#Writing Experiment

[yyprompts]

#95 🌙🖤🤍

You and your best friends decide to stay in and color at your place because of an unexpected thunderstorm outside. While you're having fun and testing out your old gel pens, suddenly fifty lightning bolts strike outside the apartment all at once. You think you're all just seeing and hearing things, but turns out this is the beginning of the worse thunderstorm on the history of the planet.

[echoes-experiment]

Welcome to The Prompt Experiment

Hi there, I'm Echo Lyn, the main author of the blog. My pronouns are he/they/she, and I'm a genderqueer alterhuman with an interest in using Generative AI correctly.

This blog is a space for me to explore what it means to write with generative AI, not just using it. Every story here began with a prompt—an idea sparked by ChatGPT—but the heart of the writing is still mine. I want to better understand how tools like this can support creativity without overshadowing it. That means being transparent about where AI helped, where it didn’t, and what I learned in the process.

Think of this space as a creative sandbox: part storytelling, part experiment. Whether you’re curious, cautious, or just along for the ride, I hope you find something here that sparks your own ideas.

Anyone can take part in The Prompt Experiment! The only rule is that you do the writing, NOT the AI. Just use the the tag #The Prompt Experiment so I can see it!

[dragon-susceptible]

Different Path Taken Ch20: P2 Maybe? Runaan's Narration

I went ahead and gave that narration idea a shot, and I've got nearly a thousand words of it before I had to pause. I think it's turning out okay? Tell me what you guys think. I can still edit in dialogue tags and some action to break it up if that's better.

Ten thousand years ago, the mountains in what is now southern and eastern Katolis were home to the Moonshadow elves.  The area was largely inhospitable back then to human farmers, and magical resources grew aplenty upon the slopes.  That is why this caldera appears so  . . . lifeless now.  The magic was stripped from this place when we were driven out.

“I thought humans lost the war, and that’s why we were driven to this side of the continent.  How come you guys didn’t just keep this land as part of Xadia?”

That decision was not made by elves, but by dragons.  It is . . . difficult to argue with an Archdragon.

“Ah.  Uh, yeah, that makes sense.”

In the end, it was not Sol Regem that proposed the split.  A Sunfire queen, ancestor of Queen Aditi and the line that rules the Sunfire kingdom to this day, suggested the breach be made.  Sol Regem used every bit of his power to draw the lava to the surface, together with the other archdragons, and cracked the world in half.  This left the Moonshadow holdings on the wrong side, and the queens - the elf and Luna Tenebris, the dragon queen after Sol Regem stepped down from the throne - agreed that the people of the world should be split along those halves.  Thus Moonshadow elves were driven to Xadia as humans were driven here, to our home.

We destroyed everything we could.  The desolation you see here, the magic that was stripped - we did that to our own home, to keep its power from human hands.  Little to nothing remains of what our civilization once was.  All we have is memory, histories that stretch back to the very first elves to walk this world.

“How can you be sure the histories are true?”

Magic is in everything, little one.  Even what we took from this place could not drain it of everything.  Moon magic is seen in light through the darkness, deception, in illusion, perception, reality.  It is a flip of the coin from the Sun’s truth, the Ocean’s chaos, and the Earth’s life.  It is in deception, in order, and in death.

“That’s why it’s dangerous for someone who’s grieving.  But what does that mean, moon magic is in death?”

What happens to a soul after it dies is no mystery to a Moonshadow elf.  We know where our dead go - to a world beyond this one, to the next phase of their existence.  What is there to fear in that?  In the old days, here at the Moon Nexus, a door could even be opened to that realm, permitting us to speak to the dead, and to pass on quietly if it were our time.  Now, without the Moonhenge and the power of the Nexus, with everything but a shade of its former self, all we can open is a window.  But that is enough, to confirm the histories we keep.  We are meticulous about them - oral stories passed from one generation to the next, calling upon ancestors to ensure they are accurate.

“Some physical books and written histories remain, but so much has been lost over the centuries that the assassins’ oral histories are considered to be the most in-depth and accurate records of elven history in Xadia - among any elf.��

Thank you, Ram.  There are also other elves tasked with preserving what little physical history we could recover . . . but precious little of that survived the trip to Xadia.  It was a harrowing journey with no support from the Xadian side of the newly made breach, and many of our warriors kept busy with the war and the . . . forced emigration of humans even as our own people were subjected to the same conditions further south.  Many, many lives were lost on that journey, and many more were left behind, slaughtered by the angry humans who had just lost their own homes. 

It is said that nearly a hundred thousand Moonshadow elves once lived among these mountains.  Around twenty thousand made the journey successfully into Xadia, after a harrowing war fought mostly on our doorstep and the migration.  While certainly a population not to be degraded, it was a heavy blow, and many of us were driven to desperation.  It took decades to find a place to settle in Xadia, most land there already strong with established communities.  While we could settle in those communities, we could not maintain our own private rituals until we had somewhere to preserve them away from outsiders’ eyes.  Moonshadow Forest was where we eventually landed, a mere twenty-thousand left of a society once five times that.  It is not a large forest, and was not even then, and many of our people did range around Xadia for many years after that . . . though much changed in the next few centuries, and now few of us venture beyond the treeline.

“That’s sad.”

“Yeah.  Why don’t you tell us something happy?”

“Ellis!”

Ha!  Very well, children, shush.  Despite all the death and destruction associated with this place, it is still sacred to our people, and a single guardian is still left here even now.  Near the peak, where the water of the Nexus itself feeds them, flowers and life still continue to grow.  This mountain is the only place on this side of the breach where you can still find the blue roses once cultivated by Moonshadow elves.  On the other side, they are found only in Moonshadow Forest.

“Has anyone ever found the Guardian before?  What happens then?”

She has her ways of keeping this place safe, and a secret.  I shan’t tell you more of that now.  Skor, I’m certain remembers - the rest of my elves should, and it will be an excellent training exercise in observation skills if they do not.

“I don’t suppose I count as a kid for this?”

No, little blade, you do not.

“Didn’t think so.”

[imjusthereforironwood]

Just Breathe

"Alright, now try to squeeze the stress ball."

Colonel James Ironwood inhaled through his nostrils as he attempted to flex his mechanical fingers. The movement felt so... foreign. Even when James puts all his focus into it, he barely managed to make the prosthetic lightly grip the stress ball. He's been trying to adapt to his replacement parts, but progress had been slow.

"I'm trying," James said, his teeth gritted. He wasn't going to give up so easily. He focused himself wholly on squeezing the ball.

"Do you need some help?" someone said, their voice distant in James's ears.

"I'm fine!" Ironwood snapped back. "I can do this myself."

James could feel the implant in his forehead burning as he tried to will his right hand to squeeze. He heard another voice, but he couldn't quite tell what it was saying. Suddenly, a searing pain shot through his nervous system, shocking him to his core.

It hurts. Oh, Brothers, what is happening? I feel it again. My arm and leg, aching, tearing, rending. Someone help me, it hurts! I can feel how wrong this body is. These limbs aren't mine!

He could feel his lungs operating independently, one prosthetic, one organic. James wasn't getting enough oxygen.

James felt a hand hold his left hand. He looked over.

It was one of the doctors that had constructed his prosthetics. Dr... Pietro Polendina, that's it. James could hear the whirring and clicking of Pietro's robotic chair. His wide face had a calm, gentle smile on it.

"You overclocked the prosthetics, Colonel Ironwood," Pietro said, his tone quiet and thoughtful, giving James's hand a gentle squeeze. "You're hyperventilating, but you're going to be ok. Just...breathe with me for a second. In through the nose...and out through the mouth."

James, focusing on the man's words, began following the doctor's rhythmic breathing. In, out, in, out. The prosthetic lung began functioning in sync with his organic lung, and the burning sensation went away from his arm. He realized that he was still holding Pietro's hand and let go.

"Don't worry, this isn't uncommon among people adapting to new parts," Pietro said with a warm smile. "You're a resilient man, Colonel Ironwood, and you've shown remarkable progress considering how extensive the replacements are. You'll be firing on all cylinders in no time, but you have to take this one step at a time."

"Please...just call me James," Ironwood said with a small smile of his own.

[imawholeassmood]

It starts with a nod.

AO3

Kara cries, tears falling like autumn leaves.

Her courage got her this far.

It isn’t enough to play dress up and pretend.

This needs to be nurtured.

A life alone was all she thought was possible for herself.

Passion burns deep inside her.

Lena can do this.

Together, they can write a new story.

They are not doomed to follow the paths of their families before them.

It will take a heroic effort.                             

You are my kryptonite.

I pine for you.

A force for good.

Her skin prickles.

The knot in her throat burns.

She’s paid her debts.

This is her found family.

Her magnum opus.

Time’s up.

The sun rolls high through the sapphire sky.

Sparks fly.

Kara sucks in a breath.

A new beginning.

Heat rises to her cheeks.

I’ve tried so many times to find the words.

Something in the air shifts.

Her nerves are brewing.

On to the next chapter.

Our love is timeless.

You have bewitched me.

Lena runs her finger over the ring.

[whump-since-2010]

A Little Bit of Consumer for a Rough Draft Writing Exercise

@silent-forest-protocol most of these are your characters so... Tell me how I did Lol

-

Consumer peeked over the edge of the vat of boiling water, soothing as it washed the dried blood from his skin and hair, several eyes following Dancer as she studied the wooden hands of the mannequin she used as a host. As she'd attempted to hold him still, to scrub the flakes off of his upper claws, some of the acid from where he'd missed his victim dripped onto her, decaying a few fingers off of her left hand.

The pressure of a rare feeling swelled in his chest and he sank down into the water, closing his eyes. He didn't want her to look at him. Another one of her vessels he ruined. His fault. He couldn't even control himself. Idiot of a beast Admin called him. Dimwitted Cretin. He didn't even know what that MEANT. But it didn't sound very nice. It hurt a little, in a strange way. Just like the tearing burn of hunger collapsing his body in on itself, as if it dug sharp claws into his organs, tearing them open for a display. A thousand needles and a seed imbedded in his flesh blooming into a flower of smoldering embers, carving him away into a hollow void. He surfaced seconds later, gasping for breath.

"W̵̗͚̥̆̍ĥ̵͉͘a̵̱̠͎͂t̴̳̝̩̍̄̓ a̶r̵e̷ you doin', little budd̷͓̾ý̵͙?"

Consumer jumped, twisting so his eyes blinked to reveal Dancer, arms crossed, standing on her stool. He shrank back down, "NnN-nNoO-othHh-IinNGg MaA-aMaaAa…"

"That's your lying voice, Sumsum. Stayin' in the ẉ̵̑á̴̗t̵̠̄è̸̘r̷ ̵̳͐l̸o̷nger than usual, hm? What's goin' on with you?"

He hesitated. V20 had threatened to turn all his pain sensors up and rip all of his legs off again if he told anyone. But… it was Mama. He could trust her with anything. The fear beginning to seep into his mind, he settled for a sort of truth, if only half of it. "HhHuU-UunNgGrrY…"

"You always are," Dancer sighed, "Alright, I tell you what, I a̶l̷r̸e̶a̸d̵y̷ ̶d̴r̸ained one of the bodies, and we've got some of those plant things that Hunter brought back from her last mission."

The younger Nemesis unit perked up, "RrR-eEalL-lYyY?"

Dancer chuckled, "Yes, Really, Connie, of course."

Consumer hooked his claws over the edge of the vat and skittered out onto the stone floor, shaking his head to clear the water from his hair. Dancer held up her hands as steaming droplets flew in all directions.

"Hey! H̸̛̭E̵͖͋Y̶͉̑!̵̮̃ ̶ Don't fling Boiling water at m̸e̴- Careful!"

He tensed again at the tone of her voice, and shrank back again. "SsSoO-oOrRrYyy…"

But all of a sudden, Dancer flinched, and a harsher, mechanical voice projected from her Direction.

<[ALERT: ADMIN TRANSMISSION DETECTED]>

A soft beep followed

[TRANSMITTING ORDER: STATE IF YOU ARE RECEIVING.]

The mannequin host twitched and after the first few words, Her voicebox glitched out a bit as it always did when Admin was present, whether physically or just in command like now. The pitch lowered substantially before shifting to a high, almost mocking sort of tone "Im here, f-far f̷â̶r̶̼̚ ̵͉̇ä̴̰́w̸̞͋a̵̳͐y̴͖̔- FUCKO,-whats̵͉̊ ̴t̸̺̐ḫ̷͝e issueeee?~"

[STATEMENT, DEROGATORY: I AM UNIMPRESSED WITH YOUR ANTICS, CALM YOURSELF, DANCER.]

[INQUIRY: ARE YOU CURRENTLYOCCUPIED WITH ANY IMPORTANT TASKS?]

At the voice, Consumer curled the longer Centipede segments of his body tightly around himself, glancing around nervously for any sight of him.

"Hehh-h-hh-H wE̷̛͇ ̴j̵̻͝u̵̓s̶̼̓t̵͂ ̷͈͘F̷̹̋o̵̙̕ught One of YoUr- SHITTY -B-battles å̵̫̤ ̸͍͑͘Ẃ̴̠͋ĕ̴̝̾e̷̮̿ḱ̸̠̏ ạ̶̄goooo… What More do you THINK You neeeeed?~"

[STATEMENT: YOUR BEHAVIOR AND RESULTS HAVE LATELY BEEN…MUCH LESS THAN SATISFACTORY. I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHY.]

[STATEMENT COMMAND: SO CEASE YOUR WHINING, <ID. DANCER-OF-UNCLEAN-IDEALS>, PUT YOUR MINDLESS BEAST ON A LEASH, AND WHEN YOU'VE COMPLETED THAT, BRING YOURSELVES BEFORE ME.]

Consumer covered his head with his claws at the anger in his voice, Admin was Angry. All he knew was that never ended well for anyone. It usually meant pain. His voice crumbled to a whisper"Ma-Aa-MaaA… SsScCaa-aArReeeD…"

But Dancer didn't seem to hear him, her voice lowering to a furious growl. "N-No. FUCK o̶̘͝f̵̲͌f̸̣̆,̶̢̕ ̵F̶͚͗ù̷̯c̴̅k̷̻̈́ ̴Ỳ̷Ȍ̶̪u̶͚͗.̸̤̽ I̷f̷̥̆ you Want mee You̸͇͐ ̷c̸͍̀a̵͉̓n̵͈̚ ̴C̷̺̈́ò̴̺m̴͘͜è̴͍ ̴̣̔a̶̰̽nd geT me- ASSHOLE~"

[ORDER, DEROGATORY: CLAM IT, YOU INSOLENT BITCH.]

"Hey hey hey but wh-hyyyyy W̶̯̐O̶̳͆Ù̷̟L̸̖̆D̶̃ ̶̲̍I? ̵͉̊Ï̶̦ ̵̈ͅhave NO r-RË̶͙A̸͇͝S̴̬̾Ô̵̦N̵̲͗S̷̘̕ ̷t̶͈̓o̶̯̓ ̴l̸̂ȉ̵sten to YOUuu! Hehe… M̶̭̅̉Ä̷̲́͋K̴̻͊͂É̴͙̋ ̵͕̖̀M̸̤̾̃Ē̵��!̸̆̀~"

[GET THE FUCK OVER HERE.]

[N O W.]

[fandom-hopping]

Last Dance

-------

The night had been mostly standard for a coloney dance. Socializing, dancing, and endless book signing. It's their last dance before graduating and moving on.

"Let's hear it for our prom queen!"

V and Lizzy were standing off to the side, watching the crown being placed on the head of a pretty dissasembly. Lizzy glanced over to V, reading her expression. V was watching the stage, tail swaying with a look of remembrance.

"...I'm sorry, I don't think I ever got to say that"

V turned her head down, looking at Lizzy. She sighed and looked back up at the stage where the prom queen was giving a superficial speech before walking off the stage.

"It's fine, I really don't care about it anymore"

V was tapping her arm with a claw, leaning back against the wall. Lizzy kept her eyes on the group of drones forming. An idea comes to mind, and she waves to V.

"I'm gonna go congratulate the queen, brb"

"I'll be here"

Lizzy made her way towards the group of gathering students. V watched with a forced look of boredom. She watched as Lizzy approached the queen with an enthusiastic 'Hey girl! Picture to celebrate?' The two leaning in for a selfie. Lizzy's hand sneaked up, and suddenly, the crown was snatched.

"Wha-LIZZY!"

Lizzy dashed away from the group, dodging past the other gathered students. Voices of annoyance and some of respect. V unfolded her arms, pushing off the wall as Lizzy approached her at a fast pace. Before V could open her mouth to speak, the crown was dropped on her head. Lizzy takes a few steps back and snaps a photo with her phone, posting it quickly with the caption 'all hail the true prom queen' with a grin.

"Hey, give that back!"

Lizzy glanced back at the approaching angry drone. Her hand shot out and grabbed Vs.

"That's our que to run earth girl"

She took off at a sprint, dragging V along behind her. V barely had time to react, being pulled along as she was. A grin grew across her face. Lizzy felt herself being picked up in V's arms.

"You're too slow, I got this"

She knocked the doors open with her back, waving to the angry approaching students. V then turned on her feet and ran down the hall. Lizzy's hands wrapped around V's neck for a better hold. The two of them laugh as they make their great escape.

[patriciaselina]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 薬屋のひとりごと - 日向夏 | Kusuriya no Hitorigoto - Hyuuga Natsu Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Fengxian/Lakan (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto) Characters: Lakan (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto), Fengxian (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Title from a K-pop Song, Song: Singularity (BTS Kim Taehyung | V), Angst, Introspection, Pining, Nightmares, Flower Language, Psychological Horror, Alternate Character Interpretation, Tags Contain Spoilers, Ambiguous/Open Ending Summary:

Other days, he reaches for her, and she comes apart at his fingertips, nothing left of her but weiqi stones that clatter past his feet. Today, he doesn't dare, and miraculously, the Lakan in his dream listens, for once. He will gladly stay still and let her dole out as much of her disgust as she can if it means she'll grace him with her presence, just a little bit longer.

After all, she's the only dream he's ever had, even if this is a nightmare.

[buttsandboltguns]

Deep Trenches, Dented Defenses

The combat droid surged through the mud filling the wreckage-lined trench. Small amounts of muck seeped through the battered armor plating on her quad legs, swiftly deterred from the underlying electrical components from the multiple carefully installed isolation layers. She would try to clean it all out later - or more probably she would need the help of a mechanic to clean it all out. A fresh wave of mud sloughed off of the armor as she stepped in a particularly deep puddle.

No enemies pinged on the sensor arrays. At least none that sported engine signatures - the deep rumble of her own would give away her position before the sensor blip would, so she wasn’t particularly worried about being noticed. And even if she was noticed, the 105mm smoothbore mounted to her left shoulder and fed from an autoloader would deal with any heavy armor. The 14mm caseless chaingun in her right shoulder would handle the remainder.

Most would suspect her and those like her to be well engineered, to be built from purpose-manufactured parts and components that were built in space-age laboratories.

… that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Heavy combat droids like her were made of scrapyard parts and scavenged machinery. Their core would have been salvaged from a smaller, humanoid droid - typically a NAC.23 or a similar commando model like the SERE5. Around that, the field mechanics would slowly put together an armored chassis with field-stripped weapons and some form of motive system. Hers happened to be a quad platform - four legs, excellent for moving through trenches and urban environments. Her entire squad was the same way, though none of their battered armor plating looked quite the same. They needed to ID each other through their communications channels anyways - unlike a lighter chassis, few heavy combat droids needed full visual spectrum optics. Instead most of them mounted a hellacious blend of infrared, UV scanners, and EM analyzers. They knew only vague shapes in the din of battle, and called out to each other gently like whales through the darkness of their combat zones.

The abrupt, almost automatic rotation of her chassis blew her from her reverie. A blistering roar ripped the air apart and in the blink of a scanner ping, 100 rounds had been expended from her chaingun. The shredded remains of a light combat drone collapsed to the ground, its automated programming causing it to twitch and spark before smoking and falling silent.

Stalking closer, she analyzed the chassis for anything useful. Armor panels, of course, but her squadron had an excess of armor at the moment. Small weapons seemed to be what this drone sported. Her right primary manipulator unlocked from her side, reaching out and tearing away the array that mounted the paired machineguns on either side of a small caliber chemrail.

That scout unit had been what her squad was hunting down. She supposed that the rest of the chassis should be brought back as well. The commsquawk back to their transport was brief and quiet - and a horrible screech of binary code to anyone without the encoders necessary to understand the radio communication. And it was all that was necessary to summon the airlift to remove her unit from the area.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their forward operating base was little more than a dugout, barely deep enough to conceal the heavy frames of her squad and wide enough to accommodate a few other squads and their equipment, as well as the mechanics too. Her chassis had been hosed off - mud, oil, and other caked-on schmutz washed away to the trench sump. On her left foreknee stood a mechanic, reached up with a support band slung over the barrel of her 105mm, working to repair an armor panel on the outside of the bore evacuator that had been dented. They swiftly unbolted the panel and tossed it down to another mechanic, then climbed down off of her chassis.

At the other end of the dugout, a squadron of NAC.23s sat on a set of crates, helping each other do basic maintenance. Small panels. Replacing joint graphite packs. Changing cells. They were gossiping too, she could pick it up just barely on her audio sensors. Talking amongst each other, quietly and gently, to not disturb the other units with them.

She withdrew her focus into her hull. It was easier to focus on herself. Heavy units could hardly speak - not when their chassis was set for field mode, and they were encased in ton upon ton of armor and weapons. A quick diagnostic should be a good distraction.

Left autoloader cycling properly. Rack mostly full. HEAT, HE, APFSDS, and her single tube-fired missile that she was able to scrounge up - she didn’t remember where, it was a savored find, and hers alone. She would reminisce on the group’s weapons later, when she finished the diagnostic.

Right autoloader needed lubrication, as usual. The tracks that carried the caseless ammunition from the bin to the chaingun required frequent lubrication, or they would seize and she would be left unable to defend herself against lighter targets without resorting to either melee combat or wasting HE shells in danger close scenarios, or techs forbid, be forced to use a VT fuse and attempt to airburst an HE shell.

She pushed her report to the main mechanic’s hooked up tacslate, allowing her mind to wander to the other two members of her squad.

Both were similar to her, but so different. She supposed that was the nature of custom heavy combat droids. Her battle buddies were armed strangely, one with a 76mm and a 30mm rotary autocannon and the other armed with a heavy chemrail and one of their best scavenge finds; a 12-megawatt diffused laser pulse weapon with mostly untouched lenses. It was only a matter of time until the frontal lens got scratched or cracked, but until then it was an incredibly valuable piece of equipment.

She wondered if they would still be in the same squad if they were still humanoid combat droids. Would they have even been friends? Would they help fix each oth-

The NAC.23 squad were talking about them. About her.

“-that big Hecodra’s armor is so beat up-”

“-is its battle ID symbol a rocket rack-”

“-what’s that big gun on its side-”

She pushed her focus deeper into her hull, until all she could hear or see was her own technical readouts.

What was it like, she wondered, to be able to be friends.

Hecodras like her didn’t get those opportunities. You didn’t become friends with them, simply put - they were battle automata, big enough to take up most of a dugout and still need more space, and that’s the way the brass liked to keep it.

As far as they were concerned, she was only an “it” - a heavy machine, made to kill and hunt and destroy. And very little else.

She didn’t necessarily disagree. She was an it. But it was also a she.

And they might never get the chance to know that.

An impatient commsquawk from one of her squadmates slowly roused her from her introspection. She readily ID’d it as coming from the Hecodra who had a human looking mischievous painted like bomber art across the side of her chassis. The one with the gatling.

Her sensor array fuzzed as it came to life, displaying only the UV sensors. In front of her chassis, on the railroad tie “floor” she was rested on, stood one of the NAC.23s seemingly looking up towards her chassis. They had an outline of a bird painted on their frontal cranial plating in stealth paint. So this unit of NAC.23s used cranial markings to distinguish each other.

She focused her auditory sensors back in, away from isolating to only the ultra-high hertz ranges that their communiqués utilized. It took a moment for her second-hand auditory sensors to properly focus in. When they did, she was able to hear the lightly synthesized voice of the droid in front of her - pleasant, all things considered.

“Hello? Hello? Can you hear me? Rotate your sensor array left if you can hear me.”

The Hecodra supposed that the NAC.23 was referring to her primary sensor array - not the one she currently saw with. The multi-lens’d array housed deep in the circular cutout towards the top of her chassis spun left, tapping against the bump-stop.

“Are you okay? You’re so damaged… left for yes, right for no.”

The sensor array tapped left again.

“How much of you is still… you? Are any of your parts originals?”

She didn’t understand the question. Hecodras had no original parts. It was known that every one was custom from battlefield scrap. She rotated her sensor array left - any part was her parts.

“I mean like, from your… first chassis. Where they pulled your core from.”

That question… hurt. What was her first chassis? What was she?

She could only vaguely remember. Her programming… her core programming… that indicated something with precision. Suited towards one, specific task. Likely a combat operation marksman bot Mk.10. A COMBot.10 unit… no, she had no parts remaining from that. She supposed that it didn’t matter if she analyzed it anyway, as all of her parts were from combat striders or drones. No humanoid droid were used in her creation beyond her core. Not that she could remember herself before she became a Hecodra.

She slowly rotated the sensor array to the right, until it hit the bump-stop.

“Oh… I’m sorry. We thought they might have at least saved a little of your original parts. We were hoping to maybe help service you, but we don’t - we don’t know how to help work on Hecodras. Maybe the mechanics can help us learn in a less hairy situation. If you want, that is. What do you think? Would it be okay if we helped learn to service you?”

That seemed okay. But she couldn’t help but worry the smaller droids might hurt themselves working on her.

The sensor array hit the left bump-stop.

[supremeuppityone]

Avoiding my WIPs; writing experiment #2: Klaroline AU human

            Caroline should’ve known. In a small town, there’s only so many local “celebrities” that could be tapped to be in the charity bachelor auction. Of course they’d bring in the famous pitcher for the Wolves, a two-time MVP who recently led his team to a World Series win. Klaus Mikaelson. Sports legend. Home-town hero. And the worst breakup Caroline had experienced. 

            She managed to slip into the shadows of Mystic Grill, ducking slightly behind the tacky, heart-shaped signs the planning committee had placed throughout the banquet room. Matt immediately was at her side, handing over a fresh screwdriver with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry. Had I known he’d be here, I would’ve warned you,” he quietly murmured.

            “It wouldn’t have mattered. As deputy mayor, I’d still be expected to make an appearance.” She barely resisted the urge to down her cocktail, knowing there were judgy eyes watching closely for any sign of weakness. Fucking small towns.

            Klaus smiled with a casual confidence as he glad-handed around the room. He could still wear the hell out of a tux. Bastard. Caroline steeled herself for the moment when he noticed her and no matter how many times she’d prepared herself for this moment that she’d assumed would never come, it still felt like taking a bullet. Those gray eyes were much colder than she’d imagined. He held her gaze for the briefest of seconds and then looked right through her.

[yyprompts]

#36 🌙❤️🤍

celebrity talk

"Has it ever occurred to you that millions of people across the world dream of you every night?" / "...Are you one of them or something?"

"It's not funny to have my yearbook picture plastered all over the internet." / "You're a celebrity now, what did you expect to happen?"

"Just because I'm famous now does not mean I can suddenly get you tickets to whatever concert you want."

"Being famous is something you learn to cope with more than enjoy."

"Why are you acting like I haven't wanted to be famous for all my life?" / "I didn't think you were actually stupid enough to go through with it!"

"I can finally tell everyone I'm best friends with a celebrity!" / "I wouldn't do that if I were you--"

"Only thing worse than being a celebrity is dating one. Can testify."

"I've never had a celebrity crush and never will." / "But we dated senior year." / "That was for two weeks!"

"It's the first time no one has come up to me and asked me for a selfie." / "I'll volunteer!"

"Why is my autograph tattooed on your forehead?" / "So, this guy kept saying I wasn't a real fan of yours, so I..."

[conindiundrum]

I'm gonna write a murder mystery because for some reason i have myself convinced it'll help me learn and now that i'm thinking about im probably right. Foreshadowing will be such a big part of it. And story structure. And I don’t have anything else to add I’m too excited.

[a-halo-for-you]

I See You (Writing Chain Game 1#)

The waters of Venice murkily reflected the waning moon above and the silver light shyly peeked around the rooftops of the overshadowing buildings. Music drifted through the air and tourists paced the thin pathways of cobblestone and slate, carefully navigating their way through the mazes of gothic architecture and carefully adapted restaurants and pubs. 

Boats drift through the rivers of the city, the boatmen attuned to the waterways and currents that drifted between the sharp standing buildings which were cracked and dusty with age. They were aged like fine wine, comforting and beautiful with the warm glow of lights squinting out from closed windows and flower baskets hanging from the window sills. Balcony doors were left open to some buildings, the smell of family meals being cooked wafted out and caught the breeze. Couples sat in little wicker chairs, cigarettes in hand and bottles of beer at their bare feet, condensation dribbling down the sides and pooling into the floor as they overlooked the passersby. 

Venice was a land of idyllic sunsets and mysterious nights, with music and food and plenty of places to be lost and never found. A place for one to run away and sink into the nostalgia of their yesterday, a time before their path came quickly to a stop and all roads lead to here. 

Liam Hertz sat patiently in the seat of a gondola, watching as the ferryman's paddle dipped in and out of the water. Droplets glistened in the air before rejoining the waterways and his glasses caught the warmth of the lamps that lit the way through the gloomy river. He shifted slightly in his seat and glanced at the time on his watch, it had a brown leather strap and large face that his wife, Kara, bought for him only last year on their anniversary. 

They were supposed to have made this trip together, it was their annual escape to the very place they first met, the place they married and the place they spent their honeymoon and every anniversary after. He could remember exactly how she had dressed, brown hair tied back with a little blue scarf and a white blouse, she was tanned from her tour around europe and her eyes were as blue as the sky, the first thing he noticed and the first thing he fell in love with about her. 

She had sat at a table across from him, surrounded with her friends who laughed under the warm glow of the restaurant lights. Her glasses were pushed back on her head as she drank and ate a carefully crafted red wine and some type of seafood carbonara. 

“Oh wow, you two have to try this,” She had said, quickly forking some strands onto each of their plates, much to her friends bemused smiles. 

She was bright and kind and her laughter though softer than the squawk of her friends, was endearing in how she hid behind her hands, a delighted shade of pink blushing her cheeks that the longer Liam had stared, the redder his face had gotten too. He could remember how his brother, Tom, had punched him in the arm jovially after noticing and Liam had scowled embarrassed for being caught ogling at someone he did not know, and rubbed his sore arm with a pitiful excuse, ‘I was reading the menu behind her head, that’s all.”

His brother rather than responding had simply smiled, but with enough mischievous menace that he resembled the cheshire cat. 

“No.”

“What? I didn’t say anything,” Tom had kept smiling and Liam had not been amused.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Liam’s hand reached for the knife that had previously been for his steak. 

Tom shrugged with too much innocence in his eyes, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  

“Oh really,” Liam had to hold back his eye roll. 

The course of the evening had ended with a literal shove from Tom sending Liam to trip right next to Kara who applied a plaster to his cut knee and slipped her phone number into his pocket before they parted ways only to meet for breakfast the next day and the day after that and the day after that. 

Liam couldn’t help but wonder how it had gotten all wrong.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Chain begins! I've begun part one so go ahead and write the next parts however you like. Essentially try to keep the same info like characters and setting in tact for the scope of the story but most importantly lets have fun!

@nebulaqueen42

@queryingquerith

[spider-in-my-ear]

Plastic bugs

tw: mention of blood, bugs, wasps, spiders, ants

And moths try and fail to fly away dropping so many needless words and so many thoughts

Like blood droplets between a vein and floor

And ants pace around and around and around and around and around and around a spiral

So add one more to their numbers

And spiders spin and pull rayon threads and polyester webs piteous and seeming weak

Abandon your strings and be free

And wasps burst from a chest cavity and swarm from a mouth with stingers bared

They hide in the moments of starlight

[liswjournal1113]

Happy Halloween!

Hello, Ghosties. I would apologize for being gone so long but it looks like my thoughts were correct. You don't exist. It's...a comforting thought. I haven't told anyone about this blog. Will knows that I am writing but he doesn't pry. I love him all the more for that. He knows when to push and when to leave me be.

I've been so incredibly busy lately. Halloween is coming up and when the walls between our world and the daemons' are at their thinnest is when I'm the busiest at work. People need charms and potions to keep other worldly pests at bay while some people are in need of "exorcisms" to get the particularly nasty daemons out of their homes and bodies. I don't perform them very often these days, but (not to ring my own bell or anything) I was a bit of a prodigy when I was younger. I'm the one people typically reach out to with questions. This time of year is also when the younger witches try to do something foolish like pulling things from outside realities into our own. Kinda like bringing a racoon into the house but not only is it rabid, but it'll eat your face and your soul.

The werewolf pack usually goes all out this time of year. My brother-in-law is their leader and he loves going all out especially when there is going to be a full moon like this year. My sister takes her kids trick-or-treating but this year my nephew, Teddy, has decided that at fourteen, he is too old for church trunk or treating. After begging and pleading, he's finally worn his mother into letting him watch scary movies on one condition: parental supervision. Since she can't even watch Child's Play with the lights off, make that auntie's-boyfriend supervision.

I used to love this time of year. Rick (my ex-husband) and I would curl up and watch scary old movies like Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Cabin Fever. I loved going out into the woods with my circle and dancing around the bonfire under the stars as we celebrated the spirits and the rebirth of magic. That feels like a lifetime ago. Maybe I should contact Elise and join them this year. Although, showing my favorite and only nephew some of my favorite horror movies with a bucket of popcorn and a party size bag of candy sounds like a better time.

My question to you ghosties, if fourteen too young for Saw or should I stick with something campier instead like Slither or Willy's Wonderland instead?

Happy Hauntings!

~Lis