I’m going to be put this blog back up and I’m going to be writing like mad. I wanna see how much I get done and If I can build an audience after putting out my first short story.
My first story online and a quick Erotica. WOOOOOO.
I’m going to be put this blog back up and I’m going to be writing like mad. I wanna see how much I get done and If I can build an audience after putting out my first short story.
My first story online and a quick Erotica. WOOOOOO.
I don’t really know what my goals are other than to write. I need to write, I need to write. I’m one of those kinds of people that wrap my identity in my function like many men.
I am not Kennel Master.
I am not a person.
I am a function of my own choice. Thus I am a writer.
I have a blog because I thought it would be a way to connect to my fellow writers. I’m doing a poor job of it, If anything I’ve become far more distant. I’m starting to wonder if I’m wrong about how I’ve been handling writing. I want it to be social I want it to be a connection but at the end of the day I can’t really engage with my fellow writers as much or how I would like.
I want to write. In five years, I want people to give me money regularly because they love the stories I weave for them. In ten years, I want to write a story that I can feel content with sharing as a physical book.
I’ve gotten to the point that I’m looking at my weakness as a writer and a person. I’m mentally isolated and while I’m independent in my day to day living. I like comrades in shared interest.
2020. This is the year I set myself, If I don’t see progress I’ll find other interests because I failed at this one. I will put everything into this even if it means driving away people.
I’m tired but I’m going to keep going. I’m no one else but a writer so I wanna bring a few more smiles or erections to people while I figure this shit out.
The Prompt: “During a family camping trip two siblings set out to catch fireflies and accidentally catch a fairy. She grants them a wish, and they ask her to take them to the fairy kingdom.”
“Carl… We are in our thirties and we are supposed to be camping. You know how Debbie is going to act if you start doing that thing of yours.” Robert sighed as he followed his brother Carl through the trees.
“It’s not a thing, it’s a entomology and don’t be such a bitch. You used to love doing this as kids, remember how big the-”
“Nope. If you use the nerd name for it I’m going back. If we are going to ‘relive childhood’ then you are going to have to call them normal names and not Lampyridae.” Robert hissed as he managed to make it up the hill overlooking their campsite.
“You remembered the name!” Carl said with his voice rising a few octaves in excitement.
“Not like I didn’t hear it for the two weeks till you led me out here. So let’s catch a few things so you can jizz all over some obscure fact about bugs.”
“You’ve become a little crude lately little brother.” Carl said before propping himself up against a tree. “Is it because your love life is shit? You know if you had fun more than the ladies would like you.”
Robert rolled his eyes, “Take your damn net and get on with it. Will ten or so satisfy his highness? ”
“Thirty would be good but if you are so frail that you can only catch ten. I accept that you are already feeling your age.” Carl said smugly.
Robert immediately sprinted into the clearing, his net was a blur of activity. He wasn’t trying to catch anything per say but the violent action made him feel just a little better about his situation. As the little moats of light started to appear, Robert took to capturing the little bugs. The small ones weren’t much to write home about but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed one bright enough that it could have been mistaken for candle light.
Robert brought the net down like a sledgehammer, the bright bug immediately tried to fly upwards and tangled itself in the net.
“Help! Rape! The humans are going to rape me! Help! They are going to use their bodies to violate my small frame!” The little being in the net screeched out.
Carl immediately ran over to Robert, the pair wordlessly gazed down at the being in the net. The creature stood only six inches tall, with radiant yellow wings and a baseball cap the size of a toy on its head. Solid black eyes gazed around
“What is that?” Robert asked, “It’s looks like a fairy.”
“I’m a fairy. S-s-s-so will you be gentle as you violate my poor butthole? Will you wish to have me as your courtesan or milkdrinker?” The fairy was radiating lust as it openly touched rubbed its tiny nipples before the siblings.
“I’m officially creeped out. I expected fairies to be more… wholesome.” Robert said trying to keep his eyes away from the lewd being.
“You said something about a wish?” Carl asked while reaching a finger down to poke at the fairy, “Is there some sort of price or are you going to do some wishmaster stuff and make our wishes horrible?”
The fairy shook his little head, ” I promise that I won’t be malicious with my wishes after all you are going to wish for all of me.” The fairy cooed before licking Carl’s finger with a tongue that stretched long enough to reach his palm.
“I wish go to the fairy kingdom.” Carl said without an ounce of consideration in his words.
“Wait Carl! We should at least talk about this!” Robert tried to shout but his anger died in his throat as he was face to face with imposing creature similar to the small fairy but it was eye level with brothers.
“I held up my end of the bargain sooooo…. net removal?” The smaller fairy asked while still held under the neat.
Carl removed the net and the fairy fluttered toward Roberts shoulder before sitting down. Carl ignored the small fair for a moment and took in their surrounding, the forest gave way to a small district filled with various creatures from Unicorns to Giants. Fairy from the size of the small one on his brothers shoulder to the size of humans.
“So since you are here, you need to give the fairy queen a visit.” The fairy crossed his legs and looked at Robert’s five o’ clock shadow. “You don’t wanna get caught without a passport by the city guards.”
“Carl, did we take shrooms before we went firefly hunting?” Robert asked with a bit of fear in his voice, there was a sender man approaching him with crown in his head. Every step of the man was no unnaturally calculated it was almost hypnotic.
“Little Bell. I see you’ve brought a few humans..” The man spoke with a voice that was song-like with mischievous promises hidden in every word.
“They asked to come here, they managed to capture me. I didn’t get to have any fun though, I even did everything you told me. I wore a hat.” The little fairy pointed to his stylish baseball cap.”I really don’t think hats excite humans, My Queen.”
“Well we will figure it out, we’ve got guests that need servicing. I am… Titan-ia, Queen of the fairies.” Titan-Ia gave a polite bow.
“Don’t you mean Titania?” Robert said and the fairy queen smiled.
“No I mean…” Titan flexed with enough force rip out of his tunic, rippling muscles bulged against the torn fabric. “I am the Titan, Ia, my body is a temple to swole as you human’s put it.”
“I wanna go home, I wanna go home now.” Robert said as the nude fairy queen leaned in and smiled widely.
“You’ll have to petition the Queen to leave and I feel like being a generous host to our new guests.” Titan-Ia snapped his fingers the brothers vanished leaving the tiny fairy hovering in the air.
“My Queen, I promised them I wouldn’t twist their wish. I do not wish to lie.” The small fairy spoke while keeping its gaze to the floor.
“My dear Bell, You won’t be a liar. I only sent them some place private so you can take advantage of first rights. Have fun with your human friends, if things go well then I look forward to the changelings that come of it.” Titan-Ia said before snapping his fingers again and sending the fair to join the confused humans.
Inspiration: This picture
“Leave.” The hooded figure, Crenshaw, growled as he scrawled his bone wand in the air.
“I can’t. It’s my job to be here.” The second speaker was large and reptilian, he stood twice as tall as Crenshaw with glimmering green scales and regal folded wings to match. He was every thing kobolds hoped to achieve, tall, winged, and strong.
“Go woo some scattered brained tribal, Larson. I don’t want you here, I am doing my own thing and bothering no one.” Crenshaw used his wand to flatten the fields around his home.
“I know. Makes my job much easier, you can’t make our masters piss themselves if you are just farming. So keep farming.” Larson snickered while his golden eyes scanned the tree line for the various creatures cowering from Crenshaw.
“They are not my masters. I do not serve dragons, those repulsive creatures can all die down to the last squealing whelp. You can serve who you wish but do not ever call those monsters my master.” Crenshaw growled but didn’t remove his focus from the spell.
“Touchy touchy, but that doesn’t change my job. I’m the only one that isn’t scared to come this close to you.” Larson snickered and hopped the fence, his clawed feet dug into the magically plowed land. He placed a hand on the back of the smaller black scaled kobold.
Larson watched quietly as Crenshaw started to summon Minotaur without any more than a snap of his fingers. The Minotaur immediately began to till and work the fields with practiced ease, Crenshaw’s gaze continued to drift over to the dragons watching him cautiously from the treeline.
“Okay, I have to ask. Why don’t you kill them if you hate them so much. You’ve ascended to Godhood, you can be anything you want to be. A dragon, a winged-one but you are still the same Crenshaw I remember.” Larson pulled back Crenshaw’s hood and stared, “Even the scars on your scaled face haven’t changed.”
Crenshaw sighed, “What would you do with this power? Larson, What would you do if you could do anything? I am strong enough to the point that I can hear the prayers of other gods. Such things should drive a mortal to madness, I wonder if I am already mad or not.”
Larson could see the pleading in Crenshaw’s shimmering eyes, “I’m glad you haven’t changed, you’re still the grumpy soft-hearted guy I remember. I guess I wouldn’t fix everything but I would probably make me a companion, maybe a female Kobold with a loyal nature, large breasts.”
“Kobolds don’t have-”
“Hey you asked what I would do and I like a lovely human or elf busom. They are my favorite warm lumps, I would also make sure she didn’t have wings so I could carry her around. Shiny black scales like yours but more clean. Hmmmm and blue eyes.” Larson managed to look embarrassed when he finished, “What can I say, I’m more interested into making love than getting revenge.”
Crenshaw nodded sagely as Larson felt hands on his shoulder, a radiant beauty of a Kobold that matched his specifications. She gazed at him with a coy smile before giving a a nod in Crenshaw’s direction. Larson poked at the female who responded with a playful gasp, Crenshaw pulled up the weeds that he missed earlier.
“Who is she?”
“She is a character I created to be your companion. I gave her stats that would be enough to keep you happy. I didn’t bother giving her a name.”
“Stats? Character? I don’t understand.” Larson commented.
“Larson, I am Omnipotent, I know everything that makes this world work and it terrifies me. I can’t look away, all I can do is hope that some aspect of me is real.” Crenshaw grumbled sourly.
“You are real. I am real. We’ve known each other since…” Larson paused as Crenshaw whirled on him with dirt still in his hands.
“Larson. I know what you are trying to do and I appreciate it but stop. Don’t try to convince me of what’s real and whats not. Just be the Larson I remember, okay?” Crenshaw said with a sigh. “I can make you, I can unmake them, I can rearrange the laws of space and time. I know what our world is and it’s weighing on me.”
“So you can do anything, you can hold any power and you came out here to be left alone but we keep bothering you. Do I have it all down?” Larson squatted down, “Well hmmm. Gimme a house right about here.”
Larson pointed to the plot of land next to the farm, “Maybe give a few cows and few goats.”
“What are you-”
“You want to get your mind off of being a god? Well we were farmers before I grew my wings.Well I was a farmer, you were an Botanist.” Larson had the nerve to make air quotes, “I don’t mind going back to basics if it keeps things going smoothly, I am tasked to keep tabs on you so the dragons don’t shit themselves.”
“Why a house? You lived in a cave before.” Crenshaw asked, Larson only responded with by pointing a clawed finger to newly created female. “Oh…”
“Would you like to join me?” Larson asked, his gaze was locked on the black scaled female.
“I’m not going to watch you mate.”
“I didn’t mean that, I mean… Would you like to sit and just talk like old times. Before I got these wings and before you became old and grumpy.” Larson asked.
Crenshaw nodded before withdrawing a small sheet of paper from the air. “Take this.”
Larson gazed upon the sheet, his name was on it with various statistics and a breakdown of each one of his achievements. Larson puzzled over the document and points to the section that mentioned a familiar named Shia.
“I don’t have a familiar named Shia? What is this Crenshaw?” Larson asked and the black Kobold female waved at him.
“I’ve given you the keys to kingdoms. You are holding everything that makes you, you. Any change to the sheet will change your reality to reflect that. You tire of being a Kobold? Write Dragon in the race section. Wanna kill all the dragons, well just write in a spell that does that. That is a taste of what I can see, The Gods…” Crenshaw takes a deep breath, “The true Gods have made us all on that, every single living creature, every single monster from the most basic slime to the greatest of Gods has a sheet. There are even books that would teach other Gods how to make use, we are toys to creatures both beyond our comprehension and utterly beneath us.”
Larson look at his sheet, “Is that the big truth? The oh so profane knowledge that has you shaking in your boots?”
“Don’t mock me, Larson, You don’t understand that everything you are is in that sheet. You can’t even destroy it if you wanted to.” Crenshaw gritted his teeth in annoyance. When Larson didn’t answer, Crenshaw looked up from the ground to see the Kobold suddenly rippling with muscles and his familiar far more buxom than he originally made her.
“Pfffftttttt.. you are too eggheaded that you can have fun. We’ve always had something over us, dragons, demons, Gods, even a landlord. Stop looking up at the bigger thing and enjoy this opportunity, make the world interesting!” Larson snapped his fingers and a shimmering door appeared.
“Hey everyone, Crenshaw just gave me a magic bar and everyone is invited!”
“I did not!”
“They don’t know that and you don’t want to be looked at like a monster. Shut up, come inside and let’s get started on how you can have fun being God. I mean you made me familiar with a thoughts, you can make a few friends for yourself too.” Larson pulled the divine kobold through the shimmering door.
Crenshaw noticed that the bar was fully stocked with brews of all sorts, Larson stepped around the back with Shia following. Larson mixed some concoction faster than Crenshaw could follow before placing a glass in front of him. Crenshaw reached for the drink as other Kobolds were filing in, most likely at the request of their dragon masters. Larson placed a claw on Crenshaw’s hand.
“I trust you not to hurt us, I won’t use this power to hurt anyone but don’t expect me to timidly deny the demi-god you just made me.” Larson said, “My dragon masters be damned, I will make sure that you enjoy this power if I have to drown you in good drink.” Larson removed the claws.
“For a good friend, You’re an asshole, Lars.”
“Says the lizard who can summon lovely Kobolds with a thought.”
“…I can’t disagree with that.”
I like romance, I hate romance.
I love the feeling of passion toward another, the taste of their excitement and affection. It’s one of the few drugs that leaves your generally better after you’ve started taking it. I’m sure most of you reading my blog have been in love and experienced that ‘puppy love phase.’
I love love. I’m a romantic at heart, I write romance and smut as my hobby while trying to be serious as a fantasy writer as my source of limited income. This is where I feel a little bit frustrated and my Cog Diss comes into play.
I hate the romance that I see around me, so many people are jaded and justifiably unfulfilled. There is a certain gallows humor that comes from watching couples and debating the length of their relationship just by their compatibility. I don’t want them to fail because I want them to prove me wrong, last long and show me that I’m wrong. Even if I never have that, I want to know that it exists in my own era.
It’s a bit funny when I think about it because I’ve pretty much come to love myself to the point I haven’t thought about being romantic with anyone. My stories show a desire for that, most of what I write is usually about loyal females and masculine males. I feel the opposite when I read modern erotica, I see way too many subtle jabs at masculinity on one side of the fence and I see extreme over compensation on the other side.
I just miss the old school story tell were couples were loyal and usually some level of monogamy with each other. I know it fiction but damn could I enjoy a good lie about a masculine male getting respect and a loyal lover.
This is my Love/Hate relationship with romance in fiction.
There is a bit of madness in thinking of giving advice to your younger self because we can’t exactly go back. It’s still a fun bit of play when you preform it because you usually end up inspiring others who are younger than you.
The truest advice I can give to writers and to my past self is : Get over yourself.
Across the board I have met so many writers that work hard to find reasons they can’t write. The reasons run from : I’m tired, I’m sad, I’m just not in the mood, my muse isn’t paying attention, I have writers block.
Since I am polite in person it’s rare that I say the kinda things I’m going to say here so prepare yourself for a lot of swearing.
I hate hearing this because this isn’t followed by the person getting some rest. This is followed by someone kicking on a video game or TV for 1-10 hours. This really translates to I’m done giving effort for today and I need to not sound like I’m lazy. Fuck that, you are weak and you are wasting my time. Go the fuck to sleep or just say you don’t wanna write right now. Writing isn’t exactly calorie intensive.
See that crying baby in the picture, this is what I imagine when someone tell me they are too sad or down to write. You fall into one of two categories to me. One: you must be a really flat writer. You have a lot of emotion and you have trouble writing? This is a great time to write negative emotions in your story, this is the perfect time to write about loss and confusion in your story. Two: You are giving excuses. Stop that. Unless your sadness is about broken fingers then you can still write.
Unless you are being visited by a magical being tossing plots at you. Shut the fuck up, not only do you sound lazy but you sound pretentious as hell. Could you imagine if other careers or jobs did this? “Sorry boss, I can’t cool down the power plant. I’m just not inspired to work.” “Yes I know your store got robbed but I’ve got law enforcement block.” You don’t need a muse any more than honestly meeting people, if people took time to interact to with others and travel all the muse in the world would be yours. Writer’s block is not a real thing, you can get into ruts and you can get a bit stuck but long periods of not writing is a choice not a conditions.
So my advice for old me? Shut up, suit up, and write.
Jessica tracked her quarry across the park, it was late and most of the homeless had already moved to safer areas. She waited in the tree with a beef stick in her mouth, the creature she was tracking was still wary. Jessica had painted every bit of her body with camouflage patterns to avoid wearing the heavy camouflage uniform that most hunters wore, the glasses she wore made the darkness of the park as bright as noon without giving away her position like mechanical night vision.
The creature finally stopped moving as it grabbed a goose by neck, the goose was consumed before it could even protest. That was enough to make her work, she waited till the goose was already sliding down the Lamia’s belly before hefting her gun. Unlike many in her profession, she rather use her noisy rifle than an unreliable but silent bow.
Jessica lined her sights with the Lamia’s torso, the creature was wearing a bright green sweater that matched her the scales of her lower body. Jessica felt a little guilt as she lined up her shot, she would be ruining a perfectly good sweater. Jessica fire her shot and heard the wet smack as the dart slammed into her flesh. The creature didn’t even flinch from the impact, Jessica watched as the creature pulled out the dart.
“You didn’t have to shoot me! Asshole.” The Lamia raised her hand and waited, “I am unarmed and I don’t have any spells ready.”
Jessica heard enough horror stories about hunters being caught by Lamia and having to be cut out of those creatures stomach. Jessica raised her rifle and put another two shots into the Lamia, the creature swayed a bit before moving toward her position. The green beast made it within a hundred feet before flopping to the grass like a marionette with its strings cut.
Millie snapped awake and noticed two very important things: She was currently in a cage and she was being driven some where. Millie sighed and leaned against the back of the truck, she rapped her fist against the back of the truck.
“So you are awake? Sorry about the sweater but that’s what happens when you go around killing ducks.” Jessica said as the truck rumbled through downtown.
“Those were geese and I thought it would be fine. The foxes out there eat them all the time.” Millie groaned and noticed that the truck pulled into a garage. “So what’s the bounty on me, My name is Millie Smith, I probably have a record with your hunter buddies.”
“Your record isn’t too bad, most of it is trespassing and eating park animals. I don’t get it, the city has fewer animals than the reserve. Why do you keep coming to that park? Every single violation is at that part.” Jessica commented.
The hunter killed the engine and stepped out of the truck, she held a collar in her hand as she looked over the dirty Lamia. The light of the garage revealed patches of partially shed skin and a many jagged scars near the base of her tail. Jessica updated her hunters app and snapped a photo of the captured monster, a small ping indicated that she had been paid.
“Well there are three choices I have to make as your hunter. Choice A: Is I recommend you for re-homing and they stick you on a reserve. You’ve already ran away from a lot of those. The second option is that I recommend you for domestication, a soft slavery for monsters so we can sleep at night knowing we did the right thing.” Jessica let the words hang in the air before continuing. “Final option is to petition that you be deemed to dangerous to the city and we should humanely put you down.”
Millie paled, “I’m not dangerous, I haven’t hurt anyone on purpose.”
“That’s not true, you managed to knock a hunter unconscious with a duck. There was video evidence of that.” Jessica laughed and turned her phone around to show video of Millie being surprised by a hunter. She tossed the duck hard enough that poor animal died on impact with the hunter skull, the video continued with her picking up the hunter and rushing him to the police.
“It’s not my fault he couldn’t catch, I was hoping to run not get shot. I don’t want to killed because I like going to a park.” The Lamia coiled around herself protectively in the corner of her cage.
“I’ll make you a deal, tell me why you keep going to Wicker Park and I’ll see what I can do on my end.” Jessica stepped closer to lean against the bars, while Lamia were strong on their snake-like half… the same couldn’t be said for the human-like parts.
“I really like the park, it’s quiet at night and the few humans that do appear don’t seem to mind my presence. The birds are unwary enough that if I only eat one every so often I have free food.” Millie said while patting her scales, she could still feel the bird making it way through her body.
“Where do you go when you aren’t in the park? There is way you are navigating down town without a single human noticing you. We only started getting calls yesterday about a green scaled Lamia in a sweater.” Jessica commented while fingering the collar, “I don’t think you got all those scars from being peaceful.”
“Another tried to drive me from the park, not like you humans. The girl was bigger and stronger, she had skin like dried paint and long white fingers that ended in claws. We fought and won by hold her under the park water with my tail.” Millie said with a shrug, “I hope it looks better after my next molting.”
Jessica tossed in the collar, “How familiar are you with hunters?”
The look of pure annoyance that crossed Millie face almost made Jessica laugh, “Stupid question but I think I could work out a partnership that would allow you to visit the part at least two days a week and you don’t have to go back to the reserve.”
Millie slither closer to the woman, she finally got a good look at Jessica. The woman was short but everything else about her screamed predator, even the hand rested on the hilt of a blade was ready to kill her at a moments notice. Millie trembled as she felt like prey before the veteran hunter, she licked out her forked tongue nervously tasting the heat of the human beneath her.
“I’m in the market for an assistant, five days of week you can work for me. The other two days you would be given paid reprieve long as you don’t cause too much trouble.” Jessica tossed the collar into the cage. “Make no mistake, the moment you put that collar on. You become my responsibility and your life in my hands.”
Millie picked up the collar, the collar was plush and pink with a bunny motif on the leather outside. There was a serial number along the metal clasp, Millie feel the hum of magic on the collar but she didn’t know what type. Her tongue flicked out faster, the tip of her serpentine tongue could taste human on the collar.
“What will this do to me, I won’t just enslave myself because you are nice.” Millie asked, sweat was beading on her forehead.
“Tracking spells and sensory spells. It’s standard stuff, the same the police use. You’ll know my condition and state just by focusing. I’ll be able to do the same. Trust me this job is boring most days, you’ve been my most excited this week and you didn’t even fight back.” Jessica spoke while holding up a bracelet, the gentle prickling of magic emanated from it.
“This is mine, same magic, just a cuter look.” Jessica said.
“Do I get another sweater since you shot holes in mine?” Millie said clasping the collar around her neck, the magic prickled at her for a moment. She could see a feel the nervous tension of Jessica, she knew that the human was hungry and tired. She even knew that she had itch on the back of her hand.
“Welcome to the Hunter Corp, I’m Jessica Satten. I’ll get you settled in today and we will begin training tomorrow.” Jessica grinned like an excited cat.
I’m picking number five.
There are those that say they want to die surrounded by loved ones and in the comfort of their own bed. I say piss on them! I. Eldarn, wanted to die with my claws digging into a human’s neck and my snout covered in the blood of their children. I didn’t expect to die like this thought, my own brothers placed the noose around my neck.
I could only see the sight of my children staring on in horror as the humans look on in almost gleeful excitement. I can’t blame them though, I’ve done far worse to their kind for fun. The rope was getting tighter as my own soldiers hoisted me up, a muffled choke is all that escapes my lips as I’m hosted over the battlement. I don’t curse my soldiers for what they are doing to me, if I don’t die then it will be everyone who dies.
It starts to happen, the pain of a brain starved of oxygen. My vision faded quickly as my body tried to gulp any source of air, the pain was far worse than I could have imagined. It was like my lungs were burning as my skull was being bashed in by the night widow herself. Darkness overtook me as the pain went away to nothingness, not that sort of ghostly nothing. Nothingness with a capital letter, I couldn’t feel anything not pain, not pleasure, not even the festering burn from the rotted tooth I got during the war.
I don’t know how much time passed in that state but it ended when landed unceremoniously in a room. I immediately took in a lungful of air, my revival didn’t do much for the pain of what caused my death. Rope burns aren’t the best feeling to grace a sudden return to the land of the living. Across from me was a human, she was pulling blades out of her chest. She towered over me like many human’s did but her gaze locked on me.
“I guess this is hell. I know heaven wouldn’t have any of your kind here. Monster.” She glared as the final knife clattered to the floor.
I wheeze out a response but my throat was still healing, I turn away from her and notice the beautiful artwork adorning the walls. The portrait was of something I recognized immediately, It was the Vassalr lake. A place that was sacred among my kind, those who reach adulthood are allowed to peer into the lake and see the color of our future.
“I’m sure that you’ve probably seen that lake in person, Monster. That lake is such a terrible place, I drew that picture when I was still stupid enough to believe that your kind were good people.”
I growled and flex my claws, “Watch your mouth vermin, I should tear out your eyes for even seeing such a place. Though the picture… the picture takes me back, I remember gazing into the lake and seeing red. I would be a warrior, I would kill many for my people.”
“I gaze into it and I saw white butterflies.” She said shrugging her shoulders, “I used the shifting water to paint this picture, I took an arrow in the shoulder for my troubles but I managed to finish.”
I heard rumors about the event, I was even sent to kill this human. “For a human you racked up an amazing body count, you killed so many of my people. You disregard for our sacred place lead to my rise to power, we burned entire villages looking for you.”
“I know, those knives came from your kin. The finally managed to get revenge for what I did to old Eldarn. Your general was so caught up in his war, he didn’t take the time to wonder why his people went from murdering human’s to capturing them to taking them as war brides.” The woman smiled while drawing her attention to a bone flute.
“My betrayal wasn’t much of a surprise, I wasn’t cut out to be a leader but I was a good warrior.” I rubbed my snout in thought as she picked up the flute, I ignored her as I continued. The isolation of death made me far more talkative than I was in life, even if my company was less than stellar.
“If it wasn’t for your idiocy, neither of us would have had to die.” I grunted tiredly, “I just wish I could see my children, knowing the human’s my daughter will be slaves and my sons will be made into clothing.”
“You are so morbid, I think you would enjoy art.” The human laughed at me, I laughed back at her and jabbed my claws into gut. I might as well get to painting after all.
Milky white liquid poured out of her wound, She pulled my claws out of her stomach and rolled her eyes. “We are dead. What exactly did you expect to happen?”
“You at least being quiet for a bit, maybe I should try tearing out your throat just to be sure.” I threatened but honestly I didn’t feel the urge of trying to kill her if it wasn’t going to do much. “Why do you suppose that we are here together, I doubt the Gods want us to learn a lesson here.”
“I would refute your Gods but mine didn’t show up here either. I wonder why my blood is white now, I’m pretty sure I bleed red normally.” She raised an eyebrow as the room lurched and several more pictures she drew lined the walls along with one that she hadn’t created. This picture frustrated me.
The picture was of me, sitting in the Vassalr with a large black flower that held white butterfly on the petals. I barely remember it but the understanding of this moment and the hell that I was brought into made me want to vomit. The woman stepped toward the picture and touched it, her fingers trailed over the oil paint used to make the painting.
“Did you draw this?” She asked, I hated how familiar she behaved with me.
“I do not draw, the arts are beyond me. I much rather play music to boost morale. Someone drew this of me and It’s infuriating, I did not thing that the afterlife was filled with so much mocking.” I grumbled and licked the fluid off of my claws.
‘Does he remember me? Eldarn, you are a fool and you did not but reject your own culture you killed so many over.’ I turned my head to face her but the words weren’t coming from her mouth, I licked some more of the white blood off of my talons.
‘You saw the rose, you know my vision. Fine. I will wait for you to acknowledge me, it not like I have anything else to do in this room.’ I continued to stare at her in anger.
“I do not accept a human as my bonded so you can remove those thoughts from you head. I reject you, I reject you. I reject you!” My screams vibrated through the room as I lunged at her, my claws tore into her face. Milky white blood painted the room, I felt little relief as she wrapped her hands around me in a hug. I wanted her to suffer but nothing I did seem to do more than sadden her.
“Are you done? Do you feel empowered?” She said as her head simply regrew a body instead of trying to fix all the organs I tossed across the room.
I glare silently at her, “I know you are fully capable of killing my people, I’ve seen what you did to the hunters. Why don’t you fight back?”
She shrugged, “I don’t want to give you the vindication to hate me. You can’t hurt me here and I don’t think I can hurt you outside of saying mean words. This place makes me scared, no windows, four bland walls and a collection of my pictures. I am without purpose.”
“Purpose.” The word frustrated me, this woman in her insensitivity took my purpose. “Allow me to show you purpose.”
If drinking her blood would allow me inside of that disgusting mind of hers…. My claws will help her see what she did to my purpose. I slammed my claws into my own flesh, it’s painless but I can feel the pressure and heat. I pull out my heart and hold it out, she continues to wear that implacable look of boredom on her face as she hold my heart in her hands.
“Eat it.” I order as a second heart fills my chest cavity.
“I will do not such-”
“I will carve open your stomach and put it there if you don’t.”
“So violent, I guess I can’t expect much from a warlord.” She bites into my heart, it’s not something I want to see but I gauge her reaction, there is a slip in her mask as she bites into the white flesh a second time.
She finishes the heart and sits for a moment in thought. “So because you could not find your bonded your destiny changed? So many died on both sides and you couldn’t just tell me what I did wrong?! How was I to know?”
“It was too late, it’s still to late. I can’t go back and un-kill, un-rape, un-pillage the humans lands. You cannot go back and bring my brothers back to life. So we are stuck here, because a fool wanted to paint a picture.” I sat against the wall and watched as the photos were now replaced with a mural showing my impalement of a human family on five of our war banners.
“Do you regret any of it?” She asked with cracking voice, I wonder how deep into my soul did she peer.
“I regret all of it. Consider what you are, we could have had a nice life of traveling musicians or art dealers.”
“I’m sorry.” She said.
I don’t speak, I just start at the scrawny human and realize that I still do not know her name. I don’t want to know her name, she stole my purpose from me. I still hate her and she can feel it pressing on her mind.
Prompt 1: This image
“Another mortal trickles down to my chambers.” The pale man chuckled from pool filled with scented oils and floating flowers. The figure was as beautiful as freshly fallen snow, the only evidence of his demonic nature was the coal black horns that adorned his head.
The dread lord Bathros appeared in the room with his armor shattered and the last vestiges of holy energy dissipated from his tortured body. He remembered fighting and dying to a blade so pure that he wished to feel it’s cut again. The pale man clapped his hands slowly as Bathros knelt, Bathros knew that he would have to atone to his masters.
“It was a good show, I honestly expected you to win but even I couldn’t bring you back from complete purification. So thus, Bathros is dead and his minions will be scattered to the winds. How do you feel about your current state, Dread Lord.” The figure strode out of the water, his body flaring with a heat that dried him as soon as he stepped out of the water.
“I know I have failed my masters, I do not know which of the seven are you, I apologize.” Bathros said, his voice filled with sorrow.
“I am all of them. Each of your blessings is just another aspect of my power, I was rooting for you and your plan was sound but the main thing that we didn’t account for was the interference of a much more powerful angel.” The figure placed a hand over Bathros’ head as he gently removed the powers he bestowed upon the human.
“You don’t sound angry, my Master?” Bathros couldn’t help but wonder about the demons that demanded he sacrifice his son, Marcus, to it as an offering for more power.
“Why would I be? You made me seven promises and with each one I gave you seven boons that would be yours if you succeeded. If you failed then your soul became mine, there is nothing that I had to lose here. You were quiet entertaining to watch, I would watch your fights with Marcus and instruct him on basic demonology.” The demon remarked as Marcus raised his head to look at him.
“My son is h-” Bathros barely got the words out as his mouth was suddenly filled with the demon’s shaft. Bathros tried to spit out the invading organ the more he tried to resists the further the demon pushed him down.
“Yes and you’ll get to meet him but for now… I’m a little bored of discussion. We will have plenty of time to discuss this when your belly is full.” The demon remarked as the door behind him opened.
Entering the room was a massive hulking demon, long black horns were attached to a large canine like body. Five long tentacle like appendages dragged along the floor as it approached them, the creature nostrils flared as it’s pink body tensed. It moved closer to Bathros while his throat was getting filled, the creature smiled as a trail of drool dripped from it’s mouth.
“Father? The creature rumbled as it’s appendages moved over Bathros armor, to the man’s horror each tentacle was topped with a different animal penis.
“When I am done Marcus, he is all yours. I did promise you a happy reunion. I left him unspoiled.” The demon chuckled.
“This is a little awkward.” Brian said sitting across from one of the most impressive dragon that he had ever met, the hours they spent dying and eating came to quick arkward pause as she asked about his career.
“It’s a little embarrassing and I think we are having such a good night that we should probably end it on a high note. How was your braised troll steak?” Brian said nervously putting up his menu as if it would shield him from the thirty feet of blue dragon that gazed down at him curiously.
“Oh please, I can tell by the way you are about to burst out of your tunic that you do a lot of manual labor.” Dess the breaker of mountains chuckled with a enough force that she blew the awning off of the restaurant.
“I’m a dragon tamer.” Brian answered sheepishly, Dess laughter immediately stopped as she peeked down at Brian.
“You’re a dragon tamer?” She asked, he nodded.
“You break in a dragon to be ridden by the dragoons?” Dess asked, Brian nodded with his face flushed.
“You pull them down with ropes, you hit them with the flat sticks and you make them buckle under your will like dumb animals? Then you make sure that they breed and give you enough eggs for the next set of dragons?” Dess asked loudly enough that several of the half dragons running the restaurant paused to look at them.
“Oh fuck that is hot, I love seeing those humans tame the lesser drakes and you are one of them. Would you uh… like to come back to my keep?” Dess asked, the smell of her arousal was strong as she stood up on all four limbs.
Brian looked between her legs and noticed a waterfall of clear liquid dripping under her tail. The lust was clear in her eyes, while relief washed over him about his career they glowing eyes of Dess told him something far more terrifying as she scattered a few gold coins from under her scales across the table. Dess was in her hording phase and he was going to be a part of her horde, he was scooped up in an enormous claw before she took flight.
“So… you have a keep? I thought blue dragons kept to mountains and spires…” Brian yelled over the sound of her flapping wings.
“Too old fashioned, I can study magic anywhere and it puts my servant at ease if I’m close.” Dess mentioned casually as they neared the keep.
“Servants?” Brian asked as she came to a soft landing, he was dropped off in a courtyard as hundreds of blue Kobolds rushed to greet her. Dess shrugged at him as she watched him slide off the pile of books that made up her courtyard horde.
“So when do we get to training… I want them to watch.” She grinned ferally.
“Grab my hand…” The woman spoke with a sigh of displeasure, her armor hummed with arcane energy as she grabbed the hand of the human feeling the hordes of monsters. Adriana clasped his hand and swung him on top of the the war horse.
“What is happening?!” The human screamed as the chattering horde of monsters snapped at the rear of he horse. He was dressed in modern looking clothes and his lack of mana told her that he wasn’t from her side of the fracture.
“It’s a bunch of zerglings, don’t let them capture you. They’ll turn you into something horrid, grab on to the reigns and make sure my horse doesn’t run away.” Adriana slipped of the horse and roared her defiance at the hordes of monsters.
“I will murder every one of your family you ugly zerglings.” Adriana charged before the sickening whip crack of a gunshot snapped over the crowd. Adriana felt her body go slack as the bullet passed through cleanly.
“Hmph… I will never understand how such being got by without good fire arms.” Alexei Stukov stepped from around the various zerglings that had paused to feast on the Draeni corpse. “Leave her brain intact, we will understand this ‘magic’ that these Alliance creatures covet so dearly.”
Stukov watched the young man galloping away on the horse with a small smile, ” You know… I’ve been wondering how the others are faring here. It’s such child’s play when you can just grow your own army.”
In the distance beyond the many mountains of Azeroth became blighted with the growth of Hives, such a discordant would would become fuel for the billions of Zerg that would flourish on this world. Stukov adjusted his officers coat and leaned against on of the many ultralisks in his army, he sent out a telepathic signal to Kerrigan.
‘My unit has already marched on these Draeni. How fares the Queen of blades against the horde?’
The image of Kerrigan looking up from a mouth full of orc entrail as Mutalisk soar around her told Stukov everything he needed to know. ‘Stukov you have to try these orc. They are even more tasty than a Protross zealot.’
‘I’d rather not. I might be Zerg but I do remember how to eat at a table or a spawning pool.’
This is not a story but a personal musing. I hate the feeling of sadness, I always think of what little I have to be sad about. I have my health (I could spend more time in the gym.), I have my mind, I have people who would probably care if something bad happened to me and I have all the time in the world to work on my hobbies/passions.
So why is it that I feel so unfulfilled? I don’t think it’s just a mental illness or something like that but there is some underlying wrongness to everything some days. Like that this very moment all I can think about is just stepping out of my home and walking into the distance, what befalls me just befalls me.
While that shit is artsy and emo as hell I know I won’t do it because I am an internet junkie and time without my copious amounts of anime and podcasts would make me more miserable. I get like this sometime, it’s a part of my own dealings with the black dog. I’ve been told to take medicine to fix my pooch but I tried it before and…. Let’s just say I didn’t like the side effects.
My black dog is bit a friend but more like a grumpy stray, when I need him he is there to ground me against the massive amount of unrealistic expectations I have as a writer and a person. He is willing to bark when my ego gets bigger than my skulls capacity to hold but even the worst dogs have their good points.
Now when it comes to days like this? I wanna kick the unruly hound in his ass, nothing is going wrong, nothing is broken and yet I can’t focus or get anything done because I feel so damn tired. It’s annoying as shit and I’m fighting against it using the only power I have to deal with depression. Anger. Pure and simple, it’s much easier to deal with depression with sheer violent anger towards anything. Hatred at least feels good, yelling releases endorphins and such science stuff.
I’m going to write today, and I’m going to write good because even if I feel like I just want to spread out on the floor and let time take me. I got shit to do and being a bitch doesn’t get my novel done, my six-pack on my gut, or fixes anything wrong. So fuck depression, fuck that black dog with a cactus, fuck my own tired body, and fuck everything that isn’t pushing me forward.
With the love of a burning tire iron to the face of depression,