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hero-2012 · 5 years
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Yes, go forth brave Knights, go forth in glory! For the day is our’s, and the victory is sweet! And when the journey ends, and you’ve earned your rest, it will be those you protected, who will tell your story!
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The Knights continues
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hero-2012 · 5 years
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“We,” he paused as he looked at me, his eyes locked on mine as though staring directly into my soul, “Are a beautiful catastrophe, you and I.”
As his words echoed through my mind, I felt him approaching me, faintly at first. As though across a vast distance, but then it grew stronger, and stronger. Eventually it felt as though he were right on top of me, the air about him crackling with some unseen storm of static and danger.
“What do you mean, you and I?” I asked from my place at his feet, bound in chains and kneeling before him.
“Simple,” he said, “We have been at this game of our’s since the begin of time. It stands to reason that every time we meet, disaster follows and then the cycle begins anew.”
We're a beautiful catastrophe, you and I.
Katie, 9:35
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hero-2012 · 7 years
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August interpretstory
There was an incredulous gasp in the room but she couldn't tell from who. Everyone was shocked, even the judge. However, the young Beastkin girl was not about to retract her previous, astonishing statement; if nothing else, she was going to repeat it once more. "Yes, I killed the mugger, with my bare hands, snapped his neck so fast, it put eyeballs in the back of his head, so to speak," she said with a thick Russian accent. The judge swallowed a hard lump that had formed in his throat as he looked at the young Beastkin girl sitting in the stand next to him. Her fur was jet black, and her eyes were a neon green. Her features were catlike, suggesting that her sub-race was Panther. She was dressed like a typical rebellious teenage girl, in a sleeveless crop top t-shirt, ripped up jeans, and a pair of fingerless leather gloves. Standing up, the young girl looked at the judge and said very calmly, "If that's everything, I'll just be going now." One of the six guards that hauled the young girl into the courtroom moved to stand in front of her, raising a hand up and saying, "You aren't going anywhere yet until the judge reads the verdict, and even then, I think the only place you'll be going is jail!" No sooner than the guard finished speaking, did the young Beastkin move into attack position, and grabbed the guard by the wrist, twisting under him and hip tossed him to the ground. Mind you, the girl can't possibly weigh much more than one hundred five pounds, while the guard that she just flipped likely weighs twice that much it not two and a half times that. Of course this matter of handling the guards continued until only one was left, at which point I decided to make a move of my own. I simply stood up, flicked one of my wrists, and drew forth a stun rod, which I proceeded to throw at the Beastkin girl. In turn, her catlike reflexes were quicker than I anticipated, and she deflected the stun rod directly at the judge, who then slammed face first onto the stand before slumping down onto the floor in front of his chair. Just then, the girl bolted and made a run for the exit. I was faster though, and after vaulting over the railing ahead of me and then over the defendant's table, I was standing right between her and the doorway to freedom. "Get out of my way, and I won't have to hurt you!" The girl growled, her accent honestly adding a bit of intimidation to her voice. "Ha, as if you could hurt me," I said calmly. She tried several times to strike me, each of which I either parried or dodged entirely. Her last attempted strike was a left hook, which I caught in my right hand. I then twisted her arm and brought it around to the back of her head, so that her elbow was pointed toward the ceiling. Throwing my left arm around her neck, I locked in a choke hold. The girl struggled against me for a while, but eventually she succumbed to the pressure and passed out. .......................................................... Well that's what I have so far, if any of you guys like it, let me know and I'll post more of this story. Hope I did well enough, and sadly I don't really know anyone to tag for it...
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hero-2012 · 7 years
Text
Get up.
I willed myself with every fiber of my being to do just that.
Come on, Cyprien Balthazar Lavernge, get your hoodoo, voodoo witch doctor ass up!
Finally, after lighting a metaphorical match under my ass, I was back on my own two feet.
"Yes," I shouted triumphantly as I thrust my hands toward the sky, which began to crackle with black lightning and the darkest storm clouds ever seen began to roll into view.
"No, its impossible, I just laid you to rest!" Shouted Warren as he just stood before me stunned by my sudden resurrection.
My eyes gleamed with a fearsome light as I just smiled and said, "Haven't you heard? There ain't no rest for the wicked!"
Prompt #46
Get up.
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hero-2012 · 7 years
Text
Just a little something I came up with off the top of my head, any sort of constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated, because I am thinking about continuing this piece, which was inspired by the recent adventures of my own D&D character of the same name and class as the main character in this story.
@promptsfromtheaether
"Do you even care?"
"Never have, never will."
I sat at my desk in my office, staring at the ghost in the mirror that hung on the wall across from me.
His eyes were cold and callous as he just sneered and said, "Well, it seems after all this time, Master Lavernge, you are finally beginning to see things from my perspective."
"Right, because I have so much in common with the mighty Morrigan Pierce," I said with a sigh as I began shoving papers around on my desktop.
My business was slow, despite it being located on a street corner in downtown New Orleans, right near Bourbon Street. Oh right, my profession. I'm a Witch Doctor, which I guess wasn't the most practical choice for a man of my age to have gone into during the 1920's. If you ask me, it still beats being a gangster.
"Who are you talking to in there?" Came the lovely sound of a familiar voice from the front of my curio shop.
"Oh no one, come on in Ms. Dumont," I called back as I got up from my chair and went to the front of the store to greet my favorite and most frequent visitor.
Claire Dumont, a fair young lady, she is. She's twenty, which is only a year older than myself, and to be honest, she's something to behold.
"So, what brings you to my store this fine morning, Ms. Dumont?"
"Oh nothing much, really, I just thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing, is all." As she spoke, she batted her eyelashes and gave me her typical "come and get me" grin.
"Really, is that so?" I said as I took her coat and hung it over on my coat rack.
"Yes, I just couldn't help wondering to myself, 'I wonder what Mr. Lavernge is up to right now?'," she said as she gracefully approached me from the other side of the room, twirling about in time to the swing music that was coming from my record player. I love it when she dances, especially to swing. I don't think there is another woman in the world who could ever move as beautifully as Claire does.
"Well, if you absolutely must know, I was just sitting at my desk, wondering the same thing to myself about you, my dear."
"Really? How strange that we should have been thinking of each other at the same time like that."
"I don't think it is strange, no, I actually think its kind of cute."
As I spoke, I took hold of her left hand, and placed my left just at her lower back, while she put her right hand over my shoulder. Before we knew it, we were twirling around my shop, up and down the aisles of shrunken heads and voodoo charms, and between the many shelves of ancient tomes filled with all kinds of black magic and lore.
Mind you, Claire is a non-magic, which means she has no magical skills at all. However, this hasn't stopped her from trying to pry her way into my "world", as it were.
"So, my cousin is holding this party over at his manor house right? And he's invited me and one other guest to attend as well as all of his friends and business associates."
"Really?"
It wasn't often that any of Claire's relatives invited me to come along to any of their little shindigs, mostly because they don't approve of Claire and I.
"Yeah, so I was wanting to know if maybe you'd like to come along?"
I heaved a heavy sigh.
"Claire, you know tonight is a blood moon," I started to say, just before she got onto her tip toes and gave me a long, sweet kiss.
When she broke away, she just smiled and said, "Yeah so, what's so special about the blood moon that you'd want to miss the chance to dance with your favorite little swinger?"
"The blood moon is a time of great power for all kinds of creatures associated with my 'world', Claire, if I don't remain watchful over this city while it goes on, someone might get hurt."
"I thought you said you didn't care," came an interruption from Morrigan, who mind you, is the ghost in my mirror.
Shut up, you, I thought to myself as I just turned back to Claire and gave her a smile and said, "Look, I'd love to, but I just have too much going on right now, and I need to focus, okay?"
"No, you know what, I'm sick of you blowing me off all the time, Mister," her eyes, which are a deep brown, held all of the fury of the raging Mother Earth as she chewed me a new ass right in the middle of my own shop, "You are coming with me to this party and we are finally going to have some quality time together!"
"Fine," I said as I just looked her deep in her lovely brown eyes, and kissed her passionately, "I'll go with you, just stop yelling before you get anymore attractive and I decide that you look better without that dress on."
She simply smiled and said, "Well in that case, I'll stop yelling, but only if you take this dress off..."
Her last words began to trail off into the distant horizon of the back of my mind as I just spun her around and undid the back of her dress, letting it fall to the floor, cascading into a lovely pool of shimmering blue on the hardwood floor.
As I caressed her soft, luscious curves with my hands, she leaned her head back toward me and whispered, "I'm all your's until 12 babe, and then I get off at 8, the party isn't until 10..."
"So then, in other words, if I like what happens now, then I might get another hour and a half's worth after you get off work, before we leave for the party?"
As I whispered those words into her ear, I nibbled her ear lobe a little as she replied, "You bet your two-tone shoes it does," as her hands reached around me and grabbed the seat of my pants.
"Alrighty, then let's make some magic happen," I said as I just grabbed Claire by the hand and we both made our way up the stairs in the back of my shop toward my second story bedroom, and shut the door behind us.
Prompt #151
“Do you even care?”
“Never have, never will.”
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hero-2012 · 7 years
Text
A prompt-ed piece for your reading pleasure
Just a little something I came up with off the top of my head, any sort of constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated, because I am thinking about continuing this piece, which was inspired by the recent adventures of my own D&D character of the same name and class as the main character in this story. @promptsfromtheaether "Do you even care?" "Never have, never will." I sat at my desk in my office, staring at the ghost in the mirror that hung on the wall across from me. His eyes were cold and callous as he just sneered and said, "Well, it seems after all this time, Master Lavernge, you are finally beginning to see things from my perspective." "Right, because I have so much in common with the mighty Morrigan Pierce," I said with a sigh as I began shoving papers around on my desktop. My business was slow, despite it being located on a street corner in downtown New Orleans, right near Bourbon Street. Oh right, my profession. I'm a Witch Doctor, which I guess wasn't the most practical choice for a man of my age to have gone into during the 1920's. If you ask me, it still beats being a gangster. "Who are you talking to in there?" Came the lovely sound of a familiar voice from the front of my curio shop. "Oh no one, come on in Ms. Dumont," I called back as I got up from my chair and went to the front of the store to greet my favorite and most frequent visitor. Claire Dumont, a fair young lady, she is. She's twenty, which is only a year older than myself, and to be honest, she's something to behold. "So, what brings you to my store this fine morning, Ms. Dumont?" "Oh nothing much, really, I just thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing, is all." As she spoke, she batted her eyelashes and gave me her typical "come and get me" grin. "Really, is that so?" I said as I took her coat and hung it over on my coat rack. "Yes, I just couldn't help wondering to myself, 'I wonder what Mr. Lavernge is up to right now?'," she said as she gracefully approached me from the other side of the room, twirling about in time to the swing music that was coming from my record player. I love it when she dances, especially to swing. I don't think there is another woman in the world who could ever move as beautifully as Claire does. "Well, if you absolutely must know, I was just sitting at my desk, wondering the same thing to myself about you, my dear." "Really? How strange that we should have been thinking of each other at the same time like that." "I don't think it is strange, no, I actually think its kind of cute." As I spoke, I took hold of her left hand, and placed my left just at her lower back, while she put her right hand over my shoulder. Before we knew it, we were twirling around my shop, up and down the aisles of shrunken heads and voodoo charms, and between the many shelves of ancient tomes filled with all kinds of black magic and lore. Mind you, Claire is a non-magic, which means she has no magical skills at all. However, this hasn't stopped her from trying to pry her way into my "world", as it were. "So, my cousin is holding this party over at his manor house right? And he's invited me and one other guest to attend as well as all of his friends and business associates." "Really?" It wasn't often that any of Claire's relatives invited me to come along to any of their little shindigs, mostly because they don't approve of Claire and I. "Yeah, so I was wanting to know if maybe you'd like to come along?" I heaved a heavy sigh. "Claire, you know tonight is a blood moon," I started to say, just before she got onto her tip toes and gave me a long, sweet kiss. When she broke away, she just smiled and said, "Yeah so, what's so special about the blood moon that you'd want to miss the chance to dance with your favorite little swinger?" "The blood moon is a time of great power for all kinds of creatures associated with my 'world', Claire, if I don't remain watchful over this city while it goes on, someone might get hurt." "I thought you said you didn't care," came an interruption from Morrigan, who mind you, is the ghost in my mirror. Shut up, you, I thought to myself as I just turned back to Claire and gave her a smile and said, "Look, I'd love to, but I just have too much going on right now, and I need to focus, okay?" "No, you know what, I'm sick of you blowing me off all the time, Mister," her eyes, which are a deep brown, held all of the fury of the raging Mother Earth as she chewed me a new ass right in the middle of my own shop, "You are coming with me to this party and we are finally going to have some quality time together!" "Fine," I said as I just looked her deep in her lovely brown eyes, and kissed her passionately, "I'll go with you, just stop yelling before you get anymore attractive and I decide that you look better without that dress on." She simply smiled and said, "Well in that case, I'll stop yelling, but only if you take this dress off..." Her last words began to trail off into the distant horizon of the back of my mind as I just spun her around and undid the back of her dress, letting it fall to the floor, cascading into a lovely pool of shimmering blue on the hardwood floor. As I caressed her soft, luscious curves with my hands, she leaned her head back toward me and whispered, "I'm all your's until 12 babe, and then I get off at 8, the party isn't until 10..." "So then, in other words, if I like what happens now, then I might get another hour and a half's worth after you get off work, before we leave for the party?" As I whispered those words into her ear, I nibbled her ear lobe a little as she replied, "You bet your two-tone shoes it does," as her hands reached around me and grabbed the seat of my pants. "Alrighty, then let's make some magic happen," I said as I just grabbed Claire by the hand and we both made our way up the stairs in the back of my shop toward my second story bedroom, and shut the door behind us.
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hero-2012 · 7 years
Text
What do you mean, not a good story!!! What happens next??? You can't just write something like that and then leave it on such a cliff-hanger!!! That's just not right!!! I want to read more... please...
#interpretstory
rules: use the prompt to write a scene or short story, then tag three people to do the same!
prompt: “I’ll shoot. I mean, you thought I actually loved you?”
“I’ll shoot. I mean, you thought I actually loved you?” He laughed, but nothing here was funny. I didn’t think so, and looking at him – the circles under his eyes, the way his hands were struggling to hold the gun steady – I could tell he didn’t, either. “Just being that gullible gives me a right to shoot you.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and spoke – my voice trembled. “Percy, please, just think about thi-”
He slammed the fist holding the gun down on his leg – I jumped, expecting it to go off and shoot him in the foot, but nothing happened. “No! I’m tired of thinking! That’s all people ever tell me, think, think, think. It’s to the point that I can’t anymore! Everything gets jumbled and confused and I can’t figure anything out …” His voice shook, just barely – he was losing control. If I was going to turn the situation around, I had to do it now.
I took a step forward. “Percy, I can help you. Please, I care about you and I can help you.”
In a flash, he aimed the gun at me, right between my eyes; he had one eye closed for better aim and was grinding his teeth (an old habit of his when he was concentrating – I remembered it well). “Don’t come closer. I’m warning you.”
“Percy-”
“Be quiet. I’m sick of hearing people talk, particularly you.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I thought I loved you. Now look where we are, you betrayed me and now I have nowhere left to run-”
“I didn’t betray you, Percy! You need help! You’re sick!”
“No I’m not!” His finger curled even tighter around the trigger – much longer and he really would shoot. “I’m no sicker than you are! Do you think I’ve forgotten the way you look at blood and the way you like the smell of gasoline? You like death. You like destruction. And don’t try to lie and tell me you don’t, because you do.”
My mouth had gone dry, which made speaking an effort. “Whatever you say about me, I don’t actively seek it out. I don’t chase after it the way you do. That’s what draws the line between sanity and insanity, and Percy, you’ve crossed it.”
“Bullshit! There is no line. The only lines that exist are the lines every man draws for himself. And I haven’t crossed any of mine. I’m sane.” His mouth cracked into a smirk – I’d always thought it looked attractive, but now it looked menacing, horrifying. “I don’t think you can say the same.”
I took another step forward. “What’s that supposed to me-”
He fired at my feet – I jumped back. “I said don’t come any closer!” His eyes were wide, the eyes of a scared kid. He’d been losing his grip for a long time, but here was the finale, the last few inches of his mind slipping out of his hands. In hindsight, I was surprised it hadn’t come sooner.
“Percy, please.” I spoke quietly, hoping that would keep him calm. “We can help you. We can save you.”
For a moment he was silent; then he whispered, just barely loud enough to hear, “There’s nothing left to save.”
The gun fired and the next thing I knew I was flat on my back on the concrete. Maybe he was beyond help after all.
that’s not really a very good piece of writing, sorry guys :/
i’m tagging: - @the-africanunicorn - @alixismad - @quilowrites
good luck guys! (and be sure to tag your post with #interpretstory !
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hero-2012 · 7 years
Text
This is really good, i would like to read more as well, so here's hoping you reach your reblog goal!
What Remains of Elizabeth Clove {chapter 1}
so i really don’t like posting my writing on here, but i would really like some writing criticism and critique.
so here goes nothing.
quick summary this book is about a girl, elizabeth, who recently died. her best friend finds a notebook full of instructions of what to do in the events of her death, and it seems like elizabeth had it all planned…
chapter 1:
Boxes.
Her room was filled with boxes. Most of them had labels reading words like, ‘Clothes", or ‘Books’, or something along the lines of a cliche title for a box. This wasn’t her room, at least not the way I had seen it.
Liz’s mom pointed to her empty bed as she stood in the doorway next to me, holding another cliche titled box in her hands.
“That one is for you. It’s her school and personal items.” She adjusted her grip on the cardboard. “We figured you should go through it first, you know, just in case there were any photos or things you wanted to remember Liz by.” She sighed and patted my shoulder lightly. “Stay Strong Max.” Saying nothing, I nodded and walked slowly towards the bed, memories flying past my eyes. I could almost hear her laughing on the bed next to me as I sat next to the box that held whatever remained of our friendship.
UPDATE: The bed wasn’t as comfy as I remembered it being.
I set the somewhat small box, (which had been dubbed, ‘personal’) onto my lap, the pieces of our friendship rattling on the bottom. At the top, I could clearly see the picture of Liz and I at the winter dance last year. I had worn a black dress and she white. Yes, we had everything planned out. Smiling through the tears, I set down the photo next to me. I’d save it, cherish it, even though in a few years we’d probably forget about Elizabeth Clove.
It’s funny that when you die you always get forgotten. The people around you promise that they’ll always keep you in their hearts and in their minds, but they always just,
f o r g e t.
There were old stuffed toys won from carnivals and fairs past sitting in the corners, which I placed beside me. I wouldn’t keep all six of them, maybe just one or two. A half empty bottle of black nail polish that Liz had forgot to give back to me laid on its side, along with a CD full of early 2000’s hits. We had called it “The Liz and Max Mixtape”, which was creative when we were ten, I guess. As I moved through the photos and various items of our memory lane, I quickly had one item left on the bottom. A small, black notebook, complete with her name etched on the cover in silver Sharpie.
Now this was something I had never seen before. Since when did Liz keep a diary? Turning it over in my hands, I set it down in my pile of friendship, and picked it up, making my way downstairs to the Clove’s front door. Thanking her parents, and declining some cookies (Mrs. Clove always hid raisins in them), I threw on my headphones, drowning out the rest of the world.
Of course when I shuffled the first song to play was our song, House of Memories, by Panic! At the Disco. It’s a long and complicated story. I’ll get to it later.
With the box full of Liz in the backseat, I drove towards home.
Not the word I’d use to describe it, but I don’t know what else to call it but that.
I went straight towards my room, not bothering to answer to my screaming mother. As far as I was concerned, that notebook needed to be read, it was the only thing that mattered. I desperately wanted to dissect the secrets that that black book contained.
Does that make me a bad friend?
There it was, sitting at the very top. Scrambling as I reached for it, I nearly dropped it as I opened the cover.
And then I started reading.
Hello, all who dare read this. If you’re reading this because you’re snooping, leave, or face my wrath. If you’re reading this because something happened to me, or you’re Maxine Rudd or Cameron Guchal, then my plan worked.
“Plan?!” My thoughts became speech. Liz had died in a freak biking accident. She hadn’t killed herself as far as I knew. We still hadn’t found her body, but that didn’t mean anything, did it?
If you’re reading this, Max, Cam, or some random snooper, then I’m about to tell you why I did what I did.
“What did you do Liz…?” I muttered to myself, flipping to the next page, and some answers. ’
There are rules to reading this journal though, so listen up. Feel free to write these rules down or refer back to this page if you’d like. I only feel like writing these down once.
Rule #1: You tell no one about this journal, unless your name was mentioned in the beginning. Looking at you Max and Cam.
Rule #2: If the book tells you to do something or go somewhere, you go there, and you do that thing.
Rule #3: Make sure whatever secrets that are held within this journal DO NOT get out into the public. This is my private shit.
Rule #4: You obey ALL journal rules. ALL of them. No exceptions. No ifs, ands or buts.
These rules being said, read on, you deserve to know the truth. What is the truth? Well, you’ll find that out later. Now onto the intro.
“Maxine!” My mom burst into my room, a wooden spoon from making dinner still in her hand. “How many times do I have to tell you?! Come to the table when you’re called!”
My mom hadn’t really grasped the whole grief concept. The way she had seen it, Liz had just died. I was the only person who had lost someone important, and let’s face it, she didn’t really care about me or my feelings. All that mattered was work, work, work, my father, and my brother Jeremy.
Personally, I think she hated Liz, secretly.
In the weeks leading up to the accident, there was always a sense of coldness in the air around them whenever they crossed paths. Most of the time it was extremely awkward.
I picked at my green beans in front of me, not really in the mood to eat at the current moment.
“Max?” My father said, looking at me. “How was your trip to the Clove’s today? He said that like nothing was wrong, like I hadn’t gone to collect my things from my dead best friend’s house. “It was fine.” I vaguely answered. “Got some old photos and things.” My mother nodded. “Everly holding up fine?”
Everly was Liz’s younger sister.
“She wasn’t there.” I mumbled. Having enough, I suddenly said, “Can I be excused?” I had had enough ‘quality’ time with my family. Mumbles of an answer were heard, so I took that as a yes.
Back to the notebook.
Back to Liz’s secrets.
•••
PLEASE give me criticism! it would help me so much!
thank you!
IF THIS GETS 100+ REBLOGS ILL POST CH 2
@rrriordan @thatsthat24 @writing-central
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