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sapphicdragons-4 · 1 month

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my bio! (long post)

Hi! You can call me Vi. I use she/her (or they/them if you’re feeling boisterous). Any gendered compliments are welcome, but creature-related ones are encouraged! I’m also very leftist, athiest, socialist, and a punk-in-training. (i despise the government and society to some extent, but i am mostly a law-abiding citizen and a fucking coward)

Gender: thingy? I identify along the lines of xenogirl, paragirl, agender, and genderfluid. I don’t stress it too much :3

I am femme-leaning omni and aro; i have a few microlabels but im fine saying just that. I am also hypersexual (not traumagenic).

Nonhuman identities: I am an Aqua dragon (original species). It fits somewhere between othermidst, othervague, heartedlink, otherkin, otherlink, and fictionkin, but is strong enough that I consider myself dragonkin. Because of this, I am avianhearted, canine and feline simil, have a lush forest hearthome, and feel very connected to bodies of water, the sun, the moon, the sky, and thunderstorms.

Hobbies: I enjoy drawing, crafting, jewelry making, sculpting, biking, gaming, swimming, frolicking, collecting, doing quads, and just doing other gooberish activities :D

Music: I have no set music taste, but a few of my favorite artists are sign crushes motorist, Alex G, Duster, 0neheart, 6arelyhuman, Odetari, Mac DeMarco, Nirvana, cavetown, mazie, dandelion hands, Strawberry Guy, Other Nothing, Paramore, Eyedress, Suicidal Tendencies, Lyn Lapid, Louie Zong, a little bit of Billie Eilish, the Hazbin Hotel soundtrack, the Heathers soundtrack, Surf Course, Starry Cat, Lovejoy (don’t listen to it anymore, but it sounded good), Penelope Scott, a little bit of The Cardigans, and i should probably stop now before you shrivel up and walk off. If you have any band reccomendations, send them my way!

Fandoms: Too many to count, but my mains are Wings of Fire, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Heathers, She-ra (new), The Owl House, Amphibia, Creatures of Sonaria, The Coffin Of Andy And Leyley, Newsies, Your Boyfriend, and Subnautica. I am also a furry :3

I am also very involved in communities such as alterhuman, alternative, neurodivergent, and punk, but these are not fandoms.

I live in the midwestern U.S.

This account is geared towards teens and young adults. If you’re over 30 and we haven’t interacted, probably let me give you a vibe check before you follow

i’m a bit of a chronic attention seeker, and will do things or amplify things sometimes that might be subconciously for attention. please be patient, and don’t be rude to me when it happens, i have quite a few microtraumas surrounding this :/

will be fine with people goofin off in my asks!

might do commisions for sketches, doodles, moodboards, backgrounds, and maybe stimboards.

Tag system!

#kaeposting - kin stuff! #kaecreates - stuff I made that relates to my kintype

#kaefrolicks - picures or videos of the forest, and maybe videos of quads in the future

#kae rambles - dragon go bla bla bla

#vi’s updates - updates about my life

#vi’s passion projects - crafts because slay

#vi’s wonderful world of pretty things - pretty pictures of scenery, jewelry I love, and maybe some outfits. room maybe

#eye of the storm wings of the heart - pretentious ahh name. storm stuff, nice water sounds, avianhearted stuff, basically all my secondary kin things

#+££+|~| - vents. typically angry due to my nature, under the cut with a warning. stylized “teeth”

#€|@\/\/$ - vents. typically obsessive thoughts and talking about hypersexuality. stylized “claws”

#aqua dragons 🪷 - info on or relating to my favorite lil creatures! lilypad as to not to be confused with shrimp or water dragons.

This is a safe place for queer, MOGAI, LGBTQIA, POC, alterhuman, ALL systems, endels, lycanthropes, zooanthropes, physical nonhumans, neurodivergent people (not just ADHD and autism! [them too] ALL! /friendly) anti-contact AND pro-treatment paraphiles (both at once and ONLY both at once. pro-contact, anti-treatment, or both, GET THE FUCK OFF MY PAGE.) , age and pet regressors, people with kinks, so on and so forth. I can’t think of many others, but the rule of thumb is:

If you either don’t wan’t to, or don’t, hurt others, you’re fine. Example: Nonhumans with a prey drive getting the urge to kill small animals without following through, and people with mental illnesses / personality disorders hurting others without meaning to and feeling remorse. You are loved, and you are safe here.

DNI: Bigots, transphobes, homophobes, anti-feminists, radfems, TERFS, paraphiles mentioned previously, conservative people, extensively religious, anti-endel/clinical ‘thropes, antifurries, antikins, and other generally dislikable people. tryna use mild language ‘cause this varies wildly in severity.

And I would prefer if Abrahamic religion was kept out. It’s fine to believe in that god, but I would prefer if it wasn’t brought up much on this blog. thank you for your consideration :)

and I think that’s all! I’ll link the Guide to Aqua Dragons below when I make it! thank you for your time.

#kaeposting #kaecreates #kaefrolicks #vi’s updates #vi’s passion projects #vi’s wonderful world of pretty things #eye of the storm wings of the heart #aqua dragons 🪷#kae rambles #alterhuman #nonhuman #+££+|~|#€|@\/\/$

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problemcore · 1 year

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for whichever of your ocs you'd like to talk about:

1. what'd be their level of goodness or evil? or like what's their moral alignment, dnd style?

2. if they had to pick a song to listen to on repeat for 24 hours, which would it be? would they rage quit the challenge?

hiiiii tysm for these! gonna talk about my ocs from kitchen magic, the game im planning on developing in the probably far future <3 my hands are freezing cold woe

sorry for nerd moment this will happen again. so yknow how the whole point in shadow the hedgehog (2005) is choosing between the paths of evil, good, and neutrality? luckily my three characters from kitchen magic (sasha, sunny, and dekota) pretty much represent this concept. sasha is very much true neutral. he doesnt have much care for the rules, and he only cares about making sure himself and his friends are safe and sound. sunny and dekota are like the angel and devil on his shoulders. sunny is a human who very very much follows the rules and does what she's told. is it because she truly believes in those rules, or because she's scared of failing the people around her? who knows! i havent developed her that much. but she's very lawful good. this is a good time to mention i have played dnd exactly once, so i dont know if im using the moral alignments perfectly . its fine. dekota is very much. chaotic. no clue if good neutral evil. but he sure as hell is chaotic! he's the magic law enforcer, adored by all his people, seen as very powerful. in reality he's only strong because he abuses magic, uses forbidden curses and spells, and even summons demons banned by the magistrate, all for his own benefit and no one else's. he'll even use his own people to get what he wants. he's the definition of a "the end justifies the means" person. WOW THAT TURNED OUT TO BE SUPER LONG hope any of this made sense.

2. HEHEHE I LOVED THIS QUESTION SO MUCH I MADE A QUICK DOODLE FOR IT

ive drawn sunny being a sonic the hedgehog fan too much for it to not be canon. good lord. anyway she would choose All Hail Shadow by crush40. fun fact since the very moment this ask was sent (over an hour ago) ive been listening on repeat to this song, to see if i myself could handle it. came to two conclusions. 1. this song slays absolute penis but i dont think i could last 24 hours. sunny definitely could. 2. the original version by magna-fi sucks. sorry.

unfortunately i dont have a good answer for any other characters. i could Maybe say. one of the songs from the album Avatar Country by the band Avatar for dekota. since its a very very him album. but thats about it. so instead ill leave you with this fun fact. when i was 12 i listened to fall out boy's immortals on repeat for 4 hours straight without noticing becuz it just became background noise at some point. sometimes i can still hear them.

#TYSM I MADE THE ANSWER SO LONG HOOOOLYYYY #this was so fun #tysm anon <33333 #i go sleepy now. its almost 1am.#asks #kitchen magic #sasha (oc)#sunny (oc)#dakota (oc)#anon #goodnight friends! i love you <3

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sysig · 4 years

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Have you listened to Phantom yet? You need to

#Doodles #LAC #Law Abiding Citizen #Doug Peterson #Just him this time #Unless you count Russ' arm lol #More Phantom on the way tho so if you haven't listened to it yet you get one more chance lol #Really tho it's just a good song in general #I need to get used to drawing him again he's very handsome but does he look like himself?? Kinda no??? Lol #He'll get there uwu #The ''take a bite'' lyric is also incredible tempting to draw too just fklsafds the whole song is really good #One of these days I'll make an actual animatic rather than just cutting a couple lines out lol #Man I've missed him #One of these days I'll understand how to draw a hand kiss #I should really look up references since I apparently love drawing them but don't know how they work lol #Also drawing Doug with celestial body imagery slays me ugh I love that kind of thing but also he's a demon! It's very good

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dizzydizney · 2 years

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Hello!

So I was thinking about college and what the vks and aks would choose for a major, but you know, in every fic there's the stereotypical mal-fine arts, evie-fashion design, jay-sports scholarship, carlos-computer science, ben-king etc

(which are gret and very fitting) but what if those weren't options?

Like, I could tottaly see jay as an architect, fumbling with papers and huge A1 sheets full of crooked buildings, led covered hands and shirts, hair tied up in a bun and held in place by pencils

and carlos maybe a physics or chemistry major (or very early phd cause he's an absolute genius), mad scientist vibes and all that good stuff

Mal could surely pull off a forestry & environmental sciences degree, being an activist and trying to become the voice of the fae residing in the auradon forests, those that are forgotten by the law

oh! and audrey being in the same major as mal, preparing for her future ruling on the throne of roses

Chef!Ben my beloved < 3

Entitled cop chad or kind-hearted musician chad????

Doctor!Evie, cause being exhausted by the constant pressureof school AND about having the lives of your patients in your hands is totally on brand for her

Wow, this got long, sorry I'm just rumbling and haven't even touched the sea three

I really want to hear your opinions though

Oh my gosh okay so first of all, love all these suggestions! They're definitely less conventional and less popular but that just makes them more fun to hear!

But honestly, Mal doing anything in the arts would be wonderful. Aside from spray paint and one doodle, we didn't see her do much in canon even though we know it's an interest of hers. She didn't have time to pursue it like Evie with fashion or Jay with sports. So I'd be fine with that. But her being an environmentalist is also good. I LOVe the tie to nature and her faerie heritage. That's something worth exploring

Jay as an architect is interesting. You provided a very lovely visual to go with it 😍 I could get behind it. Like imagine he just gains an interest in architect from all his parkour and scaling buildings sksks. That'd be so funny

I also feel like we didn't get a lot of Carlos's hobbies in the movies either?? It was Dude, Jane, and sport that he didn't even like. I do love mad science vibes for Carlos, but I could see him doing a ton of stuff. I love the idea of this Cruella being the head of a huge fashion house like Glenn Close's Cruella, and Carlos learning the ropes at that. But using his tech genius mind in the fashion industry. Creating sustainable pieces out of recycled material, and mingling wearable fashion with modern tech. Basically slaying the entire "Fashion in the Age of Technology" Met Gala better than anyone who actually went. But he's my fave of the Core Four, he can do literally anything

Could so see Doctor!Evie happening. She's a caregiver, she would want to do what she can to save people. But I could also see her being an activist, or doing the whole fashion meets technology thing. But yeah, these characters are versatile, you don't always have to pin them to one interest and one future only

Love activist!Audrey as well. Ooh, or could see her doing something with animals. Bring back first book Audrey where she's just a sweetheart angel and woodland creatures flock to her side

Chef!Ben... You said it all. Would love an au where his biggest responsibility is running the most popular boulangerie in town

Haven't really thought about Chad a lot. Don't like the idea of anyone being a cop lmao buuut something "entitled" would suit him. Literally I just see him as some cheesy social media influencer sksksk

And yeah this is long so I won't start on the Sea Three lol we can save that! But I loved the long ask so don't apologize about being in my inbox lol I love you for it! ❣️❣️❣️

#disney descendants #descendants #carlos de vil #evie grimhilde #mal #jay #audrey #chad charming #ben #qna #dizzy speaks #mousewithapencil #this was fun to think about!#send me another about the sea 3 if you want lol #or i'll send you one some time #but later cause im about to go to sleep lolz

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anditjustmadeherkind · 7 years

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"Too bad you didn't try to find them over the summer," Buffy said as they wound their way past the line at the information desk. "If you had, you might have a spell which would work on them by now."

Something inside her, grown thin and brittle over the last month full of awkward silences and accusing glances, snapped. Two paces before the doors, Willow bridled, rounding on Buffy in a fury. "Well, I'm sorry, but I was wasting my time helping Giles track down your Dad, and convincing my parents to keep Dawn until we found him, and beating off Social Services, and planning your funeral and keeping Angel and Spike from killing each other during it and, oh yeah, slaying vampires and fighting demons and excess Knights of Byzantium in my copious spare time though why I bothered since Spike the Perfect was on the job--maybe because someone can't go traipsing around in full sunlight or, I don't know, fight humans without collapsing in agony, and oh, yeah, making sure you didn't get brought back as someone's mind-controlled zombie, though I'm beginning to think you'd be happier that way!" She didn't bother trying to keep the hurt and bitterness out of her voice now. "Open!" She flung the word at the front doors like a weapon, and they flew outwards as she stormed through, smashing into the shrubbery outside. That was more like it. That was what magic ought to feel like.

She strode out into the gathering twilight, trying to lose herself in the automotive maze of the hospital parking lot. For a moment Buffy stood dumbfounded, and then Willow heard her footsteps on the pavement behind her as she broke into a run to catch up. "Willow! Willow, wait!" Buffy took a shortcut over the top of an SUV and leaped to the ground in front of her. "Willow, I didn't mean--"

But she didn't sound apologetic; she sounded tired and irritated, like a mother dealing with a sulky child. Willow's hands curled into fists. "You know, I could understand it if you were mad at all of us. But with Dawn you're fine. With Spike you're fine. It's just with me that you act like I'm some horrible person you're forced to deal with. You were my best friend of the girl variety, Buffy! And now you're a total stranger and you hate me and I was trying to do the right thing, darn it!"

Buffy's eyes closed, squeezing shut against the words, and her whole body tensed against some coming blow. "I know that," she said, very softly. "I don't hate you, any of you. But... you didn't do the right thing. You did a wrong thing. You destroyed a soul to get me back--"

"That was Spike's choice!"

"And Spike is so rational on the subject," Buffy snapped. "Maybe it's easier with Dawn because she didn't know all about what the two of you were up to. She's a kid. She's supposed to do stupid--"

"And since Spike is a century older than any of us, he gets a free ride for senility?"

Buffy's eyes opened again. "No," she said, her voice clipped. "Spike gets a free ride for saying the magic words."

"And those would be?"

"'I was wrong, and I'm sorry.'"

"Oh, peachy doodle!" Willow flung up both hands. "Listen to yourself, Buffy! Not six hours ago you were all 'I can't think he's got a cute tush because, the morals of it all!' You know why he's sorry? Because you're unhappy to be back. That's it, that's all, finito, the end. Look, I'm pro-Spike, honest. He's the nicest evil dead guy I know. But you said it yourself, he doesn't care about the morals. And I do care, but my morals don't match up with yours, so I'm awful and Spike's a saint? Pardon me if I think the cuteness of Spike's tush is a bigger factor in how you're treating us both than you want to admit!"

At that moment the automatic lights in the parking lot flicked on all around them, and the two of them were haloed in a multitude of long shadows, vying for space on the asphalt and echoing their every move. Buffy's hand closed on the side view mirror of the SUV and there was a crunching noise, as of metal deforming under pressure, and the brittle snap of glass cracking. "I'm going to forget you said that." If the humidity had been any higher, icicles would have formed on her words. "You want to know why I've been avoiding you, Will? I'll tell you. Because it's exhausting being around you. You want me to be fine so badly it hurts, 'cause that means you did good, even if I won't admit it. And I... I loveyou, so I keep trying to be fine. For you, and for Dawn, and for Xander and Giles--" The intensity of emotion in her voice was frightening now, after so many weeks of detachment. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "But I can't be fine all the time, and Spike accepts that! He doesn't sit there giving me the 'Are you OK now, Buffy? What about now? Still OK? Sure?' looks when I'm not. It's that simple."

"I'm sure you've convinced yourself of that," Willow said, matching the chill degree for degree. She took a fresh grip on her notebook. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got... things. Things to do." With an angry swipe at her own eyes she pushed past Buffy and hurried off down the long rows of cars, leaving her best friend of the girl variety staring after her, the mangled remains of the SUV's mirror in her hand.

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/17806?view_adult=true&view_full_work=true

I adore this fight between Willow and Buffy. I like the anger and resentment and love. I love that I can see where both of them are coming from. I like that Buffy wants her Spike and her Willow to share her morals, to be better than what they are.

Helen: It's just that sometimes you judge people's behavior by a pretty rigid set of standards. Not everyone can live up to them. Daria: That's what's wrong with the world. Helen: Not even you live up to them all the time.

— Daria, "Monster"

Its a bit like that. I also love that Willow won’t give in, won’t admit Buffy has a point, tries to justify herself, and refuses responsibility. Buffy has this “I am the law” mentality at times, but Willow has this god complex at times as well. I also like the hints that this outburst is a long time coming. It was foreshadowed quite nicely.

#kyra reads #btvs #btvs fic recs #spuffy fic recs

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theultraknight · 7 years

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The Guard Chapter 5 Beast saga Part 1: Scorched earth

Our heroes are walking out of school. Caesar reading a book, while Dillon and Amore talk.

Well more complaining on Dillon's part. "We've done nothing since Medusa went back to sleep."

"It's only been three days." Amore points out.

Dillon said like a bored eight year old. "Yeah, three long boring days."

"So you think not almost dying is boring?" Amore asks.

Dillon thinks about it for a second. "When you put it like that, I guess yeah."

Amore shakes her head at him. "Caesar talk him he's crazy."

Caesar continues to read, not hearing her. "Caesar." She calls again.

He brings his head from his book "Hmmm." Amore looks at him with worry. "You okay?"

"Yeah just was really into this book, you were talking about boredom."

"Dillon here seems to think that, not being in life threatening situations is boring."

"I don't miss that, but being a superhero was fun while it lasted." Caesar says.

"Well I know a place we can drown our sorrows, I heard they have amazing milkshakes." Dillon suggests.

Amore beams. "That sounds great I always wanted to try a milkshake."

"Wait you've never had a milkshake before?" Dillon's never heard of something so insane.

"No." She told him.

"That's terrible, let's fix that right now." He grabs Amore's hand.

Amore asks. "Caesar you coming with?"

"No, I promised I'd help my mom with some stuff."

"Okay we'll see you la...ter, Dillon stop pulling me." She demands annoyed.

"I would if you'd move faster." He retorts. Running off, dragging Amore along.

As they part Caesar walks off in the other direction. After a while he reaches the library.

He says hi to the librarian, and takes a seat in the back. He opens his backpack, pulling out his book.

A few minutes into the middle ages set story, he gets an idea. Getting his notebook from his backpack, he starts doodling.

He's not a master artist, but he's pretty good in his humble opinion. Once he's done. He takes a look at the drawing, satisfied with how it turned out.

"Caesar?" A voice calls. He turns around to see Dillon, and the voice who called him Amore.

"I thought you were having milkshakes." Caesar said.

"We thought you were helping your mom." Dillon returns.

Amore chimes in with an explanation. "I needed a book, why are you here?"

"Reading." He answers pointing to his book.

You feel the awkwardness fill the room. So Amore tries to end it. "I got my book, so we can go." Dillon and Amore with book in her arms. Start walking off.

"Wait." Caesar says running in front of them. "I lied, I'm sorry."

"Why?" Dillon asks.

"We've been hanging out for the last few days and, that's been great, but I like to be by myself, I just needed a break, and I didn't know how to say that without sounding rude."

"I don't think what you just said was rude." Amore tells him.

Dillon agrees stating. "Yeah, you could've just told us, we wouldn't had been upset."

Caesar takes a sigh of relief. "Thanks for understanding." Unfortunately this touching little moment is cut short.

A piercing roar is rings through the room, almost shaking the building. Our team immediately run outside, and when they see the cause of the ruckus they gasp.

A dragon in the middle of the park. With bright red skin, covered in scales that stick out from its' body, its' horns bent like bolts of lightning, and fire blazing from its' eyes.

It's roars again. Sending already terrified citizens, into hysterics. Running and shouting.

Amore looks on with wide eyes. "Is that?" "A dragon, yup." Dillon answers.

"Where did it come from." Caesar questions.

A burst of fire is blasted from the dragon's mouth. Screaming people try to flee the flames.

"We need guard up." Amore tells the boys.

Leaving Dillon with a questioning look. "Is that what we're calling it?"

Caesar can't believe this is a discussion right now. "We can decide that later, now do you see anyone around?"

Dillon with his supersight surveys the area. "All clear."

Now the three call out. "Guard!" Within a flash of colorful lights and, a clink. They're ready to go. Jumping to the sky, heading straightforward for the rogue reptilian.

Amore puts up a giant magical energy wall, between the beast and the people. The dragon keeps huffing, and puffing but, the wall won't burn down.😉

Amore turns to the crowd of people. "You all need to get out of here, if you find anyone take them and go, now move!" Her words make the crowd disperse.

The dragon gives up on the wall. Starts flapping its' wings.

Moments later, her teammates return. "We got everybody nearby out." Caesar informs her.

Amore stares at the dragon. "That's great, but what do we do about him?" The dragon flies over her wall. Unleashing a torrent of fire at The Guard.

They run as fast, as their can carry them. Taking refuge behind the brick park entrance.

"We need to lure it out of here, before it burns the city down." Caesar warns.

The dragon taking step by step, getting closer, and closer, its' infernal breath unwavering.

"I can use my law of attraction to bring it to the forest." Amore suggests.

Caesar likes her idea. Okay, but be careful."

"Always." She zips off, and settles midair right in front of the beast.

She opens her hand, looking down at it. She focuses on that, till her staff forms in her hand.

She starts calling out her spell. "Law of ...Agh." She is startled, by a stream of fire striking her hand. Causing her to drop her staff. A giant fireball flies through the air, and hits her sending her into freefall.

Dillon and Caesar chase after her. The former channeling, the power of the cheetah. Moving like a blur. He pulls to a sharp stop, with his arms open. Which are then filled by Amore.

"Are you okay?" Dillon asks. Amore a little groggy responds. "I'm fine, my armor protected me, but it still hurt."

Dillon puts her down, helping her stand. "I need to get my staff back."

"I'll get it." Caesar starts to run, but is cut off by a stream of fire. He leaps forward to the ground, to dodge the next flaming shot.

With the staff in sight, he runs as fast as possible. He dodges a shot of a fire, without missing a beat he moves onward.

Finally taking hold of the staff. He turns to the left to see, a breath of flame heading his way. He raises his arm up in defense.

Things begin to appear slowed down around Caesar, giving him time to think. He thinks of his drawing, from earlier with the intention, to make it a reality.

A three dimensional blueprint forms on his arm. The metal spreads out, from the center outwards. Until it's solidified as a shiny jet black shield.

That very moment time reverts back to normal. The stream of fire finally strikes the shield and, as the fiery assault continues, blazing wisps deflect off the disk.

It's not long, before the onslaught ceases. Caesar takes this opportunity, to run off with the staff.

Just as he reunites with his comrades, the dragon strikes again. But he blocks with shield. "Amore take it." He tells her, sticking his hand out.

Amore takes hold of her staff, and raises it high. "Law of attraction." Her staff's ring start to glow, waves to magic spiraling out from it.

The waves encircle the dragon. Next the dragon's fire stops, and its' attention turns to Amore.

"Amore I got a plan." Caesar said. The dragon huffs at Amore. "Okay, good." She said nervously, and takes to the sky.

The dragon takes off after her, and the boys follow right behind.

In the dragon's pursuit, it tries to use it fire breath on Amore. But she manages to dodge it.

It keeps shooting fire at her, and she's barely evading. So she takes a nosedive, falling yard after yard, then jets up.

The dragon focused on following her, and as a result stopped firing.

Amore looks forward, at the forest finally in sight. As soon as they enter the forest. She is knocked to the ground by a fireball.

Dillon and Caesar arrive, and go to her side. "You okay?" Caesar asked.

"I will be after a nap, and some ice." She was joking a little, but mostly serious.

"Caesar whatever plan you got, better hurry it up." Dillon tells him, while approaching their reptilian enemy.

Dillon makes a fist, and pulls his arm back. Summoning the power of the eel, his fist envelopes in electricity, and goes straight for a throat punch.

The dragon is dazed for a moment, but after it recovers it takes a swipe at Dillon, knocking him into a tree.

Caesar looks at his two beaten friends, Amore sitting still recovering from her skyfall, and Dillon who groans as he lies on the ground.

Caesar with his face serious, looks at the beast responsible, the only thoughts in his mind, protecting his friends, and slaying this dragon.

On bended knee he opens his hand, imagining his second and last weapon coming to life.

A sword, blade dark as night, the hilt black chrome like, front shaped like horns and a circular end.

He stands and, the dragon roars. Its' sound and breath hitting him like a force of wind.

A knot begins to form in his stomach. The dragon hit with a front foot. Caesar tries to block with his shield, but is knocked to the side. He rebounds quickly, the dragon approaching him.

It shoots a stream of fire at him, but he grows plane wings from his back, and ascends. Once in the air, he charges forward whipping his sword, and slashing the dragon behind its' shoulder.

The beast growls in pain, and swats at Caesar, but he flies backwards, and the beast misses.

The dragon unleashes another fire attack. But Caesar raises his left arm, and blocks the flames with his shield.

He's tired of this, so he's gonna try, and end it with one attack.

He charges forward shield first, pushing against the fire, embers flying in his face. He keeps going, and when he gets close enough. He dives at a ninety degree angle.

Landing kneeling on the dragon's neck, he grabs his sword with both hands, and brings it down on its' neck, but it won't cut. He stabs again, and its' skin still won't break.

The serpent shakes its' neck, but Caesar remains steady he takes his sword raises it high in both hands, and drives it into the dragon's neck. The dragon cries out in pain, collapsing on the ground.

Caesar's hands remain around the hilt of his sword, his head bowed, and breath heavy.

"Caesar." He turns his head to Amore(The one who called) and Dillon. Both who appear to be back to normal.

Caesar slowly climbs down, from the dragon's neck.

"You okay man?" Dillon asked, noticing Caesar was slightly leaning forward.

"Yeah, I will be."

Suddenly green lights appear and form a female shape. "I just woke from my rest, children are you alright?"

"I've felt better, I think we all have." Amore said.

"Don't worry, I can change that." And with a flick of her wrist, they are whisked away.

They're back in the garden. "Now stand still." She instructs them. Placing her hands forward of them, ribbons of energy begin to circle the teens.

The ribbons spin, becoming a maelstrom of magic. Our heroes feel their bodies soothe, and their fatigue fade.

The maelstrom slows until it completely subsides. "Feel better now?" Mother Earth asked.

"Very." "Much." "Definitely." Caesar, Amore and Dillon respectively respond.

"Good, now let's see about your dragon friend." In a flash of light, they are transported back to the forest. It's the same exact spot they left except.

The dragon is nowhere to be found. All that remains is Caesar's sword, which lies on the ground.

"Where is it?" Dillon asked. Him and everyone were looking around to see where the dragon could be.

"Maybe I can see it from the sky." Amore suggests and, flies into the air. She looks at the surround area, but nothing. "I don't see it, but maybe it's hiding under the trees." And she returns to the ground.

"I don't get how it disappeared like that, I put a sword in it's neck." Caesar said looking down at his sword.

"It's a mystery and so, is where it come from in the first place?" Mother Earth said.

"Dragons have been myths for so long, this can't be the first one right?" Amore questions.

"No it is not my dear, they are extinct, or so I thought, and if I was wrong about the dragons, I wonder what else I'm wrong about."

"Well what do we do?" Asked Dillon.

"You rest, the dragon is gone for the time being and if, or when it returns, you will need all your energy." Mother Earth tell them.

As they talk something watches from the bushes, completely unnoticed.

Fast forward after Mother Earth and the guard have parted ways. They stroll through the city's streets.

"I'm starving, Amore you want to get some food?" Dillon says, holding his stomach.

"Only if we get milkshakes." She repliers.

"Deal, Caesar you coming?" Dillon asked.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to." Amore added.

"Maybe next time, I'm gonna go home, and get some sleep." Caesar said.

"Okay, see you tomorrow?" Amore asked. "Definitely."

"See you later man." "Goodbye." Dillon and Amore said, hands waving. "Bye." Caesar returned. And with that they go their separate ways.

#theguard #writing #fiction #tumblr writers #fantasy #original story #action #magic #superhero #tapas #tapastic #wattpad #dragon #teen fiction #wattys2017 #ongoing series

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forbidden-creepypasta · 7 years

Text

Verdict

Ruth usually didn't have too much trouble keeping up on a normal day. At nine in the morning, as the judge entered the court room and people rose to their feet (not out of respect, but because the bailiff demanded it), she prepared herself for the trial of the year. Something felt amiss. People often scoffed or stared her down with a certain amount of concern when she told them what she did for a living. The court reporter is always there, behind the deliberations and motions to dismiss and attempts by sleazy defense lawyers for mistrials on some legal technicality. She was always recording, typing and writing furiously at a pace that most would consider dizzying and overwhelming. Their faces contorted even more when she reminded them of her arthritis. A mixture of carpal tunnel and severe arthritic pain in her wrists often led to physical anguish by the end of the day, and yet, this was one of the few things that she could do better than anyone else. She was fast, accurate, and attentive. She was also four months from retirement. The way she figured, with her state stipend, pension fund, and 401(k), there was no point in trying to find another job when she could swallow pain pills by the handful and truck it out for another few months. There was no harm in hard work. It wasn't the searing, hot throb coursing through the veins on the tops of her hands, or the nervous chatter of onlookers, or even the pounding, sharp strike of the judge's gavel that set her on edge. Something felt WRONG, out of place. She'd been reporting for close to thirty years, and she'd never felt the sinking feeling in her gut that suggested that she should have called in to work today. They were well on their way to phasing out the human aspect of court reporting, anyway. Voice recognition software was almost to the point that a computer could sit in the corner of the halls of justice and transpose the court deliberations, free of any human contact whatsoever. The uniformed officer who brought him in stopped at the massive wooden oak doors of the aisle-way, and he refused to take a step further. She'd never seen that before. The bailiff, hesitant and begrudged to escort the defendant to his seat at the table, seemed almost as reluctant, and yet the icy stare of Judge Malone compelled him to get the day started. Even for New York City, the case of William Valencia was certainly an odd one. He'd been accused of the rape and murder of a young NYU college student, Claire Sellers, in a sealed off, run-down corner of central park where authorities usually only found strung-out crack addicts and homeless alcoholics. They suspected that he'd brought her there, to establish a setting and throw off the preliminary investigatons, and, in truth, he'd done just that. They never would have found him if he hadn't confessed to the psychiatrist. The district attorney wanted to charge him with the murder of the doctor's family, but those charges were unfounded and completely ludicrous, considering that Valencia had been incarcerated in a padded room at the time of death. The psychiatrist's fingerprints had been found on the letter opener used to slice open his wife and daughter's bodies like effigy marionettes, but the design and intricate slash marks were performed in the exact same direction, velocity, and methodology that Valencia had used himself on Claire Sellers. Later, when authorities began interdepartmental communications between other police precincts in Buffalo, Augusta, Trenton, New Haven, and Boston, police began to make connections to over two dozen murders in the northeast area, dating back to around eight months before Valencia was locked up in the crazy-bin. The distance between the murders, although great, was still feasible. One person could have committed them, and yet, to do so, they would have had to been driven by the force of homicide, and nothing else. The DA had a strong case until Dr. Malcolm Creed hung himself. They'd never been able to question him, or to pinpoint the finer details of the morbid fiasco that occurred at his home on July 30th of the previous year. He'd been found strangled to death by his own neck tie in the apartment of a local bartender, Julianne Rosello, about forty minutes before she was scheduled to return home from her closing shift. In his left hand, he clutched a razor blade, embedded in the flesh of his palm. Below his right was a note, scrawled in rampant handwriting. It simply read: I planned to dice her up, but I stopped it. It left me. Valencia appeared as though he held not a care or a worry in the world, considering that he was facing four charges of first degree murder. He should have been facing twenty. There wasn't enough evidence, or, the witnesses who had the testimony to seal him away for those counts were six feet under. Somehow, those who came in contact with Valencia had taken up the craft, as if they'd become apprentices of the art of slaying in cold blood. Staring at him from the corner of the judge's bench, it chilled Ruth to the core of her very being to look at him. She hadn't realized it, but her hand had been idly doodling on the stationery as he'd walked in. Usually, she took footnotes or wrote abbreviated versions of what had been said, followed by a timestamp, to ensure that she didn't miss anything while she was typing. A miniature outline of the proceedings, really. What she'd written was completely different as she stared down at the red ink on the paper. The Bic pen felt as if it had moved of its own accord, because her hand wasn't throbbing. She stared at the paper as the judge announced the hearing of the Commonwealth of New York vs. William Valencia. Get out now. She wadded up the piece of paper as quietly as possible, tossing it in to the wastebasket under her desk. It would only serve to distract her from her job, and yet, something lingered there, as if she should take note of it. Had her hand been possessed? Valencia's lawyer looked as if he were about to come apart at the seams. He was a member of the New York chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union, and he was the same guy who'd defended the member of Al-Qaeda that was accused of setting up a bomb underneath the metro-subway system. He was a ruthless litigator, and against this particular DA, he'd gotten plenty of cold-hearted killers off the hot seat in the past. This trial, despite a complete lack of evidence in most of the killings, was completely different for him. He didn't have the confident air about his thousand dollar suit. Ruth didn't suspect that it was the job of defending the man that rattled him, but, rather, the fact that they sat side by side, less than two feet from each other. William was reclining in his bench chair, his handcuffs forming a bridge between his wrists as he folded his fingers together and cradled the back of his head against the chain. He didn't look like he was about to be tried for the death penalty, but, rather, as if he were watching Monday Night Football at the local Hooters. She swallowed, and began typing as the district attorney made his opening statement. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, thank you for being here today to serve your purpose, and to protect the public from the man who now sits across the room from you --- " ACLU black-suit rose to his feet almost instantaneously. "Objection, your honor. Foundation." The defense attorney, Marvin Limon, despite looking shaky, could still leap on any mistake that the prosecution made in the blink of an eye. He was a hawk, poised to swoop down and derail the strategy of the state of New York, and normally, he'd be doing a good job of it. He'd graduated from Princeton, whereas Ruth was almost positive that the DA had come from some non-accredited law school in Queens. A sustained objection during an opening statement was a big blow; it discredited the DA in the eyes of the jury, but it wouldn't be enough to stem the momentum that had been built against the defense's client. "Sustained. Mr. Miller, please limit your rhetoric and jargon during these proceedings. Even THIS man deserves a fair trial under New York state law." Judge Malone seemed to be the only person unphased by Valencia's presence in the court room. He'd probably seen worse. Maybe. "Sorry, your Honor. As I was saying...." Right around the time she finished writing "Objection by defense, sustained, 9:21AM," she fully realized that she'd been writing with the Bic pen again.... this time, there was no paper, but rather, deep, ingrained marks in the wood of her desk, as she'd tossed the only acceptable writing surface that was there before. The light-colored mahogany had been scratched by deep rivets, with red ink seeping from the outer edges where she'd depressed the tip in to it. She tried not to stare at the ingrained text in the wood, but it was impossible.... she'd drowned out the prosecutor completely. Hello, Ruth. You should have left. It falls on you now. She stared at the writing, dumbfounded, until her attention snapped back to the task at hand. Limon was up, now, carefully constructing his usual facade of smoke, mirrors, and accusations of "circumstantial evidence" and the establishment of "reasonable doubt as afforded by the founders of our great nation." She'd seen it done a thousand times, and yet, she was still obligated to record those overused phrases in to the computer. She wasn't typing. William Valencia wasn't leaning back in his chair anymore. His black-eyed gaze was burning across the courtroom like a thin, incendiary bullet, straight to her desk. He was staring her down something fierce, and yet, to most of the court, it would appear that he were fixated on a random spot on the wall behind her. It was easy to forget about the reporter. After a certain period of time, she became almost invisible to onlookers. There were more interesting things to survey than a drone at a keyboard for most people in a court room. Apparently, insane serial killers didn't qualify as "most people." Ruth was a religious woman, and yet, she'd never been superstitious. She'd never witnessed anything out of the ordinary, and yet, sitting there in her leather-bound chair, having just etched deep gashes in to the wood of her desktop amidst the turmoil of one of the most sensational court proceedings of the last six months, she knew for certain that something was out of place. Why didn't her hand ache with the scourge of her arthritis after such a feat? The pull, deep down, persisted still, more potent and relentless than before. That's when he took the stand. There were no witnesses, other than the autopsy report and the detective in charge of the investigation of Claire's murder. His arrival at the scene was a cold, brisk account of her cadaver's discovery. The district attorney was banking on a conviction, but to get the death penalty, he had to pass off the defendant as a ruthless murderer. He didn't stride about with the swagger from before. Indeed, he seemed intimidated, standing in front of the once-wealthy stockbroker who had everything in the world. "Mr. Valencia, how are you doing today?" A smile. He did a quick once-over of his fingernails, stretched his hand out, and then laid his palms nonchalantly on the surface of the banister. "I'm good. I'm thinking about how nice it would feel to shred your face to --- " "OBJECTION your Honor. The prosecution's opening statement is irrelevant to his case, and therefore, my client's response should be stricken from the record." More technical evasion. All the work-arounds in the world wouldn't save the man from his condemned fate, or at least Ruth thought so. "Sustained. The jury will disregard the defendant's response." The judge knew as well as the rest of them that by merely opening his mouth, Valencia had alienated the jury from any last remnants of sympathy for his plight. The next question was a fast ball, straight down the middle, and he rammed it home with his response faster than Alex Rodriguez. "Did you rape and murder Claire Sellers?" The amount of indifference in the prosecutor's voice was deliberate. He didn't even flinch. The corners of his mouth stretched ever wider. "I murdered her. But, truthfully, is it really rape if she was dead before I got antsy? Will you fry me any less for necrophilia?" He turned on the bench to stare at Ruth, and she resisted the urge to sink in to her chair and hide under her desk. As she finished entering his reponse, she returned his emboldened, furious gaze. He was the first to have ever done that, casing her out, as if his face were saying 'Did you get all that, sweetheart?' He then turned to face the jury again, before the judge could tell him to refrain from harassing the court reporter. Before she consciously realized it, she looked down and saw another piece of paper on the desk. Red ink was everywhere, but amidst the stains and splatters, she made out a few words. Stop him. You're almost out of time. Something was building within her. Despite the fact that she was in her early sixties, she hadn't felt so restless, and, indeed, so thoroughly invigorated, in decades. Her hands weren't hurting, and as she began to type, she found herself opening an instance of Microsoft Word, a separate document from the reporting notary that she would turn in before lunch to the county clerk's office. Her hands moved freely, painlessly, as the message began to take form in front of her. She knew it would be impossible for her to explain such a thing to someone in person, but the entire feeling from the moment she woke up was beginning to take hold, like a seed, sprouting its grasp through her old limbs from the depths of her spirit. The man is innocent. It is the thing within him that must be brought to justice, Ruth. I've taken your body, because you are the only one who could receive me. I've been hunting the thing across the room from you for a long time. It doesn't belong in your world. We're going to purge it. "No further questions, your Honor. This case is unique. The jury has seen everything they could possibly require to convict this man of murder." He took his seat quickly, giving them one last hard stare. Behind those eyes was a hint of desperation, but his adversary looked even more on edge. He knew his client was going away, but the real question was, would he receive the death penalty, or life, or just twenty years? It was impossible to tell with juries nowadays. She'd stopped reporting ages ago. Now, she only stared, dumbfounded, at the message on her monitor. Purge it. Her first tendency would be to think "What the hell does that mean?" And yet, she knew exactly what it meant. She knew, just as she knew that she couldn't stop herself from rising to her feet. Knew, without a doubt, that even a death sentence for William Valencia wouldn't stop the slayings.... that the evil within would migrate to a new body, take on a new persona, and tie up the justice system for another year while dozens were slashed to pieces all over the United States. Knew, that, while perhaps the consequences of her actions in the next few moments might cause pain and suffering, that the ends would justify the means. It will get out. Some may suffer. She came from an angle that took him completely by surprise. Her banister wasn't far behind his own. She heard the gavel, the pounding of uniformed boots on hardwood floors, and the stifled cry from the man's throat as she coiled her old, wrinkled hands around his neck and squeezed with enough bone-crushing force to choke the very life from him. She knew she wouldn't be shot, as the old lady surely couldn't pose enough of a threat to cause permanent damage to the witness. What was inside her, however, had different intentions. As the mace from the bailiff's canister hit her in the face, William's eyes were bugging out, glossing over with a cool blackness as the thing from the nether-realm was expelled through her force of will. Some may suffer. It finally rang home as she saw it trail effortlessly through the court room air, until it was in the jury box. Seven of the twelve were immediately affected, and the sharp object obsession was immediate. It was wild, on the run, unable to control the madness that it instilled upon immediate arrival in a host. All of them had pens. Ballpoints. Plastic Bics. God bless them.... even fountain pens. The foreman, Julian Hayes, was the first. He lifted the gleaming tip of the gold-plated Montblanc executive series, the kind of writing utensil that was there more to prove a point, to say 'Yeah, even my pens cost more than a month's rent for you,' and sank it in to the eyeball of the juror sitting next to him. She lost it, her feral screams drowning out the scurry of bailiffs and pounding of the judge's mallet. By then, it had already seeped in to the crowd of observers. The bailiff had sealed off the court room, and because those who are determined to kill are not limited by weapon choice, but rather, encouraged by their own creativity with whatever objects are available, more people died. Ruth finally released Valencia from her grip, and she knew whatever had helped her in her zeal had now left her forever. Her hands ached with the pain that had temporarily abated before, particularly as they were shoved through the loops of confining handcuffs. The black cloud had a counterpart. The thing that had inspired her to end this, no doubt. Of course, it was a blinding, brilliant blue, warm and enveloping as it surrounded the dark mist and swallowed it whole. Medical technicians and emergency personnel breached the doors and began to usher in quickly, tending to those who'd been blinded by the temporary maddening rage, and yet, as they carried her away, she knew that the aftermath of the debacle was a blessing in comparison to the alternative. She'd saved the lives of thousands that would perish at the mercy of the death-force. She'd been labeled as an "instigator of violence" by the media, and yet, the stare of William Valencia's cool blue eyes, his squeamish smile, and the terse parting of his lips as she passed by suggested that only he knew the scope and true impact of her actions. The mistrial was guaranteed. Oddly, as she looked upon him, it appeared that peace and solace would come much sooner than expected to his soul. He was liberated. Because she'd reported for Malone for well over three decades, he'd arranged to have her released on a misdemeanor of "public disturbance," and, thankfully, it didn't harm her stipend or pension. William Valencia was convicted a few months later in the same courtroom. She hadn't been allowed in due to her outburst, but the judge had deemed him mentally ill, and to the best of her knowledge, he would spend the rest of his life in a La-Z-Boy, watching ESPN and taking one version of anti-anxiety medication or another. He'd taken up the seminary and led a prayer group within his facility every Tuesday, particularly in the summer months, when he'd been rumored to pull the entire hospital together, asking them to consort with him and help him "stay strong for the solstice." She'd never figured out quite what he meant by that. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Three months later, the papers were buzzing with murders and killings, but nowhere near the extent of before. There were Valencia copy-cats, and, yet, one person who seemed to mimic him perfectly, and who seemed to cover his or her tracks without a semblance of evidence. As she filed out of the old building on to the massive limestone stairs after a routine divorce trial, her hands were on fire. Then, she felt as if she'd been hit by an invisible bolt of lightning, and the arthritis in her hands left her immediately. She gasped, and felt frightened at the same time, although she knew what drove her to leap forward on to the armed police officer in front of her was a force for good. Trusted its benevolence, for it was capable of far greater justice in the world than she. I'm sorry, Ruth. He's the last. I promise. She stripped the weapon from his belt before he turned around with a furious, black-lidded gaze, and recognized him as the hesitant guard who'd escorted Valencia in the initial proceedings. He offered her a wicked smile. "You'll never stop it, you old crotchety bitch." As she disengaged the safety on his firearm, he pulled the serrated knife blade from his jacket pocket in an instant, severing the carotid from her throat. Before she fell to the pavement, her desperate legacy fired off two shots, catching him square in the forehead. As she was lifted to the expanse of blue warmth above the courthouse, floating in an infinite dream, the black cloud imprisoned in the light around her, she was thankful for one thing, as she felt the promise, the growing assurance in the center of her non-physical being. It's gone. Come with me, Ruth. There's nothing left for you here but pain. Her hands would never hurt again.

Credit to: Violent Harvest

#creepypasta #horror microfiction

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