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01/26/2025 12:10 PM 

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧

Isabella stood in the dimly lit clearing of her camp, the faint aroma of coffee filling her nostrils as she focused on her surroundings. She had been walking through the woods for what felt like hours, each step echoing ominously underfoot. The smell of coffee was a comforting reminder that she wasn’t alone; there was still hope and someone who cared enough to make food for this lone figure wandering in nature’s vastness.

One of the creatures she had encountered earlier seemed to have sensed her presence from the rhythmic clatter of her feet, but Isabella remained alert. Her hands were poised above her head like a shield as she summoned her Starlight abilities once more. The creature didn’t dare to come any closer; it knew better than to provoke such a powerful force. After delivering a blast that sent shivers through the trees and shaking the ground slightly beneath them, Isabella dashed off towards safety with swift steps.

As she ran, the forest seemed to close in around her, creating an almost suffocating environment. The creatures followed her relentlessly, their presence threatening and ever-present. She didn’t dare make any sudden moves or noises that could alert them; instead, she hunched over slightly, trying to blend into the shadows of the trees as best she could. Every step felt heavy against her bruised feet and legs, which were already feeling raw from the ongoing journey.

Isabella’s powers had been drained significantly by now; her energy was nearly spent. Her muscles trembled under her clothes, a clear sign that she didn’t have much longer to go before reaching the safety of camp. The distance wasn’t far—just over a mile—but it felt like an endless stretch in her current condition. Every breath seemed labored and each step took more effort than the one before.

Despite her exhaustion, Isabella pushed herself further, driven by the faint scent of coffee which now carried a promise of warmth and comfort. She tried to keep her hands steady as she moved, but they betrayed her: trembling slightly even through her gloves. The sensation was unsettling; it made her realize how much damage she had done during her journey, both physically and mentally.

As night began to settle in around them, Isabella paused for a moment of reflection. She knew that if the creatures found her now, there would be no turning back. They were relentless and seemed to have an almost supernatural ability to track down their prey. Every step she took carried with it the weight of uncertainty about whether she would make it back in time.

With this understanding, Isabella pushed forward once more, determined not to let them catch her. Each breath was a fight for survival; each step felt like climbing over mountains instead of traversing just another mile. The distance seemed to expand around her, widening with every passing second until the next destination, however distant it might be, appeared closer than ever before.

Despite the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm her, Isabella pushed forward, her path illuminated only by the faint glow of the stars above and the occasional flicker of light from a distant campfire. Each step brought her nearer to safety—and yet further away from the creatures pursuing her with relentless determination. Her heart pounded in sync with every beat of her racing legs as she fought against the encroaching darkness, knowing that every moment was precious and could be used towards finding shelter and protection.

With renewed resolve, Isabella continued on her journey, her senses heightened by the need to stay alert while still trying not to attract unwanted attention. The distance seemed less daunting each time she took a breath; it felt like they were moving closer together rather than farther apart. In that moment of fatigue and resilience, Isabella found strength within herself—enough to face the challenges ahead and reach safety once more.

01/25/2025 04:02 PM 

Snapshots of Consciousness 31

trees, branches, nature, greenery, earth,

01/25/2025 08:11 PM 

guidelines

01/25/2025 08:06 PM 

navigation.

01/24/2025 09:32 PM 

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞 & 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

mother and father, those were the tender names that Isabella had for the monstrous beings who had brought her into the world. However, the world outside her shattered reality knew them only as the embodiment of fear and chaos. Their very presence was enough to send tremors of terror through the hearts of the bravest souls, as they wrought havoc and destruction without mercy. Whenever the two of them united in their malicious intent, the aftermath was akin to an apocalyptic scene. Entire cities were laid to waste, their gleaming spires crumbling into dust as they reveled in the crimson tide of the slain.

Her mother, a creature of the shadows, was feared and reviled for her dark witchcraft. With a flick of her wrist, she could conjure the most heinous of curses, bringing forth a maelstrom of malevolence that would lay waste to all that stood before her. Her power was immense, and her heart was as cold and unforgiving as the icy wastelands from which she had emerged. Her eyes, a piercing shade of emerald, could freeze the very essence of a man’s soul, leaving him a hollowed-out shell, devoid of all hope.

Her father, a brute of unimaginable strength, was a beast in the truest sense of the word. He possessed the uncanny ability to transform his human form into that of any creature he desired, each one more terrifying than the last. His mere presence was a testament to the primal forces that lay dormant within him, waiting to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting world. His roars echoed through the streets as he tore through concrete and steel as if they were but delicate sheets of paper.

Isabella’s life began on the fateful day when her father was apprehended by the relentless grip of the law, a mere few hours after her birth. The cacophony of sirens and the staccato of gunfire had pierced the quiet of the night, signaling the end of his reign of terror. He was hauled away, his snarling visage contorted in rage, and thrown into the most secure supervillain containment facility ever conceived by mankind. This was the "Lockdown," a place where the most dangerous beings were isolated from society, never to see the light of day again.

Her mother, on the other hand, had the foresight to abandon her newborn daughter just minutes before the inevitable confrontation with the authorities. Whether it was maternal instinct or self-preservation, Isabella would never truly know. Yet, she remained a constant in her father’s thoughts, a silent specter haunting his every moment in that cold, unforgiving cell. The Shade, a powerful and addictive substance, had once been his lifeblood, enhancing his already formidable abilities to near-mythic levels. But now, within the confines of the Lockdown, he was denied his precious elixir, his power waning with each painful heartbeat.

Isabella grew up without the warmth of a mother’s embrace or the protection of a father’s arms. Instead, she was left to navigate the treacherous waters of her inheritance alone. Her mother’s dark influence had left its mark on her, a shadowy whisper that seemed to follow her wherever she went. It was as if she could feel the tendrils of the Shade, the very substance that had fueled her mother’s power, reaching out to claim her as its own.

The truth of her parentage was a heavy burden for a child so young. Her father, the beast, had been taken from her at the very moment she had entered the world, leaving her with nothing but a name and a legacy of horror. Her mother, the witch, had chosen freedom over her, leaving behind a gaping void filled with doubt and anger.

Yet, even in the face of such darkness, Isabella found strength. She vowed to uncover the truth behind the chaos that had torn her family apart. Was it the seductive allure of power that had bound her mother to the Shade, or had it been something far more sinister? Was the love her mother had for her father a mere illusion, a manipulation to maintain her dominance over him? Or was it a genuine bond that had been twisted and corrupted by the insatiable hunger for control?

The answers to these questions remained elusive, lost in the labyrinth of lies and deceit that was their life. But as Isabella grew, so too did her resolve to break free from the chains of her past and forge a new destiny for herself. Whether she would embrace the light or succumb to the shadows, only time would tell. For now, she was a child of terror, born into a world that had no place for her kind. Her journey was fraught with danger and uncertainty, but she walked it with her eyes wide open, determined to write her own story amidst the ruins of her parent’s twisted love.

01/24/2025 09:31 PM 

𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬

Isabella stood motionless, her heart hammering in her chest like a caged animal desperate to escape. The once familiar living room now felt like the epicenter of an apocalyptic nightmare. The television, a flickering bastion of terror, remained glued to the channel that had brought forth the chilling edict to stay indoors. The scenes it broadcasted were a ghastly ballet of chaos and dread, as the living transformed into the undead before her very eyes. Their lifeless forms, devoid of any semblance of humanity, staggered through the streets, feasting upon the screaming masses that had once been their neighbors, friends, and family. The cacophony of panic and the macabre dance of the deceased filled her ears, a symphony of horror that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of the room.

The reporters, once the trusted purveyors of information, now lay lifeless on the ground, their vacant eyes staring into the abyss of the unforgiving camera lenses. Their bodies, once a symbol of the human spirit in the face of adversity, twitched and jerked as the relentless grip of the undying infection claimed them. They rose again, not as men and women, but as monsters, their lips peeled back in a grotesque imitation of a smile, revealing teeth stained with the crimson remnants of their last meal. The sight of their torn flesh and the crimson rivers that flowed from their gaping wounds was almost too much to bear, yet Isabella could not look away.

Her eyes darted around the room, searching for any signs of weakness in her makeshift fortress. She had used her starlight abilities, a gift that now felt like a cruel joke, to melt the doors and windows shut. The metal and glass had bubbled and distorted under her power, creating a temporary barricade against the horrors that lurked outside. But she knew this would not hold for much longer. The relentless hunger of the undead would eventually find a way through. The very air felt thick with the impending doom that waited just beyond the walls of her sanctuary.

A sudden sound, a desperate scratching, yanked her from her thoughts. She approached the front door, her breath shallow and erratic, and peered through the peephole. The once tranquil street outside had been transformed into a tableau of carnage. A lone dog darted back and forth, its eyes wild with terror, searching for refuge in a world gone mad. It was a poignant reminder of the life that had once thrived here, now reduced to fleeing shadows.

Mustering the last vestiges of her courage, Isabella retreated to the couch, her legs wobbling beneath her. She sat down heavily, the cushions enveloping her in a cold embrace. The room felt eerily silent, save for the muffled screams that pierced through the thickened barriers she had created. Glancing back at the television, she saw one of the reporters she had watched fall rise again. His body was a canvas of blood and gore, his eyes now the empty sockets of a creature that knew only hunger. The green screen behind him, a grim backdrop to the unfolding horror, was in shreds. He stumbled towards the camera, the glass of the studio door now a barricade to the living hell that awaited beyond. His growling was the soundtrack to her new reality.

Her eyes fell to the dwindling pile of canned ravioli, her only sustenance in this tomb of solitude. She knew it would not last. The inevitable moment loomed closer when she would have to confront the monsters that had once been human. The thought of venturing outside, into the maw of the apocalypse, was almost too much to bear. Yet she knew that she could not hide indefinitely. The hunger gnawing at her stomach was a constant reminder of the grim choice she would soon have to make.

The television’s flickering light cast an eerie glow upon the room, painting the walls with a sickly pallor that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of her racing heart. The shadows grew longer, stretching out like the grasping arms of the damned, reaching for her. The dog outside had stopped moving, its panic-stricken howls now replaced by an eerie silence that was somehow more terrifying than the cacophony that had come before.

Isabella clutched the remote control tightly, her knuckles white with fear. Each passing moment brought with it the creeping dread that the dead would soon break through her flimsy defenses. Her mind raced with thoughts of escape and survival, but she knew that each option was fraught with peril. The world outside had become a buffet for the undying, and she was the last morsel of life in a desert of decay.

The quiet was shattered by a thud against the door, sending a shiver of terror down her spine. It was the first assault, the opening volley in the inevitable battle for her life. The sound grew louder, more insistent, as the creature on the other side grew bolder. She could almost feel the hunger seeping through the wood, an unholy miasma that threatened to consume her very soul.

Her eyes darted around the room, searching for any weapon she could wield. The starlight that had once brought her comfort now felt like a prison, trapping her in a world where the living were the minority, and the dead ruled supreme. The horror of her situation closed in around her, a vice grip of despair that threatened to crush her very will.

But Isabella was not one to give in to fear. Her eyes narrowed with determination, and she whispered a silent vow to herself. She would not go quietly into the night. She would fight for every second of her existence, for every morsel of hope that remained in this desolate landscape. Her hand tightened around the remote, and she knew that when the time came, she would use it not just to change the channel, but to fight back against the horrors that lay in wait beyond her makeshift barricade.

The thuds grew louder, more insistent. The door began to crack, splinters of wood flying into the room like the teeth of the monsters that sought to devour her. The television blared on, a constant reminder of the horrors that awaited. And yet, amidst the chaos, Isabella found a strange serenity. She was alive, and she would not let the dead take that from her without a fight.

With a deep breath, she steeled herself for the inevitable. The door was about to give way, and with it, the last vestige of her safety. As the wood splintered and the first cold, dead hand reached through the gap, Isabella’s eyes shone with the fierce light of a star, ready to burn away the shadows that sought to claim her. The battle for her survival was about to begin.

01/24/2025 04:24 PM 

GUIDELINES

GUIDELINES
∆ Rezaren is a villain from the animated Netflix series Dragon Age Absolution. He can play the antagonist in your story.
∆ Fantasy and modern fantasy AU settings (with discussion).
∆ Serious and/or casual roleplays.
∆ Replies vary between para and multipara. I can write novella if needed.
∆ Open to crossovers.
∆ No minors.
∆ French or english languages available.
∆ RL and RP are separate, please. I am NOT my character.
∆ Storylines are independent.
∆ I won’t tolerate clique bullsh*t. If you have an issue with me, please do yourself a favor and remove me.
∆ If you ever have questions or want to steer the story in a new direction, feel free, I’m always open to it.

01/24/2025 01:21 PM 

ORION VS NEWSOME




There was an unmistakable hush that fell over all those in attendance when his name was called, as if both an intense curiosity was just awakened...along with each of their deepest fears becoming real. Tray K. Orion, barely known publicly as the owner of a chain of very successful upscale hotels, military and technology patents, masters of musical records and soforth, but secretly known internationally as, "The Hidden Hand", walked past them all on his way to the stand. Even the female judge and prosecutor were eyeing him and the way his expensive tailor-made suit fit to his athletic toned body like a fancy layer of skin in his wife’s favorite color as he was sworn in. Having a seat, the prosecutor was able to maintain henough grace not to let on that she was checking him out, though he knew, as she had her turn to question Tray first believing the raven haired woman called, "The Ivory Knife", as a play on her actual name, Ivory Stone, would have this case won if  pressed Tray about Shy shooting him in the club last year.

Prosecutor Ivory Stone: "Mr. Orion, the very private businessman who, recently might I added, survived a near fatal shooting...by your wife, correct?"

Defense Kismet Jones: "Objection! Relevance?"

Prosecutor Ivory Stone: "Establishing pertinent information about the defendant and the credibility of her character, your honor."

Judge Beth-Jay Blackman: "Overruled, but let’s not stray to far Ms. Stone."

Prosecutor Ivory Stone: "Thank you, your honor."

Witness Tray K. Orion: "Yes."

Prosecutor Ivory Stone: "And,  would it be safe to say that, this type of behavior from your wife is...reckless and irrational, when she’s suppose to be the level headed head of surgery of her own hospitals?"

Witness Tray K. Orion: "...Yes."

Prosecutor Ivory Stone: "So she really doesn’t deserve to have control over those hospitals anymore, right?"

Defense Kismet Jones: "Objection, your honor! Leading the witness."

Judge Beth-Jay Blackman: "Sustained."

Prosecutor Ivory Stone: "Ok I’ll rephrase...in your opinion Mr. Orion, do you honestly believe that the same woman that has been shown to put her personal life on display for the world to see, who can’t seem to manage her own emotions...the woman that shot you and nearly ended both your marriage and your life, is responsible to hold all the lives of all those injured and sick patients of three hospitals in her...unsteady hands?"

It was a clever double entendre that was meant to take a direct shot at Shy right in front of him to attack his one weakness, Shy, while also making it look like it was only meant to stir her up when Stone actually wanted to get him to incriminate his wife. Kismet was about to take the question personally, for her sister and for her fresh newly changed feelings for her brother-in-law, but the look he shot from Stone over to Kismet and Shy both said one clear message they would both know to obey...."shut up". It was the look that would stop Kismet cold before she could react and jump out of her seat showing her feelings, even Shy was effected by Stone’s words but Tray’s look gave her all the command she needed to be obedient and quiet along side her little sister. When he knew they got his message after just a second, he refocused on Stone with a more serious look that gave her pause before he spoke in his deep and powerful baritone voice.

Witness Tray K. Orion: "Here’s what I know, Ms. Stone....To be willing to put yourself and your future on the line in the attempt to save a single person from dying takes a lot of courage. Imagine expanding said courage to go beyond just one person to a whole hospital full of people, now imagine doing so three times over. Oh wait, you don’t have to imagine, you only have to remember. You seem to want to keep bringing up how my wife shot me like I wasn’t there, so let me make this clear for everyone.  Shy was going through more pressure than she herself knew, and despite trying to vilify her the real question should be asked...why are you trying to do so in the first place? Shy Orion is a loving mother, a supportive sister, and contrary to the assumptions of the unwashed masses, a loyal wife. So she has always, and will always, have my unyielding support."

It was a sting to Shy to hear about the fatal shooting that nearly took Tray’s life. Two years ago seemed like forever ago. Since then several deaths occured, a miscarriage and a new hospital location. Despite what the media said, Forbes and Health Magazine didnt lie. ShyAnne was the best doctor in New York, despite bringing newer locations to reach bigger clientelle. Bravo may have portrayed Shy as the Boss Bitch with flaws and gave her an outlet to express that she was human; but when the cameras stopped rolling and the lights stopped flashing she was still human. A mother, somewhat faithful wife. She never claimed to be perfect or a role model, she wanted her daughter and other young women to be better than she could.

Feeling a nudge, Shy nearly jumped out her thoughts as she turned to see all eyes on her. "Doctor Orion, you were called to the stand-" Standing up to expose the custom fitted Chanel business dress, Shy walked over to the stand and eyed the bible as it came into view. No lies had to be told. Glancing up at the sky as if she could see her mother, a quick smile faded as gave her oath and took a seat. Right into it, this defense lawyer didnt come to play. "Mrs. Orion, is it true you and  Govenor Gavin Newsome had somewhat of an relationship?" Shy smiled again and leaned into the mic but kept her eye on Stone. "Respectfully, I’ll answer any questions you have moving forward but we need to get our titles correct. I am, Doctor ShyAnne Orion. I earned my title over the years just as the Govenor. In trying to make him bigger, please do not belittle me and get my title correct." The judge didnt know whether to chime in since both lawyers seemed to be hushed at Shy’s words. "Doctor Orion, I apologize- did you and the govornor have a relationship?" Lights, camera and action.

"We did, a business relationship at first. I proposed an addition to aid not only myself, but the pharmaceutical business and he showed interest in funding it since it would be based in my California Hospital." Shy said calmy. Stone smirked placing paperwork in front of Shy, the judge then turning to place one infront of Kismet.

Looking at the picture, Shy smiled. It was the day Gavin came by her office with secret service and hand delivered a bouquet of flowers. Simple things made her happy. The random reminders that she was on your mind and ofcourse small gifts. "A business relationship or more of a physical one?" Shy sighed and looked over at her husband. As much as he knew the truth, this was uncomfortable for the two of them. Each get back or jab they made at eachother became more dangerous and public.

"When I expressed that I wasnt interested in him like that, he used Trump’s candicacy to pull out. Saying it was too dangerous and an expensive risk. By this time I employed well over a staff to assist me-" Shy stopped as Kismet stood up to hand out files backing Shy’s stories, one in particular that made Shy even wonder if it was worth it. Looking at her sister, Kismet nodded and motioned for her to continue. "Green Pill was submitted to the FDA twice, and was rejected due to improper ingredients. You.. Had a seizure according to employees. Your hand specifically-" Shy cut her off. "I have Parkinsons. Green Pill alleviated most of my symptoms. All procedures done prior to my diagnosis, all my patients know and sign a waiver.. I’ve followed the board of law and have been evaluated to proceed-" 
"Jude, I demand a recess!" Kismet said in a higher tone than Shy to cut her off. They needed to be on the same page and immediantly.


TO BE CONTINUED

01/24/2025 12:38 PM 

Starter W/ Eleysian

(turn down volume, sorry)                        NPC Malcolm Orion co-written with
Elysian



 
 
"I had no f***ing idea what to do. This had to be the most stupidest, decision she had ever made and I accepted alot of it. Luckily, she raised me right. She always told me I had a choice; but these choices came with consquences. I could remain a college graduate, live off partial of my mom’s trust fund with my sister until she turned eighteen. Or... I could switch to business. Learn a thing or two besides how to score 3 pointers with my eyes closed. I had a future either way and it didnt make sense to be selfish. Shiv was out my hands, my mother made that clear. Whether this case went federal and they found my mother guilty- she would go with lethal injection. She worked too hard, loved too hard to give up and watch life from behind bars- no matter how luxurious. 

My mom had an ’informant’ in each department. They were usually in charge and was there for years, probably before I was born. My mom said they would all advise me on if I decided to keep the hospital. Keep millions funded, and to keep helping her dream. Her dream was for me to make the decision she couldnt: to live or let die
 
 

The ride back from the hospital was solemn, leaving many emotions for the nurse to work through. The silence was interrupted when Nico, Elysian’s driver, announced a problem. A crowd of reporters gathered outside the entrance, hungry for their next big story. The knot in Elysian’s stomach grew when the car approached the building she resided in. With an audible sigh, she clenched her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose while reminding herself to say nothing. The moment the door opened, George, the building doorman, tried his best to usher her past the shooting lights of photographers as reporters shouted their questions.

“Mrs. Pierce, what is your connection to Dr. Shyanne Orion? Can you tell us why you are on her son’s payroll?”

“Can you give us any information on Dr. Orion’s condition?”

“Mrs. Pierce, were you aware of the affair between Shyanne and Governor Newsome?”



Elysian shouldered her way through the press and into the safety of her building, where she avoided any conversations with the lobby staff. Once inside the elevator, she could finally breathe. The media were pariahs, using bottom feeders for tidbits of information to uncover every dirty secret. Combing through each name, they would hound each individual to see who was willing to talk. Elysian wouldn’t be one of those people, and she hoped they would move on to the next name on the list before long.

Upon entering the penthouse apartment that her husband owned, the housekeeper met her at the door and retrieved her winter coat. “Forgive me for the lack of conversation, Doreen; I really need a glass of wine.” Elysian’s eyes widened upon seeing two men in suits sitting in the living room awaiting her arrival. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I tried to warn you.” Doreen kept her voice low. “These men are from the FBI, and they wanted to speak with you.” Elysian nodded her head, suggesting Doreen give her privacy.

“Elysian Cruz?” The men stood to offer a handshake, which Elysian reluctantly accepted with the correction of her surname. “It is Elysian Pierce now.” “Ah yes, we did have that in our notes; excuse me for addressing you incorrectly. I’m Agent Mills, and this is Agent Walker. If we could have a few moments of your time, we would like to ask you a few questions.” Motioning for the men to take a seat, Elysian nodded in agreement. “I’ll be happy to answer what I can. Please, have a seat.”

“We understand you have a friendly relationship with Dr. Shyanne Orion.”

“Shy, yes, I know her well, and on many occasions, I’ve had the privilege of working with her. She is an excellent Doctor and friend.”

The two men turned to each other in a silent conversation of their eyes before Agent Walker took over. “Yes, ma’am. During the time you worked together, I can only assume it was through this work that you became familiar with a pill Dr Orion was working on. __(name of pill)__, sound familiar?”

A lone brow rose as curiosity settled in; Elysian sat back, smoothing over her skirt as she began to fidget. “Mhmm. Yes. I’m familiar with it.” Silently, she pondered just how much she should say.

“We’d like for you to tell us everything you are aware of regarding this medication she was working on.”

Agent Mills interrupted, “Before you begin by limiting your involvement, we know you have worked with Dr. Orion on many occasions with this pharmaceutical, and you possess a great deal of information. You’re not in trouble unless, of course, you are unwilling to cooperate fully. “ He ended with a clever smile that irked the female, bringing a scowl to her face.

Elysian clenched her teeth tightly, pausing for thirty seconds before clearing her throat to speak. “It is a miracle in pill form. The research that has been performed on this pill shows promising results in cell regeneration along with energizing antibodies. It has the potential to cure many illnesses. I would say that it was revolutionary and would earn Dr. Orion a Nobel prize if allowed to let this medication see the light of day.” Elysian sat forward on the edge of her chair, visibly upset, her face flushing as anger erupted. “However, I’m not certain if this is in your notes, Agent Mills and Walker; this pill will likely remain hidden.”

“As you are likely aware, there is no lucrative payout for cures. Money is made from the sick and dying who are dependent on medication and procedures. Why cure the ailing when billions of dollars in revenue are made by big Pharma, Insurance, Hell, even the very medical industry that takes an oath to do no harm? All it takes is one call from a fat cat Billionaire, and anything can disappear, like that.” Snapping her fingers.

“Who are you alluding to sabotaging Dr. Orion’s magic pill?”

Scoffing, Elysian rolled her eyes. “You are well aware of her involvement with Governor Newsome; I’m not stupid. One person has a vendetta against the Governor and vows to take him down with anything he cares about. You could say Shy is Gavin’s achilles. If something hurt her, it would hurt him. Why do you think there is a smear campaign against Shy? It’s no coincidence that this is happening. Paint her out to be a hack, dismantle her reputation, and no one would believe anything she has to say, including her revolutionary new medication. This is revenge at its best, and he stands to make a lot of money under the table from big pharma and insurance who would owe him big for saving them from a sinking bottom line.”

Laughing, Elysian shook her head and stood. “Don’t tell me you believed he went into politics because he cares about the well-being of America? I shouldn’t have to say his name. I think this interrogation is over. My daughter is crying in the next room, past her feeding time.”

Agent Mills and Walker stand. “I’m afraid we need that name Mrs. Pierce.”

Stopping in her tracks, she turned with an amused smirk. “Trump. If you will see yourself out, have a nice day.
 

 

01/23/2025 07:48 PM 

The war Doctor's return

Setting: A desolate battlefield, the remnants of a once-thriving Dalek city. The sun is setting, casting long shadows and a reddish hue over the scene. The sound of distant explosions and the cries of the injured fill the air.

Characters:

1. The War Doctor (a battle-hardened Time Lord, with a weathered face and a scar across his right eye)
2. A group of human soldiers (exhausted, bloodied, and carrying various wounds)
3. The Dalek Tech Priest (damaged, with a whining sound emanating from its casing)
4. A wounded human civilian (hiding in a nearby bunker, desperately clutching a child)

Scene:

The War Doctor, covered in blood and sweat, limps back into the yard after a grueling battle against the Daleks. He surveys the scene of destruction, his eyes hardened by the horrors he has witnessed.

A group of human soldiers approach the War Doctor, their faces a mixture of relief and awe. They have heard tales of his prowess in battle and are grateful for his presence. The soldiers share their injuries, their stories of survival, and their hope for a better future.

The War Doctor, a skilled surgeon as well as a warrior, attends to the wounded soldiers, his hands steady and precise. He works tirelessly, applying dressing to wounds, setting fractures, and administering pain relief. His empathy and skill bring solace to the injured.

As the War Doctor works, a damaged Dalek Tech Priest emerges from the wreckage. It begins to emit a high-pitched whining sound, a sign of its imminent demise. The War Doctor looks up, his face betraying a hint of sadness. He knows that he has been victorious, but at a great cost.

In a nearby bunker, a wounded human civilian hides with a child, their faces pale and trembling. They watch as the War Doctor continues his work, their hope for a better tomorrow rekindled by his presence.

The War Doctor, now covered in blood and exhaustion, looks up at the remnants of the Dalek city around him. He knows that his victory is only temporary, that the war against the Daleks will continue. But for now, he feels a sense of pride and responsibility for the lives he has saved.

As the sun sets on the battlefield, the War Doctor stands tall, his back straight and his gaze unwavering. He is a beacon of hope in a world ravaged by war, a testament to the indomitable spirit of the human race.

Fade to black.

01/22/2025 10:02 PM 

Character Insight


~Personal~
True Name: Etherian Stormlight
Alias: Ethan St.Cloud
Nickname{s}: Shadow Wings, 
Title: Leader of the Dark Seraphim Brotherhood
Race: Seraphim / Dark Seraphim 
True Age: 5,000
Appearance Age: 21-25yr
POB: Heaven
Sex Identity: Male
Orientation: Bisexual Tendencies 
Position: Depends on the other person.
Profession{s}: Keeper of the Balance. Seraph Soldier. Exorcist.
Personality: Good-hearted. Serious Attitude. Courageous. Honorable. 

~Physical Form~
Eyes: Sapphire Blue
Hair: Medium Brown
Hair Style: Short  
Height: 5ft 10in
Weight: 170lbs
Body Type: Moderately Masculine. Lean Build. Fit.
Skin Tone: Ivory/Lite
Sex Appeal: Attractive. Handsome.
Wings: 6 wings in true form, 2 in human form
Attire: Black cloak, black leather pants, black silk shirts

~Extra Stuff~
Favorite Color{s}: Black, Silver, White, Purple, Sky Blue
Weapon of Choice: Holy Flame Sword



 







 

01/22/2025 08:36 PM 

Snapshots of Consciousness 30

The female form is wonderful.

body, woman's body, female body, female, woman, mannequins, lip prints, lipstick, red lipstick,

01/22/2025 08:19 PM 

Task Two | Home Sweet Home


 
Bathroom | Lindy would happily spend hours of her time soaking in a scalding hot bathtub. All she needs is some soft music, some lit candles, and a book and she’s in one of her happiest places. Since Lindy seems to thrive when she’s alone, the bathroom has become her oasis.

Home Office | Lindy loves creating and keeping her hands busy. When she’s not at Meraki, creating something she can be found in her home office tending to emails and doing the art that brings her the most joy. Her home office is a place where she can truly work from the heart and most of the pieces created here stay within her own personal collection.

Back Patio | Since Lindy has come to Miami, she has loved the idea of being able to entertain all the people she holds dear to her heart. Her back patio is a testament to that. Not only is it a place she can enjoy on her own, but it’s a spot she could happily invite some people over to watch movies, play video games, or just hang out.

Kitchen | While Lindy has never claimed to be a professional, she still loves to throw down in the kitchen. She loves to bake large batches of brownies and cookies for herself and her friends. She’s always finding recipes on Pinterest to try on her days off. Lindy loves to eat, and making food is therapeutic some nights.

01/22/2025 12:26 PM 

Creating the Raven Necromancer - in progress

She’d been whisked away from the only home she’d ever known by a man she’d never met before that she could remember. She couldn’t imagine the many ways her life would change once she reached Korriban with him. He would become her teacher; she would be his protégé until she felt she was ready to pass on everything he taught her to a student of her own. This would be the start of centuries of learning, perfecting her craft so that one day she could feel confident enough in it to teach another even a fraction of the knowledge she held.

She’d been born on Yavin IV long after Naga Saddow’s entombment on the jungle moon. She’d lived a quiet life there with her mother until one evening she watched from within the trees as ships approached the gravity well above. It wasn’t long before Jedi were on the surface hunting anyone, they found to have a connection to the dark side of the Force. She watched from the trees as they murdered her mother. The pain, horror, anger, and loss swirled within her pale lavender eyes as she leapt down to hold her mother’s broken body in her arms. She was so small next to her mother’s lifeless body, but the child struggled to hold her mother one last time as tears streamed down her cheeks. At first the Jedi weren’t aware of her presence as they’d turned and started to walk away to continue their hunt. Shota reached out to the dark nexus that resided within the old temples around her, it was the first time she’d called upon the Force in her young life. She felt connected to everything around her in a way she’d never felt before. She could feel every death on both sides…. She wanted the newcomers to suffer for what they had done to her people, to her mother. She felt the dark tendrils answering the call of her rage, instinctually she used them to lash out at the Jedi closest to her; killing him before he had time to register what was happening. The other Jedi turned to face her, the terror apparent on their features as they saw their fallen friends standing between them and the young girl. She’d enslaved the dead Jedi to her will, they would serve as her first puppets; forced to kill any remaining Jedi she found.

As the dark tendrils curled around her, she laid her mother softly on the ground before standing. Her raven black hair partly hid her face, her porcelain white skin stood in stark contrast against it. The pain and anger continued to burn within her purple eyes making them take on a light of their own as she sneered in the direction of the Jedi.

“You shouldn’t have come here lightsiders… now your fallen friends serve my will… you’ll never leave here alive. All of you will become my puppets.” Her voice had a cold malice laced with an almost song like tone as she spoke in an old Sith dialect as she didn’t know basic yet. The Jedi started to turn and run hoping to escape her as her puppets began to move forward, engaging their former friends. She found herself enjoying the sounds of their dying anguish. It took moments before all the Jedi in her immediate vicinity had fallen only to be enslaved by her will. The strain of using necromancy for the first time caused her to quickly tire, passing out once she thought she was safe. It was her untrained use of necromancy that had, unknown to her, attracted someone else to her. She’d attracted the man who would become her mentor, and after many centuries finally reveal to her that they were father and daughter not just mentor and protégé.

Ziddicus waited for her to fall asleep, releasing control of her puppets before he approached her. It pained him to see the fallen body of his lover, Shota’s mother. Though the two hadn’t seen one another in nearly a decade, he still loved her more than anyone he’d ever encountered. But he knew they’d see one another in the future, alchemy and necromancy always twisted the fate of its users in interesting and unpredictable ways. He didn’t linger long in his emotions as there was still danger close by. He scooped both over his shoulders and made his way back to his ship.

He’d managed to get within eyesight of his ship before a group of Jedi surrounded him. He could feel their connection to the Force…. They were Masters, but they were all younger than him, less experienced. It twisted his face into a fit of insane laughter as he laid Shota and her mother down for just long enough to make these young Jedi Master’s regret stumbling across him. “Such weak little children can now claim to be Master Jedi…. What have you become since the last great war against us? And since some of the best you had to offer joined our side? Revan left an Order of weak children to attempt to clean up years of warfare in his absence.” His insane laughter suddenly sounded like it was coming from everywhere due to him manipulating it through the Force. He was relishing their ever-growing fear as he toyed with them. His eyes had closed briefly as he manipulated his laughter. He lowered his head; his long slightly messy black hair fell around the front of his shoulders and in front of his face. His lavender eyes glowing with an eerie red hue as he called upon the power held within the dark nexus that had been created here during Naga Sadow’s time. He stretched his arms out in front of him, dark tendrils flowing from them in the direction of the Jedi Master’s before him, searing the flesh from their bones the instant they’re touched by his alchemy. The tendrils not only rended flesh from bone but ripped their very life force from them. It was a matter of a few moments before their screaming stopped, their lifeless withered bodies slumped to the ground. The red hue vanished from his eyes upon their deaths, he took a breath to separate himself from the nexus before he picked up Shota and her mother once again to continue carrying them back to his ship.

Ziddicus laid both down on separate bunks in the rear of the ship before heading further forward through a narrow gally to reach the cockpit. He set course for Korriban, the Sith tomb world that was once so much more during the earliest days of the Sith Empire. He navigated the ship out of Yavin IV’s atmosphere then made the jump to hyperspace. He was now alone with the only two people who currently meant anything to him in his life. Now he could clearly focus on both…. She wasn’t dead, she felt that was at first glance, but she was in a comatose state instead to conserve her energy. Ziddicus quietly laughed to himself. Like him she was an alchemist and a necromancer, she knew how to take the life of others as well as to preserve her own life using the deaths around her.

He would do what he had to in order to protect his family but would also do anything he had to in order to help his daughter grow into her full potential. The Force was already whispering to him that some day his daughter would find someone worthy of her becoming bound to by blood, worthy of her abilities. It also told him that one day he too would be bound to a Master as well. Though it would be a long wait before either of them found the people they were meant to serve.

He could feel Shota starting to stir from slumber. He left the ship on autopilot for now to return to her side. He’d kept all the lights on the ship that he could turned off to protect his daughter. She didn’t yet have an amulet to protect her from the deadly effects of light on their species. Light, both natural and artificial, could fatally injure them if they couldn’t get away from it fast enough or if they didn’t use their alchemy to create a protection amulet for theme selves. It would take time before he could either craft one for her or give her enough knowledge and skill to create it for herself.

Ziddicus was sitting at her side as her eyes started fluttering open. It took her a few minutes to process where she currently was and start to realize she was safe from the Jedi. Slowly she realized that the man sitting next to her looked just like her; that he was just like her. It would be the first threads of familiarity that would be woven, bringing the two of them together as mentor and protégé.

“I’m surprised you’re already awake, child. Creating your very first puppets wore you out enough I didn’t expect you to wake before we reached our destination on Korriban.” His voice currently had a quiet softness to it speaking to her now compared to the cold insanity it held while speaking to the Jedi a short time ago. He gently rested his right hand on her right shoulder to offer her any kind of assurance he could that she was safe and could continue to rest. “Rest for now. Regain your strength…. Soon you’ll need it, young one.”

Shota’s small left hand reached for his, coming to rest weakly on top of the hand she found on her shoulder. Her attempt to find comfort in his presence was just enough exertion to exhaust her. Sleep once again overtook the young Shota.

01/22/2025 11:20 PM 

Guidlines for writing with me

  • Not interested in writing with anyone who’s looking to cause drama of any kind. I’ve delt with the type too much over the years from people who decided to be accusitory of things yet can’t prove any wrong doing before spreading hate against a writer due to their false accusations, writers mocking and humiliating others that are trying to improve their writing, harassing males for writing females or females for writing males.... name the drama I’ve probably either seen it myself or know someone who had to go through it. Grow up, check your drama at the door and don’t be an ass, I don’t have the patients or mental bandwidth to deal with it after witnessing it for 20+ years now.
  • Length of writing: I love long winded posts when they make sense. If it’s 4000 quality words that help move and shape the story, great I’ll read it and enjoy it. If it’s 4000 words that are more fluff than substance or just don’t feel like they fit, I’m not going to enjoy it. Never feel like you have to use all the words in the book every single time you write something... let you in on something, it isn’t the word count that’s important it’s the quality of the words used that matters most. Anyone who tells you the opposite is full of garbage.
  • Topics: I can write all kinds of darker topics, not afraid of it one bit. I can write the lighter ones too, just don’t expect fluffy cheer stories just for the sake of fluff. I’m not the greatest at the lighter topics as it isn’t what I have the most experiance with but I can do it, I just want to make it clear I don’t waste my time writing pointless fluff it isn’t enjoyable.
  • I will write with any age of writer, I’m not restrictive on that as I got my start in this very verse back in the day on MySpace at the age of 15. So yes, teenagers are more than capable of coming up with awsome stories just like adults can. That being said though, there are some subjects I won’t write with a teenage writer for obvious reasons but most things are available to be free for all age wise just use some sense to figure it out.
  • I’m not always online and I’m not always able to write. I have a life just like anyone else, it just happens to include young children and poor health so sometime I won’t be around much as that will always come first. Writing is an escape and a hobby, not a make or break in my life... don’t make me dread logging in. If I’m involved in writing something with you you will get replied to as I can, sometimes that will be a quick turn around sometimes that might mean months of waiting. Unfortunately that’s my life and that’s what you sign up for being willing to write with me.
  • I write in the CSWRP verse group, but I will write with none group members just as freely as group members I don’t play the elitism game. That being said we are a Star Wars based group that doesn’t follow Lucas cannon or Disney cannon by the book. We have our own established lore after being around for so long. That’s what I will use when I write, but that doesn’t mean I can’t adapt it to fit with the lore found in another writing group... not a new concept for me.



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