#fantasy short

[junkyarddemento]

ORION - FIRST BORN

Coolest thing I've seen all month. Hellraiser, Dune, NIN music videos, and Neill Blomkamp short films all come to mind while watching Ash Thorp's highly impressive proof-of-concept ORION - FIRST BORN. The stylized visual flood is enough to knock you over. To say this is a repeat viewing experience is an understatement.

[mimimar]

the woman who holds the moon

prints available here. my cover for this month's issue of baffling magazine.

[artalfons]

i imagine this is how remake part 3 is going to start.

[caseysbell]

Once upon a time, in a cozy music shop nestled at the heart of a bustling town, there lived a beautiful guitar named Gabe. Gabe had six strings and a lovely wooden body adorned with intricate designs. He was known throughout the town for his enchanting melodies and the sweet music he made when touched by the hands of talented musicians.

Read the rest at

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Stories: Too Late For Remorse

(Prequel)

Yandere Ex Husband x Countess Fem Reader

TW: time regression, cheating (mentioned), yandere, delusional behavior, etc.

“No!” (Your name) shot up from her bed, body covered in a cold sheen of sweat. Her lungs were on fire while her breathing was labored. Her hands fumbled at her neck as her heart pounded in her chest harder than a hammer against wood. She was alive… but how? She had been poisoned by her husband’s mistress…

(Your name) clambered from her silken sheets. The young lady nearly tripped on the fabric from her haste, but she had to scramble to the mirror… she had to make sure.

(Your name) gasped at her reflection in shock. She was twenty again… no longer was she the sullen, neglected thirty year old wife of Duke Blackburn. She was once again the young Countess (Last name)! She had the means to start over again.

(Your name) sunk to her knees as she smiled at her ceiling. A few tears fell down her cheeks as she sucked in a shaky breath. She wouldn’t waste this second chance, no. She’d get her engagement annulled and live a peaceful life this time… no matter who she had to eliminate. (Your name) would pay her fiancé and his mistress back ten fold for their betrayal.

.

.

.

(Your name) cut up her breakfast with the smallest of smiles on her lips. A week had passed since her time regression and her personality has done a complete one eighty.

No longer was Countess (your name) naive and meek, she was a brighter existence with a determination to learn more knowledge. A change that startled the people around her… especially her father.

Her father, the count, seemed quite curious on the sudden change in his only daughter. (Your name) had always been a young woman interested in romance and fairytales, yet that girl was no longer sat in front of him… she was a stranger now.

“My dear, are you not interested in any sweets?” Count (last name) softly asked his daughter who hadn’t touched any of the desserts presented before her. “These have always been your favorite…”

“I’m sorry, I’m just not interested in sweets anymore.” (Your name) gave her father a soft smile. It wasn’t a lie, she lost her love of sweets in her past life when her husband had made constant comments on her body over the years.

Count (last name) frowned before he sighed. “You also haven’t sent Trishan any letters recently… is everything okay between you two?”

Ah yes… Trishan was his name. (Your name) had called him Duke Blackburn for so long that she had forgotten his name…

“I don’t think he liked me that much is all, father.” (Your name) replied softly. “Plus he’s been awfully close to Lady Serpico’s daughter, Lady Gia.”

Count (last name)’s expression quickly darkened at the mention of Lady Serpico. That nightmare of a woman had damaged the reputation of his wife many years ago before they had gotten married… could she have sent her daughter to try to do the same to his darling (your name)? Was this why she had been acting so strange? Had Duke Blackburn made his daughter feel inferior to a snake?

“I will look into it, my dear daughter.” Her father rose from the table to pat his daughter’s head in an affectionate manner. “I love you so much dear… don’t you ever forget that.”

Of course (your name) hadn’t forgotten that, that’s why she used her father’s love to her advantage. Perhaps he could free her from this fate if he annulled the engagement once he found out about the affair?

(Your name) calmly slipped her tea as a ghost of a smile crawled on her lips. She’s moved her first chest piece, she wondered if her dear fiancé would enjoy the shame?

.

.

.

Trishan shoved all the papers off his desk, his hands clutched at his chest while he struggled to breathe. Where was his fiancée? His darling fiancée?

Trishan’s blue eyes scanned the papers in hopes to spot a letter from her, the ones she used to always send him during this time.

He’s returned to the past before he was blinded by greed… before his long affair with Gia Sherpico… before (your name)’s murder. He could make it all right now since he had the chance to be the husband his beautiful, loyal wife deserved!

Trishan frowned when he hadn’t found any new letters. Was (your name) in good health? She was always such a frail woman… perhaps he should go visit her? Yes! She’d probably be so happy, she always had such a beautiful smile.

Trishan began to gather up all of the papers with a smile on his face. He had already ended things with lady Gia the moment he returned to the past, that snakelike woman wouldn’t pull the rug under him this time! He would not let her sweet lies fill his head and turn him against his darling wife. His innocent wife who had done nothing but love him…

Trishan couldn’t bear to find (your name)’s cold body again… he couldn’t live with himself if she died again. If her lips were blue and she laid in a pile of her own blood like some grotesque halo. No, he would protect her this time!

Trishan sighed dreamily at the thought of this second chance. He’d visit her this weekend with her favorite flowers, baby’s breath! They do mean every lasting love, after all!

A shame Trishan failed to realize was that a large bundle of baby’s breath smelled like feet…

.

.

.

“I’m sorry, but my daughter doesn’t wish to see you.” Trishan felt his blood run cold when he was denied entry into the Count’s home. (Your name) didn’t want to see him? This had to be some sort of sick joke! Yes… that was it.

“Very funny, Count (last name).” Trishan waved off the count as he tried to enter the estate anyways. His large bouquet of baby’s breath caused Count (Last name) even more ire.“(Your name) will be thrilled I’m here-“

“My daughter doesn’t deserve a man who can’t keep it in his pants and someone who’s gift her a bouquet that smells like feet.” The count shoved Duke Blackburn back a few steps, the baby’s breath now laid in a puddle of petals at his feet. “Good day to you!”

Trishan could only stand there in shock, his hands clutched at his chest while his breathing was ragged. It wasn’t supposed to be like this… they were supposed to start over. They were meant to be.

Trishan tried to gather up the flowers in haste but they were already too trampled to fix… he’d have to get her a new bouquet. Perhaps a better scented one at that?

Trishan glanced up at the door, hopeful that this was all a big misunderstanding. (Your name) could never hate him… her father must be keeping her away from him.

[and-corn]

just like riding a bike

(part 3 of this comic)

[thestuffedalligator]

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin. They both looked down at the crumpled shape of the Overlord, His Unholy Majesty, in his obsidian armor.

His final spasms had been mesmerizingly acrobatic. The fall down the steps leading up to his iron throne had pretzelled his body quite impressively, both arms folded behind his back and one leg bent at a jaunty angle.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

"We're likely to get blamed for this," the goblin said. She walked over to the head of the glittering mangled heap and started pulling the helmet off.

"It's not our fault," the orc said. "It's hard to help someone choking when they wear two-hundred pounds of spiked armor at all times."

"Yeah, well," the goblin grunted. The helmet came free, and the bald head of the Overlord bounced on the stone with a hollow, coconut noise. "You know how it is in this bloody country - thieves get their heads cut off so they can't think about thieving, and all that." She fished in the Overlord's mouth with a finger and pulled out the obstructing olive on the end of her claw.

She popped it into her mouth and chewed. "What do you reckon they do for a regicide?" she said.

"We should run," the orc said. She had started bouncing her leg. "I hear that there's some places in the Alliance where they just kill you and let you stay dead. That's got to be nicer than what'll happen if we stay here."

The goblin started to nod - and then her gaze fell on the helmet.

It looked like a pineapple designed by a deranged blacksmith. It was all thorns and spikes and hard edges, as though the maker had been very determined to not let pigeons roost on it. The only bits that weren't solid iron were eyeholes. Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face.

She held up the helmet and squinted from it to the orc. One of the thorns had been bent badly in the fall.

Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face...

"Right," she muttered. "Right. Could work - or."

The orc had a sudden vision of the immediate future. "No," she said.

"I mean you're about his height-"

"No."

"It would just be for a-"

"Absolutely not."

"Just hear me out," the goblin said. "Outside of this room are two-thousand men and orcs and goblins who are absolutely gonzo about this man, and there's a whole country of them outside of the castle, and at any moment someone's going to walk in that door and see one dead tit in black armor and two unbelievably dead idiots next to him.

"Or." She tossed the helmet up like a basketball to the orc, who fumbled and tried to find somewhere to hold it that wasn't a knife's edge. "We chuck him out the window now, walk out the door in the armor, and ditch the armor as soon as nobody sees us."

The orc had started bouncing her leg again. "They'll know something's up the second I walk out of the room."

"No worries," said the goblin. "Leave that to me."

---

It had been a very strange year for the Empire.

Change had rolled across the land as slow and inevitable as a glacier. Roads and bridges carved the gray, blasted wildlands, and a number of social reforms had made the country a place where you could be miserable, yes, but miserable in comfort and safety, and that was an improvement.

Barely anyone got boiled alive in molten metal, and even if the disgusted sun never rose to light the Empire, at least you had a roof over your head to protect yourself from the acid rain.

"Your empire flourishes, Your Unholy Majesty," the magician said over her wine glass. She looked down from the tower's balcony over the gleaming stone battlements. Some work had been done to line the castle and surrounding city with sizzling, crackling alchemical lights at night. The whole thing glowed like something dangerously radioactive.

The suit of armor waved a languid, glittering gauntlet over to the goblin, who bowed.

"His Abominable Gloriousness Thanks You," the goblin recited. "The Prosperity Of His Empire Can Only Be Achieved Through The Prosperity Of His People."

"If I may be so bold, I am quite pleased that you had chosen to take my counsel under consideration," said the magician. "We have accomplished many things together."

Another wave. Another bow. "The Overlord, May His Presence Swallow The Sun And Stars, Thanks You As Well."

"It was quite gratifying to see you change your mind, after so many centuries of denial." The wine was swirled. "Tell me, what was it that finally gave you cause to listen to me?"

There was the slightest hesitation. The goblin's eyes flicked to the armor, then to the magician. She puffed out her chest. "Do you question the wisdom of His Austere Lugubriousness?" she asked.

The magician looked at the goblin. She looked at the armor. She tipped her head back and drank the wine too quickly.

She looked back at the armor. "I know you're the orc, you moron," she said.

The room went deathly still. An alchemical light fizzled.

The orc pulled off the helmet, sending long, untied hair down tangling, and said: "How could you possibly-"

"Because you're both idiots!" the magician said. The goblin jumped. The orc jumped with a noise like a dropped stove. "What kind of a plan was this?! If it wasn't for me, you would have been turned into fertilizer months ago."

She closed her eyes. She took a long, dramatic breath. She set the wine glass down on the balcony rail.

"How did the Overlord die?" she asked when she seemed like she had gotten a hold over herself.

"Choked on an olive," said the goblin.

"Threw his body out the window," said the orc.

"You don't have to mention the window," said the goblin.

"Right," said the orc. "Sorry."

The magician looked out over the city, hand curled thoughtfully under her nose. "Who knows about this?"

"Just us. And, uh. You. Apparently."

"And why did you accept my counsel?"

The orc blinked. "Sorry?"

"Why did you accept my counsel?" the magician repeated.

"Well," the orc said. "Well - you seemed like you had good ideas-"

"Great ideas!" the goblin said with an edge of desperation. "Don't know why the old bastard didn't listen to you!"

"Right - right," said the orc. "And when we figured we were stuck doing this - well, it just made sense, really."

The magician seemed to absorb this. She nodded. "All right," she said, striding between the two and grabbing the crystal decanter.

"Um," said the orc. "Sorry. What happens now?"

"What happens is that you two will continue to serve as Overlord," said the magician. "You will continue to take my counsel. We will continue to reform this bloody country, and gods willing, we will turn it into the crown jewel of the world by next Midwinter."

The orc looked at the goblin. The goblin looked at the orc.

"Really?" the goblin asked.

"Oh yes," said the magician. "I've worked hard to be counsel to the Overlord, and I have no reason to stop now. And besides-"

She looked the orc up and down with a deliberate slowness, poring over every microscopic detail, eyes tracing over every jagged line, and grinned like a panther.

"You look much better in the armor than he ever did," she said. Dark robes swirled like a becleavaged thundercloud, and she strode out through the high iron doors, decanter in hand.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

class swap design masterpost for convenience (from top to bottom: bard!riz, cleric!gorgug, sorcerer!kristen, barbarian!fig, artificer!adaine, and rogue!fabian)

[junkyarddemento]

VILLAIN

As Bella Ramsey preps for season 2 of THE LAST OF US, this mini movie by Sparky Tehnsuko reminds us how great of an actor Bella is. With minimal dialogue, Bella's performance is all in the face as the range of emotions that her character goes through on this quest of revenge is on full display!

[torpublishinggroup]

Though it might be tempting, don’t venture into hedge mazes…no matter what

Be mindful of triggering the wrath of revenge ghosts lest you become a ghost yourself

Beware the dangers of underestimating “docile girls”—it could be a killer mistake

Summoning an ancient evil demon is NEVER a good idea. Seriously. 

Trying to steal someone’s home might cost you your soul. It’s never worth it. 

Understand that haunted houses have feelings too—the problem is sometimes they’re evil.

Tips provided by Terry J. Benton-Walker, editor and contributor of The White Guy Dies First: 13 Scary Stories of Fear and Power.

WHAT IT’S ABOUT

Killer clowns, a hungry hedge maze, and rich kids who got bored. Friendly cannibals, impossible slashers, and the dead who don’t stay dead....

A museum curator who despises “diasporic inaccuracies.” A sweet girl and her diary of happy thoughts. An old house that just wants friends forever....

These stories are filled with ancient terrors and modern villains, but go ahead, go into the basement, step onto the old plantation, and open the magician’s mystery box because this time, the white guy dies first.

Edited by Terry J. Benton-Walker, including stories from bestselling, award-winning, and up-and-coming contributors: Adiba Jaigirdar, Alexis Henderson, Chloe Gong, Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé, H. E. Edgmon, Kalynn Bayron, Karen Strong, Kendare Blake, Lamar Giles, Mark Oshiro, Naseem Jamnia, Tiffany D. Jackson, and Terry J. Benton-Walker.

A collection you’ll be dying to talk about…if you survive it.

[artalfons]

I only stop when i win, sorry.

[kxsalt]

cw non-consent

Two is company, three is a crowd. The old saying is tossed around as a joke. She sits on the bed in the hotel room while the three men take off their clothes. The girl is almost entirely confident. Her experience having sex with two men at the same time will surely carry her through. A flicker of nervousness is visible on her face as they lead her off the bed and onto her knees.

Sucking cock, she strokes the other two. With only moments to catch her breath, her mouth is passed around the trio. The coordination required to give two handjobs while deepthroating is slightly beyond her ability. The men get more impatient and unsatisfied by her awkward rhythm.

“Come on, you can do better than that. You said you were good at this.” The man lambasts her. She gurgles in response. “One more minute, then we can switch.” Groans another as he facefucks her. “Let’s get into the fun stuff.” Remarks the third, also unsatisfied by her hand. He grabs her hips, lifting her upright and drives his cock into her pussy.

Spitroasted on the men, the girl feels a moment of comfort. Having one man using her cunt while she sucks off the other is a familiar place for her. The third man complicates things. She tries her best to swap between the two regularly, but their impatience grows. One sits on the bed. “Let me fuck her. Come bounce on my dick, slut.”

“I’m trying my best, okay?” Her disrespectful tone slips through her unused mouth. The energy changes. The girl swallows as she reads the frustrated expressions of the three men. “Try harder.” Says the man on the bed as he grabs her hips and pulls her on top of him. She takes him in her pussy while another stands on the matress.

She tastes her pussy on his cock as she rides the other man. Another familiar place. The girl forgets to take care of the third man. A firm grip on her bum reminds her of his presence. Reaching behind, she tries to grab onto his cock. It’s too late.

Pulling her head away from the blowjob, she feels the head of his cock press against her ass. “Hey! I don’t do anal! I told you that before! Stop!” The girl protests. “You do now.” He would barely fit inside her without her pussy stretched by the other man. He groans and thrusts himself inside her third hole.

Her safeword is ignored. It’s nothing but theatre when three men want to take a lone woman. The impotent begging is muffled when a cock is shoved down her throat. Finally, the group is satisfied. Tears pour from her eyes as her arms are held behind her back. Fighting with all her strength wouldn’t be enough to stop even one of them.

Another desparate attempt to escape. The men pin her to the bed and switch between her holes. She begs for them to stop. They don’t. Instead they fuck her harder. The first man to finish unloads his cum all over her sobbing face. The second man finishes in her ass. As he pulls his cock from her, the third man takes his place. Their cum mixes in her used asshole.

The first is ready again. His comrades hold her down so he can properly enjoy her. The girl’s pleading has faded into the occasional mumbled word or outburst of crying. As they fuck her, one or two keeps a firm grip on her to prevent any physical resistance. Sometimes, two regain their stamina at the same time, and they both penetrate her at the same time.

The hours pass. Gone far beyond her limits, the girl lies limp in the middle of the hotel bed. The last man finishes in her ruined body. His cum dribbles from her as he gets dressed. She curls up in a ball and tries to wipe off the stains as the hotel room door closes.

[weirdlookindog]

Les Hallucinations du baron de Münchhausen (1911)

[haunted-xander]

I made this AAAAGES ago and forgot to post it and now I'm annoyed by how it's rotting away on my phone so here. Bratty teen Thancred being a menace to Fourchenault (and a bad influence on Urianger lol)

[specshroom]

Fantasy Short Kings <3

~•°♥°•~

Your typical brash Dwarf warrior. Who is only amused when you, the mage of the party, try and rile him up by poking fun at his height. He knows you're only acting like a brat so he'll go rough on you but he eventually gives in to your lewd fantasies.

"You know, I can probably find a spell to make you....bigger."

He grabs onto the belt hugging your hips and pulls you down to your knees in front of him.

"Are ya sure? Ye can't even handle me this size, Lass."

You can't help the pleased look on your face as you bite your lip and look up at him with love struck eyes from your place, kneeling on the floor. The dwarf scoffs at how satisfied you are with yourself and your "plan". He wastes no time lifting you over his broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carrying you towards his tent.

~•°♥°•~

Goblin boyfriend who is very horny for you and you alone. When others belittle his sexual abilities or make fun of his height he probably wasn't listening cus he was staring at your boobs. However, when he does manage to pay attention to the comments, his reaction is basically just: "Hoes mad."

He's obsessed with your legs, thighs specifically. He encourages you to wear shorts, skirts, dresses, tighter pants, anything to show off your gorgeous legs.

His goal is to make you feel even half as sexy as he thinks you are.... and he really likes your legs. His undeniable attraction and unrelenting hunger for you gets you off far more than any bigger man could.

~•°♥°•~

Werewolf who's the runt of his pack and definitely on the smaller side. Most of the pack laughs when he finally confesses that he got a mate. He's confided with you about his insecurities before and how the pack treats him so you already have the perfect game plan when you both get invited to a pack get-together. That's why you're bouncing on his cock in the backseat of his car moaning into his neck,

"You gonna mark me up, Baby? Show them who I belong to?"

Making him whine out, "Yeah, f-fuck yes." while gripping your hips and cumming inside your greedy hole.

The look on his pack mates faces was priceless when you walked in there basically reeking of each other with barely hidden bite marks. While the older adults just looked happy that the smallest cub got himself a loving mate, many of the younger adults were clearly struggling with the fact that the runt they bullied for so long actually fucks.