《Uneasy Dreams》Fabric Drug Idol
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Green sunlight flayed the once-verdant soil. Baking the mud—this was a ceramic world. This was a ceramic world with an atmosphere like a bottle of water in a hot car, hung low and sick and lukewarm. Would have held bacteria, would have been a swamp, but the very air was a fever. Nothing should have been able to survive. And yet, life, such as it was, "found a way".
Towering. It was a towering thing, baked gray at the feet with a thin layer of once-mud (now more like sand, the same stuff that baked and made up the whole inedible crust of this damned planet.) Those elephant-club feet, radiating, barely dragged along the husk of life. Stumblingly, they churned, one over the other at a time. To our eyes it was a shamble, but in the creature's mind it was sprinting efficient (operating on a machine scale, too overarching in scope to live.)
Most of its bony-tree-trunk legs were covered by numerous flowing sheets of tissue (a gown skirt cast of lank sacs). it was here, and not in the emaciated thorax, where the organs were stored. Now, though, even the soft tissue was running on a skeleton crew. The stomach and intestines were atrophied (ran together into a single, lengthy digestive pipe)
In more prosperous days, its hide beat slickly amphibious; now, it was all the creature could do to beat (or more likely flog) its heart to raspingly throb. Respiration was left to the ragged mess of gills like moth-eaten plumage (rotten millinery about its mid-section, sickened fleshy fascinator). Like feathers off a dead bird, the gills held a waxy flatness about them. Where they ought to have held a healthy sheen, they were now flat and cloudy with bowl after bowl of hot dust, long since nursed for all the moisture it was worth. Ingrained into the vulnerable open wound of a lung. And open, it was; a set of auxiliary limbs branched out, tipped with soft masses of feather-flesh, the underside gills of a mushroom turned inside-out.
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Its final set of limbs were single-fingered spines. Scythe-shaped, but dulled by a frosted membrane the translucent white-pink color of some blind cave fish. These things—likely once avian wings, stripped of plumage (plucked by years of flightless weight) served no real purpose, now, besides repulsive display. (Display, to what? The empty sky? Others of its kin?)
Beyond the collapsed shoulders (monuments to atrophy) the creature's spine made itself thornily apparent. The core of its form was a contradiction, extremes of flesh soft and drifting, as smoke; while the bone interrupted the animal impression with its woody structure. Vertebrae made hating, thorns on thorns; emaciated acacia. It was as if the beast grew from out of the wood itself, a perpetual maggot arrested in metamorphic stasis. Dry bark cloaked in smoke, still there to contain the flame (belching out smothering coat woven of sap and young wood).
At long last, and the peak of atrocity, the head. Starving, gaped mouth perpetually open, displaying the absence of prey while gasping for sustenance. Eyes, just as empty, empty of iris and pupil and vein (unseeing, perhaps) and yet so empty white (even the blue tinge of fish-death was absent) that to call them "milky" would be a misnomer. Marble, perhaps, a more apt comparison, little chunks of flash-frozen perfection from out of a statue. Twin twitching antennae, the only sign of life above the neck. They at once resembled moth-horns and moth-eaten millinery (slain glory, mating signal in vain, cast to rot in a hat-box), and moved like ants on fire. Frantically searching for a something without, unable to question their function as cogs in a self-destructive insect war machine (furnace for chronological charcoal, spewing nothing but busy smoke. Occupied to no end.)
As a whole, this creature's species seems to be doomed. Doomed to bake on a dying world or perhaps work itself to death scrying scorched skies for something besides empty heat, something that just isn't there anymore. Maybe the white-hot sun will wick it to light, a final contra-entropic mercy; although in this arid world cold bodies are about the closest thing to a true mercy. OK, scratch that. Fiery death, a final insult.
(We'll call this pained thing a Praying Mantis, the way it stands in unending praise to the deadly hot fish-eye-in-the-sky.)
END LOG
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Dracula: Patient zero
A new take on the subject of vampirism. Who was the patient zero? What do we truly know about Vlad the impaler ? A quick look at the man behind the legends known today as Dracula the first Nosferatu. ------ Author's note: I'm self-taught in English, so the grammar may suck. I'm no professional writer so the writing style may suck. I hate FF that spend entire chapters describing stuff.. So my describing skills may suck. The main character will also suck... (Blood) I'm writing this just for fun, so if you enjoy, good for you... If not.. Then suck it..
8 112The Search for Knowledge
A meeting of five people to start a simple research endeavor becomes a grand adventure filled with magic, gods, and the unraveling of worldly secrets. Join Rox, Feera, Toley, Kara, and Sheeron as the hidden truths of the world of Chalice are revealed, along with plenty of action and comedy. What will be discovered? Find out in "The Search for Knowledge". Author: Silence Illustrator: Cookichuu Editor: Plastic Saint
8 367The Bad Boy's Property
There is something more about rumors you would hear around. There must be more than anything anyone could hear because a secret is indeed a secret that no one must hear, no one must know. Everyone thought they know about something if they heard rumors about it, but there must be something to surprise them about the truth because no one could know a secret once it's called a secret. No one could know the truth of a secret unless it is not a secret anymore. ---- Hi. I already have patreon profile. Please support me there. You will get to read the advance update or chapter of TBBP. Thank you! Here's the link: patreon.com/briavry
8 189Brothels in Another World
One day, waking up, you find yourself in a new world. If it were normal people, they would act in a normal manner, yet our duo is the exact opposite of normal. A mixture of compassion, greed and stupidity, that's the best way to describe this duo. Join them for an unusual ride in a faraway world.
8 159Sky: Children of the light x Reader Oneshots/Scenarios
!if you're here to complain, please dont read the book!*This is a FanFiction AU don't bring the real cannon**some of the AU's are my own Opinions so please respect it*read the #INFORMATION# page first, before reading the story's. -ta76-
8 213I can't seem to let you go (A story I thought was Style but isn't)
Stan and Kyle had been together since 8th grade, but now as they make it to their junior year, Kyle can't help but notice something off about Stan. This is taken directly off of my AO3(Title is from a song called 'Gravity' by Sara Bareilles)
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