Discover Top Posts Tagged with #distopian future

Some Robocop sketches for ya

It's weird how ideas can come to be just because I heard of a simple theme from the og movie...you know what? I don't mind it at all except the fact that I've been looping the soundtrack on spotify for roughly 10 hours now......

#fanart #digital art #illustration #cyborg #alex murphy #robocop #distopian future #pretty cool how just by listening to the theme song it got me pumped up for a full drawing lol #law enforcer

'Long ago in a Distant Land...' - by MacUaine

#samurai jack #samurai jack fanart #aku #jack vs aku #samurai jack intro #cartoon network #a samurai called jack #distopian future #distopia #distopic

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DamereyCreations Week Day 5: Prompt, Amnesia Title: My Only Guiding Light Chapter 1: The Dinner Guest Fandom: Star wars-All media types, I am Legent, Elements of Wall-E. Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Poe Dameron/Rey Characters: Poe Dameron, Rey (Star Wars), Finn, Rose Tico, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Palpatine. Additional Tags: Zombies, more like Darkseekers, You’ll see what I mean, Slowburn, fluff, angst, humor, eventual smut, amnesia, damerey endgame, healthy love, hurt/comfort. (more tags listed on AO3) Summary:

Zombie Au and I Am Legend AU. Elements of Wall-E. (You’ll see what I mean)

The world is quiet and Rey doesn’t know how it became so. Waking up alone, in the middle of a ruined city, with no memories has gnawed at her for nine years. The only thing she can recall is her name. Rey. Just Rey.

She has skills she can’t explain, but they prove useful for her life of solitude.

Rey waits on the dock, at noon, for an hour, every day, but no one comes. She chose noon because the “Cranks” don’t like the sunlight.

The questions that gnaw at her heart, day after day, night after night, might just be answered with the arrival of a man who has a funny way of asking for food and shelter.

Here is the link:

My Only Guiding Light, Chapter 1: The Dinner Guest

I understand, I was the idiot who asked the question. Still, I blame @alchemine for my Camp NANOWRIMO project this year. Behold, scene one of my most recent probably-never-to-be-finished WIP:

“The first dome was built in Hampshire back in the twenty first century - 2049 to be precise. It was moderately successful, but it wasn’t until 2062 that the unbreakable glass used in modern domes was created. The Downton dome was constructed in 2064 and reaches over a thousand acres, with a side dome of about half that size, making it the largest dome at the time. Most of the farm land was originally woods that have been converted for the production of food animals.”

“You mean the woods used to fill the entire dome?” Phyllis asked, her eyes not moving from Mr. Molsley’s face. She loved hearing the footman talk about history, watching his expression and listening to the low note of excitement in his voice. Besides, it was interesting to learn about the place she was increasingly coming to think of as ‘home’.

“Pretty much, from what I understand,” Mr. Molsley agreed, dropping his eyes from the lattice work of steel and glass above their heads. “The town was there already. They’d wanted to get it under the main dome, but they didn’t think they could do it without sacrificing structural integrity. As it was, if you look at the original concept sketches, the support pillars weren’t there. Those were added later when they determined they couldn’t reliably support that large a structure without them.”

Phyllis shuddered at the idea of the huge structure arching over them collapsing in on itself. “Which dome is the largest?” she asked, trying to distract herself before she could think about it too much.

“The capitol, New Westminster,” was the prompt reply. “The main dome is the size of the entire Downton complex, including the side dome, and it has six auxiliary domes dedicated to different forms of farming and residences. I’d love to see the park dome! Imagine, six hundred acres of just trees and gardens and ponds to walk through and explore. “

“That does sound nice.” Although she’d spent her formative years in Manchester, Phyllis’s family had moved to the Treowen dome before she’d finished her schooling. She was therefore already well accustom to green growing grass and trees by the time she came to Downton, although coming here as she’d done from the slums of London, it had been a relief beyond words to be able to draw a breath without wearing a gas mask again. Still, it had been common place enough that the Mr. Molsley’s enthusiasm over plant life, as dear as his love of history and undamped by thirty five years serving the Granthams, had been immediately endearing. “Do you think you’ll move to New Westminster, one day?”

“Move?” Mr. Molsley laughed a little at the thought. “Goodness no! Visit, perhaps, although even that means traveling outside.”

“It’s not that far, though. It would only be, what, an hour by train?”

“About that, when you factor in stops.”

“You should go there on your next day off,” Phyllis smiled, imagining him wandering through the parkland, “Then come back and tell me all about it.”

There was a slight hesitation as he thought about it, then he suggested, “We could go together. Assuming, of course, we could get the same day off. I’m certain her Ladyship would allow it.”

Phyllis turned her attention upward, trying to hide her own hesitation. On the one hand, the idea of going somewhere with Mr. Molsley made her feel flushed and excited, which was a little ridiculous if you considered she was hardly an innocent and they weren’t going to be doing anything beyond wandering down pathways. On the other hand, as he had pointed out, it involved leaving Downton. Even after two and a half years, the idea of somehow getting stranded in the world beyond the domes was terrifying. It was hypocritical of her, she supposed, to encourage him to do something she lacked the courage to do herself, but there it was. She was only human, after all. “Perhaps I’ll speak to her Ladyship about it at some point,” she finally compromised. “When we both have the time.” There was a chiming from her pocket. Pulling her com screen out of her pocket, she turned off the alarm, then stood from the bench they’d been sitting on. “Speaking of her Ladyship, it’s time to go get ready for tea.”

“Would you like me to walk with you?” Mr. Molsley asked, also standing. “That is, I’ve been gone a fair while. Mr. Carson might come looking for me if I don’t get back soon.”

“Of course,” Phyllis stood. It was always adorable when the tall footman, who wasn’t really gangly but somehow gave the impression of it, tried to court her attention without seeming forward. She knew he was doing it, of course, and part of her felt she should return the favor. She certainly found him attractive. On the other hand, she didn’t want to be forward either. And so, their uncertain courtship continued with the two of them starting down the path that led from the garden to the servant’s yard.

As they walked the irrigation system kicked on, spraying the surrounding roses with a fine mist. Mr. Molsley paused for a moment to watch, then continued on. “You know, the roses were what impressed me most when I first came to Downton. That is, this was the first place I’d ever really seen plants, outside of crab grass and brambles and even those were half dead, so everything was new and fascinating, but the roses were even more so than everything else.”

“How so?” Phyllis asked, curious, even though she loved roses herself.

“I’m not entirely certain,” he admitted. “I think it was the sheer variety. I mean, you have everything from white and pink, which are the natural colours, to blue and black which aren’t even possible natrually. That took genetic engineering. Then there are the different shapes and plant types.”

“I love the way they smell.” The observation seemed a bit feminine to Phyllis, but it was met with enthusiastic agreement.

“The fragrant ones are very nice, and no two varieties smell the same, have you noticed?”

The topic of roses carried them from the gardens around the back of the house, past the stables and to the servant’s entrance. It wound to an end when a whiff of smoke alerted Phyllis to the fact that someone else was already taking up space against the yard wall. Despite the fact they were making no effort to disguise their footsteps, he seemed quite unaware of their presence, his head leaning back against the brick of the house and his eyes closed, cigarette apparently forgotten in his hand. Cautiously, Phyllis greeted him. “Hello, Thomas. Is everything alright?”

With a small start, proving that he really hadn’t been aware of them, Downton’s under butler came to life, pulling away from the wall and settling his expression into a polite smile that served as a better poker face than any gambler ever wore. “Of course,” he assured her. His tone matched his words, but Phyllis could never quite trust the promises that he was alright. He always insisted he was the happiest after she’d caught him looking miserable. The lack of trust hurt, but she couldn’t blame him. “Just finished examining the domes is all. Thought I’d have a smoke before I give my report. Taking stock of damage done by that last storm. Fifteen hundred acres is a lot of glass and steel to look at.”

It was generally agreed by the staff, quietly, when they thought he couldn’t hear, that the only reason Thomas had been kept on as long as he had was because he’d been raised by a glass maker and dome repairman and therefore the Granthams could save money on bringing the dome guild in by having him do inspections and minor repairs himself. A few of them, in their less charitable moments, had hoped that the elevator system that allowed access to the great structure hundreds of feet above them would break and leave the position open via an untimely death. (Mr. Carson, as unfond as he obviously was of the younger man, put his foot down on such conversations. Phyllis said it showed he cared. Thomas said such an accident would reflect badly on the family and therefore Mr. Carson considered the suggestion unacceptable.) While Mr. Molsley liked Thomas as little as everyone else, he did try to at least somewhat get along with him in Phyllis’s presence, for which she was grateful. “How’s it look?” he asked, the question brightened by his genuine interest in the domes in general.

“A bit of damage,” Thomas allowed. “To be expected, really, given the size of the hail we were getting. We’ll have to call in the repair guild, possibly resurface a few of the panels, that sort of thing. The solar film on most of them is still in good working order, though, so we shouldn’t have to redo it all.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Phyllis replied with genuine relief. Since living in the least livable section of London for three years, she was hyper aware of the fact the structure allowing her to breathe without a gas mask was made of glass, and even Mr. Molsley’s assurances about how indestructible it was couldn’t make her any easier.

“Right,” Thomas’s smile broadened, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, then, I’d probably best make my report, and you two will be wanted inside.” He flicked out his cigarette and walked over to pull the door open. “After you two.”

...seriously, though, I have some idea where this is going, but no idea how to get there, and the science, while fun, is also kinda nerve wracking. So don’t expect to ever get more than this. >_<

#downton abbey #downton abbey fanfiction #alternate universe #distopian future #wip #needed this like a hole in the head