Inktober 2024 (and Sundry Variations Thereof)

[Ranger Hal]

4 hours ago, Everstorm said:

There are a few that are repetitive imo

You did a good job making Trek and Hike not repetitive, though!

[Artemis Prime]

On 9/30/2024 at 11:05 AM, Artemis Prime said:

Do I need to do the prompts in order?

Absolutely not! In fact, you don't even have to use the prompts at all if you don't want to. They're just there to give you a springboard if you need one.

 

Repeating this because there is a rather widely expressed sentiment (including by myself) that in totality the prompts this year are a bit lackluster. Feel free to springboard off in whatever direction calls to you!

But for those who like the idea of a prompt but don't care for these ones, I think when I get home tonight I will bust out my set of Rory's Story Cubes and use that to generate some alternative prompts for us.

[Everstorm]

#9 Sun

 

 

I kind of loved drawing this one.

[obax]

53 minutes ago, Everstorm said:

#9 Sun

 

 

I kind of loved drawing this one.

 

Oh wow, this is beautiful. Such serenity and warmth, I love it

[obax]

October 9 - Sun

 

I've been needing to do a bit of world building for my main WIP, and this was a perfect opportunity. I've yet to give it much dedicated thought, but this is a good place to start.

 

Spoiler

A land untouched. Yrin stood at its centre, gazing out across the inky black sand, undulating gently in all directions. A fine place for a people, not yet born.

 

“It’s so harsh.” Ceren brushed Yrin’s shoulder with the soft skin of her hand and came to stand beside them. “They will not be like us. They will die here.”

 

Yrin smiled. “Perhaps. But I will be here with them. Not like you, sister. Not like our brother. Not like our mother.” Ceren frowned but made no reply. She had made her thoughts more than clear, and Yrin would not change their mind. It had driven Orn away. Ceren had always been the understanding one, the peaceful one. Yrin took her hand. “It will be well, sister. They will know my love, they will know my power. I will not abandon them.”

 

Ceren’s smile was sad, wise, knowing. “You will,” she said softly, and brushed a stray lock of hair from Yrin’s face. “They will break your heart, it can be no other way.”

 

Yrin took up a handful of sand, burning hot in their mother’s gaze. “Perhaps. My heart is strong and I will offer it up freely.”

 

“It can be no other way.” Ceren kissed Yrin’s forehead. “Be well, sibling, and know you will be welcome in our halls, no matter what Orn has to say.” And then she was gone, swirling across the sand on the breeze, rising up to pass beyond the Shroud.

 

Ceren had carved her children from stone, Orn had shaped his from river clay. Here there was only sand, dry and shifting, and Yrin would make their children as they themselves had been made.. They took their mother’s knife from inside their robes and plunged the blade down through their hand. A warmth spread through their pale flesh, a sharp stab of pain. Is this what their mother had felt? The blood welled up into the sand they held, dripped down onto the sand at their feet, and they pulled the blade free. Around them, a breeze swirled, shifting the sand on which they stood. Above, a mighty bird soared. In the shadow of their outstretched hand, a heart began to beat.

 

[Artemis Prime]

13 hours ago, Everstorm said:

I kind of loved drawing this one.

I kind of love looking at this one. I can almost feel the sun, which is nice on a very chilly day over here in my stomping grounds.

[Artemis Prime]

12 hours ago, obax said:

I've been needing to do a bit of world building for my main WIP

If that's your teaser, I would definitely keep reading!

[Everstorm]

#10 Nomadic

[obax]

12 hours ago, Artemis Prime said:

If that's your teaser, I would definitely keep reading!

 

They're the background, at the moment. I'm currently debating a rather grandiose idea of a story woven from a few different in-world threads, but the whole idea is not yet fully formed. The story of the gods (which the three named characters are) would be one of those, though I never intended to make them characters with their own POVs like I did here, that kinda just happened by accident. But is probably helpful for me to figure them out as more than just concepts, which will naturally lead to their background stories. I'm currently a bit stuck on whether I want to give serious thought and effort to expanding or try to stay focused on just the main character, but this background stuff needs developing regardless for my intended ending to make sense.

 

(If you're at all interested, I'm always happy to share my work. It's my nature to get ahead of myself so I'm always itching for feedback even though I'm nowhere near finishing the damn thing...)

[Everstorm]

12 hours ago, obax said:

But is probably helpful for me to figure them out as more than just concepts, which will naturally lead to their background stories

 

I agree, writing some short scenes helps you get a better grasp on their characters.  I love your writing!

[Everstorm]

#11 Snacks ?

 

[obax]

11 hours ago, Everstorm said:

#11 Snacks ?

 

 

I didn't immediately recognized the bee, and on first glance I thought it looked a bit like an iris flower, and irises are poisonous, and was very confused how that was a snack.... Made much more sense upon looking closer.

[obax]

10 - Nomadic

 

I'm more behind than I realized, but only some of the words are speaking to me, and some is better than none.

 

This one kind of came out of nowhere, the only thing I had when I started was the first two sentences a no real idea of where they would lead. But here we are!

 

Spoiler

We are a people of the land. By choice, but not one made by us. They came with their might and their swords and their walls and told us we were wrong. And so we took our herds and set out for the horizon where we knew they could not follow. 

 

You might say that was our choice, that we could have stayed to fight for the place that was once our home. Perhaps you are right, but we saw them coming. We heard the tales of those who planted their wooden stakes and refused to bend the knee, and that was no choice for us. They could have chosen to be content with what they had and we would not have had to choose at all. Here, where the sky rivals the land in its vastness and the grass undulates like waves in an ocean I’ll likely never see, here we may choose. And I choose to follow our herds to the horizon and beyond, to lay down no roots, to sink nothing but tent poles into the earth and to pull them up again when the sun crests over the edge of the world.

 

Perhaps one day we will go home. Walls fall, swords rust, might fades away into the mists of time. Where will we be, then? What will we choose? I would not wish to settle amongst their leavings, I have found my home in this impermanence, but I will not fault those who do. We shall share the memory of the choice made for us, and the choices we made for ourselves, and know that bond will hold true.

 

[obax]

11 - Snacks

 

This is a continuation of 1 - Dreams from 2023 (if you wish to read part 1, see here - bit of NSFW language).

 

Spoiler

I’ve made the mistake of introducing this thing to the concept of snacks. In my defense, I’d only had a couple sips of coffee and definitely did not think it through. Not that I could have, really, he’s no less impossible crouched over a sleeve of crackers on my kitchen counter, crumbs flying, than he was perched on my dresser like a scarecrow.

 

 I’ve discovered where he keeps its mouth, at least: in his chest, which is doing even less for his creepiness than everything else, and honestly I have no idea how I’m still this calm. Sipping coffee, leaned against the door frame out of range of the cracker fallout, idly wondering what I’ll do if this thing wants more because that’s the last of my crackers. Yoghurt, maybe? Ice cream? Maybe it’s because Pequod seems unperturbed, watching him from her habitual spot on the sideboard, ears perked with curiosity, tail twitching, purring lightly. And somehow less judgy of my dream-made-real than she is of me and my knife skills, which should probably be more insulting than it is but my brain’s still got a lot of catching up to do. I’m sure I’ll get there eventually.

 

Snacks! He turns, eyes sparkling and fur poofed with what I’m coming to understand is amusement or happiness or joy; something positive at least. A pale pink tongue, smooth like a dog’s, flits out of his chest to smooth back the fur and snag the crumbs stuck there. I like snacks!

 

“Don’t we all.” 

 

He blinks out of existence and appears beside Pequod, and for a moment I have this horrible image of him shoving her into his chest-mouth like someone shoving a log into a woodstove, but all he does is touch the white spot between her ears. She closes her eyes and leans in and there’s this little spark of golden light and now I’ve got two voices in my head instead of one. 

 

Daniel. I understand this must be difficult for you, but I would like you to know that there is a dearth of kibbles in my bowl. In deference to this strange happenstance I have chosen not to yowl like a banshee, for now, but should you continue to neglect your duties I fear I may have no choice.

 

Pequod’s voice is considerably more erudite than I would’ve expected, I’ve seen her chase her own tail and hiss at herself when she catches it, confused where the teeth came from. I’ve seen her utterly confounded by the birds outside, unable to conceive of a reason why they were not materializing through the glass and into her mouth. I’ve seen her roll right off the bed in pursuit of a fleece octopus laced with catnip. That she speaks like a Victorian professor should be entirely too much for me, but instead of panicking, which I probably should have done some time ago, I just set down my coffee and take the kibble from the cupboard. “Of course, so sorry, it’s been a bit of a morning.”

The dream thing meets my eye, poofing up even more. We all like snacks!

 

[Everstorm]

5 hours ago, obax said:

I'm more behind than I realized, but only some of the words are speaking to me, and some is better than none.

 

Same on both counts.

 

#12 Remote

 

Hard to get more remote than a mountaintop monastery

[Artemis Prime]

Whelp, chilly rainy day, plans for outside work busted, so might as well catch up here, right?

 

#8 - Hike

It's gran to glide smoothly along my bike

Or sail cross a lake born aloft like a shrike

But I best may be found

With my feet on the ground

I am most myself on a steep, wooded hike.

 

#9 - Sun

There are mountains to climb and races to run

Battles to be fought and hopefully won

But not all today,

There is still time to lay

Basking like a cat in the rays of the sun.

 

#10 - Nomadic

'Tis fine to have a green, well-fenced paddock

To abhor the chaotic and sporadic

But that life is not mine

For I think it fine

To be fancy-free and nomadic.

 

#11 - Snacks

With well-worn in boots and well-laden packs

We set off on our journey, hoping nothing lacks

I don't need a tent

I will be quite content

As long as my pack contains plenty of snacks.

 

#12 - Remote

First, down to the shore and onto a boat

Then across uncharted waters you float

Till at last you reach

A long, lonely beach

For solitude, you cannot get more remote.

 

#13 - Horizon

A skyline broken by a herd of bison

Behind them, jagged teeth, mountains uprising

It calls me to go

For I long to know

What is hiding beyond the horizon.

 

#14 - Roam

I am so very far from my home

Across miles of sea waves and foam.

But it is that sure base

That allows me to chase

Adventure as cross continents I roam.

[Artemis Prime]

Later than anticipated, but here are the promised alternate prompts courtesy of Rory's Story Cubes:

 

Eye

Mask

Alien

Tower

Fountain

Beetle

Cat

Abacus 

 

I'll do a reroll next week, so feel free to use all or none or any combo of these and the original prompts for this week.

[Everstorm]

6 hours ago, Artemis Prime said:

13 - Horizon

A skyline broken by a herd of bison

Behind them, jagged teeth, mountains uprising

It calls me to go

For I long to know

What is hiding beyond the horizon.

?

[Everstorm]

#14 Roam

 

[Everstorm]

#16 Grungy

 

Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes don't see as well, and you get loose in the joints and very shabby.  But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real, you can't be ugly except to people who don't understand.  -- The Velveteen Rabbit

 

 

[obax]

On 10/16/2024 at 8:06 PM, Everstorm said:

#16 Grungy

 

Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes don't see as well, and you get loose in the joints and very shabby.  But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real, you can't be ugly except to people who don't understand.  -- The Velveteen Rabbit

 

 

 

This one warmed my heart. I've still got a couple stuffies from my childhood to which the quote would apply, and thinking about them has given me the warm fuzzies.

[Artemis Prime]

On 10/16/2024 at 8:06 PM, Everstorm said:

#16 Grungy

 

Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes don't see as well, and you get loose in the joints and very shabby.  But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real, you can't be ugly except to people who don't understand.  -- The Velveteen Rabbit

 

 

? That story destroys me every time!

?

Excellently done, though, you really captured the slouchy, loved to pieces, feel of an old stuffed animal.

[obax]

17 - Journal

 

Another continuation, this time of 2 -Spiders from 2023 (read it here, contains some cussin'). This one references the Spiders one a couple of times, but it isn't strictly necessary to read it for this to make sense. This one also has some cussin', but not as much.

 

Spoiler

It’s been a slog and Soren is tired. He pulls his foot out of the mud with a slurp and settles himself on a fallen tree. The wood is wet and sags beneath him, but doesn’t send him tumbling. The first bit of good luck he’s had in a while. He sighs and pulls off his boots, dumps out two feet-fulls of murky water. He’s never taking a job from a wizard again. Four times is four times too many, and this time he’s truly learned his lesson. Not even platinum is shiny enough, not any more. That hat though. There must be some kind of charm in the sparkles or something. He’ll have to make sure not to look next time.

 

“Soren?” Jace’s voice, muffled through the tangle of vines and dead branches blanketing the swamp. “Where’d you go? I can’t – ow, godsdamnit! I can’t see your trail!”

 

“You’re almost there. Look for the mud pit, I’m on the other side.”

 

Jace emerges from the mist, his normally gleaming white and silver surcoat now brown and sodden, just like the rest of this godsforsaken place. Soren watches him struggle for a moment, bogged down by all that metal, then heaves himself to his feet to extend a hand, pulling him up and out. He comes suddenly, as if the swamp is reluctant to give up its new friend but just can’t hold on, and they both tumble back into the embrace of more vines, their thorns sharp and clinging.

 

Jace wiggles free, tearing his surcoat but the thorns can get much purchase on his armor. Soren lets himself hang in this new hammock and considers making it his resting place. It’s warmer than the cave, at least. The centipedes were definitely worse than the spiders, however, and he kind of hates the idea of being damp for eternity. “Help me up,” he says, waggling a hand in Jace’s direction. 

 

Jace pulls and they almost go flying again, back into the mud. That really would’ve been the last straw, but Soren manages to catch himself, to steady Jace. Just a few more hours. Eglington’s camp should be around here somewhere.

 

As if summoned by the thought, Eglington appears in a flash of purple light, “Ah! My friends! You’ve made it.” He leans in and gestures towards the edge of the mud pit. “Alarm spell, you see. I’ve been most eager for your return.”

 

Soren raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Jace’s face lights up like a child who’s just had a coin pulled from behind his ear, and though it irks him, Soren can’t help but smile, just a little. The kid’s enthusiastic, if nothing else, and if he’s being honest, made this one just a little less terrible. Soren steps forward, swinging his satchel around in front of him, pulls out the bundle of old canvas. “Didn’t open it, like you said.”

 

Eglington’s hands are shaking when he takes it, and Soren starts to think he maybe should’ve asked for more platinum. What in the hells could be in a dusty old book like that that was so important? He had opened it, and it was just an old journal, some long forgotten enchanter or something, he’d only skimmed it. Jace read it more closely but didn’t say much more. Eglington unwraps the canvas and opens the cover, flips a few pages. “What is this?” He looks up, frowning. “There’s nothing here, the pages are blank.”

 

Soren frowns too, but has no idea what to say that won’t give away that they’d opened it. And then Eglington’s gaze shifts, focusing over Soren’s shoulder, and his eyes go wide, the book slipping from his hands to land with a soggy thwack. “By Pela herself, you read it didn’t you?”

 

“Uh.” But then the gloomy light begins to dim even more around them, and Eglington is weaving his fingers in and out, lips twitching as he mutters under his breath, eyes going wider, and a heavy hand lands on Soren’s shoulder.

 

“Soren, is it?” It’s Jace’s voice, but not only his voice, it’s laced with another, deeper, resonant, ethereal, and Soren is too afraid to even reach for his swords. “You really should have stopped at three.”