writerdownbookworder

Latest Posts by writerdownbookworder

"Whoa, dude!" I yelp, throwing my hands into the air. "Chill out!"

He groans. "I don't know how you found out. I tried so hard to hide it. I really liked you, Chris."

"Easy, Jay," I say slowly, my hands still held up. "You don't have to freak out. I promise, I won't tell anyone."

Jay scoffs. "Like hell. I know that's not true. In the unlikely scenario that you don't immediately run to the cops, it would slip out at some point, to someone. I can't risk it."

I try not to laugh. "No, really. I'm a hacker. Not as cool as yours, but I avoid cops like the plague. I've actually worked with a few...friends of yours."

The gun lowers a bit, Jay's face scrunched in suspicion. "Really. Who?"

I start counting on my fingers. "Altair, Nightshade, Morgan, Judas, and Kurt. I think that's it? I could be wrong. You know, several of these people use the same code names. Real inconvenient."

Jay blows out a breath, lowering the gun completely. "Thank God. I really didn't want to have to pull that trigger. I don't really do that anymore."

"Huh. You don't say." I eyeball the gun dangling in his hand lazily. "Wanna out that away maybe?"

"Oh this?" He snorts, then tosses it over his shoulder in the direction of his bed. He laughs when he sees the horrified look on my face.

"It's not loaded. It isn't even real!"

Today you just found out your roommate with strange hobbies, like knowing how to pick a lock, knows how every puzzle and cipher by heart, or how to commit tax fraud, and so many other things, wasn't a guy with ADHD, he was an ex-assassin and now you have a gun pointed at your face

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.

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.

"Oh. Yeah, it was tricky. Thankfully, I'm very smart. What do you think?"

"Unfortunately, I'm impressed."

“How could you?” “I can expla-“ “No, I don’t mean morally. Logistically how could you even pull something like this off?”

She gapes at me.

I sigh. "Not what you expected me to say, Brienne?"

She shakes her head. Finding her voice, she stammers, "I- I- didn't know-"

"Yes!" I say with a single, bitter laugh. "That was intentional. I do not, and will not, regret the time we spent together. Both as coworkers and as suitors. What I regret is giving up so much of myself in the process."

Brienne frowns and puts her hands on her hips. "I never asked you to do that. You can't put that on me, Ari."

I rub a hand down my face, trying to stay calm. "I'm not! I didn't even mind being in your shadow. What I minded, is that you never acknowledged what I was doing for you. I felt more for you than you did for me, and I knew that. That's why I didn't say anything." My eyes flash with sadness. "I didn't want to hear you say the words I knew you felt."

She opens her mouth, but I shake my head. "We're done. This," I gesture between us. "It's over. We were happy, but we aren't anymore, so it's time to move on. Goodbye."

I turn and walk away without waiting for her response.

She didn't even try to give one.

"Don't say you regret it. Before... before everything, we were happy."

"Happiness is relative. I must consider what I might have been capable of if I had not contented myself to live in your shadow so long."

"You weren't—"

"Hush. You want to dredge up the past? You want to know if there is something there to salvage? Fine. It is my greatest regret that I ever loved you."

I stare for a minute. There are...a lot of people standing around my front door.

I shake myself out of my surprise. "Can I...help you? Your Highness," I add hastily, sweeping into a deep curtsy.

The prince takes a small step forward. "We are looking for a Miss Anastasia Ryntz? We were told this is the correct residence."

My brow furrows in confusion. I feel like I'm missing something. I fidget with my threadbare apron as I slip between the guards and start fumbling with my keys to unlock the door.

"Yes, it is," I say slowly, ushering the crowd inside. "I'm Anastasia. I'm sorry, not to be rude, but why are you here?"

The prince looks around, distinctly uncomfortable in my very small house. With all the guards and his advisors, the room is very crowded. I wince as one of the guards tries to turn around and knocks a vase off my lone table.

The prince sighs and rubs the space between his eyes. "Really, Cass? That's it, everyone out." Balancing the cake in one hand, he uses the other to shoo at everyone. They look at each other uncertainly.

"I'm serious!" he yells. "The only people who are staying in this house are the lady, myself, and Grimms." He gestures at his closest advisor.

Slowly, my house empties, and I awkwardly offer the prince the one chair I own. "Would you...like to sit?"

He accepts gratefully, his advisor standing behind me, me across the table. The silence stretches for a few minutes before he jumps a bit in his seat. "Oh! I- We brought you a birthday cake!" He shoves it across the table eagerly.

I stare at it, then at him, confused. "Why?"

The prince frowns. "Well...it's your birthday, isn't it?"

I nod slowly. "22nd birthday. Why do you know that? And why do you know my name?"

The prince fumbles with his words for several seconds before his advisor - Grimms - sighs and speaks up. "Prince Auron is here to speak with you about something of the upmost importance. Are you the only person in residence? This is a private matter."

"Yes, it's just me." Dang it, I know my voice sounded sad there. I don't want them to think I'm a loser! "I live alone. By myself." Yeah, that was so much better. Whatever. "Anyway, what's up?" Facepalm.

Prince Auron clears his throat awkwardly. "You, of course, are aware that I am the youngest of the royal family. As such, on my birthday this year, when I came of age, I was given a prophecy about my future in the kingdom."

I nod. This isn't news to me. The prince's oldest sister will inherit the throne and his older brother will lead the armies and advise the crown. The third child is always a bit of a wild card.

"Does your prophecy have something to do with my business?" I ask. "I'm not sure how much help I'll be." I snort with derision. "You can see how I live."

Prince Auron fidgets. "Ah. Yes. Well, not really."

I wait, then when he doesn't elaborate, I sigh. "Your Highness, I would love to help you, but I can't do that unless you actually tell me what you need."

He blurts out. "I need you to marry me. Please."

I blink. "I'm sorry. What?"

You are a poor girl selling flowers. Today is your birthday but no one knows. When you return home you find the prince of the kingdom waiting for you with a birthday cake. "Are you sure this is the one?" He whispers to his advisor.

YES!!!

hollywood’s obsession with cinematic universes is like trying to tie every subplot in your novel together even when it doesn’t make sense. not every character needs a spin-off, and not every movie needs to be 3 hours long.

Dear Diary,

I'm going to have to lock this diary away and destroy it. I love kids.

The Addams kids? They're menaces!

I'm fairly certain the girl wants to kill me. At least the boy seems fairly... sweet? No, not the right word. If I did die, he would definitely hide the evidence. Or eat it. The kid eats like a pig.

One thing is for sure. If I go missing, the girl got me and the boy finished me off.

Dear Diary,

Today was worse. I left the Addams kids playing upstairs while I went to make them lunch. When I came to fetch them, the girl had strapped her brother to some sort of contraption. I'm fairly certain it was an electric chair, though I don't know how she got one. Or why...

He was fine, just hungry. Which is almost more concerning. He ate so much at lunchtime, I'm not sure how he had room for dinner. I thought he might explode.

Oh well. Better luck tomorrow.

Dear Diary,

It's been a week. That girl - Wednesday - has tormented me within an inch of my life! There is blood in strange, unexpected places. Snakes and critters hidden in my bed. She locked me in my room for a whole day! There's even a disembodied hand in this house! It moves.

I think she might be clinically insane.

Pugsley on the other hand...I think he just does whatever she tells him to. Yesterday, she told him to jump out the second story window. I barely caught him. Then, I could barely pull him back inside. The kid weighs a ton.

The kicker? Wednesday said she wanted to see if he would bounce.

Dear Diary,

The Addams family will be reunited in two days. I'm overjoyed. I should've listened when everyone warned me. I won't lie, the house is interesting, and the stories the kids tell are...intriguing, at least, if not worrying. But you won't catch me anywhere near this place again. I wouldn't touch it with a very long pole, not even with several weapons hidden on me.

At least Wednesday has stopped trying to give me a heart attack. Instead, she takes it out on Pugsley.

But at least he seems used to it. Sometimes, I think he enjoys it.

Dear Diary,

Change of plans. Pugsley didn't want me to leave. He sat on my feet and cried when I tried to walk out the door. Not even Wednesday could make him move. Although, I'm not sure how hard she tried. I think I maybe saw a glimmer in her eyes.

It might have been a tear, but I guess it's more likely a plot.

Dear God, I hope it's not against me for leaving.

Maybe I'll come back to visit.

Dear Diary,

It's been awhile. The Addams family is...strange.

Wednesday and Pugsley meet me at the park every weekend for a picnic.

Morticia has me over for tea every other week.

Gomez decided I needed to learn how to fence. I don't think I had a choice. So now I have a fencing lesson twice a week. It's an odd sport.

That hand...Thing. Apparently, he likes playing checkers. I still don't know how I got roped into that.

I avoid the grandma though. She gives me the creeps. Not to mention the bald uncle. I'm fairly sure he's been arrested multiple times.

Anyway, now the Addams family is like my second family. My home away from home.

Who would've thought?

You, new in town and strapped for cash, see an ad in the paper; apparently, a "Gomez and Morticia Addams" are in need of a babysitter to watch their two children during a business trip. Despite the VERY high pay, no one has pursued it. Ignoring warnings from the locals, you sign up.

"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."

The first few times, I didn’t understand why everything felt so familiar. I would wake up at 16 with nothing but vague dreams from every time before. My room sometimes looked different than I thought it should. Eventually, I started to keep a diary. Strangely, it always stuck around when the clock reset. 

That was how I figured out the timeline. 30 whole years. I lived from 16 to 35, and on the morning of my 46th birthday, I would wake up at 16 again. 

Once I realized what was happening, I tried to make the best of it. I lived each time out differently, reading about everything I had done before in my diary.

One time, I married my best friend. The next, I married someone I met in college. A few times, I didn’t get married, once I didn’t go to college.

I had four kids after I graduated, then one kid during college, then no kids at all.

Once, I had a kid before I was even out of high school. 

Saved my father’s life, didn’t get there in time.

Got arrested (only made that mistake once), became a bad influence, became a good one.

Got an office job, worked as a police officer, tried my hand at acting, singing, dancing, tried graphic design.

Made friends, lost friends, made more.

I made plenty of mistakes, especially in the beginning. But then, doesn’t everyone? Some of them I made over and over again, but some mistakes you only make once.

I never figured out what was causing me to reset my life. 

But I didn’t really care.

See, most people only get one life, no matter how long or short it is.

My life may have only been 30 years, but I got to do it over and over again, however I wanted.

In my opinion, that’s a gift.

I love my life.

You are caught in a time loop but instead of resetting you daily, it resets you every 30 years

the problem with reading and writing leading to a strong vocabulary is that you tend to know the vibe of words instead of their meanings.

if I used this word in a sentence, would it make sense? absolutely. if you asked me what it meant, could I tell you? absolutely not.

Sylvie looked away. "Can we not talk about this?"

Brady shook his head. "No. I want to know the truth. I am an awful person! I'm not proud of it, but at least I know that. Why do you keep me around?"

"Please," Sylvie begged. "I don't want to talk about this. You're a good person. Let's talk about that fire you helped put out last week, or the person you saved from the kidnapping three days ago. Or hey, we can talk about how you aren't too proud and boastful!"

Brady frowned. "Sylvie, I'm not a good person. I started the fire on accident, the person still got hurt, and I literally brag any chance I get. Why the hell haven't you kicked me to the curb yet?!"

Sylvie shook her head quickly. "No. Not happening. I'm not talking about this."

She started to walk away, but Brady reached out and grabbed her arm.

"You can't even tell me why I don't suck!" Brady's voice was rising, ignoring the pleading look Sylvie was sending him. "I'm going to leave before I actually hurt someone, and you can't say anything to make me stay!"

He finally dropped her arm and started to turn away, leaving Sylvie standing there.

Brady was halfway to the door when her voice stopped him.

"You want to know why I keep you around?"

He nodded without speaking, without turning around.

"Because I love you."

Writing Prompt #2884

"You know what? I fucking suck! Like, how the hell do you even put up with me?"

"Hey, don't say that about—"

"Why not? It's true. I know don't have enough redeeming qualities to keep around."

“Are you kidding?” I exclaim, backing away. 

“Alright, calm down, Eleanor,” my adoptive father says nervously. “It was just an option. I just thought maybe you would want to see your family and friends again.”

I scoff. “My family was three days from marrying me off to the worst man in the village. I only had two friends, and one of them died two years before I left. Richard…I could see him again, but not at the cost of leaving here!”

“It was only an idea.” My father rubs his head. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I fold my arms. “I love you. You were more family to me than anyone in my original time was. And don’t forget, I was sucked out just a few years before the Black Death. Chances are, I wouldn’t have survived, so the anomaly likely saved my life.”

My father just nods, still looking guilty. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” I say gently. “I get to spend my days here with you, go out with my friends on the weekends, I don’t have to get married, or take care of kids. Best of all, indoor plumbing!”

He laughs at that. “True.”

Later, I thought about the words I had said to him. 

Every single one was true.

I was happy here.

And plumbing is fantastic.

You were born in the Medieval Age, but at 15, a time anomaly brought you to the modern era, where a scientist adopted you. Now, 11 years later, they’ve found a way to send you back and asked for your opinion, but your answer is clear: “Hell no.”

“Hey!” I cry out in shock. Jason obviously can’t hear me, up on the platform through the screaming crowds, as he kisses Ella soundly on the lips.

When they pull apart, Ella’s face is red. They turn to the crowd and bow proudly.

I am in shock. There are tears pouring down my face, but I can’t feel them. I stare numbly at the stage. I pinch my arm to make sure I’m awake. 

It’s not a nightmare. It’s real.

The tall guy next to me looks over and frowns. He shouts over the noise, “Hey man, are you okay?”

I can only shake my head, eyes locked on the stage where Jason and Ella are holding hands and staring at each other as they answer questions from the reporters.

The man takes my arm, leading me onto a side street a few blocks away, where the noise is significantly reduced. 

“What happened?” he asks, offering me a bottle of water. 

“Tha-that’s my girlfriend,” I say shakily. 

His eyes go wide. 

“And,” I continue, gulping the water. “My best friend Jason. We’ve known each other since we were six! And Ella…”

I can feel the tears now, hot tears falling down my face as I start to sob. 

The man sighs deeply. “I’m sorry, man. That’s rough. I’m George, by the way.”

He offers his hand to shake, and I accept it with a shaky laugh. 

“Dylan.”

I wipe my eyes roughly, trying to stop the tears. Now that I’m a bit less shocked, I’m angry. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” George asks carefully. 

My hands clench into fists. “We’ve been dating for three years! I was going to…”

My voice trails off and I reach into my pocket, pulling out the small box. I thrust it at George angrily, putting my head in my hands. 

George doesn’t have to open it to know that the box contains a ring.

“I was going to ask tonight,” I whisper. 

He tries to hand the box back. “Call her. Or him. Maybe it’s a misunderstanding?”

I know deep down that he’s wrong, but I can’t ignore the brief hope that flares up in my chest at the possibility. 

I fumble my phone out of my pocket and desperately press Ella’s name, putting it on speaker. 

George and I listen to it ring several times before she picks up.

“Hey, baby!” Her voice is breathless. “I’m kinda busy, can I call you back?”

I close my eyes, hearing the crowd in the background. “Where are you, Ella? I was going to surprise you at work.”

This was true. That had been my pan before the whole fiasco happened and the streets were blocked.

“Oh, you know,” she says. “Just…in the back, working on something.”

“Sweetheart,” I say quietly. “Have you seen or talked to Jason today? He was supposed to meet me for lunch, but he never showed up.”

“Jason?” Ella’s voice jumps up an almost imperceptible note. “No, I haven’t seen Jason today! Listen, I’ll call you back in a few hours, baby. I’m really busy right now, you can stop by then, okay?”

George shakes his head slowly, eyes angry for me, a bit sad.

I can’t stop the tremble in my voice as I say, “Never mind, Ella. I saw you. It’s over between us. You can tell Jason the same thing from me. I don’t ever want to talk to you ever again.”

I stare at the phone in front of me as Ella gasps and sputters, protesting. I can’t bring myself to hang up.

So George leans over and does it for me, turning my phone off and handing it back to me.

“I, uh, left my bag back there,” I mumble, pointing back to where we had come from, where the crowds were still screaming. 

George nods. “Look, I gotta get back to work, but I put my number in your phone. If you wanna catch up later, talk, get coffee, whatever, just text me.”

I nod, with a small smile. “Thanks, man.”

I push my way back through the crowds, miraculously finding my things right where I had left them. Ella and Jason are still on the platform, though now they look considerably less happy.

But their hands are still tangled together between them. 

Ella scans the crowd. Eventually, her eyes find mine. She nudges Jason and they both lock eyes with me, clearly pleading with me to talk to them.

I find it funny that in doing this, they ignore the reporter currently talking to them. He looks confused, trying to see who they are looking at.

I shake my head and turn around, pushing my way out of the crowd.

I hope my disgust was clear on my face.

You squealed as the heroes unmasked and kissed in front of the roaring crowds. Wait…you recognize their faces…that’s YOUR best friend and YOUR girlfriend/boyfriend.

The prophetess gave me a look. “That’s disgusting.”

I shrugged, unable to keep the smug grin off my face. “But it worked. He doesn’t want to fight anymore. And, I got a date!”

She groaned. “Priorities, Isabel, priorities!”

I frowned. “I’m sorry, was “get Isabel a man” not number one?”

“No!”

I laugh. “Teasing, Anna! Chill out. He’s cute!”

Anna groaned again. “Please, just call it off. Fight him, win, everything is solved.”

She rubbed her temples as I shook my head apologetically. 

“Sorry,” I said. I really was a bit sorry. I liked Anna. Truthfully, I had gone to the meeting place with every intention of ending everything. But he was just so sweet, and when we started talking, we couldn’t stop. Masks came off, and one thing led to another and then we were kissing. 

When I relayed the details of the meeting to Anna, she could only shake her head.

“I hope you’re happy,” she grumbled. “Messing with prophecies and fate. It’s a nasty business, and you never know how it’ll turn out.”

I didn’t respond, knowing my words would only hurt. I turned and left the room, hiding my face.

Anna was my best friend, and I didn’t want her to see the hurt she had caused me. 

I would go on my date tonight with the former villain, and hopefully Anna would still be here when I got back. 

No one, not even my best friend, could tell me what to do.

"I said you were destined to lock fists with the villain! Not lips!" "Well it worked, didn't it?"

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

Edward strolled through the woods, whistling as he carried a basket of rolls on his arm. He’d been walking for almost two hours, but his feet were still light as he practically skipped through the shadows.

There was a low growl that stopped him in his tracks. He peered through the darkness. “Juno? Is that you?”

The answering snarl that came had Edward groaning. Of course it wasn’t. This happened at least every other time he came to the woods.

Still, he couldn’t stop the shiver of fear he felt travel down his spine when the creature stepped into the light. It looked like a leopard, but it was an odd shade of red, and almost as big as a hippo. 

Edward didn’t move, closing his eyes against what he knew would happen next. Sure enough, a few seconds later, the attack came.

A rush of air and a sharp growl as the creature pounced, a roar, a yowl as the creature was tackled to the ground. Then, a wet slashing sound and a whimper. 

“Can I open my eyes yet?” Edward asked awkwardly.

A smacking and gulping answered his question. He swallowed, feeling slightly sick. 

“Never mind.”

A few moments passed before the clearing fell silent. 

A sweet voice broke through Edward’s thoughts. “It’s clear now.”

He opened his eyes and grinned at the young woman standing in front of him. “Thanks.”

She shrugged, returning his smile. She reached out a hand and he took it, walking with her to the small, hidden cabin where she lived.

Edward set his basket of rolls on her table. “Here you are, m’lady. The monthly bribe to not eat me or anyone else.”

She laughed. “What did you bring me this time, Edward?”

He pushed it toward her, and she opened it, gasping with delight at the fresh rolls. “My favorite! Thank you!”

She immediately grabbed one and started eating it. 

Edward laughed. “Slow down, Juno! I didn’t think you’d have any room left right now! Did you see the size of that thing?! What was that, by the way?”

Juno swallowed with a gulp. “Red leopard.” She snickered at the look on Edward’s face before she took another bite, speaking with her mouth full. “Creative, I know. And I’ll always make room for your baking. Especially rolls!”

Edward laughed, but didn’t say anything. 

It took Juno a moment before she noticed, but when she did, her brow wrinkled with concern. “What’s wrong? It didn’t hurt you, did it?”

“No,” Edward rushed to reassure her. “I’m fine. I just don’t understand why you won’t come back with me. No one would care!”

He ignored the raised eyebrows Juno sent him. “It would be fine, it would! I’d make sure no one bothered us!”

Juno sighed, putting down her roll. “Because, they would care. Your village may not be very smart, since they haven’t figured…this out. And it’s been almost three years. But they would definitely notice if you brought a girl out of the woods and the “monster” disappeared without a trace.”

“They wouldn’t know it’s you!” Edward insisted. “They don’t know that you can shift. They just think you’re the wolf shape. They wouldn’t have to know! Please,” he begged.

Juno looked away. She couldn’t resist that face. 

“So…what?” Edward finally said, hurt. “What are we doing? I can’t live in the woods with you. I’ve only survived this long because of you. I’d be dead in the first week. You won’t come back to town with me.”

Juno closed her eyes, shaking her head. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” Edward whispered. 

There was a sharp breath, and then both of them had tears sliding down their cheeks. They cried silently together for several minutes, neither of them wanting to move.

Finally, Edward stood slowly. 

“No,” Juno pleaded. “Don’t go.”

She knew that if he left now, he wouldn’t come back.

“Have you changed your mind?” He asked quietly. When she shook her head, he sighed. “I’m sorry. Please…spare the village. If you’re mad, take it out on me, not them.”

“Just go,” Juno ground out. “I’ll leave them alone.”

Edward walked to the door and opened it, then paused, turning back. “If…”

Juno looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He sighed. “If you change your mind, or come up with another solution, you know where to find me.”

She nodded.

Her plan had backfired on her. What had started as simple fun and games, had turned explosive, and it had just blown up in her face.

She never expected to get hurt in the process.

Every so often, the local baker must bake something and personally deliver it to the monster in the woods, and in exchange the monster leaves the village alone. What no one knows is, the monster actually has a huge crush on the baker and needs an excuse to see them.

Jane sighed. “Fine.”

Andy frowned. “Huh. I thought you would put up more of a fight.”

“Well,” she shrugged. “I know you. For you, that was as close to an apology as you’ll probably ever get.”

He nodded. She wasn’t wrong.

“And,” she added, throwing him a small smile. “I forgive you.”

Writing Prompt #2862

"Don't you have something to say?"

"Well, I don't like to apologize, so no, not really. I feel like we can comfortably just move forward from here."

Lilith watched gleefully. She had been waiting for this moment for so long. The stupid hero who had been tormenting Lilith's band of mercenaries and assassins. Amelia was finally under her control, and she could do whatever she wanted to her.

Of course, she wouldn't actually do it herself. That was beneath her. Instead, she watched as her second in command, Carson, tortured the annoying girl.

Lilith laughed as Amelia screamed. When she plead for mercy, and Carson looked to Lilith, she just shook her head. When Amelia passed out, Lilith motioned for people to revive her. When the sun crept lower on the horizon, making the clearing dark, Lilith finally sighed and allowed several people to lock Amelia up for the night.

They would resume in the morning.

... ... ... ... ...

Amelia couldn't believe how stupid she had been. She could have kicked herself as she was dragged into the camp, except for the fact that her feet were bound tightly together.

She looked away when she saw Carson's face. The horror was well hidden behind his eyes, but they both knew what would come next. They both knew that they couldn't blow his cover. Which meant, they both knew it had to be done well.

And he did. For hours, Amelia was chained to a tree while Carson - her Carson - tortured her. She couldn't look at him while he yelled at her. She bit her lip when he whipped her. She looked away when she screamed as he cut into her.

She met his eyes only once. She lifted her head groggily when she heard Lilith shouting something. Carson hit her again at Lilith's urging, and Amelia moaned in pain. Carson flinched, but thankfully, his back was to Lilith and Amelia was the only one to see. She looked at him, meeting his eyes and giving an almost imperceptible nod.

When he hit her again, she finally fell limp, blackness claiming her.

... ... ... ... ...

Carson hated himself. When they dragged Amelia into the camp, bruised and bloodied, he had thought she was dead. When she moved and saw him, they both knew the moment when they realized it would have been better if she had been.

Carson floated through the day in a daze. He retreated into himself while he hurt Amelia, the one thing he had sworn to never do. The only time he snapped free and realized what he was doing was when she let out a moan. They had looked at each other, and he had known that he had to keep going.

He had to get her out. When most of the camp was asleep, he sneaked into the tent where Amelia was kept and cut her loose.

Carson shook her desperately until she stirred. He handed her his knife and spirited her away to the edge of the forest. She was barely awake, but she managed to rasp out, "What about you?"

He shook his head. "I'll be fine. They won't know."

They both knew that wasn't true. Amelia resisted, but finally Carson convinced her to leave him, agreeing that it was time to pull him out.

... ... ... ... ...

A week later, Amelia arrived back at camp with a team to extract Carson, only to find out that he was gone.

ohhh we love a good “forced to torture your friend while undercover as a bad guy” don’t we

like. when you meet their eyes and you both know you have to do it and you have to do it well

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.

“In our defense, sir, he is a VERY large man.”

The captain exploded with anger. “That’s why I sent the WHOLE ARMY, IDIOT!”

The soldiers backed away in fear. One man stepped out of the crowd.

“Sir,” he said tentatively. “If I might offer a suggestion?”

The captain groaned and rubbed his temples. “Fine. Yes, what is it?”

“Perhaps,” the man said. “Perhaps we could find our own giant. If we can match that giant with another, they would distract each other long enough for us to take the castle back.”

“Yes,” the captain said slowly. “Yes. That’s a good plan. Do that.”

The men looked around at each other.

The captain sighed. “Did I stutter? DO IT! NOW!”

Soldiers jumped and ran around, running into each other in their haste to follow orders. 

The captain looked up at the sky and groaned.

“It is one man, by himself, in a castle on a hill. How does an ENTIRE ARMY fail to take it???”

“Today has been pretty good. Not many visitors. I started a new book about-” My voice cuts off abruptly as I stare at her. “You…you just wasted your question. Why would you do that?”

She smiles gently. “I didn’t need it.”

“But…” I am lost. Confused. “Why?”

“Because,” she says, reaching out and putting her hand on my arm. “I thought you could use a friend. So could I. What’s your book about?”

Numbly, I start explaining the intricacies of my book, offering her some refreshments.

And that is how the strangest friendship I’ve ever had began.

You have been a mountaintop prophet for 1,000 years. Each person only gets one question and you’re sure you’ve heard every question that can be asked. Until one day someone uses their one question to ask, “How are you doing?”

“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?"

“Whoa!” Johnny shouted, throwing his hands up. “What’s going on here?!”

A tall man stepped out of the crowd with a fierce look on his face. “Do not even think of trying to do anything. You will be taken before the king and given a trial. Come peacefully, or we have been given permission to use any measure of force on you.”

Johnny looked around in bewilderment. “Dude, I’ve been asleep. If all went right, for a thousand years! What is it that you think I’ve done?”

The man sniffed. “Come.” He directed Johnny to stand and he tied him with special enchanted ropes to hold him. 

Johnny fumed for the entire ride to the castle. Once they finally arrived, he was dragged, literally dragged, before the king, who stared down at him disdainfully. 

“What do you have to say for yourself?” the king boomed.

Johnny stared at him confused. “I’m sorry to have to say this again, but what is going on here?!”

The king scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. Just because it’s been a thousand years, doesn't mean we’re ignorant. We know everything that happened between you and Russo. You almost destroyed the world, and I will not let it happen again!”

Johnny’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Nothing?” the king glared. “You have nothing to say? No false promises? Pleas? Nothing?”

Johnny shook himself out of his shock and poured out the story, but nothing he said made a difference.  Eventually, the king sentenced him to death. With the enchanted ropes still binding him, Johnny was unable to fight.

As he was dragged through the halls, he remembered the last few days before he went to sleep. The memories were so vivid, it was like he was reliving them.

Russo, attacking yet another village, burning it to the ground.

Johnny fighting back, again. 

Their fight had been so big and powerful that it shook the mountains. In the end, Johnny had cast one last spell, thinking he had killed Russo. 

Worn out and exhausted, Johnny had secluded himself and cast a spell to send him into a hibernation of sorts for a thousand years. He was too tired to continue on helping the mortals when he hardly ever even got a thank you.

But while his spell on himself had worked, clearly the one he cast on Russo had not. Russo had still been alive when Johnny sent himself into a protected sleep.

Unable to kill Johnny, Russo left a message for those somewhere down the line to finish the job for him. 

History is written by the victors.

The prophecy foretold that The Great Evil would awaken 1000 years after his original defeat. As it turns out, the people took this very seriously, so when he awakened, he was met with an army of blessed knights, an evil containment system, and two dozen automated holy turrets aimed at him.

The princess smiled at him happily from across the battlefield as she rode away. 

Edmund smiled back and waved. The minute she was out of sight, his hand dropped and he ran it through his hair nervously as he returned to work, carting away the bodies of the enemy and friends alike. It was hard, emotional work, and thankfully, it took his mind off of the explanation he would have to give his family in a few short hours.

Finally, he was able to go home. As soon as Edmund walked in the door, he was bombarded with hugs from all six of his little siblings. They were all between the ages of 2 and 10, and the smaller ones tried climbing him like monkeys. Edmund laughed as he hugged them all, then his parents and grandparents who all lived with them in the four bedroom house. 

After Edmund finally got the little ones calmed down and regaled them with some of the tamer stories he had, he looked at his mother. 

Reading his mind, she started corralling the kids. “Come on, everyone,” she called. “Bedtime!” She ignored the groans and moans that came as she whisked them into their bedroom.

Edmund shifted awkwardly in his chair as he waited for her to come back. When she did, taking a seat beside his father, Edmund took a deep breath.

“I have some news to share,” he began. “I am…engaged.”

His grandmother hooted with joy. “Ha! Finally!”

“Really, Mabel,” Edmund’s mother said reproachfully. “Let the boy speak.”

His father turned to him. “Do we know the girl?”

Edmund wouldn’t meet any of their eyes as he mumbled, “Sort of.”

His grandfather crossed his arms. “It’s not that Katrina, is it? You do know she’s a bit strange. I don’t think you should marry her. Can you call it off?”

Edmund sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s not Katrina. And that’s not very nice, Grandfather.”

“Hmph!” his grandfather pouted. “Well, then, who is it?”

“Itstheoldestprincessprincessisolde!” Edmund said, all in a rush.

His grandmother put a hand to her ear. “Eh?”

Edmund took a deep breath. “It’s Princess Isolde.”

“What?!” came a shriek from behind them. Everyone whipped around, only to find seven-year-old Avalie peeking around the corner and eavesdropping. 

She started bouncing on her toes with excitement. “You’re gonna marry Princess Isolde?! She’s my favorite!”

Edmund’s mother put her hands on her hips. “Young lady, you are not supposed to be up. You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Edmund sighed. “She might as well stay now.”

Avalie ran over and jumped on his lap. “You’re my favorite! How did it happen?!” she asked eagerly.

He couldn’t help grinning at her. “Well, last year, remember when I was gone for so long? I was one of her personal guards. A few days ago, we ended up near each other again, out on the battlefield. I thought…” he let his voice trail off, remembering he was talking to a seven year old. The adults in the room knew what he meant, so he continued his story. “I knew I loved her, and I was pretty sure she loved me too. We grew close last year. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. And…here we are.”

“Are you gonna go live in the palace?!” Avalie shrieked, ignoring when five adults shushed her. “That’s so exciting!”

Edmund laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is. I believe she said she would send word in a few days. I’m…not too sure what to do next. We did just get out of a war.”

Avalie clutched him tightly. “Can I come with you?” 

He laughed again. “Fine by me! You’ll have to ask Isolde though.”

Avalie’s eyes went wide.

She, Avalie, was going to meet a princess! And not just any princess. Her very favorite one!

And Princess Isolde was going to marry her own brother!

That would make them sisters!!!

The rest of the adults were not as excited as Avalie, to say the least. The minute she was shooed off to bed for a second time, the questions resumed.

“How?”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“What in the world possessed you?”

“Her?”

“She’s the heir to the throne! What does that make you?”

“Why would she even say yes?”

Edmund glared at his grandmother, who had asked that particular question. “Gee, thanks.”

She shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

The soldier had proposed to the princess out of a mix of getting it out now and the belief he wouldn't make it. Now that the two are alive after the final battle, she intends to make good on what he promised and he's now wondering on how to explain it to his family.

Why do you do it?

The little voice in her head never left her alone.

Why do you torture yourself over and over again?

She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, trying to drown out the noise.

You don’t have to suffer like this. Just walk away.

“No!” she shouted into her empty house. She curled into a ball on the floor, whimpering.

They wouldn’t care. They barely notice you anymore. It’s been almost two hundred years, Emmeline. Give up already.

She burst into tears, sobbing on her living room floor. 

She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, only that the shadows had moved a great deal when she finally sat up and wiped her tears.

Emmeline stood, hearing a knock on the door. When she went to answer it, she looked down and saw Jules, the youngest child of the current generation. He grinned up at her with the toothlessness of a six year old.

“My mama let’th me come all by mythelf now!” he exclaimed proudly. He flung his little arms around Emmeline and gave her a tight hug. “I mithed you, Aunt Emma!” 

She knelt and hugged him back. “I missed you too, Jules. What are you doing here?”

Jules pulled away and looked at her gravely. “It’th a thecwet,” he said, trying very hard to not spoil the surprise. He only lasted a minute before he blurted, “You have a biwthday pawty tonight!”

Emmeline looked surprised. “A birthday party? For me?”

He nodded eagerly. “That’th why you got to come ovew to my houthe tonight!”

Emeline was stunned as she handed Jules a cookie and then sent him back home. She sat at the table and tried not to cry again, this time with happiness. They weren’t forgetting her after all.

She looked over at the lone picture on her mantle and smiled at the young family in the picture. In the months after taking the photo, she had hidden it away, not liking it. She was blinking, her husband was looking at her instead of the camera, and her son was trying to walk away, held in place by only her arm. She had brought the photo back out the day after her husband died, needing to see his face again. They never had a chance to take another.

Emmeline grew to love the photo over the years, especially as her son grew and had children, and then they had children, and so on.

Jules looked so much like her son.

She wished they could have met.

You don’t have to suffer. Just walk away.

“No,” Emmeline said softly, hugging the picture. “This is my home. This is my family.

“I will protect them.”

Most immortals become the angsty “everyone I have ever loved is gone” kind of immortal. You, on the other hand, instead took it upon yourself to be a loving presence to entire generations of your chosen family, because they are descended from someone you once loved long ago.

Katie flung the door open and ushered the young king inside quickly, apologizing profusely.

King Dominick rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m inside now. Thank you.”

Katie stared for a moment as he took off his coat and hat and hung them by the door. 

“Uh, what can I do for you, Your Highness?” she asked awkwardly, gesturing for him to sit down.

The king sighed. “Truthfully, I just need a place to wait out the storm until some of my men can find me. Stupid storm came out of nowhere and my horse…couldn’t make it through. Stepped in a hole.”

Katie winced. “Is he…still out there?” 

King Dominick shrugged. “Couldn’t let him suffer out there for who knows how long.”

The wind howled outside, startling them both. Katie walked over the window and looked out. 

She turned back to the king slowly. “I hate to have to tell you this, Your Highness, but you might be stuck here longer than you thought. Snow storms especially are pretty bad here in the valley. Could last for a few days. And if no one knows where you are…” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

He sighed, his head dropping into his hands. “Call me Dominick. If I’m going to be here for a while, we might as well dispense with the formalities. And your name is?”

“Katie,” she mumbled, slightly shocked. She shook herself out of her stupor and rushed into the kitchen, bringing back a bowl of soup for each of them. 

“Glad I made extra,” she joked with a half-smile.

They didn’t speak as they picked at their food. Neither of them said much as Katie showed Dominick to her guest room for the night.

They weren’t sure how it happened. One day, they were barely speaking, their relationship strained from proximity and difference in social class. Then the next day, they were laughing together like old friends.

It took two days for the snow to stop. Another two days for it to melt enough to travel. By then, Dominick was all too happy to wait for someone to find him, praying they would take their time.

Almost a week after the snow melted, the dreaded moment finally came with a pound on the front door of Katie’s cottage.

The two looked at each other, their eyes wide with a mixture of relief, fear, and sadness. 

Katie slowly rose and trudged over to open the door without a word, reverting back to the beginning when they barely spoke.

Dominick lunged and grabbed Katie’s wrist. “Wait,” he said desperately.

She looked at him, taking a deep breath and redrawing the lines they had slowly torn down. “Yes, Your Highness?”

Dominick winced. “Wait,” he said again.

The pounding on the door resumed, startling them.

Katie moved toward the door again. “We’re out of time. You need to go back to your life and I need to go back to mine.” She gently pulled her hand away, turning so he couldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes.

Dominick reached for her again, but Katie pulled the door open, and the guards on the other side erupted in cheers.

They were all so busy thanking Katie and bundling Dominick onto a horse, that every guard missed the look Dominick was giving her.

Katie ignored the burning in her eyes as she watched them ride away.

A week later, a letter arrived for Katie. She burned it. For the next several months, letters kept arriving, sometimes, days apart, sometimes a week, but all from Dominick.

Katie burned every single one.

"who's this?" "it's the fucking king of England, that's who it is. Now open up, I'm drenched and I'm cold" answered a voice from the outside. "really funny sir. And original, I haven't heard this one since… Oh I'm sorry your highness"

He clasped his hands to his chest. “A figure of speech?! I am wounded! You don’t want to kiss me?!”

He was joking (of course), but there was some truth to his question.

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, we’ve known each other forever. You’re like my brother.”

He winced. “Nothing like the friendzone.”

She shrugged. “Sorry.”

Writing Prompt #2825

"You did it? Thank god! I could kiss you on the mouth!" She grabbed the device from his hands, grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, well, you can if you want to."

She wrinkled her nose. "Oh, no. I really only meant that as a figure of speech."