“Do you require something of me?” I said, and I felt her heart skip. Suddenly her resolve was restored.
“Yes,” she said, staring at me intensely. “I require a weapon.”
I allowed a long pause before I spoke once more, still working on the piece of metal before me and only occasionally allowing myself to meet eyes with her.
“A weapon,” I said, plainly. “You want a weapon.”
She continued to stare at me and gave a slight, grave nod.
“I have never made one before.” I said. “I do not want to.”
She furrowed her brow and took on an angry expression.
“My family was slaughtered by an invading army,” she said. “I intend to avenge them, but to join the regiment I need a weapon.”
“A noble goal, surely.” I said. “I will think about it.” She did not break her gaze, and I sighed. “Come to me tomorrow.”
She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, and left the smithy without a word. I continued my work as I always did.
She came the next morning, as I asked. I did not speak, but laid a note on the counter for her. I had instructed her to gather the necessary materials- wood from the forests outside the village, water from the river, iron ore from the rocks nearby, and whatever fuel she could find. I told her to spend an entire day gathering each material, and to take at least four times as much as she thought she would need to forge her weapon.
Every morning after she took the note, I awoke to a hefty pile of whatever material she had gathered. When she came to me after bringing the last of it, I gave her further instruction.
“Set aside one fourth of each material. That will be yours. Take what remains, and give it to the village.”
She protested that her own hard work would serve those other than herself, but eventually did as I asked. She spent the next two days giving wood, water, ore, and fuel to whoever in the village needed it, and came to me after that period was over.
“I have made all necessary preparations to begin your weapon,” I said. “But first, you must plant trees in the place of the ones you have felled and help us dig out a new well.”
“That will take me at least two weeks!” she cried out, but I assured her that these tasks were necessary, or I would not lend her my aid. She reluctantly agreed to do what I had asked.
She came back to me two weeks later and asked if we could commence with creating her weapon. I set down my hammer and tongs and sat with her.
“I have one more brief task, but I must ask: Where have you been staying all this time?”
“Well,” she said, with a slight smile. “At first I slept among the tree roots, but when I helped dig the well, the matriarch let me stay with her.”
“Ah,” I said, “You are quite fond of her, then?” The girl nodded.
“One more question as well: What did you feel, as you planted the saplings in the forest?” I asked. The girl thought for a moment, and then spoke.
“I do not know what you mean.”
“That is fine. Here is my final task, then.”
I handed her a vial and instructed her to head out to a field seven miles north of the village, where a battle between the army that had killed her family and the regiment she intended to join had taken place recently. I told her to gather a portion of human blood. She looked at me, mortified, but I said nothing more and she set off.
I had worked quickly to complete the weapon by the time she returned. The weapon took shape, and though I applied as much finesse to it as I would any other piece, it came out twisted and misshapen. It took me a day to make, and never before had I felt so exhausted by a creation. She returned the day afterwards, but she too seemed exhausted; she was covered and bruises and scrapes, her hair was matted, and where once her manner was passionate, now it was deflated. She handed me the filled vial.
“What did you feel, on those bloodied grounds?” I asked. She was silent.
“What did you feel, as you planted the saplings in the forest?” She remained quiet.
“The sound of a life beginning is slight- just at the edge of hearing. But that wondrous sound is turned harsh and grating by violence.”
“Did you hear it?” I asked. I took her hand solemnly, and met her eyes.
“If you are still deaf to it, that is fine. But please, do not turn the music of life into the noise of violence.”
I stayed there, my eyes intently gazing into hers.
“The matriarch spoke with me.” I continued, “She wishes you to be apprenticed to me. You have proven yourself a capable worker. Will you stay?”
She gave me a long stare, and then took the weapon in her hands. She tossed it into the forge.
We watched the weapon become white-hot and soften, losing its edge. I set aside the bellows and let the flames die out on their own, leaving only a shapeless mound of simmering metal behind.
The way you included the tactile aspect of the forge, the weight and texture of metals, people hardly ever includes the tactile sense in writing.
And the appreciation of the craft of smithing, it shows that you really thought and cared here.
Also, the moral was lovely in its sincerity. Not even being nice here, I read the thing and thought that you were reporting it from somewhere until I read it a second time and looked at the beginning of your earlier post.
One thing: "intently gazing" is the phrase that made me think, "wait, did Kex write this himself?". On first read. Dunno why.
looking at this again probably a the jumpers you got there like the white one and the charcoal one w stripes at the bottom would probably be reasonably versatile, i guess so long as the roll neck thing isn't actually part of the jumper
Well, " I was taught that I must dedicate all my senses and thoughts to mastering metalwork, which, my master said, was the key to the continued life of the village. It was my master who taught me to allow the heat and clamor wash over me, and reverberate through me, and how to lay eyes only on the metal but to still see everything around me" is still dang cool.
O Fortune, like the moon you are changeable, ever waxing and waning; hateful life first oppresses and then soothes as fancy takes it; poverty and power it melts them like ice.
Fate – monstrous and empty, you whirling wheel, you are malevolent, well-being is vain and always fades to nothing, shadowed and veiled you plague me too; now through the game I bring my bare back to your villainy.
Fate is against me in health and virtue, driven on and weighted down, always enslaved. So at this hour without delay pluck the vibrating strings; since Fate strikes down the strong man, everyone weep with me!
O Fortune, like the moon you are changeable, ever waxing and waning; hateful life first oppresses and then soothes as fancy takes it; poverty and power it melts them like ice.
Fate – monstrous and empty, you whirling wheel, you are malevolent, well-being is vain and always fades to nothing, shadowed and veiled you plague me too; now through the game I bring my bare back to your villainy.
Fate is against me in health and virtue, driven on and weighted down, always enslaved. So at this hour without delay pluck the vibrating strings; since Fate strikes down the strong man, everyone weep with me!
1. I started attempting to sing this to the tune of O Canada. 2. seeing "ice" made me think of the "very thin ice" meme from Auto-Tune The News.
----
Freddy Fazbear x Lesbears x Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act = Lilly Lesbear Fair Pay Act
syllable followed by no space = sixteenth syllable followed by space or underscore = eighth
march rhythm:
iSAW two DOORS one SHINEDuponbyTHElight_ _ iSAW two DOORS one SHINEDuponbyTHElight_ _ iSAW two DOORS one SHINEDuponbyTHElight_ _ iSAW two DOORS one SHINEDuponbyTHElight_ _
that is an example of bad verbal choreography or whatever the right term is
notice that "the" is not an important word but is on a downbeat
english language pop songs like to do stupid things like these
going along with pushing words onto the music even though they don't fit
O Fortune, like the moon you are changeable, ever waxing and waning; hateful life first oppresses and then soothes as fancy takes it; poverty and power it melts them like ice.
Fate – monstrous and empty, you whirling wheel, you are malevolent, well-being is vain and always fades to nothing, shadowed and veiled you plague me too; now through the game I bring my bare back to your villainy.
Fate is against me in health and virtue, driven on and weighted down, always enslaved. So at this hour without delay pluck the vibrating strings; since Fate strikes down the strong man, everyone weep with me!
Long ago, in a distant land, I, Lucy, the shapeshifting master of evil, unleashed an UNSPEAKABLE football. But, a foolish blockhead warrior, fielding a magic foot, stepped forth to oppose me. Before the final ball was kicked, I tore open a portal in space, and flung the fool into the grass, where my evil is LAW. Now. the fool seeks to return his foot to the football, and undo the future that is VAN PELT!
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
For a second there I thought you were playing Mad Libs
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
This is what I imagine the RMC Roadwhale looks like
(there's a clip on youtube with the actual Simpsons footage on it, but it's shot off of someone's TV. Fuck that, fuck Fox, and fuck Hulu too because I know that's the reason people are forced to do that. They can suck my dick.)
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
Also, if you noticed the emergency lights in the grille and windshield of that truck I posted, you're as big a dork as I am
If I ever get uppity or start complaining about how this place makes me feel about myself, or how things you guys do sometimes make me uncomfortable, just remind me that exmormon.org is a real thing, and I will be put back into perspective.
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
Comments
“Do you require something of me?” I said, and I felt her heart skip. Suddenly her resolve was restored.
“Yes,” she said, staring at me intensely. “I require a weapon.”
I
allowed a long pause before I spoke once more, still working on the
piece of metal before me and only occasionally allowing myself to meet
eyes with her.
“A weapon,” I said, plainly. “You want a weapon.”
She continued to stare at me and gave a slight, grave nod.
“I have never made one before.” I said. “I do not want to.”
She furrowed her brow and took on an angry expression.
“My family was slaughtered by an invading army,” she said. “I intend to avenge them, but to join the regiment I need a weapon.”
“A noble goal, surely.” I said. “I will think about it.” She did not break her gaze, and I sighed. “Come to me tomorrow.”
She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, and left the smithy without a word. I continued my work as I always did.
She
came the next morning, as I asked. I did not speak, but laid a note on
the counter for her. I had instructed her to gather the necessary
materials- wood from the forests outside the village, water from the
river, iron ore from the rocks nearby, and whatever fuel she could find.
I told her to spend an entire day gathering each material, and to take
at least four times as much as she thought she would need to forge her
weapon.
Every
morning after she took the note, I awoke to a hefty pile of whatever
material she had gathered. When she came to me after bringing the last
of it, I gave her further instruction.
“Set aside one fourth of each material. That will be yours. Take what remains, and give it to the village.”
She
protested that her own hard work would serve those other than herself,
but eventually did as I asked. She spent the next two days giving wood,
water, ore, and fuel to whoever in the village needed it, and came to me
after that period was over.
“I
have made all necessary preparations to begin your weapon,” I said.
“But first, you must plant trees in the place of the ones you have
felled and help us dig out a new well.”
“That
will take me at least two weeks!” she cried out, but I assured her that
these tasks were necessary, or I would not lend her my aid. She
reluctantly agreed to do what I had asked.
She
came back to me two weeks later and asked if we could commence with
creating her weapon. I set down my hammer and tongs and sat with her.
“I have one more brief task, but I must ask: Where have you been staying all this time?”
“Well,”
she said, with a slight smile. “At first I slept among the tree roots,
but when I helped dig the well, the matriarch let me stay with her.”
“Ah,” I said, “You are quite fond of her, then?” The girl nodded.
“One
more question as well: What did you feel, as you planted the saplings
in the forest?” I asked. The girl thought for a moment, and then spoke.
“I do not know what you mean.”
“That is fine. Here is my final task, then.”
I handed her a vial and instructed her to head out to a field seven
miles north of the village, where a battle between the army that had
killed her family and the regiment she intended to join had taken place
recently. I told her to gather a portion of human blood. She looked at
me, mortified, but I said nothing more and she set off.
I had worked quickly to complete the weapon by the time she returned.
The weapon took shape, and though I applied as much finesse to it as I
would any other piece, it came out twisted and misshapen. It took me a
day to make, and never before had I felt so exhausted by a creation. She
returned the day afterwards, but she too seemed exhausted; she was
covered and bruises and scrapes, her hair was matted, and where once her
manner was passionate, now it was deflated. She handed me the filled
vial.
“What did you feel, on those bloodied grounds?” I asked. She was silent.
“What did you feel, as you planted the saplings in the forest?” She remained quiet.
“The
sound of a life beginning is slight- just at the edge of hearing. But
that wondrous sound is turned harsh and grating by violence.”
“Did you hear it?” I asked. I took her hand solemnly, and met her eyes.
“If you are still deaf to it, that is fine. But please, do not turn the music of life into the noise of violence.”
I stayed there, my eyes intently gazing into hers.
“The
matriarch spoke with me.” I continued, “She wishes you to be
apprenticed to me. You have proven yourself a capable worker. Will you
stay?”
She gave me a long stare, and then took the weapon in her hands. She tossed it into the forge.
We watched the weapon become white-hot and soften, losing its edge. I
set aside the bellows and let the flames die out on their own, leaving
only a shapeless mound of simmering metal behind.
That was beautiful.
The way you included the tactile aspect of the forge, the weight and texture of metals, people hardly ever includes the tactile sense in writing.
And the appreciation of the craft of smithing, it shows that you really thought and cared here.
Also, the moral was lovely in its sincerity. Not even being nice here, I read the thing and thought that you were reporting it from somewhere until I read it a second time and looked at the beginning of your earlier post.
One thing: "intently gazing" is the phrase that made me think, "wait, did Kex write this himself?". On first read. Dunno why.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Speaking of heavy handed I only recently saw this movie but this is already one of the most important scenes I've ever watched, tbh.
my dad is coming
(*sigh*)
like the moon
you are changeable,
ever waxing
and waning;
hateful life
first oppresses
and then soothes
as fancy takes it;
poverty
and power
it melts them like ice.
Fate – monstrous
and empty,
you whirling wheel,
you are malevolent,
well-being is vain
and always fades to nothing,
shadowed
and veiled
you plague me too;
now through the game
I bring my bare back
to your villainy.
Fate is against me
in health
and virtue,
driven on
and weighted down,
always enslaved.
So at this hour
without delay
pluck the vibrating strings;
since Fate
strikes down the strong man,
everyone weep with me!
https://soundcloud.com/guccistreams/thats-not-me-nightcore-edit
2. seeing "ice" made me think of the "very thin ice" meme from Auto-Tune The News.
----
Freddy Fazbear x Lesbears x Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act = Lilly Lesbear Fair Pay Act
syllable followed by space or underscore = eighth
march rhythm:
iSAW two DOORS one SHINEDuponbyTHElight_ _
iSAW two DOORS one SHINEDuponbyTHElight_ _
iSAW two DOORS one SHINEDuponbyTHElight_ _
iSAW two DOORS one SHINEDuponbyTHElight_ _
that is an example of bad verbal choreography or whatever the right term is
notice that "the" is not an important word but is on a downbeat
english language pop songs like to do stupid things like these
going along with pushing words onto the music even though they don't fit
What did I do wrong.
but Zwei!! is the name of its prequel
but if you invert ! it becomes i
so you need to invert everything else
invert Z => S
invert w => m
invert e => ϑ
invert i => !
ENFORCE CONSISTENCY :-DDDDDDDDDDDD
EXCEPT FOR THE ONES WHO ARE DEAD THAT AREN'T
THAT IS BECAUSE THAT SPACE WOULD BE EXTRANEOUS IF IT WERE NOT STRUCK OUT BUT THE STRUCK OUT TEXT WERE REMOVED
EITHER THAT SPACE OR THE ONE BEFORE WHO WOULD HAVE TO BE STRUCK OUT
CONSERVATION OF CHARACTERS
THOSE THAT DO NOT ARE FUCKERS
I EXPECT CONSISTENCY, NOT HALF-ASS ATTEMPTS TO BE SMART
then again, i never cared about chowder's gender
because gender doesn't matter! [/flamebait]
But it's still fun to contemplate destroying the advertising industry and everything it's spawned, such as clickbait.
START DESIGNING SOME SIMPLER WEBPAGES
YOU OBNOXIOUS FUCKERS
samurai chuck,
yntkt
I wouldn't want my stuff on the internet, either.
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