This was inspired by Garn's Write a Scene with the Song!
Here's how it goes.
1. I post a word (see below this post!)
2. You write a story (doesn't matter how long, but if it's really long, put it under a collapse)
3. Before posting your story, place the next word for the person below you to write a story from
Rules are: No NSFW Content, please censor the f-word (if applicable), add trigger warnings (if applicable) and have fun!
You can post with a pre-existing character (OC or Canon) or just a generic character! (Or no character at all!
)
Let's go! I'll start...
Here's how it goes.
1. I post a word (see below this post!)
2. You write a story (doesn't matter how long, but if it's really long, put it under a collapse)
3. Before posting your story, place the next word for the person below you to write a story from
Rules are: No NSFW Content, please censor the f-word (if applicable), add trigger warnings (if applicable) and have fun!
You can post with a pre-existing character (OC or Canon) or just a generic character! (Or no character at all!
)Let's go! I'll start...
Darkness
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OOC: Eyy bud! Just wanna say that I appreciate the nod to me as your inspiration, really appreciate that! This is a fun lil’ game for sure and I hope it’s less daunting to the rest of the players, so we can get some fun stories outta this hehe. DARKNESS (TW: sensory depravation as a punishment, claustrophobic setting)
”D-dad?” Today was another one of those darkness days, it seemed. It had been exactly 30.73 seconds since the doors had been closed on Zero, and already, the scary cold’y feel was creeping towards him from the corners. ”I- I..” Why hadn’t it listened to him? His hands’d hurt with the tension he’d put into his fingers, and the bare soles of his feet still felt prickly with all the magickal energy surging through him and into the floor. And yet.. nothing had happened! ”I can go again! I swear, dad, I wasn’t distracted, I swear I can do it this time!” Aside from the uncanny lukewarm temperature inside the sensory depravation cube, it was the hollow quietness that Zero disliked most. His voice sounded so weird and dry in here, almost like he was the only one in the universe. ”Dad?” Was he..? A thick chunk of fear began to lump up in his throat. Zero glasped his hands together, pressing them to his chest. Thud-thump, thud-thump. His elbows pressed against the outer walls. At least he was getting big enough for a new cube, in the future. Hopefully that one would be less scary. Thud-thump, thud-thump. His heart was throbbing louder. His skin tickled. He’d made such a stupid, stupid mistake- he could see it in Dad’s eyes! Professor Hartmann’d said something about the metal cubes, which he was supposed to lift off the ground with his powers, would be too heavy for him. Maybe, but that didn’t mean that he had to fail so miserably like that! Because if he hadn’t failed, he wouldn’t have been here, in the cube, on his own. All on his own. Thud-thump, thud-thump. Zero’s throat grew dry. Had he really grown that much, or had someone made the cube smaller? It felt that way. Seated on his backside, with his knees to his chest and his head slightly bowed, he barely could fit inside. ”Just a feeeeew more minutes. Yep, just a few more,” Zero thought to himself, deciding to lean against the left side of the box to let his poor achy neck relax for a second. ”Ow!” His head smacked against the floor. No wall there. Just darkness. Had he imagined the smallness of the box? ”Dad, please..” Slowly, Zero rose to his feet, his full length, and found that the space he was in was large enough to move around in freely. Like a big nice room, just without any light, color, shapes. Even without him- he couldn’t see his hands, barely feel them. ”Please, I want to try again!” This had been good for him, great! Now his brain was kinda bathed and dried off, all clean-like. Lifting those metal cubes would be easy-poosy now! ”Dad, can you let me out now? I can really try again, I won’t fail this time, okay? Please?” He tried to swallow, but his throat refused to move. Zero gasped, a bit of drool trickling past his chin. Okay- okay, breathe. Something warm streamed down from his eye. Ow, rips, too late. ”D-dad, please.. let me out!” One tear had no issue inviting all his friends to come out. Zero bit his tongue, trying not to sob, but it came like a big ol’ thunderstorm, and wouldn’t stop. ”P-please..!” What if he got hurt? What if he couldn’t breathe anymore? Who would listen? How would he ever get out of here if no one could hear him talk? With each shaky jerk of his body, a familiar tingling spread through his skin. There was nothing but void around, but at the edge of his mind Zero could feel it. The walls, somewhere, out there. He could touch it with his magickal aura, even if it were only his fingertips. As his shoulders and chest shocked about, he lifted his trembling arms out to his sides, fingers outstretched and reaching around him, hoping that his telekinetic force would latch onto something. Almost, almost.. he could feel it. If this didn’t work, what else would? ”Let..” He needed a little power behind this. Umm.. anger! Yeah! He’d been stupid for disappointing Dad so much, stupid for thinking so much about the weight of the cubes, focusing on the doctors, being so nervous about something that he was born to do. He could do this. ”..me..” He would be better! He was gonna help Dad! He was gonna show that his powers are great and that he was gonna tame all the Therion and save the whole world! And Dad, Dad would be proud! ”..OUT!!” With a thundering crash, he pulled the walls towards him, and the whole castle of darkness came crashing down. The panels, lightweight but padded and dark as night, crumpled together into a pile, and immediately a piercing white light shot into his eyes, so bright that it punched holes through his lil’ noggin’, it felt like. ”Ow ow ow!” Bright lights and his red eyes weren’t big friends. Zero whimpered and buried his face into his little hands, letting the instant migraine wash over him as the commotion of other people went on around him. Doctors, staff.. others. He wasn’t alone after all. His tears continued to flow, but now more as a reaction to the light and his relief to not be alone, forever, whenever, wherever. The murmur of people quieted down, as did the crackling of collapsed panels. The only sound he could hear were slow, proud footsteps coming towards him, accompanied by the hum of a beginning chuckle. A voice he knew well. ”Hey, there ya go, kiddo. That’s more like it, isn’t it?” grinned Blake, his cool, strong hand wrapping around Zero’s shoulder. As the lights dimmed a little, Zero tried to open his eyes, blinking wildly to see something through the haze. ”Oh, yeah, and that ‘bout wraps it up for now. Shit, you’re gonna be one hell of.. savior, one day.” He meant that, didn’t he? Although his face felt numb with the overflow of magick used, Zero still managed to push out a smile. He had to mean it, for sure! ”We’ll get back to it after a break, yeah. Alrighty then, beat it for now, folks! C’mon, Jack, let’s get you some breakfast, hm?” Nothing he liked more! A’right, that’s all from me for now. Defo gonna participate again later down the line, this is great! The new word is:
Exhausted
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OOC: You're welcome! It really did inspire me. 
I still plan on one day trying your forum game when I'm ready to sit down and listen to music! Really interesting concept.
There he was again, face-planted on his desk. It wasn't uncommon for Idia to do this either. Ortho had seen it quite a few times. Idia would play hours and hours until he lacked proper sleep. And though Ortho was the younger brother, and it was more Idia's job as older brother to protect and care for Ortho; but Ortho was going to care for Idia.
So, he floated over to the closet, opened it up and pulled out a nice, warm blanket that was blue, then floated back to Idia facefirst in his desk, controller in his hand, headphones still on his ears. Ortho gently placed the blanket over him, then floated off, coming back with a small pillow from Idia's bed and gently wedged it in-between the desk and Idia's head.
Then he floated to the light switch, cut it off, leaving only the light of Idia's computer set-up, and Ortho's LEDs to light the room. With this, he scurried to a beanbag, sat down and closed his eyes too. Thinking it was probably best to go to sleep too...
I still plan on one day trying your forum game when I'm ready to sit down and listen to music! Really interesting concept.There he was again, face-planted on his desk. It wasn't uncommon for Idia to do this either. Ortho had seen it quite a few times. Idia would play hours and hours until he lacked proper sleep. And though Ortho was the younger brother, and it was more Idia's job as older brother to protect and care for Ortho; but Ortho was going to care for Idia.
So, he floated over to the closet, opened it up and pulled out a nice, warm blanket that was blue, then floated back to Idia facefirst in his desk, controller in his hand, headphones still on his ears. Ortho gently placed the blanket over him, then floated off, coming back with a small pillow from Idia's bed and gently wedged it in-between the desk and Idia's head.
Then he floated to the light switch, cut it off, leaving only the light of Idia's computer set-up, and Ortho's LEDs to light the room. With this, he scurried to a beanbag, sat down and closed his eyes too. Thinking it was probably best to go to sleep too...
Sunset
OOC : I LOVE THE IDEA! I couldn't wait to join this little game! Good thinking, Vee 
And, of course, you both wrote beautiful stories! Hoping that mine is somehow good enough 
And, of course, you both wrote beautiful stories! Hoping that mine is somehow good enough "SUNSET (TW: Weapons, Fights, Metaphorical mention of blood/death, Grief)"
“Ay, bartender!” She raised her hand to the man behind the counter. “Gimme another one, on the rocks.” The empty glass slid all the way to the other side of the polished bar. The man nodded, before grabbing a new and fresh bottle of ‘Red-Eye’. The sun had already begun to fall, and soon every inch of the saloon would be filled with people. Eleanor wasn’t much of a fan of crowds, which was why she stepped into the place at a rather unusual time. Ever since she had lost her loved one, the freckled widow tended to avoid any kind of social event or gatherings. There was not a day when her mind did not think about her dear Terry… And when it did, a good old glass of whiskey was never too far. Speak of the devil: A new glass had been placed in front of her. “Cheers, pal.” And in one gulp, all of the fiery liquid was gone. She tossed some coins on the counter. “Thanks for the drink.” She said before getting up, tidying up her cloak, and finally walking out of the small saloon.
While she stepped out, a familiar voice emerged from behind. “Ah… What a beautiful sunset! Is it not… Goldie?” That voice, she couldn’t mistake it even in the middle of a riot. Her jaw clenched at the thought of his hideous face. The man behind her was an old friend – if one could put it that way. Yes, a good old friend. She didn’t answer right away; too many things were flying around in her mind. The widow turned around to face the man who had a large smile stuck on his face. She spat towards him, with a defying spark in her eyes. “You don’t get to call me b’that name an’more.” The air was dry around them as if mother nature knew what was about to happen.
“Oh, come now, Goldie…” The man lifted his cloak to reveal the pistol attached to his belt. “Y’know that it wasn’t mah idea. Terry was like a lil’ brother t’me.” Her blood started to boil with anger. How dare he talk about Terrence like that? Her fingers were itching already. Her brown hues met the other man’s cold, blue ones. She lifted her cloak. “Y’a here to kill me? Like you killed him?!” Her voice was full of rage and sorrow. He was all she ever had; he was her whole world. Nobody on this earth could understand her pain. When they killed her dear Terrence, they carved her whole heart out of her chest. Ever since, she felt like a hollow shell. A hollow shell filled with resentment. All she could see in front of her was a traitor, an assassin, a greedy garbage who’d rather kill his friends than share his coins. The man in front of her stopped smiling and took a much more serious expression. “Y’a ain’t leavin’ me no choice, Goldie.” He grabbed his weapon, and lifted it towards her…
BANG!
Within seconds, a single bullet was shot. And unluckily for her adversary, it had already torn apart half of his guts. “Argh..!” His knees touched the ground harshly and loudly. His white shirt started to become red, just like his hands which tried to cover the wound as best as they could. Her leather boots raked the dusty road as she stepped closer. Her head tilted. “As you said, dear old ‘friend’…” Click. “Y’a ain’t leavin’ me no choice.” She pulled the trigger. A group of scared birds flew high into the sky.
Back on her horse, Eleanor Dolores Bates was ready to take off. She just wished that she had taken a whole bottle of whiskey with her. She stared into the sunset and smiled. No one could know why an unlucky woman like her suddenly smiled back at the setting sun. Was she insane? No, dear readers: She was simply nostalgic. This magnificent twilight sun reminded her of the first time she met him. “Hm. Guess it is a beaut’ful sunset, after all.”
“Ay, bartender!” She raised her hand to the man behind the counter. “Gimme another one, on the rocks.” The empty glass slid all the way to the other side of the polished bar. The man nodded, before grabbing a new and fresh bottle of ‘Red-Eye’. The sun had already begun to fall, and soon every inch of the saloon would be filled with people. Eleanor wasn’t much of a fan of crowds, which was why she stepped into the place at a rather unusual time. Ever since she had lost her loved one, the freckled widow tended to avoid any kind of social event or gatherings. There was not a day when her mind did not think about her dear Terry… And when it did, a good old glass of whiskey was never too far. Speak of the devil: A new glass had been placed in front of her. “Cheers, pal.” And in one gulp, all of the fiery liquid was gone. She tossed some coins on the counter. “Thanks for the drink.” She said before getting up, tidying up her cloak, and finally walking out of the small saloon.
While she stepped out, a familiar voice emerged from behind. “Ah… What a beautiful sunset! Is it not… Goldie?” That voice, she couldn’t mistake it even in the middle of a riot. Her jaw clenched at the thought of his hideous face. The man behind her was an old friend – if one could put it that way. Yes, a good old friend. She didn’t answer right away; too many things were flying around in her mind. The widow turned around to face the man who had a large smile stuck on his face. She spat towards him, with a defying spark in her eyes. “You don’t get to call me b’that name an’more.” The air was dry around them as if mother nature knew what was about to happen.
“Oh, come now, Goldie…” The man lifted his cloak to reveal the pistol attached to his belt. “Y’know that it wasn’t mah idea. Terry was like a lil’ brother t’me.” Her blood started to boil with anger. How dare he talk about Terrence like that? Her fingers were itching already. Her brown hues met the other man’s cold, blue ones. She lifted her cloak. “Y’a here to kill me? Like you killed him?!” Her voice was full of rage and sorrow. He was all she ever had; he was her whole world. Nobody on this earth could understand her pain. When they killed her dear Terrence, they carved her whole heart out of her chest. Ever since, she felt like a hollow shell. A hollow shell filled with resentment. All she could see in front of her was a traitor, an assassin, a greedy garbage who’d rather kill his friends than share his coins. The man in front of her stopped smiling and took a much more serious expression. “Y’a ain’t leavin’ me no choice, Goldie.” He grabbed his weapon, and lifted it towards her…
BANG!
Within seconds, a single bullet was shot. And unluckily for her adversary, it had already torn apart half of his guts. “Argh..!” His knees touched the ground harshly and loudly. His white shirt started to become red, just like his hands which tried to cover the wound as best as they could. Her leather boots raked the dusty road as she stepped closer. Her head tilted. “As you said, dear old ‘friend’…” Click. “Y’a ain’t leavin’ me no choice.” She pulled the trigger. A group of scared birds flew high into the sky.
Back on her horse, Eleanor Dolores Bates was ready to take off. She just wished that she had taken a whole bottle of whiskey with her. She stared into the sunset and smiled. No one could know why an unlucky woman like her suddenly smiled back at the setting sun. Was she insane? No, dear readers: She was simply nostalgic. This magnificent twilight sun reminded her of the first time she met him. “Hm. Guess it is a beaut’ful sunset, after all.”
MYTHICAL
Mortician had always told Anastasius stories about mythical creatures in fairytales, and Anastasius loved it. Yet he still didn't believe in them, despite the miracle of being revived from his death. He'd have to see it with his own eyes before he'd believe a horse with wings or a woman with a fish tail. That said, he'd never belittle someone who did believe in these things, as that would be rude.
Just the same though, despite his disbelief in the mythical..
He would sometimes lie awake in his coffin-shaped bed, imagining these creatures and the adventures they'd go on.
It was all so magical, and it made him wish that his disbelief would be disproved by a mythical creature wandering nearby the funeral home, it would be something Anastasius wouldn't forget, that was certain....
Just the same though, despite his disbelief in the mythical..
He would sometimes lie awake in his coffin-shaped bed, imagining these creatures and the adventures they'd go on.
It was all so magical, and it made him wish that his disbelief would be disproved by a mythical creature wandering nearby the funeral home, it would be something Anastasius wouldn't forget, that was certain....
Dance
Mesmerizing grace, thought Marcus as he witnessed it.
For the legionary, and for that matter any soldier or warrior the business of war and battle never came across as something possessed of finesse or beauty such could not be said as he now saw it, The Caltatio Mortis as Istiana had termed it. Marcus's mind hearkened to his discourse with the elven high priestess whom gave the perspectives of their faith, he issued a hushed laugh and a grin at the thought, remembering Istiana jesting at him for having embraced the knife-ear paganism so wholly, nevertheless, the elves were imperials now and under their banner all were equal and all were represented. The high priestess stated, that the cardinal symbol of the Asuryani faith was the phoenix, an embodiment of fire in itself an embodiment of energy, in that the ebb and flow of the winds of magic were cyclical, all events were pre-determined, the order existed in the whole and that contrary to the balance and order that human faith valued, the elves favored creation and beauty, as ideals not as goals however and their broader spectrum of sense and unique ways of thinking allowed them to embrace these things at a much higher order than what was evident to humans, it was prone to fallacy as much as human ideology was but in and of itself it was a noble endeavor.
So this was the infamous, Dance of Death that the phoenix legion had incorporated into itself, and Istiana admitted having a hard time keeping up with the elven swordsisters, though the elves called them Blade-Wives and the ritual did indeed involve each of these elvish women marrying themselves unto their weapon, through a morose virtue of love, the state of the blade and how nourished it was (with blood) reflected the skill and dedication of each blade-wife and indeed the whirlwind they weaved at saber's edge was to a keener eye, one capable of grasping the rapid motions, like an intense and passionate dance with a lover, it seemed that the blade did the work of it's own accord, the trajectory of those swords was only something that could be accomplished at the behest of an elven spine and wrist, anything but delicate in this circumstance, it all happened so fast that within three blinks of the eye, the bladewives were past the course, wiping their blades clean, turning them, planting a kiss upon the hilt and then placing them in the scabbard..
A slow clap followed on part of Marcus,
" Magnificent "
Honor
For the legionary, and for that matter any soldier or warrior the business of war and battle never came across as something possessed of finesse or beauty such could not be said as he now saw it, The Caltatio Mortis as Istiana had termed it. Marcus's mind hearkened to his discourse with the elven high priestess whom gave the perspectives of their faith, he issued a hushed laugh and a grin at the thought, remembering Istiana jesting at him for having embraced the knife-ear paganism so wholly, nevertheless, the elves were imperials now and under their banner all were equal and all were represented. The high priestess stated, that the cardinal symbol of the Asuryani faith was the phoenix, an embodiment of fire in itself an embodiment of energy, in that the ebb and flow of the winds of magic were cyclical, all events were pre-determined, the order existed in the whole and that contrary to the balance and order that human faith valued, the elves favored creation and beauty, as ideals not as goals however and their broader spectrum of sense and unique ways of thinking allowed them to embrace these things at a much higher order than what was evident to humans, it was prone to fallacy as much as human ideology was but in and of itself it was a noble endeavor.
So this was the infamous, Dance of Death that the phoenix legion had incorporated into itself, and Istiana admitted having a hard time keeping up with the elven swordsisters, though the elves called them Blade-Wives and the ritual did indeed involve each of these elvish women marrying themselves unto their weapon, through a morose virtue of love, the state of the blade and how nourished it was (with blood) reflected the skill and dedication of each blade-wife and indeed the whirlwind they weaved at saber's edge was to a keener eye, one capable of grasping the rapid motions, like an intense and passionate dance with a lover, it seemed that the blade did the work of it's own accord, the trajectory of those swords was only something that could be accomplished at the behest of an elven spine and wrist, anything but delicate in this circumstance, it all happened so fast that within three blinks of the eye, the bladewives were past the course, wiping their blades clean, turning them, planting a kiss upon the hilt and then placing them in the scabbard..
A slow clap followed on part of Marcus,
" Magnificent "
Honor
The knight hesitantly stepped through the glowing portal that had appeared when he broke the amulet. He had waited a long time for this, but he didn't know what he would find on the other side.
He felt moved through a tunnel at a speed that seemed impossible--like the speed of lightening or the speed of a falling star--and, somehow, he felt disoriented. As if he was going up and down at the same time. He couldn't feel which way was up. Then suddenly he felt ground underneath his feet, and began to walk forward.
All at once, he was walking under a bright blue sky with strange sounds everywhere, and strange machines that he couldn't make sense of moving here and there. One of them made a loud, honking noise and he moved out of its path.
He took his helmet off and heard the voice of the magician ringing in his ears.
"I will send you to a place where honor has been forgotten. But don't despair. If you live long enough, you'll find that honor is still there--but hidden."
But where should he start looking to find his place?
JOY
He felt moved through a tunnel at a speed that seemed impossible--like the speed of lightening or the speed of a falling star--and, somehow, he felt disoriented. As if he was going up and down at the same time. He couldn't feel which way was up. Then suddenly he felt ground underneath his feet, and began to walk forward.
All at once, he was walking under a bright blue sky with strange sounds everywhere, and strange machines that he couldn't make sense of moving here and there. One of them made a loud, honking noise and he moved out of its path.
He took his helmet off and heard the voice of the magician ringing in his ears.
"I will send you to a place where honor has been forgotten. But don't despair. If you live long enough, you'll find that honor is still there--but hidden."
But where should he start looking to find his place?
JOY
There was something so sweet about the morning, something that felt him with joy. It was hard to pinpoint what exactly made him enjoy the morning so much. Maybe it was the gentle wind? The bright sun? The animals waking up? The bugs flying around?
Or maybe it was the joy of being able to go outside and enjoy the garden he worked on for so long.
Yes.. Yes that was it.
He refused to say it was the hope of seeing his neighbor's face or hearing her voice when she said hello.
Or maybe it was the joy of being able to go outside and enjoy the garden he worked on for so long.
Yes.. Yes that was it.
He refused to say it was the hope of seeing his neighbor's face or hearing her voice when she said hello.
DEMON
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