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textual-deviant-blog · 7 months

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Conflagration - A short prompt.

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There's a strange calmness within you when your feel your feet leave the ground. The first paradox comes with the onset of wind- it's too loud to hear anything else. It rushes past, and almost through you as you fall. The top of the sinkhole falls away from you, and for a scant few seconds, you feel weightless.

The impact comes and goes as it breaks something possibly vital, but you were numb long before you jumped. The water is bitingly cold, sapping heat like a pit of vipers. Your body, as if in protest, feels hot. Searing, almost. A second paradox. It is of no reassurance that you know this to be a just another trick of your mind; that your body is pushing through the last of it's reserves like a desperate wildfire in the middle of a snowstorm.

Once it's done ravishing the landscape, the cold will set in, and then death.

But, therein lies the third paradox.

You float there, on the surface of that windswept lake, lacking the weight to sink properly. Exactly when death claimed you shall forever remain a mystery, as you did not see a light, you didn't have a final reconciliation with past memories and deceased loved ones, you did not even feel the last of your strength leave you.

With a final intake of air, you pass out before you can even exhale, being left, in that moment, holding your breath for all of eternity.

It's sudden and immediate when you wake, as though mere seconds passed. So sudden, in fact, that you could almost swear that you hadn't died out there in the Wight Hole.

For a single, thoughtless, hopeful moment, you thought you had failed to kill yourself.

That thought leaves you the moment your vision clears, and, instead of Detroit's starless sky, you're greeted by something more akin to a great sea of colors. You lay there, stunned, as swathes of cosmic beauty dance across your eyes.

The grass sways with the wind a moment longer, then stops, and only the sound of footsteps moving across the grass can be heard. Laying there, you quickly shift your body around to face the noise. Whoever had made it was most likely directly behind you.

You were only partially correct.

A great shadow loomed over you as the new arrival inspected you- or, more likely, you were the new arrival. Their arms and legs stretched a little too long even for such prodigal proportions, and his skin was purplish, stretched, and wrinkled across all of his surface, which was only visible on his hands and head, past his sleeves and unkempt head of hair. His jumpsuit hung loose, being the wrong size, and their hair had barely recieved more attention than keeping it out of their eyes.

They seemed amused. "A new face touches the void. I suggest you dim your flames, or you may not last very long here."

Before I could even wonder "What flames?" I smelled something burning. I looked down, and saw my body. Saw what had been on the edge of my vision but had been ignored in favor of what was pretty and spectacular and not whatever the hell this was.

What I was, was on fire. The grass was alight, and I was panicking.

First, I yelped and tried to put myself out by dropping to the ground and rolling. The purple flames did not submit. They were not hot, but it freaked me the hell out. And they caused even more grass to burn.

Second, I planned to plead to the stranger for help, but he was but a distant laughter by the time I had gathered myself.

Third, I finally tried to just... not be on fire. I succeeded. Then collapsed from exhaustion. Or, more accurately, my limbs wouldn't move.

Rather than learn how, I just decided to take a few more breaths, and then a few more, before eventually someone else came upon me.

There was no amusement in their voice as they spoke, tenderly and ponderous. A far departure than the wrinkled old cynic. "Child," They said almost remorsefully, "Welcome to the Void. I must apologize for the world that is, for now, you are no longer as you were. You will never be able to return to what you were. What you are now, is... a Conflagration. And I, I am an Ember."

Gentle hands cradled my head, "You will have to learn quickly. But for now, rest. Let the harshness of the world fade away, if just for now. When you awaken, you must embrace it. The void demands nothing less."

I felt a tap on my forehead, and it was like a dam had collapsed in my mind. I didn't merely fall unconscious. It was as though all the aches and strains of my life had caught up to me, and I could think of nothing but succumbing to my body's needs.

My eyes shut, and I let myself fall into a deep, deep sleep.

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thedeviousdevilxx · 8 months

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A WIP I've been working on lol

#original ficiton #rock n roll #music #glam rock #this is totally not a thinly veiled mick n keith fanfic no way!

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acroynon · 9 months

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The Heist

They were all hunched over looking intently at the laid-out map. This was the most important mission, they couldn’t afford anything to go wrong.

“Alright, let’s go over the plan one more time,” Tommy said. He’d brought this team together. It was his plan they were following. They’d all follow him to the end of the earth if they had to. “Oliver, you’re the lookout. You stay on the roadside and let us know if you see any movement. And I mean any movement.” Oliver simply grunted and nodded. He was a big guy but didn’t have much going on upstairs. That’s why he was always the lookout. “Marco, you’re the distraction. We need something big that’ll distract the target for at least 15 minutes.”

“Yep, I’ve got the perfect idea.” He replied. Smirking as he patted the briefcase he was holding.

“Angela will then use her master safe cracking skills to get us inside.” Angela twirled her tools around her fingers in agreement. “Bobby, then it’s up to you to disable any alarms or trip wires we might encounter”. Bobby had years of training in the field. He could tear apart any electronic device and put it back together without leaving a trace. He simply nodded. “I’ve managed to get the location of the device from my network of spies. I’ll retrieve it. Then it’s up to Lucy to get us out.” Tommy and Lucy’s eyes met, they’d know each other the longest out of anyone around this table.

“We take the air vents to the adjoining room. There is a window leading to a fire escape. A quick hop down and I’ll be waiting to drive us all the hell out of here.” She said. The confidence in her voice washed over the entire team. They were going to do this.

“Alright team. Let’s go get my Gameboy back from my sister!” Tommy shouted as all the kids scrambled down the treehouse and ran towards the house.

#flash fiction #writing #original ficiton #writers

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romanwitchgirl · 1 year

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Original Works

Original fiction that in no way ties to any other published work!

Behind the Trigger

Poetry

More will be added as I write more!

#Original works #original story #original ficiton #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #creative writing #poetry #original poetry #masterlist #The Grand Library

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snakebites-and-ink · 2 months

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Whumper-Turned-Caretaker CYOA 1

I'm giving this a try. It's my first time writing something interactive like this so please bear with me.

CW for the series

You linger at the top of the stairs, quietly watching the sleeping form of your basement’s unwilling inhabitant. As if just watching them will help you figure out what to do next.

You’ve had Whumpee for a while. You caught them for your own enjoyment and you’ve kept them locked up down here ever since. You treated them however you pleased, which usually meant them getting hurt. It’s taken its toll on them, but you didn’t really mind that. At least, not before now.

But you had a…an epiphany, maybe, a change of heart, a reformation, whatever you want to categorize it as. Point is, you don’t feel like you should be doing this any longer.

You take a moment to consider what you should do from here. Maybe just letting Whumpee go right away would be the technically right thing to do, but you really don’t want them running straight to the police. It would probably be better for both of you if you helped them recover first, right?

You can patch them up, meet the many needs they have that you’ve been…less than diligent about at best. Take care of them.

Then again, they’re probably behind on sleep. Waking them up to take care of them might actually be worse than leaving them as-is for the time being.

You sigh to yourself. Doing whatever seemed fun in the moment was so much easier than trying to figure out how to do what’s right.

Taglist:

@kabie-whump

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roselyn-writing · 1 month

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Finally, After a month of working on Adeleois/Rakan lore, I managed to wrote it 😁. Let’s get started now!

Name: Rakan (Mortal) Adeleois (Mantle/Divine name).

Name meaning: In Arabic, Rakan means ‘noble’

Age: 450 Y.O.

Date of birth: 13 July. (791, In Virginian time and year).

Hair colour: Black (formerly) Silver (currently)

Eyes colour: Light Brown (formerly) Silver (currently). (Silver with violet and blue hues when he uses his powers.)

Aesthetics/Colours: Silver, Grey, Night aesthetics, moon aesthetic, moonlight, Bohemian aesthetic. Warrior aesthetics, pagan. Etc.

Favourite colours: Black, Silver, Navy blue, White.

Likes: to help people, being honest, practicing his Kophesh sword. Spread peace and justice. Loves to admire the moon. (In its every phase). Likes to read, eating healthy, Lover of mountains, lover of nature, lover of caves.

Hates: liars, bigots (Hate them with his VERY heart), Thieves, murderers, abusers, racists, Racism, Wars, and etc.

Favourite food: Beef Barley soup with roasted veggies, Mushrooms salad, Porridge. Tea, coffee, hot beverages. Bread and cheese, chocolate muffin. Beef chops.

Least favourite food: Ice cream (any flavour).

Wardrobe/outfits:

“I will defend the defenseless and protect the innocent till my last breath!” ——- Adeleois’s quote, The moon warrior.

🗡️The lore 🌕

CW: Gore and blood, Bigotry and etc.

In the glorious mountain Kythera of Virginia. An ancient place filled with power and wonder. Where the only worthy will be bestowed upon such power of divinity and wisdom.

There, on top of the mountain and beyond is fit place for living, There is a tribe called So’lar they worship and venerate the sun, They deem all other sources of light inferior.

They disrespect the people who worship the stars, the planets, the sky, but the most people who are tortured and disrespected by them; were the people who worship the moon. They are called the ‘Moon’aris’ and the Sun worshippers are called ‘Sun’aris’

The Sun’aris always call other people who worship and venerate other things ‘Lestsi’ which means: ‘Blasphemers’ or ‘Heretics’ or ‘unbelievers’

The Sun’aris took a lot of prisoners of the Moon’aris and tortured them until they abandoned their beliefs and converted to their religion, and worship the sun like them.

Rakan, was born in a place closer to the So’lar. But he found his way into the tribe because of the tribe scouts, They brought him there as a baby and decided to welcome him into the tribe.

They made sure to tell him of their ‘glorious’ religion when he grew up. And they did. They taught him everything they want. And they did the same to other children.

Rakan grew up into the So’lar tribe. He learned their ways and embraced them. He thought they are true and righteous until the day that changed his life forever.

Rakan, Who is 16 years old, He saw the scouts of the tribe brought a few people of the Moon’aris, They were two women and a man.

They were tortured brutally because they refused to abandon their beliefs. Rakan and his best friend: Andreas, they were traumatised by this.

They saw the tribe leader: Alexander, shoving his hand into the woman’s throat and pulled her vocal cords out along with other soft bloody tissues. She screamed loudly, in pain and horror; it was a macabre sight, the floor was painted in a crimson canvas of the innocent woman’s blood, she was tortured brutally, she gurgled loudly, trying to summon a cry of help and plea but she couldn’t, because her vocals cords were pulled out of her throat, Rakan changed forever. He doesn’t want to be a part of this tribe. He winced in pain at that sight and it was forever in his mind.

That sight was enough to haunt Rakan for the rest of his life, The woman was still alive when the leader tortured her like that.

Rakan and Andreas were best friends from their younger days, They ate together, played together and even studied together, They were known as ‘brothers in arms’ and they friendship was strong, one time, Andreas saved his friend Rakan from a stampede of the desert beasts. Their bond became much stronger ever since.

One day, Rakan was admiring the full moon in the night, Andreas, once again, warned him that he shouldn’t get caught while watching and admiring the moon, Rakan noted and left, after that, He heard a voice, it told Rakan he should climbed the mountain and he will see something he need. Rakan, begrudgingly agreed, He climbed the mountain with the man, After he and the man reached the mountain top.

Rakan felt something strange yet beautiful, He was admiring the full moon again. Suddenly, A bright and blinding light of the moon came down on Rakan, Bathing him in the moonlight, He felt his flesh wrought anew, reborn in the moonlight as a beacon; ready to fight for justice and the truth, it felt like eons then it dissipated, Rakan saw his reflection on the glassy rocks of the mountain, He noticed his face and everything about him changed, His looks, his body and everything thing, There are even tattoos and crescent moon mark on his forehead and body.

Fully adorned with armor made of moonlight and bestowed upon the powers of the moon. Rakan decided to use his newfound powers to protect the innocent, defend the defenseless and bring justice to the land of Kythera, He took his Kophesh sword that was made from moonlight and dashed like a moonlight meteorite to fight for freedom and justice.

Rumors and words spread alike, about a new moon warrior. That came to rescue the other people who aren’t worshipping the sun and thus being oppressed by the Sun’aris, The Sun’Aris deeply loathed this new information and they decided to search for this warrior and kill him on sight.

The leader of the Sun’aris knew of Rakan disappearance but he didn’t care at all. He thought that he died or something. But he didn’t knew that Rakan became the next Moon Warrior that is protecting the oppressed people who aren’t worshipping the sun. He is protecting morning, noon and night. He didn’t tire while doing so.

The leader of the Sun’Aris: Alexander, didn’t believe his eyes or ears, when his scouts told him of a new aspect of the moon, His eyes widened, his mouth fell agape as he tried to process their words. He even asked them again.

“Is this true?” He inquired.

They all nodded, Their faces tell the answer. “Yes, It is.”

“Yeah, He is Rakan,” one of the scouts volunteerd.

In pure anger, He threw his pen and everything on his desk on the floor. He looked terrified and confused. He looked at his scouts but they didn’t answer him let alone reacted to his meltdown. They bowed their heads and excused themselves to leave.

Alexander vowed that he will kill this new moon warrior, and he will bathe in his blood to satisfy his hatred and anger.

It was from that moment, Alexander made Andreas hate his best friend: Rakan, He managed to poison Andreas’s hearts and made him feel ‘abandoned’ and ‘betrayed’ by his so-called best friend: Rakan.

Andreas began to hate Rakan, He began to train more and more to prove himself the best warrior in mounth Kythera, He even became the aspect of the sun himself: Sunayois

Rakan or preferred to be called Adeleois, He is protecting the people of Moon’ari, Satarins and other people who worship other things, This made Alexander even more angrier and hateful.

Adeleois was excellently deluding the Sun’aris attacks and traps, He even killed them when they refused to leave him alone, bloods on his hands, his armor and on his Kophesh, So his hands are pretty much tied. He was forced to kill, he disliked killing,

The Sun’aris vowed to find Adeleois and kill him, but they couldn’t defeat him if they found him, He was far too powerful for them. He is strategic, calm, and patient unlike Sun’aris, they were brash, aggressive and aren’t strategic at all.

Adeleois is threatened with death and torture, but he didn’t care at all, his devotion was set aflame when he saw there are people who needed him, people who would pray for a saviour and Adeleois answered their prayers, His life isn’t important when he saw the numbers of people being tortured and killed for what they believe in, and —Lady Selene, The beautiful and benevolent woman who is currently the Queen of the Moon’aris. She needed him, They needed him.

It had been years of war between the Sun’aris and Adeleois, the latter managed to unite the Moon’aris, the sky worshippers, Thee satarins, and the planets worshippers to join him and aid him against those monsters, who will oppress anyone that does not convert to their religion.

All are united against the Sun’aris, The battle was fierce, bloody, merciless for the Sun’aris and yet they couldn’t win at all, because, they weren’t strong and united enough to win against Adeleois and his allies, Adeleois announced that the previous Adeleois was Andreas’s father, He was shocked when he knew that Alexander killed his father. Andreas turned on Alexander, Thus, Rakan and Andreas are friends again.

In the end, Adeleois and his allies won, Adeleois banished Alexander from Mount Kythera, The latter went to another place where he can live with his beliefs and etc, he lived alone and died alone.

Thus, All races and other people who have different religions lived together and in peace, giving way to a new era of peace and harmony and prosperity among all other people and religions.

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hauntedpearl · 1 year

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question: what's your opinion on junky scenes in fic! like ik there's this whole thing in storytelling where they tell you that sometimes you have to delete the first chapter you write because your story doesn't need to start there. and like i think it def works that way w fics too but i also think the editing can be a little less strict with it. like what if the junky scenes are an indulgence i want to keep in because the point of fic is sometimes not the *best possible* story but one that gives you, the writer, the most joy? anyway OPINIONS?

#i mean idk why im makinf a discussion post at 2 :30 am but #LIKE I GUESS IN THINKING about writing and how i approach it when im eriting original ficiton v/s fanfic #so #YEAH #im curious!

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rubberduckyrye · 1 month

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I need you all to understand that:

WaveMaker is an awesome program and it actually shows you how many words you've written in a day! Please check it out I'm in love with it. Also here is my Tutorial on how to manually sync up your files so you can write your projects on any device. It also copies and pastes well into Gdocs and LibreOffice. No I will not shut up about how cool this online program thing is.

It has only been March 30th for about 5 hours and I've already written almost 3k words.

Have I--Have I found the insanity again? Can I write 12k words in a single day???? I'm almost a 4th of the way there--

#The plot twist is I'm sleepy now is my problem.#I have the stupid Sleepy Disease Aaaaaa #My despair Disease is the sleepy disease #because I'm so much more productive when I'm not a sleepy bitch #Do you know how insane I can be if I'm not nerfed by the sleepies?????#Damn these sleepies....#You really do not understand how much of a nerf this is for me #you've ALL seen what happened when I went nuts on Chasing the Voided Moon #I wrote 50K in a WEEK.#A WHOLE NANOWRIMO. IN A FUCKING WEEK.#Can you imagine if I wasn't nerfed #can you imagine if I could pump out novel-length fics and original ficiton #Imagine if I could write 2-3k a day consistently. Imagine.#And then once in a blue moon #10k a day #My insanely fast thinking and typing are so NERFED. NEEEERFEEEED.#please god remove my nerfs so I can be powerful

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elfboyeros · 1 month

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A Scholar’s Rotunda

Wanna Read More or start from the beginning: Hallows Academy Masterlist @karaboutmyart @jj-pines @lerenee

“So, if you wish to help me, what is the plan?”

Amora thought for a moment as she sat over her homework, ironically homework for Trigonometry, “I don’t know…” she sighed.

Cobalt huffed, from his phantom place in her room, “Look I’m sorry!” Amora exclaimed.

“Chickadee, you are a smart girl, I believe you will be able to figure out this mess we are in.”

“I’ve searched as much as I can search on the internet about ghosts and ascension. Cobalt, I know as much as you do, we need to figure out your unfinished business! Since no one alive or dead knows how you died we have to find out how you died, yet you don’t remember what happened and I wasn’t even 3 yet and, oh yeah, I was in America!” She vented.

“Sorry that I died at a very inconvenient time for you,” Cobalt remarked with a high level of sass, “Your math is also incorrect!”

Amora groaned, loudly, before the door to her room opened and Loki entered.

“What are we groaning at?” she asked, approaching Amora’s desk, and looking over her shoulder, “Ewe math.”

“Just having a bit of trouble,” Amora muttered with a sigh.

“I can’t help you out, lovely, I’m sorry,” Loki replied, settling herself into the plush palace that is her bed, “I asked Odis and Lance about books on Supernatural stuff, and they don’t have anything that isn’t fiction.”

“That’s fine,” the blond girl huffed.

“You’re really into the supernatural, huh?”

Amora thought for a moment. She may enjoy the supernatural and studying a subject, she isn’t obsessed with, yet her current predicament makes her seem fixated, “It’s just currently a fascination recently.”

Loki hummed, settling into her bed, “Ya’ know if you are this obsessed, you should check the rotunda,” the British girl remarked.

“The rotunda?” Amora asked.

“It’s the school’s library” Loki answered, adjusting her headphones, “It’s in the rotunda, off the study hall.”

Amora nodded, tomorrow’s Friday she’ll have time to spend all the time she wanted in the library… if she could find it first.

The following morning, Amora ventured into the maze of the academy. Now actually enjoy Cobalt's ethereal company as he guided her through the old halls to the library. After

The following morning, Amora ventured into the maze of the academy. Now, he actually enjoyed Cobalt's ethereal company as he guided her through the old halls to the library. After waving to a few new friends who had taken positions in the study hall, Amora made her way to the library,

A quiet spire full of bookshelves upon bookshelves in between columns and spiraling staircases with some nooks where one could sit, study, and read. It's a book lover’s wet dream, really. In the middle of the rotunda is a large Mahogany checkout station, with stacks of books covering the surface. A melancholic-looking woman with voluminous auburn hair with milky white streaks in her hair that curled around her round peachy cheeks.

“Welcome to the rotunda,” the woman remarked, quietly.

God, why does everyone here sound so depressed and monotone?

“Good morning,” Amora chirped.

“A little too chirper there, chickadee,” Cobalt chuckled.

“Do you have anything on Ghost and the Dead?” Amora asked approaching the checkout station.

“There are multiple pieces of fiction on ghosts in our sci-fi and supernatural sections on the 2nd floor,” the woman replied.

It smells heavily of Lilac the closer Amora gets to the checkout station making her cringe and the overpowering smell, “I was actually looking for something like a research journal,” Amora retorted.

“Those would be the third floor,” the librarian replied, “if we had any.”

Amora nodded taking one of the many spiral staircases up to the third floor of the library, while Cobalt followed his eyes still focused on the librarian in pink that sat at the checkout station. Her name was on the tip of his tongue, while Amora searched and heard through the few nonfiction pieces on ghosts, Cobalt continued to watch the older woman from his ethereal place, wondering why he felt so off being in the rotunda and why he wanted to get as far away from this woman as possible.

“Greyson?” Cobalt muttered to himself as the dean dressed in the color navy made his way to the checkout station.

“What about Mr. Densmore?” Amora asked quietly, her head still in a book rereading much of what she’d already seen on the internet.

“He looks horrible,” the ghost replied.

Amora let out a questioning hum before getting up from her little table to look over the banister. She started at Greyson; he looked fine like he did the day they went but given the grimace on Cobalt’s face at one point in time the dean of Hallows Academy at one point looked different.

“Olympia, do you have the reports I asked for?” Greyson asked the librarian in a stern and tired tone.

“Olympia!” Cobalt gasped, “My god, no wonder she looks familiar!”

“They’re on your desk, dear,” Olympia answered Greyson.

Greyson sighed, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t see it.”

“Are you all right, dear?” Olympia asked, softly.

“Why is she calling him dear?” Cobalt asked out loud.

“Maybe it’s just a term of endearment,” Amora replied in a whisper.

“I’m just tired,” Greyson replied to the librarian, “Working too hard and sleeping very little.”

“Then, why don’t you come home tonight? I can order some food, you can relax, we could—”

“I’ll sleep when the work is done.” Greyson interrupted very firmly, “I’m staying in my office for now.”

Olympia looked at the aging man extremely dejected, “I’m horrible old man, I know, and I’m sorry,” Greyson cooed, before placing his hand under her chin and tilting her gaze upwards to meet his, “I’ll make it up to you I promise.”

Cobalt raised an eyebrow, “but he’s married to Klaus…”

Amora looked at Cobalt confused, it was obvious that he knew something she didn’t out the two adults below them, “Klaus?”

“He is or was a teacher here when I was… I would have thought those two would have been together for the rest of their lives,” Cobalt answered, “Let alone end up with her, from what little I remember.”

“And what do you remember?”

“She started here young, had just given birth to a child, and needed a job. In the time I knew her, she was shy, but mysterious as if she was scheming,” Cobalt explained, “But I didn’t know her that well.”

Before Amora could reply, the doors to the library opened again, and Iphigenie walked through, “Genie!” Olympia chirped.

“Hi, momma,” the ginger girl sighed.

“Iphigenie,” Greyson remarked with a smile and nod at the young woman, she only waved.

When standing near one another it is obvious that Olympia and Iphigenie are mother and daughter, “Here,” Iphigenie said pulling books out of her messenger bag.

“Are you going to get others?” Olympia asked.

“Yeah,” her daughter replied before ascending one of the many staircases.

Amora went back to the books she was looking over, coming to the same conclusion that she had when looking across the internet, “So, we have to stay on the whole unfinished business crap,” Amora sighed in a whisper.

Cobalt nodded, “You have a plan now?”

Amora nodded, “You can’t remember how you died, and you can’t leave the school grounds, according to these books and articles on the internet that could possibly mean you are tied to the college somehow which means it’s tied to your death, I think if we find out how you died like if you were shot, stabbed, or whatever we could get at least a step closer to getting you to ascend,” Amora explained, “But I’m going to need you to start doing something.”

“What?”

“Tell me when anything seems off, even if it’s the smallest thing.”

“Ah, you are turning into the little investigator,” Cobalt chuckled.

“Thank you,” Amora replied with a little goofy smile.

Cobalt’s smile faded, “If you are starting a suspect list, put Olympia at the top of it,” he muttered, “There is something about her and being in here that makes me ill.”

“Noted,” Amora sighed.

“Do you always talk to yourself?” Iphigenie asked from behind one of the bookshelves.

The American girl let out an embarrassed squeak, “Not normally,” she mumbled, as she could hear Cobalt laughing in his ethereal place around her.

“Just now?” the ginger girl asked, poking her head out from behind the bookshelves.

“Seems like it,” Amora groaned, “Sorry, it’s weird.”

Iphigenie shrugged, sitting across from the blonde girl, “It is weird, but if it’s what you do it’s fine if it helps you retain the information you’re reading.”

Right, because she is in front of a ton of books, her conversations with Cobalt how ever quiet, could just be her reading to herself out loud, “What are you reading?” Amora asked.

“It’s an art catalog,” Iphigenie replied, “I need some inspiration for my next piece for my painting class.”

“Oh, do you have any pictures of your art?”

“Uh…” The young woman was shocked at Amora’s question, before pulling out her phone, “Here.”

The pictures of her art in the false-realistic style with rococo coloring, “Wow, this is all really good!” Amora exclaimed.

Iphigenie let out a little laugh before smiling, “Thanks.”

“These look so amazing, they look like book covers,” the blonde girl remarked.

“I want to do book illustration, so I need to finish my portfolio so I can submit it places,” the ginger retorted before sighing, “It’s hard-working at the café though.”

“No one really seems to have a job here, but you. Back at home, everyone seems to have one,” Amora observed.

The young woman sighed again, “I want to move back to Switzerland, and knowing my mother, she isn’t going to let me go back willingly even if I am an adult. So, I have to get the money together myself.”

“What a lovely mother,” Cobalt huffed.

The girls soon went back and further chattering away for what felt like hours, before descending one of those many spiral staircases together their books in hand.

“I’ll send you the notes for Trigonometry when I get back to my dorm,” Iphigenie mentioned as she and Amora reached the checkout desk, “There is tutoring on Thursday nights too.”

“I’m usually really good a math,” Amora sighed, “just recent I’m not too sure of myself… I don’t know why,” she said Cobalt was snickered in the background, “I just want to make sure I didn’t miss any notes.”

Iphigenie nodded before taking her book she checked out and leaving with a softy, “See you later.”

“You two are good friends?” Olympia inquired, as Amora sat her books on the counter.

Amora shrugged, “We are acquaintances, Today is the most that we have talked, we only have two classes together.”

Olympia hummed, “Do you intend to keep it that way?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Excuse me,” Amora questioned.

“I only mean that you don’t seem like a good fit for my genie,” Olympia remarked, “that’s all.”

“A good fit… Iphigenie should be allowed to have her friends,” Amora awkwardly laughed.

“Careful, Amora,” Cobalt remarked softly, he could see the scowl forming on Olympia’s face just as much as she could, but he was also aware from being a parent, Amora just said some fighting words.

“You know better than I, mhm?” Olympia scoffed, passing back Amora’s books.

“No, but I know what it is like to be isolated,” the blonde girl replied, “Even if Iphigenie and I don’t become friends, it should be her own choice to pick her friends despite what you think.”

Olympia clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth before staring narrowly-eyed at the young girl, “You know not of raising a child.”

“I know,” Amora squeaked out.

Whilst Amora and Olympia were conversing, Cobalt had toddled his way over to a large stack of books, using his ghostly abilities to knock the books over. Allowing Amora to scamper her way out of the library.

“Thank you,” Amora sighed.

“What the hell were you thinking!”

His voice is loud in her ears, as she walks back to the dorms, “Does Olympia seem like a horrible mother yes, but you just met this woman, the woman that is our only suspect.”

Amora huffed before rolling her eyes before he continued, “I commend you for standing up for Iphigenie, but you and I are linked, if you get in trouble that could be bad for our investigation which means I can’t leave this plain to leave you alone!”

“I can’t just stand around while bad stuff just happens,” she puffed out, “It’s just like Bellamy…”

“And who is Bellamy?” Cobalt asked, his tone is much claimer.

“My friend in America, protecting her is what got me sent here in the first place.”

Cobalt hummed seeing the dejected look on Amora’s face as she recalled the memories of Bellamy, “I should text her later,” she muttered.

“You should.” Cobalt agreed.

Amora nodded, “After I figure some stuff out,” she sighed, before hurrying back to the dorms.

Hiding her head in books, examining web articles, searching odd questions in her search bar. If someone was mentoring her search history surely sharing things like ‘What are the most common causes of death’ would be cause for concern.

“Who was the guy you mentioned when we were in the library?” Amora asked Cobalt.

“Klaus, why?”

“Loki mentioned that someone went missing when I first got here,” Amora answered.

Cobalt hummed, “I don’t remember him ever going missing.”

“Klaus Densmore, right?”

Cobalt nodded, as Amora typed the name into the search bar and many articles popped up all with headlines that mentioned Klaus and a disappearance from 15 years ago. The American teen clicked on an article from Solostica News Channel One the same place she had read the article about Cobalt's death.

Beloved Music Teacher Gone Missing Ahead Equinox Festival

Solostica News Channel One Editor: Suzette Levi Writer: Lucian Nicolette Esperine

On March 15th Klaus Densmore, a music history teacher at Hallows Academy, was reported missing by his husband. Last seen on the school grounds his disappearance has shocked our tiny community.

Although he had a vivacious personality and was described as quite direct by many, Klaus was respected and loved by many, including his husband and dean of Hallows Academy Greyson Densmore.

Klaus Densmore is 5’11, of a pale complexion with jet black semi-leaf cut hair and gray eyes. He was seen in a navy cardigan, black slacks, and black shoes.

If you see Klaus Densmore or have any information on his whereabouts, please contact Solostica Detective Matias Prescott at 020 9734 2648 or ask for him at the Solostica Supervise Office.

Addendum: This case is currently cold according to Solostica Detective Matias Prescott.

“Ah! Ah-ha!” Amora yelped, “Clue!”

“Clue?” Cobalt asked, with his interest peaked he floated over her.

“Klaus went missing right before you died! Maybe you and Klaus are connected!” Amora exclaimed, “Maybe if I try and find stuff about Klaus, we’ll find stuff about you and how you died.”

“It is a definite start.”

“Amora, who are you talking to?”

Amora froze, the smooth silky voice of Loki from behind her, slowly turning around the blonde girl held an awkward smile, as her British roommate looked at her with a concerned gaze, “Lovely, you okay?”

“Yeah, Yeah,” she replied waving her hands in front of her, “Just talking to myself.”

“That’s not a good excuse.”

“Lance talks to himself, he has since we were kids. You were having a full-on conversation before I walked in.”

Amora awkwardly laughed once again, “If you are in the middle of a phone call I’ll leave.”

“At this point, if we are going to be investigating, just tell her,” Cobalt sighed.

“I’m not on the phone…” Amora huffed, “I... I am being haunted by a ghost…”

Loki then began to laugh, making Amora’s whole face bright red, “Loki! I’m serious! Ever since that stupid séance, this guy named Cobalt has been haunting me!” Amora exclaimed.

“And you are talking to him because?” Loki chuckled.

Amora sighed, “I’m trying to help him get to the afterlife.”

Loki continued to laugh loudly, holding her stomach as she did so, which made Amora’s face turn even more red, “LOKI, STOP!”

Cobalt sighed as Loki continued to laugh, the ghostly man moved himself over to Loki’s side of the room, before straining to use his ghostly abilities to knock many of Loki’s items and trinkets off her bedside table to the ground.

“What the hell,” Loki panted after laughing so hard before Cobalt used all of his ghostly strength to throw one of Loki’s mossy green pillows square in her face, “Holy shit you are being haunted by a ghost.”

“WHY WOULD I LIE ABOUT THIS!” Amora shouted.

While Amora explained what had happened since the séance, the sky darkened into night, the librarian bookkeeper, Olympia, made her way to Greyson’s office. Finding the older man in his sitting area outside of his office, many papers atop the dark color coffee table in front of him as he laid back on his dark blue couch.

“Dear?” Olympia asked, seeing the dean resting across the couch with an arm covering his face.

“Yes Olympia?” he questioned.

“What do you know about the new American girl?”

“Amora?”

“Yes,” Olympia answered her hands clasped in front of her now standing at Greyson's side as he did not attempt to change his posture to give her his full attention.

“She’s a young scholar, here because she has an awful mother,” Greyson explained, “She has great potential.”

“Anything else?” Olympia asked.

“Not that I can recall, or that is relevant at the moment… she likes to read I guess,” Greyson answered with a tired sigh.

“Is she violent?”

“No?”

“Abrasive?”

“Why the questions, Olympia?” Greyson complained.

“She seems friendly with Iphigenie and—”

“Iphigenie is an adult she is allowed to befriend whoever she likes.” Greyson exhaled rolling over on his side.

He hugged the large navy coat under him as if it were an old teddy bear, “but Iphigenie is my little girl,” Olympia whined, “I have to protect her.”

“Protect her, or not have her leave you?” Greyson grumbled.

Olympia sighed, “I’m sorry for bothering you, I’ll leave you be.”

“Travel safety, Olympia.”

“I love you, Greyson,” she replied, as she reached the door.

He only hummed before she exited his office. Left to go home, yet she doesn’t go to the shared townhouse, no she travels to the beachside where a small pale shack sits abandoned and deshelled, where a man sits changed up below ground.

#Hallows Academy #Hallows #writing #amora #loki #Iphigenie #Olympia #greyson #klaus #cobalt #ocs #original characters #ficiton #supernatural #romance #mystery #ghost #writng #writers on tumblr

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missvalerietanner · 1 year

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He stumbles back from the room, doubling-over to cough against the swelling possession of the rotted stench chewing through his senses. His eyes water, and he gags as his stomach heaves. His entire body locks up as it struggles to suppress the sting of the stench and the sight of its cause.

Context: the watcher at a panopticon does some sneaking around at night (naughty!) and stumbles upon the prison's morgue, overflowing with dead bodies in multiple states of decay. This is his first clear sign that no one ever leaves this place, not even in a body bag. OHHHHH!! [/mic drop]

#watcher on high #woh #panopticon #fiction writing #original ficiton #creative ficiton #missvalerietanner #mvt #monster is starting to suck the life out of me #so i needed a change of story scenery ;p #this one tickles my darker sides

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indecentpause · 9 months

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White Rabbit: Chapter Seven

cw: psych medication, negative side effects, sexual assault/rape mention, victim blaming, food, internalized homophobia

I skip the showers again, but I change my clothes in the room’s tiny bathroom. I wash my face and run my damp fingers through my hair. I need a brush. I’ll have to check the bag, but I don’t think Nina brought one. Maybe they’ll have a cheap disposable comb. Better than nothing. The mirror is warped and water-stained, but the green eyes that look back at me aren’t so dark anymore. The rings are a little fainter, the cheeks a little fuller, the skin not so pale. My lips are still chapped and bitten, but you can’t have everything. The clothes don’t fit me. They’re a little too loose and a little too long, and I look like a ratty little girl trying to dress up in her classy big sister’s favorite outfit. But it’s clean, and it smells like Nina’s laundry detergent. I press the wrist of the sleeve of the cardigan into my nose. Water lilies and clean springs. I don’t leave the room until they call for breakfast, and I try to get there first so I can sit alone. But Carrie corners me and sits across my table. I look up from my cold pancakes, but don’t speak. “Those clothes are really pretty,” she says. “They’re my… my friend brought them to me,” I say. I’m still feeling out whether it’s safe to talk about Nina as who she actually is. So far, I don’t think there would be a problem. Carrie doesn’t even seem to have a judgment meter, but after my parents kicked me out, I’m still wary about telling people. “They look expensive.” I look down at the too-loose sleeve of the lavender cardigan and its big knit holes. “No, she just spends a lot of time trawling through thrift stores.”

read chapter seven on ao3 here

or on wattpad here!

General taglist: @abalonetea @only-book-lovers-left-alive @poore-choice-of-words @leadhelmetcosmonaut @jasperygrace @drippingmoon @thelaughingstag @athenswrites @kaiusvnoir @magic-is-something-we-create @idreamonpaper @wip-nook @papercutsunset @winterandwords @heavensfallenfaction

let me know if you want to be added or removed to the White Rabbit list, OR if you want to stay on the general list but not be tagged in this one. I understand there is some pretty potentially triggering content. or let me know if you want to be removed from both!

my lists got a little mixed up, so if you wanted to only be tagged in tag games and I've accidentally put you here, too, please don't hesitate to ask me to fix it :)

#my writing #writeblr #ao3 #wattpad #excerpt #wip #chapter update #white rabbit #diana cashler #sapphic fiction #lesbian character #lgbt fiction #queer ficiton #contemporary fiction #original fiction

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dearestaeneas · 8 months

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Epilogue.

For a moment, the world burned with the deepest orange before fading to blue. The little rat loved the dark, although his already blurred vision became all the more useless. His whiskers and nose did well to steer him in the right direction as he made sure to take the appropriate time to mourn the loss of the burning light’s rainbow. It did not matter that it would be back tomorrow: The specific moments he savored could never truly be repeated, simply recreated in a similar likeness.

The little rat squeaked with delight just thinking about it.

He did not wonder at just how many of those bright and colorful moments he had left, because such a thought served no purpose. There was no answer that could change the wonder he was so blessed to marvel at, leaving no reason to ask the question in the first place.

Despite its age, the rain and the wet hadn’t fully infiltrated his home. The beams he scurried across remained dry, the older ones occasionally creaking quietly, but respectfully, under his weight. He appeared to be in a great rush, finding himself back on the ground floor in far less time than it took him to leave it.

He exited the wall, running toward the study.

Pappappappappap!

The little rat heard the squeaking before he could make out his fellow little round shapes. Before him lay a carnival: several smaller rats fought playfully as those around them fed or curled themselves into one another as they slept. Although the little rat’s home was now dark, pale moonlight shone into the room through the tall, arched windows. As the moon rose, more and more of the sleeping little bodies began to stir.

Before long, the little rat found himself in the middle of the colony, squeaking enthusiastically. He fed on beetles that crawled their way across the walls of his home, as well as seeds that fell through broken windows from trees. Some of his meal even consisted of raspberries that had begun to grow across the house’s front stoop. As he ate with his friends in the home he loved, the little rat forgot the grief he’d felt thinking about his fleeting glance at the sun.

He did not hold still for long- none of them did. The little rat scurried about, pouncing on his companions and swishing his tail back and forth excitedly. He didn’t like to be alone and only did so at sunset. Although, as he played and squeaked and ran, he wished he could share all of his life with those around him.

If only they knew! If only they knew the wonders the house had for them, just waiting to be found! To be loved!

But wouldn’t it be cruel to disturb their sleep? No, maybe it was okay to keep such a treasure to himself. He would not force his choice on those he loved, and instead began to wonder what treasures he could possibly be missing out on.

His home did not love him less for not knowing all the marvels it had to offer, did not love his friends less for not knowing the beauty of the chandelier at sunset.

The little rat’s little feet pattered against the wooden floor, smooth and worn after years of those who came before him.In a sea of identical little noises, his own little pappappappappap! added to that legacy. Those who were to come after him would not know his unique squeaks or the way his specific feet sounded, but they would know their own, acting as a similar enough likeness.

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