Corvus' Short Scenes!!

[Medium]

thank youuuuuu

[Morningtide]

Fantastic as always!

[Medium]

Kind words, as always, Morningtide. Thank you, truly.

Also

Am I putting these out too fast? 

Scene #14: Friends to enemies.

Spoiler

The look a friend gives you when you hurt them is the worst look you will ever see.

The obvious pain on his face.

The betrayal they must feel.

And you feel it all, second hand.

Because it’s your fault.

You and your friend split up, go your separate ways.

He hates you.

You still care about him.

Reconciliation is impossible.

And you know it.

The only look you can receive is the look your enemy gives you.

His head tilted downward, glaring up at you, his face in shadow.

All you see are his eyes.

Eyes filled with pain that was left to simmer, left to fester.

Pain that never truly healed.

Thus, your friend becomes your enemy.

“I see who you are,” Your friend, your enemy says.

“You are my enemy.” He tests out the word, like it’s foreign.

“Enemy…”

You ready for battle.

“You want me dead, you want me gone,” You say, incensed.

Your enemy chuckles darkly.

“My enemy. You are my enemy. That’s you.”

And then he launches at you, a sword suddenly in his grasp. He seems to glide on the wind.

You bring up your own blade, and the sting of metal on metal fills the air.

He can no longer be your friend.

He can no longer be anyone’s friend.

He is your enemy.

 

[Liahona]

1 hour ago, Doomslug The Destroyer said:

Am I putting these out too fast? 

Nah.

You fic is great as ever. My heart is ripped out, thank you :'D 

[Morningtide]

That's so sad! I'm starting to think that I just like reading sad things.  I agree with Liahona, writing fast is never a bad thing.

[Medium]

18 minutes ago, Liahona said:

You fic is great as ever. My heart is ripped out, thank you :'D 

hehe. you're welcome :3

5 minutes ago, Morningtide said:

That's so sad! I'm starting to think that I just like reading sad things.  I agree with Liahona, writing fast is never a bad thing.

You like reading sad things, I like writing sad things. We make a good team!!

[Morningtide]

18 minutes ago, Doomslug The Destroyer said:

You like reading sad things, I like writing sad things. We make a good team!!

Lol, yes!

[Medium]

Scene (?) #15: I wrote a song without a melody. Bruh.

Enjoy

Spoiler

Verse 1:

I been gone for years.

You gone and shed so many tears.

Oh, you haven’t?

I won’t have it.

You missed me, you know it.

This is surely just a bit.

I don’t care what you say.

Is it me you hate?

Who do you hate?

 

Chorus: 

I bounced back.

Now you callin’ me a hack.

What did I do?

Did I hit my head on the bounce?

You don’t care an ounce?

Why don’t you care an ounce,

Even after my bounce?

 

Verse 2:

Oh so you did cry?

Now you claim I’m tryin’ to pry.

Don’t you wanna know where I was?

Coulda sworn you’d want your phone abuzz.

Well, fine, be that way.

I’ll be out after today.

You don’t care about me,

Did you ever care about me?

Even after…

 

Chorus: 

I bounced back.

Now you callin’ me a hack.

What did I do?

Did I hit my head on the bounce?

You don’t care an ounce?

Why don’t you care an ounce,

Even after my bounce?

 

Bridge:

Just tell me you missed me

Tell me you love me

Tell me “I’m sorry.”

Please, please, please.

 

Chorus: 

I bounced back.

Now you callin’ me a hack.

What did I do?

Did I hit my head on the bounce?

You don’t care an ounce?

Why don’t you care an ounce,

Even after my bounce?

(Bounce, bounce, bounce)

 

[Thaidakar the Ghostblood]

17 minutes ago, Doomslug The Destroyer said:

I been gone for years.

for a second I thought this said.

"I've been gone two years." 

does anyone think this?

[Medium]

Scene #16: Evil couple does Arson and stuff haha.

Spoiler

Kyle’s hand is in mine.

It’s an interesting feeling, holding hands with a boy. 

Especially when he’s my partner in crime.

The firelight glints off his glasses as he smiles wickedly at the burning building in front of us.

He chuckles, and looks down, shaking his head.

“What?” I ask with a smile.

He looks up at me, and his dirty blonde curls bounce tauntingly in the shimmering orange light.

“You,” he says, cupping my clean cheeks in his dirty soot covered hands, “are evil.”

I smile wryly up at him. “You love me for it.”

“Damn right.” And he kisses me. This kiss is short, but I still relish it.

We turn back to the fire, and the only sound is the crackling of the flames.

“It was just like you said,” He says, “We did. We burned the whole house down.”

“Life’s boring,” I say, “Spice it up.”

“Literally.”

I giggle and lean on his shoulder.

“Something about this is familiar…” I say, and he leans his head down onto mine.

“Gee, wonder why,” He says sarcastically, but we both know what’s familiar.

This was also how we first met. He saw the smoke, and ran towards it, only to find me standing in front of a different house, which was also in flames.

Initially, Kyle wasn’t super happy that I was committing arson. Or, that’s what it seemed.

I, true to myself, flipped him off and ran.

He, true to himself, chased after me.

We ran into the forest, and he was inhumanly fast.

He caught me and tackled me to the ground. Foolishly for him, that’s exactly what I wanted.

I rolled over, and he was above me, smiling of all things.

Looks like I had made the right decision.

He leaned in close, and whispered into my ear.

“You should really get someone to stand guard in case the cops get there early.”

“I like you.” I said quietly.

“Most don’t.”

“Where do you go to school?”

“North Creek. You?”

“Same. You’re different from the rest.”

His eyes started to glow softly. “Oh, you noticed?”
I giggled, and he smiled darkly.

I really liked him.

“See you tomorrow?” I ask into his ear.

He gently rolled away from his position above me, stood, brushed off his pants, then leaned down to help me up.

I decided to take his hand, and he helped me up, then deftly and gently kissed my hand.

I blinked, and then he was gone. The feeling of surreal confusion made me think it was all a dream. But the wind makes the small patch of moisture on my hand from where he kissed cold, and I realize it wasn’t a dream.

And now we’re here.

Together.

Forever.

And we’re gonna be pricks.

We’re gonna burn this whole house down.

This one was fun to write hehe. Inspired by Burn The House Down by AJR. Go check it out.

-Doomie

[Morningtide]

Amazing as always!! So good! All of the recent ones. I haven't been on much lately, so it was awesome to get so much amazing writing at the same time! Also, I really like that song that the last one is based off of. 

[Medium]

Yessss AJR is such a good band, so much inspo to go off of. So there will probably be more coming later today. 

And I'm glad you had something to occupy your time (and that it was my rambling words) thank you

[Morningtide]

30 minutes ago, Doomslug The Destroyer said:

Yessss AJR is such a good band, so much inspo to go off of. So there will probably be more coming later today. 

And I'm glad you had something to occupy your time (and that it was my rambling words) thank you

I'll look forward to more! AJR's songs are very fascinating. Your writing helped dramatically during high school biology. The most boring class ever. 

[Medium]

Scene #17: The opening scene of a new DSMP fic I'm writing. It's a Schlatt fic titled 'Drinks With A God.'

Enjoy!! Disclaimer: Use of swears

Spoiler

Schlatt swirled his glass, listening to the ice tinkle in the amber liquid. He sipped, and was thoroughly disappointed when there was no taste to what should have been a refreshing sip of whiskey.

“Damnit,” Schlatt said, and slammed the glass down onto the bench press he was sitting on. Some spilled and tarnished the black leather of the small thin bench.

Schlatt cursed a few more times, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

While he waited, he stared for what seemed like the billionth time at his own hand. Slightly translucent and not so slightly grayer than usual, it was clear that Schlatt wasn’t alive. Some days, Schlatt wondered just how he was able to even touch and lift things.

And even though he’d long ago accepted the fact that he couldn’t taste or smell anything anymore, it still gave him a little spike of disappointment.

So he lifted weights. In the Gym.

But not right now, because he was waiting for someone.

He was waiting for a dream.

And then the Dream walked in.

The Dream wore a dark green cloak around his shoulders, hugging his slim frame. He had a cracked mask on the left side of his face, with a black smile on the white surface of the mask. His emerald green eyes seemed to pierce Schlatt’s very soul; That is to say, him at the moment.

His spiked dirty blonde hair waved in an unseen wind, and there was a shining, deep purple chestplate under the cloak.

The half of his mouth that was visible smiled,

“Schlatt,” Dream said, “It’s good to see you again.”

“Wish I could say likewise,” Schlatt replied, surprising himself with how sober his voice sounded. Usually, he was so drunk, he’d just gotten used to having a slurred voice all the time. The sharpness in his tone was… odd. 

“But I can’t,” Schlatt finished. “It isn’t good to see you, you son of a slontze.”

“There’s the Schlatt I remember,” Dream said with half a sly smile.

“Get to the point, Dream,” Schlatt said, folding his ghostly arms, “Why did you ask to meet me? We already know there’s nothing in it for me. So just get it over with.”

Dream stared at him, his green eyes searching for something. Perhaps it was a trick of the dim lighting, but Schlatt could have sworn Dream’s eyes started glowing.

“You do have it…” Dream muttered.

Schlatt was about to ask what he had, when Dream’s posture changed and he cleared his throat.

“I’m willing to make a trade. Do you like it here?” Dream asked

“Not particularly…” Replied Schlatt.

“Do you want more freedom?”

“Freedom’s not what I’m looking for.”

“Then what are you looking for, Schlatt?”

“To be able to get drunk again.”

Dream laughed, and folded his arms.

“Classic,” He said, “Well, you’re in luck, it seems. I need something from you, and if you cooperate, you can have that… drunkenness you so desperately want.”

Schlatt stood, walked over to the weights rack, and surveyed them. “What is it you want?” He asked.

Dream smiled, and said, “The Tome.”

Schlatt froze, the 50 pound weight in his fist and halfway to his shoulder.

“The… the Tome? Are you storming insane?”

“Yes,” Dream replied simply, “To both.”

Schlatt shakily returned to his weight lifting, “Tell me again what’s in it for me.”

“You’d be out of the Gym,” Dream said, “But you’d be able to return whenever you want. Do you remember when I explained the concept of Limbo?”

“Yeah.”

“You’d have an expanded Limbo! And I can guarantee you visitors, some temporary, some… not so temporary.”

Schlatt continued to silently lift weights.

“And I’ll throw in the missing Senses you don’t have.”

Schlatt silently put the 50 pound dumbbell back on the rack, then selected a 75 pound dumbbell, and started lifting it.

“Do we have a deal?” Dream asked quietly.

“I think we do,” Schlatt said with a smile, “I never had much use for it anyways. Congratulations, you piece of rust, I might not hate you as much after this.”

There you have it, your first look at a new story I'm working on!!

[Thaidakar the Ghostblood]

6 minutes ago, Doomslug The Destroyer said:

Scene #17: The opening scene of a new DSMP fic I'm writing. It's a Schlatt fic titled 'Drinks With A God.'

Enjoy!! Disclaimer: Use of swears

  Hide contents

Schlatt swirled his glass, listening to the ice tinkle in the amber liquid. He sipped, and was thoroughly disappointed when there was no taste to what should have been a refreshing sip of whiskey.

“Damnit,” Schlatt said, and slammed the glass down onto the bench press he was sitting on. Some spilled and tarnished the black leather of the small thin bench.

Schlatt cursed a few more times, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

While he waited, he stared for what seemed like the billionth time at his own hand. Slightly translucent and not so slightly grayer than usual, it was clear that Schlatt wasn’t alive. Some days, Schlatt wondered just how he was able to even touch and lift things.

And even though he’d long ago accepted the fact that he couldn’t taste or smell anything anymore, it still gave him a little spike of disappointment.

So he lifted weights. In the Gym.

But not right now, because he was waiting for someone.

He was waiting for a dream.

And then the Dream walked in.

The Dream wore a dark green cloak around his shoulders, hugging his slim frame. He had a cracked mask on the left side of his face, with a black smile on the white surface of the mask. His emerald green eyes seemed to pierce Schlatt’s very soul; That is to say, him at the moment.

His spiked dirty blonde hair waved in an unseen wind, and there was a shining, deep purple chestplate under the cloak.

The half of his mouth that was visible smiled,

“Schlatt,” Dream said, “It’s good to see you again.”

“Wish I could say likewise,” Schlatt replied, surprising himself with how sober his voice sounded. Usually, he was so drunk, he’d just gotten used to having a slurred voice all the time. The sharpness in his tone was… odd. 

“But I can’t,” Schlatt finished. “It isn’t good to see you, you son of a slontze.”

“There’s the Schlatt I remember,” Dream said with half a sly smile.

“Get to the point, Dream,” Schlatt said, folding his ghostly arms, “Why did you ask to meet me? We already know there’s nothing in it for me. So just get it over with.”

Dream stared at him, his green eyes searching for something. Perhaps it was a trick of the dim lighting, but Schlatt could have sworn Dream’s eyes started glowing.

“You do have it…” Dream muttered.

Schlatt was about to ask what he had, when Dream’s posture changed and he cleared his throat.

“I’m willing to make a trade. Do you like it here?” Dream asked

“Not particularly…” Replied Schlatt.

“Do you want more freedom?”

“Freedom’s not what I’m looking for.”

“Then what are you looking for, Schlatt?”

“To be able to get drunk again.”

Dream laughed, and folded his arms.

“Classic,” He said, “Well, you’re in luck, it seems. I need something from you, and if you cooperate, you can have that… drunkenness you so desperately want.”

Schlatt stood, walked over to the weights rack, and surveyed them. “What is it you want?” He asked.

Dream smiled, and said, “The Tome.”

Schlatt froze, the 50 pound weight in his fist and halfway to his shoulder.

“The… the Tome? Are you storming insane?”

“Yes,” Dream replied simply, “To both.”

Schlatt shakily returned to his weight lifting, “Tell me again what’s in it for me.”

“You’d be out of the Gym,” Dream said, “But you’d be able to return whenever you want. Do you remember when I explained the concept of Limbo?”

“Yeah.”

“You’d have an expanded Limbo! And I can guarantee you visitors, some temporary, some… not so temporary.”

Schlatt continued to silently lift weights.

“And I’ll throw in the missing Senses you don’t have.”

Schlatt silently put the 50 pound dumbbell back on the rack, then selected a 75 pound dumbbell, and started lifting it.

“Do we have a deal?” Dream asked quietly.

“I think we do,” Schlatt said with a smile, “I never had much use for it anyways. Congratulations, you piece of rust, I might not hate you as much after this.”

There you have it, your first look at a new story I'm working on!!

I like it.

[Medium]

yes yes

[Morningtide]

It's really good. The descriptive elements are amazing and really paint a picture.

[Medium]

On 4/29/2022 at 2:27 PM, Thaidakar the Ghostblood said:

I like it.

and you decided to edit the swears why? real nice, Thaid.

30 minutes ago, Morningtide said:

It's really good. The descriptive elements are amazing and really paint a picture.

Thanks Morningtide :3

[Medium]

Scene #18: I don't even know how to describe this, it's heavy. Anyway, enjoy!!

Spoiler

He Who Bears The Smiling Sigil knew intimately the ways of power.

Not political power, but physical, chaotic, evil power.

The kind of power that sent people running for the nearest awning, to protect from the rain of hellfire.

The kind of power that painted the pristine cold blanket of snow red.

The kind of power that blew out candles of life within a second.

The Sigil smiled up from his neck as he burst through the palace doors.

The Emperor was waiting.

And he wasted no time in speaking to He Who Bears The Smiling Sigil.

“You used to be great.”

“Am I not still great?” The Sigil Bearer asked. “I don’t see why that must change.” The Sigil Bearers face mimicked the very Sigil that glowed a piercing green.

“You’re a murderer!” The Emperor shouted, bringing his fist down on the shimmering golden armrest of his throne, “You’ve laid waste to countless towns along the border!”

He Who Bears The Smiling Sigil bowed low, with a flourish. “Simply showing the people their place, My Liege.”

“They know their place!” The Emperor spat, “It is you, old friend, who does not know his place.”

The Sigil Bearer’s smile flickered for a split second, before pairing itself, reformed, with an icy stare.

The Emperor couldn’t help but shiver as The Sigil Bearer’s deep lavender eyes seemed to stab into his very soul, the way a knife sinks into flesh.

“You think it me,” He Who Bears The Smiling Sigil began, “Who does not know his place? Would you rather, instead of death, I told the people who you are? And how you come to sit on that damned chair?”

“Bastard,” The Emperor said, but a tremor of fear ran through his body, as The Sigil Bearer began to walk towards the throne.

The pair of Empirius flanking the Emperor drew their weapons to defend their sovereign, but were met with blades that seemed to appear from the air itself and buried themselves in their windpipes.

They silently sank to the ground, their weapons falling not so silently to the ground.

A dark green mist floated up from their bodies and sped towards The Sigil Bearer, who breathed in, tilting his head to the side, inviting the mist.

The mist sank into the Smiling Sigil on his neck, which flared green, and He Who Bears The Smiling Sigil became that much stronger.

“They shouldn’t have done that.” He said with a smile.

The Emperor keeled over the arm of his throne and vomited.

The Sigil Bearer climbed the steps to the throne.

The Emperor wiped his mouth on his purple cloak.

The Sigil Bearer leaned down and met the eyes of the doomed.

“You are not without fault, My Liege,” He spat out the last two words, as if The Emperor was undeserving of the respect the words usually carried, “You have also made mistakes. While your people lay dying, you sat here, not willing to stand up for the very kingdom, the very throne, that you fought so very hard to acquire. If we can call it fighting.”

The Emperor did not respond. Words failed him, and they would do nothing except seal his fate.

“And so,” He Who Bears The Smiling Sigil said, “I free you from this curse. And I assume your position, to do better.”

The Emperor cocked his head to the side, before a sharp pain blossomed in his gut, and started leeching his life away. The Emperor’s eyes widened, and he started screaming as pain and suffering racked his body.

“This is less than you deserve, but it’s the most creative way I can think to destroy you, slowly and painfully. But don’t worry, you’ll have eternity in the Great Below to contemplate your pain.”

The Emperor fell from his throne, twitching his way down the steps.

The Emperor coughed, and bloody spittle tarnished the fine marble floor of the throne room.

The Sigil Bearer calmly sat in the now vacant throne, and smiled, leaning on his elbow.

“Farewell, Vilkai.”

The Emperor heaved a ragged breath at hearing his own name, and then a dark green mist burst out of his mouth. The mist hovered for a second, as The Emperor's body twitched, before growing still.

The mist sped up and into the Smiling Sigil.

“My Lord,” He Who Bears The Smiling Sigil whispered, “That’s the last of it.”

Good… You have done well today, Serva.

“Thank you, Sire.”

Here. A token of my thanks.

A mirror appeared, lined with an onyx material, and showed Serva his own face.

His eyes now shone a bright green, and his body coursed with power untold. More even than he had before, and he had much before.

“Thank you, Lord Renkar.”

Go. And bring to pass the destruction of this cursed kingdom.

The world will soon know my eternal wrath.

He Who Bears The Smiling Sigil smiled.

And The Sigil smiled with him.

And the world,

Would soon scream.

hehehehehe

edit: Scene #19 is being added as well!!!! Very lore heavy Cosmos type thingy this was fun to write ahahah

Spoiler

I opened my eyes, and was met with darkness.

Complete and utter darkness. Only the tiniest blips of my brethren farther away dared pierce the void.

It had finally happened.

I’ve been waiting millenia for the Ascension from Stur to Sturian.

But something isn’t right. I look down at my hands, and they don’t match the legends.

They don’t glow with the ethereal glow of an Ascended Sturian. I begin to cry, stardust leaking from my eyes, forming a great nebula.

Why? Why is this happening? I should be great. I should be a God.

Why, then, am I simply not?

I barely glow at all. The legends state that an Ascended Sturian is met with celebration and warm welcomes from his brethren. The ritual of Sturna is sacred and not to be taken lightly.

So why, then, are none of my brethren here?

Why, then, am I nothing?

As I float in Dead Space, with no one to welcome me, no one to tell me it takes some time, I wallow in anger and self pity.

I forget about my surroundings until I can no longer ignore the shining light in front of me.

I look up.

And floating before me, glowing with a soul piercing light, is a Biascended Sturtarian.

I immediately bow my head, and give the Stur Salute, ignoring the ache in my heart that I wish I were like Her.

“Why do you cry, child?” She asks, and her voice is reminiscent of days spent flitting through the cosmos, gaining wisdom and understanding of our place and our purpose.

“I have had a revelation, Great One.”

“Already? You are but Newly Ascended.”

“That is the thing, pardon my retort, Great Sturtarian, as I believe I am not a true Sturian. Look upon me, and see the flaws. I… Am I the last of a dying breed?”

She takes my head in her hands and gently kisses my forehead.

“Child,” She says softly, like a mother comforting her son, “We all have our flaws. Even though we are stars, born of the matter older than the universe we call home, we are not perfect. I, even in all my Ether, am not perfect.” She shows me her hands, which instead of being a perfect glowing gold, are instead a marbled gold, yellow, and white.

“But flaws are what make us special, young one,” She smiles, and takes my hands, “But evolution works in mysterious ways, and you may not be the last of the Real Ones.  Or perhaps you are. Perhaps the age of the Stur is over. And if that be, then we will go quietly and gratefully.”

I stare at my dull hands, which are a matte gold. I contemplate the wise words of the Holiest of Holies, the Biascended Sturtarian. 

“We move at the universe's whims,” She continues, “We are but stars orbiting loosely around the cosmos, as is our calling, as has been our calling, as will continue to be our calling always and forever, even if we lose the sapience to acknowledge it.”

“What is the lesson?” I ask.

“Do not cry for your flaws, nor rejoice over your flaws. Simply accept them. Accept that this is the way. You are not the last of a dying breed. Sturians are the first step to Ascended Sturnan, then Biascended Sturnan, then Ascended Sturtarian, and finally Biascended Sturtarian.”

“Thank you, Great One.”

“You’re welcome, Child. Now go, your purpose is yours, and my purpose is mine. And let the Elders guide your path, even as they sit on high, in their thrones of Pure Matter.”

There you have it.

Edited May 5, 2022 by CalanoCorvus

[Morningtide]

Woah! Awesome as always. This is one of my favorite notifs.

[Medium]

oh gosh my writing is one of your fav notifs???? oh that makes my attention/affection starved mind so happy thank you so much. glad you enjoyed

[Sequence]

I think I read some of these as a guest while I was gone actually. And I have one word for them.

Spoiler

Rad

 

[Medium]

colorful, big, and above all, kind. sequence, that means so much thank you.

[Medium]

Scene #20: Fluff, with some angst at the end. (Damn you, Sleeping At Last, for crafting the most beautiful music I've ever heard)

Spoiler

“If something’s wrong, you can count on me.”

“I know.”

“I’ll always be here to talk, or to listen.”

“I know.”

“You know I’d take my heart clean apart, if it were to help yours beat.”

“That was adorably cringe.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Laughter.

Love.

“I love you.”

“I know. I love you too.”

Warmth.

Smiling.

“Am I too dramatic? Too… what’s the word… melancholy? No…”

“Dramatic is the right word. But it’s kind of a soft drama, and it’s super sweet.”

Forehead.

Warmth.

Gentleness.

“Hope you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind?”

“I dunno.”

Smiling.

Love.

“Mind if I be dramatic again?”

“Go for it.”

“I will love you, unconditionally, forever. I will love you without any strings attached. Forever.”

Swelling.

Heart.

Love.

“Gods, Alex.”

“What? Too much?”

“No. Perfect. Adorable, and sweet, and just the thing I needed to hear today.”

Kisses.

Sleepiness.

Whispers.

“You’re welcome.”

Drifting…

Drifting…

Gone.

beep. beep. beep. beeeeeeeeep.

dammit im bouta start crying wtf.

[Morningtide]

I LOVE. I REALLY REALLY LOVE