wolfrug
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    anime, cyberpunk, DB4RZ, DB4RZ style painting, NeoPigma, in the style of cksc, “What’s wrong?” He asked after her sobs had subsided. Instead of answering, she squeezed him again, almost desperately. He waited for a little while longer, until her grip loosened and she could finally lean back. In the dark, he couldn’t see how red or puffy her face was, but he could see the wetness reflecting the pale moonlight. “Can I come sleep next to you again? Even though we don’t…” She trailed off, perhaps because she couldn’t get anything else out. “Of course. ” What else could he say? “Okay. In a moment. ” “Sure. ” She leaned against the wall, her head against his shoulder. He waited for a bit, and then when she pulled up her knees he brought his blanket around the both of them. He wondered if the Gods up in the City ever looked down on the Earth, and if they did, what they thought

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    What is known is that of all the gods, only two remained. One was the Willow God, who so loved the animals of Tersa he gave up his name and voice to become one with the Willows, and through them gift the animals of Tersa their etmen through the waters of wisdom that flow through the willow tree’s roots. The other was the Moon Goddess, Louksna. Louksna the Dark Crescent, the Deceiver, the False Beacon. Louksna who is to blame for all the evil that happened after the Gods left. To speak of Louksna among the last enclaves of civilization in Tersa is to invite yourself to be hanged by the neck until death. To wear her symbols or to frequent her shrines marks you as one of her cultists, opposed in every way to the will of the Gods. A digital painting in the style of ck-js,
    Mel sighed through her lips. Arian was uncertain if it was a tired, an exasperated or an angry sigh. Despite sharing one body, they did not share one body language. “It's only fair. They would want it. They do want it. That is why they come, that is why they allow us to...wield them.” “Want it for what?” “A weapon.” Mel said bluntly. Arian was quiet. There were many things she did not understand. She did not fully understand who, or what, Mel was. She did not fully understand their quest, despite Mel's attempts to explain it. She did trust in her, explicitly, but she also felt there were areas she could not venture. Things she could not ask. Normally, the two inhabiting the same space was casual and comforting. She hated the thought of being alone, of being left alone. Sharing everything in a wordless manner was often enough. Sometimes she was even uncertain if the smile on her face was hers or Mel's, the laughter on her lips coalescing with hers. They were one, sometimes. But sometimes, they were not.
    A computer. A recording. Not a person. You slow down your breathing, close your eyes and attempt understanding. You can't. You can't: she is stating numbers, and words like anthropometric examination results, audiometry test, cardiovascular check, de-vitrification process. You don' know what they mean. This brings about another emotion: despair. A flash of understanding, despite everything: you are trapped inside some kind of metal tomb, with nothing but a blue light and a recorded voice speaking nonsense for company. This is not where you are supposed to be, this is not right. You are not supposed to be here. The absolute certainty of this weighs down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. You sit stock still, the same thought bouncing around the void of your consciousness. The voice goes quiet. The light grows dimmer, slowly, almost imperceptibly. You blink into the descending darkness, still holding on to the plastic edges of your tub. You are not where you are supposed to be. You feel your muscles shake, at first subtly, then with increased force. Holding on is all you can do. Breathing is all you can do. You close your eyes again and try again, grabbing on to this tiny sliver of understanding. You are not where you are supposed to be. You must get out. If you do not get out, you will die. Then it hits you – the reason understanding will not come. You open your eyes again, gasping. Who am I?
    a scientist is floating inside a ((bubble)) over the serene landscape of an alien planet, during midday. she is recording what she is seeing (alien plants, alien grass, alien trees) on a screen that is lighting up her face. she is beautiful, and the world is beautiful, and empty cozy ambient lighting, a masterpiece, award winning, DB4RZ, DB4RZ style painting, NeoPigma, in the style of cksc, anime, cyberpunk,
    Lo; the bone clocks. Every living thing around her turning inside out. “Our bones.” She gibbered. “They’re dying.” Clocks and wheels, gyrating into themselves as time squeezed harder and harder. Ticking and rolling, towards the Watcher. The Bone Watcher, with his bony hands, and his bony scythe. Lauren, post-fact, decided shrooms were not her thing.
    a massive world-shaper, a terraforming engine the size of a planet, has been covered in grass and greenery. a drone crawls on top of a hill that is actually a machine, the innards of the machine, rusted and useless, showing between moss and lichen. everything looks natural at the surface, but just below is a vast mechanism, just out of sight. in the andalusian hills.
    anime, cyberpunk, DB4RZ, DB4RZ style painting, NeoPigma, in the style of cksc, “What’s wrong?” He asked after her sobs had subsided. Instead of answering, she squeezed him again, almost desperately. He waited for a little while longer, until her grip loosened and she could finally lean back. In the dark, he couldn’t see how red or puffy her face was, but he could see the wetness reflecting the pale moonlight. “Can I come sleep next to you again? Even though we don’t…” She trailed off, perhaps because she couldn’t get anything else out. “Of course.” What else could he say? “Okay. In a moment.” “Sure.” She leaned against the wall, her head against his shoulder. He waited for a bit, and then when she pulled up her knees he brought his blanket around the both of them. He wondered if the Gods up in the City ever looked down on the Earth, and if they did, what they thought.
    Illuminated manuscript illustration of a knight badger fighting a monster
    The gods of bounds, Who sets to seas a shore, Came to me in his fatal rounds, And said: 'No more! No farther shoot Thy broad ambitious branches, and thy root. Fancy departs: no more invent; Contract thy firmament
    zydInk “Come on. Play me something else.” She said when he finally finished. “Try me. I know all the lyrics to everything.” He very nearly did – that would’ve been perfect. Just spend the evening jamming out songs, drinking tea, maybe ordering some takeout…but as accidentally romantic as the whole scenario had turned out, he had taken her here for another reason. He put the guitar down. Her disappointed expression almost made him back out, and perhaps in a weaker moment he would’ve. “Sorry. I got carried away. This wasn’t my plan for tonight.” She looked around at the candles, the tea, then raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Well plan successfully derailed, as far as I’m concerned. If this is your accidental game, I’d hate to see what happens when you actually plan it.”
    Lo; the bone clocks. Every living thing around her turning inside out. “Our bones.” She gibbered. “They’re dying.” Clocks and wheels, gyrating into themselves as time squeezed harder and harder. Ticking and rolling, towards the Watcher. The Bone Watcher, with his bony hands, and his bony scythe. Lauren, post-fact, decided shrooms were not her thing.
    a photograph of eiza de armas, closeup, mirror selfie. posing. wearing a brown cardigan and thigh-high boots.<lora:flux_realism_lora>
    a monster that combines a werewolf and a kraken, with tentacles growing out of its back, towers over a valiant warrior wearing greek-style sandals, a flowing robe, and wielding a big round shield and a sword. diadem, blonde flowing hair, on top of a seaside cliff, dramatic light, stormy skies, sun rays, just before the battle, illustrated anime style,
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