Young Writers Society

Snow White Fan-Fic
A More Modern Recollection, with a less ditzy Snow

“Snow, run.” Bob tells me. Bob is my stepmother’s magic mirror, and he is the only one I can trust. I don’t blame him, he just got so sick of telling her how pretty she is, when she isn’t. Honestly, she wears a skin tight hood to cover her hair, and robes that are so last year. My daily dress with the yellow skirt, annoying white color and blue top may be ugly, but at least it has a timeless look to it. Regardless, Bob is going to tell the queen that she isn’t all that beautiful, that I’m the fairest in the land. But he doesn’t want me to be here while he does it.

As I run into the woods, branches and brambles pull and tug on my dress. In frustration, I rip off the stupid white collar, kick off my kitten heels and tug my skirt into my waistband. After deciding that now I'm more fit to run, I continue to flee. I feel eyes watching me. This forest is too creepy for my taste, and I'm going to do something about it.

"Would you like a picture? Stop staring at me and acting like a bunch of stalkers. You're FOREST ANIMALS for pete's sakes! Don't tell me you've never seen a Princess in distress! There's Rapunzel, Merida, Belle, and all of those other girls that run into the woods. Mind your own beeswax!" The eyes disappear and I can hear the scurry of animals. Satisfied, I hurry off.

About three hours later, I find a cottage in the clearing. It's getting dark, so I knock on the door. No one home. I enter the house, and see that it's a mess. There are bowls and plates everywhere, and the floor needs a good sweeping.

"This shit is ratchet," I say. Then I kick myself for speaking aloud. Who does that anymore? I think that I probably should clean it, then I take one look at my dirty dress and assess my fatigue. No way. I've been romping through that forest all day, and I cleaned the Queen's room on top of that. If I have to wash another dish, I'm going to scream.

Spying a set of stairs, I climb up them and wince as I get splinters on the bottoms of my bare feet. I run up the steps and try not to hurt my feet too badly. When I emerge at the top, I see a bedroom full of seven beds, neatly made. I put my hands on my hips and think to myself, "So they make their beds neatly, but can't do a dish? And who sleeps in beds this small? Not to mention the fact that there are seven beds, do they organize orgies or something?" I roll my eyes and shrug my shoulders. I need a place to sleep and I feel gross, too. At this time, I notice there is a bathroom to the side.

"Plumbing isn't too cheap for them," I mutter as I draw a bath. My stepmother (or step monster as I prefer to call her) always thought plumbing was too cheap, so she always made me draw clean water from the well. Pushing this memory out of my head, I scrub all of the dirt and blood off me, and wash my hair. I spy some shampoo to the side, so I pick it up and squirt some in my hand. It comes out as a weird silvery liquid, so I check the label on the shampoo. I read it aloud because you know, cooking and cleaning already hasn’t exactly turned me into the best reader.

“Beard moisturizer, Use to keep your beard moist and silvery, for best results, start from chin and work down end of beard…” I drop the bottle and scrub the moisturizer off my hands. That was thoroughly nasty. I realize that I must be living in a house of men. really short men with long beards… dwarves. It must be dwarves.

As I get out of the tub and step onto the surprisingly clean bathroom floor I smile. Dwarves love to mine, jewels and rocks and all that. Maybe if they like me, they’ll make me rich and shower me with jewels and wealth greater than that of my stepmother. The thought brightens my spirits, and I walk back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around my body. Now there’s the problem of clothes. my sweaty and torn dress just won’t do. However, if there’s one thing that Bob ever taught me, it’s that you can find an outfit anywhere.

So I start looking. At the end of each bed there is a trunk, so I look through every trunk possible. There are clean clothes thrown in each chest, and they are all very wrinkled. Regardless, this will have to do. Then I have an idea, and I walk back downstairs, still wearing my towel, in search for scissors.

When I’m finished, I survey my work in the bathroom mirror. My old dress is on the floor in shreds, with the top half missing. I scoff at how difficult it was to get the top part free, plus I had to cut the poofy sleeves from the ends. It was hard work, especially with dull scissors. I had used the cut out from my dress to create a tank top, after I scrubbed it in the tub, of course. Afterwards, I recall using a pair of a dwarf’s trousers and cutting it down to make shorts. I may look a little boyish, but with my red headband in my hair, and my now clean clothes, I definitely looked prettier. I was also very comfortable, more so than I had ever felt in my stupid dress.

Downstairs, I hear voices. I look up, and head downstairs to see a hag accompanied by seven dwarves. They startle at the sight of me, and I narrow my eyes at them. The hag gives an ugly smile, and she waves sweetly. The dwarves, however, look upset to see me. I’m bombarded with questions. I hold my hands up in surrender and I sit slowly down in one of the tiny chairs.

“My name is Snow White, I’m a Princess fleeing from my ugly stepmother who is not the fairest in the land by far. I just need a place to stay for a little while.” The dwarves narrow their eyes at me, but seeing the mess around me, I have an idea.

“I can cook and clean. I hate to, but seriously, this is ratchet. It needs a good cleaning. If you like, I’ll clean your place if you let me stay here for a few nights.” I notice one dwarf who refuses to change his sour expression, a dwarf with glasses who seems to be thinking, and another more goofy dwarf that keeps trying to pick his nose except the sleeve of his sweater keeps getting in the way.

The dwarf with glasses speaks up. “Fine. But you and the old lady have to sleep down here.” The hag looks up and then addresses me. She really is ugly with rotten teeth and hair that is almost non-existent.

“We women have to stick together. Apple?” She offers me a bright red, juicy apple. My stomach rumbles then, so I take it gratefully. As soon as I bite into it, I know something is wrong. I fall to the floor and everything goes black.

I’m awakened by the soft touch of a kiss on my lips. My eyes pop open and I see the most handsome man standing in front of me. I’m laying on something white with plush, and I have flowers in my hair. I look around me and see a glass top for a case. Like a coffin, almost.

“I’m Henry. The dwarves told me what happened, I’m a doctor. Tricky poison apples, it’s lucky I was in the village area. Sorry about the kiss… it’s a new method called CPR. I had to give you air.” I smile at Henry, and he smiles back. He really is gorgeous, and a doctor.

“So, do you have a castle?” He smiles and nods.

“No do not have a castle, but I have a nice cottage. I know we’ve only just met, but would you like to go out for tea sometime?” I blush and smile.

“Sure,” I say. Maybe this guy will treat me right. Then I realize that the jewels and riches I once hoped for may not be necessary. Maybe what I really need, is the Happily Ever After.

[written from the perspective of The Mother from the end of Season 9 Episode 16 (How Your Mother Met Me) to the beginning of Season 9 Episode 17 (Sunrise). Spoilers!

This fanfic takes place just a few weeks after Children of the Mind by Orson Scott Card. Due to it being after all the published Ender books (that I know of) there are a few spoilers in it.

Tangled


“Don’t freak out; just...stay still.” Rapunzel drew a slow breath.
“Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine……”Her voice flowed like honey through the glade to the tan ears of a man beside her.
Flynn Rider sat awestruck at the glowing locks twisting and twining about his hand. He was staring in fascination at the golden mass when he saw the glow. His head snapped up and his gaze turned to the girl who owned the fascinating hair. What type of witchery was he in the presence of now? He’d seen many things in his life, but nothing could ever possibly top this. What was the hair doing to his hand? Rupunzel stroked the hand in question and he stiffened as a strange shock of light shot up his arm.
“What the..” he yelped, untying the golden locks from his hand. Flynn gasped sharply,standing quickly and nearly hitting his head on a large tree branch in the process.
“I’ll go get some more firewood….” he stated, glancing warily at Rapunzel as he backed away slowly. Would she follow him?
“Wait!” Rapunzel called as he turned and ran.
Flynn raced into the forest and viciously began swinging his axe at logs and trees as thoughts swirled maddeningly about his head. ‘That girl, or was she even a girl?, was freaky. How could one be so, so content with their life and hide such a frightening secret? No wonder she hasn’t been out of that hateful tower since forever, the people would have killed her. That hair…’
He shook his head and strode back into the glade, arms filled with timber. The wood in his arms slipped as his arms fell slightly at the sight of Rapunzel. She looked innocently over her perfect shoulder, her ever-present beam faltering at his cautious expression.
“Oh, I thought you might not be coming back!” Her face was flushed with relief and perfect blushes pulsed up her cheeks. She practically glowed..
“Nope, just cold! Uh, needed some wood for it, yup. Yeah.... Yes! Just cold!” This he stammered in horridly fake-cheery voice. Flynn stooped low to put the firewood in the fire where he composed himself. As he stood up, he stretched and yawned in an exaggerated manner.
“I think it would be...best...if we were to rest now. Big day tomorrow!” With a weary glance over his shoulder, he lay down in a corner of the glade as far from Rapunzel as possible. The fire flickered in an uncertain manner.
“Oh! Oh, okay, I guess.” She looked bewildered and tired all of a sudden. Flynn suddenly felt a wave of guilt crash through his thoughts. Why, did he do that? She was innocent, right? No, she was a witch and witches and their craft were evil. ‘Strange that I would cleanse the world from the un-holy, thief that I am.’ he thought in amusement. ‘What a strange man I have become.’
An hour or so after Rapunzel stopped moving, Flynn silently stood up. He slid his dagger from his belt and used all his devious thieve’s skills to slip silently through the night. Rapunzel’s unsuspecting figure lay peacefully on the ground beside the smoldering campfire. Flynn knelt beside her, grasping the dagger in his hand harder than necessary for the sweat that accumulated on the palm. As he raised his ready arm through the night, ready to kill the girl, he stopped. What had she actually done? Nothing! Just had the strange power of healing wounds and….glowing. ‘But who knows,’ he thought, ‘it could be used for harm rather than the good she portrayed it to be. I will not kill her, I will just rid her of the weight that has been literally on her shoulders for years.’ He lowered the dagger, then grasped it as a painter does a paintbrush. Arranging the hair in a more flattering style than the current one, he lowered the dagger to the back of her neck. The tresses slid through the blade like silk and slowly and dramatically turn a creamy brown color. He forced himself on. The last strand of gold was on the blade. He sliced.

This fanfiction is based off of William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, the time is sixteen years after the death of Romeo and Juliet.

Probably the worst Fan Fiction ever, but oh well.


Breaking Malcolm


A Malcolm in The Middle Fan Fiction

This story is set on the moon Io, as per Philip Reeve's Larklight series. It is a detective story, and includes a unfit chase and a lost cat. Let me warn you now, the has approximately no plot.
Laurence of Io
Chapter one.
A single torn page of the evening rag blew around the street, much like a butterfly would in any less industrial place. But on Io there wasn't any less industrial place. The whole moon was a gigantic throbbing city.
"As if this moon in fast thick pants were breathing." thought Lawrence, as he leaned out his window in the side of one of the dirtier sky-scrapers. He was rather pleased with his simile (or was it a metaphor-he could never remember), until he remembered he had read it yesterday. Sighing he removed his head from the frame, and closed the window. Then he slunk of to behind his desk, took a cigar from his inside pocket, and slumped down onto his revolving chair, allowing himself to spin a couple of times before bringing himself to a rest by crossing his legs on the desk. Here he lit his cigar, and did his best to look nonchalant. It is in a private detective's interest to look nonchalant. But unfortunately Laurence wasn't very good at it. He looked to shabby; his shirt cuffs were frayed and his hair was too long and unkempt. The shoes resting on the desk were worn, and he looked uneasy. It wasn't as if he hadn't tried. He had purposefully made his room messy (the only thing that was in the right place was the portrait of Queen Victoria, which he saluted daily) to match the other private eyes on Io, despite the fact he was very tidy by nature. He had even invested in a book on local slang! But nonchalance was just not Laurence. His name didn't help either. Laurence just wasn't a detective's name. He had thought about getting it changed to "Johnny" or something similar, but he never had enough money to afford it.
Rata-tat-tat!
A knock at the door (a very classy knock) brought Laurence out of his day-dream. Instantly he sat to attention, cursed himself, and got back into his "nonchalant" pose again.
"Come in!". He had meant it to sound relaxed and manly, but it came out as more of a boyish whimper.
And then in came the beautiful platinum-blonde.
This is not what Laurence expected. Not that he had been expecting anything; more that this was exactly what he hadn't expected.
"My name is Ruby." she said, and her voice sounded like liquid gold, expensive and viscous.
"I'm Laurence, pleased to meet you.". He knew he didn't sound like any of the detectives in the movies, but it was the best he could manage in the circumstances.
"I need you to find my cat."
Laurence looked incredulous, and he knew it. This wasn't the sort of dame with missing cats, this was the type up to their neck in mystery and intrigue. But apparently this one had lost a cat.
"I assume you can do that." she said, and her voice sounded slightly ridiculing. "I was under the impression that was what cheap detectives were for."
Her remark was scathing, but it didn't seem to matter when she said it.
"Of course." Laurence stuttered, and then, regaining control of himself, "what does he look like?"
"Here is his picture." she said, and pulled out a picture of what must have been a picture of one of the ugliest cats ever. It's face was squashed, and scar ran in a diagonal from one cheek to its forehead, twisting its features.
"It answers to the name of Tiddles. My address is written on the back of the photograph." she said, and with that and a twirl of her ankle length dress she left the room.
Laurence sat and stared. He had just seen the most beautiful woman ever. True, she had just hired him to find a lost cat, but still...
He must find it at once, he decided, and pausing only to extinguish his cigar, shave, find his tailcoat and top hat, salute the Queen, and load his revolver, he left the room.

Chapter two.
Io's streets were packed full of all kinds of humans and aliens, all going somewhere or doing something. Carts and carriages (and the occasional steam powered vehicle) rolled among the people, making slow progress in the crowds. The city itself was a maze of roads, streets, passages, alleyways and paths, and Laurence prided himself on knowing his way around them all. He had bought an A-Z map two years ago, and memorized a page a day until he could find his way blindfold.(He hadn't tried, but he guessed he could in theory.) The first place to go, he decided, was the cat shelter. Somebody could have handed it in, he supposed, and it certainly seemed likely. It was on the other side of Io, and with this much traffic it was both quicker to catch a sky-bus. Laurence decided to head to the bus-station, but he didn't get there. for, slipping through a narrow alleyway, he glimpsed a ginger cat, with a deformed face, on a narrow roof. This was a very lucky break, normally only found in cheap detective novels when the authors are in a hurry to write to a deadline. But in this situation it was just what Laurence needed. As nimbly as, well, a cat, Laurence flipped onto the roof where he had seen the cat. The cat was a couple of roofs away by now, and so Laurence gave chase. On his side was the fact he new where he was going, and the cat did not. However he had the approximate fitness of a sack of potatoes. A particularly inactive sack of potatoes. Across the rooftops the cat leisurely tripped, Laurence panting behind. He was getting a stitch in his left side, and that cat was still a rooftop ahead. It wasn't that Laurence was fat, just rather inactive. To cut a long story short, Laurence arrived, in pain, back at his office with a rather disgruntled cat. Slowly, to avoid stressing his already aching muscles, he walked to the bathroom, closed the window, and put the cat down. Laurence backed out, cutting of the cat's escape route. There was no way that thing would be getting out of here.
Who said detective work was exiting?

I decided to re-write and improve and old Teen Wolf (TV Show, not movie aha) one-shot I had.

Hiya everyone! This is a fanfiction I wrote for the Nickelodeon cartoon series, ATLA (Avatar: The Last Airbender) a few weeks back. It's centered around princess Azula after her nervous breakdown and is set in the mental facility on her sixteenth birthday. (Two years after the end of the series.) Enjoy! P.S I would have used the spoiler button but this show is half a decade old and if u haven't seen it or finished it, u don't need much context other than what I've already provided here.


Birthday.


Azula let out a low scream as she jerked violently up from her fitful slumber. The fallen princess felt the rhythms of her heart rise and fall in uneven disarray as she frantically shed what seemed to be an endless series of prison blankets. The dry cell air felt cold against the sticky dampness of her cheeks and the unforgiving darkness exerted a claustrophobic effect upon her. She felt her throat grow sore and her lips begin to quiver. "Tears?" she thought with disgust, "How dare they! How dare they try to make a fool out of me!" Azula rolled restlessly from one end of her cot to the other, all the while struggling not to let them come flowing from her puffy golden eyes. Just as she was ready to burst with heaving sobs, there came a flash of blue light and the very soul who had caused her to awaken so abruptly entered her pitch-black cell. Azula could not see the visitor, but she could feel their prescence with every fiber of her being.

"W-who's there?", she cried meekly. Azula grabbed one of her blankets off of the ground and pulled it over her face in an attempt to hide her shame, for she was well aware of who it was. Besides, nobody else had ever come to visit her here. Nobody real, at least.

"Hello, 'Zula. It's just me again. Please come out from there. I want to see you." The gentle sound of her mother's voice made Azula feel sick to her stomach. Still hiding beneath the cover of her blanket, Azula took a deep breath before responding. She mustn't let her mother see her cry. That was shameful. It was dishonorable. Her inability to reproduce an authoritative tone of voice made her eyes water even more. Instead, she spoke in a cracked murmur as she desperately pulled the blanket off of her head.

"W-Why do you want to see me?...I lost. I know who you want to see. He's been wanting to see you too. Now i suggest you leave me immediately." There was a long silence. Azula felt her mother coming closer to her cot, but could not see her. All she could see was darkness. She had never been so afraid in her life. Once again, Azula attempted to put on her battered facade and once again, she had failed. The frightened prisoner felt the stingy warmth of large and unwelcomed tears trickling down her face and her hands began to tremble lightly.

"What are you doing?", began Azula in what sounded to her like more of a tortured gasp than actual words "Stay back, fool!" Silence. Only the darkness seemed to have heard her. Azula stood up from her cot and stepped into a loose fire bending stance. She let out a frustrated screech before speaking to her mother again in the same tortured murmur.

"Listen, Peasant...go away...get out of my sight...leave me be..." With each empty command, Azula felt a fragment of her false confidence begin to come back to her. "Father banished you for a reason. You...are weak...and you have brought dishonor to our family. I suggest you-" Just as Azula began to step back into an offensive stance, there came another flash of blue light in her cell, this time much brighter than before. A glowing blue likeness of her mother appeared in front of her, a somber frown upon her face. The vision towered over her and it's shiny golden eyes peered sadly into her own. Azula staggered backwards in a confused state of panic.

"Oh, 'Zula," began Ursa in a soft, affectionate tone "Please get your rest. I love you. I really do. It's you I wanted to see. It's always you I want to see...Especially today."

"No! You've always hated-"

"No, Azula. You are just lost...so, so lost. And you've always been lost...because of me." Azula's lips began to quiver once again as she backed into a dark corner of her cell. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a dry cackle as she attempted to mask her pain. She couldn't let her mother see her cry. She couldn't give her the satisfaction. She couldn't take her eye off of the ball.

"Azula? What are you so frightened for? Please don't be frightened. It's okay to cry. Besides, it's your birthday...The big sixteen. I couldn't miss it." Azula's blood ran cold and her legs felt wobbly. How hadn't she remembered that herself, and how had her mother remembered? She felt the unforgiving cold of the iron walls of her cell against her fingertips as she came tumbling down from her standing position. The girl buried her face in her hands and began to cry softly. Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming warmth engulf her as the vision floated gently towards her and wrapped its arms around her.

"M-Mother? Why are you doing this? I lied. I cheated. I hurt thousands of people and felt nothing. I truly am a monster."

"No, Azula. You were afraid. I love you. And Happy Birthday." This last statement was the last straw and caused the frail prisoner to heave with choked sobs, all the while trying to free herself from her mother's embrace.

"No, Mother.", she cried, "I know the truth! You hate me! You always have! You never sang me lullabies or watched me practice my forms...and it hurt...more than anything."

"Shh. Just breathe. Just breathe deeply, 'Zula. I'm sorry. I wasn't there for you, and I'm sorry." All of a sudden, the broken prisoner began to feel more relaxed, and her heaving sobs became lighter. As she looked up at her mother, Azula saw something she had never expected to have seen on her mother's face. A single shining blue tear was making its way down her cheek. As she looked into her mother's eyes, Azula was greeted with a profoundly unsettling image. It was her reflection. Her wiry black hair seemed to dance about her head in wild disarray and two large, dark circles surrounded her teary eyes. By now, Azula had given up on trying to seem like none of it bothered her. Her whole world had been shattered by the Avatar and her brother. They had taken everything from her. Her honor, her throne, her place in history, and most of all, her chances of ever actually reconciling with her mother. The former princess began to tremble all over as she opened her mouth to speak again.

"Mother," she whispered lightly, "I love you too...very much. But-"

"What is it, 'Zula?", replied the vision, a hint of worry in her somber voice.

"But am I pretty?", hissed Azula wildly.

"Why, of course you are...you've always been." Azula smiled from ear to ear, tears still filling her eyes, and let out her first laugh in what seemed like an eternity. It took the form of a disturbed cackle, and actually frightened her mother.

"Well," inquired Azula eagerly, "What about my hair?" Her mother smiled gently before beginning in a tone which Azula thought was only reserved for her brother.

"Your hair...so beautiful. I always thought you had beautiful hair." Azula's eyes were filled with crazed excitement and the girl began to rock gently back and forth as if this compliment were not enough. Her mother paused as she began to search her heart for something more to add. "That day of your Agni Kai with Zuko-" Ursa paused once again and saw her daughter's lips curl into a trembling frown. She waited a few seconds before she continuing. Something about Azula worried her greatly, and Ursa began to wonder whether or not this impromptu birthday visit was doing her any good. "That day of your...coronation...I was so proud of you. But so hurt to see you two fighting. And you...you cut your hair." Azula began to hyperventilate and a psychotic glow shone brightly in her golden irises.

"No, Mother," she chided nervously as she shook her head wildly back and forth with her hands on top of it. " Stop these games. You're like Uncle! Always playing games! What do you really think of my hair? My uneven, untamed hair!" Azula pulled frantically at the single strand of dark hair that had fallen between her eyes.

"Well...I-I told you. I think it's beautiful. And I think you're beautiful." Azula rolled onto her side and crawled slowly out of her mother's embrace. The cell was filled with the sound of dry cackles mixed in with suppressed sobs. Time was running out. It was almost sunrise, and Ursa had not the slightest clue how to make her daughter feel better before her special night was over.

"Oh, Mother!" Azula screeched, "You lie so well! You lie so easily! If only I could have been more like you, Mother! If only I could have been Zu-Zu! You'd...love me for real then. This is a d-dream! Nothing more! You are a bad lie! A fake. Aren't you? Ursa frowned heavily and took a deep breath before interrupting Azula's cackling fit.

"Azula. Please come back to me. Please hug your mother. I love you. I really do." These familiar words were all the bewildered Fire Lady could muster. Azula began to sob uncontrollably and she nearly doubled over with laughter.

"You can't trick me, woman! Leave me be!", cried Azula in a cracked sob. The Fire Lady gave a shudder and looked at her daughter as tourists do a caged animal that hasn't eaten in months. Ursa gently raised her glowing blue hand and extended it to her daughter only to watch her jerk back into the darkness, utterly frightened.

"What are you trying to do to me, woman?" shouted Azula, "Don't you know what today is?" The vision sighed deeply before delivering her response.

"Azula. It's your birth-"

"Nonsense! I don't have time for your trivial little talks! You are a traitor to father and to the fire nation and you are a traitor to.." Azula began to sob even harder. "...You betrayed me and left me alone. With nobody to call..." The girl turned herself over so that she was lying on her side. Ursa could hardly make out what her daughter was trying to tell her. "W-why jjj-j why-you l-left me...Moth-Mother?" The Fire Lady felt a great lump in her throat and began to weep fresh hot tears for her fallen princess. She covered her mouth in astonishment at the awful scene of Azula rolling back and forth on the cold cell floor, a puddle of tears accumulating beneath her. It was too late.

"Azula," whispered the Fire Lady through a few uneven cries, "I just...Just know that your Mother loves you. And that...she always will...Goodbye...And Happy Birthday, 'Zula." A continuous series of piercing screams was Azula's only response. Ursa gave a frantic gasp as she realized just how long she had been out of the Spirit World. It was time for her to go, and a profound emptiness took root within her aching heart. Without a moments hesitation, the Fire Lady rose from her position and floated over her screaming daughter's shivering body and through the wall of the cell. Once again, all was quiet and, once again, only the darkness kept Azula company as her tortured weeping echoed throughout the unbroken silence of the asylum corridors.

Epilogue. (WARNING: Sadder than the rest!)

*Bang. Bang. Bang.*

"Hey! 22034! Get up! It's time for your shower!" A single disgruntled prison guard kicked the door of Azula's cell open with reckless abandon. "What the-" As he stepped into the lonely cell, the scent of cold metal pervaded his senses. The prisoner was nowhere to be found and the darkness was overwhelming. "22034! Show yourself now or face Solitary Confinement!" He was much too frightened to realize that Solitary Confinement was where Azula had already been for the last seventeen months. Not even the pervasive darkness could have prepared him for what he would see next.

The guard lit a flame with his fingertips and placed it into what felt like an iron wall sconce. The cell became illuminated with a flickering orange glow. "Huh?" he thought to himself in terrified panic, "She must've escaped!" Just as he turned to go to the Warden's Quarters, the guard caught a glimpse of a peculiar scene through the corner of his eye. In the far corner of the cell opposite the cot laid prisoner 22034, shivering uncontrollably and repeating something in a tortured murmur that was hardly audible. The guard stepped cautiously over to the prisoner and turned her over. Her bony shoulder blades felt hard against his palm. "Ahh!" he screamed as he saw the face of the fallen princess. Her golden eyes were wide open and her pale lips seemed to be locked into a melancholy grin. The frightened guard caught sight of a mysterious series of etchings completely covering the wall behind her, all reading "Mother lovszz me, and I'm sixzzteen." This was what she had been murmuring all this time. He felt his blood run cold and an icy chill ran down his spine. "Pull it together, Riyu," he coaxed himself, " What do you expect, man? She's turned. These people are crazies. This happens all the time." Riyu set the still-trembling prisoner down upon the stony iron floor and made a full sprint out of the cell and towards the Warden's Quarters. Fire Lady Ursa wept quietly from the Spirit World as she watched in melancholy awe of what had become of her little Azula.

The End.

I know it's a bit late, OK very late, but I am submitting this work anyway!
Hope you enjoy it!

The Mojave’s Last Hope
Fallout, New Vegas Fanfic – Set after the Courier sides with the Legion, allowing them to take over and enslave New Vegas and the Mojave Wasteland… Enjoy a tale of new people reunited by old friendship!

Avengers fan fiction, the story of how Loki became the ruler of Midgard.

His shouts of agony resounded throughout the chamber, accompanying the piano crescendos in a sickly harmony of despair. Pain echoed in each powerful chord he demanded from the instrument. This time as the music rushed from him, even the aching in his heart did not encumber his thoughts from his masterpiece. As the magician’s tormented mind writhed with visions of dark notes, his fingers flew down the ivory and ebony with such grace of a terrifying beauty.

Beauty, he thought. I know not the meaning. Then as abruptly as his haunted toccata began the song was broken, leaving the man to stare at the piano in hatred. A slight shuffle from behind him broke the musician’s bitter gaze. He looked up from his torturous instrument and stared at the window across the room. “Leave, Nadir,” he commanded, not sparing a glance at the other man in his chambers.

“Erik. Dooste man. Do not shun me away,” came the steady response.

In a fury of rage, Erik stood and turned on his Persian friend. The piano bench toppled to the marble floor in a loud crash. “Mano tanha bezar! Leave, Nadir!” Silence followed Erik’s wrath, save for his harsh breathing behind his black mask.

Nadir recognized the dangerous warning reflected in his friend’s intense, golden glare. With a bow of his head, the Persian sighed. “Fine, Erik. So be it. But know that my door is always open for you.”

“Get. Out.”

Once the chamber doors slammed behind the hurried figure of Nadir, Erik immediately fell to his knees on the warm marble. Convulsions ripped through his body as he wept. In a matter of seconds, the man ripped the dark mask from his face and exposed his disfigurement to the morning light. But no one saw. No one heard his cries. No one shared his grief.

Alone.

“Such a strange word,” he whispered in a broken voice. “Alone. Beautiful… Hideous.”

He caressed the object of his concealment with slender, spidery hands as he closed his eyes, tracing the small mask patterns. “So fragile.”

Then, as if the weight of the sky was upon his defeated shoulders, Erik stood. His eyes flashed open and fierceness once again echoed within their shadowy depths. Another melody echoed in Erik’s head, this one much more resilient than its shattered predecessor. He could hear the clang of drums, the hiss of bows drawn across strings, the minor falls of brass, the pounding of an organ. The symphony swirled and crashed against his ears, urging him on, on, on.

The man clutched at his mask with a murderer’s grip. “STOP!” Erik spun on his heels while his head reeled faster. His gaze caught movement out of the corner of his eye so he turned abruptly, only to find himself staring at his own disfigured reflection. The music in his mind slowed to a soft sonata. Erik’s lanky image in the mirror watched him contemplatively, as if to insult his hideous face. The skin across his forehead was stretched too tightly in certain places, hollowed circles surrounded his haunted eyes, and tear stains streaked down his cheeks. A shaft of sunlight sifted through the bedroom windows and rested across the musician’s features like a halo.

How ironic, he thought with a crooked smile. A halo for the angel in hell. He rubbed a finger across his porcelain mask.

Then with a rapid jerk of the wrist, Erik hurled the mask at the mirror. His twisted reflection shattered into a million fragmented diamonds smashed around his dark form. “No more!” Erik hid his face in his hands. “No more mirrors. No more truth from reflections; only artifice,” he began in a fractured whisper, “only façade, only illusion forevermore.”

The symphony resounding throughout Erik’s mind returned to its original forte, this time echoing his words: Only illusions, no more truth…

Because the truth is too hideous for even a monster to bear.

This is an alternate telling of “The Story of Echo and Narcissus” from Ovid’s Metamorphoses.

Writer's Note: The scene happens right after the two felids, Carnassial and Panthera, have managed to reach the nest of a Saurian. They found Dusk and his sister Sylph, the main characters of the book both being chiropteras, AKA prehistoric bats). The fanfiction respects the event of the original text, but of course it has been heavily modified to fit what I think should've happened to both felids, who by the way are my favorite pair of the series, with Carnassial as my favorite character.
Without further details... Enjoy!

Poised on the rim of the nest, Carnassial was staring down at the chiropteras, Panthera by his side. Behind them, a Saurian hatcheling was trying to get out of his egg. Carnassial's gaze moved from the chiropteras to the hatcheling, unsure who to eat first. He then realised that the flying chiroptera wasn't attempting to flee with his wings. Surely he wanted to protect his mate. That gave Carnassial a good reason to start with them: they would be more of a threat than mere Saurian hatchelings.
"Get the flyer, Panthera!" Carnassial said.
Despite the female felid's impressive agility, the flying prey managed to get away from her grasp. He was was only mere inches above Panthera, yet Carnassial knew she would not catch him like this. His gaze switched from the flyer to his mate: she could not fly like he did. The hungry felid jumped into the nest and pursued her, ignoring the flyer's desperate cry. he caught the female chiroptera with both paws and maintained his position.
"You're mine," Carnassial said, a light of excitation in his eye. He knew she could not escape her.
He gazed back at Panthera and saw that she had captured the flyer. He then froze seeing something that his felid mate could not yet witness: a young Saurian was rapidly approaching her, jaw wide open, sharp teeth awaiting to strike.
"Panthera, watch out!"
Carnassial released his captured prey and launched himself at the female, pushing her away from the reptile's trajectory. Both felids whirled and jumped back to face their enemy.
He was probably a few weeks old, but already twice the size of the felids. No matter how hard they tried, they would not defeat it. The felid brifely looked at the chiropteras gliding away from the nest, but he had other priorities in mind.
"Panthera, you must escape," Carnassial whispered. "We cannot defeat a Saurian."
"I will never abandon you!" she angrily replied.
"And I will not allow you or the kittens you're holding to die! I can at least buy you some time while you escape."
"No... There must be another way!"
The saurian was looking up, following the chiropteras flight to the exit. He gazed back at the two felids in front of him.
"Go!" Carnassial shrieked. "Now!"
Panthera relunctantly ran back to the cave's mouth.
Carnassial shrieked once again to attract his enemy's attention. The saurian ran towards him.
"That's right... Come and get me!"
The felid dodged the deadly jaws and flung himself towards the reptile. He scratched the monster's back with his claws, but it didn't seem to bother him at all. Carnassial tried to bite it, but he was repeatedly by the Saurian's three-clawed hands. A blow finally connected and Carnassial was catapulted to the ground by a violent headbutt. He quickly got up and fled to the nearest rock tower, the Saurian pursuing him accross the cave. He knew that once knocked out in the ground, he would be defenseless against the predator. He also knew that it was more deadly armed than he was. He would be finished soon enough.
"No," he whispered to himself". I must be smarter and quicker to excel..."
The Hyaenodons! If he could attract them to the nest, they would buy him enough time to escape and join Panthera. Maybe he would survive after all.
Carnassial surprised the Saurian with an unexpected skid and straight to the cave's exit.
After a swift series of leaps, the felid emerged from the cave, only to find a peculiar image in front of him: The hyeanodons were running straight towards him, led by Panthera.
"There he is!" she said, as if she was expecting him. "So, did you see the eggs?"
Carnassial gave her a confused stare before remarking her piercing gaze: this was an act, and she expected him to act according to whatever this act was.
"Yes I did," he finally answered. "But two of them hatched. I was too weak to defeat the hatchelings: hunger made them furious. But I'm sure you powerful beasts would be delighted to eat them yourself."
It costed him to present himself as a weak little fool in front of them, but he had no choice.
"We'll finish them," Danian barked. "Out of the way!"
The canine beasts enterted into the cave just as the Saurian was getting out of it. A furious roar resounded as the leading hyeanodon's neck was torn apart by the Saurian's powerful jaws. The others began to fight back against the monster.
"Let's get out of here!" Carnassial said.
The two felids ran for hours through the plains, trying to make as much distance as possible from them and the powerful beasts.
"Even with Danian dead, I think we might meet the hyanodons again," said Panthera.
"They will be badly wounded," retorted Carnassial. Let's go back to the valley and find our prowl.
The felids took some time to rest. Carnassial took some time to gaze at her mate, amazed by her courage.
"Thank you for coming back," he said to her. "This Saurian was too much for me."
"You were about to attract the hyaenodons into the cave anyway", she purred with satisfaction. I just happened to have the same idea."
Carnassial tenderly nuzzled her and then they carried on in search of their prowl. The felid had to flee once again, but he knew now that true rule for his survival. Sheer strenght was not enough: cunning might was the most powerful weapon he could use to lead his prowl to prosperity. And with the new hunting techniques he had seen from the hyaenodons, the felids could even hunt preys much larger that they were.
Carnassial realized how much being different was an advantage over the non meat-eating felids. He would become the master of the New World with his own methods, with his own innovations.