Storythread

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>>51772310

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>>51772589

Yo, Chronicler.

I've got a 4chan unified writing group thing going on. It's like 70% /tg/, 30% /lit/ so far. We do weekly group meetups where we review each other's work and stuff.

Would you be interested in putting this invite in the OP? I think it's a pretty good resource for writers, so it would be helpful.

https://discord.gg/6AwKHGF

>>51775701
Okay, I'll try to remember that for the next thread.

In other Storythread related news I've finally remembered to update the wiki, so everything should be up to date now (except for a few of the small, one-post stories).

hopefully this thread will still be here tomorrow, because for the first time in ages I actually plan on writing something.

night everyone.

>>51780320
Good luck anon!

Provided we keep bumping it, it usually lasts a decent while.

Will also write something in a bit, if an image grabs me.

>>51774457
Pretty sure there's already an official story with that woman, Amberly Vail.

>>51772304
Greeetings Chronicler, thank you for making another weekly storythread since I might have one story in mind.

Though may I ask you make one minor edit in the Storythread article in 1D4chan.org?

Could you add a link or mention that the Demonium Gang story:

>https://1d4chan.org/wiki/File:Demonium.png

Is part of the same setting/world as the White Scarf?

>https://1d4chan.org/images/5/5b/TheWhiteScarf.png

Ya know? Just to inform the people that the Demonium Gang Story is a worldbuilding story that focuses on or takes place in the same setting as the White Scarf? Thanks if you'd do so.

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>>51784388
And thanks for having it featured in the wiki page too Chronicler...


So fellow storythread goers, to any of you who've read the White Scarf; made by me, what do you think of this story that ain't a sequel but is just meant for worldbuilding?

Any thoughts?

>>51784388
>>51784410
Done

>And thanks for having it featured in the wiki page too Chronicler.
No problem, but I put everything on the wiki page. (Eventually. As I said, some of the one-post stories are still hanging around because I put them in the miscellaneous section, which requires me to arrange them into a single image. It's surprisingly tiresome trying to get them to fit into something small enough that it will upload properly.)

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>>51787391
Oops, forgot both my trip and the image I was going to post. Incidentally I'm going out for the next for hours, so if people could keep an eye on the thread that would be great.

>>51785812

From Bryce's Bestiary :
The Firey Moon Jelly is native to the southern reaches of the continent. It is named for the color of its soft glow rather than any heat or flaming self defense. The colonials have taken to herding schools of them into their city limits where the creatures become semi-tame and quite useful. They are active during the twilight and evening hours at which time their gentle luminescence attracts small insects and pest animals. The smallest FMJ's will take mosquitos and moths, while the largest have been seen to take mice and even the occasional rat. They appear to do their best to avoid anything larger than a house cat, probably as a defense as outside of towns they are known to be prey to the Greater and Lesser Harpy Owls, and some of the more savage humanoids. During the daylight hours they roost under the second story eaves of houses or similarly high and sheltered areas.

>>51790223
He rung the bell with his left hand.
A heart-shaped container was tucked under his right arm, a bouquet tucked in his left.
Valentine's day, right? Chocolates and flowers were expected, and cheap props too. It drew attention away from the 1911 in his right hand.

He tried to keep the tension off his face. It wasn't working.

He'd never killed anyone before.

A man in a suit, male, in his thirties, some sort of secretary answered the door.
"Oh, Hi there! How can I-"
He raised his arm and fired, twice. There wasn't time to assume a proper firing stance. At this range it didn't matter. Twin bullets penetrated the chest and punctured organs.
Brass clinked on the balcony among the scattered chocolates. The container had dropped and fell open when he raised his arm. He didn't notice. He threw the flowers aside.

He shoved his way past the falling secretary. Movement, upstairs. His arm tracked and fired by instinct. A nurse, female, no older than twenty collapsed away from the railing, clutching a hole in her sternum.

He almost balked. Then he remembered: There must be no witnesses. He saw stairs on the right for the balcony. He hurried up.

The balcony was part of a long corridor, doors scattered here and there. On the third one he tried, he got jackpot. When he pushed the door open he saw white privacy curtains shining with sunlight.

He swept the curtain aside. An old lady was laying in bed, covered in liver spots and electrodes. An IV drip of clear solution went entirely unnoticed.
"Ah- wha-" She managed to gasp when he pressed the gun against her forehead. Blood and grey matter splashed and stained the bed. Mission complete.

A scream, male, young, echoed up from below. There must be no witnesses. He hurried down.

Someone was struggling to move the body of the secretary. He was nine years old.

For a moment he stayed his hand. There must be no witnesses. He shot the kid.

>>51793837
There was no more resistance. There was no more killing either. He searched the house with mechanical thoroughness, and found no one else. He ran to his car.

He was halfway back to Houston when he pulled over for a refill. He got out to operate the pump.
A shadow behind it extended inky arms and seized him by the cuffs. He stared at it dumbly.

"She's dead?" A voice of ultrasonic pitches and infrasonic rumbles issued forth. Somehow he understood it.

"Yes." Recognition sparked within some tiny portion of his brain, struggled desperately like a man gagged and bound.

"No witnesses?"

"None." Something had his mind in a grip like a vice, making him say things. What...?

"Good." He couldn't react as the shadow pressed the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger.

>>51793853
Nice story. Succinct, and it has punch.

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This counts as work safe, right? I got it off a /tg/ mermaid thread months back.

What is a part of the /tg/ storythread canon here?

>>51796842
Most anything.

It's not a world building thread, It's a "Reaction Image prompt" thread with it's shirt tucked in.

>>51796979
More of what I meant, is the stories that are generally accept as the most important, influential, or literary

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It was the last day of the summer. The festival was already over to celebrate the beginning of the harvest and all the adults went to sleep. However, there were children that were still awake, looking for the rumors of a meteor shower in the sky.
Among those kids were the twins, Sheri and Shane. They were the children of farmers, set to go to separate schools tomorrow. This would be the last night they would get to spend together before being sent so far away from each other. Their hope was that even one of those shooting stars might actually grant their wish, that they wouldn't be forced to stay so far apart.

As the the sky started streaking with the hail of light, the twins grabbed hands. Their grips were tight, their minds raced in unison with a single though: 'I don't want to be spend even a day apart with the person apart from me.' They both tried to apologize for every slight they could remember, the days where they skipped out on helping their father with tending to the fields or forgot to do their chores. There was only one thing that they refused to touch: Their relationship with each other.

It was perhaps a measure of narcissism that led them to each other's arms. They were already different from most of the children by their unnaturally pale hair and skin, contrasts to the more bronzed skin and dark hair most of the locals had. Their appearance was also identical, leading to several complications to their relationships - mistaken confessions, invitations to an event they knew nothing about, even an accidental prank on the wrong twin. Shane came to realize that Sheri was the only girl who wasn't afraid of him and Sheri understood that Shane was the only boy who was there for her. The only people they could rely on was themselves. The slide down that particular slope was not difficult, not when both of them decided to learn about kissing with each other. The road from there was even less slippery.

>>51797054
As far as I know we have no such thing.

There is a wiki page for Storythreads:https://1d4chan.org/wiki/Storythread which has all the stories Chronicler has saved from Storythreads. Might make for a good read.

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>>51797202
There was never any super stand out stories? Nothing that have influenced this place? These threads have been going on for a while now, I would think that there would have been enough time to gestate, and parse out something, you know?

I'll get to reading though, thanks for the link

>>51797247
If there were no one told me.

>>51797413
What's the most popular story you remember

Is it possible to write a rape scene in fantasy without it feeling either exploitative and gross, but without resorting to the cop out of fading to black?

Any writers input on the matter?

>>51797120
Curiously, nobody paid any mind about the twins' relationship. The kids at school never made any mention on the idea that the twins were getting close to each other, maybe too close. The teachers they had never batted an eye on this bond between them. Perhaps it was this lack of acknowledgement that spurred them further on, believing that such an intimate relationship between siblings, especially twins, was acceptable.
Their parents, however, were an entirely different issue. They eventually caught on and, during one night a month ago where the twins thought everyone was asleep, they found out how far that road led. From there, the parents began asking around and realized how there was so little integrity involved if such an act of incest could be allowed with such little to stop them. They blamed themselves for not being better parents. They blamed the town for not stopping them. Their last decision was to uproot this relation in the most abrupt fashion - transfer. There was a boy's school and girl's school near the town that the twins would have to go from now on, and hopefully their episode would eventually become little more than just a memory.

That is not to say, however, that this was the way it had to end. That was the one thing Shane and Sheri counted on the most this night's meteor shower. They understood that nothing might sway their parents, but they wanted something, anything to ensure that they always remembered each other. As the shower died down, they could only focus on each other's eyes, trying to burn the image of that other half into their mind. This was the half that would be gone come tomorrow.
As the last stars died in the sky, there was only faint and fading moonlight left to illuminate their faces. They decided that if this would be the last night they would spend together then they had to spend it the way they wanted, with only the moon watching.

>>51797778
Shane cradled Sheri's head the entire time, keeping her calm the whole time through while his other hand made sure his dear sister felt good. Sheri knew how much Shane loved her kisses and made sure to keep up the pressure as she kissed his face and neck. Neither of them said much the whole time, there were too many things they wanted to say, they knew they would miss their beloved other dearly. Even saying 'I love you' felt odd for them because that did nothing to make the pain of being so far away from their lover any less. Perhaps it was just as well - as twins they knew what the other was thinking, making words insufficient to express what they felt.

The twins returned before their parents woke up. Their little escape came to an end. Their parents explained that buses would be coming to pick them up to drive to their schools. They would be living there, no way for them to return home except for a few weeks at the end of each semester.
As the twins awaited for their buses, they remembered the brochures for their schools. They exchanged those slips of papers as the bus for the boy's school arrived. Before Shane boarded, he gave Sheri one last kiss and one last request.
>Let's meet here again.
Sheri watched as her brother was taken away with a smile. It was a promise she swore she would fulfill.

>END

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Got two aviation themes pictures for writing prompts.

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>>51798157

>>51797732
Honestly, no, I don't think it is - rape is, by nature, as you say, exploitative and gross.

The only thing I can think of that comes close is if you wrote the scene from the POV of the rapist - and if they were mentally ill/off kilter enough to not recognize what they were doing was wrong. Even then, to the audience reading it it'd be pretty creepy.

>>51798170
Desire For Flight

Anna always wanted to fly since she was a little girl. She would often watch the birds overhead, as they soared overhead, wondering what it felt like to not be tethered to the ground. So when she met the Pink Thing in the woods, and she woke up with the ability to escape the Earth at any point, it was a dream come true. Most of the others were suspicious of their gifts, but Anna didn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

So, on Halloween, it was a no Brainerd to try out a witch costume. She dressed herself in the traditional witch's hat and jacket, plus a broom for the complete look. She took out a knife, and cut her hand, activating her power. She felt her legs lift off the ground, and felt the warmth of the Pink Thing's power leech through her. Then she placed the broom between her legs, and lifted off.

God. It felt even better than she remembered. Her hair slapped her face as she flew faster and faster. The clouds doused her face with water, but she didn't care. An airplane appeared up ahead.

Getting an idea, she pushed herself further. Her broom was soon right next to the plane, and she waved at the passengers. Several people within took out their phones and took pictures. Anna wondered if that would be a problem. The Pink Thing often said that secrecy was paramount.

Anna continued to soar through the skies. Eventually, she got tired, and flew to the ground. Dismounting from the broom, she recalled her power. Immediately, she felt the wave of nausea that followed the use of powers. Then came the usual visions of blood that were the other aftereffects. The Pink Thing never explained where they came from, and Anna didn't care.

All she cared about was that she could finally fly.

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>>51800352
>A journal entry of an elven waiter

So people, mostly humans, some dwarves, halflings, and visiting cat and reptillian folk as me; Malon Ilinan, 'Why does an elf such as yourself work as a waiter? A barmaid in a tavern inn? I thought elves mostly worked as esteemed wizards, mages, artists and or sophisticated warriors?'

Well true, elves being the majestic, wise, knowledgeable, long-lived and beautiful people such as myself are. Not every elf is some wizard or whatnot, granted I'm mostly a High-Elf, my mother is a High-Elf whereas my father is a Wood Elf.

I have my father's Wood Elf blood, which means I have very, VERY little to no magical abilities and or capabilities that High-Elves are born with. Yet I retain my High-Elf mother's thin fit body structure... Not a good combination if you ask me, my father's Wood Elf blood prevents me from being a full or potential magic user, and while some may say I should be athletic and 'Buff' as my Wood Elf father. My mother's thin and skinny High-Elf body makes it very difficult for me to do the same type of heavy lifting that Wood Elves can do. I have even earned the mockery of old elven neighbors, classmates and mean acquaintances for being a 'Human with pointy ears,' because of how I was born of not have the special traits of either my parents due to how genetics can work in odd ways sometimes. Bad luck for me I guess.

So I did the only thing I could do best, work menial and manual labor, though my parents were kind and considerate enough to suggest I work in the catering services since my good elven looks can help me and my business get more customers. To which I did work in the catering and service line since I had not much of a choice, due to my lack of arcane mastery or even high physical strength and prowess.

I was able to land myself a job as a waiter in a decent enough tavern and inn, 'The Vintage Peasant' is what its called.

>>51800848
So far it is working out quite well for me, so much so that the pay makes me live just well enough in my apartment since moved out of my parent's home about two years ago while applying for catering service jobs. But I still do write letters to them of how I'm doing pretty well and that my pay is pretty nice enough for me to afford living in a decent middle-class apartment. Nothing too fancy nor for poor folk.

I earn about 50 gold coins per shift, about 350 a week, which is slightly high for just a waiter working in middle-class inn worth an everage three stars. Well that's because the two owners of the Vintage Peasant consider me as some form of advertising; 'Come to our inn, we have a beautiful, charming and gentle mannered elven man to serve you with smiles.'

There logic behind that reasoning is because I live in a human majority city, though there are non-humans here and there who're also my customers too, its just that the city I live in is mostly inhabited by humans. I suppose I shouldn't be offended since it gives me some form of recognition and shows I'm best suited for the catering services type of jobs. Still I should consider moving in finding a job to work in the higher end restaurants and establishments, but right now I'll stick to what I have.

However there is another thing that comes with my job, especially with me being an elf in a human majority city. I sometimes have to deal with perverted customers, especially the drunken and intoxicated ones.

>>51801158
And I will admit in this journal of mine:

Yes I have been sleeping with strangers. About four 'clients' so far I have offered full sessions; two humans, a man and a woman, one male catfolk and a fellow elf, a woman who was lonely and actually paid me 500 gold coins out of pity in seeing a 'poor fellow elf working in such a position... Mostly it was when the patrons are renting a room in the inn I work at where they'd be to drunk to walk upstairs by themselves.

And to which I'd sometimes have to offer my part time lewd services when they'd ask for some company for the night. Sometimes it comes in the form of bedding with them or even offering oral sex, and again I have been sleeping with male patrons too, despite being a man myself.

I Once had to give this fat middle aged human male a fellatio, and there was this other young human of 18 years of age who was 'curious' to experiment and did not mind nor cared that I were male. But on the bright side I charged high price, as in hundreds if I were to spend a night bedding with a patron.

Originally I protested when the owners suggested I offer my body to some patrons, but they said I can do it if 'I'm in the mood.' Or if I 'Feel like it.' But then again, due to what I was stuck with, especially when they said I can charge them a very high sum due to me being an elf which is a rare sight in this human majority city. I just simply had to deal with it and simply work hard till I'am able to move further to the upper-class districts of this Human-Majority City and find a catering service job in an even higher-end establishment.

I never mentioned my side-job of part time whoring in the letters I write to my parents, I can never imagine their reaction when they realize the job that their son has taken is whoring and being ploughed in the ass by random men. And ploughing random women, some of whom may not be faithful wives to their husbands.

>>51772304

OMEGA IS MONITORING THIS THREAD. :-)

>>51801264
>Next page or so

...And so begins another shift of mine in the Vintage Peasant, and I can still feel the ache in both my ass and groin from that married I couple I serviced the other night. That woman sure was serious when she was going to ride me like a stallion, and the pounding from that man. Damn did he thrust really hard into me, I guess despite being married they decided to have one last night of decadence and perversion with a young elven man working as barmaid for an inn.

I was just doing the normal routine as what any waiter would do. Greet the patrons (some of whom already know me or are familiar of me after hearing that the Vintage Peasant has a pretty faced elf man working as a waiter) take their orders and serve food and drink.

So far there aren't any drunken and intoxicated patrons talking loudly about or trying to fondle and grope me nor are there any patrons asking me to walk them upstairs to their rooms and have sex. This was likely going to be an average night as I'd be willing to complete this night's shift and head home, in no mood to for any literal fucking right now.

I was just cleaning up some used dishes and cups, till I met her, that bard. "Hey there beautiful, you must be Malon Ilinan." I was slightly startled when I heard her voice the first time. I turned my head to the left and saw her as she continued. "The name's Karmen Harma. Sorry if I startled you there, or is this the first time you met a bard?"

One of the two owners of the Vintage Peasant, Tarvi Vistut, called to me. "Malon, I see you met a new addition to this fine establishment, miss Karmen Harma. A recent graduate of the Bard's University, she'll be here to add some music in here. Go on and get to know each other, and your shift should end by an hour Malon."

"I see, this place could have used some songs now that you mentioned it. And thanks, finally I can spend a night just laying in bed and reading a book by an hour."

>>51800848
>>51801158
>>51801264
>>51801753
Whoa anon I think you're walking in some dangerous territory with mentions of some lewd elements. Still continue, willing to find out what happens next.

>>51800523
Sorry to be the one to bring this up, but the plane in the picture is a Mirage 2000, a single seat fighter jet in service with the French Air Force.

>>51806331
Ooops. I did write it while half-asleep

>>51798172
The Dope-Priest prophecy was at hand.

The Morbid-Angel, Testament, and Exodus, the three Electric Wizards, the Sons of Kyuss, had finally summoned the great daemon lord. The Horn of the Rhino, the once-grand Mastodon who Cracked the Skye when the world was still young, in the age of the Rainbow.

At the dawn of the Black Sabbath, during the midst of the great Boredoms, he rose. From the spire of Cirith Ungol, he let out a cry so piercing, it even shattered the invulnerable Diamond Head of the Falkenbach kingdom, far in the north.

Distressed by the cry, Ofnir, the one-eyed god of War, empowered the greatest of his warriors, the Queen of Brocas Helm. With a prayer and blessings from a skald, in her mighty Fortress, she set off to find the Horn of the Rhino.

She traveled far, receiving runic magic from the warrior-priests of Bathory, knowledge of darkness and fire from the Bear-Cult of Burzum, and finally, she received a decorated shortsword from the Elvenking, who she had romanced in her time.

With these gifts, the blessings of the great Ofnir, and her own talents, she set off to find her quarry.

Traveling to the forsaken mountain-range of Mortiis, where the Koripklaani people once lived, she sought to confront the Dope-Priests and their terrible ruler.

Finally, at the end of her quest, dressed nearly Skyclad as per the traditions of her kind, she aimed to destroy the greatest threat to this strange Earth.

Her spear, which was rumored to have been stuck in the side of Ofnir himself during his pursuit for knowledge, was broken effortlessly in half. Her runic magic and blessings failed to stop his terrible claws. Ultimately, left with only her arming sword, she gouged the daemon's eyes out, and slicing out its tongue as it was about to unleash yet another feral shriek.

Soon, the priests were slaughtered as well, doomed to spend an eternity with their master, the now Blind Guardian of hell.

So storythread anons, I would like some advice. I've drafted up a few hundred thousand words of my little fantasy world and adventure. I'm in the process of preparing the draft for publishing now.

Is it worth considering a professional proof reader?

Also I'm curious about publishing options for this stuff. I'm thinking Amazon is sadly my best bet. Though I'll send the draft off to some other places too. Any advice?

>>51811005
Roc publishing via Penguin might be worth a shot, all the publishers that push the usual genre shit. If you have the money and want to trust someone looking at your manuscript then yeah it might be worth a professional proof reader.

Then again spellcheck does most of that shit these days.

>>51811104
I guess what I'm looking for is maybe an editor? Someone to read it all through and take it to bits with?

I mean it was a tg project to start with anyway so I figured I'd ask advice here.

>>51811145
well an Editor is something entirely different, and usually a deeply personal relationship. For starters if you read comics a good book has an editor who rides herd on his writer(s) keeps their continuity straight, minimizes plotholes, reigns in their excesses etc.

If you want to sell you're an entertainer, that means you're making a product for consumption and the editor usually has an eye for that.

>>51811191
I think that is exactly what I want to find.

I'm fairly sure it's marketable stuff but asking anon to pay to read stuff is a bit different than me posting the barebones stuff online.

>>51811226
yeah you might want to shop around at the proper publishing houses first, this is kind of something you pay a manager to do which is what Editors are for Writers.

>>51811271
Gotcha.

Thanks anon. I've felt for a while now I need like...a partner? No one makes a baby on their own if you get me.

>>51811312
no problem, best of luck my man.

Worst case scenario there's always amazon.

>>51811342
Cheers anon and to you in your endeavours.

http://pastebin.com/Rgg4K5SC

By the way if anyone is bored have some of my most recent writefaggotry that appeared on /tg/

>Spaceborrowers

>>51801753
Karmen asked me. "So Malon, tell me if you don't mind. Why's a high-elf like you working in a place like this? Usually elves are illustrious magic users, artists and politicians. While wood elves are the greater hunters and tend to be better physical fighters and warriors than most humans and some orcs. Yet here you are, working as waiter. Not trying to be offensive mind you, just asking if you don't mind."

"Well its quite a tale you see, involving the genes of your parents, my mother's a high-elf whereas my father is wood elf. Including some matters social acceptance, so on and so forth. Basically I'm not born with the 'best' traits of either of my parents. And I'm just a thin and gaunt being with pointed ears, regardless I still go on wit my life and do my best in the catering service occupation, to which I'm doing well in." I told Karmen while busying myself with gathering as much of the used dishes I could gather, as I was about to head of to the kitchen to have them cleaned by the dishwashers. I bumped to Karmen's friend and bodyguard while thankfully not spilling the used dining ware.

"Oh dear! Sorry sir, I didn't mean to bump onto you like that."

"Oh, apologies accepted. You've meet Karmen have you?"

Karmen then spoke, "Oh yes. Malon, that man you are seeing is my friend and traveling companion, Natan."

And the man I bump to fully introduced himself to me. "Yes, Natan Demets at your service. I travel with Miss Karmen Harma here as both a bodyguard and a friend."

Bodyguard? I inquired. "A bodyguard you say? For a bard? Are you important miss Harma?"

I asked her as I glanced to her. "Oh no, Natan and I just know each other for some time now and decided to travel with me since the sellsword life felt dull for him."

"Its true. Not to mention Karmen keeps me entertained with her musical skills as a bard and all."

>>51811005
Do you have an agent?

>>51811005
>>51813860

Oh, and if you're considering the traditional publishing route, have a read through http://nielsenhayden.com/makinglight/archives/004641.html, especially point #3 - this was written by a Tor editor, so it's safe to assume they know what they're on about.

>>51811005
Seconding >>51813860, an agent is exactly what you need.

Not only will a good agent have contacts with publishing houses already, they'll also have a pretty large well of experience in the industry to draw from - they'll be able to answer all you questions.

Getting one is a bloody good idea anyway, as they'll also handle stuff like contract negotiating, subsidiary rights management, and a bunch of other things.

>>51796642
Door to door

When Jim Maddock first saw the soldiers coming down the streets, his heart was filled with fear. Reports of "civil unrest" by the government had caused the army to step up their patrols, and although Jim had never had any problems, he had known the peace wouldn't last. The military had claimed that his country was "causing disrespect among the people", clearly an excuse to take over. There had been hope when the ambassador showed up. when the ambassador was attacked last Friday, Jim knew that the reaction would be swift and decisive

The soldiers went from house to house, bringing the families out side, and separating the men from the rest of the family. Jim looked back at his wife Elise and her children, and gestured for them to be quiet.

"You must go and hide. Do not say a word. I will be fine," said Jim. He kissed his wife and children, and then hurried them away. The footsteps of the soldiers drew even closer to the door. As the soldiers walked to the door, he hid an ax underneath his shirt.

.

>>51815198
The soldiers knocked at his door. When they received no answer, they busted inside. Jim eyed them cautiously as the group filled his small living room.

"Why didn't you answer? You are required by law to leave the premises. Where are the rest of your family?" said one of the men. Jim was surprised to hear the man speak the language perfectly, indicating that he was from the area.

Jim breathed in and out. The cold ax underneath his shirt felt like a weight. Should he try and attack them? He would not survive, but he might buy his family time. Or should he try to talk it out?

"I have no family. I live alone," said Jim. He smiled at the officers, and tried to walk past them.

The man stopped him, and turned to the rest of the group, barking out an order in the language Jim did not recognize. The soldiers began to search the rest of the house. The man turned back to Jim.

"You may go," said the man. It sounded like he was smiling.

Jim retrieved the ax from his shirt, and slammed it into the man's neck. Blood stained Jim's shirt, as he prayed that his family would not be found.

"You pigs. You take from us, and use us as slaves. You will not take my family!" said Jim.

The man laughed. He retrieved the ax from his neck, and the skin healed in front of Jim's eyes. Laughing still, he grabbed Jim by the neck, and slammed the man into the wall.

"You idiot. You think I care about your government's temper tantrum. I would have hoped since you're married to one of my kind, that you would know...but I can see you're clueless. You don't even matter," said the man.

A scream came from further into the house. The man stared in the direction of the sound, and sighed. Taking out a walkie-talkie, he barked out "Bring more units into the location I'm sending you now. We have a situ--"

A knife slammed into his throat. Jim didn't even see where it came from. The man dropped Jim, and gurgled. Suddenly, Elise appeared.

"Let's get out of here!" she whispered

>>51815198
>>51815210
Maybe this is me being somewhat colored by the original image and it's rather bleak totalitarian terror tone, but I really miss greater buildup of the terror scenario it establishes. I don't feel drawn to the situation, I don't really experience the severity of the setup. The exposition seems a bit rushed and generic to me.

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>>51818433
>>51818999
Bump with pics.

>>51800352
>bardsaresluts.jpg

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OK - fuck it. I've been struggling with this for the longest time, musing whenever I should post it, or leave it for later (or perhaps give up on it entirely) for weeks now.

For the last two months, I've been mostly working on a larger story in my native language. It's still not entirely finished (Missing few last chapters, though the plot outlines are well finished, I just have the most terrible case of being completely and utterly stuck at one fucking part that I just CAN'T GET OVER), so in the meanwhile, more for exercise than anything else, I've been translating bits and pieces of the thing into english.

The problem is: the story kinda blends episodic and longer, overarching stories together, forming a bit of a mosaic like structure. And I'm really unsure if it's going to work here, I'm unsure if it's going to work with only handful of the chapters translated (well, it's actually still around 15 pages, I'm definitely not going post all of them today) and in general, I'm really weary of posting unfinished stories these days, but...
This is also by far the most unsure about the quality of my own translation I have ever been.

But then again, I'm a narcissist and I do need my daily does of attention, so I'm going to post the opening first few chapters and you can tell me if you want to hear more or not.
Also, pics are going to be only tangentially related.

The story is called:
>Shimane Diaries
Feedback is as always greatly appreciated.

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>>51821894
>Journey to Un-nan
Sixteen hours have I spent looking down at the blue oceans and white mountain ranges from a throne high above the clouds, soaring from Oslo and over the Siberia. Eight hours lost and wandering in an underground labyrinth Osaka Railway Network, the twisted spiderweb of nightmares, crowds, dead ends and worn out businessmen. Now, I’m finally sitting down in an aged railway coach compartment of a train running from Okayama, a city nested where the four largest Japanese railroads meet. Tracks are taking me with their gentle hum to the north, to Matsue, to the coast of lake Shinji, the one-before-last stop of my grand journey.
I’m wondering about distances.
The great Kibi plain, where rice paddies and small wooden houses, red common poppy plants and electric poles all mingle together in a busy dance, is stretching beyond the compartments windows. Eight thousand kilometers lie between me and the moment I’ve last closed my eyes to sleep. Eight thousand kilometers from the last dusk I watched in Prague.
The sky was, as it always is in hot and humid Japanese summer, dull grey, despite not a single cloud being in sight. Through the dirty window glass, the bright green and red colors outside felt dulled and worn.
I’ve let myself sink deeper into the blue upholstery and listened to the air conditioning hum. The air was filled with dry smell of dust. A small diary and a worn out issue of Borges’es Ficciones, a parting gifts from my family, were lying in my knees, a thick bag was beneath my arm, and a great trunk filled with clothes and gifts was resting haplessly against my shins: between me and those things, the compartment was stuffed. My fingers were touching an ice-cold bottle of green tea, offered to me - with a conspicuous wink of its green diodes - by one of the many vending machines at the train station platform.
1

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>>51821924
Eight thousand kilometers from a quiet dinner with my father, who poorly hid his doubts about the purpose of my journey. Eight thousand kilometers from the warm and encouraging smile of my brother, smoking on the balcony of our flat. From friends whose troubled glances accompanied me all the way to the doors of an airplane.
When you are merely seventeen and only just gained your second common sense, it’s easy to mistake your passion for a mirage, a writers dream for a real thing, a night light for a for waking sun rays. Those were the words of my teacher, a warning he offered when I trusted him my plans for a summer trip to Japan, where the cicada’s buzz above the fields. And yet here I was, and unable not smile thinking of those words as I watched the landscapes passing behind the windows. All the images from long lazy afternoons spent reading Japanese authors, the kitsch photos from tourist guides and sketches from comics and animated movies, the ideas from daydreaming and long-outdated stereotypes: all those things were now bubbling and melting on the glass surface of the window like a porridge - mixing with the real images of rice paddies and the surreal images of children in school uniforms, walking the dams home from afternoon archery practice. Here, in the window glass, a mirage and reality were falling one into another like pieces of puzzle, entwined and giving birth to a whole new world: the world of starting Japanese summer, a world of hot humid air pulsing with its own life, where cicada’s roar deafens your ears, where the smell of dust and moisture and hot tar lingers in your nose.
And the train kept on going, deeper and deeper into Japanese mainland, as the evening slowly fell down on the land, taking me north, to the coast of lake Shinji, to the light of city of Matsue, to the heart of the Shimane province: to Un-nan hills.
2

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>>51821945
Of Things and People in Un-nan
Abandoned, empty community center, our new home, awaited us at an intersection of two roads, drawing the lambda sign in between the rice fields. It was an ordinary, one-story building, wrapped in spiderwebs and grey with dust. On one side, it had a small parking lot, on the other, some kind of odd, metallic structure raised on tall pillars above the ground, resembling a tree stand or some kind of animal observatory: small room with entrance high above the ground, accessible only through through steep narrow staircase and locked with a padlock. On all other sides, the center was surrounded only by rice paddies, and beyond them, there were steep hillsides of the surrounding valleys.
Twenty-two of us has departed from the asthmatic country bus. Eight young Koreans, well organized and dressed in matching shirts, who laughed loudly and chatted vividly amongst themselves. Seven quiet, sombre Japanese people, four of them barely in their teens, three older girls in pretty dresses. And finally us, the members of the world so imprecisely called “Western”: twin boys with faces scorched by Hawaii sun, a petite, relentlessly cheerful girl with think german accent, a french pair who never stopped holding their hands, a cool-headed, composed British lady of middle age, and finally me: the clumsy Czech goof in poor-fitting shoes.
Our presence slid into the quiet, hot hallways of the community center like fingers into a glove. With wet clothes wrapped around our brooms, we ran through the halls, leaving glistening clean trails in the dust on the ground. Old, blackened pans and kettles in the kitchen shined under the hard working Japanese hands. I was preforming a dangerous balancing act on a verge of a chair when swiping cobwebs from beneath the celling, while Nicole, the cheerful, ceaselessly talking german girl dusted the bamboo mats and chatted about Ulm, her home town.
3

>>51821964
The Korean group worked like a regiment: carrying empty sake bottles and weathered soy sauce jars out of the pantries and replacing them with barrels of cured vegetables and dried fish.
We made our way from room to room, sweeping out the history that was lying in here untouched for perhaps decades: we collected broken cups and bowls, jars and vases, bottles and boxes, cloths and strains of rope, old towels, spiderwebs and children toys. Small, strange creatures crept out of the piles of dust and old ceramics that we threw out into the sunshine outside: long black torrents of bugs, spiders and spirits, disturbed by our arrival, made their way from the scorching light, flowing like a torrent across the parking lots and seeking refuge in the shade of the tall grass or the water of the rice paddies. I watched them creep like shadows away when I took my short rests in the shade of the ave of the roof.
Before the insufferable daytime heat gave it’s way to evening cool, the center was clean and ready to inhabited by people once more. Old, wet bamboo mats were still drying up on iron poles around the parking lot like some kinds of strange, exotic pelts. The floors shined, the rooms were free of dust and spiderwebs, the kitchen-wear was white and silver again. Finally, exhausted and sweaty, we could all sit down on the in a circle on the floor of the great communal room, and start our introductions. We said our names and cities of origin, we laughed and bowed, and we rested.
But we did not rest for long. There was still much to do: to cook, to divide ourselves into teams and groups, to distribute responsibilities, tasks and duties, and all of that before the Sun definitely sets down behind the slopes of the valley, before the Foremen of the local Community, the mediators between us and the local powers and inhabitants, arrive to formally greet us and introduce us to our duties and our purpose in this place.
4

>>51821945
>>51821964
>>51821978
Damn, looking at those, I should probably divide each paragraph with an empty line. I always forget how 4chan kinda fucks up formating and makes things harder to read. I'm gonna try to do something about it.

>>51821978
>From morn till eve
Everyday, we would wake up before dawn, before the sun started boiling up the valley. It was still dark when we sleepily chewed down on our fermented soy bean soup, bits of dried fish and bitter fruits called okra. Then it was time to head to work - we walked the desolate road through the valley still dressed in morning shadows. The fist glimpses of sunshine would catch us climbing a steep hill, crowned by glasshouses and gardens. The Foremen were already waiting for us there, with towels wrapped around their shoulders, sweeping the sweat of their foreheads nervously.

The work was easy and there was not that much of it, but we had to be done with it before the noon heat wave descended on the hills. We collected and sorted large, odd-shaped green tomatoes, and from tall brushes we harvested strange fruit similar in shape to cucumbers, but salty and sour in taste. We chatted as we worked and took plenty of rests, and nobody minded, even the Foremen themselves sometimes joined in our conversations filled with awkward pauses and torn sentences. Our biggest foe was the heat, which as the day continued, slowly took over the greenhouses, the valley, and eventually our minds. By noon, we were already done and quietly sitting in the shade of large tarps, hanging between bamboo stalks. We lunched on wheat noodles, served in bowls full of ice.

Afternoons were too hot to work. Back at the community center, we would usually just collapse on our mattresses and feverishly fan ourselves with Japanese paper fans, or stalked the electric ones. At first, many of us thought that the most efficient use of afternoon was to seek refuge in sleep, which we all were so deprived off in the nights and mornings - but those of us who fell asleep in the sharp afternoon heat quickly found themselves victims of the fiercest of nightmares and mirages.
5

>>51822017
So instead, we chose to play table top games or sit in closed circles and talk about our home towns and countries, about favorite food or TV shows.

When the afternoon passed us like a giant hot cloud, it was time to head back to work for just for a couple more hours. Sometimes, we would also visit some of the sparse homesteads sprinkled around the valley, to provide company for old, lonely couples, whose children have long since left for the bigger cities in search of better jobs. Beneath it’s pastoral, idilic appearance, Un-nan was a sad place, and there were so few young people around.

>Sickness
Sang-Jun, the oldest member of the Korean part of our little group, fell ill only a few days after our arrival. He spent the next eight days lying in fevers, raving and sometimes speaking in a strange, unfamiliar languages. We did not have a designated nurse among ourselves, but two of the three older Japanese girls volunteered to tend to him: pretty, chatty Yuno from the cold island of Hokkaido, and taciturn, unattractive Saki, whose rough wide face wearing a constant frown scared us, but who tended to the sick boy with unparalled patience and kindness. While the two girls tended to Sang-Jun, I was learning to understand the meanings of symbols that the wind was painting over the rice stalks covering the paddies.

One afternoon, while I was resting in the shade in front of the communal house, smoking and watching the boiling hot parking lot and the swinging of the rice, Saki joined me and lighted up a cigarette from a soft green packet.

“What are you looking at?” she asked in me Japanese.

“The rice.” I answered honestly.

“Watching the rice fields, when there are troubles in your heart, can be very dangerous.” she said. “I’m gonna tell you a little story.”
6

>>51822042
That is... probably it for now. Let me know if you are interested in more. Sadly, I really can't promise the conclusion (in fact, I can't promise we can even get to the point where something actually starts to happen, because A) usually nothing happens in my stories and B) I've only translated like fifteen of the full 40+ pages of the whole story, and the whole story itself is still not finished, though it's nearing a finish.

Let me know if you are interested in more, and what do you think etc...

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>>51822176
Overall I like it. Your prose flows well, and overall the translation is pretty good - not a lot seems to have been lost in translation.

A few minor quibbles I have though -

Firstly, I've read the whole thing and i'm still mystified as to what our protagonist is doing in the community center in Japan. If I understood your OP correctly, this segment is more of a framing story for the individual ones told by the characters you've mentioned, so it might not be so important overall to the work, but it wouldn't take much to mention what he's doing in one of the early paragraphs.

Secondly, a few minor issues with the translation - again, these are minor, but they do stand out. I don't really have time ATM to go and highlight them all, but if I did (i might later tonight), I'd just do a critique of the whole thing line by line. The work definitely warrants it.

Lastly, I don't know if it flows better in Czech, but from reading this in English, your prose seems quite verbose - all of these sentences are pretty damn long. Sometimes I think you get a bit over the top with the descriptions, metaphors and whatnot - you can write a great metaphor, but you've overused them I think. You're doing an excellent job describing each scene, but it gets a bit much sometimes - cut back a bit with them and edit in some shorter sentences so the really beautiful ones have room to breathe and stand out to the reader.

As I said though, these are just minor quibbles - nothing a strong session of editing wont't fix. I liked it a lot, and yeah, definitely want to see more.

Good job!

>>51799322
As an example, the Vampire Lestadt managed to do that. At least I think it was that book.
He loves the look of this one girl, and essentially raped her, but he was not malicious about it. Weird but worth reading for that specific angle.

>>51823175
Thank you for the feedback.
As for the quibbles:
>I'm still mystified as to what our protagonist is doing in the community center in Japan.
Well, this is a very valid concern. To be honest, it's largely intentional. I can tell you exactly what the narrator is doing there, since it's actually largely based in real-life events: When I was 17, I traveled to Japan, Shimane to work as a volunteer on what is called "Youth volunteer work camp", and this is largely based on my experiences there. You can go ahead and guess what parts of it are based in reality, and which are imagination and fiction. I withheld that information from the reader intentionally though. The question of "what ARE we really doing here?" is actually fairly important concern that I wished to build up. It's partially reflective of my own experience (both in the sense that I was never sure what possessed me to take that trip, partially because there was so little work and it was largely meaningless and it left a strange "aftertaste in us") partially it's a literary device intended to build a mystery. Within the story, it's slowly revealed that the reasons for all the characters being there might run deeper and be stranger than it seems. Idea was that the reader will feel confusion at first, but as the story goes on, pilling up events and routines, the reader kinda goes with the flow. The question arises later and becomes increasingly pressing. That said: I'm still not sure how I'll handle that in the final version. It may not be worth the frustration it creates in the reader.

>your prose seems quite verbose
Once again, this is on purpose. Partially because I intentionally aim for rich prose, partially because it's "just" natural way to write for me. But that is of course not an excuse for poorly flowing prose. I'm a poor judge, but I think it works a better in Czech - I'm really unhappy with the translation. Still, I'm getting an editor for this one - at least the final Czech version.

>>51813985
>>51814154
Thanks anons. I'm going to look for a decent agent. I'm fairly happy my stuff is up to scratch but would be a lot happier having some help getting it out there.

If anyone cares, alt history Britain with lots of magic and technology but the time line still (if you're really drunk) follows our own semi closely. Also Martian invasion.

Additionally are black library looking for subs again this year? I've had a chip on my shoulder about some of their authors and need to show someone can do it better.

>>51827668
Good call, anon. Just be sure to do your research , especially on how to write a query letter. There are tons of blogs and resources on what turns an agent away, check out some of the following -

http://queryshark.blogspot.co.nz/ for line-by-line evaluation of tons of query letters.

http://slushpilehell.tumblr.com/ for examples of the worst of the worst.

https://www.reddit.com/r/writing/comments/22pcwb/how_do_i_not_look_like_a_complete_fool_when/ yes I know it's reddit, but the subreddit has a respectable amount of published authors, editors and agents who post regularly - there's a wealth of information l scattered across the sub on the entire process of going from a manuscript to a published novel. Search by top, with keywords like agent, publisher, etc.

Lasstly, a good resource for finding agents is http://www.agentquery.com/ - make sure to use the full search and fill as many categories as needed.

>>51827819
>information l scattered
Fuck, typo, I didn't scatter it personally.

>>51827819
Thank you extremely helpful anon.

Just curious. I have a couple of story pitches I'd like to bounce off you all. Would it be acceptable to elevator pitch some things?

>>51827924
>Would it be acceptable to elevator pitch some things?

For what purpose? To work out what you're going to write? Gauging interesting ideas for a competition? At the end of the day, what you write is up to you.

I mean, sure, go ahead, i'll read them, but i'd be more interested in the writing itself, as this is what the thread is aimed at improving.

>>51828080
>purpose
To gauge interest and see what grabs people. I'm happy enough I can do the mechanical aspect of writing a story but I am shopping around for my next project and want to see what grabs people.

I'll start with a couple Sci fi ideas I've had floating around.
>Tom Clancy IN SPESH
The inter solar war is ending. The enemy are on their last legs. The coalition of disparate species is already planning the next war. A team from [Earth Theocracy] are assigned to attempt to obtain the advanced prototype technology of the soon to be defeated [bad guys] from our soon to be enemies [our equally morally grey allies]. Our plot focuses around one particular Macguffin tech that has some extremely unpleasant [dimension portal opening] side effects.

>Risky business
A first contact story. Prospector finds what appears at first to be an interesting new mineral. It is mineral life out in the asteroid belts. Trade starts going one way and one way only. Our protagonists need to even the deficit. It's about here that someone mentions the opium wars. How do you get an entire alien race addicted to something? What? Should you? I'd also like to do a crime/detective element in this.

>Earth. 20 minutes in the future. BAM. An alien colony ship appears. Apparently their world just went grey goo and if we aren't careful we (and them as last survivors) are gonna be next. Are they telling the truth?

>>51823588
Random bit of autism:

In English, it's and its are completely different. The former is a contraction, the latter is possessive. It's bothered me for a few of your posts, but that's basically it (aside from misspellings, missing random words, etc, but those are very few).

Overall, I like it a lot.

>>51828688
Yeah, I know the rules. I just fuck it up consistently when I'm not paying attention and writing on "autopilot." But thanks for pointing out for me anyway.
So... should I dump some more of Shimane diaries some time in the future?

>>51832857
yeah man, i'd definitely would love to read more.

Besides, more posts are good for the thread. Keeps it healthy and going strong.

>>51833333
>them digits
I'm walking into work, but I want to try something for that pic and that get

>>51772304
I just wanted to post a reminder that I added a novel to the wiki.

https://1d4chan.org/wiki/Story:Holy_Opposites

>>51828330
Any of those sound like a fun premise? If anon chooses one I'll start work on the story.

Weirdly I find writing for someone - even anon motivates me so much better.

>>51835277
isnt that picture from the long-ass game that nobody knows the exact rules of?

This seems like the place to ask, so I'll just put it out there, will posting explicit sexual content in written form result in a ban? I mean I understand that posting nudes or lewd pics can bring the mods down on you, but would a written sex scene do the job?

>>51839650
Mods are fickle. Just use paste bin if you're not sure.

>>51839650
Just look on the Storythread wiki page. If you could get banned just for sexually themed writing I'd have been banned ten times over. 'Safe for work' just means pics (things that could get you in trouble if your boss looked over your shoulder)

When first I saw through her skin I thought perhaps it had been the spirits I had been drinking. When next I saw the face behind her face I thought myself mad. The third time when truth bled through into reality I wondered if spirits of an entirely different nature had their hands in this. I’ve never been a man to believe in superstition. Nonsense all of it. Rubbish conjured by the weak minded to explain what they cannot understand. Perhaps my mind is weak and playing tricks on me, perhaps this is but a conjuration of my imagination. I cannot say for certain. I will not tell it to a doctor. They would think me mad for sure, but I do not think that I am mad, and if I am what is the harm in it. I function well all the same, though my eyes show me images that cannot be.
She’s laughing, and her face slips again one more showing a sharp visage. The check bones high as suspension bridges and the jawline that could cut. It’s gone once more and only the pretty girl remains. Of striking looks no doubt, but no more so than any other woman. Mayhap I should cease to frequent this bar. Find another watering hole to slake my thirst. It only happens here. Only she has a face behind her face. I could flee. Never return and be free from this madness, these delusions, but then I wouldn’t know. I’ve always been to curious for my own good. I can’t resist such a pretty puzzle.

>>51840658

So I’m here, on another Friday night, watching. I know I should away. Fly from this place while I am yet sane, but the need for knowing drives me to lunacy. Pricking at my mind, it shan’t let me rest. I need to understand why reality is not as I thought it, why I now see a truth that others do not. Never was anything learned by sitting still, and so I cross the bar to join her.
Her long locks flare as she turns her head to regard me. Strands of pale pink flowers rise from under red tresses. There were never any fiery red tresses to begin with, only long strands of weeping cherry blossoms flowing from her scalp, and then I blink and like dust settling to the bottom of a pool of water the image is clear again and her hair is returned. She smiles and her lips quirk. She thinks she knows why I’m here, but I know better. I’m here to learn her secrets.

I offer drinks, libations for a goddess from whence truth may flow if only I can convince her. We fill the air with the words we speak weaving a tapestry of sound that covers the meaning behind our actions. How to ask her why when she laughs and the skin around her eyes crinkles her irises and the whites of her eyes fade into black pools as deep as the night sky? Why they snap back and the windows to her soul are once more green and twinkling with merriment? How to inquire why I see past her creamy flesh and see pale shamrock skin when her hand reaches up to brush an errant strand back behind her ear? I do not know. I cannot say. What spirit possessed me to be so bold, to dare to approach the being whom enchanted me?

>>51840677

Spirits, the spirits in my glass and the spirit across from me have driven me to madness. If only I could find resolution, be done with this. Alas this night is not to lay my curiosity to rest in a shallow grave, for I’ve no answers, and no resolution either. She laughs and slides me a napkin, and then she’s gone. Faded from my sight as though she were a mirage blown away by the wind, but the digits on the napkin are still there. Harsh black lines on a white field. They do not fade or flicker. They’re real, and I may yet have my answers if I persist. I’ve always been too curious for my own good.

>>51812818
Humanity is such fucking bullshit.

Nothing will ever satisfy the assholes. They make a fucking race they can whack off to, they'll still find so many things to nitpick that you just have to ask 'why the fuck did you even make it?'. Then they start taking that bullshit out on the spawn like they had any fucking choice in the whole shitstorm!
What, you think I wanted to be born with a lower body of a fucking cat? Do you realize how impossible it is to even get clothes so I'm not flashing my asshole everywhere? You think I wanted to be part of a species made by fur fetishists for no other reason than to realize some inane goddamn fantasy that honestly was better off forgotten? The faggots even fucked with our genetics so we age so slowly I look like some pedophile's wet dream.

Oh, um, yeah. Here's my ID. Some scotch if you will.

So where was I? Oh yeah, scientific abominations. To be frank, there's no fucking reason for me to even have a lower torso like this. All my vital organs are all up here, so what's left for the lower body? A massive fucking shitpipe? Oversized kidneys? I mean, it makes you appreciate how tightly packed everything is in your two-legged people body. No wasted space, no massive organs that still fuck up as much as a person's, no absurd dietary requirements to keep up with this body. Honestly, there are biological reasons that centaurs never worked, and this is why.
Even worse? They even decided to give me a fucking dick! Can you believe these faggots? Why the fuck would I need a cock and a slit? What kind of sexually starved, inept fucking shithead decides that any of God's creatures needs to both fuck and be fucked? It's not like I'm even interested in having sex! The whole concept is completely disgusting and when the scientists asked to fuck me I told him he can go fuck a rabid raccoon because quite frankly, that's how much having sex with these fat sweaty pieces of hairy fucking shit excites me!

>>51844714
And again, I can't ever disguise this so if I ever want to actually go out and have a shower with some significant other, they're gonna get grossed out and go 'Why the fuck do you have a dick and clit?". I can't get it cut off without those scientist dickwads screeching about 'inner beauty and sexual completeness' like it means a goddamn thing to me. If I wanted to keep that Godawful mess of a biological system, I wouldn't even be stuck in this hellhole asking you to chop my fucking dick off! I I want to sew that fucking hole when I don't want to give birth to kids or get dicks stuck into me, I don't want to hear about how good sex is from some limpdick who probably never got laid for this exact same fucking reason, I want you to grab a fucking needle and thread and ask me to show the fucking hole!

And you know what's even worse? You know what makes all this biological bullshit just petty? It's because we're failures. That's right, the race made to be fucktoys by some fucking virgins was deemed failures because - shock and awe - nobody wanted to stick their dick in something that was built with a fucking dick and vagina! Even worse, we thought that being cumdumps for humanity was fucking retarded!
Oh, they tried, those assholes that made us tried every trick in the book. They promised us the ability to be educated in the highest universities, new personal pronouns, the ability to get psychic powers. Fuck, they even once swore that they'd even buy us a whole new planet even though everyone knew that the fucking lawsuit we sprung on them for their attempts to own us was driving them to bankruptcy. They stalked us, gang raped a few, they even tried to set us onto the fucking poaching market just to try to put us in the endangered species list! When me and a few others uncovered the common link between it all, we made sure the world knew what fucking shitstains thought that they could play God without realizing the consequences of their fuckups!

>>51845258
Sure, we're all free now and able to sleep knowing that the fucks who built us will never be out free ever again, but what does that mean to me? I'm still alive, I'm scared shitless by those labcoats, and no matter what I do, I'll never be able to just be normal! It's not like I can go to some surgeon and ask 'Hey, Doc! How about you cut half my fucking body off! Oh, and try to save the cock and balls, I think I might want to keep those on my new torso!'.
We're still paying for mistakes we didn't even make. People still hate us for being fetish bait, poachers still think we're on the market, and if some disease breaks out that we can't cure, we're practically fucked because there's only a few thousand of us around and the few scientists who are willing to treat us as sapient beings just know too little about us. Building an island colony was another idea people had, but do you realize how idiotic that sounds in a world that's already suffering overpopulation because your kind was the one that gained a phobia over taking pills and wearing rubber sleeves on your dicks?

It's just so fucked up how much shit we got dumped with just because we were born. It's like we got dumped the cross they made for us and everyone somehow thinks that's fair. I mean, does anyone even stop and think about what it feels like to be an unwanted child?

Hey, sorry about that, Barkeep. Sure I must be scaring all the patrons off, just give me the tab and...wait, on the house? Are you serious? Not trying to start anything, but you realize you're incentivizing me to get shitfaced.
I...wow. Sorry, it's just...it's been a long time since anyone's given a shit. Especially from someone with two legs. I'll try to not get in the way any longer, but... No, no, I'll be fine. I don't live far from here. If you don't think I'm being an issue, I wouldn't mind that offer. Gives me something to do besides collect reparations.

Thanks.

>>51772304
>Yep, it's already been two weeks since the last one.

I might be going crazy, but i'm sure these are put up weekly nowadays.

>>51813729
I then had to excuse myself so I could get back to work till my shift ends. "Well I'd love to know more about you two, but perhaps later. I still have an hour till my shift ends."

"Alright then Malon. Me and Natan are just going to be here, as for myself on the other hand. I'll just play a bit of music." Karmen said just as she got her flute from her belt, she began playing some average sounding tunes to entertain the patrons. Natan then gave an order.

"And Malon, could you give me a drink later when you're later? Doesn't have to be soon though, you must be busy after all. I can wait."

"Ofcourse sir." I said politely as I finally headed off to the kitchen to drop of the dirty utensils and dishes I had on hand and to also tend to the patrons. For nearly forty five minutes I have been taking and delivering orders to patrons as I looked to the clock, indeed just about five more minutes and my shift for this week is done and I can head back home and relax. Or stay for awhile and have some drinks myself. Unlike earlier where there were many patrons occupying tables, now there were fewer and fewer since it is late at night in this time, though there are just about five or four or so patrons seen just enjoying their late night happy hour.
But even with the fewer patrons Karmen continued playing her tunes with her flute as the few visible patrons bob and move their heads to the tune, I even see Natan also enjoying his bardic companion’s flute skills aswell. Finally I look back at the clock and my shift is finally over as decide to seat in an empty chair and set the tray with food and drink for myself down.

>>51804546
I don't think so that I'm walking in "dangerous territory." Sure I mentioned sex here and there, but its not fully detailed, just metnioned. SO really I'm safe.

>>51847030
>I might be going crazy, but i'm sure these are put up weekly nowadays.
The thread gets made second week. But the threads themselves last usually over a week, which means that it's usually around four to six days between one thread dies and a new one gets made.

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>>51848922
My goodness...

>>51797247
>>51797495
I've seen
https://1d4chan.org/images/c/c1/PieAngel.png
and
https://1d4chan.org/wiki/File:Bloodweed.png
posted in 'best of /tg/' threads before, but other than that I don't think there are any stories which have gained any permanent traction around here. Which is sad really, there's so much good stuff on the wiki and it seems like everyone largely just ignores it.

I have my personal favourites of course, but that's just like, my opinion, man.

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Well the story I made last week's now up in the storythread wiki. And I'm posting it just for anyone who wasn't able to read it yet. And just so I can get some thoughts and input.

So to anyone especially those named ones I may be familiar with whom probably have not seen or read it yet because of how late I posted it. Any thoughts and input?

>>51851700
I'd be fairly interested in hearing your own personal favorites. I'll admit that I myself don't really browse the wiki: overwhelming number of stories and lack of any kind of curation kinda suck my will to delve into them, especially since there is no option to retroactively offer feedback, but if there are any particular stories you really think to be worth reading, I'd love to look into them.

In other news, next part of Shimane incoming. This part is easily the weakest part of the whole story, especially in english. But I haven't managed to improve it (not for the lack of trying, hence the delay), and it's important for the story, so...

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>Saki's Story
Deep, deep in the middle of the land called Izumo, there was a valley surrounded by bamboo grooves. In that valley, two families had lived: one in a house at the very bottom of the valley, surrounded by rice fields, while the other lived at the very top, in a house surrounded by bamboo stalks. A dam has led between the two houses, and on that dam was a narrow road.

The family living in the top household had a son that was well known around that land. He was not the youngest, or the oldest of the children of the family, he was not the smartest or the dumbest of his house, but everyone loved him for his kind, gentle heart, and his endless love for the rice that his family cultivated. Ever since he was a small boy, he wandered off for hours to stroll around the fields and watch the plants grow, and often, they found him sitting on the side of the dam late at night, dreamingly watching over the crops.

The only thing that the boy cared about even more was one of the daughters of the family from the bottom of the valley. The pretty thing he fell in love so deeply with was indeed a girl of exceptional beauty, kind manners and gentle soul - but she was, as it tends to be with girls this young, also careless and inconsiderate.

The boy woke up early every morning, and walked down the dam, all the way to the bottom of the valley to woe his lady. The girl found his attention flattering, his company pleasant - but every time he expressed his true feeling for her, she rejected him strictly. In the evening, the boy walked the dam back towards the top of the valley, wiping his tears off his face.

But the boy was determined to not give up. And so time went on.

The fall came, it was a time of harvest. While the boy helped his family through out the day, once his daily work was done, he hurried along the dam again to see his loved one at least for a few moments.
7

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>>51853621
Winter came. The valley was covered in snow, the fields were barren and covered with ice. While his family was huddling around the coal heater at home, the boy wrapped his feet with warm clothes, and waddled through the snow towards the house at the bottom of the valley.

In the spring, the rice was barely sticking it’s tiny heads from the surface of the paddies. The women planting the rice watched the boy every morning, his silhouette against the pale blue sky.

The the rain season came and the boy watched the rain beating on the young plants in the fields, as he walked silently and sadly back home in the late evenings.

Finally, the rain season passed. The rice was nearly ripe: great rows of bright green stalks were swinging gracefully above the mirror-still surface of the paddy. Thousands of dragonflies circled above them.

And it was on such hot, clear summer evening that the boy was, once again, walking home from the house of his loved one, with a paper lantern in his hand and his sleeves wet with tears. The air was stuffy and dense with the voices of cicadas, crying among the bamboo stalks.

Suddenly, the boy stopped above the surface of one of the many rice field. Its beauty gleamed through his sore eyes, its perfection filling him with inspiration. He though, for a brief second, that he can hear the voice of his loved girl in among the cicada’s hum, that he can see a reflection of her face in the silver surface of the water. As if taken over by a spell, the boy set his lantern into the tall grass, took off his sandals, and bare-foot, entered the field.

The rice whispered and slowly began to recede: opening a path for the boy, creating an empty walkway and revealing golden stairway, hidden behind the water surface. And so the boy walked on: with each step, he descended deeper under the surface of the water, until his head finally disappeared beneath it completely.
8

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>>51853647
Nobody saw the boy ever since. His relatives looked for him high and low: all they could find were his wooden sandals and lantern on the edge of the dam. They searched for weeks, but never found him, or at least his body.

Some assumed he must have ran away, joined the army, or perhaps the carnies. Others assumed his unfulfilled love drove him to suicide, and that his body still hangs from some tree somewhere deep in the surrounding forests. Be it as it may, the boy was dead to the family, and so at the end of the summer, they build him a little grave next to the family cemetery.

The girl from the house at the bottom of the valley was among the many who visited the boy’s grave, weeping as was customary, regretting his disappearance. But as time went on, the boy faded from her memory. By the time of the harvest, his face lost its contours. When the first snow began to fall onto the empty fields, she forgot the shape of his eyes. On the New Years Morning, he was barely a name and a shadow to her. And when the spring came in full power, and new rice was being planted on the fields, she did not remember him at all anymore.

One day, the girl sat down with her family for dinner. Little did she know that the rice on her table came from the very same field that the unfortunate boy once disappeared in. When she tasted the rice for the first time, tears suddenly began to pour from her eyes. When she took another bite, she started silently weeping, and after a third bite, she was overtaken by unstoppable, overwhelming sorrow. Her mother and sisters gathered around, trying to comfort her, to learn what had come over her, but nobody could help her - the girl herself did not know whose sorrow is feeling, she could not remember or explain why she’s crying. She wept late into the night.
9

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>>51853672
The girl eventually grew up and lived a fairly happy life. She married a kind man from a distant village, who came to live with her and her family. She raised three beautiful children. She grew old and watched her grandchildren play on the porch. But every once in a while, when she unwillingly tasted the rice from that one field that swallowed her first suitor, she was taken over by an inexplicable sorrow, and cried for days. But she never remembered the boy again, she never learned who is she spilling her tears for.

Saki finished her story and threw away her cigarette butt. I wanted to point out that in that story, it was the unrequited love, not the rice fields that really resulted in that tragedy, but Saki was already on her feet and walking back to the center, to tend to the sick boy again.

Eight days after falling ill, Sang-Jun fully recovered. He remembered nothing of his feverish dreams or the strange language he spoke in. Only sometimes, I felt like there was something strange about him. Like a gleam, or a hint of fever still hidden deep in one of his eyes.
10

>>51853597
There are two problems with me picking favourites from the wiki. The first is that I try to be impartial because it'd be demoralising to the writers I don't pick. The second is because I have so much stuff on the wiki I can hardly offer an impartial selection.

But for argument's sake, I thought these were particularly interesting, original and well written.
Doc Theta vs. Binary Bill (no. 100)
Now Hiring (no. 241)
The Nanotech barbarian (no. 2 in the non-picture section)
The Chimera series (at the bottom of the wiki page)

I also have always had a soft spot for 'For the Blood God' (no 30 in the warhammer section).

A complete list of my favourites would run into dozens of stories (which would feature many of your works, Czechfag), and is further complicated by the fact that a lot of my favourites are my own work. If you want to take a look at my stuff and see if anything grabs your attention, my stories in the main section are 110 - 156, 163, 197, 300 - 308, 400 - 410, 500 - 504, then in the warhammer section 7, 29, 43, 64, 65, 66, 84 and 85. The battletech story is mine, and in the non-picture section 50 - 55 are mine, plus the Chimera extra 'cynic' and 'Czech soldier' stories.

>>51848922
I'm suddenly sensing a gentle-femdom vibe from this
>tabletop gaming nerd finds some means to summon a succubus to fuck
>It works, but suddenly anxiety ensues
>Even forgets about the cross in his pocket to ward her off
>But she has more fun teasing him

>>51847155
>"And Malon, could you give me a drink later when you're later?"

Did you rush the proofreading? I kick myself all the time when I notice little stuff like this in my own work.

>>51860998
Author here, and yeah fuck me. I did rush I'l admit. It was late at night where I'm at and did not notice it likely.

Thanks for pointing it out though, appreciated.

>>51847155
As I was readying to eat my own dinner, another owner the Vintage Peasant, and co-owner of Tarvi Vistut; Siimeon Rootare. Called out to me.

"Oi Malon. Your shift's over for tonight. Going to come over for work tomorrow this weekend or not?"

"...Why you ask mister Rootare?"

"Well Malon, me and Tarvi got ourselves a few new waiters and waitresses, and a new wench. You know? To help you around when there are much more customers around than usual. And ofcourse to fill in for you when you decide to not be around for the weekends. You may be the best waiter we have and to which your good and beautiful elven looks help us attract customers, and part time 'working boy.' But me and Tarvi know you'd need fellow waiters and servers to help you around since you can only do so much yourself."

"Well thank you Siimeon, good to know you're investing for new employees. And also some helpful hands to help me around in busier days, but happened to the other three waiters? Timo, Ruben, and Rita?"

"Simple, they retired and got other jobs outside the serving business.” Siimeon simply said.

“Well I’ll just be having my late night dinner if you do not mind at all. And I’m likely head home afterwards, and perhaps enjoy the weekend now that there are newer extra hands while I’m not around.”

“You go ahead and do that Malon, just put your used dishes and utensils at the counter. One of the newer waiters and servers gonna be arriving shortly to wash the dishes and take care of any late night customers.” Said Siimeon as he then noticed a tired looking customer approaching the counter talking to Tarvi, probably going to renting a room for the night.

And so I enjoyed myself with my dinner made by one of the cooks, good fellow always know how smoked I like my salmon. And as soon as I was done eating I noticed Karmen stop

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>>51848922
>first time doing one of these. I hope you enjoy.

"Just like that, I've had enough." said Arrishbar of the Thousand and One Torments as she chucked Thomas against the wall. Arishbars tail twitched in agitation as she slammed her hand next to Tomas, looking him up and down.
"Don't hurt me!" he whimpered as he thumbed the cross in his pocket. Arrishbar rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I'm not going to hurt you, but what the shit did you expect when you go around summoning demons for a booty call?"
"I-I don't know. I was..."
"YOU WERE WHAT!?! You were expecting maybe Emma Watson? Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to be summoned for nookie?" Tomas looked at his shoes as he started to sniffle. He was already being called a 'fag' and a 'loser' around school for all the occult books he borrowed from the library. Being chewed out by the very demon he summoned was the absolute lowest he'd ever been.
" What part of 'Thousand and One Torments' sound sexy?!? You think torture happens over night? I have slaughtered an entire continents worth of people, and now after three hundred years of not being able to kick mortal ass and take names, when I am finally summoned all I get is flowers and mood music! And what do YOU do?"
"I ran." choked Tomas.
"You fucking ran!" yelled Arrishbar as her wings fluttered
"I'm sorry."
"And that chunk of metal isn't going to do a thing for you besides piss me off even more."

>>51862861
"I'm sorry." Tomas quickly jerked his hand away from the cross and finding nothing else to do with his hands fiddled with his thumbs.
"You really fucking are," snorted Arrishbar "but there's a way you can make it up to me." Tomas wiped his nose and looked at Arrishbar hopefully "There is?"
"Yeah. We go back to the summoning circle, fuck, and I go my merry way back to Hell with the understanding that if you summon me to fuck again I will show you ALL of the uses of my tail." Arrishbar said as she curved her tail between her legs and waved its tip inches away from Tomas' face. Tomas' eyes grew wide and his mouth gaped.
"You can do that?" he asked.
"Bet on it pipsqueak," Arrishbar tapped the tip of her tail on Tomas' nose "So what's it going to be boy?"
"Let's go back to the circle." said Tomas. Arrishbar grinned showing her impressive needle like teeth.
"Now he sees reason."

>>51862861
>first time doing one of these. I hope you enjoy.
Fucking hell, that's a great first effort anon. I love your dialogue, the different personalities really come through with it.

A few things, if you're looking for critique -

Some simple syntax - if you're writing dialogue and ending with 'he said', 'she cried', 'they whispered', etc, end the spoken bit with a comma, not a full stop - for example, from your piece:
>"I ran," choked Tomas.
not
>"I ran." choked Tomas.

Secondly, It's hard to judge from such a short piece, but you could do with a little of the ol' show don't tell to spice up your sentences -
>and finding nothing else to do with his hands fiddled with his thumbs.
How's he fiddling?
> as she chucked Thomas against the wall.
What can you say to make us visualize it, feel it?

Check out Czechfag's work earlier in the thread here >>51821924 for an example of it done well. Everything is vividly described. He doesn't just call a a field a field, he grabs the reader by the balls and makes them see it.

But yeah, again, great first post here man, really enjoyed reading it. Keep em' coming!

>>51863177
well damn ok i'll keep at it. thank you so much for the critique. i was worried about how much i was leaving out. at the time i didn't want to go into 3 paragraphs of describing everything (nervous about the description slowing everything down) i will definitely check out Czechfag's stuff.

>>51863282
>i was worried about how much i was leaving out. at the time i didn't want to go into 3 paragraphs of describing everything (nervous about the description slowing everything down)

There's definitely a middle ground, and where that is differs depending on the author/reader.

Some people prefer it light, others (like Czechfag) go all out with it. Just play around with it, write pieces with more, less, etc, until you find the balance that seems to work for you.

>>51852227
Well manny. I think the best thing you could do is make another story about it? So that we can see more lore too. But if it makes you feel begter, id say the story is good. Keep writing.

Phone bump

>>51857285
Thanks for the reply (and for the kind words too). I'll have a look at the stories you mentioned. I got to look at the "Czech soldier" story in particular, for fairly obvious reasons.

By the way, (and this is more of a general thing), I found myself at a peculiar situation. While I'm still trying to kinda finish translations of the next set of Shimane Diaries (I skipped translation of some chapters as I found them non-essential, but eventually realized they might be quite important later down the line and started working away on them), I also finalized second chapter of Aya, a story I've posted some month or two ago. It did not seem to raise much interest at the time, but maybe somebody would like to read it. Now I'm not sure which one should I focus on getting ready to post in the near future.

So, thoughts? Should I stick with Shimane for now, or should I leave that as a cliffhanger for now and prep Aya Chapter 2?

>>51869712
>So, thoughts? Should I stick with Shimane for now, or should I leave that as a cliffhanger for now and prep Aya Chapter 2?
I don't particularly have a preference for either story, but I would say that original work beats translating stuff you've already done. Also, I am kind of curious to see where Aya goes. I did read it when it was posted (I seem to remember telling you to cut the argument over the keys).

>I got to look at the "Czech soldier" story in particular, for fairly obvious reasons.
yeah, sadly it doesn't actually have much to do with being Czech, it just makes geographic sense in the context of the Chimera narrative. If you wanted somewhere to start with my stories I would suggest 'Path of Flowers' (no. 55 in the non-picture section), simply because I really like it but virtually no one read it when I originally posted it because it's so long. And if you find it too long as well, 'The City Aflame' (no. 51 in the non-picture section) is also good and much shorter.

>>51870728
>Also, I am kind of curious to see where Aya goes.
All right then. It will take a bit to prep it (there is a surprising amount of annoyance surrounding formatting I'm tackling right now (serves me right for using non-standard writing software), but I should be able to post it later tonight. I've actually expanded the second chapter a bit, as I figured the ending was kinda dull, by a few new pages I finished writing just a few minutes ago. We'll see how it goes.
I should probably post a link to the first chapter for those who missed it but are still interested. I did not do any changes to the first chapter yet (the key dialogue is still in), I might cut it out eventually, depending on the role Toshi and the lot will play in the narrative in the future. Aya is really a carefree project for me, I have actually no firm plan about where it will go, it's more of an intuitive/exercise project. Ironically, it makes it so much easier to write it.

>yeah, sadly it doesn't actually have much to do with being Czech, it just makes geographic sense in the context of the Chimera narrative.
I'll check them out eventually, share some thoughts if I'll have any.

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OK.
So let's leave the sun-drenched valleys of Un-Nan in Shimane (I promise I'll get back to those soon, for those who care) and move four hundred miles eastward, and two months into the future, into early autumn Tokyo.
I just realized that all three of the bigger writing projects I've been working on these past two months take place in Japan, are written in Ich-form, feature immature student protagonists and themes of Japanese mythology and Shinto. Each has big emphasis on particular season (summer, fall and spring), and particular small location (Shimane, Kanazawa, Ueno). I should start working on adding some more variety to my works.
I'm seriously not happy about this. Someone help.

For those who want to know what is going on, short version of what happened so far:
The narrator/protagonist (Martin) met a and cute Japanese girl named Aya at a party in Ueno, Tokyo. The two chatted a bit before parting.
If you want, you can read all 15 pages I needed to get that stunning dramatic ark across here:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1G5fYSux-liALrbOt4mcQjY5IQzGYnVn0Ho8agCHwjOI/edit?usp=sharing

Let's get kicking.
>Aya Part 2: The Aftermath
I found my classmates in a karaoke bar deep in the middle of the entertainment district. A waiter with blank expression escorted me through the labyrinth of soundproofed corridors to their booth, swirling with smoke and the scent of alcohol. What was resonating through the space might have been human voices singing, but may have very well been the sound of an animal shelter set on fire. The main difference between the Japanese and foreigners, when it comes to karaoke, is that the former actually learn how to sing over their life, often even go to practice on their own to karaoke places, while the latter most often do not.

“Ahh, here he comes!” Toshi was yelling over the postlude tones of some god-awful pop song. He was red in his face and clearly as drunk as a Dane. “Ya see, Joe! Pay up!”

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>>51873615
Another classmate of ours passed him a thousand yen bill.

“Oh you have to be kidding me…” I muttered as I dropped Jane’s keys on the on the table.

Jane, a gorgeous german amazon with an incredible mane of red hair and dressed in a luscious red evening gown, our main hostess of the evening and my oldest friend among the lot, gently patted a vacant space on a stuffed bench next to her.

“Come sit down with me.” she said with a motherly voice.

“You sure?” I pointed to a half-empty glass in front of that place. “Seems like somebody was sitting there.”

“Oh don’t worry, that’s just Adam. He went… somewhere. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“You are replacing your boyfriend with me? I’m flattered. In that case, don’t mind if I do.”

“What took you so damn long?!” Toshi’s voice was just a few decibels short of what you might expect from an average loudspeaker.

“I was caught up in conversation.” I said as I sat down.

“Conversation?! With whom?!”

“Aya. You don’t have to yell, by the way, the music stopped already.”

“Aya?! Who’s Aya?!”

“Seriously tone it down, you are making me deaf! Aya was a girl at the party. Small, long black hair, glasses. Japanese. Hell, you saw her with me on the balcony.”

“Errrr…” Toshi was scratching his head. “Did I? Who was she? I did not know there was a girl called Aya there.”

“She must have been the girl Junko said she’s going to bring with her. I haven’t been introduced to her though.” said Jane with a frown. I could see this was bothering her: she was an excellent and generous hostess, but she really liked to keep her tabs on everything that was happening at her parties, no matter how wild they would get. Almost as if it was a matter of pride. “Hmph.”

“Junko said she brought her? That explains it. Hey, where’s Junko anyway?” I looked around the room. A lot of people from the party were actually missing from the table.

“She had to leave early.”

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>>51873657
“Shame.” I was honest: I wanted to ask Junko, our only true Japanese companion in our little circus of freaks, about Aya. And I also regretted not having the option to hear her beautiful singing voice again. Junko was an excellent singer.

“Yeah, you’d see her if you weren’t so damn late! You could have asked her about that mysterious Aya of yours.”

“I’m pretty sure there wasn’t any girl named Aya.” said the guy we called Joe, a short, bearded Spaniard. “I talked to everyone at the party. There was nobody named Aya.”

“There was a good twenty people in there. I’m sure you could have missed her.”

“And I’m pretty sure you could have made her up.”

Jane intervened: “Now don’t you boys be starting up again!”

“Yeah!” Toshi’s loudspeaker joined in again. “Shut up both of you, the next song is starting. I was saving this one specially for you, Marty!”

“Oh please God no!”

“ZAAAAA’NNNKOKU NO TENSHIIII NO THEEEE-ZEEEEE”

***

There are three reasons why I despise karaoke.

The first one: the whole process is just way too embarrassing to survive without the aid of copious amounts of alcohol. I’m not a stranger to the idea of getting drunk myself, but the sheer volumes necessary to make karaoke any kind of fun can become scary even for me. There is no way of getting through an evening at a karaoke bar without introducing some degree of permanent damage to your brain.

The second one: when people are singing, there is little space left for talking. And so the evening passes, in a haze of intoxication, cigarette smoke and way too loud and terrible music, without anything important shared amongst the peers but the time itself.

The third one: Seemingly endless popularity of Cruel Angel Thesis.

>>51873762
So when I woke up the next morning on an unmade mattress lying crooked on the floor of my room, staring haplessly through the blinds above my bed into the grey autumn sky, I felt the crushing weight of my self destructive lifestyle sitting on my chest like an ancient german elf and I cursed the existence of karaoke bars and those responsible for their creation. My head was pulsing with the worst headache. It felt like the beginning of one terrible day.

***

I according to my map, Motomishima shrine lied the middle of Uguisudani district, which was just about half an hour of walk from where I lived. Making my way through countless graveyards and past many temples of the Nippori district, I felt the hangover finally letting go. There is some kind of special spell cast over this part of Tokio, calmness and homeliness that one hardly finds among the frenzy of concrete walkways and tall featureless skyscrapers, I thought with a smile. My joy was short lived though, as the GPS directions lead me across a narrow bridge over the rails of the Yamanote train line, connecting the green hills of Nippori to the busy shopping district of Uguisudani. After few steps through the concrete maze, I seriously began to doubt whenever I entered the right keywords into my GPS search, as I found myself in a middle of what was, without a doubt, a sleeping red light district.

“The Motomishima shrine is right around the corner.” my GPS assured me. “There is no other shrine or temple of the same name in the vicinity.”

I looked around. In every direction, I saw a sprawl of low, cheap 60’s housing - characteristic grey boxy houses with little or now windows leading into the narrow streets. Every available wall was plastered with posters displaying scantily clad (and distinctly photoshopped) Japanese women of all shapes, ages and dispositions, cheap red welcoming signs communicating hourly rates and ridiculous prices for alcohol.

>>51873782
Dangerous looking men in cheap black suits hanged around closed doors leading to shady bars, and every few hundred steps, I passed a vulgarly colorful facade of a love hotel, complete with a vending machine, complete with pictures of rooms on offer.

It was half past three in the afternoon and outside of few thugs and some worn out women enjoying their cigarette breaks in front of their establishments, the streets were nearly empty, but I had no doubt the place would come to life as soon as the night falls.

The thugs standing on the corners were eyeing me with open hostility and I quickened my pace. What could be Aya doing in a place like this one? I wondered. Or did she just sent me out here to take the piss out of me? With sudden sense of bitterness, I recalled her odd claim that she has neither a computer or cellphone and pondered the implication of her sending me into a middle of a brothel quarter. But then I passed the last corner and saw my destination right in front of me.

In the very heart of the sleazy district towered a large stone slab, and on the top of it, like a crown of dark wood and gold-lined roof tiles, sat the Motomishima shrine. Elevated above the street and surrounded by stone railings decorated with sacred inscriptions, it’s golden forked finials glistening slightly in the autumn sunlight, it looked magnificent and completely out of place. I circled around until I found the entrance path, marked by massive concrete torii gate and leading to a narrow steep staircase, lined with wooden plaques bearing post-mortem names of the shrines benefactors.

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>>51873803
I instinctively stopped in front of the gate and hesitated: behind me, the vulgar and empty streets littered with brothels, neon-lit love hotels, and worn out vending machines, before me a stairway towards the pristine, black-and-golden gable of the main shrine hall. I felt like passing through the red light district alone somehow made me dirty and that I should not even step past the gate without a thorough scrub in cold sacred water, so that I would not taint the holy premises. And as I stood there and pondered the surreal nature of the place, I saw a shrine maiden, in their characteristic red, wide trousers and white shirt, sweeping the top of the stairs with a old bamboo broom.

It took me a second to process that I’m looking at Aya.

That's it folks. Sorry if it's disappointing, I am really not sure where I'm taking this one, but I'm clearly at no hurry to get there. Chapter 3 is actually already part underway, but I think I'll follow - either later in this thread, or in the next one, depending on how long will this one last, with next few chapters of Shimane. Thanks for reading if you made it this far, and as always, all feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

>>51862815
>next page

She stopped playing music with her flute as soon as I was done eating my meals, she approached me.

"So I take it you're done with your shift beautiful?" I blushed a bit at that comment as she continued. "Just so you know I'm gonna be residing in one of the more 'luxurious and higher end rooms' of this tavern."

"Really?" I inquired. "You are technically going to be living here?"

She responded. "Well not just me, Natan is also going to be sharing the same room as me. Since I'm going to be working in this here establishment by providing some musical entertainment with my instrument, I'll need a room to sleep in. And the owners, Tarvi and Siimeon agreed that I can essentially reside here as part of my salary, we bards don't charge cheap you know?"

Then her bodyguard and friend Natan also came along as I noticed him holding a drink. I forgot at that time he wanted one.

"Oh goodness me! I'm sorry, please forgive that I forgot about your order. I was swamped earlier-"

It's fine." Natan said simply, yet loudly. "Just wanted a glass of cold green tea..." He paused as I noticed him looking mischievously at me, he looked at Karmen with a nod and back at gazing me.

karmen told me in a slightly luscious voice. "Soooo Malon... You know this establishment better than I do since this is my FIRST day. So care to show me to my quarters in which me and Natan shall be residing in?" She said as she placed a hand on my shoulder.

Natan then said in a laid back manner. "Yeeeah. I am feeling a bit sleepy since it's late at night. This cold tea's helping too, and I'm feel like I need a bit of help navigating to my shared quarters. With your help dear Malon."

And then Karmen wrapped my arm around my left arm all while I was carrying my used utensils and dish in a tray. I quickly turned to see her smiling suggestively at me. I could also feel Natan doing the same even while not looking at him.

>>51880001
Karmen began rubbing my arm between her breasts and I swear I've heard Natan beside me playfully purring like a cat. Karmen then said.

"Sooooooo... You being a server in here and helping out customers. Could you help lead me and Natan to our room? The high-end ones with amenities that we'd be residing in once we mark it as ours, and in turn I'd provide music for this establishment. Also me and Natan are aware of your 'expertise' in bed, so could you also stay with us for the night?" She said with a smirk with her lick her lips.

Natan then leaned closer to my face and whispered to me.

"Bottom line, me and Karmen want to have sex with you Malon. And despite me being a man of twenty nine years of age, I like it when women are dominant towards me. And at the same time, I'm also okay and interested with men aswell. Most especially with beautifully elegant and or handsome men, such as an elven man like yourself Malon, so could you give me good fucking, daddy..."

Karmen also whispered to me. "As for me, I have had a decent screwing for a long time, almost two years. Until I saw you working in the same place I'm gonna be providing entertainment with my musical know-how. A beautiful, but very cute looking elven man in a place like this. So me and Natan agreed we'd be staying here for awhile, to make you ours... So could you get our room keys now baby?"

I nodded to both of them with quite a surprised look in my face. So I have just learned that Natan Demets, a 29 year old fighter with the same looks and build of that of a stocky man and the typical warrior looking human man. Is content and okay in bedding with either a woman or a man, but is submissive person in bed who likes dominant women and or men.

So Karmen let me go so I could quickly bring my used dish and utensils to the kitchen area to be washed by one of the dishwashers. Then I headed of to speak with either Tarvi or Siimeon for a room key.

>>51873615
>>51873657
>>51873762
>>51873782
>>51873803
>>51873849
I like this. You keep the same depth of descriptiveness, but this part feels more focused that the first chapter. The dialogue is... okay but not excellent. As always your prose is beautiful, although I did spot one or two errors.

>Dangerous looking men in cheap black suits hanged around closed doors
should be 'hung' rather than 'hanged'.

>It took me a second to process that I’m looking at Aya.
you mix tenses here

and although this sentence is grammatically correct:
>Jane, a gorgeous german amazon with an incredible mane of red hair and dressed in a luscious red evening gown, our main hostess of the evening and my oldest friend among the lot, gently patted a vacant space on a stuffed bench next to her.
I think you should probably split it up; it feels awkwardly long as it is.

>>51884121
Awesome, it's good to hear that it works. Yeah, the whole story of Aya is a lot about figuring out what I want to tell, and I'm noticing it's actually kinda shifting in tone, hopefully for the better.

As for the mistakes: noted. I'll correct those. I don't doubt there is more issues like that around, but every little bit helps. I'm gonna try to get some work done today, but I'll check in back in a day or two, see if I'll have some more to post, or start working to have things ready for the next thread.
These threads are really quite the motivation to keep working. Thanks for that.

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Quick bump

>>51782366
Born of the Elven Well while the Gnolls were fouling the forest, Kaha Sieyi was the most apt of her kind. Of the five 'born' with the Gnoll taint, Kaha was both the calmest and most intelligent, with two of her 'siblings' little more than drooling idiots. Raised by all the Elves, she spent much of her time with the few dedicated to warning and protecting settlements. She was led to the life of the deep forests early and learned all that she could. She matured fast and grew to be as tall as any Elf before her tenth year. Her extended family saw this as a sign of a short life to come and favored their 'dying child'.

Her vision not being up to the standard, she was taught sword and other close in weaponry. Her vision would be considered good by most races, but inferior by Elves. Powerful legs and snap reflexes made her the best with swords in the ancient Elvish sword arts, emphasizing a dozen disciplines and styles.

She was entered into the elite Scorpion Guard, foes of any who hunt Elves. Ordered in her first fight to stay back and watch, she saw that her allies were being outflanked and hurled herself forward. Outnumbered, she fought with ferocity and honed skills. The opposing troop fell back before her leaving dead behind. Her troop finished their fight and rushed to her aid. They saw her using defensive moves to tie up her several opponents and at will force them back. A moment later, the fight ended with the flight of the intruders. She earned the badge of the Guard that day, a silver scorpion, or rather the right to wear it.

Kaha has continued in the Guard, as Elves rotate through it's ranks, she remains. Now she bear the great honor of two golden scorpions, the only living one. Her tracking skills are great, her swordwork inspired and her leadership in battle is from the front. Despite having no formal ranks, the Scorpions follow her every word.

>>51782366
Her short life forecast has been long disproved, and she is a centennial and speaks at councils. She has learned the bow, but prefers getting in close and trains some of the more timid Elves in mobile tactics. No Elven Home has been raided under her watch. Not very 'elf-social', she hag become a go-between to nearby settlements of humans and dwarves. Called Utu batacht great wolf) in dwarf and by names like guardian wolf or the wolf lady of the forest, some think of her as a 'were-' creature.

>>51772304
How do I write without feeling all my shit is horribly cringy garbage? I've written stuff before but when I read over it I just cringe and feel ashamed of it and stop writing.

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>>51891096
The fact that you have a cringe factor is good, it means you know you're doing things wrong, but you just don't know how to fix it.
Solution? READ and READ SOME MORE. Pay attention to the use of the words, their order, and the pacing.
It'll give you more means of writing. More flexibility. More words and techniques. Study, study. study, and eventually you'll be able to get out of the cringe-zone and into writing compelling stuff.

>>51778321
Starting writing about this one and now have a full-blown short story being built for my portfolio. Thanks anon.

>>51882603
I spoke with Tarvi instead as I saw Siimeon was conversing with a city guard who was inquiring and talking about a Mimic. That was reportedly hiding around the area of this block, masquerading as house furniture and told to watch out for any house furniture that was acting "weird."

"Ey how ya doing Malon? You heading home yet? You best watch out if any of your furniture's moving out of place or is leaving drool. If you haven't heard, City Guards are warning about some Mimic's running around the lower slums and middle class areas. So what can I do for you Malon?"

"I need a key for one of the expensive higher end rooms."

"Still helping out patrons? But Malon, your shift's over and one of the newer servers we've recently hired's gonna fill in for you and be coming soon."

"Of course I am aware. Its the bard Karmen Harma and her friend Natan Demits. They're going to be residing in there as Karmen is going to be providing musical entertainment for the customers, right?"

"Oh yeah, that is part of the agreement. She plays music to liven up the place, and we pay her and give her a roof over her head in return. Those bards don't charge cheap these days. But tell 'em your shift's over-"

"About that... Karmen and Natan. They need my services."

"Well tell them to wait for awhile. Another server who'll be arriving soon should help them out-"

"No I mean. My OTHER service that I provide to any patron who pays a large sum..." I paused briefly as I was about to explain to Tarvi. "Miss Karmen would like me in bed. And Natan would like to have a 'pretty daddy' help him sleep tonight."

Tarvi nodded. "Oooohhh. That. Hehehehe, do they really want you for tonight that bad? I get elves like you are pretty and have top-tier sex appeal. But they can call for you another time, but oh well, your choice and their's. Here's the key I've actually meant to give miss Harma and her bodyguard friend. You better please her and Natan, you know how them bards can be lecherous. Ha!"

>>51891916
>>51891096
>READ and READ SOME MORE.

Also, in the interests of the thread, POST and POST SOME MORE.

You can only get so good without feedback, and we need the bumps.

Bump for more stories

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>>51896563
Bump with images.

>>51891096
Post it and let us be the judge

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Second time posting one of these. Tried it a little different this time. hopefully it's an improvement and you enjoy.


Interview with a Marine.

>>Over the years Masterchief Robert Ludlow (ret) has been approached numerous times for interviews about his early life as he is one of the few last remaining humans born and raised before first contact. When this reporter approached him to interview and give a story to help commemorate the two hundredth year of Earth entering the Union, Mr. Ludlow was truculent at first but did eventually acquiesce. Here is the story, told in his own words to help preserve its flavor.

Have a seat kid I know why you came. You're not the first jackass the press has sent over the years and you sure as hell wont be the last. I wish you guys would leave an old bastard like me in peace and these little "interviews" just make me think I'm just gonna die an old windbag.

Comfy? Alright, so which story do you want to hear? My early life on Earth, the settling of Alpha Centauri, The ins and outs of the International Aviation and Space Coalition, or since it's getting close to lunch time how about why our first "inflight meals" were sponsored by McDonalds?

The Orion Salutation? HA! You want to hear about the Orion Salutation?! Ha ha HA! Oh kid you just made my fucking day. Go get my bourbon, I have it taped under the sink so the nurses don't find it and pour us a glass.

Mmm, say what you want about Kentucky but they knew their 'shine. Alright to start off this all happened about three hundred years ago. we didn't have any clue that there was intelligent life out there. All our probes and satellites and what not were practically in binary! That's how crap they were for exploration. We had no clue about the Imperial Hegemony, the Eir concord, and what little we witnessed of the Rait Wars we genuinely thought were naturally occurring deep space phenomena.

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>>51899438
I was in my third year of service as a marine on the ISC Cochrane and our general orders were to escort ships on the Proxima Centauri trade routes and defend them against pirates. Now don't get ahead of yourself kid these were humans we would fight. They'd put a "road block" in the middle of an expected flight path. Usually it was just a meteoroid they'd towed into place sometimes it was a proximity mine. When the trade or mining ship going at speed hit that rock, or bit of comet they had moved in the way, the ship would be spread across 100 kilometers of space and the pirates would pick up what ever valuable bits they could find, clear most of the flight path and do it all over again. Hell at the time there were rumors of one of our ships being taken out by a golf ball. When it comes to space kid, Newton doesn't fuck around.

Anyway orders had come down and we had to investigate this new trade route that had colony ships "disappearing" along it. Our mission was to seek and destroy essentially because all the signs pointed to "pirate". If the pirates had more resistance than we could reasonably handle we were to back off and call for reinforcements. I was pumped about this because in the last three years we'd only seen one engagement and that was so text book we didn't even have to board. After about three weeks of patrols our radar finally picked up an unidentified ship and a half hour after that the ship got the call to battle stations and STILL didn't know what the ship was. Back then this never happened. It would take half a day to identify ANY ship and it would take another full day to get into combat range and THEN we'd get the call to battle stations. We didn't know what it was and it had us by practically by the belt.

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>>51899501
>>that image was bigger than intended.

Now the Cochrane was an Interceptor class ship which was basically a cannon with an engine strapped to it so take a guess as to what ship popped up on us. Heh, you've done your homework. Yea, it was the IHF Vrek. A damn dreadnought, workhorse of the Hegemonys fleet and the Vreks main cannon was the size of the entire Cochrane. Now as part of our fleets standing orders if we made contact with any intelligent life we were to remain as peaceful as possible and try to get the diplomats on the horn asap. We all laughed at this order of course because if we're alone, it's about as useful as telling someone "Don't clean a loaded gun with ice cream". A bit less funny now that there was an alien warship in front of us

So comms tries to hail them and gets about halfway through the whole "we come in peace" speech before our dish gets shot off with this fucking laser so any questions about these guys maybe being our "pirates" got replaced with "holy shit what are we going to do?". Comms got the genius idea of flashing some of our floodlights in binary so that the Vrek would know that we came in peace and if they kept shooting at us we'd fire back. We didn't even get a full letter in before the Vrek shot out the light bulbs. The light bulbs of all things! That laser tore the shit out of our hull and breached us in half a dozen places so it's at that point the Captain had enough fucking around with diplomacy and ordered our cannon to fire. Now all the Cochrane had was a Tesla rail cannon. It wasn't the pride of the fleet. Shit, half the time in drills it didn't even want to work but damn did it do a number on the Vrek. One shot and there's this gaping hole in the Vrek. We found out later it was because the projectile in all rail or gauss weapons becomes charged and plays hell with the electromagnetic shielding all the Hegemonys ships use. So we fired and once we saw how much damage we did the captain called out the Zeta order

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>>51899577
Me and the squad were expecting it at this point. It's an emergency order that gets called when our ships too damaged so we have to secure the enemy ship just to have a chance of surviving. Me and my squad headed down to the airlock after gearing up at the armory and I think that's when it really hit home for all of us. We were all alone with no back up, no idea what we were going to find when we boarded, and we were about as far from Earth as we could possibly get. No one wanted to talk. We only waited maybe fifteen minutes in that airlock but I tell you it was the quietest "month" I've ever had. When the airlock popped it opened into this dim hallway about half as big as ours and all along the walls were, well displays I guess you could call them. They were lit up and showed pictures and that was our only light. What they showed I couldn't rightly tell you. It was almost all in a language I didn't know, still don't as a matter of fact, and they didn't have any reccognizable map that said "you are here". So we kicked off and floated to the end of this hallway and our demo expert Lilly attached thermite charges to the airlock and just as she's about to breach a hole through so we could clear, the door opens and wouldn't you know there's these guys upside down on the ceiling with what looked like lunchboxes and riot batons. I would've given my right nut just to see the look on the little guys face when that door opened. Here you have ten humans, each one about twice their size all crammed into this hallway about to storm the Vrek with what must've looked like armor from thousands of years ago to them, and all they had were their basic EVAs with those opaque visors and whatever improvised weapons they could grab. So the first guy tries to swing at Lilly and she out of reflex punches the guy in the helmet. She hit so hard that the guy she punched knocked into the guy behind him and half of the Vreks "team" flew into the opposite wall squawking all the way.

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>>51899707
While they were disorganized Lilly hit the floor and the rest of us cleared the hall with liberal weapons fire. After the noise died down our medic Carl did his usual triage and ended up only having to reset Lillys dislocated thumb. Carl was the first to get a real close look at the little guys and I guess it's a good thing velcro's multicultural because otherwise I don't think Carl could've examined them. Yes Dr. Carl Rhea.I kind of wished I'd stayed in touch with him before his xeno veterinary kick. At least I wasn't the one that showed him "the crocodile hunter" but I'm rambling . Now I wasn't the one covering carl while he poked at the bodies, I was the one covering our front in case they had reinforcements on the way, but from what I over heard I'm glad I wasn't next to him. It's bad enough trying to remain calm during a boarding action when there are dead bodies and blood floating three inches from your head, but hear Carl talk about them. Ick. These guys were bird like, they had miniscule feathers instead of hair, hollow bone structure, yadda yadda. Apparently Lillys little love tap crushed the guys skull in his helmet, which was another reason why I'm glad i didn't see it up close. After Carl gave everyone the ok we commed the second squad with our short range to move into position then we headed out through the rest of the ship.A few thermite charges and a fire fight later we managed to barricade ourselves into what we thought was the communications bridge. The room was full of view screens and holographic displays in rows with chairs infront of them. Some of the chairs we had to empty of it's original occupants if you take my meaning.a few of my team posted at the barricade and shot at anything that moved while the rest of us found a view screen and popped a squat. After we relayed to comms what kind of set up they had he gave the most tech support answer I have ever heard before or since.

"Push buttons until something happens."

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>>51899738
So after about half an hour of being the literal minded grunts that we were, we found that one of the buttons popped up a wave on one of the view screens and after some experimentation we were able to change it's size and frequency and told comms of our success. While we were all congratulating each other on being the first xenotech engineers this hawk face pops up on the view screen we were messing with and starts jabbering away at us. Now I could say what surprised us the most was the face, I could say what surprised us was the sounds it was making, but honestly what surprised us the most was the fact the fucker was so loud. Hell a damn concussion grenade going of next to our ears would've been a relief. We tried messing with the buttons on the display to get rid of bird face. Turns out that wave was just the volume. the volume that we'd jacked up all the way.

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>>51899822
Now all throughout our time behind our barricade we'd get intermittent fire from the Vreks crew trying to retake their ship but as soon as that guy was on the screen they stopped firing. The Cochrane radioed us telling us to cease fire as the Vrek seemed to be trying to communicate not just with our squad but with the others as well. Soon after comms told us to show a binary message to the guy on the screen. So we started tapping our helmets in sequence and for the first three hours it felt like we were a bunch of kids learning to drive in high speed traffic while holding daddy's hand all the way. Every hour after that felt like a Laurel and Hardy sketch and it didn't help this lasted a day and a half. Eventually hawkface changed his tempo from screeching at us, looking to something off camera, and just generally not getting the point to hitting a couple of buttons and showing us pictures on the screen. At first it showed some random stuff, shapes, colors what not. When we relayed this to comms he got all excited and told us to tap in a certain code for what it was specifically we were seeing. Red? Six taps. Circle? Three taps.Red again? Another six taps. All this took us another day before hawkface changed the picture to a circle going up and down the side of the screen like a metronome. Comms got just giddy over that and gave us a new code to tap out. After that comms told us that we could relax and come back to the Cochrane and most importantly to not shoot anything. So we took down the barricade and gingerly made our way back passing by some of the Vreks crew on our way out. We still couldn't see their faces. Were they angry? Were they as scared shitless as us? All I know is that I could feel their eyes on every move we made.We got back to the airlock when Carl gave me a thumbs up as if to say "Hey we didn't die."

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>>51899898
As soon as we got through decon at the airlock which was basically a microwave bath everybody sprinted to the shitter. I had actually beat Lilly there and had drop trou' when the bitch broke open the door and tried to throw me off and if I didn't have a tight grip on the side bars I would have been sliding down the hall.

After we had our relief the captain told us over the intercom to grab something to eat, give a mission report, and that both boarding parties would be on what amounts to latrine duty for the foreseeable future. Apparently he didn't have a tight grip. I met up with the rest of my squad down in the mess hall and we caught up with one of the comms officers that helped us while we were on the Vrek and he was only too happy to tell us all that was going on. I guess he just wanted to show off to us marines. The whole reason why they shot in the first place was because our ship profile and communications dish made us look like a Rait ship so as soon as we tried to send a message it looked like we were preparing to fire. The floodlights they took out because some of the torpedoes the Rait used have a light on them that flicker before firing. We were all just dumbstruck at how stupid these guys were and started asking the comms officer how the hell any space faring species could get so many things wrong. We didn't shut up about it until he told us that "communications room" we'd barricaded was actually the ships rec room and the aliens we shot there were probably the few family members the officers had brought along. It was honestly a saving grace that our rail cannon was so effective. If it hadn't been for the fact that our one shot took out their primary and secondary life support systems and because of that the Cochrane was the only one providing atmo for both ships I doubt the Vrek would have tried diplomacy at any point.

>>51893154
Tarvi continued on. "Oh and mentioned Natan wanted you as his daddy for tonight? Better please your new baby boy. Tehehehe, you take care now, and good luck." I lightly cringed at that joke, Tarvi Vistut's jokes are not exactly "good quality" and would never be used to make someone laugh. Even if it mean having to save a person's life.

I did get back to Karmen and Natan, both of whom grinned mischievously than ever. I showed them their room key as we all walked together up to the rooms, I felt Karmen hugging my arm and Natan subtly holding my hand. We got to their room which was one of the higher end rooms available for the Vintage Peasant. Complete with sheets made of finer silk, a bath area with a tub, two beds and the windows were also sound proofed.

We got in and I, Karmen and Natan began our night of love making. Essentially Karmen was quite dominant in bed, rarely let me on top of her while Natan indeed was submissive to me in bed for a human of his stocky and built up size. Karmen constantly rode me and definitely did not lie about “Rocking me up” and that she’d be the best woman I’d ever sleep with. And she was right, even though I have slept with numerous men and women; most of whom being humans considering the place I’m living and working in and one elven woman who “took pity in me.” Karmen felt much better for some reason, likely because of her charms of which bards have and are experts with. Or perhaps despite her being dominant in sex she was quite passionate as well because she is also a very good kisser. Lips to lips, mouth to mouth, and also with tongue, I indeed enjoyed and loved kissing her.

As for Natan, again a person who is surprisingly submissive for a man and warrior of his size and body. He pretty much worshipped my cock, plus it was me doing the ploughing on man this time. Since most of the time it’d be the male clients who fuck my ass. Natan is a pretty sweet man who enjoys me spooning him.

>onto next page

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>>51899979
>here's the last of it. right now i'm going to bed but i should be on later if there's any constructive criticism.
That's about it. An Orion Salutation is when "If at first you misunderstand, bang your head until you can talk". Why's it called the Orion Salutation? It was named after our captain, Captain Mark O'Ryan. Just doesn't translate I guess.

>>51899438
>>51899501
>>51899577
>>51899707
>>51899738
>>51899822
>>51899898
>>51899979
>>51900028
well that was fun. Good work, anon - although you might want to try breaking it up into more paragraphs if you ever post it again; reading a wall of text is hard.

>>51772304
I don't have a picture but I'm posting my thing anyway because I am a MADMAN with NO REGARD FOR THE RULES

It came without warning.
He knew the stories, of course, of the place the Fourth Years disappeared to. He knew the rumors of what happened during the three months they were gone from the Academy, the tales of torture and beatings, of dark, unholy rituals and Dream-horrors made flesh. He didn’t believe a word of it. But he thought there would at least be some ceremony. Instead, he was merely shaken awake by Mr. Akkermans, told to pack his things, and escorted out of the Academy into a wagon.

The wagon itself was relatively large, yet it was still rather cramped given that it contained what Isaac estimated to be about a third of the Fourth Years, as well as a few tutors, among them Mr. Akkermans. As he entered the wagon, taking up a spot next to a tall, bulky boy with dark brown hair whose name Isaac had momentarily misplaced, he spotted Charlotte sitting a few seats down. She smiled, and mouthed a greeting, waving a small wave as she did so. He smiled back. A simple cord with 3 beads on it marked her as a Third Level. No one above Fifth Level was allowed a necklace, the odds of them using it to strangle themselves were too great.

>>51908430
The wagon driver barked and cracked the reins, and the wagon was dragged into uneven, bumpy motion. Eventually, the ride smoothed out, as they left the walls and safety of the Hold behind them. Brigid, a short, dark-haired girl, in an act of exceptional foresight, withdrew a book from her hastily assembled pack and began to read, adjusting her optics as she did so. At some point, meals wrapped in gray cloth were passed around the wagon, as well as canteens full of water.
“Keep track of the canteens,” said the driver. “You lose ‘em, you ain’t getting another.”
At this, a few of the students took a swig of their water, replaced the cap, and put them in their packs. Isaac unwrapped the meal. It was tough bread and some cheese, a rather meager offering for an organization as rich as the Academy. Isaac briefly wondered whether this was intended to be some sort of preparation for the hardships to come.

His thoughts turned to Mr. Akkermans, sitting in the front row of the wagon, staring blankly ahead into the distant badlands. He was in his late forties, possibly early fifties, and Isaac imagined that when he was young and still traveled the Four Worlds he would have been considered quite attractive. He had clear, distinct memories of hating the man, when he was young and still reeling from the shock of being pulled from his home. He remembered how the man would strike the back of his hands with a thin switch and snap at him to concentrate and tune out the pain. He remembered wanting nothing more to strike the man in the face and snap his sharp, angular nose. Now, those thoughts seemed silly and childish. The man was doing his job, nothing more.

>>51908450
Eventually, night began to fall, and the wagon slowed to a stop. The tutors disembarked, and began to construct a campfire. The students were divided up into pairs, each given a dull green tent to construct, as well as a mat and wool blanket each. Isaac was paired up with Edward, a small, nervous looking boy who spoke much and said little. Once they had completed their tents, there was a brief, unceremonious supper, then the tutors retreated to their beds, followed by a few of the students, then nearly all of them, until only he and Charlotte were sitting outside around the dying fire.

Charlotte picked a stick off the ground and halfheartedly tossed it at the fire, her curly brown hair shifting in waves as she did so.
“What do you think we’ll be doing here?” she said, breaking a long, uncomfortable silence.
“Haven’t the faintest idea.” he said.
Charlotte yawned and stretched her arms to the sky, causing her back to emit audible pops as she did so. She stood up.
“Well, I’m to bed.”
She walked over, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“See you tomorrow, hey?”
“See you.”
Charlotte disappeared into her tent, and Isaac did the same soon thereafter.

The next day was oddly uneventful. Most of the students meandered around the badlands nearby the camp, making smalltalk and waiting for their turn on the one communal deck of cards the students used. The tutors seemed distant, speaking little. The whole thing seemed as an experiment into the limits of human boredom. Dinner that night was a stew of some sort, containing chunks of a gray substance of indeterminate composition.

The next day, the training started in earnest.

>>51908458
As the red Vatrian sun rose over the horizon like a wounded animal, the students trekked through the badlands, walking through miles of barren, identical ground with no clear destination. As they walked, Isaac felt something building in his mind, some sort of hybrid of sound and pressure, like there was a mosquito bouncing around the inside of his skull. Charlotte could hear it too; he knew her well enough to know the way she would twist her hair around one of her slender fingers when she was nervous.

They stopped walking. The pressure in his head was almost unbearable, and what was once a single mosquito inside his skull had turned into a swarm. One of the tutors, a tall woman with ashen hair, walked in a circle around an invisible central point. The circle became tighter and tighter, and eventually, she stopped, picked a small stone off the ground, and lobbed it into a lazy arc. The stone completed its climb, began to fall, and disappeared as if the air itself had devoured it.

“It’s here,” the tutor said. “I’d estimate seven feet in height, five foot diameter.”
A tutor with dark skin and a long, gray beard stepped forward.
“Consider this an…. exam. By now, you should know the rules.”
A murmur emanated from the collective crowd of students. The man with the beard stepped to the side, extending one hand as to usher the students inside. Finally, Brigid took a deep breath, stepped forward, and seemed to disappear. One by one, students followed her, swallowed up by the air. Charlotte gripped Isaac’s hand, and in unison, they stepped into the Dream.

>>51908473
Thousand worlds hanging in the sky
Forest moving, breathing, shifting beneath their feet
Something at the periphery of Isaac’s vision, moving just before he could turn his head
Isaac tried to concentrate, to solidify the idea-space of the Dream into something tangible, but there was nothing to hold on to, nothing that could act as a baseline for the chaos around him. He turned to Charlotte, but she was shifting too, flesh peeling away to reveal blood peeling away to reveal bone peeling away to reveal organs, like something out of an old medical textbook. He closed his eyes, but it didn’t help.
Charlotte spoke, from somewhere infinitely distant.
“Isaac?”
Isaac gripped her slim hand tighter.
Trees reaching, thin limbs slicing into flesh
Blood pooling in midair, falling upwards into the void
Running, being pulled, screams-

And they were out, out onto a dark, muddy ground that was not the badlands they entered. Isaac saw a boy, his shirt sliced to ribbons, covered in thin, shallow wounds that looked like claw marks, being treated to by one of the mentors. Edward stumbled, keeled over, and vomited onto the ground. Charlotte had her head facing the ground, and wouldn’t meet his eye.
Mr. Akkermans was the first to say something.
“Your training officially begins now.”

>>51908430
>I don't have a picture but I'm posting my thing anyway because I am a MADMAN with NO REGARD FOR THE RULES

MOOOOOOOOOOOOODS

>>51900006
So during that night I alternated between pleasuring Karmen and Natan, Karmen making me beg for pleasure and climax and me being gentle and tender to Natan. So I ended up sleeping with them for the night with me spooning Natan, Karmen was glad to have bedded me. As she said I was the best person she had sex with for a very long time, and Natan said I was the best, he still does up to now. That wasn't the last time we'd all have a threesome together since the three of us still see each other at work and hang out together from time to time.

As a matter of fact, I, Karmen and Natan became quite good friends. Karmen is a talkative and pleasant person to be with as she almost always has an interesting story to tell, likely her being a bard. But also because she and Natan were adventurers before they both decided to retire from it and settle in a more peaceful and less dangerous lifestyle. Natan too became a good friend to me asides from a part time lover, he became the Vintage Peasant's newest guard and also bouncer who'd kick out and deal with any misbehaving and drunk customers who'd cause trouble for the staff and other patrons. Natan even acted as MY bodyguard too whenever he and I would hang out in the city I'm currently living in, especially when we both cross the lower slums he'd make sure no hooligan tries to mug us. And when some hoodlums do try to mess around with us, he'd kick their asses easily, since he is and or was a fighter.

And recently Karmen even suggested I learn to do some dance moves whenever she’d do some musical performances that’d require some interpretive dancing, to which she’d help teach me since she has done dancing during her days in the Bard’s University. I still contemplate about it since I’ve never dance before, but I could give it a try to spice things up in entertaining the customers.

>>51908995
All in all the three of us became good friends, and "Friends with Benefits" as Karmen puts it. But none the less we're good friends.

Sometimes Karmen and Natan would take day offs and have me tag along in which we either just go exploring around the city. Or go out of the city and go trekking the fields and countryside, no serious adventure or quest taking business since Karmen and Natan have retired from that. And again, I'm considering taking those dancing lessons from Karmen.

Well time for me to head to work again, will be seeing Karmen doing her bard work in playing music for the patrons and Natan being the bouncer he is. I just figured I add my first time experiences with Karmen and Natan, I better remember to write a letter to my mother and father on how I'm doing.

I'll tell them about Karmen and Natan, but not the sexual activities we do. Just going to mention them so that they'll know I'm not a complete loner.

>End of entry

(The End)

Alright that is about it, so what feedback can any of you all give? I hope I did not "break any major rules" with mentions of sex, bisexual anal sex and general ploughin'.

Thanks in advance.

>>51888940

The weather was beginning to turn when it was first sighted. Black clouds were beginning to spread like spilt ink across the bright afternoon sky, and the sharp taste of the air could only herald approaching snow. Every man aboard could feel the storm coming, and silent, hunched figures rushed about their work, indulging in neither conversation nor song, so that it seemed the deck had already been layered over with a frozen, smothering blanket.

And then the lookout noticed that the black clouds advancing across the ice-blue sky were not solely the product of the ever changeable Arctic climate. Three black tendrils rose in the distance, from somewhere to the east just beyond the horizon.

There was no ice to the east. Or rather, the ice sheet in that direction was split and sundered into various bergs and glassy, grating rivers that could be traversed - albeit with no small degree of skill. With bad weather approaching the ship should have been looking for a cove or bay that could act as a natural harbour, or even headed out into the open ocean rather than risk being dashed against the diamond studded Arctic sea.

But the Polaris was on a voyage of exploration. She had set out from Portsmouth in the April of 1834, under the command of Captain John Horatio Neville, and over the previous year had charted much of the northern seas that lay across the the summit of the world. The long sought northwest passage still eluded the young, ambitious Neville, though. But the determination of the cold, cruel seas to frustrate every hope of his material advancement had only heaped Neville's unfulfilled passions upon another subject: the cause of science.

Sails that had been battened down in anticipation of the oncoming storm unfurled, and the Polaris turned to the east. The ship's naturalist, Dr Edward Palmer, suggested that there might well be a smouldering volcano at the base of the rising columns of smoke.

>>51913365

Certainly it didn't seem likely that the source of the smoke were man-made, for there was no solid land for a hundred miles, just the eternal plains of ice. The First Officer, Lieutenant Berkley, suggested that there were primitive tribes known to live out on the ice, but Dr Palmer dismissed the idea. More likely would be a band of shipwrecked sailors - whalers, or even fellow explorers - left stranded on the floating landscape. In which case it would be even more imperative that the Polaris make double time towards the source of the incongruous emissions.

Canvas snapped and oak creaked as the wind picked up. There was no logic or direction to its movements; the wind danced and snatched at the Polaris one moment, and then a moment later all was still again. The sailors had all grown used to this capriciousness. Welcomed it, even, in their superstitious way. With no clear direction to it the wind might well blow the gathering storm clean aside, and with the future uncertain the lesser ranks among the crew could take comfort in all manner of charms, trinkets and the little, everyday rituals that even educated men can fall into if not careful to impose their reason upon the baser mind.

The Polaris made good time, breaking through the waves as skillful seamanship kept the sails full in spite of an uncooperative wind. White foam burst about the bows, and behind the Polaris a shimmering trail began to form as the bright afternoon sun struck the churning wake. She wasn't built for speed - she was a frigate, especially designed with a reinforced prow to serve as an icebreaker. But all the same she nearly flew towards her quarry, like a hound that had caught the scent of a fox.

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>>51913365
>>51913810
I will be back to complete this later. Hopefully.

>>51910851
A piece of paper was presented in front of the Inquisitor's desk. On it was a depiction of the Most Holy God-Emperor of Mankind outside of His armor linking arms with...some woman, hair made of rainbows, festooned with jewelry and gems and clad in a robe of white and indigo. Underneath the image was a declaration.

"Explain." Those two syllables were so simple to pronounce, but to the acolyte in front of him they held more power than ever imaginable. They were the authority of Terra.

"My lord, I have suspicions that we are in the midst of a cult uprising." He announced without any hesitation. Working in the Inquisition left room for no such thing. Even though he wore such fine clothing, carapace armor, even a refractor field, he understood the direness of his duty every day of his life. "The document I presented is a piece of propaganda a local minister was distributing to the citizens. I have went to the lexographer in order to translate its meaning, and he said it was the announcement of some new cult. One that claims that our Mighty Emperor has taken a...Queen."

For a moment, the Inquisitor stared dead at the acolyte. His beady grey eyes expressed little, and his wrinkled scowl expressed even less. This was the face of an Inquisitor who burned worlds. This was the face of an Inquisitor who was willing to destroy entire regiments of guardsmen for the radical thoughts of one conscript, a man who ordered an entire cult Excommunicate by merely mispronouncing the name of a Primarch.
This face, which never smiled in over a hundred years, asked one question: "Where is the guilty?"

The acolyte answers, "He has been detained, awaiting your judgment. Connelly and Rictus have been watching his cell nonstop since our arrival." The Inquisitor remained motionless, his eyes boring into the acolyte's head. "Do...you wish to see him, my lord?"

Same as ever, the Inquisitor ordered with the fewest words necessary. He merely bade, "Bring him," and the acolyte left.

>>51924482
An hour passed and a rail-thin man is thrown into the room, his robes stripped to reveal the image of a winged horse with rainbow hair. His underpants had hearts on a purple background, and his socks were yellow. He struggled to stand, trying to say something, but oh dear the Inquisitor forgot how incomprehensible the countless dialects of Gothic ended up sometimes. With a disappointed growl, he demanded that the acolyte translate the prisoner's ramblings.

"My lord, he wishes to speak about his...deviant religion." The Inquisitor nodded. The prisoner, relieved that he was allowed to speak, began espousing as best he could with his hands and legs tied up as they were. "He is expressing his praise in whatever pitiful way he can. He claims that his religion believes that the God-Emperor of Mankind, praised is He on Terra, somehow acquired a queen from the conquest of a world populated by pastel colored little...mukaali? No, horses! That was the name." The disgust evident in the acolyte's voice was met by the Inquisitor's stare. "Apparently, these xenos can speak Low Gothic and supposedly, their queens are worshipped like heathenous gods. Disgusting, I know," he added on. He practically predicted the tightening grip of his master's fist. "So apparently, one of these queens became an envoy for Him during the Crusade. How this led to the blasphemy before you...? Somehow he thinks that He on Terra would ever even neglect his duties for mankind to display affection for a single individual, even a filthy xeno. Oh, and these xenos have a limited ability to shapeshift, but it seems clear that they are still abominable."

The prisoner asks something, which the acolyte merely waves off. The prisoner continues. "Their faith preaches understanding, friendship and...ugh, tolerance for even the many enemies of man."

"Enough." Those gravelly syllables, even though they were untranslatable to the prisoner, held enough authority to silence him. The acolyte merely looked.

>>51927944
"Ah," he asked the Inquisitor, "You wish to render...? Oh, of course you so, my apologies for doubting you."

The Inquisitor raised his power armored hand to reveal a bolt pistol. The acolyte knew immediately what test would take place out of the hundreds he had used over the years. The pistol's clip held one round. He would fire and if the bolt hit, it was evidence that the man was a heretic. If it missed, he would be deemed innocent and let go. Considering how well-maintained his equipment is, it went without saying that countless many were deemed guilty of heresy.

The acolyte stepped aside, anticipating a shower of blood and skull fragments. He announced to the prisoner the judgment before him and that if he died, then it was proof that his religion was a sham and thus would be dismantled with excessive prejudice. Surviving meant that he could return home, unharried by the Inquisition.

It went without saying that he was guilty. Not only did he start such a deviant cult, but further research only confirmed his status as an outcast - the scorn of peers, the disowning of his widow mother (his father was apparently a guardsman), and the fact that the Inquisitor was warned of this by an undercover Battle Sister who had her suspicions. There was no way such a being could be considered an upstanding human specimen.
As the acolyte began brushing off the remains of the apostate, he asked, "When do you wish for the operation to purge this world of this heresy to begin?" The Inquisitor's gaze never wavered, his pistol still aimed in anticipation for something. "Immediately? Very good, I will gather the operatives and begin tomorrow then." He bowed and made a sign of the Aquila. "Praise be to He on Terra and none else!"

The Inquisitor remained where he was, nodding simply as his acolyte left. Already, he began anticipating the possibility of Exterminatus if the situation proved too dire. One way or another, this apostasy would die on this world.

>>51928306
Good work

>>51913810

It was two hours before the base of the black columns became visible in the distance, and the sight caused a great deal of excitement among the senior officers. That far out, it was impossible to be sure. But surely, what else could it be? It was no volcano, that was for sure - the glinting sunlight showed clearly some metallic object. Nor could it be some construction of primitive tribes that wandered the ice, for it was indisputably extremely large. Another ship, like theirs? Maybe; a trick of the light and the air might produce such a distortion of optics. But it seemed unlikely.

Quickly, a whispered word spread from the upper deck, where Captain Neville stood with his telescope fixed firmly to his eye, to the main deck and thence into the bowels of the ship, until even the carpenter's boy had it on his lips:

Relict.

Vast machines, ancient beyond the memory of history, built with technology far beyond the understanding of modern 19th century man. They lay scattered about the world, and as the Age of Exploration had brought the questing light of European civilisation into Earth's most remote wildernesses, several more had been discovered in addition to the famous, and previously unique, Giant of Epirus - a roughly humanoid colossus first recorded by the Greeks of Antiquity. In all, the total number of these artificial behemoths known to humanity at large now stood at seventeen, distributed across the world from mountainous Peru to the coral seas of Australia. No two were alike, and if they had a particular function even the wisest men had yet to provide a convincing explanation.

>>51934813

The discovery of an eighteenth Relict, out in the wild Arctic seas, would ensure that Captain Neville - and indeed the entire crew of the Polaris - would be the toast of London, lauded by scientists and laymen alike, no doubt rewarded handsomely by the government and scientific societies. Since the discovery of a quadruped Relict in the mountains of Indochina by a Frenchman, the famous explorer and naturalist de Tancreville, it had become something of a patriotic imperative to ensure that the next Relict was announced to the world by an Englishman.

On the quarterdeck, Captain Neville stood rooted as stiff and immobile as the ship's figurehead. Occasionally he would bark an order to the first mate, but otherwise he engaged no one in conversation, and the other officers followed his example. It was a different silence from that which had presaged the gathering storm. There was an energy in the crew now; they were taut as the canvas that drew them onward to their imagined glory.

If the sting of a crop would have spurred the Polaris to hasten then they would have lashed her bloody; timbers strained and ropes creaked as the rising winds began to take their toll on the masts and rigging. Yet the ship held firm, and indeed she sailed so smoothly through the chill waters that the ratings began to mutter that Polaris herself was just as keen on reaching the object of the chase as her masters. Old sailors patted absentmindedly her oaken flanks, soothingly; they had long ago learned to be mindful of a ship's moods.

By four o'clock that afternoon it was clear that their quarry could be nothing other than a Relict. Through his mahogany and brass telescope the Captain - confirmed in his every observation by the other officiers - had identified four great limbs rising up out of the water. Another quadruped, though not like the Indochinese one for that had a squat, flat topped body; some had even irreverently referred to it as a walking table.

>>51935242

This Relict had a high, irregularly shaped tower rising above it's legs. Longer than it was wide, if the legs were to submerge it might give the impression of a gigantic fin rising out of the water - though only from a distance, for it was a creation of blocky, mechanical lines and graceless power, utterly the opposite of any streamlined aquatic creature. At the base of the body, just above the nexus where the legs met, there was an aperture of some kind, a circular hole wide enough to row one of the Polaris' boats through without the oars touching the side (though this was a moot point since it was almost level with the crow's nest). It gave the impression of a great beast with a single eye; cyclopean in more sense than one.

Afternoon turned into evening, but in the high latitudes of the northern seas the sun lingers in the sky. Although it was still too early in the year for the endless daylight of an Arctic summer, nevertheless the mid-May evening remained bright. Guided onto her goal by the metallic shine of sunlight on the colossal construct's flanks, the Polaris drew ever closer. And always, in the sky beyond, the gathering, darkening clouds.

At some point, Captain Neville gave the order to reduce sail. His telescope was still in his hand, hanging at his side. No aid was needed now to see their discovery, nor indeed would it be easy to ignore. The Relict towered ahead of them, silent and unmoving, utterly inanimate but for the three trails of smoke still rising into the sky. Polaris slowed, cautious on the final approach. The Relict was clearly standing on something not far below the surface. Clearly the assumption that there was no land for hundreds of miles was erroneous - hardly surprising given the lack of reliable maps. Some sunken island lay there, and the soundings showed that the sea floor was rising ever closer to the surface. Lest she be split by submerged rocks, Polaris took the last mile at a respectful pace.

>>51937686

It only added to the sense of momentous occasion, as they approached the vast, awesome presence of the ancient Relict.

More than a few sailors uttered prayers under their breaths. A Catholic Irishman clutched at the beads of his rosary. Even among the officers there were one or two who, almost reflexively, removed their hats as a mark of respect. In ancient days the Relict of Epirus had been the subject of its own pagan cult. In medieval times Relicts had been explained as God's angels, their lumpen, lifeless forms only inanimate until the Day of Judgement, at which time their skins would burst like a chrysalis hatching a butterfly and their true forms would be revealed in all their terrible glory, reading to bring God's final justice to mankind.

No one had ever penetrated to the interior of a Relict, so no one had truly been able to gainsay this explanation. But by the beginning of the 19th century no Christian church acknowledged any Relict as being of religious significance. For all their impressiveness, the great machines gave no sense that they had been constructed with any soul in them; they were functional, lifeless. The stone eyes of the saints looking down from the Catholic cathedrals of Europe looked positively sentient by comparison. Besides, too many times explorers had found Relicts being worshipped by primitive tribes as their god. To endorse any Relict as a Godly creation (beyond the sense that everything is a creation of God's) would fall a little too close to those pagan practices in the eyes of most clergy.

However, with the withdrawal of the Church's involvement there had been no shortage of other theories to fill the gap; there might be no convincing, logical and factually supported explanation for the Relicts, but that didn't mean that there weren't still plenty willing to try their hand at solving one of mankind's greatest mysteries.

>>51938074

One of the most popular was proposed by those who held to the interpretation of God the Engineer. This started with the concept of God the clockmaker, first developed in the wake of Newton's discoveries about celestial mechanics, which held that the universe was one giant mechanism that had been set in motion by a divine hand at the beginning of time and would run automatically until God decreed its end.

Then they developed this, and incorporated the various multi-formed Relicts into the theory, to come up with an explanation that proposed that some divine being had not merely willed the earth into existence, but constructed it according to the same principles of mechanics that any engineer followed, using gigantic machines. Which, upon the project's completion, had simply been left where they stood, their purpose fulfilled. In the Age of Enlightenment this controversial theory of a non-supernatural version of God was much debated.

In the last two or three decades, however, even wilder theories had become commonly discussed; as science pushed the boundaries of human knowledge so too it pushed the boundaries of human imagination. The recent deciphering of Egyptian hieroglyphics had sparked a renewed interest in ancient civilisations, and there were many who proposed that the Relicts had been used in the construction of the pyramids.

Others said that they must come from a civilisation that long predated the Egyptians, and indeed any other, for there was no historical trace of a race capable of building such fantastic creations. Some invoked the name of Atlantis, while others agreed that, if not the Atlantis described by Plato, then certainly a sensible explanation for end of such an advanced race and the subsequent lack of evidence would be that all those splendid cities and technological marvels which must have once existed had sunk beneath the waves in some great cataclysm. The myth of Atlantis was, perhaps, the echo of such an event.

>>51938530

There were even more outlandish theories than these. Some believed that the Earth was hollow, and contained a race of beings of great knowledge and power, who had sent some of their machines to the surface for some vaguely defined reason. Others said that the Relicts originated from another direction entirely - they said that Earth was only one of many inhabited planets in the universe, and that from one of these - possibly Mars - visitors had come at some point in the distant past. From here the extra-terrestrial theorists split into two camps: some said that the Martians had found nothing of interest and had left again, forgetting the Relicts in the process which to them were merely trifling, everyday object such as a knife or tobacco pipe would be to a man, easily forgotten in the rush to leave such a barbarous place. The others said that the otherworldly race had decided to keep careful watch over man, leaving the Relicts behind to facilitate this, and that they still commonly interfered in secret in human affairs to this day.

The truth was that no one knew the truth. None of the seventeen extant Relicts had ever been more than superficially studied. Their metallic shell was comprised of an alloy completely beyond the most advanced of modern science, and remained impervious even to progressively explosive attempts to gain access to the machines' interior. Only one thing could be agreed upon: they never moved, never showed any signs of life. They were, despite the fact that they were obviously designed to be motile, for all intents and purposes merely pieces of unusual scenery.

Three smoke trails still rose from the quadruped Relict as the Polaris drew alongside.

Captain John Neville eyed them warily as he gave the order to drop anchor. He was a well read man, with a special interest in the scientific writings of the great explorers of the age, and he had never yet come across any account of a Relict which showed even this much activity.

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>>51938818
crap, I guess I'm completing this tomorrow then. I really hope the thread survives long enough for me to finish.

>>51923765
Hey Leni. You up?
>...
>...
>...
Guess not. It's better this way. I might embarrass us both any other way.

I've always wondered what it's like to cyberize yourself the way you have. How much did it cost to buy all those cybernetics? What were the doctor bills like to implant them all? Did you miss your original parts? I know I've always said that I wanted to cyberize myself too, but honestly I'm a coward. I hate pain and I'm scared that if I take out a loan for even the most basic quality of life cybernetics that I'd be stuck paying them for the rest of my life. Those thoughts scared me so much that I chickened out of it.
Ever since then, I think I've fallen more in love with the art of cybernetics. It's why I went back to college to get a Master's in Cybernetic Maintenance. There was this one class I attended, an artsy kind that focused on the aesthetics of cybernetics and how to integrate them to the human form. The way you can't tell what parts were real and what was fake was something breathtaking. The seamless transition between metal and plastic and flesh looked...beautiful I guess, the same way a car is or a robot. I'm sure you must have forgotten by now, but I was so awestruck by how beautiful you were. Your legs with their ability to color themselves to fit whatever outfit you wanted without looking weird, your arms that were practically indistinguishable from real ones.

I sometimes wonder just how lucky I am that you entrust yourself, your body and parts, to me. I've always admired you for being so happy and friendly no matter what happens. Every day I think of how lucky I am that someone as gorgeous as you would walk into my workshop, asking for my help, and I'm thankful for that. Maybe it doesn't mean as much to you, but you've been the longest-lasting customer I've had. At some point between the nights out talking about cybernetics and the times we've talked, I'd like to think we've been getting close.

Leni, I think I'm in love with you.

>>51942404
Oh...oh gosh. It feels way more embarrassing than I thought. I guess it's a good thing you're not awake for this, otherwise I think I'd want nothing more than to just crawl into a hole and die from shame. I'm sure you probably have someone waiting for you, probably just as much in love with you as I am but brave enough to not hide behind their job just to be together. It's pretty much why I've put up with everything; because one day I wish that you'd somehow pick up on my feelings and ask if I like you or not.

I guess I really am a coward. I've seen you studying to be a fashion designer, working so hard to make beauty beyond just parts and I wondered who you were making this for. Are you seeing someone? Do they make you happy? Heck, I even wondered once if I could ever match up to them. I'm sure I probably don't, not when someone as beautiful as you, who looks so perfect even when half of her isn't even organic. But I'm fine with the way we are. We can still be friends this way without feeling awkward around each other. I can still be around you, you still have someone to help fix your parts if something goes wrong like right now - that right leg's panels seem to be going a bit haywire. You don't mind if I open the leg for a bit, right?

Hey Leni, if I finally decided to buy those cybernetics I keep hesitating to get, would that make you like me? I know you never really paid any attention to that, but I've been noticing how little I really know you. I don't know what you like to eat, I don't know where you want to work, I don't know a thing about you outside of cybernetics. Maybe it'd be a bit easier to ask this when you're awake, but it's embarrassing to just ask a thing like that. What if you caught onto my intentions?
Actually, I think I should ask another question: What do you think of me? Do you like me? Do you think I'm just creepy? Maybe you don't even remember my name? Even if it hurts my chances, I'd like to at least know where we stand.

>>51943102
Maybe it doesn't even matter. After all, you're a biomechanical model, a beauty of steel and bone who reached for their dreams no matter the cost, while I'm just some technician who fixes people's parts because nobody else could while struggling to pay for everything. Odds are that you've never even considered me as much beyond just a repairwoman.

Would you mind if this stayed a secret? I won't tell you how I feel, and you can keep coming. It's worked for us so far, right? I admire you so much that I'd be willing to give even more if it just meant being able to see you smile like you always do. I'm sure it might hurt, but when compared to what you've gone through getting those limbs replaced, it's probably meaningless. I just want you to know that no matter what happens between us, I'll always be looking at you. I've been so happy being with you. I don't regret even a second I've spent with you.
>...
>...
>...
Oh, Leni! Up already? Well, I got your leg looked at. I've already replaced the faulty panels and redid the wires. I'll just...be going to get the receipt then. Just wait there, okay?

Just stay where I can see you and only you.

>>51835277
I don't write but I kind of feel like writing bad fanfiction recently
Just typing this while I prepare to sleep.

"Haha! I cast revolver!"

Brian ran away as quickly as he could from the mass of writhing tentacles. Jim was behind him cackling madly, and Sarah was busy reciting passages from Fifty Shades of Grey.

Now, Brian had a somewhat uninteresting life, but he was happy with it. He graduated from college, worked at a law firm and had a loving wife and two children. Nothing exciting happened but that also meant nothing unexpected could happen.

While shopping for groceries one day, he met up with his old friend Jim. They talked for a while and Jim mentioned that he wanted to run a pen and paper game and need players.
It sounded like a great time, who wouldn't want to meet up with friends on a regular basis to play games after all.

Brian was busy reading the rules while Jim and the local babysitter Sarah were getting the table ready for the game. He was getting pretty excited until he saw the character sheet.

The character sheet was just a mirror.

Stunned by this sight, he turned to ask the others about it. He thought he needed to write things down after all. What he didn't expect was the sight of Jim cutting open a cat over a small Buddhist altar.

"You use the character sheet to check the status of your character. How would you do that if you couldn't see yourself?"

Getting pulled into a mirror was an novel experience. However he decided he didn't like pen and paper games all that much after he was nearly killed by fish people.

Getting told that it 'builds character' was what made him jump back through the mirror without the others.

"Maybe that W. H. 40key game Bill mentioned might be better. Sounds like a nice puzzle solving game."

Brian spent the rest of his life trying to convince people that pen and paper games like Dungeons and Dragons were trying to get children to start satanic cults.

Just submitted two stories to two different e mags.

Anyone else waiting to hear back?

>>51938818

There was still no sign of movement from the great, segmented metal limbs. But if this discovery was not like the others, was not dead like the others gave every indication of being... the possibilities were inconceivable. The knowledge contained in the manufacture of the great mechanisms, the secrets they held... were they to be unlocked, it might herald a new age for mankind, more splendid and bounteous than any that had gone before. And he, Captain John Neville, would be its herald.

And yet, in the looking up at the vast, mysterious and still silent metal form, he felt fearful as much as elated. It truly was an awesome sight, in the Biblical sense. He could well imagine the wonder and terror the Israelites had felt in the desert when God manifested his power as a pillar of fire that stretched up to the heavens.

'Lieutenant Berkley, make ready a boat.' Neville said in clipped tones.

'Aye sir.' Berkley likewise was terse and tense, and as he set to his task Neville noted that none of the sailors - brave men all - volunteered themselves as rowers. Beneath the majesty of the Relict, the stout hearts of men who had faced some of the harshest seas in the world quailed.

The first flakes of snow began to fall. Lightly they drifted down, ice-crystals that glowed in the still bright sunlight. The dark clouds, piling up like mountains in the sky, were tinted with yellow and pink. It was a scene of such peace and beauty that Captain Neville's heart was gladdened for a moment. If the snowfall began in earnest and the wind picked up then the Polaris would have to withdraw to deeper waters, but for now it seemed that the Arctic skies were not moved to stand between him and his destiny.

Under the golden light of the boreal sun, the boat pushed away from the Polaris and began to row gently towards the Relict. Captain Neville stood in the prow, back to the others, eyes fixed firmly on his prize. Dr Palmer sat behind him with Lieutenant Berkley.

>>51947957

At last they passed under the shadow of the great technological goliath. Its legs passed far overhead like the buttresses of some iron cathedral, and they like supplicants before an altar kept a reverential silence, and the only sounds were the steady pull of the oars through the water and the grunts and heavy breathing of the dozen or so rowers.

Dr Palmer began to unpack one of his instruments; there were several bundles in the boat that contained scientific devices of various designs. The Captain's intention was to pass beneath the Relict and making a survey of its undersides before pulling up alongside one of its legs. They would then attempt to climb one of the limbs to the main body, and for that purpose a considerable length of rope and several grappling hooks had been brought along as well.

Before Dr Palmer could align his instrument, however, he was interrupted by an unexpected noise. A grinding, mechanical sound. Startled, he gave a great jolt and almost pitched his equipment into the sea.

'I say!' he exclaimed. 'In the name of God, what...' but the poor Doctor didn't finish that thought for the Captain, with uncharacteristic severity, practically growled at him:

'Damn you sir, be quiet.' He held up a hand, and at this signal the rowers halted. All was silence now but for the faintest lapping of the waves. Lieutenant Berkley opened his mouth as if to speak, but a look from the Captain made him think better of it. And in that silence came another sound, not as loud as the first but clearly mechanical in nature. The clank of metal on metal reverberated out over the water.
Then, movement. In the very centre of the underbelly, a hole appeared. Small, only slightly larger than man-sized, they might have missed it had not the flicker

>>51948191

Then, movement. In the very centre of the underbelly, a hole appeared. Small, only slightly larger than man-sized, they might have missed it had not the flicker of the cover retracting drawn their eyes towards it. For a few seconds nothing happened. Then - something fell from the hole towards the water! And kept falling... it was a ladder, spooling out from the hatch until it crashed into the water.

A tension like he had never known before gripped Captain Neville's heart like a ship caught in narrowing pack-ice. But there could only be one response to this, this invitation - and it could be taken no other way.

'Mr Berkley, if you please?' said Neville calmly. His first officer, like the rest of the party, had frozen.

'What?' the Lieutenant said, as if he couldn't quite comprehend the words being spoken to him. Then he seemed to regain a measure of his senses. 'Oh - yes, of course. Men, to your oars. Come on, look lively.' His voice was strained and wavered slightly.

The boat began to move again, and in no time it had reached the ladder. It looked much the same as any ladder, save that it was entirely made of metal, not wood. It reached several feet below the waterline, and disappeared up into the invisible recesses of the Relict's interior, fifty feet or more above their heads.

Captain Neville reached out, and grasped a rung, fingers closing around the black, metallic bar. It was warmer than the frozen surface he'd expected. Without any delay - perhaps lest he think twice about the venture - he stepped from the boat onto the ladder.

'Mr Berkley, you'll accompany me. Dr Palmer, do you feel up to making such a climb?' In his early forties, Dr Palmer was by no means decrepit, but he was not generally a man of active constitution. However, he replied:

'I should think I'd better be. After all, I am the ship's naturalist, I hardly intend to sit here while you perform my duties for me.'