Allen1996

Demiurge: Percy V A.K.A in the skate park

The world had ended, or at least it is what it felt, what it seems with the dark rumbling skies above hiding the brightness of the sun, with the sound of the ocean, the seas and the likes seemingly angrily raging at everything not a part of them, with the sight of cratered Earth, of broken asphalt, abandoned cars and broken looted stores, bloated and contradictorily dehydrated corpses littering the neighbourhood they had chosen at some sort of pit stop.

Soon, they would leave.

Soo...

Guess who’s alive?!

(I’m talking about me in case someone miss the joke.)

I wanted to thank you all for the support, the well wishes and the like.

Right now, I'm mostly sleeping or wrestling with post-surgery brain fog. I only have about 1-2 hours of coherent time per day, but it's getting better.

The goal is to post at least twice this week. Starting next week, my writing schedule should slowly return to normal.

Thanks again and I’ll see y’all a next time.

Walking elegy( tensura/Marvel self insert): chapter 12: Wake up to reality

This is the last chapter I'll probably post until end of November/beginning of December. Thanks again for all your support and the well wishes. Now, I am going to post this and going to sleep because I honestly should have been since a long time

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Humanity is a forge where we hammer our regrets into new shapes.

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Walking elegy: chapter 11: Live for those who can not

Loss has a taste. It is the coppery tang of blood on the tongue, the acrid ash of incinerated hope, and the sterile, empty flavor of absolute defeat.

It is the taste of the dirt I was currently lying in, my face pressed against the cold, churned earth of a battlefield we had so decisively lost.

My body was a cathedral of pain.

Every stone and spire of it ached, a symphony of broken things conducted by the fist of a True Dragon.

I could not feel the touch of the ...

Walking elegy( Tensura/Marvel self insert): chapter 10: Velgrynd

Fighting against Velgrynd felt like fighting against the world itself. It felt like fighting endless crushing mountains, world-swallowing blazes, hatred and disdain and arrogance shaped in an idea of domination and violence.

Fighting against Velgrynd felt like fighting the inevitable, the kind telling you you’ve already lost, that you were the mangy thing the world had decided to bet against.

Still, I fought because was there anything else to be done other than that? Anyt...

Walking elegy (Tensura/Marvel self insert): chapter9 : Respite

Humanity is a seed of hope planted in salted earth, stubbornly sprouting only to be devoured by the worms it nourishes.

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The respite was a hollow thing. We had held the Nexus, but at a cost that would have bankrupted a lesser nation.

Our forces were pulled back to the fortified city of Runeguard, one of the last major dwarven strongholds before the heartlands of Tempest itself.<...

Walking elegy( Tensura/marvel self insert): chapter 8: One life against Many

Humanity is a chorus of lies, sung in perfect harmony to drown out the sound of a single, screaming truth.

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The Sky-Spire Nexus was not a place of stone and metal, but of crystallized light and captured thunderstorms. A forest of floating obelisks hummed with power, channeling the leylines of the world to power Dwarven shield-domes and communication arrays.

It was also a deathtrap....

Rwby one shot: I have no mouth and I must scream

She flew under blinding lights and between buildings of glass and steel as bright as the moon. The wind clawed at her cloak, tugging at every stitch like eager fingers. Arcadia sprawled beneath her: a radiant maze, its towers silvered and polished until they looked soaked in moonlight. Every shining wall reflected the banners, advertisements, and neon symbols rising like little suns along the avenues.

Below, she heard them laugh.

They lived with smiles on their faces.

Happy,...

People familiar with dices, quests and the likes. Can y’all hit me up in private messaging? Not sure there is still time but there was an idea I had in mind for tomorrow/today/before Saturday

What the title said

Commission: Dealing with family bullshit as a divine smith with cheats in my second life (Pjo/Greek mythology self-insert into Hephaestus with the Ourobos CYOA and paths' power from Honkai Star Rails): Chapter 1: Mother dearest

All those philosophers, poets, and priests who waxed lyrical about death being the final rest were spewing straight bullshit.

Rest in peace, they said. Rest in peace. What a joke. What a cosmic, universal, multiversal fucking joke and the worst was that it was not even a good one because at least, I could have laughed or something, had it been funny.

Nah, instead, I had to deal with the Olympians and mortals who thought they were the shit when their asses were literally full of it...

Walking elegy: chapter 7: a lizard called Kael

Humanity is a promise whispered to the future, a letter sent to a day we will never see.

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I found Kael not on the training grounds, but in the small, hydroponic grove we maintained deep under Sunegard, where the air was thick with the smell of damp earth and growing things. He was off-duty, his scaled form crouched before a particular plant, a broad-leafed fern native to the Tempest s...

Heart surgery is Saturday and thus, it is more than likely that the patreon will kinda be slow in the two following weeks, one week if I’m that good according to what I was told. Just wanted to say it because like one comment rightfully said, I should at least have the decency to warn y’all. Also, can any of you familiar with lives (writing), dices rolls and quest send me a private message? I got an idea for Friday

What the title said

Rage against the heavens: chapter 33: Please, don’t make me angry Mr. Rodarch

The television was turned on.

A smooth, confident voice carried through the half-destroyed office like it owned the place.

“…with the latest polling out of Los Angeles County, it seems all but certain that Darin Rodarch will secure the mayoral seat. His campaign promises of economic revitalization, infrastructural repairs, and a return of public confidence after last summer’s unrest have resonated with voters. Most analysts say his lead is strong enough that, barring a polit...

Alter (RWBY/Fate cross with Jaune as Jeanne alter demi servant): chapter 3: colour of the soul

Good news, Jaune Arc hadn’t gone crazy.

Bad news, he, Jaune Arc, hadn’t gone crazy.

That was the problem. That was the part that made his stomach twist and his heart feel like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed. If he had lost his mind, if everything was just some delusion painted across the inside of his skull, he could blame it on madness. Madness was clean. Madness was explainable. Madness was a diagnosis. But he wasn’t mad. The fact that he had been able to ...

Walking elegy (tensura/marvel self insert): chapter 6: the elf who hated nature

Humanity is but nature wrongs, shaped and yearning for the love of a mother through violence and cruelty

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“I never loved nature.”

Normally, such words would have barely brought my attention to the person who had uttered them, especially with the low dose of Stillness I was still running on.

Normally, it would have been the case, but it was not so here. I mean, an elf s...

Walking elegy (tensura/marvel self insert): Chapter 5: Stillness and collateral

Humanity is a beautiful, rotting fruit. Its skin gleams with the promise of sweetness, but bite deep, and you will find only the squirming truth within.

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The regret-inhibitor was a cool, blue stone against my palm, a river-smoothed pebble of my own creation. I called it Stillness.

It was not a drug, not really. It was a concept given physical form, a tiny thing that whispered a ...

Walking elegy (tensura/marvel self insert): chapter 4: Of dolls and cruelty

Humanity is but debasement, debasement of the self and the other in the worships of the lying gods called reason and emotion

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The problem with concluding that war was a symphony was that it implied a composer. A grand and terrible design, a conductor guiding the crescendo and the fall. It suggested that if you could just step back far enough, you would see the pattern, the beau...

Walking elegy (tensura/marvel): chapter 3: Corpses, humanity and the lesser evil

Some would say such but I think that it would be of the utmost arrogance to say the world below was painted in a palette of rot.

Arrogance implied a choice, an artist’s deliberate hand and what was before me was not art. This was the world peeled back to its fundamental, putrid truth, an unwanted lesson in anatomy, one written in the decaying flesh of tens of thousands.

The air itself had congealed into a thick, cloying syrup of death. It had a physical weight that made each bre...

Commission: walking elegy( Tensura/marvel self insert): chapter 2: the slime and the dragon

Rimuru Tempest regretted his death. This was, what many would consider a perfectly reasonable response to being stabbed. This was a considerable truth he held in the core of his slime-being.

Satoru Mikami was gone. The 37-year-old virgin, the corporate drone, the man who had lived a life of quiet, unremarkable comfort—he was a closed book. The final act of that story, however, was one Rimuru could look back on without a flicker of remorse. Pushing his junior, Tamura, out of the path o...

Commission: Tensura/marvel crossover: Walking elegy: Chapter I: a blue beginning

I always held particular feelings regarding the color blue.

Blue was the color of a freedom so vast it became meaningless. It was the hue of a horizon that promised everything and therefore nothing, a canvas so blank it rejected all attempts at definition. I had always envied it, this thoughtless, boundless liberty. To be so effortlessly infinite, to be looked upon with awe and never with the slow, dawning pity reserved for things that were broken.

My envy was not a clean thin...

Somnium semper remotum: chapter 8: And nothing of value was gained

It would be a comforting, simple lie to say that Sally Jackson had never thought of herself as a woman of poor judgment. This was, despite the considerable and mounting evidence to the contrary, a lie she had never quite allowed herself to believe. To believe it would be to admit that the architecture of her life—a precarious, leaking structure built on the swampy ground of good intentions—was founded on a fundamental flaw in the bedrock of her own character.

So, naturally, she had ...

Somnium semper remotum: chapter 7: That old mate called madness

Madness.

It’s a word we throw around like confetti at a funeral—colorful, meaningless, a distraction from the rot underneath. It’s the guy on the subway preaching apocalypse with spittle on his chin, the woman who waters her plastic plants with religious fervor. We point, we whisper, we feel a thrill of safe superiority. Their reality is a funhouse mirror; ours is polished glass. We’re certain.

We are, of course, idiots.

 Because that’s the amateur league. The...

Rage against the heavens: chapter 32: Selfishness, love and how the both of them are murder but in another name

Humming and the sound of things beings cut, humming and the smell of flowers under a sky tainted, dyed by the golden hour of the day.

From where I stood, at the side of Charlotte Huntington, this place may as well have been paradise itself. It was thus only logical for there to be a snake in the garden even if this one was not a literal one.

“Charlotte, you known I don’t love you, right?”

For a moment there was silence. I wouldn’t call it an awkward one but it wa...

Rage against heaven: chapter 31: For all of us

With how much of a slut Greek gods were depicted as, especially in the PJO books I’d devoured in another life, you would have expected a crowd. A hundred anxious faces, maybe. A convention of the damned and the desirous, all united by the catastrophic choice or cruel chance that had tied them to a god.

Well, the sight before me disproved that fact. There were only six.

Six people scattered around Elias Torrington’s opulent living room. Last time I had come, it had been late an...

Rage against the heavens: ten more minutes

The weight of children is a peculiar thing. It has nothing to do with the solid, comforting heft of a sleeping toddler in your arms, nor the wiry struggle of a child fighting against an early bedtime. No, this weight is metaphysical, a pressure on the soul. They are anchors and kites all at once, tethering you to the raw, bleeding earth while their spirits strain for the heavens. They can be your most profound pride, the living embodiment of every hope you never dared to voice. Or, they can c...

Rage against the heavens: chapter 30: 10 minutes

Sorry for not posting earlier. Another chapter more than 5000 K words should be posted in the following hours like maybe in 2 or 3 hours

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The weight of children is a peculiar thing. It has nothing to do with the solid, comforting heft of a sleeping toddler in your arms, nor the wiry struggle of a child fighting against an early bedtime. No, this weight is metaphysical, a pressure on the soul. They are anchors and kites all at once,...

Slaves obey, men choose: chapter 30: Goodbye, Aegor

Astapor was big, and by big, I didn’t necessarily refer to its size or anything of the like.

No, when I said big, I meant the population. Before the revolt against the Good Masters that ended with them and their families dead, Astapor—from what I had gleaned through magic and confirmed through the scribes—was home to around 500,000 people.

Out of those 500,000 people, you first needed to take into account that most of this number was made up of slaves.

Astapor before t...

Slaves obey, men choose: chapter 29: Phanes, he could not be

The air in the square was thick with a language Viserys Targaryen had never been taught. It was not the tongue of courtiers or the High Valyrian of his blood; it was the crude, honest dialect of making. The rhythmic tap-tap-tap of hammers was its staccato punctuation, the soft hiss of hot metal quenching its sibilant whisper, the low murmur of instruction its tedious prose. He stood before a rough-hewn workbench, a prince marooned on an island of common endeavour, his hands—hands that shoul...

Slaves obey, men choose: chapter 28: Ember and flower prince

The city breathed around him, a living, sleeping beast. “Walk through it,” his nephew had said, his voice still echoing in the caverns of Viserys’s mind. “Walk through them, try to act, be like them. Learn what they will learn tonight, and I promise to give you something I’m sure you’ve always wanted.”

A promise. Viserys’s life had been built on the crumbling foundations of other people’s promises. They were stones given to a drowning man, too heavy to hold him afloat ...

Slaves obey, men choose: chapter 27: forgotten warmth

Sorry for taking so much time, health stuff and the like. I also wasn’t satisfied with the chapters so I rewrote them multiple times. I tried something new with this chapter. Hope y’all will like it. I'll post right now two chapters and if things don't go wrong, I should post two more in the following hours. Sorry again

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Evening had fallen which meant that it was time for what I had planned for the city ...