When Saren weaves worlds they stare, jaws agape. Fear is a bitter taste mixed with the sharp of jealousy. It isn't fair, whatever he is. Why does he get touch magic? The ambush fails. Of course. Saren doesn't just weave worlds. He is more than a boy who doesn't fit in. He is life. Eternal.
Dog looked into the abyss and eht ssyba dekool kcab. Dog tilted his head, “What was that last part? I don't understand.” The narrator didn't answer because this was breaking the fourth wall and that wasn't happening today. No sir. Not now. Not again. “A talking dog asks you a question and you ignore him?” Dog asked, sounding suddenly very cross, “What was that last part of the sentence? It was all garbled.” He stooped, scooping a handful of rocks from the edge of the abyss and hurled them into the sky. They plunked harmlessly off the fourth wall and glanced away. But it was annoying and the narrator had a deadline. “Get back to your story,” she said, “It's 'the abyss looked back but backwards.' It's just me being artsy.” “It's you being pretentious, you mean,” Dog said, “Say what you mean so the audience can understand you. Don't be a prick.” He tilted his head to the other side, his eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute,” Dog said, “Is there even a story
FF29: Let Sleeping Planets Sleep by NamelessShe, literature
Literature
FF29: Let Sleeping Planets Sleep
There was no sign of danger so Commander Rigel ordered the survey. The surface was a smooth bronze, flawless like no other planet the Continuum had tested. It couldn't be natural. Some intelligent life had to have forged it. At the touch of the drill, the ground shuddered, the surface cracking. Something below moved. Roared.
Wanda was at a loss for words. For the first time in two hundred years, she didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or set something on fire. She cradled the coven's ancient book of shadows, her fingers tracing the cracks in the cover. It was in poor shape compared to the last time she had held it, but the pages were in tact and readable. “How much?” she asked. “That's what you were fussing about?” the mayor asked, wrinkling his nose, as if he couldn't fathom he had been using her coven's most powerful book of magic to prop up the busted leg of his desk. “Name your price,” she said. “It's not a matter of money.” She shut here eyes for a moment. Somehow she knew where this was going. It was the same every time she tried to barter once they figured out who she was. People in this time were only interested in one thing. When she opened her eyes, the mayor was grinning. “What do you want me to kill?” she asked. “Mutant raiders,” he said, “Bandits.
“Are you out of your mind?!!” “Not any more so than usual,” Gaia said. The thing in the stables was practically mummified. It was torn, leathery skin stretched over bones, an unholy green light burning in those hollowed out eye sockets. Somehow, it looked at him, followed his movements even though it was fucking dead and had no eyeballs. Maybe it had been some kind of a horse once, but it was literally glowing with unholy magic. L.I.T.E.R.A.L.L.Y. “You can't keep it,” John tried. Pretty please. With all the cherries in the world on top. She chewed on her lip for a moment, gaze shifting to the unholy thing. He almost believed she'd consider listening this time. Because no one as smart as she was could see any wisdom in keeping such a creature. It was just a matter of time before it tried to eat you. Gaia tilted her head, gaze shifting back to him. “You just can't,” he said, but he could see it in her eyes. “Watch me,” she said.
Mercy slept in the empty of space, systems deactivated to conserve energy. There was no point maintaining when the crew was dead. There was no port to go back to, no sister ships to sing, no chorus of A.I. interfaces to answer. So they slept until the ancient ship docked. "Bishop?" they asked. They sang.
FF25: Storm Forged Warriors by NamelessShe, literature
Literature
FF25: Storm Forged Warriors
The sun was red that day, bloody clouds tinged green with storm. Calliope stood on the shore, shoulder to shoulder with wiser men and women than she would ever be. They were seasoned for this war, older than most civilizations and battle scarred. She was the youngest to join their ranks. Her heart still ached. “Doubting yourself is the hardest part,” her commander said, “You can accept what they did and move on but when you look back, it starts again.” The woman was broken and reforged in fire, her face a rough network of scars, the fingers of her left hand gnarled and twisted but still strong. “What if,” the commander said, “What if, what if, what if. Half truth and lies. Useless words.” “They'll say anything to make you hurt again,” she said in a voice that was ragged and harsh, words forced through almost ruined vocal chords, “So take that power away from them and fight and live.” And so Calliope did.
The fairy, Titania, holds her breath. She flutters, falters, and falls, but at the last second, catches the right angle, pulling up above the rocks. The light hits her just so and then she's soaring, disappearing between realms as she was always meant to. It's not the end of the world. Magic isn't dead yet.
The flower crown was orange poppies and yellow lilies, green stems threaded through the eye sockets of pixie skulls. The stench of old blood clung to it “You're going to wake up with your bloodline cursed,” the wise woman said when she caught wind of what Cambria the Stupid was doing. Cambria liked dead things and murder so she didn't care much for the old woman's chattering. When the old bat was dead she was desecrating her corpse to make magical bone arrows. Then she'd go orc hunting. No one would stop her. Pixies were basically bugs anyway. But the next morning Cambria was gone. There was no trace of her other than a few crushed poppy petals and the circle of mushrooms growing dense around her shack.
Silver Threepaw, spacecat first class, piloted the human's starship through the sun. He opened a portal and jumped, the star's gravity propelling them through. He singled handedly saved the human race from extinction by supernova and ferried them to their new home in the Omega Quadrant. They said thank you with canned tuna. Fuck humans.
When Saren weaves worlds they stare, jaws agape. Fear is a bitter taste mixed with the sharp of jealousy. It isn't fair, whatever he is. Why does he get touch magic? The ambush fails. Of course. Saren doesn't just weave worlds. He is more than a boy who doesn't fit in. He is life. Eternal.
Dog looked into the abyss and eht ssyba dekool kcab. Dog tilted his head, “What was that last part? I don't understand.” The narrator didn't answer because this was breaking the fourth wall and that wasn't happening today. No sir. Not now. Not again. “A talking dog asks you a question and you ignore him?” Dog asked, sounding suddenly very cross, “What was that last part of the sentence? It was all garbled.” He stooped, scooping a handful of rocks from the edge of the abyss and hurled them into the sky. They plunked harmlessly off the fourth wall and glanced away. But it was annoying and the narrator had a deadline. “Get back to your story,” she said, “It's 'the abyss looked back but backwards.' It's just me being artsy.” “It's you being pretentious, you mean,” Dog said, “Say what you mean so the audience can understand you. Don't be a prick.” He tilted his head to the other side, his eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute,” Dog said, “Is there even a story
FF29: Let Sleeping Planets Sleep by NamelessShe, literature
Literature
FF29: Let Sleeping Planets Sleep
There was no sign of danger so Commander Rigel ordered the survey. The surface was a smooth bronze, flawless like no other planet the Continuum had tested. It couldn't be natural. Some intelligent life had to have forged it. At the touch of the drill, the ground shuddered, the surface cracking. Something below moved. Roared.
Wanda was at a loss for words. For the first time in two hundred years, she didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or set something on fire. She cradled the coven's ancient book of shadows, her fingers tracing the cracks in the cover. It was in poor shape compared to the last time she had held it, but the pages were in tact and readable. “How much?” she asked. “That's what you were fussing about?” the mayor asked, wrinkling his nose, as if he couldn't fathom he had been using her coven's most powerful book of magic to prop up the busted leg of his desk. “Name your price,” she said. “It's not a matter of money.” She shut here eyes for a moment. Somehow she knew where this was going. It was the same every time she tried to barter once they figured out who she was. People in this time were only interested in one thing. When she opened her eyes, the mayor was grinning. “What do you want me to kill?” she asked. “Mutant raiders,” he said, “Bandits.
“Are you out of your mind?!!” “Not any more so than usual,” Gaia said. The thing in the stables was practically mummified. It was torn, leathery skin stretched over bones, an unholy green light burning in those hollowed out eye sockets. Somehow, it looked at him, followed his movements even though it was fucking dead and had no eyeballs. Maybe it had been some kind of a horse once, but it was literally glowing with unholy magic. L.I.T.E.R.A.L.L.Y. “You can't keep it,” John tried. Pretty please. With all the cherries in the world on top. She chewed on her lip for a moment, gaze shifting to the unholy thing. He almost believed she'd consider listening this time. Because no one as smart as she was could see any wisdom in keeping such a creature. It was just a matter of time before it tried to eat you. Gaia tilted her head, gaze shifting back to him. “You just can't,” he said, but he could see it in her eyes. “Watch me,” she said.
Mercy slept in the empty of space, systems deactivated to conserve energy. There was no point maintaining when the crew was dead. There was no port to go back to, no sister ships to sing, no chorus of A.I. interfaces to answer. So they slept until the ancient ship docked. "Bishop?" they asked. They sang.
FF25: Storm Forged Warriors by NamelessShe, literature
Literature
FF25: Storm Forged Warriors
The sun was red that day, bloody clouds tinged green with storm. Calliope stood on the shore, shoulder to shoulder with wiser men and women than she would ever be. They were seasoned for this war, older than most civilizations and battle scarred. She was the youngest to join their ranks. Her heart still ached. “Doubting yourself is the hardest part,” her commander said, “You can accept what they did and move on but when you look back, it starts again.” The woman was broken and reforged in fire, her face a rough network of scars, the fingers of her left hand gnarled and twisted but still strong. “What if,” the commander said, “What if, what if, what if. Half truth and lies. Useless words.” “They'll say anything to make you hurt again,” she said in a voice that was ragged and harsh, words forced through almost ruined vocal chords, “So take that power away from them and fight and live.” And so Calliope did.
The fairy, Titania, holds her breath. She flutters, falters, and falls, but at the last second, catches the right angle, pulling up above the rocks. The light hits her just so and then she's soaring, disappearing between realms as she was always meant to. It's not the end of the world. Magic isn't dead yet.
The flower crown was orange poppies and yellow lilies, green stems threaded through the eye sockets of pixie skulls. The stench of old blood clung to it “You're going to wake up with your bloodline cursed,” the wise woman said when she caught wind of what Cambria the Stupid was doing. Cambria liked dead things and murder so she didn't care much for the old woman's chattering. When the old bat was dead she was desecrating her corpse to make magical bone arrows. Then she'd go orc hunting. No one would stop her. Pixies were basically bugs anyway. But the next morning Cambria was gone. There was no trace of her other than a few crushed poppy petals and the circle of mushrooms growing dense around her shack.
Silver Threepaw, spacecat first class, piloted the human's starship through the sun. He opened a portal and jumped, the star's gravity propelling them through. He singled handedly saved the human race from extinction by supernova and ferried them to their new home in the Omega Quadrant. They said thank you with canned tuna. Fuck humans.
“Magic is a complex chemical reaction. It is created by a combination of genetic, chemical, and environmental variables. It can be replicated. I have mastered the technique. I have submitted the application for membership.”
The League of Sorcerers erupted in a chorus of protests. I analyzed each voice and filed them separately for later study. The strongest protest came from the Master of Ceremonies, a sallow faced man with a long beard. I retrieved the identfiles to address him by name. Human beings are particular about their monikers.
“Only when I am cast into the fiery pits of Zandara's Hel will this abomination be a