dailyexdrabbles - Tumblr blog

[dailyexdrabbles]

One Word Angst Prompts

1- Shock

2- Stolen

3- Broken

4- Injured

5- Tears

6- Lost

7- Accident

8- Forgotten

9- Nightmares

10- Fear

11- Distrust

12- Abandoned

13- Heartbreak

[dailyexdrabbles]

Day 15.  Drowning.

Tw: drowning, drowned, zombie, major character death, death, gore.

Ex wasn’t paying attention.  That was his first mistake.

He had been swimming across a river, somewhere.  He had started to zone out, a rare thing for someone always on edge.  But the cool water and warm sun seemed like a paradise, an air of peace.  Ex should have never let his guard down.

Ex should have contacted Xisuma.  That was his second mistake.

Ex felt an icy hand grip his ankle and pull him under.  The water was undeniably creepy, the sun seeming dimmer already.  His hair drifted around him, catching the light.  Bubbles floated in front of his face from his frightened exhale.  And then Ex jolted with the realization of what happened.  He should have contacted Xisuma, but after so long on his own, the mere thought of having backup slipped his mind.

Ex screamed.  That was his third mistake.

The drowned bit his ankle.  The teeth, not bound by limits held by the human mind, bit through the flesh of Ex’s ankle, down to the bone.  Blood sprayed from the wound, wafting in the water, filtering what Ex saw.  He screamed, large bubbles escaping to the surface.  He couldn’t stop himself from inhaling in time.  Water gushed into his lungs.  He tried to expel it by coughing, but instead breathed in more.  Blackness encroaching his vision, Ex passed out.

Too bad non player characters didn’t respawn.

[dailyexdrabbles]

Day 14.  Wings.

Everyone’s elytra manifested itself as wings once attached.  Or at least, like wings.  Some were made of metal, at least partly.  Chicken wings, parrot wings, vex wings, bee wings, skeletal wing, whatever.  Wings are widely varied.

Xisuma has ender dragon wings, like the rest of the Void family.  They were dark black and light grey, the same color scheme as the ender dragon.  Xisuma usually kept them closed on his back.  When he splayed his wings out, they were quite impressive.

Ex’s wings were also ender dragon wings.  They were albino ender dragon wings.  To match his head of white hair and his red eyes, most likely.  The only people to see them so far were Grian and Stress.

Stress because she had helped him get one, and had helped him with adjusting to the new world.  Grian because he was the one who had taught Ex to fly.  Grian was, apparently, the best flier on the server.

Ex was more than a bit nervous about Xisuma seeing his wings.  Xisuma had just walked up to Ex while Ex was deep in thought, scaring him so badly he splayed his wings to make himself look bigger.  Ex needn’t have worried.  Xisuma was overjoyed to see that Ex had ender dragon wings like the rest of the Void family.

[dailyexdrabbles]

Day 13.  Hair.

Ex brushed the bottom of his hair that night.  That wouldn’t be too impressive for most people, but Ex had around 70 feet of hair, give or take a foot and a half.  It was excessive.  To bad he couldn’t cut it.

And Ex didn’t mean that he wasn’t allowed to do it, he physically couldn’t.  His hair was invulnerable.  He’d taken knives, scissors, anything sharp really, to his hair.  It remained stubbornly intact.   He’d even tried tearing it out.  Somehow, it was fine.

Also it was magical hair that glowed when Ex sang.  Literally any song.  He could be jammin’ out to some fall out boy or panic! At the disco, when his hair would start glowing.  Ex’s hair was white, and glowed with a silvery sheen he often compared to the moon.

If Ex sang the specific magic song, then it performed other magical feats besides just glowing.   Don’t get him wrong, glowing hair is cool, but 70+ feet of hair???  Just excessive.

[dailyexdrabbles]

Day 12.  Sleep.

Tw: lots of sleeping, depression, suicidal thoughts

Ex didn’t want to sleep, necessarily, it was just that he didn’t want to be awake.

Ex flopped into bed.  His hair, which he had just removed from a ponytail, was splayed everywhere.  It would be so hard to brush tomorrow.  He cocooned himself in blankets, sinking into their warmth.

Ex smiled unconsciously, glad to block out the world.  He was too tired to deal with this.  He was always so tired.  At least he never got dreams.  That would ruin the one peaceful time he had.

Ex just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up.

[dailyexdrabbles]

Day 11.  Flying.

It.  Was.  Awesome.

Stress was giving Ex a crash course on the new updates, and after that would give him a tour of the server.  Stress, Ex had decided, was really nice.  She didn’t laugh at him for not knowing what an elytra was, or for being so behind.

She offered to help him use an elytra.  He had been ecstatic.  Flying sounded amazing.  And it was.  The wind whistled in his ears, and the world around him blurred slightly.  It was a tad cold, and slightly hard to fly with armor, but still one of the best experiences of his life.

Stress had made a new friend!

Evil Xisuma, or as he had asked her to call him, Ex, had showed up one day, surprising both of them.  Stress, because she hadn’t anticipated someone just appearing out of thin air, and Ex because he also didn’t expect to be suddenly teleported.  Stress had given him the rundown of everything.

Ex had taken to flying like a bird took to the sky.  She could hear him whooping almost a hundred blocks away.  When he came back, he was wearing a blinding grin, a show of genuine happiness she had yet to see on his face.

Stress wanted to keep that smile there.

[dailyexdrabbles]

Day 10.  Found family.

Ex had a family.   He didn’t have a father or a mother, not in the conventional sense.  They share D.N.A., and that’s it.  He has a brother, or D.N.A. giver, or clone.  Said brother is Xisuma.  But biological relations don’t necessarily make a family.

Xisuma is still his brother.  They got off on the wrong foot, and fought for a long, long time.  Eventually, they became friends, and their fights became much less frequent.  They call each other family, now.

Ex also has family he had no blood relations to.  Ex found N.P.C. Grian wandering the server, building rustic houses.  They eventually settled down together, working on projects, enjoying each others company, and eating food together.

Robot Grian had come by to visit N.P.G, and been semi-adopted by Ex.  Robot Grian didn’t stay all the time, and neither did the others.  The others usually dropped by whenever, staying from an hour to a week.

[dailyexdrabbles]

Day 9.  Cooking.

Ex was pretty good at cooking.  He cooked a wide variety of things, for a wide variety of people.  Ex wasn’t picky at all, though.  It was a life skill, so he made an attempt to learn it.  He had taken a class that taught life skills, and had taken a shining to cooking.

Sometimes, not-hermits would drop by for some of his cooking.  Not-hermits as in people who were connected to the hermits in some way, but weren’t actually hermits.  Hold up, that didn’t make any sense.  The cooking part did, but, yeah.

People like N.P.C. Grian, Robot Grian, and whatever hermit alter ego or ghost thing decided to stop by.  Poultryman.  Wormman.  Floating salmon head.  Ex wasn’t quite sure how to react to the last one.  Some came by more often than others.  Some liked different things than others.

But they could all agree that Ex was a good cook.

[dailyexdrabbles]

Day 8.  Coffee.

If anyone asked how Ex took his coffee, he would say black.

And well, it was true.  It just wasn’t how he preferred his coffee.  In fact, nine times out of ten, Ex had black coffee.  The remaining one time, the small ten percent, didn’t really matter.  Right?  Why did it matter?

If anyone persisted he would insist.

Ex would become defensive, spewing vitriol.  He would denounce sugary coffee, and spurn sugary drinks.  The asker would, predictably, back off.  Ex was scary when he was mad.  Even if he was actually internally panicking.

He would never admit that the ten percent, the one time out of ten, his coffee wasn’t black, it was the most sugary coffee ever.

Like, seriously.  A slight exaggeration would be to say that it was more sugar than coffee.  It was a bit cliche, the bad boy having a sweet tooth, but hey.  That’s life.

[dailyexdrabbles]

Day 7.  Post-it notes.

Joe hadn’t meant for it to get this big.

It had started as a one off, a joke.  He’d put a sign (post-it notes, Cleo had called them) on the cobblestone part of the wall surrounding New Hermitville.  Joe had put a poem on the sign, meant to inspire anyone who saw it.  He’d idly decided to check on it a couple days later, to make sure no prankster (Grian) had changed the sign.  And well.  There had been another sign, placed next to it, containing a different poem.

The poems’ meanings were connected, but reading them together was disjointed, clunky.  Joe’s freestyle and prose differing from the other’s rhyming and stanzas.  Joe wrote another couple lines, and put those on a sign next to the other one.

There wasn’t another sign for the next couple days.  When Joe checked on it a week later, there was another poem, still connected.  It had the same strict set up, and the same harsh tone as the last one.  Joe was quite amused.

Cleo had thought it quite wonderful that he had found someone else who wrote poetry.  Joe had to deny her offers to spy and find out who it was.  She had made some pretty good arguments, but the element of mystery was too strong to resist.  Plus, Joe didn’t want to scare whoever it was off.  He was quite enjoying this.

Now, a little over two months had passed.  Their poetry now flowed together, like the synchronization of two minds.  Joe’s poetry had gained more control, and more stability.  The other’s poetry had become more whimsical, more focused on meanings and emotional responses.  More focused on the words than following a set structure.

Cleo had laughed at Joe when he told her this.  Told him that his crush was showing.  She was pleased with his lack of denial.  Now, they were getting something from New Hermitville.  Unfortunately, as it had been forgotten, they were getting it in the dead of night.  Cleo went to her house to get whatever it was they needed.  And then Joe heard the distinctive sound of a sign being placed.

Joe turned around automatically.  The clouds covering the moon passed, and the town was awash with moonlight.  And standing next to the wall was none other that Evil Xisuma himself, writing on a sign on the cobblestone wall.

Ex tensed, then whirled around.  He caught sight of Joe, and the quill Ex was holding fell from unfeeling fingers.  His eyes flickered back and forth from the wall to Joe to the quill, and over again.  Joe strode towards Ex, one question on his mind.  Well, one question he would ask.

“Are you the one writing those poems?”  Joe inquired softly.  Ex nodded mutely, his eyes still open wide.  Joe smiled.

“I hope I see you again soon.”  Joe stated.  Ex nodded breathlessly, before hurrying away.  Cleo, who had popped out of her house just in time to witness this, wolf whistled.  Joe shot her a look.

“You’ve got him wrapped around your finger.”  Cleo said, smirking.  Joe blushed, and shoved her.

[dailyexdrabbles]

Day 6.  Painting.

Tw:  Nothing, really

A painting of Wormman hung on the wall of Ex’s house.

Xisuma has never painted anything before, beyond a forced art class in highschool.  Xisuma didn’t have narrow interests, exactly, but they weren’t broad in any way.  Ex, in a display of not-so-teenage-rebellion, considering he is not a teenager, and that it wasn’t very like teenage rebellion anyway.  Not such a good descriptor, then, was it?

Anyway, Ex learned to do a lot of things.  Maybe not well, but passably.  One week he learned to knit, the next to rollerblade.  How to cook, how to draw.  Some things stuck with him more than others.  Specifically, drawing and painting.  Ex had gotten quite good, after all this time.

He had painted Wormman sitting on a tree stump, the sun rising behind him.  Wormman had protested being dragged there at like 6 am for so long, but he agreed the painting was stunning.  Ex still had it up, nowadays, despite not having seen Wormman in forever.

So the painting hung on the wall, a testament to all he had and lost.  Ex had gotten some pictures of himself sitting on the same stump during sunset, and painted the scene.  The painting hung right next to Wormman’s, a stark contrast between the joyful, happy smile on Wormman’s face, and the sorrowful, sad one on Ex’s.

A painting of Ex hung on the wall of Ex’s house.

[dailyexdrabbles]

Day 5.  Scars.

Tw:  Getting struck by lightning, self harm, bodily injuries.

Ex’s physical similarities were a fickle thing.  Vivid, deep red eyes that pierced your soul, as opposed to Xisuma’s warm brown ones.  Stark, blank white hair, differing from Xisuma’s dark brown hair.  Why then, did they share the same moles, the same freckles?  Why have such big contrasts, if the little details were identical?  And the strangest part were the scars.

You can’t recreate scars.  Noone ever scars the same way twice.  But Ex had all of Xisuma’s scars from before Ex was created.  So clearly it wasn’t a D.N.A. thing.  Of course, that couldn’t explain the hair and eyes.  Or would it?  Ex wasn’t a gene expert.

The most obvious scat they share is an X-shaped one.  The scar is right smack dab in the middle of his face.  The lines of the x meet a little lower than the bridge of his nose.  The lines are perpendicular, meeting at ninety degree angles.  It avoids his eyes.

Ex and Xisuma have scars they don’t share, gotten after Ex’s creation.  One example of this was Ex’s lichtenberg scar.  He had been struck by lightning, leaving an arching, slightly tree shaped scar on Ex’s back.  Actually, it more resembled lightning than a tree.  Ex wasn’t sure if he found that funny or not.

Ex had self harm scars.

The less said about those, the better.

[dailyexdrabbles]

Day 4.  Memories.

Tw: void-cloning, memory issues, kicking someone out.

Evil Xisuma’s P.O.V.

Xisuma doesn’t get to be mad.  He doesn’t get to be mad.  This isn’t my fault, I didn’t ask for this!  When he fell out of the Void, I was made.  Created.  Whatever.

A perfect clone, memories and all.  Of course, somehow, I knew I wasn’t Xisuma.  I knew the memories weren’t mine.  They felt… off.  Like watching a first person simulator.  It was easy to disconnect myself from them.

Xisuma was… less than pleased with that.  He said he felt “violated”.  That he couldn’t stand seeing someone else in his body.  That having someone else know his darkest secrets, most well kept lies, and have all his memories felt terrible.  Like being completely vulnerable, bare.

And like, yeah, I get it, but don’t take it out on me, I didn’t even exist until yesterday!  And who’s fault is that?  Not mine!  If Xisuma hadn’t gone and fallen into the Void like an idiot, I wouldn’t be alive!  I should probably thank him for that, but it was a total and utter accident.

And then he kicked me out.  Well, I never lived there in the first place, so it wasn’t exactly kicking me out.  He just told me I couldn’t stay, and sent me on my way.  Everyone knew about me already, news spreads fast, apparently.  They gave me the name “Evil Xisuma”.  I think I’ll keep it.

Evil Xisuma looked back at Xisuma’s base.  Evil Xisuma spat on the ground and walked away.  “One day, one day I’ll get revenge.”  He vowed to himself.

[dailyexdrabbles]

Day 3.  Name.

Tw:  Name change mention.

Ex stared down at the paper, but he wasn’t really seeing it.  His hands started to tremble, and he put the quill down.  He had been sketching Wormman, his back to the sunset, making him seem to glow, when-  Ex had gotten distracted.  Started thinking about Xisuma and them being family.

Stupid Xisuma.  Stupid Wormman, asking about how he felt about his name, or rather, lack of a proper one.  Asking him how he really felt about Xisuma, not the lies he spewed to protect himself.  Psychoanalyzing him.  Bleh.  Even if it had been correct.

The question about his name had made itself at home in his mind, and he had spent hours pondering it, unconsciously, of course.  Xizara.  Close enough to Evil Xisuma that he wasn’t completely changing it, Xizara could still be shortened to Ex, hey, he liked the nickname.

It was a lot like Xisuma, but maybe that wasn’t so bad.  Maybe he should stop denying the ways they were alike, stop exaggerating the parts that were different, stop pretending that he was someone he wasn’t.  Maybe.

See, Wormman’s questions had him all confused.  And that had found Ex writing-

Xizara Void

-all over the piece of paper he was drawing on.  Xizara, his chosen name, and Void, Xisuma’s last name.  And maybe his as well, if he and Xisuma ever straightened out what they were to each other.  Brothers, twins, a clone?  Maybe, just perhaps, they could be family.

But that was foolish.  Delusional.  Xisuma would never accept him, and Ex didn’t want, need, or deserve it anyway.  He crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into the forest as hard as he could.  Ex had come here to draw and be at peace!  Not for his own mind to turn against him!  He stormed out of the forest.  That paper would never be found.  It would probably dissolve in the next rain, he soothed himself.

Xisuma found the paper next morning.

He had been going through the forest after his elytra broke, it wasn’t too far from a Nether portal.  Xisuma found a ball of wadded up paper on the ground, outside slightly wet from the morning dew.  He unrolled it to find a sketch of Wormman on the paper.

But that wasn’t the important part.  It was covered in the words Xizara Void.  In his own handwriting.  Which must have also been Ex’s handwriting.  Which meant that perhaps, just perhaps, Ex wanted to be part of his family.  Was certainly thinking about it.

Xisuma felt lighter.  He walked through the forest whistling, determined on bringing Xizara into the Void family fold.

[dailyexdrabbles]

Day 2.  Red.

Tw:  Self harm, kicking someone out, gratuitous use of metaphors.

Red.

Evil Xisuma’s favorite color is red.  It’s the opposite of green, the opposite of Xisuma’s color.  But he is not the opposite of Xisuma.  He is a reflection, a face staring right back at you.  Red still fits him like a second set of skin.  Holding him together when he can’t.

He likes red, paints the world in crimson, leaving a scarlet legacy.

Red is the color of anger.  His fury scorches Xisuma, rage at being scorned making him like a distorted copy.  His very existence is a mistake, and Xisuma casts him out, turns him away.  Ex swears vengeance, his want for justice burning Xisuma’s resolve.  But not killing it.  Ex leaves.

A blood-red shadow follows him, ruby eyes glinting.

Ex’s hair slowly turns white like the scars on his arm.  His eyes change color in one night.  Red, like the blood from the cuts on his arm, flowing and staining the world around him, staining him, with its vivid color.

His smile is slick with it.

He wears it like a shield and wields it like a sword, double edged, cutting himself and anyone who gets too close.  He tells himself he likes it that way.

He lies.

[dailyexdrabbles]

Day 1.  Hoodies

Tw: allusions to self harm, rainbow hoodie, gay character.

Ex’s hoodies tell a story.

Perhaps -just perhaps- keeping all his old hoodies is a tad sentimental.  After all, he’s a far cry from the kid he used to be, so long ago.  And not just physically.

A small green hooded sweater from when he and Xisuma were kids.  Being twins, and looking identical at that, their mom loved to dress them alike.  While Ex soon grew out of it, and protested dressing the same way as his brother, their mom still had quite a lot of pictures.

And they looked adorable together.  Like brothers, like a family.

Ex made a mental note to burn them if he ever got his hands on them.

The next notable one was a red jacket.  Hooded, of course.  He had just started picking his own clothes, or as close to picking your own clothes you can be when you’re a veritable toddler.  Ex had shown a preference for red clothing.  Especially if they have hoods and pockets.  He wore it from 3 to 5 years old.

Nowadays Ex thought it was -not funny, ironic maybe?- that he chose red.

After all, red is the opposite of green.

The next was a rather thin black hoodie.  It had a zipper in the middle.  Ex’s dad always teased him about “going through a goth phase”.  It was an emo phase, thank you very much.  Plus, Xisuma thought it was cool.  That doesn’t count for much now.  He got it when he was 5, and wore it until he was 7.  7-and-a-half, as he said so often.

Ex thought he was untouchable back then.

He grew out of that naivety quick.

Ex’s next hoodie was a dark grey pullover.  Xisuma had somehow managed to buy the same one the exact same day, just an hour earlier.  Their parents thought it was hilarious.  Ex and Xisuma?  Not so much.  Now they looked identical again.  Ex’s hoodie didn’t last as long as Xisuma’s did.  Ex was ten years old when he bleached his hair, dripping some on his hoodie and ruining it.  His family was surprised, but accepted it.  His dad joked about overcompensating for having a dark grey hoodie instead of a black one.

Ex was glad not to look identical to Xisuma anymore.

Even if he did get a lot of stares.

From 10 to 13 Ex wore a thick oversized white pullover hoodie.  White so he could wear it in pretty much any weather.  Thick so he’d be warm in the winter.  Ex wore that hoodie all the time.  He’d become more withdrawn.  Quieter. 

When he was 13 he switched to wearing red hoodies.

They hid bloodstains much better, after all.

Bonus:

In Ex’s closet there was a wide assortment of hoodies.  Ones with puns, ones with memes, ones with slogans.  He had a rainbow hoodie, and even a Wormman one.  That one was bittersweet, so he didn’t wear it too often.  Ex was proud of hoodies, even though they held less memories.  And perhaps that was for the better, he was haunted by them enough.