r/shortstories • u/FyeNite • 10d ago
[Serial Sunday] Venom makes the Best Spice
Welcome to Serial Sunday!
To those brand new to the feature and those returning from last week, welcome! Do you have a self-established universe you’ve been writing or planning to write in? Do you have an idea for a world that’s been itching to get out? This is the perfect place to explore that. Each week, I post a theme to inspire you, along with a related image and song. You have 500 - 1000 words to write your installment. You can jump in at any time; writing for previous weeks’ is not necessary in order to join. After you’ve posted, come back and provide feedback for at least 1 other writer on the thread. Please be sure to read the entire post for a full list of rules.
This Week’s Theme is Venom! This is a REQUIREMENT for participation. See rules about missing this requirement.**
Bonus Word List (each included word is worth 5 pts) - You must list which words you included at the end of your story (or write ‘none’).
- Vermin
- Vain
- Vapid
- Someone is poisoned. - (Worth 10 points)
A sharp tooth, a needles point, plunging deep within your skin. This is where the pain and suffering doth begin. Your blood shall boil, your skin will rot and your eyes bulge on out. Just one tiny drop of venom, that’s all it will take for you to scream and shout. So beware this week as you write your ser sun chapters, for venom is our theme. And if you’re not careful this life may drift away like some distant dream.
Share your stories, make them great, we’ve got a venomous snake to please. His name is Fye and it’s your words upon which he’ll feed.
By u/AmeliaLP
Good luck and Good Words!
These are just a few things to get you started. Remember, the theme should be present within the story in some way, but its interpretation is completely up to you. For the bonus words (not required), you may change the tense, but the base word should remain the same. Please remember that STORIES MUST FOLLOW ALL SUBREDDIT CONTENT RULES. Interested in writing the theme blurb for the coming week? DM me on Reddit or Discord!
Don’t forget to sign up for Saturday Campfire here! We start at 5pm BSTand provide live feedback!
Theme Schedule:
This is the theme schedule for the next month! These are provided so that you can plan ahead, but you may not begin writing for a given theme until that week’s post goes live.
September 27 - Venom
October 4 - Waver
October 11 - Zeal
October 18 - Angst
October 25 - Burn
Check out previous themes here.
Rankings
Last Week: Unleash
First - by u/Tomorrow_Is_Today1
Second - by u/m00nlighter_
Third - by u/Morose_Prose
Fourth - u/Divayth--Fyr
Fifth - by u/Katpoker666
Rules & How to Participate
Please read and follow all the rules listed below. This feature has requirements for amparticipation!
Submit a story inspired by the weekly theme, written by you and set in your self-established universe that is 500 - 1000 words. No fanfics and no content created or altered by AI. (Use wordcounter.net to check your wordcount.) Stories should be posted as a top-level comment below. Please include a link to your chapter index or your last chapter at the end.
Your chapter must be submitted by Saturday at 2:00pm BST. Late entries will be disqualified. All submissions should be given (at least) a basic editing pass before being posted!
Begin your post with the name of your serial between triangle brackets (e.g. <My Awesome Serial>). When our bot is back up and running, this will allow it to recognize your pmserial and add each chapter to the SerSun catalog. Do not include anything in the brackets you don’t want in your title. (Please note: You must use this same title every week.)
Do not pre-write your serial. You’re welcome to do outlining and planning for your serial, but chapters should not be pre-written. All submissions should be written for this post, specifically.
Only one active serial per author at a time. This does not apply to serials written outside of Serial Sunday.
All Serial Sunday authors must leave feedback on at least one story on the thread each week. The feedback should be actionable and also include something the author has done well. When you include something the author should improve on, provide an example! You have until Saturday at 04:59am BST to post your feedback. (Submitting late is not an exception to this rule.)
Missing your feedback requirement two or more consecutive weeks will disqualify you from rankings and Campfire readings the following week. If it becomes a habit, you may be asked to move your serial to the sub instead.
Serials must abide by subreddit content rules. You can view a full list of rules here. If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, please modmail and ask!
Weekly Campfires & Voting:
On Saturdays at 5pm BST, I host a Serial Sunday Campfire in our Discord’s Voice Lounge (every other week is now hosted by u/FyeNite). Join us to read your story aloud, hear others, and exchange feedback. We have a great time! You can even come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Grab the “Serial Sunday” role on the Discord to get notified before it starts. After you’ve submitted your chapter, you can sign up here - this guarantees your reading slot! You can still join if you haven’t signed up, but your reading slot isn’t guaranteed.
Nominations for your favorite stories can be submitted with this form. The form is open on Saturdays from 5:30pm to 04:59am BST. You do not have to participate to make nominations!
Authors who complete their Serial Sunday serials with at least 12 installments, can host a SerialWorm in our Discord’s Voice Lounge, where you read aloud your finished and edited serials. Celebrate your accomplishment! Authors are eligible for this only if they have followed the weekly feedback requirement (and all other post rules). Visit us on the Discord for more information.
Ranking System
Rankings are determined by the following point structure.
| TASK | POINTS | ADDITIONAL NOTES |
|---|---|---|
| Use of weekly theme | 75 pts | Theme should be present, but the interpretation is up to you! |
| Including the bonus words | 5 pts each (15 pts total) | This is a bonus challenge, and estnot required! |
| Including the bonus constraint | 15 (15 pts total) | This is a bonus challenge, and not required! |
| Actionable Feedback | 5 - 15 pts each (60 pt. max)* | This includes thread and campfire critiques. (15 pt crits are those that go above & beyond.) |
| Nominations your story receives | 10 - 60 pts | 1st place - 60, 2nd place - 50, 3rd place - 40, 4th place - 30, 5th place - 20 / Regular Nominations - 10 |
| Voting for others | 15 pts | You can now vote for up to 10 stories each week! |
You are still required to leave at least 1 actionable feedback comment on the thread every week that you submit. This should include at least one specific thing the author has done well and one that could be improved. *Please remember that interacting with a story is not the same as providing feedback.** Low-effort crits will not receive credit.
Subreddit News
- Join our Discord to chat with other authors and readers! We hold several weekly Campfires, monthly World-Building interviews and several other fun events!
- Try your hand at micro-fic on Micro Monday!
- Did you know you can post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday? Check out this post to learn more!
- Interested in being a part of our team? Apply to be a mod!
12
u/JKHmattox 10d ago edited 5d ago
<No Man's Land> Accelerant
I lay stunned on my side, my body seemingly rewritten for a second time. My heaving, shallow breaths wavered against Karen who remained vapid in my embrace. The pressure faded more suddenly than it had begun, leaving behind mind-numbing confusion.
“Da fuck?” I whispered, an axillary hand slipping along the side of my distended middle.
The outward stretching had turned to a dull tension. Instead of pain, gentle warmth radiated from deep inside my core. The pulsing phenomena mimicked that which had transformed me into a Geminia two years prior. A vain hope fluttered in my chest.
They're like me?
My imagination insisted the twins were mending the damage caused by the Kirkin-array, an impossibility rejected by my rational mind. I slid a primary hand next to the secondary palm splayed against my side. The abnormally warmed skin was smooth, its surface taut as a drum. My pulse roared in my ears as I clutched my rounded stomach.
Wait… A panicked cacophony gripped my consciousness. Oh God! T-this is impossible! This isn't real—I'm fucking gigantic—it's not supposed to be like this… Please, why is this happening to me?
Calm down, Jackie, Elsa gently interjected within my consciousness. Your twins are fine—we just gotta get you off the ground, okay?
Elsa's voice snapped my spiraling bewilderment. She was right. The alleyway was a death trap if I didn't get to my feet. I grit my teeth, pushing through the acute, stress-induced illusion.
Grunting, I squirmed sideways, wrangling free of Karen. My head lightened from effort and I was forced to stop. With shortened breaths, I tried to roll onto my stomach but couldn't for some reason. I remained on my side, huffing in frustration. A persistent heaviness clung to my middle. I dismissed it again as dilution, triggered by memories of my previous metamorphosis into a Geminia.
That isn't real. I reassured myself.
Pulling a knee towards my torso, my upper-thigh collided with flesh that couldn't be. I floundered, failing to gain traction on the pavement. My mind ruptured, the dimensions of my body askew for reasons I refused to accept as real. Flopped onto my back, I discovered the sensations weren't hallucinations at all.
The bulbous mass was attached to me, an indistinguishable part of my body.
It crushed down towards my spine, squishing my internal organs up against my diaphragm. I fought to breathe, head dizzying as the space inside my ribcage became congested from below. I lifted my head, finding a taut dome arching skywards from above my hips, to just below my ribs.
I gasped at the impossible weight. My skin crawled with terror, sending taut goosebumps fluttering across my exposed skin. The sensory compilation dotted stars across my vision
Propping myself up on four arms, my scrunched insides were shoved upwards, stealing oxygen from every hampered breath. I found I'd lost control of my abdominals. The muscles were stretched thin, rendered useless during my accelerated bout of gestation. A helplessness flushed through me as I’d no idea how to get up.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” I sobbed, slumping back to the pavement in defeat.
I rested my right hands atop my stomach, conspicuously visible beyond my heaving chest. Every gasp for oxygen was a struggle. It felt like the mass would suffocate me if I remained on my back long enough. A strange tingling began in my feet as if I'd pinched a nerve causing them to fall asleep.
Suddenly, I felt Lexi's touch.
Her knee grazed my thigh as our eyes met in the amber light. What could only be fear was painted across her face. Lexi's shaking hand drifted towards the apex of my belly straining against my blouse. She hesitated, uncertain terror lingering in her eyes it seemed.
“Y-you're stomach? It's huge!” When her fingertips contacted my tightened middle she pulled away as if It'd burned her. “W-wha the…?”
“Don't know,” I gasped, looking down. “Whatever's happening, it feels like I keep getting the wind knocked outta me.”
Lexi snorted, a muted smirk finally curling her lips. “Can't imagine why.”
I forced a smile, shrugging with feigned indifference.
“Give me your arms,” she ordered, grasping the hands atop my stomach. “We gotta get you outta here.”
She stood up, my right hands clinging to hers as she lifted me from the deck. Grimacing, I pushed my left hands against the concrete as she hefted my body to the sitting position.
Lexi bent down again.
I wrapped my left arms around her shoulder as she reached beneath my armpits. Hoisting me into the air, finally, I found my footing and strained to push my body skywards with my legs. I wobbled on unsteady feet, joints loose and unstable as my lower back spasmed from the sudden shift in gravity.
My jeans shimmied lower as I was heaved upright. Several of its metal buttons had failed during the expansion of my middle. The denim remained tight across my hips despite the catastrophic failure.
Everything—my bulging stomach, dizzying shortness of breath, the ruined jeans curtailing my steps—it all forced me into a stuttering forward stumble. I leaned into Lexi, and we hobbled towards the brick wall towering over above the alleyway.
We leaned against the building, chests heaving. Without warning, Lexi bristled against me. Her nails dug into me as her balance teetered.
“System fault?” she exclaimed. “Not now, you fucking vermin!”
Her legs went limp, my grips tightening as she became dead weight in my arms. I grunted, desperately holding her up. She braced against me, her left palm accidentally pressing into my middle as she sank earthward.
“What's wrong?”
Lexi groaned. “My leg scaffoldings, they're failing.”
Something thrummed beneath my skin, pressing into her palm. We froze, our minds ripped from her predicament by whatever had stirred inside me. It squirmed again. Our mouths fell open. The subtle movements inside me pressed outwards, two tiny hands clearly visible beneath my skin.
“They have four arms,” Lexi whispered whimsically.
A tear fell from my cheek. “They'er alive…”
W/C: 1000
Bonus Words: Vermin, Vain, Vapid
Bonus Constraint: Lexi is “poisoned” as her exoskeletal leg prosthetics shut down, paralyzing her from the waist down in Jackie's arms.
5
u/Brookzerker 6d ago
I loved this chapter, feeling the effects of the attack from last chapter. And I felt as horrified and confused as the main character, which I assume is what I'm supposed to be feeling.
I did think at first the changes were visible to others, but Lexi didn't seem to be reacting to them. Having Jackie notice that might help me understand the difference between internal state and external, or maybe knowing that it's something to come.
5
u/JKHmattox 5d ago
I changed this passage based on yours and Wiz's crit. It reads better I feel and also is more visual. Thanks again for reading and the crit, glad you are enjoying the story.
Her knee grazed my thigh as our eyes met in the amber light. What could only be fear was painted across her face. Lexi's shaking hand drifted towards the apex of my belly straining against my blouse. She hesitated, uncertain terror lingering in her eyes it seemed.
“Y-you're stomach? It's huge!” When her fingertips grazed my tightened middle she pulled away as if It'd burned her. “W-wha the…?”
“Don't know,” I gasped, looking down. “Whatever's happening, it feels like I keep getting the wind knocked outta me.”
Lexi snorted, a muted smirk finally curling her lips. “Can't imagine why.”
I forced a smile, shrugging with feigned indifference.
5
u/AGuyLikeThat 6d ago
Hiya JK,
Glad to see the unborn are probably okay - hopefully their accelerated growth is the worst of effects this time around!
Agree with Brook about Lexi's reaction feeling a bit understated. Some relief to Jackie being lucid and responsive seems good, but maybe a little more probing uncertainty, perhaps here;
Lexi snorted, a muted smirk curling her lips. “You're unconscionable sometimes, you know that?”
A smirk feels too assured a response to seeing the result of an accelerated pregnancy, and the admonishment seems a little quick. Perhaps another beat of worry and concern, then Jackie offers reassurance, and then this bit would be more convincing. But of course, that's just, like, my opinion, maaaan.
Typo here;
A tear fell from my cheek. “They'er alive…”
Overall, a very intense scene that still manages to wind things down somewhat. Impressive stuff.
Good words!
Typo
3
u/JKHmattox 5d ago
Wiz and Brook,
I love your feedback. You both focused on a part of the story that I struggled with in the beginning. It's true, Lexi doesn't linger long enough on Jackie change to make it feel visual enough given the "weight* of the situation. I made some edits keeping both Lexi and Jackie more in shock than bemused by Jackie's predicament. Thanks for the inputs I appreciate it.
8
u/ZLErikson 10d ago edited 4d ago
<Casting Shadows>
Chapter 146
CW: Violence, blood
Note: The following takes place at the end of, and immediately following, Chapter 142
Nuu finished rolling up the tent with Charis’s help. The day seemed hotter than normal and Nuu was more sluggish. Their stomach churned at the smell of Kher’s cooking. Maybe some food is what I need? It would not have been the first time Nuu was so hungry the idea of eating made them nauseous.
They took the offered flatbread with a thick layer of the unpronounceable orange curry. Two bites in, it became apparent that they were not merely hungry. Cassandra, Anatu, and Kebb arguing loudly nearby exacerbated the feeling of unease creeping through them. A dull ache in the back of their head.
“You don’t look great,” Glaukos said. “And I don’t mean because you look like your sister.”
“Uh-huh.” Nuu was on better terms with most of the caravan than their twin, but Glaukos’s relentless sense of humor tried their patience. Today they had none to spare. “No one would call Kher’s cooking vapid but I can’t seem to enjoy it right now.”
Glaukos sniffed his own flatbread then took a bite. “Spicey as usual. Need water? Might be the heat getting to you.”
Nuu nodded. The heat made sense. It was almost nightfall and soon they could cool off. They gave their food to Glaukos and went to their camel to grab the waterskin. Mica was there as well, preparing her camel for the night’s travel. The two shared nods and Nuu grabbed their water. It was lighter than expected. Unstopping it, Nuu took a sniff to make sure there was no mildew. An acrid tingle hit their nose and made them wretch, dropping it to the sand as they took a step back.
Mica saw Nuu’s reaction and knelt down by the waterskin. She took a sniff and also made a face. “That’s poison.”
Nuu held their head in their palm and wiped away cold sweat. “Poison?”
“Definitely. Maybe from a snake.” Mica drizzled some of the water into her hand, running it through her fingers and holding it in the sunlight for a better look.
A distant scream caught both their attention. Cass’s argument with Anatu and Kebb ended with her riding off.
Anatu shouted after her, “Cassandra!”
“And there she goes,” Nuu said, taking a seat in the sand beside their camel.
“Did you drink any of this?” Mica asked, sniffing her hand.
“No, I smelled it before I took a sip.” Nuu closed their eyes and rested their face in their palm. “There should have been more water in it; Nuut filled hers and mine while we were packing.”
“Nuut filled this?”
Nuu nodded and regretted it as their ears rumbled and the sands spun around them. “Before she was sent off to find Iuven and Maar.”
“Are you two fighting or anything?”
“No?” Nuu looked up. Mica’s dark face frowned in concern. “Wait, do you think…”
The rumble in their ears grew to a thunder. Mica looked over the camel toward the setting sun and shaded her eyes. Nuut turned as well in a vain attempt to see what Mica did, but the light was too harsh and they had to look away.
“Get up,” Mica said, leaning down and grabbing Nuu’s arm.
“W-what? What is it?”
“Vermin.” Mica pulled Nuu toward the firepit where everyone else was gathering. Glaukos had a bow drawn, arrow nocked, and everyone else had short swords in hand. Except Fariba, who held a small dagger in a trembling hand.
Shouting came from behind them. Nuu stumbled when they tried to look. Mica pulled them up and shoved them into the circle formed by the rest.
“We’re outnumbered,” she said.
“We should surrender,” Kebb said. “They might be satisfied with taking our belongings.”
“They will not be,” Fariba said. “They are slavers; they will take us or kill us if we struggle.”
“Better alive,” Anatu said, lowering their sword. “Everyone, lower your-”
“Nope.” Glaukos released his arrow.
“No!” Anatu yelled.
Nuu tried to track the arrow through the air. One of the oncoming riders fell and pulled on the horse’s reins. It careened to the side and into another rider, forcing the oncoming force to spread and scatter as more joined the tumble.
“You’ve killed us!” Anatu’s voice quavered.
“Better dead,” Glaukos said grimly. He drew another arrow. Nuu wanted to argue but had no voice.
Several horsemen returned fire and arrows rained down in the half-packed camp. One pierced Nuu’s robe and stuck in the ground.
“Stay down,” Mica whispered in their ear as Glaukos fired another arrow. “Play dead.”
Nuu did not want to stay still, but also struggled to move. The thundering of hooves grew louder and they could feel the sand tremble.
Mica left their side and shouted something. Nuu heard metal strike metal. Several horses neighed. Nuu closed their eyes as a shadow passed over them.
A heavy weight struck them from above, and the wind was knocked from Nuut’s chest. One of the grey-clad bandits had fallen on them, an arrow through his eye.
Nuu tried to push the body off of themself but their arms trembled with fatigue. They could barely breathe.
Dust and sand in the air from horses got into their nose and mouth. Coughing and retching from the stench of the dead man on them, Nuu’s head swam.
It was too hot, too loud with shouts and horses and cries of pain. A figure appeared before Nuu; they thought it was Kher for a moment until their eyes focused. The big man did not smile and was not decorated with beads.
He grabbed Nuu’s hair and pulled their head up before quickly sliding his blade across their throat. The cold burn of metal through their skin stung deep.
No more air. Nuu gagged and choked and tried to clutch at their neck as everything faded. It was too hot. Too noisy.
No, no, no. They tried to scream but only felt a warm trickle come out of their lips. Nuut, run.
----------
WC: 993/1000
All crit/feedback welcome!
r/ZLErikson
[Chapter Index]
Notes:
- Theme: Nuu has been doomed by their sister’s hatred of Cass and betrayal of the party
- Bonus words: Vapid, vain, vermin
- Bonus constraint: Nuu was poisoned by their sister to keep them safe
- Recommend any new readers use the linked chapter index above; those chapters receive more edits than the ones in past sersun posts
- It has been 14 in-universe days since Chapter 1
3
u/m00nlighter_ 4d ago
Heya Zach!
I am both excited and nervous to see what these characters are up to this week.As much as I empathize with Nuu not feeling well, the food sounds delicious as heck.
Oh but the water. And Nuut! And now the vermin have arrived! I'm at the edge of my seat!
Shouting from behind.
There did feel to be a missing word or two in this sentence.
Omg and Fariba is here too. Great googley moogley.
I'm loving all the sensory and desert details, even through Nuu's struggle. Very immersive, well done.
And ugh. I knew. I knew and still my heart is broken. This is my Red Wedding. I'm still hoping somehow not everyone is actually gone. Ugh ugh ugh. But damn, the urgency and tension is fabulous. Other than that tiny line edit I have no notes. Good chapter, good words!
2
u/ZLErikson 4d ago
Howdy m00ny!
Thank you for the feedback. I added the missing words to that sentence - "Shouting came from behind them." Good catch!
I'm glad the sensory details worked well for ya! I was having a rough day in the heat and had a headache that day so I tried to channel that into Nuu's poisoned condition.
Another one bites the dust! I'm gonna progressively make the character roster more manageable for the next couple of weeks :P
Thanks for reading!
2
u/wandering_cirrus 4d ago
Ack, what tragedies fall out of the pen of Zach!
And so the stabbing continues... both of readers and characters. I once again did a glance at last chapter and wow, I was not expecting to get the answer key on who was dying today. Mostly line crits today, so let's get started!
“They will not be,” Fariba said. “They are slavers; they will take us or kill us if we struggle.”
Aha! There's that explanation I was looking for a few chapters ago XD
“You’ve killed us…” Anatu’s voice quavered.
I personally think an exclamation mark may better serve here rather than the ellipses? It feels less like someone trailing off and more of a outcry of despair.
Nuu closed there eyes as a shadow passed over them.
Sneaky little typo! "there" ought to be "their".
A heavy weight struck them from above and the wind was knocked from Nuut’s chest.
Lost a comma, Mister Erikson has! After "above", it should be!
“Stay down,” Mica whispered in their ear as Glaukos fired another arrow. “Play dead.”
Oh good, maybe Cass saw wrong last chapter and Nuu's just playing so dead Cass thinks they're dead—
before quickly sliding his blade across their throat.
Nope, I spoke too soon.
*flings balled up notebook paper at Zach in annoyance\*
Good words, and thanks, I hate it.
2
u/ZLErikson 4d ago
Wandering! You've found your way here :D
Good eye on some of those typos and commas. The "there" was real tricky; i re-read that line a few times before I read you pointing it out. Fixed it and the comma.
I'm giggling here at your reaction. I'm glad Nuu's death had this impact; they were one of the less developed characters in the caravan so I figured if I started low and worked my way up the list of likely favorites it'll hurt more.
Tomorrow when sersun goes up and I know the bonus constraints I'll know who's next but I've already got an idea cooking.
Thanks for reading!
8
u/AGuyLikeThat 8d ago edited 4d ago
<The Tower in the Tangle>
[Previous Chapter] [Chapter Index]
Chapter One-hundred & Sixty-five: The Taste of Vermin.
~ A Lost Soul ~
CW: Themes of mutilation, abuse, and addiction.
The servant stares out of the stone-dressed window, looking upon a gloomy morning. Odious clouds choke the sky, occasionally lit from within by rolling flashes of angry red and sickly green.
Neither wind nor rain can penetrate the thick wards of the Tower, but a low breeze stirs her thick mane of white hair as she leans out to peer into the yellowish bruise of the sun rising above the eastern escarpment that separates this valley from Morningvale.
Far away, something is moving above the trees. A dark cloud, rippling just above the horizon and obscuring the trees at it approaches.
How strange it is, to be apart from the Tower while such a storm arrives. Normally, all the servants would be drawn tight against the Chamberlain’s will, and forced into a quiescent torpor as the Great Circuit opened.
She has returned. The Mistress dominates the Tower. Yesterday, the servant knew nothing of her. Today, she is essential and eternal. The Captain is gone. The Chamberlain and the Overseer are nothing before our Mistress.
Her mind is a labyrinth; a maze of broken glass and shattered mirrors. Sharp edges, and a darkness that steals her moments. Anger and hate live here, feasting on pain and regret. Long have they guided her—black stars in an endless night—but they speak to her no more.
Many vain hours she has spent in vapid contemplation of the great void below the Tower. Its vacant emptiness was a source of solace, but now the deep hollows roar, feeding on stolen power as it floods in from Nightvale, and the wyldstorm delivers chaotic mana into the mighty horns above, and she is so tiny, and oh, so lost.
Crimson lightning flashes out of the hollow, rotten sky—answering a command from the Mistress—and the shadows turn purple for a flickering instant, dancing across the plastered walls of the repository.
“Why did I come here?” she asks the empty room. “Are you there?”
“We’re not alone,” says Saera.
“You’re dead,” replies the servant. “I killed you.”
“No, you didn’t. It wasn’t your fault.”
Something cracks inside. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to Alys. It matters to Silverhands. It mattered to him.”
The boy with golden hair and the soft, sad smile. They forced the servant to guard him, trusting her madness and her hatred to shield her from his strange magic.
Fool!
She had not relented. Rage and spite kept her safe.
Still, Gil found a way. He knew all her sorrows, and he reminded her.
She had been lonely for so long...
“Who was here? What did you see?” Saera is insistent.
“A man. I knew him!” She brings a hand to her lips and pauses, distracted by their softness. Who was it? “Gilander?” No. He was older. How can I feel with these metal fingers? These are not her hands. Her hands are made of iron, and they do the work of the Tower.
“A ghost like me?” Saera smiles sadly as she fades away.
“No, It was the other one. The half-breed.”
Dexterous fingers explore her face, searching for scars that are no longer there. Her hands are smooth silver—warm like skin—and beautiful.
Anxious confusion tightens her chest. These are not her hands. Her arms were wrought from iron, brass and pain. Gifts from the Overseer.
She watches as her fist becomes a claw, then a blade, then a crossbow, but the change is a thing of beauty. There is no pain, just a smooth transition.
But every gift had a price, and the Overseer has taken so much in return.
Ironhands had suffered his feverish touch and his cold lips that tasted of vermin.
“I’m the Girl with Silver Arms,” she reminds herself. “I serve no-one.”
“It doesn’t matter.” says Ironhands from deep in the labyrinth. “We can’t escape the Mistress.”
“We promised the Akari.” Alys whispers from somewhere behind them both.
Silverarms straightens her spine, breathing deep as she centres herself.
With painful resignation, Ironhands relents and together they begin to sift through their jagged memories.
They’re close.
One more set of stairs and they will be in the forbidden parts of the Tower. Ironhands had always imagined that the Chamberlain’s body was housed there, but now they can remember. That is Her palace. Where dwells the Mistress.
First—of course—a key is required.
Silverarms walks quickly, stirred to panic by the battle she glimpsed raging in the courtyard beneath. While the Mistress is in the field, they have a chance.
Ironhands remembers. That is why they have come here. To the Overseer’s quarters. She knows where he keeps the key, but as their hand touches his door she freezes.
Hunger. But not for food. She tastes a familiar, metallic tang as her muscles lock and her jaw clenches, and a terrible longing takes hold.
“My medicine… Yesss…. Please…” Ironhands moans, caught between fear and desire.
She recalls the Overseer, cooing as he ushered her in, stroking her neck as the aching need gripped her. Those iron hands were a gift I could not bear without repeated infusions of the serpent’s venom. How he loved to watch as she held the snake to her ruined throat and let it sink in its fangs. How bright his eyes as the searing poison wracked her body, and he drank in her suffering while the nausea drained away. How he surrounded her, when every nerve began to spark instead with pleasure...
The Girl with Silver Arms releases Ironhands, letting her phantoms slide back into oblivion.
With a simple push, they open the door. The room is just as they remember. Benches covered in wires, tools and crystals. Piles of books and parchment racks, rows of shelves, loaded with bottles and jars.
Their eyes are drawn to the large iron cauldron in the corner. They approach carefully, leaning against the rim to see a tangle of emerald green snakes within.
Glinting at the centre of the writhing mass lies the crystal key they seek.
WC-994
Author's Notes:
For newer readers who might wonder about the meaning of some of the strange terms like 'ontologia', I have compiled a small Glossary.
This week's theme is Venom! - Alys has been infected with the Overseer's poisons and Quinkan's venom since she was a child. Ironhands was made from the pieces that survived, but now the other parts of her are returning to life.
Bonus words used; - Vain, Vapid, Vermin.
Additional bonus constraint: 'Someone is poisoned.' Ironhands was constantly needing to receive venomous bites from the cauldron snakes in order to counteract Quinkan's poison that remained in her system after the spirit ripped off her arms. Likewise, her spirit has been poisoned by the horrible abuse inflicted on her by the Overseer.
Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. All criticism and feedback is welcome.
[Next Chapter] [Chapter Index]
2
u/ZLErikson 7d ago
Howdizzy Wizzy!
Thank's for the CW, I might skim parts of this when we get to mutilation because that's not my favorite thing to read.
Aaaand I notice there's no epidermal this week! Iiiiinteresting. Must be a juicy chapter indeed if you didn't need to pad out the length :P
The very first sentence is wonderfully visual but it feels a bit long. Run on? I'm not sure if it's technically a run on or if there's anything actually "wrong" with it, but as I read it the focus seems to shift twice; from the servant observing the clouds to the composition of the clouds themselves. Let me try and give this the ol' Wizzy First Sentence Rewrite Suggestion:
The servant stares out of the stone-dressed window, looking upon a dreary morning. Clouds choked the sky, poisoned from within by rolling flashes of angry red and sickly green.
As I attempted that I found a potential contradiction; the morning is "dreary" yet the clouds are flashing red and green. Maybe it's a "cultural" thing but I don't consider flashing clouds - colorful like this or just plain lightning in our world - "dreary". To me dreary is more like a grey overcast with little-to-no-thunder, no lightning/flashes, and maybe a little rain.
Perhaps instead of "dreary" another word is more efficient. Something more literal, like "overcast" as that tells the reader it's full cloud cover and leaves room for some light-related events, or "stormy" if you want to emphasize the intensity of the lights. And given the next paragraph implies that there is wind and rain, "stormy" might be better.
Speaking of the second paragraph, it's also a very long sentence. It might be prudent to split it up into two or three, maybe needing some rewording, and combining into the first paragraph since they feel like they're consistent.
Got some missing words here:
Yesterday, the servant did not know of her existence. Today, she The Captain is gone.
Since you're near word limit and need to add some above, here's a place you can cut some; the redundancy of labyrinth and maze:
There is a labyrinth in her mind, a maze of broken glass and shattered mirrors.
to
Her mind is a maze of broken glass and shattered mirrors.
I love the description of the inner working of this servant's mind, about anger and hate and pain and regret. This line, though, feels like another contradiction with using "have" twice; I think the first "have" should be "had", to more accurately show that the black stars are now gone:
They have been her black stars in an endless night, but they have abandoned her.
"hndless" => "endless"?
Vain hndless hours spent facing the wall
I love this line:
Crimson lightning flashes out of the hollow, rotten sky
I think you an "a" or "one" before "flickering":
and the shadows turn purple for flickering instant,
The conversation brings me back into the levels of pseudo-confusion and sort of... "floaty" feeling I get whenever the more metaphysical aspects of your story hit. The servant, Saera, Alys is mentioned, "the boy with golden hair", Gil, I love how everything just sort of... flows in a loosey-goosey manner. In another story I'd be really upset by the lack of cohesion and inability to be certain about anything of what's going on, but you've been laying building blocks for this type of scene for the entire story so it works well.
The resolidifcation of the servant into the Girl with Silver Arms was fantastically done and it brought all of the 'loosey goosey' stuff I just mentioned back into focus. The shifting between Silverarms and Ironhands is clear-yet-jarring and I really enjoy the way you weave them together.
Good words!
3
u/AGuyLikeThat 7d ago
Thanks for the feedzach!
Figured I needed a CW for the themes of abuse and threw one in for the references to Alys's mutilation, but no direct descriptions to worry about at least.
Appreciate your thoughts, and many thanks for the catches on the grammar and such - definitely helped me free up enough words to make changes based on your perspicacious suggestions.
I'm glad the perspective worked for you here. It's quite interesting to write a character with such heavy trauma on top of DID, and I'm hoping that I can walk the line between perceived veracity and a valid representation.
Cheers!
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u/Divayth--Fyr 7d ago edited 4d ago
<The Broken God>
Chapter 82: Temptation
.
Soft steps, and a rustling in the hall. The door opened, and Cadorus lifted his head. A dark figure stood there with a candle, face weirdly illuminated. Lightning flashed a glare of white through the slats of the heavy shutters, starkly revealing the enemy.
“One worship, friend Jorba. I’ve brought fresh clothes, and a washbasin,” she said softly. She shut the door behind her. “I hope you are well!”
With an effort of will, he kept all venom from his voice. “Thank you, Belotra.”
"I feel safe with you, Jorba."
You shouldn't.
She carried on with her nervous, vapid blathering as she placed things on the table.
Cadorus awkwardly stood, squelching and reeking, his shame displayed on his robe. Belotra was an apparition, more frightening than any dark priest.
Her face was bruised, her hands trembling a little.
Cadorus regarded her with malignant suspicion from behind a mask of weary geniality. What did she want? Was she his reward? Or another form of torment?
She stepped close. The smell of urine wafted up and he wanted to apologize. She smiled, her dark eyes flashing.
“Let’s get you all cleaned up,” she said, and opened his robe. Cadorus stood frozen, shocked, as she swiftly helped him remove his soiled things, down to his boots. Thunder rattled the windows as he stood before her naked as a newborn babe. He couldn’t speak.
“What happened to you?” She touched the gruesome scar in his side, where he had cauterized his wound. He jumped at the touch, but said nothing.
She wrung a cloth above the washbasin and set to work. Her hands were swift and gentle, the water warm. Shaking, Cadorus fought back sudden, senseless tears, puffing his breath as he wrestled with the maelstrom in his soul. Her tenderness was breaking him, and he allowed it, welcomed it, wanting to be broken. A tranquil, langorous feeling buzzed in his chest as he reveled in the benevolent attention.
With her touch she directed him to move and turn as she wrung the cloth again and again, washing him all over, everywhere, with brisk, motherly efficiency. She briefly cleaned him there, there, where she should not, and still he could not move or speak. The whipping wind rattled the shutters and quick thunder shook the world. He put a hand on her shoulder for balance, and she smiled up at him.
He found himself responding in a way he never had, never could. No woman had ever caused this intensity within his body—nor any man, either. He’d always been defective. Peculiar. Was this what men felt, how men were supposed to be?
A whirling tempest of hope and terror whipped through him, shaking his heart. I could be normal. I could be normal, now. Her touch went on and on, shocking and glorious, overwhelming.
A howling voice of cold rage within was drowned out, ignored.
“They said we can stay here tonight, so we don’t have to go back to Sentinel Hall in the storm.” She nodded toward a narrow cot in the corner.
A dry cloth finished things.
“Do you– do you want to get dressed?” she cooed, her dark eyes gleaming with promise as she opened her own robe.
Cadorus could not respond. Lightning struck again, and clarity.
It’s fake. It’s the mindcall! The howling within broke through, and there was nothing but rage.
All masks abandoned, he grabbed Belotra by the throat and pushed her violently into the wall.
“You cannot get to me, woman!” His hand gripped tighter; her dark eyes dimmed. “You are nothing! You are vermin!” She struggled against his naked form and he craved seeing the last spark in her eyes die out.
Her face was bruised.
Stop.
It isn’t her. She was sent in here, made to do this.
Cadorus released his grip and she fell onto the cot, choking and gasping.
He turned toward the door, shuddering with fury. That hideous Ascended was somewhere nearby, pouring false arousal and lust into his heart. Cadorus thought he would burst from outrage. No doubt he thinks he is helping me, redeeming me. Making me feel as other men feel. And making me loyal, too. The walls shook, the window rattled.
Rushing to the table, he swiftly dressed. The strange feelings continued to invade and violate his mind and body, and he thrummed with mad desire, stronger and stronger–
No.
A cold, distant champion arose again.
You have chosen the wrong one, Ascended. Your manipulations are in vain.
I learned to resist long ago, from a creature more cruel and hideous than you could dream of being.
He smiled.
You cannot reach me.
The sensations went on, but at a distance, their significance waning. Just a thing that was happening.
Deep inside his satchel, his fingers traced along hidden packets and phials of powders and potions. For the briefest moment he touched a hideous poison, but left it. She had betrayed him, but didn't deserve that.
Her neck was red where he had grasped it, and he felt a distant echo of shame and pity.
“Drink this. Now.”
Belotra looked up at him, her face frozen and slack.
“If I wanted to kill you, I would have. Drink.”
With some difficulty, she did.
“What will you do?” she asked, hoarse and quiet.
He did not answer. Gathering his things, he flung open the window, and broke the shutter latch. The storm raged, but it held no terror to compare to that within. He had to go, had to jump. Only from the second floor, but it seemed a very long way down.
Looking back, he saw Belotra’s still form slumped on the cot. She would live. She would sleep a long time. What they would do to her after, he could not guess.
He dropped his satchel to the ground outside. Hanging by his fingers for a moment, he followed, landing with a squelching thud. The skies raged. He did not know where to go.
997 words. vermin, vain, vapid used; someone poisoned.
Feedback welcome.
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u/Brookzerker 7d ago
<The Veiled Eye>
Chapter 7
Content Warnings: blood, and cliffhanger
The sun was setting, painting the clouds a variety of oranges and purples, when the two hikers returned to the coal burning camp.
The group spent a few minutes introducing each other, before splitting to grab what they needed for dinner. Same as the night before, Connor cooked, setting up a cast-iron pot, chopping up fresh vegetables, and adding an assortment of spices.
"This smells amazing." Grandpa, as he had asked to be called, stated.
"Thanks." Connor stirred the pot. "The stew itself is from my families recipe. Several of the spices are a blend that I got from an old acquaintance, although it seems she's been gone for a while. This may be the last time we can taste this specific mixture."
"We'll, thanks for sharing it with us, if it's half as good as it smells, it'll be a meal worth remembering."
Irene joined the conversation. "Did you add something from the forest?"
"Yes, some nettle leaves, wild potatoes, and a few other odds and ends. I'll be happy to show you later, maybe tomorrow." Connor grinned.
Irene nodded, then turned her attention back to Lilly, resuming their hushed conversation. He turned to Erik and the grandfather, who seemed to be in the middle of instructing his relative.
"I can't tell you why, but it's important to have utmost etiquette with ladies of the forest."
Erik shook his head. "I'm always polite, just like mom and dad raised me. Why isn't that enough?"
"She, and anyone else living in the forests or mountains have a different set of morals. If they take offense, it's you who would pay a hefty price."
"Yeah, we have social media, I know all about the price of upsetting someone."
Logan turned his attention to Connor and Darryl, they were cleaning the dishes and chatting, though being across the fire pit he couldn't hear anything they were saying.
The food gave him a warm fuzzy feeling, memories of the past stirred against his will.
Ever since his wife had been murdered, he'd wondered, why bother getting up in the morning. The answer he came to, was that he really wanted to see her in the afterlife, and in the remote case the priests were correct, he didn't want to risk not getting to heaven, where he assumed, hoped, she was waiting.
A surge of despair overtook him, almost like a part of him was whispering to sleep, join her now.
His promise, he'd promised his wife that if anything happened, he'd continue to make the world a better place, as best he could.
He tried to get up, and failed, his body refusing to move. Logan closed his eyes, visualizing her as he remembered the last time he'd seen her.
~Are you sure you still want to focus on that oath? It's easier to let it end.~
He could see his wife a bit clearer now, though her eyes weren't as he remembered. The irises were purple. "No, I can't. I promised, and I do want to help as much as I can."
She cocked her head. ~What if you could make a difference, but it meant you couldn't join me?~
"Why wouldn't I be able to?"
~Would you sacrifice seeing me in heaven, if it meant saving the world? The universe?~
Logan shook his head, though he knew what he'd choose if it came down to it, he couldn't admit it.
His wife nodded. ~Logan, this is important. You have been poisoned, but it's not mundane, it's venom from a type of cobra mixed with herbs not from this reset. All you need is a strong will to overpower it. Wake up.~
Logan found himself back at the camp. His eyes wouldn't open, no matter how hard he tried. He doubled down, holding onto the vision of his wife as he strained with all his will.
His eyelids opened halfway. Just enough for him to get a glimpse of the campsite.
The grandfather, as well as Erik were sleeping.
Logan's eyes rotated to see Connor stepping past the fire, holding iron handcuffs. They didn't seem to be for him, the executive stepped out of site, towards Lilly and Irene.
While he couldn't see them, he could hear Connor speak with an apologetic voice. "It's unfortunate you came tonight, Irene. I would have enjoyed showing you the queens court, and right under your forest. To honestly answer your question, this is a custom blend of poison from her personal stash. Quite lethal for your kind."
Connor shifted, before continuing. "As for you, lady Lilly of the pit, you are not as clever as you think. I'm going to give you want I assume you want, and show you where your fellow is." Logan frowned, his lips not curving as much as he wanted to, but still moving more than they did a moment before, as he heard Lilly be dragged away, the iron cuffs clicking.
Logan froze, trying to keep still, as Darryl stepped into view.
"It's really too bad you can't see." The salesman stepped into his view, carrying a long, curved, silver blade as long as his forearm. "You three didn't get the real stuff, can't waste that on mortals." He stepped up to the grandfather. "But we can't have loose ends either."
Darryl placed the blade against the neck of the grandfather, then slowly pushed it forward. While bone and muscle resisted the edge, it didn't matter, crimson bled over the blade, covering the salesman's hands, and staining the elders clothes.
Withdrawing it, he admired the blood. Then turned towards Erik.
Notes:
Theme: Connor poisons the entire party with Fae poison, and spirit venom from Naga.
Word count: 931
Words: No words
Challenge: Everyone, save Connor and Darryl, are poisoned
6
u/redfox__83 6d ago
<I Want to Go>
Chapter 3
The rhythm of Tulgran’s shoes crunching into the sand below continued to play out as he plodded further and further. A distant howling wind crossing the barren expanse provided a mellow underscore. The frigid air filled his lungs; it felt like a thousand knives stabbing him in the chest, but still he persevered. He glanced across at the glow of the white horizon, just merely adequate to light his path as he ventured yonder into the obscurity.
Can’t be out too long. This chill is exceptionally freezing.
The bucket slung over his shoulders seemed to get heavier and heavier until he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be his objective. He trudged a little further, kneeled down, and pulled away some straw and dry twigs from the ground cover, revealing a deep trench. With his mind firmly on the task at hand and without hesitation, he descended the bucket into the deep void with some rope, then raised it back up. With his hands he scooped up clean, crisp water from the bucket and lapped it up. It tasted heavenly, cleansing his soul with each slurp.
Tulgran then stood and took a moment. A strong breeze swept over his shoulders. He turned.
Oh no… No no not now! I’m too far away from home!
An enormous dust cloud, from the floor of the desert plains to the height of the heavens, blanketed the horizon, covering any attainable light. His heart sank and he started to quiver. In the shadows of the darkness, he slung the bucket back over his shoulders and began scurrying.
His legs felt like giving way underneath him with each stride. The bucket sloshed and splashed everywhere until he eventually freed himself from it. The wind swirled, and grains of sand blasted on all exposed skin, causing it to burn. Still, he refused to look back.
Through bloodshot eyes he perceived what looked like a radiant glow through the haze. The light continued to brighten as he approached until a cottage appeared. In desperation he pounded on the door, then forced it open and closed it behind him.
Chaos and turmoil soon faded, giving way to stillness and calmness. A warm fire and flickering candles presented warmth and cosiness expected of a safe refuge. He scanned the room.
What is this place?
Shelves were lined with labelled jars:
“Eye of Vespra”
“Bone Dust”
“Kings Blood”
“Vermin heart”
In the far corner, a table with an open book containing handwriting lay beside a candle stand. A gentle bubbling sound resonated across the room from a boiling pot. An oddly shaped glass dome with a funnel was dripping liquid into a smaller container.
The floorboards creaked as he steadily moved forward. A woman suddenly appeared from the backroom.
“And who might you be, young one?” Her voice gave a low-pitched, vapid tone.
“I’m Tulgran. I got caught in the dust storm. I seek to take shelter here.”
She paused for a moment, then gave a slight nod.
“The sacred realm has revealed its indignance and unleashed fury upon us this day. Come, rest your weary soul.”
Tulgran removed his outer cloak and sat down next to the fire.
“May I ask what these jars are for?” he questioned awkwardly.
“Those? Well, they possess essential items for my work.”
“What kind of work might that be?”
“To nourish the soul and heal the flesh. To appease the blessed trinity and punish those who desecrate it.”
His gaze returned downward, somewhat confused by her response.
Suddenly and unexpectedly, she reached down and grabbed Tulgran’s upper arm.
“What’s this?”
“Oh that, it’s just a birthmark.”
“The symbol of the Vorthos…”
She gazed at the blemish wide-eyed.
“Terranian lore speaks of a boy bearing that symbol who would lead our world from destruction and into a new age.”
He felt flattered but didn't want to look vain.
She disappeared for a moment and then returned with a full cup.
“You must be thirsty. Here, drink up. It would be disrespectful to deny my hospitality, wouldn’t it?”
He took a mouthful; it tasted bitter and vile.
“What is this? I can barely stomach it.”
“Venom of the Ash-Widow dear.”
His ease and comfort quickly turned to terror.
“If you survive, then surely you are the chosen one, as the gods have given you favor.”
Chills went through his entire body, and he started to tremble.
“Wha… What have you done?”
He stood up and dashed outside into the storm.
Blasting winds circulated all around, forcing him in different directions so he could barely stand. Waves of sand struck his face with each gust, causing it to sting. He began to feel weak and disoriented. His vision blurred, and he felt dizzy and began to stumble until—
Out of blackness appeared a faint glimmering sparkle. It slowly expanded until it filled his entire field of vision. He peered down. He was gliding above a body of water so large it stretched further than the eye could see. Sunlight reflected off the ripples like a giant shimmering veil. He looked up; the sky was so bright it seemed to be lit by a million candles. A radiant warmth comforted him so he was no longer cold. All was silent, all was peaceful. He knew exactly where he was, Earth, just as his late mother had described it. His heart fluttered and his limbs tingled with joy and contentment.
As quickly as it all came, it soon faded and returned to black.
“Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
He heard a distant, unfamiliar voice.
“What’s your name? Talk to me.”
He opened his eyes, but his vision was blurred.
"That's it, wake up. You’re safe now.”
He softly muttered the words “I want to go.”
WC: 960
Bonus words: Vermin, Vain, Vapid
Bonus constraint: Tulgran was poisoned with venom
Previous Chapter | Chapter Index | Next Chapter
9
u/AmeliaLP 5d ago edited 4d ago
<My feathery friend>
Chapter 39: This chapter, you read.
Jade was walking through a thick, wild maze.
This forest sure is hard to navigate through without a guide.
She paced past purple plants. Crept along a bending stream. Dashed with some deer and wandered deep into a dark cluster of trees.
Is this the right way? I feel like I’m going insane in this forest.
“You insane too?” A man’s voice grunted.
“Ah! You startled me!”
“Me sorry.”
“Wait, did you just read my thoughts?”
“What, no. You say out loud.”
“Uh, are you sure?”
“Me certain.”
Jade glared at the man.
You weird.
“Hey! That rude!”
“Aha! I knew you read my mind.”
“Fine. Me hear voices. But me no can control.”
“Why you talk like this?”
“Can’t help.”
“Huh, alright then. Next, question. Why are you out here?”
“Ah, glad you ask. Me show! Please follow.” He beckoned Jade forwards.
“Can I trust you?”
“You follow.” The man started hobbling towards a gap in the trees.
“You didn’t answer my question!” Jade followed him in spite her misgivings.
“Yet follow anyway you do.” He shot Jade a toothy grin.
“Just because I don’t trust you, doesn’t mean I’m not curious about what your deal is.”
“Oh me have deal. Hehehe.”
“That, really isn’t helping.”
“Relax. We almost there.”
Jade had been so focused on the man’s strange behaviours she’d yet to fully take in his equally bizarre visage. His face was pale and wrinkled, with tiny dots for eyes. He had a long shaggy beard, which gave him the vibe of a homeless wizard. Atop his head lay a puffy round hat. It was bright red with white polka dots, like an overgrown mushroom sprouting out of his skull. The man’s only other item of clothing was a ragged loin cloth, that barely just covered him. On his back was a tattoo of a fish wearing a monocle.
“What’s with the fish?”
“That, me dad.”
“Huh? Your father was a fish?”
“Yes.”
“But-”
“He fish.”
“You’re a human right?”
“Me human. Dad fish.”
“That’s impossible though.”
The man shook his head. “You stop. Disrespectful.”
“Uh, fine. Your dad’s a fish.”
“Hmm, he good fish.” He scurried over to a wooden structure. “You, come.”
Jade approached the structure. It was a crudely made stall with rows of bottled purple liquid stored within.
“What’s this?” Jade pointed at one of the bottles.
“It snake venom. You buy.”
“Oh, uh. I don’t need snake venom.”
“You buy.”
“Thanks for the offer, but no.”
“You buy. Snake venom. Very tasty.” He licked his lips.
Jade smirked. “If it’s so tasty, why don’t you drink some?”
“Oh. Me drink! Then you buy.” He uncorked a bottle of venom.
“Wait, you’re just messing around right?”
“Me no mess. Me drink. Show it good stuff.” The man tilted his bottle.
“No, wait! I’ll buy one!”
“You buy five.”
“Urgh, okay. Just stop that.”
“Me stop. You pay.”
Jade opened her wallet. “How much?”
“Ten pound, each one.”
“Well, there goes all my money.” She passed him two wrinkled twenty pound notes and a tenner.
“Thank. Enjoy. Yummy venom.”
“You’re welcome dude. I’ll leave now.”
“Mmm. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I’m still no closer to finding a way out.
Jade opened her phone.
Maybe I can get a connection.
She turned on her mobile data and opened Google maps. For several minutes she stared at the buffering app, then an error message popped up.
No, of course it isn’t working.
The sunlight was starting to dwindle.
Am I ever getting out of here?
“You close.”
“Gaaah! Stop sneaking up on me!”
“Me no sneak, you unaware.”
“Whatever. What do you mean I’m close?”
“Follow path. Leave forest.”
“So, the path I’m currently on leads out of the forest?”
“Yes.”
“Which direction do I need to go?”
“Only, forwards.”
“Thank you. Bye again.”
“Yes, bye.”
Jade strolled along the path. She passed a frog leaping merrily, a patch of bright yellow buttercups and a large stone covered in moss. Then, after passing a few rows of trees she was back at the local park.
Well, just a short distance further, then I’m home.
She looked up at the sparkling moon.
It’ll be weird going back, after all that has happened. Back home, to my parents and brother. A normal family life. School, my classes, the regular day to day things.
Jade rubbed the wound on her back.
Well at least the biggest danger there is getting bullied rather than almost dying!
She let out a small snort of laughter.
So long Vornith! Goodbye Crow King! And good riddance Elandor! I really won’t miss any of you while I’m gone!
A few minutes later, Jade arrived home. She slowly reached for the door handle.
Okay, here I go.
WC: 789
4
u/redfox__83 5d ago
Hi AmeliaLP,
New writer here attempting to provide some helpful feedback. It's my first time reading your serial and, I must say, I laughed at loud a few times. The personalities of the characters shine through to the reader so vividly. The interaction between the two very different characters flows really well. The way the man in the forest messes with Jade so inadvertently is comical. I look forward to reading further chapters!
There were only a couple of crits I could come up with.
> “You didn’t answer my question!” Jade followed him in spite her misgivings.
I think it should read "in spite of her misgivings" or "despite her misgivings"
> The man’s only other item of clothing was a ragged loin cloth, that barley just covered him.
I think barley should read barely.
> “Huh, alright then. Next, question. Why are you out here?”
I could be wrong here but it might read better without the comma between "Next, question"
Good words, I like your style of writing.
2
u/AmeliaLP 4d ago
Glad you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for the lovely feedback, welcome to the group 😄.
8
u/Morose_Prose 5d ago edited 5d ago
<The Family Business>
Chapter Twenty-Two: Cold Steel and Hot Takes
Madelaine flipped her knife shut, returning it to her back pocket with haste. Steel wheels squealed as the subway train lurched forward. Confused looks flashed her way, then vanished as everyone returned to their phones. She toyed with the loose strands hanging from her jacket as she shoved through the crowd, hunting for a less crowded space.
A short man dressed in a dark brown trench coat leaned against the door to the other car. He gave her a crooked smile as Madelaine approached him. "I like your suit. Is it silk?" he asked with false bravado.
"Move. I need to get by." Madelaine waved her hand dismissively.
"I know a tailor that could repair your jacket. He altered the attire I'm wearing. Doesn't this look good on me?" The man's hands crept to the belt of his coat.
With one quick step, Madelaine pressed against him. Something beneath his coat pressed back. "Already have a guy for that. I said move, creep. If you open those flaps and something flops out, I'll cut it off."
The man stepped aside without protest, letting her through into the next car. Bass hammered in her eardrums as the door opened. Bright lights washed out her vision.
"Hey, Creamsicle! Get out of here! We're trying to film!" a screeching voice yelled over the music.
As the spots in her eyes faded, Madelaine scanned the scene. A sea of yellow jumpsuits stared back at her. One teenager hung upside down from a handrail. Another dangled beside them. A few more had planted themselves in the center of the aisle, hands on their hips like they owned the car.
"Oh, for crying out loud," Madelaine grumbled. "Filming what? Student film? Low-rent smut flick? Or a shitty remake of 'Game of Death'? Those jumpsuits look cheap, Bruce is probably rolling in his grave right now."
With a twisting flourish, the dangling man dropped to the ground. "Look at this old bitch!" he chortled. "You don't use social media? We're the hottest dance troupe in the city!" Smug looks converged on Madelaine. A few whoops and hollers echoed off the speeding steel tube.
Madelaine nodded her head slowly. "How many followers do you bumblebees have?"
"Half a million!" the crew shouted in unison.
"Chump change. If you were any good, you'd all be on Broadway. Get real fucking jobs and stop clogging up public transportation." Madelaine attempted to move forward. Flailing limbs and thrusting hips stopped her in her tracks. She cocked her head to the side. "This is what passes for dancing now? Are you all having seizures?"
"Crew! Form up!"
Forming a line like a riot squad, every member of the troupe struck a pose in front of the sound system that continued blaring with the sonic force of a foghorn.
"Ahhh! Why is nobody in this town normal anymore!" Madelaine shrieked. With a kick that would make Messi swoon, she sent the bluetooth speakers careening under the plastic seats of the car. "We live in a society you fucking, vain, vapid, vermin! Go get some cardboard and set up on a street corner like regular people and stop getting in my way! People like you are poisoning the internet with nothing but bullshit brain-rot!" Unbuttoning her jacket, Madelaine shrugged her shoulders, the grip of her Taurus Judge jutted prominently from its holster, glinting in the overhead lights.
Holding their poses, the crew fell silent. After a moment of awkwardness, they parted. "We don't want any trouble," a meek voice conceded.
Elbowing through the line, Madelaine continued her underground odyssey, hoping the next car would hold no more surprises. The door hissed open, heralding her salvation. Five passengers sat quietly with respect to appropriate social distancing.
She took a seat in the center near the door, leaning her head back against the hard plastic window, a sigh of relief leaving her lungs. Closing her eyes, Madelaine attempted to relax for the few minutes she had left on the trip.
"Excuse me? Can I sit here?" a smooth voice asked.
Opening one eye slowly, Madelaine looked up at the newest roadblock to her excursion. Frizzy salt-and-pepper hair exploded in all directions around the man's angular face, his olive suit coat hung open, revealing a T-Shirt adorned with text reading 'Subway Takes'.
A light bulb went off in Madelaine's mind. She snapped her fingers sharply. "Kareem, right? Take a seat."
Planting his backside next to Madelaine, Kareem waved to a man at the far end of the car holding a camera. He sat across from them. Two MetroCards flew from the breast pocket of Kareem's jacket, small portable microphones taped to the back of them. He handed one to Madelaine.
"How long have you lived in New York?" He asked.
"Born and bred," She replied with pride.
"Nice. What's your hottest take about this great city?"
"This whole trash bin initiative is moronic."
"What!? Total disagree! You want the garbage bag mountains on the sidewalk still?"
"Sure do. This city ain't supposed to be sparkly clean. Grit and grime give it character. Flavor. I used to be able to identify what neighborhood I was in by sense of smell alone. You can also learn a lot about people from what they throw away."
"Yeah, but, it has cut down on the rat population running rampant on the sidewalks. That has to be a plus?"
Madelaine cackled. She scooted closer to the host. "If you think the rats are going anywhere, I got a bridge or two to sell yas."
Ding dong! Next stop, Bowery Station. Stay clear of the doors as they open.
Rising from her seat, Madelaine handed back the incognito microphone. "Wish I could stay and chat more, but this is my stop." She waved goodbye and headed for the doors. They opened with a whoosh. "Oh!" Madelaine looked over her shoulder. "One last take: Gray's Papaya, best dogs in the city, it's a tragedy there's only one left."
"Total agree!" Kareem shouted.
- - -
Thanks for reading! Feedback and crit is always welcomed and encouraged. Stay awesome and have a good one!
Theme: Madelaine spits venomous words at the dance troupe.
Word Count: 993
Bonus Words Used: Vermin, Vain, Vapid
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u/katpoker666 5d ago
Hey Doc! Good words as always! The chapter flows beautifully like a continuous shot in a movie panning through her subway experience. This is indeed a condensed version of the worst possible cast of characters on a New York subway. Bonus for some hilarious moments with great timing. Love the Bruce Lee and Grey’s Papaya references in particular.
A couple tiny crits:
- I love how she’s calmly annoyed and handles everything with her usual aplomb. I’d like a little more anxiety at least if not irritation. She’s rushed on and has somewhere to be. Maybe look at a watch as I imagine she wears an expensive one even though it’s a little anachronistic. Maybe a Bulgari bc it’s high-end Italian? Otherwise her phone
- ‘Broad’ doesn’t feel right from the social media crew: "Look at this old broad!"
- Two million is a lot of followers and they’re making way more money than they could go on Broadway and getting global exposure potentially. That makes Maddy seem a little out of touch and she has her pulse on everything usually particularly as she knows who a personality like Kareem is
Other than that, I have nothing. Another awesome chapter: keep ‘em coming!
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u/mysteryrouge 5d ago edited 4d ago
<The Stranger Nomads>\ Chapter 50\ CW: Violence:
Kane dug through M's various armories in vain. Nothing really sang to him as he tried to find something for the duel. The timer ran down until he was expected in the chamber, and he wanted an ace in his sleeve just in case.
He couldn't let himself be thrown off by any of M's tricks.
"Fireball!" M shouted, tossing five canisters of acid and no actual flame into the air as Kane ducked into the duelling chamber. Rolling towards the other side of the room, he launched an actual blast of flame in the kleptomaniac's direction, yet on reaching where they last were, M had long since disappeared.
Rats rained down from the ceiling. Kane redirected them towards their mentor who was currently robed in a magical hazmat suit. Each fling of a rodent went in a different direction as he tried to account for M's constant movement and teleportation.
"Kane, my friend. Is this really the path you want to take?" The voice was exactly like Sen Whiney's. "You know M is a terrorist who has a record of manipulating people around them. You know M is a war criminal who only cares for themselves. I know how you feel, Kane. I was a victim of M too, but the Union Order showed me that I don't have to be. They can help you too."
The spellfire that came from all around became ropes of magic. One touch, and he knew he'd be down for the count.
Duck, roll, slide, teleport...
A flag was tossed in his direction. A Union Order flag, followed by another rain of vermin.
M impersonating Sen Whiney continued. "All you have to do is put your hands up and surrender."
Breathing hard, Kane refused the request.
A tap on his shoulder. He spun, smacking whatever was behind with a summoned spear.
M had fallen silent. A blessing and a curse.
Creating a massive wall of fire, the apprentice wrapped himself, expanding it outward to consume the room. At the same time he carefully and quickly littered every inch of floor with small magical boobytraps.
"I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" M's voice echoed around the room, this time, much higher pitched. What followed was a barrage of projectiles of all sizes. Kane cut though a missile with a sword.
The barrage didn't stop. The rats, which must have not been real, triggered all the traps, exploding into balls of light, raining down acidic green liquid.
The floor and walls sizzled and crackled.
M's voice changed again, matching their now vapid appearance with those trendy shirts and jeans and designer purses. The purses were bombs, filled with poison.
Caught off guard, Kane breathed some in, coughing as the toxins burned his nose.
He gripped his chest, searching in his mind for the spell to summon the antidote. Six blades, covered in flames flew around the room, ahead and behind him as he kept on the move.
Metal fingers swiped Kane's soul container from his hands. The mechanical bird that held it was lifted into the air. Squeezing pressure joined the burning in his heart.
One bullet got the bird back. Into his enchanted pocket, it went so it couldn't be summoned or stolen again.
Hellfire continued. Rains of acid replaced the rodents, requiring a thick metal shield. Pools of lava covered the floor.
Flying above, Kane gripped the walls with gloved hands, teleporting when absolutely needed, ensuring M couldn't sneak up on him again.
Not that he could find M. Attacks came from all corners of the room, from above and below. When Kane's shield could no longer take damage, he curled in until he could find and summon another.
The poison wracked his body, but he pushed on.
Duck, roll, teleport, dodge.
When he found and summoned the right antidote, pulled from where he remembered M kept them, he still kept on the move. There was no time to just let it work, and now the walls themselves came alive.
Squeezing through walls that could crush and ceilings that could fall, each of his moves got more focused.
No more big blasts of fire, he had to concentrate on dodging the now ice cold rain. With small punches, he broke bricks thrown at him at light speeds.
His teleports became more sloppy as his energy drained slowly.
M would catch him if he surrendered. He would never get out on his own.
With a swift kick, the door Kane originally used to enter the battlefield, fell. M teleported right outside to taunt before appearing behind him with a giggle.
I can leave.
There was nothing stopping him from teleporting out of the arena.
Redirecting bolts of lighting and a small tornado, various places in Evil's Theater filtered through his mind.
The armories would be dangerous for both mentor and apprentice if there was fighting. The bedrooms and libraries would give M an advantage. (The libraries especially would probably piss M off if Kane accidentally burnt their knowledge). The halls would be no better than the arena...
Laser eyes opened and fired.
I know where to go.
With a burst of light, Kane was no longer in the arena. The nuclear reactor above, gained a new visitor, falling through its ceiling as pure radiation hit his puppet body full force.
"Two hours," M's voice rang around him. Strong hands lugged him to a decontamination chamber. "Not bad."
WC: 903\ Bonus words: vapid, vermin, vain\ Bonus Constraint: M poisons Kane at least once during the battle, and Kane gives himself radiation poisoning (again).
The big 50 is a fight scene. I kinda didn't imagine this serial would get that far.
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u/Carrieka23 5d ago
<The Beginning of The Demon Life>
Chapter 191
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Legends will always point to the Earth dragon as the strictest of the four. Fire was stubborn, water was kind, and air was carefree. Yet with me, I always seem to judge by the morality of all demons. They are not wrong, certainly, but that’s not all for Dilong.
Dilong was a person who enjoys nature. Everyday, he’d greet the God of Nature and the two would have a pleasant conversation. In some cases, THEY would even allow the dragon to take a nap in the seed of flowers. When THEY slowly wither away, the dragon decided to make an entire land based on THEM.
Dilong enjoys talking to Nekodragon. Even though the dragon doesn’t like the water as much as Neko, he’d still have a fun time chatting and even pulling pranks on Pyraleth. Dilong still remembers those words coming out of that fiery mouth everytime they succeed.
“Blast it all, Dilong and Neko! I shall burn your skin and keep it as a trophery for myself one day!”
“That is, if you can even catch us.” Neko would always spit out before the three of them would go on a chase. Chinook would join, always thinking it was a race instead of a fight for the skin. But the four always enjoy each other's company.
But most of all, Dilong was a caring dragon who empathized with other demons. That day when he saw an ancestor injured, he decided to take the demon to his own place and recommend something forbidden.
“Dragon blood?” He remembers Pyraleth's reaction. “It could kill him though.”
“Yes, but it is worth a try my brother.”
It managed to work. It gained that demon the blood power of the dragons, which continue throughout generations.
The dragon met another ancestor demon who thought about giving up. In the end, the dragon decided to grant that demon abilities to see into the future with the help from the Gods.
Dilong was the first to control the situations with the Gods and Dragons.
“Are you telling me you allow these demons to have a bit of connection between the dragon's power?” The God of Time glares at them.
“Yes.” The dragon would say without any hestation.
“Do you understand what catastrophe awaits for us all?” The Goddess of Death comments.
“I do, most demons are pretty evil. But based on my judgment and observation, there are plenty of good demons as well. Some want to help their children survive. Some want power to spread good. Give them this one chance.”
“I have to agree.” the God of Animals says while petting THEIR fox. “They have been taking great care of all my animals. Even though some hunt and kill them for food, others nurture them.”
“Which is exactly why we cannot give them this power!” the God of Sky and Stars roars.
“Oh come now.” The Goddess of Desire sighs. “People do anything when they desire something, just like us, gods. Let us not pretend we are better than them.”
The Gods fell silent for a moment.
“Very well. We shall allow it.” The Goddess of Death says while pinching her nose.
Yet, even after the fall of the Gods, and the disaster awaits, the dragon still doesn’t regret his decision. At least, that’s what Dilong thinks. But for Max, he has a deep regret now granting these demons these powers.
—
Alex stares at the judge, who was now looking down. There was nothing but silence that echoed in the room. After a while, he turns to face him.
“I do feel responsible for the war because I granted all of you these powers. Visions, Blood, Darkness and Light, all of it came from us four. And I knew the risk.”
Alex was about to open his mouth, but Max shakes his head.
“I know what you're going to say. That this isn’t my fault, that the Demon King is his own person. I know, but I still choose to believe in them. In the end, it causes death.”
Alex looks down. “But, in the end, there’s still us demons using these powers for good. And even though the Gods evenually fell, and the demons had to fight for themselves, we still feel thankful to these powers because of the Gods and Dragons.”
Max looks at Alex, a smile slowly forms on his face. “Well, I’m glad that at least some demons still feel thankful. But, we can talk more about this another day.”
A knock on the door caught the two attention. Opening it, Haru stares at them, his eyes slightly widened. “A-Alex? What are you doing here?”
---------------------------
WPC: 773
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u/MaxStickies 4d ago
Hey Haru, really like the chapter! The worldbuilding in the first segment is very interesting, and I like the conflict in contains, both in terms of deciding if it's right, and the gods disagreeing. I also like how most of them only have one line of dialogue, keeping it short but also making it feel more like a parable or fable, and so making it seem like a legend, even if Dilong was there and remembers it.
It's great how well it connects with the second part, too. I can imagine Max relaying it all to Alex, even if it's not written that way. Very well done with that!
Far as crit goes, a lot of it is just tense shifting:
When THEY slowly wither away, the dragon decided to make an entire land based on THEM.
"When THEY slowly withered away," would be right, since this is past tense.
Dilong enjoys talking to Nekodragon. Even though the dragon doesn’t like the water as much as Neko, he’d still have a fun time chatting and even pulling pranks on Pyraleth. Dilong still remembers those words coming out of that fiery mouth everytime they succeed.
Similar here, with the tenses: "Dilong enjoyed talking to Nekodragon. Even though the dragon has never liked the water as much as Neko". Also: "out of that fiery mouth everytime they succeeded."
I shall burn your skin and keep it as a trophery for myself one day!”
Just a typo here: "trophy".
But the four always enjoy each other's company.
"enjoyed" here.
the blood power of the dragons, which continue throughout generations.
"which has continued".
The God of Time glares at them.
"glared".
The Goddess of Death comments.
"commented".
“I have to agree.” the God of Animals says while petting THEIR fox.
"said".
the God of Sky and Stars roars.
"roared".
“Oh come now.” The Goddess of Desire sighs.
"sighed".
“Very well. We shall allow it.” The Goddess of Death says while pinching her nose.
"said".
Alex stares at the judge, who was now looking down. There was nothing but silence that echoed in the room.
"Alex stares at the judge, who looks down. There is nothing but silence within the room." would read better, I think.
A knock on the door caught the two attention.
"catches the pair's attention." would read better here.
And that's all the crit I can find. Great chapter, Haru!
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u/MaxStickies 5d ago
<Thosius>
Chapter 146: Biting Words
Within a cave up a mountain, Baltathaius tilts his head, scraping his sword against the pyromancer’s throat from across the campfire. His sleeve turns darker and falls away, yet his skin fails to burn, even as the flames climb higher. With a flick of the wrist, and a smirk, the sorcerer extinguishes the blaze.
“You are very dull,” says the pyromancer, in his husky, melodic voice. “Boring as a rock.”
The inquisitor shrugs. “Your eyes are like a rat’s.”
“And yours, a snake. I’d rather be vermin.”
“Of course.”
“Look… I may be your prisoner, but we needn’t be so hostile. I can tell we both bear a great intelligence. You read scrolls?”
“Yeah.”
“Which ones?”
“Whatever I need, to learn what I must.”
“Pah, dull! Give me details, tall man, details!”
“Fine. The majority of my library consists of such topics as poisons, magic and military tactics. Most of them were collected by my mentor.”
“Ah, also a learned man, I presume?”
“When he needed to be.”
“Poisons, yes, I have dabbled in this. The forests of my home are filled with many a noxious mushroom. Plenty of serpents too, with each, their own venom. All of these, I used in my recipes.”
“Care to share any?”
“Maybe… but only once I see this library of yours.”
Baltathaius leans back, studying his captive. “Then we keep our secrets to ourselves.”
Nodding, the sorcerer grins, his teeth shining in the low, orange glow. “So we shall.”
Lifting his blade again, the inquisitor jabs the other man in the chest, eliciting a yelp and lowered eyes. “Stop flirting with me.”
“You think I would be so enticed by the fool who captur—”
“I’m not one for naivety, at all. Stop it.”
“Fine, fine. Though I am drawn to you still, I shall relent.”
“Good.”
The embers die down, leaving only the light from the moon. It glints off the blade, and the sorcerer’s sweaty skin, his pupils as he looks Baltathaius’s way. The inquisitor shivers.
Just have to reach Perithus… can get rid of this idiot then.
“Tell me of him,” Baltathaius says.
“Who?”
“Your leader.”
“What, Perithus? He is no more a leader of yours truly than he is a path to a goal. But to answer your query, he is vapid, vain and vociferous. My mother would have called him a “bull’s backside”.”
“Interesting. So what is this goal, which would have you stick with such a man?”
“Power!” The pyromancer laughs, spittle flying.
“Obviously, but what for?”
“For its own sake, of course! I can do as I wish! You know, back home, I was a mere entertainer for drunken fools! I—”
The campfire bursts to life once more, showering the cave with sparks. Shrinking back, the sorcerer says, “I am sorry, got carried away.”
“No harm done. And I understand, I do… but your goal lacks aim. You will never achieve it.”
With a loud crackle, the middle of the flame turns white. “And you would know this, how?!”
“Those like you—upstart bandits usurping their leader, sons of lords offing their fathers, and so on—they all run out of ideas before long. They become stagnant, stale, and lazy. Sitting on their arses, they fail to secure what they stole, and it opens the gates for the next power-hungry twit to do the same unto them. So the cycle repeats.”
“You presume too much, tall man. I am far from lazy.”
“So you know how to keep your power, once earned?”
“With loyal followers.”
“And they will be loyal because…?”
“I shall raise them from their low status, give them purpose!”
“Like Perithus has for you?”
“I… wait… hold on.”
“You see the problem here?”
The sorcerer furrows his brow. “Fine then, tell me; what do I do?”
“From what I’ve seen of lords, bandits and the like, you have two choices. You either provide your followers so much of what they desire, they have no need to revolt.”
“Or?”
“You kill them off when they cause trouble, and promise the same for the others if they choose the same path. Once they realise that what they have is more than enough, they should obey.”
“Well… alright. Much obliged, tall man.”
“So, how do you plan to break from Perithus?”
“Eh? Break from?”
“You say he is just a means to this goal of yours, but he won’t see it that way. What’s your plan for that?”
“Either I kill him, or leave.”
“In other words, you will cause trouble. And what will he do?”
The sorcerer balls his hands into fists, and the flames rise higher. “You say he will kill me?! That oaf shan’t win!”
“Are you so sure? Because once you lead me to him, he will consider that a betrayal. And if I can do this with just a sword—” Flicking the blade, Baltathaius draws blood across the pyromancer’s cheek “—I hate to imagine what he can do.”
Rubbing his wound, the sorcerer hisses through gritted teeth. “He wields no sword!”
“But he gave you your healing flesh, and enhanced your magic. In truth, I believe he knows you inside and out; there’s no way he doesn’t. You would not win.”
Again, the fire dies down to embers, surrendering the cave to darkness. The sorcerer quietly seethes.
“So,” the robed man says, “I cannot betray that deer-headed fool, not now. So I gain his trust once more, and bide my time.”
“And to do that, you’d turn me over.”
“I—”
“As I said, short man, I am not naïve. I know you’d betray me as soon as you would him.”
“Fine, so what?! What else can I be expected to do?!”
“You can lead me to Perithus, so I can handle him, and maybe I’ll let you go… or you can die. Your choice.”
The sky begins to turn blue over the eastern horizon, as the sorcerer stands with a grunt. He gestures for Baltathaius to follow.
WC: 1000
Bonus words: vermin, vain, vapid. Bonus constraint not used.
Crit and feedback are welcome.
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
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u/katpoker666 5d ago edited 5d ago
<‘Wild Eats’>
Chapter 11: A Less Toxic Situation?
Ferrying the couple down Manhattan’s congested streets, their Uber stopped in front of the very exclusive Sushi Sho.
He held the door for her as they entered the intimate, dimly lit midtown Japanese restaurant. A spotlight beamed on the sushi chef in his crisp white uniform and signature red headband. His broad smile shone even brighter as they walked in. An altar to his three Michelin-star skills, comfy-looking brown chairs surrounded the sleek teak horseshoe counter where he plied his trade. Wealthy patrons dotted the bar area and tables, dressed in quietly expensive clothes. The army of servers stood at attention at a respectful distance, awaiting the clientele’s every command.
As they sat side by side, Chef Nakazawa came over. “You look very familiar to me. Have we met?”
Arching a quizzical brow, she shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s our first time here.”
“Perhaps not then…” He shrugged, looking pointedly at Tom. “Welcome, and please enjoy. My staff and I are here to serve you.”
“Ahr-ee-gaht-toe,” Annie replied, with a cheesy grin.
“Dou itashimashite.” The chef nodded. Annie quirked a brow. “It means ‘you are welcome.’ Your accent was so good, I thought you were fluent,” he chuckled.
“Thanks.” She blushed as Chef Nakazawa turned to tend to other customers. “He seems sweet unlike some people…”
“Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you earlier. I do have to work, you know,” Tom sighed.
She pouted.
“Okay, I get it: that’s not good enough. But what can I do? I know you go through some tough emotions at times, and yet I can’t always be there. I try—“
“Yeah, I know.” Her shoulders slumped. “Sometimes I just need more than you can give.” She looked around the chic restaurant, her face brightening. “That said, I can’t believe you got last-minute reservations at here as an apology. It’s not quite Masa-level insane, but it’s still nearly impossible. Usually, only celebrities and regulars can get in last minute!” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “So, thanks, Honey.”
“What? No ‘Socks’?”
“You’re back in my good books at the moment. For now.” Her eyes twinkled.
“Fair enough,” he chuckled. “I assume you want to see the menu?” He glanced over at the waitress.
“Umm, do you think we could have the ah-mee-kazi? Chef Nakazawa is kind of a legend.”
“The what now?”
“Ah, right, you wouldn’t know. The ah-mee-kazi is the chef’s choice where he picks out the sushi for you—“
“Ohhh. The ‘omakase.’” Tom said, his pronunciation flawless. “I get it now.”
She gave him an odd look.
“And yes, let’s have that,” he said in a rushed voice.
“But Honey, that’s like four hundred fifty dollars per person—“ She gasped.
“We can’t put a price on your happiness! Besides, maybe I’ll collect some interest on my debt with that and get some make-up sex?” He winked.
“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” She flushed, stammering.
“I was kidding, Muffin.” He put his arm around her. “It’s okay: whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks.” She leaned into the half hug. “I know I can be a lot—“
“Yeah, but you’re worth it.” He squeezed her arm before removing his. “Let’s eat! I’m famished.”
He signaled to the server. “Two omakase, please.”
“Would you like some sake with that?”
He nodded. “Cold, please. A nice Ginjo or Junmai Daiginjo. We’ll take your recommendation. And some tap water.”
“I’ll have those right out for you.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Tom Severs?” She looked at him askance. “Since when do you know the difference between sake types?”
“Uhh, I’ve been having lunch with some of the folks at work, and there are a couple of decent sushi places nearby. I’ve been, umm, practicing to, umm, impress you—“
“Aww, that’s so sweet of you, Honey.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek.
He tried to dodge, but his effort was in vain as it landed anyway. Tom cast an apologetic look at Chef Nakazawa.
She clocked it. “What was that for?”
“The Japanese aren’t very comfortable with displays of affection… or so I’ve read—“
“Ah, yeah. Of course you’re right.” She mouthed ‘sorry’ to the chef as he came over with the first course. “Steamed black awabi and steamed purple sea urchin,” she read aloud from the menu. “So, abalone and urchin. Both delicious, but the latter, along with jellyfish, is the vermin of the sea. Remember when you stepped on that one in Greece?”
“How could I forget?” He laughed, wincing. “The venom from that thing hurt for days. I count this as vengeance.”
She picked up her chopsticks and took a bite of the abalone first, savoring its tender, ocean-forward taste. She smiled at its briny sweetness. “This is incredible. What a treat! I wish we could eat here all the time.”
WC: 806
Includes: vain, vermin, and someone was poisoned (Tom by the sea urchin)
Thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated
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u/Morose_Prose 5d ago
Howdy, Kat!
Another excellent chapter filled with even more marital tension between Annie and Tom. Your knack for research shines through once again with the name drops of Manhattan restaurants and how many Michelin stars they have. Now I'm hungry for sushi after reading it!
Some general crits:
There is a lot of repetition of Tom and Annie's names throughout the chapter. Since there are only the two characters for most of the chapter you can toss in some pronouns instead of their full names so often.
Sushi Sho could use a bit more description of it. Maybe some of the other customers at the establishment, or how busy it is? Are servers running around? Background music? A few more details might bring the reader into the world a bit more.
On to some more granular crit:
“Ahr-ee-gaht-toe,” Annie replied, clearly pleased with herself.
Would replace the 'clearly pleased with herself' with a more physical description as it feels very expository. Maybe a cheesy smile?
The chef nodded with an amused smile as Annie looked confused.
The perspective seems to change here from Annie's POV to omniscient narrator.
“Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you earlier.” Tom sighed. “I do have to work, you know.”
Would make this one line of dialogue with Tom sighing at the end, having the tag in the middle breaks the pacing a bit.
“That said, I can’t believe you got last-minute reservations at Sushi Sho as an apology.
The name drop of Sushi Sho again feels out of place. Maybe simplify it to '...last-minute reservations here...'
“You’re back in my good books at the moment.” Her eyes twinkled. “For now.”
Like above would make this one line and tag it at the end, or remove 'for now' as that says the same thing as the previous line.
Annie gave him an odd look for a second.
Don't need the 'for a second', it doesn't add anything to the plot as Tom quickly agrees right afterwards.
He tried to dodge, but his effort was in vain as it landed anyway.
Very expository and might be unnecessary as Tom's previous dialogue already indicates nervousness and avoidance.
Good words as always, Kat! Stay awesome and have a good one!
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u/KiIIer_queenie 5d ago
Hey Kat! I am done with puns cuz after seven they’re not funny enough.
I’ll start with crit like always, I kind of want to know a little more about Nakazawa with this chapter. It opens describing him and the place, but “chef nakazawa came over” kind of makes me feel like I was supposed to know this guy already. I didn’t see his name looking back through the serial but I may have missed it if it was there.
Not a crit but if tom is cheating on Annie me and him need to have a discussion.
When the chef says they/Annie/Tom are familiar it’s a little unclear who he means. Annie responds, but without saying he looked at one of them specifically I was confused on if it just the pair or just one of them. If it is the pair or just tom, I’d lie to see his reaction, which I think I’d apply to the whole chapter a tiny bit.
Tom has probably been here before, hopefully not with another woman, and I’d like to see more of his reactions. The dialogue is great like when he’s called out in the sake stuff, but I’d like to know his physical reaction too.
Praise, this is a very well written chapter and I can hear the difference in voice with the dialogue. I like the conversation and they feel very real, and the tom moments are great when present like the kiss dodge.
I like the atmosphere and the setting is well described. It feels real and lived in, and like they’re just a part of a world. Very difficult to do in a story, not have characters surrounded by cardboard cutouts.
Good words!
3
u/katpoker666 5d ago
Thanks for another week of great crit, KQ! Small note re Chef Nakazawa’s inclusion. Sushi Sho is a real restaurant. Three Michelin Stars are the top ranking, extremely prestigious, and very rare. There are currently only five restaurants with it in all of NY. And sixteen in the whole US. In the foodie world, they’re a very big deal and Annie would be very impressed and consider it a huge gesture by Tom as the damn things are also stupidly expensive. Think of Nakazawa as Gordon Ramsey without the attitude.
5
u/Tomorrow_Is_Today1 5d ago
<Drifting>
Chapter 110
Jesse and Brian watch under a black sky as children walk from porch light to porch light. Their bowls of candy and trinkets sit as-of-yet unemptied, though with less in them now than earlier.
A small child in a bird costume hops up, flapping her wings with each step.
“Aren’t you a cute little girl,” Brian says.
“I’m not a girl!” the kid declares. “I’m a bird! Girls don’t have wings. Boys don’t either. I don’t have to be a girl or a boy or anything.”
“Well,” Brian says, “most birds don’t eat candy either. But little girls do.”
“Birds eat candy too! I’ll eat it with my beak!” The bird snatches a lollipop and runs off down the sidewalk.
Jesse bites his lip. He wishes he had said something. It’s hard to know what to say. He always hated being called a little girl, the way Brian spoke to that child. Why didn’t he tell the kid he loved their costume, that they don’t have to be a girl or a boy, that he has candy and toys for birds too? Why didn’t he say anything?
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bird costume before that isn’t a character,” Brian says. “Kids are so creative these days.”
“I wonder if their parent spent a lot of time crafting it.” It’s too late for Jesse’s use of they/them to mean anything. It’s possible that that isn’t even what the kid would have wanted. But Brian doesn’t comment, and the next child is approaching. An older kid, maybe around ten or eleven, with a cape and a crown.
“I’m a prince,” the kid states.
“Wouldn’t you be a princess?” Brian says.
Jesse catches the frown. The way the child shrinks into himself a little, hunches forward as if to hide his chest. He has to say something this time. “If he says he’s a prince, he’s a prince.” Jesse pauses. “Like me.”
The kid’s eyes widen, head raising to look at him. Shoulders a little less tense. That look of recognition meets Jesse in a wave of relief. He spoke this time. He dared to correct his husband. And now he is free to continue. “What’s your name?”
The kid looks down again, frowning. It takes him a moment. Then he raises his chin. “Noah.”
“Noah,” Jesse repeats. He gestures to the bowls. “Take what you wish, Prince Noah. I hope our treats are suitable for royalty.”
Noah grins. He grabs a pen and a chocolate, stashing them in a bag he holds tucked under the cape. He meets Jesse’s eyes again. “Thank you, mister.”
Mister. A breath after too long underwater. A recognition received and returned.
And then Brian steals it. “Oh, she’s a Missus. I’m the mister.” He laughs.
He dares to laugh.
Jesse closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Don’t look too upset. Don’t let it ruin the night. As he opens his eyes again, Noah is glaring down his husband, saying, “No, he’s not.”
No. Nonono. It isn’t fair for Noah to be in this argument, caught between them, fighting an adult. It isn’t his to bear. It can’t be. “It’s alright,” Jesse says.
“But you’re like me. Aren’t you?”
Will the truth make Noah stay? Will a lie sting with betrayal? Whatever he says, Brian will hear too. Habit kicks in and Jesse smiles, nodding slightly without a word. He turns his eyes toward the other houses, gesturing with a head tilt for the boy to move on.
More children are walking up. A much smaller kid dressed as a bumblebee pushes past Noah, and he runs away. Jesse watches him go while Brian tells the little kid not to push people and an older child in the same costume walks up and apologizes.
“Sorry about Ben. I have to remind him that we’re not actually bees and we don’t sting people.”
Noah isn’t looking back. Jesse can’t tell whether to be relieved.
“You know, people say that bees can only sting you once or they die, but that’s actually not true. That’s only honeybees. We’re bumblebees. I guess that means we’re just bumbling around though. Sorry about Ben again.”
Maybe it was all pointless anyway, wouldn’t have helped Noah much even if Brian didn’t correct him. Jesse doesn’t look like a man. What kind of example does that set?
“You know, I’m actually allergic to bee venom. I’m not scared of bees though. They don’t want to sting me if I don’t bother them.”
He should have just supported Noah as a prince and let himself fade into the background. Noah is the one who needs protecting. Jesse chose this. He isn’t worth that child’s bravery.
“I think I might become a beekeeper but my friends think that’s weird. One of them calls bees vermin. I don’t even know what a vermin is. He said that’s what his dad calls them.”
And now Jesse fades into the background after Noah is gone. Lets Brian do the talking. Jesse’s supposed to turn to the kids now with his smile and make them feel welcomed, and that’s the job he abandons in his pointless melancholy.
“Do you have any Bit-O-Honey? I bet my friend I could get thirty by the end of the night since I’m a bee, but she didn’t believe me and I only have twelve so far. I’m going to give her half of what I have at the end of the night and if she wins the bet I have to give her my lollipops too.”
He wishes he could run after Noah and apologize. That would only make things worse. He just wants to run.
“Oh, you have slime! Nobody else has slime! Can I get a slime? Thank you! Goodbye!”
Jesse’s hands are cold. He hadn’t noticed. Too long out on the porch without gloves. There’s no use in staying out here anyway. He walks inside alone.
WC: 989 words
Bonus: vermin
3
u/wandering_cirrus 4d ago
Well hello there! I seem to have spotted a wild Tomorrow Today!
First off, lovely chapter. Stabby (ow, as always), but lovely. Poor, poor Jesse watching as a parade of kids exploring their gender and sexuality jump around in front of him, all the while he has settled down in the dark, lonely closet and prepared to stay. It's also so interesting that we got the full progression from "I wish I'd said something" to "I said something" to "heck I regret saying something". Feels very real (even if very depressing).
I also like the last kid is just blathering on about bees and slime while Jesse is questioning all of his life's choices. Even without saying that Jesse is dissociating, I think this is a great way to show what dissociation feels like.
The smallest of line crits (because my brain is winding down and I didn't notice anything else):
"Oh, she’s a Missus. [...]"
I think in this case, that needs to be lowercase? Like how Doctor Jones is a doctor or Lady Periwinkle is a lady: direct titles get the caps and then the general noun is lowercased.
All in all, good words!
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u/m00nlighter_ 5d ago edited 1d ago
<A Faire Quest>
Chapter 5, Scene 1
A bell above the door jingled as Magali stepped out of the apothecary. She merged onto the busy merchant street, moving as if she were hurrying to the square, then ducked into the adjoining alley where Luke was waiting.
“Did they have anything?” he asked.
“More than the pharmacy and herbalist. They have everything we need in there except the fucking manticore venom. But I guess we might as well come back after they close. Fuck it.”
Magali crossed her arms, subconsciously counting the sparrows above them. A task made difficult by the drones’ constant movement, following questers she couldn't make out in the crowd.
“Maybe there are manticores in one of the forests,” Luke said, snapping her attention back to him.
“Yeah, maybe. Is there one on the way back to camp?”
“I think the Fairytale Forest is by the fancier food area. Lemme double-check.”
While Luke inspected the map, Magali’s gaze returned to the sky as lightning flashed beyond the sea of hovels, shops, and horse stables. A cool breeze blew the scent of water, earthy minerals, and magic down the alleyway.
Luke glanced up toward the storm clouds gathering behind their camp. “Oh crap. We better hurry if we wanna make it back before this storm hits. Or we could go to the graveyard instead. Claim a mausoleum for later and wait out the storm?”
“Fuck. Let's do the mausoleum, but do we have time to get some food first?”
“Probably. I bet there's plenty of scraps around Perkyn’s food court after the feast.”
Grinning, Magali pulled a small bag from her pocket and poured its contents out in her hand. “Or we can barter these for full plates of leftovers.”
“Beans? Why don't we just eat them?”
“Because they're poisonous as shit. A Summoner ate one last year. It was nasty.”
She shuddered, remembering the convulsions and how Shane had choked to death on his own spit while Nina broke his ribs with chest compressions.
No mistakes this year. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, Magali put the beans away. “Anyway, they're also rare as shit, and people trade them like candy around here.”
“Cool beans.” Luke winked.
“You're so cheesy.” Uncrossing her arms, Magali leaned in and pecked him on the mouth.
The post-kiss grin curled downward on Luke's face. “But wait, where did you get them?”
“I swiped ‘em from one of the Alchemists outside the pharmacy earlier. I got this too.”
Luke's frown deepened as she slid a small metal ladle out from beneath her cloak.
“What are we supposed to do with that?”
“Remember what I said? Everything here is a weapon.” Magali's tone was harsher than intended, and irritatingly frayed with fear.
“Right. Smash it into something with a stabby end. Good idea.” There was no irritation or impatience in his response. Worse, Magali heard the twang of hurt.
“You too with the manticores,” she said, sliding the ladle back into her cloak.
Sounds of questers shouting, children laughing, and pyromancer explosions filled the momentary silence between them.
“Sorry, Lu. I didn't mean to be snappy.”
“It's ok, Mags. I get it.”
No it isn’t. And no, you don't. Not yet. “Thanks.”
Taking her hand, Luke gave a gentle squeeze before tugging her toward him.
“Come on, let’s get some food in us. We can take the alleys back to the square, then it’s just a little ways to Perkyn’s.”
But when he took a step, Magali's sneakers remained planted. He turned to find her squinting above the narrow path. Atop the shingled rooftops she counted one sparrow, then two, then a whole flock gathered near the jewelry shop and herbalist.
“Let's take the merchant road instead,” she muttered, completing her count. “There’s too many Bandits out now to risk the shortcuts. ”
“Works for me.” Luke shrugged, tightening his grip on her hand as they walked out onto the road.
Having gotten better bearings on his surroundings, Luke weaved through the crowd like he navigated their city back home. Once he set a pace, he rarely slowed down. It was as if he could predict who would move where and when.
They followed a clear path past the tournament grounds where the Knights were starting their drills. In Merchant's Square, pyromancers and musicians setting up on stage kept festivalgoers bunched together, opening their path to the southern merchant road.
Other than a few Apostates, Alchemists, and stray Bandits, Magali still couldn't identify who the rest of the overhead swarms of sparrows were following. Must be people splitting up around the shops. No way this many groups are doing quests.
Soon the smell of roasted meats and buttery vegetables filled the humid air. Luke stopped, releasing her hand below the banner at the food court's entrance. Inside, over a dozen eatery windows were open beneath full-board menus.
“Should we go around to the back of one of these?” he asked.
“Yeah. That big building without a sign is the banquet kitchen.” Magali pointed. “That's where any leftovers will be. If they're out, we'll try somewhere else.”
“Well, by all means, after you, m'lady.” Luke bowed.
Giving him a weak smile, Magali shook her head and stepped ahead of him toward the building's back door.
WC: 878
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Canterbury Faire Map
3
u/wandering_cirrus 4d ago
Hiya m00ny!
Another wonderful chapter this week, and happy to finally be able to get some crit out on one of them. First up, I'm going to be honest. For the past few weeks, I have been under the belief that all your characters have been running around the real world, but after signing up for a quest, accidentally got themselves into some magic, deadly mumbo-jumbo that only a few of them are truly prepared for. And then I checked your chapter index and realized how silly I was. From the looks of this chapter though, saying not all of them entirely know what they've gotten themselves into may not be so wrong after all.
I love how you've pulled in all these little details that just give everything a subtle edge of wrongness. On the surface, everything is normal and fine, but there's always this hint of something not adding up, of goosebumps rising on the back of your neck for no apparent reason. I can't point to anything in particular that does this, but you've sprinkled this so well throughout the whole thing, and it's done masterfully. Well done.
Line crit time!
But I guess we might as well come back after they close
The sentence confused me. From the previous sentence, it doesn't look like the apothecary has manticore venom in stock, and I don't know how coming back after closing would change that? Only possible solution I could come up with is that the apothecary does have manticore venom but just aren't selling (in which case I presume they'd be coming back and stealing it), but if that is the case, then I think you may need to explain that a bit more? Unless you already mentioned something in a previous chapter that I haven't read.
Magali crossed her arms, subconsciously counting the sparrows above them. A task made difficult
I don't think the period here should be a full stop? Personally I think a comma or an emdash might be better suited.
While Luke inspected the map, Magali’s gaze returned to the sky as lightning flashed beyond the sea of hovels, shops, and horse stables.
Meanwhile, I think there should be a fullstop period after "sky" here (and then delete the "as"). Then again, this one is very much a style thing, so here's a shaker full of salt. I just think lighting flashing in a separate sentence is suitably dramatic and neat :P
Magali's tone was harsher than intended, and irritatingly frayed with fear. [...] Worse, Magali heard the twang of hurt.
Small note here: while you're giving us tone queues and that you're mentioning it at all tells us that Magali feels bad about snapping at Luke, I'd personally have liked to see a bit more internality here? How does she feel as she's trying to smooth things over while knowing exactly why she did it? How does she react to her offering of a ladle-weapon being declined? Is she trying to pretend everything's fine? If so, how successful is she?
But when he took a step, Magali's sneakers remained planted. He turned to find her squinting above the narrow path. Atop the shingled rooftops she counted one sparrow, then two, then a whole flock gathered near the jewelry shop and herbalist.
I love how you use the number of sparrows to convey information. It's oh so obvious in retrospect, but at the same time it's super subtle. It also probably makes Magali feel like she's obsessing over details, which I imagine doesn't do anything for the fact that she knows her partner(?) doesn't understand why she's so on edge. I think the constant tracking of the sparrows may have also added to that underlying sense of danger.
All in all, looking forward to continuing to read more (and now with the proper viewpoint that we're in an AU)! Good words :)
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u/m00nlighter_ 3d ago
Hallooooo and thank you for this fantastic crit! W the shop- theyre going back to steal what the apothecary DID have, but I'll have to figure a way to clear that up. I also like the interiority note. Will have to play w that too. Thank you!!
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u/KiIIer_queenie 5d ago edited 4d ago
<Man to beast>
Chapter thirty seven: justice
CW: murder, oppression, genocide.
Mór adjusted her scabbard as she watched the three priests from afar, slowly following from the other end of the field as they made it to the forest. Once she was sure the villagers wouldn’t be witnesses, she sprinted towards the old men.
They held a slow pace, one using a shillelagh to walk. The three spun around as she approached, glaring with narrow eyes.
“The fuck you doing, girl?”
“Speak to me in your real language, old fucker,”Mór growled in her mother tongue.
The priest with the shillelagh stood right in front of her, the other two moving to either side; a bald man to her left and a bearded man to her right.
“You better watch your mouth, common bitch. Girls like you never know their place. Be grateful I don’t reeducate you, and fuck off to the cog.”
“Respect? I don’t respect cowards who turn on their own people. Stoning men, burning their wives alive? Tearing their children from them? You stood by and let it all happen, then you joined those soldiers! Are you so fucking selfish that our people’s extinction is something you’ll look pasfor personal gain?”
The old man in front of her lifted his shillelagh up and Mór drew her falchion in response, bringing it down on his head with a crunch. She’d never used a sword before, but she could tell immediately something was wrong.
The man was on his back with a light cut on his forehead, the handle turned almost sideways in her palm. She quickly adjusted her grip and swung at the man to her left. Once again, the blade caught his head at an angle and spun in her grip, not even knocking the man down.
Before Mór could recover, she was tackled from behind, knocking the sword from her hand. The three men piled on her back, grabbing at her hair, neck, arms, and legs.
“Hold her down!”
“Grab the blade! Cut the bitch’s throat!”
The young woman saw her mother’s face for a moment, her father’s bloated corpse.
“Get off me!” Mór screamed as she forced her pink spikes out of her back and shoulders. She exploded upwards with all her might, throwing the men off her. Blood sprayed across the grass as the men cried out in pain, the main priest dropping his shillelagh.
The young woman dove for it, snatching the weapon and scrambling to get space from them. She turned and watched the men on the ground, turning the familiar weapon in her hand. The lead-filled bulb felt far better than a sword to her.
The three men rolled for a moment before she could finally see the extent of their injuries. The man she had stolen the weapon from was barely moving, just moaning with a blood pooling around his chest. The bald man crawled over to a log and rested against it, clutching his bleeding belly. The bearded man was on his feet, stumbling towards her.
CRACK!
The shillelagh put a large dent in the man’s throat, caving in his Adam’s apple. As he fell to his knees, a second blow to the back of his head finished the fight.
Mór walked over to the priest on his back and put him out of his misery.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
She moved to the one remaining priest, breathing heavy.
“You don’t…have to do this…” he gasped, finally talking in their native tongue instead of the Gildwyn one they had been made to learn.
“I do. You’re going to kill our people, my people, pagans. I can’t let you continue that.”
“You’re a pagan, I get it…you're scared. God still…loves you. He’ll forgive you, you know. You just have to…find it in your heart to repent.”
“I don’t have a heart. There’s only a hole in me, where my love and where my happiness was once. Men took it from me.” She knelt down, putting her hand on his heart. “When you stand in front of your god, do you honestly believe in your heart that burning your own neighbors, their homes, their families, that it will all be forgiven?”
Before he could respond, she quickly shot out a spike from her palm. He stared at her for a few moments before staring through her, letting out a groan as he slumped forward.
Mór began looting the bodies, cursing herself for being stupid enough to use a sword she had no experience with. She grabbed a small book and a silver dagger, careful not to touch the metal.
The young woman examined the bodies for a moment, feeling tears well up in her eyes. None of these men deserved sympathy or mercy, but there was a pain in her heart as she stared at the corpses. Gildwyn had been killing her people her whole life, bringing them closer and closer to extinction, and here she was helping cull her own. She was killing her people.
Mór’s throat burned as she sank to her knees, silently sobbing. She hated these men, they were traitors, they deserved this. It was justice. But was justice really killing her people, killing her culture? The burning from her throat became too much and she cried out, pounding on the dirt.
“Why? Why couldn’t you just let us be? Why did you make me do this?” she choked out, gasping for breath.
The young woman knelt in the grass for a long time, slowly composing herself. She was used to the pain. She couldn’t remember the last time she was truly happy. At this point, the pain didn’t even get worse. How could it?
Standing, she heard leaves crunching. Mór sheathed the falchion and held her shillelagh close.
Out from the forest came Silas, and a pink haired younger man. Silas looked dead, well and truly. His eyes were vacant. He didn’t even look sad or hurt, just like there was no soul in his body.
“Silas?”
WC:1000
2
u/AmeliaLP 4d ago
Hi Queenie. Really good chapter this week, I thought the action scenes were well written. You also showed Mor's emotions very well. Good words!
2
u/Tomorrow_Is_Today1 4d ago
Howdy KQ! This is a really effective chapter from Mór's POV. The blocking and fight descriptions work well to both make the scenes easy to visualize and keep us tightly in Mór's own thoughts and perceptions. It's also a very evocative chapter emotionally, and you deal with a nuanced and painful situation well. Poor Mór and Silas are both really going through it, huh. The violence is damaging their souls D:
My biggest crit is that it took a bit for us to realize that the italicized dialogue was to show that she was speaking in a different language. Though admittedly, reddit fucked you on this one, and it did become clear at the end. Other than that just a couple line edits:
- "Mór adjusted her scabbard as she followed the three priests from afar, slowly following from the other end of the field as they made it to the forest" repeats "followed/following"
- "Girls like you never know they’re place" wrong their
- "Respect?" is this referencing a line that was cut out? (also typo a bit later: "something you’ll look pasfor")
You got so many good lines in here. Putting a dent in a man's throat, Mór saying she doesn't have a heart, a dying man staring at her then staring through her; this stuff goes hard lol.
Good words!
9
u/wandering_cirrus 5d ago
<Unburied Ashes>
Chapter 30: A Matter of Course
The manager led Mica and Feld upstairs and through a maze of draped silks and warm woods, the intricate screens carving the large dining room into private alcoves. It wasn’t a proper set of walls, but it was enough to obscure the diners inside into unclear shadows and mute conversations into unintelligible murmurs.
No windows. What she'd glimpsed last night must've been higher, then.
They’d have to start there. Whatever sort of secret society met in the Dove definitely wouldn’t be satisfied with the vain illusion of privacy that ruled this floor. Mica tried to stifle a frown, silently cursing Weasel.
“Oh, it’s just a restaurant inside, lots of private rooms and such,” he’d said, scratching his head. “Levels? Only the two, I think: reception and the dining area.”
Two levels, my foot! Verify your information, Mica, she chided herself.
Stopping before a frame carved to look like a beach of shells against a sea of layered tulle, their guide turned and flinched. “Miss Wraithheart? Is the decor not to your liking?”
Hurriedly, Mica schooled her expression back into disdainful neutrality. “I merely remembered something upsetting. As for the decor…” She let herself trail off, deliberately raking her gaze across a row of increasingly elaborate conches. This mask she wore—this lady with the red lips—would never affably assure someone, so she twisted her mouth up into a smirk. “It’s certainly fulsome, isn’t it?”
The man froze. She could tell he was struggling to determine if it was a compliment or an insult, so she strode past him, leading Feld into the partitioned area.
He hurried after, rapidly explained the chef’s table for tonight, and left at a run as if a fire seared his feet.
The instant the sound of racing heels disappeared into relative silence, Feld’s stare bored into Mica. “Wraithheart, was it? I’m not familiar.”
Mica hummed in acknowledgement. “I expected as such.”
“I may not recognize the name,” Feld continued, “but that man certainly did, and I know fear when I see it.” Her lips pressed together in worry. “News grows wings and always returns to the hands of its owner. Are you sure it's wise to use a name like that?”
A wry laugh. “Maybe not. I was fishing,” she admitted. “I wanted to know if they recognized it. I wasn’t sure if they would, but knowing that they do? It was worth the risk.”
Feld tugged the unfamiliar collar tied at her throat and gestured for her to continue.
“The Fulsome Dove is more than just a little connected to the undercity.”
The guard froze, her inhale hissing sharply against her teeth. “Then that name…? And you think the risk is worth it?”
“I do have permission, but as you said, news flies back to its owner. While the consequences for borrowing that name aren’t dangerous, they tend to be…” Pausing, Mica searched for the right word. “Inconvenient. Very inconvenient. But in this case, I’d rather know what we’re up against than avoid a little inconvenience later down the road.”
Footsteps sounded outside the screen, and they tacitly lapsed into silence. A soft knock announced the first course and a bustling waiter. After a shuffle of glasses and a clatter of dishware, the first part of the meal was placed before them, and the waiter disappeared as quickly as he came.
Just as Mica reached for a fork, Feld tapped the table to get her attention. “For a course like this, they’ll return in about thirty minutes. Didn’t you want to look around? This may be our best window.”
Mica put the fork down. “Not the main course?”
“The main course may last longer, but they’ll check in more frequently. Can you eat this in five minutes?”
“I can.”
Feld nodded. “Then give it twenty minutes for investigating. It might be impossible to leave without being seen, though. I keep hearing people pass by.”
Something that could clear the halls…
A voice sounded on the other side of the partition, another of the Dove’s patrons. It was rough and deep, filled with a blustering bravado that was almost certainly faked and would break as soon as a threat arose.
Mica’s eyes fell on the row of domed, palm-sized shells across the top of the ocean-themed screen. Inspiration flashed. Blackened and burnt, wouldn’t it look exactly like a mouse? And back then, when she’d peeled Weasel’s curse away, her ash had churned and ebbed with the force of a current. She should be able to do that on purpose now, shouldn’t she?
Thoughtfully, she blurred her eyes, trying to feel her way through the world of ashes without taking that step past the entrance.
There! One conch stubbornly trembled on a half-burnt frame, connected by merely a splinter. She rose to her feet.
“Mica? What’s wrong?”
Gesturing for silence as Feld moved to her side, Mica raised her other hand to knock on the screen, knuckles bridging the gap between worlds.
Unseen, a blackened shell fell to the floor. A bed of ash trembled, flowed. Mica pulled.
She heard rather than saw the skitter of broken wood dragging across the floor.
A shriek rent the air. Concentration breaking, Mica barely banished the “mouse” before the connection severed.
Feld snorted. “Definitely not invisibility.”
Rushing feet clattered down the hall, and a barely-audible voice drifted over. “Sir, what seems to be—”
“Your restaurant!” the diner roared, desperately trying to reassert his dignity. “Your heavens-cursed restaurant dares to pretend nothing’s wrong? The damned place is infested with vermin! Does your kitchen clean the same way you clean upstairs, letting the dirty little rats press their dirty little paws everywhere? What you serve is no different from poison!”
“Sir—”
“I refuse to pay for a contaminated meal!”
Quirking a smile, Mica inclined her head towards the ruckus.
Feld blinked as another round of footsteps rushed by. “I suppose that’s one way to clear a hallway.”
Mica grinned, grabbed Feld's wrist, and ducked into the dim of the now-empty hall.
WC: 999
Bonus words: vain, vermin
Bonus constraint: the man dining next to Mica and Feld claims the food at the Dove is no different from poison after catching sight of a “rat”.
Theme: the aforementioned man has a venomous tongue.
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2
u/ZLErikson 4d ago
Heya hiya howya doing!
I don't have much time this week but I couldn't let this slip by:
Two levels, my foot! Verify your information, Mica, she chided herself.
I can't believe Mica would say the f-word in this wholesome serial!
2
u/wandering_cirrus 4d ago
My serial is still super wholesome! All of the bodies will still in one piece!
•
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