My first post, here we have some of my Neon Dragon Citizens (with decent Refs), or how i call them NDCitizens for short
they are a group of citizens with love of fashion with Neon colors, a dangerous city which are full of criminals if you ask me~
all characters belong to me~!!
here are their names~
Mayor Orpheus, Veronika and Carter
Xoulfur and Zlayer
Doctor Sahael, Qhari-Coalt and RS-01
NovaSpace, Athanasios Rimon (known as athans) Dr. Ezra T. Gore and Snowstorm B.
It was dark by the time I returned to the rotted-out shipping container.
The night hung thick in the air like fabric. I crept in the gap in the container floor by the light of the moon and lit a matchstick. It flared up and I oriented myself in the space, memorizing the positioning of the bed, the utensils, the gun on the lopsided table. The match sputtered down to my fingertips and I blew it out and shook the smoke away.
I got ready to sleep in the dark.
I stripped off the clothes: the oversized coat, the thick denim, the under-layers damp with sweat. I liked undressing in the dark. I didn’t have a form there. I felt genderless. I’d spent enough time alone in that trailer for my body to become just a body. It was something to maintain and care for, something to look after, but not a measure of self.
There was a bucket of wash-water in the corner. The soap was down to a sliver— I’d have to find more. I knew there was a way to make soap, but it involved charcoal and animal fat, and I didn’t have energy to waste experimenting with burnt squirrel meat.
Energy and time were precious commodities at the end of the world.
There was a time I had running water. There was a time I’d had enough to eat, and big Sunday dinners, and company good enough to keep.
That had been a long time ago now.
My legs were too sore to stand any longer, so my usual standing rag-bath would have to wait. I wiped myself off as best I could from the floor. I’d go to bed clean. It was easier that way— bedding was harder to wash than my body.
I dragged myself over to the makeshift bed in the corner and collapsed onto the blankets. I was exhausted, but the pain in my legs kept me from falling asleep. The muscles seized and ached and I rolled over and over for what felt like hours.
I screamed into the pillow.
Later I would wonder if that was what did it. Maybe it was the scream, or maybe the match. Maybe I’d been followed ever since I left the shopping center.
It didn’t matter how. They’d found me, and that was that.
I didn’t get a warning—there was no one in my trailer, and then there was.
I could see the silhouette by a tiny flicker of moonlight coming in through the rotted-in ceiling. It rose up through the gap in the floor I’d crawled through faster than I could blink.
I didn’t wait, didn’t hesitate, didn’t breathe. The second I registered metal, I went for the gun.
I got half a finger on it when a vise wrapped around my forearm and pulled me off-balance to the floor. I thrashed in the dark, but it was no use. The thing had my other arm before I could blink, and it pinned me down.
“Stop,” the intruder said.
I hissed back at it, an exhaled breath of panic and adrenaline.
“I’m trying to help you,” it continued, shifting its weight. That single movement betrayed how large it was in comparison to me, and yet it knocked over nothing, made no sound.
I had nothing to say, so I spat on the floor in response.
The intruder didn’t respond to the insult. I could feel the hands holding me down. It made my blood boil and freeze all at once.
I hated being vulnerable.
“I’m going to let go of you,” the thing said. “I just want to talk.”
The grip on me loosened. I waited a second, maybe two: enough for my captor to assume I was complacent. Beat.
When the time was up, I swiveled around with the force of all my adrenaline and kicked out in the space where I knew it had been.
It worked. My feet connected with a much larger object, and I heaved with every ounce of my strength, and the weight pushed back.
I flipped myself over and scrambled, blind, for the gap in the floor.
I got my upper body partway in before a hand wrapped around my leg. I hissed in a breath through my teeth and kicked at it.
“You’re fast,” my captor said. “I’ll give you that.”
We were at a stalemate. I couldn’t go any further, and it seemed unwilling to drag me back into the trailer. The air was tense and still, a delicate stasis. I took deep breaths in and out.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” my captor said.
I stayed still, resting my body while my brain raced for a way to escape. The adrenaline pounded in my veins, made my head fuzzy. The darkness swayed like a dream. I could sense the disassociation kicking in. I couldn’t make out any details around me, just the feeling of metal clamped around my leg.
“My name is Atha,” the thing holding onto me said. “Can you speak?”
I didn’t say anything.
There was a sudden burst of light in the room, and I squinted and lowered my head to keep the rays from stabbing into the space behind my eye sockets.
“I’m trying to help you. They’re coming for you,” my captor said.
I blinked water out of my eyes and squinted in its direction. As if it could sense what I needed, it lowered the beam so I could see better in the half-light.
It fit the descriptions and the sightings— a metal being, something resembling human, but bigger than any human could hope to be. Where its face should be there was nothing but a sharp, angled plate that curved around to form a crownlike silhouette. It was crouched in a spiderlike position, limbs at odd angles, crown-plate brushing the ceiling. It was beautiful.
It was the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen.
“Don’t run, please,” it said, and let go of me.
The metallurg— that was what they were called, I remembered— had no eyes, and no facial expressions, but the tone of its voice perfectly mimicked human emotion. It sounded concerned and even a touch gentle. The gentleness scared me. People had a way of sounding gentle when they hurt you.
The hand releasing my leg had been wide enough to cover my entire calf. I pulled my freed foot in toward myself, curling into the burrowed tunnel under the gap in the floor. Outside was only a few feet away, but the metallurg was too fast to outrun, and I hadn’t redressed since the bath. I’d have to be smarter than the easy option.
At least this way I had the security of the floor above me, a half-cover. It wasn’t enough, but I never had enough. The soft dirt of the tunnel brushed against my bare skin as I shifted my weight.
The metallurg reached behind itself and grabbed a blanket off my bed. It held it out to me.
“Here,” it said.
I stared at it, tense, unwilling to make a move towards the hand.
It tossed the blanket towards me and I swatted it out of the air, scared that the flying object would block my sight of the metallurg crouching like a predator in a rabbit’s den. When the thing remained in place even as the blanket fluttered to the floor, I hesitantly dragged the soft fabric towards myself and curled into it.
The consideration of that action had caught me off guard. It wasn’t like a metallurg to care about human convention, and I’d made no sign of trying to obtain the blanket, so it wasn’t trying to win favor based on observation of my behavior. It simply knew that humans prefer to clothe themselves, and obliged.
There was a moment of quiet. I sat there huddled in the blanket, and the metallurg stayed crouched in the trailer. It had no eyes, so I couldn’t tell what it was looking at—if it was examining me or observing my behavior with the blanket or thinking of something to say. There was another possibility, I thought. It could be waiting for me to calm down.
My mind wheeled, full of panic.
“It’s alright,” the metallurg said. “I won’t hurt you.”
It raised its hands up in a peaceful gesture, head turned towards me.
“What’s your name? Can you talk?” it asked.
I shifted under the blanket.
“Am I using the wrong language?” it continued. “I thought-“
“Hand me the gun,” I inturrupted, voice low and raspy from disuse.
It stopped. When it spoke again, its tone was light and warm. “Well, hello.”
“The gun. Now. If you’re really friendly.”
It was hard to tell from the lack of eyes, but its crown-plate was turned towards me, as if it was staring.
“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” it said. “You don’t have t-“
“Too bad,” I said. “If you want to bargain, I need the gun.”
The metallurg knew the play as much as I did.
It tilted its crown-plate and reached out for the firearm, picking it up delicately despite the oversized fingers. Then it held it out towards me, handle-first.
Still tense, I edged forwards, then wavered. The prospect of taking something out of the massive hand was frightening; but not having the gun was more so.
“It’s okay,” the metallurg said, voice gentle.
That pissed me off enough to grab the firearm. True to its word, the metallurg made no move to stop me. Its motions were slow and minimalistic despite its great strength, speed, and size. I knew it was an intentional choice.
I switched off the safety and placed the firearm directly under my chin at an upwards angle— my suicide switch. Guns, of course, were no use against metallurgs; but they could ensure I wouldn’t fall into the clutches of one.
“Talk,” I said.
It raised its hands in a gesture of surrender. “One of my kind discovered you. They’re going to clear out the area, hunt you down. I can give you shelter. I-“
“Why would you care?”
It shifted. “I’ve been studying you.”
“Studying?”
“Yes,” it said, tone sheepish. “I’m a researcher for animal conservation.”
I was stunned into silence for a moment. When I regained my voice, I pressed the gun harder into my neck with a trembling hand.
“Conservation?”
“Yes. I’ve been observing you. I didn’t want to intrude like this— I knew I’d scare you— but they’re coming this morning, and I didn’t want to trap you and frighten you even more.”
Of course. It knew as well as I did that my first reaction to being trapped without a hint of escape would be to pull the trigger.
When I didn’t respond, it kept talking. “I could have drugged you, but I know you’re intelligent, and that would have caused problems with later interaction. I wanted to try communication— and look at us, communicating! It’s nice to officially meet you.”
“How long?”
“Sorry?”
“How long have you been watching?” I hissed through clenched teeth.
It tilted its crown-plate. “About two months.”
I inhaled. Two months of being stalked and despite my utter paranoia, I’d had no idea.
“I know you’re scared,” the metallurg continued, “and you have a right to be. You don’t have to trust me. You don’t have to like me. I want to save your life, though— and I need you to let me. If you come with me, I can help you. I have food, water, clothing, medical supplies; everything you need.”
That was a powerful bargaining chip. Food was scarce and medicine was scarcer— I had quite a few medical issues that had gone untreated until about a month ago, when I’d discovered a trove of supplies near the-
“Did you leave those supplies near the river?” I asked, suddenly realizing.
It nodded. “I’ve been helping you. I never intended to have to take you into custody. Your behavior in captivity will be altered. It was healthier for you to keep my presence unknown and let you live in peace. Ensuring your survival and well-being, that’s my job as a conservationist. I would never ask this if it wasn’t completely necessary.”
“I’m not an animal,” I said.
It tilted its head. “Humans are, by definition-“
“It’s a shit definition.”
“I know you don’t consider yourself one, but-“
“I’m not some pet for you to drag home.”
“That wasn’t my intention,” it said. “Look. I don’t mean to treat you badly, or to insult your intelligence. You’re an independent being. I meant, to my people, there is effectively no difference. They will experiment on and euthanize you if you’re caught here. I don’t want to capture you by force— I’m sorry about restraining you, I saw you go towards the gun, and I knew humans have a tendency to-“
“Self-destruct?” I asked, inching my finger towards the trigger of the firearm pressed under my chin.
“Yes,” it said. “I want to build trust with you, not take you by force. Let’s start over. My name is Atha.”
There were several long moments of silence. My hands shook. I was aware of the adrenaline edging away, the exhaustion replacing it.
Just a small short story featuring cute fairy/human fluffiness. Enjoy :)
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It was ten AM and Shylah was still asleep, Michael had left her alone on his pillow earlier in the morning after his failed attempts to rouse her, she was clearly exhausted and so decided to let her get her rest.
Michael had kept himself busy, tidied up their small apartment, caught up a bit on work and was just getting ready to sit down and do some painting with his mug of coffee in hand when he heard it.
If his ears weren’t already adapt to hearing the sounds of small beings it would have gone unheard, but he had gotten used to listening for the sounds of the Fae folk. A tiny cough and harsh snorts could be heard coming from his bedroom. Carefully he walked towards his room and cracked the door open to peak in at his diminutive wife sitting up on his pillow and wiping her red nose on the sleeve of her nightshirt.
She looked up at him as he quietly approached the bed and sat down in front of her. Normally the slight rocking of the immense man sitting on the bed wouldn’t affect her too much but this time she rocked uneasily and shook the dizziness from her eyes.
“Uhh I feel like complete shit” she murmured rubbing her temples before wiping more snot onto her shirt.
Without hesitation he scooped her up in his hands and brought her up to his face, he could see clearly now just how pale she was, her nose was red and her eyes bloodshot, even her gossamer wings laying still against her back seemed a little dim this morning.
“You definitely don’t look very well, are you sure your gonna be able to make it to the meeting tonight?” he asked her, voice full of concern.
“I can’t miss, we are making final plans for the winter solstice tonight, the Fae committee will be furious if I miss it” she finished off with a strong sneeze that seemed to take the wind out of her and she fell back in his palm. She buried her face in her hands and sniffled.
“I think they can either postpone or make plans without you this year, you need rest babe if you want to get better” Michael lowered her level with his chest and held her securely there as he began to walk towards the door, ready to set her up with Panadol, a hot cup of tea and lots of tissues.
“I’m fine *achoo* it’s only a couple of hours *achoo* I’ll be fine” he watched as she continued to sneeze and look bleary eyed up at him as he continued towards the kitchen.
“Your calling in sick, the elders wont appreciate you spreading your illness” the kettle was on and he raised her back up to eye level, she glared at him, crossed her arms and sniffled.
“I’m fine” she grumbled, she eyed the kettle in distaste “And I can make my own tea thank you very much” not a second later she was on her feet, she shook the dizziness from her eyes once more from standing up too fast and then leaped from his hands.
Her wings weakly flapped to keep her in the air but she was loosing altitude, she breathed heavily as she slowly descended to the floor landing on her hands and knees with tears leaking from her eyes. Shylah was always independent from the moment they met, she refused to let him simply take care of her, she could look after herself. Now, she couldn’t even fly, the essence of her independence, gone.
She felt the ground beneath her tremble as her human husband approached her, the shifting of immense fabric told her he was crouching down behind her.
She felt a warm pressure on her shoulder where his finger had reached for her to offer comfort in her clearly distraught state. A second later the rest of his fingers gently wrapped around her body and lifted her up to his chest where he held her there in a hug.
“Everyone deserves a break sometimes babe” he whispered into her hair “today, just this once, can you let me take care of you, like a husband should” the love and concern in his deep voice soothed her like a balm and she nuzzled deeper into his chest.
“Okay” she said softly, she looked up into his deep green eyes whirling with worry “just this once” she conceded.
The relief on his face was evident, carefully he stood up, he picked up her cup of lemon tea between a finger and thumb and headed for the couch. Once he got comfy, he set his wife down in his lap, she leaned back against his stomach as he held a hand over her like a blanket. He then set down a ripped-up bit of tissue beside her and handed her the teacup.
After several hours of watching particularly girly romcoms he looked down at Shylah to see she had fallen asleep curled up in his lap and held snuggly against his abdomen, he smiled softly down at her. As gently as he could, he trailed a finger through her hair, down her spine and gently over her wings, she sighed contentedly.
Michael was so engrossed by the serenity of his wife that he didn’t even notice a Fae Official had flown through the window and was currently standing on the arm of the couch looking at the scene with mild interest.
“So this is the reason Shylah missed the Winter Solstice meeting, she was getting petted by her human husband” Michael flinched in surprise at the unexpected visitor and turned to see Jonah standing right beside him on the arm of the couch with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked deadly serious especially in his official uniform, he waited patiently for the giant to answer.
“God, Jonah, you scared me” Michael said to which Jonah smirked in amusement, scaring a being so much larger than yourself was not usually this easy.
“Shylah is sick, she’s so weak she can barely fly” Michael explained, Jonah looked down at his sleeping friend in Michael’s lap with concern.
Jonah sighed unable to hold up the angry official façade especially with one of his closest friends so unwell “the elders will understand, this is the first time she’s ever missed a meeting” he flew down and landed a few feet away from Shylah on Michaels knee. He had been around the human long enough to know he could be trusted.
“It looks like your taking good care of her” he said after a moment, he then looked up at Michael “Um, I’ll be sure to let the elders know of her current condition. If she is well enough tomorrow tell her to come to the village, they will want to discuss the outcome of the meeting with her” and with that Jonah gave a small nod and took to the sky headed for the open window.
Michael gave a small sigh and snuggled down further into the cushions being careful not to jostle Shylah too much, he then pressed play on another random movie and let his own eyes flutter closed, content to enjoy the peacefulness around him.
this verison of gullivers travels is the adventure of gulliver from Hanna-Barbera
Plot:While on a boat trip with his father, Gary Gulliver and his dog Tagg end up shipwrecked on an island; Gary and Tagg search for Gary's father and befriend the inhabitants of the island.
