Just A Little Sketch Of A Sad, Overworked Man.

Crumbling

@flashfictionfridayofficial

This story is a little portion of a side story for Bloodmage that I've recently started working on.

Warning: The picture at the end depicts blood and injury.

The door was already wide open when Aariv arrived. At one time he would have found that to be strange, but in this day and age who thought to close doors properly anymore? Whatever the case he didn’t have time to be picky right now, he needed to stow himself somewhere until the danger had passed. There was no way he was going to be found out after running for so long.

Stepping into the unfamiliar place, a frown creased his brow, there was no sign that this place had belonged to someone, no individuality. Crumbling walls stared back at him, almost in a reflection of whatever counted as his soul these days. The uncanny feeling sent shivers down his spine as he carefully pulled the door to. There was always the chance it was another trap so Aariv left himself an escape route open, and tried to keep his mind as sharp as his exhaustion would allow.

Room after room he was met with a growing sense of anxiety, no place should be this dilapidated and soulsess, not if there was someone living there. It wasn’t until he reached the last room along his path that Aariv felt his fear melt into oblivion. A fireplace sat in the center of the room, a half burnt log resting behind the grating.

Stepping forward, Aariv felt heat radiating from the empty hearth, a smile slowly spreading over his cold face. It seemed that his luck had for once pulled through and he’d chosen a favorable vessel. With the man’s soul absent he could easily inhabit without much worry. There was no possession quite so simple as when a creature had lost their spark.

“Dr. Field! You need to get back to work, Dr. Are you listening?”

Flexing his fingers, Aariv attempted to adjust to the situation. A nurse stood over him with poorly concealed irritation evident on her face. Smiling, Aariv stood and nodded his acknowledgment, which seemed to somewhat placate her. Once she scurried out of the unfamiliar room, Aariv took some time to assess his new body. He could handle being a Doctor, it was his specialty, after all. Still, a small frown tugged at the corner of his lips as Aariv looked into a nearby mirror, brushing back his disheveled hair while taking note of the obvious signs of exhaustion. No wonder the man’s body had been abandoned. He was falling apart inside and out.

Thanks for the tag, @seastarblue

Three facts about me

1. I have broken my wrist before

2. I love fantasy stories (but I'm good with most genres if the story interests me)

3. My favorite color is blue

Tagging in (no pressure)

@renasdoodles

@kuebiko-writing

@davycoquette

+open tag

Ah shit, I was gone for another ten days or so... Woops...

I finished editing during that time and am now currently taking a vacation from writing.

I should be doing some tag games now... Hehe...

God, why am I so bad at being active???

What's your favorite part of the lore in your wip?

Oh, another tough one. Thanks for asking!

Not to give too much away since it's getting into a pretty important plot details. My favorite lore has to do with a chasm called the Gate of the Underworld or just the Underworld for short.

Legend says that the hand of an angry god opened the way to the underworld so as to punish humans for their hubris. Man decided to explore in their drive for advancement and, after traveling miles down, found large red crystals.

After experimenting with the strange and highly explosive substance, they found that it could be used to enhance people, and after several failed attempts, the first group of blood mages were formed.

At first, it was believed they could be controlled, but as the monsters began losing their minds, humanity began to question if the stories regarding the Underworld were really just stories after all.

(A very quick visual)

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Sorry, I'm a bit late with this one, but I think I got it in just before the deadline. I had just finished the picture when the internet went out, and I had to transfer the story over to my phone manually. Unfortunately, I may or may not have fallen asleep while doing so, and I have just woken up in a panic to get this posted.

Summary: If the story calls for a villain, then what choice does a character have but to follow? Alexia, a proud and just knight, finds herself victim of this unfortunate reality.

Content warning: reference to suicide attempts, violence, self hatred, loss of control, blackouts, and violence.

Her Angel

Noble Alexia, good and loyal. She had come from the gutter and reached the peak of excellence. Becoming a knight had been her dream, but becoming the commander of the knight's had been her honor. The tales of her deeds and bravery spread through the world, memorializing her even before the first wrinkles of age had etched into her face. Truly a hero of legends; a figure that would be spoken of in whispers to starry-eyed young ones before bed.

Three years into her role as the knight commander, Alexia woke up to find her hands covered in blood. It hadn't been right, she had just been having a meal with a trusted friend, just been talking about her future with someone dear, then she blinked and found her hands covered in the blood of innocents.

It was at that moment that her life was irreversibly changed. The blackouts increased in frequency and duration, but when she sought help, no one could understand her ravings. The isolation brought her to the edge of her sanity when one night as she fearfully lay down in her bed, Alexia found that her eyes would jot close, and her fingers would no longer obey her commands.

Standing from her bed, she dawned unfamiliar clothes and met unfamiliar people. Her body moved against her will, and her lips spoke words that never should have been uttered. Whatever demon had possessed her seemed to find sick enjoyment in watching her suffer, for even in her few sane moments of control, it would jot let her end the torment. That didn't stop her from trying. The hesitation only lasted for the first dozen attempts before her disgust at the blood-soaked monster in her mirror drowned out any remaining pity for herself.

…

Coming to her senses once more Alexia tried to make sence of the stabbing pain pulsing through her with every breath, but with her body frozen in place, Alexia could only use her eyes to scan the surroundings. That was right, she'd been in a fight? She could see that her body was twisted at odd angles where she lay among a pile of rubble, memories flooding back to her in a disoriented array. She had been defeated by some upstart who shouldn't have the strength to lift her finger and been left to rot like the dog she had become.

The knight commander, formerly the golden sun of the empire, now lay dying in a suit of blackened armor befitting her new title of Scourge.

“Oh you're still alive?”

Alexia should have been taken by surprise at how close a stranger had gotten, but in her state a bull could be charging and she'd likely fail to notice.

"From the looks of it, your story ended in death, so why do you still haunt the living?”

The gaudy angelic figure stooped nearly mumbling ti itself while grasping the air from alexia. She felt her jaw tighten instinctively as a thin blue tether materialized leading back to her heart. Gathering the cord in its hand, the creature before her frowned in concentration before suddenly brightening.

“So they forgot you couldn't be killed by demonic energy? How fortunate that it seems to at least weaken you beyond their ability to sense.”

The creature seemed amused by whatever magic it had used to know such a dark secret of hers. Had it truely come to take her to the other side? No, after what she had done there was no way that such a beautiful creature would have any business with her. It took another cord and inspected it growing somber once more.

“Stay still for a moment longer, I will not let them have you anymore.”

With simple words, and they weren't even meant for her really as the creature still seemed to be taking more to itself than anything. Still her heart jumped at the forgotten convictions that she had been forced to swallow back. The creature grabbed a red strand in front of her and with a thin blade, cut the cord.

…

Sitting across from the gaudy man whom she has come to value as a friend. Alexia couldn't help but smile at his concentration on the food before him. She had come to learn over the years that he was mostly as human as anyone, even with his lack of factual features. To this world, he was expendable, to many of its inhabitants he was a monster, but to Alexia and Alexia alone, he was the same thing that he had always been to her.

“My Angel."

She spoke the words softly and reached out a hand to gently caress his face, while a soft smile spread over her lips.

LOVE YOU MY MMOOTIE

*Runs and hides behind a wall in terrified introvert*

Spark of Progress

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial !

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

Word Count: 395

Story: original snippet, apocalyptic

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

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

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

“See anything interesting today?” He shrugged.

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

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

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

Thanks for the prompt @davycoquette !

I kinda already posted the Owen one before, but I drew a picture of Maren (with a new head) and liked how it looked when I combined them.

If anyone else wants to try the prompt, then have a go!

The fluff hair is fun to draw. I think I like purple for his eyes. He keeps his hair up when he has work and lets it down whenever he gets a breather.

Something Shiny

Thanks for the tag, @flashfictionfridayofficial

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty! Can I trade you for it?”

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

“Sure?”

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

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

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

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

Margaret enjoys listening to people's problems; it helps to keep her grounded and reminded that she isn't the only person suffering in the world. She takes comfort in the fact that she isn't special and that her problems aren't anything new. That means that there are others like her and that even when things are hard for her, Margaret can always lend an ear. Sometimes, it's hard to bear, but in the end, Margaret still listens to people because she wishes someone had listened to her.

She has her vices, but she doesn't usually hate herself for them since she is human and trying the best that she can. When she was younger, Margaret hated her weakness, but as she grew, Margaret was able to learn to be kind to herself.