#theworldofprompts

[amarantine-amirite]

Well, This Sucks

[characternerdocs]

Heath reuniting with his moms for the first time, for the prompt. :3c

|| Prompt ||| @chickypoodoodloos ||

Well Heath has always seen his moms. Baby Heath grew up seeing Kat as she passed shortly after giving birth to Heath and his sister... like minutes after. So she's always been hanging around for him, or his sister. It's was clear which of the two was gaonna be the Keeper of the mark.

Sloan, on the other hand. Well that's a different story cause obviously someone had to raise the twins for a little bit as you have to give the kiddos some happiness before smacking them with the tragedy of their back story.

It was well past bedtime as Heath sat awake under the covers of his bed in the large sleeping hall. He and his sister had been here almost a month now. Neither of them really like it, the other kids were rude and not exactly welcoming to them. And despite all their best intentions, the adults weren't much better. Heath pulled his bear, Lord Pickleson closer to his chest as he turned his head to his sister's bed. She was already asleep while a cold blue ghost of a woman sat on the corner of the bed, watching her. Kat liked to watch his sister but it took Heath awhile to realize it was because unlike him, his sister couldn't see their momma. And neither could Sloan, even though she would often played along with him. He found it odd he was basically the "go-between" for the two of them; Or how their relationship worked before him if he was the only person who could see or hear Kat. "Momma?" Heath whispered, trying not to wake the girls in the long dormitory hall as he called for Kat's attention. "When's Mommy getting here?" As she turned to him, Kat's kind eyes framed but the heavy dark bags fell on her son. "Soon, hopefully. But we can't rush her. Mommy's been working really hard so you can see her." "Why?" Heath whimpered meekly. Kat stood up as she tried to find the right way to phrase the issue for Heath. "You know how some of the people you can see, they look rather frightening?" Heath nodded and Kat continued. "What happened to Sloan left her looking frightening. So she decided to take sometime before she um... appears to you so she don't look as scary. Understand?" Heath nodded again. "But why does it take so long?" "It's a hard process. It's not as simple as getting yourself dressed in the morning. Sloan was really badly hurt by what happened that night. I've been helping her, cause sometimes when a person passes away, particularly if it was traumatic, it can warp their perspective of themself. Then those negative emotions can make them look scary to you. If Sloan doesn't change her appearance before you see her, she won't be able to. She'll be stuck." "Why?" Heath questioned. Kat shrugged. "Don't know. One of those weird ghost rules, I guess." "Oh, okay." Heath paused a second as he looked around the long dark room. Anxiously he rung his hands tightly around Pickleson's neck as he was over come by his dislike for this unfamiliar place. Truthfully his vocabulary wasn't strong enough to have the right words to express his feeling so the place, so sad and sort of scary, would have to do. "Can we met Mommy in the 'happy place?'" "I don't know, Heath. If she's not quite ready. I don't want get her stuck in an appearance neither of you are comfortable with." "But I don't want to meet her here. It's not - I mean it doesn't feel right." Sighing, Kat nodded. She couldn't argue that having Sloan reunite with their son at an orphanage didn't seem like the best of settings. "Alright. Do you remember how I showed you?" Nodding as he pulled himself up against the bed board, Heath closed his eyes. "Alright, first you're going to focus on your breathing, a deep breath in." Kat demonstrated and Heath copied her. "Now hold for 1, 2, 3, 4, and breath out. Good, now as you breath start picturing Orchard Hill. The tracks of roller coasters and how they weave through the park. Think of the smells, that scent of fried dough as it cooks." "What going on here, Kit-Kat? Trying to put the kid to sleep?" Kat laughed. "No silly, Heath's trying to focus on the 'happy place' to see you." Kat paused a second as she did a double take. "Oh Sloan!" "Mommy?" Heath exclaimed as he bolted up in bed, eyes snapping open. And there she was, another ghost of a peachy-orange hue standing at the foot of his bed, her coy smirk slipping into a toothy grin as she saw Heath light up at her arrival. "Hey there, kiddo. Looked like you were about to pop off to bed there before I could show up." "No... No I just," Heath smile faded as he looked around the sleeping hall. "Hey,

[theprongspotter]

Walburga: I never raised you to be this way.

Sirius: You never raised me at all.

-

c: @theworldofprompts

[enchantedlandcoffee]

The Funeral of Tumblr Live

Prompt from @theworldofprompts. Written for @theathenverse

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to mourn the passing of Tumblr Live..." "Seriously, Louis?" Liam exclaimed, interrupting the speech that Louis was so passionately giving. "That's why you called us all here at 2pm on a Tuesday? To mourn the fact that a Tumblr feature we never used has been shut down?!" "I just thought it'd be fun to-" "Yeah, it's really not, Lou," Zayn huffed, folding his arms as he sunk further into the sofa. "I thought you and Haz had an announcement or something. I skipped yoga class for this." "I don't know why you guys are complaining, this is absolutely hilarious," Niall cackled, shoving popcorn into his mouth as he looked gleefully at Louis. "Please keep going, this is making my week." Louis smirked at Zayn and Liam before cracking his knuckles and assuming a more regal pose. "As I was saying...Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to mourn-" "Louis?" Louis froze at the voice and turned sheepishly to the doorway, where Harry was stood with a concerned expression on his face. "Hey babe..." "What happened? Why are you- Are those my candles?" Harry asked, pushing off the doorframe and entering the room, surveying the multiple lit candles set on various displays. "Louis Tomlinson, have you used all the candles we own for- What even is this?" The four boys turned to each other, each sporting a sheepish look. "The funeral of Tumblr Live..."

[littleshopofchaos]

Updated my blog description.

I've shut @theworldofprompts down because people are requesting genocide and "lizard people" prompts and this has been happening more and more since yknow irl events

There's a reason I don't reblog irl events bar from shit like the fuckkng Royal family and UK politics because I live in the UK so I know about that shit.

I'm not falling for reblog bait. Fuck you if you think I'm a part of it because "oh no you're ignoring irl events!"

I don't know fuck all, okay. I'm sticking to my writing and my diamond painting like before. Fuck this shit

[the-writing-trash-panda]

Hiccup: Why is it whenever there's a Purge, you two are always the first to go cause trouble?

Prompt from @theworldofprompts

[justnerdy15]

Prompt Writing (Daily snippet 9.6.23)

Prompt posted by @theworldofprompts "Construction worker finds Alien ship on site."

wc: 991

Well damn.

Allan spits at the ground, scuffing his boot against the red clay dirt, and cusses at the sight before him.

Boss man wanted them to start pouring concrete by next Wednesday, having nearly the entire site excavated except for this piece of shit corner that refused to cooperate, and had Allan and his crew come in on overtime to finish it.

That sure as fuck wasn’t happening now.

He doesn’t even know what he’s looking at. Some shimmery, metal. . . thing, dully pulsing where it peeks through Georgia clay.

Allan spits again and reaches up to the walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder.

“Hey KitKat, need ya over here at the dig,” he says, scratching at his nose.

“On break, Dipshit. Whatcha need?”

He scowls. “You’re always on break. Get your ass over here or you can find another way home.”

Another voice chimes in. “Oof, someone’s in a pissy mood. Don’t worry, KitKat, you can come home with me.”

“Shut up, Nate. No one was talking to you.”

“Both of you shut up,” Allan breaks in, stopping Nate from putting his dumbass foot any further in his mouth, “And come ‘ere. Now.”

He ignores the chatter on the other end and peers back down into the ditch, having half the mind to jump down and check it out.

Fuck that.

He’ll make Nate go.

It takes a few minutes for the others to actually get there, Nate a couple yards behind KitKat, who raises one hand in a brief acknowledgement to Allan.

Allan grunts, barely flicking his fingers in response, and rolls his eyes when the opened hand turns into KitKat flipping him off.

“Took you long enough,” he calls out, crossing his arms, “Afraid you got lost.”

“So what’s wrong, old man?” KitKat replies as she approaches, adjusting the hardhat on her head. “You break something?”

He shakes his head and points over his shoulder. “Take a look.”

“Jesus.”

KitKat strolls past him, knocking her shoulder into his with a grin, and Allan motions to Nate to hurry the hell up.

“What the fuck?” KitKat asks from behind him, incredulous and confused. “What the hell is this?”

Allan grabs Nate by the shoulder and drags him along, ignoring Nate’s curse as he stumbles over his feet, until they’re standing beside KitKat at the hole.

“I know,” he says, letting go of Nate. “No clue.”

Nate pops his gum. “I thought all of this was undeveloped?”

“It is. That’s why we spend the last two months hauling shit out of here.” KitKat steps closer to the edge. “Even if it wasn’t, how would this end up six feet under solid clay?” She looks back at Allan. “How did you find this?”

He tilts his head toward the excavator. “Moving dirt. Went to clear out some more when the bucket scraped and got stuck. Thought it was rock. Clearly, it wasn’t.”

KitKat hums, taking a step back, and looks at Nate. “Well, get down there.”

Nate sputters nearly choking on his gum. “What? I’m not going in there!”

“Yeah, you are,” Allan says, nudging him with his boot. “Consider this your initiation.”

Nate looks back and forth between them, mouth slightly agape, when he huffs. “You both suck. I hate you.”

Allan claps him on the shoulder. “That’s okay.”

“Besides,” KitKat adds, “Think of all the double time we’re about to get.”

Nate makes a face at her, but still walks over to the ditch. “So do I just. . . jump in? That doesn’t seem, uh, OSHA safe.”

“Pussy,” KitKat says, grinning when Nate whips around to glare at her. “I’m playing, Nate. Go get a ladder.”

“Go get a ladder, go into the weird fucking hole, you losers ever do anything?” Nate asks as he walks away.

“I do,” Allan replies. “Not sure about KitKat.”

While they wait for Nate to come back, Allan and KitKat observe the weird metal.

“Maybe it’s Chinese,” Allan says. “Or Russian.”

KitKat slaps him on the back of his head. “You’ve been listening to too much AM radio.”

“Well what do you think?” Allan asks, rubbing the back of his head. Should’ve had his helmet.

“I dunno, maybe Nate will find something down there.” She looks over her shoulder. “And speak of the devil. He got the wrong fucking ladder.”

Allan frowns and turns around. “Oh, well. Better too long than too short.”

“I’m going to start calling him Dipshit instead of you.”

Nate’s huffing as he approaches, ladder banging into his side, and he unceremoniously drops it to the ground.

“Overcompensating much, Nate?” KitKat asks, tapping her foot against the sixteen-foot ladder.

“It’s the shortest one I could find! Fucking Lazlo doesn’t know how to put shit where it needs to be.”

Allan holds his hands out. “It’s fine. Let’s just get a move on.”

They get it set up, making sure the legs are solidly on the ground, before sending Nate down.

When he’s merely a step above the metal, they run into their first issue.

“The fuck?” Nate says, helmet obscuring his face as he looks down.

“What is it?” KitKat asks, holding onto the ladder. “Nate?”

He looks up at them, a frown on his face, and shrugs. “I can’t step down.”

“What do you mean?” Allan looks over the edge to see Nate’s foot dangling off the ladder.

“I mean I can’t step down. It won’t let me. Look.” Nate puts his foot back on the ladder and steps down like he’s trying to get off, but his foot stops about two or three inches above the exposed metal. He strains, a small grunt escaping, but his foot doesn’t lower any further.

“This is weird as shit,” he announces, “I’m coming back up.”

[nordlichtgeschichten]

Rumor's Depths

There's an abandoned castle near the city that merman Tierney lives in. Rumor has it that it's haunted, or perhaps that monsters from the deep seas have made their home there - But that's only hearsay, right?

POV: 3rd Person Warnings: None but it is horror Word count: 2738

(Based on a Short Story Prompt by @theworldofprompts - It said "Write about your character exploring a creepy place")

Tierney swallowed as he neared the castle's entrance. Or rather, neared the entrance to what most people assumed was a castle; truth was, no one knew for sure. Though most people in the city knew where it was, it had been long forgotten by the history books. And Tierney should know, considering he'd checked them for a hint every time he sorted one back into the library shelves.

The water pressed against his body from all sides, slowing the steady movement of his tail fin. He was deeper than merpeople usually dove, the water around him dark wherever his flashlight didn't shine.

He hesitated when he reached the doors, dark stone looming above him. No sounds came from inside, though tale had it that the castle was haunted, and something had to have caused those rumors.

With a deep breath, Tierney pushed against the heavy doors. They didn't budge at first, but then slowly, bit by bit, they moved inwards. Once they were wide enough to allow Tierney through, he backed off.

The opening was a gaping hole, swallowing what little light Tierney had. Only an illusion, he told himself, a trick of the mind. It was only natural that such a small opening wouldn't let much light through, that it'd be dark inside.

That was the only reason, right?

It had to be.

But he'd never find out if he stayed out here. Carefully, moving so slowly his little siblings would've compared him to a coral, he poked his head through the gap.

Nothing so far.

Two strokes of his fin, and Tierney had crossed from open sea into the depths of this lost place. While his light had shone in an even sphere around him outside, now old furniture blocked its shine, creating dark chasms throughout the room.

It was still quiet, though.

Some of Tierney’s friends had called him crazy for coming here, but he just had to know if there was a base to any of the rumors. Maybe some loose rocks scraping against each other in an underwater stream, or rotting tables crashing down every now and then. Or maybe...

Tierney paused by the door for a while, waiting for something, anything in the castle to react to his presence, to him disturbing its rest. But nothing stirred, not as far as he could see.

So he moved in further. When he'd first planned this dive, he'd been worried about how he should deal with weird sounds while he explored, but as it turned out, the silence was much worse. No whale song in the distance, no chatter from outdoors, nothing.

Most of furniture was still intact, though a few barnacles had made their home on one of the tables, and algae covered the walls and floor. At least that meant something lived here, even if it made no sounds.

Tierney had expected a type of entrance hall, but this looked more like a dining room, filled with several long rows of tables and benches, and the occasional chair at the tables’ ends. It looked a little out of place; most people assumed the castle, or whatever it was, had been made by merpeople, but seats were rare in people's homes down here. But if not merpeople, then who?

A rasping sound cut through the silence, and Tierney flinched, his breath jagged, until he realized his bag had scraped against one of the tables. Now that he was holding still, no other noise came, so he positioned the bag on his other side and continued.

Two paths greeted him at the far end of the dining hall, one a stairway going up, and the other a steep slope leading further down. Tierney hesitated. Heading down might be dangerous; while he didn't need to worry about drowning the way a surfacedweller might, getting trapped could still be an issue if he got lost. Up would be the safer option, especially since the castle had windows that Tierney had passed on his way here. But windows also meant that people at least had some idea of what the inside looked like, even if no one had dared to enter.

Downstairs, on the other hand, was a mystery through and through.

So, Tierney headed for the path downwards. The drop was almost straight, but not quite, though Tierney doubted there was any creature able to climb up without being able to swim.

As he moved down, the water pressing tighter all around him, Tierney wondered why. If whoever used to live here needed stairs, why not add them here, too? And if not, why not leave them out?

Maybe what went down here hadn't been supposed to come back out?

The castle had been abandoned for years. If anything had been imprisoned in its basement, it had to be long dead.

And yet, as Tierney took some wary strokes, he couldn't help but feel uneasy. There were mysterious things everywhere, and the deeper in the ocean you were, the stranger they became.

Then again, if the castle itself hadn't been made by merpeople, it must've been near the surface once. In that case, it was unlikely that any deep sea magics could be hidden down there.

Unless, of course, they'd made their home here after it had sunk to the bottom of the ocean.

A dark rumble shook the castle, forcing Tierney to halt when the tip of his flipper had just barely passed the upper edge of the shaft. He stayed where he was, moving just as much as he needed to stay in place. Had the rumble come from downstairs, or had some creature outside had made such a noise? Normal sea animals required caution, of course, but Tierney knew how to avoid them. Whatever might be lurking below, though...

It stayed quiet. Perhaps Tierney should return with some friends; he hadn't had much luck convincing anyone so far, but it might be good to have someone there to watch his back.

He turned around, only to be faced with a heavy stone wall where he'd expected a pathway.

Tierney laid a hand on the stone, looking for some sort of mechanism, a switch, a handle, anything, but it was just rock on top of rock on top of rock.

He swallowed. There was no way left but down.

At some point, people would come looking for him, but he had no way of telling when; it might be too long to count on them finding him in time. So it seemed like his best shot was the basement, hoping for another exit.

Tierney moved slowly, trying to not stir the water more than necessary. He kept his flipper still, using only his arms to bring him further and further down. The pressure grew stronger still, like stone jaws tightening around his ribs.

He felt like his light showed him less and less of his surroundings. For a while, Tierney assumed it was just his imagination, but the effect never faded. Soon the walls were barely more than a shadow, and the ground was still hidden beyond unknown lengths of inky blackness. That had to be how surface fish felt when they dove too deep for the first—and usually last—time.

Only that they might have a way back up, while Tierney’s was barred.

A gravelly sound cut through the darkness, like something large moving over stone. Tierney froze, trying to pinpoint where the sound came from. Left? Right? Straight below? He couldn’t tell.

It grew louder, and Tierney’s instinct won out. Before he even realized, he was rushing top speed away from it, or at least he hoped he was moving away, care and quiet all but forgotten.

He couldn’t tell how far he swam. If it hadn’t been for the feeling of water rushing past his arms and face, he wouldn’t have been sure he’d moved at all. His lamp didn’t reach anything now, it was just him, suspended in the abyss. At least the noise had faded.

In all his journeys, Tierney had never felt quite this lost. Maybe he should’ve waited at the top of the shaft, taken his chances that someone would come looking for him soon.

But it was too late for that now. He had no idea which direction he’d come from, how to get back.

Merpeople didn't share surfacedwellers' issues figuring out which way was up and which was down underwater. They always knew, didn't even have to think.

Usually, at least.

Right now, though, Tierney had no idea. Maybe he was too deep for his instincts to work, or maybe something about this castle prevented him from figuring it out. He couldn't have gotten more lost if he'd tried.

He felt himself shiver, even though the water hadn't changed temperature, and tried to take a few deep breaths. He couldn't give up, he had to find a way to get out of here. But how?

And how could he avoid whatever was down here while finding a way?

Maybe it had gone in a different direction? Tierney stopped moving—a current pushing him aside could hardly make things worse now—and listened.

Silence.

So maybe what lived down here wasn't a problem for now, as long as Tierney stayed as quiet as possible.

Next, he needed something to help with his orientation. A wall, ceiling, floor, anything. He'd prefer to swim up, but with no way to tell, one way was as good as the next.

Another deep breath, and he flapped his tail fin again, trying to go as straight as possible. If he could just find a wall…

He kept on, and on, and on. It was hard to keep a sense of time down here; had he been swimming for only a minute, or hours? Had he gotten anywhere, or was he swimming in circles?

He should've never moved away from the walls.

But he had. The only thing Tierney could do was keep moving, even when the muscles in his tail hurt and even as the pressure kept growing.

Another noise.

Tierney stopped dead in his tracks, heart hammering against his ribs as if it was trying to break free. The noise was lighter this time, still the same sound of something being dragged over stone, but more like a boulder instead of an entire house. Still, though, Tierney wanted to flee more than anything, but that might just draw its attention.

Instead, he kept still. Whatever was making the noise was still too far away to see, out of reach of his light. Could it see him? Some deep sea creatures lacked eyes, but was this one of them?

Just to be safe, Tierney turned off the flashlight.

He couldn't even see his own hands now. He'd felt lost in the darkness before, but now he almost doubted he even existed. Of course, he still felt his hands and fin—but it wasn't an uncommon phenomenon to feel things that weren't there anymore, was it?

Tierney had never been scared of the dark before. Right now, though, he desperately wanted to turn on the light again, to at least be able to see himself, even if he saw nothing else. Was he drifting off? If so, where to?

Was the creature finally far enough away so he could turn on the light?

Was it intelligent enough to wait for him to do just that? Or sapient enough to enjoy scaring its prey?

Something brushed against Tierney's elbow, and he whirled around, his fin hitting the creature, too. It was covered in hard scales, but that was all Tierney could tell before he managed to get away, rushing to put as much distance as possible between himself and it. At least it was slow, or else it could have stopped him from rushing off.

Try as he might, even after he’d stopped, Tierney couldn't force himself to take deep breaths, to calm down. He had to get out of here, he just didn't know how. The creature might be lurking anywhere, trying to find him again, so light was no option, either.

Thinking didn't help. Waiting wouldn't help. He had to move, and could only hope he wouldn't move in circles.

Or towards the creature.

Tierney took another shaky breath and started moving his flipper again, slowly, pausing frequently to listen for sounds. Nothing.

Silence all around.

With some noise, Tierney could have at least guessed where the creature was. What if he was headed straight towards it? Was it able to move so silently, or was it waiting for him to come close again?

Tierney held his hands out in front of him. It felt awkward to swim like this, but without light, he had no other way of telling when he was closing in on a wall, or something worse. So he ignored his arms growing tired and pushed on forward. Waiting would just give the creature more chance to close in on him.

Tierney flinched when his fingertips knocked into something hard, but it wasn't moving. He carefully reached out again, hands gliding through the cool water until they finally found rock, hard rectangles with small gaps between them. A wall, then? It might be a brick floor or ceiling, but Tierney assumed it was a wall.

Now he had something to help orient himself, at least. As long as the creature wasn't staying right by the wall...

If he knew where up and down was, maybe this wall could lead him out... But if he knew, Tierney wouldn't have had to look for a wall in the first place.

The bricks. Tierney let his hands moved over them some more, and tried to put himself in a position so they were longer than they were tall. If the castle had been built the way landfolk architecture usually was, then that'd be right side up.

Or upside down. Tierney still had no way of telling which was which, but at least now he had a fifty-fifty chance.

With one hand on the wall, Tierney picked a direction and swam, hoping he was moving upwards. Was the water pressure increasing? Decreasing? Staying the same? Tierney couldn't tell, his heart pounded too hard for him to focus much on anything else.

It felt as if he swam for an eternity. Everything stayed silent as he did, though. Maybe the creature had given up?

Tierney flapped his fin harder the longer he took, trying to get to the end just that little bit faster. His muscles were burning despite the icy water, but Tierney refused to stop now.

Until hard stone stopped him, his braids doing nothing to cushion the impact. Tierney went dizzy for a moment and shook his head, which replaced the dizziness with a splitting headache. Stone meant he'd found either the ceiling or the ground, but which one was it? And if it was the ceiling, how would he find the shaft that'd lead back up?

He needed some light, even if it might alert the creature. Tierney paused for a moment, listening intently.

Nothing.

He dared turn on the flashlight again. There were still bricks where his hand lay, and bricks above—below?—him. As Tierney turned, he saw the other walls were close by, just like when he'd started his descent. Hopefully, the creature wouldn't be able to fit in here, there was no space to flee if it did.

Walls surrounded Tierney on three sides, but instead of a fourth, a dark chasm opened in front of him.

Tierney moved through it slowly, this time keeping a hand on the floor so he wouldn't lose his way again.

Soon his flashlight silhouetted old furniture, some of it covered in barnacles, a few pieces broken, but most of it intact.

Chairs and tables.

Long benches.

And finally, a pair of huge, dark doors.

Tierney shot forwards the moment he laid eyes on them, eager to flee this place. He didn't stop outside, hurrying onwards, and only when he was a considerable distance away from the castle did he finally slow and let out a shaky breath.

He made it. He’d gotten out.

The trek back home would be easy by comparison, and after this experience, Tierney was eager to sleep somewhere far, far away from any deep-sea creatures. For once, he would be glad to leave the exploration of this place to someone else.

[writingsfromspace]

Adoration

303 words | Standalone angel feelings nonsense

Prompt | An angel falls in love with the God that created them - @theworldofprompts

Content | Unhealthy relationship/power dynamics! :D

Clawing my way back into writing after a break with some silly little drabbles. I love angel characters, I don't know what to tell you.

Hands ever folded in prayer, never stretched out. Never reaching.

Eyes ever cast down in reverence, never stealing glances.

Winged feet ever in dutiful errand, never running back home, back into a loving embrace.

No, those things were for mortals.

And only a mortal could have died of the agony tearing through what wasn’t a soul. Time meant nothing, and yet, as every day passed, it became worse - every step, every empty stare, every praise sung.

It was faulty, and it knew. It must confess, like a mortal, to be cast out and abandoned, and yet that was too much - it could not bear to be alone.

Without the God that gave it life.

Without the light it felt so much brighter, it stupidly thought, than the others, without the patient eyes older still than itself, without the power vibrating through its very core, because this was its creator-

»Speak, child.«

It had thrown itself at their feet. What else could it do? The pain was too much to bear forever, forever. And they must know. There could not be a broken cog in the machinery of their divine intentions.

»I love you.«

»I made you.« Their voice was impossibly gentle, making it tremble to the core of its being, almost making it hope when it knew there was no hope for one like it.

It shook its head. There was more to it than that, and they had to know. »I am broken,« it whispered. »I am fallen like a mortal. I have come before you to r-« An angel’s voice should never falter. There was only one way this could go, and it knew, and yet it had to press on. »-receive your punishment.«

And it cried, like a mortal, certain that would be the last it knew of their presence.

[sketchy--doodles]

the 2nd week prompt of @theworldofprompts's art challenge: theworldofprompts.tumblr.com

The prompt was "a leap of faith" and I immediately went to Fawna and her journey of confidence and bravery. It was a leap of faith for Fawna to go up against the wolves. Here she is going up against Tilde. I used screenshots from "The Fox and the Hound" for background references. Also, I wish there were more wolf drawing poses out there lol

PLEASE REBLOG! IT HELPS A LOT!

[v-a-lippner]

Writing Prompt: A singer is framed for murder after someone dies at their concert.

Please check out @theworldofprompts page! They post amazing prompts.

I plan on posting things to my page every month or so! Either writing based on a prompt or releasing some of my upcoming artwork for my book! Something to keep me busy when I get tired of editing.

TW: Mentions of murder and cigarettes.

“Ma’am, you do realize why we pulled you down here.”

“Why of course, lookin’ for an autograph I would presume!” Betsy giggles as her hands nervously shuffles through her small purse. Although midday in New Orleans with the light pouring in through the shuttered windows of the detective’s office and the heat sweltering their skin, the jazz singer couldn’t stop the chill running down her spine. The detective sitting across from her sighs as she continues to fumble. Her gloved hands jittery as the purse spills. Until now did she realize that she left her tin on her vanity. In place of where she normally keeps her lipstick that has now clinked against the wooden floors. Rolling under the desk.

“Mrs. LaBlanc, I am bein’ serious. We brought you down here because of Friday evenin’.

Friday evenin’. How could she forget such a night, besides of the gunfire and screaming, that was Betsy’s night to become a star. Just as she always dreamed of. Standing on the stage, dolled up in her best pearls and fresh perfume she sang her heart out to the glimmering city hot with jazz fever, “I remember it well. At the end of my set, I joined my agent which you probably have heard of, Mr. Landry, who was chattin’ up Mr. Boyd, only the best radio host in all of crescent city. Then someone from the crowd started firin’! At first I thought it was all just a bunch of banana oil until everyone started scramblin’ and I saw Mr. Boyd drop dead.”

The detective’s face remains casted in stone, his eyes unwavering from Betsy’s as her nerves continue to unravel, “And that’s it then?”

“What, are you callin’ me some dumb dora?” Betsy says, her voice raising. Her leg bouncing.

“Of course not Mrs. LaBlanc. But you never identified the shooter.”

“How could I? I was about to sign my deal! It must’ve been someone spiffed off giggle juice.”

The detective opens a file and slides it across the desk for Betsy to read. Her eyes scanning the page as she takes in the message from the typed letters,

Mr. Landry’s account of the Friday Night Shooting: Mrs. Betsy LaBlanc taking the small caliber pistol out of her purse and firing upon Mr. Henry Boyd.

Betsy begins to stutter, gasping for air as she scatters the papers. Flying out of her seat, “I am being framed, copper! I would never- I could never do such a thing!”

“Apologies, ma’am, but his account lines up with the other witnesses in that speakeasy.”

Mr. Landry, Betsy’s new agent promised her one thing and the only thing certain she new life was going to provide for her, I was goin’ to be a star.

[theprongspotter]

Sirius: Why is it whenever somebody gets a wish on their birthday, they either wish for weapons or sex?

Remus, nose deep into a book: Because that’s all people think about.

-

c: @theworldofprompts

[littleshopofchaos]

Okay so, I'll be posting photos of my attempts at making bao buns later today,

I'll be going live on Tiktok at some point to do some diamond painting

I'll be posting writing prompts at @theworldofprompts

Uhhh I think that's it for today. It's 1:45am. I'll be lurking

[jabbasyogainstructor]

I’m worried about whatever’s going on over at @theworldofprompts 😅

[frozenrose105]

I posted 88 times in 2022

That's 66 more posts than 2021!

33 posts created (38%)

55 posts reblogged (63%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@demondark81

@theworldofprompts

@seaside-writings

@frozenrose105

@freekymonstr

I tagged 55 of my posts in 2022

Only 38% of my posts had no tags

#writing - 21 posts

#fanfiction - 20 posts

#em writes - 20 posts

#iswm - 13 posts

#in space with markiplier - 12 posts

#save - 9 posts

#darkiplier - 7 posts

#egos - 7 posts

#god au - 6 posts

#request - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 87 characters

#i love that youre able to maintain the silence of the captain true to y/n in the series

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

How do feel of angst with mayor attorney [damien/darkiplier x y/n district attorney] ? “I can’t trust you” , “I can’t remember” , “ I can’t hold on much longer”

I feel like that's a brilliant combination.

======================

Dark never wanted to return to the manor. It held too many bad memories, outweighing all of the good that had happened there and a bittersweet nostalgia washed over him at the thought of it. Seeing it again, he thought about how glad he’d been to be reuniting with old friends. How he’d enjoyed the night of poker and partying. He thought about the dread seeing the Actor dead on the ground, and how the dread had since turned to rage at the thought of him. 

He couldn’t forget the pain, either. It was his fault that the district attorney was now trapped in the mirror within the manor. Perhaps he could move past that, but Damien and Celine were both weighed with guilt the same. Maybe that’s why he had felt the need to come back despite his desires to stay away. Maybe that’s why he found himself standing outside the door and staring up at the grand estate. 

Dark wasn’t one to put things off, but he couldn’t seem to make his feet move forward. His hand was frozen in place at his side, the door remaining closed in front of him. He could feel the all too familiar dread coursing through him. It was only there, where no one could see him, that he even allowed himself such hesitance. …But even that must come to an end. It was with that thought along with Celine’s incessant prodding that he finally opened the door and stepped inside. 

The hinges made a terrible sound as he closed the door behind him, and the wooden floorboards creaked beneath his dress shoes. A scan of the place revealed it to be covered in dust and cobwebs. Some of the windows were broken and allowed cold air to pass through, but otherwise the building was just as they had left it all those years ago. Still he made his way slowly through all of the rooms as even more memories flooded through him. 

Despite his reservations, it didn’t occur to Dark to turn back or to leave. No, now that he was there, he knew that this was something that he had to do. He felt a pull to the room that he knew the mirror was stored in, and almost subconsciously he made his way there. The only locked room in the manor was dark compared to the others, but it didn’t take long for his eyes to adjust. It was cleared out as many of the rooms there had been, but thick black curtains covered any windows in this one. A more elegant piece of black fabric covered the only visible furniture- the mirror. 

When Dark approached it he ran his hand over the silk, more memories resurfacing. He had moved the mirror there and covered it himself after realizing what he’d done. He’d spent hours there pouring over Celine’s books, at the insistence of the twins to find a way to release the one inside. Eventually the Entity had shifted his focus, however, and he came to the manor less and less. But at that moment the Entity was silent, and Dark pulled the fabric away. 

The mirror was elegant, and lacking the dust that had settled over everything else. Otherwise it looked relatively normal, and Dark could pretend it was so if not for-

“Hello?” The voice was tentative and had an echo to it akin to Dark’s. With it came the shadow of a hand pressing against the glass, and a figure leaning closer as if to see better. They had no physical form, but Dark had no doubt in his mind as to who resided within. “Damien?”

“...It’s me.” The blue of his aura became more prominent as he stepped closer, and his demeanor softened.

“I can’t remember the last time you came, I- was beginning to think you’d forgotten me,” the district attorney said. There was a question in the tone of their statement, as if asking for an explanation. Dark was content to let Damien give it. 

“Of course not. Things grew… Complicated. But we have neither forgotten you nor given up.” He pressed a hand to the glass himself then, offering a rueful smile. It was bittersweet, seeing them in his own reflection yet being so unable to see them truly. 

“...Damien. …Celine…” They spoke to the twins, rather than to Dark himself or the Entity. That was always the case, and though he knew that they were aware of what he was, he never corrected them. “...I can’t hold on much longer.”

His aura flared slightly at that, a swirling mix of red and blue lighting up the room before it settled back on the blue. “What are you saying?” As much as he tried to remain neutral, Damien’s worry was seeping into Dark with the words. They were safe there, he had made sure of it. The DA let out a weak laugh.

“...I can feel my mind slipping away. I don’t know if I’ve been here for weeks or for centuries, Damien, and I- could feel my memories of you fading the longer I went without seeing you. This realm is different, and I’m losing pieces of myself every day.” 

Dark fell silent, lowering his hand to his side. He felt the twins’ panic, but more than that he could feel his rage building. He was angry. At the Actor, at Wilford, and at himself. He could feel the Entity shoving Damien and Celine to the back of his mind and urging him to leave the manor. He wanted vengeance for all that had happened. He needed to kill the man who was responsible for the district attorney’s fate, especially with what they were telling him.

“...And what makes it worse,” the DA began again, snapping Dark’s attention back to them despite the quietness of their voice. “Is that I can’t trust you. …I’m not a fool. I know you aren’t the Damien I once knew. I can see the rage blinding you, and I can see that you’re controlled by the very same thing that Mark was.” 

His jaw clenched at that, as more emotion flooded through him. He couldn’t keep his aura still with all of the noise in his head- the twins trying desperately to regain control, hindered by their own pain, and the Entity fueling his anger. Before he could make sense of it all, and before he could think to respond, the shadowy hand withdrew from the mirror. The district attorney backed away without another word, and Dark was stuck staring at only his own reflection once more.

76 notes - Posted April 28, 2022

#4

118 notes - Posted May 4, 2022

#3

See the full post

181 notes - Posted May 4, 2022

#2

So that video huh

743 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

854 notes - Posted May 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[sketchy--doodles]

Drawtober week 4 prompt: By any other name

4th and final week for @theworldofprompts Drawtober.  theworldofprompts.tumblr.com

This was probably the most challenging one, ad it was a hard phrase to interpret at first. I kinda stretched it a bit here. These are my Lion King OCs Wimbi and Kito. Kito dislikes hanging out with other lions, but has a crush on Wimbi. He doesn't care if she is a lion, he still likes her. That's the prompt kinda

Wimbi's a little confused about why Kito is handing her a flower. She knows that he's forced to hang out with other cubs by his mom, but Kito showing signs of willingly being with other lions is very bizzare. I really enjoyed drawing this and loved doing the expressions!

PLEASE REBLOG! IT HELPS A LOT!