Writing Share Tag 

What's Bloodmage about? 👀👀👀

(I adore the title by the way)

Thanks for the ask! Sorry in advance for the ramble...

Oh boy, how to describe this one... (I will preface this story as insanity with plot. Most of the characters are severely brain damaged or willing to follow along with the crazies to keep them safe, and I love them all. )

An unofficial squad of soldiers and cryptids are trying to stop a vampire cult (who has infiltrated and overtaken a large world power) that plan to block out the sun and take over the world. All while a large war is happening in the background under the orcestration of the vampires. Most ordinary soldiers have no idea what is going on, and a collection of governing cryptids are trying to keep it that way.

After the squad is forcefully split up thanks to the trickery of the enemy leader, the medic of the group is in a plane crash while trying to reunite with the others. The wreck happens to land in a ritual cite put together by the vampires in an attempt to bolster their numbers with another type of volitile cryptid called bloodmages.

Caught up in the ritual, the medic is turned into a bloodmage, but he is one of the severely brain damaged characters and flasely concludes that he has been turned into a vampire. Unable to end himself with the traditional methods, he decides to find his fellow squad mates to continue their goal only to get caught up in another mess involving bloodmage politics.

Extra context: Bloodmages are beings who have been implanted with red blood crystals that are harvested from a deep pit known as the mouth of hell. After a long comatose incubation period the blood mages awake with enhanced durability/longevity and powers unique to their specific brood (powers have pretty significant variability with some potential for overlap such as the ability to make constructs, bombs, and weapons from their blood/blood they condense store up from others). Along with their other abilities, bloodmages are incredibly mentally unstable unless they have something or someone to tether them to reality. This makes them great short term soilders due to their drive for violence, but not for long term use as they tend to start attacking one another if they grow bored with easy combat.

Thanks again for the ask, I've been really bad about keeping on this one due to some hang-ups with the plot, but I love it to death :)

Talk to Me.

Thanks for the Prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

Warning: slight horror

*Knock* 

“Steven? Are you okay, buddy?” 

Silence hung in the dim hall as Steven hid under his bed, blanket pulled up around him. 

“*Sigh* I know it’s different now sweety, but we’ll make it though this, alright?”

Clamping one of his hands over his mouth, Steven tried to stay as quiet as possible as the old floorboards outside creaked in protest. 

“I know you missed dinner. Do you at least want some ice cream?” 

The sweet voice ever so slightly as frustration crept into the smooth tone. He tried to time his breaths to match the voice, but it wouldn’t work forever. Looking down at the teddy bear alarm clock nearby he watched the seconds tick by slowly (3:59:25) The door began to groan under a sudden force and Steven could hear the frame starting to crack. 

“I Think you’ve dragged this on for long enough young man, I didn’t want to do this, but you can’t just shut me out.” The honey was gone now, replaced by a hard tone that sent chills down his spine.  

“It’s so lonely out here Steven, but I’m sure you’ll liven the place right up” Pulling his alarm clock close to his chest, Steven closed his eyes as tightly as he could counting down the seconds in his mind as the door finally gave way. 

-10 Mississippi, 9 Mississippi, 8 Mississippi-

He could feel it looming nearby, but if he didn’t know that it was there then it couldn’t hurt him.

“Oh don’t be like that Steven, I only want to talk, don’t you love me anymore?”

He lost count, his tear stained eyes finally opening wide, to gaze in frozen horror at the twisted thing that had snuck into his room again.

“Thats it Steven, come to mama.” It smiled wickedly as it reached towards him, long spindly fingers twitching erratically as it tried to grab him. Then a beeping began to sound in his arms, and the things face twisted in disgust as the world melted to black. 

Opening his eyes, Steven looked out at the cloudy sky, gripping his alarm close to his chest, he’d survived another night, only had three left to go.

Pills and Pain

I reach out my fingers, aware they are shaking,

My body is sore, and I'm worried it's breaking,

I glance at strange pills, and fear what I'm taking.

Is the pain in my legs really worth what I'm staking?

My body is sore. I fear it might shatter,

I sit in my bed, pills still on the platter.

The ache in my bones refuses to scatter,

My hesitation remains, but soon, it won't matter.

Clarity

@flashfictionfridayofficial

FFF263 In the Meadows prompt

1317 word count (I'm sorry it's a bit over... I tried condensing as much as I could.)

CW: violence, referenced forced drug use, a bit of body horror, and dehydration.

Summary: Maren wakes up in an unfamiliar meadow with a clear mind after years of living under a fog.

On an island surrounded by great forests sat a meadow hiding from the ocean. Laying among the blades of grass that swept by her like waves on the ocean, Maren woke in a state of listlessness. She was utterly exhausted, and without the aid of the deep to facilitate her navigation, she was stuck against the cool earth, blind to all but a gentle warmth on her skin.

Usually, she was quite sluggish between hunts, struggling with even the most basic of thoughts, waiting until they charged the water with those fowl drugs, sending her into a frenzy. Occasionally, she would have bouts of clarity, usually just long enough to witness the end of her hunt, but now it felt like her mind was sharper than it had been in years. With this new freedom, Maren’s thoughts drifted to the fathomless depths of what had until recently been her home.

With a clear mind, Maren did not remember it with the fondness she had felt when her brother was given the opportunity to show his devotion to the queens, or in the reverence that had surged through Maren’s entire being when her sister was accepted as a royal guard.

‘Oh how fortunate you are, Maren, to have been bestowed with the favor of our queens.’

How many lonely nights in the empty nursery had she prayed for such a thing before her naive devotion had doomed her? No, she had long lost any reverence for their tyranny, and her thoughts of that place had turned just as rotten as her limbs in the burning darkness of the mines.

Musing about her isolation, Maren could see herself for the pawn she had been. Her mother had warned her long ago, but the queen’s guard had claimed her mother was a traitor, not to be trusted. She had been ripped away from Maren before those precious lessons could be ingrained properly, and so, like a fool Maren had fallen for every lie they’d fed her, burying the barbed hook of their deception deeper into her throat until she wasn’t even a shell of what she had once been.

Another gust of wind swept by, drying her skin. Despite her newfound clarity, all of these revelations were little comfort in the face of her demise. Maren would have laughed at the irony if the queens had left her a proper mouth. At least death didn’t seem so painful as the screams of her victims had made it sound. The executioner, the being that even the queens had grown to fear as a monster, was going to die, dried up on land like some hapless fish that had unwittingly beached itself.

If there had been a higher power, and her wordless prayers had been heard in the darkness of her isolation, then maybe she had been spared from living in that hell any longer. After so many years of being a puppet, Maren wouldn’t be picky about the means of her salvation, and this was already too grand a fate for a monster such as herself. After all the innocent lives she had taken in the name of the queens, she deserved a far greater punishment. She accepted this death and was glad she could greet it in her own right mind.

As time continued to pass, Maren could feel her muscles gradually beginning to shrivel down as her breathing became ragged and the warmth against her skin continued to sap the life from her veins. Maren’s mind was fluttering away, split between fragmented memories of faces she could barely recall, until she felt something warm suddenly pressed under her scorched skin, lifting her up from her grassy resting place. The sudden shift cracked her skin at odd angles, causing sharp spikes of pain to run across her body, but she made no effort to move. Even with the sudden sensation of a beating heart coursing underneath her, the dehydration was too far along for Maren to comprehend anything until she suddenly lost track of the pulse and felt water enveloping her.

WIthin seconds of being submerged, her cracked skin healed over, and she began to explore the area, exhibiting a level of curiosity she thought had been lost to youth. A strange sense of wonder overtaking her foggy reason. Once satisfied with her findings, Maren turned her attention to the surface, she could sense another presence, and her newfound curiosity drove her to inspect.

“** ****, ****** *****.”

It was a strange chirpy language, nothing like the deep bellows she was familiar with from the Briney Court, but not entirely unpleasant. Even if she couldn’t understand the words, at this range, Maren was fairly confident when it came to gauging intent, and the voice sounded relieved. The emotion confused her, and after a brief hesitation, Maren found herself getting closer to the edge in an attempt to form a connection with one of her functional arms.

As Maren’s arm came in contact with an outstretched hand, she felt her limb quickly entangle the arm above to establish a connection. A flood of information cascaded freely into her mind as Maren saw the world through this creature’s eyes and understood his feelings, at least on the surface.

It wasn’t a skill she relied on, and had only resorted to it as a form of interrogation or out of pure desperation from isolation in her moments of clarity, and on every occasion she was met with a flood of negative emotions that were strangely absent here. Interested to find out more, Maren decided that it would be good to spark discussion with the creature so she could properly take in the terrain from the stranger’s eyes and enjoy the strange company she found herself in.

“Why am I here?”

She could tell he was quite shocked by her sudden intrusion into his mind, and flinched, waiting for him to pull away, but unlike the fear or anger that she had so often experienced with her own kind, the individual seemed more amused than anything.

“The tank you were being transported in broke open in the crash, I think? I was worried that I ate everyone, but if they were transporting you like that, then they probably deserved to die anyway...”

There was more that he wanted to say about that, but he stopped. There was no reason to pry about his eating habits, but at the mention of a tank, Maren quickly skimmed through his latest memories, carefully extracting what she was looking for. It was more of a glass coffin filled with stagnant water and salt crystals as far as she could tell. Frustrated by the torturous design, Maren pulled away, severing their connection while trying to remember how she could have ended up in such a thing?

“* ***** *** *** **** **** ********.”

The unintelligible words once more filled her mind, pulling it away from the putrid memory. Wondering if he had any more information about the situation, Maren quickly re-established the connection and caught his assumption that she had been kidnaped. A laughable conclusion, but he didn’t know any better. No one made it in and out of her cave alive, not while she was on the hunt, it was more likely the queens had drugged her last victim with something stronger than usual and tried to dispose of her for good. Though why they would go through all the trouble of shipping her in a glass coffin was a complete mystery. Whatever their intentions, there had been an intervention of some sort, and those involved had been properly taken care of.

“Thank you for saving me.”

A warm sensation spread through the connection as he exhibited genuine happiness at her remark. The surge shocked her slightly, but she found that it was an easy sensation to get used to. She had been given the salvation she longed for, and this creature had been the instrument to accomplish it.

Note: This is Maren after years of experimentation, all in the attempt to make an eldrich creature artificially. I use the term arms in place of tentacles because tentacles sounded a bit weird when I was writing it, and 'arms' has been used as an acceptable term, so I just went with it instead. Sorry for any confusion.

Halloween ask! Have you ever made a major change to a character's personality while editing?

Thank you so much for the ask!

Unfortunately, I tend to get very attached to my villain characters. That translates into me making major changes in their personalities, goals, and actions while editing. I make them better people and have to introduce worse people to fill the plot.

In an example, my original draft for a main bbeg was just, he's crazy flat out, zero redeeming qualities, punches babies and kicks kittens type of person, but then while going back over things I was like, but why is he crazy? Which spiraled into a whole situation, and now he's just doing what he has to so that people he cares about stay alive, and I really just want him to get help and make it through the horrors thay I have placed on his shoulders.

Bonus, I do end up with more interesting side characters for my brain to make separate stories for. (Not that I have the energy to write any of them down properly...)

Intro Post

Hi,

I made this blog to try and force myself to be more productive with my original writing/drawing. My success is unfortunately an uncontrolled variable right now.... I am a serial procrastinator and I'm pretty introverted but I'm trying.

Most of my writing tends to be a bit on the darker side and geared towards fantasy, but I dabble in various genres as ideas come to me.

Feel free to tag me in writing games and just to share something that you are proud of. :)

Note: Please let me know If I am ever coming on too strong because I can be a bit dense at times. I'm open to and encourage constructive feedback.

I also have a secondary blog for Fan fiction mostly for updates and fan art.

Side Blog for Fan Fiction

Good luck today/night and happy writing!

Attack of the dead men 

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

Note: Given the prompt, it didn’t feel right spin things into a story completely of my own, so I decided instead to summarize a story that has firmly embedded itself into the back of my mind. I became aware of this story because someone showed me the song ‘Attack of the Dead Men’ by SABATON. While gruesome in nature, it presented me with pestering question of how people can drive themselves past impossible limitations while unprepared in the face of death. 

Warnings!!!: Discussion of warfare including the deployment and descriptive effects of weaponized Chlorine/Bromine Gas. 

Chlorine and bromine. While still dangerous, these chemicals have proven to be significanly useful tools for disinfection among other things. The result of their combination in a gasious form though? A toxic cloud that can devistate both humans and the environment, corroding tools and nature with almost instantanous effect.  What then of the human body? How might it react with living cells?

 For the 800 men guarding the Osowiec Fortress in 1915 without the protection of gas masks, those effects were almost completely fatal. Of the entire garrison only 100 soldiers survived due to their distance from the gas batteries. As the gas gradually dissipated and reinforcements arrived, the burned and dying survivors crawled up from their trenches like the living dead to attack the charging enemy. While coughing up their own lungs even as their organs were slowly being desolved by the resulting hydrochloric acid formed from the moister in their lungs and the chlorine gas, they stumbled towards the attackers without hesitation. The sight of their horrific forms was enough to cause bedlam in their enemies ranks, and paired with a concentrated artillery strike form the reinforcements, the soldiers were able to temporarily secure the garrison in the face of overwhelming odds. The victory was short lived however as the reinforcements were later forced to retreat from the garrison at a later date. It is a haunting story from a haunting time that can leave one to ponder the limits that the human will can force a broken body to ignore. 

Ruined Safehaven

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

Some context: On the run from a group of powerful vessels (those wielding powers of nature and destruction), Silus tries to bring Luna to a small town for some sense of normalcy in the whirlwind of their journey.

Warning: implied massacre, devastated landscape

Luna rushed past Silus, hiking up the hill with renewed determination.

-Did you really think it was that easy? I didn’t take you for a coward and a fool-

Silus paused, his throat drying out instantly as he recognized the familiar smell of sulfur faintly hanging in the air. Just over that, Ridge was supposed to be safe, but they would have already guessed that wouldn’t they? 

Despite the heavy pack weighing him down Silus lurched forward with the last ounce of stamina he had been preserving, tackling the excited girl to the ground and covering her mouth before she could let out a startled squeak. Now that he was paying more attention, the smell was only getting stronger, accompanied by a sinking dread that started bubbling up in his guts. Luna’s eyes were wide with fear, but when he motioned for her to remain quiet, she nodded slowly, not even making a peep when he removed his hand. 

Luna’s small body trembled as he shifted away from her, but Silus couldn’t stop for apologies this time. Creeping slowly to the crest of the hill, the gnarled woods gave way to a sudden wasteland. Dust and ash hung thickly in the air like a wall, not creeping past some unseen boundary. Any sign of their refuge was completely blotted out, but if he listened closely, he could hear the muffled screams of those trapped inside. 

The air in his lungs began to grow thick as he watched the ash begin to twist and form itself into dancing ghosts of the past, mocking him while growing evermore realistic. One spector pressed its pale hand against the boundery, pressing forward just past where the ash had stopped. It smiled with a hollow expression dripping with satisfaction when he flinched. She couldn’t see this. Slowly withdrawing from his possition, Silus pulled himself to his knees and picked the exhausted girl up. Despite the protest of his aching bones, he held her close as he moved quietly off the path, hoping that whatever that was didn’t chance to follow them. They needed to move further inland. 

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.