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Goblin Queen [Worm/Exalted] [Crosspost]

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"Taylor, we need to talk." The look on mom's face as she warmed her hands with the cup of tea told me everything. She was... displeased with me, and what I had gotten up to. More than that... dad had been explaining what I had been doing.

I could only look down in mortification and shame.
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Volantredx on SB said:
Annette: I mean four girls Taylor? I know I raised you better than that.

Taylor: Sorry mom.

Annette: I suggest you find a way to let two of them down gently if you want a chance to keep seeing them.

Taylor: Only two?

Annette: Of course, after all I was young once. I understand the need to explore yourself and see what you really want out of life.

Taylor: Mom...

Annette: I just worry about you playing it too loose. I can tell you from experience that being known as a slut in high school is a hard rep to shake.

Taylor: Mom stop.

Annette: Oh sure at first the attention might be fun and having all the guys and girls trying to get in your pants is exciting, but soon you're getting hit on left and right, and then you wake up one day senor year and realize that all you have to show for it is the scorn of all the hearts you broke and almost missing prom because of a pregnancy scare. Though I suppose that's not an issue for you...though do you need me to explain dental dams?

Taylor: *series of high pitch whining noises*
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Grosstoad's Collection of Quest Fanarts and Character Pics | Page 4
Grosstoad on SV said:
@Biigoh

A concept sketch for Rose Knight's costume. Anything to critique on the set?
- Head: Rose helmet, simple rose colored pointed mask.
- Torso: Leafy short cloak, rose leaf pauldrons and breastplate, leafy kilt.
- Limbs: Thorny rose bark rerebraces, vambraces, and greaves.
- Undersuit: Dark veined undersuit.
- Weapon: Weaved rose thorns rapier.

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I always pictured Rose Knight as looking like Rosemon, just, you know, with more armor and a bigass sword instead of a whip.
 
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    Ash and grit.

    That was all I could taste.

    It wasn't that Dad didn't know how to cook, his specialty being more barbecue then anything, but what he did know how to make... he made very well.

    The eggs were the fluffiest scrambled eggs, golden yellow and fluffy like air in perfection.

    The bacon were succulent with soft chewy fat that was just seared on the surface.

    Dad was good at cooking breakfast, he was actually exceptional at it when he wanted to. He just hadn't had cause to do so for... the longest time. I refused to contemplate the reasoning behind this morning's breakfast, there are limits to even how far I would be know. In certain cases, it was better to never see or know, for what has been seen can not be unseen.

    No, the reason that my meal wasn't enjoyable, that I could only taste ash and grit despite the fluffy scrambled eggs, the succulent bacon cooked to perfection, the crispy and slightly oily fried bread, that was paired with the sliced cucumber and tomatoes on the side... was that I was being lectured by mom.

    There were many things I missed about her. This... was not one of them, I hadn't had the pleasure of being lectured or given disapproving looks by mother. At least, before everything changed.

    I would, every now and then, attempt an interjection... which was where the cunning nature of my parents manifested, for they worked as a team, and dad would cough as I opened my mouth to speak before looking at my plate and providing me more food as if to imply that I should be eating and not talking.

    With him running interference, I simply had no choice but to sit there and take the lecture without a single word back. It was become extremely clear to me that dad was very good at working with mom in shutting people down, and that mom was willing to play the bad cop... as it were.

    Still, it was clear that mother did not approve of what I was doing, or at least the perception of what I was doing. Namely, that I was a playgirl, a female Casanova who toyed with the hearts of girls and boys alike. And that was something that was not acceptable, even if she hadn't been around for the last five years to raise me properly.

    "And one more thing..."

    I could only whimper as it seemed that she wouldn't ever stop.

    "Why were you out all night?"

    Or... it could get worse as she simply looked at me as if expecting an answer. It was clear that she had taken after Gram when she disapproved of something. I could still remember those disapproving looks she gave dad, and worse... the harsh words that were said in that polite tone of voice when Gram and my parents thought I wasn't there to hear.

    I could only swallow dryly as I looked back and forth between mom and dad. They wanted an answer, and yet... I found myself unable to give them one. Pride, shame, and a heady mix of emotions swirled within my heart.

    I had gone in too deep, kept too many secrets... and yet even now, in the face of mom's disapproving look, I discovered that I didn't want to tell her what I had been doing, that I didn't want to be beholden to her or Dad. That I wanted to do what I wanted because I wanted, nothing more, nothing less.

    In a sense, I had gotten too comfortable with the status quo, too used to the way things happened. And things had changed. Worse, mom was now here and taking an active hand.

    I... had never know what it was like to have a mom on one's case like most of my classmates had at one time or another. That said, the experience was not one that I enjoyed. True, I had imagined things like 'what would mom say if I did this', that I suspect was normal, along with 'what should I do to make mom happy'. To the contrary of my expectations, I found myself resenting her intrusion into my life now that she was back and taking a hand in things.

    "It... I...."

    I was put in mind something that had happened some time ago from before. I was ten, at best, mom couldn't find a babysitter to look after me while dad was at work. So, she took me to the university class that she taught.

    The me of that time had been precocious, proud as only a child could be when she knew with absolute certainty that she was part-taking in something that she shouldn't have been; namely the fact that I was sitting among teenagers and twenty-somethings and I understood what my mom was saying. Her lecture was about a book that we had read together, over the prior few weeks, and the material and concepts within it.

    Even now, I still recalled that novel with fondness. Oranges are not the Only Fruit was a künstlerroman, or rather an artist's novel. That was to say the novel had a coming of age narrative that depicted the conflicts of a sensitive youth against the values of a middle and upper class society of his or her time. Or in this case, a lesbian and her experience as she clashed with the expectations of her mother and the social mores of christians in the eighties. Exorcisms were involved, even if they were not very successful in their goals.

    As I sat in mom's class and listened, an older man had entered the class before sitting down next to me, in the back row. He had struck up a conversation with me, and mentioned about how my mother was an excellent professor. Which got me confident enough to eventually raise my hand to answer one of her questions. He had smiled and complimented me before getting up and leaving. Despite all the pride I had in myself and mother, the thing that had stuck out to me back then hadn't been the lecture in and of itself, rather, the thing that had gotten my attention back then had been the man's hair. The ridiculous comb-over.

    After the class, while mother was taking me home, I had mentioned the older man who she identified as the head of her department, her boss. I could not help myself, being a child and all, but I mentioned rather tactlessly the comb-over and just how bad it looked.

    "Look at it from his perspective." To which mother had an explanation. "Maybe, a long time ago, he started to lose a little hair, but he could brush it to one side in a way that made it not show so much. And with the passing of every year, he would brush his hair over a bit more. Gradually, this was something that he got used to, something that he saw and sees in the mirror every morning and night. Small increments, little steps that eventually adds up."

    The me of then had followed up with another question. One that was asked with some disbelief and a fair amount of curiosity. "And no one told him about it?"

    She shook her head as she drove. "He doesn't have anyone to point it out for him. More than that, anyone who knows him well wouldn't want to hurt his feelings, even if it might be better in the long run."

    I had thought about this further as I looked out the window of the car as the buildings drifted by while people walked on the sidewalks under the blue sky. Eventually, I turned to look at mother. "You could."

    There had been a hnnnn from mother at my statement before the rest of the trip home was made in silence.

    A few days later, mom did exactly that. She had ripped off the band-aid for the head of the English department. He got a haircut and then thanked her for what she had said at a later date. That event and what my mom had done afterward had stayed in my memory.

    Was my situation the same as the old man's? Had I let myself gradually slip into a bad spot, because of my lack of perspective beyond what was going on inside my own head?

    It was very much possible. And yet, I found myself not wanting to let go. Perhaps, it was a clear cut case of sunken cost fallacy or it could be a rampant case of teenage hormones and emotions coming to a heady bubbly boil and thus affecting my thoughts and behavior. I rather hoped it was the first and not the second, for there was no hope for me if I had contracted a case of teenaged drama llama-itis from Madison, Marianna, or worse... Emma. Such things tended to be incurable except by the unacceptable act of growing old.

    Still, I was fairly certain that mother would understand, even if dad might not. There wouldn't be any harm in telling them the truth. Those were the very thoughts I had as I sat with an empty plate before me, and yet, a certain part of me decried the notion of telling them this. That this would be a bad idea. That I could not help myself but somehow make the situation because my words while right would only incite them because they were parents, specifically my parents.

    Eventually, under the expectant looks directed at me by both mom and dad, I caved... social mores made me yield. It wasn't as if I had wanted to do this... well, part of me did, but there were other parts that said I should be more defiant, that teenage rebellion was something expected of me. Really.

    "Fine..." I could only sulk under the unyielding gaze of my parents as I spoke. They were monstrous, my parents with their gimlet eyes. "I got an invitation yesterday from Lung... he wanted to play a bit."

    The looks on their faces now darkened... worryingly.

    "Since I didn't see any harm in doing so, I kind of snuck out last night and went to where he was staying. It was very exciting and invigorating." I said with a sigh and a nod. "He even asked me to be his."

    There was a twitch from dad now, righteous indignation. And it was delicious.

    "I mean... I can understand it, reading between the lines of what he said." I didn't quite smile at the reaction from dad. That calm tranquility had boiled from the all consuming heat of his rage, true, he wasn't showing any sign of it... but I could tell that he was on a rising boil, one that boiled the calmness in him, evaporating his serenity. Mother, on the other hand, simply radiated smug amusement as if she knew that the reality of the situation did not match what I implied.

    She was dangerous perceptive. Very much so.

    And yet, their emotions overflowed from their bodies, like radiant light and burning blood-like mud that spilled from the golden grail of their souls. The surfeit of emotions that poured out to fill the air, I drank deeply for I found myself hungering for the nourishment of my soul. One does not live by bread of the material world alone, but by essence harvested from the very world. Such sustenance enriched and empowered one's soul.

    "So, basically, Lung is looking for a Tinker to serve him?" The gentle pat from mother's hand and, more importantly, her words calmed down dad even as I supped upon the excess emotion that ran riot in him. "And he attempted to recruit you?"

    I could only sigh and admit defeat in the here and now. "Something like that?"

    - - -
    Goblin Queen | One More Time, My Dear
    Worm / Exalted
    - - -​

    Writer's Notes : My apologies for how long it took for me to write this.
     
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    • Biigoh said:


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    - - -​


    Ash and grit.

    That was all I could taste.

    It wasn't that Dad didn't know how to cook, his specialty being more barbecue then anything, but what he did know how to make... he made very well.

    The eggs were the fluffiest scrambled eggs, golden yellow and fluffy like air in perfection.

    The bacon were succulent with soft chewy fat that was just seared on the surface.

    Dad was good at cooking breakfast, he was actually exceptional at it when he wanted to. He just hadn't had cause to do so for... the longest time. I refused to contemplate the reasoning behind this morning's breakfast, there are limits to even how far I would be know. In certain cases, it was better to never see or know, for what has been seen can not be unseen.

    No, the reason that my meal wasn't enjoyable, that I could only taste ash and grit despite the fluffy scrambled eggs, the succulent bacon cooked to perfection, the crispy and slightly oily fried bread, that was paired with the sliced cucumber and tomatoes on the side... was that I was being lectured by mom.

    There were many things I missed about her. This... was not one of them, I hadn't had the pleasure of being lectured or given disapproving looks by mother. At least, before everything changed.

    I would, every now and then, attempt an interjection... which was where the cunning nature of my parents manifested, for they worked as a team, and dad would cough as I opened my mouth to speak before looking at my plate and providing me more food as if to imply that I should be eating and not talking.

    With him running interference, I simply had no choice but to sit there and take the lecture without a single word back. It was become extremely clear to me that dad was very good at working with mom in shutting people down, and that mom was willing to play the bad cop... as it were.

    Still, it was clear that mother did not approve of what I was doing, or at least the perception of what I was doing. Namely, that I was a playgirl, a female Casanova who toyed with the hearts of girls and boys alike. And that was something that was not acceptable, even if she hadn't been around for the last five years to raise me properly.

    "And one more thing..."

    I could only whimper as it seemed that she wouldn't ever stop.

    "Why were you out all night?"

    Or... it could get worse as she simply looked at me as if expecting an answer. It was clear that she had taken after Gram when she disapproved of something. I could still remember those disapproving looks she gave dad, and worse... the harsh words that were said in that polite tone of voice when Gram and my parents thought I wasn't there to hear.

    I could only swallow dryly as I looked back and forth between mom and dad. They wanted an answer, and yet... I found myself unable to give them one. Pride, shame, and a heady mix of emotions swirled within my heart.

    I had gone in too deep, kept too many secrets... and yet even now, in the face of mom's disapproving look, I discovered that I didn't want to tell her what I had been doing, that I didn't want to be beholden to her or Dad. That I wanted to do what I wanted because I wanted, nothing more, nothing less.

    In a sense, I had gotten too comfortable with the status quo, too used to the way things happened. And things had changed. Worse, mom was now here and taking an active hand.

    I... had never know what it was like to have a mom on one's case like most of my classmates had at one time or another. That said, the experience was not one that I enjoyed. True, I had imagined things like 'what would mom say if I did this', that I suspect was normal, along with 'what should I do to make mom happy'. To the contrary of my expectations, I found myself resenting her intrusion into my life now that she was back and taking a hand in things.

    "It... I...."

    I was put in mind something that had happened some time ago from before. I was ten, at best, mom couldn't find a babysitter to look after me while dad was at work. So, she took me to the university class that she taught.

    The me of that time had been precocious, proud as only a child could be when she knew with absolute certainty that she was part-taking in something that she shouldn't have been; namely the fact that I was sitting among teenagers and twenty-somethings and I understood what my mom was saying. Her lecture was about a book that we had read together, over the prior few weeks, and the material and concepts within it.

    Even now, I still recalled that novel with fondness. Oranges are not the Only Fruit was a künstlerroman, or rather an artist's novel. That was to say the novel had a coming of age narrative that depicted the conflicts of a sensitive youth against the values of a middle and upper class society of his or her time. Or in this case, a lesbian and her experience as she clashed with the expectations of her mother and the social mores of christians in the eighties. Exorcisms were involved, even if they were not very successful in their goals.

    As I sat in mom's class and listened, an older man had entered the class before sitting down next to me, in the back row. He had struck up a conversation with me, and mentioned about how my mother was an excellent professor. Which got me confident enough to eventually raise my hand to answer one of her questions. He had smiled and complimented me before getting up and leaving. Despite all the pride I had in myself and mother, the thing that had stuck out to me back then hadn't been the lecture in and of itself, rather, the thing that had gotten my attention back then had been the man's hair. The ridiculous comb-over.

    After the class, while mother was taking me home, I had mentioned the older man who she identified as the head of her department, her boss. I could not help myself, being a child and all, but I mentioned rather tactlessly the comb-over and just how bad it looked.

    "Look at it from his perspective." To which mother had an explanation. "Maybe, a long time ago, he started to lose a little hair, but he could brush it to one side in a way that made it not show so much. And with the passing of every year, he would brush his hair over a bit more. Gradually, this was something that he got used to, something that he saw and sees in the mirror every morning and night. Small increments, little steps that eventually adds up."

    The me of then had followed up with another question. One that was asked with some disbelief and a fair amount of curiosity. "And no one told him about it?"

    She shook her head as she drove. "He doesn't have anyone to point it out for him. More than that, anyone who knows him well wouldn't want to hurt his feelings, even if it might be better in the long run."

    I had thought about this further as I looked out the window of the car as the buildings drifted by while people walked on the sidewalks under the blue sky. Eventually, I turned to look at mother. "You could."

    There had been a hnnnn from mother at my statement before the rest of the trip home was made in silence.

    A few days later, mom did exactly that. She had ripped off the band-aid for the head of the English department. He got a haircut and then thanked her for what she had said at a later date. That event and what my mom had done afterward had stayed in my memory.

    Was my situation the same as the old man's? Had I let myself gradually slip into a bad spot, because of my lack of perspective beyond what was going on inside my own head?

    It was very much possible. And yet, I found myself not wanting to let go. Perhaps, it was a clear cut case of sunken cost fallacy or it could be a rampant case of teenage hormones and emotions coming to a heady bubbly boil and thus affecting my thoughts and behavior. I rather hoped it was the first and not the second, for there was no hope for me if I had contracted a case of teenaged drama llama-itis from Madison, Marianna, or worse... Emma. Such things tended to be incurable except by the unacceptable act of growing old.

    Still, I was fairly certain that mother would understand, even if dad might not. There wouldn't be any harm in telling them the truth. Those were the very thoughts I had as I sat with an empty plate before me, and yet, a certain part of me decried the notion of telling them this. That this would be a bad idea. That I could not help myself but somehow make the situation because my words while right would only incite them because they were parents, specifically my parents.

    Eventually, under the expectant looks directed at me by both mom and dad, I caved... social mores made me yield. It wasn't as if I had wanted to do this... well, part of me did, but there were other parts that said I should be more defiant, that teenage rebellion was something expected of me. Really.

    "Fine..." I could only sulk under the unyielding gaze of my parents as I spoke. They were monstrous, my parents with their gimlet eyes. "I got an invitation yesterday from Lung... he wanted to play a bit."

    The looks on their faces now darkened... worryingly.

    "Since I didn't see any harm in doing so, I kind of snuck out last night and went to where he was staying. It was very exciting and invigorating." I said with a sigh and a nod. "He even asked me to be his."

    There was a twitch from dad now, righteous indignation. And it was delicious.

    "I mean... I can understand it, reading between the lines of what he said." I didn't quite smile at the reaction from dad. That calm tranquility had boiled from the all consuming heat of his rage, true, he wasn't showing any sign of it... but I could tell that he was on a rising boil, one that boiled the calmness in him, evaporating his serenity. Mother, on the other hand, simply radiated smug amusement as if she knew that the reality of the situation did not match what I implied.

    She was dangerous perceptive. Very much so.

    And yet, their emotions overflowed from their bodies, like radiant light and burning blood-like mud that spilled from the golden grail of their souls. The surfeit of emotions that poured out to fill the air, I drank deeply for I found myself hungering for the nourishment of my soul. One does not live by bread of the material world alone, but by essence harvested from the very world. Such sustenance enriched and empowered one's soul.

    "So, basically, Lung is looking for a Tinker to serve him?" The gentle pat from mother's hand and, more importantly, her words calmed down dad even as I supped upon the excess emotion that ran riot in him. "And he attempted to recruit you?"

    I could only sigh and admit defeat in the here and now. "Something like that?"

    - - -
    Goblin Queen | One More Time, My Dear
    Worm / Exalted
    - - -​

    Writer's Notes : My apologies for how long it took for me to write this.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    The only thing that would make this better is if we could read a bit of Annette's lecture. I imagine it was fairly amusing.
     
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    Escaping mother proved to be of greater difficulty than I had expected. Despite the years that she had been away, she proved that her mind was still as keen as they had been before as she saw past the deceptive truths I laid before her and dad.

    Father, ah.... father. It was easy to rouse father's wrath and to stroke his paranoia about this and that. Mother, however, was more canny and terrifyingly skilled at ferreting out what I desired concealed.

    And yet, for all of her skill, she did not wrestle from me the things I truly desired unspoken.

    Perhaps, she sensed instinctively that some things were best left unspoken in the light of day, or perhaps reality was twisted in such manner that certain thoughts could not, would not be ever considered nor certain avenue of questions be asked.

    Whatever the cause, she didn't go down certain paths and everything was better that way. Much safer for everyone involved, even.

    And thus, I was allowed to escape mother's incessant questions and disapproval with me begging to head off to bed due to being tired and somewhat sleep due being up all night and too much food.

    Food coma. That was a rare experience for me, as it required that I gorge myself...

    With the grace of a doe, I escaped mother and darted up the stairs to the bathroom for a quick shower that washed away the scent of smoke and sweat from body with sinfully warm water.

    It was a sad fact of life that one of my earliest use of my shaping technique was to make my bed extra soft and fluffy. And yet, this was something I would never regret.

    o/~ If I could make days last forever.
    If words could make wishes come true.
    I'd save every day like a treasure and then,
    Again, I would spend them with you. o/~

    As I snuggled my pillow, I relaxed the hold I had on my/our senses and beheld everything that surrounded myself and my home...

    With haste, absolute haste, I disabled up my connection to my insect selves and hugged my pillow harder. It was all to provide a measure of privacy to my parents and not because I did not need to know my parents did that kind of things.

    And in the dinning room at that.

    I, did not, whimper into my pillow with mortification as my traitorous memory replayed what I had borne witness to once more. From multiple angles as my/our spider bodies wove my/our/their webs, and cocooned my/our terrified fly bodies as I/we struggled to escape futilely.

    o/~ But there never seems to be enough time
    To do the things you want to do
    Once you find them. o/~

    Mother giggled at the smile from dad as he dipped low in a bow before kissing her hand. His rise back up was smooth and steady, as his fingers trailed up her forearms to caress her palms gently before tangling with her fingers.

    o/~ I've looked around enough to know,
    That you're the one I want to go,
    Through time with. o/~

    My traitorous [perfect] memory continued its perfect playback in high fidelity of what my insect bodies had bore witness to; the bodies of my parents leaning against the other's as they swayed to the music playing over the radio.

    The tee-shirt that mother wore shifting about with her movement, I knew that it was one of dad's favorites given the way he liked to wear it at home, scrunching about to reveal her underwear.

    There were things that parents should never do where their children could witness them doing said things. Deeds and actions that implied further intimate activities.

    I shuddered against the softness of my pillow and bed as I allowed the needs of my body to overcome me. Sleep was the goal and I was weary. More, I did not resist, rather I welcomed it.

    And thus, I fell asleep, snuggling my soft fluffy pillow.

    - - -
    Tanuki are typing. Please wait warmly.
    - - -​

    I slipped and fell an infinite distance of inches into a bed of soft immaculate white lily blossoms that spoke of purity.

    Blinking lazily, I could see that I was in a long slender rowboat that was closer to a kayak or canoe with a distinct lack of platforms to sit upon. Admittedly, there was a bed of flowers to rest on.

    A swipe at the detritus in my eyelids, and I found myself frowning at a pastel hued sky, brilliant with countless stars. Some larger or perhaps closer than others, and yet each and every one of then were star-shaped panes of glass that glowed and glimmered in every possible hue.

    They spun and pinwheeled slowly and freely in the heavens.

    The soft swaying motion from the immaculately white boat as I shifted about told me that it was on a fluid surface.

    I could feel my connection to the insects and assorted creepy crawlies gaping wide open and yet... there was a distinct lack of creatures to connect and merge with.

    Solitude.

    The sensation of being truly alone without trying to connect to my guests and boon companion, [____] or [Queen Administrator], was alien and most unwelcomed for me.

    I had forgotten how much smaller I had been before [Queen Administrator]'s connections to me.

    How... blind.

    A frown slowly formed on my face as I continued to look up, I could still feel my essence roiling within my body.

    It was possible that there was simply nothing within range for me to commander.

    Absolutely nothing.

    That was what connection read back to me. As I looked up at the brilliant night sky, I found myself unable to deny what my senses were telling me.

    I was in a dream.

    This was not the desert of the Real, rather, it was the sea of Dreams.

    It might not have been my dream, but it was a dream, which neatly explained the lack of insects and other arthropods.

    Still, I couldn't recall any famous cape with the ability to slip into dreams or seize people while asleep. Such a master would be famous or well... infamous.

    At least, they would be if they actively used their power... I suspect they would be given a simple name that understated their power, like Dream, Sandman, Morpheus, or perhaps... The Sleeper.

    My mind shied away from that last name, and I truly hoped that this wasn't the case.

    I remembered watching an old documentary in history class when they covered the end of the Cold War in the nineties as parahuman activity started to bloom across the world. Specifically, what had happened in the Sosnovy Bor incident.

    For if it was the Sleeper, then not only was I already doomed, but everyone in Brockton Bay would have been consumed alongside me by the Sleeper's power.

    Thus til facts proved me wrong, I would deny the involvement of the Sleeper. Vigorously.

    With my heart and emotions calmed, I continued my considerations. I was not in my dream nor was I in the domain of my guest, [____]. Someone or something had spirited me away to their dream or something akin to such.

    I was able to freely shape, which ruled out one of the Raksha clad with narration, and wearing a mask of Shape. That or what I had shaped thus far was not unacceptable to my erstwhile host.

    The elements that my host hewed to were those of everchanging water or liquid and the eternal sky.

    [Shall we play a game?]

    The words uttered were done so softly that they were almost unheard, slipping in past my ears and sounding almost like one of my thoughts. And yet, it was obvious to me, for I would never speak to myself thus. Especially if I was doing my internal narration and it showed up out of the blue and disrupted said narration.

    While the voice might have been soft and almost sublime in its tone, the words might be taken as a challenge. Thus, I twisted and sat up to look at the speaker.

    My first impression of the speaker was immaculate white feathers. Wings of immaculate white feathers that spiral out from a central core. And yet, as I looked closer, it was clear to me that the feathers were themselves smaller wings formed of yet finer and smaller wings in an unending and infinitely complex recursive pattern.

    One might even consider all of the wings to be fractals, each and everyone flowing with a different pattern. And yet, they originated from a central point, an empty void that indicated a connecting point to something that wasn't here.

    [Shall we play a game?]

    I frowned as the question was repeated once more. This time, there was a hint of patience that came from a being or entity that took a truly long term view because it existed on a scale beyond humanity.

    "You have my attention. What do you want?" I replied as I gazed about the endless sea that surrounded the boat I sat in. An endless flat surface of water with ripples that moved outwards from my white boat as my host settled upon its prow.

    My question was replied to with that same question once more as my host preen itself, giving itself shape and form; that of a dove formed entirely of wings.

    [Shall we play a game?]

    Only now, that question held a smug tone to it. A satisfied smugness that reminded me of Lisa in her Tattletale persona as she proved that, once more, she was the smartest person in the room.

    In the distance beyond the horizon, an off-white moon rose with stars trailing behind it.

    - - -
    Goblin Queen 143 | One Is The Loneliest Number
    Worm / Exalted
    - - -​

    Writer's Notes: My apologies for how long it took for me to write this.
     
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    • Yes yes yes! Drive Ziz mad with your terribad fanfics!

    I'm always warm when i preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Soon the apartment will smell of slowly roasting...well you know how this goes.
     
    A wild Teaser~ shows up!​

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    Topic: The Stone and the Shadow
    In: Boards ► Creative Writing
    God Empress Rose     (Original Poster) (Member) (Awesomest Write-tan)
    Posted on May 25, 2011:

    Guess what, I've been doing some thinking and I know that I haven't had much of a chance to branch out into new story genre. So, I've decided to try a new genre. Romance! ^_^

    I call this one, the stone and the shadow. And no, it's not a Rose Taylor fic... even if some of the characters are familiar. ^_-
     
    The suspense, the action, the brain breaking use of Parent's REDACTED and Mystery. Who will emerge not traumatised? Find out in the next episode of Goblin Queen.

    PS:I wonder if this is a nightmare, or Lisa learning a new trick?
    PPS: Awesomest Write-Tan indeed
     
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    • ​


    Previously on Goblin Queen... I was tormented by my parents. It was veritably child abuse as they exposed me to knowledge no teenager should ever discover, let alone witness!

    My traitorous [perfect] memory continued its perfect playback in high fidelity of what my insect bodies had bore witness to; the bodies of my parents leaning against the other's as they swayed to the music playing over the radio.

    The tee-shirt that mother wore shifting about with her movement, I knew that it was one of dad's favorites given the way he liked to wear it at home, scrunching about to reveal her underwear.

    There were things that parents should never do where their children could witness them doing said things. Deeds and actions that implied further intimate activities.

    Also I encountered a strange bird while in my dream...

    "You have my attention. What do you want?" I replied as I gazed about the endless sea that surrounded the boat I sat in. An endless flat surface of water with ripples that moved outwards from my white boat as my host settled upon its prow.

    [Shall we play a game?]

    And now...

    - - -​

    I gazed up and looked at the distant moon rising with the stars trailing behind it. It had been an uncountable eon, as I played game after game with the mysterious being-

    [No.] There was a crossed tone in the voice of my host as it... denied the shaping of reality by me in an attempt to bypass playing a game with it.

    It had denied me, not with a shaping technique of its own, rather it had done so using nothing more than the sheer brute force of its will, as it clawed away at my truth.

    How absolutely inelegant... and yet, one couldn't deny that it was effective.

    I narrowed my eyes at the bird before replying with a shrug. "I had to try. But fine... what game did you want to play?"

    [God or Devil.] The pleased smugness returned once more to its voice and I could sense it smiling, almost smirking even, despite the lack of a body part such as soft pink lips to do so with. I was starting to dislike the very smugness it had at 'winning'.

    "What?" I blinked at my host before abbreviating the name of the game it had offered me. I couldn't resist, what sort of person could resist such a thing? "I can't say the god game is familiar to me."

    [It's very simple.] It spread its wings, spiraling outwards, the void at its core spreading and moving away from me... across the placid surface of the sea of dreams. [Come. Follow.]

    Gazing after the center point of the figure of wings, I could see slowly a stone pathway forming for me to walk upon.

    This was less an actual shaping of reality such as what I was accustomed to and more manipulating of the dream itself. I could feel the essence inherent in what was being done here, forcing the fabric of the dream to confirm to the needs of my host. Much like the way it had denied my dream, it was absolutely inelegant, and yet... it held sufficient power that one could not simply gainsay what was done. Certainly, I wouldn't be able to resist without using essence myself to force the issue.

    My shaping wouldn't be as convenient here as it usually was. But that was acceptable, after all, I could use essence to contest the issue if need be. More than that, while I was alone... that didn't mean that [____] and [Queen Administrator] wouldn't be looking for me. We three would be reunited again. Soon.

    The boat, that I had 'awakened' in, shifted with my body's motion as I stood up and knelt. It bobbed deeper into the sea as I pushed against to launch myself upwards and away from it towards the first stepping stone.

    My tee-shirt and shorts fluttered in the wind, unweaving and reweaving themselves. When I landed upon the slippery wet marble, the hem of my white dress flared widely around my knees, giving me the semblance of a white blossom. Around me, I could see the ripples spread outwards from the boat, their perfection broken by the path left thoughtfully by my host.

    With an exhalation, I moved... each step closer to a leap that saw me spring forward light as if gravity held no hold upon me, and it didn't... for this was a dream and as such, I wasn't held captive by the laws of physics. Here thought and will held sway if one didn't have to factor in essence usage.

    And thus, I drifted with each step, my dress flaring as I landed on one feet like a pixie before launching forwards again to land on the other... moving ever forwards. Ever behind my host.

    An island of marble, with a table and two seats. I settled on one, while on the other, my host reformed herself. A figure of crystal wings that shimmered with all the hues of the pastel sky, refracting the brilliance of the star-shaped panes of glass that glowed and glimmered in every possible color. The core of her body was opaque from its thickness.

    It was... obvious who she was, even if it was surprising to find out that she could use essence.

    I sighed and looked at where she gestured at the table, engraved in its rough hewed stone surface was a single image. An image that my mind insisted was a word, and at the same time... insisted that it was nothing more than a many armed spiral that twisted and turned the longer I looked at it.

    More than the image on the surface of the stone table, I could see what was needed to play this game. All I had to do was reach out and declare that [I AM] my will upon the board, the world, the potentia and it would be so.

    My host preened at the look I directed at her, the single raised eyebrow saying more than I could with words. The breath that I hadn't been truly aware that I had been holding was exhaled via my mouth.

    [I AM.] And my will was imposed upon the fabric of reality.

    I desired that the game be started and breathed. With my breath, essence filled the board. By my will, there would be light and thus... there was light, heat, magnetism, gravity...and all the fundamental energies of the universe as time spun upon the board, round and round a blue green marble.

    [That Is.] My companion declared, and so it was as the tiny speck grew in size... swallowing the board and in turn becoming it.

    I advocated growth, change over time. Organic chaos. [Evolution.]

    [Stability.] My counterpart shook her head and declared that objects at rest would stay at rest. That an orderly descend into entrophy would be the mainstay. Thus were we on the opposing ends of the spectrum.

    The basic rules were laid out and called physics by those who dwelled upon the playing field.

    Little creatures, simple minded and so very blind... vainglorious things with empty hearts and heads that blossomed like pink flowers for all to see. Like weeds, they sprouted up upon the board.

    They marched to our will... an endless field of pastel pinks and yellows. They existed because we allowed it, and they would end because we demanded it. Such was where we sat above the pieces as they moved to our will, build cities of our design.

    Looking to the Heavens, they found us. Looking into their hearts, they worshiped us.

    Those who followed me, I gifted with mutations. Powers beyond their comprehension.

    Those who followed her, their bodies changed not. Technology was her gift to them.

    They build cities, raised fortresses and walls to protect their people. Armed their soldiers, to be sent out to fight those who were not them. They fought at our command, to the rolls of our die. They died for our stratagems. Heroes and champions dueling to die without honor or humanity in the rude earth that once was dust before blood and ichor made mud of it.

    Life and death at the roll of a die, the flip of a coin, in the thin margin between our respective sides. We both played to win, the only cost lay in the lives of our pieces. It was challenging to stay ahead, against her, I had no narrative strength... which made it a battle of skill, wits and chance.

    I found myself smiling at my opponent even as my pieces died as did hers. Their blood splashing to the thirsty earth.

    This was... fun.

    - - -
    Goblin Queen 144 | One More Story
    Worm / Exalted
    - - -​

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    O O O​

    Topic: The Stone and the Shadow
    In: Boards ► Creative Writing
    God Empress Rose     (Original Poster) (Member) (Awesomest Write-tan)
    Posted on May 25, 2011:

    Guess what, I've been doing some thinking and I know that I haven't had much of a chance to branch out into new story genre. So, I've decided to try a new genre. Romance! ^_^

    I call this one, the stone and the shadow. And no, it's not a Rose Taylor fic... even if some of the characters are familiar. ^_-

    - - -

    Once upon a time, in far away city of DeeBee Bay, there lived a girl by the name of Monique, but she was called Ems by all of her friends.

    Monique or rather Ems was a very special girl. For in her world, there were people with power and people without.... kind of like people who were strong and people who were weak.

    She once considered herself weak, who needed to be saved from vile villains. But she was strong now because her blood had ignited and she had powers now. Ems was now a superhuman. More than that, her blood was pure and it burned with raw power.

    She was no longer the weakest of her friends. She was no longer weaker than her former friend who had gained an Unspeakable and Unholy power. She no longer chased after the back of that former friend.

    But it was more than just power, being one of those with power meant that she could fight alongside her girlfriend, Sophita.

    No more would she need to fret behind the back of Sophita's back, scared that her girlfriend would abandon her. She was strong now, Ems knew with certainty.

    And yet, even so... Sophita no longer fought villains like she had in the past. She had grown mature and had bigger things to do.

    - - -

    To Be Continued

    (Showing Page 2 of 2)

    ► Stalking Tanuki
    Replied on May 26, 2011:
    Auuuuuu! You're branching out into romance now? How lewd!

    [Prev] [1] [2] [Next] [Last] [Unread]

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    O O O​

    Essence fills one's body. Excellence guides one's mind and soul and from there, everything is possible. Even the performance of defenses against unexpected vectors of attack.

    The girl blinked and looked at her fist as if seeing it for the first time. It wasn't, not really... what was surprising to her was the fact that said fist was currently in the middle of the computer monitor she was seated in front.

    There had been something. She frowned. Yes, she had been browsing the PHO board. There had been something she was reading. Something which had filled her with rage.

    The shattered monitor cracked further as a shard of glass fell off to land on the desk.

    She had reflexively punched the screen, and she couldn't recall where. All she had done was open a thread to read... that much she remembered.

    Her mind shied from what she had read. Not the words. Nor the intent. Rather... the patterns. Something behind the words. There was a hint of familiar smile with a wide mouth, filled with a terrible glee and delight. She could only nod to herself as she looked at the shattered screen. "I... yes, it was dangerous."

    The words, harmless in tone, were not harmless for they were bloated with essence. This, she knew with a certainty even if she wasn't aware of what the charm that the... story propagated did. And yet, who would believe her? That magic was real. If she spoke of such, she would be mocked like Myrridin or those other parahumans who claimed their powers were magic. And that was the one thing that Emma Barnes refused to have happen to her... to be mocked.

    She stood up and carefully plucked the glass shards out of her hand, watching as the scratches and cuts on her hand seal themselves bloodlessly. She would need to explain how the monitor had been broken.

    - - -
    Writer's notes : I do apologize for the slowness with this update... but here is the update. I'm not really happy with it despite the numerous rewrites. But I'll have to deal with it. I will try to update quicker.
     
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    • Biigoh said:
    ​
    She had reflexively punched the screen, and she couldn't recall where. All she had done was open a thread to read... that much she remembered.

    Her mind shied from what she had read. Not the words. Nor the intent. Rather... the patterns. Something behind the words. There was a hint of familiar smile with a wide mouth, filled with a terrible glee and delight. She could only nod to herself as she looked at the shattered screen. "I... yes, it was dangerous."

    The words, harmless in tone, were not harmless for they were bloated with essence. This, she knew with a certainty even if she wasn't aware of what the charm that the... story propagated did.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    Nooo, Emma stop rejecting Taylor's help.

    You can't be a real protagonist without harem shenanigans.


    Also, I'm very glad to see more of this story.
     
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