The name comes from the aspect of the coment of back to the drawing board. In this case back to the Story board. I am a College student Twitch Streamer, and writer. This particular place is to dump the things that plague my brain and avoid the minutiae or "Nicities" of the world. I can promise only Khaos to be found with in these posts with little connection or attention to detail. If you enjoy it drop a follow.
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
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Or I give them a new name in my brain…. Have had many characters I don’t end up liking very much named fuckass…..
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A Demon Meets The Reaper
Prompt: What happens when a Demon meets a fallen angel?
Synopsis-- A child from a dark background with a demon living in her is given a second chance by and underground leader. He raises her and is taken from house hopping in the system. In the end; the end of his deal was met and had to leave her. Leaving his entire operation and money to live off of as well as emancipating her. She sets her sights on finding the reaper that took his soul on order of Lucifer.
It was on the was on the news. A House had caught fire. The origin of the fire being in a child's room. The child was found sitting the middle of that bedroom while the fire was swirling around in a vortex like shape around her. The fire men could not even get into the room. They determined the child dead since it was on the ground curled in the flames. There was no way to get in the door slammed closed as they walked by. Little did they know was exactly what had happened in that room only an hour prior. The parents were found in their room completely burned to death. Along with the older brother who was thrown from the room when the firemen had come in and alerted them to the girl in the room. Almost as if there was an off switch, the fire stops the little girl opened the door. Her long black hair down to the middle of her back looks at the men standing in the hallway of her home. Not a mark on her confused and terrified the men grabbed the little girl and quickly evacuated the demolished home and took the child outside to be examined by the medical crews. The little girl did not speak once. After a detailed medical examination, it was evident from the bruising and trauma to the girl that she had been assaulted. Some of it being new marks and damages, but most of them having been healed over. The little girl with the steely silver blue eyes that could look through the soul of even the most kind was passed off to children services. She lived with families for a couple weeks at a time. More and more it seems evident that she does not belong. There are Violent acts, and she ends up back in the system, new family. It has been a few years at this point she is now in her early teens. An older man looks at her and realizes her potential after looking at her file. The girl was a mute, she had not spoken since that day that the firemen carried her out of the fire. The man kneeled in front of the girl the first time he had met her and asked her in Latin,
"Would you like to come home with me? I can teach you how to control it." She looks at the older man wide eyed and his dark crimson eyes he looks at her firmly and she nods the color bleeding back to her face finally from that day. The girl grabbed her bag and went with the older gentleman. Something was different about the girl. The colors of her eyes had changed to a bright blue. There was nothing that was the same about that child after that man offered to take her home, she was a happy bubbly 13-year-old girl. As the two of them walked out the girl turned stopped and looked up at her caseworker for the first time in almost 6 years and she tipped her head and in perfect English.
"Miss Alice! Thank you for all of your help!" She giggles the bright blue eyes again looking at the woman. She just blinks unable to figure out what had happened with that child that this old man could have changed by just speaking to her in that odd language. "Let's go home mister!" she took the older man's hand and contently left with him. The old man leading the way and carrying the backpack of the girl in his other hand.
What only the old man knew was that she had been fighting this demon back to keep it from plaguing the world with the destruction that it had with her childhood home. She remembered everything. She remembered every household. The other kids calling her freaks. There was nothing wrong with her schooling she kept to herself. All the kids still made fun of her for not talking and the way she looked there was a different look to the girl as she got older and grew up. She had a different look then all the other children. Her long black hair always touching the back of her legs. Down and straight. Never pulled back always down. It helped her hide her face. The old man looks at her and smiles
"We are going to have to cut this a bit" he said as he was at home brushing the girl's hair out seeing how damaged the ends were. "How about we give you a different look?" the little girl is looking at him nervously. "Don't worry... we will make it, so you don't have to hide like that anymore." He smiled kindly and she nods.
The odd duo had moved to New York City. There were cars everywhere big city everywhere. The girl did not know what to do. She stayed close to the man as they walked down the street he clung to his leg when he would stop and talk with people and wait until he introduced her. There was one lady that was wearing barely anything in the middle of the winter and she smelled of sweat and a sickeningly sweet perfume the older man had been kind of upset with her but nothing violent happened and they continued on her way.
"Alma, remember we don't talk about the kinds of people that I work with threw the days with the Caseworkers, okay?" the little girl nods and acknowledges. The only thing the caseworkers ever ask about is if he is nice to her or if she gets food every day. They never ask about the people that are around she knew this for the number of times of having those kinds of visits the other questions were about making sure that they were not doing what had happened before. Not touching her that was she didn't like when they asked about that. It seemed so odd to see the caseworkers flinch as her eyes fell on them like they had touched a subject they shouldn't have. There were certain things they shouldn't ask is all she felt but she understood as well. and would go through the steps without any problems. The people that she saw that were with the old man never deemed her any problems other than offering her candy as if she was a child.
A couple years pass. Alma still lives with the old man, he had been homeschooling her. Teaching her all her basic school things along with the handling of business ideas and how to make money. She had learned soon after she had been adopted by the old man, after a year of being her foster dad, that he was a very different kind of businessman, he was a drug dealer, he ran a prostitution ring, and along with this he also trained hit man and taught the skills of using and curing poisons. A thing she had taken interest in with her teachings. The man usually only spoke to her in Latin. Something she did notice is that he had two different colored eyes both had been crimson when he had met her. In all honesty the girl did not even know how she could understand what the man was saying to her. She knew it wasn't English, but she just knew what he was saying as if it were English. She just went with it and accepted the understanding of the language. She was tutored about poisons. She learned the antidotes and how the application to weapons works. she built up immunizes to the ones she handled slowly by minor dosing to help the body combat each one. She also learned quite quickly on the fact of defending herself. She had determined due to a few events that had occurred that it was necessary not that she particularly was keen on fighting but that she needed to know how to fight in case something was to happen. The old man obliged and let her train with the assassins and learned hand to hand combat. Little did she know a by doing that she was joining the side of the world that was in most of darkness and by doing this she had subsequently followed her destiny into falling into the ring of dangerous items. The old man that had come to be her father at this point was in his early 60's and had started to slow down significantly. The girl spent most of her time taking care of the man. She would make sure he took her medications. She was 16 at this point she knew the man probably would only be around a short period longer. After that she did not know what would happen. She took care of him as long as she could. She knew the day it was going to happen there was voice in her head that said in the same language he used to talk to her, "Why don't you let me take over for this.. you don't need to see that much pain. Not again..." It all came back to her. In the fire, that voice. She stopped out his door her hand was on the handle and the conversation began. The old man had taught her enough for her to know that wasn't her inner voice. And in a strong firm way she asks.
"Who are you?"
"I am no one important right now, but please let me help you, that is all I have ever wanted to do. We are stuck this way we might as well both benefit from it... Just like that old man. We are two separate beings." She stops and looks at the mirror that is hanging on the wall at the end of the hallway. The girl stood there in a knee length black dress, long black hair cut and styled just like the first week she met the man. It stopped at the middle of her back and fanned away from her face, but bangs swept over the left side of her face almost hiding the one eye. She had a small face still having stopped growing shortly after turning 14. She stood 4'10 and she looked at the eyes just like the man in the other rooms. One Crimson red and one the glassy steel blue that is hers. She was confused. But she stopped.
"No, I need to say goodbye to this one... no matter how much it hurts. And later. we will talk." She says as she stops and turns to the door and opens it as it creeks open she sees the man in his bed and he looks at her smiles
"Alma, I thought I heard you out there." she nods as she walks over and sits on the side of the bed and smiles to him.
"Yep, It's time for your meds Daddy" she said as she pulled out a daily pill case and pulls out that time lines medications and the old man pulled himself up right in bed and she grabbed the glass of water on the night stand and hands it to him in his shaking hand she steadies it softly and hands him the pills in his other. He takes them and puts them in his mouth taking a drink through the straw. "So, daddy, you had explained something about having a voice in your head that told you who was a good person and who was bad right...?" The old man nods and swallows and looks at her
"Did the voice come back?" He asked clearly as he leans back in the bed and looks at the girl. She nods a bit seeming to just be processing this. "I see." He takes her hand lightly "they know things. Especially when it comes to others of their own kind." He looks back at the girl after a long blink. His eyes just opposite of hers. On the sides but the same red and steely blue in color. She nods "She means you no harm, if anything she will protect you because it means protecting herself. They have lived through lots of different lives. And if you get to the point of conversation with her you might find out the reason some of the other things happened before. There are lots of dangers out there that they see before we do." The old man seemed to be prattling on, but it also seemed that there was going to be no other time for this conversation and with what the other voice had told her was that this was the last conversation she would have with her father. The odd thing is he seemed to know too.
"Then I guess I better get to know her." the old man smiled and nodded. A bit as he slid down in his bed.
"I know she will take good care of you." The voice was different this time "after all she owes me one." She girl noticed the shift in the voice and she tipped her head and then things back to when he explained his voices he told him he signed a contract with a demon to stay alive longer and that it gave him another 10 years. She wondered if those ten years were up and that is why he was going to leave her now. The man smiled and then watched the girl's expression. "Don't worry Alma, we did a lot of good. I can accept where I am going." She nods, and she tucked the old man in one last time.
"Sleep well Papa..." she nods and kisses the old man on the head and she set down in the chair next to the bed and pulled out a book not wanting him to be alone for his final times. She started reading out loud. It was a novel he had been reading for a while. He laid there half-asleep listening for quite some time. She read the last few pages. There was only one chapter left after all. The two of them had been reading this book for a while. It was a good ending in the final chapter of these twos' lives. After the last page was read and the story concluded the old man had fallen into a deep calm sleep, the pain whisked away by the night medications and at that point she lingered a while longer and that was when she noticed that the man had stopped breathing. And there was no sound in the room at all...
The girl now knew why everyone said there is nothing more silent than Death. It was an assassin's code. Be more silent than death, and nothing can ever sneak up on you. Here was a loud crashing sound from downstairs. She quickly stood up and head to the door. Handgun in hand from the holster just under her skirt. It was polished silver with a solid purple wooden handle with her name engraved in the hilt she quickly slinked her way down the stairs and there is a firm voice in her ears. "Let me out. I am gonna be a sharper shot... I promise I won't do the fire again." The girl gave over control and closed her eyes when she opened them half a second later, they were both the dark crimson color and she silently went down the stairs and in to the dining room where the sound had come from. There was a stone on the ground in front of the table that had shattered the window. She quickly realized that it was a distraction and quickly turned on a heel and darted back up the stairs kicking the door open to the room the old man lie now dead. There is a tall man standing over his bed with large set of black wings his long black hair going down between the wings and he turns at the sound and looks at the woman and then in a blink of her eyes the gun that is raised fires and punctures into the top shoulder of the intruder. The man did not even seem phased as the bullet punctures his flesh he just steps forward to her his glassy blue white eyes locking on to her crimson ones. The man wore a pair of jeans and torn dress shirt that is loosely buttoned shut but the back destroyed by where the wings that tore through it. The room was dark and the only words that came across her lips
"Azrael... What are you doing here in the Mortal Realm..."? He looks at her as the wings close, he too knew who was standing in front of him.
"I was sent here, to reap the Souls of the dead by Lucifer..." his voice was low and missing a beat almost it seems he ignored the blood running down the front of his shirt at this point. He step back to the window " I have done what was necessary here... Please don't follow me." he dropped from the window. The woman runs to the window and looks out and he is nowhere to be seen, we were 4 stories high, that was impossible. It was at this point that she realized how cold it was in the room. She checked the old man's pulse and closed her eyes acknowledging what needed to be done and she pulled the cell phone from her pocket and called 911.
The cops were there first, she explained that he had been sick for a while, and she went in to check on him and he was not breathing and there was no pulse. The officers asked her basic information his name and for his id and other medical information, so they could help make the process simple enough that she wouldn't have much dealings with it all. She gave the officer all she knew, and he looked at her.
"How old are you girl?" she looks at him
"I have other family, I will contact them" she was sharp at that point there was no way she was going back into the system after this long. The officer nodded, and she pulled out her phone and dialed the assassin's arts teacher and the man answers the phone a couple rings. She explains the situation and he says he will be over in a half hour. She nods and tells the officer she had contacted a family friend in turn he asked to stick around till they came, she acknowledged and went downstairs and started to clean up the broken glass from the rock being thrown and puts cardboard over the broken door. All the while her eyes are the deep crimson color handling all the sticky problems. While on the inside the girl is crying and shattered. The demon side in Latin states "Don't worry. I will make sure we are not sent back to those people again. We will be safe on our own." there was a sense of acknowledgement as she continued forward a with remedial household chores. The officer seemed uncomfortable as she did this "I am sorry officer, where are my manners, would you like a drink?" she offers a with a sad smile on her face. "I handle bad situations by cleaning." He nods a bit awkwardly
"Yea. I would appreciate that. Would you happen to have coffee?" he asks as he sits down at a table in the dining room where she had been cleaning. The woman nods and makes him a cup of fresh coffee and hands it to him as she continues cleaning the room. All in spinning calming motions for the woman almost as if she was dancing with herself, she had tangled herself in to the internal conflict with the black winged man from before and the death of the old man. It would be complicated... the Mortal shell and She would have to learn to play nice... No questions asked... they needed each other now.
Several Days Later
It was the day of the funeral. There was no real large gathering. A bunch of assassins coming and going a few girls showed up. It was nothing special. It was how he wanted it. All the contacts contacted, and they were made aware of what the will had to say. That was that Alma was in control now. And she stood in the drizzling rain under a black umbrella in a tight black and dark red. She did not look 17 years old. She looked easily in her early 20's. and the man standing with her looked at her. "Remember, if you need anything. All you have to do is ask." She looked up at him with one dark red eye and one glassy steel blue colored one.
"It's alright Jamison. We appreciate it, and if there is anything we will call you. But I think we have a grasp of this coexistence now..." she smiles a sad but kind smile. The other man smiles his eyes being two different colors as well but one being a deep green color and the other a crimson color
"Just don't Forget about the brotherhood..." he nods and bows to her in respect. She was now the leader of the brotherhood of men who signed contracts to kill those who are asked to be killed. She was also the leader of a drug ring and a Prostitution circle as well. And all at the young age of 17. There was one thing that the old man wrote into his will that was what she appreciated and the only reason she would take care of his assets. And that was that he wanted her legally Emancipated. All the paperwork signed and documented to occur after his death. He also left her a large amount of money from his assets and retirement. All of it to the young girl he saved from a life of bouncing from home to home. And only was only around for 3 years. But it built her to who she was, and she was going to take care of his world going forward. She was also going to find the man that took his soul and figure out why the other voice in her head had stopped to have a conversation after finding him in her Fathers room. He seemed like an important person to the voice in her head. That means she had to find out why, so she could help even her dark side be happy.
#writing#stories#OriginalWork#tw death#Demons#FallenAngel#Reapers#Underground world#tw dark content#PromptWriting
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A Dark Little Story Of Twins--Hero's Vs Villains
This is an original work of my writing.
Prompt—
"Heros suck."
"What are you talking about? Heros make the story."
"No, Villains make the story by causing the problems. Heros just die in the end. They Wreck themselves over bad things that happen, the people they couldn't save. Villains say screw that and keep living the way they want to. Nothing to ruin themselves over."
Synopsis-- This is a dark story of twins and the idea of how one stays a hero there whole life but the other is destined to be the villain of the story. Dark context. Speaks of Murder and Death. Do not read if your sensitive to these topics.
Start---
This one simple conversation with my sister made me realize the differences between what we are. Well, more like who we are. This simple statement that hero's suck turns into a moral and mental debate between the two of us for her last year. Something bad would happen and she would ask me what I saw her as. A Hero or a villain, every time I would laugh and kind of half way ignore her. But I wrote it down every single time she did. This is an account of those times she asked this dumb little question and that conversation.
The Conversation in Question.
Me: Heros suck.
Her: What are you talking about? Heros make the story?
Me: No, Villains make the story by causing the problems. Heros just die in the end. They Wreck themselves over bad things that happen, the people they couldn't save. Villains say screw that and keep living the way they wat to. Nothing to ruin themselves over.
Her: How do you know that Heros do that? That can't aways be the case.
Me: Kayce, do you honestly live in a mentality that you think that the good guy always wins?
Her: Not exactly but eventually you would think the Villains would get tired of losing...
Me: We are all hero's until we die, or until we see ourselves become the villains that we were taught to fear.
You see at the end of this conversation I got out of the chair at the hospital and smiles to her and told her the last line; Never did I think that it would turn into the story I have now to tell.
You see she was a terminally ill girl. She never left the hospital. But she went through hell. She always saw the bright side, always saw the sun threw whatever life threw at her. She was my twin sister how could I even begin to explain to her exactly what I actually meant in this one simple phrase that I was simply talking about the two of us. The factor that she was the hero of this story. She was the only one that would make it out of this "alive". That I was already the villain. Mom and dad were dead on their feet always. I was the one caring us all along. I never blamed her. I blamed everything else around us being the sad and depressing world around us. You see the last thing I remember her saying that night last year was one simple phrase.
Kayce: Don't worry Nala! I will make sure we can be hero's together though everything!
She held up this stupidly innocent thumbs up. I couldn't help but smile as I walked out of the hospital room that night.
Several days later was the first question.
Little bit of info before the first time she asked me. My sister is my Saint. I Would tell her everything in my days before she got sick. When she got sick. I started lying about the story. Only telling her good things. Only telling her What would keep her in good spirits.
Kayce: I Snapped at the nurse earlier today.
She thought I would be angry at her.
Nala: Oh? Well, I am sure you didn't mean it.
I flipped though the text book as I sat on the foot of her bed not alluding to knowing anything about it. The nurse had told me about it when I came in. Kayce: I mean you're right, I wish she was still here so I could apologize.
Nala: You can tomorrow, Kay, she is your normal morning nurse.
Kayce: I will try to remember...Do you think that makes me a villain nals?
Nala: Nah, you gotta do something more than snap at someone like that.
I had to chuckle at the question when she asked it. Little did I know she was trying to see what I had made her think was something that was inevitable.
Second time--
Kayce: Nals, I ended up scaring the nurse yesterday... she said she thought I wasn't breathing. I guess I might have stopped while I was sleeping. They told me I will have to sleep wearing this mask going forward.
She held up a C-pap mask. She had in fact stopped breathing in her sleep, the nurses were getting attached to her. She had been here for almost a year now. It was bound to happen. The incidents were getting worse.
Nala: Kay, it's okay. Nothing more to worry about then just wearing the mask when you sleep so you don't scare her more.
I kept trying to laugh off what was happening to keep things light. We returned to coloring in the color sheets I had brought. We were 17 years old at this point. Our birthday was only a hand full of weeks away.
Kayce: do you think this makes me A villain? Scaring the nurse that badly that she was crying. I never like to see people cry.
Nala: Nah, that doesn't make you a villain sis, you can't control what your body does when you are sleeping like that.
I shrugged off the second asking as well thinking it was just a question she had latched on to, like how she asked how my day was going every time I came in. Like asking if mom and dad were ever going to come visit.
Time three---
Kayce: Do mom and dad hate me for getting sick?
Nala: Oh Kayce... No, they are just working a lot is all. They have to sleep and make sure they are taking care of the bills and everything. You know how it all is.
Kayce: Oh, okay. So, they are not mad at me?
Nala: No, just always moving and busy as they were before. I talk to them every morning before they leave for work.
As I said I started lying. They were gone. They heard what was wrong with her and they left. I had no idea where they were. I didn't know if they were mad or if they were just didn't want to deal with it. They tried to make me come along. I wouldn't leave my sister.
Kayce: Will they come visit do you think?
Nala: I am sure they will sweets. Just gotta get the time off, I will talk to them about it tomorrow, okay?
Kayce: okay Nals...You don't think I am the villain for getting sick do you...?
She asked so softly I think she thought I was getting irritated with the question.
Nala: Sis. You cannot control a brain tumor anymore then I can control the weather on a day on the ocean...
I responded just as soft cause I was starting to see a trend. The things that make people sad or distant or upset in general were the things that she thought made someone a villain, hurting those that care about you making you a villain.
Time four—Our birthday.
Kayce: Oh wow! You got me a new hat and scarf!!
The girl squealed as she stuffed the hat on her naked head and burrowed down into the scarf almost as if it was a blanket for her upper half. I had made it myself you see. I had no way of getting her a present any other way. She didn't know that though.
Nala: I am glad you like it; you are normally so cold I thought it would be a good idea.
I took my seat on the chair next to her bed at this point there were machines on the bottom of the bed that were assisting in keeping her stable though the day not to mention a bed monitor to make sure she didn't stand up on her own.
Kayce: I wish I could have picked something out for you... your always here for me even though you could be hanging out with your friends and doing things with them.
Nala: Nah, I would rather be here. There's always another day to spend out getting drunk and stupid.
I reached my hand out and put it on hers a small smile on my face.
Kayce: I am glad you are always here.... does this make me a villain.
Nala: Nah, I like being here, if I didn't, I wouldn't do it. You know that.
I lied. I hate the hospital. I hated the responsibility that I had for my twin. I was angry at my parents for leaving me to deal with everything. Leaving me in the custody of my dying sister. To watch her waste away. To watch this story, unfold Infront of me. I made a mental promise that this girl would die thinking her parents loved her and would never leave her behind that they were just in the background as they always had been.
The Last time She asked me---
The heart monitors beeped steadily, but barely. The girl was lying flat in the bed and had a grip on her sister's hand tightly.
Kayce: I Thought that mom and dad would be here you know.
Nala: They will be, any minute I am sure of it, Kayce. Kayce: I am sure your right.
The girl was smiling at her sister.
Nala: You Rest, I will wake you up when they come.
Kayce: I don't want to miss them, I will stay awake as long as I can, tell me about your day?
Nala: Oh, it was boring, I just had work today, It's Saturday after all, no one of importance came in today though. Miss Ellis asked about you though! Said she can't wait to visit you tomorrow.
I casually talked with the girl. As she smiled and closed her eyes and nodded off as I talked to her.
Kayce: do you think I would be the villain of the story if I was mad at mom and dad for not being here on time today? Nala: No, not one bit. Honestly that is why you would still be the hero of this story.
I felt her hand go slack in mine.
The reason for that is because there is already a villain to this story... I spoke clearly as I watched my sister take her last breaths and leave me for the last time.
FLASH BACK TO EARLIER THAT DAY--
Nala was in a small home that was in a town not far from where her sister was in the hospital. She had tracked down her parents. She had followed all of the trails they left behind for the now 18-year-old girl to follow. The gun in her hand was loaded. She was looking at the woman that had the same ethereal blue eyes that she did, the same dark black hair that now for the 18-year-old girl had been bleached white to hide the factor of the amount of stress she had been under.
Did you even consider the factor of how I felt about having this dropped on my shoulders? She screamed at the woman who at this point had dropped to her knees in fear the gun heavy in the younger girl's hands. There was a scary amount of calm to how she acted. She held the gun up to the woman as a man entered the home though a side door and locked eyes with the girl with the gun as well. She smirked slightly realizing he had just come home from work. That was her next place to stop after she had taken care of her mother. She was hoping to raise more chaos and was slightly disappointed. She rolled the gun along her hand and looked at the man who seemed to be trying to place her face. "Oh, that's wonderful. Don't even recognize your own daughter." She chuckled. "Well, the one without the brain tumor that is, the one you left behind to take care of the other one." She growled out lowly as she pulled knife from her pocket as she watched the woman rush at her out of her peripheral vision. She quickly threw the knife hitting the woman in the knee and turning and firing the gun shooting the woman in the chest twice. It was like everything moved in slow motion she then turned the gun on the man as the woman drops to her knees. There was an emptiness in Nalas eyes that rivaled the idea of a serial killer's patience. She only had two people she wanted dead though and it wouldn't replace the person who deserved to live. She shot the man in the chest as well and once in the knee. He had run to his wife's side and was holding her as she was very much bleeding out. Nala had already severed the lines to the phones in the house and it all happened to fast for there to be any cellphone usage to call the police. Not that the girl would care anyway. She dropped the gun on the counter and turned on the gas stove burners and blowing out the fire letting the gas leak in to the room. She smirked slightly knowing that neither of them would make it out given the fact that the mother was already fading given where the shot hit and her father was sobbing too much to see and understand what was still happening around him. She pulled out a pack of matches and lit the candles on the table as well as the few that were in the living room as she walked out of the house. Her clothes were splattered in blood. She went to her car and shrugged the button-down shirt she was wearing off and pulled on a baggy hoodie and pulled her shoulder length white hair into a pony tail as she headed to the hospital that was about a half hour away.
You see, I already knew what was going to happen to me. I knew I was the villain all along. I was the one that lied to my sister about everything going on to simply just keep her happy in her last year of life. Our parents abandoned us. They left us alone in the world and disappeared. I found them; I took out the problem. I made sure she was comfortable and happy until the end. I made the decisions with the doctors and in my final year of high school I dropped out to take up the nasty side of working day in and day out to pay for her medical costs. And when I wasn't working, I was searching the city for them or was with her. There was no in-between on these times. That's why when I finished talking with the nurses and finalized the paper work for her body to be donated to science like she wanted and then to be cremated afterwards it was no shocker to me to be approached by the police. But you see, there was no reason for me to be here anymore. I turned and looked at the officers and this is how that conversation happened
Nala: I did it and you both know it. I shot both of them and then I lit the candles as well as blew out the stove so the gas would leak to the fires and cause the fire and explosion.
I put my hands behind my back before they even asked. They were in shock to what I stated so plainly to them. They cuffed me and that was the end. You see that was when they took me to jail. That's how I got to where I am standing right now. Now you might be asking, where is that? On my own death bed if you would. Well, that would be laying on a table with the death penalty and waiting for them to shoot the chemicals in my veins so I can finally see my sister and have my family back.
#tw death#Tw Murder#Tw Violence#tw dark content#short story#Writing#HerosVsVillains#Original Works#promptwriting
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Saving this for a later story idea.. See where it goes.
In this world, shadows aren’t simply an absence of light, but living entities with minds of their own. They can choose to follow or desert their owners, leading to unforeseen circumstances. Today, for the first time ever, you wake up to find your shadow gone.
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‘fanfic is so cringe!’ like, yeah. it’s inherently a cringe-ass hobby. so what? it’s fun!
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Absolutely the truth. Once you learn the things that make you angry you can processes the parts of them that make you angry and find your ‘Solution’ To that anger and then put it down before it becomes consuming. Not to state that any of that is easy or a short path. But it does help in the end. I wish you well in your process. And at least one internet stranger is happy and proud of you for leaning into this and learning from it all.
I’ve been learning to be angry lately. I know in my heart that nothing is created for nothing. Anger is an emotion. It was created. There must be something of use about it, or it wouldn’t exist, right? but anger had hurt me too many times. How can something that tormented me for so long be good? then I learned, being angry isn’t an excuse to hurt. Anger wasn’t the thing that hurt me, it was the people behind it. anger should be allowed to flow freely. If it stays it grows. It grows to bigs and suffocates us. We become blind to our own actions.
I’ve been learning to be anger lately. I had to learn self worth first, then anger came. Anger at the tormentors. Waking up in cold sweat thinking “ they shouldn’t have done that to me. I shouldn’t be treated like this.” Anger for others, anger in behalf of them. I can be angry, and I should be angry, but I’m not hurtful. I can be angry without being hurtful. I can be angry and live and help.
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All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.
J.R.R. Tolkien (via surqrised)
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This song right here got me real messed up in my own head tonight. Time to dump it into a word document? I think yes...
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I Feel Conflicted with this particular Question, Stylistically I prefer one, but I can Other wise understand the uses of both......
Hey anyone who reads, I have a poll for you!
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I think the first thing....
I am relatively new to this platform, have had plenty of friends that have used it but Generally have no clue what the actual heck I am doing. I have learned that I communicate better though being able to type out and write a story/Elaborate on what I am saying. That being said; I feel like a few words bout my self and what I am going to be using this space for are important.
I am a College Kid, Streamer, and a mess of a human being. Though most of my adventure of self discovery the last few years I have learned that I am Autistic/ADHD. As well as having Complex Trauma related issues due to my past. While I thought I delt with things in an Organized fashion. It is proving untrue.
That leading into one of the things that this is going to be dumped into. A series of Life confusions and complaints. Statements of not understanding and trying to process and type it out. Diary entries if you would. Which will be titled that way and blocked out for those who do not wish to read or see the ramblings of a Usually angry person.
There might also be a Sneaky Undergrad paper that makes it into the writing parts of all of this due to either trying to Figure out EXACTLY WHAT I FUCKED UP, Or in the opposite Direction of that and being Super proud of how something came out.
The Main thing I am going to be using this for is my writing.... Meaning, Most of the writing and such that I post here is going to be my works. Those varying in format from Original Pieces (which I will Indicate if it is in fact a original piece), Writing prompt nightmares(could fall into original work, Or Horrible fanfiction category), And Varyingly Nightmare shitty fanfiction. is this a good choice? Will I get dragged though the mud like a dumbass? The later is probably the true statement. But it would be nothing new. Most of the topics will be of a darker nature. Settings of Fantasy, new and old. Dystopian; War and death stories. Tragedy's and Nightmares of any Normal person.
Between the posts of my writing and such; Its gonna be a horrible amount of shit posting and stupidity.... Tis the only way that I interact with things it seems. I Dark humor and functionally missing most Generalized factors of people just not enjoying my existence. That being said, Enjoy the shit show from this stupid internet person making a spectacle of there self I suppose?
#introductions#firstposts#explanation#herewefuckinggo#Writing#MyStory#NewlyAutistic#idkwhatimdoing#TellMeHowThisWorks?#Tumblrnewb
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Staying quiet doesn’t mean I have nothing to say, it means I don’t think you’re ready to hear my thoughts.
Unknown (via thoughtkick)
And I have found when people are not ready to hear what one thinks or feels, then it is no use in wasting the breath it takes to try to explain it either.
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A truth never Spoken louder. This is how I have Ended up making it this far. My stories are lined with characters and creations of pieces of my self and pieces of my struggles. Are they well written prose with perfect grammer outline every thing Excellently? No, but they are feelings and a story regardless.
Therapy, counselling, prayers. Yes, they all are fine. But have you ever tried writing? Spilling out the last drop of emotion that's waiting for an outlet. Have you even made an attempt to see what an euphoric experience it is to simply scribble down the pages. There's no motive, no agenda, not even the slightest clue what you are trying to put down in words, you simply move your pen, trying to assess in which direction your heart is navigating, trying to focus where your soul is flowing towards. No wonder that since times unknown man has resorted to writing. Such immense healing in it. The writer is no different from the reader. In fact, he's the first one to experience his own words. Unravelling his own unknown secrets. There comes a clarity, a relief. Whoever has experienced physical orgasm, then this is an all together different level, much more than even multiple orgasms all at once, with each letter, with each word, with even each space between two words, there are universes traversed. The exploration of our inner worlds which were otherwise impossible is now slowly unfolded right between our eyes. One could sense it, one could feel, the undressing of our own souls and here we are laying bare and naked before the world - our deepest insecurities, our greatest of fears, our wildest of hopes, our most animalistic of desires, our craziest of fantasies. The sheer pleasure of spilling it all out, like an insane painter splashing all his hundred colours one after the other on to the canvass. There is a pattern, a clear methodology to this madness. Our human civilization has survived and come this far by the sheer token of our writers, our poets - the ones who depicted our very lives into these amazing little lines, staying in our minds forever, renewing our very zeal for life, for romance, for thrill, for adventure, for risk, making us nothing less then eternal. Here's a toast of cheers to every brave soul that took to the pen, and not to the blade. Here's to every courageous writer who laid plain his very spirit before the eyes of this world...
Random Xpressions
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It’s generally accepted that predatory species evolve eyes on the front, while prey species evolve eyes on the side. For this reason humans are among the few intelligent species not trusted by the galactic council.
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Thies is the fucking Truth
When the player does something so weird and out of context that the DM has to sit there slowly blinking for a solid five minutes totally unprepared for why would someone ever do that
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This though….
The neurodivergent urge to do this
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