I finally don't feel like utter crap anymore! First off, Infinity wars, watched it. …Yeah. I'm gonna end that there. Cross tag, gonna play that demo! And if anyone hasn't played or watched Dad of War, I suggest you do so, boy. Also, the polls for the most wanted stories will be closing tomorrow. So, if you haven't voted in the polls, do so now. But, back to this. I haven't written anything in a while, so to get back in the groove of things, I decided to write some prompts. But I thought, why not just share them? So, here it is.


It was just a regular day for Ragna.

The sun set hours ago, eclipsing the hierarchical city of Akitsu in darkness. Not even the moon or stars dare show themselves tonight, hiding behind the clouds lIke freightened children. Perhaps they really were afraid, just like everyone else, and remained in the shadows when they heard his name: the Grim Reaper, Ragna the Bloodedge. The world renowned SS class criminal. Or maybe it was the sizzling sound or scent of something burning?

A red jacket and massive sword most would refer to as a heap of raw iron were his calling card. Wanted posters scattered themselves around the cities, in hopes of finding the malicious felon. They weren't drawn very well though, given no one has encountered the famed villain and walked out alive, or with all their limbs in tact. Resulting in the poorly drawn pictures, and maybe seeing those pictures stirred the criminal to bring down his full wrath upon the NOL. But his reasons weren't so petty.

He wanted revenge. His eyes told the story. They were hard, brimming with indescribable rage. He had a look in his eyes that told others he's seen things. Hardships no one should experience, especially at such a young age.

Smoke boiled from the powerful flame which engulfed the NOL branch. Once a symbol of order, now a great big flashlight to replace the moon and stars. The horrific cries and screams from those within fell silent. Perhaps overwhelmed by the great blaze that seemed to only get louder as time past. Dark ash replaced the pure snow. Soldiers who patrolled laid lifeless in pools of their own blood and organs. That is, if they were lucky enough not to be devoured. That's not to say their deaths were any better.

Burning metal and such mixed with the putrid scent of decomposition. Its odor blew with the ever growing breeze thanks to the malfunction of the weather maintenance system caused by the cauldrons destruction. Onlookers who arrived in the aftermath drawn by the noise bore witness to the horror left by the legendary man could only stand watching the building burn, petrified. There were some who grew the courage to scream. Others buckled to their knees, crying. Knowing that, tonight, their loved ones would not return home. This man was no longer a legend or myth. Proof of his deed held not only by the flame-ensnared building, but the destruction left with battles against officers along the roads.

Arms and legs severed from their owners bodies, Trails of blood created by those who tried to escape, only to have the criminal's massive blade lodged into their skulls. Some were tenacious; others didn't even get the opportunity to draw their blades. He was far too quick. Personnel who were lucky enough to arrive on the scene during the aftermath went looking for Ragna, but with no luck. How could they find him?

Ragna had long since cast an invisibly ars on himself. Blood coated his blade like a sticky goo, and dripped off the heap of iron like droplets as he tore through the dark alley ways. Viscera stained his vibrant red coat and blood he told himself he'd wipe off later spotted up in face. Cries of scared civilians filled his ears. They cursed his name like always. Begging for his head to be put on a stake, pleading for his capture. Murderer, killer, maniac. He didn't bat an eye to it. He's heard them all before. So much so they grew dull. He was far too used to it.

It was just a regular day for Ragna.


And done. Wasn't too long. I'm really out of it. I'm planning to do some more like this to get back into writing shape. Probably.