writing examples ♪

Taken from my old, old Tumblr roleplay blog for this beastie.

#1
After trying and failing to get Skull Kid to join their cult...
 

Luckily it currently had features to sneer with, ‘cause that’s what it couldn’t help but do while Skull Kid spoke. Majora came to an abrupt halt roundabout to the left of its pesky puppet pal, one hand on its hip as it tossed its other army limb around the Kid’s shoulders. It leaned forward, somewhat in, all buddy-buddy-like and chuckling.

“I guess it’s for the best! Hee, hee, I wouldn’t want to subject my cultists to garbage like you, anyway! Their lives are bad enough.” The demon flashed its chum a toothy grin. “Imagine if they had to deal with you every other day? Imagine if I had to deal with you every other day? I’d probably wind up disbanding my cult in a desperate attempt to get rid of you!”

An attempt at reverse psychology, or genuine insults?… Well, all right, there was no doubt about it - they were genuine insults. 

“This is where I’d tell you to run along and go play with your friends, but…” A cackle bridged the distance from one statement to another, “How could I forget! You don’t have any of those, do you?”

#2
First reply to a rather lengthy horror story featuring a Kafei (that sadly ended early cuz I got burnt out. Novella isn't my thang, y'see.)

It was always a treat to oversee its cult, to watch them prepare elaborate set-ups for silly little rituals and–better yet–meetings. Rituals could be fun, but meetings often brought in fresh meat, and that? That meant that its plans were going full steam ahead. If membership became stagnant, if people stopped joining, where would it be? It would actually have to start encouraging its followers to… To procreate, or something, and overwhelm Termina’s main regions through actual generations. 

Sure, Majora may have decided to go slow, to play with its food, to watch them bumble about and prostrate themselves unwittingly before their false god and eventual demise, but actually having to wait outside of its own choice…? That wasn’t an option it would settle for. 

So… Yes. Meetings. It had called for one for early that night (”Make sure to invite your friends!”), and the twilight hours had already fallen; it could still hear hammering. What was probably one of the construction fellows was barking orders to, “Hang that up over there! No, that’s wrong, I said over there!,” at some poor sap. Who, it sounded, had done it wrong again since the next thing the demon heard from the outside was, “Do I have to do everything myself?!”

Once upon a time, it could relate.

Sadly it wasn’t able to see the goings-on. Earlier it had been able to, but then it had remembered that, oh, it had preparations of its own it had to do. The erroneous idol had itself busy with getting its chosen vessel to look Just Right. Not difficult to do for a ‘god’ that could ‘bend reality in weird and wondrous ways’ - otherwise it would have taken an entire day to meticulously apply body paint just to have the stuff smudged to hell by its robes. It knew that from experience. 

And once its own preparations were complete and over with–after it preened itself a little, did a small little dance to stretch and settle into its current meatsuit’s limbs–it finally stepped out of its little stone shrine to see what progress its builders had made. Banners emblazoned with an eclipsed sun hung from newly re-constructed frames (one was still being positioned, those doing the work supervised by that burly, ornery man) that sat on either side of a temporary platform; fancy painted stone bowls filled with rocks and flammable materials lit the scene; incense burning in holders held by several hooded members mingled with the fresh sea-salted breeze. 

It was as good as it was going to get given the quality of the people of this stupid, stupid land. Now it just had to get everyone into their positions and wait for the attending to arrive.

                                                          ⚫

Those making the short pilgrimage to the Great Bay would be greeted with the following scene: four incense-holding hooded persons kneeling on the platform, each an equal distance from the colorful, floating man in the middle. The wolf in sheep’s clothing was sitting leisurely on nothing, a small outward display that the ‘god’ the cult had been built around was present. 

And of course the four around it was a homage to the Giants.

A very mocking–perhaps blasphemous depending upon who was asked–homage, of course. Just the best for those boring, old things.

All stayed silent (well, relatively so, considering the droning chatter of those in attendance making small-talk while they waited for everyone else to arrive) until the ‘man’ in the middle had deemed the group large enough to begin. It could espy new faces. New playthings. It giggled to itself before it rose its voice, addressed the crowd,

“Good evening, all of you! We’re very happy that you could attend tonight! Do make yourselves comfortable–I have. Hee, hee! The sand should still be warm, unless you prefer to stand.” There was a pause while it waited for people to make their choices: sit, stand, or in some cases sit on each other–eugh. When it began this whole facade it should have made up a commandment forbidding such outward displays of closeness. 

“Now then! How about we start off with a story for you new folks? I haven’t seen some of you before. You must be wondering what this is all about!“ Another pause. “Well, you see… Once upon a time, long before Termina, there was a land of perfect peace! Perfect order! No man, no woman, no child, no one killed another, and no one suffered.” It had eaten them all. But why would it mention that? “Time was still.” 

The ‘man’ waved a hand, palm up, a tiny ball of yellow light taking form. “The Sun presided over the land, and it kept it that way.” Its second hand joined the display, the slightly dimmer light formed millimeters above it taking on a silvery hue. “Eventually, the Moon got jealous of the Sun. It wanted the land for itself. It plotted to wrest control from the Sun’s hands by any means, and the Moon succeeded, sending the Sun far, far away…” 

With a flick of its wrist, the ‘Sun’ was sent to hover high above the crowd.

“For thousands upon thousands of years, the Moon ruled over the land that it called ‘Termina.’ It forgot all about the Sun, and so did the land’s people. They began to suffer, become mean! Order began to fail, peace was broken, time went forward!” There was another pause; the momentary silence was broken first by a chuckle.

“But the Sun found its way back to some of Termina’s people.” It pointed to the orb that represented said heavenly body; it had been drifting back to its conjurer slowly as it had gone on with its tale. Majora held its once pointing hand out to accept the orb back into its possession. “And those people, with the Sun to accompany them, started this cult. We have joined together to bring peace and order back to this land.” 

It was truly a miracle that it could say that line with a straight face.

#3
After a Ghirahim spirited it away to Sky Loft.

When the peculiar land came into proper viewing Majora was, at first, rather–stunned? That was a good word for it. It hadn’t seen a land in the sky before. Truth be told, it had half-assumed that Ghirahim was just a loony when he had mentioned the existence of such a place, but… Stranger things had happened, it supposed, and different lands were likely–well, evidently–not as mundane as that which it hailed from. Perhaps it had something to do with that goddess he’d mentioned prior? The giants weren’t very creative. Nor was the ogre.

But such thoughts could be had at a later time when one’s attention wasn’t required in the present. Had its chum just knocked some poor sap outta the sky? How wonderfully cruel! Its cackles mingled with the Demon Lord’s laughter up until the winds were dispelled; a moment was taken for it to orientate itself before it came spiraling downward. Within mere feet of the ground it stopped its descent, drifting and settling in a loose semi-circle ‘round Ghirahim. 

“How scenic!” It sounded like a kid dropped smack dab in the middle of a candy shop, really. Majora looked this way and that, seemingly looking for something. Eventually it appeared to have found what it was looking for as it declared, “But it’ll definitely be better when we’re done with it.” A shame it currently lacked the power to move mountains… But it was quite confident that, between the two of them, they could get a little ‘landscaping’ done.

#4
Vote for Majora!!! It was part of a Tumblr April Fool's day thing. Not writing, but a doodle, lol.



#5
Majora, hitching a ride in Zant's body; Zant, via thought, showing it images of a shrine dedicated to its bad self in the Twilight Realm before switching gears to attacking the gibdos they've encountered.
 

Not that it was about to, or would ever admit it, but Twili could build. Just add some colorful paint - blood would hardly show up well on such dark stone - and the temple that Zant was showing it? It would have been perfect! It’s only downfall would’ve been the location, but it wasn’t like it couldn’t just move the damn thing! It had moved the very Moon in its prime, after all; it would need only regain that strength and wrench that shrine right outta that place.

Though Majora said nothing, its manic, giddy energy could likely be felt as clear as the Sun through a magnifying glass–more so when the Twili’s thoughts turned to fire and flames and incinerating the shambling not-so-dearly departed. There was a build-up, the area about them growing hazy; warm; hotter than the desert had been moments before - a small taste of what it had in store for all of Termina this time round, really - the heat and the dryness and Zant’s intentions culminating in several fiery gibdos.

But not all of them had been plagued by fire. What fun would that be? ‘I left some for you! I wanna see what you can do, Twili.’

(the aftermath...)

If the mad giggles were anything to go by? Majora was clearly finding Zant’s current situation hilarious. On one side… Gross smelling, burning dead things. Somewhere yet to be located exactly but definitely there with them, an armored, vengeful–protective?–monstrosity. ‘I did tell you about the deadbeats! The guys who don’t like the light, remember?’

Admittedly, gibdos also didn’t like the light, but it hadn’t been talking about them! 

‘Use your head,’ it went on to say, in the loosest sense of that word–not that it had much business telling anyone else to use their heads– ‘They left their commoners out to defend their stuff! Who else do you think they’d leave, O’ King of Twili?’ Oh, yes, it was making it into a guessing game. Why not? It even provided a hint!

#6
Wherein Skull Kid and potatoes.

“Cranky? Me? Hardly!” It cackled. Then it gave one of those overly exaggerated tilts of its head. “Now! Hide and seek or tag, you’re a potato?… No, wait. Never mind. I’m choosing, and when I catch you, I’m gonna plant you in the middle of Clock Town! Start running!“ All right. It might’ve been a teensy-weensy bit cranky. All things considered, though, was that really surprising? 

#7
Wherein Zant, with Majora hitching a ride in his body, encounters the undead King Ikana... Of course, his passenger does not take this seriously at all.

Who did it find funnier? Zant with his shouting, or Ikana with his shouting? If it had known kings were such fun to mess with it would’ve started long ago. While those cackles filled its vessel’s head right on up again, Majora made Zant give himself one more little pat on the head before it rescinded its control over the limb. 

‘Hee, hee! You probably shouldn’t shout at yourself while you’re in front of other people, Twili… Now he thinks you’re crazy!’ It sounded just a wee bit patronizing. ‘You should introduce yourself, instead. Or are you scared of ghosts?’ There. It tried to be helpful. Just… Pay no mind to how it caused some of the things it was advising against. 

#8
Wherein Majora, possessing some guy named Caleb, has flounced into the Stock Pot inn to do some questioning except Anju's being useless so it turns her to stone and goes to find someone else.

She’s a fighter, it’d give her that much. It seriously considers the notion of ending its stony hex prematurely so it could spend some time breaking down that iron will of hers, but even it knew that that wouldn’t be the best decision to make. As fun as it’d probably be, not going through with the curse now–just letting her go, if temporarily–would allow her to rally aid. Petty Terminians that were really no match for it, but it wasn’t looking to brawl with the mortal sorts that day. Her warble of a scream already had it listening for any footsteps belonging to any persons rushing to her aid, and that there weren’t any…? Either the building was empty, sans this woman and itself, or–

“Hee, hee! See that? Hear that? No one’s coming to help you,” it murmured, reaching over the counter to touch her hair. Even the strands felt hardened. Or was her hair usually like that? “I guess no one cares! Oh, well. Lady, you should’ve just answered my questions. Now, don’t go anywhere!” It snickered. “I’m not done with you yet. We’re going to have lots of fun, but I want to go take a look-see around first.” 

It withdrew its hand rather quick, pushed off from the counter, straightened its posture, and took a cursory look about the lobby. Nothing of interest, though when it moved further into the building it was met with a choice: stairs, or to stay on the first floor. And people called it the first floor for a reason, didn’t they? Majora forewent the flight up and went down the hall, instead; slowly, deliberately, seeing even more choices… Doors as well as door-less archways, the latter of which it could probably skip, the former of which? It stopped before one.

Then it knocked. Three times. Politely. Even demons had manners (ha)! “Is anyone in there? I need help with something, and the missus at the front counter was useless! It was like talking to a rock!” Of course, whether it received an answer or not, it was listening out for any noise (any loud enough to be perceived through the wood, at least) that would betray the presence of anyone within the room. 

#9
Modern Hyrule/Termina drunk calling Zant the apothecary and this time I include their responses 'cuz it gave me a giggle m8.

twilitusurper:

wrathfulmajora:

“Yeah?” Majora’s tone was very, very. Very. Belligerent. “Of course I do, but that isn’t the issue here. The issue is that your very soul is in danger! You’ve been chosen!” Was that a snicker? Yeah. Yeah, it snickered.

“It’s three a.m. you drunkard!” Zant was about to rage and throw the cell phone, really. Which wouldn’t have made the situation any better. His ‘roommate’ was already starting to complain about a lack of beauty sleep. If it could be called that. “Your body is about to be in the grave if I get a hold of you!”

Guess who was laying upside-down on a couch, trying to figure out how the hell it was s’posed to sip wine from its glass in such a position? That’s right! Majora! Who obviously also held a phone of its own in the other hand. It was a very awkward position and, oops, its barely restrained cackling got some wine on the carpet… Oh, well– “Oh, c’monnnn!…. _{Like you even could.} But if you’re gonna be such a grump, I’ll cut to the chase. I need three! Three! Three whole… Things. Those potions? That make people see weird sh*t.” A pause. “_{You are the right guy, right?}” It had. So many people on speed-dial.

twilitusurper:

 

@wrathfulmajora

 

This guy, was it a guy? Maybe it sounded almost in between or Zant was still half drunk himself. Another glance to the clock.

definitely three am. “I do own that shop down the Old Towne Road. Is that the one you are referring to? I do have various different kinds of items for sale. Including what I think you are looking for. Some mind control stuff?” Well, Zant never promised to be an upstanding citizen of Castle Town. Ghirahim slapped him with a pillow a few extra times, and at this point, the Twili took the pillow from the equation. Important business conversation. “Stop by tomorrow and I’ll let you in on it.”

Gravity did not like wine. As it listened to the guy on the other end of the line, Majora had attempted to angle its glass just right… And managed to angle it as wrong as it could manage. There was a rather loud curse on its end, some fumbling about–it managed to fall off the couch and land in a heap on the floor. In the wine-wet carpet puddle, no less. “That– hee, hee, yeah! That’s the place,” was its eventual confirmation, made as it rolled away from the wine-spot onto its stomach. And then it started licking its legs like a teenage school-girl that might as well be gossiping on the phone with their friends, or something. “Though I was hoping for something more… Oh, hmm. Tomorrow, yes. We can talk it over tomorrow! I’ll be seeing yooou!”

#10
Meeting Ravio... And seeing its mask on the wall.

_{It couldn’t help but chuckle--Mister Terminian Man… Well. That was certainly a new one. Better than some, could be worse, but it
also confirmed that Mister Hero’s name likely wasn’t Mister Hero. Not that that did much for it. And then the cupcake mentioned its. Mask.}

_{Excuse the demon as it slowly turns its head to stare at that long lost thing. Oh. Hello, old prison. How are you?}

_{“Hee… Hee. Tell me, is that a replica, or the real deal?” At least the cupcake bunny-boy had diverted its attention away from himself. His visitor straightened and wandered away, closer to that. Silly. Old thing. “I’ve been looking for my mask.”} 

#11
_{That one time I found an ogre that jived with the Dragon manga, feat. their post as well.}
kiishiin:

 

 

                     ` you? playing? hah. that’s a load of crock. `

                     ` why don’t we be a good little dragon and get back in your prison. `

a light snort came from his mouth,
his hand reaching for the hilt of the
sword strapped to his back. the
demon before him was his only
victim, the only one to face the same
fate he faced. the same fate of
a mask. it was only befitting of him
that the goddesses turned the god
into what he had done to majora.
didn’t mean he had to like it…

_{Whatever retort it might’ve had in mind to say died in the wake of a rather loud, rather perturbed growl. Much like a peeved off cat looking to make itself look bigger its hair had risen about it, several whippish tendrils twisting to life out of the shifting mass. Those were fighting words–though. When he reached for his blade, it actually backed away a teensy bit.}

 

_{“Hee, hee… You’d need my mask for that, you dumb ogre. So why don’t you run along? Go! Try to find it!” For added emphasis, a crude hand formed from its locks and motioned for the Deity to shoo. “I’m already tired of looking at your face!” ‘Cause why not insult the guy, too?} 

#12
After encountering a different Fierce and summarily being threatened.

“Hello to you, too, ogre!” It sounded happy to see him… Which was, needless to say, the direct opposite of the demon’s actual opinion on this matter before it. “You’re fiercely dull as ever, aren’t you?” It laughed at its own lame quip and, as it moved to circle around him, made certain to keep its distance.

 

“Hee, hee… I came back ‘cause I missed this land and its people.” With the Moon, of course. It hadn’t hit, so. “Can you believe it? And since I’ve been back I’ve been making so many new friends! So, you see, that would’ve been bad. You would’ve made so many people sad.” A pause. “Then again, you are the bad guy!” 

#13
Pissing off yet another Deity 'cuz of course.

 

Said anger was almost palpable, even at its current proximity–such a savory emotion! Mid-stride, the demon gave a sharp tilt of its head. “Maybe if you tuck me in this time I’ll stay asleep!” It offered up another chortle, too, while it was at it. Evidently its own words served to tickle its funny bone. “Why don’t you try singing me a lullaby, ogre? Hmm… Hee. Never mind, that’d be a bad idea. Better stick to bed time stories, I’d hate to hear you sing.”