Prompt #1
Added 2024-08-11 18:40:59 +0000 UTCHer magic was depleted and the dark mage knew it.
“Give up. You’re finished. It’s over.”
Concentrated evil took the form of a shadowy dagger in his hand.
“Submit to me” he said through his smugness.
But the sorceress could only smile as she reached into her bag of holding.
“You’re right. It is over” she said as she pulled out a rubber chicken and shouted “By the Power of the Stone of - oh, what the hell?! Okay, who did this?”
And the crew all laughed as the director admitted he couldn’t help himself. It was a welcome break in a long day of shooting. [by NJ]
~~~
Her magic was depleted and the dark mage knew it.
“Give up. You’re finished. It’s over.”
Concentrated evil took the form of a shadowy dagger in his hand.
“Submit to me” he said through his smugness.
But the sorceress could only smile as she reached into her bag of holding.
“You’re right. It is over” she said as she pulled out her cell phone. “Diego got home early”
This was Bradley’s cue to also drop character and the power of collective imagination reverted the magical woods back into the public park where a threadbare LARPing event was taking place. Diego watched as 20% of the attendees that was Joanne rushed to her anachronistic Honda Civic in giddy anticipation. Sir Hunter of the Envied Axe came to strike a distracted foe but by the time he raised his weapon he was no longer Sir Hunter but Steven.
“Did you ask her?” Steven [not of the Envied Anything] asked.
“No. She ran off to some new guy.”
“That’s kinda her deal, man. You just have to ask her”
“Yeah, but… maybe later” Bradley muttered like a wounded bear cub.
“That’s what you said last time” said Steven of the Disappointed Tone.
“Yeah…”
And, thusly, Steven vanished and Sir Hunter struck down the meek little peasant before him. The Envied Axe kills again! “Live like a coward - die like a coward!” And off he rushed to find his one remaining foe [as he had already killed Jestriellia and thus only had one remaining target to choose from]. But Bradley only felt foam from a toy sword.
Poor Bradley. [by drR]
[next is Prompt #7]
Comments
[Please tell me some of you remember what I’m referencing] Her magic was depleted and the dark mage knew it. “Give up. You’re finished. It’s over.” Concentrated evil took the form of a shadowy dagger in his hand. “Submit to me” he said through his smugness. But the sorceress could only smile as she reached into her bag of holding. “You’re right. It is over” she said as she pulled out a fist sized metal sphere. She threw it to the ground and ran for cover (she knew the terror that was about to be unleashed). The dark mage laughed sneeringly as a flickering image began to appear from the orb, “What is this nonsense! It looks like a projection of a bad quality video from the early 2000s!” The sorceress smirked, the evil yet incompetent dark mage had clearly been a late YouTube adapter. Slowly but confidently an out of focus young man stepped out of the enchanted grainy footage. The kilted warrior fixed his eyes on the mage. He knew evil, and he knew how to defeat it. He nodded at the sorceress and strode towards the danger. The mage began to look uneasy, what wizardry was this? With a grim smile the warrior slowly lowered his hand to his own bag of holding. Shock flitted across the mage’s face but it was too late. “LIGHTENING BOLT! LIGHTENING BOLT! LIGHTENING BOLT! LIGHTENING BOLT!” It was done. The mage crumpled and the warrior nodded to the sorceress before his image faded back into the sphere. “May the gods always protect the beautiful nerdy LARPERs, for they are pure of heart and brave af,” the sorceress murmured, pocketing the weapon once again.
Andlikewaterlilies
2024-08-12 08:36:05 +0000 UTC[A little long, and a little rougher than I wanted because, ya know, life, and I reworked the prompt a little bit…but my offering for Prompt #1] Her magic was depleted and the dark mage knew it. “Give up. You’re finished. It’s over,” he sneered, a shadowy dagger forming in his hand, its blade humming with concentrated evil. “Submit to me,” he said commanded, his voice thick with arrogance. But the sorceress only smiled as she reached into her bag of holding, fingers brushing against something ancient, something that thrummed with a dark, familiar power. “You are right. It is over” she said, her voice carrying the weight of finality. From the depths of her bag, she pulled out a shard of inky black stone that seemed to pulsate with a dark light. It absorbed the light around them, plunging them and their surroundings into an eerie twilight. The dark mage’s eyes widened in recognition, his confidence wavering. “A shard of the Nightstone…y-you wouldn’t dare,” he hissed, fear beginning to coil in his stomach. “It is too powerful, it-it would consume you, twist you until you’re nothing more than a puppet to the darkness.” The sorceress merely looked at him, the shard resting in the palm of her hand. “The gods themselves broke the Nightstone for a reason,” he said. “They scattered its pieces across the realms to prevent anyone from harnessing its power. If you use it, you will be damned to eternal torment, your soul trapped and forever bound to the darkness.” The sorceress met his gaze, her eyes fathomless with an ancient wisdom. She knew exactly what she held: a shard of the shattered heart of an elder goddess, not just a source of power…but a piece of her true self. Ages ago, she had been The Unnamed Darkness, a being of shadow who maintained the delicate equilibrium of the cosmos with her siblings. But some of them, misunderstanding her purpose and fearing her power, had betrayed her, binding her power into a relic that they then scattered in fragments, condemning her to walk amongst mortals. They believed they had destroyed the source of darkness, but she had always known the truth. Darkness existed not because of her, but because it was a natural part of existence. Her role had never been to create it, but to control it, to keep the cosmic balance in check. With her defeat, that balance had been lost, and the unchecked darkness had begun to fester within mortals, taking on forms far more twisted and chaotic than anything she had ever intended. For millennia, she had lived amongst them, had seen the darkness grow, watched as her siblings’ fear had created chaos rather than peace. But she had resisted the pull of the Nightstone fragments, seeking to prove a point to her siblings—she was not the cause of darkness but the force that kept it in check. But now, standing before the dark mage, she realized that the world had fallen too far into shadow, and the balance was more off-kilter than ever before. If she did not act, the darkness would consume everything. “You are mistaken,” she said to the mage. “The Nightstone does not destroy—it restores.” Without hesitation, she plunged the shard into her chest. Dark energy spread through her veins like tendrils of shadow. The sorceress shuddered from the surge of power, the reconnection with her ancient self. Her eyes burned an obsidian black, a reflection of the cosmic void from which she had once drawn her strength. The shadows around her obeyed her command, twisting and writhing, extensions of her will. The dark mage stumbled back, the dagger trembling in his hand. “What have you done?” he whispered in awe and horror. The sorceress advanced on him with a cold, resolute smile. “I am the Nightstone,” she declared, her voice echoing with the resonance of eons. “I am the balance that you and the gods have forgotten.” With a flick of her wrist, the shadows surged forward, enveloping the dark mage. His scream was cut short as the darkness consumed him, his form disintegrating into nothingness. The shadows dissipated, and the sorceress stood alone, her chest heaving with the weight of her actions. The fragment of power she had absorbed had brought her closer to her true form. And now she faced a choice. To gather the remaining fragments of her power and reascend as the Nightstone, the Unnamed Darkness would mean confronting her siblings, reigniting their ancient conflict. Yet it was the only way to restore balance. Her siblings needed to understand that darkness was not their enemy, but a necessary part of the cosmos—just as she was.
libby (feral.libra)
2024-08-12 06:44:54 +0000 UTCUgh. The panic of not being good enough that turns into a weight on your chest that turns into an inability to move your limbs. Hate it. Vivid bb girl.
QQMegs
2024-08-12 03:44:30 +0000 UTCCW: Mental health Her magic was depleted and the dark mage knew it. “Give up. You’re finished. It’s over.” Concentrated evil took the form of a shadowy dagger in his hand. “Submit to me,” he said through his smugness. But the sorceress could only smile as she reached into her bag of holding. “You’re right. It is over,” she said as she pulled out two amber vials. Tucking the pouch back into her waistband, she rattled the contents in his direction, cursing his arrogance. The mage taunted her again, words of loathing and doubt shooting into her consciousness like arrows into soft, unprotected flesh. She felt her resolve start to flag, wondering if it was easier to just surrender to the mage's power, the sickly fog creeping in and clouding her mind while she fumbled with the containers. She needed both hands to crack the pale seals on the vials, while the mage continued to chant, his sinister words weaving a poison web. She wasn't good enough to fight, her powers were insufficient to protect even herself, she would never thrive. The mage wasn't wrong, the sorceress could barely muster her waning shreds of power to grip the bottles properly. Her head felt like it would split in two as she pressed her palm to the top of the vial, twisting off the cap and shaking free one of the pale tablets inside. She uncapped the other as darkness swept in and she could see the small disc fall into her palm. She roared at the top of her voice for him to cease, and the alkaline pills caught in her dry mouth when she forced herself to swallow them. His words stopped when her clutching fingers found her water. His dagger, gleaming and fierce, faded as the liquid trickled onto her tongue. The sorceress gulped it down like a magic elixir and the light crept back around her, taking the mage and the forest and his vitriol back to the dark. She could see five things. She could touch four. She could hear the water dripping, the hum of the air conditioner, and the train rumbling past her apartment. She could smell her shampoo and her neighbor's stir-fry, and taste the bitter trail her medication left on her tongue. It took a few moments to calm her galloping heartbeat, for her breath to regain some semblance of a normal rhythm. In her journal, she jotted down the latest manifestation of anxiety that haunted her dreams. The mage as self-doubt was new. The sorceress was familiar, but there were usually castles and dragons, not poisonous wizards. She double checked that her alarm was still set, she and her therapist were going to have a strong discussion about med levels, coping mechanisms, and stress management in the morning. (And maybe she should try a new genre of fiction. This new high fantasy series gave her wild dreams.)
Megan (mlgreads)
2024-08-12 03:37:14 +0000 UTC“Fucked like infinity was running out of hours.” Jesus Caro. 🥵 🙌🙌
QQMegs
2024-08-12 01:09:32 +0000 UTCA rubber chicken?! NJ you goddess. Poor Bradley indeed. Hopefully his alter has success and his sword becomes metal again. ------------------------------------- Her magic was depleted and the dark mage knew it. “Give up. You’re finished. It’s over.” Concentrated evil took the form of a shadowy dagger in his hand. “Submit to me” he said through his smugness. But the sorceress could only smile as she reached into her bag of holding. “You’re right. It is over” she said as she pulled out an anemone flower. The mage laughed, a mirthless, threatening coal that reeked of dismissiveness but sung to the sorceress a blessed, hopeful naivety. “A flower? You really are pathetic. Don’t you know what my dagger does to flowers? You do, I know you do. And you know what happens when a shadow blocks the sun. A fucking flower! I can’t believe that you, power that you have, offer only—” “Do you know the origin of the anemone, lover? It is a product of love and blood, and it’s sacred. It grew from the mixing of Venus’ tears and Adonis’ blood as the goddess wept over her wounded, dying lover. The blood and the tears sank into the earth and the earth grew this. If you kill me here, you’ll cry for me. For my lips you once kissed and my hands you once held tenderly. Never mind my cunt, which you fucked like infinity was running out of hours. Your tears will taste of anguish and hatred, but longing will crystallize like salt on your tongue. What do you think will grow from my blood and your tears?” “I-what? Hold on, this is getting a little dark for me, sweetheart.”* Will shifted under me, and our bed and his beautiful body came crashing back into my line of vision. The grassy hill where I made my last stand became our sage duvet cover and my Cloak of the Acolytes of the One True Father morphed back into my toothpaste-stained Biggie tee.** I unhooked my legs from his torso and rested my heels under my hardworking ass. “I’m sorry, I just got really into it. I’m reading about this for my dissertat—” “For your dissertation, I know, but baby sometimes a myth or magical story doesn't translate too well to the bedroom. For me, I mean.” “But this one is about love! And fluids and generation and flowers and passion and—” Will gently clamped one hand around my mouth and grabbed my soft hip with the other. “It IS passionate and sexy, but I don’t want to kill you! I want to fuck you and I want to love you—and I want to indulge you. But maybe go a little lighter next time.” “On the sex? The riding?” “No! That’s perfect. That’s everything. I’m talking about the story, baby. Maybe we could do like a Bacchanalia type thing or something.” “Oh! Hell yeah! But you know those were full of dark—” “Shush. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Put your head on my chest and stay awhile, would ya? Fucking nerd.” *based on true events. sorry, baby. **ETA the Cloak of the Acolytes of the One True Mother was in the laundry
caroscope
2024-08-11 23:55:23 +0000 UTCAnne Shirley and Diana Berry??!!! I didn't think I could love you more, but now I do. And now I have to go finish reading it!
Jamie
2024-08-11 22:43:31 +0000 UTCPoor Bradley. be the brave knight and dazzle her ffs.
AHarbinger
2024-08-11 22:41:59 +0000 UTCyou all are the fucking best. I just... gods damn... seriously.
Ray Purchase
2024-08-11 22:41:17 +0000 UTCWarning. This is so long you guys. Also not a complete story, just a setup, a beginning. But fun I think? Her magic was depleted and the dark mage knew it. “Give up. You’re finished. It’s over.” Concentrated evil took the form of a shadowy dagger in his hand. “Submit to me” he said through his smugness. But the sorceress could only smile as she reached into her bag of holding. “You’re right. It is over” she said as she pulled out… Sunshine Daisy Abruzzo dragged herself out of the dream for the thousandth time through sheer force of will. Said perseverance stemmed from the certain knowledge of what would appear next in her unconscious mind’s eye. The dark, the flash of light, the sharpness of the pain, the cool of the healing touch, and the soul-deep yearning. Every time, The Dream of Him was the same. Intense. Painful. Beautiful. Shattering. Sunny could not be fucked with such at this time. The day was prepared to start without her, and if it were to start without guidance, it could all go awry. Awry was not an allowable direction on the Sunny D (Goddess forgive her lovely and well-meaning but decidedly odd parents for such a “unique” *inner eye roll* name and “interesting” *secondary eye roll with accompanying groan* sobriquet) Train to Success. She felt around her covers instinctually, searching for hairy lumps that would indicate the sleeping form of a spoiled fur baby. Anne Shirley growled dramatically, noting her displeasure at the disturbance with tiny bared teeth and a snarl, while Diana Barry stretched her sweet white limbs in greeting and turned her happy face toward Sunny’s, as if Sunshine were truly the East and simultaneously the source of her namesake, and the moon could be called to send her to her death at the end of a long day. Sunny giggled quietly at her own dramatic inner turn of phrase and rolled away from the pups and out of bed to get ready for the day. Shakespeare references ought only to be allowed after coffee. Honestly. Still, as she shuffled into the kitchen with her eyes half closed, she continued to draw silly internal parallels and snicker to herself. If there was anyone less likely to awaken with the “romance” of Romeo and Juliet in her heart than Sunny, she hadn’t yet met them. Except, The Dream of Him always put her in an odd mood. Sometimes melancholy, sometimes fanciful, sometimes angry. Occasionally she just woke up with her body on fire, a puddle between her legs, nipples hard and swollen as though the rough hands and gentle teeth from The Dream were real. The nipples in question contracted at the thought of those hands, that mouth. If only He WERE real. Her Dream Man, literally. A few inches over her 5’7” but not towering, dark wavy hair that her fingers slid through like strands of black satin. A slender but lithe and athletic build. A tidy little beard that lent him a faintly roguish aura around a mouth that quirked in silliness and laughter far more than it flattened with seriousness. It’s fine, she thought brusquely for the millionth time. Even if he were real, the chances of someone with as much innate charisma and geniality as him being attracted to someone as Plain White Bread as Sunny was laughable. To be fair, her plainness, the extent of her utterly boring personality, was entirely purposeful on her part, the only tool within her control to combat the rampant chaos, whimsy, drama, and inconsistency of an often nerve-wracking childhood in which parents believe they are witches hiding in plain sight as the leaders of a traveling theater troupe. Honestly. You can’t even make this shit up. She shared an exasperated glance with Anne Shirley as she put on her deodorant and spritzed her perfume. “I know, baby girl, I’m being ridiculous. But you know The Dream of Him always makes me a little strange for a while.” In fact, “a little strange” was beginning to be quite the understatement. The Dream was becoming more frequent, and the feeling of his hand cupping her cheek to bring her close and whisper softly in an unknown language was becoming ever more lingering during the daylight hours. If she ever let the fantasies of her childhood surface, she’d think she could almost see him in her peripheral vision if she only turned her head quickly enough. Jesus, I need to get fucked, she thought and rolled her eyes at herself in the mirror for at least the twentieth time that morning. A good hard dicking was in order. Stat. Oooohhh, maybe a doctor would be interesting. Never had a drCock before, she mused. Maybe after work she’d call her mom and see if she knew any doctors that wanted to make a new friend with the specific intention of getting banged like Chad Smith’s drums. The thought had her pussy tighten up, gripping itself in anticipation. Yeah, probably the recurrence of The Dream of Him was just her subconscious telling her she’d been too long without. Its not good for a girl’s mental health to go so long without an orgasm induced by someone else, really. And if anyone in the world was capable of finding her daughter a nice meaty cock to ride on demand, it was Lauren “Lolly” Abruzzo. If her mother truly had any special gifts, it was sniffing out if someone was a decent lay or not. Ironically, a somewhat wasted talent, at least for herself, as she’d found the love of her life at 23 and stayed entirely loyal with her body and soul since she first laid eyes on him. Poor mama. Lucky Steve, though, and she thought idly of her teddy bear of a dad (although her mother described him as more of a grizzly bear in bed, on the sofa, kitchen island, balcony railing of a hotel, etc., so lucky Lolly too) as she stirred her iced coffee and grabbed her purse. Sunny said goodbye to the pupper girlies and pulled open her front door to step into the already warm and muggy day. And looked up into two faces she’d recognize anywhere. Anytime. The Dark Mage. The Man of her Dreams. Together. On her porch, glancing idly between her and the yapping dogs at her back. Her brain short-circuited. She could have sworn she could smell the ozone of magic, the salt of sweat and tears, and the coppery tang of blood in the air. Her vision wavered, replacing their current t-shirts and denim with the soft woolen robes from The Dream, and then refocused sharply. She shook her head, annoyed with herself. “Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing at my front door at 7:30am?”
QQMegs
2024-08-11 22:25:54 +0000 UTCSo this is directly inspired by events in both the D&D games I am in. Her magic was depleted and the dark mage knew it. “Give up. You’re finished. It’s over.” Concentrated evil took the form of a shadowy dagger in his hand. “Submit to me” he said through his smugness. But the sorceress could only smile as she reached into her bag of holding. “You’re right. It is over” she said as she pulled out a seemingly simple wooden staff. With a very practiced move she flipped it in her hand, caught the mage behind the knee and as he tumbled to the ground, she slammed it into the ground a portal opened below him and another 250ft in the air. As she watched him fall she could glimpse the terror in his eyes. She closed the portal on the ground and watched as his body collided with the hard earth, his body lay broken and motionless. She marched over to the heap of skin and bones, claimed his spell books, his jewelry and everything of usefulness off his body. “I’m sorry m’lady! I came as fast as I could. Those thugs kept me occupied longer then I would like to admit” Reginald said as he stormed into the clearing. “It’s fine Reginald, it was a plot to get me alone. Just take his head, his heart and burn the body. I have everything of import.” (I actually used the hither tither staff to kill someone..it was amusing to watch the DM determine how best to roll the damage since I let them reach terminal velocity before closing the portal)
Amber Love
2024-08-11 21:06:54 +0000 UTCThe amount of truth in this SHEESH
siesta_maven
2024-08-11 20:14:52 +0000 UTCI cackled
siesta_maven
2024-08-11 20:11:49 +0000 UTCP. S. Did not expect the rubber chicken. Love it.
Margaret Peffy Margie Maggie
2024-08-11 20:04:47 +0000 UTCHer magic was depleted and the dark mage knew it. “Give up. You’re finished. It’s over.” Concentrated evil took the form of a shadowy dagger in his hand. “Submit to me,” he said through his smugness. But the sorceress could only smile as she reached into her bag of holding. “You’re right. It is over,” she said, as she pulled out divorce papers. The dagger clattered to the ground at his feet. “Wh…what?” “You’re right; it is over. I’m not doing this anymore. Every disagreement ends up like this and it’s exhausting. You’re exhausting.” “I… I don’t understand! I thought everything was fine! Why didn’t you say anything? We could go to counseling…” “I did say something. I said something so many times. You chose not to hear me. And now it’s too late. Besides, counseling isn’t going to help your smug, toxic attitude unless you choose to do the work, and we both know you haven’t done that given the opportunity.” He stood staring, sputtering, unsure what tack to take. “I see you trying to figure out how to spin this so it’s my fault, you know,” she told him. “We’ve been through this before, and frankly, it’s not going to work this time. You don’t want to be in this any more than I do. We both know it. Look, sometimes quickie Elvis-officiated drunken Vegas chapel marriages work out and sometimes they don’t. It happens. Just sign the papers and we can both move on.” Thoroughly flustered, he took the pen she proffered and signed and initialed the spots where she’d attached tiny purple post-it flags. She openly sighed her relief as he stood slackjawed before her. “Go on, then,” she told him. “You’re finished. It’s over.” She quickly scooped up the dagger and tossed it into the bag of holding along with the signed decree. “I’ll just be holding onto this for safekeeping.” She turned and began walking down the road with a spring in her step, her magic replenished; a smile spread across her face as she looked forward to an uninterrupted bath with a glass of wine, her headphones, and her favorite VA in her ears. And she lived happily ever after.
Margaret Peffy Margie Maggie
2024-08-11 19:51:52 +0000 UTC
