The trainwreck continues. Collab between me and Sukiru, Year 3 will be posted by him.
Dean just stared as the man yelled, “Call 911, hurry!” at him. The man ran around to the front of the car mumbling in a panic, both men were completely stunned when an unblemished little girl simply pried herself free of the wreckage.
The Trainwreck has arrived. A colab between me and Coyo, Edited by Coyo, Year 2 will be posted by him.
Furious steps stormed through the manor’s backyard, a path slithering across a few other buildings. Light steps rushed on, those of a few rat girls with far too few things in their hands, chased by an enraged kikimora holding a broom ready to impale. The demeanor of the rats betrayed the development of the situation,…
Disclaimer: This is not one of my best pieces of writing and in hindsight is a bit cringe. I wanted to try something a bit different with the Christmas format while also including some references to my other works, but the end result isn’t up to my usual level of quality. For many people Christmas…
A knight’s work is never done. When his Queen is taken, a brave warrior must enter a dungeon full of dangerous monsters in order to rescue her. Along the way, he will have to defend himself against vicious foes such as a Hellhound, a Minotaur, and an Echidna, but what awaits him at the end might not be what he expects. Written for the Winter Writing Event.
Another commission. A futa hellhound and a youthful anubis.
I don’t have a name. My kind never really lived long enough to ever need one. We tell each other apart by our scars. I have lots of scars. Too many, really. I am a Hellhound. I have a silver tail. I have eyes like rubies and claws like obsidian. I don’t have a home. I don’t have a future. I don’t have any hope left in me.
Your worship is lain before the alter of violence. Your creed is the crimson cure that wets your claws once your ire is called forth, it takes form in the scorn of ruby that drips from your lips. Hell hath no fury like that of the hounds who take genesis from its name.
Hellhounds do not share. Or, at least, they do not share willingly. That being said, you stand here with this damned Griffon looking down at you as if she were somehow better than you for reason of simply existing. Your claws itch your fangs grate, Tyrian pulls at your skirt and dries to get you to back down and make peace. The only peace that will be had, is the pieces of her corpse by the time you are finished with her.