190 posts in this topic

brilliant!!! speaking of magic systems, i need to go over mine again. hm. it needs work.

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I sent the system to you, well the rough draft of the system. This is going to be epic.

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It's been some time!! I wrote a little mini-essay/poem, based off @Elf's mini-essay about reading.

Scene #30: (THIRTY SCENES WOOOO) Writing, and it's beauty.

Spoiler

Of all the things that I am, of all the many verbs and nouns and adjectives that describe this mass of flesh and thoughts and heart that is myself, I will be proudest of just one.

Writer.

Being a writer is more than just putting words on a page and saying, “Hey, look, I wrote something.”

It’s taking the time to weave a narrative, to mold a character, to craft a world.

Being a writer is taking inspiration from other writers, from song artists, and authors, and amateurs, and everyone.

It’s waking up at 3 in the morning, and scribbling down an idea that you had for your latest work that you just had to get down before you forgot.

Being a writer is wanting to shout to the world, “LOOK WHAT I MADE!!!”

It’s being proud of what you made, being proud that you did something worthwhile, at least to you.

Writing has many components, but the most important are 3;

Narrative.

Characters.

Method.

The narrative is one of the most important parts of writing. It’s the plot, the story, the core of your work.

Without a narrative, you just have characters, floating in an endless white void. Without a narrative, your godly hands of imaginative creation just wander about, doing nothing.

The second component is characters. Congratulations, you have a narrative. But, who are the people in this story? What are their stories? Where are they from? Who do they love? What is their motive?

A narrative might be the heart of a story, but characters are the brain.

The third component is method.

The way things happen. How did the characters influence the narrative? What were their choices? What did the plot force them to do?

Writing is art, through words.

It is passion, through language.

It is beauty, on a page, on a screen, on a stone.

Writing is indescribable, and to be one, to craft something as amazing and beautiful as this, is my greatest accomplishment and the noun I hold closest to my heart.

It may be short, but it's sweet.

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MMM, the heart of writing indeed!

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Amazing! I can feel how much you care about it from this. It inspires me too write!!

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It's been some time.

have some stuff:

Scene #31: Assassin go brrrr.

Spoiler

The Scythe was a being of speed and death.

Time was money.

Money was everything.

He got the job done.

Always.

The Scythe had toppled empires, kingdoms, states, and leaders.

And at their core, all of them, was corruption.

So he got jobs.

Hit lists.

Ideals moved through his mind like leaves on the wind.

Morality was an ambiguous concept to him.

But today's job, oh, today’s job was something different.

A match.

A fight.

“Scy, what the hell are you doing?”

“My job.”

Nim dodged, and The Scythe counterattacked with a swift strike from the weapon he was named for.

“Scy, you know me.”

“Job first, Nim. That’s the rule.”

The Scythe’s tone was low and deadpan, as if he was refusing to acknowledge his victim today was someone he knew.

But he did acknowledge it, by naming him.

The fight went on, both parties attacking and defending, and none landing a single blow.

The fight suddenly stopped.

“I usually don’t use this bit, because I like to fight. I like challenges.

“But this has gone on too long, Nim.”

The Scythes body shivered, and he moved.

Inhumanly fast strikes blew down from out of nowhere, like a boy covering the eyes of a friend, and Nim struggled to block.

“It’s now or it’s never, Nim. Better put up a fight.”

Nim could hear the taunting, below the deadpan.

He struck outwards with his fist,

And hit.

The Scythe flew backwards, landing gracefully on his feet at the end of the corridor.

The Scythe heaved a breath, and gripped his gut.

“Good blow.”

Nim assumed a defensive stance.

“But not good enough?”

“Right,” The Scythe replied.

And then he flew.

His Speed made him move left, right, up, down.

Dash across the hall, jump, kick off the wall.

Raise his scythe, strike down.

All in less than a second.

Nim never saw it coming.

Nim’s body fell to the ground, still.

“It’s never good enough,” Said The Scythe.

The Scythe nyooms.

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Now I know I need a assassin viewpoint in my book, somewhere. 

This is now my favorite one.

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Oooh I love!!!! It seems so realistic and I love the character already

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Heyyyy cool :D

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On 6/19/2022 at 10:18 AM, CalanoCorvus said:

It's been some time.

have some stuff:

Scene #31: Assassin go brrrr.

  Hide contents

The Scythe was a being of speed and death.

Time was money.

Money was everything.

He got the job done.

Always.

The Scythe had toppled empires, kingdoms, states, and leaders.

And at their core, all of them, was corruption.

So he got jobs.

Hit lists.

Ideals moved through his mind like leaves on the wind.

Morality was an ambiguous concept to him.

But today's job, oh, today’s job was something different.

A match.

A fight.

“Scy, what the hell are you doing?”

“My job.”

Nim dodged, and The Scythe counterattacked with a swift strike from the weapon he was named for.

“Scy, you know me.”

“Job first, Nim. That’s the rule.”

The Scythe’s tone was low and deadpan, as if he was refusing to acknowledge his victim today was someone he knew.

But he did acknowledge it, by naming him.

The fight went on, both parties attacking and defending, and none landing a single blow.

The fight suddenly stopped.

“I usually don’t use this bit, because I like to fight. I like challenges.

“But this has gone on too long, Nim.”

The Scythes body shivered, and he moved.

Inhumanly fast strikes blew down from out of nowhere, like a boy covering the eyes of a friend, and Nim struggled to block.

“It’s now or it’s never, Nim. Better put up a fight.”

Nim could hear the taunting, below the deadpan.

He struck outwards with his fist,

And hit.

The Scythe flew backwards, landing gracefully on his feet at the end of the corridor.

The Scythe heaved a breath, and gripped his gut.

“Good blow.”

Nim assumed a defensive stance.

“But not good enough?”

“Right,” The Scythe replied.

And then he flew.

His Speed made him move left, right, up, down.

Dash across the hall, jump, kick off the wall.

Raise his scythe, strike down.

All in less than a second.

Nim never saw it coming.

Nim’s body fell to the ground, still.

“It’s never good enough,” Said The Scythe.

The Scythe nyooms.

am I the only one who thinks of "Nim" as Nale?

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Posted (edited)

Yes.

And now you're making me think of The Scythe as Szeth.

And now you're making me reorganize this scene into a Szeth v. Nale battle.

Edited by CalanoCorvus
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Cavetown is makin me sentimental, and it doesn't help i just ranted ab my gf to my friend gwen.

So;

Scene #32: Poem ab love. Enjoy. And I love y'all!!!

Spoiler

There is something so soft, and so pure, about love.

Love comes in many forms, and has many different motives.

The best form of love is unconditional love.

When someone knows your flaws.

And loves you for them.

When someone knows you.

And loves you.

To love someone, to truly love someone, is to want everything for them.

To love someone is to want to wipe their tears away every time, and to kiss their forehead and to make their pain go away.

To love someone is to want to pick them up, to hug them, and to never let go.

To love someone is to want to make them safe, to make them feel loved, to make sure that they’re loved.

Love is a beautiful thing.

But, as with everything, there’s a dark side.

Someone can say they love someone, and then use and manipulate them.

Someone can say they love someone, and then go back on it an hour later.

Love has a bright side and a dark side.

A yin and yang.

Love is yearning to always be with someone, yearning to see their smile, hear their voice, watch their eyes light up when they see you.

Love is wanting to be there for everything, to help them through everything, to live and love with them.

And that,

Is the greatest thing a human can ever do.

Love.

why is cavetown so good at musicing D:

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HOW DO YOU DO IT? THE TWO SCENES YOU HAVE WRITTEN TODAY HAVE MADE THE TOP TWO ON MY FAVORITE LIST OF YOUR SCENES!

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uhhh

i'm just good i guess

:P

:/

thank you wizard ily (platonically)

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That's so pretty! And really true. I love the way you phrased it and the whole yin and yang of love is so honest and upfront. Gorgeous poem!!

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I stumbled upon this thread today, and oh what a find. Awesome, wonderful, great, writing. I loved reading all of these especially the sad/depressing ones. I like to just read through threads and not post anything, but I sometimes see something I have to acknowledge and your writing is one of those things.

Also you inspired me to begin writing a sad/depressing song that's been in my head for quite some time.

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17 hours ago, JaySurge said:

I stumbled upon this thread today, and oh what a find. Awesome, wonderful, great, writing. I loved reading all of these especially the sad/depressing ones. I like to just read through threads and not post anything, but I sometimes see something I have to acknowledge and your writing is one of those things.

Also you inspired me to begin writing a sad/depressing song that's been in my head for quite some time.

sir you have made my day.

it's rare to get compliments from a lurker, and to get compliments from a lurker bc i wrote my emotions into words is truly a beautiful thing.

Thank you for the supremely kind words, and good luck on that song!! Please share it when you're done, I'd love to either hear it, or just read the lyrics if you haven't gotten a melody.

Thanks again!!

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I've been on vacation for 2 weeks.

I've been writing.

For 2 weeks.

Prepare to have your minds blown, nerds.

Scene #33: Funny little creation poem.

Spoiler

Darkness, impenetrable.

Light, there was none.

And then,

Color.

Finity became infinity.

The light spread to the farthest reaches of the There, and even beyond.

The universe was new, and the universe was old. It was the first, the progenitor, the Great.

Light, impenetrable.

Darkness, there was none.

The sound of silence, the echoing of nothing, penetrated the very fabric of Being.

And it was glorious.

Scene #34: Murderous woman goes and kills her 'friend.' It gets dark :D.

Spoiler

Roe opened the door and entered the home, a slight skip in her step.

She shook her arm, and from her sleeve into her hand fell a small knife. Unornamented though it was, it did damage.

The poison it was laced with didn’t hurt, either.

Well, yes it did. That’s how poison works.

“Roe?”

Joma walked from around the corner, wiping her own hands on a towel.

Joma was short of stature, with caramel hair that complimented her darker skin tone, but her beauty did little to mask the hatred she held for many many people.

Roe among them.

Joma thought she did a good job hiding the fact that Roe was one of her most hated friends. if Roe could be called a friend.

But Roe saw through the thin mask, put up hastily. Roe saw the hatred, and decided to do something about it.

“You’re back early. What’s up?”

Roe did not respond, and instead advanced. Quick as a viper, she sunk the blade into the soft, flawless skin of Joma’s arm.

Joma blinked once at the knife.

Then looked up at Roe.

“And you did that, why?”

Roe didn’t respond, simply turned around and walked back to the door.

“Roe, you just stabbed my ar-“

Roe didn’t look back as Joma collapsed, convulsing, to the floor. The poison worked fast. Roe would have to tip Tsumo well.

With the quiet gurgles of a dying Joma behind her, Roe opened the door, stepped out, and shut the door.

With a slight skip in her step, Roe walked down the street. The sun seemed brighter.

Scene #35: I wrote a poem about me writing poems.

Spoiler

In a blank white canvas, I do not use paint.

I use words, and I spread them as if paint.

In the use of words, I craft something far more valuable than any painting.

In the physical absence of color, there are deeper shades of mental color.

Men can discern what they wish from my words, but the foundation of the words will remain.

Praise and love may abound around my words, but they will still be simply words.

Meaning buried in the syntax.

Story hidden in the letters.

Emotion singing from the words.

In a blank white canvas, I do not use paint.

I use words.

Scene #36: An Ode To Technoblade. Rest In Peace, Blood God. (i miss him)

Spoiler

In this short span of years we call Life, there was one man amongst us who loved it and lived it as much as he could.

A mortal, yet a god.

A man, yet a legend.

Technoblade battled against the greatest killer this world has ever seen, fought for himself, for those he loved.

He fought for us.

He fought to put a smile on our faces.

The Man, The God, The Youtuber.

Two personas.

One a man, behind a screen, just like us.

Another, a God of Blood, plagued by voices, always begging for death and for blood.

Above all else, he was a friend.

And he has been lost.

Life’s too short to worry about things we got wrong, so hug all your friends, and let them know you’re not letting them go.

We will not let Technoblade go.

We were his voices, we are his Voices.

We will not forget our God.

Our King.

Live on above, Blood God.

Kingdoms more than here await your conquest.

Live on, King.

Blood for the Blood God.

Scene #37: Backstory (in story form) of my Minecraft character WEEEEE

Spoiler

It’s hard having a heart in the city.

Especially when you have a heart so big.

Calano wandered the City Of Angels, his white, feathery, wings rustling every now and then behind him.

Calano looked up, taking a deep breath. Although he kept it to himself, he was certain others knew how he felt about this “grand” city.

He was certain others knew, and he knew that his girlfriend knew.

He spread his wings, and alighted on the wind, spiraling into the sky.

The clouds loomed bigger and bigger, until he shot through them, hovering in the bright moonlight, looking up at his love, Lana.

Lana hadn’t noticed him, so he flapped up to her, and shouted.

Lana jumped, and her wings bristled. She fell a few feet before recomposing herself and flying up to eye level with Calano.

“Cal.”

“Lana.”

“How have you been?”

“Miss me that much, did you?”

“Maybe,” Calano said with a smile, floating a bit closer.

Lana’s hands glided up his arms, before coming to rest behind his neck.

“Well it’ll please you to know,” Lana said, leaning in, “I missed you too.”

Cal smiled, and kissed her.

When they separated, Cal looked up at the moon.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He asked.

Lana laced her fingers with his, and turned.

“Yes,” She said, “Yes, it is.”

 

 

 

“Calano, of House Suvroc. You have been brought before the Lower Court of Angels on charges of interrupting the punishment of a civil servant, mild treason, and resisting arrest.”

 

Calano shifted, and the chains that bound his wrists, wings, and ankles clinked. He swiveled his head, noting his parents, staring dead ahead, hiding their emotion behind their eyes.

Lana was near them, staring at him. As soon as they made eye contact, she gave him a look that said, Why?

Calano returned a look, as the Lower Court Judge continued his rant, that said, Someone had to.

“Mr. Suvroc! If you could face the front.”

Calano shifted again, and faced the front.

“Calano James Suvroc, on account of the charges laid against you, and on account of your past misdemeanors, we of the Lower Court of Angels in the City of Angels find you guilty of all charges. How plead you?”

Calano glanced at Lana, who gave him a look that said, Don’t do anything stupid.

He smirked.

Turned to face the front.

And started to speak.

“I’ve lived here all my life, and for years I’ve seen the horrible atrocities committed by the aristocracy of this city. You only think of yourselves. So, I did something.”

The Lower Court Judge glared down his nose, wordlessly daring him to say more. Calano heard a slap, and thought it was Lana facepalming. Yeah, she wasn’t going to be too happy.

“The City Of Angels. That’s what they call us, right? I wish you were able to see there’s so much more to life than fortune and fame, validation and pain. Because when you always want more, there’s nothing to gain.”

“We’re done here,” Said the Judge, “ Calano James Suvroc, this court finds you guilty. Your sentence is immediate banishment from the City, immediately after being administered The Curse of the Black Angel.”

A whisper floated through the room. The Curse? For a boy?

Wordlessly, the Judge motioned for the guard to approach. The guard did so, bearing a clawed glove. The Judge sneered, as if to say, You did this to yourself.

Calano turned to Lana, suddenly worried for her. He knew that the Curse only affected one Physically, so he wasn’t worried about going insane. But he was worried about Lana, and how she would fare after he was banished.

She glared at him.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

As the guard grabbed his arm with the glove, as he felt the white feathers on his hands and ears and wings bleed to black, as his fingers grew fearsome black claws, as his left eye bled gray, he realized that Lana was more than sad. She was disappointed, and heartbroken.

She was no longer his Lana, and he was no longer her Cal.

Calano took a deep breath, and stared straight ahead.

So be it.

Scene #38: Goddess person needs some assistance.

Spoiler

“My Lady,” The boy said, “I’m clumsy, anxious, and nervous. I am not who you need for this.”

The Goddess smiled. Sadly.

“Those,” She said, “While negative qualities, can be turned into positive qualities. Your anxiety can be a tool for thinking about every outcome and preparing for it. Your nervousness can lend you strength by not underestimating your opponent. Your clumsiness can be fixed by fixing the aforementioned qualities.”

“I-,” The boy stammered, “But- I can’t-“

The Goddess put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“The Shadows are coming for me, and I am all but powerless to stop them. I need your help, and your help alone.”

The boy stared up at The Goddess, incredulous.

“So,” She continued, “Will you help me?”

“I…” The boy began, “You're sure it’s me? You’re not mixing me up with someone else?”

“I’m sure,” Said The Goddess simply.

“And you’ll be behind me every step of the way?”

“I shall.”

The boy considered, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized how much sense it made. By the time he had finished thinking it over, he realized that he probably could do this.

“Alright then,” He said, “Let’s do this.”

Scene #39: Welcome back to depression land, population me, starring Violet and Markus\

Spoiler

Vines grew from the ground, up around Violet’s feet.

Markus watched helplessly, as his friend, his love, was slowly encased in vegetation.

“Will you come back?” He asked, voice hoarse.

“I…” Violet responded, “I don’t know.”

The vines were up to mid calf, and the tips of her fingers were starting to turn brown, like a tree.

“Why is this happening?”

“It’s for the best. The greater good. Think about it. You’ll wake up tomorrow, and the world will still be there,” Violet said, smiling reassuringly, though tears filled her eyes.

“But you won’t,” Markus said wetly.

“I-“ Violet whispered, “You’re right. I won’t.”

The vines were creeping up past her midriff, and her arms had started sprouting little sticks.

“Markus, I don’t have much time left, so I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” He said, so sincerely, Violet knew he would honor it even if every single person on the planet laughed in his face. If the planet survived past tonight.

“Try to live. Try to love. Try to laugh. As long as you don’t forget me.”

Markus stepped up to Violet, and cupped her cheeks in his hands.

“I would never forget you,” He whispered as the vines coiled around her neck, and the branches sprouting from her arms blossomed.

“I will never forget you.” He said.

“I know.”

The vines were almost to her mouth, so Markus kissed it, one final time.

“I love yo-“ The vines cut off her last word, and she stared at Markus as he began to cry, until the vines covered even her eyes.

And then she was gone.

A tree, in a field.

Around what was once her feet, violets began to grow.

Scene #40: (40 SCENES WOOOOOO) Gay lil angsty lil thingy.

Spoiler

“Am I going crazy?”

“No. It is on fire.”

I looked up from my phone, at the smoke stained walls, the flames licking at the walls.

“So,” I say, “This is it?”

“Does it have to be?”

I laugh half heartedly, “There’s not really an escape.”

“Oh.”

As the flames crackle, the silence stretches on, the true scope of the situation weighing down on it.

“I want you to know,” She starts, “That I’m sorry. There was no other way.”

“I know,” I say with a reassuring smile, “And I don’t blame you. I’m just glad you called me up, told me a joke. It… makes this better, somehow.”

The flames flare as part of the house collapses, and I shield my face.

“I’m finished playing.”

She doesn’t respond. She just looks at me.

“I’m staying inside.”

“What’s it you always say?” She says softly.

“I say a lot of things,” I whisper, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“‘I love you.’”

I chuckle.

“I do say that a lot, don’t I?”

The flames are getting closer. I fight to stay calm, and I don’t put my phone down. She smiles up at me from the screen.

“Yeah. And I… I love you too.”

As the flames reach my shoes, I smile at her.

“I know. The… the flames are here. Should I hang up?”

She takes a deep breath, and doesn’t respond, just studies my face.

“Yeah. Goodbye, Ava.”

“Goodbye, Ellis.”

I hang up the phone.

And close my eyes.

It’s warm.

Scene #41: Angry lady with a scythe gets dramatic.

Spoiler

Tyru looks up, coughing. 

The land is bathed in black and orange, a furious cacophony of fire and smoke.

As he stares into the flames, eyes watering from the smoke, light, and heat, a red-hot blade slices through the fire, seeming to cut a gash into the chaos. It cuts another gash, and another, until finally there is a hole in the flames.

In the hole, through the portal of flame, stands a figure. A shadowed figure, holding a scythe with a red hot blade.

Tyru gasps, which leads to more coughing.

Damn smoke.

The figure laughs, and steps through the flames. The flames close behind her, and she is in shadow once more, the fire at her back.

“Here I am!” She shouts to no one, “Who will stop me?”

Tyru starts to stand, but is shoved down by a foot to the face.

“So,” Says a sneering voice, “You would attempt to stop your only chance at salvation?”

“This…” Tyru croaks, “This isn’t salvation.”

“Oh?” She says softly, “Then call for Salvation. Where is he?”

Tyru does not respond, only breathes heavily.

She leans down to whisper in his ear;

“Where is your god now?”

She then steps back, and Tyru struggles to his feet.

When he meets her eyes, she grins and cocks her head. The blade of her scythe raises a titch.

“He is dead,” She says simply, “Salvation is dead.”

Tyru assumes a defensive position, and she blurs.

A flash.

A cackle.

Then, nothing more.

there you go. 9 scenes to read and cry and laugh at. hahahahahaha.

(i write too much :P)

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14 hours ago, CalanoCorvus said:

I've been on vacation for 2 weeks.

I've been writing.

For 2 weeks.

Prepare to have your minds blown, nerds.

Mind blown

14 hours ago, CalanoCorvus said:

there you go. 9 scenes to read and cry and laugh at. hahahahahaha.

(i write too much :P)

You can never write to much my friend. Always a pleasure to read them, always a pleasure.

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Posted (edited)

What... How.... I'm so happy. So much writing!!!!!!!

I love them all. I think scene 40 might be my favorite, though I don't know why, but it's really hard to decide!! Scene 35 is also really cool

Edited by Morningtide
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31 minutes ago, Morningtide said:

What... How.... I'm so happy. So much writing!!!!!!!

I love them all. I think scene 40 might be my favorite, though I don't know why, but it's really hard to decide!! Scene 35 is also really cool

Scene 40 was based off Goodbye by Bo Burnham, and scene 35 was just me writing :P 

Morningtide thank you for the kind words ilysm.

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Scene #42: Reminiscent thingy.

Spoiler

I twist my fingers, and the vibrant blue feather in my hand twirls with it. In the middle of the feather is a diamond outline, in a darker shade of blue.

The feather is representative of many things.

The feather is reminiscent of many things.

Except whatever the feather is from.

I have not seen or heard of the creature from which this small feather hails.

But I do remember this shade of blue, this gentle sky blue. I remember the sky blue strands against the small green blades, of a tan hand gripping my own, speckled in sunlight.

I remember vibrant magenta eyes, and a small, sincere, and loving smile.

I remember him.

I raise my wrist, staring at the small gold band. Hanging from a small chain connected to the band is a small red flower. Though it is a simple piece of jewelry, it is also so much more.

In seeing the feather, and the flower, I am transported to the forest, and the field.

I am transported next to him, back in a moment I wish could last forever, with a tan hand gripping my own, speckled in sunlight. With vibrant magenta eyes, and a small, sincere, and loving smile.

Back with a voice, which speaks words I remember.

“Don’t try to make yourself remember. That doesn’t help anybody. Don’t look for me, I’m just a story you’ve been told. So let’s pretend a little longer, because when we’re gone, everything goes on.”

I smile, in reality and in dream.

“What if you were gone tomorrow? Won’t the waves crash on? Is it selfish that I’m happy, as we pass the setting sun?”

“No,” Says the boy with the sky blue hair, says the boy with the tan hand gripping my own, speckled in sunlight, says the boy with the vibrant magenta eyes, and the small, sincere, and loving smile.

“I’m sorry that you worry. I told you to forget me, but you stayed by my side. You were my shoulder, and I am your shoulder. Let’s just pretend a little longer.”

I smile, in reality and in dream.

And the boy with the sky blue hair, with the tan hand gripping my own, speckled in sunlight, with the vibrant magenta eyes, and the small, sincere, and loving smile, smiles back.

I am transported back to reality, with the feather and the flower. No longer am I in the forest and the field.

I miss the forest and the field.

I have the feather and the flower.

As he said, Everything goes on.

 

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Oooh I love the repetitiveness! .... That might not be a word. The descriptions are great!

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Repetitiveness is a word!!! And I loooooove using it in my writing. This one was fun to write, the song I used is very noice. 

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Love your work, Calano! You are an amazing writer! I can't wait to see more of your work, though I see a few things you could have done better I know this is just short stuff and not big works where you have to pay attention to things like that, but still, GREAT WORK! continue to write, continue to imagine, and most importantly, continue to inspire.

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