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sparrow-in-boots · 1 year

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Organic life (animals and/or living plants) in Lost Archive DLC, a study.

i don’t think i need to explain the significance of seeing living beings in this DLC. if lore serves, the Lost Archive happens entirely in “raw code”, in what we can only assume is the human mind experiencing being inside a computer’s head. “no simulations, no environments”. to say that the brutalist aesthetic works like a charm to convey the dryness and inhospitability of such an experience is an understatement. but, as Desmond’s Journey in the ACR main story shows, when memory impressions escape into the code, they begin to make a more tangible appearance in the landscape, and affect the user’s experience.

now, given the DLC is not technically portraying a human mind experiencing code, but an artificially intelligent construct based off a human being’s experiences and thought patterns, itself experiencing said human’s memories... things are gonna get whacky. so i thought i’d make a quick study on when said impressions make a presence. i might do other posts on game mechanics being used to portray stuff like weather patterns, and of course the sceneries and furniture sets, but i thought organic life contrasts against the overall setting of the game and thus leave more of a mark.

read more for the sake of not clogging your blogs <3

Memory 1, THE END IS ONLY THE BEGINNING:

the animus island. rip bestie, you’ll be dearly remembered. though the overall layout of the island is the same as the one in ACR’s main story, it’s missing the overcast sky, the blue tinge saturation, and quite a bit of decay from the blocks of brutalist cement piercing the island or floating about. it’s also sliiiightly smaller, so one can imagine this is what it looked like before the coding of the blackroom got all wonked up.

flowers at Clay’s funeral. ngl it’s still a punch to the stomach. still, what’s a funeral without some flowers? a few bouquets by the headstone and a garland, they got the basics covered at least.

roots inside grave path. as you delve through the pathway of the grave plot, you can spot a few stray roots and some leaves poking from a rift in the ground above. it really sells the imagery, for better or worse.

flock of pigeons. ah yes, good trusty pigeons, always there to let you know when there’s a soft haystack just out of sight, or in what direction to aim your leap of faith. not the last we’ll see of them, but their first appearance so early and in such an inhospital setting sure breaks a bit of the tension from the earlier scene. brings you back to simpler, easier times, i suppose. a measure of safety if you will.

Memory 3, ABSTERGO:

garden courtyard. given the setting and the possible european location of the memory, it’s likely to stand for an inner courtyard in an assassin hideout. the cozy warm lighting and overall layout also gives that sense, and it’s a stark contrast for the following office maze hallway you’re sent into when Harold addresses Clay.

Memory 5, BLEEDING EFFECT:

flock of pigeons. i know right, what a place for them to show up again. feel like they (read Juno) are mocking you more than anything. nothing else to be seen when it comes to living things in this memory, to no one’s surprise. i have my own theories on why they are here to begin with, but maybe another day.

Memory 7, THE END OF THE LINE:

second garden courtyard. i think it’s quite safe to say this is the code representation of the animus island. not just because of the overall layout but it’s clearly timed to be soon after Clay Prime is on the out bus and uploading the construct into the animus.

the stairway weeds. the first loop flashback makes an appearance at last! it still breaks my heart to see the loop bits finally pay off, but i don’t think this staircase would have stuck with players as much if not for the little overgrowth on it.

seagulls. are you teary-eyed? i sure am. it’s all poetic and shit but, i love that it’s a reassurance that even if he falls, he won’t fall far. seagulls are a sign of land nearby after all, so yeah, back to the start we go~!

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed revelations #clay kaczmarek #lost archives dlc #pardal rambles #ac meta

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tanaka-clan · 2 years

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Welcome

#photography #black & white #archive as a artificial scenery #experimental photography #experimental process #Altered Perception #altered portrait #altered photography #welcome #altered process #experimental portrait

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leseditionsshirokuro · 3 years

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Title: “ LOST & FOUND ” part A

Author: Rafael Tanaka Monzo

Year: 2021

Size : 24X 18CM

Pages: soft cover DNS 200gr / 88 pages in Nautilus recycled paper 80gr. + 1 colored paper print

Copies: Numbered & limited edition of 30

Category: Photography

Price : 20eur + shipping

PAYPAL Order : [email protected]

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collectiublancinegre · 3 years

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the founders of the collective

https://collectiublancinegre.tumblr.com/

#photography #black and white #the founders #archive as artificial scenery #https://collectiublancinegre.tumblr.com/

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mia-africa-americas · 3 years

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Indian Summer, from "The Four Seasons" series, Wendy Red Star, 2012, Minneapolis Institute of Art: Art of Africa and the Americas

Native American woman in traditional dress kneels on floor surrounded by artificial and natural props: buffalo skull at right, buck at left, cattails, flowers; lake with reflection of snow-capped mountains and pine trees Through her work, Wendy Red Star explores issues of authenticity and representation. In these pseudo-dioramas, using kitschy wallpaper, plastic animals and artificial plants, the artist poses wearing her traditional Apsaalooka (Crow) regalia, the same type of garments her ancestors wore. These photographs blur the line between stereotype and reality, from Native American as scenery to fabricated Hollywood sets, and from authenticity to Western fantasy. Size: 23 x 26 in. (58.42 x 66.04 cm) (sheet) 21 x 22 in. (53.34 x 55.88 cm) (image) Medium: Archival pigment print on Museo silver rag

https://collections.artsmia.org/art/115818/

#wendyredstar #minneapolisinstituteofart #artsmia

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continuo-docs · 4 years

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April 2020 music reviews, or, music I enjoyed in previous weeks L. Fairon

Meredith Monk & Bang on a Can All-Stars – Memory Game (2020) Lemna – Storytelling #1 (2020) Beatriz Ferreyra – Echos+ (2020) DakhaBrakha – Alambari (2020)

Meredith Monk & Bang on a Can All-Stars – Memory Game (Cantaloupe Music) https://bangonacan.bandcamp.com/album/memory-game Memory Game is a revivification of some previously published works – including pieces from the Do You Be (1987) and Impermanence (2008) albums, among others –, plus selections from The Games, an unreleased sci-fi opera co-created with Ping Chong and performed in Berlin in 1983. But what seemed at first a kind of retrospective album, in fact embodies everything we love about Meredith Monk: a dedicated vocal ensemble specially trained to her repertoire, incredibly moving songs and lyrics, interesting arrangements and a great instrumental accompaniement by classically-trained players. Indeed, NY contemporary music ensemble Bang on a Can bring their rhythm accuracy and instrumental prowess to the project – electric guitar and clarinets are especially great. The vocal trio around Monk is also totally convincing. And then there are the songs themselves: disarmingly simple, unbelievably sad or full of gaiety, based on basic English words (or occasionally German), embarking casual conversation or cabaret song, onomatopeia, child babble or bird imitation – at the end of the sublime Memory Song, for instance, Monk ullulates like a flock of cranes in the sky to devastating effect for this listener. Granted, the album lacks an 18mn mothership ala Turtle Dreams, and the instrumental opener is but a distraction, but apart from these quibbles, the album is just fantastic.

Lemna – Storytelling #1 (Horo) https://lemna.bandcamp.com/album/storytelling-1-reminiscences-of-inner-scenery Oneiric, intricately crafted miniatures for electronic sounds by Japanese composer Lemna aka Maiko Okimoto. Usually avoiding regular rhythms or beat, the music is based on sequences of a few highly filtered notes slowly creeping back and forth, while undescript white noise agitation is obsessively crawling to reach the surface. Lemna is interested in timbres and tones, their proximity, homophony or dissonance. Her music is an exploration of the surreal and the hypnagogic – the album is said to have been recorded during insomnia nights. Reverb is used to mingle sounds together and blur their individualities, while a minute attention to details in the sound processing and the arrangements ensure that the small tickling sounds reach out amid a sea of shifting tonalities. Storytelling #1 is a long album at 70+mn, but Lemna manages to captivate the listener throughout this well thought-out collection of tracks.

Beatriz Ferreyra – Echos+ (Room40) https://room40.bandcamp.com/album/echos Archival material from Argentine-born Beatriz Ferreyra – a member of the INA-GRM from 1963 to 1970. Dating from 1978, 1987 and 2007, these pieces complement our knowledge of this fine musique concrète composer. With the various tracks already published by Fylkingen in 1977, Mego in their Recollection GRM series in 2012 and 2015, and her synth+tape recorder duo with Christine Groult on Trace Label in 2015, we're slowly gaining a more accurate view of Ferreyra's œuvre and individuality. Openner "Echo – In Memoriam Of Mercedes Cornu", a piece from 1978, is a poignant tape collage based on a unique sound source, that of Ferreyra's late niece Mercedes talking and singing. Vocal excerpts are subject to collage, superposition, accumulation, plus various sound effects and tape manipulations of the analog domain. Dating from 1987, the second piece uses the composer's own voice, heavily manipulated to create disembodied choirs, grotesquely elongated syllables and onomatopeia. Titled "L'autre ... Ou Le Chant Des Marécages" [Otherness... or, the Swamp Chorus], the track presents Ferreyra's poetic and phantasmatic vision of sound poetry. With #3 L'autre Rive [The Other Shore], from 2007, Ferreyra added computer and synthesizer to her beloved tape recorder. The music is much more abstract here, based on a diversity of artificial sounds and electronic textures, plus occasional percussion samples used to great effect. A lively, almost restless piece, with internal dynamics that catches the attention. Generally speaking, Ferreyra's poetry and individuality shines through these fine works of musique concrète, though I can't help thinking she stays too much within the limits of the INA-GRM canon.

DakhaBrakha – Alambari (self release) https://dakhabrakha.bandcamp.com/album/alambari New album by Ukrainian folk & jazz quartet DakhaBrakha, dominated by the splendid voices of Olena Tsybulska, Iryna Kovalenko and Nina Garenetska, also doubling on cello, piano, percussion, etc, and all brilliant, classically-trained multi-instrumentalists by themselves. The inspiration for each track is stylistically varied, based on lullaby, ballad, folk and traditional or jazz, and is peppered with scat vocals, slap bass, cabaret song or Serbian turbo-funk elements, delivered in playful arrangements. But the vocals dominate here, with their exquisite vibrato and beautiful, Eastern-European female timbres, soloing, alternating or singing in unison. To us Westerners, the group singing is occasionally reminiscent of 1980s Bulgarian choirs. The man of the band, Marko Halanevych, also contributes vocals as a counterpoint to the women's section, and provides great accordion accompanyment. I found Nina Garenetska particularly impressive on cello throughout the entire album. Incredible traditional reed instrument solo (the zhaleika) by Iryna Kovalenko on track #5 Torokh.

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the-gunslock · 4 years

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Hiver 4 - North, part 2

This is the second of a 3-part story about Amanda and I. This one is about how one dinner changed my life.

The shipwright waits patiently for her friend, observing the multicolored dusk sky passing by. Her work for the day is done, her back and shoulders are sore, and she would like nothing more than to take a shower and spent a whole day off, being lazy. Which, well, she managed to schedule for the next one. The Hangar won’t implode because of her taking a day to herself.

She hopes.

As she massages her thigh where her prosthetic leg connects, she hears steps frantically tapping the metal staircase above. She guesses it’s Hiver and beams at the excitement she always carries herself with. It’s kind of adorable, if she had to admit it.

It’s...

“‘S she like this with everyone?” Amanda thought to herself, realizing how busy she has always been to meet Hiver’s clan and friends.

Her question is left unanswered at the Warlock launches herself down into the metallic beam, barely bothering to hover down. She hits it with a CLANG, waving delightedly and jogging to Amanda’s position. She’s practically bouncing as she greets her crush.

“Ay Hiver. What crazy contraption d’you have for me to see?”

“None!”

“Oh, you found a good hand cannon you want to talk about? That’s fine too.”

“Wrong.”

“...Want me to hug you while you vent about horrible Crucible matches?”

“Three strikes, you’re out! No, I want you to come with me, Amanda.”

Amanda is out of ideas for answers. “Alright then”, she says, putting her palms up in ‘defeat’.

She gets up and holds on to the Warlock, who floats them out of the isolated metal beam. She is curious but at least Hiver’s body language shows it’s not something threatening. As they take the elevator from the Tower down to the city, she ponders over her friend.

It’s funny -- how genuine she was, specially for a Warlock. Most were methodical, or cynical. Rahool, Ikora, Asher Mir, all of them acted in such a way that it made her feel so small in comparison.

Sure, it caused conflicts between themselves too, but people who carried the task of guarding and acquiring knowledge had a way to make civilians (and sometimes even other Guardians) feel so belittled, even if they didn’t mean to. It kind of made them hard to hold a conversation, and the feeling of having to shut up and listen is incredibly frustrating.

Hiver, though... She was intelligent, yes. But also… approachable? Charming? Humane?

The human looked sideways at Hiver standing next to her in the Tower elevator. She had an innocent smile on her face and was bobbing her head side-to-side to some song she probably got stuck in her head.

Tender. Yes. Tender was the word Amanda looked for. A quality that made her a friend first and a Warlock second, in her heart. It was less about teacher and disciple, or Guardian and shipwright, and more about Hiver caring for her, and her helping Hiver. It wasn’t totally like helping other Guardians, though -- Hiver appeared to be going the extra mile to make sure she was doing okay, in between missions to save humanity from obliteration.

“Amanda? Let’s go.” Hiver says as the elevator doors open, summoning her sparrow and climbing on. Amanda holds on to her waist and they blaze into the illuminated streets of the City.

“Hiver, you never really told me where we’re going.”

“It’s a surprise. Hold on a little while longer.”

The ride is calm as Hiver takes care not to go too fast or crash into anything. Amanda takes this rare moment where she is on the backseat to appreciate the view of the people around living their lives, the many now-lively buildings that were rebuilt after the Red War, and the street lights passing them by. After a while, she just closes her eyes and buries her face on Hiver’s back, waiting for them to arrive at their destination.

They stop in front of a grassy plaza with artificial lakes, and Hiver pulls up to the opposite sidewalk.

“Amanda? We’re here.”

“Well, anytime ya want to tell me where “here” is and what we’re doing, feel free.” She says, both of them getting off of the Sparrow, leaving it to transmat away. Hiver motions for her to follow. They enter a building with a large, marble-stone lobby. Warm lights bring life to the place, the walls’ corners are lined with lively plants inside long wooden planters.

To the right are a bunch of couches and tables where people are going about their business, talking to each other, reading, eating a meal or working on their holo-tablets. To the left, a balcony with two frames, elegant black shells with white details and trimming. Behind them, intricate, gold and silver metal letters spelling “Luminosity Heights” in a cursive, fancy font.

“Greetings, Ms. Hiver! Welcome back!” One of them says from behind the reception desk.

“Hello, Siegfried, Roy! Authorize a guest, please.”

They quickly update some data on their workstations, and give both of them clearance. Hiver goes up to one of many turnstile doors containing an energy barrier and removes her gauntlets to place her hand on some sort of biometric panel. Once she is confirmed, she motions towards it in a “ladies first” manner and lets Amanda through.

Amanda starts to understand where they are. After the door they reach the vacant elevators and Hiver types the floor number. As they ascend, Amanda leans back against the opposite wall and takes in all of the luxurious, yet somewhat rustic scenery they just went through. The Warlock is straining to contain her excitement, but she just eyes her crush and smiles at her.

The elevator stops, its doors opening. They are now in a smaller room, with an intricate white vase containing a beautiful bouquet of white and blue flowers, sitting atop a black table with silver details.

Hiver goes left and places her hand at another biometric scanner. “Ms. Holliday?” Hiver says, anxious for her reaction.

“It’s… Amanda, Hiver. What is it? What is this place anyway?” She says, a bit impatient from her tiredness.

The door to the apartment opens, letting the moonlight in from the windows at the end of the living room. The white lights turn on soon after the door is open.

“Welcome home.”

Amanda steps in, and takes off her boots. She is in awe of the cleanliness and the decoration Hiver picked for her place. It felt cozy, and peaceful. A nice place to come back to.

“Ahaha! This’s a fine place. It’s -- it’s awesome!”

“Trinity, play Pale Rider, please.” The Ghost obeys, counting “one, two” and starting to play old guitar chords. “Amanda, you can make yourself at home. I’ll take a bath, and then grab you a towel so you can shower.” Hiver says, before entering her bedroom and closing the door.

“Got it, girl.” Amanda answers, giving her a thumbs-up. She rests her body on the couch, spreading her tired legs and enjoying the western-like music Trinity is playing.

She is sitting on a brown, suede-ish couch with three seats with a tree-like floor lamp beside it. In the middle of this room is another black end table in the same style of the one in the lobby. Below the tabletop, many books about various subjects -- fictional stories, archives, journals -- are arranged, some of them untouched, others in a deplorable state; she imagines Hiver didn’t dare damage them further.

The walls are a clean white, adorned with some pictures neatly lined together; mostly simple paintings of plants, and some delicately made drawings of exotic revolvers framed behind anti reflective glass, including the currently lost Hawkmoon and First Curse.

As the song ends, Trinity goes to rest in a little red pillow Hiver got her.

On the wooden television stand, was a wide TV and what seemed to be a game console. Above it, she put up a shelf that displays miscellaneous sculptures of Guardians and enemy units -- particularly the Vex. Amanda remembers Hiver saying she was very afraid of Vex, even though she likes their aesthetics. Levitating on display were coin-like artifacts said to honor the Iron Lords, and two porcelain vases with devil’s ivy creeping down their sides.

Looking at the window on the left side, she sees a small reading nook by the three windows. It was a raised wooden section full of and moss green and beige cushions, easily accessible drawers under it. The walls above have some macrame vases hanging from them. It was big enough to fit two people, or three if they were sitting. Thin, linen curtains separated it from the rest of the living room, and the windows -- as Amanda went to inspect -- gave them a good view of the Last Safe City.

The apartment was not too high, but not too low either. Walking back to the couch, she spotted a marble-top island with chairs, and behind it was the kitchen part of the place. Amanda considers asking Hiver to make dinner. The last time she ate was over four hours ago.

After a while of hearing a hair dryer sound, she sits back on the couch and Hiver announces her presence again. “Back I am!” She says, carrying a towel for the shipwright, who took a moment to appreciate her outfit.

The Guardian had changed out of her robes and was now wearing a thin, white blouse with a black peter pan collar that exposed her slender shoulders with a little bow knot neatly tied under it. On her lower half was a deep blue, ankle-length skirt that shaped well to her hips and waved elegantly as she walked. She had traded her Annealed Shaper boots for much more comfortable black tights.

“Hey, looking good! You warlocks sure know how to be fashionable.” Amanda commented playfully, taking the towel in her hands. Hiver chuckles nervously and blushes.

“I-it’s nothing special. See, my bedroom is at the end of the hallway. There’s a shower there, right next to the door. If you want to borrow some clothes from my closet, you can do it too. They should fit and... I can wash your coveralls as well.”

Amanda throws the towel over her shoulder. “Alright, thanks! Listen, don’t wanna be a prick, but… can I eat something after I’m done? ‘S been some hours since I last ate.”

“Of course! I was planning on making us dinner anyway. No need to rush and, if you need anything else, all you have to do is ask.” Hiver answers happily before disappearing into the kitchen to look for ingredients. Amanda rolls her eyes and smiled at to the Awoken’s housewife-like behavior and wanders to the bathroom.

Everything there was also clean, but made from a grey granite to contrast with the whiteness of the other rooms. The mirror was relatively large and plain, and on the corner of the bathroom was a bluish stained glass shower box with a tub if she so chose to use it.

Amanda stripped herself off her clothes and tools, leaving them on top of the toilet seat to collect later. Locating Hiver’s care products to use, she also spots a small sliding window with three very small vases on them, waiting to be occupied. One of them housed a small sapling; Amanda turned on the shower and smiled, reminding herself to ask Hiver to show what grows from it.

After a much-needed cleansing of her pale, greased skin (Made much more satisfactory by the ludicrous amount of skincare products Hiver has) and some massaging to help her soreness, the human stepped out of the shower and, while she dried off, she had to pick something to wear.

Not wanting to think too much about it, she picked out a random black set from Hiver’s underwear drawer and put it on quickly. Surprisingly, they don’t differ much in bra size. She considers it lucky.

Now, for clothes, she examined every piece carefully, time and again taking them for a closer look. The guardian appeared to prefer comfortable and clean-looking clothes, probably a byproduct of her wearing armored robes and trench coats all the time.

As the shipwright tries on a red sweater that falls off her shoulders, she feels a smell coming from the kitchen. ‘Tomato?’ she guesses, which caused her stomach to express its anger even more. She chose a pair of white cottony pants to go with the sweater and grabbed her things from the bathroom, bringing them to Hiver.

Getting to the island, she sees a plate with steaming hot… toast? Covered with layers of tomato, then melted cheese, and… some herb? Probably a spice… Amanda has never seen something like this.

“Hey Amanda.” Hiver says, not taking her eyes off the kitchen counter. “Help yourself. I’m almost done.”

“Wait, done with what?”

“Dinner.” The warlock responds, shrugging and smiling smugly at her confusion.

“Isn’t this dinner?”

“That’s an appetizer. Or… an entrée, as Ada would say.” She sprinkles grated parmesan cheese over the meal she’s making. Amanda sits down, setting her clothes aside and taking one of the toasts, biting into it and closing her eyes to analyze the taste better. It’s…

“Delicious...” She blurts out without thinking, eyes shining. The Awoken girl smiles in pride while putting the main course in the pre-heated oven, then walking over, juice jar in hand, to take a seat next to her crush. It’s been forever since she’s had a meal with someone.

She picks up a Bruschetta. She doesn’t know the name of it, just the recipe, but she was determined to find out. “We Warlocks don’t just search for Golden Age relics, you know?” She takes a bite out of it, enjoying its salty flavor. She could tell she had done it just right and was happy about it.

“So…” Amanda starts, in the middle of her second Bruschetta. “When did you get this place?” Hiver pours them both a cup of juice.

“This morning, after some days of dealing with bureaucracy and killing stuff to get Glimmer. I got it with most of the furniture, so the price got a little… saltier.” She looks at her kitchen, happy to have a place to call hers. “Still, beats living out of my ship or in Old Earth’s cold, dead debris.”

Amanda nods, mid-chewing a half of the bread, and then swallows. “I’m happy you got it, Hiver. It’s pretty cozy, and… very you, if that makes sense. It’s not bland, but it’s not super fancy-pantsy either. It has a nice feeling to it.” She continues eating the other half as she recalls the sense of style of other Warlocks she met.

Particularly Brother Vance.

“I did my best in making this place presentable to you… but this is not all I have to show, though.”

“My, my, aren’t we full o’ surprises today?”

They hear a ding coming from the counter, conveniently, as the bruschettas are almost over. Hiver’s kitchen counter, shaped like a chicken that she painted a little spades symbol on, has gone off indicating the meal is ready.

“Just be patient.” Hiver says while putting on oven mitts and pulling it out of the oven. Amanda notes that it looks like a… tomato sauce mess. Putting it on their plates, they get to eating.

“Boy, do you like tomato. Not that I’m complaining.” The freckled girl pushes the sauce away from her food, revealing pasta and fried steak.

“Villages around found a way to grow them… really fast. And they’re healthy. You say to-may-to, I say make sauce with it. And everyone’s happy.” Hiver replies with a smile, garnering a laugh from her human friend. They eat the rest of it in silence.

After the main course, Amanda is still curious to see what Hiver has to show her, hurrying her up in an almost coquettish way. Hiver goes to her storage and pulls out one of the Dragon Fruits she was given in the Old Texas frontier.

“Amanda… is this here familiar to you?” She says, bringing it back to Amanda. She gasps, her expression changing completely; Her face is one of shock, her eyes widening immediately. She presses her lips together and takes the pink, prickly fruit in her hands with utmost care, examining it thoroughly, as if it were some sort of jewel. Hiver could sense some change, but not identify if it was good or bad.

The Awoken silently motions to have it back, grabbing a knife from her utensil drawer and opening the fruit to expose its white flesh. She proceeds to cut and push cubes out of the flesh so that she may serve it and give them to Amanda, who is visibly trying to hold herself together, hands with fingers intertwined pressing against her forehead and her thumbs supporting her brow ridge.

“Amanda?” Hiver says, pushing a plate of pitaya towards her. She picks a cube of the fruit and, as soon as she slowly finishes eating it, tears start rolling down her face uncontrollably. She then downs another. And another, and another, each of them bringing a stronger wave of emotion than the last.

Hiver watches silently, holding back her impulse to hold the woman and never let go. She had made it. It was the fruit. And more than that, a part of Amanda’s childhood.

She finishes the fruit, pushing away the plate, and lowering her head to continue sobbing. Hiver starts rubbing her back in an attempt to give her some comfort.

“Do you want a hug?” She offers.

Amanda silently gets up and quickly holds her friend, crying as quietly as she can -- which isn’t much -- on her shoulder. Hiver hugs her back, rubbing the back of her head, and they stay like this for some full minutes, before Amanda regains some of her composure and manages to stumble towards the couch, wiping her tears away.

“How…” She hiccups.

“Eva’s book.”

She turns to look at Hiver. “And… and where did you…”

“Let me grab you some water, this is gonna take a while.”

Hiver then proceeds to wipe Amanda’s tears off and explain her expedition to Old Texas.

“I see…” Amanda says, starting to feel better. Hiver reaches over and softly wipes away her tear trails. “Thank you.”

“I figured it would make you happy.” Hiver says, smiling shyly.

“It did. More than ya know.” The blonde is finally back to smiling, and leans her head on Hiver’s shoulder, sending her into a flustered panic. She can’t let it show. “Sorry Hiver… it’s… it’s late. All that cryin’s made me pretty tired.”

“Want to sleep here?”

“Been too much of a pain already. I should go.”

Hiver sighs. “Amanda, it’s more than a pleasure to be around you. Don’t think you’re bothering me, especially because I was the one who brought you here and did everything I could to make you feel welcome. D’you like this place? Do you want to stay?”

Amanda is a bit taken aback by her friend’s seriousness. “Yeah… it’s good to have someone other than me at home, if I’m being honest.”

“Then please,” Hiver wraps an arm around Amanda’s shoulder, holding her close. “Stay.”

The shipwright revels in the warmth of her friend’s embrace, slowly letting go of the half-painful nostalgia the felt earlier, and smiling softly as she started to doze off. She feels relieved. Before wandering off, the human girl manages to mutter one last sentence, giving Hiver just as much happiness as she caresses her crush’s shoulder with her fingertips.

“‘Kay. I’m stayin’.”

She feels at home.

#destiny 2 #destiny fic #destiny warlock #destiny oc #amanda holliday #hiver the gunslock #oc x canon

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rafamonzo · 3 months

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R. Tanaka - "MEN'S WORLD"

http://rafamonzo.tumblr.com / http://tanaka-clan.tumblr

#photography #black&white #experimental photography #altered photography #altered portrait #experimental portrait #archives #men's world #stranger things #archive as a artificial scenery

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angelicqualia · 5 years

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Steel Song [Intro]

"The city of Spirale welcomes you.”

That’s all the man had said to her, as he remained silent throughout their entire car-ride. Likewise, Giselle had been rather tight-lipped herself. Once it became clear that he wouldn’t respond to her after three questions in a row, she settled for paying attention to the passing scenery outside her window. The paper crinkled between her hands had more information printed upon it than what her chauffeur had divulged.

Besides, that brief flicker seemed to imply that she was being escorted by far more than a mere human.

The thought of forcibly obtaining more information, but that was something Alto no doubt would have discouraged (although she could easily picture the young swordsman growing increasingly restless as the ride went on). Speaking of which, among the crowd of various other strangers she had found herself among at the edge of the gaping chasm outside, she hadn’t seen any of her companions at all. No Alto, no Hilda, no Rusty, no Archibald, not a single one of the Tuning Knights.

Why is it only me? Have the others been taken elsewhere? Is this even Regnant? I have no records of a Spirale in my archives.

Truth be told, the scenery outside fascinated her. The buildings that flowed by were constructed far differently from the ones she ha seen in Lambert, Mithra, and other places. So advanced yet... it couldn’t be possible. Wherever she was, it was somewhere that neither her nor her master had ever been to before.

If this civilization was indeed a remnant of the age of the Technolomies or a recreation of it, Giselle was going to be exiting this vehicle with more questions than answers. The fact that she was even inside a car, a form of horseless and motorized carriage from that era, in the first place was the first sign of things definitely being off.

It was a puzzling situation. What made it more serious than simply confusing was the fact that Giselle was missing about 95% of her installed equipment and abilities. Her Qualia still coursed with power, for the removal of that would mean her death, but everything else? It was as if she was experiencing what Lisette had once undergone, the paths connecting her to her power being closed off from her. That, however, was under a different set of circumstances... Giselle may have had a Qualia, but hers didn’t allow her to properly channel the power of song in the first place. Mere tuning didn’t seem like it would solve this conundrum.

This felt more like she had forgotten things.

The only small mercies she discovered during her trip was the fact that whatever means had brought her here had left her cloak undamaged, hiding her robotic form from prying eyes. If this truly was a place far away from Regnant, the people here wouldn’t understand what she was and react unfavorably. Better yet, her command for Regenerate still functioned, although its use seemed to be purposely limited. Concern filtered into Giselle’s usually unreadable features.

If there was an enemy behind her separation from the kingdom and her friends, then whoever it was had the talent to remove her weaponry while also keeping her in one piece. But if so, then why allow her to roam as she pleased? Perhaps the other strangers she had seen were under a similar situation.

Her taxi stopped.

“Thank you.”

She gave a nod after her sentence, but the man continued to stare ahead, either ignoring her or having not heard at all. Deciding not to press the issue further, Giselle took the paper from her lap and slid it into a hidden pocket within her cloak. She also placed the small device that had been laid atop it, figuring that whoever had prepared this transportation wished for her to have it. Shakily standing upon her dagger-like feet (her ability to levitate having also left her somehow, forcing her to take up the rare pastime of walking), the artificial angel exited the taxi’s interior. While her over all performance had been massively downgraded, her sharp eyesight was still able to take in all that she surveyed.

It was somewhat... overwhelming to say the least.

What would we have done together, she thought to herself, shutting the door behind her. She paid no attention to the car as it drove off to its next destination, if it actually had one. Alto... would have started to ask around. Perform reconnaissance. So would have... master.

Funny, how a day of simply tidying up the barracks after a day of helping to patrol Lambert would have led to such a mood and scenery. Giselle’s thoughts only lingered for a second more before she patted at the area she had hidden the paper in, hearing it crinkle beneath the fabric. She had an apartment to find in this Golden Ward. Be it alone or in a team, she would end this mission with more info about her situation than she started out with.

The Tuning Knights always did so, right?

It was time for her to explore this unknown region, wherever or whenever it was.

#isola intro #There we go #I see we have an event but I will probably try for getting to what I want to do for it another time #Giselle is now in the building!#;Musings of an Artificial Heart

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100-yardstare · 5 years

Text

I guess I know how George R* Mart*n feels because I can never finish any of my fics anymore!

I started writing this fic when SW EP 7 came out... in 2015. I never touched it again. It was about my OC Sarai and Steven. Since I’m probably never going to finish it I wanted to at least post it here for archival reasons. Feel free to read if you like!

Summary: The son of a deceased Resistance pilot, Steven Weatfield seeks refuge on the moon of Pantora with his living father in an attempt to escape the horrors of war and participation with the Resistance against the First Order. However, balance and fate seem to follow them when a Jedi, lost among the corridors of time for unknown circumstances, reminds him of his mission, and his mothers sacrifice.

Word Count: 2,962

Chapter 1

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A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

STAR WARS

War never ends. It has been twenty-seven years since the rebellion’s triumphant victory over the Death Star, and likewise, the end of Darth Sidious and Darth Vader. However, the New Republic’s struggles are not yet over. The First Order has risen, and again, is spreading disorder upon the galaxy, forcing General Leia to build up a Resistance to push back further destruction. Casualties are always a factor, and even for the Resistance, the death toll and injured have recently reached peaks that were unforeseen. The sudden and dramatic losses have frightened large numbers of surviving resistance soldiers.

Steven Wheatfield, former trainee of the Resistance, has since resigned by desire of his surviving father. They are attempting to stay out of the conflict at all costs, currently residing in a small rural settlement on the moon of Pantora…

. . . . . . .

“In a world covered by endless water… the people of the Republic were driven to create artificial solders for war. This war was spreading through quickly— so quickly, it was soon leaving no portion of the galaxy untouched by its strife! But these two forces were not equal by all means. Yes, droid and clone were similar as fierce soldiers, each having their own distinct advantages, and likewise Sith leaders Count Dooku, and other such foes provided their means within the Separatists army. But! Leading the Republic’s armies, among the thousands of brilliant clone soldiers, was the Jedi!”

A series of sarcastic beeps came from a R6 unit after the long introduction, whose small chirps seemed to bounce off the snowy field and into the tall toupee colored grasses surrounding. A couple of crunchy footsteps would cease at that moment, as Steven stopped walking, and telling his story for that matter.

“What are you talking about, Wheatles?!” Steven cried, who so abruptly turned around at the moment of his R6 units bickering. “Of course the Jedi were important! Now would you please let me continue my story? The Jedi lead the Republic’s armies; they carried the torch that spread throughout the galaxy, and pushed back the dark, and those who came their way.”

The droid spat out another set of beeps, carrying with it the most unpleasant of sounds, which in return caused Steven’s face to blush pink.

“Y-You moof-milker!” Steven yelled. “The history of the Clone Wars is not useless! In fact, it just goes to show you why the Republic failed in the first place. From the corruption in the senate all the way to the very battles themselves that took place—they all were important!”

Steven paused for a moment to gather himself, soon his flush of color leaving his face. “I’ll bet if Jedi were still around…” His face relaxed, a little too much even, as his eyebrows rose up in a loathsome furrow. With this, his voice fell in depth, sending even more of his hot breath into the icy Pantoran air.

“If the Jedi were here, like they were then, maybe this war would already be over. Maybe… maybe Mum would be…”

A sudden gust pushed through the field, sending a dust of snow off the ground and into the air like powder. After the gust settled, a soft wave of snow began to fall—so soft that you barely noticed the moment it fell upon your lashes.

“The Jedi fought alongside the clone army for three years… And they would have done it too. They would have won. But… they’re gone now.” Steven paused, only shortly to express a gentle sigh. “You don’t think… those kinds of things are myths, do you?”

The R6 unit softly spoke up with a simple, long beep, which was by far significantly calmer than any of its other comments were beforehand. The droid’s head centered itself as his back legs lowered a tad. This caused Steven to stare down at his droid companion, soon his sorrowful look diminishing from the droid’s obvious apology.

“Thank you, Wheatles,” Steven remarked. He sighed deeply before saying, “come on. We better get you home before it starts snowing any harder. I know how much you hate walking through the stuff.”

Steven turned around to start walking his droid along the path they had been traveling down for some time. In the far distance a small village and a distribution of independent properties could be seen. From their chimneys, smoke from fires within all of the homes scattered about the landmass reached high into the skies like fingers stretching from a cloudy palm. This scenery, although lovely in its own way, still was strange to Steven. It wasn’t particularly the cold landscape, or the smallness of it all, but more rather how quiet it was. Steven was used to busy bustling of resistance soldiers, the sound of engines starting from all varieties of ships, and sometimes even the occasional laser shooting practice. Steven was used to getting his hands dirty in engine oil and grime, and the strain in his arms from piloting ships. To say the least, it was like he was out of his element. It wasn’t the same.

Steven first anticipated turning around and staying out in the field longer. That or he figured he’d might as well go off the trail and see what he could find out in the tall grasses of Pantora. Who knows? Maybe he would find some parts lying around or something interesting at least. He’d rather spend his time out in the cold then going back. Sitting around, doing nothing? No, that wasn’t his thing. Especially since sitting around or doing even simple chores required him to listen to his father mumble under his breath all the time; he made the sheer air in the room feel heavy. There wasn’t a day that went by that wasn’t quite otherwise.

Steven suddenly grumbled to himself, which wasn’t like him. He liked keeping a positive attitude, but this—this feeling—was getting redundant.

“I could just take my ship and fly off somewhere, ya know, Wheatles?” Steven spoke aloud. “We could fly right out of here and somewhere out there. Ya, that would be brilliant, wouldn’t it? But he says otherwise.”

Wheatles gave off a sigh sound in response. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get Steven to cheer up some. Agreeing with Steven always seemed to help.

“Ya! That’s right! Can you imagine it? Steven and his loyal droid, Sir Wheatles, off into the galaxy! We need a team name though. Wheatles, maybe you should write this down—”

Before Steven could continue, his eye caught a glimpse of something in the sky at the opposite end of the field from where the village was. At first he figured it was a mere speck of floating black dust that just looked like something, but it was indeed something this time.

Steven focused more sternly on the object in the sky now, realizing that it was ablaze as it fell through the planets atmosphere. As it drew closer to the ground, he was beginning to realize it was a ship. He didn’t react until the ship plummeted into the ground some two-miles away. After its obvious crash, was when he had a delayed response.

“Hell!” Steven yelled. “Did you see that? Did you see the ship fall from the bloody sky?!”

His droid was quiet as Steven began fanning his face uncontrollably. This was unbelievable. Well—it was believable in the sense that it happened all the time, but not here. Not for them.

“We gotta go check it out!” was Steven’s next bright idea. His droid beeped a few times, indicating its own distress, but this didn’t seem to give Steven any second thoughts. “Who knows what that was? It could be a resistance ship for all we know! Somebody needs our help!”

Steven started running. He started running for so far and so long that Wheatles was a good few paces behind him by the time they crawled over the little hill that lead them to the crash site.

The landscape from one side of the hill, and to the other, was quite drastic. A decent sized indention had been marked in the ground on the other side from impact. The trail that the fallen ship had left from hitting the ground, and then having skated across the dried tan grasses, was black and covered in soot. Some of the stalks of grass further to the side that had not been completely crushed had some traces of embers, whose glow, thankfully, did not increase in size for the time being.

To say the least, Steven was ecstatic. But he was also cautious. The ship didn’t look resistance, at least a type that he was used to seeing. It seemed to have an old design, from what parts he could distinguish what was left of it. The ship overall was so jumbled that it was hard to tell. The metal was obviously still hot on the outside, which caused a steam to escape from its structure and into the cold air.

“Should we check it out?” Steven asked his droid, who had just a second earlier made it beside him to join him in his stare at the crashed space ship.

Steven seemed to answer himself rather quickly. “Yeah, let’s check it out!” he exclaimed excitedly, and rushed down the little hill and up towards the ship. He stopped only when he was close enough to feel the warmth from the crash site. With narrowed eyes he tried to look through the rising dust and soot through his glasses, scanning the area before him as much and as diligently as he could to make sure there was nobody about.

But even with his careful eye, he could see nothing.

“Whoa, Wheatles, you don’t suppose… anyone survived this?” Steven asked out loud. From the outward diagnostics of the ship, it seemed someone could have survived. It was wrecked, sure, but it wasn’t so wrecked that anyone within couldn’t have found a way to take cover to land. But still, he couldn’t be too careful.

R6 beeped a few times, which caused Steven’s attention to fall back onto his droid.

“Tell Dad? Are you joking?” Steven scoffed. “The first sign of any sort of ship crashing on Pantora, especially around him, is just asking for us to be relocated. We can’t tell him.”

The metal creaked then, causing what sounded like movement from the inside of the ship. Steven’s head seemed to snap back upward once the sound hit his ears, realizing then from his prior suspicions that someone must be in there. He wasn’t sure what to do, in all honesty. Someone’s life was very much on the line potentially, and he felt the need to be there for them once they stepped out of that ship. But another thought crossed his mind: what if they weren’t friendly? What if this ship was First Order, and he didn’t even realize it?

The odds seemed slim that it was First Order, based on the ships design, but the thought came to him regardless. He hunkered down, only a bit, but soon realized that doing so wasn’t going to stop him from being spotted. Instead, he kept his stance firm, waited, and listened.

Creaks and paces were heard for a few seconds longer until the door was triggered to open. At first, nothing walked out of the crumpled ship. Inside there was only darkness, which indicated that the vessel had lost power just as it had crashed. A few sparks from deep inside the ship could be seen, but sill, he waited…

Staring wide-eyed by then, Steven watched as a figure walked limply out of the doorway. As it came into the Pantoran light, he saw it was a togruta female. Instantly, he became relieved of a First Order threat, but from this a new question arose. Her outfit was strange, and almost foreign to him. It wasn’t anything togruta typically wore. Instead, it was a grey and white tunic. The first thing that slid into his train of thought then, was…

“No, it couldn’t be,” Steven muttered to himself. He had read many of Republic documents of the Jedi Knights. Their attire seemed to match what this woman was wearing, but… it seemed too coincidental. Seemingly, his thoughts of fairytales diminished once he saw her fall to her knees, and collapse backwards onto the icy grasses.

R6 spilled out a series of worried beeps the second she hit the ground. Steven, on the other hand, rushed up towards her as quickly as his legs could take him. Once he was next to her, he kneeled down by her side, and lifted her head into his lap. He immediately checked for any signs that she wasn’t breathing, her pulse, and her overall state. But, she was fine.

Steven sighed again once he noticed she was still alive. “Thank God. She’s all right. Wheatles, no need to worry. I’m sure she’s just shaken from the crash. Although I’d suggest we try and get her somewhere to rest.”

R6 responded positively to Steven’s suggestions, and came by Steven once again to further inspect the togruta woman. The both of them didn’t really know what to do at that moment. It had been a long while since they had come into contact with any other races besides the Pantoran’s and the occasional human that passed by in order to get to the Pantoran Capital. Should they even ask questions? Should they still treat her as if she was a threat?

Out of habit from his resistance training, Steven looked over the woman further. Her purple skin tone seemed to clash with the idea of all, or at least a vast majority, of togruta being of rustic, orange-like tones. Her head tails and montrals were also relatively grown in, indicating she couldn’t have been older than in her mid-twenties. Alike all other togruta, or those who have at least proven themselves as warriors to their people, she bore a Akul Tooth headdress, made of a black band with the golden, triangular shaped teeth attached to it. Her robe itself, on the other hand, seemed to bring more surprises. Steven looked down at her beltline, realizing that attached, was…

“A lightsaber?” Steven’s blue eyes seemed to lighten up with a sparkle. “No, it couldn’t be…”

Steven looked back at the woman’s face, noticing her eyes were still closed, and then back down at the lightsaber. If it was actually a lightsaber, he wasn’t 100% sure, but it looked like one, and certainly mimicked every detail he had ever read about them in the Jedi lore and Republic history text he had indulged in so much growing up.

Almost like a child, his hands reached down towards the mysterious weapon, his fingers only delicately touching the carved metal of gold and silver before he was suddenly struck across the cheek.

Instant alert spilled from R6, as the both of them realized she had awoken. The togruta pushed Steven violently away from her, and then came to a stand, one of her hands clutching the weapon at her beltline tightly as she glared at both of them.

“Who are you!?” she yelled.

“Look, we mean you no harm! I was just—” Steven attempted to explain, sending his arms in the air as if to say he was unarmed, and very much of no danger.

“I said, who are you!?” the girl fussed again. The situation was growing tenser by the minute, and so Steven realized attempting to prove his innocence wasn’t nearly as important as saying who he was.

“I’m Steven Wheatfield! This is my R6 until, Wheatles! We’re just settlers on Pantora…”

“Pantora?” The girl’s voice rose significantly in her question. It was as if she was baffled she was even there. “The Empire then… are they in this area?”

“Empire?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Steven. The Empire has taken control of all previous Republic systems. Tell me where the Empire establishments are located on this planet!”

“I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about because the Empire hasn’t existed for… well over two decades.”

The togruta girl’s dark eyes widened, as if replacing a physical gasp. Again, she was baffled, in a state of disbelief and confusion. Her legs looked like they wanted to stumble, but her strong stance caught her.

“The Empire hasn’t existed in over two decades?” she repeated, as if saying it out loud would help her bring it to reality. “Then what of the Inquisitors? The Stormtrooper armies? Darth Vader? The purge?”

“What are you talking about?” Steven’s panicked emotions were escaping him now, and he was starting to become more empathetic to the stranger in front of him. “What’s an inquisitor? The Stormtroopers… we’ll they aren’t exactly Empire anymore. And Darth Vader is…” he paused, his calmed worried eyes settling into her distraught gaze. “Darth Vader is dead.”

“What?” Her words fell out of her, softly, as if everything she knew was suddenly gone. By looking at her, everything was gone. She seemed scared, isolated, and without a clue as to what to do.

Steven remained on the ground, realizing the situation had taken a complex turn. He eyed her first, head to toe, taking in her features as if it was yet again the first time he had seen her before.

“…Who are you?” Steven asked softly.

The girl looked to the ground, and then to her hands. Her eyes would shut tightly for a split second, as if her mind had taken her elsewhere; searching, wondering…

“My name is Sarai Daan. I am a Jedi.”

#tumblr will probably destroy the layout but ohhh welll #kailey writes #sarai daan #steven wheatfield #star wars fic

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darquedeath4444 · 6 years

Text

Of Tales Now and Long Ago

Chapter SEVEN

When Sakura stepped out of the office, Kagetsu hurried over to her. He did not question what the Mizukage had wanted, but he gave her an once-over to see if she was okay, and she once again felt pity for the man who seemed to genuinely care for her.

She knew his fate, after all.

Sakura clearly remembered the puppets that had acted as servants around the Haruno compound and when she reached out, a countless number of chakra signatures that weren't quite human replied to her call. Sakura made her way down towards the isolated cave located deeper down, and the moment she even got close, the smell of blood and rotting flesh hit her nose. She wordlessly commanded the puppets behind her move past her into the cave and begin the cleaning process.

Not like these caves would ever be used again.

At one point, she approached the mess and reached for a part of the bone that had begun to crystallize The process would be much faster deeper in the caves. Once she had them brought to the tunnels she had spent years living in with Toneri, they would turn to dust and crystalize on the walls in mere days.

With this thought in mind, Sakura commanded her puppets to clean any bits of flesh still left and to leave the bones in the tunnels. The puppets let out a series of clicks and they all floated out, soon leaving Sakura alone at the mouth of the cave that had changed her life.

Sakura spent a majority of her time in Kiri experimenting with the chakra techniques written down in the Haruno archives.

The Haruno chakra, or the Otsutsuki chakra, was the purest form of chakra. When shinobi clans took this chakra and made it their own, something distinctively theirs became a part of this chakra as it was honed and passed on. However, Sakura's chakra was the rawest, that was not tainted by generation after generation of human usage, and due to this nature, she could incorporate this energy into several other techniques.

Sakura broke out of her thoughts when her water dragon drew itself out from the river she had used as a medium and leaned down towards her. It's nuzzle left her cheek wet and she had to wipe at it lest she dirty her clothes but she merely smiled at the creature and it made a gurgling sound as its liquid vocal cords strained to create noise. Sakura could see her Puppet Cursing sphere glowing in its chest, where it heart would have been had it been a real being.

Two weeks had passed since her arrival in Kiri and by now, people were used to seeing her walking the fogged streets of the village. Some smaller shinobi families even extended invitation for tea and dinner towards her but she always had Kagetsu, and when he was not available Mangetsu, accompanying her and that kept a majority of them off her back. If that wasn't enough, the eerie clicking of her ever-present puppets warned the rest of them away.

It was that clicking, which people found creepy but brought her comfort, that alerted her of an approaching figure. She looked back to see Suigetsu rushed over, a wide grin on his face. "Sakura!"

Sakura spun on her spot to face him and greeted him with a soft smile of her own. "Hello, Suigetsu."

The boy skidded to a halt beside her. "Let's get lunch together!"

Sakura glanced back in the direction the boy had come from, but saw no members of his clan accompanying him. "You snuck out of a meeting?" She guessed.

"Academy," Suigetsu corrected, like it did not matter either way. "Now, let's go."

And just like that, her time in Kiri slowly drew to an end. Sakura stood at the gates of Kirigakure, checking over herself one last time. Kagetsu stood beside her, ready to accompany her back to Konoha, while his wife and children stood opposite them.

"I'll see you again?" Suigetsu asked.

Sakura smiled faintly at the similarities she saw between the boy and Sasuke.

'Allies,' her Inner said. 'He will make a good ally.'

Sakura nodded. "Of course," she told him.

"Take care, Sakura," Mangetsu said.

"You too," Sakura straightened her cloak over her shoulder then turned to Mizuki. "Thank you for having me."

The woman smiled. "Anytime, Sakura-san."

Sakura bowed one last time before she turned to the man beside her. "I am ready, Kagetsu-san."

"I'll be back." Kagetsu told his family, then nodded at her. "Then let us depart."

Sakura watched Mizuki, Mangetsu and Suigetsu wave at them as she followed the Hozuki head out of the village.

He's not coming back, she almost said. He's playing a role, just like the rest of us.

Hozuki Kagetsu's death was as swift and as painless as any death could be. Sakura watched him collapse onto the ground, then turned towards where the burst of chakra had come from.

"Is this mercy?" She asked softly.

"Some say death is release," Toneri stepped out from behind the trees. His empty sockets landed on her and a smile graced his lips. "Personally, I do not care too much."

Sakura crouched down beside the man that had taken care of he for the past month. "I'm sorry," she said simply. She felt something heavy in her stomach but could give it no name, so she pushed it aside.

Toneri laughed. "I took into consideration his service to you and made it as painless as possible," he said. "His body simply stopped working. Without a working body, one cannot register pain."

"A blast of sheer chakra powerful enough to simply force a body to shut down," she said in wonder.

Toneri nodded. "It only works against a single target and requires a long time to prepare," he said. "It is not very functional in battle."

Sakura hummed thoughtfully and allowed her companion to cut into her arm to extract a little of her blood. He proceeded to toss it around the clearing they were in, then tossed away the kunai as well. He left a few scuff marks on the ground, then turned towards her. "I believe that will be enough," he said.

Sakura looked one last time at the dead body lying in the clearing before she nodded. "Shall we depart?" She asked.

Toneri nodded and turned towards the trees. "The closest entrance to the caves are a little away," he told her. "From there, we will be heading home."

Sakura's thoughts went blank at the word. "Home?"

Toneri smiled. "Yes, home."

Sakura liked to think that the Haruno tunnels existed in a dimension of its own, where normal humans simply could enter without a Haruno or Otsutsuki guide. This was because these pathways, which had existed for as long as the shinobi nations, or even life itself on these lands, stretched out across the entirety of the lands and no one had ever come across them.

Of course, there were rumors about them, and they had grown during the Shinobi Wars when the Haruno had often used them as a means of transportation of backup, supplies, and information, but even if one did see them simply vanish, no one could follow them.

Sakura paused in her steps and looked around the stone structure. There was no sunlight, no fire, and the tunnels were simply lit up by the glowing blue-green crystals that symbolized their history.

Soon, in the distant, she could hear the sound of water. Toneri sped up, almost subconsciously, and Sakura followed without complaint. A while later, they arrived in a clearing with a small spring, and Sakura felt a sudden, powerful pull towards the glowing liquid. Her companion did not even stop; he simply kept going, pausing only when Sakura stopped at the edge of the water. He turned around, standing knee deep in the surprisingly deep spring, and smiled. "There is nothing to fear," he told her gently and slowly held out his hand.

Sakura took it without hesitation and allowed the older teen to guide her into the water. A few steps later, only her head was sticking out of the water. Toneri released her hand and moved a little further until he too was beck deep in water.

"There is nothing to fear," Toneri said again. "I will see you on the other side."

As if on cue, Sakura suddenly lost her footing. She immediately tried to find the bottom of the spring, only for her feet to hit nothing. She took an unwilling sharp breath, expecting water to come flowing into her lungs, only to blink and suddenly find herself sitting on the floor, completely dry, with Toneri smiling down at her. "That was the portal," he told her.

Sakura's head whipped up and glanced around. She allowed Toneri to help her to her feet and almost blindly followed him as he began walking in a certain direction.

"This is the bridge between the Earth and the Moon," he told her. "These orbs contain memories of all humans that have ever walked the lands," He gestured towards the glowing spheres. "Some are forever trapped in their memories and can never escape." However, when he reached towards one, the sphere floated away from him like it was being repelled. "That does not apply to us."

Sakura smiled as Toneri cleared a path for them and soon, in the distant, she could make out a huge shape. "The Gatekeeper," she whispered.

Toneri nodded. "The Guardian of this dimension."

Sakura knew of this creature from the tales passed down. The Gatekeeper guarded the doors to the moon and stopped anyone not Otsutsuki from entering the sacred grounds. The crab regarded them with its beady eyes and let them pass without any interference.

Behind the huge creatures was another spring. This time, Sakura did not even hesitate, and when she appeared on the other time, she found herself overlooking a very familiar scenery. Above them, the artificial sun brought light, and below the ledge they were standing on, was the Otsutsuki village.

Minato placed the letter on his desk and took a deep breath. "Please call in Hatake Kakashi, Uchiha Itachi, and Uchiha Shisui."

His assistant hurried out of his office.

The two Uchiha entered his office mere minutes later and Kakashi was relatively early as well. Minato pushed aside his surprise and gestured towards the letter. "I just received a letter from the Hozuki."

Itachi instantly stiffened and SHisui glanced over at his cousin in worry. Kakashi remained reactionless.

"Sakura left Kiri, accompanied by Hozuki Kagetsu, two weeks ago," he paused. "Travel times would have taken a few days at most. However, the Head has not returned, and Sakura has not yet arrived."

"So they're missing?" Shisui asked.

Minato nodded solemnly. "There is a possibility they had been attacked."

"Toneri," Kakashi said.

Minato nodded again. "That is a possibility," He held out a scroll. "You will head out to Kiri. The Mizukage has been alerted of your arrival. We will search around on our own, but any information found will be shared between the two villages. You have permission to enter Kiri and talk to the Hozuki. Kakashi will act as team leader. Track down their routing, and see if you can find anything on their whereabouts."

The Hozuki were surprisingly willing to meet them, especially considering the relation between the two villages, but Uchiha Shisui was not too shocked, considering that their clan head was missing. After receiving the confirmation that the two had left the village gates and there were many witnesses, they headed out of the village and immediately began tracking their pathing.

Kakashi sent out his dogs and Pakkun came back a while later, eyes serious. "We found something," he said. "But you might not like it."

Indeed Shisui did not like it. The lifeless body of Hozuki Kagetsu lay limp in a clearing and Sakura was nowhere to be found. There were blood splotches on the ground and Pakkun immediately confirmed that it did not belong to the Hozuki head.

"Send a summon to Hokage-sama," Kakashi ordered Itachi, then turned to his summon. "Is there a scent trail?"

Pakkun shook his head. "Well, there is a scent trail leading that way." He gestured with a paw into the trees. "But it vanishes after a bit, almost like they just disappeared."

Shisui watched Itachi send off his crow, eyes dark. He knew his cousin had been close to the girl, and his brother liked her as well. He stood awkwardly to the side as Kakashi stood up.

"Let's return to Kiri," he finally said. "We should return the body to his family."

Itachi returned to Konoha with a sense of dread weighing him down. It had been a while and he was sure most of them had forgotten, or had at least put to the back of their minds, the reason Sakura had ended up in Konoha.

And just like that, she had vanished. Whoever had taken her had left a dead man in his wake. He could not stop himself from worrying. This dread only got worse as he went with his team to report their findings, or the lack of it thereof, to the Hokage and returned to the Uchiha compound. The Academy had started a week or so ago and Sasuke had been complaining nonstop about the girl's delayed return. He had been pressing him about information on the girl and he could not decide if it would be kinder and right to tell him of the truth or keep him from it just a while longer.

The kidnapper had held the girl captive for years and had come after her once again. He had a nagging feeling and a growing fear that this time, they may not find her. In the end, when Sasuke ran up to him, he could only say that there had been a delay.

He could not bring himself to crush that smile, not just yet.

The Otsutsuki village called to her, that was the only thing she could think of. She was sure she had never been here before, never stepped foot on their home planet, but there was a heavy sense of familiarity that made her run her fingers over the structures that stood on either side of the streets as the two of them traveled through the village towards the main Otsutsuki compound.

It was almost as though she knew this place, knew where exactly she was going.

Perhaps it was her blood.

"Sakura-sama?"

Sakura turned towards Toneri, who had stopped a little ahead of her and was now waiting for her. "Sorry." She quickened her pace, so that she was walking beside him.

"No worries, Sakura-sama," Toneri said softly. "I understand it must be..."

"It's strange," she said, eyes once against wandering. "Like I've been here before."

Toneri did not say anything. Instead, he merely continued to smile and Sakura firmly turned away from the streets and towards the looming compound of the Otsutsuki.

Time passed differently on the Moon. A day on the Moon was around twenty-nine days on Earth, but they lived underneath the surface and an artificial sun supported life. It was not easy to see how much time has passed.

Sometimes, when she was not busy reading the scrolls and books found in the library and training with Toneri, she thought of Konoha.

Sasuke must be missing her. People must be worried. She felt a little bad, because she had promised the boy she would return. Of course, she would be returning. She had just not factored in this little detour with Toneri when she had stated so. The boy was a ball of innocence, she thought often. Just like that blond friend of his. And yet, they were both going to attend an Academy that taught them to kill using a gift that was meant to make life better.

Teaching was done by those who knew better. Perhaps they could simply kill the adults? The children were innocent until they were tainted, were they not? Not to mention, she quite enjoyed the company of some of the human children she had met.

Perhaps she could bring it up with Toneri.

If there was one thing Toneri feared, it was the influence human ways of thinking would have on Sakura. The girl was his, his to cultivate and sharpen, the one being that would share his ambition and the one who would remain with him once the sinners were purged.

However, he could not be with her all the time and all that stood between them and the taint of humankind was her loyalty towards their blood and him, and her belief that humans were wrong. He did not doubt that Sakura would fail to see their superiority to humans, but he decided that that was what fear was, an unreasonable force that made one think irrationally despite them knowing.

"Toneri!"

The teen paused in his musing when he heard his name being called by the very girl that haunted his current thoughts. If there was second thing he feared, he mused, it would be the strange feeling that filled his chest at the sound of her voice.

Distractions, after all, were very unwelcome, not when they were two beings trying to take on an entire world.

"The main reason this meeting was arranged was so that you can learn about your Dojutsu." Toneri told her. "The Tenseigan."

Sakura's hands slowly went up to her face. The Otsutsuki had several Kekkei Genkai, powers that had been lost and gained throughout their time as the rulers of the world. Even after they had ceased to be nothing more than a myth, a bedtime story of the history of the Shinobi World, their bloodlines lived on in the flesh and blood of their descendants.

However, in a way, it was no longer only theirs.

"It is your job, as the head of the Otsutsuki, to retrieve what truly belongs to us," Toneri had said. "As the last head of the clan who is the history itself of the world humans know today, you must right the wrong and punish those who have forgotten just who exactly they owe this life to."

Sakura clenched her fist. The Tenseigan activated in order to protect the user. The first awakening of the dojutsu came when the body truly felt it was in danger. Sakura knew that despite her role, she had grown up relatively sheltered. She hoped that as she rose in rank within Konoha as a shinobi, she would gain the chance to awaken the Tenseigan.

"We will research the other Kekkei Genkai that have been stolen from us," Toneri had said. "That is the other main reason we are here."

Sakura smiled faintly. This conversation had occurred a few moon days ago when they had eaten their first meal on the Moon.

"'Main reason'?" She had asked."There are others?"

"Of course," he had said. "I wanted to see you, Sakura-sama. I wanted to make sure you were safe."

This battle had started with just the two of them and no matter how many new pieces were introduced to her, she and Toneri would remain the two constant forces that affected the rest of them. Toneri had then smiled, empty eye sockets as dark as ever and his expression losing all the tenseness it usually held. This was a teen that thought and acted with the Otsutsuki constantly at the front of his mind. In a world that had forgotten their kind, he was the only one left here that truly understood her because he was almost just the same.

And any doubt had flown right out of her head.

Chapter EIGHT>

<Chapter SIX

#Of Tales Now and Long Ago #naruto fanfiction #sakura #toneri #poor kagetsu i kind of liked him #but too bad #plot is op and all consuming

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tanaka-clan · 5 years

Photo

Speculative Fiction As A Tool For Physical Activity

100 x 80 cm diptych 2021 ( Unique Pieces)

#photography #black & white #speculative fiction as a tool for physical activity #archive as a artificial scenery #experimental photography #experimental photographic installation #experimental process #altered photography #Altered Perception #altered process #diptych #35mm format

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leseditionsshirokuro · 3 years

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Title: “ LOST & FOUND ” part A

Author: Rafael Tanaka Monzo

Year: 2021

Size : 24X 18CM

Pages: soft cover DNS 200gr / 88 pages in Nautilus recycled paper 80gr. + 1 colored paper print

Copies: Numbered & limited edition of 30

Category: Photography

Price : 20eur + shipping

PAYPAL Order : [email protected]

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the-amazing-spider-bi · 6 years

Link

Title: a real hero (and a real human being) Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Young Avengers (comics) Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Teddy Altman/Billy Kaplan, eventual Kate Bishop/America Chavez Word Count: 18k Work Summary:

“That’s a nice offer,” Kate says, “but I already have my own dysfunctional family, thank you very much. I don’t need assassins, Disney Princesses and the World’s Most Awkward Divorced Dads for that.”

In which the Young Avengers come to the MCU, the Avengers adopt a bunch of delinquents with varying levels of success, Natasha is smarter than everyone else, Peter gets more friends, Billy is a gay mess, MJ is a gay mess, Steve is a gay-

Oh, and Kate is the better Hawkeye, but that’s nothing new.

Chapter summary: In which some things come together, and others fall apart.

When Sam finds him, he’s sitting on his bed, crouched over his notebook, pointedly ignoring his entrance.

“Hey, Captain,” Natasha says, softly. Of course, Sam would bring Natasha. “Talk to us.”

Steve doesn’t want to be rude to anyone, least of all Sam and Nat, but he also really doesn’t want to do things like confronting his feelings right now. He doesn’t even want to feel his feelings, if he’s perfectly honest, but apparently he can’t have that, so he’ll settle for moping around in his quarters. (Can you believe Tony kept them perfectly intact yet clean, didn’t even touch them? He hasn’t been around in years. Even when he was with the Avengers, he barely ever slept in this room.

It’s just so empty. The big, king sized bed with the blue and red sheets that Tony bought as a joke but Steve secretly liked, the scenery framed behind it - something he must have drawn when he was, what, seventeen, for his very first gig at the comic book store, of a man soaring through the skies of the old New York, the one from the thirties, all red cape and small compared to the skyscrapers. He doesn’t even know how Tony found that, only that it was probably ridiculously expensive. It made him feel warm and homesick at the same time when he first saw it. And today as he sees it again - he’s at home here, now.)

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Steve settles for, and he scribbles a bit too hard on his drawing, pen ripping through the paper.

“Come on, Steve,” Natasha says, then tries a different approach. “You know what Sam has to say about expressing your feelings.”

He does indeed - he has been on the receiving end of the “you should talk about your feelings, Steve. Bottling it all up and hoping it never comes out is unhealthy, Steve. I don’t care if it got you through World War Two, Steve,” speech more times than he could count.

But it’s not entirely his fault. He wasn’t born in an era where you could just, walk up to someone and talk about your trauma. Damn, for his mother, seeing a therapist was only done if you were sent to the asylum. So could you really blame him?

(“ Yes, we can ,” Sam insisted. “Now don’t be a jerk and show Wanda a good example, alright?”)

Natasha is still hovering by the door - when it’s not to manipulate someone, she always has a hard time expressing her affection. Sam, on the other hand, is already sitting by Steve’s side, clasping his shoulder - not too much, just a light touch, that anchors Steve’s to the moment, lowers the numbness that usually follows him around.

“I said hello to Tony, and he had a panic attack. I think I’m allowed a bit of, uh, time alone. To process ,” Steve tries, parroting something he heard Sam say once.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Sam answers, but he’s smiling a little. Then, he looks pointedly over his shoulder, drawn to the drawing. It’s a cold, frozen landscape, almost peaceful in the white flurry and the quiet if it weren’t for the grey shape of a bunker hidden in the snow. “How’s that processing working for you?”

He doesn’t know how he guesses what this is - but Sam is his best friend, in a way that Bucky just isn’t, because Bucky is something else entirely to Steve (his family, his blood); he’s also a damn good counselor, with that, so Steve shouldn’t be surprised.

“I just… I know we didn’t leave things as well as we could have,” understatement of the century, “and I know we never had time to fix it last year during the whole…”

“Intergalactic space battle to save our friends who turned into sand?” Natasha guesses.

He chuckles. “Yeah, that. I knew it was bad, and I didn’t expect him to have moved on, but I thought…”

He falls silent for a moment, so Sam says it for him. “That since you forgave him for everything that happened back then, whatever it was, you could work it out?”

“Something like that.”

Natasha sighs with him then slides closer. Slowly, as if she was trying not to frighten him, or herself, she puts her head on his shoulder. She’s fresh out of the shower, still somewhat wet, and her hair is all wet and artificial fruitiness. She didn’t put any makeup on, so she looks as tired as she probably feels; her purple hoodie (Clint’s, no doubt) smells like laundry day, feels soft and worn against his arm. In the past few years, it got so easy to be around Natasha and Sam, even when everyone else feels too much, that it’s sort of like breathing.

“You are going to work it out, you know,” she says finally. “You’re both terrible at processing , and way too good at denial, but you’re also stubborn, and you care about each other. It wouldn’t hurt so bad if you didn’t.”

He nods and focuses harder on his drawing and not looking up at them, because this is making him feel , and this is not what he was trained for. They stay like this for a while, in comforting silence, before Natasha moves again.

“Do you want me to go get James? He’s probably still in the jet.”

“Yes, please.”

She nods and almost walks out of the room before he says, “Wait, Nat?”

She turns around. “Yes?”

“Thanks.”

Natasha Romanoff has many smiles - the sultry one she puts on for her dumbest targets (in the sexy or the murder meaning of the word alike, sometimes both), the reassuring one she struggles to keep on when she’s trying to look at least sixty percent less intimidating and a hundred percent less deadly than she is, the soft, half smile she gets when she doesn’t realize she’s doing it. This is one of the last kind. “You’re welcome, Cap.”