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fiendish codex.

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Min
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Age : 18
Posts : 3293

fiendish codex.

Post by Min on Fri Oct 17, 2014 10:05 pm

fiendish codex.
"it's funny how you can capture the essence of something--or someone, in writing," she says and without hesitating she signs her name pretty and crisp in the guestbook.



hey i realized i should make a new topic in this forum because i'm getting back into writing more and i like writing short little ficlets and drabbles. i'll probably do a writing piece every day. once every week. and they'll be posted here if they're relatively pg-13...all nsfw is not posted here, sorry sweeties. ; )



table of contents.


Last edited by Cedric on Mon Dec 01, 2014 9:42 pm; edited 6 times in total
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Min
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Age : 18
Posts : 3293

Re: fiendish codex.

Post by Min on Thu Nov 06, 2014 10:36 pm

silence,
some things were simply not meant to be,
{written for the prompt: "god screamed"




    A millenia ago the world chanted the song of creation and prayed to their god for their dreams and wishes. A hundred years ago the people praised a great sword-hero and feared the dark. A century ago they forgot about the Original One and sang the name of the she-champion who defeated a galaxy. A year ago they murmured stories of the same she-champion who went mad and of her cold body under the frozen Lake Verity. Today there was only dark and chills and the long-forgotten god who still breathed.

The Original One breathed along before the universe came.

    The universe simply hadn't caught up with it yet, it told itself, and just maybe, maybe, maybe he would believe it, this time. It had all the time in the world, it created the very guardian of time, of course it had time. Of course it had time and it would wait until the silence broke and it's children cheered again and offered their sacrifices to appease it. It would wait, it reminded itself, because a go must be patient.

When the universe was created, its shards became this Plate.

    The day passed and it still waited. It willed itself to be patient. For a god must be patient, benevolent, tireless, caring-- it must wait for it's children. All of it's children, it's blood and kin. The ones that fought and the ones that killed and especially the ones that were long locked away from their very worlds. It would wait for them, no matter the cost.

The power of defeated giants infuses this Plate.

    On the third day the bitter she-champion visited it. With eyes that twinkled like stardust and veins that pulsed with every tick. She sat in front of it, sneered, and laughed, laughed, laughed.
    "Look at you, all alone. I thought you would've lost your mind, already." A foolish remark, because a god must be set in stone and cherishing and perfection. She scowled. "A sad excuse for a god, I think."
    It refrains from it's urge to snap the she-champion like a twig. Instead it turns away and wills silence once more. After all, the she-champion's words are false. It has many children, children that love it and it loves back. Followers of all kind who would kill to be with the god. It was the epitome of divinity.

Two beings of time and space set free from the Original One.

    It can hear the clangs of metal and roars of hate. They are fighting again, it realizes, and they fail once again to visit it. Sometimes it wonders why it waits for such unruly children--it feels time being ripped--and why two concepts that go so naturally together quarrel so much. So long since their last visit, the god wonders when they will come back. After all, it loves them, it created them, surely they will come.
    Surely it's patience will bear fruit, it reassured itself. They will visit their purveyor soon--space is crumbling--it is sure of it.

Three beings were born to bind time and space.

    At least the fae visit it, it thinks. It sat quiet in it's home with insurmountable knowledge, burning emotions, vengeful willpower--omnipotent. That word is chanted in it's head, omni, omni, omni, and it gives it solace. For it is omnipresent and it realizes that it does not need visits from it's children, because it is everywhere.
    The pixies may not be physically near but it's concepts are always with it, the god knew, and that was enough to count as a visit. Though this did not apply to it's first two children, the awful lack of time and space in this realm, it did not mind. It was always there. Always, always, always.

Two make matter, and three make spirit, shaping the world.

    Omni, omni, omni, omni, o m n i-- it cannot get the word out of it's head. It is omnipotent. It is omniscient. It is omnificent, all-creating. It created time and space and life,
    But why does no one visit it? The Hallowed Halls of it's home had grown too quiet, there were no more prayers. No more dreams. No longer did it hear the quiet frantic praying of maidens. No longer did it hear the chanted omens of prophets. No longer did it feel the presence of it's very children.
    For something so holy, so divine, it felt so forgotten.

The powers of Plates are shared among Pokémon.

    On the seventh day it reminded itself, again, that is it omnipresent. It does not need visits. It does not need company. It loved it's children, it's children loved it. But without fail the she-champion appeared again with the same bitter smile and the same cruel laugh and she scowled, scowled, scowled.
    "Pathetic," she spat. "Weak." It turns slowly to meet the she-champion's eyes. It raised a single, cervine leg.
    This time, it snapped the girl like a twig. Again, there is silence.

The rightful bearer of a Plate draws from the Plate it holds.

    Time does not exist in the Hallowed Halls. Every day is an era, every minute is century. But everything goes by so fast and it waits, waits, waits for someone, anyone, but it has been long forgotten and it's name has been lost to the years. It does not realize the prayer slips messily pasted against it's stairs, the dusted scrawling of priests long dead. The blood smeared beneath it, the earth it had silenced. (and the body of a she-champion that it once knew,)
    The aftershocks were always the most painful. It breathed again, alone. And then it screamed.

    (Today the living whispers stories of their deaf god, and the rotting world that they wander.)
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Min
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Re: fiendish codex.

Post by Min on Sat Nov 15, 2014 7:42 pm

steamy.
maybe spitting fire is too literal of a term



    "I just wanna burn you up," her voice is hard and cracking under the heat of her throne. "I want to make you ashes and dust." Her fingers curl into a pale fist and her manicured nails are dig deeper into her palms. Malva crosses her legs, body tensing instinctively.
    "You would be doused." His laughter sickens her. "Though I suppose some steam would be good for dumplings, yes." Siebold glances at the fire-woman with amused eyes. His coy smile made her want to fill his lungs with smoke. Oh how dearly she wanted to crush his collarbones beneath her designer heels.
    "Your cooking is disgusting." Malva spits her words.
    "It's not healthy to lie."
    "Go die."
    "And let my art go to waste? I think not." He laughs again and turns away. His hands curl around a Pokeball seated at his waste, a routinely gesture. He knows what's coming next.
    "I hate you." Accompanying her words is the low snarl of her Pyroar. The feline stalks out slow from behind her golden throne and Siebold releases his Clawitzer.
    This is a near-daily event in Malva's throne room, and within seconds the battle begins.

    ((Malva still remembers how this began. She was bored with her time. Months after Team Flare disbanded she soon found that she had little to do in her prison of a room. Challengers were little and whoever did manage to come to the league was either poorly prepared or simply lacking in tact. It was by the fourth month that she thought maybe, just maybe, dating would be a good investment of her time.
    So she started with gym leaders. Viola was too pleasant, and disapproved of her violent manners. Grant was a good match, but they had both agreed long-term relationships would never work. Korrina annoyed her to no end. Ramos was a senior. Clemont was a child. Valerie and Olympia she, quite frankly, didn't even want to go near. Wulfric? No. Just no.
    Then she moved on the the Elite Four. Wikstrom had a wife, she was pretty sure. She didn't even know Drasna's age. As much as Malva fancied Diantha she knew very well the champion star was out of her league.
    Which only left one left. Siebold.
    It started with subtle flirts. Both of them were young and attractive, but interactions between them had been scarce. Siebold didn't seem to be particularly interested at first, but he played along.
    "I like my men how I like my fish: smoked." Malva chuckled as she finished her morning coffee. Siebold cracked a smile.
    "I suppose I like my women how I like most of my food. Not involved in illegal activity." His grin grew wider when Malva stopped mid-sip to gawk at him. "I know."
     Malva bit her lip and turned away. Without a word she rose from her seat. Warily she glanced at the other denizens of the cafe before she looked back to the water-trainer. "Come with me."
    They both stood in silence in the back alley outside the building. Malva nearly snarled her words out. "How did you know?"
    "A better question would be what I would do with the information. You know it can very well cost you your jo--"
    "Answer my fucking question!" She snapped and her fingers curled tight around the man's white collar. Malva dragged him closer and down to eye-level. "How do you fucking know."
    Siebold only smiled and leaned closer to give the fire-elite a quick peck on the nose. "Your secret's safe with me."))

    The battle ends as quickly as it begins. A single Water Pulse and her dear lionness crumples to the floor. She hates how easily the fire burns out, how much of an advantage that despicable man has over her.
    "Your Pyroar stood for a few more seconds than usual, at least." His comment angers her, causing her to bare her teeth. "She's getting stronger, slowly."
    "Go fuck yourself." She hisses, returning her fainted Pokemon to it's Pokeball.
    "I'd rather not."
    "I hope a Kingler slices your dick off."
    "Unlikely."
    "I fucking hate you." Malva grips the arm of her seat tightly, knuckles white and veins pulsing. She does her best to restrain herself. "I wish you were dead."
    "We don't always get what we want."
    This time she lunges, nails digging into Siebold's neck as she topples him over. He falls backwards and hits the heated tiles below him with a rough thud. Grimacing in pain, the man shoots a look of mild irritation to the woman on top of him. "I wish I can just kill you!" Malva screams, her voice escalating with her mood. "I wish I can burn you!"
    "And I love you, too." Siebold manages a weak chuckle despite the rising force pushing down on his chest. He shifts his neck uncomfortably under the fire-trainer's devil grip. She loosens her hold only slightly, eyes nervously glancing away.
    "...I hate you."
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Min
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Age : 18
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Re: fiendish codex.

Post by Min on Sat Nov 22, 2014 12:03 am

hot & steamy
i'm proving you wrong, duma
love hurts a little too much





She can't stop her hands from gripping clumps of blonde hair tighter, pulling them roughly down to knee-height. Malva taps her heel and scowls down at the man, and her other hand lingers near his throat. Commanding in both tone and posture she glowers down at the water-chef. "Kneel for me."
"With pleasure," Siebold only chuckles and does what he is told, only stopping for a few seconds to run his finger into his hair to tame it. His immediate obedience only further frustrates the fire-woman more, something he notices. "What more may I do for you, Queen Jenevieve?"
Malva immediately snaps at the sound of the name, a forceful slap to the face causing Siebold to topple over onto his side. "DON'T CALL ME THAT!" She screeches her words, baring her teeth like a rabid animal. Flipping her vibrant hair over her shoulder she spits down at the man. "You know better than to call me that."
"I think it's a very pretty name." He smiles, regardless of the fact that he is clutching the left side of his face in sheer pain. The skin reddens and flushes.
"Shut the fuck up."
"Maybe next time."
"I hate you."
"I love you, too."
"Go die." A common remark. A common occurrence. A normal day in the Kalos League behind closed doors and disabled security cameras. Thank Arceus Diantha does not see this.

It takes a few minutes before Siebold is sitting again, holding an icepack that Malva reluctantly fetched for him to the side of his face. He can feel the pain slowly, very slowly, ebbing away and a slow hint of regret--
Oh who is he kidding, he doesn't regret calling Malva by her first name at all.
Siebold knowing her full name in the first place was a mistake, a delightfully lucky mistake, having picked up her childhood diary while he was in her room. (For private reasons) He flipped through the pages and found cute scribbles and little bubble letters, but most importantly a 'by Jenevieve' at the end of every page. A surprise at first, a newfound fact that quickly turned into another object of teasing against Malva.
"Your face feeling any better yet?" The voice is reluctant to show concern but he knows the woman well enough to pick out her worry. He glances up to the fire trainer standing before him, and smiles.
"Would be better if you gave it a get-better-soon kiss." Siebold winks, intentionally lacing his words with even more romantic undertones to bother Malva. She hisses.
"Disgusting pig."
"Pigs are food dear, unless you mea--"
"Don't go there."
"Mhmm." Another common occurrence in the Kalos League. Sometimes it is a wonder the two can stand to be in the same room.

A few hours later Malva shuffles back towards Siebold and sits snug next to his slumped figure. He raises a brow and she replies with a loose linking of arms and a quick peck on his cheek. She grumbles under her breath and turns away, her face begins to redden. "Get better."
"Oh so you were worried," he is laughing, as usual. "I love you too."
"I wasn't worried." She snaps back. "Fuck off."
"It hurt, you know."
"...I'm sorry." Malva mumbles her apology and for a moment Siebold is taken aback--even for him it was rare to hear the fire-woman apologize.
"You're so sweet."
"Shut the fuck up."
"Love you too, Jenny." He braces for impact.

The sharp sound of hand meeting face resonates through the chambers once more.
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Min
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Age : 18
Posts : 3293

Re: fiendish codex.

Post by Min on Mon Dec 01, 2014 9:36 pm

blood pacts
we're alike, you and i



cw: mentions of self harm, child abuse, and emetophobia




It's late evening in the city of Seoul, streets bustling with both bodies and cars as people go on with their days. On a more quiet corner rests a quaint little cafe, only beginning to open up for the night crowd. Today a group of younger volunteers from other stores in the city were called in to help in the set-up and manage a early December event; everyone arrived early in the morning to put up decorations and worked well past the afternoon. Finally having a break before the next wave of customers arrive, many of the volunteers break off into groups to relax. One girl, distinctly attractive in the crowd, eagerly follows a young feminine man.

"You know," she starts with a gentle tone, warm and convincing, "I think we could be really good friends. We work together well, at least!" The pretty young woman is wearing a brown skirt and lace top. Her black hair is curled, resting messily on her shoulders and framing her round eyes. She offers a smile towards the man next to her and nudges him with her elbow. He is clad in a dirty apron with long black hair tied loosely into a ponytail. His eyes hold an amused light.

He snorts. "You and me? Good friends?" His subtle laughter brings a frown to the girl's lips. "Nari, we're like oil and water. We're basically polar opposites." The man takes out a box of Pepero sticks from his back pocket, nibbling on one as he speaks. "Plus, I have enough friends."

Rejected just like that, the girl shifts uncomfortably in her spot. Crossing her arms and biting her lips she releases a loud huff. "You don't know that! We're more similar than you think, you know! You just don't know me well enough yet, Ryuji-ya!"

"Oh? Does that mean you know me well enough?" His eye twitches slightly at the informality when she says his name, but restrains himself from scolding her. She's probably younger than him and just trying to get him to warm up to her.

"Yes, actually!" Nari shoots a mischievous smile. "I know a lot about you. At least, a lot more than you think I do."

"Oh? Alright then, tell me one thing you know about me." Ryuji replies with a cocky grin, shooting a challenging glance towards the girl.

"I know your mom beat you with a measuring stick when you were little."

...What?

Ryuji stops mid-chew on his stick of pepero, colour almost immediately draining from his face. Did she just say what he...thinks she said? Sudden nausea overtakes his insides and he can feel his stomach beginning to twist. Oh god he thinks he's going to throw up. "H--"

Nari doesn't allow him to even finish his first word. "My mom did something very similar. Used to hit me with a stick of bamboo. See? We have more in common than you think!" Despite her dark words her lips curve up into a coy smile. She winks at the paling boy, almost laughing at his near-horrified expression.

"How...do you know that?" He struggles to keep his voice calm, to keep it from shaking uncontrollably like it usually does when he's scared, and carefully asks his question. He can feel fear starting to cloud his mind, a thin blanket of terror overlapping his thoughts. How did she know? Nobody outside of his own siblings and his lover knows, and he highly doubts she associates with any of them. "W-who told you?"

She's casually rolling up her sleeve: an action that makes Ryuji raise a brow, she notices. "Oh, I have my sources. A girl doesn't give away her secrets, you know." She hums, finally completing the task of rolling her sleeve up to reveal deep, horizontal scars lining her upper arm and shoulders. Nari points to them. "And I know you have these too." Her gaze seems sharper, almost accusatory. "See? Told you. We're a lot more alike then you think!"

Ryuji half-gags and he can almost feel his own scars on his legs tingle. They have long faded, healed over the years, but the pain he remembers is still the same. He does not reply to the girl's remark, too nauseous to even reply. What is he even supposed to say? Yes? I am wrong you are right we are more alike than I think we are? Thoughts race in his head at incredible speed and he rubs his temple gently in hopes of relieving the growing pressure of his skull. "I, um..."

Nari's smile grows even more sinister, something that sends chills up Ryuji's spine. Raising a hand her cold, long fingers brush the side of his face and his loose strands of brown hair. "So, I think we'll be very good friends," she purrs her words, "don't you worry. We have many things to discuss, you know." Her freezing hand leaves his face as she turns away, fixing her outfit and waving back. "Break time's almost over! C'mon, Ryuji-ya!"

He feels his heart sink further and his hands are shaking. Without a word Ryuji follows the girl, no. She is not a girl, she is a snake who disguises as one. Something twists further inside him, and he does his best not to vomit when he drifts back to the center of the cafe, looking for the manager to ask to go home.
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Min
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Re: fiendish codex.

Post by Min on Wed Apr 22, 2015 3:45 pm

i found old poems from 2013, when i did a 30 day poetry challenge. (i never finished) here are three poems i'm not absolutely disappointed by


day 14; find me
 find me in every
weary, shuddering step
of the thick and thicker
of hollowed trees and haunted seas

stop searching for me
in the world of the living
among the bright daylight
and growing crops

look for me in the forests
burnt and withering
see me drifting past
chase after me

day 9; misplaced bones
 sometimes i have
two left feet
others i find that my
hands had swapped

clumsy, shaking, my hold
trembles and loosens
and blooms into open palms
full of empty and fear

but i am still rib-caged
marrow of the bars
splinter the femur lock
trapped in wall of flesh

manspawn,
do you take this body
to be your lawfully wedded
vessel?

day 1; i am a poet
 this dirty scrawling
& fractured typings
make words that only
am meaningful in a poetic sense

a garden of mismatched
rhymes & letters
conjugation, punctuation
line breaks, stanzas

the pen is loose in their fingertips

but i am only broken whispers
and hushed i-love-yous
cracked hand holding
and crumbling faith

i am a poet
and the words
are falling again
out of my reach

    Current date/time is Sun Jul 23, 2017 4:37 pm