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@freedomwriter76
Okay for one Riker basically being another brother to Jakob is perfection especially because he too knows what abuse feels like
But Jakob!! he’s amazing!!
Do me a favor…. Tell Cress I meant it
-Thorne@freedomwriter76
ngl, i like that idea and i was kinda thinking the same thing… ‘_’
😮
XD
Aww, girl I love it!! They argue like brothers. 😂 And I love Jakob and Riker’s dynamic. 🥰
That is so good!!
Is that from a WIP or something that you wrote just because?
Write what should not be forgotten. — Isabel Allende
It’s not from any of my WIP’s, I just felt like writing something. That’s why it has random sentences thrown in.
"You need French Toast."
#AnduthForever (hopefully 💕)@freedomwriter76
AWWWW I love all the bois together!!!
but i believe @euodia-vision has claimed Joshua, lol!)
*nods* yes, that boi is mine… so don’t think about taking him @anyone-and-everyone XD
I rolled the log over and underneath was a tiny little stick and I was like, "That log had a child
Time to share some newish characters from my Sebverse thing! @loopylin might be interested, but anyone can read 😅
Firstly!
So I love this charrie. He kinda just appeared out of nowhere, and I love that for him.
Luis Jewel
Luis is a quiet fourteen-year-old boy, with a sweet temper and a love for the cello.
He has chocolate hair and eyes, tan skin, and wears a simple black coat and fedora. Later in the story, when performing or at a fancy get-together, he wears a green and orange gem pinned to his coat, and a green scarf.
He once had a small family, living on their own steamboat and running a ferry business along the river. When he was almost four years old, a city-wide fight broke out, setting fire to most of the riverside houses. The boat was taken control of and sunk, and although Luis barely made it out with his parents, his older sister was lost to the river.
The explosion set off on the boat came so close to Luis, that when he was blasted off, it severely affected his hearing, and ever since, he has trouble hearing high-frequency sounds. He learned some sign language to combat this, but overall, it wasn’t any more than a small handicap.
He became very independent, and when he took a job playing accompaniment for a street band, home kind of evaporated.
Luis loves playing the cello, but doesn’t do well in the spotlight. Hitting the low notes just right is a constant source of satisfaction for him.
He is very sensory, but also happens to be one of the only gang members with any accurate foresight. He can often guess the time limit to a mission, or when the villains will catch up, and be proven correct. Hugo and Lavender joke around, calling him their prophet, or canary.
Personality-wise, again, he is quiet and impersonal. Recognizes he is a side character, and totally rocks the role. Brings a solid loyalty to the gang, and carries a lot of the heavy weight (he is literally one of the strongest physically).
He later meets a fun girl named Genie. In a strange twist of events, they misunderstand each other, and the two go for a year without realizing they are long lost brother and sister.
“Everything is a mountain”
Sorry I didn’t respond yesterday when I saw this, but I love him! He seems really cool and like a really good friend. And the whole backstory with his sister is really cool.
So I actually had a weird sick dream with your characters in it last night, lol. I don’t remember most of it, but I do remember that Luis was there but he was playing upright bass instead of cello. XD
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
Aw, thank you! 😊
No waaaAAaAaayyy 🤣🤣🤣 You made me laugh so hard!! I’m sorry you went through the weird anxious sick dreams, but on the bright side, they’re always so funny to remember.
“Everything is a mountain”
I just came across this and I love Luis!! He sounds awesome! 🥰
Write what should not be forgotten. — Isabel Allende
Hey, is this a good description? I can’t think of any other way to say it, but I’m not sure it it’s clear…
Some of the gauges went crazy, and the display screen morphed into a different shape, like that of half a sandwich, cut diagonally with all corners cut off.
"You need French Toast."
#AnduthForever (hopefully 💕)@freedomwriter76 @whalekeeper @smiley @anyone else
Working on my fantasy wip a little:)
The shopkeepers glare rests heavily on Flax.
His wings twitch, held low underneath his cloak.
“Erm—Jamie, what about this one?” He points to a bow hanging on the wall to divert the shopkeepers attention.
“Hmm.”
Flax watches as Jamie methodically turns it over in his hand; little distraction to the feeling of eyes blazing through his back.
“I do like the length of the bow, not quiet as long as the one my friend wielded…” Jamie mumbles to himself, stroking his long beard. “I only ever used a sword you know…”
Flax reaches into the pockets of his cloak, feeling the reassuring warmth of his vial against the palm of his hand.
“Mel, I want you to weigh in one this.” Jamie says under his breath, shooting a wearing glance to the impatient shopkeeper. Mel wanders over, brushing her stiff brown hair from her eyes. She slouches, pretending to be only vaguely interested.
“We have enough to buy one weapon, and although I’m best with a sword, I think it’s better to get something one of you two could use when you’re older.”
“Really?” Mel touches the soft wood of the bow’s handle. “Do you think…?”
Flax looks away from Mel’s intent eye contact.
“All in time… would be something else…”
“Just ask me– I’m right here.” Flax pushes into the huddle, staring up at his two travel companions. “It’s not like my hearing is ruined too.”
Mel stares uncomfortably.
“Sorry.” Jamie rests a heavy hand on his shoulder. “We are trying to figure out if it’s a better idea to get the bow or sword.”
“I can’t shoot, but one of you could learn.”
He nods, reaching for the bow. He holds the handle firmly, then pulls back. Flax shakes the hair out of his eyes to hide his frown. “Can’t.” He whispers under his breath. “Get the sword. Unless you want Mel to shoot.”
Jamie nods, mouth turning to a thin line. “Well… what do you saw Mel.”
Mel shrugs. “Pick whatever you want.”
“If I get us the bow, would you be willing to learn?”
“Guess.” Mel shrugs.
“Mel yes or no.” Flax raises his voice slightly louder. “I know you have opinions, just tell us what you want.”
“Let’s get the bow.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Jamie smiles, glancing fondly towards Flax.
“We’ll have this one.” He turns.
The shopkeeper leans easily on the large tree trunk supporting his small shop. Ashen bark falls away as he pushes himself towards the front counter. He reaches under the counter, coming up with a small cork jar in his right hand. The shopkeeper glares between each one of them, waiting for payment to be disposed.
“Let’s see what you got.” He reaches slowly to his mouth, releasing the bark paper roll of whatever substance he had been smoking. Mel holds her breath as the leftover smoke wafts past her nose. Flax coughs.
Flax lifts the vial of hope from his pocket. Purple glow fills the room, seeping through the leafy roofing into the night sky. The shopkeepers eyes grow wide with hunger, shaky hands rushing to uncork his bottle.
Flax grips it tighter.
Jamie steps forwards, standing eye to eye with the shopkeeper. “We’ll fill that halfway, deal?”
Hands trembling around the empty bottle, the shopkeeper locks eyes with Jamie.
“I’m not giving you anymore than that. You see we have three people here, we can’t give you anymore than that, and with the value of currency these days, you better believe that’s a fair price.” Jamie speaks through a grimace.
Eyes narrowly focused on the bottle of hope, the shopkeeper shakes his head. “You don’t understand what I’ve been through—”
“We’ve all been through a lot—” Jamie pauses, trying to sound sincere. “I’m sorry for whatever—”
The shopkeeper grabs Jamie by the shoudlers, blue eyes blazing.
“No.” His face trembles. “YOU don’t tell me sorry—”
Jamie narrows his eyes. “I’ll only give you what we can spare. Half a vial it is.”
The shopkeeper takes his hands from Jamie’s shoulders. He looks around at the group, clearly outnumbered. He hands the vial to Flax, who carefully performs the procedure, pouring enough vapor to fill the bottle half way.
“You can’t win.” The shopkeeper says, his voice breaking. “I know what you’re doing, every new captive tries.” He looks up, a empty despairing smile cracked across his face. “You’ll never make it through.”
Jamie frowns. “We have to try.”
“Man, I used to think it was such a blessing to have hope.” He leans back to laugh, eventually up righting himself with a strange smile on his face. Flax’s eyes grow wide.
“I’m starting to think it might be a curse.” He rests his hands on the table, staring straight through Jamie’s eyes.
"And so I left this world just as I had entered it. Confused."
Thank you!
@freedomwriter76 @whalekeeper @lightoverdarkness6 @keilah-h
Here’s some more! This is from the start of my fantasy wip, and I think it’s some of my best writing 😁
TW: mental health issues, depression
The harsh wind blows ruthlessly against Flax’s bare wings. One last pristine feather drifts off, snatched away into the dry breeze. He reels forward, diving behind a tree for protection.
Breath. Just breath.
Flax screams into the dirt, an oddly uncharacteristic response. He pulls his wings close against his back as wind catches on the uneven feathers, unbalancing him.
I guess nothing was meant to come of me anyways.
Rapid breath spreads over his chapped lips, tears wetting his cheeks. Flax swipes a forearm across his face, adding dirt to the mix. Rough bark from the trees extensive roots scrape his exposed shins as he rights himself to a sitting position. Rolling hills extend as far as the eye can see, reaching up to kiss the setting sun. Soft rays of yellow and pink illuminate the twilight sky. Flax stares out at the landscape, his rapid heartbeat taking a moment to slow just few seconds to take in the wilderness beauty.
To cry quietly to yourself…
Weep to the night sky…
Scream your heart out to the stars…
It doesn’t change a thing.
Flax shivers as held breath escapes his lungs in a rush. He blinks. Tears well in his eyes, refusing to fall down his cheeks. Vision blurs, swirling the pink, the yellow, and the darkness of the coming night into an abstract painting. Stars twinkle through as Flax blinks the tears away, but their brightness gives no hope. He stands, holding himself steady against the rough bark of the tree. The world sways, compressing his vision to a dark hole.
The ground comes fast and hard, like the shock of reality in a world of dreams. Flax notices his head throbbing for the first-time sense departure. Warmness radiates from his left pocket, glass heating through the thin layer of cloth against his skin. Flax pulls out his precious vial, holding it to his face. His eyes flash with hunger for the bright purple liquid sloshing inside, but he stashes it back away for another day…
…a more desperate one.
Flax gets up once more, this time being careful to move slowly. Faint moonlight elongates his shadow across the forest floor as he slowly picks his way over the fallen branches. Pretty white bark; scattered evening rays; the illusion of a perfect world is deceptively peaceful. Flax shivers. He knows better.
A dark weight pushes his breath down to his stomach. The start of despair grasps for his grieving heart, like a persistent infection traveling deeper into the body. Flax grabs his own shaking hand, staring through his eyes at the distorted image of life before him. He shakes his head, as if the emotions were only a curtain separating him from the better reality, and only such a simple gesture were needed to lift it. Flax reaches for a berry bush before him. The dark blue berries look good, and his stomach rumbles. He pops one into his mouth, but it feels stale. Juice bursts into his mouth, but the flavor is imperceptible. Flax eats on to qualm the request of his needy stomach, but he feels sick inside.
If only such a sickness could be cured by physical means.
Flax remembers his bottle.
If only.
Mustn’t waste it on a single low day.
Flax resumes picking the berries, stashing them away in his small sidebag. He meticulously drones on with the task, ignoring the throb in his heart, his frivolous heart.
"And so I left this world just as I had entered it. Confused."
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@mineralizedwritings I love it😭😭💖
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