“I Don’t Understand Why You Can’t Help Me!”

“How did you do that?!” I shriek.

The Knight is staring at her sword in surprise and shock. She looks up with wide eyes. 

“I don’t know!” she cries out. 

I hesitantly raise the gun again and pause. “Can you…do it again?” I ask curiously.

She shrugs, equally curious. “Try it.”

I fire…and she manages to parry it again.

The gun drops to my side in shock, and she drops her sword like it’s on fire. She stares at it in horror.

“It must be cursed!” she yelps, backing away from her sword.

I roll my eyes. “Really?”

The Knight trembles with fear. “I traded for it a few weeks ago. Traveling trader. She said it was special, but I thought she just meant that it was forged well! This is my first time actually fighting with it!”

I stare at her. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me that you brought a sword to a gun battle…and you hadn’t even used it yet?! What kind of Knight are you?!”

She shrugs sheepishly. “A not very experienced one?”

“Parry this you filthy casual.” You pull the trigger… and begin to panic as the Knight ACTUALLY parries the bullet.

He shrugged as much as was possible, what with all the ropes holding him in place against the pole.

"Honestly, I'm good with either one."

The villian stopped her pacing. "Huh?"

He shrugged again. "I dunno, I'm kinda done with all this hero stuff. They ask me to do things that keep me up at night. If I'm dead, they can't make me do stuff anymore!"

She paused, staring at him in fascination. "That is...slightly morbid."

"And," he continued. "Let's be objectively honest. You're a gorgeous person."

The villian couldn't help her blush, though she crossed her arms and turned away to hide it, resuming her pacing.

The hero watched her for a few more minutes before he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Did you...did you really want to kiss me - or kill me - or was that just messing with my head? I can never tell with you."

She ignored him and walked away, out of his sight line. He could hear her rummaging through what he assumed were her possessions. Several minutes later, the villian walked back into view, carrying a backpack that was obviously stuffed.

One eyebrow raised as the hero asked, "Going somewhere?"

She raised her eyebrows right back. "Yeah, to my sister's place. If you don't want to do this little dance anymore, it takes all the fun out of it."

"Now, I didn't say that-"

"So," she interrupted. "Wanna come with me?"

Writing Prompt #2848

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Kiss you. Kill you. I'm not sure yet."

Keira frowned. "Has anyone seen Cooper?"

The rest of the group looked around and shook their heads.

Callie spoke up. "Last I saw, he was right behind us."

Keira turned and looked down the tunnel where they had come from. The group was quiet for a minute. They couldn't go back. They didn't have time.

Finally, Keira made a decision. "Go on without me. I'll find him and wait here for you to come back."

"But-," John tried to argue, but Keira just shook her head.

"He could be hurt. What if he got hit in the crossfire when we busted in here? I know he said he was fine, but what if he's not? By the time we come back this way, he could be..." Keira didn't finish the sentence. She shook her head. "I'm going back."

She handed off her extra supplies and hurried back down the tunnel. She didn't dare call out for Cooper, just in case there was still and enemy lurking in the shadows.

It took her almost ten minutes before she stumbled over Cooper, sitting in the middle of the tunnel.

He looked up groggily. "Hi."

Keira knelt in front of him. "What happened? You were behind us, and then you weren't!"

Cooper looked around. "I sat down."

Keira grabbed his shoulders, looking over him quickly. His eyes were glassy and vacant, skin pale. She started tugging his jacket open, searching for a wound.

His shirt underneath was soaked with blood, and Keira winced when she saw it. As she pulled it away from his skin, inspecting his torso, he suddenly slumped forward.

Keira grunted in surprise, laying him down. This wasn't good. She worked feverishly over him for a full half hour, trying to staunch the blood flow from the gunshot wound in his side.

By the time the rest of the group came back through the tunnel, it was too late.

There’s something about a whumpee just sitting down. Not fainting, necessarily. Maybe they’re just about to faint, and they quietly just kneel on the ground at a time and place that doesn’t make sense. They don’t even have the capacity or willingness to articulate why they need to abruptly stop and sit. Maybe they’re catatonic while the others look at them.

Maybe a caretaker can see the dull, vacant look in their eyes and immediately senses that something is seriously wrong. Maybe the fainting comes just a few moments later.

“I don’t get it.”

I sigh. “I know. Me either.”

My boyfriend scratches his head in confusion. “You’re telling me that you are the biological daughter of Death. That Death actually…did the deed with someone? That just seems so wrong.”

I nod in agreement. “I don’t even know who it was. My money is on one of the old gods. But it could have been a mortal.”

Jake wrinkles his nose. “You don’t think it was a ghost, do you?”

I roll my eyes. “Not really how it works. So, no. Anyway, I kinda gave up asking several years ago. He’s my dad, he loves me, and he’ll tell me literally anything except who my mom is. Besides, am I really missing that much?”

Jake crosses his arms. “Yes! I love my mom! You should ask again. You need a good excuse though…”

“Don’t be silly!” I reach over and smack him lightly. “I’m not going to bug my dad just to satisfy your curiosity on a subject that he has made it clear he doesn’t want to discuss! Grow up!”

“Ow,” Jake mutters, glaring playfully and rubbing his arm. His eyes light up. “Ooh, say you need to know for your medical records! Or a genealogy assignment for school!”

“He-” I stop. Actually, he might believe the medical one. I look away, refusing to play the game. “No.”

“Come on!”

I shake my head. 

“Please,” Jake pleads, giving me his puppy dog eyes. 

I lose the staring contest and groan, going inside the house to see if I can get an answer this time.

Ten minutes later, I come back outside.

Jake is practically bouncing with excitement. “Well? What did he say?”

When I stay quiet, he deflates a bit. “Didn’t work?”

“Oh, it worked,” I say quietly. 

Jake is breathless. “And?”

I look up at him, an unreadable expression on my face.

“My mother is Queen Elizabeth II.”

You are the child of Death. Everyone always assumes that you were adopted, but you are in fact Death's biological child, although they are unwilling to tell how exactly this happened.

“No, did you say you love me?” she asks slowly, turning to look at her best friend.

He looks anywhere but at her, the wall, the floor, the picture frames, the door. His cheeks are bright red as he says, “I…don’t know what you’re talking about I said ‘What.’” 

She crosses her arms, staring at him until he meets her eyes. “You know what you said. I know what you said. Will you just own up to it?”

He sighs. “It was just…an exaggeration, Camille. I was just poking fun. You look good. Can we go? The movie starts in twenty minutes.”

Camille puts her hands on her hips. “Lukas Emery James. You tell me the truth right now. We have plenty of time.”

Luke bites his lip nervously. “I…have maybe…fallen in love with you.”

She stares at him for a second, not quite believing it. She somehow had almost convinced herself she had misheard him. She shakes her head. “Come on. Luke, we’re…friends!”

He looks away, quietly asking, “Are we?”

Camille shakes her head again. “I…yes! Why? Why do you think you love me?”

Luke laughs a little and meets her eyes. “I don’t think, I know. I know I love you, Camille. You are…everything to me. Everything I have ever dreamed about. You’re always there for me. I’m always there for you. We tell each other everything. If you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine, but it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

Now the tables have shifted, and Camille is the one who feels uncomfortable. “Luke…”

Luke turns away. “Let’s go then. The movie starts soon.” He looks back at her with a smirk. “Last chance to change your clothes.”

She smacks him lightly. “Not a chance.”

Camille follows him out to his car and climbs in. The drive is silent for several minutes before she finally says, “Are you upset?”

Luke jumps at the sudden sound. “Of course not! We’re best friends. If that’s all you want to be, that’s okay.” He pauses, his cheeks a bit pink. “Hurts a bit, but whatever.”

Camille winces, running her fingers through her hair absently. “I just…need to think.”

The car falls quiet again. The pair doesn’t talk much as they walk into the theater. 

Halfway through the movie, Camille leans over to Luke, whispering, “I might have feelings for you too.”

He whips his head to look at her, but doesn't say anything. 

She smiles nervously, saying quietly, “Let’s give it a try, Luke.”

Luke can’t stop the grin that takes over his face. The movie is forgotten in the background of the dark theater, as he leans over and kisses her cheek.

Prompt #1133

"Would it kill you to put a little bit more effort into your appearance?"

"Why? So pricks like you will fall in love with me?"

"Already too late..."

"What?"

"What?"

I pause. "Centuries?"

My brother nods. "Centuries, blah blah blah, prophecy, blah blah blah, chosen one, blah blah, overthrown and killed, you get the point. I'm outta here!"

He looks a bit too excited for my comfort. I gently extract my newborn daughter from my older brother's arms, slowly taking the dagger out of her hands.

"Mom told me you're 10 years older than me, and that's why you've been king as long as I can remember." I say carefully. Has he finally snapped? I knew the war was wearing on him, but this?

He rolls his eyes. "Try 287 years older than you. And "Mom" isn't really MY mom. Really, I thought you would have figured it out by now. I did try to leave you hints."

I can only stare at him. "But...how? Why?"

He shrugs. "Cursed, evil fairy, 'wasn't invited,' (her sister hid the invite, it wasn't my fault!), you get the idea."

I clutch my daughter a little tighter. "So no one has noticed that you've been on the throne for 200 years?"

"No, people are surprisingly unobservant. Every 30 years or so, I 'get sick' and fake my death, my 'son' rising to power. It's surprisingly easy to do."

My eyes widen in horror. "You're not my dad, right? Mom said he died a few years after i was born!"

He shudders. "Eww, no! Obviously, she knew and helped me lie about it, but no. For all intents and purposes, I'm still your older brother. Your family line has descended from my younger brother."

I can hardly believe my ears. "Why didn't Mom tell me the truth?"

My brother sighs. "There are some stupid people in this kingdom that actually like the way I rule, despite my best efforts to rile them up and get them to assassinate me (doesn't work by the way, someone tried that 173 years ago).

"If they knew the truth, that your child would finally take me out of power, you'd better believe that you wouldn't have lived past 5 years old. Despite my best efforts, there are still a few people out there who know the prophecy."

"So you want my infant child to stab you right now?!" I ask in disbelief. "I can understand the rest, but that would leave ME in charge until she's of age. And she would be crowned while she was still a child! Do you really want that for the kingdom?"

He rolls his eyes again. "I don't care."

"How are you so sure that it's her?"

He closes his eyes, remembering the prophecy. "'Spinner's daughter, without sister or brother, shall end your reign, and she will prosper.' Not a great prophecy as far as the contents. It barely rhymes, but it gave me hope that there would be an end to ...this.

"But if it means that much to you, I guess I can wait a few more years. But I will be telling her the truth, the WHOLE truth!"

I nod. "Me too," I say quietly.

17 years later, at my daughters birthday party, my brother's butler comes to find me, in a panic.

"Your Higness, your brother has fallen ill! It's quite bad. You should come see him."

I follow him up the stairs to my brother's room.

"What's the matter?" I ask when I see him, lying in his bed.

He smiles weakly. "I'm not sure when she did it, but she must be behind this. I'm so-" He cuts off in a coughing fit.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, tears filling my eyes. "I wish it could be different. Do you want to see her?"

He shakes his head. "Don't spoil her fun, it's her birthday. And I'm happy, I really am. I'll see my wife, my kids, my parents and siblings."

He sighs happily. "I've been dreaming about this for centuries."

An hour later, my older brother dies in his bed, 200 years overdue.

My daughter cries at her beloved uncle's death, though she wipes away her tears and puts on a brave face for the coronation the next morning.

The kingdom mourns his death for the final time, even as they celebrate their first queen in 275 years.

No one notices me slipping into the background of the party, hiding a small black bottle in my hand.

When I dump it out the window, the plants underneath it shrivel up and die.

“Why are you giving my newborn baby a dagger?!” “Well they’re a choosen one, which means that I’m destined to be killed by them; but honestly I’ve been waiting centuries for them to be born and I just want to get it over with.”

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes. I can go all day."

"No. I can do it myself."

*wince* "Well, not so much."

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm not giving it to you."

*shrug* "Fine." *nods at Character C*

*Character A turns in time to see Character C hit them hit something heavy, knocking them out*

*Character B takes the object from Character A* "Sorry. It's for your own good, you know."

Writing Prompt #2880

"Stop trying to help me. I can do this myself."

"Quite frankly? You can't. You're one mistake from having a nervous breakdown or hurting yourself because you can't think clearly. Now, swallow your pride, and give that to me."

I frown. "You have a therapist?"

He scoffs. "I kill people for a living. Of course I have a therapist! Pamela is completely qualified, if that's what you're worried about."

My brow furrows. "So...you want me, your public nemesis number 1, to come to your home, chill in your guest room, and chat with your therapist?"

He rolls his eyes. "That's not...actually, yeah. That's pretty accurate."

"Why?"

"I need someone around that I'm not paying to keep me company."

I think that was supposed to be a joke, but his delivery was a bit to dry, too forced. Is he...lonely? I shake my head. "But why are you offering that to me? What if I say no?"

He growls. "I just offered you mercy. Your life. And your questioning me? I threatened your life and you actually asked me to.... I don't think you're okay." He folds his arms as if to say, I win. Give it your best shot. The prick even raises his eyebrows to taunt me. Jerk.

I grit my teeth. "So you just want me to sit around your house all day? Where's the fun in that?"

He rubs a hand on his temples. "What part of 'talk to my therapist' did you not understand? I'm serious. We've been fighting over this kingdom for years, and you've always put up a fight."

I know when I've lost a fight, and this is no different. I have a feeling that even if I sit down and refuse to move, he would knock me out and take me back anyway.

I sigh. "Fine, I'll meet Pamela. She better be a good listener."

Under the mask, I think I can see a smile. "She is."

And I know I must have imagined it, but later, I could swear that he mumbled under his breath, "And so am I."

When the villain demanded that you submit or be destroyed you just apathetically shrugged and braced yourself for death. You were surprised when the villain did not kill you and instead offered you a nice, comfortable room and an appointment with their personal therapist.

BTW i see these posts all the time like "ohhh i dont know what to comment on fics.." and every response is "keysmashes! or hearts!! anything works :3" and thats GREAT!! thats helpful!!

but: consider. if u genuinely like analyzing writing.. do u know ur just allowed to go through and quote your favorite parts and ramble abt what they mean to u and the author will LOSE IT WITH HYPE?

genuinely. i felt SO WEIRD the first time i did it.. but like. holy shit authors love it. its crack for authors. the first time i did it, it was on a fic that hadnt updated in half a year, give or take, and the author made 3 updates that month BECAUSE OF MY COMMENT.

LIKE. as an author every comment is INCREDIBLE!!! but also, dont feel like your comment has to be short or otherwise ur invasive or smth!! authors ADORE long comments more than ANYTHING.

She sighed. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

I shrugged. “Just trying to lighten the mood, Sara. You look tense.”

She growled - growled! - at me. “Look, we only have 5 more minutes before this thing explodes. Or…whatever it’s going to do. I’d rather not find out. Pass me that paper.”

I pantomimed zipping my lips, and sat back, watching her frantically scribble on the paper, trying to figure out the right code to shut off the machine.

3 minutes went by. I couldn’t help myself. “Need help yet?”

Sara was practically shaking with nerves. “I can’t figure it out! I’ve tried everything!”

I leaned forward and gently took the paper out of her hands. She tried to snatch it back and I tossed it in the trash.

She threw up her hands in frustration. “Fine! You try then!” She glanced at the timer.

A minute and a half.

I grinned as I leaned around her and pressed a few buttons. The timer started counting down faster.

I winced. “Whoops.”

Sara groaned and slumped down with her head in her hands.

I rolled my eyes and pressed a few more buttons, making the machine stop counting completely. She slowly looked up. “Wha- How? I mean, thank you, but…”

I gave her a mock bow. “If you had listened to me before, I could have told you that I had two codes to try. Got one out of the genius’ brother and the other out of the maker himself. Didn’t know which was the right one, but I was about 75% sure one of them would work.”

Sara blushed sheepishly. “I- sorry. I should have listened to you.”

I shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, you were only off by one number.”

She hugged me. “Thanks. Now what do we do?”

I grinned mischievously, and grabbed a bat from the corner of the garage.

Writing Prompt #2782

"Would you stop trying to help?" She snapped. "You're getting in the way. I just need to do things my way right now."

"Oh. Yeah. I'll just...sit here and be eye candy. That's all I'm good for."