Random Stuff I Wrote

Wrecking Ball by Mother Mother

"I am unruly in stands!" the creator declared with an air of arrogance, their voice echoing through the shattered world they had shaped. "I am a rock on top of the sands," they continued, their tone indifferent to the chaos surrounding them. "I am a fist amongst the hands! And I'll break them just because I can."

With a twisted grin, they surveyed the ruins of their creation-characters born of love, suffering, and fragments of a life long past, now reduced to broken playthings scattered across the realm. These were not just pieces of a story; they were reflections of their deepest pains and frustrations, personified in forms that could be destroyed on a whim.

The creator stooped low, picking up a delicate figure, its arm still attached. With a single snap, the arm came loose. "New trauma for you," they said with a cruel chuckle. "Let's say you lost it in a battle. Maybe it was heroic, or maybe it was pointless. What difference does it make?" They tossed the piece aside, already moving on.

Their gaze fell on another-a doll with wide, innocent eyes. Without hesitation, they gouged out one of its eyes, the soft pop of destruction almost satisfying. "Your mother was jealous of you. That's why you lost it." The creator's voice was devoid of empathy as they tossed the mutilated figure to the ground, like a toy that had outlived its use.

But then they saw it-their most prized creation, the one that had been with them the longest. It stood apart from the others, a figure so broken and battered that it barely resembled its original form. The creator's smile twisted into something darker as they approached, the light in their eyes flickering with sadistic glee.

"And you... what will I do to you now?" The question hung in the air, unanswered, as they savored the power they held. This one had been through so much-betrayal, loss, suffering beyond measure. And yet, it still stood, defiant in its brokenness.

To the dolls, these hollow figures trapped in the creator's twisted game, the creator was nothing less than a monster. A being of unimaginable cruelty who tore them apart piece by piece, stripping away their innocence and hope until there was nothing left but shattered dreams and broken bodies. They knew that, in the end, they would perish-crushed under the weight of the creator's unchecked power.

But to the creator, these were just characters-tools, objects to be manipulated and discarded when no longer useful. They were nothing but vessels for the creator's whims, creatures to be broken and repaired as the mood struck. And once they served no further purpose, they were abandoned, thrown away like scraps of paper.

The creator had ruined countless worlds, destroyed innumerable lives, and left devastation in their wake, all in pursuit of their insatiable desires. They had lived an immortal and immoral existence, bound only to their own selfish cravings. And there was no end in sight. They would not stop, not until their desires were fully realized, even if it meant razing everything they had ever built to the ground.

In their eyes, the world was nothing but a playground of suffering-a canvas to paint with agony. And as long as they could shape it, bend it, and break it to their will, they would continue to do so, with no regard for the lives caught in the storm.
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Character used:
OC: Kainos - the first drawing who achieved godhood in the universe called Fandom.