the dragon's den | Vipera Prompt Event

Home of the sensation seekers.

ROUND 15 Prompt Options

Poll ended at Sat Feb 24, 2018 8:44 am

cult
2
17%
blackout
2
17%
vacant
0
No votes
identity
2
17%
filthy
6
50%
 
Total votes: 12
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week six | desire

Sat Sep 16, 2017 5:33 am

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          **slight nsfw, nothing obscene. no actual sex.

          {this is actually so fucking fluffy i'm sick}


We sat tangled in the low light of the bedroom, large french doors open toward us to let the cool, late summer breeze wash over us. He had some television show playing quietly in the background but all my attention was on the soft feeling of his fingers through my hair.
The air had a bit of a chill to it, the first signs of the approaching autumn weather. It tickled the skin on my bare arm, leaving behind droves of tiny goosebumps. I felt his fingers graze the curve of my neck, moving thick strands of hair away. He pressed soft kisses to my neck while I mindlessly watched whatever reality show he had on. I felt the curled ends of his hair brush my cheek, his scent was sweet yet still boyish with a warm musk.
My nerve endings fired with a release of his soft breath in my ear. I laughed and rolled my eyes playfully.
"Let me know if I'm bugging you and I'll stop and let you chill out," He said, his gentle tone barely audible even over the nearly silent television show. God, everything he did was so delicate.
I shrugged nonchalantly, "No, I don't mind." He grinned in return and my heart burst. I felt him shimmy down in the covers for a more relaxed position behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close. He continued trailing kisses down the nape of my neck, his fingers toying with the hem of my tank top. It wasn't far from his usual hand placement, he often liked to warm his hands on the skin of my stomach. However, I could sense the coy way he was circling his fingers around my hips, feeling his smile in his kisses when I would make a small sound of satisfaction. He wasn't typically this playful.
He traced a hand along my side, the flat of his palm coming to rest on my hip. I shivered at his touch and he muffled sound of his laughter shot through me like a firework. I moved to sit up straight, his hand moving with my body. "Everything alright, babe?" He said softly, his eyebrows furrowing slightly in the most painfully adorable expression of concern, the tip of his upturned nose slightly red from the heat between us.
"Absolutely," I nodded in response. "It's my turn." He looked at me almost confused while I hooked my fingers under the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it over his head. His curly hair fell in disturbed tufts on his forehead; his soft, relaxed brown gaze taking me in as I looked him over. I sat there for a few stunned seconds, brought out of my trance by his laugh and a soft poke in the side. "Anyone there?" He grinned, his mouth curving slightly at the sides. So fucking perfect
I straddled his hips, running my fingers through tendrils of his hair that fell around his ears. He looked up at me, my heart clenching seeing the love so clear in his eyes. I kissed the dimple in his chin, my fingers brushing over the sharp cut lines of his jaw like they were carved from marble. He hiked me closer to him and bit at my lips, teasing and playful. He looked at me directly again, his eyes tired and happy. Not a second of my life would go to waste at his side. In that moment, every part of me wanted every part of him and I knew he felt the same.
Last edited by blue on Mon Sep 18, 2017 8:01 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Artio
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Week 6 - Desire

Sat Sep 16, 2017 5:59 am

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Fandom: N/A (Original)
Warnings: Nothing really, just some slightly implied smut stuff

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.
indentMr. Lewin was another of the new Forbes 400 members. He probably should’ve been on the 30 under 30 list but because he was already well into 29 they had put him on the regular list, with people like her. Like most people at the Gala, really. Some of the billionaires walking around in designer clothes with overpriced champagne were into their 80s after all. Having someone in the group under 30 was a welcome sight
indentAthena herself sat at 32. She was also barely on the 400 but for a different reason: her company had only recently made enough to break onto the list. It was her first Gala and she was sure it was Mr. Lewin’s too, the way he went around looking like a timid kid trying to introduce himself to anyone who would listen. Networking. Cute.
indentA sip of her glass of champagne quieted Athena’s laugh. It might’ve been her first Gala, but her first big event as head of a burgeoning company it was not. She couldn’t help but feel for the poor guy though, she’d been in his shoes many times in her claw to the top.
indentMr. Lewin caught her eye for more than his naivete and youth though. He was dressed to impress, more so than the others dripping in diamonds and platinum flittering around the hall. His suit fit like it had been less tailored and more molded to his exact shape, gracing every curve and contour. And the color was like they had taken a Pantone swatch of his exact eye color to make sure it matched. Of course, Athena only knew that because Mr. Lewin had already made his pitch to her a few moments before. Her eyes had been following him around the room since.
indentSure the suit and typical gold watch and even more typical parted on the side, half slicked down hair had made an impression on her, but Mr. Lewin’s plus one was really why she was staring him down like a falcon from its perch. Katie Lewin, he had said her name was. Mr. Lewin wasn’t one to be ignored, but the Mrs. was steps further. Katie could’ve convinced her that she was a living Venus De Milo, from her golden blonde updo that matched the gold cuff on her slim wrist, to her sheer Zuhair Murad gown that only covered what was absolutely necessary with a turquoise petal-like pattern. Pairing that beauty with her natural elegance, she would’ve been a highly sought after muse in the Renaissance days.
indentAthena tried to tell herself to drop the idea as soon as it came into her mind, but it was hard to resist temptation when doing what people told her not to had made her a billionaire in the first place. She saw the blush Katie wore as Athena complimented her, the way she didn’t blush again after the countless meetings and compliments her husband put her through with the other attendees. So Athena waited from her perch, watching, ready to fly over as soon as Katie was inevitably left to fend for herself at some point during the night. A preposition never hurt anyone. Athena could offer Katie anything her husband could, and more. And the cost wouldn’t be playing nice for a room of groveling old men, just that Zuhair Murad on Athena’s marble bedroom floor.
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Week Six Favorite! .FAUNLET.

Mon Sep 18, 2017 7:54 am

  • Congratulations to our Fan Favorite for Week 6 of the Vipera Prompt Event: .faunlet.!
    Good job, faun! And congrats on your second win in the Vipera Prompt Event! It sure was a close one this week.
i'm color coding my moods
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time: 6/10 xx muse: 5/10
search: TBA
started my semester.
some time to write. laidback rps only.

follow my AS twitter for any updates!

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you're yellow, i'm natural blue
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week seven - scream

Thu Sep 21, 2017 4:00 am

✂- - - - - SCREAM
the most out of my comfort zone...writing for someone else's character. this is a horrible lil' thing using daz's lovely jinn. tobias (same linked post) is also featured, but he has a smaller roll. there are lots of unpleasant things--some death, some torture, some vaguely gore something or other, it's not the worst but be mindful. i hope i did ok
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    • epigraph“Old friend,” he purred, stroking his index finger along the smooth interior of the skull’s left eye socket, “it has been far too long.” Jinn wore the smile of a scum no better than the devil that he taunted, relishing in a victory that only he believed he deserved. The skull offered no response, as it was only that: a skull. Jinn could remember a time when the spines that jutted from its jaw and the horns that it wore made him quake…but those days were no longer. The devil fell to his hand, squirming in pain during the last hours of his life. Jinn still reveled in those memories. He slathered himself in the pleasure that they gave him like a boar would slather himself in mud.
      epigraph“Master.”
      epigraphJinn’s pale eyes cut through the weight of the darkness, pinning the imp to the wall. The pitiful thing cowered, head slumping beneath its shoulders. Its beady gaze met the sticky river of blood that ebbed over the floor. Little morsel…do not press my patience. The imp opened its mouth to speak, empty static reaching his ears as Jinn cocked his head to the side, considering if it would be worth it. Common demons were sand in comparison to the orgasmic satisfaction that true creatures of power emanated. “…are waiting.” The imp’s voice trailed into nothing, its mumble lost beneath the sharpness of its increasingly panicked breaths.
      epigraphThe demons were terrified of their new lord, and he lavished it that way. Once he had been one of them, a nameless face among thousands, bowing below the tyrant reign of their lord Lucifer. Jinn was never destined to be one of them. He was destined to be more. He had already ascended gods…and this was only the beginning. “The Horsemen.” Jinn heard the crack of Lucifer’s skull as his grip tightened, the smile grew over his face as a ravenous hunger stirred in the pit of his gut. “All of them?” Excitement tickled the edges of his voice, the constant clamor behind his eyes boiling to a frenzy.
      epigraph“Yes, Master. All of them.”
      epigraph“Perfect.” The skull shattered, chips of bone exploding in every direction. The breath of the creature in the darkness struggled in its throat, the whimper of pain held firmly behind its lips. It knew that it would be punished if it irritated him. Jinn tugged on its chain, tugging the angel out from the darkness. The thing that had once had a name was a skeleton with paper-thin skin stretched over its bones. Its eyes were bleak as the dead of winter, dark hair hanging in mats around its shoulders. A heavy collar rested around the was-angel’s neck, linked to a chain that Jinn rolled absently in one hand.
      epigraphThe creature’s duty had been to protect the mortal beings that the Horsemen resided within. Beneath the care of Jinn’s hand, it had done the opposite. He would kill them now, and devour their magic. Then? Then, everything that ever was and ever would be would belong to him and him alone. The fingers of Jinn’s free hand skittered over his thigh, his excitement building and building and building as the seconds wore on and the imp lead him toward his summit. His heart thrashed against his ribcage. His feet itched to move faster. He wanted them. He needed them. He could barely contain his desire.

      epigraphEach of the four humans stood upon a pedestal, as pretty as the demons could make them. It was a pitiful attempt to appeal to their master. Jinn did not care for it. He could feel their power…it surged through the room in violent waves, drowning every other sensation. Jinn could taste the violence of War, the sickness of Pestilence, the hunger of Famine…and the lust of Death. She met his eyes with a fierceness that the others did not possess, her face contorted into a mask of rage rather than fear. Jinn’s teeth dug into his lip. The resurgence of an emotion long-forgotten nagged the back of his mind, plucking filth from…
      epigraphSomething.
      epigraphJinn had never wanted anything as desperately as he wanted her power…as he wanted her. Death’s body was wrenched from the pedestal. Jinn caught her by the throat, fingertips boring into the back of her neck as his thumb dug beneath her chin. She did not cower. Her breath caught, but her lips hardened and her eyes narrowed. She was not intimidated by the heat of his touch or the way his fingers dug so brutally into the softness of her neck. She held his eyes with such darkness he felt himself begin to recoil. “Jinn.” The magic boiling from inside her was not foreign to him…it felt like an old friend. She was a match, and he would extinguish her.
      epigraph“Death,” Jinn crooned through gritted teeth, punctuating her name by driving his thumb deeper into her neck.
      epigraphShe bared her teeth, nostrils flaring with a sharp inhalation. “You…” she choked between gasping breaths from her constricted windpipe, “not…own…me.” Her accent was harsh and uncomfortable to his ears, but it was nothing compared to the savage nature of her words. She dared oppose him. If Jinn was a different man, he may have admired her for her strength…but he was not. Jinn was ravenous for her power and growing tired of her will. In fact, he despised it. Death’s eyes began to droop as he applied pressure. A jolting sob abandoned her. Redness rimmed her eyes. Tears spilled onto her cheeks. “Jinn,” she said again.
      epigraphHe did not know nor care how she knew his name as her head lolled back on her shoulders and her heart stopped beating. Jinn released her. As she fell, the power that had once belonged to her—the power of the Horseman Death—was torn away from her body little by little. Jinn’s breath trembled, his skin prickling with anticipation. He wet his parted lips. He ached for her power. Jinn opened his jaws as her essence fled her body, drawn to him and him alone. He could taste the white hot electricity of it on his tongue and his throat convulsed as he swallowed his ecstasy. Existence fell away around him under the euphoria of her.
      epigraphJinn tilted his head back, bellowing his triumph.

      epigraphAnd then he felt it.
      epigraphPain lanced through his skull and he staggered back, the intoxication muddying his mind. “You cannot kill Death.” The voice inside his head was not his own. It belonged to her…the human. No more than a human. His soul felt as if it was being rent in two as Death tore herself away from him. Jinn doubled over as he vomited black ichor, body convulsing beneath the touch of its poison. Pain…all he could feel was pain. Jinn collapsed to his knees, strings of bile dribbling between his lips as his body attempted to exorcise the toxin. Jinn was gasping for breath between his convulsions, each one dragging razorblades through his lungs.
      epigraphA shadow fell over him. Jinn looked up from the ground. Molten pools of blackness stared back at him, so deep and so filled with torment that it struck fear into the heart of even Jinn. She caught his face between her hands, fingertips blackened by tendrils that coiled up her arms. “How?” Jinn croaked. Death should not have been aware of her powers…she should not have known that she was anything other than human.
      epigraph“Do you no remember, Jinn?” Saltwater tears mingled with the streaks of night spreading over her cheeks. Her face contorted, teeth clenched to restrain her pain. A wail threatened to break past her quivering lips. Her pain was as palpable as her power. Jinn could feel himself dematerializing, his being washed away by her own. Death brought him closer, the pits where her eyes used to be seeming to search his face. “I loved you.” Her fingertips slid down his face to grip his chin. She drew him closer, pressing a tender kiss onto his cracked lips. As Death consumed him, he remembered. Asel.
      epigraphHe should have killed her when she was weak.
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week 7: scream

Fri Sep 29, 2017 2:53 am

Image xxxx S C R E A M (so here is my out-of-comfort-zone prompt! i chose to go with 'in the perspective of an animal', as i have never done that before.) xxxx
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Glowing faintly around the room, a few dozen candles illuminated a girl, kneeling in soft, crimson, chiffon. In the darkness of the night Adalet sat, silent as death in a room that was dark as night, breathing quietly and feeling the soft material of her shawl with small, eager hands. Her cheeks were flushed and her heart was racing.


She, of course, was indulging in her most beloved, sacred and revered activity. Any man that even attempted to prise her away would be hard pressed to find their heart still beating come morning. You see, having been descended from some of the greatest shamans of her land, her blood had granted Adalet many gifts. One of these being mastery of the art of illusion.


Unassuming and demure, it is no surprise that Adalet did not spend her gifts causing tyranny nor manipulating fate to her will; But rather in this room, decorated with silk scarves and paper flowers (somehow fragrant) watching videos cassettes.


Watching and conjuring.


Conjuring images onto the television.


All day she sits there, in the centre of the room, and bends images to her will, causing the glass surface of the contraption to fizz with raw power and dovetailing colour. Though outsiders to this establishment know not of Adalet’s witch status, her magical pursuits make the very walls of this abode seethe and vibrate with such an energy that makes any living creature feel ill at ease. So alone she is and alone she stays. Even the biggest, strongest man who has not a nerve in their whole, entire body could not withstand the intensity with which the cement twitches and the bricks crackle.


But not me of course.


I have seen too many a day go by and too many a cassette worn out to be perturbed by a simple rumbling. I perch in my corner like always, and faithfully gaze upon my master indulging in her Silver Screen Queens.


And so, she did not spend her age-old, mystical gift summoning Satan, nor on some mundane hex. But rather she feasted her eyes upon her Jayne Mansfield lookalikes, fake Elizabeth Taylors and every other Hollywood scarlet starlet under the sun. Each doll-like woman pranced about the glass with grace and a confidence that Adalet would never possess.


That is, after all, why she never left.


Tonight, she was watching a vibrant tale about a witch searching for love. With severe, unblinking eyes, she bent every detail: all the folding petals on every flower of the witch’s low-sloping hat, the swish of her hair that sent a waft of perfume through the room, the faint sounds of wind chimes twinkling in the background.


Yet it would always end.


Once her show had finally put down its crimson curtain, Ada slowly rose from her place on the frigid ground and with lace and ribbons trailing behind her, she leant over to my ear.


“Did you enjoy that one, Tuppence?” She asked in her dulcet tones.


I did not respond.


“I’d been concocting that particular tale for a long while, but I pondered over the ending for a long time and I’m still not quite sure that one was the most suitable. Oh, why must there always be an end!” She monologued, “I was thinking a romance for my next story. Do you like romance, Tuppence?”


I do not.


But alas, as you may already guess, I could not inform her thusly as I am, in fact, her faithful familiar, Tuppence, tawny owl and talented raconteur. I am, of course, entrusted to serve as magical assistant and guardian of my master, the black-eyed, black-haired Adalet.


Shall I give you my history? For many years I was nomadic, with no home or master to speak of, ruling my own life like the other giftless, mindless birds that rise with the sun for reasons they do not know and do not seek. But eventually, I was drawn like a moth to a flame to Ada’s immense power that supersedes the physical boundaries of the material world and vibrates with such effervescence that one cannot help but be enthralled right down to the bone. Though my master does not offer much voyage or adventure, simply keeping her room dark and keeping a watchful eye on her slight frame is enough work for me.


“I think I should like to be in a show one day…”


At that, she turned from me with a wistful gaze and returned to her domain. Once she had settled her robes and scarves, she began her next spectacle with a wave of magic as strong as if she was demolishing a mighty mountain. As always, the sonic boom of a spell sent shockwaves throughout my body that were akin to the thundering footsteps of Nightmare herself.


This particular ‘romance’ starred an actress not-so-subtly created in the image of Adalet herself, with alluring sleek black eyes, copper-brown skin and black hair in many shady twists tied at the ends with white ribbons.


I will not lie to you, although I do admire her power and her passion, these images she creates on the television are the cause of great worry for me. I fear those starlets and their dead eyes and empty stares. Despite their poise there is an uncertain sadness about them. Through their beautiful exterior, there is a hollowness. Cold puppets with glazed over eyes and no lifeblood to speak of. They were eerie shells of human beings, and thoroughly, thoroughly frightening.


When this Other Ada came onto the screen bathed in an ethereal glow, it was her smile time that made my bones quake with fretful dread. She looked at her glamorous beau with an amorous gaze, and smiled. Yet smiled at nothing.


Here, but gone.


Her eyes focused on nothing. At certain points, she seemed blind to the world, isolated in her own impenetrable headspace. Her smile existed as its own entity and hung in its own lonely void.


Lonely.


That is how the (real) Ada looked. I swear it was the very same emptiness that graced my masters face. When the cassette eventually reached the end of its tape and the couple had their final kiss, the room was engulfed in a deafening quietness.


She did not put on another show.


Peculiarly, she sat in intense silence with a look I can only describe as contemplative.


And I knew at that moment, there would be no telling what would happen next.


In the dead of night, when the sentinel stars took their throne in the sky, she made her choice.


Standing at full height in heavenly bride-white clothes with snowbells tucked behind each ear, she poured ruby-red vintage wine of the oldest and deepest variety into a silver platter. She poured until the pool created a mirror of blood that reflected in visceral and satanic tones every detail that hovered above it. A mirror of death. A mirror of blood.


Suddenly, a clatter. The clatter of metal against stone. Splatters up the wall and in the air descended like blossoms in the wind. As if the wine had a life of its own, it rose and spread until it touched every corner of every wall and every inch of the stone.


And with garnet blood poppies staining her robes and a wild fury sharp in her eyes, Adalet threw herself to the floor like an animal, and drank it. Drank it from the floor like it was the milk of paradise.



It has been years since that day, she is safe behind her glass.


She has not left, and nor have I.
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Re: the dragon's den | Vipera Prompt Event

Fri Sep 29, 2017 8:52 pm

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tags [some bad language, slight nsfw themes]
    • The room was an asteroid field of colliding bodies. Drunken teens laughed and danced and shouted and blissfully spilled their drinks over each other's sweat soaked clothes, pulsing dub step masking their slurred speech and clashing beer bottles. A red plastic filter had been placed over the light, bathing the dancers in crimson glory. Warren revelled in the waves of music racking his body like a storm, allowing them to push him into the waiting arms of friendly strangers. Parties had always been his favourite form of escapism. After what had happened last month it was the easiest way to forget that his life was a fucking mess now. There was a wholly unique feeling in being whisked away by booze and music and occasionally a nights connection with somebody new. Just for a few precious hours Warren could pretend not to be a living train wreck. So when the invitation went out to the Bobby Arrin's New Years party there had been no chance he was going to turn it down. They were the richest family in the whole town, which meant the biggest bash in the whole town too. Booze and girls gallore. Bobby had not failed to disappoint. Over a hundred eager highschoolers had turned up on the doorstep to the Arrin mansion tonight. The whole house was packed with party guests. They spilled from every room, even out into the gardens.

      Warren broke away breathless from the sea of writhing drunkards with an added attachment clinging onto the curve of his muscled arm, giggling like an idiot. Her name was Cindy. Or Katie. Something like that. She had shouted it to him over the music but he'd been drunk enough and distracted enough by the generous swell of her breasts not to take much notice. The two of them stumbled out of the patio door breathless and laughing. Warren couldn't quite figure out what the joke they were sharing was but hey, it was probably hilarious. He led his new companion towards a pretty garden swing seat and settled her upon his lap, intertwining their arms together like a sea of tangling vines. Warren lost himself in the burning heat of her skin, those loveless kisses trailed upon his neck, his lips. But as his new lovers hand began to trail curiously up the inside of his thigh, the boy's heavy half open eyes found something in the distant blur of reality that cooled the lust bubbling through his bloodstream. A sudden gust of wind barrelling down the garden path forced Warren to open his eyes for just a moment, to spot the tattoo on her neck. Not on Cynthia or whatever her name was, but the girl half skipping half walking down the stone steps out of the patio. The breeze tumbled her wave of ebony locks into the night sky, baring her pretty neck to reveal the delicately etched interlocking cluster of half moons: the symbol of the Aisling. Warren stilled, heart racing in uncertainty. Surely not. The coincidence would be too great. That night... the figure he'd seen. Could it possibly be...?

      The boy quickly withdrew his hand from beneath the shirt of the girl perched upon his lap and thoughtlessly shoved her aside, rising quickly to his feet to sprint after the mysterious dark haired creature drifting deeper into the gardens. "Hey, what the f-" Warren knew he'd just been incredibly rude and insensitive but he would deal with that later. Right now there were more pressing matters to attend to. The girl was already moving out of sight. The Arrin family gardens were huge and once she vanished into the night he doubted he would find her again. "Hey!" Warren called after her. "Wait!" The dark haired girl turned towards him, her startling green eyes widening in uncertainty at the sight of the drunken boy galloping towards her and immediately increased her speed. "Fuck-, wait no, I'm not- I just want to talk to you!" Warren swore viciously, sprinting after her into the dark maze of towering plant covered lattices.

      It was damn near impossible to keep her in sights. The girl moved like a wraith through the bushes and clearly knew where she was going unlike himsel. Warren on the other hand was stumbling unsteadily after her, barely managing to keep a grasp on where she was heading. This would be so much easier if he hadn't drank any booze tonight! The boy took no notice of which way he'd come from or where he was heading. It didn't matter as long as he caught her. Whoever she was, she was loyal to the Aisling and that was cause enough for concern. His frenzied chase continued through the stifling darkness of the wild gardens, neither of their paces breaking. Until Warren finally lost her in the tangled trees of a small woodland clearing. The boy swore viciously, giving the nearest tree a violent kick. "Ow! Fuck!" Warren reached down to gingerly massage his now aching toes but miscalculated his ability to balance. He stumbled suddenly and fell flat on his ass, curse words pouring out of his mouth in a rambled stream of abuse at nobody in particular.

      Then came the laughter. Well of course. There would be somebody to fucking watch him make a total idiot of himself out here wouldn't there? It was probably that damn girl. Warren frowned at the shadows, debating whether or not it would be worth throwing a stick in the general direction of the culprit. "Fuck off! You try running around drunk in the dark!"

      "You know, for a Kelpie, you're rather slow." Warren stilled. The anger leaked from his expression leaving only a chilling mask of fear. If she knew what he was then... "You've been following me haven't you?" The boy called out warily to the shadows, silver eyes skirting desperately around the clearing for the source of the voice. "I saw you.... after..... after it happened. Your tattoo..." he trailed off, the pain and regret leashing his voice.

      "Following you? Following you? Excuse me but you were the one who chased me through the bloody gardens!" The raven haired girl seemed to melt out of the darkness, pealing herself from the black and floating effortlessly out into the ethereal night. She sounded.... annoyed. "Besides I've only just met you! How could I have been following you?" Warren oggled at the gap between her feet and the floor, trying not to be disturbed. The girl seemed to notice his alarm and dropped to the ground, frowning a little. "There's no need to look so alarmed. You are aren't you? One of us? You smell like a spiorad. I can usually tell. It's part of my gifts: scents. I mean not many of the spiorad smell of horse so I'm assuming you're a kelpie." Smell like horse? Warren wrinkled his nose and sniffed curiously at his arm pit. Nope, only beer and body odour. "Not that kind of smell silly, I mean your scent. It's bound to your life force." The poor confused fellow had no idea what she was talking about now so he instead he decided to ask about what he'd followed her out here for. "If you're not who I'm looking for, why have you got the symbol of the Aisling tattooed on your neck?" Warren pointed an accusatory finger at the dark moons littering her neck. Just looking at the mark made him shudder. The girls fingers brushed her neck, her curious eyes narrowing with frosty defensiveness. "The Aisling don't own the path of the moon. That mark was stolen. So if they're who you're looking for then you've followed the wrong person." She responded with cool resentment.

      He couldn't help but feel somewhat disappointed: for a moment there some answers had finally seemed imminent. Such was the way of the world. Warren finally picked himself off of the ground. He was quite a bit taller than her when he stood up. She'd seemed so tall earlier floating out of the trees. "What's your name by the way?" He asked, studying the strange girl before him. She looked a bit like a doll with those full lips and large eyes. She was certainly mysterious enough to be one brought to life.

      "It's Ivy. Ivy Arrin. I'm bobby's cousin." Ivy held out a hand for him to shake. He took it. "I'm Warren. Warren Thompson." The boy responded, mimicking her greeting. His new friend opened her mouth to say something but whatever it was, Warren would never find out. Ivy's skin began to glow a ghostly blue and her lips turned pale. Her hair spread into the air and she began to float higher and higher into the sky. Warren fell back in alarm as Ivy opened her mouth and screamed.

      Never before had he ever heard something so horrific, so piercing. The boy clawed at his ears, trying to blot out the unearthly screeching. It went on for about thirty torturous seconds but it felt eternal. Blood dripped down from Warren's ringing ears. When Ivy finally collapsed upon the ground and the screaming stopped, he understood what she was. What had just happened. Ivy Arrin was a banshee. And when a banshee screamed...

      Warren turned back panicked towards the direction of the party. An orange glow licked the sky, pillars of smoke smouldering into the air.

      The Arrin mansion was on fire.

      [a few small explorations of "out of my comfort zone" including some v tame nsfw stuff, attempts at building romance - which doesn't appear in this first prompt seeing as this will be a multi part story, and exploration of irish and scottish mythology which I've never actually attempted before so it was more of an interest than a out of comfort zone for that.]
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Week 7 - Scream

Sat Sep 30, 2017 5:47 am

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Fandom: Nothing specific but it is about music/musicians in general
Warnings: None

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. You've been through so much yet you share it all
The highs and lows, the rises and falls
We know just how much you understand
Often better than anyone else can

You're with us through everything, thick and thin
You praise our change and forgive our sins
We only want to return the favor
Unholy saints, you are our saviors

Your fans are always the best in your eyes
It doesn't matter how messy our lives
You take care of us before yourselves
We'll help each other to get through our hells

You're with us through everything, thick and thin
You praise our change and forgive our sins
We only want to return the favor
Unholy saints, you are our saviors

As long as we're here to follow along
We'll keep finding comfort in your songs
We'll be at concerts to dance and shout
For us both, please keep playing your souls out

You're with us through everything, thick and thin
You praise our change and forgive our sins
We only want to return the favor
Unholy saints, you are our saviors
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blue
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Posts: 746
Joined: Wed Nov 06, 2013 5:35 am
Gender: female (she/her)
House: Vipera Keeper

HALLOWEEN EVENT STARTS TODAY

Mon Oct 02, 2017 9:18 am

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  • hey guys! sorry for the delay with set-up but it's officially the beginning of the vipera halloween event!

    general info:
    - this event is the 8th week of the vipera prompt event and will run throughout october.
    unlike a standard week, there will be no limits: no word count/limit, no focus, etc.
    - i've provided five spooky themed prompts. you may write on as many or as little as you'd like. you may also include more than one prompt in a single piece. there is no guideline. however, if you intend on writing for each of the prompts, the word limit for each is 2500 words. which allots you 12,500 words total. this should give you enough wiggle room for each prompt. please PM me if you have any questions or concerns about the word count, i am no stranger to lengthening a limit within reason if you're having problems fitting in the parameters.
    - it is not necessary to vote for any of the options in the poll but please be sure to indicate which prompts you've chosen somewhere in the post (i.e. font titles, images, etc.) also, please title your entry post 'week eight - halloween event'.
    - required element: include a song/soundscape/a link to a playlist that inspired each piece, preferably one song/soundscape per prompt but if each prompt is connected, you may also include a list of songs/sounds for the whole. if you would like to include other visual representations of your prompt entries, please do so!
    - i will stop taking entries tuesday, october 31st and that night, i will post a poll for you to vote on your favorites from the event. this poll will close sunday, november 5th.

    ** if you would like to use a google doc to keep all of your writing together, that's perfectly fine. it is not necessary to link offsite for your writing unless you intend on completing entries for each provided prompt. then, for the sake of space, please do link to a separate document.
    *** i am also not a stickler for how each prompt inspired you. you are not required to mention the word in your entry. however,
    the point is to be inspired by the words so obviously, please don't enter writing that is not related to the halloween event.

    after the halloween event is over, the vipera prompt event will continue on for week nine as usual. you will be given your usual two weeks to write and enter prompts. however, i will be posting a chosen prompt on monday, november 6th in the same manner i did for week one. there will be a poll posted for week ten during this time.

    you may start writing/posting for the event now! :)

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Joined: Wed Nov 06, 2013 5:35 am
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Week Seven Favorite! FOXTROT OSCAR

Tue Oct 03, 2017 9:49 am

  • We finally have the results of our Week Seven Tiebreaker!
    Congratulations to our Fan Favorite for Week 7 of the Vipera Prompt Event: foxtrot oscar!
    Great job this week! And super-congrats on your first win for the prompt event!
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Artio
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Posts: 185
Joined: Sat Jun 10, 2017 10:29 am
Gender: Female
Location: back in the crushing grip of higher education
House: Vipera

Week 8 - Halloween Event

Wed Nov 01, 2017 6:18 pm

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Fandom: N/A, but shout out to Esspe for letting me borrow some ideas!
Warnings: Intense violence (references to and depictions of murder, torture, and especially blood), Other (implied sexual assaults), all sorts of generally messed up stuff (threats, talks of curses/haunted/possessed stuff, blood kink, messy relationship dynamics, etc.), plus a touch of swearing though that's probably the least of your worries here.
Song/soundscape: Bringing It Down by Starset
Prompts used: Crimson, Crypt, Carnal

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~~~Google Docs Link~~~ .
indentAdditional notes:
indentTo see termites in your dream represent an attack to your soul or to your being. To see a nightingale in your dream indicates unrequited love, longing and pain.
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