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the-broken-pen · 11 months

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Romance Snippets

The only romance I’m capable of writing, it seems, is the off brand flavor. Like store brand cheerios. Slightly unsettling. Obsessive and unrequited love. These two are not an end game ship I swear to god if any of you ship them I’m gonna lose it. He’s problematic in an unhot way. Anywho, thank you @imaginativemind29new for the tag!

His hand gripped hers, and before she could grab for a knife, he had slammed her into the opal throne so hard her thighs groaned in protest.

“You want force?” He kept one hand clenched around her wrist, and materialized a crown out of the air. He set it on top of her head, and it was warm through her hair. “Is this enough for you?”

She sat, stunned, before she attempted to rise.

“What are you doing—” she had barely lifted off the seat before he pushed her back down.

“You wish to wield your titles like a dictator? Then I should make you one. Would that please that aching and ravenous part of you that dreams of my death?”

“You know it wouldn’t.”

“Because you hate me,” he mused, “or because you don’t want to be powerful?”

She sneered at him.

“I would rather die than rule beside you.”

He hummed.

“Oh, Violent thing, I know. But I think you would love the power of corruption—such strength, total control over hundreds? You would go hungry for it.”

“Then you’re just as stupid and desperate as I thought you were.”

Riven laughed, and Clarke snapped his head to Riven. A moment later, he turned back, face drawn.

“Of all the choices and paths to take, you made a deal with a demon for power,” he said lowly. “How desperate does that make you?”

Her heart clenched.

“Shut up.”

“I bet you told yourself it was to save your cousin, poor, precious, broken Viridian.” He leaned close enough for his breath to tickle her ear, and she stonily looked ahead, refusing to glance at him. “It was really because you were tired of being nothing, wasn’t it?”

Time ground to a painful stop, and she slammed her fist into his face.

His hand flew to his nose and when it came away bloody, he laughed.

“God, Violent Thing, you’re so beautiful when you’re angry.”

“I hate you,” she snapped, and he simply laughed more, a smile gracing his face.

When he lowered his hand fully, she found his face filled with fascination—as if he really did find her beautiful.

Her stomach clenched, and she fought off a wave of nausea.

“You could be my queen,” he offered, blood splattering from his nose onto the floor.

She stared at him, stunned, then said numbly, “Of what? Your manic attempt at power?”

He grinned, and it was half bloody.

"The world.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And then we have these fluffy ones—

“I was fine, as always. Who do you think sounded the alarm?” she asked sarcastically, and she waited for him to laugh. Instead, when she glanced at his face, she only saw concern, mixed with an emotion she didn’t want to acknowledge.

Lucy looked away.

“There’s a fog front rolling in. Reeks of magic,” Lucy said, just to put something between her and the look on Malcolm’s face. He sniffed, like he would be able to smell it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Getting to you, darling?”

Lucy grit her teeth, wincing against Alistair's tightening palms.

“I don’t want to fuck you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The siren tipped their head, entirely to sensual for a motion so simple.

“Oh, such a crude, human word. I could be so gentle. So sweet, so lovely, so wonderful—” something on Lucy’s face stopped them, and that effervescently beautiful smile dropped from their face like a rock. “This doesn’t effect you at all, does it.”

Calculating. So, so calculating, their gaze. Lucy knew that look. She wore it often enough.

Lucy half shrugged a shoulder. “You’re pretty, but you’re no god.”

And for the tags! @jay-avian @ettawritesnstudies @jtl-fics

And of course, it’s open to anyone who wants to play ❤️

#creative writing #writing #angst #snippet #writing community #heroes and villains #fic writing #love #tag game #romance game #ask game #wip tag

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heavenlyhoundoom · 1 year

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Here's some more information on the Wonderland crew's parents. (Trigger warning: plane crash and mass shooting mention)

Grace Smith (kept her last name)

.Species: Human

.State: Alive (dead to Knighty)

.Age: 45

.Birthday: April 7 (Aries)

.Birthplace: Pitlochry, Scotland

.Current residence: Inverness, Scotland

Marlow Anderson

.Species: Human

.State: Alive (also dead to Knighty)

.Age: 45 (will be 46 later this year)

.Birthday: May 26 (gemini)

.Birthplace: Birmingham, England

.Current residence: Inverness, Scotland

Jonathan Chip

.Species: Beaver

.State: Alive (dead to Tito)

.Age: 43 (will be 44 later this year)

.Birthday: July 30 (leo)

.Birthplace: Dallas, Texas

.Current residence: Jackson, Mississippi

Maria Tortuga (kept her last name)

.Species: Common snapping turtle

.State: Alive

.Age: 43 (will be 44 later this year)

.Birthday: May 14 (taurus)

.Birthplace: Bernal, Mexico

.Current residence: Bernal, Mexico (she moved back to her home town after she and Jonathan divorced.)

Oliver Everest

.Species: Forest fairy

.State: Alive

.Age: 45

.Birthday: February 25 (pisces)

.Birthplace: Ashland, Oregon

.Current residence: Ithaca, New York

Iris Siren

.Species: Siren

.State: Alive

.Age: 44 (will be 45 later this year)

.Birthday: June 29 (cancer)

.Birthplace: The Pacific Ocean

.Current residence: Ithaca, New York

Liam Gorilla

.Species: Gorilla

.State: Alive

.Age: 46 (will be 47 later this year)

.Birthday: September 13 (virgo)

.Birthplace: Woodstock, Vermont

.Current Residence: Boone, North Carolina

Helga Gorilla (maiden name is Primate)

.Species: Gorilla

.State: Alive

.Age: 47

.Birthday: February 8 (aquarius)

.Birthplace: Billings, Montana

.Current residence: Boone, North Carolina

Winifred Weasel (maiden name is Stoat)

.Species: Weasel

.State: Alive

.Age: 48 (will be 49 later this year)

.Birthday: August 12 (leo)

.Birthplace: Syracuse, New York

.Current residence: Skaneateles, New York

Jerry Weasel

.Species: Weasel

.State: Dead

.Age: 33 (at death)

.Cause of death: Succumbing to bullet wounds. (He was a victim of a mass shooting at his work place.)

.Birthplace: Skaneateles, New York

.Birthday: March 28 (aries)

.Date of death: 6/20/2007

.Place of grave: Lakeview Cemetery

Dylan Alligator

.Species: Alligator

.State: Alive

.Age: 44 (will be 45 later this year)

.Birthday: November 2 (scorpio)

.Birthplace: Portsmouth, New Hampshire

.Current residence: Quebec, Canada

Solène Beaulieu

.Species: Alligator

.State: Alive

.Age: 44 (will be 45 later this year)

.Birthday: June 19 (gemini)

.Birthplace: Riquewihr, France

.Current residence: Quebec, Canada

Christopher Chameleon

.Species: Chameleon

.State: Alive

.Age: 45 (will be 46 later this year)

.Birthday: April 21 (taurus)

.Birthplace: Riverton, Wyoming

.Current residence: Tampa, Florida

Barbara Love

.Species: Chameleon

.State: Dead

.Age: 37 (at death)

.Cause of death: Plane crash

.Birthplace: Tampa, Florida

.Birthday: October 4 (libra)

.Date of death: 12/9/2014

. Place of grave: Myrtle Hill Memorial Park

Eva Ostrich (maiden name is Avian)

.Species: Ostrich

. State: Alive

.Age: 47

.Birthday: March 17 (pisces)

.Birthplace: Mansfield, Georgia

.Current residence: Malibu, California

Jacob Ostrich

.Species: Ostrich

.Age: 46 (will be 47 later this year)

.Birthday: December 10 (sagittarius)

.Birthplace: Frankfort, Kentucky

.Current residence: Malibu, California

#willy's wonderland #original characters #head canon #parents #Trigger warning

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tawneybel · 2 years

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Note: Ten favorite monsters, part four. Part three. Once a month sounds good for a top ten list, yeah? Only it’s hard for me to actually rank cool monsters. Cuphead has an absurd amount of great character designs. I’ve decided to limit one Disney entry per monster list. Oh, and it was hard to get a good photo of the Time Dragon. This one doesn’t show his horns, multi-story theatre, or the mob of Munchkinlanders.

1. Aylmer from Brain Damage

Vaguely phallic… brain eating parasite drug metaphor.

2. Two-Mouthed Wall from Cuphead

Architectural monsters are a fave of mine in their own right. (See Baba Yaga’s house.) Bonus points for being part of a funhouse and letting his friends drive through him.

3. nuts from Face Like a Frog

This is one of my favorite cartoon shorts. It came out before Rugrats, but its music and deranged animation reminds me of my childhood fave, only more surreal. And Face Like a Frog’s surreality is easily explained: the house is occupied by nuts.

4. Planet Remina from Hellstar Remina

Look, I’m headcanoning this planet as a lady. Because there needs to be more female eldritch abomination representation. Also, she has a pretty name. Like, yeah, she was named after the daughter of the male astronomer who discovered her. Anyway, like Junji Ito manga in general, it’s better just to see for yourself how horrifying the antagonist is.

5. siren from Martin Mystery

They opted to make her whole body more avian, so there’s a mass of feathers covering her mammaries. (If she even has those in her true form.) The addition of a beak is another feature I like. Also, the reptilian tail is a nice “ancient” touch.

6-8. werewolves

Ginger Snaps trilogy: If you want interesting female-led horror, watch the first two films. Unleashed is one of the best horror films ever just for the characters’ multilayered moralities.

Hemlock Grove: The dialogue is so odd. But it contains one of the best gruesome transformations. And male nudity.

Teen Wolf: You’d think I wouldn’t like a series where most werewolves can’t fully transform into a wolf. Or the fact they’re vaguely cat-like, with roaring and retractable claws. The Alpha-Beta-Omega hierarchy is clearly (wolf)man-made, but still fun. A supernatural drama that doesn’t take itself too seriously is a beautiful thing. Maybe I should add the Chimeras to another list, because I love “mix-and-match” monstrous humans.

9. Clock of the Time Dragon from the Wicked Years

Clockpunk meets puppet theatre and dark fantasy.

10. Heffalumps from Winnie the Pooh

The spooky ones from “Heffalumps and Woozles” as well as Lumpy and co. The Hundred Acre Woods has cute living stuffed animals.

Note: I didn’t realize Remina’s eye was so yonic. XD Clawdeen Wolf is a runner-up for werewolves because she’s a hairy-legged fashionista. Expect more wereanimals on future lists.

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shushiyuii · 3 years

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tiny avian tommy getting put in a specific time out for being a little gremlin by a giant sbi member of your choice bonus if its his first time so he doesn't know its safe

Ooop-

Warnings: Self esteem struggles and Soft vore

Words: 1.6K+

Aren't I good enough?!

One way to describe Tommy Danger Kraken Innit Minecraft? Ultimately awesome! Not only was he siblings with the famous and righteous Technoblade! A warrior, no a God! Who tore down his enemies so easily nobody stood a chance! Then there was the musician of the seas.

Wilbur Soot Minecraft, his older brother, and talented musician, known all throughout the world for his talented music, just a simple word he utters makes you fall under his spell like a siren.

And his father, the legend, Philza Minecraft himself, God was he awesome. He was known throughout as the angel of death, everyone cowers before him as the lover of death, but also with his accomplishments of defeating the Enderdragon.

To say his family was a big deal was really the honest truth, but what was to be said of Tommy? That he was an asshole gremlin child? The probably weakest hybrid around? Or the fact he couldn’t eat meat due to the fact that he was in fact part hummingbird?

Which made usually eat flowers like his friend Tubbo? It wasn’t his fault he was born this way! Eventually, he’d be just as terrifying, legendary and talented as everyone else! They just had to watch!

That was what he thought as he was in a field, tending to nearby flowers and snacking on some on occasion. He thought to himself, “What do I have?”. He didn’t see himself particularly talented at anything besides his weird sense of humour and being able to mend clothes, it made him think a lot about what was to come of himself.

“Tommy!”. His friends called him from across the field, he could see the bee hybrid Tubbo flying towards him, at least Tubbo could fly, Tubbo couldn’t even fly himself. “You okay, Big man?” Tommy snapped out of his thoughts, whatever sorrowful expression on his face faded in an instant as he yelled excitingly, “Course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?!”.

“For a moment there you lo-“, “Tommy Danger Kraken Innit Minecraft has never felt or looked like such a thing known as sadness! Only women! Disks! And you Big man!”.

“What about me?”. Ranboo said amusingly as he teleported over to the two, “With some exceptions…” Tommy muttered, quietly showing his affection towards Ranboo before switching it up, “I don’t give two-shits about you Ranboo!”. To which made Tubbo and Ranboo laugh.

The two walked through the field of flowers for a while until sitting down on the flowers to allow Tubbo to snack on them. The three of them conversed until Tommy slowly stopped to respond so much or adding more to the conversation.

He began to go deep into thought again, wandering about his strengths that were easily outweighed by the negatives, The two laughed but stopped when Tommy asked, “Hey guys, what am I good at?...”.

Tubbo looked over to Ranboo a bit confused by the question but answered, “You’re uhm… Funny!”. “And you’re great at insulting people?”. But that ultimately failed, “I mean seriously.”. And the two didn’t answer, seeming to think of an answer when Tommy took it as nothing to say.

“Don’t worry about it then”. As he stood off and walked to a nearby edge, the two stood and ran over to Tommy to try and stop him from jumping off, telling him to “Wait!” but it was too late, he was already gone.

He opened his wings into a gliding position as he couldn’t fly and gliding slowly towards the forest below. He thought about what his family would say but probably would just get laughed at.

He landed with a thump as he abruptly ended his flight, walking to the nearby pond and sat down. Then proceeded to throw stones into the said pond until dawn as he made his way home.

As he entered the house, he was greeted by his family, but he ignored them in favour of going up to his room, all attempts at conversation as they approached his room asking for either assistance or whatever was the matter with the gremlin but to get no response.

The next day everybody was meeting up in the said flower field, he was in previously. But this time Tommy seemed a lot more obnoxious than usual, any attempts at getting his guard down would only be met with more of his uptight yelling and boasts about himself.

For some reason, nobody could get through to Tommy as he ran around annoying everybody, so in order to find a solution he approached his brother’s best friend, to find Tubbo looking just as confused, “Hey Tubs”. Tubbo snapped out of whatever thoughts of losing his sanity were happening and smiled at Wilbur, “Hey Wil!”. “Do you know what's happening with Toms?”.

The two looked over to Tommy to confirm both their thoughts to see a screaming gremlin in Technoblades arms, being held back from attacking Ranboo for whatever reason Ranboo did to somehow anger him.

“I’m not really sure, he seemed upset about something yesterday.”, “Did he tell you anything in particular?”. “Uhm, I mean- He did ask if he was good at anything, like a serious question and me and Ranboo was thinking about it, then he ran off!”.

Wilbur thought about it for a moment, but before he could come to a conclusion all hell broke loose as Tommy was inevitably causing more chaos than needed, yelling profanities at the top of his lungs for no reason in particular.

“Right”. Philza raised his voice at the boy. “What is going on with you?!”. Tommy looked at him perplexed for a moment until letting his guard down for a moment, looking down guiltily and Phil looked at him in concern until he yelled out.

“Absolutely fine Philza Minecraft the legend! Amazing at everything he does!”. There seemed to be something in particular about that statement, something oddly specific. Despite him often praising his father for whatever he does it was never as specific as that. Just small praises.

But before they could continue more, Tommy had run off the ledge again into obscurity. Nobody really knowing where the avian was going to go, but somebody did know, Wilbur knew. It was a spot he took Tommy to when he was younger and would always go there when upset.

So, Wilbur ran off to find him.

Wilbur took a different route, one that allowed him to hide under the surface of the water, you see Wilbur’s words were actually able to send you under a spell since he was actually a siren. A size-shifting siren to be specific.

He transformed when he touched the waters surface, his legs turning into a beautiful scaly tail and his hands turning claws, his eyes becoming more fishlike as they looked more dilated and fish-like. He swam forwards until he found the avian sitting under a tree, looking miserable.

An old trick should do the trick, when Wilbur and the family would take Tommy on adventures, especially when he was younger, in cases of danger he’d be sent to one of their storage stomachs for protection, but that wasn’t the only thing it was used for, if he was being particularly annoying or wanted comfort, he could also be sent there, as a form of comfort.

He quickly swam upwards, quickly breaching the surface and growing gigantic. Tommy screamed as he was scooped but although quickly, was also careful as he threw Tommy into his mouth and quickly swallowed, sending him to his brood pouch.

When Tommy landed safely within, he could feel the boy kick and punch as he yelled “Unhand me you- you prick!” Wilbur couldn’t help but burst into laughter at this.

“Wil? What the fuck man! You scared me!”. Wilbur hummed in response, still giggly about the situation. “Well, sorry gremlin but you’ve been on everyone’s nerves today!”. Then he went silent much to Wilbur’s confusion, “What’s wrong? You’ve been acting weird all day?”.

There was another moment of silence when Tommy asked, “Wil, am I good enough?”. Which caught Wilbur completely off guard, why would Tommy even think such a thing, he laid a hand over his stomach and rubbed circles soothingly. Completely confused.

“I- Toms, of course, you’re good enough! Why wouldn’t you think so?!”. He yelled somewhat concerned and confused at the fact his brother was thinking such things. “I- I’m not good at anything like all of you..”.

“What are you on about Toms?! Of course, you’re good at-“ He was cut off when Tommy yelled, “I mean like talented! You can sing! Techno can fight! Dad- Dad is Dad! He can do so many things! He’s-“.

The stomach walls pressed in on him, cutting him off. “Tommy, you listen to me now. You may not think much as such, but I think you’re a natural-born leader, you’re able to sway so many and command accordingly when so many people need it, remember that time you stopped everyone from fighting? You did all that by yourself!”.

“You may not be as strong as Technoblade but you’re smart and crafty and can hold your own just as well, you’ve impressed Techno so many times with what you’ve achieved. All of us couldn’t be more proud of you as a brother! We all care about you.”.

He could hear soft sobs, and he continued to rub circles, hushing the boy as well. Soon after, they were found by Phil and Techno who joined in the efforts of comforting the boy shortly. And all laid there for the night, keeping Tommy safe like they used to.

Maybe his family did have the answers after all.

#mcyt g/t #mcytg/t #dsmp g/t #giant!wilbur #giant!phil #giant!techno #tiny!tubbo #tiny!ranboo #tiny!tommy #tw vore #shushi's writings

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hxwks-gf · 4 years

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ㅡ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀ, ᴘᴀʀᴛ 𝟹

ʜᴀᴡᴋs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴀɴɢsᴛ, ғʟᴜғғ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜɪɴɢ, ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ, ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

Weeks passed, and the weather steadily shifted from the end of summer to the beginning of autumn. The leaves began to change, throwing the city into a vibrant mix of red, orange, and brown. The air outside gradually got colder and colder, until you got used to grabbing a coat before you left for work.

Endeavor’s attitude towards you had improved, much to your surprise. He no longer sent you off on ridiculous errands whenever he had meetings with other heroes or with the Hero Public Safety Commission. Rather, he actually had you attend them, sitting beside him at the long conference table, dutifully taking notes.

A particularly boring meeting with a few lower-ranked heroes had just come to an end. It went on quite longer than expected, you noticed, as the sun had already set and the stars were twinkling next to the moon in the sky. The nighttime air was brisk and frigid as you quickly walked down the quiet sidewalk to your apartment. There was no one else in sight.

Or so you thought. You were in your own little world, imagining the hot meal and hot bath that was waiting for you at home. You were too busy daydreaming that you didn’t see the shadowy form slip out from an alley and fall in step behind you. He followed you for a couple blocks, until you started to feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You glanced over your shoulder and saw himㅡbut you couldn’t make out his face.

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself, facing straight forward again. Your feet began to move quicker. Just a few more blocks….

“Where are you off to in such a rush?” a raspy, guttural voice hissed. Before you could break into a run, a hand shot out with surprising speed and gripped your upper arm. “You look good enough to eat.”

“Let go of me!” you snapped, trying to wrench your arm free.

“Hey, hey, don’t be like that.” His grip on your arm tightened painfully, pulling you back into his chest. He leaned down to speak in your ear, his breath tickling your hair. “I’ll be gentle.”

Your eyes scanned the street wildly, for anything. Anyone. Where were the patrols, goddammit? You felt yourself being pulled into another dark alley, hidden from view. After coming to terms that no hero was going to save you, you decided to take matters in your own hands. As he dragged you to a secluded spot behind a dumpster, you flexed your hand by your side, careful to keep it subtle. You hardly ever used your Quirk because it took so much to actually get it to workㅡit only ever seemed amplified when you found yourself in danger. Like right now.

You started to cry as his hands began to roughly roam your body, but you forced yourself to focus on your hand, and on the rusted crowbar that was leaning against the opposite wall.

A strong gust of wind caught you and the assailant off guard. He stiffened and shoved you away. You stumbled to your knees, shivering at the lingering feeling of his disgusting fingers dragging across your skin, but you kept your gaze on the crowbar. It was maybe ten, fifteen feet away. This would take a lot out of you if you pulled it off.

“Who’s there?!”

You jumped at the sudden shout, glancing over your shoulder at him. He was standing in the middle of the alley now, looking around wildly. Looking for something. For someone.

There was another gust of wind, but this time you saw a flash of red. You wasted no time stretching out your hand to the crowbar and winced at the painful tug in your gut, forcing your Quirk to activate. The pain in your stomach became unbearable, but you saw the crowbar tremble with energy against the wall. After an excruciating second, it flew across the alley and slammed into your outstretched hand. You had one chance to use it before you gave in to the sudden exhaustion that plagued your entire body.

With a swift, precise motion, you surged to your feet and used the momentum to swing the crowbar at your attacker. The cold metal collided with his jaw with a sickening crunch. He let out a screech of pain and crumpled to the ground, blood spurting from his mouth and splashing over you and the brick wall.

You stood over him with the crowbar still in your hand, breathing heavily. God, you were so tired now. This was why you never used your Quirk. Your eyesight blurred, and you stumbled into the wall. You leaned back against it and slid down into a sitting position, trying to keep your head upright. You gripped the bloody crowbar tightly in your hands, resting it between your legs. You knew you needed to get up and get to the nearest police station, but the world was spinning and blackness was creeping into the corners of your vision. Maybe you should just take a nap first...just to rest for a little bit...

Hawks heard the police sirens from a few blocks away. He turned away from the street and stepped into the alley, his avian gaze focusing on the body of the man that had groped you, laying face down and unmoving by the dumpster. Blood had pooled around his head, the metallic stench of it crowding Hawks’ senses. He scanned the rest of the alley.

And there you were, sitting against the wall with the bloody crowbar in your limp grasp. Your head was lolling forward, but he could hear you breathing.

“Jesus, kid,” he murmured, quickly going to your side. He took in the wild splatters of blood that stained your lovely shirt. Hawks looked over at the body of the attacker again, and sighed. This would be a lot to process when you woke up. He lifted his wings up to shield you from the decrepit alley, extending his gloved hands out to gingerly lift you into his arms like a child. The flashing lights from the police cars bounced off the walls and illuminated him as he carried you out, the crowbar still in your hands.

“Anybody injured?” Hawks recognized the chief standing there with a notepad in his hands.

“One,” he replied softly, careful not to wake you up. “I saw it happen. It was in self defense.”

The chief peered around Hawks’ wings and into the alley. He nodded solemnly. “I see. I’ll need the weapon for evidence.” The chief slowly slid the crowbar from your hands, but you didn’t stir. “We’ll get this sorted out, Hawks. Don’t worry.”

“I’ll have Y/N at the station tomorrow to give a statement. I don’t think you’ll be able to get one now.”

“Understandable.” The chief rubbed his chin and studied you, wrapped in Hawks’ arms. “Poor thing. Take care of ‘em, alright?”

“Always,” Hawks replied, shifting you to a more comfortable position. “Thank you, sir.”

After the chief nodded, Hawks extended his wings and with one powerful beat, he launched himself into the night sky, holding onto you so carefully, like one wrong move could strip you away from him.

The first thing you registered was the one continuous ache that stretched over every inch of your body. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to even open your eyes.

But you forced yourself to blink away the blurriness, and you realized you were in bed in your apartment. Maybe it had all been a dream. The door to your patio was cracked open, letting cool air into the room. It was early evening, you noted, the sky a mix of pink, orange, and purple. Which means you had slept all day. You had missed work.

You shot up straight in bed at the realization, and immediately doubled over in pain, nausea coursing through your entire body. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your face into the blanket, trying to steady yourself. After a few minutes, you slowly forced yourself into a sitting position. You were still wearing your clothes from yesterday. Glancing down, you noticed strange, red blotches covering your chest and torsoㅡ

And then the sound of metal crunching bone erupted in your mind and you felt bile come up your throat. The images of the crowbar slamming into that man’s jaw flashed behind your eyes over and over again, until you scrambled out of your bed and painfully crawled over to the bathroom, heaving whatever was left in your stomach into the toilet. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. There was nothing in your head except the splatter of blood from the crowbar that you had used. Everything was red.

“Hey, kid, it’s okay! You’re okay, I’m here, I’m hereㅡ” Strong arms were wrapping around you, cradling you gently on the floor of your bathroom. You gulped in great, heaving breaths, trying to calm yourself down. You recognized that voice.

“H-Hawks?” you said weakly, rubbing your eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you back home after last night,” you heard him say. He was so warm. You instinctively curled into him, tucking your head beneath his chin. He smelled good too, just like you remembered. His hands started to softly run over the stretch of your back, massaging the sore muscles. “I’m so sorry it happened, Y/N. I really am.”

“Did I kill him?” Your voice was hoarse as you spoke the words.

Hawks was silent for a moment, but his hands kept rubbing your back. “No. I thought you had, but the chief of police called me a few hours ago and said he’s stable in the hospital. You shattered his jaw and clavicle.”

Painful, wracking sobs came from your chest as you cried. Hawks said nothing. He just held you tightly and rocked you back and forth, his hands never stilling in their comfort. It felt like hours had passed when your cries finally subsided, and you leaned back from his embrace and took in his face.

He wasn’t in his hero uniform. Without his heavy coat, earphones, and eyewear, Hawks looked...younger. His wings were extended and curved around the two of you like a cocoon, keeping you safe and hidden from the horrors of the world. You stared into his golden eyes, eyes that were tired and had dark circles underneath them. He must have stayed up all night and all day to make sure you were safe. But something stuck out to you.

“How did you know where I lived?” you asked.

He blinked and tilted his head. “Your driver’s license.”

“Oh, right,” you murmured, averting your gaze. “Thank you for...taking me home. And making sure I was alright.”

Hawks hummed in response, reaching up and pushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead. “I told Endeavor what happened. You’ve been ordered to take a week off to recover.”

“A week?” you repeated, eyes going wide.

“A week.” Hawks gently slid you out of his arms, getting to his feet and stretching. He looked down at you still sitting on the floor with that dumbfounded expression on your face. “His orders.”

You stared at your hands. What were you going to do for an entire week? Who was going to take care of the reports, the filing? You had already taken off too much time, with missing work yesterday.

“Stop stressing,” Hawks said, leaning against the sink. “You went through something traumatic. You may think you’re fine now, but it’s just going to come back and send you spiraling if you don’t rest and process what happened.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” you said, wrapping your arms around your knees and pulling them to your chest.

When he didn’t answer, you looked up at him again. His jaw was set and he was staring intently at the tile pattern of the floor, eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“Hawks?”

“I’ve just seen my fair share of shit,” he said, meeting your gaze again. He squatted in front of you, a hand extending to trace the dried blood on your shirt. “You need to change. And shower. Where do you keep your clothes?”

“I can get them myself,” you said, getting to your feet. You winced at the dull, throbbing pain that seemed to reach every nook and cranny in your body. You weren’t sure if you could walk across the apartment to your closet. A beat of silence passed. “The closet,” you muttered, defeated. “By the bed.”

He nodded and started to leave the bathroom, but stopped and placed a hand on your shoulder. “I want to help you. If you’ll let me.”

You just silently nodded. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and then he was gone. You hobbled over to the door and pushed it closed before turning on the shower. Standing in front of the mirror, you nearly screamed at your reflection. Your work clothes were dirty and disheveled, and covered with blood. So much blood. The room started to spin again as you hurriedly stripped them off your body, kicking them out of sight. The hot water of the shower felt like heaven as it spilled over you, washing away what you had done.

As you toweled yourself off, Hawks knocked on the door. “I have some clean clothes,” he said, voice muffled.

You cracked open the door and peeked up at him. His eyes darted from your face to take in the droplets that slid across your collarbone and disappeared beneath the towel, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Thank you,” you said softly, taking the neatly folded clothes from his hands, not breaking his gaze. You closed the door and quickly got dressed, making a mental note of what he picked out: one of your favorite shirts that was old and worn with use, a pair of soft sweatpants, and a cozy cardigan. It was like he knew exactly what you liked to wear around the house.

He was sitting on your couch, aimlessly flipping through a book. Once you stepped out of the bathroom he glanced up, and his wings immediately puffed and stretched out behind him. “You look...comfortable,” he managed to get out, trying to pull his wings back in.

“I am,” you nonchalantly replied, smoothing a hand over your shirt. “Thank you.”

Hawks nodded a ‘you’re welcome’ and shifted uncomfortably on the couch. You glanced over at the clock on the stove and saw that it was late.

“It’s getting late,” you blurted out. You immediately wanted to slap yourself for how rude you sounded, but he was already getting up.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asked, edging towards the door.

“I think I’ll be okay...” You trailed off as you looked around the apartment. The only light source came from the bathroom, and there were too many dark shadows and corners. A cold feeling of dread slid down your spine as you saw the splatter of blood flash in your mind again. Then the memory of the attacker’s hands grabbing you raised goosebumps on your skin. You looked back to Hawks, who was opening your front door. “Wait!” you cried, running to him.

He looked back at you, eyebrows raised in question.

You hadn’t realized you had reached out and put your hand on his arm. You licked your lips in anticipation, staring into his golden eyes. He waited patiently for you to speak.

“Stay,” you finally whispered.

“What?”

“Please,” you begged, fingers curling into his skin. You squeezed your eyes shut. “I….I don’t feel safe by myself. Even if I lock the doors. Everywhere I look, all I see is him….I feel his hands, wrapping around my throat, squeezingㅡ”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted you. “Of course I’ll stay. I didn’t want to leave you alone anyways, but I didn’t want to step over any lines.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “T-thank you. I think I owe you a lot more than lunch, now.”

Hawks chuckled and closed the door, flicking the lock into place. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, kid.”

“You can have the bed,” you said quickly as he guided you back into the living room. “I know you need more space for your wings.”

“Absolutely not,” he replied, horrified. “I’ll be just fine on the couch.”

As if to prove a point, he nestled into a pile of blankets and pillows on the couch and gave you a thumbs-up. But you could tell he was uncomfortableㅡhis wings twitched and quivered behind him, no matter how tightly he pulled them against his body. But you also knew he wouldn’t budge.

So you said nothing and clicked off the bathroom light. Moonlight slipped through the windows and covered the room in silvery shadows as you padded barefoot across the floor to your bed, feeling your cheeks heat up as Hawks watched you from the couch. You pulled the covers back and slipped underneath them, rolling over so you faced the wall.

An hour passed and you were still wide awake. You listened to Hawks shifting on the couch, his breathing quiet and steady. Was he asleep already?

As you lay there, you started to see red again. Blood spilling over marble floors, staining white sheets and covering the entire world. Your throat tightened and you tried to calm yourself as quietly as you could. But you couldn’t. “Hawks,” you managed to choke out.

“Yeah?”

Your heart was pounding against the bars of your ribcage as you struggled to find courage. “Can you come over here, please?”

He wasted no time. You listened to the sound of his wings unfurling, and moments later you felt the bed dip as he gently slid underneath the blankets. He kept a mindful distance away from you, but the warmth that radiated from him seeped into your tired muscles almost immediately.

Your cheeks were wet as he adjusted himself to a comfortable position. He was quiet, waiting for you to make the first move.

“All I see is red,” you whispered, still facing away from him. “I can’t think straight.”

“I know,” he quietly replied, his words rumbling from his chest and washing over you. It calmed the storm in your mind for a moment, and you realized you were aching for him. Not sexually, like the time in his office. This was different. You knew you felt safe in his arms. It was the only place you felt safe.

And he sensed it, but he was trying to respect you. A tenuous silence stretched through the space between you, until you couldn’t take it any longer.

“Hold me.”

It was as if he was just waiting for you to speak the words. Hawks was pulling you against him with gentle force, slipping one arm underneath your head and the other snaking around your waist. His chest was strong and firm against your back, and the images of red slowly disappeared from your mind as he held you. His fingers softly carded through your hair as he pressed his lips to your temple, his hot breath fanning over your face. His scent enveloped you. You were surrounded by him.

You welcomed the deep, dreamless sleep as he held you in a lover’s embrace, knowing that as long as he was near you, you would always be safe.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ғᴏᴜʀ

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @msgrungie

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ao3feed-bakusquad · 3 years

Text

Of Wind and Waves

of wind and waves by KBstories

"Finally, eyes embedded in fuzzy-black feathers land on Eijirou. Big, intense, avian eyes.

They're red.

Struck speechless, that detail snaps Eijirou out of it. It's... It's a harpy! Visiting his reef! Like, he knew they existed somewhere out there — they used to be kin, sirens and harpies, before the tides of fate carried one out to sea and the other up the mountain ridge further inland — and here the harpy is. In the flesh, sitting about a stone's throw away on Eijirou's favorite spot and snacking on Eijirou's fish."

Kirishima the siren and Bakugou the harpy meet, get to know each other and fall in love — not necessarily in that order.

Words: 3375, Chapters: 1/4, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Siren Kirishima Eijirou, Harpy Bakugou Katsuki, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Kirishima Eijirou is a Dork, Bakugou Katsuki is a Little Shit, Language Barrier, they're both trying very hard though!!!, Idiots in Love, (this will be the sweetest thing ever trust me), Event: KiriBaku Month 2021

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33027691

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Kiribaku #♥#Kiribaku #💎#💥#⚣#R:T #A:KBstories #Merperson AU #Hurt Comfort #Angst #Kiribaku Month 2021

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xaallo · 3 years

Note

[ KILL ]

Xaallo stood in front of the Triad, blocking the entrance. Something had found his ship, neither Pokémon nor human... or at least none of those things anymore. He had trouble counting the amount of eyes, the amount of mouths scattered haphazardly about the creatures slug-like body. Limbs jutting out at odd angles, from Pokémon and man alike, to drag it forwards; It looked for all the world like many mangled, melted together corpses.

Yet it was very much alive and looking at him with it's myriad of mismatched eyes. Blood and slime dripped from each maw, a putrid snail trail of viscera behind it. Any other day, Xaallo would've ran without question, but his fawns were in that ship. He wasn't going anywhere.

He issues his own challenge, and draws up to his full height. It was too large to suspend, to big to stasis, and so there went two of his suit's most useful functions. Nothing metallic on it to liquify, nothing electronic to scramble. Xaallo willed his suit's Aversive Surface into activation, and just in time too. A grotesques barbed club of a tongue shot from the biggest maw on the head of the creature. It collided with Bastion's surface, and bounced off with double the force.

Xaallo was knocked back, his back slamming painfully into the Triad's hull. The creature fell as well, it's great pulsating body rolling away. Sickeningly, Xaallo could make out the sound of limbs snapping and cracking under the weight of it and he winced. The abomination didn't seem bothered, only enraged that it's chosen meal was being problematic.

Xaallo braced himself, the creature once again preparing that barbed tongue. He switched into a static aversive to fry the bastard. Then, the abomination lurched and shrieked, it's remaining arms reaching and grasping at something behind it. Something was fastened onto it's back and Artemis identified it when the beast turned just so.

RU-02. Cutting into the thick flesh of the beast's neck, no doubt trying to find a spine to sever. Xaallo turned towards his ship as the two fought. If he could just get to the ship controls, lock his orbital canons on the damn thing. Just one canon wouldn't hurt, right?

The Abomination seemed to disagree, revealing that a tongue wasn't the only weapon it could bring to bear. Several tentacles, once hidden against it's mass, separated from the main body. A few wrapped around RU-02, and the remaining ones -- with scything edges -- races towards Xaallo himself.

Xaallo swore as they tied him down and raked against his armor, stubborn even as the aversive cooked its flesh. Even the unit was beginning to look like it was having trouble, the energy weapon in RU-02s mouth questionably aimed at best.

And then the unexpected: Another Unit. Standing atop the Triad, taking a second to look at the pair of them with disdain. Artemis identified them as well: the seldom seen RU-01. Xaallo wasn't sure she'd help them. Then she began to sing.

The Abomination paused, it screeched, the grip on the pair of them slackening just enough for RU-02 to apply his ACHILLES canon with lethal effect. A point blank shot to the brain of the creature; it reeled and flung the avian Silvally. Not quite dead. Not until the Siren caused it's body to explode.

Xaallo only paused to make sure the creature was, in fact, dead. Then he crawled quickly to the gore-covered Triad, to check on his fawns.

And get the hell away from Siren.

#unmaskedchimera #tw gore #tw body horror #well this got long #long post

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normal-horoscopes · 5 years

Text

It took a while to recognize that what she was looking at was a face

on account of its lack of a mouth or eyes. In a triumph of critical thinking, the student realized that the face was attached to a body. The body, specifically, of a priestess. One of the ones with no face. The student couldnt remember what their god was called. It was long and complicated and her head hurt. The biology of their god had no need for such senses, so the clergy would undergo a regimen of holy rituals that slowly reabsorb the facial features into the skull, leaving only faint fleshy indents where they used to be. The entirety of the head was covered in a chalky substance that flaked away in small parts when the priestess moved about the room. It was pale yellow in color, denoting the lowest rank.

The student attempted to open her mouth to ask the questions one would expect of someone in her situation, like “Where am I?” “Where is my companion?” “Who are you?” etc. But when she tried, she was overcome with a wave of nausea. A series of alerts on her HUD flashed a panicked orange, but her eyes couldn't focus enough to read them. She didn't seem to be in any danger, and elected to stop moving. This choice has nothing to do with the fact that her head was throbbing. She noticed a pervasive smell. Some sort of incense. That brought back memories.

At that very moment, as if alerted by some invisible siren, the priestesses head snapped around to face the student. The motion of her neck was accompanied by a series of popping and clicking sounds, the result of a biology still in transition. Vestigial disused vertebrae scraping against interlocking plates of chitin. It sounded painful. A bit of the nausea returned and it made her head spin.

The priestesses head moved like a pigeons, remaining completely level as she approached. She was small, standing just barely above a meter and a half. Most of her upper body was covered in the garment she wore, which seemed to be decorated with hundreds of pale yellow feathers the same color as the dye she wore on her head. Her arms were thin, folded close to her heart and clutching a long simple staff tipped with a censor that was likely the source of the smell. The staff was taller than she was. Her lower body was in the midst of a dramatic change. Instead of legs, she possessed a long, serpentine tail that was still kinked about halfway down and again just before the tip. Presumably the remnants of the ankles and knees yet to be completely reabsorbed back into the body. The elegance of her movement was largely uninterrupted by the unfinished tail. However, the kinks made a soft, rhythmic, plopping sound while she moved as they slapped against the floor.

Pap. Pap. Pap. Pap. Pap.

Why was she staring so intently? Wait. How could she be staring? She didn't have eyes. Whatever. She was dizzy and her head hurt.

The priestess was standing over her now, seeming to survey the student for injuries. For just a moment the priestesses whole torso seemed to shudder, rustling the cloak of feathers. The student seemed to remember something. She began to reach out with her biosynthetic hand, the one that could feel, to touch the priestesses coat with the back of her hand. It looked very soft. The priestess watched intently as the strangers hand moved towards her, and inched a bit closer to make contact easier. The student was right. It was warm and clean and soft. It was a rare feeling nowadays. Warm clean soft things were in short supply. The sensation seemed to ground the student, and her head began to clear.

After what seemed like too short a time for the student, the priestess took her charges hand, and guided it gently back to the cot that the rest of her was laying on. Her hands were avian and scaly, tipped with long talons, but the motion was exceedingly careful. Then she gestured as if to say “Wait here a moment”, and slithered out of sight.

Pap. Pap. Pap. Pap.

She returned a few minutes later, guiding the Teacher by the hand. She had to stoop and crouch to make up for the height difference. Upon noticing her now conscious friend, she rushed over to the cot. The student, invigorated by the presence of her friend, gave a smile and a thumbs up.

She sighed. Half relief, half exasperation. As she turned to address the priestess, the student thought she noticed a subtle change in her demeanor. Her voice and meaning were genuine, but there was a hint of distance to it, a reluctance. She nodded to the priestess, the shadow of a bow in her spine.

“Thank you“ she said, “For everything youve done“

The student was surprised when the priestess bowed back, evidently deferring to the Teacher as a superior. She was even more surprised to watch as the cloak of feathers seemed to unfold off her body, for it wasn’t a cloak at all. Jutting from the priestesses body at irregular angles and positions was more than half a dozen large, feathered, wings. Useless for flight, their main function was to cover what lay beneath. A blessing. An exercise in worship. As above, so below.

Eggs. Thousands of them, of wildly different sizes and shapes and natures, all quietly incubating under skin that rippled and bulged and swelled with the scars of the legions of children born before, and ready to be rent again by the children growing now, all sheltered by the insulating warmth of the cloak of feathers. Even now, the student could see the pale, winged insects that worked as drones, tending to the sleeping flock. A thousand thousand tiny holy soldiers at the bidding of their host, their hive queen, their very own god.

#Amber Skies #Tw body horror

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evolutionsvoid · 5 years

Photo

While the name "Bog Hag" may bring to mind some kind of witch that hangs around swamps, it is actually referring to a member of the True Siren family. In other cases, people may think Bog Hags are some kind of vengeful nature spirit, shambling piles of muck, branches and vines that seek to devour intruders. Despite these tales, Bog Hags are avian in nature, though there is an explanation for the marsh spirit monster mix up. Like all other True Sirens, the Bog Hag possesses four taloned limbs and a pair of wings. They also sport the pair of external larynges that the family is known for, as those help with its vocalizations. Though the Bog Hag is equipped with large wings, this species very rarely flies. The clogged and crowded canopy of the swamps and bogs it dwells in makes flight quite difficult for a creature of their size. The most aerial use they get out of these limbs is using them to boost their jumps, like when they seek to roost in a tree. At all other times, these large wings are kept close to the body, almost creating a cloak around them. This is because the Bog Hag uses their wings for camouflage, helping them blend in with their environment. The green hues help them melt into the vegetation, but they tend to add a little extra to this effect. Certain feathers on the outside of their wings are equipped with tiny barbs and hooks, which can stick to things like a bur. As the Bog Hag slinks through the swamp, its feathers will snare a variety of vines, moss, algae and other stuff to slowly build an extra layer of camouflage. Given enough time and resources, the Bog Hag can completely enshroud itself in a cloak of vegetation and muck, which gives rise to the tales of swamp beasts. Another reason why people believe these disguised creatures to be supernatural beings is the way they seemingly emerge from the scenery. Any pile of moss or overgrown stump could suddenly rear up and lash out with razor sharp claws, which leads to this idea. This is because Bog Hags prefer to hide behind this costume so that they can avoid predators and ambush prey. The grimy cloak will make them invisible to hungry eyes and it will also provide a natural odor so that their own scent is masked. When resting or waiting for food, they shall hide behind this disguise and remain perfectly still. If one is not extremely attentive to detail, you can easily walk past a Bog Hag without even knowing it. If you are on their menu, though, it is highly unlikely that they will let you stroll by in one piece! Despite their sharp talons and hooked beak, Bog Hags are omnivores. Even then, their diet leans more towards fruits, nuts and vegetables than it does meaty prey. That is not to say they don't snack on critters and lost travelers, it is just a majority of their diet is vegetation based. Sharp claws let them slice through root and vine, while their massive beak easily shatters tough shells and rinds. Foraging is usually done during the night, that way they can feed in peace. This also means that they can use this to catch other creatures unaware. Sleeping critters can be snuck up on and devoured, and those that are out roaming the darkness can be fooled by their deceptive cloak. If it detects nearby prey, the Bog Hag shall wrap itself in its wings and wait. If the ignorant beast ambles by, the siren will lash out with beak and talons. When ambushing prey, the Bog Hag will seek to grab hold with its talons and then use its powerful beak to crush the skull. It turns out a tool for cracking nuts can also be used on bone.

If its prey does not seem to be going their way, the Bog Hag can use their old family trick to bring them closer. Using their own vocal cords and their external larynges, Bog Hags can replicate an insane amount of sounds and calls. Add to this a wicked intelligence, and you got yourself a beast that is a master of trickery. If their target prefers flesh, the Bog Hag will mimic the cries of wounded prey. If it happens to be mating season, the calls of a female member of the species will get most males to rush blindly to their doom. The tricks and cons they pull are nearly endless, as they never cease to come up with new ideas for luring prey. If all else fails, the Bog Hag will resort to its hypnotic song. By running through a wide array of pitches, tones and rhythms, the siren will find a song that has an entrancing effect on its target. Such a process uses a great deal of energy, so it is often used as a last resort. If the Bog Hag is successful in finding the perfect song to effect prey, it will put them in a blissful trance. Those under their spell are completely oblivious to their surroundings and their own safety, as they stumble straight towards the singing creature. If they do not have the mental strength to resist the song or if no one is around to snap them out of it, they will happily walk right into the cruel talons of the Bog Hag. It is said that those who meet this fate aren't even aware of their deaths, as they are too lost in the song as the beak delivers a fatal bite. Like all other sirens, Bog Hags are widely feared and reviled creatures. Their slimy disguises are frightening to many, and even an uncloaked one is no pretty sight. Their entrancing song is something many travelers and explorers are scared of as they slog through the swamps. Though humans and other flesh based creatures may be potential prey to the Bog Hag, they are rarely their primary target. These creatures will only eat meat from time to time, mostly when opportunity presents itself. What they really want are fruits, nuts and other plant based foods, which happens to include dryads. Compared to all other sirens, the Bog Hag is the one member of the family that seems to prey mostly on the dryad species. Others may take our kind as food if they have the chance, but Bog Hags are the one who directly targets us. Like the beasts of lore who thrive on human flesh, these creatures love the taste of dryad organs. When they hunt live prey, they are mainly looking for a dryad to fool and consume. They seek out those who are alone or are far from help, so that no one can save them from the siren's song. When a proper target is found, they may try to mimic the sounds of a lost sister or one in trouble. Cries of distress are hard for many to ignore, and these creatures know that. If the dryad does not fall for it, they will quickly turn to their song and hypnotize them. Those who are not strong enough or fast enough to block their song will succumb to its effects and become the siren's dinner. When dining on dryads, Bog Hags prefer to feed on our head growths, brains and other internal organs. The remains of a dryad who fell to a Bog Hag's spell will often be headless and their body will be torn open and hollowed out. Such a sight can be found in the bogs and swamps, as many Marsh Dryad communities have to deal with these predators. This is one of the reasons why many hunters and foragers never go into the wilderness alone, and why nightly watches have to have at least two members. No one wants to succumb to this fate, and I got to experience such fear! My first encounter with one of these creatures was when I was traveling with a foraging group of Marsh Dryads. We were far from the village and decided to set up camp for the night. Due to the harshness of the territory we were in, we decided to have a watch. Two of us would stay up while the others slept, and then we would switch after a few hours. I was paired with a dryad named Lacocoa, and we were to take watch during the darkest part of the night. Before we even took over, they had the two of us tie ourselves together with a long piece of vine. It was like we were a two plant rope team! This was to keep us together and aware of each other's condition, and I must say it worked perfectly! As we sat around with our glow pods, I felt myself starting to doze off. Nothing was really happening, so boredom was starting to make me tired. At some point during my drowsiness, I heard a weird hollow noise in the distance. It wasn't super loud or threatening, so it took me a bit too long to react to it. As it droned on, my mind scrambled to remember what it belonged to, and before I could recall it, my rope belt began to tug. Being pulled off my log seat certainly jolted me awake, and I quickly looked to see what Lacocoa was doing. There she was wandering towards the dark trees outside of camp, without a weapon or light in hand. Even when I called to her, she didn't respond, she just kept stumbling forward like a drunk man. She was even oblivious to the fact she was dragging me along! I hurried to her and grabbed her before she could go any further. When I looked at her face, I saw she was completely out of it. She stared mindlessly ahead and she barely had the strength to keep her head up. Her mouth hung slack and she was drooling all over the place (which actually quite common for Marsh Dryads, but you know what I mean). It was like she was lost in a dream, so I quickly woke her up. A hearty shake and shout right in her face snapped her awake, and she jolted as if I electrocuted her. She was confused of what happened, seemingly oblivious to what happened during her trance. Since I was a rookie at all this, I woke up the rest of the party to make sure everyone was okay. With everyone roused and awake, they moved to scare the beast away. A handful of explosive seeds and flammable spores were bundled together and chucked into the forest. The resulting burst of light and sound sent the wildlife in a panic, as well as the Bog Hag responsible. Through the chaos, I could hear a terrible screech of the startled creature and the sound of heavy wings. They said that it fled and was gone, but that did little to comfort me. When it became our turn to sleep, I asked if Lacocoa wanted to stay tied together, just in case. Though I thought I would be ridiculed for my fear, she immediately agreed to the idea. It took me a moment to realize that she was still shaken from the incident, and was probably scared of the same thing I was. It was nice not to be alone with this fear but, even then, I still slept like crud that night. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------------------------- Gotta get more sirens in here! Always gotta have more!

#siren #monster #creature #art #drawing #swamp monster #bird monster #avian #bog

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the-broken-pen · 1 year

Text

7 snippets 7 people

Thank you @oh-no-another-idea for the tag!

Superhero Novel snippets

1. Vidrian took a step back, just one, and the dagger glinted at her neck.

“It isn’t your fault,” she said, and somehow, by some twist of fate, Aletheia heard it over the alarm.

“Viridian, Wait—“

2. Her fists clenched, her jaw ground, and she finally let herself feel rage as she glanced down at her blood stained front.

Only this time, there was no one to fight.

3. “You could be my queen,” he offered, blood splattering from his nose onto the floor.

She stared at him, stunned, then said numbly, “Of what? Your fighting rink compound?”

He grinned, and it was half bloody.

“The world.”

Serial killer novel snippets

4. Jules looked mildly uncomfortable, but Melody wanted to know. Jules’s lips pinched.

“I have experience with this kind of thing.”

Melody tipped her head. “Children of serial killers?”

“Trauma.”

“Ah,” Melody laughed quietly. “Just that, then.” The tips of Jules's mouth went up.

5. She appreciated their faith.

But Melody had come into this world covered in blood. And she had never truly been clean of it since.

She would never be clean of her father. When the time came, she hoped she at least died quickly.

Siren Novel snippets

6. The salt and iron taste in her mouth intensified unbearably, and her eyes snagged on something she couldn’t quite make out in the waves.

It took her three seconds to recognize what it was as it floated next to the hull, just below the waves. Three seconds, for her brain to put the puzzle pieces together, then convince itself that it wasn’t seeing things.

Three seconds for the taste to make her gag, warning shivering up her spine.

Three seconds for Malcolm to finally get his mouth to say the right combination of words.

In the water, next to the planks of her beloved ship, the Siren winked at her.

7. “God, you idiots, can’t you see it’s just magic?”

At this, the Siren smiled, face so pleasant that it stunned Lucy for a second, like sunshine breaking through clouds, the smell of warm bread and bells tolling to mark the ships returning to harbor—

“Stop it,” Lucy snapped, and the Siren grinned further.

“Getting to you, darling?”

Lucy grit her teeth.

This was a lot of fun! I’ll be tagging @ettawritesnstudies @meadowofbluebells @megreads22 @prettyquickpoetry @silver-ink-iron-words @jay-avian and anyone else who wants to join!

#creative writing #writblr #tag game #angst #writing #writing community

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drunkdragondoes · 5 years

Text

Songbird

It comes and goes like winter snows Fierce and fleeting, never quiet It always shows Your love is nothing if not cold Unforgettable

It was from an old song, a remake of the original. The lyrics were tacky, even for the time period that it was from.

You’re distant ‘til you’re here The breath of a coming storm And that’s all I want from you It’s the norm I just can’t let you go

And yet there was something in the words, in the way the piano softly played in the background. The original piece was accompanied by string instruments, as was common at the time, and it seemed to try and sound mournful. But now it was more of a person’s musings, as if lovestruck.

And when I feel your chill My body shakes It’s the storm, the surge My nerves lay still I’m ruined by you

The singer’s interpretation was, for better or for worse, good.

General Ironwood paused the meeting. “Are you still with me, Winter?”

Her eyes scrunched together. The earlier-than-usual morning was still taking its toll upon her. Cooped up in the basement of an ‘abandoned’ office building, the sterile white walls and fluorescent lights were harsh upon her blue eyes. She might have had her morning coffee already, but that didn’t meant it was working its magic yet. “I was rushed over at your request, sir. I suppose I’m still a bit tired from the trip over. Continue please.”

The old general leveled his eyes with her before giving a nod. “This is Qrow Branwen. I won’t wax poetic on his history - you’ve been with us long enough to know that anyone we bring up is under suspicion of not being fully human.” He pressed a button, and an image slowly sharpened onto a projector screen, revealing a man that looked to be in his early to mid forties. Dark hair, graying just at the sides, and a bit of a stubble, he matched the imagery of a man that could be just charming enough to get away with something.

“The case with him, though, is unusual. Most of the time, we function as quiet observers. The non-humans know of our existence and we don’t need to do any policing. However, he reached out to us for protection services.” The screen changed, this time revealing him at events in a black tuxedo, sometimes with another person, but usually alone. “And while we normally wouldn’t act in this situation, Branwen is a rising musician celebrity in our world. A lot of eyes are watching him, so our hand might be forced here. In addition, he’s offered a payment for our services, which includes a hefty advance if we take on the task. Any questions so far?”

Her lips pursed together, teeth raking across the top behind it. Asking for protection was not uncommon, and it was often turned down. They were observers and keepers of peace after all, not a task force. “There has to be more behind this. We wouldn’t be taking on a simple protection job without a good reason.”

The soft hum of magical gears and rotors spinning and humming to the rise and fall of his chest. “You’re right.” He looked her in the eye. “We’re taking on this case because Branwen implicated that he is a siren.”

She blinked. “A what?”

“A siren.” The screen changed again, this time portraying a series of pottery and art from older civilizations. “Greek and Roman mythology were among the first to describe these creatures, though facts often vary between the sources. Some depict them as similar to mermaids, others as avian amalgamations. And while most pieces depicted them as both male and female, over time it has portrayed them as female.”

“And he’s claiming that they exist and he’s one.” She found herself staring at the screen again.

“Indeed. In the end, we don’t know much about them, and if they’ve been this secretive about their existence, who knows how long they have been in the background.” Ironwood took a deep breath. “And that brings us to why we brought you in on such short notice. This is our potential first contact with a siren, and we want you to facilitate the relationship, maybe even make an ally out of him. Who knows how his powers could benefit us, after all.”

“And do we have any grounds to believe what he says?” she said, keeping her eyes on his pictures, looking for any unusual tells that would give himself away.

Nothing.

“There isn’t much outside of his word.” Ironwood clicked over to the next slide, leading to pictures of him singing in concerts and events. “But given his public profile as a rising singer, there’s reason to believe him.”

“How do we know it’s not a trap?”

A long breath. “We don’t. We staked out his apartment-” the screen switched to reveal a posh building, “and so far nothing unusual. Unless we use more invasive techniques, we can’t pick out anything else for now.”

Familiar words, but it came with the business. With one last blink, she rose from her seat. “I’ll get started then.”

Ironwood nodded before standing up as well. “His request seemed urgent, so you’ll be flying out late tonight. When you arrive in Vale, you’ll be checking in at the branch to pick up a body monitor before heading over to arrive at thirteen hundred hours local time. He knows we’re coming, so he should be expecting you.”

“Understood.”

He looked her in the eye. “And remember, Winter, werewolves might be a dime a dozen and we’re long past the age of shipwrecks. But if there’s one thing to be aware of, it's that sirens are born to sing. Be careful.”

“I mean, he even told me he was expecting someone, and here you are, at the time he told me, so-”

Even though it was a redeye flight, taking off at three in the morning, it was impossible for her to sleep. The seat was uncomfortable, and sleeping upright was never easy to begin with. And once she touched down in Vale, it was business as usual. Check in with headquarters and get her body monitor, check into her cheap hotel. Sit in a car for half an hour to go ten miles.

“Sometimes I think he does this on purpose, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Walk into an apartment complex, and suffer through the unlucky attendant’s third attempt page his apartment.

Nothing.

“Come on, pick up.”

Winter sighed, taking a moment to rub her eye. This was taking too long. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see if I can get in contact with my agency and get them to reach out to Branwen. Thank you, though.”

With a little more than a nod, she left the front doors of the lobby. Making her way out of the complex, her eyes scanned for any security cameras or staff. Once she made sure that she was out of sight, she began to let her magic work. She could feel her body shifting, becoming as light as air and blue like the sky.

With a tiny flash, she was gone, traversing through walls and floors until she was sure she was at the right one. Sensing that no one was by, she let the spell fall away, her body rematerializing in the posh hallway lights and at his apartment door. Her hand slipped into her coat, and she turned on her body monitor. “I’m in, commencing rendezvous.”

A tiny voice fed into her ear confirming that they got her message, and she was alone again. With a heavy blink of her eyes, she rang the doorbell in front of her.

Nothing. Again. Winter didn’t even hear a tone on the other end. For all she knew, the button could have been broken. And with a few more presses in vain, it might as well be.

No matter. Blinking her eyes and doing her best to ignore the scratch of sleep, she let herself slip through the cracks of the doorway again. Instead of letting herself shift back, however, she remained in her wispy, ethereal state. No one would be able to see her like this, so some recon of her own sounded appropriate.

So far, the grandiose apartment seemed silent. But if she strained her ears, there was something soft in the air, striking through at odd, unusual intervals. Simple. Elegant. And maybe another word she couldn’t think of at the time being.

Might as well take a peak. She drifted through the air, going through the few short halls to encounter a wide open area. One side was a television, two couches posed like an L, and a coffee table. To the other side was a piano, and at its front was the man she saw on the slides - dark hair, sharp red eyes. Qrow Branwen.

\As he played, fingering each key until they became a cohesive rhythm and tune, his lone humming echoed with the chords. Sometimes he would pause, but just as quickly he would pick up again. The tune might change, the keys might alter, but the tones of his unsung piece remained the same.

Winter didn’t really understand it. Music was taught to her at a young age, but now it was just a bygone afterthought. She couldn’t find the C key for the life of her, and she didn’t bother trying to stay in tune when following her favorite piece on the radio.

In fact, she didn’t remember much of it at all. Couldn’t remember the instrument she tried to pick up as a part of her class.

Another sharp blink, another breath, another step closer, Winter’s shoes gently clacking against the floor. Blink. Again. The jet lag must have been catching up to her. Shaking her head, she tried to focus on Qrow, but the only thing that seemed to register was his humming.

Her foot moved towards him, and her gaze drooped down. She was by the couch. For whatever reason, he started playing in earnest, his hums becoming more and more intense. Maybe this was why he wasn’t answering when the front desk paged him. He was too busy at work.

Surely he wouldn’t mind if she took a seat. She was a guest and they were supposed to have a meeting after all. Yes. Yes, that would be fine. He would stop, and they would talk and figure out this business.

Stay. Take a seat. Get comfortable.

Stay. Listen.

Rest. Enjoy.

Another soft hum.

Sleep.

When Winter first came to, she didn’t snap into action. Even though she was in an unfamiliar place at an unknown time, something felt peaceful. Whatever she was on was soft, softer than the bed she had at her own apartment halfway across the continent. Same with the blanket - warm and comforting. Safe.

Her immediate choice was to tuck the blankets around her again, roll over, and go back to sleep. Return to the land of warm and soft.

One tiny thing broke the spell, however.

“Arf!”

She felt her eyes snap open, and everything was wrong. This wasn’t her apartment. This wasn’t her blanket. This wasn’t her couch.

(In fact, Winter didn’t even have a couch.)

Quickly rolling over, she came face to face with a black and white dog - some kind of corgi.

“Arf!”

If there was one thing she knew she didn't have, it was a dog.

And to make matters worse, a pair of hands entered her vision to set down a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

This was really bad.

“Courtesy of my nieces, and an apology of sorts for missing our meeting.” Her eyes traveled up the arms and settled onto his sharp red eyes. “I got carried away with my work and, well, I guess it might have carried you in as well.”

It was like being caught red-handed. She tried to hide her embarrassment long enough to figure out a way to venture forth into the conversation, “Qrow Branwen, then, I assume?”

“That’s me,” his eyes scanned over her briefly, and despite the blanket around her she felt painfully naked, worsening the heat on her cheeks. “I’d shake your hand, but, well…”

She gave a huff. Might as well take the out he gave her. Slipping her arm over the blanket, she extended her hand. “Winter Schnee, Officer and Specialist of the Protectorate.”

A/N: Eyyo! Finally got this little bit ironed out. There might be more, there might not. I still have 2.59 and Summoner AU, after all. But hey - at least there is some more Qrowin in this world :3

#rwby #qrow branwen #winter schnee #qrowin #Songbird #Siren AU #writing #fanfiction

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cookiecutterwrites · 5 years

Text

I Guess This is My Life Now - How to Save the World in 12 Easy Steps, S1E3

Jaidyn goes about his morning routine. Real, gripping slice of life stuff.

Wordcount: ~2100.

SMASH CUT IN:

INT. TREEHOUSE - SUNRISE

A KNIFE is stabbed into wood-plank floor inches from side-sleeper JAIDYN'S nose. His stunning electric blue eyes flutter open. A SHADOWY FIGURE stoops into frame and whispers in a raspy, unsettling croak: SHADOW MAN Rule number one, never open on someone getting out of bed.

Jaidyn grimaces and PUNCHES the Shadow Man in the throat. The Shadow cries, recoils. Jaidyn leaps to his feet, yanks the knife free.

First clear view of the treehouse: trapdoor, paneless window, string hammock which -- based on his position -- Jaidyn seems to have fallen out of, a pile of blankets and books, a smaller pile of supernatural trinkets and magical objects, baskets of clothes, a simple dresser, a GIANT SWORD leaned against the far wall.

Jaidyn Shepherd himself: 17, tall, solidly-built, blonde, handsome. All the makings of a hero. He has dark circles under his eyes and awful bedhead despite not apparently owning a bed. He is inexplicably only mildly annoyed at his current predicament.

An alarm clock on the dresser goes off and at this, of all things, Jaidyn is absolutely incensed.

On an unrelated note, a NINJA swings in through the open window. Jaidyn LUNGES, dropping to his knees, slashing at the intruder's calf with the knife without the slightest bit of hesitation. The Ninja goes down. Jaidyn gets up, socks the ninja in the nose, THROWS Shadow Man's knife in the opposite direction. It strikes the clock dead-on, which stops ringing.

A COWGIRL pokes her head up through the trapdoor, revolver in hand, firing off rounds, swiss-cheesing the walls with far more bullets than her gun's reasonable capacity. Jaidyn heaves the ninja up off the ground, using him as a human shield as he pushes toward the cowgirl. He drops the unconscious ninja on her, they both topple off the ladder. The trapdoor SLAMS shut.

Jaidyn calmly takes off his shirt. Guess if he has abs. Just guess. He gets dressed, nonchalantly ignoring the growling melodramatic shadowy spookster in the back. He stuffs notebooks in his backpack.

A SPACEMAN pokes his head through the trapdoor. Jaidyn hurls a boot and it SBOCK's him in the head. The trapdoor SLAMS shut once more. Jaidyn glances at the Shadow Man.

JAIDYN I can't tell if you're getting more or less creative with your themed assassin squads and I don't like it.

He laces up his other boot.

First a PARROT, then a PIRATE strapped to a jetpack fly in through the window. The pirate misjudges and tangles himself up in the string hammock, looking rather sheepish. Jaidyn rolls his eyes.

He calmly shoves a random selection of magical artifacts into his schoolbag, then extracts a butterfly knife from the trove.

He crouches before the pirate and flips the knife open, screws it up, and cuts himself. He drops the knife, gasps, jams his bleeding thumb in his mouth. The pirate smirks.

Jaidyn makes for the clock on the dresser, frees the Shadow Man's knife, returns to the pirate, and without breaking eye contact, slits the intruder’s throat.

Then he goes to put his other shoe on, abandoning the knife.

Shadow Man chuckles, hacks a bit, hands still clutched around his throat.

SHADOW MAN Can't you see what you've become? After a life of violence and indifference, you're no different from us, Chosen One -

He trails off into an OTHERWORLDLY SCREECH as Jaidyn sleepily shines his phone flashlight at him. The Shadow Man dissolves into nothing. He pockets his phone, shoulders his backpack.

JAIDYN (yawning) Rules are meant to be broken.

He flips the trapdoor over and KICKS a defiant, outstretched astronaut arm back off the ladder.

Suddenly, PIGEONS. ALL THE PIGEONS. PIGEONS EVERYWHERE. Streaming in through the open window. Jaidyn yelps, swats uselessly.

SHADOW MAN (O.S.) (echo-y) Every time you defeat me, I come back stronger! And this time, I brought my little friends from another dimension!

Jaidyn dives for the sword. It comes alive in his hands, BURNING WITH PURE ENERGY. He slashes at the ruddy sky rats. Blood! Feathers! Gratuitous violence!

The pigeon swarm is reduced to a sputtering, weakly coo-ing mass of feathers carpeting the floor. Jaidyn sneezes and picks his way to the trap door, shouldering the giant sword, still dripping avian blood. Inexplicably, the only blood on him pools in his palms, and a rivulet cuts through his left eye, leaving a crimson streak down his cheek. None gets on his clothes because guess what, he's a cartoon and this is the outfit he's stuck with for the rest of this season.

He clambers on down without further interruption.

EXT. LITTLE ESEBRIA - CONTINUOUS

Jaidyn weaves between the unconscious cowgirl and spaceman sprawled across the grassy lawn. He walks with a slump and a chip on his shoulder. His treehouse sits between the tall, sturdy branches of the single tree in the yard. Shards of glass litter the ground outside the window, as if something or someone had been thrown out at some point. Beside the yard languishes the long-abandoned corpse of a mansion -- only dust and shambles now.

Jaidyn takes a deep breath and throws up his hood before carrying on through Little Esebria, a demented cross between a shanty town and a humongous wasp's nest. Giant butterflies, tarantulas and ants march through the streets, adjusting their ridiculously tiny ties and sipping from steaming coffee cups. A Cronenbergian monstrosity panhandles on the corner.

Midway across a bustling crosswalk, the sword on Jaidyn's shoulder TWITCHES. Then RISES of its own accord. Jaidyn just kind of lets it go and plants himself in the dead center of the crosswalk, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The sword then dips, floating a couple paces before him.

JAIDYN Is this really the time for this?

Green light. Cars and cyclists and express-lane larvae WOOSH and SWERVE and SKID around the pair. Something definitely crashes in the distance and sirens blare. Jaidyn narrows his eyes at his sentient sword.

Red light. More giant bugs flood the crosswalk. The sword speaks. The blade pulsates with light corresponding to the syllables. The voice is male, elderly, grizzled.

SWORD It's true what they say. You can't die -

JAIDYN Not this again.

He seizes his sword and marches off the crosswalk to a row of recycling bins. You have your standard landfill, paper waste, cans and bottles, and compost, as well as a shredder labelled 'DON'T THINK IT CAN BE RECYCLED? THINK AGAIN!'

SWORD Don't be silly. You can't be rid of me, you need me. This blade was wielded by deathless kings and emperors, forged from star steel, quenched in the blood of legends and honed on the black glass of distant quasars -

He's silenced as Jaidyn slides him into the shredder and punches a button on the side. He walks away as the sword is stripped to nothing in a SHOWER OF SPARKS complete with HORRIFIC METAL SQUEALING.

He's hardly a block down the street when he is approached by a FLOATING GARDEN RAKE. He rolls his eyes but doesn't slow down, forcing the rake to drift backwards to keep pace. The rake speaks with the same gravelly voice as the sword.

RAKE I have returned! My spirit has eluded the confines of my previous cumbersome form!

JAIDYN A rake though?

RAKE It was the only vaguely blade-shaped object left in the vicinity after you so graciously eliminated all my other options.

MONTAGE:

- Jaidyn hurls a screaming scimitar out his treehouse, shattering the window from the inside.

- Jaidyn drops a protesting broadsword into the shredder.

- He snaps a staff into two by breaking it over his knee.

- He absent-mindedly tosses a shrieking gladius off a cliff.

- He jams a tired, grumpy scythe into the shredder.

MONTAGE END.

JAIDYN Huh. We have been doing this for a while. How about you give it up?

RAKE I cannot. I am sworn to seek out the chosen warrior, in life and in death. I cannot pass on.

JAIDYN You can't die.

RAKE There are things in this life we cannot choose.

JAIDYN So I've heard.

Jaidyn clambers up a mountain of rubble and broken hive fragments. At the peak sits an OSCILLATING PORTAL, a shimmering, iridescent disc cut from the still-dark horizon. Beyond it lies a bright, sparkling cornflower sky. Jaidyn casually steps through the rift. The rake follows, and they arrive at -

EXT. SERI CROSSING - DAY

In the distance, OTHER PORTALS flicker in and out of view above the skyline, some dump a couple visitors here and there. Active railroads loop in and out of others. Fewer still are surrounded by small teams of worker-bots -- maintenance.

Jaidyn picks his way down to the crossing.

RAKE Call me Sir Hoover.

Jaidyn frowns but doesn't otherwise respond. From this point on, the rake will be referred to as Hoover.

HOOVER We've spent a lot of time getting to know one another. It's high time you knew how to address me.

JAIDYN But Hoover though?

HOOVER That is not my original name, but a name I have come to admire.

JAIDYN Really though?

He crosses the street, pulling an ELDERLY LADY off the crosswalk after him. He KICKS Hoover away, who spirals out onto the road and into the path of oncoming pedestrians. A phone-bound teen steps on him but deftly backs away before raking herself in the face, leaving Jaidyn positively devastated. He was really looking forward to some slapstick.

Hoover is run over the instant the light turns green.

ELDERY LADY Thank you, but I was going the opposite way...

EXT. RIFFLERAFFER SQUARE

Jaidyn walks alone.

HOOVER (O.S.) When I was alive, I led warriors on quests spanning galaxies to their destiny.

Jaidyn jumps, looks around, finds that Hoover is now possessing a stalk of SUGARCANE.

JAIDYN Where'd you find that?

HOOVER Farmers' market.

Jaidyn shakes his head and surges on. Hoover follows doggedly.

HOOVER I had a beard that reached the floor!

JAIDYN That's unhygienic.

HOOVER I had a pointy hat. It was extremely stylish. The ladies loved it.

Jaidyn sighs.

JAIDYN (to himself) I guess this is my life now.

HOOVER (scoffing) So I've heard.

Jaidyn spots someone in the crowd, picks up the pace, taps him on the shoulder. He turns, it's JOHN SMITH wearing a black mesh cap. He uneasily adjusts his grip on his schoolbag when he catches sight of the blood on Jaidyn's face.

JOHN SMITH Yikes, man. The usual?

JAIDYN Yes and no. I'll explain. I just... can I crash at your place tonight?

INT. SCHOOL WASHROOM - DAY

Jaidyn brushes his teeth, spits and washes up. Behind him, JOHN SMITH leans against a wall, fiddling with his cap, turning it sideways, backwards, then sideways again, then spinning it on a finger.

JOHN SMITH He's been through a lot. Let him stay. Imagine you're Hoover for a sec. Put yourself in his shoes -

JAIDYN His disgusting space wizard shoes -

JOHN SMITH Whatever. Imagine you're a bazillion years old. You can never die. You've been in a hundred, maybe a thousand different bodies. You can hardly stand to go by your own name because you're not who you were, not anymore. Isn't that tragic?

JAIDYN You say that like you know how it feels.

JOHN SMITH (dismissive) Let the space wizard stay.

They step out into the -

INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS

Jaidyn unsheathes Hoover from an umbrella stand.

JAIDYN You did say I'd need you.

HOOVER You will. You do. Wouldn't want a repeat of this morning, would we?

John Smith is already further down the hall.

JOHN SMITH Let's go, we'll be late!

JAIDYN (to John Smith) You can't hear him, can you?

JOHN SMITH Of course not, don't be ridiculous! That's for you to deal with!

Jaidyn shoves Hoover in his backpack and zips it up just enough to hold the stalk in place, leaving green segments jutting out.

SHADOW MAN (O.S.) (still echo-y) Did you really think you could end me that easily?

Jaidyn glances behind him. His shadow is long and gnarled, morphing into the rippling silhouette of the Shadow Man.

SHADOW MAN (O.S.) (echo-y and oh so spoopy) Every you defeat me, I come back stronger -

Jaidyn takes a step forward and into a sunbeam from a nearby window. The Shadow Man SHRIEKS once more and dissolves.

HOOVER They'll always underestimate how difficult it is when your life is chosen for you. Don't fret. I've seen this all before.

Jaidyn exhales, steels himself, and steps out of frame.

CUT TO BLACK.

An experiment to see if I can (or should) post full scripts directly to tumblr. This was surprisingly way less painful to format than I’d thought.

This episode’s shoutout goes to @thebravelittletoasterthatcould for star steel!

HTSTW tag list (ask to be added/removed!): @esoteric-eclectic-eccentric@maxbeewriting @eyelessfatdragon @glacizata @maple-writes@theforgottencoolkid @delerious-wordsmith @leskinggoddesskittycat @klywrites @quiescentwriting @acedragonwriter @deepestbelieverstranger @beatlesandbards @izzuniiwrites @managingmymuse

Read E1 and E2. Yes, there is some worldbuilding and continuity between episodes but so far everything can stand alone.

Next time on How to Save the World, a designated John Smith episode!

#s1e3 #wip #htstw #cookie's writing #cookie's stuff #script #screenplay #screenwriting #amwriting #fantasy kitchen sink #slice of life #comedy #writers on tumblr #jaidyn #here's that chosen one parody i promised yall #why yes that is a stalk of sugarcane named hoover

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ryssa-ravensdawn · 6 years

Text

The Captain’s chosen dreamscape never changed. It was the deck of her flagship, The Ravensdawn, overlooking peaceful waters. The ship swayed in the soft lull of the ocean, witnessed only by the twin moons of Azeroth. This was Ryssa’s paradise. Nothing felt more like home than the endless expanse of the sea. Whether it was the sun brightening the waves or the moonlight being broken by choppy waters, the Captain was calmed by the gentle sway of the ship. She did not need a siren to sing her song to pull her into the ocean.

She had sailed before she had learned how to walk.

The breeze carried the familiar scent to her, brushing back blood-red locks. It was her father’s scent of sweat, leather, roses, and sandalwood. For a moment, she imagined hands, brushing back her hair and tying it into a ponytail as he had done when she was a little girl. So long ago.

A few wisps of white could be seen strewn about the crimson mane nowadays. It was not a fashion statement for Ryssa. It was a mark of whatever lay dormant within her. The very thing she feared and needed to face. It made the mark on her abdomen sting as she thought about it. Her fingers idly brushed over the circle and its horns, willing it away.

It was an unknown and she got the worst feeling about it.

“This is wrong.” The mark on her stomach seemed to sting at her dismissal. Something within her spoke, a whisper that told her that this mark was not hers to bear. She had another destiny and not at the beck and call of a creature made of shadows.

Yet this thing lived in her brother.

“Kael.” She whispered under her breath, bidding her brother to listen to her. They had been but children when they had figured out that they could invade each other’s dreams. Of course, the only stipulation was that the other was sleeping. Kael rarely slept nowadays and he had found ways to keep her out.

“Kael’deryn Tyberius Ravensdawn. I call upon your given name. Hear my call from the dreamworld. I need you. Please…I need your guidance.” Her voice was a soft supplication against the dream winds that caressed her. The sting at her abdomen was suddenly everywhere on her skin. The wind was too cold and she found her surroundings changing. It was no longer the peaceful midnight seas but the turbulent, icy waters of the north.

The landscape was changing far too quickly and she realized that her dream was being manipulated. The cold bit at her bare skin. She was only dressed in a crop top and leather pants meant for warmer weather. Calling upon the dream, she willed a fur lined cloak upon herself and pulled it tightly against her body. “Kael. Talk to me. Don’t pull this bullshit on me.”

“I͞ ̷a͠m͠ ͏K͡ae̢l ̨a̸ǹd ̡h͟e͠ ̀is̀s͠ss me.”̧ The voice came first, disembodied and echoing. The figure manifested on the deck of her dream ship. It appeared as a simple black puddle of black ichor before a figure rose from within it in a strange, horrific manner. Shadows coiled around it, wisps forming the figure of her brother until she was left staring up at his tall figure. His skin was a pale violet, his eyes a dark purple, and his hair…his lovely blood-red hair had gone silvery white.

If this was her own fate, to battle some being that lay sequestered within her, she would fight it tooth and claw.

“I am not feeling well enough for this metaphysical fuckery right now.” She shoved a finger at her brother’s chest. He was very much real and solid. “Believe me. The moment I know how, I will knock you out of him so fast you won’t know what realm you are in. Now let me talk to my brother in peace before I vanquish your sorry ass back into whatever darkness my mother pulled you out of.”

“I ̕a҉m ͢the̡ ͜Da҉rk͟ness, my̷ Q͞uee̶n͡.” It hissed back at her.

“Then release my brother, slave.” Ryssa snapped, irate. Even in her dream, she could feel the wound in her right palm on the physical realm. The pain was liable to wake her before she was able to communicate with her brother. The dull throb of the wound was already enough that she was struggling to stay in the dream state.

“We ̛answe̷r͢ ̛t͡o͏ ͠n͞o̡ ̵one͟.͡” The figure began to dissipate, fading into a shadowy transparency. It mocked her in echo.

“That is not entirely true. You answer to someone or something, Great Father of Lies. Come talk to me, Great Serpent of the Dark. Stay a while, Soul Drinker and I will pay tribute to you in blood.” The figure ceased disappearing. Instead, it began to grow solid once more. Kael’s eyes narrowed at his sister but he said nothing. Instead, he scowled down at her and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What's the matter? Is blood not what you want, Great Devourer?”

“What is it that you want, Ryssa?” Her brother’s voice was the familiar tenor she knew. Even the look he was giving her was that of annoyance. That was Kael alright.

“I did something.” She began, biting down on her lower lip as she reminisced upon the events. “I broke the bond a risen spirit had with her Master. I broke it…and made her mine. I knew I could make her do anything and she would have no choice.”

A small frown painted Kael’s features despite the smile that began to quirk at the corner of his lips. “That you did.” He murmured, still watching her in eternal aggravation. “I felt it through our bond. Personally, I did not think you would ever manifest it to that degree. I thought you were condemned to just seeing and talking to spirits. And that odd bit of psychometry you have. I, however, see no reason why you needed to bring this to my attention. Being that you are one of few blood relatives that I still have, take care to not flaunt that ability, will you? The dead do not like necromancers. The living fear them.”

“For shadow’s sake, Kael, I do not want it. It is tainted … just like that … thing that lives inside you.”

“Death cannot be tainted. It is a part of nature. Necromancers have long been a part of the balance despite the talk of being abominations to life itself. The druids commune with nature and their spirits but you do not see anyone calling them out. The shamans talk to the elemental spirits and no one is up in arms about it. Instead, they are revered.”

“That is different. They are-“

“Is it?” Kael’s head canted ever so slightly as he looked upon his sister. “Necromancy is but the practice of communicating with the dead either by summoning them or in the rare occasion, raising them in the flesh. Is that not what they do?”

“Necromancy is-“

“Tch. Do not begin down that path, sister. It is not evil or good. Magic itself is gray. Our innate ability with the spirits, souls, death, and life-forces have long been passed down our line. You and I know this. It is our intent that colors our magic. Did you really call me into this dreamscape to debate the morality of necromancy?”

“No. I called you because I need help controlling it and I needed to do this.” She took a swing at him, rolling her hand into a tight fist. With amazing quickness, she aimed straight for his face. It made a satisfying crunch and she knew he would feel the pain of it in the waking world. He reeled back and brought hands to his face. “That was for manipulating and fucking with my memories and because that thing inside of you is an asshole.”

There was a long silence between both of them before Kael slowly let out a sigh, still rubbing his nose. Ryssa was ignoring the pain of her knuckles. It made it harder to stay in the dream world but Kael had it coming for a long time. He simply nodded, a glare lingering on his violet eyes.

“Very well. Bolster your mental shields against spirits. If you can get extra protection against them, I would recommend it. Avoid graveyards and other necromancers if you can. You’ll feel their aura before you know what they are.” He paused, lost in thought for a second. “Meet me at my Ghostlands Sanctum in five days time and we will get it under control.”

“Thank you, brother”

“Your payment will come in due time.” With that, the figure began to dissipate once more, fading from existence in the dream world. She was left on the deck of The Ravensdawn once more, alone. Idly, she felt herself being pulled into the waking world by pain and a mind too active to remain asleep. Too many things were on her mind and all of them seemed to be of essence.

Her men were wounded. She was weakened. Kael was still pulling his esoteric bullshit. And the real Ravensdawn ship had nearly been sunk. One need not to mention the artifacts in the vaults that needed tending to.

But how to cleanse them without attracting every dead thing within a hundred mile radius?

The pain in her palm was getting worse. Consciousness was slowly beginning to pull her back to reality. She lingered for a longer moment in the dream, enjoying the tropical clime now that she had control of her dreamscape once more. The fur-lined cloak was shed, taking one last breath of freedom before she had to go back to being landlocked in the waking world. The Captain would take what she could.

Resigned, she let consciousness seep back into her. It was only then that a venomous mist crept into her dreamscape. It moved and looked much like the shadows Kael usually appeared out of but these were a sickly green. The color of felfire.

“Oh that’s nice.” She murmured. “Thinking too hard on all this, I’m forcing myself into a nightmare.” Her tone was a bit dry as the replica of the guardian owl that had tried to sink her ship appeared in her dream. Thinking it strange but not giving it much thought, she knew that her own mind could be a weapon against her in dreams.

In slight confusion, she saw the owl begin to melt. She had broken that damned thing, had she not? She remembered it as a pile of scrap but here it was, whole and melting into flesh. Pockmarks marred the skin and the mechanical avian elongated to form a gaunt Sin’dorei male. The Captain took a few steps back out of precaution. She realized that this was not her but something else. This thing could very well hurt her within her own dreamscape. In fact, she was willing herself to wake but she was being forced to bear witness to this creature.

“You took one of mine. I will take one of yours. My family will always live on through me.” The male spoke, his breath nothing but dusty graves and a scent she associated with Shadowmoon Valley. It made her own breath hitch as she stared in half-horror at the male. She was not afraid of his presence but rather of how he had gotten in.

It meant her mental and mind shields were too weak to keep others out.

“Coldlight.” She said through gritted teeth as the pain in her palm had reached an excruciating level. She had cut her own palm as she had held on to the blade of her own cutlass. The poison that coated the blade had seeped in enough that by the time the medics got to it, it was nigh near impossible to cleanse it. They had done their best to clean it and bandage it but the pain of the poison continued to plague her as she rode it out.

The pain should have been enough to wake her. It was time for more painkillers but she was stuck in her dream state, soaked in sweat in the waking world. No one had noticed as she appeared to be sleeping quite fitfully last time they had checked.

“An even trade, Captain.” The male smiled, appraising the woman that had meddled in his affairs. The redheaded let out a bitter laugh as she was given the once-over by the creature she had seen in the vaults.

“Take one of my men, Coldfingers and you will rue the day you were born.”

“My family is eternal. The next time we meet, *Captain*, you will kneel to me. Then we will see *who will serve who.*" Coldlight's voice echoed in her mind as she was finally released from her dream. She jolted awake, staring at the ceiling of the medical bay. A chill was already beginning to work down her back from the sticky sweat the pain and poison were causing.

She sat up, startling a medical attendant nearby. He said something but Ryssa was already on her feet and out of bed. “Where are they?!” Her voice was harsh from misuse. She was looking for her crew. In her haste, she had failed to notice that she was in a very unflattering gown that was waving freely behind her. There was only one thought in her mind.

She had to account for all of her men.

Mentions: @thebuildingcacophony [ for Coldlight ) / @theron-darksunder

#rp #the dark #dio'zochal #coldlight #story progression #my writing

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