To The Void: How The Fuck Do I Do Scenarios? Like Seriously, I Can Make An Entire Universe, Define Characters,

Felt like I sorta had to

does anyone wanna hold hands until we feel a little braver

Hmmm. This is tough, I don’t listen to several different artists at a time. I suppose my seven would be:

1: Will Wood’s The Normal Album

2: Will Wood and the Tapeworms’ (separate profile so it counts okay) SELF-iSH

3: Tom Cardy’s The Dancefloor At The End Of The Universe

4: Arctic Monkeys’ AM

5: TWRP’s Digital Nightmare

6: Bear Ghost’s Blasterpiece

7: Joey Valence & Brae’s PUNK TACTICS

I do not know tagging etiquette well enough for this I feel. Is there like, a thing someone will put in their blog that means “go ahead and tag me?” I’m unacquainted with Tumblr social norms because I typically just post writing, someone please tell me if there are social rules. Whatever, anyone that sees this should go ahead and do it.

Reblog game:

You just got a kind of shitty old car and it doesn't have Bluetooth. You can only buy 7 CDs and you can't repeat an artist. What are you getting?

Here's mine:

I Brought You My Bullets You Brought Me Your Blood - MCR

Relentless Mutation - Archspire

The Queen is Dead - The Smiths

Unknown Pleasures - Joy Division

American Idiot - Green Day

Slipknot - Slipknot

Fresh Fruit for Rotten Vegetables - Dead Kennedys

Violent Femmes - Violent Femmes

@reallifegothboy @thegreat-chrundle @xxdweebishboyxx @magicalnursekomugi @destroya-gee @xxxmychemicalratpoisonxxx @undead-vamp ...and anyone else who wants to

Chapter Four: The Midnight Showing (Gold)

The man watched unseen from the shadows, as Azaryan Hawthorne crept cautiously through the city streets. One did not brazenly stride through the darkness, not in this city. He applauded the thief’s efforts, despite the illusion Azaryan had almost caught him three times, in the brief hour he had followed him. Sadly, despite it being a wonderful game, his job relied on him ending this poor fool.

Said poor fool rounded a corner in a three way intersection, entering one of the several streets that led to the arteries of the Dust District, then the hairs on his arms stood up. He turned and stared at the spot where the assassin stood beneath the eaves of a cramped wooden home, examining the darkness. The man had used an illusion to make himself seem to be just another shadow, a pool of darkness against similar darkness. But Hawthorne, keen and cunning, picked it out. Just slightly. Some animal instinct told him that he had an observer, and he listened carefully. A stiletto fell into his hand, a quaint little thing. It wouldn’t be enough.

His eyes widened, he had finally caught on, seen the third dimension to the shadow. The assassin stepped towards him, and he stepped back. He spun and began to sprint the opposite direction. He hadn’t been fast enough. The mace came down on the back of his head, knocking him out.

His instructions were to make a lesson of him. Show people why you don’t desert. He doused him in an oil, a very special, very expensive oil, which doesn’t stop burning through ordinary means until it’s spent. Amaranth Oil. He pulled a copper insignia out of the man’s breast pocket. Then he waited. And waited.

Eventually Azaryan stirred, then his eyes flew fully open. He gasped and started frantically crawling away. The man calmly lit a match, and let it glow for a bit before tossing it onto the fleeing man. The man erupted in blue flames, and began to scream. He stood, running to find a puddle or some other source of water. A recent rain had left a few, and he dove to the ground, soaking in it. The flames didn’t stop searing his flesh, and he started rolling. Nothing he did had any effect on the fire, and eventually the thrashing and crying came to an end. The people of these slums made the smart decision. What went on tonight hadn’t been their business, so no one came to help. He twitched feebly under his blanket of flame, eventually succumbing entirely to the sweet release that became death.

So I know that at the moment literally no one visits this blog except for maybe two people who followed me (Hi there @zephyrimm and @oracle-of-joy (: ) but I wanted to clear up any potential future confusion. At the moment I have a lot of creative drive for Unseen, so what I have of Serene is unedited and not yet ready for exposure to public eyes. I have it listed in the master post for once I get around to it, but that might take a while. So, if anyone was wondering, that’s why there’s a spot for a story with NO chapters.

I suppose, considering my circumstances, now is a fitting time to (hopefully) introduce myself to other people on this platform

Hi there, reader, I am an aspiring author. I try to only make original pieces, though I haven't actually completed anything. Writing has had to take a backburner for a while, but progress is coming along. Slowly. If this sounds stilted, that's because I've never done this before and I really don't know what to say. How do I make myself sound interesting? Anyways, I'm here looking for an audience to present some of my works to, to help me figure out my strengths, weaknesses, and next steps regarding my stories. I will be regularly posting chapters of my current WIP, if anyone finds it tempting to read them. All chapters are subject to change, if I see something that is inconsistent or, as I feel I need to, I bulk up my scenes. The current WIP is my attempt at a blend of the style of Mistborn: The Final Empire, and The Lies of Locke Lamora, two of my favorite books of all time. This does not mean I am succeeding at this, but I am trying for that.

Any advice would be appreciated, but even if you read every chapter you don't have to provide any, it would just be nice to know I have an audience.

Oh yeah, a name. I need one of those if people will address me on here. I suppose I'll stick with my usual online alias, you can just call me Circle. Direct messages are a perfectly acceptable thing for me, in fact please do, if you want to talk about one of your projects or my project. Of course, comments are good too!

Best wishes, Circle.

PS: Please tell me if I'm doing tags incorrectly

reblog to slap szeth's bald head

Hey, I’ve gotten just a few followers, and I wanted to talk to you all. I noticed something while editing chapter 7, I had made a tense mistake, switching to present. If you notice any tense mistakes, punctuation errors, or anything else that I simply passed over in editing, please please please inform me, through comment or dm or whatever you want, just please tell me. Thank you for listening to me talk here, I genuinely appreciate anyone reading so so much. Thank you. I really hope you enjoy these, I write mostly for myself but my eventual goal is authorship, so feedback is wildly appreciated. I wanna know if I’ve got something worth reading here. Again thank you for reading my stuff. Also, I regularly go back and re-edit chapters based on advice I’ve gotten and little things I’ve noticed in my own re-reading (mostly because I need to make sure I don’t contradict myself in later chapters). I’ll be editing the original posted chapters to instead be the updated versions, but I’ll make note in the post that they’ve changed, because I’d feel dishonest changing things without telling my audience. Thanks for reading, and have a good day!

Circle out (:

Chapter Seven: The King and Queen (Blood)

Alina had been having a nice evening. She got to dress up, dance on a masterfully constructed floor, and laugh quietly about the outfit Tobacco had selected for Laos. Overall, a pleasant time. When she saw Laos lumbering towards her it unfortunately reminded her she had an objective here. She broke away from her dance partner, who Laos kept eyeing, and walked to the table Tobacco had selected. Laos bumped into someone, but it resolved itself quietly.

Tobacco guided them to a room, which had two men in ivory wolf masks lingering suspiciously close, and stepped in. Once inside, the music became muffled and her eyes had to adjust. The room itself looked lavishly decorated, with red velvet cushions and low set, well-cushioned couches and chairs, circling a similarly low table in the center. On one of the couches lounged a man in a fox mask, and a woman in a cat mask.

The woman looked at the newcomers and made some sort of crooning noise. The man chuckled, “Brother! I’ve missed you!”

“It’s been the same over here! I simply had to enjoy the music though, before I could visit you! How have you been?” Tobacco laughed as well, reaching up and pulling off his mask.

Alighieri did the same, and the woman followed, before Alighieri replied, “Oh, you know, business is going well, personal life is going well, overall decent. How about you?” Alina examined the man. He had much more mass than Tobacco, with hair of a much darker brown. While Tobacco’s features were unremarkable and frankly boring, Alighieri’s were rather distinctive. He had neither been ugly nor particularly attractive. He seemed fairly fit, like he kept up with his health, compared to Tobacco and his unhealthy looking skinniness.

The woman at his side, however, struck Alina as beautiful. She had jet-black, full hair, and had a darker complexion, as though she had come from Kolasi. She sort of, to Alina, looked like she glowed. She seemed out of place compared to the two brothers, one of whom had a boring appearance and the other looked simply distinct, no more. Alina found herself somewhat jealous.

She examined them. She had always thought these two would be more stern looking. They ruled their own little empire after all. They were the King and Queen, everyone knew them. Their empire stretched across two domains: premium information at premium costs, and the finest mercenary work at the finest price. The King of Information ruled over the network, while the Queen of Pain ruled over the thugs. Alina respected the level of organization that the two showed, with mercenaries that weren’t sloppy and rude, and informants that were efficient in delivering information.

“Well, I’m at a fancy ball, enjoying their amenities, so I’d say fine. Plus, a massive job just came in, which actually prompted me to be here. I need your help,” Tobacco replied. Some of his merriness left upon reaching the business portion of the night.

Alighieri raised an eyebrow and settled farther into his seat, “We can discuss that later, at my residence. For now, it’s a time of joy, so enjoy it!”

“Fine, fine, it can wait,” Tobacco’s demeanor returned to its previous state. Alina relaxed into one of the various chairs, finding it a bit too soft. Laos found a stool somewhere and sat down, while Tobacco lounged on a loveseat, sprawled as if he owned the furniture.

Alighieri’s wife, who Alina still hadn’t heard the name of, seemed to appraise the two people Tobacco had brought. Her gaze passed over Laos, and she gave an almost imperceptible nod. Alina thought it may have been in appreciation. Then her eyes passed to Alina, and she simply watched. Eventually, she spoke up, “So, I assume you’re the Eagle?”

“No. I am not the Eagle. I hate that name. Why don’t people get that?” Alina expressed.

“But you are Alina Orlov, yes?” The strange woman inquired, leaning forward a bit.

“Well, yes, but still. Not the Eagle,” Alina said, breaking the minor staring contest that had begun.

“I’ve heard you are skilled. Is it true?”

“I’m not the best, but I’m far from the worst.”

“If I recall, you’re a Vitrophor and Iode, yes? Iode of the Skill, martial weapons? Dominant Vitro being Volata, secondary Vitro being Celerita?”

“Yeah… but why do you know me so well, apparently?” Alina got a bit suspicious. Her abilities weren’t exactly secret, considering people could watch her fly, but her being an Iode hadn’t been something she spoke of often. It could’ve simply been skill, people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

“My husband makes a point of keeping tabs on people who’ve made a name for themselves, intentional or not, and I like to know about the ones who can fight. Alighieri leads a business founded on information, so it’s not difficult to find these things.”

At this point, Alighieri jumped in, breaking the light discussion he’d been having with his brother, “Oh, I can’t take all the credit, Kat, you’ve done some of your own snooping as well. I don’t much care about important figures from, say, Niebo, if they aren’t likely to ever show up on my doorstep. You can name their best and most influential fighters, though.”

Hearing what Alighieri called her, her name clicked in Alina’s memory. Aikaterine, shortened to Kat, also known as the Queen of Pain, or simply the Queen. Alina always remembered her title, but not her name.

Kat gave a slight nod and a little smile in response to her husband, then turned back to Alina, “Well, I find it unreasonable not to know. What if they do show up?”

Alina had begun to run out of topics, and found herself uncomfortable around Kat. Something about her simply unnerved Alina. Alina shrugged, “Fair enough, I guess. When do you think business will start?”

“Oh, business has already ended. Maybe they look like they’re chatting, but that’s just how they do it. It’s always quite a casual affair. The actual exchange will take place at our home.”

“Ah, I see,” Alina mumbled. She felt lost within this interaction. She never before really needed any information, it would all be provided by her employer, so she’d never been in a deal like this. This certainly isn’t how this normally works, right? It must be because they are brothers.

Tobacco stood up, nodding to Alighieri and Aikaterine, before saying, “Then we’ll meet you at your manor?”

“Yes yes, of course! We shall see you there. Enjoy the remainder of this ball!”

“I will, thank you. Alina, Laos, you must rarely get a chance for a ball like this, go have fun! Meet me back at the entrance at twelve.” He slid his mask back down and strutted out the door.

Alina stood, stretching and deciding she may as well go get some food. By the large timepiece above the grand entryway to the ballroom, she had thirty minutes to kill. At the table Tobacco had selected earlier she noted some light snacks, where Tobacco himself also lounged. Laos had found a seat near the entrance, evidently particularly ready to leave.

She sat down across from her current employer, grabbing a piece of flatbread to scoop some of the olives, tomato, and cucumber up with. She tried a bite, finding it a bit rich for her tastes but good nonetheless.

Starting in on the rest, she turned her eyes towards Tobacco himself. The last job they’d been on had almost been a disaster, Tobacco guiding them based off of faulty plans he’d gotten from one of Harper’s new recruits. They’d nearly rounded the corner before Hawthorne, in his ever twitchy manner, had begged them to stop and hide. He had noticed small discrepancies in the plans that both he and Fivin had memorized, some hallways not quite lining up with where they were meant to be, and he wanted to reassess just about everything. They’d spent a couple minutes debating in a hushed whisper, cramped inside of a lavatory, while Alina kept lookout, before deciding to pull out of this job and come back another day, with better plans. The next day, after getting updated plans from Harper himself, they realized the door they would’ve opened, expecting to find the treasury of Viscount Salvaxe, would instead have led directly into the break room of the guards.

Hawthorne had saved their lives. From that mission alone, Alina could tell how close him and Tobacco were. So why didn’t he seem more shaken by his friend’s death? Earlier, he had dismissed her asking after it, calling it a private matter, but even if so, she would have thought he’d have some outward sign that he felt it. Alina knew it had no bearing on her, but she still felt the urge to figure it out. What went on behind the impassive gaze of that mask?

She continued to ponder his seeming indifference, while he in turn continued to relax in the ballroom atmosphere. Their silence had lasted a whole ten minutes before Tobacco finally broke it.

“Have you enjoyed our outing?” A faint hint of melancholy showed in his voice.

Alina finished chewing a bite of her salad-in-flatbread before answering, “It’s been alright. Honestly the highlight is this food.”

“That’s nice, I had hoped you would. I didn't expect Laos to, it’s simply too far removed from his personality to enjoy a place like this.” He looked towards her, his eyes behind the mask focusing on her meal.

“Yeah, he seems… uncomfortable, to say the least. How about you? It’s been awhile, Tobacco. How’ve you been?” She examined his eyes. Is he a little more subdued than usual? Or is it my imagination?

“I’ve been mostly bored. Good jobs can’t always come in, y’know?” He met her eyes. In the right light, both of theirs would have deep purple undertones, their shared nature as Iodes emerging as the Krysos chandelier passed over them slowly.

“That’s fair. I’ve been itching for bigger work than intimidating some rival thugs or being a shown off bodyguard for a day. Glad you sent that letter.” Alina swung her legs up onto the table, drawing eyes, but by her estimate she’s not coming back anyways, so why not?

“Well, this job seems to deliver on big. If I can’t crack that vault, do you get the implications? It’ll be marketed as the strongest vault in the world, everybody with something to hide and money to spare will be clamoring for one. What am I meant to break into then?” He traced the rim of a crystal goblet with his finger, seeming not to see the ball around them but instead the scope of the job.

“Damn. Is it stressful?” In the five years she’d known him, she didn’t think she’d heard of a job of his with quite so much weight to his life.

He sighed, “Yes and no. If I think about it too much it can be, but I have to treat it like any other job, stress just leads to mistakes.” He passed his thumb over the jaw of the mask, seemingly an unconscious habit.

“So I’ve seen. There’s a reason I don’t do thievery. Good luck, Tobacco.” Alina had decided Tobacco did feel something about Azaryan’s death. She suspected that it hadn’t fully hit him yet, but the clues were there that he did feel it, like a coming storm.

“I fear I may need it,” Bells throughout Keldanven began to toll, and she saw Tobacco snap out of his head, “Ah, it’s twelve. Let’s collect Laos and head to Alighieri’s manor.”

“Alright then,” Alina swung her legs back down onto the floor and started towards Laos, Tobacco following shortly behind. He strutted past, briefly leaning in front of Laos and nodding to the exit as he went. Laos stood and grumbled his way behind Tobacco.

Once they had all reached the street, Tobacco hooked a left, towards the outer ring of the Loft District. He walked at a leisurely pace, seemingly breathing in the night itself. While he had looked a fitting part of the masquerade, he seemed native to this cloaking darkness, the occasional wisp of light from the now distant ball, a lit lamp in some noble’s study, or a night-wanderer’s lantern some streets away catching briefly on his figure and sliding cleanly off, as though he were made of naught but the shadows themselves. This midnight nature of his replaced any semblance of grief he’d previously shown. Elsewhere, Alina could easily picture him as looking bizarre, but now, as she had noted many times in the past, she could find it nowhere in herself to disparage his appearance. He seemed greater, here, than all others, as if no one could rival him among the gloom. The tenebrous air and Tobacco were one and the same; this was his domain, all else trespassers upon his realm.

She shook off her fancies as they reached a two story manor near the very edge of the Loft District, where Fivin used his thin frame to his advantage, lithely slipping over the wall and softly landing on the other side, unlocking the gate for Alina and Laos, before walking towards the front door and using the knocker, shaped like the head of a fox. One of the Dozmalus brothers, now unmasked and revealed to have bright blue eyes and sharp features, pulled open the door to usher him inside, his two companions following close behind.

The brother who had received them directed them to the living room, where Alina took a seat on a luxurious couch, while Laos chose a plush seat he obviously didn’t expect to sink so far into. Tobacco didn’t sit, leaning against the wall while the second Dozmalus served tea for the newcomers.

Alina started looking around, growing awkward about simply sitting here, before something large started sniffing the back of her head. She whipped around, coming face to face with a large, lazy looking black cat with bright green swirls like clouds streaking all over it. It yawned, mouth opening as wide as Alina’s face.

She’d heard of this sort of thing before. If you feed an animal Prismatic Glass it grows in size, and gains strange coloration and patterns. It’s said to amplify their emotions as well, so this cat must’ve been primarily passive and sleepy before, as it seemed to be only those now. As she thought about what had happened to this cat, it closed its eyes and drifted off, letting its head fall to lay in Alina’s lap.

The first Dozmalus, perhaps Vincent, softly spoke, “You must forgive Master Cyril, he loves newcomers. He is the closest thing the Lord and Lady Adrastus have to a child. If you grant him your affections, he would greatly appreciate it.”

“Oh, how cute,” Alina cooed, turning to Cyril and scratching his massive head, fussing over him. Cyril responded happily, with playful paws the size of Alina’s hands. Burning hells if he isn’t massive though.

Aikaterine walked out of a room which, from the glimpse Alina got, appeared to be a study. She nodded to Tobacco, who stepped in, while Kat sat across from Alina. As Kat started talking with Laos, Alina continued to play with Cyril, barely noting the muted thunk in the other room.

Chapter Three: Infamy Abounding (Tide)

Laos Aridai did not appreciate all the walking that damnable theater freak had put him through. He much preferred being on a ship. Laos’s journey had thus far been him landing in this accursed city, immediately being contacted, walking to a meeting point, walking to the inn he stayed at, walking to The Burning Tree, and then walking halfway across this godforsaken city to the base of this veritable mountain. If this job didn’t pay well he intended to strangle the bastard.

He eventually grumbled his way to the summit, coming up behind some lady talking to Tobacco. Tobacco cleared his throat and looked at him, then said, “So, you’ve arrived at last, Lionhead… welcome to the execution grounds! I hope your journey has been ni-”

“Cut it out. I will throw you off that cliff,” came Laos’s only response. Tobacco paled and turned back to the lady, who also seemed fed up with his theatrics. Good. Damnable man deserved to be shut up.

“So, each of you will receive 166,666 Embers. The remaining two are to be donated to the nearest Porphyl Chiasma, after the split happens, as a little tribute to the god that allowed it to happen. This sounds alright, yes?” Tobacco put his hands together and slightly leaned forward, grinning. Laos watched the girl, whom he now recognized as the famous Eagle, consider the offer briefly and nod. Laos in turn nodded, accepting the terms provided. That many Embers would be a greater haul than he had ever received from a job. The Goathead and Snakehead would certainly try to one-up him, but they wouldn’t be able to. A job like this would be far, far too rare.

“This is going to be a resounding success! Who’s down for a drink at Lloyd’s bar?” Tobacco proposed, rubbing his hands together like an eager merchant ripping someone off.

Another walk and a few threats later, they sat in a room dedicated to business deals and other conversations the world needn’t hear. Laos had a bottle of mead, already half empty, while the woman (who he had figured out had a real name, Alina) had left a mug of ale untouched, and Tobacco gingerly sipped a glass of red wine. It looked vintage. Having drink in his belly, Laos found himself in a better mood, and more willing to work with the man. His theater could be a bit annoying, but he paid for the drinks, so maybe it could have a pass.

“So… Now that we are all a little happier… we have an issue. As we walked in Lloyd flashed some hand signals, ones that indicated we didn’t have any leads from Harper’s informants. So, we need someone else. My somewhat brother Viscount Alighieri Adrastus,” Tobacco murmured, obviously troubled.

The woman looked up sharply, “Wait, what do you mean somewhat brother? You didn’t tell me you were nobility.”

“Somewhat. We grew up together, decided we were brothers when I turned thirteen and he had been twelve. He only became nobility after he bought a title, having amassed more wealth quickly through hosting a network of informants than I could’ve dreamed through thieving. Almost made me reconsider my job. He gives me a discount though, for his services, so it’s nice to have that past,” Tobacco sighed, killing his drink in a final gulp. He poured another and raised a silent toast to some unseen thing.

A knock came on the door then Lloyd peeked in, “Tobacco, I need to speak with you.”

“Pardon me, my enthusiastic guests, I must take my leave. I’ll be right back,” he stood, straightening his coat and briskly moving from the small room. Laos and Alina sat in a not-so-companionable silence, not having much to speak on, before the lady finally touched her ale. She looked over, then started the conversation, “So, Lionhead, where are you from to like that Desurian liquor?”

“Geraestan, back before Desuros and Geraestan forged the Treaty of Harpagion and merged.”

“Ahhh, what clan, then?” The inquisitive lady spoke.

Geraestan and Desuros were both contained within the Varak desert, until fifteen years ago when a treaty made Geraestan part of Desuros. The clans were disbanded after this, in name, though they still live in spirit. There had been three main clans of the Geraestan portion of Varak, named the Gersomacs, the Tindowuch, and the Jerandon. The Gersomacs were very warlike, teaching from a young age the art of battle. The Tindowuch advocated more for scholarly endeavors and diplomacy, though they were capable in their own right when battle came. The Jerandon were religious fanatics, for a deity named Jansun, who’s rituals they regularly took captives from battle for. These clans were in near constant war, until Desuros took over and started heavily policing the region. A representative from each clan had journeyed to the capital, Harpagion, and signed the documents with Desuros to stop the clan fighting. Laos suspected some coin had been involved.

“I’m from the Gersomac clan, though that matters little now.”

“That explains the tendency towards battle, though not necessarily the proficiency. You’re a Vitrophor, aren’t you?” She sipped at her ale, draining it further, three quarters full at this point.

“Yeah, one of what you would call the Brutals. Although, back in Geraestan we called them Tempests and bowed at their feet. My second is Intigua.” Brutals were the colloquial name of someone who’s dominant Vitro turned out to be Potentia, the ability to strengthen oneself dramatically. The name only saw use in Caritas, Acherousia, and Kolasi, three of the more eastern continents.

“Interesting, so they rise to be leaders. It makes sense, given their extra power,” Alina took another drink, setting it lightly on the table and leaning back while Laos killed his own.

Tobacco slinked back, sitting down and sighing. He raised the glass he had poured before and downed it in a couple gulps. Leaning over and putting his head in his hands, he mumbled, “Come on, we’ve gotta go.”

Hey sharty

Hi