#short Stories

[disparatemind]

Part 16

A while later, after having looked around the cafe to keep track of how everyone was doing, I looked back at Julie and noticed that we'd somehow managed to eat all but one cookie.

“Looks like we both need a refill,” I said with a smile, “and I need to do my rounds and check on the other patrons. It won't take me long, but you will be able to see me the whole time. While I'm up, would you like anything other than coffee, or maybe a scone or muffin?”

Julie looked at me with wide eyes for a moment, but her breathing was much easier than it had been. “Well…”

She seemed hesitant, like she didn't want to be a bother, and I smiled. “I promise it's no trouble; what would you like?”

The corners of her mouth lifted in the barest of smiles, and my heart leapt that I'd managed to bring it out of her. “I don't suppose you have any donuts?”

“I sure do, what kind would you like?”

“A bear claw please, or an apple fritter.”

“Coming right up, Julie.”

Many of the patrons gave me a long look in passing, and I knew for those who hadn't been here as long it was confusing to see me sit with someone for so long. The others—well, those who hadn't gone through Death’s Door yet—had seen me interact with many others and so it didn't come as a surprise to them. Still, I answered a few of the questioning looks and raised eyebrows with a comment of some souls struggling to accept what had happened more than others, and everyone understood.

Wade, who had risen from his seat just as I was heading over to check on the hostile patron from earlier, beamed at me. “Rose! My lovely cafe proprietress—”

“Yes I'll save you a cinnamon roll,” I cut him off with a smirk. “This time the best one goes to someone else who needs it more, though.”

He looked over at my newest patron and nodded. “Wouldn't have it any other way,” he replied, turning back to me with a gentler but more sincere smile. “And if buddy boy gives you any more trouble, holler for me.”

“Will do.”

“Prrrrrrow!”

We both looked down at the silvery feline winding around our ankles, and raised our eyebrows in unison. “Can I help you?” I asked. Miu looked from me to Wade and stretched up, pawing at him, and I snorted. “Apparently she wants uppies.”

“What?! She hates uppies! At least from me!”

“Then why do you have to have me untangle you from her when you bring her back?”

As I turned to walk back to the counter I heard Wade groaning like he was in pain, and I snorted again. The cinnamon rolls had risen beautifully and were ready to bake, and I heard many a deep sniff and sigh of appreciation the closer they came to being done. Once they had cooled and been frosted, I loaded up about half of them onto a tray and brought one to every single person who'd expressed interest.

And, as I'd promised Wade, the best one of the batch went to the grieving soul sitting right where I'd left her. I’d made sure to grab the requested donuts as well as a second cinnamon roll for myself, and armed with the food and coffee I made my way back over.

“I'm sorry for how long that took,” I apologized as I set everything down. “I thought you might like one of the cinnamon rolls I just made as well, but no worries if you just want the donuts.”

She looked at me in surprise as I sat down again. “You're… still going to sit with me?” she asked.

“Unless you'd prefer to be alone,” I said kindly. “I understand the need for space.”

“No, please, you've been so kind,” Julie said earnestly.

Something about this woman pulled at my heartstrings, and I couldn't help smiling. “I'm happy to sit with you. Are there any questions I can answer for you?”

“Are you dead as well?”

The bluntness of the question took me back a bit, and she immediately started to apologize. “I'm sorry, that was too personal, I—”

“No no, it's ok,” I said after a second. “Yes, I am no longer among the living.”

I forced my jaw to move when it tried to clench down, hoping she hadn't noticed.

“May I… May I ask what happened?” Julie asked hesitantly. “I realize that's a very personal question…”

There were very few other times I'd been this grateful for my hidden corners of the cafe. “It's alright,” I said with a jaw that felt like it was welded in place. “I… I was stubborn and didn't listen to someone I should have.” I swallowed hard, and forced myself to continue. “There were extenuating circumstances surrounding my death, but I couldn't go back to the living, so this is what I chose from the options I was given.”

Julie opened her mouth to reply, but the next words I heard were an angry shout across the cafe, and I spun and stood in one smooth motion to see what the hell was happening in my cafe.

You run a café on the edge of life and death. Souls who have been departed from their bodies temporarily, such as in comas or near-death experiences, can relax in your quaint cafe for as long as they need before they can either return to their bodies or begin their journey to the afterlife.

[theunboundwriter]

AHH!! I'm so excited to share with you that I've published a short story collection called The Lament of the Haunted and the Divine!

In The Lament of the Haunted and the Divine, Merle Summers weaves a collection of short fiction that drifts between the spectral and the sacred. From restless spirits yearning for closure to forsaken deities weighed down by sorrow, each tale explores the fragile line between the mortal and the otherworldly. Through whispered regrets, unfulfilled desires, and eerie encounters, these stories unravel the quiet tragedies of those caught between worlds: beings who haunt and are haunted, who seek and are sought, who long for something just beyond their grasp.

It is available to read on Amazon (paperback and hardcover) and it is also available as an ebook on Kindle or Kindle Unlimited!!

[whereserpentswalk]

There's a room somewhere. Or perhaps everywhere. You can reach it from anywhere in the world but it requires a very specific set of motions to get to. The Greeks said that it's true location was exactly between the moon and the sun, and the way for the gods to test our intellects. In the middle ages they said it was the one place that neither Christ nor Satan knew. In the early modern period people started saying it wasn't real.

It's a single white room. Small but not too small. There's a table with too chairs, and a glass wall cutting the room in half, with the table split, and each chair on another side. There's holes to talk through the glass but they're too small to pass objects through. And ever so often, someone from an alternate universe will walk into the other side.

There can never be more then two people in the room at the same time, the mechanics will just put you in another copy of the room if you try. And you can never end up on the same side of the room as the second person. The other person can be from any alternate universe. The glass cannot be broken, and you'll understand the language of the other person. People have tried to break the rules and faced consequences from whatever entity owns the room.

Sometimes the person on the other side will be similar to the people from your world, so similar you might never be able to find out how your worlds differ, or if you find out it will be so mundane and local you won't really care. Other times you'll see someone from a completely alternate history, different cultures, entirely alien forms of technology, or vastly different societies. People have reported seeing 21st century Roman Imperials, or post nuclear survivors, or cyborgs, or people with steam powered technology, or living technology. There are even more dubious rumors of nonhuman intelligences, androids, or sapient dinosaurs, or technologically advanced Neanderthals.

A lot of people come to the room to try to find out as much they can about the civilization before them. They'll try to ask as many questions to know what they can about the alternate earths. "If the soviet union never fell what happened to Latin America?" "Are there any major cities left after the plague?" "Did your civilization ever reach the moon?" "Why did you get to have a Mars colony so soon when you didn't even invent the internet?" "How does the internet work in a feudal society?" "How does that machine you're wearing on your wrist work?" "If you're an android how do you reproduce?" "What's it like living in a world without sex or children?" "If your timeline diverged from mine in 1989, did they ever make star wars prequels?" Normal questions.

But there's always a problem. Because you can never find out everything. You have to leave the room at some point to eat or to sleep, and when you do you'll never be able to talk to that person again unless you get luckier then probably would ever allow you to account for. The only person from that civilization you'll ever talk to will be gone to you in a relatively short amount of time whatever you do. You can ask a thousand questions, but there will always be more, and there will always be things that you forgot to ask.

Some people just go to the room for someone to talk to. To ask about their day, and ask them about theirs. To bounce ideas off of a neutral party. To debate. Occasionally people will use it as a way of testing out their manuscript. The room has had a non zero rate of sexual harassment, though people's ability to just walk away has mitigated it. Occasionally people come to the room to try to convert people to their religion, at least one of our world's major religions started that way.

Sometimes people use the room to be exceedingly cruel. They will tell people the worst insults. Argue with them. Claim their civilization's superiority. It's rare, but occasionally it happens. When you know you'll never see someone again, you can do anything. It's surprisingly rare that people use that for cruelty, but it's still something that people do.

Sometimes people make genuine freinds in the room. Talk to people they meet there for hours upon hours. Meet people who they had wished they knew their entire life, the type of person you never knew you needed but you know that you have to have. There are even some cases of people falling in love with the person on the other side of the room. And they'll always want to give them a contact, or plan to meet again, but they'll know they can't. And as the hours click on they'll slowly realize the tragedy that they're experiencing, that they'll never see the person across from them again, that they always knew it, and how it kills them inside.

[metamorphesque]

"Good morning, Jack. How was your night?", Vardges Petrosyan (translated by metamorphesque)

[sanguinesky-if]

Sanguine Sky: Winter Special Collection

Hello! I'm happy to announce that Sanguine Sky: Winter Special Collection of the short stories is out! It contains 18k words [excl. code].

Link: [Winter Special Collection]

Belated Happy New Year, and I hope you'll enjoy reading! ♥

Author's Note.

Today is my birthday, and I noticed that the blog surpassed the 3k followers mark.

I'm sincerely grateful for your interest and hope that this winter release will be worthy of being considered a token of gratitude for all the support I receive.

Thank you for your support and for reading to the end!

[ghettogirly]

how do you think armando would react if he is in love with the reader, but she shows no sign of feeling the same way, (he's so devoted when it comes to the reader) And he'd like to know if she feels the same as him, I wish it would end in a passionate way (you know what I mean) 🔥

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 .

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> synopsis: Armando was obsessed with everything about you. Yet, you never showed him the same energy back. Until one night.

-> theme: one sided love, smut.

-> format: drabble + story?

-> warning: hardcore smut, slight mention of dacryphillia, armando is a little rough and cocky asf, mature language, mention of guns, mention of alcohol, he does not understand the meaning of personal space, i think if he wants something he’ll go after it!

-> authors note: 2 updates back to backkk! thanks for requesting! Hope you enjoy it! 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🕷️] 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

᯾ Ever since he first noticed you when meeting the team, it was love at first sight for him.

᯾ He would definitely show how much he’s obsessed with you in implicit ways, not fully going for you as that’s not his personality.

᯾ Would definitely prefer to do things that make you notice him, however, he could chase you if he wanted to.

᯾ He would definitely stare at you in the locker room or on the plane, on the way to whatever location you guys are needed.

᯾ His eyes would start at your legs before slowly glancing up to your lips.

᯾ You already know he’s a playboy just like his dad.

᯾ However, regardless of his obvious interest in you, the feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated.

᯾ Nevertheless, he wouldn’t tease you too much on missions. Not loving you enough to the point where he wants his life to be compromised.

᯾ He always has his eye out for you. Need more ammo? he’s got you.

᯾ Need a cover? He’s got you on that too.

᯾ You couldn’t even hate him, skilled in his fighting he was an excellent addition to the team. The way he effortlessly handled any weapon that was given to him, effectively killing anyone in his path. Giving assistance to anyone within the team, you really couldn’t hate him.

᯾ He knew he was good at what he does too.

᯾ And sooner then later, you’d realise he’s good in bed too.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🕷️] 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄:

᯾ You hardly talked to him, always avoiding his path.

᯾ Celebratory drinks? On the other side of the table.

᯾ Group talks? You’re never next to him.

𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐓��𝐎, until you guys saw each other at a club. Neon lights were flashing as people danced and drank excessively. There was you, with two friends, dancing within the crowd. You rolled your hips with the flow of the music, this being an escape from your fast-paced life of being a law enforcement agent.

That was until you saw him, surrounded by men looking like him. Armando’s tan skin and beard being the main thing that stood out. He wore a simple black shirt with tight, slim black jeans. There was a fresh slit in his left eyebrow while his gold cuban chain hung off his neck, slightly longer than shoulder length.

He looked back up, and smirked. Shaking it off, you went back further into the crowd and continued to dance with your friends.

“We’re going to switch it up now, introducing some dancehall! Ladies get ready to whine up yuhself! Men, get ready to catch that whine!!” The DJ shouted over the music before switching up the song.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 & 𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐂𝐇 - 𝐉.𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢 & 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊.

Cheers and woos erupted in the building, more people coming to the dance floor as ladies bent their legs and arched their backs, ready to whine their life away.

Your friends started whining and dancing, screaming the lyrics as their body began to move with the music as if they were in a trance.

You decided to do the same, letting loose, you began to put your hands on your knees. Whining along to the music by anyone who pressed up behind you. That was until you felt those hands.

Looking up , you noticed Armando holding your hips, a suggestive look on his face as he controlled every circle and buck of your whine. You hated to say it but he was really skilled.

He didn’t even say anything, just focused on you and the music. Slowly pushing your hair on the left side of your face, his hand creeped up to your neck while the other one was still rested on your hip. His touch igniting a flame of zeal within you, the air between the two becoming hot and heavy.

This was forbidden, two co workers were not supposed to have any sexual relations with each other. Yet, you both did not care. Too overcome with lust and desire.

“Volver a casa conmigo..” Armando whispered in your ear, causing a tingle to happen down there.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌. Symphonies of groans and moans escaping the two lovers’ lips as they engaged in a heated kiss, fighting each other with their tongue, burning passion radiating off them. The white, satin sheets barely covered the male as he was focused on thrusting into the woman below. His cock pistoned in and out of the woman’s leaking pussy as her legs were up in the air, rocking backwards and forwards as she jolted up and down due to the roughness of her lover’s actions. Her wetness causing a thin coating on his dick.

“Te sientes tan bien amor..” Armando whispered, gently biting on the woman’s earlobe as she moaned in his ear, hypnotised by the feeling of his thick clock filling her up.

The male noticed and withdrew from her earlobe, still continuing the same pace as he held onto her hips but instead he could see the pleasure in her face. Tears of pleasure slowly slid down your face, to the point where you tried to push the male back, to no avail. “You got to take it mamí.”

“It feels too good.. i can’t.”

“Oh yes you can.” Armando grunted. Randomly flipping you over, your face was roughly met with the pillow. The man then started pounding with even more passion as you gasped and whined underneath him. “Just like that Armando..”

Your little comments turned him on more, feeling the reach of his peak coming. Your quiet nature before this now contradicting the lewd activity commencing now. And he loved it. He knew you would eventually come around. “Ah.. ¿Así que tu bonita boca puede hablar?”

Too dazed by the pleasure to understand the sarcasm dripping off his voice, you just nodded. Your hand slowly crawling down to your clit as you rubbed it in desperation. The overstimulation forcing your orgasm to come crashing down before you could even warn him. “Oh my god!”

This caused Armando to absolutely lose it. Your own impulsive decision to coming back to bite you caused him to begin chasing after his own orgasm. Still thrusting while you tried coming down from your own, before pulling out and releasing his seed onto your stomach.

“estás loco.”

“Estoy loco por no amarte antes.”

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[🕷️] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“Volver a casa conmigo” : Come home with me.

“Te sientes tan bien.” You feel so good.

“ ¿Así que tu bonita boca puede hablar?”: So your pretty mouth can speak?

“estás loco.” - You’re crazy.

“Estoy loco por no amarte antes.” - i’m crazy for not loving you sooner.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🕷️] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@milliumizoomi @thedarkworldofhananerea @5tarlan7 @deadpool15 @wizewhispers @amplifiedmoan @loakswifesworld @sarcasticbitchsblog

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Creating Compelling Character Arcs: A Guide for Fiction Writers

As writers, one of our most important jobs is to craft characters that feel fully realized and three-dimensional. Great characters aren't just names on a page — they're complex beings with arcs that take them on profound journeys of change and growth. A compelling character arc can make the difference between a forgettable story and one that sticks with readers long after they've turned the final page.

Today, I'm going to walk you through the art of crafting character arcs that are as rich and multi-layered as the people you encounter in real life. Whether you're a first-time novelist or a seasoned storyteller, this guide will give you the tools to create character journeys that are equal parts meaningful and unforgettable.

What Is a Character Arc?

Before we go any further, let's make sure we're all on the same page about what a character arc actually is. In the most basic sense, a character arc refers to the internal journey a character undergoes over the course of a story. It's the path they travel, the obstacles they face, and the ways in which their beliefs, mindsets, and core selves evolve through the events of the narrative.

A character arc isn't just about what happens to a character on the outside. Sure, external conflict and plot developments play a major role — but the real meat of a character arc lies in how those external forces shape the character's internal landscape. Do their ideals get shattered? Is their worldview permanently altered? Do they have to confront harsh truths about themselves in order to grow?

The most resonant character arcs dig deep into these universal human experiences of struggle, self-discovery, and change. They mirror the journeys we all go through in our own lives, making characters feel powerfully relatable even in the most imaginative settings.

The Anatomy of an Effective Character Arc

Now that we understand what character arcs are, how do we actually construct one that feels authentic and impactful? Let's break down the key components:

The Inciting Incident

Every great character arc begins with a spark — something that disrupts the status quo of the character's life and sets them on an unexpected path. This inciting incident can take countless forms, be it the death of a loved one, a sudden loss of power or status, an epic betrayal, or a long-held dream finally becoming attainable.

Whatever shape it takes, the inciting incident needs to really shake the character's foundations and push them in a direction they wouldn't have gone otherwise. It opens up new struggles, questions, and internal conflicts that they'll have to grapple with over the course of the story.

Lies They Believe

Tied closely to the inciting incident are the core lies or limiting beliefs that have been holding your character back. Perhaps they've internalized society's body image expectations and believe they're unlovable. Maybe they grew up in poverty and are convinced that they'll never be able to escape that cyclical struggle.

Whatever these lies are, they'll inform how your character reacts and responds to the inciting incident. Their ingrained perceptions about themselves and the world will directly color their choices and emotional journeys — and the more visceral and specific these lies feel, the more compelling opportunities for growth your character will have.

The Struggle

With the stage set by the inciting incident and their deeply-held lies exposed, your character will then have to navigate a profound inner struggle that stems from this setup. This is where the real meat of the character arc takes place as they encounter obstacles, crises of faith, moral dilemmas, and other pivotal moments that start to reshape their core sense of self.

Importantly, this struggle shouldn't be a straight line from Point A to Point B. Just like in real life, people tend to take a messy, non-linear path when it comes to overcoming their limiting mindsets. They'll make progress, backslide into old habits, gain new awareness, then repeat the cycle. Mirroring this meandering but ever-deepening evolution is what makes a character arc feel authentic and relatable.

Moments of Truth

As your character wrestles with their internal demons and existential questions, you'll want to include potent Moments of Truth that shake them to their core. These are the climactic instances where they're forced to finally confront the lies they believe head-on. It could be a painful conversation that shatters their perception of someone they trusted. Or perhaps they realize the fatal flaw in their own logic after hitting a point of no return.

These Moments of Truth pack a visceral punch that catalyzes profound realizations within your character. They're the litmus tests where your protagonist either rises to the occasion and starts radically changing their mindset — or they fail, downing further into delusion or avoiding the insights they need to undergo a full transformation.

The Resolution

After enduring the long, tangled journey of their character arc, your protagonist will ideally arrive at a resolution that feels deeply cathartic and well-earned. This is where all of their struggle pays off and we see them evolve into a fundamentally different version of themselves, leaving their old limiting beliefs behind.

A successfully crafted resolution in a character arc shouldn't just arrive out of nowhere — it should feel completely organic based on everything they've experienced over the course of their thematic journey. We should be able to look back and see how all of the challenges they surmounted ultimately reshaped their perspective and led them to this new awakening. And while not every character needs to find total fulfillment, for an arc to feel truly complete, there needs to be a definitive sense that their internal struggle has reached a meaningful culmination.

Tips for Crafting Resonant Character Arcs

I know that was a lot of ground to cover, so let's recap a few key pointers to keep in mind as you start mapping out your own character's trajectories:

Get Specific With Backstory

To build a robust character arc, a deep understanding of your protagonist's backstory and psychology is indispensable. What childhood wounds do they carry? What belief systems were instilled in them from a young age? The more thoroughly you flesh out their history and inner workings, the more natural their arc will feel.

Strive For Nuance

One of the biggest pitfalls to avoid with character arcs is resorting to oversimplified clichés or unrealistic "redemption" stories. People are endlessly complex — your character's evolution should reflect that intricate messiness and nuance to feel grounded. Embrace moral grays, contradictions, and partial awakenings that upend expectations.

Make the External Match the Internal

While a character arc hinges on interior experiences, it's also crucial that the external plot events actively play a role in driving this inner journey. The inciting incident, the obstacles they face, the climactic Moments of Truth — all of these exterior occurrences should serve as narrative engines that force your character to continually reckon with themselves.

Dig Into Your Own Experiences

Finally, the best way to instill true authenticity into your character arcs is to draw deeply from the personal transformations you've gone through yourself. We all carry with us the scars, growth, and shattered illusions of our real-life arcs — use that raw honesty as fertile soil to birth characters whose journeys will resonate on a soulful level.

Happy Writing!

[unknownogre]

“I come to steal a famous dime, the locks will be picked and it will be mine

I’ll dance away and you will see…I’ll laugh at you while I drink my TEA!”

The rhymes were terrible but that was the trademark for The Fool. He wore the jesters costume, bells and all with a mask that was always smiling, it could be seen as unsettling…if he didn’t have the reputation he did. If there was a rank for villains below F that would be where he sat. Glitter bombs, whoopie cushions, rubber chickens…and very telegraphed heist plans. No one took him seriously…and that was certainly part of his charm. No one ever got hurt fighting The Fool, no one ever lost hope. Villains, heroes, it didn’t matter. When The Fool was involved oddly everyone felt better about themselves. Even if he was considered a villain he had respect from both sides and that was good enough for him. He didn’t need to be taken seriously; he was here for his own mission, and it was being done just fine.

“I am evil…no one is on my lee-vil…

I’ll add this loot to my pile…no one can beat my style!”

He was just marching down the street, popping here and there in the blink of an eye. Everyone sees this as minor illusion at best since he hasn’t so much as scratched a single hero of villain. That was good to have them think of him as harmless, that was the best way to get done what he wanted to get done. The museum was in sight…it was time to get the heist started. He knew who’d be trying to stop him…a husband and wife team called Wind and Fire…they boost each other’s abilities a considerable amount and have stopped world ending events with just the pair. These heroes were greatly respected. They just lost their son to a long debilitating illness and haven’t had their heads on straight since. This just what they needed, some banter, low steaks risk…a little fun and they’ll be right as rain.

“The Fool is here, please be a dear,

And steer clear but don’t shed a tear

My victory is all but clear!”

He said as he rounded the corner to the museum. Today was going to be a good…

…the front to the museum had been all but destroyed and the sounds of battle could be heard within. On the steps The Fool could see the body of fire…tormented, twisted and very much dead eyes frozen open in horror and pain. His heart stopped for a moment…this wasn’t supposed to happen. What…what was going on here?

He ran, forgetting who he was and why he was here for a moment just so he could get eyes on the fight that was happening. Wind would need support, oh gods he hoped he wasn’t too late. Right when he made it at the top of the steps her body hit the ground right at his feet, her limbs were crushed and twisted in impossible angles. Still she had a bit of life…her eyes landed on the familiar mask, sorrow in her eyes…so much pain.

“Fly you Fool. Fly…r…u…”

With that the light from her eyes faded. Sadness, grief…this wasn’t supposed to happen. This was supposed to be a nice easy day, hearts were supposed to be repaired not stopped. Heavy footsteps brought him back to the current scene, surrounded by debris right in front of him stood a giant of a creature, dressed in all black with a mask that hid any features of his face…was the villain known as Terror, he was supposed to be small time though. Sure there were whispers that he was on the rise, fifteen hours away. Why would he come here?!

“The Fool…THE FOOL! HA! My lucky day. If you bow down to me and lick my boot I might let you get me a beer from the fridge!”

Terror stood over seven feet tall with arms as thick as tree trunks. The Fool just looked there, standing his ground for the moment. His head canting this way and that.

“Today…wasn’t the day

Yet into the fray I dare stray

Still, I don’t think I feel

Submissive enough to lick your heel.”

Terror laughed and threw a lazy punch at the Fool’s head fully intending to connect. Yet it seemed he just punched the air right next to the trickster villain. There was a touch of confusion but then just a light chuckle. Terror’s eyes went to Wind’s twisted body.

“Oh, she is kind of cute, twist her limbs back and I could have some fun. Bet she is still warm…”

IT was then The Fool’s mask changed. There was no smile, nothing pleasant, but instead it was in a grimace of rage. Teeth bared, eyes glowing red…very much reflecting his current mood. Terror only noticed this as he was sailing backward through the air from a hit that was so powerful it took a few moments to register the pain from the impact.

“SHUT UP! You don’t get to talk about her anymore, not him either. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?”

Then Terror seemed to hit an invisible wall stopping him just short of the actual museum wall…and he hit it hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. He bounced off the barrier and then hit the floor, rolling onto his back with a groan.

“You…you were an easy mark. Kill…to show dominance, then you submit, and I have a place in a big city.”

In a blink The Fool was in the face of Terror, moving several dozen yards in the span of a heartbeat. Another strike to the head, a back hand that shattered Terror’s mask, embedding pieces in the skin of a rather unremarkable face. Again he was lifted off of his feet and again he slammed into an invisible barrer before he could do more damage to the interior of the museum.

“Think if it was that easy it would have been done already? Did you ask around? Ask why not a single hero of villain has come to ‘claim my territory? First, I am well liked…I perform a service to keep everyone sane so they don’t go insane or kill themselves. Everyone has a place in this world, hero or villain and I’m here to make them want to stay in it instead of destroying it or destroying themselves.”

Again in a blink The Fool covered a distance impossibly fast. Terror could hardly move as he was grabbed by the front of his shirt and thrown into the center of the room as though he was nothing more than a rag doll to the man who stood no taller that five feet five inches.

“One…a single villain has tried this. I caught wind of it first…they simply disappeared. No one knew what happened to them and not a single person gave a fuck. The truth…if I wanted to I could rule the world. Not a group of heroes, not the league of villains, not anyone could do anything to stop me. I’ve done it twice actually…burned entire nations just so I could ‘protect’ everyone. I fucked it up each and every time…so I’d reverse time and try it again. Never came out like I wanted…so I stopped.”

During this conversation Terror tried to stand and summoning what rage he could tried to charge forward to punch The Fool…yet he seemed to be almost held in place. All of his power being put to just move less than a millimeter.

“I found my role was to help in different ways. A simple heist, a way to give confidence. Let the heroes vent their loss, talk about their insecurities. Who isn’t your best friend if it isn’t your arch-nemesis? I KNOW I’ve helped so many. YET HERE YOU ARE! YOU RUINED EVERYTHING! You killed GOOD people. Now you will beg me for death. You will plead and cry and scream for me to end your suffering. See I’m actually very evil, just in a different way than most. You’ll see…I’ll give you a hint on my power. I can bend space-time.”

The Fool was just strolling around Terror at a normal pace while the Super Villain did everything he could just to move a little tiny bit.

“I could go into the complicated nature of everything, but I’ll say this. You won’t move unless I want you do. I’m ancient, and I know exactly what I’m doing. Still though, my power is more than gravity manipulation. I can make worm-holes at will. You might ask why that is important…well I can take pieces off of you without a blade in the most precise way possible. You’ll see…I’ll start with this…”

The Fool just looked to Terror and released the hold he had on him. The villain moved to stand up…there was an odd vacuum noise…and right as he was about to attack he fell down into a pile on the floor.

“You don’t regenerate you just can recover well. I just removed the part of your brain for motor function. You can’t talk, or move or even really change where your eyes look. I spent a great many years learning neuroscience just for moments like this. I didn’t want to mess up and kill someone on accident. Though Honestly I use the ability to remove tumors that are considered inoperable often. Though now…I get to play a little bit. Don’t worry…”

There were a few more of those vacuum sounds and with each one Terror was unable to do even more, until he was just sitting there, breathing…but fully unable to move at all. The fool then maneuvered him onto his back with the easy of a child playing with an action figure.

“You’ll never be able to respond, or blink, or cry or even raise your heart rate to more than just enough to keep you alive. I have successfully imprisoned you in your body. Since you don’t regenerate, well you cannot heal the damage. I can’t go back in time to bring back Fire and Wind…that does too many things to too many realms. Death is still a little upset at me for the last time I did it. At least they are with their son now, hopefully happy.”

Terror couldn’t respond, motionless his gaze stuck on the ceiling…he could do nothing but listen…fully aware of his surroundings.

“Also don’t worry, I put a little barrier around your mind too. Don’t think anyone will be able to talk to you with telepathy or some of them fancy dream reading machines. This will be your and my little secret. You’ll lament in some hospital as your body degenerates. Helpless…until you die and THEN I get to have fun with you. I just want you completely broken first.”

The Fool’s face went to a sad one from rage as he gathered the bodies of the heroes and set them next to each other. He even sobbed a little bit over them straightening their limbs so they could be found presentable. Then a call was made and he fabricated everything…no one would know. As Terror was taken away on a gurney…only The Fool knew how much he was screaming in his mind to be let go.

“They Deserve respect for what they have done,

Wind and Fire two great heroes are now gone,

With hope I wish their souls will fly

With a heavy heart I will say goodbye.”

The Fool said as their bodies were taken away…he didn’t even want the stupid dime anymore. He learned something though, and he’ll never be caught unaware again.

You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers, but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic supervillain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.

[troubledminnesotan]

ITS HERE!!!

My 18 page autobio comic about siblings struggling to communicate but finding common ground in video games is out now!

Check it out on here and I hope you enjoy!

[whereserpentswalk]

Fae do not have a concept of good and evil. But they do have a concept of fair and unfair. They are creatures of politeness and impolitness. Even when they're doing things that would be horrifying to humans, they do these things with a specific set of rules around them.

Most of their weaknesses are only weaknesses because they see them as making things fair. Fae are physically capable of lying, but they consider it cheating to lie to someone who isn't familiar with the fae. Likewise, fae can create unbreakable curses or unsolvable puzzles, but it's considered improper to do so. Even their material weakness works this way, if a fae is cut by an iron sword they'll but hurt by it because it was the polite thing to do.

They'll also always match the power level of any human who wanders into the fae realms, so the human in question never meets a challenge they can't overcome. When a knight of the Holy Roman Empire and his men tried to conquer part of the fae realms in 1126 the fae fought like medieval soldiers, using tactics and strategies that would be clever and strange but understandable to him and his men, the numbers of warriors never being too much for him to defeat, even when he could. And when the D.T.L paranormal containment organization sent in modern soldiers with firearms and gas masks to assassinate the fae Queen of Winter Dawn in 2004, the fae responded accordingly, with ranged weapons, and hit and run tactics, that a modern commander could play off of. And, in 1873, when three children got lost in the fae realms, deeper then any human who had been lost there before or after, the fae filled their path of peril with puzzles and traps that the children could solve. One of the children ended up having her eyes turned into spiders, and all of them were traumatized, but it's the fairness the counts to the fae. When you're billions of years old you just care about different things.

And of course. There are some fae that break the rules, fae who will truly do everything in their power to affect the world. These fae are useally exiled from the fae realms, to far off and desolate planes, where they wander and seek power. They are truly terrifying creatures, though in the places they are sent they can rarely use their power. Few who encounter them who aren't their loyal servents escape with both their lives and their humanity.

And of course, fae politeness isn't universal. It applies to humans, and to other fae, and to some other entities. But when there's a true threat to the existence of the fae they will use everything in their power to stop it, polite or impolite. When the star spawn and the great old ones attempted their invasion of the fae in 700MYA they were very promptly destroyed, and pushed back using horrors humanity can't comprehend, horrors the star spawn could barely comprehend. And when the demons on the 8th abyss attempted their invasion in 10MYA they were given almost an equal horror, spared only from pure destruction because they fae found such creatures to be useful.

[diana-andraste]

The Bloody Chamber, Angela Carter, 1979 (read in English)

La cámara sangrienta, (read in Spanish, trans. Jesús Gómez Gutiérrez)

Illustrations by Alejandra Acosta

[teslacoils-and-hubris]

We need to be more focused on fucked up short stories as a society. We've all read the yellow wallpaper, the lottery, lamb to the slaughter in middle school but then we never talk about fucked up short stories outside of "haha remember when Ms Johnson made us read that story about the lady killing her husband with a leg of lamb then feeding the murder weapon to the police?"

That ends today!! Appreciation for fucked up short stories time!! Comment your favourite weird story your English teacher made you read that still sticks with you to this day PLEASE I need to read more fucked up short stories

I'll start- the veldt by ray Bradbury, rappachini's garden by nathaniel hawthorne, and this one is a little bit of a cheat because it's a graphic novel but The Nesting Place by Emily Carroll still haunts me (every story in her through the woods collection really, but nesting place especially)

[monstersflashlight]

Mixed monsters masterlist (txt/short)

Due the amount of links in the mixed monsters masterlist, the short stories and imagines are now here. You can check the long stories in this masterlist.

Shorts/imagines

Monster under the bed

Game night

Gargoyle

Librarian

Were cat

Tipsy

Merman

Shadow monster

Lamia

Naga boyfriend

Parasite

Goblin

Rattlesnake naga

Death do us (apart)

Sexless monster

Hole in the wall (lab2)

Robot boyfriend

Naga girlfriend (chubby fem!reader)

Pleasure slime

Sleep paralysis demon (fem!monster x gn!reader)

Owl harpy

Centaur vore (male!reader)

Zombie

Gnoll girlfriend (trans!fem reader)

Male!fairty

Merman (chubby fem!reader)

Tarantula-drider

Coming home (centaur)

Shape-shifter

Were-Cane Corso (x fem!lioness)

Traveling monsters || part 2

I do not consent to have any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent. This includes reposting my stories on other websites, platforms, etc.

[lewis-renalia]

i wanted to practice my audio skills, so have two of @derinthescarletpescatarian short stories read in your ears

[anne-chloe]

Imagine : They don’t realise that you can’t swim

Peter Pan x Reader

Summary : The Lost boys go swimming at mermaid lagoon, they toss you in and you nearly drown

Warning : Near death experience, drowning

“Come on, [Name]!”

You stood on the sidelines of the lagoon, fingers nervously twisting with the hem of your shirt. It was a bad idea for you to have even joined the Lost Boys in the mermaid lagoon, because you knew they’d want to swim deep and would drag you with them.

It was with this very thought that you resolved to back out, to announce that you were tired and you’d return to the camp.

But you were suddenly grabbed from behind.

You craned your head back to see Devin. His arms squeezed your waist as he lifted you up, your feet kicking wildly in protest. You gasped as he started to near the edge of the rocky slope, the deep water too close for comfort.

“No! Stop!” You shouted, wiggling your shoulders back and forth for release.

Devin snickered. “It’s a bit of water! Lighten up!”

Then, he threw you into the water.

The waters surface broke as you sank towards the bottom. Your entire body was stiff and tense, and you felt awfully like a rock in that moment. You let out a scream, air bubbles leaving your mouth as no sound came out.

You blinked, eyes stinging at the murky greens and blue of the lagoons depths. You couldn’t see the surface any more; you couldn’t see anything at all.

Surrounded and suffocated by the water, you felt your heart hammer wildly out of beat at the thought of dying in the mermaid lagoon.

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist before you felt the water rush past your skin. Within seconds, you broke the surface and let out a panicked gasp for air. You grabbed blindly at the person who had saved you; you were far too aware of the lack of ground beneath your feet.

“Calm down, calm down—“

Who was that talking?

You were pulled from the water and pushed onto the rocky slope. The hard ground brought immediate comfort and relief, and you couldn’t help but lie flat.

There was that terrible, salty taste of water on your lips, and your eyes stung horribly from the sea water. You coughed and panted for air, your lungs burning as water came rushing out your mouth.

“Look at me, [Name]— are you alright? Breathe!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, suddenly finding the afternoon sun too bright to handle. Then, when you reopened your eyes you found yourself staring into those familiar green ones. Instead of the usual mischief that you’d see, you found only worry and what appeared to be guilt.

“P-Peter…?” You stammered, another coughing fit cutting you off.

Peter sighed loudly and pulled you in for a hug. His arms around you gave the strange sense of ease and comfort. “Why didn’t you say that you couldn’t swim?”

“I-I didn’t think it was important,” you coughed again, watching in disgust as water dripped from your face. You couldn’t tell if they were tears or from the sea.

Peter glared harshly at you, his arms giving a small squeeze. “Of course it was important,” he scolded, “you could have died.”

You lowered your head, feeling awkward and ashamed that you had troubled Peter and the Lost Boys like that. “I’m sorry, Peter. I just didn’t think something like this would ever happen.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “The Lost Boys will think twice about doing something like that again,” he muttered.

As Peter held you close to his chest, you couldn’t help but wonder why he had been the one to pull you from the water. Usually, he was so cold and cruel with the Lost Boys, never stepping in to save them if they needed rescuing. His excuse was that “all Lost Boys should take care of themselves, if they can’t then they’re weak.” It was only fair to assume that the rule applied to you.

But with one subtle glance around the lagoon, you could see that the Lost Boys were just as stunned as you.