#void.doc

[abyssalaquarist00]

A Manner of Patience ; short story, excerpt below

Nadine is troubled by disinterest in daily life until she notices something spark when she's around her soon-to-be husbands' male companions. She doesn't understand why she wants to belong among men, and figures that she will eventually settle into her marriage.

A lonesome stroll would soon see a sour mood stirred; lax in the way of improvement. Her heels, short and blocked, tacked and tittered against the wooden bridge hovering over the slow flowing trickle of the river. Her face fell in a style that brought a naturalized pout which, at times, proved difficult for her fiance to chisel away at. It was an aura fit for an overcast tune, a boon cherished by the shade of her parasol on a sunny afternoon. Whatever rays of sunlight divined the surface would catch only in her eyes, and cast back into the world through apparent disdain. In fact, a delightful breeze could pass through the light layers of her white dress, and she wouldn't bring herself to enjoy it.

She came to a subtle stop upon the median, reflecting on the disturbed, imposed image of herself in the water. 

Although she was in perfectly good health, her visage emanated a sickliness to her subconscious. By all means, she was considered beautiful- her suitors had thought so, and her fiance especially. Dark, thick hair sprang from her head, twirling and curling from wide ringlets into smaller, wavier flicks toward the end of the length. Her fiance especially loved her eyes, which sloped like flowering hills with her long lashes. But her lips, though as soft and plush as they were, were full of contempt. 

"Darling," he called out, "Would you care to join the fellows and I for coffee?"

She hummed in thought, her gaze transfixed by the movement of water. Then, she spoke and said "What else would I have to do today?" 

The tall, mustached and light suited man lifted his cheeks with a delighted smile, holding out his arm in anticipation at the sound of her heels against the wood. A chance that she would rest her wrist on it when they joined.

Should they ever join.

It was a jolt of love he felt from her fingertips when they perched on his shoulder, a feeling quickly swung when she gently signaled his arm down by a simple impression. She must've been pre-occupied, he thought, filing away the numerous cases she'd declined this simple affection. The two walked in stride, which was the least he had asked for. Where he would meet his friends wasn't far, either.

A group of 4 men sat and lounged under a raised canopy. There were some low stools and cushions made for the woven mat floor that they each occupied. Between them were two long-stemmed waterpipes they smoked from.

"Reza, our friend!" Called one of the men on the floor. His words had pushed through a plume of smoked tobacco, subsequently waved away by the two other men it bothered. 

“Sultan, my man, how are you?” He cheered into a handshake, then they kissed each other twice on one cheek.

His lady watched as he repeated the greeting for the other two men; Raul and Santiago. She caught her gaze lingering on the last man; a soft and stubbled jaw, thick brows and wavy hair parted to the side. He wore a rectangular scarf on his shoulders and squared spectacles on the bridge of his nose. 

“And of course, my wife,” Reza wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “Nadine.”

That name, which rolled off his tongue so smoothly, was armored with spikes against her psyche. Like smoke, it passed but the smell stained his breath. 

“I hope you are all well,” she bowed her head, electing to sit on one of the stools.

“With your radiance, of course,” chimed Sultan.

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[id: a digital drawing of c!GeorgeNotFound and c!Sapnap from the waist up. George is a white humanoid man, with brown hair, pointed ears and mushrooms growing out of his skin and through his clothes, particularly around his shoulders and hair. He is wearing a big mushroom cap as a hat, clout goggles, and a black t-shirt with a cat design peeking out of the front pocket. Sapnap is a white humanoid man, with black hair tied back with a bandana, pointed ears, fangs, and short black horns. He is wearing a blue sweatshirt and orange plaid pants, and a chain with two engagement rings around his neck. George has his hands partially in front of him, and has his mouth slightly open, looking somewhat surprised. Sapnap has both hands in his hoodie pocket, and is looking mildly upset, with his mouth open as if he is mid-sentence. Far behind them, there is a mushroom themed building and a massive mushroom with a structure build inside, both between two mountains. The ground close behind them is covered in flowers, and part of a wooden path is visible. It is sunrise, the sky is shades of yellow, pink, and blue, and the sun is barely below the horizon.]

early morning chat

[abyssalaquarist00]

THE DREAD: Advent of Sight

An exploration into the Crusader and how charged of a character he is within his own historical context and today's real world problems. In 'The Dread', a Contemporary Cosmic Horror AU, the Crusader is Officer Reginald Bouvier; a closeted, divorced veteran serving in Arkham's Police Department struggling to feel at peace with his place in the world. As he struggles to cope, a curious case at Miskatonic University piques his interest.

3,206 words

I do not know how many chapters I will write for this lol. It's very loaded stuff, and it's not a perspective I'm necessarily keen to write but find compelled to do so anyway as it's broadly related to the theme of 'deprogramming' in my work.

Read on AO3, Excerpt below

Taptaptaptap.

The sound of a cheap, plastic tube rasped against a jaunty yellow legal pad while overhead fluorescent lights incessantly buggered against his temples. His dome, which held under its marvelous constraints a soaring type of pain only inflicted by a night of sorrowful decisions, was under vicious attack on all sensorial fronts. Yet the only thing, for some reason, to soothe the aching affront was this dull repetition begotten by the compulsive twitching of his middle and index fingers. It was music to his ears, a melody for his muscles to get through the dredge of clerical procrastination. Sure, he could get around to reviewing some of the cases he'd been assigned to, or he could seek a quick cat-nap somewhere else.

It wouldn't have been the first time he would have gotten away with it, if he did choose to have a little snooze during the work-day. It wasn't like he took his job seriously, or that he swore an oath to serve and protect. It was as nagging like the lights above; stark, overbearing. Awful for a hangover. A sigh of exasperation left his body before a thought populated, and his motions stopped.

Last night was embarrassing. He's lucky to still remember it, but at what cost?

He sighed on his departure from the worn-out chair, and the slow, creaky incline onto his feet. It was like his muscles were holding on by mere threads, but he stood in the face of suffering as was his divine duty. He tucked his pen in his blue uniform's breast pocket and sluggishly picked up his white mug accompanied by the gold text, "TRUST IN THE LORD" and a verse he didn't care to read at that time. 

[abyssalaquarist00]

some WIPs of another short story that i've actually got the final draft finished for called 'The Twin Dunes'

excerpt below.

His pen came to a sudden halt. He threw some belongings into a satchel; his journal, astrolabe, his prayer beads, and then looked up to the sky. His eyes darted until they found the familiar, sometimes faint, blue light in the sky. This elusive blue dot had captivated him for some time, since he was a child in fact. It would appear every few years and stay for only a few days. It wandered the sky, similar to some of the other unblinking lights- what he knew were planets, as taught by the ancients who likely left these monuments behind- but it’s behavior was most strange. It was almost like it had a mind of its own.

Some nearby localities would report that this phenomena was an omen. They wouldn’t step foot anywhere near, with tales and myths of disappearances. According to the tales, these lights would appear directly above the monuments and nowhere else. They believed that invisible beings existed in an alternate realm and would be the cause for such tragedies, however no rescue efforts would be attempted for the fear of safety. He showed up despite his familiarity with those fears.

What would he stand by if he saw something that shook his core? If the Divine Creator was as merciful as scripture and oral traditions suggested; could he ever be forgiven if he intentionally strayed from his beliefs in the pursuit of knowledge?

[starspoiler]

happy 8 months since the last time c!karlnapity spoke to eachother :,)

[starspoiler]

[ID: a screenshot of Foolish’s death screen from when he was killed by Antfrost at the Red Banquet, showing that he had a score of 200137 and 100 levels]

Foolish had 100 levels when he died??? eggpire apologism cancelled, this is fucked up

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oh my god the clip that the wiki invented c!dadboyhalo is from the vod where karlnapity get engaged 

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that sbi stream could totally be the plot of a tma episode