I am Valk, and here you will find writting and art of my original characters/settings, snipets and short stories. There is also some whump.
Feel free to look around and ask me anything. Hope you enjoy the small worlds you're about to embark.
Masterlist:
Nothing Personal. Just business. - CW. Yakov is not having the best of times in prison.
Sector 43 - Bryan gets a visit from an old school friend. Dystopic Setting.
Standing Guard - Young Prince Phillip struggles to stay awake. Medieval Fantasy Setting.
Marjory - sometimes, nothing also hurts, Yakov!
What if whumper is the one asking for Whumpee help? - inspired by my OCs Yakov and George.
Lazer Tag - main OC trio, Ethan, Yakov and Zimsky, play lazer tag.
"Please don't leave me." - a bit of Ethan's background (a non-canon version or maybe differnet AU?)
"Best Man" - slice of life dialogue between Yakov and Ethan
"Standing Ovation" - Aiden struggles to choose the right words. Medieval Fantasy Setting.
"Isolation" - whump prompt (first person POV) Guard pov in medieval setting
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Another day, another night, another watch. I keep watch all the time, no one comes here, no one comes near, only him. Only the boss can go in, only boss can go out. It’s boring, very boring. No windows to see the time passing, not wind to keep you refresh. Just a long corridor, dark in void, a torch, a door, and me. Me and my spear.
I swear I will fall asleep on it again. But I can’t, I must keep watch. Watch on what? The door is lock. The prisoner is not going anywhere… neither will I.
At this point, what is the difference between the prisoner, and me?
I hear his cries, his pleads, his shouts and whispers. I never went inside, but I feel a closer connection to him. I am the one that stays here when the boss comes to give him a beating and the one that stays when the boss is done.
I hear the prisioner whisper. They will come. They promise.
I hope so to kid. I am almost losing hope as you are.
You have been here for a while now. I have been here for a while now. Strange… I don’t even know your name and you probably don’t know mine. You don’t even know I am here.
That’s my job, I am not supposed to be noticed. I keep watch, I guard the door and I am… sad. I am very sad. I miss home sometimes. I think about. There is plenty of time to think here. Think about the dishes that need to be clean when I arrive home. That window that needs to be fixed. Can’t forget to to buy food for the cat.
And I think, what harm can a simple question do? Just a What’s your name. He will probably not answer. He does not have to. If he does I won’t tell the boss. He does not need to know.
Alright, how am I going to do this? Can my whisper pass through the door? What if it’s to loud? Maybe through the key whole… Wait… There is something moving on the corridor. Or is just my shadow again?
“Is someone there?” I ready my spear then I hear a whistle.
Next time I gain my senses, I feel my body pressed againts the wall. A shaep pain in my chest, that hurts with every breath. Something viscous sliding in my mouth. It's warm, and it taste awfull.
I move my hand to touch whathever I feel in mu chest. Long and thin, is it. An arrow? Was is hot by an arrow? T-that’s funny. I din't knwo it oculd happen.
Then, there is a stranger shouting, to the locked door, brutally trying to open it. Look at that… Someone actually came to save him… I laugh again, even if it hurts. I laugh but I don't have mean intentions.
It is funny how things work.
The man pulls me by my shirt. I feel the muscles and tissues of my chest being stretch with this object between them. He demanded a key, he demanded to open the door, and if I did so he would spare me.
I laugh again. Nervously. Spare me?
“I don’t have a key.” I cough the blood in my mouth. “I’m just keeping watch.”
"So, what do we do now?" The mishmash of dirt and tar slides to be next to Aiden. Rising and retreating like an ocean wave to form and deform a human silhouette that calls himself Malloc.
"I thought he was dead. I saw it."
"Oh you mortals so limited by your spectrum." Malloc teases. The news of his brother being alive amuses him. All the conflict and opportunity that lie ahead, excites him, and he gets this very rare opportunity of seeing Aiden caught by surprise. That is an achievement on its own.
"This changes everything." Aiden brain is already twisting and turning the gears to form a different plan. Suddenly the girl unconscious at his feet has no purpose at all. When she wakes up, she will remember Aiden and Malloc's faces, and then... it's a matter of time.
"She's a lose end." The tar silhouette lets the words slide like honey.
"Crumbs that can be easily followed."
"Keep her." the man orders.
"Keep her?" Malloc laughs echoes in the small office. "Such a generous choice of words."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Say the things exactly as they are." Malloc flavours the moment. "You're so good with words. How can you miss by three letters?"
"I am not going to indulge you." the man keep his ground, Years of experience dealing with this mishmash of a thing that knows what to say to poke where it hurts.
The tar and dirt surrounds the girl body, first as an embrace, then as bed, and finally a cocoon. Swallow slowly in dark moving sand.
But Malloc is right. The girl should be gone. It's a lose end. Someone that happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Aiden wondered if she had family or friends looking for her, or if she knew, in that peacefully indulged sleep, that a man, she never meet before, is about to decide her fate.
"Kill her..." Malloc whispers in Aiden ear. The words wiggle and itch as if a worm had enter through it. It causes such a visceral sensation in Aiden body, that he check his clothes for bugs.
Malloc is gone, as well with the girl, but his voices is heard in the walls.
"One day you will say it, Aiden. And I will be cheering you up, in a standing ovation."
Lose dialogue
Ethan and Yakov (original charcaters)
Coffee terrace
Yakov (Y) - "Are you sure?"
than (E) - "Yes, I trust you. You're competent, loyal, a good friend."
Y - "No, are you sure you want to get married?"
E - "What do you mean?"
Y - "You know I don't support monogamy, nor polyamory... The whole institute of marriage is just a scam by the government-"
E - "That's a shame. I'll ask Zimsky then." He smirks.
Y - "Zimsky, why? There are other ways to sabotage one's marriage. Getting Zimsky to be your best man is the same as going to chemo to get a hair cut!"
E - So, you think you could do better?"
Y - "Of course I could! What kind of question is that?"
E - "Will you?"
Y - "Not only will I be such a great best man, I will put other weedings to shame!" Yakov stops protesting, realizing how Ethan inverted the game.
A small dialogue I have been repeating in my mind, but haven't found THE SCENE to write.
So picture this:
Someone asks Yakov what his kill count is and...
... After a long pause, he replies.
"Four."
"Four? Hm... It's not much, for an assassin I mean-"
"Four is the number of people I didn't kill. It's the only number I keep track."
--- End Scene ---
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Obsessed with Whumpees who are clever but also very very stupid.
Like congrats, your convoluted escape plan worked and you're finally out of Whumper's house. Well guess what, dumbass, he lives in the middle of nowhere, he has no neighbors, it's the middle of winter and you're gonna freeze to death. Great job.
Didn't use the line, but used it as an inspiration for the drabble. Hope you like it.
Original character: Ethan Aldebaran
Original setting. Non-canon event. (at least, it wasn't quite like this, that it happen *smirks* )
The group of armed man invade the house in an excellent show of precision and focus. Washing away each division of the manor in perfect synchrony. They know whom they are after, and have all the evidence needed to confidently barge in at the middle of the night, where a well-known family lives.
It is the fear of the daughter that wakes up the couple first, and before they could put their feet on the floor, orders are being shout with guns pointed at them.
Everything is happen so fast, they don’t even have time to think and it’s the distress that these man provoke, that makes the couple drop to the floor, even though the orders seem to be shouted in an amalgamation of words.
The woman is the first to show her panic, hearing the daughter call for her. It’s impressive what protection instinct can make us do. How adrenaline makes those we usually see being calm and kind, turning furious in one second. She would never hurt a fly. It’s what they usually say, and tonight, she’s fighting so hard, it is necessary two men to come to the rescue of their colleague and pull her out of the room.
She shouts for her daughter name, she curses and finally she calls the one who was asleep at her side, but is now paralyzed, looking at this horror. When his brain clicks, adrenaline rushes to him so fast he believes he can run at an impossible speed towards his wife. One punch in his face, is enough to make him change his mind.
The world is loud, the ears buzz, and the vision attempts to clean the blurriness. He’s never been punched before, much less in the face. It pounds so much he can feel his heart beat on his cheek. And the world that has been showing in slow motion, finally catch up to reality.
He is left with nothing but the screams of his daughter fading in the hallway and the wife being ripped away from his reach. He’s on his knees, surround, with the men keeping their senses sharp. If anyone was watching this unfold, they would question the use of such violence. Has if he is the most dangerous thing in this room.
Except, he is.
“Do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Aldebaran?” a pair of shining boots reflects the result of the punch. Only tasting the blood, when he sees it.
The man who spoke crouches, meting Aldebaran eye to eye who flinches back expecting another punch. Instead he is meet with a smile of a successful hunt.
“I believe in ghosts, because I am looking at one right now.” The man scrutinizes Aldebaran face for any reaction, but he spoke so cryptic, the poor soul does not understand.
He shows him a black and white picture of the dining area of a restaurant. “This is you, right?” The dining room is so full, the man bulky finger almost covers Aldebaran face in the picture, but he remember that day. So much so the noise of the crowd, and the smell of the cosy food, comes to mind.
His body is shaking so much, it is hard to distinguish between fear and confirmation. But to the one asking the questions, it’s enough for what he needs to continue.
“We have a hand full of pictures like this one. You know what the one thing they have in common is? They were all taken prior a Mr. Aldebaran death.” He does not give Aldebaran a chance to participate in the conversation. He’s required by law to explain the situation. The Ivory Tower likes their streets clean, and the population organized, but they love their laws more.
“Do you now understand why I believe in ghosts?” he pokes the photo in Aldebaran nose before getting up, making him flinch again.
It is starting to feel humiliating how he can’t control his body. He feels his strengths melting into the centre of the earth and gravity feeling heavier and heavier. Worse things is, guilt. He should have shouted at the man by how they treated his family, stand up for them, protect them. But it’s already so hard to breath.
The leader stomps his boots on the wooden floor, looking on his surroundings. Shelves stack with books. A desk visually showing a brainstorm in progress. The blueprint speaking in a language he does not understand but know it is important for his superiors. The only reason why one could call this a bedroom, is because of the bed, which looks more like an intruder in this environment. Long and heavy curtains, Crimorean carpets, the real ones, not the ones you can find on the market by an accessible price. A picture in copper frame, of a young girl smiling, showing her first baby tooth in her small fingers.
“You live quite well, for a turncoat.” He can’t hold a chuckle to the picture. All so… normal. He almost feels disappointed. “I can give you credit for that.” He puts the picture down and continues his journey, sliding the fingers on the row of books in the shelf, reading the titles as he goes. One can find a lot about a person by the books they read, and the words on the spines are proof of the man’s intelligence.
“Please.” The word leaves Aldebaran lips with effort.
“Sorry?”
“Don’t hurt them.”
The man is confused for a moment, but finds the answer quick, when he follows Aldebaran eyes, staring at the door. “Oh. You’re still on that?”
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I’ve made a prompts list! (Some are not mine and I give credit to those who made them.) Send an ask with the number(s) and the character/ship you want! (For short drabbles/blurbs) x
1. “Please don’t leave me.”
2. “Are you kidding me right now?!”
3. “I’m going to kill you!”
4. “You did all of this for me?”
5. “I made my baby cry!”
6. “I’m in love with you.”
7. “Can I kiss you?”
8. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”
9. “Will you be quiet?!”
10. “You are a bloody idiot, you know that?”
11. “You love me.”
12. “He’s dead.”
13. “I hate you so much I love you.”
14. “Just leave me alone!”
15. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
16. “Give me a reason not to turn around and walk away now.”
17. “Please.”
18. "Cuddle me.”
19. "Give me that back!”
20. "I’m pregnant.”
21. "Are you scared?”
22. "What are you doing?”
23. "If we get caught I’m blaming you.”
24. "Are you drunk?”
25. "Shut up and kiss me.”
26. "Help me I’m stuck.”
27. "What am I going to do with you?”
28. "Stop distracting me!”
29. "You said my name in your sleep.”
30. "Yes.”
31. "Are you jealous?”
32. "Trust me.”
33. "Bite me.” “If you insist.”
34. "I made a mistake.”
35. "It’s been a while.” “Too long.”
36. "I don’t love you anymore!”
37. "You’re lying.”
38. "I’m going to regret this.”
39. "Do that again.”
40. "I’m running away.”
41. "I need your help.”
42. "If I die I’m going to come back and haunt you.”
43. "Well this is a surprise.”
44. "Am I dreaming?”
45. "Make me.”
46. "If they find out, I’ll kill myself and then you.”
47. "Why? Just… why?”
48. "Stop it.”
49. "We’re just friends.”
50. "Did you just flick me?”
51. "Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now?”
52. "I got you a present.”
53. "Sit in my lap.”
54. "I think I forgot how to breathe.”
55. "Woah.”
56. "What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since I was eleven?”
57. "You don’t understand, you never do!”
58. "You look cute with a baby bump!”
59. "It’s all your fault!”
60. "Well that’s just great.”
61. "Are you even listening?”
62. "I’m going to walk away and pretend I didn’t see anything.”
63. "I thought you loved her.”
64. "Time changes people.”
65. "You, my friend, are a complete and utter tosser.”
66. "You should be nice to me, I just saved your life!”
67. "Don’t you just love it!”
68. "It bit me!”
69. "You have approximately 5 seconds to get out of my face before I kill you.”
70. "Did you buy me… lingerie?”
71. "Oh yeah, because you’d be so good at this!”
72. "I’m sorry.”
73. "That night never happened!”
74. "You should marry me.”
75. "Aren’t you just a cutie pie!”
76. "Don’t you dare!”
77. "Um.. somebody broke that.”
78. "Stop biting that fucking lip!”
79. "You’re hot, shame about the personality.”
80. "You’re going to get us expelled!”
81. "I need you to fake date me.”
82. "My back’s a bit sore from when you stabbed me with your knife.”
83. “You’re just leaving me here? At least have to decency to finish me off with a stick.”
84. "No, I didn’t murder them. I accidentally knocked them unconscious forever, that’s all.”
85. "Wow thanks a lot.”
86. "Why are you walking around naked?”
87. "You owe me big time!”
88. "Awe it’s so cute!”
89. "Are you hitting on me?”
90. "If I die you’ll be sorry!”
91. "Help me hide!”
92. "Sometimes I really don’t like you.”
93. "You’re crazy! You’re out of your mind!”
94. "Ow! Ow! Stop hitting me!”
95. "I don’t know how you convinced me to do this.”
96. "Is that… is that my bra?”
97. "Really? Right now?”
98. "Where are your pants?”
99. "I can’t believe you’re carrying my child.”
100. ”You’re my soulmate?!”
Yes, I would consider him street-smart, even though his innocent side takes over him sometimes.
I don't think he is very wise in terms of life experiences, but if he puts the effort, he can show promising results. Unfortunately, he is very stubborn and lazy.
"Another super intimidating element of writing is the idea of someone actually reading what you write. Your readers should certainly be considered and there will be time for them down the road. But now is not that time. Now is the time to be selfish. Think about yourself. Don’t write to be read, write to be happy. Write to tell yourself a story you want to experience. Odds are, if it’s a story you want to experience, there will be readers out there who like the same things you do and who will love to read it. But don’t worry about them now. Worry about yourself. Write for you. Write to be happy."
Meghan Rogers
Recently, I had a conversation with a friend where she said something along the lines of "It's ridiculous I know" when talking about her story lore. Sometimes, we are so worried about making it look real and believable, that we forget the reason why we started in the first place, and suddenly that happiness is gone.
There will be a time to be "serious" about it. But today, just today, you can allow yourself to be "ridiculous" to make it surreal and absurd because if it makes you happy, why should it be wrong?
Down on the hallway of the Shiftingspire tower, a silhouette of a woman walks in Yakov's direction. He only has time to flinch when her hand rises up to the air, ready to smack his face.
Her expression is in rage, but her eyes dive in sadness, and suddenly she detains herself, biting the lip.
"You're not worth it..." She breathes out. "All these years, I imagine what I would do to you if we were to meet again. The pain I was going to inflict on you. For lying, for deceiving me, for giving me a job next to the murder of my partner. He was right there, under my nose... And I was there organising his paperwork..."
She clutch her hand.
"I hated you, cursed you. You took my life away. And the worst part is... The worst part is that you gave me happiness in a lie. You hurt me beyond flesh and bone. You cross through time taking him away from me! I hope you never have a single moment of rest. When going to sleep, you see his face and hear his voice. I hope he screams out loud, for what you did, was beyond a monstrous act. You play the part of God."
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Weirdly Healing Things to Do When You’re Feeling Creatively Burned Out...
Write a fake 5-star Goodreads review of your WIP—as if you didn’t write it. Go ahead. Pretend you're a giddy reader who just discovered this masterpiece. Bonus: add emojis, chaotic metaphors, and all-caps screaming. It’s self-indulgent. It’s delusional. It’s delicious.
Give your main character a Pinterest board titled “Mentally Unstable but Aesthetic.” Include outfits, quotes, memes, cursed objects, and that one painting that haunts their dreams. This is not about logic. This is about ✨vibes.✨
Make a “deleted scenes” folder and write something that would never make it into the book. A crackfic. A “what if they were roommates” AU. The group chat from hell. This is your WIP’s blooper reel. Let it be silly, chaotic, or wildly off-brand.
Interview your villain like you’re Oprah. Ask the hard-hitting questions. “When did you know you were the drama?” “Do you regret the murder, or just the way you did it?” Bonus points if they lie to your face.
Host a fake awards show for your characters. Categories like “Most Likely to Die for Vibes,” “Worst Emotional Regulation,” “Himbo Energy Supreme,” or “Best Use of a Dramatic Exit.” Write their acceptance speeches. Yes, this counts as writing.
Write a breakup letter… to your inner critic. Be petty. Be dramatic. “Dear Self-Doubt, this isn’t working for me anymore. You bring nothing to the table but anxiety and bad vibes.” Rip it up. Burn it. Tape it to your mirror. Your call.
Create a “writing comfort kit” like you’re a cozy witch.
A candle that smells like your WIP. A tea that your characters would drink. A playlist labeled “for writing when I’m one rejection email away from giving up.” This is a ritual now.
Design a fake movie poster or book cover like your story is already famous. Add star ratings, critic quotes, and some pretentious tagline like “One soul. One destiny. No chill.”
Write a scene you’re not ready to write—but just a rough, messy outline version. Not the polished thing. Just the raw emotion. The shape of it. Like sketching the bones of a future punch to the gut. You don’t have to make it perfect. Just open the door.
Let your story be bad on purpose for a day. Like, aggressively bad. Give everyone ridiculous names. Add an evil talking cat. Write a fight scene with laser swords and emotional damage. Just remind yourself that stories are meant to be played with, not feared.
