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ghouljams · 6 months

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Reverse Fae!AU feat. Witch!Price and Fae!Witch

I know they didn't win the poll but I wanted them to win and it's my blog so you're getting them first. Also as a penance for being gone for the last half of last week. Please accept my humble intro of these two.

It's not often you meet someone foolish enough to wander into your domain. Not just Summer, no you get the feeling this man was determined to land himself right in your court. You tip your head to watch him from your throne, stretch your legs with a hum, all the sunshine in the world couldn't pull the ache from your bones. He's quite nice to look at, you suppose, he stands proudly and looks around with clear eyes. It's the beard, you like the beard. And the rough edges of his hands, they speak to his profession.

He’s a long way from the safety of witches. He slips the hat from his head as he makes his way towards the steps to your throne. He stops just at the bottom of them, like he’s waiting for your invitation. Well, he won’t find one of those here. Although, you suppose it’s nice to see someone new. Someone interesting.

"You’re so far off your path," you tell the interloper, the witch, or- hm, the men these days like to be called something different don't they? Sorcerer? But witch is a profession, a title, and he seems smart enough to know that. He breathes magic, exhales it and draws it in. You can feel it circle through his body, seeping into his musculature and clinging to his blood. Witch, the air hisses. "How did you get here?" You ask him, settling your cheek against your hand.

"I walked," he tells you, the plainest thing in the world, "picked a direction and made the world take me where I wanted."

"To my court," it's fae magic, stolen magic, that he's talking about. You can feel it in him, chained to his bones and pacified, no wonder your usual safe guards let him through.

"Where else would I find you?" He asks, settling his foot on the first stair. It's rhetorical, there's nowhere else you'd be. The summer sun, the court's prized possession, queen of the golden throne. He takes another step, unafraid of your heat.

"Why do you want to find me? Are you trying to die?" Your threats seem to hold no bite, your teeth filed down, your claws dulled.

"To you?" You wish he'd stop climbing the stairs towards you, wish he wouldn't look at you like that, "wouldn't that be something." His eyes are so warm, reverent, they seem to touch on every part of you. You’d think you, of anyone, would be able to handle the heat of them, and yet you feel their absence. How awful. How terrifying.

"You think I won't kill you where you stand?" You try to steel yourself, your resolve. You don't care for foolish men, and yet it isn't hubris that drives him. No, you sense a purpose behind his movements. You need to get this witch out of here.

"You won't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm interesting," his voice is deep, rumbling, you tip your head back to look him in the eye as he makes it to the top step and stands in front of your throne, "and you haven't seen anything interesting in a long time."

It tells you nothing, gives you no information on the man in front of you, no strings to work with, no answers to spin. You don't like it, but he's right. It's been ages since anyone interrupted your watch, since anyone but the few wardens of this place spoke to you. Your curiosity will be your undoing. This man will be your undoing.

He’s taller than you’d thought. Colder. Winter clings to him. A shiver creeps down your spine, exhilarating and unfamiliar. He bows his head to you in greeting, a sincere gesture with a sly smile. A wolf’s smile. You find yourself smiling in return.

"That’s a good look on you,” He tells you, and you feel your face heat. Another unfamiliar feeling, it matches the rapid pace of your heart as he steps closer. You press back against your throne, away from him. You have nowhere else to go. He clicks his tongue in disapproval, tips his head forward to look down at you. “No need to get shy on me sweetheart, I’ll be gentle.”

He drops to his knees, and you press the ball of your foot against his mouth to shut him up. His words are starting to get too close to something you can’t touch. Something you can’t imagine a witch would want anything to do with, not with the fae at least. He doesn't move, just stares up at you, waiting. His patience against yours, both of you testing the other's next move. You feel his fingers slip against your ankle, edging themselves under the heavy iron shackle there.

“Who are you?” You try not to wince when the iron shifts, the tentative edges of fear are starting to drag themselves over your skin. He moves from your foot to press his lips against the knobby bone of your ankle. His fingers are quick, seeping magic under your skin, breaking heat over cold iron.

“John Price,” He tells you, and you feel the weight of his name settle more heavily over your shoulders than any chains could, “I’m the man that’s going to steal the Sun.”

“What?” Your breath catches as his magic clicks in the lock. You feel your magic rush at you as the shackle falls dead on the ground. It hits you so suddenly your head swims and your vision fuzzes. You tip forward and he catches you, lifts you up over his shoulder and out of your former prison.

“Well, suppose that needs amending, some present tense perhaps,” He chuckles, and you feel your stomach flutter, “I’m stealing you, any objections?”

“None, thank you,” You whisper, feeling another bond settle in place. One you never hope to pay back. His shoulder is firm, his hands gentle on your skin, you wrap your arms around his middle and rest your cheek against his back. It's been so long since you were out of that chair, how could you not thank him? He hums, like he expected that.

“You’re very welcome.” His thumbs rub against the back of your thighs, and you feel yourself starting to purr. "Let's get you home, something as pretty as you has no sense being locked away."

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restinslices · 4 months

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MK1 x Winter Soldier Reader Intros

Me not writing only about the Lin Kuei Bros? Who would've thought. Idk why I thought of this but here we are. For those not into Marvel the simplest way to explain TWS is he was in the Army in the 50s then he was injected with the super soldier serum and forced to become an assassin with over two dozen assassinations in the last 50 years. You're not a white guy named James “Bucky” Barnes, you just hold the title. Also you got a metal arm, it’ll make sense later-

Kung Lao: You’re a Winter Soldier?

Y/N: I am The Winter Soldier

Kung Lao: Ugh, more training?

Y/N: Do you expect to get better through sheer luck?

Kung Lao: I take it Liu Kang doesn’t allow assassins to be Earthrealm’s champion?

Y/N: Assassins and failures, such as yourself

Kung Lao: How do I become a Winter Soldier?

Y/N: You don’t

Raiden: It is an honor to be trained by you

Y/N: As is to train Earthrealm’s champion

Raiden: I can’t imagine going through what you have

Y/N: Good. You’ll save yourself nightmares

Y/N: Sometimes I worry I’m not a good person

Raiden: You are a good person through and through

Y/N: I wish I had lightning powers

Raiden: I wish I had your metal arm

(These rabid dogs behind him-)

Liu Kang: I hoped your life would be better this time

Y/N: Why hope when you had the power to change it and didn’t?

Y/N: You let my life go down this path?

Liu Kang: I cannot control everything

Y/N: You let me be a part of Earthrealm’s defenses, why? Pity?

Liu Kang: Because you are a capable warrior who deserves more in life

Liu Kang: Do you doubt my care for you?

Y/N: You expect me to still believe our friendship is real?

Y/N: I am not playing an assassin in your movie

Johnny: Aw, but you have tons of experience

Johnny: How much for the arm?

Y/N: Not for sale

(That debt kicking his ass)

Johnny: Your life could make an amazing movie

Y/N: You’ll become a real victim if I see it

Johnny: Over two dozen assassinations but a date with me would ruin you?

Y/N: If I had to pick between being a mindless assassin and dating you, I’d put my mask back on

Kenshi: Wanna trade predicaments?

Y/N: A blindfold looks much better on you

Kenshi: Have you ever fought a blind swordsman?

Y/N: Not sure it’d be fair to count it as a fight

Y/N: I too understand the need for a new life

Kenshi: Perhaps that is why we are such good friends

Kenshi: Planning on giving me a hand?

Y/N: I don’t think you’d see it coming

Y/N: And they call me The Winter Soldier

Bi-Han: Jokes will not help you win this fight

Bi-Han: You have not a shred of hope against the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster

Y/N: Your ego is what’ll knock you down in the end

Bi-Han: You won’t have the element of surprise with me

Y/N: Oh Bi-Han, I’ll be the last thing you see before you die

Bi-Han: You alone won’t take the Lin Kuei down

Y/N: I’ve taken a whole country down in one night. Excuse me for not being scared

Kuai Liang: I am glad to have your support

Y/N: You always will

Y/N: Are you willing to kill Bi-Han if he does not back down?

Kuai Liang: I am not sure

Y/N: Liu Kang could’ve made all our lives better and chose not to

Kuai Liang: You have to believe in his judgment

Kuai Liang: Liu Kang is not your enemy

Y/N: He is certainly not our friend

Y/N: I’ve heard you’re a great fighter

Tomas: I’ve heard the same about you

Tomas: You look great for 106 years old

Y/N: God, you gotta stop hanging around Johnny

Tomas: Why still defend Earthrealm if you’re so angry?

Y/N: The same reason you do; the need to protect is bigger than anger

Tomas: Why’d I have to hit Madam Bo and not you?

Y/N: I’m left/right handed and that’s the metal one soooo…

"I'm gonna write angst soon" *proceeds to write dumb Marvel x Mortal Kombat shit* I could've looked for gifs when they clash but my tumblr is actually so glitchy, if I did that I'd Kate Marsh. Also disclaimer. I should be writing Liar pt 3 and I have some of it written but I'm fr not having fun with it. For whatever reason it's just not making me happy like Mortal Kombat is. And as a bitch who has bad depression and that shit gets alarmingly bad during this time of year, uhhh I don't wanna do something that's not making me happy. I'm not tryna go to another hospital so Imma put off writing it until I'm having fun. Who knows, maybe that'll be next week. But yeah, that's for the Shadow and Bone fans here. Also also a fanfic, oneshot, drabble, whatever the fuck about being with Liu Kang (or being friends) and thinking your relationship is fake because as your creator he must've forced it to happen (he didn't but ya know). Am I cooking 'cause I feel like I am.

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here4kpopfics · 2 years

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Feeling in Chaos (Series Masterlist)

Status: Ongoing

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) Reader | Yoongi x (f) Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

AU: Best Friend’s Brother, Friends To Lovers, College!AU

Rating: M / 18+

Word Count: 45.7k and counting

Summary: After tragedy strikes your group of four, the three remaining must individually walk the path of grief, and learn how to get back to who you used to be or who you want to be. All while going through the last and second to last year of art college where two of you have to put on a showcase representing you.

Warning: This story is not happy. It contains a character death, self loathing, working through trauma, a heavy emphasis on PTSD, and more. PTSD and grief in general is not something to romanticize, nor is it a topic to discuss lightly. It’s something I live with every day, but I understand it can be different for everyone. Please keep an open mind that everyone handles traumatic events as well as grief differently. While some are able to get through it, some struggle every day.

Banner and Divider by @classicscreations

Masterlist | Taglist | AskBox | Coffee?

INDEX:

Intro - 2k

Summer - 6k

Summer Interlude - 14.9k

Fall Part One - 10.2k

Fall Part Two - 12.6k

Fall Part Three - TBD

Fall Interlude (JK POV) - TBD

Winter - TBD

Spring - TBD

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seldomscilence16 · 4 months

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Alright so this all started with a lego set at work, turned into a long ass intro, then its 11 on Christmas Eve and I decide to just do the Christmas snippet and finish the rest/context later.

So please ignore spelling 😬 and Happy Holidays all! Also TW for a bit of Racism at one point, theres a bullying scene but a short one. "Well if it isnt..." is where it starts and "there a problem here." Is where it ends.

Hope you enjoy this snippet! Stay safe everyone and thank @autisticlancemcclain for the Bug boy Lance!

...

Lance could kick himself.

He knows better than this. He knows what happens, he knows that once they get what they want, they'll leave.

And yet, here he is, spending hard earned money, on four classmates. Sure he'd saved them for last, focusing on his families gifts first and foremost- its the main reason he got the job, part going to saving for emergencies, the rest to spend on Christmas- but he was doing the thing he'd sworn off.

No people. People hurt and use and lie and tease. Lance was supposed to he strong until college, his fresh start, but then these four had to go and be NICE and do their part and- yeah the bar was really low...

"This isnt going to end well." He mumbles, the hustle and bustle of the mall overwhelming with holiday traffic and leaving him worn out before he even enters an actual store.

He scans aisle after aisle, berating himself for putting so much thought into something he wasnt even supposed to be doing. His eye catches something green and he comes to a halt. Its legos, one of those collectors sets that costs an arm and a leg, but Lance hadn't even known Lego did THIS.

'The insect collection'.

"Blue Morpho Butterfly, Hercules Beetle, and a Chinese Mantis." He breathes in awe, eyes scanning every detail.

"Well if it isnt Mclame."

His head snaps up, a group of classmates before him, most of which are his very reason for his No People rule.

"Still a freak about bugs I see, surprised you havent married one yet- maybe even they dont want you!" He snorts when he laughs, a strange noise from the back of his throat that remind Lance of a Donkey or Pig.

"Not like he could even afford it, if you want you can have your mom come clean my house." One girl taunts from the back, Lances blood boiling at the blatent racist remark despite Lance's CUBAN heritage.

"If you do have money to spare you should buy me lunch instead, for having to be in your vecinity for this long." Another boy plugs his nose, like he showers every day. Lance sits behind him in English, and he does not.

"There a problem here kids?" A man in the mall security uniform eyes them all carefully, eyes giving Lance a once over that makes him uncomfortable.

"No sir." He replies polity, deciding another store may hold better finding anyway- at least better company.

....

Lance's budget was low to begin with, but eventually he comes up with ideas for the four.

It starts with Hunks treats. The things that get them through their library sessions when the projects blur. And Lances job allows him access to plenty of people who would love to share things with anyone who will listen. So painstakingly, Lance translates recipes to paper as the older generations he enteracts with give him a little baking show.

Shiro's, surprisingly, comes next. A single comment about how much he hates ruined shirt sleeves, as they get caught on his prosthetic port. Its winter, and tank tops simply wont do, so Lance finds himself knitting in his spare time. Doing hours of research to see what possibilities will be the most comfortable, with of course a very lame joke on the front.

Pidge's was an accident. Lance's bike- sabataged it would seem- leaves him crashing off path in a ditch on his way home from work. He ends up limping his way through thick folliage, dragging a broken bike in the late hours of the afternoon. The little squeak is almost ignored, the second one however, well its Lance.

The little thing is a puffball, Lance was almost sure it was a toupé, until it moved and blinked at him. He thinks its a dog, no idea what kind, but its tiny and fluffy and following him home. Lance has three allergic family members, but Pidge mentioned a family dog who had sadly passed away and nearly broke Lances heart. The green eyes tell him this little thing will be a lovely match.

Keith is the hardest. Lance honestly almost buys a knife, because the guy is a conspiracy theorist and gets into way too much trouble not to have a few knives on him. But it doesnt seem right.

But Lance see's how often he doodles.

Freakin gorgeous doodles.

Then he finds the brand 'Keff Artistry' and its too close to 'Keef' for Lance to pass up.

...

He almost tells his family to simply lock him up and burn the gifts, but then they'd be worried and he's trying to avoid that thank you, hes been doing an excellent job masking his turmoil thus far.

So, the day before Christmas Eve, Lance gathers his gifts in trembling hands, and slips out of the house unseen. If this turns into a mess, he'll deal with it himself this time. He has to grow up eventually, he cant keep crying about bullies to his family, its not a big deal anyway.

"What the heck happened to your face!?" Pidge's incredulous tone has everyone eyes snapping towards said face.

"Its nothing, bike accident." Lance shrugs it off, as he'd done when he'd come home with it, he had too little proof anyway. Anyone could have carved 'McLame' into the side of it.

"Accident huh?" Its mumbled by someone, but Lance cant place it and decidedly ignores it anyway.

"I uh... have gifts... for you guys." He changes the subject, directing the attention to the bags he carries.

"For us?" Hunk asks, eyes wide and sparkly, "You know you didnt have to buddy."

Well, supposedly.

"Yeah, its not much, but uh, here." He hands them out carefully, extra careful with Pidge's.

"Guess its a good thing we brought ours to you then." Shiro says, pulling a wrapped box from the spare chair.

Lance's eyebrows furrow, staring at the box in confusion, perhaps with a little trepidation,

"You guys got me something?"

"Yeah! We all pitched in!" Pidge grins at him, something she does sparingly- grin that is.

He takes it with clammy hands, still shaking ever so slightly. He holds it to his chest as he watches the others open their bags, watches their faces carefully.

Hunk holds the hand bound book tenderly, eyes shining as he flips through the pages carefully.

Shiro stares in awe at his sweater, a chuckle escaping him as he runs his fingers over the soft material.

Pidge squeaks, as the small dog bumps its head against her face, cold nose sniffing excitedly. She holds the animal close, the dog snuggling up like he always belonged there.

Keith is staring at his gift. The art set held half out of the bag, as if he hadnt been expecting it. He turns wide eyes towards Lance, and the cuban can see the emotions there.

This is one of Lance's favorite parts about giving. When he did good in the eyes of the reciever, when they LIKE what he gave, genuinely. No matter its monetary value.

"Lance, this is amazing." Shiro breaks the silence, turning wide eyes his way, smile big and bright and real.

"I cant imagine how long this took, this is amazing! I havent even heard of some of these!!!" Hunk is tearing up, book hugged to his chest, grinning at Lance like he'd been given a great treasure.

"I cant believe you got me a dog! He's just a little puff!" The excitement is so nice to hear, its practically contageous.

"I... havent recieved something this nice from anyone but family before. Thanks Lance." Keith is downright shy as he admits this little fact about himself, and Lance could cry.

"I'm... really glad you guys like them."

"Now open yours!" Hunk encourages quickly, sitting to watch him intently, practically vibrating.

Lance could almost feel scared, but....

He allows himself a little hope.

He opens the paper gingerly, savoring his first gift from anyone outside of family. A corner is revealed, familiar for some reason, another inch-

Lego Ideas The Insect Collection.

"What-" It comes out choked, shock clear on his face.

Is it a joke? Are they mocking him? It was expensive, theres no way they'd spend that much on a joke right?

"Its the one you wanted right?" Pidge asks, a slight pinch to her brow.

"We only saw you from across the mall, so we didn't know- You're crying oh Gods, whats wrong Buddy-" Shiro Panics, quickly kneeling by the chair Lance had collapsed into.

"I don- Why- I can't- "

"Breathe! Come on-" Hunk exagerates his own, encouraging Lance gently to follow as he chokes on tears and air and spit alike.

"Its not a joke right?" He finally gets out, looking pleadingly to the group, running a reverant hand across the box, "You did this to be nice?" He can hear the vulnurability in his own voice, but he's about a second from breaking completely.

"Yes, yes, of course! All 1,111 pieces are inside!" Shiro assures quickly, rubbing a soothing hand over his shoulder and arm.

It gets a wet chuckle from Lance, as he pulls the box to his chest once more.

"No ones... thank you so much, I can't... can't tell you how much this means." He wipe at his face, "I'll repay you, I promise-"

"Hey, its a gift Lance." Keith says, voice softer than ever, "We wanted to get it for you."

"Merry Christmas Lance."

"Merry Christmas."

#fic #my writing #voltron #langst #snippet #lance mcclain #pidge gunderson #hunk voltron #keith kogane #takashi shirogane #bullying #angst #happy ending #merry christmas #happy holidays

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commanderthalys · 3 months

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CHARACTER INTRO: ROOTHOME

| sylvari tree/ safehaven/ home away from home

=Origins=

Similar to the Pale Tree, Roothome was once a small seed from Mordremoth. Purely by accidental circumstances it managed to make its way to the far desert highlands of Elona several hundred years ago, where it lay nestled in between barren cliffs for years, until slowly roots sprouted from the hardy pod in search of water. The mountainside where the sprout was held a massive open cave system, and the tree was able to sustain itself from the roots that made it to the cave’s lake.

As it grew larger and stronger, a single pod grew. Covered in spikes and a hard shell, the pod contained valuable fruit, the firstborn of the Roothome sylvari, who would awaken far from their home. In 1295 AE the pod exploded, sending the protected sapling far over the mountain until it landed in a river, which carried it out to sea. After drifting for a time, the pod landed on the shores of Mount Maelstrom. The firstborn, Marek, awoke and cracked open their pod, and began exploring the world for their Tree. Marek’s experiences shaped the tree’s version of a dream, they wandered for ten years before coming back to Roothome as the long lost hero of their people.

In that time many more sylvari were born from the tree much like Marek was, with one exception. Marek was alone in their pod, but through their experience the tree realized that the sylvari would need a community upon awakening in order to guarantee survival and avoid loneliness. The pods after Marek were much larger and contained several sylvari, but very rarely was one alone in a pod after the firstborn.

=Customs=

Due to Marek’s heavy influence on the roothome sylvari, they strongly value community and hospitality. All strangers are welcome regardless of who they are, and are made to feel at home unless they transgress on that kindness in some way. The Roothome sylvari have a deep love of team games and host a festival every year in the winter where pod groups compete in various trials that highlight Roothome’s teamwork. The Roothome sylvari engage in wrestling and fighting sports often, and despite their playful exterior, Roothome is incredibly well defended by the Thornguard, a group that acts as guards and guides. Although the cave is large enough for the entire population, many sylvari live in carved out hollows on the mountainside and tend to fields in the valley, keeping the path to the mountain well lit and safe. These sylvari wear warmer and heavier clothing and utilize thick furs, while those in the cave don’t require as many layers unless the weather is extreme.

Due to the nature of Roothome’s pods, the saplings awaken far from their tree, and with their podmates they go through the rite of passage that is making it back to their tree. Not all pod groups survive, but they are honored for their efforts nonetheless. Sylvari that are born with no podmates or lose their podmates are not shamed, but instead are supported by their fellows, and single podmates tend to group together naturally once they’ve returned.

=Traits of Roothome Sylvari=

All Roothome sylvari have hidden fangs concealed by their face leaves/bark that produce corrosive acid. They peel back their face leaves and bare these fangs to greet each other, but their leaves can also flare out when stressed/angry/excited. Unless displayed like that or used to spit acid, the fangs are completely concealed. They can also have pores across their bodies that produce acid, primarily in the fingers, but this varies between individuals. They use this acid to shape their homes in the thick mountain stone.

Roothome sylvari are also born with a set of dormant gills that can be activated if a pod is in the water long enough. This allows them to breathe both on land and underwater, but not all sylvari have working gills.

They can be any body shape and apart from those traits they resemble the pale tree’s sylvari

=timeline=

1295- Marek awakens

1297- secondborn awaken

1305- Marek returns to an established very small city, day of their return becomes an annual celebration

1310- major cave expansion and building of the game arena

1312- first annual festival (held in the winter)

1320- asura waygates added to the foot of the mountain

#marek #gw2 #guild wars 2 #sylvari #Lynx talks #character intro #it’s a tag now #BTW IF ANYONE WANTS TO MAKE A ROOTHOME VARI PLEASE DO PLEASE SHARE THEM WITH ME <3

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morrigan-sims · 4 months

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D&D OC Intro

(inspired by @goldenwaves's post!!)

[transcript under the cut]

This is FAR from everyone, but it's the characters I've played for more than a oneshot, and the ones I actually talk about. (I would have added Asra, but I didn't have a pic of her with a black background. I'll probably update this later.)

TRANSCRIPT:

Zenara Raventhorn (aka Zen)

Tiefling Warlock (Pact of the Fiend)

The first D&D character I ever played.

Only got to play two sessions with them.

Unintentionally inspired by Critical Role Campaign 2

Backstory written between 1-3am on my phone.

Has an imp familiar who looks like a raven.

Occasionally gets possessed by their patron, and then gets given new powers as an "apology".

Fire theme.

Rook (Adrian Lockwood)

Half-elf Rogue (Swashbuckler)

First (and only) character to make it past 8 sessions. (So far.)

Disaster bisexual pirate boy with SO MUCH trauma.

Wields a magic rapier that was a gift from his captain + first mentor.

Enemies with a different pirate captain who wants to capture him.

Has decent charisma but relatively terrible social skills.

Bastard son of a nobleman. Has daddy issues.

Reckless and impulsive to a fault. Would die for his friends.

May or may not be cursed by a demon lord.

Asola Riava Ashmark

Aasimar Paladin (Oath of Vengeance)

Made it 8 sessions before we switched campaigns.

Doesn't know she's an aasimar. Her powers show up when she experiences extreme emotions and it's only ever happened twice in her life.

Got briefly possessed and then force-shut-down by a literal god.

Has a habit of picking up stray traumatized young people.

The party's moral compass. Tried to keep them somewhat in line.

Believes that laying down her life to save someone else's is worth it. Swears she doesn't have self-worth issues.

Morana Novak

Witch (Curse Patron)

Character for an eventual Pathfinder game.

Named after a Slavic goddess of death and winter.

Necromancer, got kicked out of her hometown for graverobbing and experimenting on corpses.

Her familiar is a raven named Miro, who she rescued and trained.

Autistic as hell, which will be fun for me to play.

Very creepy and unsettling person.

One of her future party members nicknamed her "Mortician".

Cyra

Fire Genasi Barbarian (Path of the Storm Herald)

Newest character on this powerpoint.

Fights with a magical flaming quarterstaff that she can summon from inside herself.

Has a stolen, magically powered vehicle.

Formerly part of a cult. Only stayed around for their toxic then-girlfriend.

Somehow basically the least traumatized member of the party. That was NOT the plan.

#morrigan plays dnd #dnd #my dnd ocs #semi-sims

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kaylinalexanderbooks · 1 month

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Find the word tag

Thanks @verba-writing for the tag!

My words: breath, wild, fall

Your words: arm, subject, learn, incapable

Tagging @dyrewrites @little-peril-stories @andyswritings @blind-the-winds @mrbexwrites @eccaiia @mk-writes-stuff @poethill @theeccentricraven @jessicagailwrites @gottestod-writes @cowboybrunch @sleepywriter00 @buffythevampirelover @little-mouse-gardens @theknightswhosay @pk-writes @herrmannhalsteadproduction @infinnative or anyone who wants to hop on!

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @fairy-tales-of-yesterday who can also join in if you want :)

Keep reading for:

Lexi looks for Ash and has a near-panic attack (CW: near panic attack)

Lexi knows everything about everyone apparently

Tierney gets his letter!

Breath - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

The forest was dense and vast—she could theoretically be anywhere. Clues. Maybe there would be a sign of the direction she went. I looked down to see if there were any imprints where she may have stepped. Most of the ground appeared untouched, but my eyes rested on a patch of flattened red ferns a few yards away. I ran toward them, then kept looking at the forest floor. The colorful leaves covering the ground appeared crunched, like someone had staggered through them shortly before I arrived. I followed the path they appeared to make. “Ash!” I called, hoping I was closer. Still, there was nothing. I stopped at a patch of purple flowers. There were clumps of them similar scattered here and there, but these were as flattened as the ferns. I knelt down beside them. A black object settled beneath the flowers caught my eye, and I picked it up. I gasped—one of Ash’s rings. “Ash!” I called again as I stood. “ASH!” She had to be close. I looked back down at the crushed blossoms. It was like she’d collapsed in them. My breath caught in my chest. “ASH!” My breathing picked up. “ASH!” What if she didn’t hear me? If she was unconscious somewhere…. I tried calling her name again, but it was caught in my throat by a sudden sob. My hand enclosed the ring until it dug into my fingers. My legs felt weak and I found myself kneeling on the forest floor as tears streamed down my cheeks. I hit my thigh with my fist that enclosed the ring, scolding myself and my stupid anxiety for making me lose my focus after one setback. “She wasn’t here,” I told myself, pulling on my braids. “That means she had to stand up and walk away to somewhere else.” I closed my eyes, taking a shaky breath, and almost willed Ash to speak up—let me know where she was. “Lexi!”

Wild - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Lexi POV)

Ash and Gwen came from band and arrived together every day, and it didn’t seem too different. Ash sat beside me as usual, and Gwen in front of me. We usually talked for the whole thirty minutes about various things: class, Gwen’s relationship with Akash, or whatever had happened during the weekend in Alium. But today, several minutes in, we hadn’t really said a word to each other. I didn’t have to be a telepath to figure out why. Beside me, Ash had her eyes glued to her food. The silence was driving me insane. My knee bounced in anticipation. “So how’s band going?” I blurted out. “It’s fine,” Ash said. “We’re almost ready for our winter concert,” Gwen said, pulling me out of my misery. “Oh! That’s Thursday, right?” “Next Thursday,” Gwen clarified. “Our orchestra concert is next Friday,” I added on. “Maddie’s choir concert is next Saturday, the twenty-first. So we’ll show up in Alium that Sunday morning. That weekend is going to be wild. Jazlyn and Wade both have a football game on Friday, and Ewan and Hye-Jin have concerts Saturday. I think Parker may be going to Wade’s game and Ewan and Jazlyn to each other’s activities. And Robbie has a winter play next week Thursday through Saturday. So next weekend will be vacant until Sunday.” “How do you know what everyone’s doing?” Ash asked, finally saying something and looking up from her largely untouched food. I blinked. “I dunno. I just remembered everyone talking about it.” “What else do you know, their birthdays?” “Yeah,” I said.

I can tell I haven't revised this yet. Lexi would be tugging her hair, not bouncing her knee. And she wouldn't say Ash's eyes are glued to her food - just focused on them. Her voice is just slightly off.

Fall - from School of the Legends Year One

Tierney unfolded it and began to read aloud, “Prince Tierney Wayne, We are pleased to congratulate you on your qualification for Madame Goossens’ School for the Gifted, Majicked, and Cursed in the United States of America.” “What?” his father asked. A pattering of feet from above indicated all of Tierney’s siblings racing down the stairs. “Keep reading!” “This international school is for teens with unusual abilities, and we wish to provide an environment that is better suited for you, as well as teaching you control and opening greater opportunities for your future.” “What does that mean?” Damari asked as everyone was now in the Hall. Tierney shrugged and just continued. “All of your credits will be transferred, and we hope to hear back from you soon with an acceptance letter. There is more information on the back of the letter. We hope to see you around our campus.” “Well, what’s the information on the back of the letter?” his father demanded. Tierney, confused as ever, flipped the paper over. “Um, so this school is for the, uh, gifted, majicked, and cursed.” “That was established in the school’s name,” said the king. “I apparently fall into the ‘gifted’ category.” “Gifted!” the king boomed, his voice echoing off the majestic walls. “That letter claims you--my son!--to be one of those mutants?” “You’re a gifted!” Ritchie said, almost too excited. With a glare from their father, he put on a more neutral demeanor. “So, does it say what your gift is?” Tierney scanned the paper. “Uh, ‘qualification: electric-based powers.’” “Electric?” Damari repeated. “Well that explains the constant shock,” said Ritchie. “And the thunderstorm fetish.” “Jarred!” their mother scolded. “What?”

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highfantasy-soul · 1 month

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NATLA Episode 5 - Spirited Away (1/3)

[Masterlist of my NATLA thoughts]

An explanation of what I'm doing here and my history with ATLA.

Of course, full spoilers ahead.

This episode shifts from taking several episodes from season 1 of the animated show and weaving them together to even drawing from future seasons/shows! I saw elements of The Winter Solstice: part 1, Bato of the Water Tribe, The Swamp (season 2), The Storm, Siege of the North part 2, that episode in Legend of Korra season 2 where (spoilers) she meets Iroh in the spirit world and sees the people lost in the Fog of Lost Souls, and honorable mentions to The Waterbending Scroll, The Fortuneteller, and The Great Divide. While that might seem like a lot to combine into one episode, I think the writers did well to pick and choose the thematic elements of each episode that would naturally condense into a Spirit World trip as well as add to Zuko's story.

This was a characterization-heavy episode that really let us delve deep into several characters - namely Katara, and Sokka, but also Azula. I feel like because Zuko has soooo much to delve into, he gets really impactful character moments every episode, but episode 6 is really his time to shine, so that's why I don't include him in that list and Aang is similar - he gets a lot of his backstory examined all through the season while Katara and Sokka don't get a chance for flashbacks.

The intro does a great job letting us know that some time has passed - and the Gaang is getting better at working/surviving together. Love the detail that Katara is learning waterbending by experience and observation rather than just being naturally good at coming up with her own forms: she saw earthbenders do the earth disks, so she made her own ice ones! The burned forest is pulled almost directly from the animated show and I like how they're tying it to not only the themes of responsibility, but also of forgiving yourself for past mistakes and planting seeds for the future.

I like the choice to have Sokka interacting with a young girl in the forest who was looking for her stolen brother rather than an old man just randomly showing up and asking for their help. The active choice for Sokka to turn on 'big brother mode', drop the Pipenpadalopsikous easter egg, and the group to CHOOSE to go to the village to help all on their own gave the characters a lot of agency rather than just being tugged along with the plot by other characters. Since they cut the Imprisoned storyline where the Gaang took that agency in the animated version, I like that they gave them that same agency here in the live-action. The included detail that the forest didn't burn due to a battle, but just because the Fire Nation wanted a clearer path to march through just shows how devoid of care Israel is - sorry, The Fire Nation is - for the natural world. While at war, just destroy everything in your path - even centuries old orchards - sorry, forests.

The change in camera focus as Aang senses the issues in the Spirit World was a really cool cue for the watcher - makes it very other-worldly. Live-action Aang already understands that he can interact with the spirit world rather than in the animation when the villager has to prompt him 'yeah, you can do that stuff' and Aang reluctantly and with a great deal of apprehension says 'right, that's me'. While I like how Aang has no idea what he's doing as he hasn't had anyone to teach him about the spirit world, he goes about things differently in the live-action. He still doesn't know exactly what to do, but he does know meditation, so he tries that - and it takes awhile and does it funky, bringing Katara and Sokka in with him.

It's great to see Zuko on the old-school hunt for the Avatar and being a dick to his crew - these two episodes in Zuko's POV draw heavily from The Storm and Bato of the Water tribe and it's a great dynamic to see between him and his crew. Then we jump to Azula laying on the flattery thick with her father and dropping the 'water the most promising seed' line! Again, reinforcing the theme of future growth - and it might not always be positive growth. Linking the themes to both sides is just soooooo goooddd. Love too, how Azula gives her suggestion for what to do and Ozai agrees, an inverse of when he'll be so disparaging of Zuko's suggested tactics in the next episode.

But oooooohhhh the sly dressing down he gives Azula, her conflicted and angrily embarrassed reaction, and then Ozai's little smirk as he pokes and prods in JUST the right way to get Azula pitted against Zuko - love love love what they did with the royal family in season 1. It'll give SO much more depth to Zuko and Azula's rivalry next season!! It is heartbreaking though that Azula was so clearly angling to get some sort of approval from her father - some praise for her abilities - praise that with Ozai is probably very rare. The two children are just so desperate for positive reinforcement from their father and while Azula's sly remarks are, of course, underhanded, you see that she's doing it because she's just a child desperate for approval - not that she was just 'born a monster'.

The Gaang's dynamic is so cute here!! Like in the animated version, Katara having complete faith in Aang even though she's no idea how he's gonna do it, Aang desperately trying to do something he knows he should be able to do but no idea how, and Sokka complaining that he's hungry which is distracting Aang from his super serious business. Their interactions are almost a direct pull from the Siege of the North Part I from the animated series when Katara and Yue are talking behind Aang as he's trying to enter the Spirit World at the oasis. Instead of stumbling into the Spirit World on accident as he chases after Hei Bai, in the live-action, Aang has to meditate for a long time before finally reaching the point where he can cross over. The detail of Katara continuing to practice her forms as they wait is really great as we don’t actually get to see animated Katara practicing much - it's just The Waterbending Scroll, and every other time, she just does the waterbending form perfectly. Yes, her skills improve, but we really miss her practicing.

It's an interesting choice to bring Sokka and Katara with Aang into the Spirit World - I can see how, with the themes they're looking to explore with these episodes, that's how they chose to do it. The main ideas being that you need to come to terms with the past so you can look forward to the future, and a great way to do a flashback sequence is through the Spirit World. The animated show didn't really show Aang much in the spirit world through these episodes - he just met Fang and was given the Spirit message to get to Roku's temple - but nothing else really Spirit Worldy happened. And we just left Sokka and ignored the fact he was there. I like them combining Aang's jaunt into the spirit world during the Siege of the North episodes here because I think it's a great story beat to hit, but the siege episodes are already a LOT, so adding even more with the spirit world journey to meet Koh would probably be too much.

Won Shi Tong was an amazing addition to the spirit world. Instead of a random monkey (that costs tons of money to CGI), they've created a model for a character we'll see in season 2. I don't really understand people confused about his presence here - like….y'all, he's a spirit? He can float around wherever - probably can be both here in the spirit world and the library at the same time? Idk, it just seems like an odd thing to be confused over. Like, why would an ancient spirit not be able to jump over into the spirit world while also holding down their presence in the material plane? It really felt like manufactured outrage trying to FORCE an issue that’s…not an issue at all.

#natla #avatar the last airbender #natla positivity #netflix avatar

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lettersandinkstains · 1 year

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WIP INTRO: So Said the King Book One: Throne of Dirt

❅ New Adult, Dark Fantasy, LGBTQ+ Cast, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Found Family ❅ Mild body horror, corruption, implied and referenced abuse, war ❅ Draft 2 ❅ Multi - Third Person POV

❅ Summary:

The king is dead.

News of his passing spread quickly throughout the frozen kingdom of Erealia, the queen ascending to the throne. She promises that she will ascend the kingdom of eternal winter into a new era - one where their crops will finally go and sunlight will seek past the mountain tops. Lies from snaked tongues and a lust for blood, she swears by the gods, that they demand war in exchange for this to happen.

Princess Sage had never left beyond the stony gates of her kingdom, had never been allowed to leave the courts of her castle, now led, hand in hand by her childhood friend and Knight, Sorel as he tells her that it is no longer safe for her. There is plot from the queen to end her life, and she must seek asylum and help from neighboring nations - ones sworn as enemies by the Queen.

Partnered with hired assassin, Nyx, from Cael, Sage sets on the journey given before her. Secrets emerge as she keeps on the path, bitter truths from the gods that escape and she wonders if saving her home is worth it in the end.

❅ [links -> wip page (coming soon), playlist (coming soon), individual character profiles (coming soon), worldbuilding (coming soon)]

#writeblr #wip intro #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #dark fantasy #fantasy #amwriting #creative writing #writing community #sstk #so said the king #this has been re-written many times hello

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sekaicards · 3 months

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what's your favourite card(s) for each character? at least one or two if you wanna fjfkfkkf :0

oh god uh. okay. um.

miku - The Sparkling Magic of Smiles | Where Feelings Come Together | Among The Petals Dancing In The Wind | First Time on the Street! | Feat. Hello Kitty

rin - Idol on Cake ♪ | Another Version Of Me | Tell Me About Your Memories

len - A Treasure Chest Of Fun | We Can Say It

luka - An Elegant Smile | What Do Kappas Like?

meiko - Reassuring Warmth | Narrator of Happiness | Teach Me, Shiho-Sensei!

kaito - It's Okay, Everyone | What Style Would Be Good? | Feelings That Can't Be Ignored

an - BBQ With Everyone ♪ | Dressed in Pure White | Gentle Memories | To the Place I Couldn't Reach

#this is EMBARASINGGGG #exposed for liking so many cards......#nobody ask me how many of these i actually i have i'll start crying on the spot don't try me <- JOKE #mod post!#asks!#sorry this took 10 million years anon.....

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delusionisaplace · 5 months

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the taste of vengeance: intro

i just finished chapter one over the course of this past weekend, so i thought i’d share a small bit of it :)))

im not really sure if any of this makes sense out of context though lol, so if you want more information, feel free to ask!!

words: 1,809

From deep within the chamber, I heard the door creak, disrupting my thoughts.

“Victor?” a low voice called, “Victor?” The voice grew louder and louder until it was directly behind me. “Victor,” the housekeep said firmly, “Faina and Elias request to see you. They wish to bid you farewell before you depart.”

I could feel a bittersweet smile tug at my lips as I continued to stare at the burning coals.“Ah, yes. Send them in, please.”

The chambermaid left me another word, but one echoed deep my mind: farewell. In forming this decision, I never quite considered the possibility that I would have to say farewell to those that I loved in my search of a more fulfilling life, nor did I prepare myself for the moment that I would have to.

A hand found its way around my waist, a pair of lips planting themselves on my cheek. “Victor. Elias and I have come to say our farewells.”

I turned to face Faina—once I gazed into her amber eyes, a solemn look began to descend over my face. I never once thought I would ever leave the woman I once considered the love of my life, the woman I was to be wed to by the end of winter.

Her brow furrowed at the sight of my slack expression. “What is wrong, Victor? You seem as though someone has died? Are you sick?” She pressed the back of her hand to my forehand, checking to see if my temperature had dropped.

“No,” I said with a wry chuckle. “I am fine, just a bit uneasy. This will pass soon.”

She drew her hand back and shifted her gaze towards the ground. “So…I presume you are packed and ready to leave?”

“Indeed I am.”

“Have you planned on where you will go?”

I shook my head, a mix of sadness and uncertainty growing in my chest with each passing moment. “I haven’t yet, Faina. After all, there are many places, many possibilities, and this life is long. I’m sure I will have time to see all that I desire.”

She went silent for a long while, mustering up the words she had kept buried deep in her heart. “Must you leave us, Victor?” Faina’s lips began to tremble slightly as she spoke, tears threatening to pool in her eyes.

“Oh, yes. I am afraid I must. I feel as though I am trapped here.”

“I do not understand how you could feel such a way when you are surrounded by those who love you. Is there another reason why you are leaving? Is it me? Have I done something wrong?”

I could feel my heart tear upon hearing the pain in her voice.“No. This is no fault of your own. The issue resides in me. You and Elias know what your paths in life are, but I have spent my life following the one that had been assigned to me from birth. Now, it is time for me to discover how I would like to spend my life.”

She took my hand, holding on tightly as if afraid to let go. “Victor. Be honest with me. Is this because of your father’s refusal to end our engagement?”

“To some degree.” A pang of guilt tugged at my heart. “There are more reasons, but I know that if I stay, we will have to be wed by the end of this winter, and I know I will be suffocated by the expectations and responsibilities that would come with our union. This is not the life I want for either of us. We deserve a love that is born out of choice, not obligation—I don’t want our relationship to be tainted by regret and resentment.”

The weight of my words settled heavily on Faina’s shoulders, her eyes now shimmering with unshed tears. I could not tell what she was thinking at that moment, nor could I tell exactly what her intentions were in what she said next. “I love you, Victor. And I will continue to, even when you stop loving me. I do not care that your heart belongs to someone else, and I do not care that you no longer wish to be betrothed. I will not ask you to stay, nor will I hold you back. I simply ask that you uphold your end of our promise.”

“Thank you, my dear, for understanding.” I smiled to soothe her nerves despite the agony I felt in the depths of my soul. “I think it is time for me to say goodbye to Elias.”

I could see her lips drop into a frown at the mention of his name. “I…suppose so.” she said hesitantly. She avoided my gaze and tried to change the topic as she ran her fingers through my tangled tresses. “Farewell, Victor. May your journey bring you the peace and clarity you seek. I hope you remain safe in your travels.” With her slender, delicate fingers, she dusted my face and planted a kiss on my forehead. “Alright now, go on.”

I carefully approached Elias: he stood off in a corner where the fire’s light did not reach, his features dark and cloaked in shadows, a scowl evident on his face.

I stood before him, the weight of my decision heavy in the air between us. As I cleared my throat, he turned his gaze towards me, his eyes narrow with mistrust.

“I see you’ve made up your mind then,” Elias muttered, his voice laced with bitterness.

I nodded, my voice filled with remorse. “I have.” I stammered, searching for other words to say other than that. “It…it is time I learn who I truly am apart from the life I was destined to at birth.”

Elias diverted his eyes towards the ground, his fists clenching at his side. “And what of us, Victor? What of the plans we have made? Do they mean nothing to you now?” His voice fell to a low whisper as he continued to speak his mind. “It was not long ago we planned to elope. It was not long ago that you kissed me, and it was not long ago you said you loved me more than anything in the world. So why, Victor, do you intend to leave me?”

My heart shattered into pieces at this question: I never thought of how Elias would respond to the news of my departure, nor did I think that I would be breaking the oath I made to him only a few months prior. At that moment, it dawned on me that I was abandoning him, a man who had sworn his heart and life to me, a man who was devoted to only me, and immediately, a feeling of guilt overcame me.

“I…I simply want to take a different path in life than the one I was appointed, as I said earlier.” I answered him, trying to conceal the pain in my voice.

“And this, I understand. What I do not understand, however, is why there is no room for me in this new life you seek.” He inched closer, entering the light as he reached to hold my hands in his. “Why? Why must you leave?” He brought his eyes back up to mine—they glistened with water, his face slick with tears. “Can you not take me with you?”

I felt my own tears well up, threatening to spill over as I looked into Elias’ pleading eyes, begging me to stay by his side. How was I to explain to him that this was a task I had to undertake on my own when he looked at me with those eyes, those eyes which held a depth of desperation and loss?

“I wish I could, but it is necessary I find myself, that I understand my own desires and dreams apart from the expectations that have been placed upon me. This is not a path that can be shared, regardless of how much we wish it were.”

He tightened his grip on my hands, his touch providing a small comfort in the face of our looming separation. “We have been through so much together, and we have conquered countless obstacles together. So why must you face this by yourself?”

My heart ached at the forlorn tone of his voice, and for a brief moment, I wavered. I considered telling him this was nothing more than a twisted jest, and that I had always planned for him to leave with me— a tantalizing thought, I admit. But as much as I longed to soothe his pain, as much as I longed for him to accompany me, I knew I had to find who I was truly meant to be and what my purpose was, even if it meant leaving Elias behind for a while.

“Elias, I began, my voice barely above a whisper, “this is something I must do independently, and you are aware of this. Why try to deny what you are already privy to?”

Elias finally released my hands, his expression a mix of resignation and sadness.“If this is truly what you need, Victor, then I will respect your decision,” he said, his voice heavy with defeat. “Simply tell me…that you will return one day. This is all I ask of you.”

“I guarantee that this separation shall be temporary. I shall return, and I shall take you with me to all the places I have visited and more.” I reached up to hold his face, combing his dark locks out of his eyes. “I promise I will come back for you one day. Do not take any lovers in my absence.” I said with a light chuckle, jesting to add levity to the situation—still, the joke felt flat and poorly timed.

“I won’t, Victor. I shall remain faithful to you only.” He offered me a sad smile as he pulled me into an embrace, his arms tightly wound around my body, his chin gently resting atop my head. I could feel the rapid beat of his heart, his large hands cradling my head— I wanted to hold on for as long as I could, I wanted to stay in the warmth of his arms—I wanted to cherish this very moment. After what seemed to be ages, Elias slowly released me.

“Victor…I suppose this is farewell for now. But know that a part of me will always be waiting for you, hoping that you will return to me.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine, a bittersweet kiss filled with both love and grief—one that held a lifetime of memories and a promise for the future. As we broke apart, Elias whispered, “Take care, my love. Find yourself and come back to me.”

taglist (ask to added or removed): @fleurtygurl @macabremoons @ember-writer

#wip: taste-of-vengeance #nano 2023 #wip snipps #𝙨𝙠𝙚𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙨

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lyssa-ink · 1 year

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Hey there! I’m a writer looking for writing friends and a place to infodump about my wips, so a writeblr seemed the way to go. Also a way to motivate me to actually, you know, write and not just daydream.

about me. she/her, malay, probably adhd but who knows 🤷‍♀️, fan of books but also comics, games and drawing sometimes

about my wips. (there’ll probably be more detailed posts about these soon)

Bonus fun fact! The protagonists of both these wips (Lar and Mira) are fantasy southeast asian because yes I WILL project

heir of the eternal king (intro)

Lar Sorin, son of the immortal emperor, spends his days hunting the deadly monsters that stalk the land’s borders as a way of escaping the court politics and constant pressure that defined his childhood. But when the seemingly impossible news of his father’s death reaches him, Lar is dragged back to the capital for a throne he doesn’t want as an ancient conspiracy begins to unfold…

featuring: daddy issues, court politics, a love triangle that turns into a polycule, petty immortals and fun fantasy world-building tm

irontongue

Raised a changeling in the human world, Prince Auryn of the Winter Court cannot feel at home amongst the fae he’s meant to one day rule. Both an attempt to prove himself a true faerie and to find comfort in something familiar, he steals a mortal girl and brings her into the court. Except Mira isn’t mortal – not fully, at least. The half-fae princess of the Summer Court seeks through Auryn a path to the power she cannot grasp back home, but may find something else instead as tensions between the Courts grow.

featuring: trickster-y fae shenanigans, mortality as a strength, falling in love with the guy you were trying to manipulate, a girl who can and will kill you and a boy who’s too nice to be around faeries

#writeblr intro #writeblr #writing #wip intro #wip introduction #writeblr introduction #writers on tumblr #writers #wtwcommunity #fantasy writing #wip. eternal empire #wip. irontongue

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vibin-down-here · 10 months

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just remembered something. i used to not post my writing, so this Hello From The Hallowoods fan episode i didn’t go through with just sort of sat here. but now i’m on writeblr!

pls reblog, i don’t have a lot of mutuals yet. thx!

Intro: CHILD OF THE ABYSS

The black rain falls softly on the darkened grass of an elaborately structured garden, and the dandelions remaining alone in color dare to mirror the night sky above. A brush dives into the night's darkness, the last greens of the forest, the flowing red of life, and carves out the shapes of your world upon simple hide. And in the disturbingly unshaped depths of your sleeping mind, dreamer, one far older than me drips you little drops of his vast observation, not unlike how the work of his companions’ craft taints your world.

I hope I shall join him in your nightmares tonight. I am an artist, shaping space into crystalline forms, painting colors across skies and in the corners of your vision. I mold reality as a brush to color galaxies, a pencil to sketch constellations, a pen to bring your story to paper. I am the disloyal intern to the threshold of the abyss, and your questionably loyal host, Rithithaim, arranging the stars to spell Hello from the Hallowoods.

Right now, my greater eye rests upon a garden. Children play around bushes of black roses. Their minds shape worlds far better than their own, and they are happy. Adults in dark garbs watch over them. Their guns may be ready to kill, but their hopes craft worlds for them too. Only one sees my vision's fractal distortions, for his craft is to observe. The theme of tonight's episode is good causes.

Story 1: CARE FOR THE LAND

Jamie Gravér did not like the color red. He prefered thinking about that as he stuffed another one of the intruders into the large, black, plastic bags. It was the color of all the bad things from outside the bountiful garden. It lay in the eyes of the froggy raiders that came from the water last week. It was the color his work always got onto his pristine white dress shirts, and he only had so many of those left. It was the color of the sun above, blinding him even on this cold winter day.

He pushed down his gray cap that said groundskeeping, one of his greatest finds, and continued on his groundskeeping. The next two were barely worth removing, half consumed already by the black rose stocks. They had, in a desperate struggle, almost pushed them over. Jamie noted that down on his clipboard for later, both for work and for himself. Why were these ordinary people so desperate to hurt the children of the garden, as the prime being told him?

Those thoughts he definitely shouldn’t have had and the music on his walkman, another one of his distractions and a privilege to have within the garden, almost let him not hear the voice calling out in the now quiet morning. Oh, but he heard. And this made everything so much more difficult. Aphrodite's Child scratched to a stop in his hands. They grasped the prime’s gift tightly. He hoped it was just another child of the garden coming running with another problem.

“Walt..?”, the voice repeated in front of him.

Jamie’s heart began to race. The voice had called from somewhere in the thorny dark bushes. His gloved hand parted the planted bulwark, but he already knew what he’d find. Olive eyes stared back at him from the darkness, oddly glowing but barely focusing on him as if peering through the bi-weekly fog. In an instant, he banished all thoughts from his brain. He could say traitorous words, he could do traitorous acts, but he could have never thought traitorous thoughts. “Do not think.”, he whispered to himself through gritted teeth. Then, finally, he turned to the boy he had to save, because the prime being would have him killed.

They found themselves face-to-face. The olive-eyed boy began to move his mouth again, but Jamie was, for once, quicker than the worst path of fate. He placed a soft hand over his rescue’s beard stubbles and as softly as the wind in the leaves around them, whispered: “If you wanna live, keep your mouth shut. You can be lucky Jones is out cold from the fight, but the new driver will still shoot you if you make yourself this obvious.”

The boy seemed to release some tension, although how there was any power left in his muscles anyways was as big a mystery to Jamie as the world beyond the treeline. From the tote bag he was given for “waste disposal”, Jamie produced a pair of finely engraved silver scissors. Usually, they served to carve the garden’s terrible spawn into appreciable shapes, but today they worked instead to cut away the black claws on his mind and the grasping branches on the poor soul before him.

He allowed himself one look at the intruder now shaking and gasping for air before him and watched his mind go through the usual steps for children of the garden he had to save. Barely distorted, but malnutritioned and a broken leg. Bleeding. He’d need to get him to the Sisters of the River-

“Don’t think of that now. Get him to safety.”, he forced out to himself. His small hut, cramped in on the hillside under the common housing, wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of safety, but it was better than the common grounds, constantly guarded by the shades in dark hoods and their assault rifles, or even worse, the forests outside.

He grabbed one of his gigantic trash bags, pulled it open and with a gasp from both him and his rescue, lifted the outsider inside. Only ever handling the dead didn’t exactly make him graceful with the living, so he placed a gloved finger on the stranger’s lips before pulling the bag just short of shut. Trying his hardest to look like he wasn’t carrying a whole person, Jamie put the newly packed and luckily not squirming package under his arm and emerged into the cold wind outside the hedge.

Winter’s gust knocked the breath out of him almost as much as the realization of his betrayal threatened to. Sturdy boots left another trail of steps in the snow back to the pickup. Another three bags onto the pile on the back. Music, deep breaths of freezing cold air, calm. A heart beating slightly less blazingly fast. Jamie swung into the free seat.

“Out of bags.”, he got out, trying not to make eye contact with the new driver. She adjusted her suit’s sleeve and pushed back her hat.

“But we just got here…”, she replied, her piercing voice filled with disappointment.

“Out of bags, Marissa,” Jamie shot back with a tired glare. Her blue eyes met his, green framed in black, for a few seconds. She looked down. The ignition fired.

He may be reported for skipping work, Jamie thought as the truck began rolling across the garden’s listless winterscape, past beds of unripe fruits of power and beauty. That was the good outcome here.

Jamie Gravér did not like the color red. But, among the black and white of the garden, the outside world had shown him a color he did like. It was a vibrant olive-green.

Interlude 1: FREE MUSEUM ADMITTANCE

Nature is beautiful, dreamers. The forests truly are their own artists, creating beautiful shapes, graceful beings and scenes like from a script. Appreciate the vibrant exhibit in the background to your mundane life, and be even more glad you get in for free.

Keep an eye open especially around the western beaches of the Hallowoods, where other artists have joined nature for a collaboration. Misshapen animals, bleeding plants and lighting intensely framing one spot no matter the time of day are a good sign you’ve been charitably let in to view one of their new collections.

This is a great honor, dreamers, and you should mind your etiquette in the following moments. Screaming and running away from your distorted, dying reflection is considered extremely rude. Instead, simply stand and appreciate the work, hmm-ing occasionally. Stay quiet, and most importantly, never touch the artwork. Their art demands your respect. We go now to one who must be respectful.

Story 2: HELP ON THE BED OF A PICKUP TRUCK

Dark clouds lingered around Sammy. Literally, as they were shaping them to hang above the portrait, figuratively over the stout old farmer to be painted. They pushed back their round glasses and examined their paints. There was nothing new to be seen in the smeary spots of gray and brown, it told no stories about the motif, but even staring down at the rotting boards of the porch would’ve been more helpful than looking back up at their customer.

John T. Cald was a supremely annoying man to work with. He saw no beauty in the world, claimed it had gone bad and heaven was the only good left to be painted. All around spiteful and bitter, not least because he must’ve skipped a century to end up with his views. And today hadn’t made it any better.

Sammy looked back up, careful to avoid the old man’s sour glares. Where they found furrowed brows, they depicted a heroic gaze, where they found a slumped down posture, they sketched a head carried on high.

John had said the storm gathering on the slopes above was hurting him in the bones, but John said a lot of thruthless things. The letter had laid open on the solid-oak dinner table all morning. What part of the message from up north disturbed their patron didn’t really bother Sammy, but the man had been in the mood for colors less bright than his off-white tablecloth, so his state of mind must be dark. To Sammy, too, the news were black as crypt, but for wildly different reasons.

Another glance up let the brush color in leather vest and flannel shirt, elegant swings shrouded them in holy light. There was little to be done about the man’s terrible sense of style in dress and art. This was the agreement, and John was a rigid man. Sammy looked down at their paint-stained boots, the old green and yellow spots. Hope. There was hope to bend the agreement.

Without looking up, the painter raised their voice. Not far, mind you, but they did raise it. “I’m leaving after this piece, y’know.. Sir.”, came across their dry lips. John's expression soured from spoiled milk to lemon. “You will do no such thing, girl.” came the response from behind the canvass, the last word spat out with contempt. “You’re not running back to your little scout camp before you’re done here. Besides, without our man around, they should do just fine to survive without you.”

Sammy had been dunked into a little black stream once, as a child. This didn’t feel much different. There was too much coming at them, and they couldn’t focus on it. Don’t let him slow you down with the water, he’s still holding you down. “I’ll unload half the corn. Most of the work is done anyways. Please sir, they’re in danger!”, they yelped back.

There was a tiny lie in there, as white as a daisyflower. The truck with the motorcycle, their bags and the corn had been primed to depart since the sun crested the arc it was now ending in the shingles. Guilt had struck them last minute, and they’d unloaded half the corn already.

The farmer heaved his weight up from the lawnchair. His downward glare had no disapproval left, that dark green tone had now been covered over by the flaring red of anger. “They’ve always been. You don’t get it, do you, girl? I am not allowing you to leave. That is final.”, he indignantly yelled back. An explosion of movement followed. Sammy barely noticed him lunging forward before the paint and canvas were thrown aside, leaving a white streak like a healed scar across the graying porch boards.

unique sfx here, a bell or alarm rings, Rith gives in as if it is a command and a sort whistling can be heard

the next segment should also have slightly higher audio quality (+ ad-read tone obv)

Marketing: THE SPONSORED SEGMENT OF REALITY

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To sign up, simply yell at the void above you and sleep in sight of the stars. If the phrase you used includes a curse on my name, you’ll even receive your first three months free of the horrors unveiled to you by knowledge beyond your feeble mind’s limits.

And if that’s not enough, my dear listener, in my name you’ll even receive the premium subscription Omniscience for only 3 mortal inspirations a month for the first year. Despite what the reviews may say, Omniscience is 100% safe and approved by what’ll remain of the FDA for another year or so before the madness consumes them.

We return now to Sammy, the painter.

Story 2, Continued: HELP ON THE BED OF A PICKUP TRUCK

The sudden lunge pushed Sammy off their feet. Their vision swung from the darkening blue of the sky to the red in the clouds as their head was thrown back, and then, with a cacophony of dry cracks in the railing, from red to black.

Even dazed, enveloped in this void, Sammy’s emotions raced from worry, to fear, to panic. Not just for themselves, their own creation and their life, but also the home they left behind starving and down half their fuel to a gamble. But the void had not come to stay.

With the color’s return in a swirling, senseless ocean of hues, came also sound. It was muffled, but far less abstract than the painting before their eyes. The rushed steps of farmhands crossing the dusty yard. A pained groaning, filling them with a twisted joy.

Feeling returned next, the feeling of weathered hands pinning them down, the weight behind those hands, and the shapes of the hard, dry earth stabbing into their back. Sammy‘s mind ached trying to put everything back upright and in order. Through the chaos of sense broke a gruff voice.

“…get her inside, and make sure she doesn’t leave. Mat, the truck. Wouldn’t want her running away.”

Panic burst out of the void to join them here. If these assholes took the truck, there‘d be no way out. No way back to the people, the home that needed them. They called on all the strength they had, but they were a scrawny kid, up against more weight than they could ever lift, and they could barely move to begin with. Darkness crept back onto the corners of their vision from the strain.

Their fingers scraped in the dirty mixture of dust and paint for grip. To no avail. Again, as always in this damned life, all they could do was paint.

They let darkness back into their mind, filled this time not with fear, but with thoughts. There was some power in painting, as Cald had said. That asshole was receptive to it, that‘s what this project of his was for. It was a longshot, but it was the only shot they had left.

Dismissing the abyss, with all the world swelling over them, there wasn‘t much artistry to be done in dry earth and drying paint. Two simple motions, barely notable to the not so temporary workers rushing over to lock them away.

Their vision had not quite returned, but their other senses screamed in unison as they were thrown across the yard, slamming into every one of the dirt's many ridges and tracks along the way. Their vision went red again, and not from the glow of the retreating sun, as the uncaring eyes of the cosmos were left almost alone to glare down at them now. Everything burned, and that kept them aware. A tiny victory lap for that and the sounds of cracking wood as the farmer had smashed through the deck, would be in order, but for now they just had to push on.

The stretching shadows of the farmhands and their shouts of witchcraft had already reached them when they were finally out of the dent they had made in the side panels of a truck. No thought was left in their ringing skull on whether it was the right one, they just swung through the door and reached for the key.

The trusty leather wrapped grip turned. Short jubilation filled their heart. The motions of departure were dismally routine, and the passing glimpses of the gearstick, the gas pedal, the man with the shotgun in the window, the driveway and the man blocking it barely passed their mind as they went through it. A final meaty thud shook the truck and their soul, and then the red ford rolled down the highway, trailing red along a crimson dusk, and toward a new magenta dawn.

Interlude 2: A WILDLIFE WARNING

Dreamers, the Hallowoods forest service would like to remind you that, no matter how cute or helpful they may seem, at the end of the day, the endemic “hearses” or “black cars” are carnivores. They are dangerous, and your behavior around them should take their extraordinary ability and drive to kill into consideration.

Recommended procedure during a car encounter is, importantly, not to run or hide. You cannot outrun the animal, and hiding reveals only your weakness to its prying eyes. Back away to the grasping treeline or any other available cover and remain agile and ready to dodge if it charges. Attempt to appear large and threatening, making the vehicle less likely to see you as prey.

In these forests, a well prepared hiker's backpack should always include traffic cones, though white paint will do if you don’t have any. Pay attention also to the time of year and your surroundings. In the spring or summer, you may run into cubs or two-seaters, which, while harmless, should be treated like adults, because their nearby mothers are even more deadly. In the winter, if you find yourself near junkyards or parking lots, maintain caution. Cars may not be dangerous, resting there with their engines off, but if you wake them up, they will likely have quite the appetite. We go now to one dealing with hunger.

Story 3: SERVICE WORK

Rob was startled awake by the ringing of a tiny silver bell afixed above the glass door. Immediatly, without even having raised his head of blond hair tucked under a branded cap, he resented the customer. Sleep on a greasy fastfood resteraunt counter wasn‘t good, every part of him regretted the choice to sleep at all, but it was better than the alternative. Everlasting shifts didn‘t leave many options.

With all the energy he could muster, and against the vehement protest of his neck, he rose. The round tables, the leather couches and barchairs and the huge clouds of dust in the stuffy room’s air became faintly illuminated in golden light as his view swept across them to the entrance. There, it carved two tense, cowering figures out from the early mornings darkness. The light made them jump. The tall one in a tattered tuxedo reached for what could only have been a gun.

Robert Smith, the cashier, dug deep within him and found a smile suitable for costumers. Light flooded from deep within, and with a snap, the resteraunt awoke. Neon lights screamed alive on the ceiling, and with a voice from somewhere behind him, Rob filled the dining area with a booming, slightly radio-distored upbeat phrase:

„What can i get started for you today?“. Tuxedo raised a once-shiny revolver. His partner grabed his shoulder, bare through the tears in the fabric. „We just need spot to hide,“ that small one in the skirt managed to return. Their faces were clenched, and Tuxedo seemed ready kill.

Already exhausted, Rob simply smiled and waved them along „Right this way, you two.“ came through his bright smile. The glow began to fade already. A quick glance to the giant, 8-shaped shift clock, and he added: „And hurry along, we have a routine customer coming in shortly. We will discuss payment later.“ The smile remained on his lips, the new-arriving seriousness surely revealing it to be a mask.

He wanted to ask what these odd fellows were doing along the long quieted freeway outside, but everything left of his life held him back: The energy shortly needed, his managers watchful, though unwatchable, presence, even a tiny little fear for his life in the face of a revolver.

The customers hurried through the now dark establishment to a heavy, metallic door. Clattering could be heard behind, slowly seizing with the fading light. Suspicious glances and a barrel tracked him as the figures rushed across the open space, keeping to shadows cast by the neon sign outside. When it finally fell shut, stirring up a huge cloud of dust, Rob and the room had returned, almost, to sleep.

He paid the survivors no mind again already. They were not a threat to the brand, and the faint glow among the rafters had deemed them unimportant. His light illuminated only the clock, and exactly as the third pointer struck four a regular visitor emerged, at first as a violet dot at the end of the parking lot. It took that suited menace only three strikes of the pointer to cross that mile-wide barren landscape. And then, already, the figure stood imposing, just a bit taller than the door it peered through. Again, the front came to life, a huge letter blazing above the intruder like a twisted halo of a terrible god’s blessing. The door swung open, and the usual exchange began, every word dripping with the contempt of people perfectly capable of murdering each other, extinguishing each others history completely.

„What can i get started for you today?“

„I am here to discuss aquisition.“

„My manager will be with you shortly. Please take a seat.“

„Hurry them up, won‘t you? The Botulus Corporation would be extremely disappointed to hear that I have been left waiting.“

Outro: GOOD CAUSES

Causes. A grasp for purpose in your insignificant heart. A small thing, cascading beyond itself, or a small thing wanting to do so. You see so far beyond them in every image of your future, but they are the saplings to your dreaming aspirations. They are the drive beyond all that wishes, some yours surely wish to quench. Hold on to yours, dreamer, for among those that love and that know, they surely must be good.

Mine too are, of that I am certain, for holding some beauty when the abyss brings all to rest is the only reckoning we have in the face of its grand totality. Rest assured, dreamer, that I am letting your causes flow into mine, and that those who attract my eye shall see their strings completed for this grand tapestry. Leave now to strive on your own once more, and the string will be spun a little further on your return. For these visions grand upon your dreams diminutive, I am your loyal host Rithithaim, waiting faithfully for your return to the Hallowoods.

#writeblr #writing #writers #hello from the hallowoods #audio drama #fan episode

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