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Steampunk Fashion: Use of Color Theory and Metals5 months ago in Reviews & Guides

SteampunkThe letter came in with the evening post. It was an invitation to a private party, hosted by Sir and Lady Cotton. Although it was supposed to have been from both of them, I induced that the invitation was actually written only by Lady Cotton. The first clue was apparent when a choking odor of perfume rose from the opened envelope. The body of the letter further betrayed the true author.

Good day to you, Flying Officer Archer,

We recently heard of and would like to congratulate you for your success in the recent campaigns in Borneo. We listened with intent interest to the tales told of your low-altitude flights, aid drops, and combat missioSteampunk5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Steampunk - From Subculture to Mainstream - BAHons7 months ago in Academic Essays

The Trouble with Steampunk ch1Fire. It was all he could see. The flames licked the elegant wallpaper of his beloved home, burning, burning. Tears streamed relentlessly down the cheeks of the young boy as he frantically yelled for his mother, his father, for anyone. He gasped as the thick smoke began to blur his vision, choking him with its poisonous breath. Everything was hazy, his room, the grand hallways, everything but the blaze that consumed greedily. His eyes stung, his lungs burned, but he ran. He ran deeper into the inferno, until he was at the heart of it. There, in the grand midst of the fiery pit, he saw it. It stood elegantly, proudly against the stark flamesThe Trouble with Steampunk ch12 years ago in Sketches

Steampunk Story 1Chapter 1 : The Little Inventor

The day began like pure clockwork as the citizens of New Britonia arose to the morning light. One by one they exited and entered buildings, going to their jobs, schools, churches, and such. Like cogs, the people meshed through the crowded marketplaces and shops. The buildings were lined with copper plating, that would shine gold in the sunlight. A never ending stream of clouds filled the air from the assorted factories and machines, while the mighty airships entered and left the harbor. This city was a true marvel, a beacon to artists and inventors, wealthy and poor, young and old. While this was a Steampunk Story 14 years ago in Science Fiction

SteampunkThis was our decision
To step through the looking glass
And venture into the past
This is our mission
To take our style now
And mix it with the past
To define ourselves
Like never before
This is our mission
To find antiques
And restore them
A resurrection
Fused to our souls
Spliced to our guitars,
Keyboards, and drums
Given new life through us
As part of us
Worn by us
So that we may feel history
But still stay current
This is our definition
The new era of expression
This is Victorian
This is Punk
Ancient meets modern
This...is...Steampunk
P.S.
This poem will now explodeSteampunk4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word

Time Travel Do's and Don'tsDo's and Don'ts of Time Travel
So, you've finally done it. You've scraped together the millions of dollars, dozens of passports, countless vaccinations and hours and hours of anachronistic language classes. The day is at long last here, and you are ready to take that romantic little vacation – through time. Yes, time travel is everything you've been told. You will meet exotic people, doing exotic things in exotic eras. You will get to see the "Good Old Days" when they were better known as "These Wretched Times." But, before you hit the app button on your genius phone, there are a few things you should know:
Time Travel Don'ts
Don't Time Travel Do's and Don'ts2 years ago in Reviews & Guides

The Trouble with Steampunk ch3 Trouble with Steampunk chap3

Commander Jones smirked deviously. Kirkland's ship was plain in view, drifting lazily amongst the clouds. There was no way that the bandit would be able to detect them-not this deep underwater at least. Though Alfred did find it a bit strange that the sky pirate was flying over open waters in the first place; it only made him a perfect target for the navy. Certainly such a clever pirate knew this. He shook his head, shaking off the slight feeling of apprehension. Whatever the reason, this was a golden opportunity that he would not miss. Not even for food.
"Target is spotted, sir!" criThe Trouble with Steampunk ch32 years ago in Sketches

Pygmalion In some distant land there lived a king and his mind. In a time of steam and balloons and the defiance of Gods and Nature alike by Man, his people thrived in unbroken peace, and the king and his mind lived alone in his hall. No sentries guarded its doors, for the king felt safe in his home; no queen sat by him as he ate. Instead, the emptiness was filled with the treasures of the modern day: precious metals and glass moulded into technical tools and toys for his pleasure, and forces driven by sheer physics for that of his mind; a mechanical menagerie of metal lapdogs that barked when callePygmalion2 years ago in Short Stories

SteamPunk City: profile study of a new worldThe ancients who founded Geargrind City had carved the natural crystalline ground into a polished, glassy surface but it was later generations of engineers who had installed the unground clock which was centered at the town hall in the middle of the city and every minute the gargantuan second hand could be seen 6 centimeters under the crystal ground.
Black grease clouds rained clear water and cooled the fiery engines that ran the outpost town. Their world was the size of our Jupiter and entire civilizations grew and died unknown to each other.
Garamond West, a chemist from the post-steam era, made use of helium and bulky steam fan powered blimps to send groups to explore the hard volcanic landscape which held pools of sweet smelling thick sludge which would later be used to fuel gas engines of the future.
Currency was crafted from polished gems that were mined in the volcanic plains. A family or group of fortune seekers sponsored by a&SteamPunk City: profile study of a new world7 months ago in Profiles

Changing GearsMy morning oats taste particularly bland this morning. I look outside the clouded windows and see the city across every inch of my vision. Buildings of all shapes and sizes are formed from copper, brass, and iron. At all times of the day, the city's Gears are churning.

The Gears are the machines that run the city, the country, possibly even the entire world. Metals are formed together to form them, robotic men designed to replace our government. Their voices boom over the industrial noises of the factories and drown seem to drown out all individual conversations. We're free, I suppose, but they all say that there was once a time when freedomChanging Gears9 months ago in Short Stories

The Trouble with Steampunk ch4 The Trouble With Steampunk Chpt 4
England sat perched at the top of the yard, eyes bright, looking down at the lovely spectacle that was set before him. Presently, it seemed as if most movement on board below had stopped completely. He chuckled. That was the sort of effect his crew tended to have on people, especially when they were in combat formation. As they drew nearer to the sub, England did a quick check up on the steam pack that was fastened to his back.

High pressurized steam: check. VThe Trouble with Steampunk ch42 years ago in Short Stories

Schroedinger's Courier2 years ago in Short Stories

My love of steampunk.

Clogs and cogs.
Turning, swirling, ticking.
That ticking, that constant clicking.
My mind, my delicate and peaceful mind, victimised by that constant clatter.
It sodomises my brain like water torture, I'm drowning in the racket and there's nothing I can do.

Brown, bronze, copper and gold, those bland mind numbing colours.
They haunt me, they stalk me.
Gold, once a special colour, now mass printed on any material.
Tiny gold clogs attached by strings of thin thread, no real use, only aesthetical desires.
My world crashes down around me, consumed by a bogus reality.
I am now restricted to insipid brown shades. I want to break free.

CMy love of steampunk.3 years ago in Emotional

Alternative Solutions (My first Steampunk)

"There's GOT to be a way around it," Sherlock raged softly from his corner of the flat, lifting his magnifying goggles away from his eyes to rest in a tangled black nest of curls. The tiny chart of the underground facility stared elusively back at him, its secrets no less divulged than they had been an hour ago. "But there's nothing for it," Sherlock sunk into a state of lamentation in his armchair, legs outstretched until his saddle-print boots nearly intruded on John's personal space.

"The bases are air-tight, not even Mycroft could sneak someone into one of them. They've got double and triple backups on everything, a checkpoint every threAlternative Solutions (My first Steampunk)11 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

The Trouble with Steampunk ch2"All hands on board, sir!"

Alfred nodded at the E-3 as he walked briskly towards the ledge that oversaw the control panels, looking keenly down at the men who worked there. They buzzed along, quickly following the orders that the lieutenant commander was barking at them, tightening the valves on the pressure tank, securing the air supply and just checking the overall basic maintenance of the grand submarine. The quest that they were about to embark on was simple enough, but why then is a commander such as Alfred F. Jones doing on board? It was a questioning look that many of the lower ranking seas man had given him as hThe Trouble with Steampunk ch22 years ago in Settings

VerdigrisThe sun was red the day Slicker died. She watched him fall a hundred levels, to shatter against a fat, reinforced gas pipe, shards of him breaking across archways and supports and cables, plummeting into the foggy void below. His blud drenched a cluster of backup valves. It dripped from the nozzles, thick and syrupy.

Slicker was unsticking the gears on the Bigtime, with such focus that he paid no attention to the approach of the Quickhand, making its minute-long journey around the Bigtime's face. He had clamped safety cables to the supports, but was careless. The Quickhand caught a support line, and dragged him off the gears, sending him pluVerdigris3 years ago in Short Stories

Engine of Chaos"Define problem," I said, watching my guest over steepled fingers.

The man - he had introduced himself as Edward Carter - twisted a machine-pressed felt hat between calloused hands.

"Well, I run a warehouse in the West India docks for a Mister Hibberd," he began, and grimaced, his pale brow furrowing beneath lank, age-bleached hair. "Top gent. But... There's somethin' tha's not right."

Oil-stained fingernails bit into his hat's brim, and he wet his lips.

"The foreman - he's walked out on me. An' I can't get lightermen in for love nor money. It's me engineer..." The felt hat audibEngine of Chaos3 years ago in Short Stories

The Steampunk Radicals: PrologueThe year is 2072. The world is resting in near ruins, torn mercilessly apart by the prideful nature of human beings.
How, you may ask? What could possibly be so vast in ghastliness that it affects the entire world?
It started with the former United States— the proud eagle perched proudly, watching over all the rest of the world as it always had done.
It was the result of rivalry between the states; an accumulation of pent up emotions and tensions between them that eventually broke. After all, fervent forces will only grow in strength until they are one day released in an unconquerable riot.
It began in 2045, and has been this raging, inferno-like war for nearly thirty years now.
But perhaps you still are having trouble comprehending. You see; once upon another time the state of Washington was caught receiving secret shipments of Alaskan resources; and further investigations showed that an underground society had begun plotting an uprising… though theThe Steampunk Radicals: Prologue1 year ago in Introductions & Chapters

The Watchmaker

Thomas sat hunched over his worktable in the corner of the dark shop, tired green eyes peering alternatively through his mixed set of lenses and magnifying glasses. The slim silver tools in his thin fingers never once clinked together as he worked, turning over the dozens of tiny metal gears and springs laid out before him, checking each one studiously for the hundredth time that week.

He didn't know what he was looking for. He knew he'd find nothing. The pieces were perfect, crafted and meticulously cut from the finest metals. They gleamed in the light of the table's single candle, reflecting the shifting shadows that flicked across the rooThe Watchmaker1 year ago in Short Stories

Dressing for the Ball: A Steampunk StoryDressing for the Ball

If only I could close my eyes again and open them to a different ceiling. Anything but the luxurious blue of the Hotel Victorosius, today. Even just to wake up and have this already over. I curled up on my side ignoring the silken dress lying in splendor on the gilt chair.
It did not help. No choice remained.
I must dress for the ball.

"Change." He had not bothered to glance up from his papers. "We are leaving." I'd frozen and turned, schoolbag still on my shoulder.
"May I ask where?" The hand hidden by the school bag strangled the tartan of my school uniform.
"Bellaris." The Dark Town.

To Dressing for the Ball: A Steampunk Story1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

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