━━ ❝story corner

[lisica,]

let's see if i remember this one exists
hello! this is just going to be a collection of short stories
or poems that come to mind. please don't post here, just
bookmark if you want to read more please. thank you! <3


punctuation isn't awful I promise, lowercase is intended in most of my writing!

[lisica,]

wide, buff paws, pattering to a stop against the damp soil. tall, skinny build, framed against a deep cave. wide, amber orbs, wide open with anticipation. this was the battlefield for beestorm. the danger, the nerves-- these are what the tom thrives on. beestorm let himself feel satisfaction when he saw his friend, bumblebreeze teach a grey and white she-cat a lesson. he was certainly hopeful for earthclan, but most of the rogues were putting up a fair fight. he was dying to know who'd win.

a male of dark ginger fur comes into view; pacing the dark clearing nervously. beestorm takes the opportunity. coming from nowhere, he grabs the cat's back paw by his jaw, crimson red blood flowing out from the gash he had caused already. the cat lets out a yowl. beestorm's grip tightens. he knew he had already won, that this wasn't helping his clan, but he continued out of pleasure. it wasn't until a muscular grey tom shoved beestorm by the shoulder, sending him flying to the ground. the pale cat shows his teeth, ready to fight again, when he recognized the stocky build as his older, more 'mature' brother, slatestar. "leave it," he growled, clearly seeing how much damage his sibling could have caused. "he's wounded, yeah? won't be fighting anymore. well done but leave it."

beestorm would have loved to argue, but a pale ginger molly was creeping up behind his brother and leader. "slate, watch!" he snapped, albeit a heartbeat too late. the she-cat had the grey tom pinned down, but slatestar, with moons of training behind him, managed to gather all his strength to shove her off. reassured he would be okay, beestorm whipped around to see one of his kits, blossompaw, cornered by a young white rogue. for a moment fear paralyzed the tom and slithered down his spine, threatening to overwhelm him.

a pained shriek from blossompaw brought him back to the battle field. immediately the tabby ran at the white cat and with all his energy barged him from the side, winding him. as beestorm turned around, a tuxedo tom leapt with claws and teeth bared, and landed square on the deputy's shoulders, slamming him into the ground. he felt most of the impact on one of his hind legs; a pain like no other in his right paw, crawling up his leg and settling near his spine. he let out an ear splitting yowl -- well aware he'd be lucky to escape now without any broken bones. all beestorm could see - see, feel, and taste - was complete agony. the tom was showing no mercy, and all the injured cat could do was blindly thrash and claw. he got nothing more than a tuft of fur off his enemy. a powerful kick to the stomach had him keeled over - beestorm knew that was a bad move. even before the killing bite he knew he had no chance of survival. he heard the own snap of his neck, blood rising from his chest into his throat and drooling out his mouth into his light golden-brown fur. he felt his body thump to the ground. in the midst of all this, beestorm managed to let out a rough breathing sound. his face twitched. "you're killing me," he eventually choked out, nearly sounding like a chuckle.

he was vaguely aware of his dear silverflower dragging him to one of the medicine cats, and hissing something about kits. yet, with all that was happening: the searing pains in his leg and neck, his mate lapping desperately at his wounds, only one thing was clear for beestorm. that was that the edges of his vision were slowly turning dark, until he could see nothing - nothing but the face of his late father running to meet with him once more.

he never did get to know who won the fight that took his life.

[lisica,]

"In a world of people who take everything seriously, you are a very sarcastic person trying not to get into trouble" — writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com

reuben ross ran a pale bony hand through his bleached white locks, that seemed just as lifeless as the seventeen year old felt. it was rush hour. and christmas eve. and what had reuben decided to do? go shopping to tesco for last minute christmas presents. oh, how he regretted not staying in bed with his massive great dane and sleeping the day away.

it had seemed like a good idea at the time. there was a snowstorm during the night and he assumed that everyone by now knew the golden rule about not going out on christmas eve. but apparently not, seeing as he had been stood in a queue at a tesco kiosk for the past twenty minutes or so. the only thing that kept the teenager sane was sighing very loudly every few seconds and fiddling with a blue wristband his mum gave him on his fourteenth birthday.

reuben was just about to lose it when a very frail looking old lady tapped him on the shoulder. his mocha eyes blinked. her wrinkly eyes blinked back. "are you okay, dear?" she asked in the most grandma-y voice he could imagine. he groaned inwardly. yes, reuben kyle ross was extroverted, but in a hot, sweaty, claustrophobic situation like present, he couldn't think of anything worse than talking to the little old lady.

"i'm doing great, thanks very much." he'd meant it as a sarcastic thing, just muttered under his breath, not really expecting the woman who looked like a doris to hear him. what he wasn't expecting was a small smile to form on her pale thin lips, and for her to respond, "oh, that's brilliant, m'dear. what's your name, sweetheart?"

wip lol idk what this is