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Mattie and the beanstalkOnce upon a time, in a little cottage on the contryside, there lived a widow and her daughter, Mattie. They were very very poor. so poor, they only just berely had enough money to Keep Mattie's armor in good condition.... oh yeah, and eat of coarse. all that was left of their farm was one miltank, Named Bessie. So the mother said one day to Mattie "My dearest Mattie, you must go to town and sell Bessie, so that we may eat tonight." to which Mattie Replied "..... Can't we just eat Bessie?" to which Bessie Replied with a loud Moo of disgust. Mattie's mother without another word sent Mattie on her way. "... I'll take that as we're not eating you then. Come on, Bessie!"
They Walked and they walked, until they came across an old man. He wore a cloak with a deep hood, so you could not see his face. "Hold up there lad." He said in a croaky voice. Mattie stopped and glared, although Her helmet obscured this fact. "I'M A GIRL, YOU IDIOT. I HAVE BREASTS." The old man seemed uncomprehending for a
Terrakion RocksThe Dance floor was Crowded. That was for certain. But that's normal for a dance floor. Deep Freeze was Rocking out with herself, Gurdurr was Break dancing, Decitpurr was Slipping Alcohol into the Punch at the far side of the room, Felicity and Tuari Were Dancing together in a slightly romantic way While Stormie... Stormie... Terrakion Slightly shook his head and Reminded himself not to drink the Punch. He Was Sitting in a Chair against the wall, almost in a corner, but not quite. It wasn't the only chair, but his was the only one that was occupied. Everyone else was Dancing, or Shouting a Conversation over the Music. The Current song ended, and a New one started up with a Strong baseline. Terrakion tilted his head ever so slightly. The Music kept building up, Speeding up, Faster and Faster. Higher pitched too. Was that Really a Guitar? All of a sudden, someone started singing, although it was obvious she Used some sort of computer to even her pitch.
"The Basement scene is dark and
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More