Discussion in 'Art, Literature, and Music' started by Canini, Aug 9, 2016.
demands feel harsh
Well I was asking more along the lines of "why that particular picture?"
wait... is that the fifth day?
I really don't know what it is. for me anymore, deciding what a picture is, is a form of judgement. I just draw and as I move, it comes to me.
I recently started a poetry collection:
I have been going through a online list called List of 86 Poetic Forms and trying my hand at each. So the first four poems of the collections are, in turn, an abstract, a nonsense verse, an acrostic and finally a invocation.
I keep sitting on this, hoping to magically post it while I'm going through ten other tabs.
This goes with the game I'm writing, actually. There's background to these ideas, because I've read other people's stuff and it's influenced mine. Okay, poor choice of word. Influence is the bad guy in my games. This is technically Sanders Sides fanfic.
Technically, it started off like this.
The sides were just something Thomas adapted from his Vines. Morality, his Dad and Puns. Logic, his teacher. Creativity, his romantic and imagination. With help from a couple of friends, he made the Sanders Sides videos. It allowed him to work out some inner turmoils and showcase his acting skills. And nothing was weird.
Until he walked in on Morality making pancakes.
Five seconds passed. The other man turned around and saw Thomas. “Hey, kiddo! Is chocolate chip pancakes okay?” he asked.
Thomas screamed and ran back to his room, locked the door, jumped into his bed and covered his head. “This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening,” he repeated.
Logic came back into the kitchen to see Morality confused and sad. “I don’t think I did anything bad, did I?”
“No, you did not. We are all ‘wearing’ his face and just surprised the man that we are technically masquerading as,” he explained.
Creativity walked in as well, having used the mirror to fix his outfit for the meeting. “In other words, Thomas may be scared at us suddenly appearing.”
Morality brightened, “Oh good. I’m almost finished with the pancakes, and then start on the scrambled eggs. Why don’t you go get him?”
Creativity and Logic turned to each other, nodded warily, and then went down to the locked bedroom. “Oh, Thomas,” Creativity called out.
Thomas poked his head out. Oh no, there are others. That sounds like Creativity. “No, no. This can’t be happening. You three are figments of my imaginations,” he stated, poking his head out.
Logic tried to come through. “Yes and no. We are energies, essentially drawn to you and the sides that you have created. Your thoughts have given us a shape, and most of it belongs to you. We do, however, have a couple of things that we bring from our backgrounds.”
“Slightly different attitude, personality traits that shift a tiny bit. There are things that we know or like that don’t necessarily mesh with your idea. For instance, I happen to like poetry, and rap at times.”
“P- Morality can cook. Easily, and he’s always eager to learn more recipes.”
That definitely didn’t fit the version of Logic Thomas had in his head. And Morality knowing how to cook while he still ordered most nights? Standing up from his bed, he walked over and opened the door to see the other two standing out there. He still didn’t like the fact that they had his face, but he saw the glasses on Logic and the perfectly coiffed hair of Creativity. Okay, I could learn to accept this. Oh, didn’t I have….
“Are you really sure you can accept this, Thomas?”
He screamed at the newcomer, turning around. Anxiety had taken his position on the bed, wrapped in his comforter and wearing headphones.
“Oh, you’re here,” Creativity said, disappointed.
“Nice to see you too, Princey.” The other Side got off the bed in a huff, knowing something.
“Everything’s ready!” Morality called from the kitchen. Creativity mouthed ‘Princey?’ as he followed the others back to the dining room table.
To celebrate my sixhundred and sixty sixth post I am going to post some spoooky writing! This is a recently rewritten excerpt from my story jackalopes, which takes place in the underworld and the people that guard and protect the souls of the dead. The background is that the heroine is introduced to a device that can access remote and unexplored areas of the underworld. However, she takes things too far...
"This is a new machine called the eye that can be used to scout the underworld and I think it would be good for a newbie to try it out without any preconceptions about how it should be used. Just do not look too far!"
"I see" Jane said, having grown accustumed to the library and it's wonders. "I will do my best!"
Jane enjoyed using the "eye" and took her job very seriously. Several times she tried to jump straight into the vision to help the attacked shades before calling for help. But after several hours of searching and finding nothing much she decided to ignore Martha's warning and look around beyond the edges of the map. What could it hurt, as a jackalope she was supposed to explore the underworld anyway?
Jane set the eye to the south of Hell and then manually went further south-west. For a while she saw nothing but rocky barren blue mountains but eventually it seemed to break out into smaller round pieces of ice. Jane gasped. She must now be several light-years north of Hell. Here the underworld opened up into a cosmos filled with bleak green moon and piercing red stars.
Jane continued and eventually saw the largest planet she had ever seen; a ice-giant floating ominously in the middle of nowhere. It seemed to be glowing from within its core, the beams cold and unyielding. Jane vaguely remembered what she was supposed to be doing but in despite of herself she zoomed into the planet. To her surprise Jane saw some kind of half-melted creature made out of ice and mud jumping along the surface like a rabbit. It seemed to be wearing a white west under a long yellow cloak and was heading towards a gigantic tower made from black bones. It was filled with creatures similar to the one Jane had already seen and above the tower floated a strange mechanical ship that constantly changed shape.
The ship was red but covered in some kind of greenish flesh-like mold with muscles melded into the machinery. Jane looked into one of the room of the towers, quivering at the vastness and alien...strangeness of this planet. Inside the creatures seemed to be putting on some kind of play in a harsh mumbling language.
Despite not knowing it, Jane found that she could understand them. The play spoke of the faraway planet Galli-C-75 and the dragons that lived there. Their breed was an ancient and hedonistic race, powerful but interested in nothing but sleeping, feeding and grand orgies and battles. Their empire stretched in the older days from RS388 to Mars. Nevertheless, their leader and possessor of all their life-force had been killed by the leader of the devils, its blood giving life to planets and universes. This was these creature's origin story of all intelligent life.
Jane was appalled by this tale and its unfolding on the scene, but nevertheless configured the eye to explore the rest of the tower. Jane picked a random window higher up and looked inside. This room was empty, with no furniture. Rather, the walls had been scribbled full of signs and words which Jane did not understand. There were a picture of a being with great eyes, and another with skeletal wings flying away from the letters THGRYWVS, arranged into a map showing some kind of mountain. On the other side of the planet the tower was standing on were inscribed a great glowing tree and a dark pillar of ice filled with red veins.
Jane tried yet another room, this one closer to the entrance. She saw a great dining hall, the creatures from before slurping down some kind of thick golden ichor that was expelled from some kind of teat hanging from the ceiling. Nauseated, having forgotten her original mission completely, Jane decided to try the top floor. The final floor was painted completely in purple. She saw a throne, surrounded by hooded figures with multiple arms and legs sewn into the stained brown robes.
On the throne sat a short squat figure with talons and wings, a cloak obscuring his face. Jane recoiled in shock. Standing among them were a rabbit dressed in priestly garb, not a shade but a living being. He spoke to them as an equal, and the figures fell down at his command. Jane wanted to shout out a warning but at the same time she dared not speak. They began to chant "F-nar, F-nar". The hooded figure on the throne revealed his face. It was nothing but a bloody stump, squirting stale black blood. Jane screamed...
For about a week Jane had to take a break from her training, held in suspended animation in the pylon's basement. She only left it for food, washing and going to the bathroom, and when Jane went on one of these errands she thought she was still in the horrid castle of bones and that her co-workers wandered huddled up in columns that either moaned or laughed and looked at her with pale and ghastly faces. Martha was wandering the corridors as a formless blob, blocking them like a blood clot.
Not knowing what to do Jane tried to call her parents. There was a modern day phone booth inside the pylon, but it only gave back scratching sounds and soft whispers. John was sitting in a corner by the booth, crying while Mrs Wild ran around with her head on fire, screaming for help. Grey was there also, shrieking with a laughter that was mad. After finally recovering from these phantasms Jane was forbidden to use the eye until further notice.
Most of my writing online is fanfiction (anything fiction is either my games or not online for various reasons) so I have an account on Archive of My Own but the thing I'm most proud of at the moment is my Skyrim and Dragon Age cross over Smith From Another Land. It's based on an Orc Dragonborn and at about 180k+ words online right now.
Fantasy is always my thing for writing but trying to write a sci-fi story recently as a nice change but I keep seeing things that make me go "Ooooh, that'd be a nice idea" which is why I have about a hundred story ideas lurking around.
@Canini I have been working on a story, but I don't want it seen publicly yet. would you like to see some of it in a message?
thought I would share this old story.
Cool! Yeah, sure, I could take a look.
Well, I have a lot of things to read from here!
I have published some of my books on my own publishing house and I'm currently publishing a serialized novel on a mexican magazine. Sadly, they are only in spanish, I haven't had time to translate them
I really love to write about crime and dark fantasy.
This is one of my books, if someone knows spanish I will be honored if you read it.
I started a graphic novel
I know enough spanish to read (but not speak or write) with a dictionary. I think your set-up is intriguing, I like how that are immediately a few notes of suspicion (corrupt police, violent district) for the disappeared father instead of threating it as a complete mystery and let the characters stumble upon a lead.
Cool, keep us updated. I really like your artstyle. It is very impressionist and "dreamlike".
As for myself, I have started a new series (budded out from a old, old project) where a trickster figure invades different videogame narratives. It can be read here:
@Canini I have made about 6 paintings for the story so far. I am working on the next one to it but sorta on a break for now. I started hosting the series on tapas
So I have this old world setting, 3 years in building, and I started writing stand alones in it.
Was going to clean up an ancient tale later today for posting.
I write novels, audiodrama scripts, rpg supplements, and various and sundry other things.
Separate names with a comma.