ruvastuon

Latest Posts by ruvastuon

What inspired the spirits in your wip?

Thank you for the ask! Sorry I'm a bit late responding. It's been a crazy week.

I had a mythology book when I was young, and it had stories from various cultures. Several stories discussed the veil between the spirit world and reality and how it would become thin during all hallows eve. Additionally, there was always the potential for things to slip through cracks in the veil if they weren't too powerful.

The idea in mythologies that natural phenomena and fluctuating conditions were due to invisible interference from higher powers gave me the idea to have them fight every 500 or so years to explain seasons of prosperity and destruction in the world.

With all of that in mind, I divided the spirit's into 8 great spirits representing earth, wind,fire, and water for both chaotic and good. Under them are other spirits who are either weaker or overall uninterested in the conflict.

I originally had designed one creature known as Null to be the only supernatural being that I focused on, but once the others came into play I knew that he needed to be incorporated in an off the wall manner to fit his character. So I them made it that if a spirit of similar element was killed before the 500 years, then the one who killed them had to take their place. With that in motion, it was only a matter of making Null a glutton who had no interest in spirit politics, then I had him "accidentally" eat the light water spirit right before the 500 years were up again.

Null was the original base of the entire story, so in everything, I needed him to be preserved. As for where he came from... I used to play a mobile game called The Battle Cats and he was inspired by a combination of different creatures in that. (They have something pretty fun character designs in it) Another point in the early draft if the story was that he would pop up I random places appearing as an inosenct animal at first before distorting his features and revealing his pseudo humanoid form playing into his chaotic side.

Thanks again for the ask!

Two of the inspirations for his main design.

Waiting for Reinforcements

Thank you for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

Walking across the dark field towards the barricade, Silus couldn't help but feel a bit melancholy despite the fact that Null had already been passed on to a more fitting vessel. He should have been pleased to rid himself of the burden, but it only felt like his shoulders had started to get even heavier them before.

Rose said it was nerves, and while he knew it wasn't helping things, this was different from the nerves that he'd grown accustomed to.

"Still brooding?" Silus jumped slightly as he noticed her waiting in the shadows with a bottle quietly extended toward him. He accepted it easily for a sip and quickly returned it before the drink could draw him in fully.

"Any word?" She shook her head with a sour expression as she finished off the last several drops of bottle before smashing the glass against the ground.

"No,if we can hold out another day though..." her voice trailed off, unconvincing even to herself it seemed, but he appreciated her attempts. Worrying wouldn't get them anywhere, especially with the mess they had to clean up tomorrow.

"I'm sure they're on their way." He tried to force a smile, but the corners of his mouth felt strangely heavy. He hoped for all of their sakes that they were on the way, because if anything happened to Nulls' new vessel... His newfound freedom would be quite short-lived.

( I'm very tired today, so I just got a rough sketch done)

one year of #FFF 🎉🎉🎉

so with this week's entry, i have participated in flash fiction friday for a whole year now, keeping up a streak of 52 :D and because i'm lowkey proud of that and also just love FFF a lot, i will yap a litte.

what is flash fiction friday?

FFF is a fun little event where the very cool people over at @flashfictionfridayofficial post a new prompt every friday at noon cet, then you have 24h to fill that prompt, and over the next week they will rb it to that official account and it gets put into a showcase post.

why is that so cool and why should you join?

for so many reasons!

first of all, the whole community (as in, the people usually participating, as well as "the bosses") is extremely nice and sweet and welcoming, and full of amazing writers. and it is alway such a varied mix of works! there's fanfics of various fandoms, ranging from more "popular" things to very niche, there's original works, both with people having their own ocverses/bigger works as well as just great little disconnected short stories, there's poetry, there's everything.

for me personally, the whole process is just very good and has so many perks: - one prompt a week, so there's a habit going on. even if i don't get my ass up for writing much all week, i can do a short friday bit, which means there's the accomplishmentTM as well as just keeping the writing muscle moving, so to speak - only a day time, so you can't overthink it too much, just hammer something out without fiddling with it forever (good for people with perfectionism-brainworms) - it feels kinda low stakes, but in a good way - that gives me the freedom to just try shit out. experimenting with style or pov, writing stuff i normally probably wouldn't (i did a random Saints Row fic because i was playing that at the time and the prompt fit so well - would have never written for that otherwise), or just producing random bits and backstory lore for my ocs (like, for example, fiona went from "has a name, died sometime in the past" to #fiona tag)

and of course, the rb comments on the official account are always SO NICE and SO ENCOURAGING and just... knowing that at least one person will read your stuff and comment positively on it - yea, that helps, lame as it sounds.

anyway, that's why y'all should join me and write :D

now what?

now on to the second year... :D no but seriously, i plan to keep the streak up. BUT ALSO over the next few day i will reblog some of this year's bits, with added author's commentary, just because i can. they're gonna be tagged #fff recap.

shoutout

as mentioned above, there's so many cool and talented people in that whole community, special mention of some of them - go read their things! (and i'm probably forgetting half)

@ineedaplacetostay @ruvastuon @aalinaaaaaa @zorilleerrant @ark-inkweaving @drowning-in-cacophony @hd-literature @starlightfireflies

the whole list

(incoming) special fff recap commentary is marked with "#!"

#252 spill the tea: what's a chicken? (fnv)

#253 pushing up daisies: pushing up daisies (fnv)

#254 horizon line: just one more step (fnv) #!

#255 in the heart: doing the right thing (fnv)

#256 muted colors: un-muting the colors (fnv)

#257 count the days: 4261 days (ocverse: daria) #!

#258 milky way dreams: mojave night sky (fnv)

#259 house of cards: wildcards (fnv)

#260 fear is a sickness: how to live your life without breathing (ocverse: july)

#261 maybe one more: nuka cola quantum (fnv)

#262 run far and fast: he runs and he runs and he runs (ocverse: gabriel)

#263 in the meadows: accidental baby acquisition (fnv) #!

#264 counting clocks: six damn clocks (ocverse: mika) #!

#265 galaxies away: this is my human costume (ocverse: el & quinn)

#266 great expectations: no one sleeps when i'm awake (ocverse: mika & aaron)

#267 gifted violets: viola sororia (ocverse: july & daria)

#268 fractured forms: picking up the pieces (ocverse: gabriel & kat)

#269 living weapon: can't win them all (fnv)

#270 lights and sirens: can you feel my bass (ocverse: valerie, annabelle & eli)

#271 tantrum entrance: pastry bribery (ocverse: mika & gabriel)

#272 change in tone: and let me sing forevermore (ocverse: aaron & mika)

#273 invisible guest: and there are days like this, too (ocverse: daria & fiona) #!

#274 empty house: the hills have eyebots (fnv: courier mags) #!

#275 full moon frenzy: low ebb tide and high full moon (ocverse: fiona)

#276 dark and stormy night: drift, drift away, into now (ocverse: fiona)

#277 silver sparks: jury rigging (fnv)

#278 singing in the candlelight: ever-drifting smoke (ocverse: fiona)

#279 warm hands: that familiar smell (ocverse: mika & gabriel)

#280 seek for insight: well, just you wait (ocverse: el & quinn)

#281 ripple effect: ripples (ocverse: july & daria)

#282 out of love: the el-question (ocverse: el & quinn)

#283 calling, calling home: mommy issues (ocverse: fia) #!

#284 noticing small things: all those little details (ocverse: mika & gabriel) #!

#285 how it begins: loud lights (ocverse: helena)

#286 anything could happen: any way the wind blows (ocverse: july, mika & aaron)

#287 i can’t stand it: good taste and where to buy it (ocverse: mika & quinn)

#288 loud lie, quiet truth: hard-hitting confessions (ocverse: mika & aaron)

#289 blinding gaze: first impressions (ocverse: fia & helena)

#290 midnight distractions: midnight creature feature (ocverse: mika & gabriel)

#291 stuff of legends: celestial love triangle (ocverse: fia & helena)

#292 paper promises: dear daria (ocverse: daria & fiona)

#293 unbridled rage: burn it down, baby, burn it down (saints row) #!

#294 cursed trio: what's in the cards (ocverse: daria & fiona)

#295 help not wanted: lonesome road (fnv)

#296 before the party's over: men of few words (fnv)

#297 like a weed: the legend of the courier (fnv)

#298 hidden chemistry: mmm... mentats. (fnv) #!

#299 stranger than fiction: something's missing (misc) #!

#300 let me go: shadow-maker (ocverse: daria & fiona)

#301 what happened here: the trouble with eyebots (fnv: courier mags)

#302 talk to me: foreboding silence (ocverse: mika & gabriel)

#303 out of the box: chess pieces (ocverse: fia & helena)

stats

ocverse: 33 fallout: 17 other: 2

Bad News 

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

Summary: Unexpected news is not well received on 2 hours of sleep.

Warnings: Implied and threatened violence

“So… I think that Charlie and I might be dating.” Veins on the side of his neck began to pulse visibly as Simon set down the document he was reviewing. He hadn’t noticed the gaggle of idiots wandering into his room, and normally he wouldn’t have caught what they were saying, but even more cups of coffee than he’d care to admit and 4 hours of overtime thanks to their antics, he wasn’t nearly tired enough to miss a comment like that. Seb was the first to notice his sudden engagement, moving from his usual perch on the edge of Simon’s desk 

“Well, I guess the cat really got out of the box this time huh?”  Simon breathed deeply through his nose, as his knuckles started to get even paler than usual. 

“Its bag though isn’t it?” Ruth interjected slamming her fist down hard enough to knock some loose papers out of their stacks, sending them strait to the damp floor. 

“No. Everyone knows that Cats love boxes, so if the cat leaves the box then things have really gotten out of hand. Common Ru, think about it. Why would a cat be in a bag?” Tapping the side of his desk with his unclenched hand, Simon began eyeing his half empty mug of cold coffee while eyeing the side of Seb’s head.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s bag, Right Si?” Ruth turned to him with a hopeful glint in her eyes to let him know that she wasn’t ready to just drop the stupidity this time. As the sound of Simon’s teeth grinding filled the silence, Seb finally seemed to grasp a semblance of the situation, positioning himself behind the main problem in this mess. 

“I’m not ashamed of myself, She’s really changed this time and Psych already cleared her again for active combat so this is really just a win win for all of us in the end.” Jon began grinning like an idiot as he shrugged. “ You should really be thank…” Before the cup had time to leave his hands, Ruth had already jumped over the table scattering the rest of his documents. 

“He didn’t mean anything by it… You know he got hit in the head last time he was on the field!” Clarity crashed through his exhaustion for the briefest moment, and Simon considered if he truly wanted to strangle the idiot in front of him. Gingerly grabbing Ruth by the scruff of her collar, he quickly moved her to the side and drew himself up to his full height. Staring down at the crazy fool he decided that he didn’t exactly have any good reason not to. 

Talk to Me.

Thanks for the Prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

Warning: slight horror

*Knock* 

“Steven? Are you okay, buddy?” 

Silence hung in the dim hall as Steven hid under his bed, blanket pulled up around him. 

“*Sigh* I know it’s different now sweety, but we’ll make it though this, alright?”

Clamping one of his hands over his mouth, Steven tried to stay as quiet as possible as the old floorboards outside creaked in protest. 

“I know you missed dinner. Do you at least want some ice cream?” 

The sweet voice ever so slightly as frustration crept into the smooth tone. He tried to time his breaths to match the voice, but it wouldn’t work forever. Looking down at the teddy bear alarm clock nearby he watched the seconds tick by slowly (3:59:25) The door began to groan under a sudden force and Steven could hear the frame starting to crack. 

“I Think you’ve dragged this on for long enough young man, I didn’t want to do this, but you can’t just shut me out.” The honey was gone now, replaced by a hard tone that sent chills down his spine.  

“It’s so lonely out here Steven, but I’m sure you’ll liven the place right up” Pulling his alarm clock close to his chest, Steven closed his eyes as tightly as he could counting down the seconds in his mind as the door finally gave way. 

-10 Mississippi, 9 Mississippi, 8 Mississippi-

He could feel it looming nearby, but if he didn’t know that it was there then it couldn’t hurt him.

“Oh don’t be like that Steven, I only want to talk, don’t you love me anymore?”

He lost count, his tear stained eyes finally opening wide, to gaze in frozen horror at the twisted thing that had snuck into his room again.

“Thats it Steven, come to mama.” It smiled wickedly as it reached towards him, long spindly fingers twitching erratically as it tried to grab him. Then a beeping began to sound in his arms, and the things face twisted in disgust as the world melted to black. 

Opening his eyes, Steven looked out at the cloudy sky, gripping his alarm close to his chest, he’d survived another night, only had three left to go.

Ruined Safehaven

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

Some context: On the run from a group of powerful vessels (those wielding powers of nature and destruction), Silus tries to bring Luna to a small town for some sense of normalcy in the whirlwind of their journey.

Warning: implied massacre, devastated landscape

Luna rushed past Silus, hiking up the hill with renewed determination.

-Did you really think it was that easy? I didn’t take you for a coward and a fool-

Silus paused, his throat drying out instantly as he recognized the familiar smell of sulfur faintly hanging in the air. Just over that, Ridge was supposed to be safe, but they would have already guessed that wouldn’t they? 

Despite the heavy pack weighing him down Silus lurched forward with the last ounce of stamina he had been preserving, tackling the excited girl to the ground and covering her mouth before she could let out a startled squeak. Now that he was paying more attention, the smell was only getting stronger, accompanied by a sinking dread that started bubbling up in his guts. Luna’s eyes were wide with fear, but when he motioned for her to remain quiet, she nodded slowly, not even making a peep when he removed his hand. 

Luna’s small body trembled as he shifted away from her, but Silus couldn’t stop for apologies this time. Creeping slowly to the crest of the hill, the gnarled woods gave way to a sudden wasteland. Dust and ash hung thickly in the air like a wall, not creeping past some unseen boundary. Any sign of their refuge was completely blotted out, but if he listened closely, he could hear the muffled screams of those trapped inside. 

The air in his lungs began to grow thick as he watched the ash begin to twist and form itself into dancing ghosts of the past, mocking him while growing evermore realistic. One spector pressed its pale hand against the boundery, pressing forward just past where the ash had stopped. It smiled with a hollow expression dripping with satisfaction when he flinched. She couldn’t see this. Slowly withdrawing from his possition, Silus pulled himself to his knees and picked the exhausted girl up. Despite the protest of his aching bones, he held her close as he moved quietly off the path, hoping that whatever that was didn’t chance to follow them. They needed to move further inland. 

Unsent letter

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

Also, happy belated 6th anniversary and 300th prompt 🥳

Description: An unpolished letter written in anger but never sent. (I wanted to try something a bit different for the milestone)

I stand now at a crossroads of significant divide. Where need and will have chosen to once more diverge. I need from her many things, her company included, but after this, I can not just pretend that the walls are not fractured.

Don't make decisions when you are upset. Don't burn bridges that you still need to cross. Money will be given, and debts repaid in kind. I will not be forgiven by her words, and in this, I can not find reason to forgive.

Will you look at me differently once the madness has retreated? Will smiles adorn your face once the storm has passed? I am to be rational and care as always, but you have a life left to lead, and I have no place stopping that, only the desire to keep you safe. In doing what I thought best, I have hurt you, and for that, I am sorry, and by your own actions, I have seen a folly in my resolve. I can not save you if you do not wished be saved, no matter how much it pains me to watch.

I have benefited greatly from your kindness and thoughtfulness, but I have also suffered greatly under the weight of your wrath. I curse my heart for still being affected by this, but I will do my best not to let this affect our partnership. Instead, the roots shall be gradually trimmed, and I will do my best to quietly let you go.

Attack of the dead men 

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

Note: Given the prompt, it didn’t feel right spin things into a story completely of my own, so I decided instead to summarize a story that has firmly embedded itself into the back of my mind. I became aware of this story because someone showed me the song ‘Attack of the Dead Men’ by SABATON. While gruesome in nature, it presented me with pestering question of how people can drive themselves past impossible limitations while unprepared in the face of death. 

Warnings!!!: Discussion of warfare including the deployment and descriptive effects of weaponized Chlorine/Bromine Gas. 

Chlorine and bromine. While still dangerous, these chemicals have proven to be significanly useful tools for disinfection among other things. The result of their combination in a gasious form though? A toxic cloud that can devistate both humans and the environment, corroding tools and nature with almost instantanous effect.  What then of the human body? How might it react with living cells?

 For the 800 men guarding the Osowiec Fortress in 1915 without the protection of gas masks, those effects were almost completely fatal. Of the entire garrison only 100 soldiers survived due to their distance from the gas batteries. As the gas gradually dissipated and reinforcements arrived, the burned and dying survivors crawled up from their trenches like the living dead to attack the charging enemy. While coughing up their own lungs even as their organs were slowly being desolved by the resulting hydrochloric acid formed from the moister in their lungs and the chlorine gas, they stumbled towards the attackers without hesitation. The sight of their horrific forms was enough to cause bedlam in their enemies ranks, and paired with a concentrated artillery strike form the reinforcements, the soldiers were able to temporarily secure the garrison in the face of overwhelming odds. The victory was short lived however as the reinforcements were later forced to retreat from the garrison at a later date. It is a haunting story from a haunting time that can leave one to ponder the limits that the human will can force a broken body to ignore. 

Spark of Progress

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial !

Warning: minor science and bugs. Picture has mutated body parts displayed in the background.

Word Count: 395

Story: original snippet, apocalyptic

Cells danced across the lit slide, quickly overtaking the benign tissue and effortlessly mutating the sample. Carl attempted to focus in on the process for any notable variation in its pattern, but after sixteen hours, his dancing vision was persistant enough that he probably wouldn’t catch anything of note even if it bit his face anyway. 

“Sleep, or I’m gonna break that piece of junk.” Pulling away instinctivly, Carl clutched his microscope protectively. 

“Touch it and we all go up in smoke.” His baby-sitter shrugged and picked up the pile of papers that he’d haphazardly arranged for collection. These brutes had their uses but they were far too blunt for his purpouses most days. 

“See anything interesting today?” He shrugged.

“Nothing significant, the infection has been resistant to everything I’ve thrown at it.” Feeling less insecure about the safety of his equipment, Carl leaned back a bit in his chair and raised his coffee to take a drink before he caught sight of something floating along the surface. Pulling it away from his mouth, he set the ceramic mug onto the table and eyed the strange insect floating belly up on the surface. It was obviously infected, nothing that would cause significant damage by itself, but how had a dead infected bug gotten in his cup? 

“You okay?” Carl’s guard was already by his side, checking him for any signs of injury. He knew he wasn’t turning, He’d run enough test to know what turning felt like, at least what people documented it feeling like. Pushing past her, he grabbed a pair of forceps from a loose pile of tools and picked up the bug quickly dragging it over to his work station. Despite his earlier exhaustion a sence of urgency had driven the sleep from his eyes. Quickly preparing a tray, he slid the pieces into place and engaged the magnification. 

Silence settled over the room as he watched the aggressive cells shrivel up and flake apart when contacting the coffee residue. After all this time… Shaking his head, Carl pulled away to grab another sample, he’d have to isolate the cause, figure out what exactly was triggering the reaction. His fingers shook with excitement forcing him to slow down his work for the sake of accuracy. Every moment crawled by in agonizing silence, but If he was right… humanity could finally be saved. 

Heyyy, I forgot to ask bc I got busy but what’s Absolute Zero and The King and His Fairy about? (Wip game) !

No problem! Thanks for the ask :)

Absolute Zero

The story takes place in a world governed by spirits. Once every 500 years two groups of spirits wage war to see who has control over the world for the next cycle, and who will be locked away in the spirit realm. To maintain pride and prevent unnecessary blood shed of spirits they use human vessels who combat in their place. After loosing for more than 3 consecutive cycles, the dark spirits devise a plan and use human servants to work towards creating perfect vessels for them. The cult that forms from that plan steals people and turns them into potential vessels. The main plot follows a failed vessel with a water attribute who finds himself under the thumb of a crazed spirit who was forced to replace one of the original light spirits. To prevent being sealed, the crazed spirit tasks him with finding the other vessels and protecting them so that the spirit is not sealed away.

I've started this story over 6 times now, but I'm never happy with how it flows, so unfortunately I don't have a snippet for it yet :(

The King and his Fairy

Summary: After an event called the awakening gives Warframes more sentience and autonomy they struggle to adapt to the new way of life and their interpersonal dynamics. Titania comes back from a mission and comes to Oberon for a bit of healing. Just a short little one shot story between Titania and Oberon from Warframe that takes place in a slightly altered world. (It's mostly finished I just need to edit it and get it posted but it's a bit sappy and i've been putting it off)

Thanks again for the ask, I love being able to talk about my stories. :)

For the wip file ask game

I'm intrigued by three (well actually more but I narrowed it down some lol)

What can you share about them?

Coral Crown Adjacent

The King and His Fairy

Shadows of the Past

Thanks for the Ask :)

Coral Crown Adjacent is the spin off for a story that I only had in the planning phase. Somehow it ended up getting more attention than the main plot...

Summary: A low level guard (Former assassin trainee) is unexpectedly given a promotion to a higher position and sent to be the bodyguard of the kings advisor/regent to spy on him. The king is on a very powerful drug called ambrosia that allow him to communicate with spirits and one in particular has possessed him and is trying to manipulate the kingdom but the advisor is getting in the way. The guard is trying to do his job while doing his best to survive.

I haven't really worked on it all that much, but going back into the document this little snippet was fun :)

Callen had always kept his hair clean and tidy with the time and finances he had but the glossy texture of his hair after being cleaned with the expensive oils scared him. The general smell of the city which he thought had been permanently ingrained in his skin was appallingly absent, replaced now with a slightly floral smell that he couldn't put his finger on.

The King and his Fairy

Summary: After an event called the awakening gives Warframes more sentience and autonomy they struggle to adapt to the new way of life and their interpersonal dynamics. Titania comes back from a mission and comes to Oberon for a bit of healing. Just a short little one shot story between Titania and Oberon from Warframe that takes place in a slightly altered world.

Snippet:

A familiar buzzing sound echoed through his room as Oberon reluctantly looked up from the book he had finally managed to start reading. His ears flicked in minor irritation at the interruption, he had just been getting to the interesting part too.  "Love, what can I do for you?" The buzzing stopped for a moment before a small fairy crashed into his face showering him with kisses. So she was in one of those moods then. Discarding his book, Oberon uncrossed his legs and braced himself for impact as his fairy changed to her full size.  "I didn't think you'd find me this time my deer." He snorted in irritation at the name as she began giggling in triumph. He felt his ears flattening back at the comment and he hummed disapproving of the attack. 

Finally to my little monster: Shadows of the Past. This is a Valorant AU long fic with Bloodborne inspiration for the tone and setting. The Bloodborne tone really started to shine through in the later chapters, but even early on it was prominent.

Summary: Cypher has failed to protect what he treasures the most, but his hope that the hunters will honor their cruel contract keeps him going. So he struggles alone, a shell of his former self, until an unexpected twist in fate sparks the dying embers of hope in his heart.

I made the mistake of not fully editing this piece before I started posting it, so what was planned to be an eleven chapter fan fic written to commemorate my first year of writing fan fiction is now 13 chapters long and about 2/3rds of the way finished. Here's a little excerpt from chapter 3

“We’ve arrived.” The exclamation was said with a level of grandiose that was unbefitting of both the place and time. She seemed to have sensed his hesitation and tried to offer him some comfort.  “Hey, don’t worry, like I said, it's just a simple interrogation just tell us what you know and then we can part ways like this never happened.” The words were sweet, but they didn’t mask the faint smell of blood seeping out from the cracks of the door. The interrogation room then, it seemed this was where the mask came off, though hopefully not in the literal sense this time. 

Extra, while looking for a snippet to share I found this note that I wrote for myself back in November and burst out laughing.

Flipping need to make sure that I go back and do some pre writing every week because the later half of this story isn't even half written. It's really just sad.

What's Bloodmage about? 👀👀👀

(I adore the title by the way)

Thanks for the ask! Sorry in advance for the ramble...

Oh boy, how to describe this one... (I will preface this story as insanity with plot. Most of the characters are severely brain damaged or willing to follow along with the crazies to keep them safe, and I love them all. )

An unofficial squad of soldiers and cryptids are trying to stop a vampire cult (who has infiltrated and overtaken a large world power) that plan to block out the sun and take over the world. All while a large war is happening in the background under the orcestration of the vampires. Most ordinary soldiers have no idea what is going on, and a collection of governing cryptids are trying to keep it that way.

After the squad is forcefully split up thanks to the trickery of the enemy leader, the medic of the group is in a plane crash while trying to reunite with the others. The wreck happens to land in a ritual cite put together by the vampires in an attempt to bolster their numbers with another type of volitile cryptid called bloodmages.

Caught up in the ritual, the medic is turned into a bloodmage, but he is one of the severely brain damaged characters and flasely concludes that he has been turned into a vampire. Unable to end himself with the traditional methods, he decides to find his fellow squad mates to continue their goal only to get caught up in another mess involving bloodmage politics.

Extra context: Bloodmages are beings who have been implanted with red blood crystals that are harvested from a deep pit known as the mouth of hell. After a long comatose incubation period the blood mages awake with enhanced durability/longevity and powers unique to their specific brood (powers have pretty significant variability with some potential for overlap such as the ability to make constructs, bombs, and weapons from their blood/blood they condense store up from others). Along with their other abilities, bloodmages are incredibly mentally unstable unless they have something or someone to tether them to reality. This makes them great short term soilders due to their drive for violence, but not for long term use as they tend to start attacking one another if they grow bored with easy combat.

Thanks again for the ask, I've been really bad about keeping on this one due to some hang-ups with the plot, but I love it to death :)

Thanks for the tag @the-archivist-14

My Goodle Docs have only gotten more cluttered since Tabs became a thing....

Original Works. (They have suffered so much this year 😭)

Bloodmage

Coral Crown Adjacent

Company

Absolute Zero

Usually, don't post much about my fics on the main, but I figured that I would just put thease here for convenience (not just because they have been draining most of my creativity 🫠)

Most of thease haven't been posted and are in the editing phase 🙃

Fan Fiction

Shadows of the Past

Bear and Jaguar

Was it Personal?

The Awakening

A letter from Aubrey

Broken Bones

An Unexpected Guest

Dropping Bodies

D6 Mine

Another world

Revenge

Frozen Posion

Tinker

Again

The King and His Fairy

Dbd Work in Progress

The Adventures of Strum

Bounty Hunter

No pressure tagging @wyked-ao3 @renawriter @kuebiko-writing @renawriter @aalinaaaaaa

+open tag

Got tagged by @punchspeedchunk ~ thank you~

Rules are: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

I'm afraid there's not really much new for WIPs since I last played this game in December, but at least I've made progress on the WIPs! (these are all Fantasy High fics)

Vampire!Riz (finished, waiting for beta)

Fabian is Rapunzel

Sated

It's Never Fantasy Lupus (finished, waiting for beta)

It's All Fucked Up

Omega-Ace: Vitharon

Romeo & Juliet but There's a Mystery

Torture AU

You Can't be Here

Call My Name pt 1: The Sweetest Sound (finished but waiting for other WIPs before I release it)

Call My Name pt2: A Rose by Any Other Name

Hobbert's Mint

Sune's Sexiest Person of the Year

Fabian's Fetish

Jumper/Knitwits

Fatherhood

Withdrawl

Why Aren't You Here?

tagging: @stellarcider @nonbeanary98 @the-archivist-14 @alfalfairy @aloofturtles-blog

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Uninvited Pest

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

Description: A new father struggles with insomnia and is visited by an unwanted acquaintance. 

Warnings: Reference to violence

 “Hey Obi, you’re looking oddly cognitive today. Did the brat finally exhaust itself?”

Oberon reflexively raised a hand to protect Poppy from Solomon. 

“Quiet jester.” He hissed out the words in a hushed tone while the mischievous creature rocked his head back and forth quietly, having finally replaced those blasted bells he was so fond of. 

“Oh you don’t mean that Obi, I know you missed me.” Oberon tried to put some distance between them, but Solomon quickly closed the gap and pressed the back of his hand against Oberon’s burning throat. 

“Tsk… Tsk… I knew the misses was out of commission but how long have you been caring for her little hell spawn?” Uninterested in discussing his wife at the moment, Oberon bit back.

“Didn’t you get executed yesterday?” Solomon straitened suddenly and pulled back as though appearing to be offended. 

“And I thought you couldn’t make it to the event.” His smiling jester mask shifted to a frown and a blob of black ink ran from the corner of his eye. Oberon shook his head in disgust gently lifting Poppy from her sling and setting her down in a small crib with star drops dancing overhead. It took him a moment of effort, but before he’d even pulled away, Oberon had resigned himself to the trickster’s company, at least for the evening. 

“Next time they should dig a bit deeper.”

“They don’t have the patience for it, but by all means I commission you to persuade them.” Oberon rolled his eyes and grabbed one of Solomon’s tassels to drag him from the room. 

The Jester put up a mock struggle, pulling fruitlessly against Oberon’s light hold until they had made it to the wine cellar. 

“So what do you want Solomon? I doubt you came all this way for my company.” The frown disappeared from his face, replaced once more with his devious smile. 

“Nothing so grand as last time Obi, just the world?” Oberon almost dropped the bottle he’d pulled free of the dust covered shelf. Instead he flipped it in his hand and almost instinctively finished the executioners work. 

Termination

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

Lan decides to make a move after learning that his deal with the council has been voided.

Warnings: Violence and death

“I heard an interesting rumor.”

Ripples cascaded across the wine soaked floor as council members looked up from their drunken revilry.

“It was such a silly little thing, but I knew that it was the perfect tale to end things on.” Water droplets danced around Lan as he took another step forward, once more disrupting the wine underfoot. “Besides, I just know you’d be interested to hear it.”

Several of the more grounded members began to stir, reaching for their stupid little bells with shouts of panic that only grew more desperate as the metal melted into puddles of burning liquid.

“Oh… Not interested then?” Streams of water began running from the ceiling, twisting together to form thin serpentine constructs.  “I guess there really isn’t a need to go over things.”

The serpents began to slither down the large pillars of the hall, quickly gliding towards their prey. Lan continued to advance, walking just slowly enough for his constructs to begin feasting. The council desperately struggled, arms harmlessly passing through the serpents' bodies, only serving to further entangle them. It was a wasted effort. Their fates had already been set in stone the moment they broke their word.

“Such a pity, Rue would have enjoyed this.” But the love birds would be busy, wouldn’t they? 

Half smiling, Lan stepped onto the platform, reaching out to one of the feasting serpents. It raised it’s head and quickly abandoned the others to gently offer up a gilded skulls it had collected. Blinking in surprise at the already smooth surface, Lan couldn’t hold back a chuckled. Even for pigs, their hides had been softer than he expected. 

Intro Post

Hi,

I made this blog to try and force myself to be more productive with my original writing/drawing. My success is unfortunately an uncontrolled variable right now.... I am a serial procrastinator and I'm pretty introverted but I'm trying.

Most of my writing tends to be a bit on the darker side and geared towards fantasy, but I dabble in various genres as ideas come to me.

Feel free to tag me in writing games and just to share something that you are proud of. :)

Note: Please let me know If I am ever coming on too strong because I can be a bit dense at times. I'm open to and encourage constructive feedback.

I also have a secondary blog for Fan fiction mostly for updates and fan art.

Side Blog for Fan Fiction

Good luck today/night and happy writing!

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

Short and not so sweet, but fun to write none the less.

Vocal Reflection

“It would be so easy Simon, just say it, and you can finally be free of them. Don’t you want to see the sun again?” The creature now only barely obscured by the murky waters spoke to him with honey coated words even as its hollowed eyes glared up at him hungrily. “Your lovely wife and precious child… Oh how lonely they will be when you don’t return. They would steal your life, but I wouldn’t take much Simon, not even a fraction of what you stand to lose here.”

“None of the others could hear me, do you know what that means Simon?” He was the only one who could know what name to call. “Yes, but you don’t have much time left without my help Simon. It’s a simple choice, we can both survive.”

“No” 

The End of A Story

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

No warnings, just the end of a little story.

“Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. A horse, a bull, and a goblin walk into a bar…”

The minotaur rolled his eyes before slowly turning his attention back to his pint. 

“It was never a funny joke, Jerry, and I’m a pony anyway.”

The talking ‘pony’ raised her head from a bowl of hay to fix him with a disappointed look that wasn’t half so effective now that her eyes were almost as large as watery cue balls. 

“Ha, then why the long face?”

The minotaur snorted in amusement, not quite pulling his attention from his drink while the talking ‘pony’s ears flicked backward. 

“See I told you that the big guy was the only one that still has a shred of humor left. Anyway, what do you think of the place?”

The barkeep gestured to the ocean waves, lapping against the not so distant shore while giving them a wide smile. He’d gone for a resort look this time, taking advantage of the natural beauty of the coast line to compensate for his lack of decor. If nothing else could be said for him, he was good at making the best of a bad situation

“I like what you’ve done with the place, nice open air concept, now where’s my blasted money Jerry?”

The Goblin face poking over the table top was plastered with a sour expression as he watched the gold swing fron the barkeeps’ ears. 

“Have some more food.”

He placed another plate of carrots in front of the trio and went back to dealing with his other patrons, only glancing back over to their table occasionally to make sure that the group was still content. 

In the relative silence that quickly overtook the quaint establishment, a lone figure approached their table and set down a familiar looking lamp. 

“Ten years already passed… How time flies, but I wonder, are you still interested in changing back?”

There was no outburst this time, no bargaining or desperation that had been so often present in their past encounters. After a moment of silence passed between them, the Goblin grinned, his pearly white smile now mixed with shining golden teeth that complimented his velvet suit coat. 

“No, I think I speak for the lot of us when I say that won't be necessary. Now leave us to our meal, and we shall show you the same courtesy.”

The djinn chuckled ruefully at the results and disappeared, leaving the trio to continue their misadventures. He may have pegged them wrong, but they had been interesting to watch nonetheless, and there would always be others far less resilient to mess with.

Bad Deal

Fairies causing trouble doesn't always go in their favor.

Word count: 307

Warning: some violence, implied/ referenced child death

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

“I’ll count your late husband's debt fulfilled with this. Be grateful I don’t come for the next one.”

Leona stared down at the doll in her hand, remembering the bloated swamp fly’s words more clearly than the night they’d been spoken. In her travels, she had often wondered what possible reason that foul being could have had to rip her child away before she even had the chance to hold him. A part of her had hoped that the fay just craved connection to the world like she had. That might at least have made the loss more bearable. 

“DON’T KILL ME! IT WAS MY RIGHT TO TAKE HIM, THAT WAS THE DEAL.”

A gently thump emanated from the burlap bunny, and Leona knew that connection had been the furthest thing from this insect’s mind when robbing her of the last thing she could care for. It had been foolish to suspect anything else from them, but it wasn’t too late to learn from her mistakes. 

“No, you never had any claim to my son… Theo couldn’t have children.”

The insect’s face bunched up in rage, and it shook it small fist’s in the air while screeching. 

“I WAS TRICKED? MY PRIZE WAS JUST A FAKE!?! I DEMAND…”

Frowning in disgust, Leona pierced her bident through the frustrated fay. The heartbeat in her hand fluttered as the creature’s light faded, making her chest tighten. No magic in the world could bring back a body ten years gone.

She’d been too diplomatic, listening to the advice of those who feared the old magic. Gripping her weapon tightly, Leona swore to the boiling rage in her heart that she would not make the same mistake again. Valleys would be turned to rivers, filled with their putrid blood before they came to know the despair she would bring to them. 

Protector

Thank you for the prompt, @flashfictionfridayofficial

Janus smoothed out her crumpled letter as he watched the sunset beyond the horizon. To say that he hadn’t longed to see his sister after she abandoned them would be a lie, but after years of contemplation and bargaining, he thought that he had at least gotten past caring so much. Chuckling to himself at the irony, Janus supposed that his role of protector wasn’t so easily forgotten, despite what his therapist had been insisting on for years.

What really struck him about all this, was just how simple the letter really was. No pleasantries or excuses, just his sister, asking to meet her brother in a neutral area, and promising to actually explain things for once. Without a doubt it was one of her ruses, so predictable, that it would make anyone who'd known her roll their eyes in disgust. Even as her brother, he’d be a fool to believe such empty words again, yet here he stood, waiting for her like always.

“Mr. Janus?”

Turning, Janus felt the muscles in his jaw tense. The boy standing before him was her spitting image. If he hadn’t known better, then he might have suspected that she ran a fowl with some spirit that compressed her into this form. It wouldn’t be that strange for her, but the boy’s eyes were distinctly inhuman. 

“You must be Clarance.”

The pre-teen nodded his head slowly, gripping the strap of his duffle bag until his knuckles began to turn white. Mother had mentioned him once or twice, but Janus had stopped himself from inquiring about the boy, convinced that it wasn’t his business. Whatever the result, now it had been made his business, and he wished that he had at least listened to the basics.  

“Well then, I suppose your mother left you with some instructions?”

The boy’s eyes widened in panic and he began rooting through his bag, eventually producing a crumpled piece of paper. Stepping hesitantly forward he shoved it towards Janus, who accepted it with a quiet thanks.

-Please keep him safe-

Letting out a heavy sigh, he crumpled the paper and stuffed it into his pocket with her letter. As always it seemed that her promises were as paper thin as the cheap scrap she wrote them on. Straightening his posture Janus smiled at the nervous child. It was pointless to dwell on the twisting mass disappointment in his chest, he could figure out her situation later. Now he had other things to focus on. 

“Are you hungry?”

An Interesting Conversation

@flashfictionfridayofficial Thank you for the prompt! Also, thank you for your kind words about my drawings and writing in the past :) These prompts have been really good for getting me to write original work more regularly. Thank you so much!

Warnings: alcohol and some tension?

Summary: John runs into an unexpected figure at a lack luster party.

You were quite difficult to track down you know.”

John set down his wine, uninterested in the sparkling liquid after an initial testing. So far, this event had been a waste of his time, and speaking to another elite wasn’t going to improve his souring mood. 

“I keep to myself… Politics no longer hold any interest to me.”

Watching the many debutantes fluttering across the dimly lit ballroom with their sparkling capes and glistening helms had only contributed to the perpetual headache that had recently been plaguing him. He thought he might at least get to meet with someone interesting, but the older participants who might have been good for a story or two were all focused on the dance floor, assessing potential seeds to develop with even less subtlety than a child in a candy store. After two hours of this nonsense, he had little hope that any conversation here would be worth his time. 

“Yet you always hold such sway over the tides of history… I remember reading about your exploits on Teris 7, the carnage that you wrecked… It was inspiring.”

John turned his head slowly, his eyes fixed on the towering figure just to his left. A simple red cape held in place by two golden fasteners caught his attention before the coiling cables draping past her ceremonial helmet snaked into view. She was quite the figure to be appearing here.

“Such high praise, Admiral Krom, but you seem to have me confused with someone, don’t you? I may seem tarnished, but my time does not span further than your father’s.”

He noticed the flinch, turning his body towards the drink he’d laid aside. It seemed more palatable now that the conversation had shifted to such a useless topic. 

Before he could reach for it, his hand was intercepted, the music beginning to swell as bachelors flooded the dancefloor to have their promised turn with a rising star. 

“Humor me?”

With another half hour before the doors would reopen, he accepted her advance, swaying along to the tune until her moves began to shift, turning to a much older step that his body instinctively fell into. 

“The Dying Constellation… banned by the mad emperor after the death of his beloved wife, and nearly lost to time… not the type of thing one’s body forgets, is it?”

John’s shoulders hunched. She was a persistent pup. One who seemed to have done her research.

“What do you want?”

His words were flat, and he wasn’t sold on the conversation, but for her to have learned that dance at such a young age… she deserved a modicum of engagement at least. At the height of the echoing music, Krom dipped him back, pulling his waist towards her with a tense grip and closing the distance between them in an instant. 

“The empire is rotting John. I just want you to do what you do best and remind everyone just how small our bluster is in the face of real monsters.”

Her words rang out like music, causing the husk to stir with excitement in a way he hadn’t felt since encountering the first emperor. Her ambition was palpable, and borderline, desperate, hidden behind a thin facade of calm that was threatening to break with every word she spoke. 

“He was already proud of you, Elodie, and revenge can’t revive the dead.”

He pulled away from her gently, the strength gone from her hands as he picked up his wine, downing the liquid in an attempt to quiet the beating of their hearts. What use would there be in getting excited now? 

“No… But you can, or at least the husk could manage it, right?”

He froze, a spark of interest finally starting to unravel the ball of apathy packed tightly in his chest. Perhaps this party wouldn’t be a total waste of an evening after all.

Something Shiny

Thanks for the tag, @flashfictionfridayofficial

Warnings: mild body horror, altered mental states, mild nudity (nothing too explicit, but I figured I should mention it)

Wren watched in quiet longing as the carriage grew smaller in the half light until it was nothing but a dull glimmer in the distance. They’d rejected her again. She’d been so good too, doing all of the chores and following every rule down to the letter, but it wasn’t enough.

 Looking down at her ruined dress, it felt foolish to have hoped things would end differently this time. If she had just stayed quiet then perhaps her sister’s dress could have at least been spared, but this of all event had just been too tempting to not at least ask. Was it so bad for her to have fun sometimes? She had proven that she could behave, and it wasn’t like she wanted to see a stupid prince anyway. Watching the glittering stones dance across people’s throats was all the entertainment she’d need for at least three months, and maybe if she was lucky someone might lose a sliver that she could find, and add to her meager collection. 

Pulling out her string and needles, Wren picked up the nearest torn shirt and began to mend the shoulder. Her family wouldn’t be back until morning, so there wouldn’t be any music to spy tonight. As she tried to focus on the work in front of her, the silence grew to a suffocating pitch. Moonlight washed over her, bringing with it the glint of something shiny in the distance. 

A plume of feathers burst from her skin and colors began to shift as a thick film slid over her eyes. Her ears twitched as an obsession began brewing in her mind. Since her collection had been plundered months ago, the scraps she’d managed to gather were less than spectacular. She could finish up her mending, but working distracted was a fool's errand and it wasn’t like mother expected her to finish the work this evening. 

Pulling out some extra clothes that she had held back from the last batch of mending, Wren packed away the unfinished pieces before her wings burst through the torn back of her dress, scattering the old silk across the attic. Feathers ruffling in anticipation, Wren flung open the window. Gripping the frame, her fingers twisted into talons as she took in a deep breath free from restraint.

 Jumping from her window, Wren dropped down the side of the moat before allowing her wings to unfurl and lift her soaring into the air. Her flight feathers hadn’t completely recovered from the last pruning, but she’d been careful to avoid flying around her step sisters anymore, so they were starting to forget again. 

Wren let out shrieks of excitement as the world flew past her in a blur of dazzling color, lit by the moonlight overhead. Catching a draft of air, Wren rose higher into the air, allowing moonlight to bathe her before plunging down to land on her prize. Tackling the lone figure she pinned its limbs with her talons and plucked a pretty stone from its throat. Examining it closely she gave a trill of excitement before pulling away.

“Pretty! Can I trade you for it?”

Not one to completely forget her manors too easily, Wren pulled one of her finest feathers out, presenting it to the stranger who was now sitting on the ground, stunned. 

“Sure?”

Quickly gripping her prize, Wren handed over payment and perched on the edge of the water enamored by the strange stone she’d bartered for. It wasn’t that she was surprised by her triumph, her negotiations were impeccable. It was more that she had only parted with one of her shining feathers, when she had been prepared to go up to three. It made the trade even more thrilling. 

“Take good care of it, I spent many hours caring for that one, It’s good luck you know?”

Wren soon found that her upselling wasn't necessary, as her trade partner, a man in leather armor, seemed just as enamored with her feather as she was with her stone.  On closer inspection, he seemed to have some strange weapons at his side. Was he some type of hunter perhaps? 

Remembering her sister’s warnings of such folk, Wren remained calm, giving the man a friendly wave before taking off into the sky. She didn’t bother to look back, knowing that even if he could draw his bow in time, she’d be well out of range before he could notch an arrow. If he had tried to strike earlier, her talons would have made quick work of him, and then she could have her stone, feather, and a meal. While her mouth started to water at the thought of a snack, her step mother would definitely know she’d fed. Wren shuddered at the possibility of losing her flight feathers again and quickly returned as the moon was setting, determined that this little distraction wouldn’t upset things too much. 

What can you tell me about Luis?

Thank you for the ask!

He’s definitely one of my favorites from this story, so I might have gone a bit overboard with the explanation...

Luis is one of the first blood mages to ever be made and serves as a kind of side antagonist in the (Bloodmage) story. His main power has to do with disrupting other blood mage’s control, but he is also able to manipulate blood into various explosive constructs as well.

Due to the unstable mental state of blood mages, he spent a good portion of his early days indiscriminately killing to try to feed the bottomless desire for blood and violence that plagues his species. After growing sick of the conflict but unable to stop himself, Luis resolved to end his suffering but found the task more difficult than he had anticipated. In his lowest point, he was confronted by a tree spirit named Jade, who he instinctively formed an attachment with, creating the first tether. A process by which a bloodmage is able to reign in their violent and bloodthirsty nature by grounding themselves with another living being. This tether does not have to be a romantic connection, but in their case, it certainly developed into one.

With his mind restored, Luis reigned in his race, instructing them on the proper methods to prevent rampant destruction and insanity. As their leader, he acts as the primary representative of blood mages on the cryptid council, a group founded to help regulate supernatural creatures. Of the other council members, he particularly dislikes the fairy king and will regularly keep a pair of brass knuckles made from high-quality iron for his inevitable clashes with the fairy king’s bodyguard (Alasdair).

After his wife is killed by tech witches, Luis informs the council of his intent to wipe out her killers. Refusing to attach himself to another tether, Luis has resolved to get his revenge by any means necessary, even if it is costing him his sanity.

Given her nature as a forest spirit, even if her body is dead, as long as part of her core remains intact there is a chance for her to be saved, but with the teck witches bent on expanding their power he is left wil little choice but to take a more aggressive stance on the matter.

They are a really cute couple, in my opinion, and I love getting to write/draw little blurbs of them being happy together, so thanks again for the ask 😊

Hide and Seek

@flashfictionfridayofficial Thanks for the prompt!

Summary: A rather intense game of hide and seek preformed every fifty years. Each game spans over a five year period and involves about 300 active participants. The goal of the game is survival, but from what? Most involved only have a notion of their pursuer.

Warnings: Horror, blood, some eldritch elements

A pungent mix of rusted iron and raw meat woke Gordon suddenly from a dead sleep. Quickly glancing at the band bolted to his wrist he should have had another three hours before his next move, but the calculation must have been wrong. Adapting quickly, Gordon pulled out his hunting knife, and began pruning back a collection of tissue that had begun to grow, producing a thick pool of blood. The work was fowl and tedious, but a necessary step to buy more time. 

As he lingered the ceiling began to groan, warning of an impending collapse. Packing up the large mostly cleaned vertebra, Gordon inspected it for any additional growths before loading it on his back and quickly grabbed some extra supplies. There was no telling how long he’d have to be on the move before reaching another shelter, but delaying any longer would be dangerous. 

Inserting his data card, Gordon quickly switched his status to targeted. Looking back to the shower, he almost regretted not taking a bath before crashing, but sleep had been a better investment. He could worry about feeling clean when he could afford it.  

Stalking down one of the many dim corridors, dread simmered in his veins. Up until last year he’d been given alerts when his turn was drawing near, but lately he hadn’t even run into wanderers making him fear for the network. Reaching a good distance through the tunnels, the solitary echo of his boots was interrupted by the sound of dripping blood, as tissue continued to form around his burden at an alarming rate. A shiver ran down Gordon’s spine as he recalled his last encounter with the creature. If he could escape the tunnels and get to the lake he could use the current to outpace it, or he at least hoped that he could. 

It could smell him like this, and the chase would be easier that way wouldn’t it? The creature would take time to collect its fallen flesh, but the time it stalled varied significantly from case to case, making the tactic risky to use often. He’d avoided it for the most part, but today the scars on his left arm began to ache making him pause to glance over his shoulder. It wasn’t as overgrown as before, so maybe he was putting enough distance between them? That hope carried him a little faster, pushing him to the surface minutes before he’d anticipated.

Stepping out into the forest, a dock sat only a couple hundred feet away. The sight filled his bones with a surge of anticipation that died in his throat at the sound of twisting wood. Plastering himself against the far wall of the building, Gordon held his breath and listened as the trees were bent out of place. It was here. Silence followed for half a minute, forcing Gordon to sneak a small gasp of air, as his heart began to beat wildly. A low sallow hum called for him to cry out along with the rest of the forest, to make himself known, but he resisted. 

Among those that answered the call, a Starling perched on a nearby branch sang out and was instantly bathed in a red light that crept past the corner of his hiding place. Gordon saw the starlings eyes grow wide, and its muscles stiffen up as it lost balance and fell into the grass mere feet away from him.  

The wood once more creaked and strained as it was bent out of form. The red light passed over the top of the building, lingering just where he was hiding. It was taunting him, and he needed to move. The boat was so close but his legs seemed frozen, knowing what would happen if the creature laid eyes on him. The little Starling twitched and writhed, its eyes seeming to plead for an escape that Gordon couldn't provide. He could only make sure that the creature was occupied, and keep the game going until the timer ran out. Clenching his teeth, Gordon forced himself to move. 

As he took his first step, the sounds of the forest cut out suddenly, making his movements feel impossibly loud. The creature crooned in a twisted mockery, the light remaining in place, eerily still, and perfectly obstructed, goading him to flee. Swallowing back his fear, Gordon accepted the challenge and ran, ripping through the trees faster than he’d ever managed before. 

Even as his racing heartbeat rang through his ears, Gordon could hear the trees behind him, snapping at their bases to make room for the hunter. It would have its fun, but if Gordon could help it, the creature wouldn’t have its prize today.

Short Story: Green

The end of the world happened slowly; as most things do. The plants began to disappear—one by one becoming extinct—too gradually for the general public to take seriously. When they did notice, humanity shrugged it off as the natural cycle of things.

And then it was the animals. That was harder to ignore.

It was the pollinators first, of course. Without their help, much of the flora could not proliferate as they once had. The lack of sunlight, of fertile soil, of bees or butterflies or hummingbirds were the beginnings of the end. Grassy meadows became barren deserts and lush forests became wasteland littered with twigs and branches—the corpses of once-mighty trees. Green became a lost color.

There weren’t many humans left when Zoe found hope and began her journey. The last human interaction she had was years ago to a man dying of smoke sickness; a common story for the few still alive. The ever-smoking towers brought industry, jobs, prosperity for a while…before they brought illness and death.

Over time, the smog and ash the towers spewed blocked out the sun, displaced the air, and changed the color of the world. Those who inhaled too much of the toxic fumes died slow deaths. Many grew up breathing it, assured by charismatic politicians that it was not harmful. They didn’t want to see past the lies; humans were an optimistic species after all.

Zoe walked past one of the many ever-smoking towers—still spewing death into the air—and took a moment to gaze at the darkened sky. She wondered what the sun might have looked like; what it still might look like hiding behind that veil of black and gray. There were stories, of course, but she liked to imagine that the sun was green.

With one hand, she adjusted the breather that sat over her nose and mouth, clutching a small egg-shaped container in the other before continuing her stroll, stopping at at a flickering metal box that matched her in height. An oxygen vending machine.

She had stopped by every O vendor she had come across in her years-long journey. Air was something she could not afford to let run low. Her expedition was a long one and she didn’t even have a notion of when it would end. It was better to refill her breather as often as possible before there would be nothing left; when soon—she assumed—there would be a large stretch where there would be no more O vendors to provide breathable air. She didn’t know when or where, but she knew it was inevitable. There were only so many O vendors that could have been put up before the smoke sickness claimed too many lives to justify the expense and many were already running low on supply.

She inserted a plastic card into the machine and fresh air was pumped into her mask. She breathed it in appreciatively, taking in the slight chemical smell of the original container and wondered what air from plants smelled like as she crossed empty streets and passed more ever-smoking towers.

Her destination was far but she was almost there; or so she hoped. Just a little farther, she kept telling herself, repeating it every so often. Her personal mantra.

She held the little container close to her, afraid that she might lose it; that it might slip and tumble down somewhere she could never hope to reach; that it might wither before she got to the one place in the world the sun was said to touch. The Sunpatch she had been seeking since she had found the egg-shaped thing—her hope—that she carried with her.

She had walked for so long with no direction save for the little information she had managed to gather after so much research on the Sunpatch. Much of it were rumors that lead to dead ends, others were educated guesses when information was obviously incomplete. She hoped to the hidden sun that the one she followed now wasn’t another dead end. It was her last lead and she was so old and so tired.

Her elderly legs hurt and her feet were numb from so much walking but she soldiered on as always. Zoe was determined to get the little egg-shaped thing to the Sunpatch no matter the cost to herself.

Her journey was a lonely one; solitary but never by choice. Often she wished that she could have company; another of her kind. The egg was a good listener but not much for conversation. Had the world not ended, her conversations with egg would be seen as madness but there was no one now to judge her.

For years, she trudged through desert and dead forests and broken cities and rock fields. She searched every used-to-be settlement for survivors—but always found no one—and stopped by every defunct food store to stock up on liquid snack cakes, bottled water, and portable air cans. On rare occasions, she even found running water in the long-abandoned cities. In those, she had the luxury of a quick bath and change of clothes. This wasn’t one of those cities.

She chose a building that looked to be in good shape and tried the door. Locked. A quick glance around found her some rubble; pulled up concrete from a sidewalk.

The aging woman lifted the heavy fragment and hurled it at the window, shattering the glass in an explosive cacophony of clinking, clanging, and crashing. No one will care about a broken window. No one is here to care.

She swiped the opening with a balled up rag, sweeping away bits of broken glass before carefully climbing in; agile despite her age.

The space was lined with mostly-empty shelves that made little paths. Zoe noted these as she passed the counter with an old register caked with dust sitting on top of it. It must have been a corner store once.

She searched and found a few bottles of liquid snack cakes and water. No canned air, unfortunately. Whomever owned the business—or perhaps survivors that had fled the city in search of better homes away from the towers—had taken most of the supplies before they had gone.

Opening and attaching one of the little bottles of liquid snack to her breather via a short, thick straw, she sucked on the meal, reading the text on the bottle. She had read them a million times but the mind needed something to keep from going mad and with the world so empty there weren’t many options. “Now with 50% less fat and 100% more calories!” it claimed. What a load of ash.

Zoe rested well that night before awaking to bottles and cans strewn about the former shop. Wakefulness came slowly and she didn’t notice the peculiarity of the out-of-place things at first. It was after a few blinks that it registered. “No! No no no! Where is it?!”

Her heart skipped a beat and she went into a frenzy looking for the little egg-shaped container; missing from the rotten pillow where she had left it before falling into an exhausted slumber. She dug through her rucksack, searched every nook, every cranny, and under every store shelf, but found nothing but rubbish.

The floor was sticky from spilled snack cakes, their bottles chewed by the incisors of a small creature. She had no guesses as to what it could have been but it had left a trail of liquid-snack footprints to follow and so she got to tracking the thief.

The tracks lead her to the store’s backroom; dark without electricity to light the way. She squinted, backing up a bit to where there was light enough to see as she rummaged through her pack and pulled out a small metal flashlight. She shook it a few times, and then flicked the switch on its side. The beam of light flickered before holding steady.

She ventured into the dark room, sweeping the light beam from side to side in an effort to continue tracking the creature that pilfered her hope. The backroom was in worse wear than the store’s front. A thick blanket of dust and cobwebs covered just about every surface that wasn’t disturbed by a certain little thief. Zoe found the footprints again etched into the dust and followed them, taking care not to step on any of the impressions.

They lead her to stairs going down to a basement darker than the backroom. She gave her flashlight another shake before venturing the stairs—step by cautious step—holding the railing as she moved down. The old wood creaked under her weight and she feared that she would fall through, break her neck, and die in a dusty dark basement under an abandoned store in a long-forgotten city. For much too long, she tested every stair before proceeding.

Her feet found purchase on solid concrete ground fifteen minutes later. She swept light over the new room slowly, almost missing the bundled fur in the corner. There it is!

The rat turned when the light touched its black fur and hissed. Behind it was the egg-shaped container that Zoe had been looking for; a bit scratched up but otherwise fine.

She crouched down on creaky knees and attempted to reason with the animal, “Come on now, I need that.”

The rodent responded with another hiss, back fur prickling up.

Slowly as to not make any sudden movement, she retrieved a bottle of liquid snack cake from her bag. “How about a trade then?” She twisted the lid open.

The rodent watched her intently, the over-sweet smell of liquid cake entering its nostrils and masking every other scent in its tantalizing aroma. It wiggled its nose in satisfaction as it began to salivate.

“You like that don’t you?” Zoe cooed, removing the lid completely. She poured a small amount of the contents onto the floor in front of her, “Come on. I know you want it.”

The rat hesitated before cautiously approaching.

She poured more liquified food onto the floor, pooling it up for the little scoundrel.

Temptation and instinct overwhelmed the rodent and it scurried to the food. It lapped up the thick batter; greedy from hunger.

The human added to its meal, pouring a bit more for it before righting herself and walking around the rat to the egg. She bent down and retrieved her hope up off of the floor, giving it a quick inspection under her flashlight when she was standing again. “Well, you didn’t damage it too much…” she said to the hungry rodent, “I’ve got to go now, little rascal. Enjoy your meal.”

She carefully made her way around the sticky mess and the rat to the foot of the stairs and frowned at it, annoyed at having to climb back up. Fear began to well up in her at the thought of falling and so she took a moment to breathe, steeling her nerves for the ascent. I made it down all right; I can make it up again…

The rat squeaked then, interrupting an otherwise still scene. She turned her light on it as it ran in a circle once, twice, and then scurried to the shadows of the back wall. “Where are you going?”

The rat squeaked again as Zoe realized a bit late that this rodent is the first sign of life she had found in her travels in years. She had been too focused on retrieving her stolen hope that she had nearly missed the fact that this creature survived the smoke-sickness that was choking the life of nearly every living thing…and it wasn’t wearing a breather. Here?! No…we’re too close to towers…but it has to breathe somehow…

She touched the latch of her breather, tempted to remove it to see if perhaps the air was breathable here, but she thought better of it. If I die here, it’s over for real. There will be no hope left…Some animals had adapted to breathe less air and this rat was probably one of them. She couldn’t be fooled by it.

Instead, she followed the rat deeper into the dark; hand outstretched, shaking the flashlight every once in a while as if it would keep the battery going.

It wasn’t long before the rat lead her to a hole in the wall just big enough for Zoe to crawl into. The old woman sighed and considered turning around. The rat squeaked impatiently at her before scampering into the tunnel.

Against better judgement, she latched the flashlight to the shoulder strap of her pack, slipped the egg into one of its more secured pockets, and got on her hands and knees.

She crawled through the tunnel, surprised that it didn’t narrow or end so abruptly. Someone must’ve dug this before they left the city. Stinging pain throbbed in her old knees as she continued shuffling forward, following a used-to-be common pest through a tunnel under a convenience store.

The passage was longer than Zoe had ever expected an improvised excavation could be. She had to stop and take breaks, maneuvering herself into a more comfortable laying position every so often to rest. It lead deep into the earth before steadily slanting upwards; so gradual that Zoe hadn’t noticed until light shone through ahead of her.

Eager to escape the cramped walls, she quickened her crawl toward the light. She didn’t know how long she had been shuffling in the subterranean tunnel but she guessed from her backaches and bruised knees that it must have been a while.

She pulled herself from the hole, moving dirt and small rocks as she surfaced. The light was blinding after some time in underground darkness and her chest was starting to feel tight. She had enough air for at least another day! Surely she hadn’t been traversing underground for that long! But she was gasping for air, struggling to fill her lungs. Her breather was running low.

Panic starting to intrude on her psyche, Zoe desperately scanned her surroundings. Massive dirt and rock walls bordered her from the outside world. Stalactites hung from the earthen ceiling above, drops of water falling from their tips in rhythmic succession. She found herself in a vast cavern of sunken earth; nowhere near an O vendor.

All of this for nothing…because of my foolishness…because I followed a rat of all things!

As if in response to her distress, a whistling gust of wind—gray particles dancing within it—embraced Zoe in its cooling hug before racing up toward an opening in the ceiling, blowing out of it like a volcano and parting the endless gray-black clouds of the ever-smoking towers. It was from that opening that a beam of yellow light pointed to a single circular patch of yellow-green before dissipating a moment later.

Zoe’s eyes widened at the sight; brief but certain. She had been searching for so long and here it was; hidden under a city, under ever-smoking towers that blocked from view the few moments of sun that managed to touch earth periodically when upward wind broke black clouds. She stifled tears as she approached the Sunpatch.

Reverently, she held the egg-shaped container in both hands, dropping to her knees before the little patch of life. With shaking hands and burning lungs, she set the egg aside and began to dig, clawing the earth with bony fingers until she was satisfied with the divot she had made.

Dizziness was setting in as she lifted the egg and popped it in twain above the little hole, dropping a singular ball—smaller than her fist—into the exposed earth. The tightness in her chest was nearly unbearable by the time she buried the seed.

Her life’s mission finally complete, she smiled with satisfaction; with all the love and hope she could possibly give to the world. As the wind returned, quickly flying toward the opening in the ceiling, she laid her tired body down and faced the beam of sun as it came in for another few precious moments. Her air had run out and the world was closing in around her; replaced by an overwhelming serenity. The tension left her body, smile softening but never vanishing as she stared at the mound she had created and the brilliant streak of dusty yellow light that caressed it.

The sun wasn’t green but it was beautiful.

Originally published on renalawhead.com on July 22, 2024

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s all in the eyes 

Thank you for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

No warnings

Word Count: 608

It was the final day of the grand celebration and Rue was late. Tapping his finger against the table, Kaliyah scanned the crowd again. It wasn’t like her to be this late. Normally it wouldn’t have been of much concern to him, but he had been itching to discuss the latest reports with her since they had come in with the afternoon meal. He’d managed to intercept most of the interesting tidbits today, but the information would only be good for so long. Once the council got wind of it, their advantage would be wasted, and he could already tell that one report would be of particular interest to many at the event. Rue’s keen sense of their cohabitants was vital to finding the best buyer, and they were running out of time.  

A crack of thunder suddenly split the sky, startling the attendants and drawing their attention. Vibrant blues and greens filled the night air overhead, as a flurry of water droplets began to cascade towards them, suspending just above the heads of the guests. Kaliyah’s hand relaxed on the hilt of his blade as recognition dawned on him. Of course it would be him. Scowling Kaliyah continued to silently scan the crowd for any devilry as the other attendants watched small constructs form from the water droplets with complete devotion. Kaliyah even found himself glancing at the intricate constructs dancing across the sky in an elaborate dance despite his irritation. 

As the performance was reaching its height of action, a great serpent of water rose up consuming the constructs, rolling itself into a sphere that quickly shrunk into a solid form and landed at the feet of the council, refined into a shining pearl of the sea. The crowd erupted into applause as one of the council servants rushed forward to present the stone to the council head, who inspected it with greedy eyes.

The disrespectful undertone of the performance and its conclusion seemed to have been ignored by the participants,  who seemed content with the grandeur of the performance, but Kaliyah shuddered to think what such a statement could mean. That man didn’t make such boisterous plays mindlessly. Looking towards the door, Kaliyah watched Lan silently step into the courtyard, towering over everyone as usual, in a very unusually flashy dress. The crooked smile plastered on his face painted him as the picture of geniality, but Kaliyah didn’t miss the flash of darkness that passed through his eyes as he bowed to the council. When the noise from the crowd finally died down as they returned to their revelry, an air of excitement still lingered from the performance. Lan never disappointed. 

Growing uneasy at his unexpected appearance, Kaliyah made ready to sneak away from the party, but as he was approaching the exit he caught sight of Rue. She looked beautiful, adorned in a simple dress and practically glowing as she quietly offered Lan a beverage. Kaliyah almost reached out to her, but having no desire to intrude, he swallowed his pride, turning to leave. If she had chosen Lan then he would respect her decision. 

‘Come now Capitan, don’t keep Mrs. Rue waiting.’

Turning suddenly Kaliyah caught sight of a small water construct in the shape of a snake that seemed to smile at him mischievously before dissipating.Turning towards Lan, half fuming, he caught Rue’s gaze and stood in shock as a light blush spread over her cheeks. Had they not come together? Catching Lan’s expression, Kaliyah felt his ears burn slightly at the hint of mirth filling his cold eyes. The old snake had definitely planned this.

Thanks you for the tag, @flashfictionfridayofficial

INTOLERABLE INACTION

How far can one tollerate injustice for the sake of advancement?

Bitter heat forced its way down Pearl’s throat, burning his lungs. Every muscle in his body ached to turn and do something, but his hooves remained planted firmly on the scorched stone. His tail flicked back and forth as bits of his fur began to singe, marring his pristine coat with numerous imperfections. Even that price wasn’t high enough to atone for his inaction. 

As he listened, wails of torment rang out over the sound of the crackling flames. They were merely mortals, their lives meaningless in the grand scheme of the world he lived in. Their suffering was a mercy compared to the life of mediocrity they would have faced. Still Pearl’s grip tightened around his staff. He could still recall the boundless fields, filled with lush flowers and children laughing as they ran down the uneven streets without a care in the world. That hadn’t been nothing. The cry of a baby echoed above his resolve, his ears flattening against his neck. The council had made it clear that they wouldn’t tolerate further insubordination from him, but Pearl hadn’t been all that interested in immortality anyway.

Dropping his branded spear, Pearl turned from his post and charged towards the burning village. Fire birds circled above, destroying every ounce of life that their burning eyes landed on. He needed to be faster, to make up for every moment of pain his inaction had caused. Rushing to the blackened river, Pearl planted his hooves deep in the soft stones.

Power coursed through his veins, bending the water to his will. They attacked without mercy, and he would swallow them whole. Great snakes of glistening water rose around him, swimming through the air as though they were traveling through the ocean’s depths. They hissed in anticipation, hungering for battle, awaiting his command. Swiping a claw across the night sky, Pearl ordered his constructs to feast on the burning fowl. 

Without hesitation, the snakes rushed to the village, biting down on their prey and extinguishing the fire in their souls. The swift formation led to unstable constructs, making Pearl’s skin burn as each of the snakes shattered. As their forms unraveled, torrents of water crashed against the burning buildings, enveloping the land in billowing clouds of steam. Now, they could run or rebuild. Either way, he wouldn’t let the council have their way here.

“What have you done!”

Pearl turned to face his former commander, one of the water serpents coiling around him protectively. 

“I have tried, brother, but I can not force my knee to bend in the face of tyranny, no matter how tempting the rewards.”

Thanks for another fun prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial !

Happy New Year!

This is another random snippet inspired by the prompt.

Cold Winters Night

The falling snow turned to slush around midday and had continued pelting down in an endless onslaught well into the evening. Annexed from the other houses and nestled between two towering warehouses, a pair of windows glowed brightly with an inviting warmth that seemed to cut through the howling wind. Inside, the fire burned brightly, keeping the week's soup and most of the bar toasty. It helped that Zora had finally invested in some proper insulation over the summer months, but what good did it do her if there were no customers filling the tables?

Usually, around this time, the bar would be packed with workers, just back from the mines, drinking and carrying on about whatever petty squabbles that had grabbed their attention this week. Today, it seemed that the slush was enough of a deterrent to send them all scurrying back to whatever holes they called home. Even the corner closest to the fire was completely empty. If the weather continued to get worse, and this became a trend, she might have to take Ruth up on her offer to go to the country for a bit. It would be nice to see the kids again, even if she’d end up suffering another lecture about starting her own family, and Prior had been asking to borrow the bar for storage anyway.

Just as she was convincing herself that the trip would be a good choice, Zora’s solitude was interrupted by the little bell above the main door ringing. A dripping figure draped in a brown sack stepped through her door, tracking in a mess of ice. The shivering child who barely stood three feet tall struggled to close the thick oak door before turning to the counter and tottering forward. From the boney limbs poking out from under her ragged clothes, the child looked to be a beggar, but Zora hadn’t heard word of any kids on the streets lately.

When the child finally made it to the bar, Zora watched in silence as the scruffy child pulled herself slowly onto one of the bar stools and shoved a bag across the counter towards her. As the torn burlap scraped forwards, the twine strap holding it closed came loose, spilling shining gold coins between them. The child looked from the coin up to Zora with a determined expression that didn’t belong on such a young face.

“I want you to be my father.”

Zora briefly wondered if her years of drinking had finally resulted in hallucinations but quickly decided that the child was just confused. Turning away from the child, Zora grabbed a clean bowl and filled it with soup. Her appearance had always been on the masculine side, sure, but usually flirtatious drunks were the only ones to mistake her for a man. Maybe Prior wasn’t completely off basis with how much she’d let herself go.

“Eat up kid.”

Setting the soup down, Zora watched the child’s eyes light up.

“Thanks Dad!”

After gulping down the soup like a starving animal, the child gave her a big smile and offered up the clean bowl. Zora chuckled and accepted it, filling the bowl once more, much to the child’s delight. She wasn’t sure what this father business was all about, but there was nothing else going on tonight, and it wouldn’t hurt to figure out what the kid was doing with so much gold.

Hope that you had a good Christmas!

4. What was your favorite line that you wrote this year?

Thank you for the ask <3

Admittedly, I have a few candidates for this one, and here's one of them (it comes from the start of A Pawn for a Greater Cause)

"You're but a glorified guard to her, a pretty knife at her disposal. Have you ever dreamt of freedom?"

— Unnamed Helindian minister