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He turned around. Behind them, the Esplanade bridge had been armoured, along its vertebral column, with a row of concrete blocks anchoring plates of two-metre-tall metal fencing. Across the city steel girder exoskeletons had grown over along selected roads, crusted at intervals with thousand-watt lights. In two days’ time the entire ossified route and the capillaries surrounding it would be closed to traffic, the cartilage hardening and bones fusing, conjoining roads that previously laid criss-cross across the city center into one single-flow, unbroken system. A neonatal presence, unfolding into existence: the ephemeral Marina Bay Street Circuit would be amongst them.
From my WIP for my creative writing class, a massive expansion of this bit of microfiction, based on this story world I posted last year. -
A discovery of surprise!microfiction
I found this, which was apparently scribbled down earlier this year, part of a larger story-world of which I’ve posted bits on my writing blog on Wordpress.
I don’t like this bit I’ve written (naturally) but I think I’m going to rework into something less awkward and clumsily-phrased, while throwing in a few new ideas I’ve had for the past couple of months. I’ve been to the Marina Bay area quite a bit since I wrote this.
“It shouldn’t have been built,” she said, hands in pockets, starting out at the tripartite building with the ark perched precariously on it. “It’s become a nexus. It’s distorting the arch-fabric.”
If you could put an overlay on top of the real world and see in frequencies no mortal eye could see the sight surrounding the ill-fated building would be equal parts horrifying and awe-inspiring. A vortex gaped over it like an open mouth, like a supermassive black hole, a seething, almost-breathing mass of nebulousness made in the mockery of clouds, blacker than ravensblood and night, pierced by flashes of light that resembled stars dying.
Beneath this hellsgate sat a behemoth, perched on the building like a child on a tripodal stool, its massive wings looking like they could blanket the city from tip to tip.
“Could that be her?” he asked. “Horribly transformed and all that.”
“No.” Sylvia shook her head. “If the Guardians council says the MBS gone, she is gone. Whether this thing took her or latched on after she was gone, who knows. But she is gone.” She sighed in a cloud of cigarette smoke. “it’s taken lives already, and it’s not even targeting gamblers. Whatever this thing is, it’s hungry.”
“What is it?”
“Hell if I know.” Sylvia rubbed the bridge of her nose. “God I wish I knew.” -

WIP: Erik x Charles. I SWEAR I MUST BE GENETICALLY INCAPABLE OF DRAWING MICHAEL FASSBENDER’S FACE. It’s like, James McAvoy will take me about five minutes w/out reference and then suddenly I’ll be stuck on Erik for the next two hours because I’ll go “shit the lines look funny” and start editing them and then realise that EVERYTHING IS WRONG and have to erase it all and start ALL OVER AGAIN. Multiple times. /ZETSUBOUSHITA
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This WIP is taking way too long. It was supposed to be a CARTOON and then it turns out I’m actually a natural at drawing James McAvoy without visual reference so I had to go and make everything else look less cartoony and then I kind of forgot how much fun I have when painting skin tones and in conclusion I should really do my art on paper instead of on computer because I TAKE FOREVER TO DO ANYTHING ON COMPUTER.
