peering up at the sky, searching for the sun. Violet joined me a minute or two later, after shooing the customers out and locking the door.

“Is... is it an eclipse?” she asked, doubt slowing her words. I shook my head, but pulled my phone from my apron and began pulling up an online almanac to be sure.

“Probably not,” I said. “Wouldn’t have gone dark that quickly.” I scanned the almanac long enough to determine that there had been no eclipses predicted for the day, and then my phone went dark.

So did the rest of the block. All around us, the lights illuminating the buildings flickered out, plunging the world into heavy darkness. Even the cars on the street died, rolling to a stop. I heard the metallic clatter of a car wreck somewhere in the near distance, and somebody screamed.

The creeping dread flared into visceral, heart-pounding terror, and for a moment, I was lost in it. I wanted to fall to my knees, pull at my hair, and moan with it. I wanted to dig into the ground and hide from the darkness, to curl into myself, to lose myself to the fear, to be consumed by it. It coiled around me, a primal, atavistic horror that threatened to strangle the life from me. I was barely aware of Violet next to me, frozen and trembling with the same terror.

A long moment passed, and the dread eased of its own accord. It still lingered, pulsing softly on a psychic wavelength, but it no longer threatened to drive us mad. I found I had indeed fallen to the ground, and slowly got to my hands and knees, reaching out to help Violet to her feet. The girl was still shaking, her blue eyes wide in the gloom, but she let me stand her up and steady her.

“What was that?” she cried, but then seemed to realize how near to panic she was edging, and took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. She leveled her gaze on me and said, “I’m going to guess you’ll be leaving the shop to me for a bit.”

I hadn’t ever told Violet about my other job, the one where I worked for the sentient spirit of a dimensionally transcendent and unstable house, but the girl wasn’t stupid. She’d picked up on the fact that I had a tendency to deal with the out-of-the-ordinary things that seemed so often to happen around me. I sighed and ran my hand through my short, wavy hair, a deep chestnut with hints of red and a stark contrast to the flowing silver locks of my Traveling form.

I turned on my heels and strode around to my car, a 90s-era silver Accord parked in the employee-designated spaces in the parking lot. Violet followed. Unlocking the trunk with the key set I had in my jeans pocket, I removed the emergency bag I kept packed and ready. “Close the shop,” I told her, then frowned. I had been about to tell her to pack up and go home, but she lived several miles away and it seemed as if the cars had all died too. “Stay indoors, keep the doors locked, and watch for looters.”

“That baseball bat still under the counter?” she asked.

“Yep,” I said, and paused. If that feeling of dread had been city-wide, it meant we’d be dealing with mass panic, and panicked people can be violent. “But don’t try to be heroic, okay? If anybody gets violent, just get on out of there. Find somewhere safe. There will probably be some sort of organizational effort to keep things under control, maybe a place for people to gather for shelter, a church or something. Try to find it if you can’t stay in the shop.”

“Gotcha.”

From the bag I removed a pair of silver rods, slender, about the length of my forearm, and etched with runes, then slung the bag over my shoulder.

Then, taking a deep breath, I stepped into the darkness.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

Beauty Blender is releasing a foundation range and we’re pretty damn excited

http://fashion-trendin.com/beauty-blender-is-releasing-a-foundation-range-and-were-pretty-damn-excited/

Beauty Blender is releasing a foundation range and we’re pretty damn excited

It’s been over a decade since the initial release of the pink, sponge egg we all know and love, the Beauty Blender. And now the creators of the genius tool that has changed the makeup industry are back, and this time they’re releasing a foundation.

Makeup artist and creator of the tool-we-can’t-remember-our-lives-without, Rea Ann Silva, has always wanted to venture into cosmetics.

She told Allure: “What I was initially trying to create was makeup, not an application tool. Life threw me a curveball and the Beautyblender journey has been incredible, but how could I not come out with a foundation that works perfectly with it?”

The new foundation, which has been aptly named ‘Bounce Liquid Whip Long Wear Foundation’, and will retail at $40 (£30), has taken Silva two years to perfect, and she says the formula of the product is unique, long-wearing and high-performance. With the Beauty Blender as its older sibling, the foundation certainly has a lot to live up to.

“What we ended up with is an incredibly lightweight, buildable foundation that can easily be sheered out or layered for more complete coverage,” Silva says of the end result.

Here’s how often you should be cleaning your beauty blender (and it will shock you)

The foundation also has a ‘velveteen’ finish, which apparently allows it to blend seamlessly. “Think of it as just slightly more lustrous than velvet. It looks matte straight on, but it still catches the light for added dimension,” explains Silva.

The product comes in 32 shades and the brand has tried to focus on shades on the darker end of the spectrum to be more inclusive. However, they have received initial criticism from some Instagram users, saying only seven of the 32 shades are suitable for darker-skinned women. One person commented on Beauty Blender’s Instagram post: “So you can make 100 different colours of beauty blenders but you can’t make shades for my darker ladies?”

Silva says this is just the beginning of the company’s makeup venture. “Let’s just say that Beautyblender is all about complexion, so look for more launches in that category come next year”

We’re ready when you are.

In the meantime, here’s our roundup of the best foundations for a faultless base