forum The last outburst your character had
Started by @tay_sweetwriter group
tune

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@tay_sweetwriter group

i'll start: Casimir: Vexation

Fighting was unrelenting, fists crashing into fists, bruising. I could hardly feel it.
I smashed my knuckles into the bag hanging from the ceiling, sweat dripping down the back of my neck and in between my shoulder blades, my black hair was wet and sticking to my forehead.
"Screw you" I shouted, my head snapping backwards as the bag hit my chin. I grimaced with the impact, the rough material scraping off a layer of skin. Blood dripped down my neck.
“Do you honestly trust this insanity?” Lorcan jested.
Odin chuckled lowly, wiping the sweat from his brow, “Do we have a choice? Coach made him the captain and there ain’t nothin we can do about it”

@Starfast group

Mine's pretty short, but anyways here's one starring Keyla and Ravina:

“Ok, I understand,” Keyla said. “He’s probably worried because of everything that’s happened to us. But what about the rest of you?” She kicked at a pile of sand. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why do you think that the Arribeans are going to go after a couple of random Faralis? I’m sorry, but Merala was killed last for a reason! No one’s afraid of you!”
Keyla regretted her words as soon as she said them. She could only stand back, as Ravina proved her wrong in a fraction of a second. She almost felt more at ease sitting one seat away from Valder than she was right now as Ravina’s expression shifted to a fiery glare.
“Listen to you,” Ravina seethed through a clenched jaw. “You must be getting along well with the Arribeans, since you’re beginning to sound just like them. How dare you! You have no idea- no idea what Merala sacrificed for us!”
Keyla instinctively recoiled, stepping back from Ravina. “I’m sorry,” she murmured awkwardly.
“I certainly hope you are,” Ravina huffed. She paused for a moment, clasping her hands behind her back. “Just so you know,” she added, “It’s Garzlan that I’m worried about, not me.”

@sheabutter group

Oh, you want an outburst?? Here's my mans Jordan:

Osman turned, shielding his face from the rubble that came crashing down around them. Within no time, the large building that Jordan had spent his entire childhood in was in ruins. Director Osman slowly looked up, coughing as the dust cleared.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. Jordan felt a laugh bubble in his chest and tear its way from his throat, coarse and raw and crazy. He turned to face Osman and doubled over, still laughing.

“Isn’t it gorgeous, Director?” he asked finally. He stood fully and turned wildly, his arms wide. “Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?!”

“How did you…how can…”

Jordan was still laughing like a maniac, his eyes a blazing void of black. “Turns out, I’m more powerful than I gave myself credit for!” The purple fire of Jordan's power began turning the same black as his eyes and Osman took another step back, nearly tripping over some of the debris. Jordan continued. “Turns out, as long as my intention is to cause harm or destruction, I have no limits!”

Another sound crawled its way into Jordan’s throat, but instead of laughter, he sobbed. Tears trailed down his cracked skin and when they dripped to the ground, Jordan could see the inky color of them. He wiped his eyes quickly.

“Now, Director…” Jordan turned back toward him, his burning gaze staying on Osman. “We both must pay for what we’ve done.”

@Dragoncita group

So many I have…so many to choose from…

We'll start with Lucernas (A Holy Dragon), poor boy having a mental breakdown and reliving his past life for a few moments


"Shut up," his voice was a choked snarl.

He felt his hands tremble as he tried to keep hold of the handle of his glaive. Once bright red eyes were swirling to a stormy blue. Flashes of past memories, the few he had, when just a chick.

Why, why now was this happening?

A flash past his eyes…he was in the nest again, hearing screams and roars echoing all around the cave. Lucernas lifted his small head, watching in horror as the blazing form of his father ran forward, taking the death-blow that had been meant for his mother.

Another roar, one of pain and grief. His mother stood close to the nest, lashing out with her claws as the humans continued their advance.
Lucernas felt his mouth open, wanting to cry out, to warn his mother of the threat he knew was coming. The male watched, eyes wide as a barrage of spectral spears pierced through his mother's purple scales with ease.

He felt his legs buckle underneath him, a clang as he dropped his weapon to the ground. Lucernas gripped his head, his eyes a swirling blue, shining as he felt a burning sensation grow behind his eyelids. More and more he seemed to revert back, reliving the past, the final moments…

His legs were so small then, struggling to run away. Running, so desperately trying to escape. Lucernas found himself in a corner, turning around to face the growing mass of shadows. Faces of anger, loathing, eyes burning with hatred glaring down at him.
What had he done? He couldn't do anything…
The dragon chick watched, a shimmer of a blade raising high above his head. His mouth opened…then silence…

"M-m-mama…mama help…"

Lucernas had curled up into a fetal position, body trembling uncontrollably. He seemed so much smaller suddenly, a pair of wings folding around his body, tail curled tightly between his legs. His hands clutched around his horns as he started to whimper, tears rolling down his face.

@PrettyLittlePyro

( @Dragoncita, that gave me shivers.)

Don’t think about those things, Lian told herself. You’ll only regret it.

But she had thought about it. And the dam that she had held up was so, so close to breaking, to letting all of these unwanted emotions come to the surface.

Lian Maravelli. Get a hold of yourself, unless you want to break down crying here, where everyone can see. Wait.

Wait.

This time, when she got back to her “very nice prison cell,” she didn’t bother to make food or grab a snack, as she usually did on any other day. She went straight to her room and threw herself on her bed.

She didn’t cry, though. Even then she was aware that there was a person in her house.

She hated crying in front of people.

She lay with her cheek on the pillow and her eyes closed, breathing deeply and slowly. All the emotions she had been holding back rose to the surface, and she used her breathing to keep them at bay.

She wasn’t going to cry.

She curled up in a ball and breathed evenly, fingernails clenched into her palms, so that they drew blood. Pain always helped her keep her emotions in check, and maybe it was masochistical, but she didn't care anymore.

She was so tired.

There was a gentle knock at her door, and she heard someone enter. It was Ashriel. “You okay?”

She sat up, glad that she hadn’t cried. “Yeah. I’m just tired. How are you doing?”

“Cause you’re fooling anyone with that,” he commented.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine,” she snapped, and then realized that that wasn’t helping her case at all. “I promise, I’m okay,” she said, softer.

“You look like you want to punch something.”

“I do,” she said. She glanced down at her hands and slowly opened them, half-startled to see tiny rivulets of blood coming from where she had accidentally punctured the skin. “Would you look at that,” she said, smiling tiredly. “I actually broke through the skin. That’s a first.”

@trainwreck404 group

why is all my good writing from the side story where I killed everyone off

“We…we lost them both. I just thought…” They loudly sniffed, clearing their throat. “I thought that if we couldn’t save Peter…we could at least save Logan, but apparently not. She’s…goddammit, my FUCKING doppelgänger, she’s everything I’m not and I never want to be, which is the whole damn point, but dear god, we lost them both to her, that fucking bitch.”
“They’re not completely lost,” Dean reassured.
Simon looked at him and shook their head. “You saw Peter. He’s not our Peter anymore. And this is me saying this. He was awful but she’s warped him into something so much worse. And Logan…she won’t let him leave her again without hurting someone else. We would probably hurt him more if we tried to get him out again. Which makes me feel so fucking helpless…"

@requiemisback language

hoo boy… it's killian time-


"My Stand reigns supreme after all," Killian said as the commoner fell to the ground, their chest now bearing a large hole within it. "I suppose it's only fitting that I earn the spot on top. After all… my will to conquer is almost overwhelming, isn't it?"

Luca and Giorno, both having stood witness to the commoner's fall from grace, approached Killian. "Killian, what- What have you done?!" Luca cried out, watching as the pool of blood beneath the peasant steadily grew.

Killian let out a sinister cackle before responding, "The natural order has chosen me, Luca. It has chosen me and nobody else but. Again, I suppose it does fit rather well, given my Stand abilities. I have only the strongest incentive to complete my tasks for the one who ordered it, eh? The only one who could possibly stand in my way now is God. And even He could not begin to fathom my extravagant powers."

"You're no better than Diavolo, you pezzo di merda…" uttered the injured Giorno. "Your 'incentive' is but that of a copycat, and the person you chose to copy has died under similar pretenses. Is it that you wish to go out the same way he did, or do you have motivations unlike his?" Killian took a step back when this was said, nearly stumbling over the body he'd left laying in his walking path. He was shaken up by the mention of Diavolo, but at the same time… he could not afford to crumble beneath this weakling. Not now, not ever. He wasn't going to let himself fall apart on any terms besides his own.

Luca let go of Giorno, and his wounded father began to limp towards the enraged Killian. The bloodlust in the air was strong, nearly becoming too much for both Luca and Giorno to bear, though Giorno was better off than Luca, given that he'd faced this same bloodlust before. "He's your father, isn't he?" Giorno asked Killian. "It's only sensible that you'd take your incentive from the hands of the very person who died while trying to hold it up. You're continuing a legacy, and that legacy indeed seems to be a troubled one." Killian would not let this kid stand in his way of glory. He was not going to defend himself in the name of this 'broken legacy', as Giorno put it, and let it collapse from underneath him. Victory was in plain sight, and he would not, under any circumstances, let it slip from his grasp. He was so close to earning his top spot in the Venezian hierarchy, and he wouldn't just stop there either. No, no. He was on course to rule the world, and given his powers there was no stopping him. It was as if God himself, his fated rival, had gifted him with the power to claim the glory his gifter once had. And it was about time, too. He no longer saw the use in whatever God was out there, and like it or not, he was going to overthrow them all and become King. No, not King… The way Killian saw it, he was going to be the new God.

@Becfromthedead group

TW for slight self harm, panic attack, and uhhh I think that's it tbh.
Now the better question is who isn't having a godawful time in this scene?

Aurelius let out a sharp exhale and went to the edge of the brush. He was shaking too. He could hear Galen singing to the kids. The man had a nice voice, and it would’ve been soothing, maybe even uplifting, if Aurelius wasn’t so inconsolable right now. He scratched at one of his arms, just out of habit, leaving only thin white marks this time. Aurelius was scared. Frustrated. He’d had to relive a horrible event. It wasn’t exactly the same, but still. It was more than enough to reignite some terrible feelings within him.
Aurelius closed his eyes and closed a grip onto his forearms to stop from scratching himself. He forced himself to take deep breaths and focus on what he could perceive with each of his senses. He felt the air flowing into his nose and back through his throat, and his feet firm on the earth. He smelled traces of sweat and smoke, both acrid and almost choking to him. He tasted the remnants of herbs on his breath. Aurelius’ senses wandered back to sound. There was Galen’s tenor voice. Then there was something else: the faint sound of harsh breathing.
Without thinking and without warning Galen, Aurelius emerged from hiding to find the source. To his left, about thirty feet away, there was a dragon and a young man. The dragon was curled up around the guy as he was hunched on all fours, struggling for breath. Aurelius didn’t even bother to scan the area for other enemies and rushed ahead.
“Hey, hey! Are you okay? I’ll get my friend to-.”
“Hush, now, child. He’s just having a panic attack. No need for so much concern,” the dragon replied.
Aurelius bent down next to him and put a firm hand on his back. He could not see the man’s face with the way he was hunched down and had dark curls obscuring his brow and eyes.
“You’re safe, you’re safe,” Aurelius soothed, trying his best even though he had almost no experience with things like this, “It’s going to be okay, just breathe with me…”
The man tried, taking in a few shuddering breaths with Aurelius, but ultimately reverting to the hyperventilation from moments earlier.
“S-sorry… sorry… that didn’t work…” Aurelius murmured, “Just ride it out. Everything’s going to be alright. I know this whole thing is terrifying, but you’re okay now.”
“Aurelius? What’s going on?” Galen called, starting to approach.
Aurelius started to answer, but Galen suddenly went rigid.
“Aurelius. Get the fuck away from him. He’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous? He can’t even-”
“Aurelius. Now. I know this guy.”
Galen drew his weapon, and Aurelius drew his, ready to block.
“He’s vulnerable. Don’t touch him,” Aurelius snarled.
The man choked out a few words, but they were almost indistinguishable.
“I- can… explain…”
“Galen, I don’t know who he is that you want him dead, but he says he’s got an explanation. Give him that.”
Galen lowered his weapon, but not by much.

By the time the man had ridden out the attack, Galen had his axe to his throat.
“Alright, Darkstrider. Spill it, or I’ll spill your guts,” Galen threatened.
There was no mercy in his stance or his eyes. He had no intent to let the other out alive.
“Galen… I… I’m so sorry… I’ve been under coercion for years… I…”
“Smells like bullshit,” Galen hissed, pressing his blade closer to his throat, “What brings you here, Cyrus? And what brought you to our hometown to kill innocent people?”
Cyrus was shaking so hard, he looked like he might easily fall back into his previous state of panic.
“You know my father…” Cyrus whimpered, “You know what kind of person he was. I couldn’t escape! He took me with him to start up this whole thing!”
Galen’s grip on the weapon loosened barely.
“Galen, you need to calm down. You’re hardly getting anything like this.”
“Like hell I’ll calm down. You tried to kill your traitor. I’ll try to kill mine.”
“N-no… listen…” Cyrus muttered, “I want out so bad… I can help the effort to stop this- in fact, I will. I just… need you to believe me…”
“You killed innocents, Cy. You killed them. And now we’re here. Do you think you deserve mercy in this moment?”
“If that were all true, no.” Cyrus’ voice grew a bit stronger, though a tremor still sat underneath it all. “My father put this- this whole thing together. I was forced to be here. I didn’t hurt anyone unless they came at me. Gods as my witness.”
“Aurelius. Put him down for me, would you? I don’t want this one’s blood on my hands,” Galen scoffed.
Cyrus lowered his gaze and sighed.
“Galen, I think he might be telling the truth. You’re blinded by anger.”
“And you’re blinded by naivety.”
Aurelius grabbed the axe handle, trying to push it towards Galen and get the blade away from Cyrus. Galen pushed back, his teeth gritted. Aurelius’ injured arm started to burn.
“Stop it!” he cried, “Please just stop it!”
By now, Cyrus had backed up some. Aurelius turned to look at him. He expected a look of pure fear, but his brow was furrowed, more with frustration and sadness.
“Galen… I don’t really… I don’t care that much if you kill me, but- but… come on. You’re upsetting your fr- your friend here,” Cyrus stammered.
Galen lowered the weapon. “Fuckin’… fine… But don’t think for a second I trust you. I still haven’t made peace with anything that happened. It doesn’t have to be now, but I want you to explain everything.”
Aurelius reached a hand out to help Cyrus up. Cyrus took his hand and stood up. He was tall. Aurelius figured he had nearly a foot on him, and felt a bit intimidated. Yet, his presence was so strangely unimposing.
“I’m going back to the kids,” Galen murmured.
Aurelius glanced over to see that he was gasping a little. Probably feeling a little sick again. After all, the air was heavy and thick with smoke, and that seemed to be something that particularly made him unwell.
“Galen-” Aurelius and Cyrus called after in unison.
They exchanged glances, but shifted their attention back to the other man.
“What?” Galen snapped, “I’m fine. I’ve got everything under control.”
He disappeared behind the form of Nox, leaving the other two behind.