I finally have a handful of drabbles, so I might as well post them all in one place. You may...
Verd’s Ramblings [One Shots, Mostly Worm/X]
- Thread starter Verdthandi
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Intro & Introspection (Batman/Worm)
- Location
- SoCal, USA
I finally have a handful of drabbles, so I might as well post them all in one place. You may note a certain fascination with Trigger Events, Second Breaths, and the like, and some loose details on how that might play with insert-world-here's rule set.
No definite schedule, some ideas might be expanded upon, all that good stuff.
First up, Introspection, previously posted on SB in Worm thread 41 or so. Based on the post by /u/Lapisdust here, about MCU/DCU triggers and powers.
=====
I dodge the Jackknife in the Box. Harleen is crumpled against the wall, scarcely moving, but her chest still rises and falls. Good.
I throw a punch at the Joker's shoulder, trying to numb the joint to prevent a face full of Smilex in the future. A ghostly image follows that punch, aimed slightly higher and to the left, passing right next to the Joker's collar. The studs I use to lock up melee weapons pass through his neck; a ghostly blood spurt follows.
---------
"I hope you enjoyed the show, Mr. Wayne."
Everyone was polite to my family, but there was a feeling of growing tension in the city. I could tell things were rough for a lot of people, and I knew I was sheltered from the worst of it.
Things were rough at home, too. Father made what time he could for us, but his position required long hours, and sometimes he would be away for days or weeks at a time. All to provide for our lifestyle, of course, and to ensure he could employ the masses. Mother spent most evenings socializing, ensuring that we remained friendly with the other families in the upper crust. There were endless fundraisers for the GCPD, and they were building a new prison where the inmates might be able to get the real help they needed - from what I'd eavesdropped on through closed doors, anyway. I'd seen a few articles where they said that about the last one, too.
I spent most of my time at home with Alfred. He kept the household running, but was always willing to spend some time helping me with schoolwork, snacks, finding newspaper clippings, or anything else that might come up. He was always proper - I tried for a couple years to convince him to call me something other than "the young master" - but the sparkle in his eye, and the creative disobedience of my parents' wishes, let me know that he cared.
When all three of us Waynes were available at the same time, though, we would always do something as a family. Sometimes we went to a restaurant, sometimes a garden, and earlier this evening, the theater.
As we walked towards the car park, I heard rapidly approaching footsteps behind us. I turned to see my father shoved into my mother and myself, and we stumbled into an alley.
*kchnk-kchnk*
I look up to see a man pointing a gun at me.
DESTINATION.
"Gimme ya money or I shoot the brat. Wallet, purse, keys, and that's a lovely necklace you got on. That too."
I scramble back. To my right, Mother sobs, curled slightly on the ground, hands shaking as she tries to undo the clasp of her necklace.
AGREEMENT.
Father, to my left, pushes himself to his feet while the thug yanks on the necklace. Mother cries out. The necklace falls to pieces; they tinkle on the damp cement. Father takes a step. His fist pulls back.
A flash of yellow-white light. A crack. A patch of red on my father's shirt. His jaw drops slightly, almost disbelieving; he stumbles. His knees hit the ground.
TRAJECTORY.
Another flash. Another crack. A spreading dark stain on my mother's dress.
AGREEMENT.
Another flash. A crack. A punch to the chest. A planet, crumbling to dust, its bright yellow-green star shrinking and fading to a dim barely-red orb not much larger than the planet itself. Two whale-things in a double helix, silver and gold, swimming through the aether in a way I struggle to describe. All that comes to mind is Insinuation.
A spiral of stars, each one a distinct point of light, yet also a curve spiraled in a direction I can't comprehend. An approach to a green and blue planet with wisps of white. First/Third/Second of Eight/Nine/Ten/Six.
The ends of the {spirals} waver and crumble to nothing.
Third of Nine. The planet in the middle splits, yet each stays the same. The helix remains, and the spiral twists into its path.
A black Entity crashes through the silver one. The helix distorts. The silver entity, distracted, cannot Insinuate onto the decided Path. It crashes into a distant Third from where the golden entity is...
I wake up to see a white ceiling. Alfred sits at my bedside. There is no humor, no sparkle, no joy in his gaze.
---------
I ignore the image. I always see the image after I move my hands. It strikes a weak point in armor. It presses the button to fire the grappling hook through the mob leader. It throws away the epipen I'm using to save one of Poison Ivy's victims. It shows, without fail, the easiest way my last movement could have killed any human I'm focused on.
And I refuse. I will not give in, no matter the costs.
---------
The Joker is bound, and the Asylum will hold him for a time. I'll be watching.
No definite schedule, some ideas might be expanded upon, all that good stuff.
First up, Introspection, previously posted on SB in Worm thread 41 or so. Based on the post by /u/Lapisdust here, about MCU/DCU triggers and powers.
=====
I dodge the Jackknife in the Box. Harleen is crumpled against the wall, scarcely moving, but her chest still rises and falls. Good.
I throw a punch at the Joker's shoulder, trying to numb the joint to prevent a face full of Smilex in the future. A ghostly image follows that punch, aimed slightly higher and to the left, passing right next to the Joker's collar. The studs I use to lock up melee weapons pass through his neck; a ghostly blood spurt follows.
---------
"I hope you enjoyed the show, Mr. Wayne."
Everyone was polite to my family, but there was a feeling of growing tension in the city. I could tell things were rough for a lot of people, and I knew I was sheltered from the worst of it.
Things were rough at home, too. Father made what time he could for us, but his position required long hours, and sometimes he would be away for days or weeks at a time. All to provide for our lifestyle, of course, and to ensure he could employ the masses. Mother spent most evenings socializing, ensuring that we remained friendly with the other families in the upper crust. There were endless fundraisers for the GCPD, and they were building a new prison where the inmates might be able to get the real help they needed - from what I'd eavesdropped on through closed doors, anyway. I'd seen a few articles where they said that about the last one, too.
I spent most of my time at home with Alfred. He kept the household running, but was always willing to spend some time helping me with schoolwork, snacks, finding newspaper clippings, or anything else that might come up. He was always proper - I tried for a couple years to convince him to call me something other than "the young master" - but the sparkle in his eye, and the creative disobedience of my parents' wishes, let me know that he cared.
When all three of us Waynes were available at the same time, though, we would always do something as a family. Sometimes we went to a restaurant, sometimes a garden, and earlier this evening, the theater.
As we walked towards the car park, I heard rapidly approaching footsteps behind us. I turned to see my father shoved into my mother and myself, and we stumbled into an alley.
*kchnk-kchnk*
I look up to see a man pointing a gun at me.
DESTINATION.
"Gimme ya money or I shoot the brat. Wallet, purse, keys, and that's a lovely necklace you got on. That too."
I scramble back. To my right, Mother sobs, curled slightly on the ground, hands shaking as she tries to undo the clasp of her necklace.
AGREEMENT.
Father, to my left, pushes himself to his feet while the thug yanks on the necklace. Mother cries out. The necklace falls to pieces; they tinkle on the damp cement. Father takes a step. His fist pulls back.
A flash of yellow-white light. A crack. A patch of red on my father's shirt. His jaw drops slightly, almost disbelieving; he stumbles. His knees hit the ground.
TRAJECTORY.
Another flash. Another crack. A spreading dark stain on my mother's dress.
AGREEMENT.
Another flash. A crack. A punch to the chest. A planet, crumbling to dust, its bright yellow-green star shrinking and fading to a dim barely-red orb not much larger than the planet itself. Two whale-things in a double helix, silver and gold, swimming through the aether in a way I struggle to describe. All that comes to mind is Insinuation.
A spiral of stars, each one a distinct point of light, yet also a curve spiraled in a direction I can't comprehend. An approach to a green and blue planet with wisps of white. First/Third/Second of Eight/Nine/Ten/Six.
The ends of the {spirals} waver and crumble to nothing.
Third of Nine. The planet in the middle splits, yet each stays the same. The helix remains, and the spiral twists into its path.
A black Entity crashes through the silver one. The helix distorts. The silver entity, distracted, cannot Insinuate onto the decided Path. It crashes into a distant Third from where the golden entity is...
I wake up to see a white ceiling. Alfred sits at my bedside. There is no humor, no sparkle, no joy in his gaze.
---------
I ignore the image. I always see the image after I move my hands. It strikes a weak point in armor. It presses the button to fire the grappling hook through the mob leader. It throws away the epipen I'm using to save one of Poison Ivy's victims. It shows, without fail, the easiest way my last movement could have killed any human I'm focused on.
And I refuse. I will not give in, no matter the costs.
---------
The Joker is bound, and the Asylum will hold him for a time. I'll be watching.
Last edited:
Heart of Glass (F/SN, Worm)
- Location
- SoCal, USA
Another one posted over on SB a few months ago. I mostly wanted to play with fonts and see if it could flow; I decided that for the most part it's a distraction.
=========
DESTINATION.
"I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead."
AGREEMENT.
"I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead."
TRAJECTORY.
"You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O keeper of the balance!"
AGREEMENT.
---------
The white sword clashes against the spear haft, straining, shattering, dust fading under the harsh lights. The man in black and red, tall, tanned, spins with the force of the blow, the black falchion cutting towards the unguarded neck of the blue-clad warrior; a white twin reappears.
clackclackclackclackclack
A rock skids on the pavement. The duel halts, red and amber eyes snapping to the redheaded teen.
---------
Shirou sprints through the halls of Homurahara Academy, the ancient spear-wielder dogging his heels. Jumping the last steps in the stairwell, he skids at the landing, a poster rolled in his hands. A pale green line sputters past his sleeve, winding up the paper.
The ancient b̗̻̼̙͋͐̐͑ȃ̬͎̦̪͂͐̐r͚̞͍̝̋̀̏̈b̢͙̱̙̈́͗̔̅e̜̘̤̤͂̕͘̚d͍̭͈̓͆̈̅ͅ spearhead pierces fabric, skin, muscle. The beating in his ears stutters, catches, halts.
A gasp. A jewel rests against his chest.
---------
The t̨̪̭̼͛͋̇̓ḩ̙̪͊̉͐͘ͅi̮̪̞̗̾̓̋̕r̢̮̱̜͑̇̓̌s̺̱̰͈̾̀̎͝t͔̼̳͎̉̀̐̉y̜͖͍͂̉̓͝ͅ ͚̹͖̳́̒̌͛b̤̫̬͋̏̀͑͜ǎ̢̳̰̬̌̈́̀r̢̤͎̱̃̃͛̚b̘͕̣̙͌͐̈̕ȩ̛̥̗͗͗͘͜d̡̥̲̻̓͌̄̕ head of the ancient spear pauses in its path.
"I gotta hand it to you, kid, you don't give up."
Shirou throws himself backwards into his workshop. Boxes tumble. A faint glow spreads along a circle carved in the floor. He braces against the ground and springs to his feet.
Runes flicker like moonlight on ripples in a lake.
The Ĥ̶̜̰̭̗̦̇́̑̓̑̉̕͞ǫ̺̘͉̺͊̒̒̄͒̈̀͘͞͝ụ̡̟͉̘͔̝̌̌̏̄͞ǹ̴̩͈̫̥̻͙̓̐̆̒͞d̵̡̡͔̳̗̼̗͙̹͉̆̈́̉͂̌̈͝?̮̘̖̜̜̭̅̄̇̄̎͌͘̕͢ pauses and readies the G̢̡̙̩͌́̈́̄u̖͙͍͑̔̆̕ͅt̙͉̲̿̍̿̾ͅ-̞͚̺͔̐͌̃̍Ṟ͇̩͇̿̎̿̋ḭ̡̠̞̀͗̚͝p̝̟͖̞̈̆̽͠p͖͈̳̤͐͑̍̅i̛͔̼͎̰̊͘̕ņ̢͚̦͒̐̇̅ġ̥͕̝̋̋̓͜ ̡͎͉͙̈́́͊̊S̩̟̜̊̿͘͜͝p̻͖̣̝̋̒͐̌e͙̮̝͔̋̎̇͝ā̖̠͉̺̐̾͐r͎̟̙̅͊̚̚ͅ.
"Gae Bolg!"
The tip penetrates Shirou's shirt. A golden line appears behind him. The tip penetrates Shirou's skin. The line widens into a circle, an image of a room, white walls, white ceiling, cold lights, sterile. The tip splits Shirou's fourth left rib from his sternum. A hand reaches through the image and grasps his shoulder.
The hand pulls. The spear does not penetrate the heart.
Ģ̵̧̛̮̙͖̖͈̜̰̈̐̀̎͋̃̔̑̆a̷̦̻̻͖̻̣͓̞̋̾̿̄͠ͅé̴̛̬̗̝͓̯͌͑̂̅̕͝ B͉̞̪̖̖͎͍͙͈͛̌̈̓́̃́̔̍o͍̲̳̥͇͍̘̤̘̖̓̋͌̅̔̑̈́ļ̙̦̟̙̃́̒̐̚̚͜͡͠g̭̗̜̱̩͍̩͔͚͎͆͑̂̆͘̚ penetrates Shirou's heart. It split Shirou's fourth left rib from his sternum. It penetrated his skin. It penetrated his shirt. It was thrust an instant sooner.
The spear does not penetrate the heart. The hand pulls in time. The portal closes as Shirou passes through. The hand taps against Shirou's temple.
"I wanted to be a hero..."
=========
DESTINATION.
"I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead."
AGREEMENT.
"I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead."
TRAJECTORY.
"You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O keeper of the balance!"
AGREEMENT.
---------
The white sword clashes against the spear haft, straining, shattering, dust fading under the harsh lights. The man in black and red, tall, tanned, spins with the force of the blow, the black falchion cutting towards the unguarded neck of the blue-clad warrior; a white twin reappears.
clackclackclackclackclack
A rock skids on the pavement. The duel halts, red and amber eyes snapping to the redheaded teen.
---------
Shirou sprints through the halls of Homurahara Academy, the ancient spear-wielder dogging his heels. Jumping the last steps in the stairwell, he skids at the landing, a poster rolled in his hands. A pale green line sputters past his sleeve, winding up the paper.
The ancient b̗̻̼̙͋͐̐͑ȃ̬͎̦̪͂͐̐r͚̞͍̝̋̀̏̈b̢͙̱̙̈́͗̔̅e̜̘̤̤͂̕͘̚d͍̭͈̓͆̈̅ͅ spearhead pierces fabric, skin, muscle. The beating in his ears stutters, catches, halts.
A gasp. A jewel rests against his chest.
---------
The t̨̪̭̼͛͋̇̓ḩ̙̪͊̉͐͘ͅi̮̪̞̗̾̓̋̕r̢̮̱̜͑̇̓̌s̺̱̰͈̾̀̎͝t͔̼̳͎̉̀̐̉y̜͖͍͂̉̓͝ͅ ͚̹͖̳́̒̌͛b̤̫̬͋̏̀͑͜ǎ̢̳̰̬̌̈́̀r̢̤͎̱̃̃͛̚b̘͕̣̙͌͐̈̕ȩ̛̥̗͗͗͘͜d̡̥̲̻̓͌̄̕ head of the ancient spear pauses in its path.
"I gotta hand it to you, kid, you don't give up."
Shirou throws himself backwards into his workshop. Boxes tumble. A faint glow spreads along a circle carved in the floor. He braces against the ground and springs to his feet.
Runes flicker like moonlight on ripples in a lake.
The Ĥ̶̜̰̭̗̦̇́̑̓̑̉̕͞ǫ̺̘͉̺͊̒̒̄͒̈̀͘͞͝ụ̡̟͉̘͔̝̌̌̏̄͞ǹ̴̩͈̫̥̻͙̓̐̆̒͞d̵̡̡͔̳̗̼̗͙̹͉̆̈́̉͂̌̈͝?̮̘̖̜̜̭̅̄̇̄̎͌͘̕͢ pauses and readies the G̢̡̙̩͌́̈́̄u̖͙͍͑̔̆̕ͅt̙͉̲̿̍̿̾ͅ-̞͚̺͔̐͌̃̍Ṟ͇̩͇̿̎̿̋ḭ̡̠̞̀͗̚͝p̝̟͖̞̈̆̽͠p͖͈̳̤͐͑̍̅i̛͔̼͎̰̊͘̕ņ̢͚̦͒̐̇̅ġ̥͕̝̋̋̓͜ ̡͎͉͙̈́́͊̊S̩̟̜̊̿͘͜͝p̻͖̣̝̋̒͐̌e͙̮̝͔̋̎̇͝ā̖̠͉̺̐̾͐r͎̟̙̅͊̚̚ͅ.
"Gae Bolg!"
The tip penetrates Shirou's shirt. A golden line appears behind him. The tip penetrates Shirou's skin. The line widens into a circle, an image of a room, white walls, white ceiling, cold lights, sterile. The tip splits Shirou's fourth left rib from his sternum. A hand reaches through the image and grasps his shoulder.
The hand pulls. The spear does not penetrate the heart.
Ģ̵̧̛̮̙͖̖͈̜̰̈̐̀̎͋̃̔̑̆a̷̦̻̻͖̻̣͓̞̋̾̿̄͠ͅé̴̛̬̗̝͓̯͌͑̂̅̕͝ B͉̞̪̖̖͎͍͙͈͛̌̈̓́̃́̔̍o͍̲̳̥͇͍̘̤̘̖̓̋͌̅̔̑̈́ļ̙̦̟̙̃́̒̐̚̚͜͡͠g̭̗̜̱̩͍̩͔͚͎͆͑̂̆͘̚ penetrates Shirou's heart. It split Shirou's fourth left rib from his sternum. It penetrated his skin. It penetrated his shirt. It was thrust an instant sooner.
The spear does not penetrate the heart. The hand pulls in time. The portal closes as Shirou passes through. The hand taps against Shirou's temple.
"I wanted to be a hero..."
Last edited:
Burst (Worm)
- Location
- SoCal, USA
I wrote this one shortly before the broken trigger scene was published. The inspiration comes from two posts I can't find right now: "what if people in Ward saw Khepri in their trigger visions" and "what if triggers in Ward don't have inherent Manton restrictions."
=====
A car plows into one of the columns lining the street of The City. A man wails for his lost son, the monument to his existence, his sacrifice, shattered before him.
[ DESTINATION. ]
A tall blonde walks up to him, offering comfort.
[ ... ]
"It's okay, they'll fix it. It's okay."
[ TRAJECTORY. ]
[ ... ]
The man collapses. The blonde follows.
A pair of entities, gold and silver spiraling endlessly through a void.
Ribbons of white light spiral through the man, the monument, the street. Splashes of carmine essence and clouds of concrete dust follow.
[ TRAJECTORY. ]
[ ... ]
The crowd, which had formed so quickly, begins to back away in horror. Another collapses, a woman this time.
A third entity, black, nigh invisible, insinuates through the silver. The silver falls off course, the double helix widening, and crashes into a world so like our own.
The crowd erupts in a frenzy as the unconscious woman begins to rise into the air in their midst. Fists fly, fingernails rip, teeth tear. A man pulls out a knife and slashes wildly. One slash through the woman's collar, a spurt of blood, and the madness dies down as fast as it began. A hand lands on one of the pieces of the crumbled monument.
[ TRAJECTORY. ]
[ ... ]
Shouts. Screams. Shock on the crowds' faces. The young woman in the car slumps over the steering wheel.
A monster, a crag-strewn mountain, rises from the desert, steel scaffolding shuddering, glowing, collapsing next to it. A single burning eye turns towards the refinery.
The car, still over the base of the pillar, detonates around the woman. A window, shattered, blasts towards the blonde, still lying on the pavement. The central shards stop and crumble to dust the barest millimeter from her body. A child, rocking in her shadow, covers his ears and cries. His mother, leaning over him, is shredded.
The steering shaft bursts through the young woman's chest.
[ TRAJECTORY. ]
[ ... ]
The child stops his crying.
A woman in an insectoid mask and armor that might once have been white stumbles as she steps through a golden portal, supporting and supported by two children holding her shoulders and hand. A triple wall of glowing hexagons extends like wings from behind her. Each shows a leaf, a grain of sand, a mountain top, a license plate; a mask, a badge, a glowing sword, a hover board; a floating woman in green with three shades around her.
A beam of light passes through a garden of faces sculpted in the street. It strikes a golden man, unwilling, or perhaps unable, to move. Geometries that hurt to see unfold where he flew just moments earlier, and are gone in a flash.
The child and the blonde begin to stir and open their eyes. The crowd surrounds them, faces pale, with only splashes of blood within sixteen feet.
=====
A car plows into one of the columns lining the street of The City. A man wails for his lost son, the monument to his existence, his sacrifice, shattered before him.
[ DESTINATION. ]
A tall blonde walks up to him, offering comfort.
[ ... ]
"It's okay, they'll fix it. It's okay."
[ TRAJECTORY. ]
[ ... ]
The man collapses. The blonde follows.
A pair of entities, gold and silver spiraling endlessly through a void.
Ribbons of white light spiral through the man, the monument, the street. Splashes of carmine essence and clouds of concrete dust follow.
[ TRAJECTORY. ]
[ ... ]
The crowd, which had formed so quickly, begins to back away in horror. Another collapses, a woman this time.
A third entity, black, nigh invisible, insinuates through the silver. The silver falls off course, the double helix widening, and crashes into a world so like our own.
The crowd erupts in a frenzy as the unconscious woman begins to rise into the air in their midst. Fists fly, fingernails rip, teeth tear. A man pulls out a knife and slashes wildly. One slash through the woman's collar, a spurt of blood, and the madness dies down as fast as it began. A hand lands on one of the pieces of the crumbled monument.
[ TRAJECTORY. ]
[ ... ]
Shouts. Screams. Shock on the crowds' faces. The young woman in the car slumps over the steering wheel.
A monster, a crag-strewn mountain, rises from the desert, steel scaffolding shuddering, glowing, collapsing next to it. A single burning eye turns towards the refinery.
The car, still over the base of the pillar, detonates around the woman. A window, shattered, blasts towards the blonde, still lying on the pavement. The central shards stop and crumble to dust the barest millimeter from her body. A child, rocking in her shadow, covers his ears and cries. His mother, leaning over him, is shredded.
The steering shaft bursts through the young woman's chest.
[ TRAJECTORY. ]
[ ... ]
The child stops his crying.
A woman in an insectoid mask and armor that might once have been white stumbles as she steps through a golden portal, supporting and supported by two children holding her shoulders and hand. A triple wall of glowing hexagons extends like wings from behind her. Each shows a leaf, a grain of sand, a mountain top, a license plate; a mask, a badge, a glowing sword, a hover board; a floating woman in green with three shades around her.
A beam of light passes through a garden of faces sculpted in the street. It strikes a golden man, unwilling, or perhaps unable, to move. Geometries that hurt to see unfold where he flew just moments earlier, and are gone in a flash.
The child and the blonde begin to stir and open their eyes. The crowd surrounds them, faces pale, with only splashes of blood within sixteen feet.
It's a shard that disrupts cohesion.
1) I'll ping off GG and use force fields! Get this stuff away from my nice little nook of brain!
2) Orrrrr maybe I'll act more metaphorically with GG's aura?
3) Fuck GG's power. Make this shit explode.
4) Correction: make the shit fall apart around me. Oooooh, sixteen feet seems like a nice distance...
1) I'll ping off GG and use force fields! Get this stuff away from my nice little nook of brain!
2) Orrrrr maybe I'll act more metaphorically with GG's aura?
3) Fuck GG's power. Make this shit explode.
4) Correction: make the shit fall apart around me. Oooooh, sixteen feet seems like a nice distance...
Last edited:
Burn (RWBY/Worm)
- Location
- SoCal, USA
This is another one (initially published on SB) that I had floating around for a while.
=========
A young girl, scarce a toddler, with short maroon hair, sleeps in a red wagon, wrapped in a blanket. A slightly older girl, blonde, pigtailed, pulls it down the path in the woods. The cabin should be just ahead.
A stick snaps. Leaves rustle. Something brushes against a tree.
The older girl picks up the pace. She looks around.
Another snap.
The elder breaks out into a run. She passes just around the corner to see the cabin. The windows are covered with boards, some only attached at one end, and the door is ajar.
"Mom?"
She drops the wagon's handle and continues forward, hesitantly. She lifts a hand and pushes the door open further.
A black shape rises from the floor. It's eyes open. Red (like mom), wolflike (not like mom). She slams the door shut and turns back to the wagon.
Shadows emerge from the forest, stretching their long limbs. One sniffs the air, turning towards the wagon.
The door behind her shatters. The beowolf's claws strike into her back, forcing her to the ground. Blood wells, the pack howls.
She struggles against the grip as the pack circles the wagon. One reaches, as if to grab the bundle within.
"No!"
Violet eyes roll back. The struggles cease. A gasp, then nothing, come from the wagon.
Red eyes open. Golden hair shines. A burst of flame ignites the clearing, and the shadows crumble into dust.
When the corvid hunter arrives, he finds a young girl holding a cold doll-like figure in a field of ash, with tear tracks that have long since run dry.
--------
Yang sees the shadows through the broken windows of the cafeteria. Fragments of wall and column litter the hallway. A horned man with a sword kicks Blake in the knee.
Blake backs up, lame leg barely supporting her weight, and hits a wall. Nowhere to run.
"Get away from her!"
The horned man draws his sword and slashes it through Blake's guard, the tip tracing a line across her stomach, her aura still shining. He sheaths the sword as she reaches a hand down.
"Adam... I..."
Blood wells. Yang howls.
She starts a step forward. Purple eyes roll back. She begins to fall towards the ground.
Red eyes open. Golden hair shines. A burst of flame erupts from her bracers, rocketing her forward.
Blake is crumpled on the floor, a carmine puddle spread beneath her.
Adam starts, catching his step, then turns to face Yang, hands on the hilt and sheath of his sword.
Yang leads with her left hand, pulling her right fist back, crimson cloak flowing in the wind of her passage. As she approaches, she punches forward with all her might.
Adam draws his sword. Yang's fist passes his head. The rest of her arm follows. Her body glows gold, bursts into flame, detonates. Adam takes a quick step back, thrown off balance, Yang nowhere to be seen.
Her right hand bursts out his chest, flame-wreathed fist clutching his heart within.
=========
A young girl, scarce a toddler, with short maroon hair, sleeps in a red wagon, wrapped in a blanket. A slightly older girl, blonde, pigtailed, pulls it down the path in the woods. The cabin should be just ahead.
A stick snaps. Leaves rustle. Something brushes against a tree.
The older girl picks up the pace. She looks around.
Another snap.
The elder breaks out into a run. She passes just around the corner to see the cabin. The windows are covered with boards, some only attached at one end, and the door is ajar.
"Mom?"
She drops the wagon's handle and continues forward, hesitantly. She lifts a hand and pushes the door open further.
A black shape rises from the floor. It's eyes open. Red (like mom), wolflike (not like mom). She slams the door shut and turns back to the wagon.
Shadows emerge from the forest, stretching their long limbs. One sniffs the air, turning towards the wagon.
The door behind her shatters. The beowolf's claws strike into her back, forcing her to the ground. Blood wells, the pack howls.
She struggles against the grip as the pack circles the wagon. One reaches, as if to grab the bundle within.
"No!"
Violet eyes roll back. The struggles cease. A gasp, then nothing, come from the wagon.
Red eyes open. Golden hair shines. A burst of flame ignites the clearing, and the shadows crumble into dust.
When the corvid hunter arrives, he finds a young girl holding a cold doll-like figure in a field of ash, with tear tracks that have long since run dry.
--------
Yang sees the shadows through the broken windows of the cafeteria. Fragments of wall and column litter the hallway. A horned man with a sword kicks Blake in the knee.
Blake backs up, lame leg barely supporting her weight, and hits a wall. Nowhere to run.
"Get away from her!"
The horned man draws his sword and slashes it through Blake's guard, the tip tracing a line across her stomach, her aura still shining. He sheaths the sword as she reaches a hand down.
"Adam... I..."
Blood wells. Yang howls.
She starts a step forward. Purple eyes roll back. She begins to fall towards the ground.
Red eyes open. Golden hair shines. A burst of flame erupts from her bracers, rocketing her forward.
Blake is crumpled on the floor, a carmine puddle spread beneath her.
Adam starts, catching his step, then turns to face Yang, hands on the hilt and sheath of his sword.
Yang leads with her left hand, pulling her right fist back, crimson cloak flowing in the wind of her passage. As she approaches, she punches forward with all her might.
Adam draws his sword. Yang's fist passes his head. The rest of her arm follows. Her body glows gold, bursts into flame, detonates. Adam takes a quick step back, thrown off balance, Yang nowhere to be seen.
Her right hand bursts out his chest, flame-wreathed fist clutching his heart within.
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Checking Limits (Mauling Snarks (Worm AU))
- Location
- SoCal, USA
Green Sun, Gold Morning (Worm/Exalted)
- Location
- SoCal, USA
This one is completely new - as in, I finished writing it a couple hours ago. You shouldn't need to have much familiarity with Exalted to get a general sense of the character.
——————
=====
Once, there was a Maiden...
...who struck an iron wall until it shattered her hand.
She did not stop, though cracks spread through her bones.
She did not stop, though blood sprayed her eyes.
She did not stop until she shattered the wall.
"Survival is fury," she whispers, as her arm bursts through the locker door. She stills.
Green light flickers in the hallway. The janitor drops his mop and runs forward, flicking through his keys. He opens the door and catches the body that slumps forward, smoldering filth spilling onto the floor. A black eye, with a pupil of green fire, hovers on her brow.
...
"I will join the Wards, Director Piggot, but it will be on my terms. This chaos, this filth, infesting my city will be dealt with. I can see it all. I can feel everything they do. Lung, Kaiser, Skidmark; I will tear their roots from the ground and shatter their dreams like glass. Coil lurks below and plays everyone against each other - yes, you included, I believe you're familiar with a certain Mr. Calvert? - and his... choices... will crumble before me.
"On that note, Shadow Stalker has been very naughty indeed, and her handler has been abetting quite the list of crimes."
...
"Your problem, Mr. Accord, is that you neglect the human element. Humanity is chaos, but can be directed if you twist... it... just... so."
Ballistic straightens his posture. His breaths even out.
"You have quite the knack for enforcing consequences, but I find it's better to prevent such unappealing sights in the first place."
...
A bullet passes through the glassy shimmer I left behind. "Miss Militia, I would have thought you of all people would understand what happens when these people are left to their own devices. You were a child in similar circumstances once, yes? All I'm trying to do is prevent that from ever happening again."
She didn't appreciate my efforts, if the five bullets passing through the sometimes inconvenient bullseye on my forehead were to be believed.
...
"Oh, Jack, you amuse me so. All this chaos that you bring, and you think I'll willingly join you? She Who Lives In Her Name, the Principal of Heirarchy herself, empowers me well beyond anything you can imagine."
He halts mid-swing, and each muscle group stills in sequence. The last are his disbelieving eyes, searching for escape.
"Well, maybe you'll be able to learn."
All that stands before me is a statue of glass.
...
CONFLICT.
"Oh? That's your goal? Chaos everywhere?"
ENTROPY
"You insinuate yourself across Creation, spread chaos in your wake, and everything you touch creates nothing more than entropy itself. You seek Order. Allow me to demonstrate."
...
This was it. Finally, everyone was working together.
- Speck 30.4
——————
There are a lot of details that make Taylor an almost perfect fit as an Infernal Exalted of the Defiler Caste: betrayal and rejection by the world around them before their Second Breath, the obsession with order, the willingness to do whatever it takes to change the world, the refusal to be constrained, eliminating free will... And because I wasn't completely convinced, one of the common associations is the owl. A Little Owl, one might say.
=====
Once, there was a Maiden...
...who struck an iron wall until it shattered her hand.
She did not stop, though cracks spread through her bones.
She did not stop, though blood sprayed her eyes.
She did not stop until she shattered the wall.
"Survival is fury," she whispers, as her arm bursts through the locker door. She stills.
Green light flickers in the hallway. The janitor drops his mop and runs forward, flicking through his keys. He opens the door and catches the body that slumps forward, smoldering filth spilling onto the floor. A black eye, with a pupil of green fire, hovers on her brow.
...
"I will join the Wards, Director Piggot, but it will be on my terms. This chaos, this filth, infesting my city will be dealt with. I can see it all. I can feel everything they do. Lung, Kaiser, Skidmark; I will tear their roots from the ground and shatter their dreams like glass. Coil lurks below and plays everyone against each other - yes, you included, I believe you're familiar with a certain Mr. Calvert? - and his... choices... will crumble before me.
"On that note, Shadow Stalker has been very naughty indeed, and her handler has been abetting quite the list of crimes."
...
"Your problem, Mr. Accord, is that you neglect the human element. Humanity is chaos, but can be directed if you twist... it... just... so."
Ballistic straightens his posture. His breaths even out.
"You have quite the knack for enforcing consequences, but I find it's better to prevent such unappealing sights in the first place."
...
A bullet passes through the glassy shimmer I left behind. "Miss Militia, I would have thought you of all people would understand what happens when these people are left to their own devices. You were a child in similar circumstances once, yes? All I'm trying to do is prevent that from ever happening again."
She didn't appreciate my efforts, if the five bullets passing through the sometimes inconvenient bullseye on my forehead were to be believed.
...
"Oh, Jack, you amuse me so. All this chaos that you bring, and you think I'll willingly join you? She Who Lives In Her Name, the Principal of Heirarchy herself, empowers me well beyond anything you can imagine."
He halts mid-swing, and each muscle group stills in sequence. The last are his disbelieving eyes, searching for escape.
"Well, maybe you'll be able to learn."
All that stands before me is a statue of glass.
...
CONFLICT.
"Oh? That's your goal? Chaos everywhere?"
ENTROPY
"You insinuate yourself across Creation, spread chaos in your wake, and everything you touch creates nothing more than entropy itself. You seek Order. Allow me to demonstrate."
...
This was it. Finally, everyone was working together.
- Speck 30.4
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Foresight (Worm)
- Location
- SoCal, USA
Foresight
———
A golden man pops in a garden of flesh.
A woman-turned-goddess binds a multiverse of people to her will.
Two people dig in a woman's brain.
An angel turns to a blonde, and her smirk falls into horror.
A man in a green hood falls into the sea.
Coastlines and cities fall to golden light.
A woman in black chokes in the sky.
A girl shivers in the throes of withdrawal.
A girl turns her sister into a wretched monument to excess.
A girl's face goes cold as she pulls the trigger.
A man stands alone before a beast, halberd in hand.
A girl pushes for answers so the candy finally comes.
A door breaks. Soldiers approach a girl, bag in hand.
A girl hugs her parents on the way to the bus.
A girl wakes from a nightmare.
It makes the numbers better...
A girl sheds a tear.
———
A golden man pops in a garden of flesh.
A woman-turned-goddess binds a multiverse of people to her will.
Two people dig in a woman's brain.
An angel turns to a blonde, and her smirk falls into horror.
A man in a green hood falls into the sea.
Coastlines and cities fall to golden light.
A woman in black chokes in the sky.
A girl shivers in the throes of withdrawal.
A girl turns her sister into a wretched monument to excess.
A girl's face goes cold as she pulls the trigger.
A man stands alone before a beast, halberd in hand.
A girl pushes for answers so the candy finally comes.
A door breaks. Soldiers approach a girl, bag in hand.
A girl hugs her parents on the way to the bus.
A girl wakes from a nightmare.
It makes the numbers better...
A girl sheds a tear.
Ultima (MHA)
- Location
- SoCal, USA
Ultima
—————
Midoriya was the first to fall, overrun on a routine patrol. We found five Noumu corpses around his own; as far as we can tell, he headbutted the fifth, having already shattered his other limbs.
After this, the enemy seemed to surge in confidence. Tokoyami, ambushed in the market during lunch, Dark Shadow's weakness illustrated so clearly at the Sports Festival years back. Iida, pushing a train back onto the tracks, prioritizing their lives over defending his own.
Shizuoka's new eternal flame and glacier will make a fitting memorial for Todoroki.
Uraraka changed after Midoriya's death. We never knew for sure whether they were dating or not - both of them would stammer for hours if one of us hinted anything along those lines - but we never again got more than a monosyllabic response from her. When we did finally track a Noumu release to an "abandoned" warehouse, she dropped the Hosoma-no-Dan quarry on top of it in a meteor shower much greater than her Sports Festival demonstration. She was discovered the next day with a knife in her kidney.
After many more losses - Kaminari, Asui, Eraserhead, Midnight, Recovery Girl, Thirteen, Endeavor - we finally found the ultimate source of the Noumu, a lab buried deep beneath Mount Fuji. Bakugou and I are on search and destroy. I can Create anything we'll need along the way, and my field of Nanothorns should deal with any threats. Bakugou's job is to sweat as much as possible in preparation; I will barely be able to create a critical mass of plutonium-239 and casing, and the tritium will be trivial, but he'll need to create and detonate the primary stage.
When we get to the lab, we need to ensure the bomb goes off, and the mountain falls. A timer that would let us out gives too much time for it to be disabled, or worse, moved somewhere else, so we'll be staying put. There will be no withstanding this.
To my friends, to my family, we know what this means for us, and we volunteered. Remember us and our sacrifices, and may they not be in vain.
Plus Ultra!
My headcanon is that everyone with superpowers - hero, villain, or other - has something in their back pocket that will defeat almost any foe, at great cost to themselves, likely their life. The Flash can go back in time and prevent a nemesis from being born - but he might cancel out his own existence as well. Most magic systems include a way to sacrifice ones own life for a Greater effect - Lily's love shield, a Dresden Files death curse, and at the very least Life Tap from WoW and Blood Is Power from Guild Wars.
The MHA universe seems to be a bit of an exception. We've only seen a couple cases where someone is actually hurting themselves with their own power - Izuku and All Might, obviously, but also Kaminari frying his own brain.
While I can understand something like Frog being an exception - unless you can somehow learn to secrete poison dart frog venom from your human-sized skin, being more frog-like isn't exactly increasing threat potential - I'm a bit less convinced that Mina can't create an acid that she can't withstand, or Kyouka can't compete with Krakatoa on volume (~180dB), or that Todoroki can't shuffle enough heat around to keep a batch of hydrogen frozen and maintain a (small) star*.
Or that item creation restricted only by the mass of someone's body fat can't make a nuclear device. Culturally, though, it'd take a really terrible situation for that to be considered at all, let alone accepted as a reasonable thing to do.
*Rough order of magnitude: let's say the UHA arena fits around a standard 400 meter track (roughly 32 meter curve radius and 100 meter straightaways) with say a 10 meter space between said track and the stands. Let's also assume the arena is about 50 meters tall. Finally, let's assume Todoroki fills about 10% of that volume with ice with his Cold Snap in the Sports Festival. That's 50,000 cubic meters of ice. Given ~10% expansion, that's ~45,000,000 kilograms of water (at 25C and 100%RH that's all of the water in 2.25 cubic kilometers of air). At a specific heat capacity of 4.18J/gK and assuming 25C air temperature, it takes ~5 terrajoules of energy to get the water vapor to the freezing point, and incorporating the enthalpies of fusion (334 J/g) and vaporization (2230 J/g) we get a grand total of 120 terrajoules of energy in a second, which conveniently works out to 120 terrawatts, which is about 60 percent of the average instantaneous power consumption of the world, which is a few orders of magnitude beyond any extant nuclear power plant (the largest is about 8GW, coincidentally in Japan). This is also equivalent to about 1.3 grams of matter converted to energy.
So yeah, if some quirks ignore conservation of energy there are a lot of extremely effective ways they can be used, most of which won't be survivable by anyone in the vicinity.
The MHA universe seems to be a bit of an exception. We've only seen a couple cases where someone is actually hurting themselves with their own power - Izuku and All Might, obviously, but also Kaminari frying his own brain.
While I can understand something like Frog being an exception - unless you can somehow learn to secrete poison dart frog venom from your human-sized skin, being more frog-like isn't exactly increasing threat potential - I'm a bit less convinced that Mina can't create an acid that she can't withstand, or Kyouka can't compete with Krakatoa on volume (~180dB), or that Todoroki can't shuffle enough heat around to keep a batch of hydrogen frozen and maintain a (small) star*.
Or that item creation restricted only by the mass of someone's body fat can't make a nuclear device. Culturally, though, it'd take a really terrible situation for that to be considered at all, let alone accepted as a reasonable thing to do.
*Rough order of magnitude: let's say the UHA arena fits around a standard 400 meter track (roughly 32 meter curve radius and 100 meter straightaways) with say a 10 meter space between said track and the stands. Let's also assume the arena is about 50 meters tall. Finally, let's assume Todoroki fills about 10% of that volume with ice with his Cold Snap in the Sports Festival. That's 50,000 cubic meters of ice. Given ~10% expansion, that's ~45,000,000 kilograms of water (at 25C and 100%RH that's all of the water in 2.25 cubic kilometers of air). At a specific heat capacity of 4.18J/gK and assuming 25C air temperature, it takes ~5 terrajoules of energy to get the water vapor to the freezing point, and incorporating the enthalpies of fusion (334 J/g) and vaporization (2230 J/g) we get a grand total of 120 terrajoules of energy in a second, which conveniently works out to 120 terrawatts, which is about 60 percent of the average instantaneous power consumption of the world, which is a few orders of magnitude beyond any extant nuclear power plant (the largest is about 8GW, coincidentally in Japan). This is also equivalent to about 1.3 grams of matter converted to energy.
So yeah, if some quirks ignore conservation of energy there are a lot of extremely effective ways they can be used, most of which won't be survivable by anyone in the vicinity.
—————
Midoriya was the first to fall, overrun on a routine patrol. We found five Noumu corpses around his own; as far as we can tell, he headbutted the fifth, having already shattered his other limbs.
After this, the enemy seemed to surge in confidence. Tokoyami, ambushed in the market during lunch, Dark Shadow's weakness illustrated so clearly at the Sports Festival years back. Iida, pushing a train back onto the tracks, prioritizing their lives over defending his own.
Shizuoka's new eternal flame and glacier will make a fitting memorial for Todoroki.
Uraraka changed after Midoriya's death. We never knew for sure whether they were dating or not - both of them would stammer for hours if one of us hinted anything along those lines - but we never again got more than a monosyllabic response from her. When we did finally track a Noumu release to an "abandoned" warehouse, she dropped the Hosoma-no-Dan quarry on top of it in a meteor shower much greater than her Sports Festival demonstration. She was discovered the next day with a knife in her kidney.
After many more losses - Kaminari, Asui, Eraserhead, Midnight, Recovery Girl, Thirteen, Endeavor - we finally found the ultimate source of the Noumu, a lab buried deep beneath Mount Fuji. Bakugou and I are on search and destroy. I can Create anything we'll need along the way, and my field of Nanothorns should deal with any threats. Bakugou's job is to sweat as much as possible in preparation; I will barely be able to create a critical mass of plutonium-239 and casing, and the tritium will be trivial, but he'll need to create and detonate the primary stage.
When we get to the lab, we need to ensure the bomb goes off, and the mountain falls. A timer that would let us out gives too much time for it to be disabled, or worse, moved somewhere else, so we'll be staying put. There will be no withstanding this.
To my friends, to my family, we know what this means for us, and we volunteered. Remember us and our sacrifices, and may they not be in vain.
Plus Ultra!
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Amy’s Night Out (Hive’s Daughter (Worm))
- Location
- SoCal, USA
Homeward Bone (Warcraft)
- Location
- SoCal, USA
Homeward Bone
- - - - - - -
The standard bearer lowered the banner, and the shambling, decaying Horde shuddered to a halt. Yellow eyes glowed as they looked upon the walls of Lordaeron.
A commotion arose in the back, and the myriad souls separated.
One woman rode forth, purple cloak flapping in some unfelt wind, bow slung across her back, quiver strapped to her thigh. Her horse, skeletal, made nary a sound as it walked, the expected hoofbeats silent against the cobbles. It's barreled chest remained still.
"Who goes there," the watchman called.
"It is I, Sylvanas," the woman whispered, as though into his ear, "come for Parley."
"Hold fast."
- - - - - - -
The gates to the keep opened, and three came through. On the left, a slip of a girl, mage's staff held firmly in both hands. On the right, a bear of a man, clad in steel and a blue cloak, a cast silver hand pinning it in place. His hammer glowed a faint gold across his back.
In the center stood a young boy, golden crown upon his brow, twin swords at his waist.
The man strode forwards. "What brings the Banshee Queen here, to our doorstep? What plagues will Arthas set upon us now?"
"Arthas has troubles of his own, Uther. The last assault stole much of his focus, and we Forsaken have broken free of Ner'zul's will. He will pay for what he has done, for what he forced upon us, and we would have you join our vengeance.
"I bring you all the souls of Lordaeron, lessened and hollow, but still here. We would ensure our freedom, and we would have our eternal rest."
"What was done to you is monstrous, to be sure, but I would have you rest now."
The glow of Uther's hammer brightened, and began to spill onto the ground.
"Uther!" The young king shouted, "Stay your hand. Auntie Sylvanas, welcome home."
- - - - - - -
The Twilight Chapel stands now in Lordaeron. On the left lies the sarcophagus of an elf, bow in hand, Blight at her feet. On the right, a man and his hammer, surrounded by Consecration. In the center lie the shattered remains of a great sword.
I play a bit fast and loose with WC3 canon in particular here. I really don't like the direction Sylvanas has gone lately and wanted to explore a little bit of what might have otherwise been.
If this turns into something more I'll pull a bit of Dark Souls lore into it. Who can't see the Forsaken as somewhat Hollow?
If this turns into something more I'll pull a bit of Dark Souls lore into it. Who can't see the Forsaken as somewhat Hollow?
- - - - - - -
The standard bearer lowered the banner, and the shambling, decaying Horde shuddered to a halt. Yellow eyes glowed as they looked upon the walls of Lordaeron.
A commotion arose in the back, and the myriad souls separated.
One woman rode forth, purple cloak flapping in some unfelt wind, bow slung across her back, quiver strapped to her thigh. Her horse, skeletal, made nary a sound as it walked, the expected hoofbeats silent against the cobbles. It's barreled chest remained still.
"Who goes there," the watchman called.
"It is I, Sylvanas," the woman whispered, as though into his ear, "come for Parley."
"Hold fast."
- - - - - - -
The gates to the keep opened, and three came through. On the left, a slip of a girl, mage's staff held firmly in both hands. On the right, a bear of a man, clad in steel and a blue cloak, a cast silver hand pinning it in place. His hammer glowed a faint gold across his back.
In the center stood a young boy, golden crown upon his brow, twin swords at his waist.
The man strode forwards. "What brings the Banshee Queen here, to our doorstep? What plagues will Arthas set upon us now?"
"Arthas has troubles of his own, Uther. The last assault stole much of his focus, and we Forsaken have broken free of Ner'zul's will. He will pay for what he has done, for what he forced upon us, and we would have you join our vengeance.
"I bring you all the souls of Lordaeron, lessened and hollow, but still here. We would ensure our freedom, and we would have our eternal rest."
"What was done to you is monstrous, to be sure, but I would have you rest now."
The glow of Uther's hammer brightened, and began to spill onto the ground.
"Uther!" The young king shouted, "Stay your hand. Auntie Sylvanas, welcome home."
- - - - - - -
The Twilight Chapel stands now in Lordaeron. On the left lies the sarcophagus of an elf, bow in hand, Blight at her feet. On the right, a man and his hammer, surrounded by Consecration. In the center lie the shattered remains of a great sword.