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the narrative
aliasCel, Nightlock
pronounsShe/They
820written posts
CELearned bits
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CEL
Part of the Furniture
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i don't get angry when i'm pissed; i'm the eternal optimist.
a mod post i wrote for a mini-event i've been running, but i do love how the scene was a serious thrashdown in fantasy hell against an eldritch horror demon revealing itself after it stole the face of an npc and then this happens




tonal shift but 100% worth it



coming soon.
10written posts
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owli
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“Does it give you pleasure, then?” She leans close enough that their shoulders brush. Her whisper is that of a lover’s, tickling the skin of his neck. “To be threatened?“



Was he like her, dancing precariously close to an inferno in the hopes of feeling its burn?
aliasvale
pronounsthey/them, he/him
71written posts
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vale
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"Hmm... Are you comfortable talking to me, Itsuki?"
"Well, I'm not suggesting murder," Caprice groans, whipping their head to the side to push the notebook off of their face and onto the floor beside them. "I'm just saying that it'd be convenient for you if he died. Stating a fact. It's completely different."


"hello, i'm nazuna nito, a member of ra*bits!"
art credit @ ryoko kui - dungeon meshi official art
no angel
alias██████
pronounszimzala/bim
247written posts
ace.earned bits
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ace.
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highly responsive to prayers
this is definitely not my last post, but


"Hello, Ms. Levick." Her voice is colorless.

She looks at the woman as if not seeing her — as if there's nothing to see — as if all this person's life will amount to is a bit of gristle and pulp on the ground.

Too many of these meetings end in gristle and pulp, after all. They try to run, she swings, and that's that. It's only business.

i want to write someone violent again...*clenches my fist*
last edit on May 4, 2024 1:27:53 GMT by ace.
pronounsshe/her
253written posts
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scarlet
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"It's your fault," she said suddenly, no longer caring how he perceived her words. "I was fine alone. I was happier alone. But you--"

He'd reopened that door, and she'd let herself wander back into that forbidden corridor, curious like every other woman that should've known better. He'd reminded her what it felt like to no longer be alone, only to leave her bereft of companionship all over again.
the narrative
aliasCel, Nightlock
pronounsShe/They
820written posts
CELearned bits
offlinecurrently
CEL
Part of the Furniture
CEL Avatar
i don't get angry when i'm pissed; i'm the eternal optimist.
not any of my last ones, but definitely some personal favorites as i start to close out these characters, spoilering them for length. my god, they grew up.

"I don't know how to fix any of this," Thian Lê remembers confessing, in the dead of night, while Meili was already asleep, and M̷a̷g̶d̷a̵l̸e̸n̴a̶ ̵N̸a̵v̴a̸r̶r̶o̴ The Serpent was the only soul listening to his prayer.

-

Each of these memories bring their own string of hurt: the price of failure, the price of success, the price of making a decision and seeing its cost. And he’d regretted some, wished to take back many, spent sleepless nights facing his own demons that twisted all his traumas and horrors into a new kind of pain, a new kind of mockery, and a new kind of reason for him to claim he’s trying to do the right thing.


But standing here now, hearing all Cheryl has to say — those beliefs turnover each other all over again, reshaping into the view of someone beyond these narratives of saints and sinners and heroes and martyrs, and there is so much of it to realize. So much regret that floods his person, a torrential wave of pressure and guilt. To mourn, to apologize, to regret — careless actions, constant deaths, always hiding, so much damage left behind in the name of being a hero and a martyr who does the saving.

-

Wren wouldn’t consider that the takeaway from her confession. Duty suggests she believes in the law; that her oath comes with loyalty to the very same system that ensured a father would stay behind bars as long as no one else could point the finger somewhere else. Moral responsibility assumes that she has superiority—that Wren Ji-Woo Quon, in all her failings and choices and attempts to never challenge those above—has the singular right to decide what is good and what is evil. It’s a black-and-white contrast, borders religious, when all she believed came in stars and comets.

”I’d consider it seeing promises through,” she says instead, and the correction feels satisfactory in her tongue.

-

Is this the price of revolution?

Penelope always thought she would be the one dying in its color.

-

Is this freedom: to face the product of all your decisions, in all its brutal facts and realities, and no longer turn away?

Is this freedom: to give it all up, in the name of something more personal — more important — to the person you are than the abstract beliefs of what it means to be a hero?



coming soon.
aliashannyfish
pronounsshe/they
247written posts
hannyearned bits
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hanny
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「我等の天下だ 神など要らない。」
definitely not my last post but no one follows the rule and technically it's my last post in a thread we completed today

"i can't watch you die again."

because i loved you once and you were gone. i loved you twice and i watched you die. make it a third and it might be me.
the narrative
aliasCel, Nightlock
pronounsShe/They
820written posts
CELearned bits
offlinecurrently
CEL
Part of the Furniture
CEL Avatar
i don't get angry when i'm pissed; i'm the eternal optimist.
okay NOW these are actually from my last two posts:

Truthfully, he could have never faulted his sister for escaping it. To be the one who succeeds in rewriting this eternal narrative; the version of Orpheus that doesn't look back, a retelling in which Christ looks at what his Father demands of him and flees from the cross, hand-in-hand with Mary Magdalene or Peter or Judas until their names are but a distant memory, and never once a Bible verse.


What does it mean: to become a myth?

"Dare I ask what future you'd envisioned?" he asks, and there's a light-hearted attempt to give the query.

Love, he decides, must be the answer. Not for a single person — but a whole body; a whole people; a whole world; a whole possibility. To pay the price of freedom, absolute and true, without resentment for what would be lost. To choose love in every trial, in all its painful, imperfect, impossibly great, existence. He certainly hopes this is how it works. The world would be a terribly sad thing if it isn't. This story would be an awful one if it isn't.

Simon takes a breath and leans onto his cane, with a stumble he quickly recovers from, still unused to it all.


What would have happened in the myth, had Eurydice felt the sun on her skin again, but never Orpheus's touch?

Is she always doomed to lose in the storyline of her life?

Laura Prince decides she hates this story. It doesn't happen to be enough to quell the ache in her heart.
last edit on May 29, 2024 14:33:14 GMT by CEL



coming soon.
pronounsany pronouns
15written posts
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riley
New Member
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'cause right before the sunrise, i can see the fear in your eyes—
not my last post but you know how it be!! i'm still incredibly proud of the whole piece itself.

So he stands over the body, stance wide, crimson dripping from his curled fingers—plip, plip, droplets landing on grey concrete—and his chest heaves for air, half-gasped like his lungs won’t fill quite right, like there’s a hole that has punctured him clean through. His vision swims in doubles, triples. His throat burns white hot, phosphorus flames licking the backs of his teeth. The spattering of blood on the grimy wall is as benign as trickle-down raindrops to the undercity; this is the norm.
the narrative
aliasCel, Nightlock
pronounsShe/They
820written posts
CELearned bits
offlinecurrently
CEL
Part of the Furniture
CEL Avatar
i don't get angry when i'm pissed; i'm the eternal optimist.
if anyone told me a year ago this character would end up a cult rockstar propaganda machine struggling with the concept of the death of the author and being a propellent for what is essentially a modern day apocalypse i wouldnt believe you but, man, it is so tasty

He’s staring, he realizes. He’s staring at a bleeding wound, and there’s a song that needs to be written, and tomorrow is another concert, another crowd, another symphony, another moment in time to be, and notice, adoration, existence is the currency in which he knows he was once a beggar for, so he should stop fucking staring at the blood.

Asmodeus has been quiet a lot these days.




coming soon.
aliashannyfish
pronounsshe/they
247written posts
hannyearned bits
offlinecurrently
hanny
Full Member
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「我等の天下だ 神など要らない。」
be it the sin of pride that wreaks the world in its unflinching grasp. be it the sin of pride that makes for humanity to think that they know more than they do, that they are more powerful than they are. be it the sin of pride that has lysandre stand at the door of kasumi minamoto and be forced to bow his head in the face of death.