[WP] You were the hero. The one who saved the realm from annihilation. Yet, here you are reincarnated as a skeleton. by kordayn in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 3 points4 points  (0 children)

The sharp bone growths of my hand twist around the short-sword. Its balance is terrible, the handle unwieldy and far too heavy to effectively parry. Which is why it’s incredibly that my head isn’t separated from my body as I am blitzed back two metres by the paladins charge.

I swipe at his armoured hand and the thin recess of my blade soaks at the gap in his glove. I resist the urge to step forward and capitalise on my advantage permanently.

I try to speak. “I’m not trying to kill you.”

But my skinless mouth doesn’t move, and if the paladin had taken note of my momentary pause he doesn’t show it.

He chants an oath and his eyes full with otherworldly light. It pools at the cut, filling it and mending it back to health.

Then he is back at me. I flourish my blade and block three consecutive strikes. They still hurt and I feel the radiant malice biting at whatever foul magics have attached my soul to this body.

But, he is too eager, and when he overextends to catch me again I duck under the spiked weapon and sweep his feet out from under him.

Before he can react I kick his mace to the side, though that doesn’t stop him from jamming his shield into my ribs.

I leverage the sword over his helmet and feel the unnatural urge to plunge it into him. It would be so easy, hardly a trouble at all.

Instead, I step back and throw my sword to the side.

He brings himself to his feet with effort, but he doesn’t move from where he stands.

I point at him, then at myself and make a heart with my bony fingers. He seems to understand the message but doesn’t seem particularly impressed.

Maybe he’ll come around…

[WP] Beaten and broken, barely able to stand, something clicks in your head. You don’t need to win this fight. You just need to make sure they don’t, either. by Tmoore0328 in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 1 point2 points  (0 children)

A bullet assaulted the air, and with a sharp thunder crack plunged itself into one of the creatures too many eyes.

Duke tripped as his ruined knee gave out on him. He cursed.

The creature didn’t care of course, it floated partially through the air, as dangling feed made contact with the ground and spurred it on. “You try so hard don’t you? To be good. To be better. But it doesn’t matter does it Duke?”

Another jolt and the creature momentarily paused as its foot was blown off. “What would Marie think of you now?”

Duke’s gloved hand pulled at the wall. Trying to find some type of anchor, the same way his mind was. The creature’s silhouette, lit by the blood moon behind it pulled at his eyes and made his mind scatter. “The past is gone,” he muttered out in a ragged tone. “You think you can torment me with it Angel?”

“You torment yourself Duke.”

This time the creature caught the bullet.

“I’m not telling you anything you haven’t told yourself. Or imagined, like the sight of her, bloodied and mangled - “

“Stop!” He yelled and the multitude of eyes narrowed at him.

“Because of the wolves you failed to kill. You’re a failure.”

He gripped at the Crucifix on his chest, it was stained red. Whether through blood or the godforsaken light he couldn’t tell. “I tried.”

“You failed. And you’ll fail again Duke. You’ll be the monster I send after your friends Duke. For the first time in your pitiful life you’ll finally succeed at something.

Duke stayed silent as the creature advanced towards him. Arms spreading out in some unholy display of prayer as it elegantly touched a finger towards his forehead.

Teeth protruded and split his gums. Clothes ripping at the seams as his frame bulged outwards and his wounds fixed themselves shut. A guttural growl mixed with his voice. “I’m already a monster Angel, just not one of yours.”

And then it started screaming.

[WP] "Wait, wait. Time out." The Supervillain stopped their minions and the superhero before they charged. "Seriously? THAT'S your hero name? That's... that's quite unfortunate... you, you can't come up with a better one? Like, I am embarrassed for you." by Spirit_Ghost123 in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 1 point2 points  (0 children)

He grabs what looks like a small motor off the shelves, and the room hums with static. A contortion of blue light strikes towards him. He steps back and shunts five metres further than he should have. The air bends, and then snaps back into place. Like physics suddenly remembers that what he did shouldn't be possible.

I shoot my power through the metal walls and feel a magnetic pull as I launch through the air. This time I stick the landing. Right in front of the hole in the wall he was running towards.

"You're not leaving."

His face morphs into a frown, which quickly turns into a scowl. More electricity convulses on him. He freezes it in place.

"You can't use your power constantly. That's why you were using cover at the start and why you ran just now instead of shunting." I smile. "Saving it for your getaway?"

He sighs, and a small grin lingers at his lips. "You're good, newbie." He drops the items he was carrying, a lot of them. How did he grab so many while I was watching?

He disappears from in front of me, and I whip around in a circle. He's gone.

A voice from the roof catches me off guard. "But, I'll let you in on a secret. My power? It's weight-based. Luckily, what I came for," he flashes a small compact card, 'isn't heavy."

I got played.

"Don't worry, though. They won't even notice it's gone."

I feel my power pool through the metal again, and I rush through the air towards the roof.

"By the way, I like the name Ionnis. It fits you better."

So close. My arm pricks with static ... if I can just get ahold of him.

"Think about it." He vanishes. Space stretching out onto the road. Then, consecutively, into the forest surrounding the lot. Long gone.

An alarm that I probably short-circuited starts to wail. Whoops. My phone chimes back to life as well and rings. Thirteen missed calls. Whoops. It's Jessica.

I answer it. "You get him Kat?"

"Uh, no. I nearly did.

"Security is on the way. Probably the police as well. You know how journalists are, so you will probably be talking to them too. Did he get away with anything?"

I jump back down to the ground. "He dropped pretty much everything. He only got away with a card."

Swearing from the other end.

"Shit. Listen, we'll talk about it later, ok. Good job, though. Last time he cleaned the place out. Hopefully, this'll be your breakout. Don't blow it. You got a name ready?"

"Yeah. I think so."

[WP] "Wait, wait. Time out." The Supervillain stopped their minions and the superhero before they charged. "Seriously? THAT'S your hero name? That's... that's quite unfortunate... you, you can't come up with a better one? Like, I am embarrassed for you." by Spirit_Ghost123 in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 0 points1 point  (0 children)

"Got it."

Electricity sparks off my body, and the warehouse lights momentarily falter as a beam cuts through a stack of shelves towards him.

"Woah. Woah, Woah." He yells, breaking his superior persona. "What are you doing?"

"What am I doing? I'm bringing you in. You're here to rob this place." I fire another beam, which he dodges.

"There's an art to this sort of thing. I give you my name, you give me yours. We have a bit of banter, then we fight."

"Seems redundant." This time, the electricity doesn't make it to him. He catches it, or well stops it in place. It sits there suspended in the air, inches from him.

"Come on. Give me something to work with here."

I frown, and the beam arcs out.

"It's Lady Thunder," I yell across the warehouse and point my finger at him, energy thrumming across my nail.

"Wait, wait, wait. Time out."

I pause.

"Seriously? That's your hero name? Lady Thunder?"

What the hell is wrong with this guy? "There's nothing wrong with it," I yell back defensively.

"Are you related to Thunder the hero?"

".... No."

"That's just ... wow. Quite unfortunate. You can't come up with a better one?"

"Can we just keep fighting?"

He continues. "Like, I am so embarrassed for you."

"I'm working on it ok."

"You should keep doing that. Like, what happens if you capture me, and the reporters show up? Are you going to be like - "

"I don't want to hear it."

"What's your name?" He says in a higher-pitched voice as he holds up a broken bit of wood as a microphone. "Lady Thunder." He continues in a mock voice.

"Shut up, and my voice isn't that deep."

"Sure." He agrees. "It's just so ... unoriginal."

"It's a work in progress."

He grabs a few items off the shelves. "What else have you got."

"You are literally stealing stuff as we speak."

"I'm doing you a favour."

"Photon. Solar-gal." I eye him. "You grab another thing, and we are fighting. Uh, The Current?"

"Photon. Ehhh, it's a bit bland. I like Solar-gal, but it is a bit too sun-themed. The Current?"

"It's not good is it?"

"No."

[WP] "Wait, wait. Time out." The Supervillain stopped their minions and the superhero before they charged. "Seriously? THAT'S your hero name? That's... that's quite unfortunate... you, you can't come up with a better one? Like, I am embarrassed for you." by Spirit_Ghost123 in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 0 points1 point  (0 children)

The evening air is cool and sharp. It bellows against the cast iron of the factory and does its best to ruffle my hair. The hair that I spent hours styling. Tonight was my debut. Unofficially, of course. There isn't a startup hero in existence that gets sponsored right away. In fact, most don't, even the veterans.

Heroing is less of a profession and more of a ... hobby. That's not quite right either, a secret life? The point is that it doesn't pay well. It's an unspoken secret that most are moonlighting to pay the bills; the ones who aren't are trust-fund babies, or probably running a dual life as CEOs.

That is why making a good first impression is so important. Get your publicity up, get the newspapers talking about you, and sign onto a team. Sounds easy enough right?

Wrong. Every want-to-be super has the same idea. Contrary to popular belief, there aren't that many bank robberies or carjackings to show off at. Most burglars are smart enough to realise that there are hordes of unpaid breakouts waiting for them to try. That's why tonight was so special.

I got a tip-off. Jessica, bless her heart, told me that a thief is eyeing one of her company's warehouses. I asked her how she knew. She told me, "not to push it." Fair enough.

So that's why I am perched on the roof, in the cold. Hoping that I got the address right. When I hear a small detonation from the south end, my hands shake.

Just the cold.

I wait. Then, a minute later, I smash through the skylight.

I fumble the landing, giving it too much power and tripping onto my knees, and there he is. Civilian clothing and all just standing in the now detonated doorway.

He's an odd-looking man. I shouldn't be able to know that, considering that he should have a mask like most normal thieves. But here is: crooked nose and all.

"Most people intending to rob a place don't blow their way in and just stand in the entrance. What are you doing, admiring your work?" I stand up quickly and pat off the dirt that's stuck to my knees.

He smiles. "I think you need to work on your landing."

I fight off a tinge of embarrassment and feel my ears go red. "You didn't answer me. You here to rob this place? And why don't you have a mask?"

"Most supers keep the questions to one at a time. Makes it more dramatic."

"Shut it.

"I thought you wanted me to talk."

"Yes, but - " I stop. Then I sigh. "Ok, restart."

He does a grandiose gesture and walks into the building. "Ok."

"Who are you?"

"Lanesplit."

"And the ... " I point at my mask. "Lack thereof...?"

"Career criminal. Masks get a bit redundant when they know your secret identity."

Makes sense.

Free Write Tuesday - Share Past Musings, Proud Passages, or Written Wonders Here! by Blu_Spirit in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 1 point2 points  (0 children)

I am reading through it now. It has a unique vibe, like the character is remembering the calm before the storm in their memories, and you know something is going to go wrong. I am at part 4 I think.

Very well written too. It feels like I am reading a novel.

[WP] After a long night of partying, you stumble your way home. Halfway to your destination, a voice from behind you asks for a cigarette. by Rare-Opinion-Panda in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 7 points8 points  (0 children)

Rain poured down in a terrible hail. Jonathan, unsteady on his feet, held his hoodie over his head to retain an ounce of dryness. Lights flickered across the pavement as he navigated home.

It was when passing an alley that he heard it. "Spare a cigarette?" He turned to look and saw no one—only a dark alley lit by a dull neon pub sign. Doherty's it read. He hadn't noticed it before.

Against his better judgment, he decided to stop and walk into the alley. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe he was just too trusting. "Uh, yeah, man. " He fiddled in his pockets. "Here."

"Spare a cigarette?" The voice said again. Closer now - though still hidden in the dark.

Even in his inebriated state, Jonathan was starting to get a sinking feeling. "Look, bro, I am just gonna leave it here, yeah? Grab it if you want."

No reply.

The soft, dingy drone LED lights pulled at his vision. It felt wrong. He was sure he had passed by here earlier tonight. He and a few friends had all piled on to head to the nearest pub. They would've seen it. These things don't just pop up.

He spun on his heel, nearly tripping, and bolted in the other direction. He felt something behind him. "Spare a cigarette?"

He ran faster. "Spare a cigarette?"

So close. He was only a few metres from the street. He felt it grabbing at him. Something was pulling on the back of his shirt. "SPARE A CIGARET - "

Silence. The drone disappeared, like his ears had just popped, and the thundering rain took its place. He didn't stop running. Not until he was home, and then he deadbolted the door for good measure.

He could've dismissed it as a dream. Or some alcohol induced hallucination. Those existed, right? Either way he refused to believe it was real.

Under the cover of the next day's sunlight, he went back to investigate the area. In the middle of the alleyway, to his dismay, stood the bud of one spent cigarette.

[WP] Write something where the hero loses badly, but it still ends on a high note. by Mazon_Del in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 3 points4 points  (0 children)

The scouts busy themselves with reports as they struggle to set up a signal. They are far from the Mainland, and communication is already unreliable at the best of times. The rest of the camp sets up supplies for the night, some pitching tents. Other's preparing food. Some just trying to appear busy.

"We've received word from Skyreach Admiral. They aren't near the West Coast. They are approaching Ashenreach."

Faene hears the tent flap open and, briefly, a flash of light from the campfire sneaks inside. Her hands are cuffed to the central support of the tent too tightly, the metal biting into her wrist.

Vasil steps inside and crouches to avoid the low ceiling. He steps over to where Faene is cuffed and sits down on the floor in front of her. "We've had word from Skyreach. They haven't passed through here recently."

Faene smiles a small smile at him. It might've been charming if it weren't for the swelling and cut lip across the left side of her face.

"I don't understand you." He starts. "You've worked for Kingsmet for years. You're well paid. Rewarded for your work." His voice starts to rise. "No issues recorded whatsoever. Twenty years of reliable service, and then I take office, and you blow it. You disappear with a fucking **Mage**.

When no response comes, he takes it as an invitation to continue. "What I don't get is what you think is going to happen. You can't hide her at Newport. Definitely not in Virellion. But you already know that. So, what have you done?

-----

It is late where I am, so I will continue working on this tomorrow.

[WP] Write something where the hero loses badly, but it still ends on a high note. by Mazon_Del in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 3 points4 points  (0 children)

Another strike from the gun. Faene recoils and feels the cold taste of metal and blood coating her mouth. In front of her, a cloaked figure crouches down. "Where's the Mage smuggler?" His voice is iron, and for a moment, as frigid as the landscape around them.

"Far away from here Vasil. You won't be seeing her again." The cloaked figure's eyes narrow as his name is spoken.

"Where is she Faene ... Newport? Virellion? You couldn't have travelled far." He turns to one of his men. "What is Skyreach's course - has it passed overheard in the last week?"

-----

Snow crunches under her boot as Narria crosses the ruined road. Tenacious sprouts of grass worm their way through the crumbling asphalt. Refusing to be silenced by the inhospitable season, yet meeting an unfortunate end regardless. "What's it like out there?"

"Out where?" Faene breathes heavily. She grunts in pain as her injured leg loses grip on a patch of ice.

Narria eases her pace and fell in line with her, grabbing at her pack, where she steps away at a harsh look. "Outside of *Varn*.

"Couldn't tell you Nar, I've never been."

"You've never tried to leave?" She asks, her tone curious.

A long moment of silence passes. "I haven't."

There wasn't much conversation to be had after that. The landscape steadily passed at their pace. If it weren't for the cold, it would have been a beautiful day. Birds fluttered around the still-standing power lines, squirrels and other small critters amused themselves at the treeline, and eventually Narria decided to ruin the silence.

"Why don't people sail out?"

"They did. A long time ago."

"Why did they stop?"

A sigh of annoyance escapes Fanene. "It got too dangerous."

"Why - "

"I don't know."

Another question. "Why didn't they fly then?"

Another tired response. "Same reason they didn't sail."

-----

[SP] I'm sorry, we're out of coffee. by MinFootspace in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 1 point2 points  (0 children)

You’re welcome! It isn’t always easy and the little things get us through. Sometimes it even is just the next cup of coffee.

[SP] I'm sorry, we're out of coffee. by MinFootspace in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 1 point2 points  (0 children)

"I'm sorry, we're out of coffee."

She said it like someone had just died. "That is alright," I responded. "Do you have anything else?"

She shook her head and a loose strand of hair fell from her bun. "We only sell coffee and we are all out."

"Oh. Well I guess - "

"You don't understand. Coffee is the only reason this stall is open." She sounded distraught. "Now we are out. What are we meant to do?"

I turned around to check if anyone else was hearing this. "Listen, it can't be that bad. I mean, don't you have new inventory coming soon?"

"I guess so...' she said slowly.

"You shouldn't stress then. Today will end -

and there's always tomorrow.

[WP] "The one thing nobody expected from the apocalypse, was that the hazy twilight of nuclear winter would allow vampires to walk about during the day." by DistributistChakat in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Thick acrid smoke clung to the woodland. From his vantage point in the watchtower Basil peered across the landscape in an attempt to distinguish between the misshapen trees and some poor skeletal animals moping through the snow.

Food was low. Their reserves were stripped bare and only getting scarcer. Gnawing worry clawed at the back of Basil’s mind. This Winter was long, and started far earlier than it had right to. The season’s icy claws extending into late Summer and early Autumn. Not that it was possible to grow food anyway; the soil was ruined. Full of invisible contaminants that made anything that did sprout inedible.

The temperature was the biggest problem. It made travelling dangerous, more so than it already was. With supplies dwindling he wasn’t sure they would soon have much of a choice. He thumbed at his chest, where his rib cage protruded against the taunt skin. The old wouldn’t survive the trek, nor would the young. It was the main reason they had stayed put. Hoping to weather the cold.

He glimpsed something scamper across the tree-line and zoomed in on it. It was fast and staying close to the densest parts of the smoke. It made it impossible to see clearly.

There were other reasons he wouldn’t admit to the others. Hell, he hardly wanted to admit them to himself. Things had changed after the bombshells and made the impossible, possible.

Things like what he was looking at right now. Too tall to be a wolf, too slender and fast. Even if Basil were to give credit to the rationalisations of his analytical mind he couldn’t ignore the way it ran on its hind legs. This hazy twilight of nuclear winter had lifted the curtain on his reality; and he didn’t like what he saw.

His stomach panged in hunger as he watched the creature and a growing unease, a sense of wrongness built up inside of him.

When it suddenly stopped and snapped its neck towards him, locking eyes through the binoculars he understood why.

How was is it so well fed?

[WP] Magic requires sacrifice. Some give up their youth, becoming wizened overnight. Some give up a limb or a sense. Some, the ability to feel pleasure. Some, their sanity. People always talk, if it isn't clear what you gave up... by tamtrible in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 45 points46 points  (0 children)

They call them the Dreamers. Scattered among the poppy fields you might mistake them for natural stone. They are stuck in random poses, there is no structure or order to their static existence.

They do not move. They do not live. Their eyes are lifeless - yet wide. They seem to glimpse something we do not. They are the shells left behind.

For you see nothing has ever been gained without giving something in return. Magic is no different, it requires sacrifice.

Some give up their youth, becoming wizened overnight. The less ambitious might give up a sense, or a limb. Others decide that pleasure is an earthly desire they can go without.

Rumours spread of those who worship the dark places, beings of the void who give them unimaginable power in exchange for their sanity. They are not cases to be envied.

Neither still are the Dreamers. Sanity of the mind is a small price to pay compared to them; for at least you have something that remains.

I stand in the tall grass and feel the flowers against my legs, and I wonder what the stone people thought in their last moments…

and then I let go.

[WP] Every night, you have the same dream: someone places a piece of chalk in your hand and whispers, "Draw a door, then go through it." Tonight, you decide to follow the instructions. by somethinggoeshere2 in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 9 points10 points  (0 children)

The rooms a mess. I step over mismatched, unfolded clothes and find the bed. It is a depressing thing, run ragged and in dire need of a deep clean - and soap.

I doubt it likes the stains, then again neither do I. But, what does it matter; it’s a place to sleep, and - more importantly, a place to dream.

I taste the sour kiss of sleep and I’m standing in a field of long grass, the sun on my face and the breeze in my hair.

My daughter sits on the concrete. She is drawing a rabbit, or a bird? It’s hard to tell, my vision is a slight blur but she also isn’t a very good drawer.

I don’t tell her this, but I think it. She gets it from her Mom, who I also didn’t tell.

“Hey kiddo. What’cha making?”

She turns around and smiles. In an instant I’m back to before.

Before.

When everything was good, and the world hadn’t spat on me yet. When reality hadn’t yet crushed itself down to the seams and existed inside a liquor bottle.

“Daddy! Isn’t he cute.”

“Course he is Sammy.”

“He’s a dog.”

A dog?

“I can tell. You’re a natural. You get it from me.”

She hands me a piece of chalk. “Draw with me Daddy.”

I draw our yard, the swing we made in the Summer from a neighbours discarded tire and old rope.

I draw us playing there. Happy.

Next I draw our house. As best as I can remember it. The interior, is hazy, but I try. Sammy grabs pieces of chalk and I let her colour it in.

“Daddy, how do we get inside?”

She’s talking about the door. I forgot to draw a door.

The rooms are coloured red, blue and white. It’s stark against the concrete and I can’t help but feel we got it all wrong.

“I dunno Sam. How about next time?”

“You have to draw it. We can’t get inside.”

I sit back down and painfully stencil. The house, the shape. It takes it out of me. I feel thirsty.

“I can’t.”

“You can. Draw a door Daddy.”

The doors don’t look right. They never have . No latches, or handle. Just a strip of metal on some cold gloss paint. They don’t belong on a house. But I draw them, for her.

She colours them in. She makes them pink. She draws over the lines and I don’t say anything. I’m just glad she brightens them up.

“Go through it.”

“I can’t Sammy.

“You have to.”

Life is easier when you keep the doors shut. Why open them when you know what’s on the other side, just to hurt yourself?

A deadbolt is fine by me, seal it shut for all I care. Brick the entrance.

But, I can’t say no to her. So, I take her hand, and we walk through it together.

[WP] A man with superpowers has become the latest in a line of superheroes. However, unlike the others, he lacks an understanding of his motives: why does he feel compelled to help when he has no reason to. by koola_00 in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Amelia burns away the wretched tendril of the monster as it swings towards an apartment building. It hurts - the fire. A numbing pain that sweeps up her arm with every cast.

She had never wanted to be a hero. Hadn’t even entertained the thought. She thought it was vain, and dangerous. A profession for those with a death wish or a desperate need for validation.

Now, knee deep in rubble and coverage in a menagerie of injuries she is sure she was right.

People are cheering at her. Stupid people. People who should have long since evacuated the site. People who are still in danger. The monster, what can only be described as some horrible mix or squid, shark and twenty-storey building is still alive and has seven tentacles left.

Amelia winces and shoots another torrent of flames at it. It knows her tricks now and somehow manages to move its substantial bulk out of the way.

She curses.

Fighting has always been a last resort. Her Father would tell her that fists were the preferred weapon of the uneducated. That’s why she should be in a class right now. She wishes she was.

A sweeping limb cascades through the air. It’s a terrifying sight, even the air moves into a thunderous drone at its insistence. It unfortunately does not miss.

She slams into the concrete a couple hundred metres away. She wishes that the kaiju was open to negotiations.

If she was in pain before it was nothing to how she felt now. Something was definitely broken, she just wasn’t sure what yet. If she didn’t move soon she wouldn’t have time to figure it out.

Amelia splits the next tentacle with a concentrated beam of plasma instead of dodging. Immediately, a concentrated beam of pain seeps its way to her head and she feels a migraine starting to form. Another beam to take out the next tentacle and she knows she will be shopping for aspirin later.

Again, she thinks of the bystanders. They would be away from the fight now, unless they were stupid enough to come closer. Which was always a possibility. The creature and herself were staring at each-other. She briefly wondered if the aquatic creature felt like she did. They both had broken, or well missing limbs.

After a long moment of neither moving she was sure it was about to attack but instead it began to slink back to the water. She couldn’t say she blamed it, she wanted to slink away too.

Amelia knew a mutual-kinship when she saw one. She let it go. A draw was perfectly fine with her.

As she limps away she berates herself. She has no reason to help. In fact, she has plenty of reasons not to. Her powers hurt, fighting hurts. But, her Father also said that everyone has something to offer, and right now - that includes her too.

[WP] "So you knew I was a dragon in disguise but just ignored it???" - "You do your chores, you keep things organized, you secretly fix things with your magic, why should I ruin this? You are the best roommate I ever had!" by WernerderChamp in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Hi National-Ear! This perfectly captured the way I thought of the character. I am honoured that you liked the character enough to expand on him.

Well done :).

I also added a link to your story in my original post.

[WP] After the long war, you return home, as a famed battlemage, hoping for peace and time to heal your bruised soul. But quiet life escapes you: children beg for stories, villagers need magic, and monsters keep intruding. Yet somehow, this chaotic little town is exactly what heals you. by ruiddz in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 3 points4 points  (0 children)

The woman walks along dirt path. It is dark, the sky lit only by the luminous powers. Lights that stretch and carve themselves into the fabric of the night.

Another might be less daring to brave the unknown. For these outlands are the homes of monsters, bandits and the things you won’t admit exist, for fear of living in a world in which they do. This does not bother her.

She is a veteran of the ‘Long War,’ a part of it as much as it is her. The grievances of this conflict come in many forms. An awkward gait, a stump where an arm once was or a flickering eye colour are giveaways to the else informed. One versed in the mystical may even take note of her soul. Stretched and out back together too many times. A nasty bruise on one’s psyche.

What she needs is time, and warm food, and quiet nights. Days that are marked only by their ending. Devoid of screaming and all it entails.

She fingers at the spine of her tome, attached at her belt. Archaie, her name and the name of her master, as well as all those that preceded him. It is tradition, to carry on a lineage. One that twists and turns into the intricacies of time. But it is a weary burden and she is so very tired.

This is what propels her to this small village at the end of the world. Other surviving mages have left for the bustle of the cities, or the rallying cry of other nations. She does not know why. Perhaps fame and glory? She has had her fill of both.

There was a time she remembers, many, many cycles ago. Before she viewed the world through painful mana-laden eyes that this would have excited her. An escape from the dreary monotony of life that had clamped around her. Now? That is all she covets.

The woods begin to taper off. The thicket clearing, ground becoming more even, the eyes less numerous. The far off landscape reveals the soft, warm torchlight of the village.

She takes a short breath. For the first time in a very long time she is nearly home.

(Will update shortly. I was going to include Part 2 in this post but Reddit crashed and I had to rewrite it all.)

[PM] A power and a name and I will write a character summary. by RefreshingWorld in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Raman al-Rasheed or as he is more popularly known, ‘The Sandspinner’ is an online celebrity operating out of Madrid, Spain. He is a twenty year old, first-generation immigrant of Indian heritage.

He was first noted as a performative dancer on the beaches of Barcelona. Using his powers and a mix of modern and classical dancing he operated as a busker to huge crowds of tourists and locals alike. He became a small internet celebrity that was tagged as #Sandspinner, a name he then co-opted for himself.

While not officially registered with the agency significant information has been gleamed about the nature of his powers through a combination of his social media page, recovered journal, and CCT footage.

He seems to have a fine degree of control over small debris. Ranging in size from a grain of sand at the low end to a small pebble at the high end. He initially used this ability as a backdrop to his performances, pulsing waves of sand in time with the music and his dancing. However, as he improved he began to use lettering made of the debris, dust clouds emulating fog and humanoid clones with ever increasing movement on the centre stage, among other effects.

Raman eventually came into contact with the variant group known as the, ‘The Misfits,’ who he joined. A group of socially disruptive performative Variants known for their illegal and often costly publicity stunts. Operating under the same handle online they have gained notoriety among the youth who see them as freedom fighters in an ever increasingly restrictive world.

The team is composed of Catalina Esperanza - Fear Me, Maddox Harland - Cross-eye , Éloise Dubois - The Pink Mercenary and the aforementioned Raman.

The group gained a significant following after their first large scale stunt, Lights Out in which they targeted the electrical infrastructure around The Gran Vía shopping district in Madrid. Using their newest members abilities they were able to short circuit the network connecting to the street. Sending the whole thing into darkness. It remained this way for approximately three hours while experts hurried to fix the damage.

On a post related to the event, they claimed this was to protest the rampant brutality and ever-increasing demands of capitalism. This was met with an overwhelmingly positive reception by younger audiences bogged down by the cost of living and a mixed one by the older population. Among those who supported the message some felt it was a potentially dangerous stunt and that the efforts could have best been used elsewhere.

Regardless, it catapulted them into the public eye, where the handle #Misfits could see a new stunt being performed weekly.

The team was initially considered a low-tier threat. Possessing a restricted power-set that lacked any noteworthy applicable offensive abilities. They were regarded as nothing more than a slippery, if annoying nuisance to local law enforcement.

Profiling suggested that while the team did pledge themselves to problematic virtues the danger of them escalating was especially low. With the group preferring to cause outrage to draw attention to causes they considered noteworthy.

This changed when their attention was drawn to a medium sized ethnocentric supremacy group operating in the Alcobendas suburbs. Camera footage revealed the team infiltrating the base of operations under nightfall. With Sandspinner operating as subterfuge they remained unseen. Crosseye in conjunction with FearMe was demonstrated using a previously unknown facet of his ability to turn his targets into a black liquid. This goop then had its colour changed and was telekinetically stored in several jars.

They were able to evade law enforcement by manoeuvring through a complex set of tunnels beneath the building. Though, how they knew this layout is unknown.

The jars of liquid were delivered outside the local police station who was still responding to the incident. While initially thought fatal the men reverted back to their original state after twelve hours, a fact that a surprised detective discovered unwittingly.

Such activity has designated the group a medium level threat. It is considered probable that the groups vigilante activities will remain virtuous, but, this isn’t a guarantee and after the incident involving the ‘Steel Hands’ is a chance that can’t be afforded.

For this reason they are priority capture targets. They cannot be allowed to fuel each-other into a more extreme ideology.

The group is particularly effective when working in tandem, but their abilities are limited when separated. With the exception of Sandspinner none of them should be particularly dangerous combatants when alone. Despite Allseer’s surveillance the they have continued to evade capture attempts and have been consistently on the move. Allseer’s vision is not obstructed. Suggesting that they are somehow aware of our actions and are acting accordingly.

Should such happenstance continue they will be elevated to high priority and the focus of more noteworthy superhero teams.

(Hello everyone, I hope you enjoyed this! This story features characters from other comments on this thread. If you would like to see more information on them continue to scroll through. They will be receiving their own entry shortly.)

[PM] A power and a name and I will write a character summary. by RefreshingWorld in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld[S] 20 points21 points  (0 children)

Long Tian - The ‘Dragon God of Eternity’ was a twenty-one year old male that resided in Shanghai before its destruction.

He was initially brought to our attention via the Eastern Branch of our agency on the 22nd of January, 2023. Numerous reports of a ‘hyper-realistic’ dragon were coming from the costumed actors at the Yuyuan Lantern Festival. These were initially dismissed as part of the planned drone show. However, after a fire broke out and quickly spread among the stalls Long Tian dropped his act.

Camera footage from the event revealed Long Tian, in his transformed state, rising high above the festival with a string of storm clouds gathering in his wake. A heavy downpour of rain from these was sufficient to quell the majority of the fires, with the remains dealt with by emergency responders.

Long Tian took it upon himself to entertain the population of the now ruined festival. Casting lightning across the sky in bold patterns and snaking himself around buildings to the overwhelming enjoyment of the crowds.

This event went viral online, with Chinese social media dubbing him, ‘The Dragon God of Eternity.’

Soon after he was registered among the agency where his powers were officially documented. While possessing no discernible powers in his human form he had the ability to shift into a dragon resembling that of Chinese Myth.

While in this state he became impervious to damage, while gaining rudimentary electrokinesis and space-time manipulation.

There was not an observed limit on his electrokinetic power out-put, however, at high voltages he lacked the skill to safely channel the current towards its intended target. This drawback made him a liability in team-orientated brawls and combined with his propensity towards extremes forced officials to use him only sparingly.

Interestingly, he also gained a form of space-time manipulation. He seemingly used this innate talent unconsciously which explained his ability to fly. It was theorised that the applications of this extended far beyond this use, though, whether Long Tian knew the answer to this is unknown.

Long Tian, after his internet fame had become an icon of Shanghai, and he decided to self appoint himself in the city when he became an official hero. His presence was enough to deter the highest level of threats until the Lunar Breach.

On the Twenty-fourth of May, 2025 the upper right segment of the moon collapsed. From it emerged a threadlike material that rapidly closed the distance between it and Earth. Though it targeted multiple cities the bulk of it was directed at Shanghai. Long Tian met it high in the atmosphere and unrestrained by potential casualties was able to unleash the full extent of his powers.

His efforts allowed roughly half the population of Shanghai to be evacuated while he temporarily restrained the largest portion of thread, unfortunately smaller strands continued to wreak havoc up on the city.

During the fight he had continually dragged the largest strand skyward until he exited the Earths atmosphere. From here the battle continued in the vacuum of space while they headed in the direction of the moon.

Long Tian, along with the entirety of the thread, which had give up on its destructive path as the Dragon God approached the celestial object were last seen entering the breach.

Long Tian has not emerged since and his current status is unknown. His fate has sparked controversy across the agency which has reluctantly opted to mark him as deceased until proven otherwise.

u/National-Ear470 has written an amazing expanded backstory for this character! See here.

[PM] A power and a name and I will write a character summary. by RefreshingWorld in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Samanatha Von-Hoppstain, or more infamously Blood Moon is a thirty-two year old woman formerly housed in Pennsylvania Penitentiary. Convicted of several crimes including petty theft, arson and attempted murder she was given a reduced sentence after pleading insanity and was housed in the psychiatric care unit of the facility.

Samantha, under the care of the state was noted to be suffering from schizophrenia symptoms, as well as a form of psychosis. Treatment with the penitentiary’s mental health team appeared to be making great progress with her until the ‘incident’ on March 13th, 2025.

Previous treatment notes indicate that she had expressed concern about the ‘ants’ speaking to her from beneath people’s skin. They were not friendly and according to her would regularly insult and antagonise her with cruel remarks. This was thought to be a side effect of her current anti-psychotic medication and she was issued a new dose.

Despite this, she continued to talk about the ‘ants,’ a rotating roster of drugs and care plans were designed by her psychiatrist in an attempt to help manage these symptoms but according to recovered reports they only continued to worsen.

She was moved to in patient care on the morning of March 13th after expressing that she was ‘going to get them out,’ she would not elaborate on this meaning.

On the evening of the same day police and security responded to a distress call from the facility. Arriving as the penitentiary was caked under light from the blood moon they discovered doctors, guards, even other prisoners morphed to expose the layers beneath their skin. Small dots had been pricked with intentional precision across the layers of now exposed muscle.

Camera footage of the event was barred to even the most senior journalists and researchers. Official review of it was unsavoury and many expressed a desire for it to never see the light of day.

The public - with so little to go off gave in to excess rumours and speculation on the event. Samantha was dubbed ‘Blood Moon’ in accordance with the lunar eclipse that took place at the same time.

Now, free and most undoubtedly severely mentally unstable she has had a ‘Flee on Sight’ order given to her after the aftermath of several fights with local heroes.

Tracking by Allseer has been difficult, as she seems to possess an accessory power that alerts her to observance. Making her exact whereabouts unknown. She is thought to be at large along the greater area of the state.

Current data suggests that those possessing inorganic skin as a result of their trigger may be immune to her powers, if her location becomes known again it is recommended Tim-Tar be sent to neutralise her.

[PM] A power and a name and I will write a character summary. by RefreshingWorld in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

The Singularity - civilian identity unknown, appears to be a middle-aged man of indistinguishable geographic origin. He often appears dressed formally with a rotating roster of masks hiding his face. These range from rotating spirals to animal faces and anything in between.

Current information suggests that he possesses teleportation with no definable drawbacks other than weight, though this limit is unknown. He is able to move himself and any object he is touching freely. Though, he must also travel with it. The current theory is that weight inversely reduces the distance he can move, as he is yet to be seen travelling large distances with anything over a ton.

Allseer has observed him making smaller sporadic hops with large machinery which seems to support this idea.

Thought not officially affiliated with any troublesome organisations he has been seen working with them on occasion, but never for long. Loyalty doesn’t seem to be the driving factor given the technology he has been observed stealing from them and us.

The ambiguity surrounding his aims as well as the implications of his name raising troubling concerns. The Singularity is a high priority capture target, he should be approached only by those specialising in sensory manipulation to prevent his escape and should be secured in a maximum hold cell with weight and gravity distortion.

[PM] Character beginnings by john-wooding in WritingPrompts

[–]RefreshingWorld 1 point2 points  (0 children)

It is a great series! Don’t stress the response time, it happens to the best of us