This is posts that I have made or little snippets of writing that I have done that can be used as plot bunnies or examples of my writing.
Scarecrow and Vicki Vale Scene
Glowing eyes followed the four characters on the roof across from the building he had positioned himself. “Now is the time. Oh fear shall reap it’s next victim and the Bat will watch. All of Gotham will see her fear.”
The Scarecrow laughed to himself the sewing on his mouth stretching grotesquely. Though swiftness and sneaking wasn’t his forte, the Scarecrow made quick work of dropping down the pipe and crossing from one fire escape to another, on the other side of the building from the Cat and the Bat. With Bane down, unable to tip them off, Scarecrow wrapped on hand around Vicki’s thin ankle and pulled her off the roof. Laughing quietly, maniacally, as he moved swiftly through the night toward the building he had deemed his current hideout. One the Bat would never suspect.
Putting Vicki down on the metal table, which resembled an autopsy table strongly, the lanky man stood over her for a long moment. The room was bright, filled with lights each one equipped with a camera to record everything she was about to experience. Slinking into the only dark corner, Dr. Jonathan Crane pulled his mask off sitting in a squashy armchair. It was stained with random colors, some brown, some red, obvious blood stains. Though there were also a few different stains that would have glowed under a blacklight giving away their enzyme content immediately, showing the familiarity in which he had with the chair.
As the blonde slowly came to he stood, moving to her side. Her blue eyes opened, not clouded at all. “Oh, no, we must have you right for the party.”
Jonathan insisted. Turning her over on her right side for a moment, he plunged a syringe deep into the meat of her rump. A hushed groan of pain escaped her bruised lips, where she had been drug across the rooftop. Letting her slip back onto her back he moved, turning off all the lights except for the one directly above her.
Vicki’s head felt heavy, as if every silvery blonde hair on her head was being pulled individually by gravity. There was a dull pain in her right hip, the pain was something she could easily ignore. She licked her lips, the sensation sending chills through her. Head head felt heavy, but her body felt alive as if every single nerve ending was being stimulated simultaneously. Though the metal of the table beneath her was cold, it cool temperature stroked her lovingly. Her skin was hot against it and the iciness of the steel met her like old lovers. Nimble fingers pressed against the unyielding steel, trying to put herself up though Vicki found that her limbs were heavy as well though no restrained in any way.
The creeping chuckle, low, dark, endlessly long, reverberating from every corner of the room Vicki sat in set fire to the sensitive nerves on her. Each goose flesh that rose up sending a gasping chill of pleasure through her. She felt like it was rolling in like a smooth thunder to play it’s symphony over her body. Each note struck playing her like a fine tuned Stradivarius beneath the talented fingers of Beethoven or Bach. “Vicki.”
The loving voice whispered in her ear. Slowly, she turned her head, moving toward the voice with a deep yearning. “You’ve been a very naughty girl Vicki.”
The feeling of pins moving up her thigh slowly caused her to gasp at the sensation of the cool metal pressing into the flesh of her leg. It took her a moment to realize that it wasn’t pens, but the sharp edges of needles pressing into her. Though they left nothing other than a red line. They didn’t pierce her skin at all. Vicki shuddered as the five of them ran dangerously close to her pulsing lips before leaving her entirely. For a moment the sound of a wanton moan, like a whore being pleasured by the devil himself, filled her ears. It was foreign and erotic, it surprised the blonde to realize that it had come from her own lips.
The smooth face of Jonathan Crane floated before her blue eyes, though there was a psychotic look in the silver irises. Almost as soon as his face appeared though it vanished, replaced by the mask that she had seen before. Fear shot through her as his dark chuckle embraced her once more. His voice sounded distorted through the mask though she heard it clearly, each word striking her heart. “Don’t worry Ms. Vale, I am going to make you feel fear.”
He moved down toward her ear and Vicki jerked away as best she could, though she didn’t get far at all. “And you’ll cry for it, yearn for it’s caress on you, on your body.”
She felt her nipples harden at her words, part of her intrigued by what he meant. “Oh, we are getting excited I see.”
Vicki could see the brown gloved hand as it moved toward her round breasts. One pinpoint of the needle, equipped with what she was sure was his newest fear toxin, pressed into the hard, pink, nub. Vicki’s heart hammered in her chest, knowing the pain that he could cause him with would flick of the tendon in his hand. He didn’t do that though, instead he held the nipple at the needle point, moving it slowly in an agonizing circle. The pleasure was light but intense, sending a rolling shock through her body. A wheezing gasp escaped Vicki’s dry lips a she felt the slickness between her legs beginning to wet her lips. As her heat began to pump, faster and faster, the room around Vicki began to warp. Shadowy demons not touched by the light above her danced menacingly their laughing faces taunting her. Another hand touched Vicki's thigh, the needles sliding toward her inner thigh caressing her skin like old lovers meeting again.
The City: Fallen Angel
Eyes, less orange and more gold the brightness of them slowly fading, began scanning the dirty streets. Against the grimy, hard street, her feet feel cold. Cold? Never had the heat and cold affected her before. Drawing in a ragged breath, forgetting momentarily of the horrors stalking her, the woman ran her hands over her body as it began to tremble. It lay unprotected from the elements, a low wind blew, throwing wild curls of chestnut, mahogany, and caramel around. Her skin itched with the dirt the wind pushed against her. Chest quivering, trying to hyperventilate, a chilling howl sought her ears once more and she remembered. Not why she'd been forced into the dismal place, but that there was something, no, things, hurdling toward her at an alarm pace. Their howls speaking of blood thirst.
Despite the pain it brought her now sensitive feet, the woman ran. Firm breasts bouncing, nipples hard in fright, adrenaline pumped, coursing through her veins for the first time. Her heart pounded hearing the feet behind her. Despite knowing she'd regret it, golden eyes looked back, looking at the creatures pursing her.
Mouth slack in fright, her feet stamped harder on the ground, pushing herself further. The things chasing her. They weren't even animals. Hounds of hell, that's what they looked like. Their tireless jaws, ever working with the growls reverberating their throats, were filled with jagged teeth. Eyes burned with desire for flesh. The coats, black as night, seemed to be dripping with fire. Heavy paws sent them forward at an alarming rate. Their sheer size made her think of wolves, though their bulk, long claws, reminded her of a horrible bear mauling.
Before her, a dark building, with no windows to speak of, at least not on its first floor, loomed. The door was opened, ever so slightly. Though that slight opening was enough for her, a sharp bark, making her trip up sending her sprawling on the concrete. Turning, plump red lips pulled back away from her teeth in fright, the woman watched as the closest creature pounced. Scrambling though unable to get up on her feet, just barely moving out of it's primary reach, fire shot through her leg as the edge of one of it's claws ran down her calf. Getting dirt all over her body, she made her way into the building, kicking the door shut with a bang. Though the creature lunged not at the door, the silence from within the building was just as chilling.
Lance stared at the back door for a long moment. Samantha stood behind him, a gun in one hand and a chair in the other. Their plan was for Samantha to wedge the chair under the knob of the door incase anyone, or anything, saw him leave the house.
“Now or never right?” Lance asked grinning. “Wish me good luck?”
“Don’t be cliche Lance. Get your ass out there and come back.” Samantha said letting go of the chair, opening the door for him. Chuckling Lance kissed her on the cheek, taking the plunge into darkness. Shutting the door, pink faced, Samantha shoved the chair under the knob, hearing Lance’s footsteps fading rapidly as he ran for the house.
Running Lance tried to listen, hoping nothing was following him to the house. Slamming his back into the paneling of the house, the dim light on the porch winking off again, turning back on almost in the same moment. Breath labored Lance heard nothing, moving carefully around the back of the house peeking into each window, checking for signs of life.
Swearing to himself Lance gently pulled at the knob of the back door. It gave way with ease. Hand holding tightly to the gun Samantha had given him. Lance ventured into the still house. In the dark he heard weeping.
“Hello? Is there someone in here?” Lance called out, not having to speak loudly as the house carried his voice. “I can help you, are you hurt?” The crying stopped as Lance took the first step, it creaking beneath his feet. A red light shining, just barely, from one of the bedrooms.
“Ma’am, please, I need you to answer me. Are you alright? Ma’am, you may be in very real danger. Do you not know what’s going on here?” He asked. At the end of the stairs Lance heard the shuffling of feet, a dark figure dashed across the floor, heading into the red lit room. Lance jumped, pissing himself a little, heart pounding erratically. For the briefest of moments Lance was reminded of the ghost stories his Mom used to tell.
“Are you alright?” Lance’s voice help a note of desperation. “Ma’am please.”
“Are you alone?” Lance froze standing before the room as the small, female, voice hit him. “Are you alone?” He didn’t want to answer the gravel like voice. Pushing the door open he saw a lamp, a red shirt tossed over it to dim the light. Not seeing a cord Lance guessed the lamp was battery powered.
“No, I’m not alone. My friend is downstairs. Are you hurt in here?” Lance lied looking about the room for the voice. Lance jumped letting out a little squeal seeing the girl standing behind the door, a waif of a thing, no older than twelve dressed in a long, filthy, nightgown.
“Do you want to play?” The ring around her mouth looked black in the red light. Lance feared it was dried blood.
“P-play?” Lance stuttered the word out, feeling his balls being sucked into his stomach fearing what she meant by playing. “Play what?” The girls grin widened, she took his hand switching the lamp off. In the dark she lead him quickly down the hall to another room. Lance gagged at the smell. As she turned the light on, a blue shaded the entire room.
Horrified Lance looked around the room, in a rocking chair a woman sat mouth slack, half of one leg gone. On a makeshift table Lance saw cuts of meat, trembling he connected the dots quickly looking to the girl, who’d stepped behind him.
“Momma is old. I need a new toy to play with.” Her clumped dirty hair made her look feral in the blue light. “She tastes old.” With that the girl pounced wielding the butcher knife she’d probably used to hack her Mother apart. Lance caught her wrist, as she snapped at him, growling shrilly. Distracted by the butcher knife and eminent danger the girl posed Lance didn’t notice the prick deep in his thigh until he stumbled, unable to keep hold of her wrist.
“What, what’s happening?” Lance fell to the floor, the sound of the girl giggling echoed in his head. In his face the girl flashed a small bottle.
“Momma liked to bring her medicine home with her.” Lance’s vision blurred his senses leaving him slowly as the girl, with difficulty, pulled him into a chair. Before he blacked out Lance saw the child’s face dance before his vision.
“We are going to have so much fun.” Revolting breath drew new Lance’s face making his stomach churn. Faintly he felt her weight on his lap, crispy, peeling, blood dried lips pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Why Don't you do Right?
On the expansive stage before her, Andy felt proud watching the girl’s she had been working with strut their stuff. The little tux’s they wore, nothing more than corsets and panties really, were adorable though low enough that it looked as if breasts would come tumbling out at any moment. When Andy had designed and had the corsets made that had been a problem. Girl’s had fallen out left and right. Thank god for double sided tape. She thought watching as hips popped, rears jiggled, and beautiful female bodies moved on the chairs they were working with for the number. Not all of the girls could sing and dance the lead role. Since Andy wasn’t on stage and neither was Gina, out sick with the flu, Andrea had taken over. Body like a Goddess, voice of a frog.
The red wig that And wore felt heavy, though that was to be expected with the amount of hair spray that had been put in it. After all, for the next number, it was necessary. As Andrea finished lip-singing, ending their second to final number Andy took a deep breath. It wasn’t often that they did things like this, though she had decided to change it up a little, get away from the normal vibe that the girls put out. The curtains drew, the light flicking off the stage. Many voices were heard by Andy, they were confused. There was at least one more song? Right? With a deep breath, holding a microphone styled like the old block ones Andy slipped through the heavy red curtains.
”You had plenty money, 1922, You let other women make a fool of you.” Her voice was soft, caressing as she sang stepping slowly toward the spotlight in the middle of the stage. The red dress that she wore was silk though shimmered like diamonds. With dramatic purple eye shadow, purple elbow length gloves, and purple high heels the men recognized her instantly, so did some of the women. ”Why don't you do right, like some other men do. Get out of here and get me some money too.” The wolf whistles began. As Andy sang on the curtains opened back up, allowing everyone to see the girls, posing sexily, moving their bodies sensually as their leader sang. All they wore were red heels, each girl holding a giant span of red feathers in front of their supposed naked bodies.
As she sang Andy walked through the crowd. No one touched her, for fear that they would be kicked out of the club. Instead they stared, harder than they had before she’d put on the wig. Her breasts bounced, pushed up nearly to her chin with the tightness of the corset she wore. The breathlessness of her voice was from not being able to breathe well. Wearing a corset tighter than she ever had before singing was difficult, of course none of the men noticed that.
”Why don’t you do right.” Andy sang louder as she stopped in front of one of her favorite bouncer. Sliding her ample rear down him carefully, her head pressed against him giving her hair, which was stiff with hairspray, a slight bump. He had been warned that she would approach him. ”Like some other men. Dooo.” She held the last note out, as long and as softly as she could before straightening herself up, smiling brightly at the applause. Blowing kisses she winked at a few, knowing they’d feel special, and quickly headed backstage.
Cass yawned, placing a small bruised hand over her cracked, full lips. With a sign she tentatively rolled the honey balm on her lips. Finishing the cup of water, from the large jug kept around the clinic, she stood. Her long powerful legs were glad in tight black material. The running shoes she wore, once vibrant pink were not slightly muddy and faded. They had seen quite a few miles in their treads. They'd seen even more since the whole thing had happened.
In the beginning, much to Cass' horror, she witnessed her parents turn. Shuddering at the memories Cass pushed them out of her mind. Eating the last power bar, one that Rebecca had stashed away long before everything happened, the young woman licked her fingers. Not letting one bit of the chocolate that had rubbed off on her fingers escape her lips. Something like chocolate, it would become a commodity sooner or later. She doubted the would be a moment for her stop to enjoy it later.
Shouldering her backpack, honey brown eyes surveying the outside through a skit no bigger than an inch. Cass pursed her lips. Eyes narrowed, her golden blonde hair pulled away from the almond iris' Cass slipped through the glass doors. The shades had been drawn for hours, a few days actually as Cass had been camped out there a little while. Rolling the mountain bike out with her, an outrageous yellow color. Swinging her full leg over the seat, Cass pushed off strongly. As she road, in silence, Cass flinched hearing an alarm in the distance. Her feet moved quickly, peddling fast. She swung the bike around, despite the drop in her stomach. She had to see, what if it were a child? She'd check it out, from a distance.
"Let's us climb the wall! Let us climb the wall!"
The chanting had begun again. Only ten people a day were allowed to climb the wall. Everyone wanted their chance at climbing it though. Not that it ever made a difference. Pepper had never attempted to climb the wall. Everyone that tried never returned to their normal everyday life. Most of the time they weren't even able to talk correctly. Pepper's brother had made it to the top of the wall. He'd looked at her for a long moment, shaking his head. The wall wasn't worth it. That's what Pepper got out of it. When the military had moved in and designed the wall, it was for their protection. To keep everything else out. It was supposed to be temporary. Pepper had been born behind the wall though and she was twenty-four.
"It's that time again folks!" A loud cheer came from the crowd. "It's time for us to call the names for those lucky enough to be chosen. If your name is called you will be given the choice. You can climb the wall or have your name put back in the drawing for next week where will you be eligible to be chosen again." The cheering became louder. With a wave of his hand Asher silenced the crowd. Behind him, soldiers lined up in their dark grey outfits. Each of them holding high efficiency assault rifles. The screen jumbled with letters before a name spewed out. Adam Lancaster.
"Adam! Will you climb the wall?" Asher asked loudly. Quiet the crowd looked around for Adam. A small boy stood up, he was no older than 12. Though your name went in at birth. Adam shook his head no hurriedly, his mothers weathered and dirty hands on his shoulders. "So is your choice! Another will take your place." And it went on, Asher called the names that appeared on the screen. Maybe refused their right to climb the wall. Ten had to say yes before they would stop though. Finally, all ten spots were filled and everyone cheered while the ten left, single file, to the only spot that would lead them to the place where they could attempt to climb.