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Terminal :icondarkeangel:DarkeAngel 0 0
Literature
Fairy Tale #3
 It was less a building and more a hole in the ground, with some vague semblance of a door and a chimney sticking out of the mound of dirt to give it any indication of being a dwelling.
Nevertheless, it was where the Tavern Wench had said it would be, and he had learned through various experiences that Tavern Wenches generally knew what they were taking about.
The Knight-Errant strode up to the door and planted a hammer sized fist upon it.
It opened almost at once.
“Yes?” A voice, frail with the vissitudes of age, spoke from within.
  “Is this KAFF-KAFF-KARRGH is this the dwellings of Mistress…cow-imm-hey?”
“It’s pronounced Keeva dearie. Don’t stand there like a ninny, yuir letting a draft in. Come in, come in.”
He entered the dwelling, ducking to fit in the cramped space. It was filled with shelves and tables, all covered with ancient texts, scrolls, mysterious artifacts, cauldrons, flasks, vials, and all manner of epheme
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:icondarkeangel:DarkeAngel 1 0
Literature
Budo
The sound of metal on metal stirred her from her sleep. The alarm had not been raised, so it probably meant one thing.
The Shining Princess of the Radiant Moonlight Kaguya (to give her one of her shorter titles…) rose from her bed and made her way over to the veranda overlooking the inner courtyard. The head of her personal guard hated that she slept in such an exposed room in the castle, but she enjoyed the view in the mornings and would insist. He, in turn, would insist on posting twice the standard amount of guard around her chambers when she did so. One of these moved towards her now, to chastise her, to move her back away into the relative safety of the room, but she waved him away with a dismissive flick of her hand. He hesitated, but obeyed.
Down in the courtyard, her aforementioned Head of Guard was sparring with her Lady-in-Waiting. It was a scene rarely played out even within the walls of her own castle, where women were given equal rank and responsibility to the men, l
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Literature
Fairy Shorts
And he said, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair! I want to come up, but I can’t find the stair!”
And she said, “ugh, not tonight love. I just washed my hair.”
* * *
And the Giant said, “Fee Fi Fo Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman!”
And the police said, “That’s nice sir, but could you identify him visually in a line-up? It’s hold up better in court.”
* * *
And the Wolf said, “little pig, little pig, let me come in?”
And the Pig said, “No! Not by the hair of my chinny, chin-chin!”
And the Wolf said, “but I’m doing a special today on triple bladed razors!”
And the pig said, “well shit, I’ll be right down,”
* * *
And Little Red said, “Grandma, what big teeth you got!”
And grandma said, “”what big teeth you have.””
* * *
And the Gingerbread man said, “run, run, as fast as you can! You can’t catch me, I
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Literature
Secret Agent, man
“I’ve been waiting for you Agent…?”
  “Agent N,”
“Is that Agent M for mother or N for nanny?”
  “*sigh* it’s N, for…nuclear bomb.”
“Woah, ok, steady Agent. Little aggressive there don’t you think?”
  “Sorry. It’s just that everyone asks that. HQ. Informants. Even the bad guys.”
“Ouch.”
  “Sometimes I wish I had just got a slightly lower score on the final exam. Agent O never gets questioned. Everyone thinks his code name is “cool”. He even gets better assignments than me.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. Come along now, I’ll take you to your vehicle for this mission.”
  “Oh, nice car. The latest model?”
“Oh yes. And all the fixings from Department X. Missiles, guns, ejector seats, bulletproof armor, 5G wireless data system and the latest self-driving operating system.”
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Mature content
Inconsistencies :icondarkeangel:DarkeAngel 0 0
Literature
Fairy Tale #2
“Sir? Is this your wallet? You dropped it by the counter.”
  “Oh? Thanks. Butterfingers.”
“Me too, I’m always dropping things. I’m so clumsy.”
  “No, I literally have butter fingers. See?”
“Weird! Salted or unsalted?”
  “‘Scuse me?”
“I’m sorry that was the first thing that popped into my head,”
  “A man shows you fingers made of literal butter and your mind immediately jumps to wondering about their composition?”
“Is that weird? It’s weird, right?”
  “Actually it’s kind of refreshing. Most people ask how, or make some kind of lame pun.”
“Don’t try to butter me up? That makes my blood curdle? That sort of thing?”
  “Yeah.”
“Can I ask…?”
  “It’s a long story. I was doing a job at a witch’s house. Accidentally dropped a priceless heirlo
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:icondarkeangel:DarkeAngel 0 0
Mature content
Smoke :icondarkeangel:DarkeAngel 0 0
Literature
Obsolete
The Lander lumbered through the air, a large multi-faceted shape that had no business flying, and yet, there it was.
The pilot shifted in his seat as the craft rotated around him, banking for its final approach. It dipped suddenly as one of the RCS thrusters coughed, the front right side threatening to get away from him, but he had been expecting it and compensated for it quickly, cursing as he did so.
 “Here we go.”
The Lander’s retro-thrusters fired once, raising the nose, followed by the VTO/L jets winding up to full power, cushioning the ships descent on pillars of hot gas as it lowered down to the ground. The force of the thrust blew some loose bits of debris away, but they were quickly caught up in the piles of scrap that made up the junk yard.
The ship settled into position like a cow lying down in pasture, engines shutting down with a slowly dying whine. All was still for a moment, then the airlock cycled open and the pilot stepped out. He was a man in hi
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Mature content
Repair :icondarkeangel:DarkeAngel 0 0
Literature
Fairy Tale #1
“So what about you?” She asked
 “Oh, I was turned into a frog by some enchanted fog,” He replied.
“That must be very difficult,”
 “Not really. Mostly a lot of sitting and eating bugs.”
“I was going to say “difficult to say.” Y’know. “Fog”, “Frog”. Bit of a tongue-twister.”
 “Oh, sorry. Yes. No doubt. Especially when your tongue is about a third the length of your body. Which mine is.”
There was an awkward silence.
“So, uhm, do you want…like…a kiss? Or something?”
 “Oh! No. Sorry, you’re lovely and all, but I swing the other way. Y’know. I’m gay.”
“What? Oh no, I meant, to break the spell.”
 “Oh. Oh! Ha ha. No, that was the first thing I tried. I think I’m stuck.”
“I’m sorry.”
 “Honestly, it’s not that bad. Apart from trying to avoid
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Literature
Hoard
“Frank? Frank?”
 “In the study,”
“Frank, she’s taken them again.”
 “Sorry dear?”
“Abigail. She’s been in our room and taken them again. That’s the third time this week.”
 “You know how she gets sometimes. Last month it was phone chargers.”
“Can you please go talk to her? She’s your daughter.”
Frank sighed and got up from his chair where he had been scanning the Sunday papers. Whenever Abigail started taking things it was always “she’s your daughter,”.
Not that he could complain, he supposed. Nicole had been an excellent step-mother to Abigail, had really stepped above and beyond where others wouldn’t have. He was really fortunate to have her as a partner.
He climbed the stairs slowly, then walked gently to the ladder. The attic door was open.
 “Abby? I’m coming up, ok?”
He ascended the ladder one rung at a time,
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Mature content
Ascent :icondarkeangel:DarkeAngel 0 0
Mature content
TRANSFORM :icondarkeangel:DarkeAngel 0 0
Literature
Re-Entry
She sucked in a breath, and exhaled it slowly. She always hated this part.
 “Binders in forward position,” the on-board artificial intelligence chirped. “X-ION field integrity holding at 97%.”
“Ai?” She addressed the voice.
 “Yes?”
“Play ma Atmospheric Re-entry Playlist.”
 “Playing songs from “Oh god, oh god, we’re all going to die,”.”
There was a brief pause, then a new voice sounded over the cockpit speakers.
Hast du etwas Zeit für mich?
Dann singe ich ein Lied für dich
Von neunundneunzig Luftballons
Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont
Denkst du vielleicht grad an mich?

 Outside the cockpit, the Earth filled the entirety of the view. An augmented reality view of her projected course was highlighted in yellow; the target landing site in a lime green. The entire process was automated, with Ai doing all the proverbial heavy lifting. That actually made it worse for Jess,
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:icondarkeangel:DarkeAngel 1 0
Mature content
La Lune :icondarkeangel:DarkeAngel 0 0

Favourites

Alas, poor Joker! I knew him, Robin by tomzoo Alas, poor Joker! I knew him, Robin :icontomzoo:tomzoo 94 6 Venom digital sketches by JoeyVazquez Venom digital sketches :iconjoeyvazquez:JoeyVazquez 405 12 In Our Shadow page 348 by kitfox-crimson In Our Shadow page 348 :iconkitfox-crimson:kitfox-crimson 47 46 ZOE Ardjet by MeganeRid ZOE Ardjet :iconmeganerid:MeganeRid 186 10 Sent by the Gods by Dofresh Sent by the Gods :icondofresh:Dofresh 3,227 169 Sampunzakashita by kskb Sampunzakashita :iconkskb:kskb 250 8 Howls Youth by Orioto Howls Youth :iconorioto:Orioto 313 6 Dream Higher by yuumei Dream Higher :iconyuumei:yuumei 6,114 138 Flying by Gokupo101 Flying :icongokupo101:Gokupo101 309 15 The Wandering Giant by MattDixon The Wandering Giant :iconmattdixon:MattDixon 711 30 In Our Shadow page 289 by kitfox-crimson In Our Shadow page 289 :iconkitfox-crimson:kitfox-crimson 48 45 All I need. Ghost in the Shell fanart by Hellstern All I need. Ghost in the Shell fanart :iconhellstern:Hellstern 3,009 149 In Our Shadow page 278 by kitfox-crimson In Our Shadow page 278 :iconkitfox-crimson:kitfox-crimson 49 52 Ashitaka and the Nightwalker by Gokupo101 Ashitaka and the Nightwalker :icongokupo101:Gokupo101 618 47 Laputa by Gokupo101 Laputa :icongokupo101:Gokupo101 524 45 Airtrams XI Lwow by sanderus Airtrams XI Lwow :iconsanderus:sanderus 624 18

Activity


Hey anyone still watching this thing.

Most of my attention these days is directed to raising my son and working my ass off, and when im not doing either of those, I'm trying to blog, trying to keep my creative juices flowing by writing daily.

from this daily endeavour i have written a bunch of new stories, both for existing series of mine, and some brand new content.
i'm gonna go ahead and bulk upload a bunch of these, and i'll give them their own folders to make it easier to browse. 

Journey: tales about a man and his giant robotic companion.
VIRTUE: stories and images about a clandestine peacekeeping organization.
Winter Solstice: tales about a Russian IS-2 tank and her unusual crew.
Defiance in Obsolesce: an ongoing story about a pilot and his run-down transporter ship.
Fairy Tales: irreverent stories with a fantasy twist. 
Talking Heads: Just people talking. 
and some other stuff in the general literature folder. 

enjoy! 

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 There was nothing in the Steppes of Siberia, that was the point. A large wide open region of grasslands and not much else, once used for trade routes and for Nomadic migration, it had mostly been left untouched by modern civilization and even now was more or less as it was two, three, four hundred years prior. Still. Peaceful. Quiet.

 Until a sonic boom tore through the air, ripping it’s way across the plains in a wave that caused all manner of wildlife to startle and bolt in it’s wake. If there had been people around, they might have cast around furtively for the source of the sound, but they would have been hard pressed to find it, unless they had really good eyesight and were looking almost straight up.

 65 miles above the steppes, the Defiance in Obsolesce came careening into the atmosphere, tearing the air asunder as it hurtled towards the planet at twenty-three times the speed of sound. This was typical for a Lander undergoing re-entry. Everything else that was happening was not.

 Pilot Mac Grayson had been on a routine supply run to Low Earth Station. He had exchanged containers and even left a little ahead of schedule, headed for an easy atmospheric descent profile that would have put him down in the South Pacific, and then a short flight to New South Wales Spaceport. He had inverted the craft so that the heat shield mounted on the “roof” of the Lander would take the brunt of the friction generated by re-entry, which had the added benefit of protecting the container mounted to the belly of the ship. He had tried to fire the retro-thrusters to slow down the craft for a nominal entry profile, when something shorted in the control panel and he lost helm control. The redundant systems had kicked in, and in doing so, shorted out every other system in the cockpit. He eschewed his instinctive reaction to scream bloody murder at his rust-bucket of a ship, and rapidly tried to bring back up his flight computer and navigation. In this he was partly successful, so much as he was able to tell that he was entering the atmosphere at the wrong angle, too fast and he still had no helm control. It was at this point he had panicked, screamed bloody murder at his ship and then rapidly acquainted his mind with the 5 stages of grief.

 It wasn’t until several minutes later when he realized his ship wasn’t tumbling out of control, tearing itself apart in the process that he mentally picked himself back up and tried to get a handle on the situation.

 He discovered that, during the initial phases of re-entry, the drogue parachute had prematurely deployed from the bottom of the container. By some miracle it had not burnt up as the ship hurtled through the atmosphere, and was acting as a stabilizing fin, keeping the Defiance in a stable, albeit far too shallow, dive. It wasn’t going to provide enough drag to slow the ship down enough for a safe landing, and that was assuming he could get some measure of helm control regained, but it bought Mac something very valuable…time.

 He tried a hard reset of the ships systems, but to no avail. He had exactly one set of controls available to him: the primary engine controls. Not much use to him without helm control. Everything else was out. RCS thrusters. VTO/L jets. Communications. Life Support. Long Range Sensors. All dead. All he had were basic flight telemetry: how high he was, how fast he was going, what direction he was traveling in and roughly what position the ship was in. The first dial was unwinding rapidly, the second was stuck rigidly at the top end of its arc. He made some quick calculations in his head. At his current rate of descent and his current heading, he would come down somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, but there wouldn’t be enough of him or his craft left over afterwards to fill a trash can.

 He stared at the row of controls and blank read outs in front of him and sighed.


“Knew I shoulda put this thing in for an overhaul.”


 He tried to rest his head back on his seat, but the buffeting and turbulence of the ship prevented him from doing so. All it would take would be one significantly dense pocket of air in the wrong place and the ship would lose it’s stability and disintegrate into thousands of tiny pieces to be scattered across the land below. And if it didn’t? Well, the ship would plow into the planet at terminal velocity…terminal being the operative word. He supposed he could have abandoned ship once the ship hit atmosphere, but stories he had heard of people trying to bail out at hypersonic speeds (and failing) plagued his mind, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it, despite the messy alternative. He decided he would go down with his ship. Hopefully no one else would get harmed in the process.

He patted the helm gently.


“Sorry I called you all those rude names old girl. You’ve always done me right. I’m sorry I haven’t always been able to do the same for you. If you got anything left in you, I sure could use it right about now.”


 He paused, then gave the helm a quick tug.

Nothing.


“Didn’t think so. Just thought I’d as-.”



Wait.



He thought he just saw… nah, must have been a trick of the light.

No wait, there it was again. Was he going crazy?

 Maybe, but that didn’t change the fact that one status light on his control console was blinking sporadically on and off.


 One RCS thruster was online…barely. He checked the number. Number 8. A nose thruster. Ok, so he had a limited ability to pitch the nose down. That still wouldn’t help him much. Without a way to slow down, it didn’t matter which way the ship was pointed. Up, down, forwards…


 “Backwards.” His eyes widened. Could he? He checked his reading again. The altimeter was still unwinding like a propeller. He had maybe minutes at best.

 He grabbed the pitch and roll stick and pushed it forward. The Number 8 thruster fired once, coughed, and fired again. He checked the position indicator. The ship had barely moved.


“Dammit! What’s going on? It’s like something’s holding this ship…in place…ah dammit.”


 He looked up at the big red handle. He had never, ever, in all his years had to pull the big red handle. He had even written in sharpie next to it “NEVER PULL THIS HANDLE.”, back when he first flown in the Defiance.


“Well. There goes my paycheck.” He sighed and reached up and yanked on the handle. There was an explosive THUMP and the ship shuddered violently. Out the lower cockpit windows he could see the container, now separate from the Lander and getting further away. There was no time for recriminations however. Now that the only thing keeping his ship stable has gone, he was seconds away from losing any control he had gained from the maneuver. Of course, judging by the appearance of the ocean looming larger in the upper windows, it wouldn’t matter for very much longer.

 He pushed on the controls again, urging the nose thruster to work. It responded, firing strong and true for several seconds before coughing and dying. It had been just enough though. The Defiance in Obsolesce was no longer barreling it’s way back-first towards the ocean. It’s number 8 thruster had pitched the nose down just enough so now it was flying stern-first, pointing it’s mighty engines towards the water.


“Come on Baby!” Mac flicked several switches and then rammed the primary throttle as far forward as it would go.


 The Primary Engines ignited with a deafening roar, belching out fire and fury in an inferno that lit up the sky. The Lander was a SSTO craft; a Single Stage To Orbit. That meant its Primary Engines were powerful enough to lift both it and any cargo it was carrying from sea-level into orbit without the need for a booster or carrier aircraft. Even so, to cancel out the incredible inertia the ship had built up in its crash-dive through the atmosphere would possibly require more thrust then the ship was capable of giving.

 The incredible G forces slammed Mac into his seat, but he gripped the controls with the desperation of a man hanging on to the edge of a cliff to prevent himself from falling.


“Come on!”


 The altimeter continued to wind down, though it was getting slower. The airspeed indicator too was dropping, but was it enough?


“Come on!”


 Out of the corner of his eye he could see the surface of the ocean. Too close, too quick!


“PLEASE!!!”


 The engines roar had pitched up to a shrill scream in his ears, pure white noise that reverberated in his chest and head. The altimeter clicked down the last few hundred feet and then…stopped.


Height: 50 feet. Airspeed: zero.


 He blinked. Took a breath. Blinked again. Let out the same breath in what sounded like a short laugh.

 Then the engines flamed out and the Defiance in Obsolesce crashed backwards into the ocean, kicking up a splash that rose dozens of feet into the air and a plume of steam that rose hundreds.

 The ship plunged beneath the waves briefly before, against all common sense, it came bobbing back up to the surface. Despite all evidence to the contrary, the one thing Lander-class ships were really good at was floating.

 He pushed open the top hatch and took a deep breath. The air was a balmy 72 degrees Fahrenheit, and there was not a cloud in the sky, save for the tower of condensation and steam from where the ocean had boiled under the onslaught of Defiance’s main engines at maximum thrust. Mac pulled out the portable SOS beacon from the ship’s emergency kit and activated it, mounting it to the secondary antennae array. He then sat back and laughed from the sheer relief that he and his ship had survived. Lander-class ships were built tough, and even one as old and poorly maintained as the “Defiance” still had a few tricks up her sleeves it seemed. It was going to cost him a small fortune to recover and repair her, but he was so happy just to still be alive that it really didn’t bother him at that moment. He just continued to laugh.


 He did stop laughing a few minutes later, however, when the cargo container he had jettisoned splashed down at terminal velocity a few hundred feet away from him and exploded, the wreckage sinking to the depths like a stone.

*
Terminal
the second tale following my hapless pilot and his poorly maintained transport ship. Pilot has a name now and it seems he's gotten himself into quite a pickle.

This is actually one of my most favourite things I have written in a long time.

Mac Grayson and his ship Defiance in Obsolesce (c) to me. 
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 It was less a building and more a hole in the ground, with some vague semblance of a door and a chimney sticking out of the mound of dirt to give it any indication of being a dwelling.

Nevertheless, it was where the Tavern Wench had said it would be, and he had learned through various experiences that Tavern Wenches generally knew what they were taking about.

The Knight-Errant strode up to the door and planted a hammer sized fist upon it.

It opened almost at once.


“Yes?” A voice, frail with the vissitudes of age, spoke from within.

  “Is this KAFF-KAFF-KARRGH is this the dwellings of Mistress…cow-imm-hey?”

“It’s pronounced Keeva dearie. Don’t stand there like a ninny, yuir letting a draft in. Come in, come in.”


He entered the dwelling, ducking to fit in the cramped space. It was filled with shelves and tables, all covered with ancient texts, scrolls, mysterious artifacts, cauldrons, flasks, vials, and all manner of ephemera. From the low ceiling hung lanterns holding hissing and spitting candles, the only source of light. Interspersed with these were cages with crows, owls, magpies and colourful birds the Knight could not begin to name, all flitting around and calling out sporadically.


Mistress Caoimhe was exactly how you would expect a wise old woman of the mystic arts to look like. Formless grey robes shrouded a stooped elderly lady with a shock of grey stringy hair, squinting up at him in the smoky half light of her residence and work space.


“Aye Good Sir? And whit can I be helping you with today?”

  “I have a KAFF-KAFF-KAFF-WHEEZE… a cough that would shake the devil from his bed, a head pounding like the pits of the damned and a nose that drips like it is being sourced from the Styx itself.”

“Ye have a cold.”

  “Nay good lady; in fact I am sometimes overcome with flushes of heat on occasion, that comes with spells of delirium. I feel I am coming undone at my very seams.”

“Aye. Got just the thing. Somewhere…where did I leave them?”


She shuffled off into the chaos of her hovel, muttering to herself. He stayed where he was for a moment, but felt compelled to follow her.

She squeezed her small frame between two stacks of shelves piled high with various glass jars all containing a body part of some description. He had to side-step his way through, encumbered by his armor. He knocked the shelves once or twice, accidentally dropping a big toe on his head.

The ceiling got lower and lower as they went further into the back. He kept having to duck further down, almost bent double when she stopped in front of a wall of drawers, each about 3 inches square.


“Now then, which draw was it…?” The old lady muttered, pulling open several and then shutting them almost instantly.

“Ah, here we go,” she announced in a sing-song voice, pulling something small and silvery from the draw and holding it up to him.

  “What is it?” He turned it over. Only one side was silver; the other had transparent bubbles that were filled with what looked like pairs of tiny eggs. Six of the pairs were orange, two were a dark green. “Dragons Eggs?”

“Now ye consume one pair of these every third bell from sun’s rise. Take the orange ones during the day; take a green one before ye sleep.”

  “That’s it? No incantation or spell?”

“Whatever floats yuir boat dearie. Try and take them wit water if you can. No alcohol, understand? No wine, no ale, nothing, til after ye feel better.”

  “It will be a trial, but I shall endure-KAFF-KAFF-KAFFFFF.”

“Here dearie, better take one now,” she said, picking a single green pair from the drawer.


He took it from her and fumbled with the transparent sheath.


  “By the Lord almighty, how do you gain access to them?!”


She sighed and pulling his knife from his belt, slit across the back of the bubble, breaking the eggs loose. He held them up to the light, inspecting them.


  “They appear to have some script upon them.” He remarked. “What is a “NyQuil”?”

“Don’chu worry bout that dearie. Here.” She handed him a glass of water that she pulled from a different drawer, a glass that was clearly too big to fit in the drawer and yet…


He swallowed the drugs, then downed the water in a single chug.


“That’ll be three pieces of silver dearie. If you still feel bad after they run out, come back and see me. I might have something a little more potent we could try.”


He paid her and they made their way back to the entrance.


  “My thanks to you Mistress Caohime,” he said, pronouncing her name correctly this time.

“Hope you feel better dearie. Now off to bed with you. Get lots of rest to aid the healing process.”


He bowed and opened the door. There was a young waif standing outside, her hand raised to knock. He stood to one side, gallantly allowing her to come in, and then left, sighting his horse who was dozing by the tree he had tied it to. As he closed the door behind him he could make out the waif’s voice.


 “Mistress Caohime, it’s ‘appened again. I was wondering if you ‘had any more of that “Benadryl”…it worked such wonders last time…”

*
Fairy Tale #3
more nonsense of an anachronistic bent. written under the influence of those marvellous magical beans known to initiates of the mystery as "Nyquil"
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The sound of metal on metal stirred her from her sleep. The alarm had not been raised, so it probably meant one thing.

The Shining Princess of the Radiant Moonlight Kaguya (to give her one of her shorter titles…) rose from her bed and made her way over to the veranda overlooking the inner courtyard. The head of her personal guard hated that she slept in such an exposed room in the castle, but she enjoyed the view in the mornings and would insist. He, in turn, would insist on posting twice the standard amount of guard around her chambers when she did so. One of these moved towards her now, to chastise her, to move her back away into the relative safety of the room, but she waved him away with a dismissive flick of her hand. He hesitated, but obeyed.

Down in the courtyard, her aforementioned Head of Guard was sparring with her Lady-in-Waiting. It was a scene rarely played out even within the walls of her own castle, where women were given equal rank and responsibility to the men, let alone seen anywhere else in all the land, she supposed.

In the bright light of the full moon she could see they were sparring with katanas, and not just training ones made of oak and bamboo, but proper steel weapons with edges honed to the finest point. This was, again, unusual for most samurai.

The katana was Lady Tsunami’s specialty and she definitely had the advantage over Lord Kuroi Tsubasa, who preferred the longer reaching and heavier O-naginata pole weapon. Princess Kaguya noted, however, that neither warrior was using their signature weapons, the sacred blades crafted from the mystical Blood Steel. That was how you could tell this was just a practice fight.

There was a kind of poetry to their moves, an elaborate dance between the two of them. Lord Tsubasa’s movements were slower, more methodical and determined, the Lady Tsunami’s lighter, quicker, almost as if she was floating around her opponent. She was never able to linger long enough in one spot to score a decisive blow, however; Lord Tsubasa was just quick enough and more importantly, that much stronger than her that if he managed to lay a blow on her, it would be the end of the duel.

So it went. The small, delicate but deadly swords-woman darting in and out in graceful yet furtive movements, a micro-satellite caught in the orbit of a gas giant that hardly moved yet was able to parry blow for blow, neither one gaining ground. What had the Dutch visitor called it when he had been witness to this spectacle? Oh yes. An endless waltz of violence, set to an symphony of steel.

A dance which came to an abrupt end when Lady Tsunami came to a sudden halt. Sensing his opportunity, Lord Tsubasa brought his blade slicing through the air, aimed squarely at her exposed neck. When she made no move to block or dodge the attack, Princess Kaguya couldn’t help but scream and turn away.

When she didn’t hear the hissing sound that came with blood rapidly departing the body, followed by the wet thump of the head bouncing off the stones, she turned back to look.

Lord Tsubasa’s blade was less than an inch from Lady Tsunami’s neck, humming softly from the vibrations that occurred with it’s almost instantaneous cessation of inertia.

Her eyes betrayed no fear, no defiance. Just acceptance. Like she had foreknown this to be the outcome of her actions.

Lord Tsubasa’s eyes narrowed. He slowly withdrew the blade from her neck and lowered it to his side. She had not yet sheathed her blade, so neither did he.


“In a real battle, mi’lady,” he spoke, slowly, “that move would have been tantamount to suicide.”


 “With respect, mi’lord,” she replied, coolly, “I think we both know that in a real battle, your blow never would have hit me.”


“So then why-?”


 “A lesson. That sometimes the most powerful attack is knowing when to sheathe your sword.”


They eyed each other momentarily, then, at the same time, bowed to each other with equal depth, and stowed their weapons back in their scabbards.


“A powerful lesson indeed,”


Both samurai whirled around at the sound of the Princesses’ voice, instinctively going down on one knee in the abbreviated bow used on a battlefield.


  “Princess. Forgive my absence from your side,” Lady Tsunami kowtowed. “I had not expected you to wake until the sun’s rise.”

“That might well have been the case, my dear Lady, had not my slumber been disturbed by your duel with my Captain of the Guard. Fortunately he has seen fit to supply me with surplus men to come at my beck and call in your absence.”

  “Princess.” Lord Tsubasa probably caught the sarcasm in Princess Kaguya’s voice, but chose to ignore it.

“It is no matter. I both enjoyed the spectacle of the duel and found much wisdom in the words of Lady Tsunami. May I be so bold as to offer some words of wisdom of my own?”

  “It is your Highnesses’ prerogative to share what she will whenever she sees fit to do so.” Lord Tsubasa replied.

“Much as a stone sharpens the blade, and practice hones the skills to use it, so too does repose sharpen the body and slumber hones the temperament of the spirit that uses it. Especially if that slumber is undisturbed?”

  “Princess,” both samurai responded in unison, their liege’s meaning clear.

“Very good. Good Night.”

  “Good Night Princess.”


Princess Kaguya disappeared back into her room.


  “No rest for me for several hours more I think.” Lord Tsubasa said, pulling the swords from his sash and replacing them with his personal weapons. “I have to oversee the changing of the watch.”

“In that case I will turn myself in.” Lady Tsunami replied. “Knowing when to sleep is almost as strong as knowing when to sheathe your sword.”

  “You have much wisdom to share with us tonight it seems, dear Lady.” Lord Tsubasa smirked. “It was a pity to have ended the duel like that just when I was about to win, however. You are not a sore loser, are you?”

“If believing that is what helps you sleep soundly tonight, dear Lord, then who am I to say otherwise.”


She bowed, although it was shallower than the previous bow she had given him.


“Good Night, Lord Kuroi Tsubasa,”

  “Good Night, Lady Tsunami.”


She turned and left the courtyard, her own weapons glinting in the moonlight like a single drop of blood on an unmarked field of snow.

* * *
Budo
a short story set in the feudal era of Japan. i quite enjoy reading fiction set in this time and place, and thought i would try my hand at it, with a slight fantasy twist. 
Names are hella unoriginal (and not entirely accurate to the time period, if im being honest.)

Tsunami, Tsubasa and Kaguya (C) to me.
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And he said, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair! I want to come up, but I can’t find the stair!”

And she said, “ugh, not tonight love. I just washed my hair.”


* * *


And the Giant said, “Fee Fi Fo Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman!”

And the police said, “That’s nice sir, but could you identify him visually in a line-up? It’s hold up better in court.”


* * *


And the Wolf said, “little pig, little pig, let me come in?”

And the Pig said, “No! Not by the hair of my chinny, chin-chin!”

And the Wolf said, “but I’m doing a special today on triple bladed razors!”

And the pig said, “well shit, I’ll be right down,”


* * *


And Little Red said, “Grandma, what big teeth you got!”

And grandma said, “”what big teeth you have.””


* * *


And the Gingerbread man said, “run, run, as fast as you can! You can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man!”

But the police had motorcycles, and caught him easily.


* * *


And Goldilocks said, “The first porridge was too cold; the second was too hot. But the third one was just right.”

And the website said, “Thank you for your feedback. Please click the link below to download your free coupons.”


* * *


And the Troll said, “who’s that trip-trapping over MY bridge?!”

And the goat said, “Baaa.” Because goats can’t talk. Duh.

*
Fairy Shorts
nonsense. but of the good kind. 
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Hey anyone still watching this thing.

Most of my attention these days is directed to raising my son and working my ass off, and when im not doing either of those, I'm trying to blog, trying to keep my creative juices flowing by writing daily.

from this daily endeavour i have written a bunch of new stories, both for existing series of mine, and some brand new content.
i'm gonna go ahead and bulk upload a bunch of these, and i'll give them their own folders to make it easier to browse. 

Journey: tales about a man and his giant robotic companion.
VIRTUE: stories and images about a clandestine peacekeeping organization.
Winter Solstice: tales about a Russian IS-2 tank and her unusual crew.
Defiance in Obsolesce: an ongoing story about a pilot and his run-down transporter ship.
Fairy Tales: irreverent stories with a fantasy twist. 
Talking Heads: Just people talking. 
and some other stuff in the general literature folder. 

enjoy! 

deviantID

DarkeAngel
who's that guy?
Artist | Varied
i draw comics for shits and giggles. sometimes i draw other things too. i hope you enjoy them.
Interests

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:iconcobrateen:
Cobrateen Featured By Owner Jan 6, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday!
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:icondarkeangel:
DarkeAngel Featured By Owner Jan 7, 2017   General Artist
thanks!
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:iconmeikahidenori:
meikahidenori Featured By Owner Jul 28, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
thankyou for the faves love
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:icondarkeangel:
DarkeAngel Featured By Owner Aug 1, 2016   General Artist
hey, anytime. thank you for plucking on the strings of my childhood. =D
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:iconmeikahidenori:
meikahidenori Featured By Owner Aug 2, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
glad to bring back childhood memories =)
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:iconmeikahidenori:
meikahidenori Featured By Owner May 18, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
thankyou for the faves
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:icondarkeangel:
DarkeAngel Featured By Owner May 18, 2016   General Artist
Ha ha, thank you for rekindling some childhood nostalgia!
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:iconmeikahidenori:
meikahidenori Featured By Owner Jan 5, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY DARKE, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!
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:icondarkeangel:
DarkeAngel Featured By Owner Jan 5, 2015   General Artist
Thanks Meika! here's hoping its a good one!
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:iconmargaretzero:
margaretzero Featured By Owner Oct 6, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Did you get the request?
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