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I will eat your ideas
- Thread starter mewtini
- Start date
Monoking
Let's all go to the festival!
Eh, suit yourself. I may write a story with scyther in it myself.
mewtini
sorry guys, don’t lose
- Pronoun
- she/her
TAKE IT
IT IS NOT TO MY STANDARDS
also does not exactly have an emo nor is it tragic but whatever
-----[untitled]-----
Daylight drifted through the window in the fragile, crumbling ceiling in the early hours of summer dawn, awakening many bodies, but specifically Stephen. A teenaged male, a misunderstood misfit...
--------------
Blankets and sheets swirled.
"STEPHEN! Wake up!"
Oh, where were the earthquakes when you needed them?
"Mmmnngh..."
A thick, torn up goose down quilt was thrown about by a mother to reveal her clearly tired, disgruntled son.*
Thin, lean, and tall Stephen grumbled deeply, attempting to savor the last warmth that remained in his night clothes. That warmth didn't last long enough.*
"Night, take a notepad out. I, a very humble and stupid person, would love it if you lasted just a bit longer," came the evenly pitched voice of Stephen as he reluctantly lifted off of the rickety mattress, one that would have been scrapped had it not been for his birth.
And so began the near daily morning rush of school preparations.
----(later on, arriving in front of the school)---
Stephen sighed as he jumped off of the high, jagged metal platform of the bus. He prepared himself for an endless myriad of insults.
Just after walking through the old doors with peeled paint of the school, a crowd of similarly aged people passed by Stephen in the halls, each individual throwing jeers at him. Swiftly, but somehow stiffly at the same time, Stephen flung open the door to a classroom numbered 119. As he took his seat, Stephen absentmindedly began to drink in all of his bland surroundings; twenty-some people around him in cheap plastic desks, a boring faded gray paint covering the cracking drywall of the room, a mouse brown haired woman standing in front of the chalkboard, the rhythmically ticking clock. Stephen eventually awoke to the teacher saying, "...And therefore, E=MC2," and to his leg tingling after being moved from inactivity. Limping out of the classroom, Stephen went through the remainder of his classes.
------------
Missing the bus, Stephen was forced to go back home as a pedestrian. Only a few minutes in, he thought he saw a faint, muscular, winged creature soar through the skies above him. "...I am in need of glasses," mumbled Stephen. Nearly home, the shadow of the same, robust beast seemed to have sharpened edges; it appeared to be gravitating above Stephen.*
Seconds later, a flash.
A blinding flash.
Stephen briefly fell unconscious, surreal. Awakening, he felt a strange sensation of becoming light, weightless, and carefree. Such emotion was an unknown feeling to Stephen ever since his early childhood.
------
The teen's past flitted through his mind.
He saw a small, dark haired boy joyfully playing with cardboard boxes. *The little boy stood up, and tripped, crushing his boxes; a large, tall man walked over. "Damn you, boy! You klutz, you failure!" boomed the deep, accusing voice. The boy stifled tears.*
Stephen's mind somehow savored the thought of ever having experienced joy. It refused to let go of the thoughts, and kept going.
A boy. A slightly older one, with magenta striped swimming trunks on, was walking around the rim of a swimming pool. A different kid walked over, and stood in front of the dark haired, magenta wearing boy. "Did your trunks get colored in the washing machine?" prodded the kid. "No... we just got them today," came the innocent response. "You girl!" laughed the other as he pushed the boy in between the legs, purposefully; the boy shrieked as he fell into the expanse of water. "You even scream like a girl!" the kid teased.
Stephen's subconscious snapped him out of the memories of youth. He focused instead on this strange, carefree feeling. As he looked down, he noticed that he was sitting on sandy colored, soft fur. "What?!" he thought. His eyes shifted involuntarily to look ahead of him; the sandy fur met with strange, pure white plumage at the neck. To the side were wings, flapping gracefully in the sky. Yep, wi—
Wait. Feathers?*
Wings?
Stephen gasped, and the great beast turned its head to face him. The head of an eagle. The sharp, yellow eyes with a direct gaze like a feline's. Stephen turned around himself to see a tail with thick fur at the end. What was this creature that made him feel so wonderful, so free? Stephen tore through his mind, trying to remember something of relevance.
"The griffin is a beast of legend, with the head and wings of an eagle and the body of a lion."
That was it. Good thing Stephen had paid attention for two seconds of history class.
The entity lowered itself and Stephen to the ground in front of Stephen's house gingerly, wings folded in. As he slid off the soft back, Stephen noticed the front door opening. His mother stepped out, hair softly tossed by the wind. The griffin faded into invisibility. "Stephen? Your teachers called and said you missed the bus, and that you had to walk home," Stephen's mother said.
"Yes, mom." As Stephen glanced behind himself, he saw the eye of the griffin close with an air of silent dignity.
Stephen had somehow been healed.
------------
it took like an hour. THOUGHTS?
IT IS NOT TO MY STANDARDS
also does not exactly have an emo nor is it tragic but whatever
-----[untitled]-----
Daylight drifted through the window in the fragile, crumbling ceiling in the early hours of summer dawn, awakening many bodies, but specifically Stephen. A teenaged male, a misunderstood misfit...
--------------
Blankets and sheets swirled.
"STEPHEN! Wake up!"
Oh, where were the earthquakes when you needed them?
"Mmmnngh..."
A thick, torn up goose down quilt was thrown about by a mother to reveal her clearly tired, disgruntled son.*
Thin, lean, and tall Stephen grumbled deeply, attempting to savor the last warmth that remained in his night clothes. That warmth didn't last long enough.*
"Night, take a notepad out. I, a very humble and stupid person, would love it if you lasted just a bit longer," came the evenly pitched voice of Stephen as he reluctantly lifted off of the rickety mattress, one that would have been scrapped had it not been for his birth.
And so began the near daily morning rush of school preparations.
----(later on, arriving in front of the school)---
Stephen sighed as he jumped off of the high, jagged metal platform of the bus. He prepared himself for an endless myriad of insults.
Just after walking through the old doors with peeled paint of the school, a crowd of similarly aged people passed by Stephen in the halls, each individual throwing jeers at him. Swiftly, but somehow stiffly at the same time, Stephen flung open the door to a classroom numbered 119. As he took his seat, Stephen absentmindedly began to drink in all of his bland surroundings; twenty-some people around him in cheap plastic desks, a boring faded gray paint covering the cracking drywall of the room, a mouse brown haired woman standing in front of the chalkboard, the rhythmically ticking clock. Stephen eventually awoke to the teacher saying, "...And therefore, E=MC2," and to his leg tingling after being moved from inactivity. Limping out of the classroom, Stephen went through the remainder of his classes.
------------
Missing the bus, Stephen was forced to go back home as a pedestrian. Only a few minutes in, he thought he saw a faint, muscular, winged creature soar through the skies above him. "...I am in need of glasses," mumbled Stephen. Nearly home, the shadow of the same, robust beast seemed to have sharpened edges; it appeared to be gravitating above Stephen.*
Seconds later, a flash.
A blinding flash.
Stephen briefly fell unconscious, surreal. Awakening, he felt a strange sensation of becoming light, weightless, and carefree. Such emotion was an unknown feeling to Stephen ever since his early childhood.
------
The teen's past flitted through his mind.
He saw a small, dark haired boy joyfully playing with cardboard boxes. *The little boy stood up, and tripped, crushing his boxes; a large, tall man walked over. "Damn you, boy! You klutz, you failure!" boomed the deep, accusing voice. The boy stifled tears.*
Stephen's mind somehow savored the thought of ever having experienced joy. It refused to let go of the thoughts, and kept going.
A boy. A slightly older one, with magenta striped swimming trunks on, was walking around the rim of a swimming pool. A different kid walked over, and stood in front of the dark haired, magenta wearing boy. "Did your trunks get colored in the washing machine?" prodded the kid. "No... we just got them today," came the innocent response. "You girl!" laughed the other as he pushed the boy in between the legs, purposefully; the boy shrieked as he fell into the expanse of water. "You even scream like a girl!" the kid teased.
Stephen's subconscious snapped him out of the memories of youth. He focused instead on this strange, carefree feeling. As he looked down, he noticed that he was sitting on sandy colored, soft fur. "What?!" he thought. His eyes shifted involuntarily to look ahead of him; the sandy fur met with strange, pure white plumage at the neck. To the side were wings, flapping gracefully in the sky. Yep, wi—
Wait. Feathers?*
Wings?
Stephen gasped, and the great beast turned its head to face him. The head of an eagle. The sharp, yellow eyes with a direct gaze like a feline's. Stephen turned around himself to see a tail with thick fur at the end. What was this creature that made him feel so wonderful, so free? Stephen tore through his mind, trying to remember something of relevance.
"The griffin is a beast of legend, with the head and wings of an eagle and the body of a lion."
That was it. Good thing Stephen had paid attention for two seconds of history class.
The entity lowered itself and Stephen to the ground in front of Stephen's house gingerly, wings folded in. As he slid off the soft back, Stephen noticed the front door opening. His mother stepped out, hair softly tossed by the wind. The griffin faded into invisibility. "Stephen? Your teachers called and said you missed the bus, and that you had to walk home," Stephen's mother said.
"Yes, mom." As Stephen glanced behind himself, he saw the eye of the griffin close with an air of silent dignity.
Stephen had somehow been healed.
------------
it took like an hour. THOUGHTS?
Monoking
Let's all go to the festival!
Monoking
Let's all go to the festival!