Batman and HellsingBatman and Hellsing18 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
chapter 3: a meating with the dark knigt
seras victora was patruling outside when she meet another woman. this woman was dressed as a clown and was talkig in the phone, seras thougth that was wierd but she sneaked up on her and said:
seras: hands up!
harley : yices! who are you??
seras: that's not importnant! you are on a forbiden area! who are you!
harley: i,m harley quinn! the companion and bride of the joker!!!
herley: well me and my boss is after this hellsing lady and...oh darn i said to much...
seras: what are you planing to do with my master?? awnser me or i kill you!
harley: okay, do we have to do it on the easy way or the hard way?
seras: " pull the triger"...
harley: it is gonna to be the hard way.
then the figth between seras victoria and hareley quinn started. seras tied to get a clear shot but harley was all to fast and she had some weapons as well. not far away batman was on harley on the traks and he saw that s
30 'Days' Of Character Development - Saerianna1.What position does your character sleep in?30 'Days' Of Character Development - Saerianna22 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I can imagine 'Ria moves around a lot in her sleep but she'd likely be spread starfish across the mattress.
2.Does your character have any noteworthy features? Freckles? Dimples? A scar somewhere unusual?
From her neckline to her toes, she is covered in faint burn scars. Other than that, she looks like a typical noble Blood Elf, tan skin, blonde hair etc.
3.Does your character have an accent? What does it sound like?
She just sounds very proper but there's no accent tbh.
4.Do they have any verbal tics? Do they have trouble pronouncing certain words or getting their thoughts across clearly?
No to both. 'Ria is very direct and if she doesn't like something, she'll usually tell you unless she's dressed in her Blood Knight Master's garb, then she tends to remain composed.
5.What are their chief tension areas?
Any of the areas that she's scarred in. As for what sets her off, arrogance. To her, being of noble blood doesn't make you any more of a
Without Valour 02Hours pass into days and Tyrael spends a lot of time in his little room on Sanctuary trying to use what meagre magic he has left to pick up any trace of the missing Archangel. He finds only nothing. His loss of power makes it worse.Without Valour 022 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Auriel decided to allow several troopers to stake out the portal, switching them every now and then. She seems to have taken charge of Heaven since Malthael is no longer able to and so far… she seems to be able to carry the weight. She hadn’t asked Tyrael to stay nor stopped him from leaving when hunger pains arrived. Still, he hadn’t wanted to leave. Itherael isn’t the most decisive Archangel.
Also a cause of worry is the fact that sometimes the portals dropped by Planewalkers don’t always stay open. If they closed, they can’t be opened again.
He is no stranger to such intense pressure. Justice came with it after all. But between the situation with Malthael, Lorath’s insistence that something terrible is in the are
Three of a KindYellowred was April's hair as it tangled further in the wind. Amber was her mother May's mane as it whipped to and fro in the gusts. Ash-grey was elder matron June's chevelure as its ends tickled the air. Similar in hue were the autumn leaves as they danced about the earth.Three of a Kind15 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Where are we?" asked April; she of all three didn't know. May smiled, but June cast a gimlet eye on her grandchild.
"Do you mean to tell me," she squawked in the voice of a hen, "that you mastered the art of teleportation before you learned technique of telesthesia?" As her grandmother said this, she gesticulated violently. After all, teleportation was pell-mell and unpredictable, and one shouldn't learn to swing a sword before learning to control it.
April giggled, then stopped immediately after she watched her mother imitate her grandmother's face, frozen in cold boredom. When June was cold, that's when you were really on her bad side. The young woman intuitively stood up rigidly and cleared her throat.
A Kind of Fountain"Are you sure you're going to be okay, Dad?"A Kind of Fountain15 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Mr. Phil Morris, age eighty-eight, sat on the bench of a certain park on a perfectly sunny summer day. Usually an affable man, presently he scowled in silence as he listened to his oldest son patronize him. Perhaps, he thought, he hadn't disciplined his children hard enough for them to know when to respect his moods.
"Mm-hm," he mumbled, just loud enough to be heard.
"All right, here's Sherry's cell phone. You know my number, right?"
Phil merely nodded. Born in an age when cell phones had long replaced landlines, he was quite familiar with most modern devices. His son and daughter-in-law walked over the grassy hill to the pavilion, where the erst of Morrises were, eating burgers and talking football. It had been his idea to take some time to himself.
The old man stared numbly at the playground. It was vacant and stared emptily back at him. He knew his grandchildren were playing games, but not the same kind he played when he was much younger.
ElflocksMy name's Angie. For over a year now, I've had an itch on my head that has proven itself implacable. I've tried shampoos, conditioner, etc. Hell, I've even tried peanut butter. At first my mom screamed lice, but, upon closer inspection, the doctor found nothing.Elflocks15 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
And then the voice came. It was squeaky and spoken with a strange accent. It tells me to do things I have no interest in doing—dangerous, icky things. Every now and then I hear a buzzing sound, very faint but just loud enough to rise above my threshold for annoyance.
The thing in my hair—the one that speaks in such foul language—told me it was a fairy. It told me that it had found me in the woods and that my woolly hair had made the perfect nest. I would've believed that an alien, but a fairy—well, fairies are for kids. Nevertheless, with each passing day, I learned to take what the creature said to me very literally.
I knew—both of us knew—that I couldn't get help; not unless I wanted to liv