time for my daily dose of wips i will never finish

This idea of a character has been floating around my head for a while—doesn’t even have a name yet but they’re appointed as the general of a tyrannical kingdom, they may or maybe not be forced to serve under the king. Anyways I’m still playing around with this idea and sooo let’s just see where the general goes from here!

For now I’ve only got wips but I already want to see this finished sans all the drawing though

20th & 21st OF OCTOBER

~change the channel~ (substitute)

~island in the sun~

(A/N: I cannot, for the life of me, make these prompts shorter. But anyways, here’s some more of my Cyberpunk oc and a bit of world building)

WARNING: Mentions of Drug Use/Dark themes

The door shut with a soft click, the metal barrier cancelling out the harsh and turbulent noise of the downpour outside, as a clear ping pierced the silence of the room, signalling the automatic lock being completed.

I tossed the drenched sling bag somewhere on the floor, hearing it land but not bothering to check where, and started peeling the equally wet jacket off my torso, leaving me in a sleeveless black top.

I should take a shower first. I thought. But my legs didn’t move towards the bathroom to my far right, instead my eyes were fixated on the desk beside my bed, and then gradually brought them up on the old painting displayed right above it.

Later. This can’t wait. Heart and mind decided, I shuffled over to the desk in a sense of urgency, grabbed the painting by its sides and then plucked it from the hook. Flipping the frame around, a black plate covered the back of the canvas. With familiar ease, I slid my fingers across the upper corner edges and found the latch, successfully unfastening the plate to unveil a couple of worn-out journals hidden inside. Untouched.

A breath of relief escaped me, my fear of the notebooks being discovered momentarily disappearing.

I picked out the one I’ve been using as of late—the tenth one if I recall correctly, since I’ve already used up every bit of space from the others—and opened the journal where it had a bookmark.

The yellowed blank pages were a frequent sight as I ran a hand across the smooth surface while my other hand pulled a pen from a cup that was also holding a heap of markers and then started writing my thoughts—

(A/N: since halloween is just right around the corner, I thought it’d be nice to have some spooky stories! Also, this piece will hopefully be featured in an art collaboration on Twitter and if you’re interested in seeing it, the collab is called #TakutanArtPH )

(A small glimpse into my creative process!^^)

Psst! Are you awake?

A creak in the floorboards. A weight pressing down on the mattress. A light poke through the blanket.

Did you forget our regular ghost story time?

A muffled grumble sounded under the blanket, “Can’t you come earlier, like maybe when about to sleep? It’s the middle of the night!”

Nope! Three AM sharp, you know this already.

There was a long sigh that filled the silent room before the blanket was uncovered to reveal a little girl, with a rather displeased expression. “What if I don’t want to hear your ghost stories?” She asked with another irritated sigh.

When there was no response, the girl grudgingly dragged her gaze towards the source of the voice—a boy, no older than her, was sitting at the edge of the bed and staring at her creepily.

Then I would disappear on you.

She winced at the frost in his tone, “You wouldn’t!”

The boy stood from the bed, shot her a somber look and then promptly vanished.

“Hey!” The girl yelled, her voice a tiny bit too loud so she slapped a hand over her mouth before trying again, “Hey…!”

Her eyes roamed around her room but still found no signs of the boy.

“Fine!” She huffed and tiptoed over the window where a seat was built into the ledge, “Let’s hear the story.” The girl sat on the soft cushion, crossed her legs and pulled a pillow into her lap and waited.

The blanket from the bed suddenly lifted and floated over to where the girl was, draping it across her exposed legs and providing her warmth.

“Thanks…” She mumbled, a light blush on her cheeks.

The boy appeared in front of her, hovering above the cushion also with crossed legs as a triumphant smirk twisted his lips, “Ready?”

She squeezed the pillow tight, nodded and then leaned forward.

. . .

This one’s a bit sad.

How come?

Just listen.

. . .

There were only rumours of its existence at the start but those fearful warnings grew and grew until it eventually became a local legend. The townsfolk say that there, in the woods surrounding their small village, resides an ominous being that feeds on the lives of people that happen upon them. 

A fairy.

Although don’t get your hopes up, this one is not the kind you’d expect to find in a fantasy book. 

On the contrary, it was a rather sorrowful being.

People who claimed to have encountered it recount that the fairy would cry endlessly. For days and many, many nights, in which they came to the conclusion that the wailing never actually stops. Even when a poor soul stumbles upon them and gets lured in by the distressing sounds it makes, the fairy would continue to cry.

It was a creature of ill fate. A creature of regret.

There were also numerous descriptions of the fairy: such as having red tears leaking from their eyes, some even speculate that it was the blood of its previous victims; dark purplish skin that made them almost invisible in the night; And finally, wings resembling that of a tattered butterfly’s.

In the end, most had come to fear the story of the creature, yet somehow a small number of people pitied it, for they believed that the fairy would cry for their prey, mourning their impending death and then cry anew for themselves and their harrowing and cursed purpose in this world.

. . .

Poor thing, it has to be sad for it to live!

So, from now on, be careful when you hear weird crying.

A small giggle. Stop that.

Alright, it’s time for you to sleep.

I can’t sleep now! I’m too wide awake because of you.

Well…

How about another one then?

(A/N: This was supposed to be a looooot shorter but oh well, have an impromptu little girl oc and her ghost friend who likes sharing scary stories 👻 This has been piling up dust in my drafts for days now)

17th & 18th OF OCTOBER

hop, step, jump

fuck your pride

(A/N: Fun fact! This oc is based on a dream of mine AND they exist on the same universe as Yelena/Yasemin, my villain oc. Now, buckle up cause it’s time for some Cyberpunk goodness.)

Supposedly, there’s an unspoken rule that whatever background you came from, rich or piss poor or somewhere in between, as long as you end up in the streets, you’ll always be at the bottom of the system. Unless you fight your way up---that is to say, if you survive the climb.

“Hey!” A voice called out from behind.

I stopped walking and peeked over my shoulder, expecting trouble that’s usually present around these parts to have finally found me and lo and behold, a bunch of ‘thugs’ were waiting at the entrance of the alley. Four people differentiating in sizes, three men and one woman, their dark silhouettes painted by the bright neon lights behind them were nothing short of intimidating. 

My eyes darted to the walls of the two surrounding buildings, measuring the distance between each window, the extending pipes and the height of both structures. Scalable. There was also that fire exit just ahead, I reminded myself as I mulled over what will happen within the next 10 minutes. 

A fight, no doubt.

I glanced at the floating holographic numbers on my wrist, taking into account the time and---the meeting that was about to start soon.

Escaping might be the more reasonable choice but...

I hate taggers.

Blowing out a rough sigh, I turned my attention back to the group who was now leisurely cruising towards me, wearing devilish grins and haughty gazes. Some of them were even cracking their knuckles while exchanging unashamed jabs about having first dibs grated on my ears---and my nerves.

Oh boy. Things are about to get interesting.

My lips curled into a snarl as I repressed the overwhelming urge to be the one to draw first blood. Instead, I focused on scrutinising them individually from top to bottom: their gadgets, clothes, bags, shoes. Anything of importance at all that I can lift and hopefully sell.

It only took a moment to finish the assessment, if you know how to estimate things from face value. 

After gathering enough information, I spun to fully face them, smirking provokingly as I loosened the straps of my bag, letting it hang on my fingers and then swinging it.

“Alright, assholes!” I whistled cheerfully before letting the venom bleed into my tone, “Whoever’s got first dibs, you’re up.”

15th & 16th OF OCTOBER

~been waiting on this my whole life~

~back and forth~

One day, you’ll understand. They’d said.

Ridiculous. He answered, cockily.

And then he’d hear the stories from people in love. Those who praise the myth and eagerly urged him to start searching for his right away. Obviously, he didn’t listen. However, the doubt in his resolve grew weaker and weaker until he found himself oblivious to the fact that—

There’s longing in his heart.

He started talking to more people. Be intimate with them. Because—what if it’s identifiable by contact? An experimenting brush of fingers here, an attentive touch there, a small peck on the lips that transformed into sweet as sin kisses all over, or atleast wherever they’d allow him to. But there was still nothing.

Until something happened, it happened, during the break of the day. A chance encounter, fateful as others would say.

“Do you feel that?” It was then he knew. The moment those fingers lightly caressed his face—he knew that he’d been waiting on this his whole life.

Mate.

“It’s you. I can’t believe it.”

Silence.

The silence from her was defeaning.

“...What do you mean? I believe we haven’t met before.”

Falling and falling, he descended as fear rose and filled up his chest for he’s afraid that there’s no one waiting at the bottom to catch him.

“You don’t...feel it? But weren’t you also waiting?”

For this?

For me?

She smiled, it was angelic and he could have it ingrained in his memory forever. But he would also remember that this was also the loudest he ever heard his heart break.

It was a game of some kind. One that only existed between the two of them. Where she pushes, and he pulls then the next, he pushes and she pulls. On and on. The cycle refuses to break when the players themselves refuse to stop. The game slowly turned addicting, but perhaps it’s because his partner was simply bewitching.

Back and forth, their game of poisonous tongues.

Back and forth, he feels a little bit more alive.

Back and forth, although she drives him insane.

“Do try to keep up, I won’t be holding your hand through this, beast.”

“Touch me and your hand will be no more, witch.”

Back and forth, yet he returns all the same.

12th, 13th & 14th OF OCTOBER

~locked here for forever~

~treasure that needs no explanation~

~I know my destination, I’m just not there~

Wake up. Wake up.

You’re here again. Wake up!

Is there really no other way? I don’t want to wake up.

The feel of soft sheets caressed her cheeks, the smell of burning incense filled her nostrils, and a quietness that’s not normal in any way, devoid of the blowing wind, birds, people. She’d woken up and those eyelashes drifted open as they normally do, routinely, constant and never changing.

Here again. You’re here again.

Despite the creeping sensation of fear and the unexplainable erratic beating of her heart, a peaceful calm washed over her, like she shouldn’t feel afraid because nothing’s happened. Nothing’s happened yet.

Later. Later. The thought vanished as soon as it came.

The girl pushed aside the sheets, smaller hands gripping the blanket tightly as she placed a foot on the floor, trying to test its temperature. The coldness of it was still the same, she’d remember becoming numb after feeling it over and over again, a painful cycle that would repeat each and every day.

Cycle? And once again the thought was forgotten.

She slowly stood up and fixed the bedding, neat and tidy—the girl halted as something throbbed on the back of her mind, delaying her movements for a few seconds.

No. You never lingered there for too long.

Her body suddenly moved forward as if pulled by invisible strings and that calm from earlier returned without warning, and her mind just went blank. Feeling languid, the girl opened the door to the dresser and picked out the dress in the middle, the only dress, then went towards the mirror beside it.

The girl stared at her reflection, holding it against her body—it was a long white dress with a v-neck, the ends of it were piled on the ground, the sleeves were also long, stretching further beyond her hands—it was enchanting and the girl found herself staring dreamily at it.

The girl’s attention flitted to her face for a split second—

Blood was smeared across it.

The dress slipped and fell to the floor as the girl backed away from the mirror, tearing her gaze away from it as fast as possible because…!

She frowned and then eyed the dirtied dress sitting on the ground. Because what? Why was the dress on the floor?

“You’re out of it, Dahlia.” The girl said to herself as she pulled the dress close and dusted it off, “Today’s the day, there’s no time for nervousness.”

Dahlia quickly stripped away her previous clothes, because she was running late after all, and stepped into that white dress with ease. She smoothed a hand down and finally turned towards the mirror again.

Beautiful. It fit perfectly.

The girl twirled, watching the dress trail from side to side as giggles soon filled the silent room and she was twirling and twirling. When she caught sight of her horrified expression on the reflection, she froze and rushed to grasp the border of the mirror. Dahlia didn’t remove her eyes from it, etching every single detail into her mind.

“Who are you?”

The girl in the mirror opened those blood streaked lips and mouthed something.

“What?” Dahlia asked, not understanding the word that she said.

It kept talking, and talking, and talking. Repeating the same word.

Dahlia read those lips for a moment before mimicking its shape, “Wake…Up?”

“But I’m already—“ Something wet touched her feet.

Dahlia looked down and paled at the blood pouring out of the mirror, her eyes snapped back the reflection to find the girl on her knees, shoulders hunched over and trembling.

“W-what?” She said fearfully and started crying out, “Wake up. Wake up!”

Because she now understands, none of this was supposed to happen, the girl in the mirror and the blood. Nightmare. This was another nightmare. Dahlia fled back to the bed, jumping on it carelessly even if the blood-soaked dress stained it. Her hands pulled the sheets over her head, breaths coming in short and quick puffs as she forced her lids shut and waited.

And waited. And waited.

Wake up. Please.

The blanket was suddenly pulled from her and Dahlia screamed her lungs out—

“No! No!”

Strong hands gripped her arms and shook them, “Hey! Hey, it’s me! Valerie, it’s Valerie!”

Dahlia didn’t hear the familiar voice of her friend and continued to thrash from the hold, believing she’s still trapped in a nightmare. “Wake up! Wake up!”

“Dammit.” The grip eased and disappeared, but she still refused to see. If what awaits her were those faces, she’d rather go blind.

Unexpectedly, a soft, fur-like sensation tickled her hand. Dahlia registered the strange yet comforting feeling, and unconsciously opened her eyes.

Honey orbs greeted her. And when the girl looked at the source of the sensation, a tail was there.

“...Dahlia.” The shifter in front of her said firmly.

“Valerie...?”

“Yes, it’s me. It’s me, doll.”

Dahlia collapsed forward and Valerie easily caught the girl in an embrace, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The shifter hushed, “It was only a nightmare.”

“It’s only a nightmare.” Dahlia repeated the phrase, as she did like the nights before.

It’s not real.

Deny all you want. An ugly whisper wormed its way into her thoughts and Dahlia instinctively covered her ears.

You’re locked here forever. With us. With us.

No. No, that’s not true.

We’re still here.

And here, we are with you. Because we’re bound to you. And soon you’ll see.

WE’LL DRAG YOU DOWN.

Dahlia whimpered at the violent and manic voices shrieking, “...Valerie, my wand please.”

The shifter looked concerned and uncertain but reached over for the witch’s wand anyway and placed it into her waiting palm.

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” Dahlia said to Valerie who was about to make a comment, “The spell will help with the nightmares, I just won’t be dreaming again tonight.”

“You are pretty nifty with that thing, speaking from personal experience and all that.” The shifter weakly sighed and caved in, “Okay. Take care of yourself, I won’t be back for a while.”

“Leaving for classes?” Dahlia asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Goodluck tonight.” Valerie raised an eyebrow to which Dahlia simply offered her a tired smile in return, “And complain to me about how you get rejected once again by that Night Stalker of yours.”

Valerie’s lips curled upwards dangerously, “One day, you're going to eat your words, witch.”

With that said, the shifter shuffled towards the door, shooting Dahlia one final look before exiting and shutting the door with a soft click.

Dahlia dropped back on the bed, and stared at the ceiling for a couple of minutes. Relishing in the silence for she knows that the voices will shortly return, they never went away for too long and neither did they ever allowed her to have peace.

For as long as you live!

The witch ignored the resurfacing memory, and pointed the wand beside her head. And then finally, when ready, said the words of a spell.

. . .

They weren’t always that close.

In fact, their first impressions of each other were...dreadful. At best.

Who’d known that a shifter and a witch would have that much bad blood between them.

. . .

Valerie had been that one little kid that's always getting in trouble for being too curious for their own good, too nosy, too reckless—you’d think she’d leave that trait behind while growing up.

It didn’t.

Not even for a second. It stuck to her like a permanent scar. Still as fearless and daring as ever, never one to deny an adventure even those that had high risks. A small percentage of those were rewarding, but Valerie had to admit, most of them she would end up on someone’s shit list.

This was not an exception.

After all, it was her first time to see a wand up close, Valerie had barely contained her excitement. The other witches don’t use them anymore, it was old practice they’d said and then sent her off on her way.

When she heard that her new roommate was coming, she was beyond ecstatic. Valerie had half expected one of her own species, but it turns out, it was a witch. A human with magic powers!

Too curious for your own good, Val. The shifter thought as she sneakily picked up the wand on the witch’s desk. It was...an ordinary tree branch from which tree, she had no idea. It looks a bit worn. Well...To be very honest, Valerie was disappointed.

Wasn’t it supposed to be fancier?

She pouted and brought it much closer to her face, she didn’t know what prompted her to sniff it but—

The faintest scent of blood. Valerie eyed the wand critically before sniffing it again—the door opening was what made her freeze on the spot like a deer in headlights. The shifter cautiously turned around, forgetting that the wand was still in her hand.

The witch immediately spotted it and shouted, “PUT THAT DOWN!”

Valerie placed it down as quick as she can and started to explain, “Um, Dahlia, Dahlia right? I-uh listen, I was only…”

Dahlia was fuming, her left hand was clenched and bleeding from those sharp black nails of hers piercing the skin. Shoulders were shaking with rage and the shifter could see the storm building in her dark eyes, waiting to be released.

Valerie gulped, she really pushed her luck with this one.

All of a sudden, Dahlia stretched out a hand, barked a word and then the wand flew from her desk towards her open palm. Those fingers curled around the branch automatically.

Valerie’s jaw dropped at the marvellous display of magic and then instantly closed it, reminding herself that this was not the time and she should be—

“I’m sorry!”

Those dark eyes of her roommate hardened and hissed, “Don’t ever. Touch it.”

“Yes, I won’t.”

Surprisingly, the witch broke eye-contact first and shook her head, seemingly quite done with the shifter and turned to leave the room. Valerie let herself sigh in relief when—

Twisting back an arm, Dahlia launched a spell on the spot just a few centimetres away from where Valerie was standing. The shifter screamed as she jumped high in the air and ended up on the witch’s desk. Valerie’s eyes bulged out at the sight below her—the floor was cracked and something sizzled in the air—before sending the glare right back at Dahlia.

Her foot could have been that poor floor panel.

The shifter snarled, feeling fangs protrude out, “What the fuck?”

“Just a warning.” The witch said dryly.

“I said I won’t touch it!”

“People lie.”

“I fucking promise I won’t touch it, okay?”

Dahlia regarded her for a second, and then nodded.

“You’ll end up like that—“ she jutted a chin at the floor and Valerie shot her an unamused look, “—if you break your promise.”

The shifter held back a growl that was about to slip out of her lips and tried to get her breathing in control. This was her fault to begin with. Valerie sulked. She had to suck it up now she had a pissed off witch on her back.

Dahlia said nothing as her gaze slid down to her right hand that was holding the wand, unaware that Valerie was observing.

Valerie continued to watch as the witch’s orbs glossed over with an unreadable emotion, then replaced by fierce possession as if she wanted to hide it from the rest of the world and then the next was—hate. The shifter was surprised the wand didn’t combust into flames with how hard Dahlia had been glowering at it.

Although, Valerie could see that she valued the wand to a certain extent.

Like some twisted kind of treasure that needs no explaining. Just one look and it’s obvious---the witch was fond of it as much as she hates it.

Cursed.

One word stood out to her amongst all the others. The wand was cursed, Valerie would bet her entire fortune on it.

. . .

Like most things, she would come to underestimate it and how truly cursed it was.

. . .

Valerie found her roommate on the floor again—like the previous nights—kneeling and rocking back and forth. Sobs racking her entire body and shaking like a leaf in a storm. Her wand was nowhere to be found, she might’ve flung it somewhere in the room earlier.

Valerie briefly recounted the various incidents that have happened so far:

At first, it was the muttering---that incessant muttering of hers that would sometimes disrupt Valerie’s sleep since she had sensitive ears, given that she was a shifter. And then remembering a time being so pissed that she threw a pillow at her roommate. The act earned her a few hexes that lasted for days on end, she had to crash at someone else’s for a while.

Then came the sleep walking, which terrified Valerie on multiple accounts and would much rather have preferred the mutterings instead of being shaken awake by an unconscious Dahlia.

And now, nightmares had come to visit the witch and those were the worst of them all.

Valerie nearly, nearly had a heart-attack when she woke up to a blood-curdling scream in the middle of the night. At some point, it became intolerable that Valerie even had to switch classes just so she could avoid hearing Dahlia scream, because it was the kind of terrible sound that unsettles. A deep-seated disturbance that buries itself inside of you and doesn’t leave without its marks on your soul.

But if that was just from the cries, she’d shudder at the mere thought of what were the actual nightmares that plagued the witch.

However, these phenomenons become somewhat of a bridge for Valerie to befriend the troubled human.

Here we are again. Valerie thought as she left the warmth of her bed and towards Dahlia. She put a gentle hand on her friend’s back and stayed silent.

“I’m trying, Val.” Dahlia whispered and then curled herself further into a ball.

When the shifter opted to only listen, the witch continued to breathe life into her thoughts, “I’m trying to get better. I know what I-I should do, better than anyone else. I know where to start, where to go. I know my destination. How far—gods, Valerie, I know. But I’m just...not there.” Her voice cracked and Valerie’s heart shattered at the heaviness of it.

“I see the end, I really do. I can see...me being happy.” She laughed and nothing about it was humorous, “It’s like...I’m in the between. Stuck. Running in the same spot over and over again. And I don’t know why. Why? Why am I still here?”

“Dahlia...Look at me.” Those dark brown orbs flicked up to her and there she found the thing that gave Valerie the strength to fight the overwhelming hurt she felt for her dear friend, “I can see it in your eyes, you know? That you want to change, the drive to break free of whatever the hell that’s been clinging so desperately to your ankles, that’s why you try.”

“Why aren’t you there, you ask me...But doll,” Valerie gave her the brightest smile despite the tears in her eyes, ”I think you aren’t there yet. Yet. It’s the little things that count, the small yet stubborn belief to change a mindset. You aren’t there yet, but you will be. Keep chasing, no matter how tiring and exhausting, and if you truly see yourself happy in the end, just hold on to that hope, doll.”

“They haven’t taken you, Dahlia. You’ve got to remember that. You’re here. Here.” The shifter gestured her hands around their room, “With your shitty shifter friend,” Valerie pointed to herself. “It’s only us, you and me, no one else. The best those nightmares can do is knock you down—convince you that they still have control, but in reality they don’t because they’re not here.”

Dahlia burst into tears anew as Valerie looped an arm around her back and pulled the witch towards her. After a while of only sniffling and quietness, Dahlia soffly said, “...You’re not a shitty friend, Val.”

Valerie hid a smile, “I think so too, but hey, I’m glad you said it.”

The strange pair both laughed.

. . .

If those silly fairy tales that humans had written held at least some ounce of truth in it, she sincerely hopes that the part where there’s always a way to break the curse was true.

So that you can live happily ever after.

11TH OF OCTOBER

“Gabrielle!” Someone shouted her name in the middle of a busy corridor. A few heads turn towards the source but eventually minded their own business.

Gabrielle twisted to the side and looked behind her, seeing a familiar face waving an arm in the air, one of the limited pile of shifters whose company she’d actually tolerated and enjoyed.

“Benette.” Gabrielle casually greeted him when he finally reached her.

“Hey, fangs.” He shot back, waggling his brows while wearing a toothy grin. Gabrielle rolled her eyes at the lousy job of a nickname, cocking a hip and crossing her arms.

“What is it you want?”

“Straight to the point, huh? Normally, I’d waste some of your time but since class is about to start soon, I’ll make this quick. Someone wanted me to give this to you.” He pulled out a piece of paper from one of his pockets and handed it to her.

Raising an inquisitive brow, she carefully took the small paper and then glared accusingly at him, “I swear if this is another one of your god awful tricks—”

“No! No, nothing like that.” He quickly interjected, “Just doing someone a service.”

“And who would that be?”

Benette chuckled and winked, “Go and find out yourself. Oh and also—“ He passed by her, shoving Gabrielle’s shoulder playfully before he whispered,

“Congratulations!”

The girl stared at his back for a moment, and then redirected her attention to the note between her fingers. Brushing a thumb over the surface of the paper, she faintly had an idea on who it belonged, and then opened it,

The note ended with a kiss mark right at the bottom.

Gabrielle’s face flamed, from her neck up to the tips of her pointed ears, and then quickly pocketed the note, looking left and right to see if anyone’s seen it’s contents. Thankfully the crowd earlier had dispersed and there were only a couple of students lingering here and there.

Taking a deep breath, Gabrielle regained her composure and held back the urge to go search for that bold shifter of hers to—

That girl was going to be the death of her someday, she groaned and groaned again when a stupid smile grudgingly split her lips.

Extra: Her Side

“HEY!” Valerie screamed at the first person she saw out of her dorm room and ran up to them.

It was a human, a witch to be precise and one that she had never seen before. A freshman perhaps? Well, It doesn’t matter either way as Valerie instantly asked her a question, stepping into her space.

“Do you know Gabrielle O’Sullivan, a third year Night Stalker?”

“I...uh, I’m afraid not.” They squeaked out, eyes going wide.

“Well, she’s now OFF LIMITS.” Valerie pointed a finger at her, squinting her eyes a bit to look intimidating.

It seemed to work as the witch paled, “Um, I really don’t know her—“

“She’s my girlfriend.”

“O-oh? Congratulations?”

Valerie smiled and nodded as if she’s satisfied, “Thank you! And have a nice day!” The shifter chirped and then simply walked away like nothing happened. The witch made a mental note to change routes so that she won’t have to pass by here again.

EXTRA extra: here’s what Gabrielle looks like conceptually

(A/N: I feel a bit under the weather, sorry if this feels rushed. I really wanted to make this longer but lets settle with this for now. This explores the first stages of their relationship, as you can see Valerie is very affectionate. Also, another character was introduced, I may have about 6 more characters to show in this story. Look out for them! See yall next time! PEACE)

10TH OF OCTOBER

The shifter girl kept finding her, probably already had her scent down and was purposely showing up at the spots she frequented—for what reasons? She didn’t know. Was it troublesome? Most definitely. Even scaring her didn’t work, the girl would always bounce back and even more so determined. Her persistence was giving Gabrielle all kinds of headaches one can experience.

So, she figured to stalk the shifter one day.

Gabrielle blew off a stray hair as she crouched on a tree branch whilst hiding behind it’s thick foliage, providing a pretty nice hiding spot way above ground. She peeped through the small spaces between the leaves and silently observed the girl below.

The shifter was on one knee, inspecting something on the ground and then jerked her head up, seemingly sniffing the air around her.

Interesting.

Gabrielle had never seen a shifter do their version of a hunting, rather she more or less didn’t care at all what they did. Beyond curious, she leaned forward unconsciously and...

Creak.

The girl whipped her head around at record-breaking speed, eyes narrowing and glaring towards where Gabrielle was at. Her arm startlingly disappeared and luckily enough, Gabrielle managed to dodge the sailing projectile that appeared out of nowhere—did she throw a damn rock?—leaving a scratch on the tree’s surface.

Alarmed, Gabrielle shifted to another position—

and made the mistake of landing on a light branch.

SNAP!

Body lurching backwards, Gabrielle tried to stop the descent by grabbing anything she could reach but failed as her vision was momentarily blinded by the leaves. A shocked cry broke free from her throat.

And then—

What the…? I didn’t hit the ground, did I?

Gabrielle slowly fluttered her lids open, as if in a daze, and found herself staring at those glowing honey orbs that haunted her as of late and noted that they seemed much brighter tonight. Seconds after, she only now came to the realisation that both of their faces were only a couple inches apart.

Regardless of the fact, it still didn’t stop Gabrielle from dropping her gaze down to their lips. She didn’t know why they were so transfixing at that moment and at the same time a strange feeling surged in her veins, mimicking the strong impulse she gets before a feeding.

But she fed already so what’s this...hunger?

Those lips parted and a gentle purr followed, “Are you just going to stare or are you going to do something?”

Gabrielle blinked and then a mortified expression overwhelmed her features.

“You seem comforta—“

Gabrielle hauled ass out of those awfully sturdy arms and tumbled on the cold ground with the grace of a three year old.

“Crap!” Exclaiming in pain as she landed wrong on her arm, thinking she must’ve sprained it, all while trying to stifle her small and short grunts.

Please don’t notice. Please don’t say anything.

“HOLY!”

Great.

“Are you okay?” The shifter asked, going down on one knee again as her hands automatically reached forward to help but suddenly stopped and was just awkwardly waiting in the air, hesitant to touch her without permission.

Gabrielle brushed the gesture off and sat up, wincing a little as she cradled her hurt arm close to her chest. Meanwhile, avoiding the girl’s piercing gaze, that might as well leave a sizable hole if she didn’t stop, and felt her cheeks flame in embarrassment. She shut her eyes and fervently wished—someone please take her out of her misery—and kept quiet.

“Um…”

“Just leave me alone, Copper.” Gabrielle finally snapped, tired and humiliated, influencing her words that were much harsher than she had intended it to.

It seemed like forever when she thankfully heard the rustling of clothes.

“Open your hand.” Copper suddenly said and from her tone, she could tell the shifter was a bit miffed.

“Didn’t I tell you—“

Something hit her on the shoulder.

Confused, Gabrielle peeked at what it was and was left stunned to discover a white bandage roll, partially unraveled. Her eyes jerked upwards, a refusal for help ready on her tongue—because dammit she really didn’t want any of it—only for the shifter to...disappear?

What an enigma.

Gabrielle thought as she stared hard at the abandoned bandage on the grass and gradually picked it up, uncertain if she should use it or just leave it there.

She did tell her to get lost, at the very least—

Gabrielle decided she didn’t want to deny it anymore. It would be far too ungrateful, and besides, she really did need it.

Just this once.

. . .

Once became a few times and then a few more times, then a few times too many.

“Don’t you get tired of this?”

“Of what?”

“...Me.”

Copper only laughed and shook her head as if she found the question silly.

“I couldn’t stop even if I tried.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

After that, she started looking at her in a new light—a better one.

. . .

She’d surprised her yet again when Gabrielle found her at the top of a tall tree that looked over the gloomy lake just a distance from the academy. It was foggier than usual so the view wasn’t that great, but it makes you focus more on the moon though.

“I’m offended you didn’t tell me.” Copper pouted, swinging her legs to and fro, eyes never straying from the view.

“...You never asked.” Gabrielle pulled herself up the last branch and settled for standing, instead of sitting, beside the girl.

“From now on then.” Her voice was light yet showed signs of weariness, “I’d like you to keep a place for me.”

Bold. If there was one word to describe Copper, it would be safe to say that she’s very, very bold.

In fact, she’d mentioned it to her in the past on multiple occasions and the girl merely thanked her as if it was a compliment every single time. Perhaps now, Gabrielle can see that while it’s a particularly hard trait to deal with, it was also endearing.

At first, Gabrielle was unsure about letting her find out about the secret spots she liked to keep to herself and sometimes share with her twin—yet in the end, she agreed to it.

A tiny part inside couldn’t help but pick on Copper a bit though, “You’d invite yourself anyway, no matter what I answer.”

Her laugh rang pleasantly in the air, “Looks like I’ve done you in already.”

Perhaps she had, and Gabrielle had no idea.

. . .

“You’re late.”

She rolled her eyes, a cheeky smile shaping her lips. “I’m guessing you like keeping me on my toes, Gabrielle. This spot was pretty hard to find.”

“Losing your touch, Copper?”

“Shut up.” She grumbled, making the other one chuckle in amusement.

The shifter faced away, muttering under her breath about how the Night Stalker kind was dreadful company and went on and on and on. It brought a genuine smile to Gabrielle’s lips after hearing her familiar chatter. Although several seconds later, those chatterings stopped and the air was oddly silent.

“...Um, hey.” Copper’s voice was kind of subdued, speaking in a hushed tone all of a sudden.

The mood instantly sobered.

Raising her guard up, Gabrielle asked with pinched brows, “What is it?”

Copper didn’t reply right away. The other would have tried to read her expression but since her back was to her, she couldn’t see what face the shifter’s wearing now.

Then, softly she asked her a question.

“When will you call me by my first name?”

Gabrielle turned mute.

“You know what?” Copper suddenly blurted out loud, her sentence coming out shakily. “You talking to me is enough and I...I—forget I ever said anything.” The shifter was racking her brain for anything, any subject that she can steer the conversation towards even if it was abrupt—

“Would you like me to?”

Copper’s knees threatened to give out but forcefully pushed on as she turned around at a steady pace and finally met Gabrielle’s gaze, looking sheepish and hopeful and nervous and somehow all at once.

“Okay.” Gabrielle nodded calmly.

Still feeling like she’d forced it on her, Copper added and insisted at the last moment, “...You don’t have to. Copper’s fine as it is.”

Let’s just move on and...

“Valerie.”

Copper’s eyes bulged out, her jaw went slack and then promptly closed it, a rush going straight to her head and a pleasant feeling spread throughout her whole body down to her toes.

“Again, please.” She sounded small yet the request was bold.

Gabrielle decided to humor her as she leaned back against the tree trunk, “Valerie. Valerie. Valerie.” She repeated the name as many times as she wanted and then when her eyes swiveled back—

Those honey orbs shone. Brilliantly. Blazingly. They were simply mesmerizing and if she wasn’t careful, Gabrielle could mistaken them as jewels. As stars.

“You’re way too happy about this...” She broke off the eye contact, secretly trying to get her heartbeat under control.

Valerie laughed again and this time it lingered in the air, “You have no idea.”

. . .

You said to keep a place for you. And I did, I searched and I kept and then searched again and again until I ran out of places to give you.

So, tell me. Where else? Because surely you know that my heart’s already taken, so I cannot keep a place for you there if you have it wherever you are and wherever you go.

Then...how about you keep a place for me instead?

“I couldn’t stop even if I tried.”

Ah, so you have since the beginning?

. . .

EXTRA:

here’s some general info about what supernatural beings they are—

Night Stalkers aren’t strong but they’re incredibly agile and have swift reflexes, allowing them to surprise their prey. Although if they lose their element of surprise, they have to be very careful with their attacks because if they fail, their next movements should be ones that offer escape.

Essentially vampires, their eyes turn red in the night to adjust to the darkness but in the daylight, they’re normal eye colors. Other details to be specified later.

On the other hand, Shifters have two types: Full Shifters and Half-Shifters, the former can transform into their animal bodies while the latter can only adapt animal-like features and their movements, some are granted brute strength and are a fearsome kind to cross. But there exists peaceful shifters as well. Other details to be specified.

💖HAPPY BELATED INTERNATIONAL LESBIAN DAY💖

(A/N: oh wow, i had so much fun writing this, so much fun and I think the words just flowed in this one and my fingers were moving across the keys—okay um so! Yesterday’s prompt was about these two, and today’s prompt is all about how their feelings slowly evolved. It’s getting there, I would have loved to add in more scenes in this but it’ll be too long again so maybe next time! No art but maybe tomorrow? :> hope yall enjoyed this as much as I have, PEACEEE)

9TH OF OCTOBER

~is anyone there?~ ~oh, hi!~

spoiler: they get together and are very much in love.

(A/N: if you’re thinking supernatural lesbian couple—then yes, you’re thinking right. also they’re my ocs from a dark academia story I’ve been working on, they were originally created like almost a year ago but I never got to work on the characters yet. So this next few days will be fuuuun! Keep your eyes open for updates! PEACCEEE)

8TH OF OCTOBER

encounters and partings

PS: There will be frequent name changes in this, it’s because I determined which name should be used to fit the current situation. Besides that, ENJOY!

One of these parties again.

Yasemin shifted uncomfortably in her dress, it was a light champagne colour and it was pretty, too pretty for her liking though. A tap on her back made Yasemin pull back her shoulders, a smile already ready to greet new faces tonight. Her mother’s hand smoothly glided up from the middle of her back and came to settle on her shoulder, turning Yasemin to and fro, introducing their daughter to their beloved guests.

It was about two hours in when her mother gave Yasemin the signal to scram and she gladly withdrew herself from the tedious conversations.

She weaved through the crowd easily while keeping her head down and avoiding any stares. Yasemin can feel them looking, curious but not enough to stop her and make a conversation. The moment she slipped through a small crack in the door leading to one of the balconies, a loud sigh of relief escaped her lips and disappeared into the night. The girl ripped off the shawl on her shoulders none too gently and tossed it on the rail, wishing she could also tear off this damn dress.

Why is it so heavy? Yasemin grimaced and even more so when she squinted distastefully at the huge white pearls draped across her neck. If she could only…The girl shook her head profusely at the dangerous thought, though it would bring her satisfaction and also land her in trouble.

Not this time.

The girl leaned forward on the railing with her forearms and peered down the gardens. She moved to the side and bumped into one of the chairs laid out for their visitors, Yasemin slid to sit on it and closed her eyes. She jumped at the sound of a creak and a loud slam, Yasemin spotted a boy standing there with his back against the door. She concealed her surprise to see a kid around the same age as her. His blonde hair was lighter than hers, almost appearing translucent under the moonlight but his eyes were what fascinated her the most: deep bark brown and glacier blue. She didn’t want to exaggerate but for a second she thought an angel had come to visit her.

“...Hello?” She asked cautiously and when he didn’t reply, she was beginning to actually believe that he was an angel---until he opened his mouth.

“You’re fake.” 

Yasemin had never been so horrendously offended as her cheeks flushed at the accusation, “Excuse me?!”

7TH OF OCTOBER

“They want war?” Their mistress hissed under her breath.

“If so, I’ll personally deliver it to their doorstep.”

The young dancer watched as their normally aloof and cool-headed mistress walk towards her as if she was vengeance itself. Fatal. Unstoppable. It was a side she intentionally hid from them since it was usually reserved for underground business.

A stroke of fear caressed her skin and she let out a shaky breath.

The frightening woman now stood in front of her and placed a hand on the dancer’s shoulder, “No one leaves tonight until I come back.”

The dancer’s lip quivered, “T-then what about Sofia?”

Her mistress’ expression shuttered and then tightened her grip on her shoulder, “She’s family. She’s the reason for what’s happening tonight.”

“...But what if she’s dead?” The dancer couldn’t hold back a cry, a broken sound escaping her throat as fear wrapped it’s icy fingers around her heart.

Their mistress didn’t answer yet a second later, arms suddenly embraced the dancer, she squeaked in surprise but eventually leaned forward and accepted it.

“If we return without Sofia—“ The mistress slightly pulled back and gazed into her eyes.

“Then you all must carry on with the dance. We all must.” Her voice softened at the end, “For the memory of her.”

The dancer quietly nodded, understanding the risks that came with the job. Such as missing dancers, dead dancers—Everyone knows what happens behind the curtains, they were informed first before a deal was made.

Everyone knows what it sits upon.

Unconsciously, the dancer took a step back and pulled herself out of the embrace, her knees feeling weak thinking about what tonight will bring. Their mistress was silent again before she gave her a curt nod and turned away.

One thing’s for sure though, she thought somberly, it was without a doubt that whoever poor soul evoked her anger tonight—will die.

Another bitter thought crossed her mind as she looked at their mistress pull out something from one of the drawers. A glint of gold caught her eye. The mistress slid her gaze to the side and observed the dancer under her eyelashes, a sly smirk decorating her painted lips as she brought up a lone finger to them.

Shhh.

The dancer closed her eyes.

Don’t you hear it already? The heads rolling on the ground?

(A/N: only had time for drawing but no for writing ;-; anyways this is a very rough concept art for Yasemin, though i’m having fun sketching out all the details! ALSO i do have a short chapter for this but i’m still writing it regrettably, maybe i’ll post it tomorrow when i’m not busy again *sighs* see yalls PEACEE)

6TH OF OCTOBER

Boring.

In the past, the word would perhaps be used to describe her along with ordinary and simple. Mundane. However, someone upstairs must’ve heard those desperate prayers she would whisper in bed every night. They were always the same: Please this, Please that. Please. Please. Please. And maybe just for a little while, she could believe that her gray world would gain a colour or two, it didn’t really matter how many it’ll be.

Just enough to change. She hoped.

And change it did. She cried.

If I had known what awaited me, I would have been a bit more specific in my prayers because now—it was one colour after the other. No breaks nor warnings. Too much. It was just too much. The colours were already so muddled and muddied and unpleasant to look at—like the people around her.

There’s nothing to be proud about if she can say that her life isn’t boring. In fact, it was the exact opposite; eventful, full of twists but somewhere along the way, it had turned into a tragedy. A fairytale gone wrong and it still hasn’t reached it’s ending.

Yet lately, she’d been praying again like before. The habit stopped after she was forced into this lavish yet cruel lifestyle that some praised and killed to have. If she remembered correctly, it started with the familiar lines of Please this, please that. Except it was different this time.

It wasn’t Please, give me, it’s become Please, help me.

It wasn’t Please, let me, it’s now Please, save me.

She prayed for someone to take her away. Not to see the world like she wanted to as a child, but to escape from it because she’d seen how it truly is without it’s pretentious guise. And she wanted no part in it whatsoever lest the permanent colour of her world will forever stay red.

Please.

Whisk her away from this world she’d slowly grow to hate more and more, enough to make her feel sick everytime she pretends to live for another person. Fly out of bounds, somewhere distant that not one of these people can easily reach and pull her back. A place further than the universe, a place so far it doesn’t even have a name nor discovered, and then–then she can finally learn how to dream again.

Please.

“Yasemin? Are you still awake?” A soft voice called out, sounding a bit muffled under the thick blanket.

“Yes, Mother?” She replied as usual.

“It’s time.”

Please.

(A/N: Oh my god, i was really considering skipping today’s prompt cause I’m incredibly tired from classes but here it is I guess. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to draw NOR write today so it’s a bit shorter than usual. Anyways, this is one of the lady’s backstories from yesterday prompt, there’s a lot of parallels and idk im ready to fall asleep rn so im dreading tomorrow when i actually read it.

Also name reveal? But what does she mean by her life before?? Who knows lol, tune in next time for more. PEACCCEEEE)

5TH OF OCTOBER

This interview is going...suspiciously well. 

The reporter thought as they sat on a deep plum chaise lounge, ignoring the cold sweat running down their back--it was mere nervousness, that’s all--as they shoot a grateful half-smile at their interviewee: a young woman in her early twenties who apparently was the owner of one of the most famous, if not the finest, theatres in the city. She only acknowledged their smile with a small nod and then went back to sipping her drink. The reporter fidgeted on their seat, trying to shake off the feeling that something was wrong when the lady has been nothing but hospitable. Their eyes darted from the sparse furniture to the beautiful paintings and…

What in the hell is that wallpaper? Suppressing a shudder as they quickly glanced at the black squares dotted randomly across the four red walls of the room, feeling eyes on their back...

Clink. Clink.

“Do you have any more questions?” A low, smooth voice called out.

Storing that information for later, the reporter cleared their throat before clicking the button on the pen twice, releasing two click clacks--just to ease their anxiety--and skimmed the last few things on the list; internally groaning when they read the next question.

They decided to hell with it.

“What are you...most afraid of?” Their tone was surprisingly stable. 

But once the question left their lips, the air stilled and it seemed like time stopped with how the woman abruptly seized her movements. Wait, what happened? The ice cubes in her drink quietly clinked at the sides of her glass and that tiny noise seemed to put everything back into motion. A shift of clothes, and then...she finally moved. Now, she was casually leaning back in her own chair with one leg crossed over the other.

“...Take a guess.” The lady gestured the glass towards them, the amber liquid sloshing as she twirled it absently.

 “I—“ They paused, confused and---What was that? Did the question set her off?--- avoided her pointed gaze. The woman must’ve mistaken their silence as hesitation and took the initiative this time.

“Come on, I won’t bite.” She smiled, “If you don’t want me to.” They paled when she showed them her teeth. The lady only laughed at their reaction and took one more sip of her drink.

“Look, I don’t know how high of a pedestal you’ve put me on but I’m actually afraid of many things.” She started inspecting her polished nails, “They’re much more mediocre than you think.” 

When the reporter didn’t respond, she continued to speak, more than happy to feed their curiosity, “First of all, Heights, I can’t stand them at all. Spiders? Deathly afraid...Or maybe it’s insects in general but anyway---.” She started ticking off her fears one by one until the reporter managed to muster up the courage to ask another one of their questions.

“...Death?” They inquired, hopeful and also dreading for the answer. 

Please say yes. Please say yes.

It only got a crease in her brows. 

They just want to know if the rumours were true. That the theatre was simply a front while businesses nothing short of illegal was happening in the back. Crap, and if it is…They’re deep in the lion’s den now. They held back a curse. If it weren’t for the huge payroll, they wouldn’t be in this position in the first place.

“How morbid...” The woman huffed, pulling the reporter from their thoughts and snapping them back to reality.

Her eyes slid over to them in a lazy yet sharp manner and then made a face. It was as if she put on a mask and a barrier dropped behind her eyes, blocking anyone from seeing what they’re expressing. The reporter froze in their seat, wishing they could take the damned question back and make a run for it.

The barrier disappeared instantly and she was once again an open book, her expression was easy to identify—too easy—while she hummed low in her throat. 

“Death, huh?” She shook her head after a few seconds of contemplating and then placed the glass on the table with another resounding clink, uncrossed her legs and stood up.

“Unfortunately,” the lady sighed wistfully and straightened her coat.

Oh no. 

She winked at them before declaring, “I don’t fear it at all.” 

With just the snap of a finger, the double doors behind her burst open and two people dressed in matching suits marched inside. The reporter jumped to their feet, their stomach already churning nauseatingly at the alarming turn of events.

“What’s--?!” 

“Here’s one more thing you should write down.” Their eyes hastily zoned in on the woman and watched as one corner of her mouth twisted into a mocking smirk, framing her red lips beautifully.

“I’m afraid... that you’ve overstayed your welcome.” Your time’s up.

Meaning they’re going to die.

“WAIT! Wait, no, no, no please! Please, I don’t understand!” 

Their cries echoed in the room and the familiar sense of being watched pricked at the back of their head. The reporter felt the need to look around. They had to. Turning ever so slightly, they saw multiple silhouettes peeking out of the black squares, every single one was wearing two-piece suits like the two guards that entered earlier and...they’re armed. 

Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The trembling got worse.

“I almost forgot to answer your question.” The lady ignored the reporter’s pitiful pleas as she entertained a thought in her head, saying it like she would talk about the weather.

“Q-question..?”

“The thing I’m most afraid of is—“ Something akin to cruelty but much much darker, flashed across her eyes. “My enemies, naturally.” 

“Although, I make sure they’re already dead before they ever find out.” 

BANG!

It was the Pawns that came first and be purposely sacrificed and then the Queen will shortly follow.

“Sooo, what does a great woman like you fear?” Perhaps it was an innocent question the girl, barely in her twenties, in front of her wanted to know, or—entirely something else.

The woman tilted her head and observed her for an instant: her big lousy grin, her too-bright eyes, the abundance smell of expensive perfume and her left heel tapping in a fast tempo.

Her lips curved into a smile.

Time to knock down the Queen.

(A/n: ALAS! She’s finally here!! So, this oc of mine was created roughly two months ago and I even have a few sketches of her already but nothing too concrete so I’m really excited to finish a piece of her. Also, she DOES have a name and it will be revealed in later prompts but for a bit of context, she’s a not so nice guy, like a villain oc of sorts. She does illegal stuff under the guise of her ‘theatre’. Essentially, she’s an underground boss and she’s here to fuck everybody’s day up. Except her lovely theatre personnel.

I hope yall don’t mind the pronouns I used here, I think it’s an important representation to some people who use them. ;) )