~ Picture of the Week ~ [CLOSED]

Started by Hob, November 02, 2018, 08:26:32 PM

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Eva

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide



“Oh Grand-mère, come, come, you must see!”  Eloise waved her soft, dimpled hand wildly towards the be-capped old woman a few stalls back.  The older woman looked towards the sound of her granddaughter’s voice.  She smiled indulgently and held up a bony finger to indicate that she’d be right over.  She knew well that with that level of enthusiasm in her voice the girl would keep calling and calling until she knew she’d been heard. 

“My silly little dumpling,” she said ruefully to the farmer tending the stall.  The merchant politely chuckled and accepted the few coins the old woman handed him for her goods after she’d settled the dozen eggs and wedge of cheese into her basket besides the box of mushrooms she’d purchased elsewhere.  With a nod to conclude their transaction the grandmother moved towards her granddaughter, weaving and dodging around others in the bustling market and enjoying the warm sunlight on her face.  It was the first truly warm spring market of the year.  The stalls were full of food meant to break the monotony of a long winter’s diet.  She could see Eloise ducking her head towards something, her apple cheeks pink and dimpled in joy.  The sight warmed the woman’s heart as much as the sun.  Her girl was so sweet, so sunny with such an agreeable disposition. Her wants were simple and her heart was big.  What more could a grandmother ask for? 

“Oh just look at him!” Eloise said as her grandmother neared, “Isn’t he perfect!”   

“Ah yes, a fine specimen,” the merchant, “You won’t find none finer in the whole market. He’s the last of the litter, I just sold off the rest this morning. Fine kittens the lot of them.”

The old woman smiled when the gap-toothed gentleman held up the squirming body, all flailing paws and stubby tail.  The soft rounded belly of the kitten fit perfectly into the curve of his palm and even she, old-biddy that she was, longed to reach out and cup the silly thing in her wrinkled palms. 

“Oh he is sweet, Eloise,” she said, looking about for the girl’s mother since it wasn’t truly her decision. “But are you sure?”

“As sure as anything!” Eloise said, her expression softening into pleading. 

“He is the pick of the litter,” the man interjected. “In truth, I was holding onto him for me own.”

Beside him Eloise’s face fell, her rosebud mouth beginning to quiver.

“You told me I could have anything for my birthday, Grand-mère, and I want him!” 

“Well,” she replied, looking about for Allete and spotting the sunflower colored headscarf coming their way.  “Let’s ask your Mama.” 

Eloise nodded, and ran a soft finger over the kitten’s forehead and then down to the little pink nose. 

“He’s just so sweet!” she cooed. 

The merchant beamed.  “Indeed he is the sweetest thing.  Three weeks old and kept safe in a crate with his siblings and his marm.  Nothing but clean hay, milk and rest to make sure he were at his best. Mind you, some folk say they are best at two weeks, others at four, but for my part, I think three weeks is best. They are big enough but still so sweet and tender.”

“What’s this?” asked Allete as she stopped before the trio. She grinned at her enraptured daughter and the squirming kitten. “As if I don’t know.”

“Can I have him mama?  Grand-mère said I could have whatever I wanted.” 

Allete chuckled, put her hands on her hips and waggled her finger at her daughter.  “A kitten is a lot of work, so you must be sure this is what you want.”

Eloise nodded her head emphatically. “I am absolutely positively certain I want him for my birthday.”

Allete looked from her mother to her daughter and then back again, a ruddy eyebrow raised in question.  The old woman smiled and shook her head ruefully.

“We did say anything,” she said. 

“No,” snorted Allete, “You said she could have what she wanted, I merely agreed to help.  It’s on me to do all the work.”

The merchant, sensing the deal was done, turned from the trio, pulled out a flour sack and slipped the squirming kitten inside.  He knotted it loosely and held it towards the girl who wrinkled her nose. 

“I’ll take it,” the old woman said and slipped the wriggling bundle into her basket beside the eggs and cheese. “How much?”

While Grand-mère and the merchant haggled over the price of the kitten Allete draped her arm over her daughter’s shoulder and felt her heart swell with love for the girl.  She’d be old enough to wed soon and so they’d no longer have these market trips. Birthdays would be so different with a husband and then children of her own in tow.  No, she’d appreciate all the ones left to them and make them as special as possible. 

“How do you want it, my love?  Poached in milk or breaded?”

Eloise leaned into her mama, putting her head down upon the woman’s shoulder before licking her lips in consideration. 

“I think I’d like it in marsala with mushrooms if I may. Oh Mama, he’s going to be such a sweet kitten.”

Shekinah

Picture for Dec 14th to Dec 20th, 2018




"After many experiments, it was the great Barnard Brogogne who finally found out one of the perfect chick magnets.
He had tried before to gain sympathy with the bodies of recently passed away animals.
And while those had led to a few sympathy shags, a lot of women had turned their skirts away from him.
The same could be said with a new born baby and adding the sad story of how his wife died in giving birth.
Again a few sympathy shags but to many annoying questions to deal with before finally being able to seal the deal.
But naturally the great Barnard Brogogne never gave up.
He tried different things over and over until he finally found the perfect chick magnet: a young kitty.
From all over all the woman were over him.
And that's why to this day in France they named an entire region after him.
True story"


Why don’t we drink to me and my reflection in your lovely eyes?

My O/O's
Have you taken care of yourself today?

Hob

#27
Picture for Dec 21st to Dec 26th, 2018

Closed

Eva

Picture for Dec 21st to Dec 26th, 2018



Arristy Pennington, master thief and all around bastard stretched out on the back of his borrowed gargoyle as if it were the plushest settee in the Duchess’ boudoir. The fact that he had not personally tested the plushness of aforementioned settee hardly mattered. He had built himself a reputation of such extravagance and sheer cheek that he felt he could make such statements with impunity. No one would question him and the implied acceptance of imagined exploits into the inner chamber’s of the Duchess would be worked into the tapestry of his reputation. It was a win in his book.  He surveyed the feast at his feet, rare, off-season fruits, a collection of jewels and pearls that had been acquired by means both legal and illegal (they were there for effect, it didn’t matter how he’d come by them) and a masterwork tea service that had come into his hands through great difficulty.  By great difficulty one would be wrong to consider such activities of slipping into well guarded and tightly locked up storerooms of a distant silversmith. No, this tea service had been purchased at great cost. The cost and efforts gone into acquiring the means had been the difficulty. But again, there was no need to clear things up.  Arristy was far more concerned with the look of the scene, and what a scene it was. 

Overhead was a tarp stretched taut between two other gargoyles and the patter of rain hitting the tarp seemed to him a very fine musical addition to this well anticipated meeting between rivals.  From one of the higher gargoyles hung a rope, presumably used for rappelling down to this vantage.  It slapped idly in the gusts that reached this height above Crown City, as if in slow appreciation of the music of the rain.  All in all it was a most satisfying scene and Arristy felt very clever for settling things so nicely. Across the way sat another gargoyle above which stretched another of the tarps, a welcome roost for the as yet arrived bird. One could wish, he thought idly as he waited with something approaching patience, that the tarp were colored like the tents that sprang up during the fools festival.  Alas, this borrowed space was more than a little illicit and it would not do to draw the attention of the guards to this little perch. Not when two such personages were meeting there.

A hiss of rope and the soft slid of leather against wet stone made him smile.  He sat up from his recline and picked up one of the fine china cups that rested on a tray near his feet. He felt a pinch at his waist as he moved but did not let it show on his face, nor did he dare adjust it as he looked across to the companion gargoyle where a slender figure in gray crouched. 

“Really?” drolled a feminine voice that rang out at the deeper end of the scale. “We couldn’t meet in a tavern?”

“A tavern?” there was a great deal of amused affront in his voice as he made a great and slow show of pouring some very fine tea into a cup, taking a sip and then offering it out to his companion.

“Surely not, anyone can meet at a tavern!  But folks such as we, no we need a better roost.”

His companion, one Serena the Gray, doffed her hood and mask and settled onto the back of the prepared gargoyle before accepting the offered cup of tea.

“Folks such as we still get wet and we still get cold.”

Arristy laughed as if she’d made the most amusing of jokes and pointed towards the tarp over her head.  Her pretty face took on a look of great vexation even as her eyes rolled. He poured himself some tea and settle the pot back into its perch.

“I have provided you with shelter and warmth my love and the greatest view in the whole of this fine city.”

She snorted and sipped but did not disagree.  This seemed to him to be a promising sign of things to come.

“So what did you bring me up for Reesty?” she asked, balancing her tea cup on her knee, her posture of indolence and readiness all at once.

“Territory,” he said simply and ignored the way her eyes narrowed. “I feel it is time to renegotiate.”

“Hardly,” she said with a snort.  “You are clumsy and over farm and you set the whole city to worry and watch and you are prospering no more than I.  If you had a bigger slice of the pie then you would dip in more greatly and we’d all suffer.  No.  The borders stay as they are.”

“I was afraid you see things that way Ser,” he said.  His tone and expression took on deep reproach as he sipped and then gestured towards his display of wealth, the jewels hanging carelessly from the hand of the gargoyle, the ropes of pearls spilling from the fat and stuffed satchel at his feet (never mind that it was stuffed with his laundry with artfully displayed wealth spilling out).  He closed his eyes and lightly shook his head, as much for effect as for riding out a soft wave of dizziness that was likely the first of many.

“I have done well of late and yet the watch has made no fuss, no increase of security has resulted.  I say it is time to expand and I was hoping you would be open to discussion.”

“I am not and you have wasted your time Arristy.  You should have known better.  But I do thank you for the tea.”

He lifted the tea pot with great effort and concentration that he hoped would not show on his face.  She accepted the refill with a smile. It really was a cold dreary day and tea was a most welcome offering.

“I do not beg, as you well no,” Arristy added as he filled his own cup. “But I will not let this lie.  This is a very big city, far, far too big for two even thieves of our caliber to manage.  If we do not keep things balanced and equitable we will find that the edges of our territories will be whittled away by usurpers.  Better to come to something between friends than risk a common enemy.”

“That is not how things work and you know it,” Serena retorted and settled her tea on her knee.  Her brow was furrowed and there was a concerned look in her eyes. 

“They work how we make them work, My love,” he said with a bright, roguish grin knowing now was the time to distract and blindside her. “Marry me, come, you know you want to.  Marry me and we’ll make a Rogue’s empire than none will dare stand against.”

She laughed and for a moment the furrow in her brow smoothed out and they both reveled in the beauty of that sound.  Serena had a lovely laugh. The world would be much depleted without it. He didn’t even mind that it was directed towards him.

“Don’t be absurd. I would never consider such a thing and you know it!” she snapped back lifting her cup to her lips.  Her lips were curved in a smile, something he could see despite the fact that his vision had begun to blur. 

“My love-” he began and she cut him off.

“Do not call me that.  Love and work do not mix.”

“But surely our time together wasn’t so forgettable that you could-”

Again she cut him off.

“Enough, it was a mistake and you know it.”

“A mistake?” he gasped as he sat up, his cup set down upon the back of the gargoyle in an uncharacteristically clumsy manner. “You call our love a mistake?”

“Love?” she snorted. “You would call it that.  It was a tumble, Arristy, a quick fuck and nothing more. You have, as you always do, conflated it into something more.”

“No,” he said rolling from his hip to his knees, ignoring again the tight pinch at his waist. “I will not believe that of you, of us.  I’m serious Serena, I’ll have you and I’ll have this city. It is as simple as that.”

Serena snorted with disgust and put her cup down with enough force that some of the porcelain chipped off on the stone.  She wrinkled her nose but said nothing of it as she blindly reached for her hood and missed. 

“I’ve had enough.  This is absurd. Don’t contact me again unless you plan on talking some sense. Don’t waste my- Arristy!”

Her sentence was cut off in a scream and for a moment he wasn’t sure why she’d screamed and then he felt it, the strange unnatural angle he was leaning in, tipping backwards the whole world out of balance thanks to the poison in the tea. 

“Shit,” he said as he began to topple backwards off of the gargoyles. That worked fast, he thought as the world tipped and flipped beneath him.  He heard a scramble across the way as Serena either reached for him or simply succumbed to her own dose.  He wasn’t sure which it was and it hardly mattered.  When the story was retold he would tell it however it suited his mood or his ends. He reached the end of the concealed rope that he’d tied tight around his waist just as the blackness reached him. Before he passed out, he saw the whirling gray form of Serena tumbling towards the cobbles at the base of the cathedral.  It was a pity, they could have been great together, he would have loved her. If only she hadn’t been such a practical bitch.

Fortunately the poison was as fast acting as it was over with and when he came to he’d climb back up the rope, clean up the mess and see about taking over the city with a broken heart.  Though likely his heart would mend apace with the poison that took his love away from him. 

Hob

#29
Picture for Dec 28th to Jan 3rd

Closed

Hob

#30
Picture for Jan 4th to Jan 10th

Closed

The Green One

Quote from: Justric on January 04, 2019, 10:59:57 AM
Picture for Jan 4th to Jan 10th

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
A nameless slave was to be fed as a sacrifice to the laughing gods. She was ready. No one had to tell her what to do when it was time to take the stair down to the underworld. She removed her clothes and released her hair. Looking down from the surface, she took a step forward, then another, and soon, darkness engulfed her, and she wasn't seen anymore.

As the slave advanced slowly into the dark, a red gleam reached her eyes, and she knew her journey was coming to an end. She heard the gods, cackling and growling at the end of the stairs, waiting for her. She could hear them sniffing her way and biting the air. Yet there was no fear in the slave's heart. She continued to go down until she stood at the base of the stairs.

The three massive hyenas surrounded her, sniffing at her skin and hair. They sensed the peaceful soul inside her, they knew there was no fear in her. The gods turned around and walked away from her, and she stepped deeper into the chamber made of blood, bones, and fire. She smiled, knowing that on the next day, she would be the one receiving a sacrifice from the surface.

Not available for new stories

MrAlanNH

#32
Quote from: Justric on January 04, 2019, 10:59:57 AM
Picture for Jan 4th to Jan 10th

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

We’re moving…we’re moving...

Let’s stop here.  Are we still all together? Yes? Good.

This is our last stop in the Gallery of Personages Antiquarian.  On the wall before us is one of Genetti giDalantario’s One Thousand Masterpieces; although the official number of his works considered masterpieces is actually between 903 and 934, depending on which expert’s opinion you subscribe to.

The Laughing Queen Reclining at the Aspersorium of Vitality was painted early in giDalantario’s career, between the years 250 and 252 After the Ascension of the Co-Joined Prophet; may their name be exalted for all eternity. 

Here giDalantario presents his interpretation of Benata Losananda, the Laughing Queen, at the height of her power; approximately 850 years Before the Ascension.

Does anyone here know the history of the Laughing Queen?  Yes? 



Yes, she is indeed ‘a hot nudie’, as you say, young sir.  During this period of art, personages of power were often rendered in their entirety, a practice which has since fallen out of favor.  However, that wasn’t my question.  Is anyone familiar with the Queen’s history? No?

Queen Losananda, the Laughing Queen, also known as the Uniter of the Kalavan Plains, was born to a minor chieftain of one of the multitude of squabbling tribes of the Plains.  Born misshapen with a stunted arm and leg, her father’s shamans tried for years to correct her limbs to no avail.  Finally, her father had Benata brought to an area of arid wasteland to be staked out and abandoned as an offering to the tribe’s guardian spirit.

Slowly dying from exposure, young Benata spent long days cursing her father and calling on spirits to save her.  With only a few breaths of life left, her pleas were finally answered by a being of the Elder Dark.  The dark entity offered her the power to save herself and to exact her revenge.  So long as she remained virgin, her power would continue to increase over time.

She quickly and horrifically used her newfound power to express her anger with her father and his tribe, laughing at their terror and pleas for mercy.  Eventually she took control of the remnants of the tribe and began to expand her reach over the Plains.  Other Kalavanite tribes, fearing the loss of their autonomy, began to proactively attempt to eliminate her threat.  Tribe after tribe was easily defeated by her ever increasing sorcery, Benata stripping their captured warriors of their vital essences. 

The Laughing Queen used this stolen vitality to halt her aging and succeeding where her father’s shamans failed, corrected her physical infirmities and gave herself an unearthly beauty.   Some historians believe that she stored the stolen essences in a physical location, a pool of energy referred to as the Aspersorium of Vitality, that she routinely bathed in.  However, archaeo-divination techniques have yet to provide any evidence of a physical Aspersorium, leading many historians to postulate that the Aspersorium was actually a non-physical source of energy she drew upon.

Three desperate war chieftains joined their tribes together into the most powerful threat to Benata’s expansion, but after 3 years of fighting they too fell to the Laughing Queen.  The three chieftains were subjected to an excruciating days-long ritual during which they were transformed into monstrous hyenas, solely obedient to the Queen’s command.  With her three new minions, the rest of the Plains fell quickly to her expansion and soon she had united all the Kalavanite tribes under her rule.

She ruled unchallenged for the next 150 years until King Ferix of the Ten Islands grew desirous of the abundant resources of the Plains.  He tasked his Magi Council with finding a way to defeat the Queen.  Several Magisters, confident in their power, confronted the Queen’s might in conventional ways, and swiftly fell to her forces.  Magistrix Tellysa considered the problem carefully and decided to use her form-shifting specialization in a decidedly unconventional approach.

First, using the form of a mosquito, she infiltrated the kennels where the three monstrous hyenas were housed.  There she shifted form to match the queen’s minions and playing on the natural instincts of the beasts, enticed them to lay with her before departing in the same manner she arrived.  She repeated this practice over many months, until she was sure that she had endeared herself to the three.

The next step of her plan was to present herself to the Queen as an emissary of King Fenix seeking to end hostilities.  She knew that queen would rebuff advances of peace and would attempt to deal great harm to the messenger.  As expected, Queen Losananda, laughed away the prospect of peaceful resolution and began to assault the Magistrix with playful cruelty.  For a time, the Magistrix used her power to mitigate the Queen’s assaults, then suddenly switched into her monstrous hyena form.  While the queen paused puzzled, her monstrous minions instantly recognized their beloved consort and with great ferocity attacked the source of her torment, Queen Losananda.

Stunned by the betrayal, the queen’s hesitation was fatal. Although her sorcery inflicted several grievous wounds that ultimately proved deadly to two of the beasts, in the end, the ferocity of the triad of hyenas' attacks swiftly overwhelmed the Laughing Queen, rending her into several pieces.  Thus ended the Uniter’s reign, opening the way for King Ferix’s attempt to occupy the Kalavan Plains.



Any questions? Yes, young sir?



No, I wouldn’t know how big the Queen’s chest was.  Any other questions? No?

Then let’s move onto the Gallery of Landscapes Foreign.

And we’re moving…



Lovely Complex

#33
Quote from: Justric on January 04, 2019, 10:59:57 AM
Picture for Jan 4th to Jan 10th

Picture of the Week
She had stood perched onto top of the paperwhite colored stairs, her body adorned in with a robe as she is shoved forward by a menacing guard that stood behind her. Her eyes carefully wandered as she seen the skulls, torches of fire and some of the things that she could not describe if you asked her to do so. She had reached the fifth step from the bottom and the guard had grabbed her by the shoulder to make her stop well within her tracks. He had then motioned for her to lose the robe, which she did becoming completely nude as she was shoved forward again.

No clue as to what was going on around her but still she went ahead to sit on the bottom step, a bit uneasy as she dipped her right foot inside of the blood-red water. Her eyes still bounced to her surroundings but it was a brush of fur that sent a shiver up her spine along with the medium sounding snarls she could hear. Just a few moments ago, she did see bright red eyes peek out from the darkness while she was walking down the stairs. It had to be the hellhounds. There was really no other way to describe it at this point. One of the hounds began to swirl around her as she was its prey, which she was, while she felt a bit of drool on her shoulder.

All she could do now is closed her eyes, take a breath and anticipate the worst that forthcoming. The snarls got louder and louder and eventually transitioned into hungry growls from the beasts that surrounded her. 'This was hell. Just pure hell.' She had thought. It was when one of the beasts head leaned back and was coming down with a sudden motion of force that it was over.


Helena had jolted up in her bed with a widen gaze in her eyes, beads of sweat strolled down her forehead. She then felt her body and she was in her favorite sports team pajamas, her eyes took notice that she was in her room and that it was all a dream. Helena had let out a sigh of relief then shifted herself out of the bed, more than ready to start her day. But this is one dream that she had to add in her dream journal as it was one that she certainly would not forget in a long while.
💋 On's & Off's 💋 F-List 💋

Black Mariah

Quote from: Justric on January 04, 2019, 10:59:57 AM
Picture for Jan 4th to Jan 10th




She purred with contentment; the sweet viscous liquid was perfect body temperature, coating and soothing the chapped skin on her toes and feet. Oh they had did so well for her! Her dear pets.  She slowly dragged her dirty, broken fingernails through the coarse fur of creature closest to her, snagging on the blood and tissue matter matted in clods on its flanks and belly.  She tickled under its chin, her fingers slowly creeping into its hot wet mouth.  She fondled each of its teeth, cooing softly, breathing in the reek and rankness of its breath as if it was a lilac perfume.  Blood still dripped in slow, thick strands from its lower lip.  The snarls and slurps of its brothers could be heard behind them.

“Feed, my babies” she cooed, releasing her charge to join the others.  She wriggled her toes in the pool, enjoying the slow slick caress.  Her black eyes flickered to the burning letter, and her beautiful primal features twisted.
“Fools” she hissed, spitting over her shoulder.  What use did she have for alliance and coin.  Such things were dirty, misguided.  False to the core.  As if to cement her disdain, she'd carefully folded the missive into a child's toy, like she had seen on the river Grain.  Boys made floating craft out of paper, giggling and chasing their creations downstream with gusto and abandon.  Happiness tasted good.  And was educational.

She sucked on her fingers, lost in the memory of sweet succulent meat and wine yet untainted by age and poison.

The paper burned slowing, small glowing jewels of flame curling and licking around the edges and folds.  The boat floated no where in particular; just a stranded metaphor for total ineptitude and weakness.  And she would not tolerate weakness.
Her pets roared into the dark of the night, baying their warning, their challenge, their might.  For the authors of that letter would come. And when the did, they would feed....
Bite me.

Eva

Quote from: Justric on January 04, 2019, 10:59:57 AM
Picture for Jan 4th to Jan 10th


Ancient

She was ancient beyond words, the weight of years filling her body and her very bones, with a gravitas that was all but palpable to those who came into her presence. When they came, they bowed before her. They felt the weight of her importance and knew what was expected of them. For her part she ignored them. Just now she was blessedly alone but for her companions, Carrion, Rend, and Snarl. They were fools, her absent and mewling offspring whose very blood had been diluted and contaminated by their time outside the family and outside her influence.  Oh they looked the part, they mewed at her feet and used the correct titles to address her, but they were not worthy of her words or her attention.  They sent her away, banishing her from the light in an effort to “protect her”.  She scorned them, she scorned their protection.  She did not need them. She was ancient, She was power, and would not be so humbled.

So she sat on the steps, bare as the day the universe had birthed her, spitting her out into the warm wet air of the world she would rule. She leaned back on her arms, letting them take the weight of her responsibility as she dipped her toes into the warm pool filled with blood from both offerings and from her many labors and births.  How many times had she tried to gift the world with a worthy successor? Too many to count and not a one of them worth a spit.

The soft white folds of her belly were begining to show a roundness that told her another heir was on the way.  The heaviness of her swollen dugs, hanging loose and hidden by the loose locks of her hair collaborated on what she knew instinctively. She willed the tiny life within her to be worthy of the honor of coming screaming from her womb and into this blessed world of blood and meat. 

Behind her she heard the snarl and snap of a squabble from her darling pets, no doubt over some bit of offal they’d found among the bones that littered the dais.  She closed her eyes and let the moment wash over her, delighting in the primal sound.  At least she delighted in it until some other sound cut through. A screeching, wailing sound accompanied by the crunch of gravel.  She frowned but did not open her eyes.  She would remain undisturbed.  She willed it so, and so it would be.

Despite her indomitable will instructing it to be so the sound of a voice reached her ears.  A voice filled with a cocktail of emotions that were like fingernails on chalk to her.

“How the hell did this happen?” the voice asked into the silence, distant enough that it was clearly not directed toward her. “This is the third time! What am I paying you for if not to prevent this sort of thing!”

A dull metal thunk made her flinch and the high pitched bwoop that followed had her shifting restlessly on the steps.  She could feel the edges of her peace begin to unravel and fray.  She reached out a hand and let it run over the coarse crest than ran along the hyena’s back.  Rend whined and pressed his small nose into her palm. A shadow fell over her,

“Oh jeesus, Gramma! Seriously?”  then a pause and she could hear some other softer, distant voice muttering something.

“She’s sitting on the porch, bare-assed with her feet in a kiddie pool thats filled with-” a pause and a sniff followed, “Fucking tomato sauce, I dunno, but I don’t fucking need this right now.  I’m days away from landing the deal and I do not need this getting out. You get your shit together and do your damn job.”

She opened her eyes and glared at the man before her. The sun was behind him, perfectly framing his head.  Squinting through it she could see a tall man, broad shouldered in some dark clothing who slipped something slim and silver into his pocket. His magic wand perhaps?  He was a powerful one, this wizard, the least disappointing of her bloodline. The light streaming past him worked its magic, washing away the gloom of her lair, turning it from blood-spattered marble to sun-bleached wood and patchy grass.  The dark hair that hung over her shoulders thinned and turned gray even as the swollen roundness of her belly became a flabby pouch no longer capable of bearing life. Her lip quivered and she scooped up the nearest chihuahua and cradled it to her sagging breasts. The beast trembled, she did not.  She lifted her chin defiantly and spoke in a quavering voice.

“How dare you invade my temple!”

The man’s shoulders slumped and his head hung forward. For a long moment he was still, a picture of supplication. When he spoke next there was a new mix of emotions in his voice, sadness chief among them. He reached for her and his hand wrapping around her bicep felt like a manacle.  All will left her. 

“Come on Gramma, it’s time to get back to the home. It’s not safe for you to wander.”

“But I don’t like that home,” she said even as she let him help her rise. The petulant tone in the voice that spoke shocked her. Surely that was not her!

“They give me pills that make me feel funny and the nurses are stealing my things!”

“I know, Gramma, I know. We’ll find you a better place. But for now we have to go back there, until arrangements can be made. Put the dog down, now there’s a girl…”

She was sobbing when he sat her in the car, wrapped up in his suit jacket.  The weight of her years was pressing her down, exposing all the seams in her reality until there was nothing left but a hard, gray knot of disappointment where once there had been a goddess.

Hob

#36
Picture for Jan 11th to Jan 17th

Closed

MrAlanNH

#37
Quote from: Justric on January 10, 2019, 08:51:57 PM
Picture for Jan 11th to Jan 17th



a Lord of the Forest falls


a scene


sylvan      secluded      serene

a stag


majestic         primal        stationary

a scent


sour         steely        wrong

a sound


<crack>          *BANG*
PAIN




FLEEING  FRANTIC  FEAR
FASTER  DEEPER  FARTHER



a stag


staggers         stumbles        crumples

his breath


       labored           bloody        slo w  i   n    g



   ending.


abandoneddolly

Quote from: Justric on January 10, 2019, 08:51:57 PM
Picture for Jan 11th to Jan 17th


The first sense to pull Amy from the darkness was the decaying earthy smell,the fleshy meaty smell of blood that made her stomach turn. Her head hurt, there was a loud ringing in her ears. Her spine and muscles felt like they had just been through a wreck. Slowly the girl opened her gray eyes and looked straight into the face of a deer that looked to be having it a lot worse then she was considering it was nothing more then a pile of bones.

A grown creased her features as she wondered if she was to blame for the seeds demise. The deer shook its head at her as it shifted to stand up, following the sound of bones grinding together. It took a step forward her moving in the jerky movements of a puppet on a string. " You Know, " the deer said in a surprisingly deep voice. " This is all your fault. " the deer then collapsed back into a pile of bones.

Amy blinked a few times. She felt feverish her stomach registered managed to pull herself up on here knees before she opened her mouth and poorly digested deer flesh and hair violently fell out. She continued to vomit until all of her stomach was empty. She half crawled, half stumbled through the woods until she collapsed in a nice cold stream. She let the water flow over her. She opened her mouth and eagerly drunk several mouth fulls.

She laid there for a while letting the creek wash the blood from her skin, her hair. Letting its icy touch calm down her fever. Amy growled. She could hear the distant rush of cars on the highway a reminder of how close she was to civilization. She needed to get up. She had a class to teach this morning. Everyone in her zoology class at the university had no clue how personal she really got with the subject matter. She briefly wondered what her students would think if they knew she had devoured a whole deer raw last night.She reluctantly made herself get up on her feet. She walked unsteady toward the noise of rushing cars, back to the civilized world. She would go primal again another night.

The Green One

Quote from: Justric on January 10, 2019, 08:51:57 PM
Picture for Jan 11th to Jan 17th


The stag

A palace of bone
It brings life within death
It helps others to born
No one defiles the grave of the stag
The mighty creature now lies in peace
There are no tears for the stag
It's just the circle of life
Some live after others die

Not available for new stories

Black Mariah

Quote from: Justric on January 10, 2019, 08:51:57 PM
Picture for Jan 11th to Jan 17th



Number 3657 struggled along a particularly slippery edge of Poacae, the adaptive hairs on the edge of his 6 club feet failing, repeatedly, to keep his 1mm body the right side of upright.  He whirled his little legs as fast as he dared, propelling himself forward at a somewhat precarious angle, trying to keep track of the fading instructions left behind by 3462.
“AHHHHHH!” 3657 squealed as he, yet again, tumbled from his aloft position amongst the tall grasses and landed on his back in a soft puff of moss spores. 
“Darn it! 3656? 3656!!!!!” 3657 squeaked as loudly as he could. “Over here! Help!!”.  Straining and turning his head back and forth at the 180 degree angle that he was limited to, all he could see was the sky, and green, and maybe some brown. 
“Are you sure we're going the right way?” he heard the muffled yet unquestionably droll and doubtful voice of his best friend and pal for life, number 3656.  They'd been together since egg-hood, stuck together by their arses as tiny, gelatinous sausages of ant bits on the same clay spit.  He was whiny, boring, a very picky eater, but they'd worked their way through the worker ranks together.  And today. Today! Their very first assignment as scouts – OUTSIDE the nest! OUTSIDE! This was not some prank played by pea brained, mouldy eyed (terrifying) soldiers to see how long it took for two worker ants to find their way home IN their own home, no it was not! Today, today they were charged with a worker ants most sacred duty – find a new supply of food.
Of course, they hadn't been ENITRELY trusted with this no doubt difficult and perilous venture, no, they had to do something that was turning out to be even more arduous.  Follow the directions left behind by another ant.....
“Yes we are going the right way! Dude I am insulted, have I ever let you down before?” 3657 huffed incredulously, peering over the edge of his thorax at his friend.
“Why can't you do this on your own yet? Your feet are touching the ground...you're not a beetle! And there was that time we nearly drowned in the raindrop.  The time we nearly got eaten by the spider.  The time we nearly died from food poisoning but you swore that it 'was in date'..... push off with your head!”
“This is so much harder than it looks” 3657 muttered under his breath, his head disappearing amongst the moss flowers as he attempted to “push off” with it. 3656 stared blankly at the temporarily truncated body of his friend pointing straight into the sky, legs wriggling with effort.
“Get out of there, before you do yourself an injury” 3656 grumbled, grasping his friend's legs in his jaws and heaving him out of the moss flowers with a grunt of effort.
“Cor, cheers buddy.” 3657 said in between spitting and spluttering out large amounts of moss pollen.  “So, where are we?”
“I told you!! We are lost!”
“Nah nah not lost, just, erm, misplaced ourselves, briefly, that's all!” 3657 exclaimed, trying to keep his voice jovial and free from panic.  He sniffed around, his antennae wiggling frantically; akin to a miniature jellyfish having a seizure.  His senses were filled with the strong strong presence of death.
“3656, 3656 take a look at this” he whispered, looking at the ground beneath him.  The rough pitted surface was a stained white in colour, its lines were smooth and slightly curved, with long fibrous strands attached sporadically to the deeper crevices and rifts.  Using his feet and antennae, 3657 began to tap and patter on whatever he was standing on, slurping up the various pheremones that emitted from his discovery.
“Maybe this is the food?” he thought out loud, using his tough jaws to chew through one of the ragged fibres; “bleugh, pffft blah blah, maybe not” he decided, scraping at his tongue with the two claws that hung just above his front feet.
“Buddy, buddy we gotta go” 3656's panicked squeak floated up from the grass below
“Huh? What you walking about? Go where?”
3656 swallowed hard, his antennae quivering in fear as he pointed towards the towering pile of white bone and rotted flesh. 
“Its him!” he hissed, in a near state of hysteria.  “We've got to tell the Queen!”.  His little ant body began to spin in agitated circles like some sort of demented wind up toy.
“Him? Whose him what are you talking about dude?” 3657 jumped off from his, higher that he realised perch, bouncing off the moss with a small yelp of surprise.  He scrambled back up to where his friend had reached the next stage of insanity – pacing on the spot, which had thrown his head into an uncontrollable jack hammer type motion on top of the pollen filled moss flowers.  Both ants began sneezing violently, which only served to throw more pollen into the air.
“Ohhhh. Oh dear oh dear oh dear”
“Snap out of it!” 3657 walloped his friend on the back of his neck, sending him flying into the air and landing on the moss on his back stiff as a board, only his feat twitching as his pathetic excuse for a spinal cord recovered from the impact and threw out the paralysis.
“Look! Look at its head!” 3656 wailed.  3657 slowly raised onto his hind legs, looking straight up the broken conifer to the top of the gargantuan behemoth like structure that he had discovered.  He saw lengths of femur and rib cage and rotten hind.  He saw a great ruminant shaped skull, the long pointed nose broken and cracked, the worn teeth flat and tinged with slime. It was curved back around on itself, almost as if the beast had simply lain down to rest.  Protruding from the top of the skull, he could see two humongous antler, as long and as complicated as the nest itself.  Great splashes of dried blood spattered the crown and beam, and he could see a large cylindrical hole straight in the centre of the skull, between the beast's now black empty eyes.
“Oh no....”
“See! Its him isn't it? Isn't it?!!”
“Come on 3656, we've got to go”
3657 levered his jaws under his friend body, and flipped him right over onto his feet.  The two ants scuttled away as fast as they could, falling and stumbling their way back towards their home.  3657 cast one furtive look back behind him, obviously having to stop and laboriously turn 180 degrees in order to do so.
The King of the Forest, was dead......
Bite me.

Hob

#41
Picture for Jan 18th to Jan 24th

Closed

Rinzler

Quote from: Justric on January 17, 2019, 07:54:57 PM
Picture for Jan 18th to Jan 24th


The Dragons Are Trained But Still Rage

The first sign that the city of Al-Hafazar was about to be besieged arrived with a scream that seemed to come from a place beyond the horizon, followed soon by the beating of vast wings that brought the thunder of a summer tempest to a clear sky. Everywhere, the traders, travellers and patrons of the market square immediately sought cover, scrabbling for the shelter of buildings, arched doorways and, if they were amongst the unlucky few, the meagre protection afforded by tents and pitched carpets. Within moments, the amiable babble of haggling and gossip had fallen to cries and sobs of panic, and though calamity reigned, there was one amid the scurrying crowd who stood resolute, stoic and unmoved: the warrior Tasmalagus, who appeared to almost welcome the oncoming devastation.

This taciturn champion did not have to wait long before sighting his enemy. Descending with great shadows that fell upon the towers and minarets as swathes of midnight darkness, the instigators of the pandemonium at hand were soon revealed as the immense Dragons of the Affledi, horned and vicious behemoths which instantly set about assailing the structures of the city with a ferocity exceeding even their fearsome repute. By the swift and savage work of the monsters' claws, the market square of Al-Hafazar was, in a little time, suffering a deluge not of rain but rubble; and above it all, above the roaring tumult of collapsing homes, the screeches of the beasts very nearly drowned out the triumphant calls of their riders, the dragonlancers of the dreaded Cabal Maculete.

The Cabal Maculete: a black order spawned from the scouring white sands of the desert. It was said the seeds of this unhallowed Chapter could be found sprouting in every shadow cast by the bones of creatures lost to aridity and thirst. The Cabal Maculete, timeless and implacable enemies of Tasmalagus, who, upon hearing his adversaries' premature yells of victory, set forth with the following pronouncement: "Aw no, what the fuck?"

With the press of a key, Tasmalagus AKA Brian Quackenhof of Newport, Virginia, brought the whole thing to halt, leaving the entire scene frozen and overlaid with a glowing paused. Tutting, he dismissed the game window and pulled up a list of filenames and subdirectories. "God damn it," he sighed, scrutinising the data and drawing only a blank. "God damn, I know I did it right."

Brian was still drawing a blank an hour later and, resigned to appearing as a complete and utter newb, he finally posted in the Chronicles of Chazmafardi forum. "Need help plz," he wrote. "Can't get the Thomas mod to install."

* * *

Sometime later, the first sign that the city of Al-Hafazar was about to be besieged arrived with a resounding TOOT-TOOT that seemed to come from a place beyond the horizon, followed soon by the chuffing of a vast engine that brought the sound of a big steam train to a place where steam trains had no right to be. Everywhere, the traders, travellers and patrons of the market square immediately sought cover, scrabbling for the shelter of buildings, arched doorways and, if they were amongst the unlucky few, the meagre protection afforded by tents and pitched carpets. Within moments, the amiable babble of haggling and gossip had fallen to cries and sobs of panic, and though calamity reigned, there was one amid the scurrying crowd who stood resolute, stoic and unmoved: the warrior Tasmalagus, otherwise known as Brian, who appeared to almost welcome the oncoming devastation.

This taciturn champion did not have to wait long before sighting his enemy. Descending with huge oblong shadows that fell upon the towers and minarets as swathes of midnight darkness, the instigators of the pandemonium at hand were soon revealed as immense Thomas the Tank Engines, blue and anthropomorphically grinning behemoths which instantly set about assailing the structures of the city with a ferocity exceeding even their fearsome repute. By the swift and savage butting of the monsters' buffers, the market square of Al-Hafazar was, in a little time, suffering a deluge not of rain but rubble; and above it all, above the roaring tumult of collapsing homes, the TOOT-TOOTs of the great machines very nearly drowned out the triumphant calls of their drivers, the Teletubbies.

"Cool," said Tasmalagus, glad to see the mod was finally working.

abandoneddolly

Quote from: Justric on January 17, 2019, 07:54:57 PM
Picture for Jan 18th to Jan 24th


Terra skipped happily through the market place taking in the sights, smells, and sounds that buzzed all around her. There was the smell of roasted mear, fresh fruit, and veggies, and baked sweet bread that smelled so delicious that Terra had to grab a piece. As she moved to grab the bread a man grabbed hold of her arm and said something angrily The problem was that Terra really couldn't understand what he was saying. She had the basic understanding though and she reached down with her other hand and brought a jewel out of her pocket and handed it to him.

The man released her arm. He seemed happy now. She didn't know why this people liked the shiny rocks. Was there a shortage of them here? Her mother had a whole cave full. She started walking away into the crowd nibbling on the sweet piece of bread.

She was stopped twice by the stalls. Once by a women who was selling shiny rocks on a chain. She politely refused, but have her one of her own whiney rocks. The women seemed happy about the transaction, though she did look at her a bit weird.

Another women stopped her and showed her clothing as smooth as silk. It was fashioned into a long dress. She gladly traded with the women, and put the dress on. She laughed, and trailed around and around coloring with some of the other people in the market place.

Tera bought a couple of Apple's and handed them to a couple of hungery looking kids. She hung out with them for a bit, and played Chase through the market. She had completely lost track of time. It took her a few moments to realize that the children were no longer running from her. In fact the whole market place seemed to be in an uproar.

Terra glanced up ,was the dragons menacingly looking down from the tops  of the buildings and sighed.  " really, Mom. I was just about to go home. "

Lovely Complex

#44
Quote from: Justric on January 17, 2019, 07:54:57 PM
Picture for Jan 18th to Jan 24th

The marketplace that lined through the streets were bustling with people as it always did. The somewhat cloud free blue sky above them showed no sign of rain and that was something really impressive as it has rained for the past week or so. The merchants were happy that the crowds rose up in the numbers again and you could hear it through them shouting out prices and for people to stop by their cart to see what's new. Nothing could ruin the day as every single thing was going perfectly for them but in the distance, a shrill could be heard that caused people to stop in their tracks and current activity but saw nothing. It wasn't until the third shrill and seeing dragon-sized beasts coming toward them that everyone panicked and picked up their feet to run. Most were unfortunately crushed by the beast or some debris while others, men and women alike, began to scatter in multiple directions. This day was too good to be true as something just had to happen for it to be spoiled. Tomorrow was definitely going to be clean-up day for the crewmen and townspeople and that was something to not really look forward to.
💋 On's & Off's 💋 F-List 💋

Hob

#45
Picture for Jan 25th to Jan 31st

Closed

Hob

#46
Picture for Feb 1st to Feb 7th

Closed

cutesii

Quote from: Justric on January 31, 2019, 08:32:43 PM
Picture for Feb 1st to Feb 7th


In the shifts of reality, sometimes our dreams are the only indication of soul travel. Marcy woke early this Sunday morning with the vivid memories that had just flooded her dream, fleeting exponentially the more she woke up. A different time, a different place, but one male's visage was highlighted on her journey. Who was this person? Was it herself? A lover? A friend? She felt an urge to begin transferring her vision into material form before it was too late. She could not afford to forget before she thoroughly had time to self-investigate this mysterious, yet familiar person. With no time to lose, she jumps from her bed, throws her hair up, wraps her apron around her waist, and begins her work. Swift, but delicate was her pace- making sure to etch his image exactly as she remembered. The more he developed on canvas, the more memories she regained. What is this phenomenon? She still had no explanation. A wave of deep longing flooded her as she made the final touches to the canvas. Only her unconscious mind knew why. Her strokes moved very slowly as she finished his cheek, closing her eyes momentarily, she felt as if it were her own hand brushing it. Only with her eyes closed did she feel his hand touch her own. Even if in another dimension, it was comforting beyond compare. She stayed still like that for a few moments until deciding to open her eyes to simply a finished canvas art. Was this just a canvas art? A smirk spread across her face and she was reassured that this life is much more than it seems. Her passion to live in her dreams, her art, music, and books were tied to more real things than can be explained.

Hob

#48
Picture for Feb 8th to Feb 14th

Closed

Hob

#49
Picture for Feb 14th to Feb 21st

Closed



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