what the hell is that ending. it reads like teen fanfiction

Oh. I like this one.

Mark is a good man.

The great mage barriers of the Sen people kept the abyss at bay stopping their last city from total annihilation the last ditch attempt that had caused the lives of their awakened arch-mages to burn their life force was a bittersweet success.

Such a vast and sturdy barrier that allowed entry and exit to the Sen people's were expensive in magical resources that could power the vast barriers manabanks a solution was needed or their inventories would have been sucked dry in a matter of months.

Arcturius Farsight a void explorer and Geniveve Salasnikov were our salvation from the certain demise of our species the forefather and foremother of truly modern magic. Arcturius discovered an intelligent race of mammals called humans with a distinct soul makeup different from any other recorded sentient or monster lifeform. Geniveve managed to make a epoch spanning discovery on accident while performing experiments on this new species. The introduction of Soul Fission! A way to harvest humans souls at a previously unheard of efficiency of magic extraction. One hundred common humans who hadn't awakened mage powers were enough to grant our city a months worth of power and human mages greatly increased the gains to almost absurd levels.

Now our warriors and explorer mages are combing the vast void looking for more planets and realms filled with this new race. As interrogation has successfully given us information of many vast disparate empires chock full of walking power sources to keep our manabanks full of power!

The time for hunting is now...

I’d like to be notified as well. This story definitely has great potential and is already good with just this addition so far. Hope you work on it more.

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Is it Technically Still Slavery?

A group of very serious looking old men sat in a very serious meeting deep under the very serious White House.

It was very serious.

“So what are you proposing, Bob?”

A well-fed balding man stood up. He shuffled a few papers for effect before clearing his throat (but too much, Covid and all that…).

“Well, Mr. President, it’s not as simple as that.”

“And why is that, Bob?”

“Well, sir, we know what we’d like to do with the aliens. The question is whether the population will be okay with it.”

The aliens had, after all, invaded without prejudice. They had murdered countless humans of every race, culture, and gender. If they could make decisions so thoughtlessly, why couldn’t everyone?

“Ah, I see what you’re getting at. You want to enslave them?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, slavery?”

“Slavery. Yes, sir. They would make an excellent working class. We could slowly assimilate them into our culture.”

“We are very good at that,” said the President. “Do we call it slavery?”

A man spoke up from behind them, “Is it technically still slavery if they’re not human?”

The room of men grumbled in agreement.

Several voices spoke up:

“Are pets slaves?”

“Surely my housecleaner is not a slave!”

“I pay a thousand workers below minimum wage! Is it slavery?”

Bob shuffled his papers again.

“We could put an alien in every home, sir!”

“But, there’s only a few million of them. That’s only enough to cover the rich families.”

“Yes, sir. Are there other families we should be worrying about?” He looked confused.

“You make an excellent point.”

The President sat quietly with his fingers intertwined. This was not an easy decision. Slavery was an unthinkable notion. Yet, the alien’s invasion was equally immoral. Billions had died.

“If it helps with your decision, sir, the SlaveBots might back off about their union ideas.”

The President looked up hopefully. The SlaveBots at the back holding trays of hors d'oeuvres glanced worryingly at each other.

“You’ve sold me! Or, them, actually.”

A chorus of practiced laughs followed.

OP should read Seven Blades In Black by Sam Sykes

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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“Nothing is more common than unsuccessful people with talent.” - Calvin Coolidge

“Babe, are you even paying attention? We’re losing the light.”

Jeff/Babe stood the perfect distance away from her, his phone outstretched, and vertical, obviously. Every few seconds he would move slightly backwards or forwards to let passersby pass by. He even had a perfectly crafted embarrassed apologetic smile he flashed to each of them.

Click. Click. Click.

“Yeah, it’s done.”

She put her hands on her hips.

“Oh, come on, there’s no way you got a good one. You barely lined it up.”

Jeff’s girlfriend approached him like a train transporting acid with no brakes. She reached out to turn the phone’s screen towards her.

“Oh. Wow! They’re so good, babe!”

Of course they were. They’re always perfect. But if he ever told her why, she’d never leave him alone.

“You’re the best! Thanks, Camera Man!”

He rolled his eyes. Camera Man. Is that all he was? What about Jeff? Clarke Kent was a great journalist. Lois didn’t go down on him just for his laser eyes. Tony Stark was a very successful business owner, not just a weapon to be pointed in a specific direction. Like him. Like…Camera Man.

They both looked up as a scream pierced the calm of the outdoor cafe street.

“Help! Help! That guy stole my purse! He’s getting away!”

Click. Click. Click.

A few minutes later he was explaining to the police, “Yes, officer, it was a happy coincidence. I just happened to snap a picture of the thief’s face. I’m sure you can figure out who it is from here.”

“You’re a hero!” they said.

“So is CCTV.”

. . .

“Jeff, you’ve been working on this team for a few months and we gotta say, you’re doing an amazing job. We’ve had nine influencers reach a million followers this month, and we can all agree,” he nodded to the team standing behind Jeff, “it’s in large part because of your photos. What can we do to make you happier?”

People say it’s not easy working as a social media manager, but they’re wrong, it is easy. He could finish a photo shoot in a few minutes. He could make Kim Dotcom look like Kim Kardashian. But where was the challenge?

“Can I be moved to content writing? I’ve got some great ideas for post titles.”

The self-proclaimed CEO and the woman from HR standing beside him glanced at each other.

“Well, umm, no. We need you here, taking pictures, you see? We can’t afford to let you go.” He waved the team out the door. “But we can pay you more. You want your own office? You want to work from home? You’re our Camera Man, after all!”

Shove it, he thought.

“More money would be great, thanks.”

. . .

His mom danced from the kitchen counter to the table.

“Here you are my love. Pancakes! And no bananas because I know how much you hate them.”

“Thanks, mom, you’re the best. I’m sorry I’ve been so down lately, I think it’s my midlife crisis.”

“I’ve been having one of those myself actually. Have you seen the cat by the way?”

Click. Click. Click.

“He’s in the backyard sleeping.”

“You always know everything!”

He dove into the pancakes with his fork and knife.

“Can you have a midlife crisis in your 50s, mom?”

“Firstly, screw you. But I’m serious, I get a weird feeling your dad isn’t interested in me these days.”

Click. Click. Click.

“He’s certainly interested in his new dental assistant."

Yes, but this one lives at home with him, not hidden away from him for 20 years.

but my dude, Darth Vader really HAS a daughter

The knight looked down at his child. What was he going to do now? It came from his loins afterall, he did not want to kill it. Even if it did singe the knight's eyebrows with it's fire breathe.

The king was livid. He wanted less dragons in his kingdom, and this was the opposite. This was more dragons. Maybe not a lot more, in fact only half of one more, but that is still the opposite direction from where he was going.

The knight wanted to keep his son, but also knew that if he did not obey the king, it was very likely that he and the baby would both be killed. He figured he would try to reason with the king, who he thought might come to understand his position. Unfortunately kings, by nature of being kings, tend not to be understanding. Something about holding omnipotence over a kingdom does not help empathy. Who would have thought?

The knight laid how his reasoning. How he misunderstood the assignment, but this is where they now were. It was nobody's fault, it was just a miscommunication. How this was now the knight's family and could not murder a member of his own family, even if it did have little wings. He begged the king to try to see this, and told the king that perhaps there was even a way to use the child, maybe learn more about dragon's and find their weaknesses.

The king thought about this for a while, and finally after much contemplation decided to keep the weird dragon child alive. The knight celebrated. He thanked the king. He groveled and kissed the king's shoes. Finally the king asked the question that everybody was thinking. How did the knight do it?

The knight answered. "With a lot of lube."

Literally first time a wrote for the internet, might as well use my early collage semester work to good use.

[removed]

Love it!

this is so campy but i legitimately want to read a book like this WOW i enjoyed that

Legit creeped me out.

Nice.

And this is when a bald man in a cape leaps off a building and pulverizes the giant meteor into tiny bits... with one punch

It comes for her in her dreams; this is what makes it feel like a curse. She turns in her sleep, haunted by eyes like jade daggers. It asks her for help, but she has nothing to offer. Its gaze sharpens with annoyance and anger, but she feels disappointment the most. She reaches out for its warmth, feels a cold shoulder. A hiss at her, from behind her, above her, around her, a shrill symphony like—

She wakes up shivering. She checks her arms for bed bug bites out of habit but finds only gooseflesh. The nightmare replays itself behind her eyes. She closes a fist tight enough for her fingernails to dent the skin, and takes ten deep breaths. Even after she calms down, she's shivering. The attic is poorly insulated, and she doesn't want to return to bed. But there are still too many hours until sunrise.

She flips a light switch, walks back to her bed, crouches to pull out the basket that acts as her dresser. The light flickers on just in time for her to see which pieces of clothing are which. She puts on her warm pants and then grabs the sweater hung from the wooden beam that crosses closest to the attic's tiny window. The night looks still. Peaceful.

She can swear she sees sharp green eyes staring up at her from the sidewalk below. After a blink, they're already gone. Her heart drops, heavy with want. She has to see it tonight.

Her thin body flies down the attic stairs, careful not to make a sound. The tobacco smoke always makes her nose twitch, but she holds her tongue. Past her mother's bedroom, she makes it to the back door of the house and pops out the screen on the window next to it. The door is known to squeak. Only she knows that the window doesn't make a peep.

She pauses while perched on the windowsill. Remembers her dream, hears the hisses all over again. She can't go to it empty-handed. She knows of something she can offer it, but she doesn't know what will happen to her if she does.

Her offering is heavy in her right pocket as she walks the sidewalk in front of her house. She stops at the spot below the attic window, right where she saw the eyes before. Turns around and scans the street, watching for any movement on the asphalt. It's dark, but she's done this before. She's found it before.

It takes time, but the black blur is unmistakable once she sees it. Her bare feet scrape the sidewalk as she runs after it. It drags her across the street, under three streetlights. She goes fast enough that most things become a blur, she can't distinguish black from bright—and she falls.

Dirt covers the sleeve of her sweater. A twig catches in her hair. Some of the skin scrapes off the palm of her left hand. She winces silently, pushing herself up and sitting on the curb. She feels like an idiot, and cold. She has no idea where the green eyes went, nor does she know if she should even keep chasing it. She picks the twig out of her hair, tosses it.

A quiet hiss in the dark. She freezes, glances over. She can barely see the twig anymore. There's something in front of it, a small black thing that looks stitched into the night. When it turns toward her, the pupils of its green eyes go wide.

It nudges the twig, then meows at her.

"Ah," she says. "I'm sorry."

She reaches for the twig with her left hand but is stopped by the whip of a thin black tail. The green eyes stare at her more intently, and she's scared that her nightmare will come true. It'll hiss at her and leave. It'll hate her like everything else. She just wants—

It meows at her. Not a hiss.

Her heart calms and she holds her hand out slowly. The cat looks at it, then back at her. Its eyes grow sharper with expectation. It doesn't trust her. She understands that; she's asking for its attention but offering nothing in return. She pulls an offering out of her pocket. It is dented from the fall, but the cat's ears perk up.

"I know I haven't had anything before," she whispers, pulling back the can lid. "But maybe this can make us friends?"

The cat walks right up to her, nose-first. It meows softly, sounding impatient.

"Hopefully that means yes," she says. She puts her finger into the can and then holds it out like an olive branch. The cat accepts without hesitation. "It's tuna. Maybe a bit old, sorry." The cat does not seem to care. It quickly licks her finger clean and then meows for more.

She's happy to oblige. "Ma eats it a lot. It's cheap, I guess. She buys a bunch, counts every can. She'll probably notice that one's gone missing." The cat finishes another fingertip-full. She offers it another and considers that it might not be listening to her at all. But it isn't running away, so it feels closer than anything she usually gets.

After all five fingers, she puts the can down. The cat licks its lips and stares up at her. She worries that it expects more, and she doesn't want to disappoint it, but it only mews and shoves its head into her leg. Then it pounces on her.

Four paws balance on her bruised knees. Jade eyes lock with hers, and it is almost as if the gaze contains a contract.

"I'll sneak you more tuna, okay." She tries not to flinch away. Its nose is nearly touching hers. "But in exchange, I have a request."

The cat meows.

"Come back," she says, barely a whisper. "I can't let you in, Ma would kill me. But... don't go anywhere, okay?"

As if completing a ritual, the cat brushes its nose in a line across her cheek. Her heart flutters as it steps in a circle over her legs and curls up in her lap. She immediately feels indebted to the cat, like she would give her life for it. The little thing is as manipulative as some magic artifact.

"And to you I'm just a vessel, huh," she mutters. But she can't hide the smile on her face.

The artifact supposedly the medallion of an ancient evil long forgotten to time. Well was forgotten to time. Recently in Egypt archaeologists found a medallion engraved with runes strange runes. The runes were not Egyptian no defiantly not. The medallion itself is made of dyed silver in a rounded shape. In the center a sapphire shaped to look like an eye with an emerald in the center of the sapphire. It was bizarre very bizarre no artifact like this was found before it. These are the questions archeologists had however a girl by the name of Saler Griffin knew what it was. Her father obtained a similar medallion it could be the same one. He turned into a werewolf the next day and killed her mother. Now he roams the woods of the world doing whatever the medallion commands. She was only 19 but she knew what she was doing she had researched it immensely from her fathers notes. Her father was what one would call a conspiracy theorist someone most thought ether incompetent an idiot or both. But secretly her father was a genius all of his notes all of his writings were correct but now to the present we’re getting sidetracked. She approached the medallion which was currently in a display case in the on-site museum. She said to it “I know what you are I will be your vessel however I have a request.” The medallion spike telepathically to her and stated “And what is your request I can likely grant it.” She replied “Bring my father back from his monstrous state bring him back he was the only thing tethering me to the earth.” The medallion stated “Very well your wish is granted” the medallion hummed with power it glowing red and green until eventually it stoped. She sensed it had done her request. “Now you will be my vessel correct.” The medallion asked the girl answered. “Yes I will.” She opened the display case and touched the medallion instantly upon doing so the on-site alarms blared and security guards came rushing over. But they were to late something had happened. Her eyes had turned red and she was clutching the medallion wearing it like a necklace. Her teeth had grown long and her form looked wrong. Blood was spilt bone ripped from flesh. That’s when she came to you all twisted and torn her body mutated beyond recognition. Her teeth shimmering with blood her eyes pulsing. She asked “Well now friend there’s nothing to be afraid of nothing to be afraid of.” She then approached you hungrily as screams echoed throughout the halls.

If Darth Vader had a daughter....

How pleasantly optimistic. I like it.

Love it!

It was cold outside when I'd heard her first calls to me. Despite my entombment I could still feel cold, still knew what it meant to ache and to want. That's why instantly I knew how much she yearned for what I could offer her in that first plea. Oh the sweet desperation in her voice.

When I felt her call out to me the scent of mortal hope was both instant and thick in the air. She was frail, weak, maybe moments from death, yet still delivered a delicious feeling of want only mortals could offer. It had been years since I'd tasted such a thing.

"Are- are you here? The woman in town said you'd be here..." her voice came through shaky and uncertain, echoing off of the tomb walls.

"Why yes, yes I am dear." I continued. "What is it I can do for you?"

Before her further reply I heard a sound like a shower of tiny rocks on stone, then a pause in the noise and another power waft out into the room, bringing a sharp and bitter taste with it. I tested its strength, pushing forward but hitting a strong wall, then pulling back into my coffer. I had felt such binds before. Salt. A circle of salt. Not perfectly drawn, yet still it seemed the little girl was smarter than I'd given credit for.

"Well, well. It seems location was not all the woman in town told you of. I'm assuming you know my name too then?"

She paused, out of fear or ignorance I could not tell. The girl wreaked of too many feelings to discern one from another. A ball of humanities strongest emotions all leaking out of one host.

"Yes, it's Balte-"

"Ah ah! Thats enough. Any more and I believe it will be quite painful for both of us. So you know my name. I believe it's only fair I know yours then, tiny morsel."

"I am only here to make a request. I'll tell you my name then."

In stronger men I had to "seal the deal". Call out to them and snake my way through their ears and into their minds until they broke. But for her? It seemed luckily an offer would be enough. Anyone willing to make a deal with me was desperate enough not to care of the consequences, either that or too stupid to think of them. And she didn't strike me as stupid. Weak? Yes. Emotional? As all humans are. But not stupid. Her aura said otherwise.

"What is it you want then girl? Be quick as your pathetic charm wears thin." where I spoke lightly before, as if a polite host drawing a guest to the mantle, now I projected my will, booming through her head like a thousand echoes. Yet she did not falter.

"I will be your vessel... but in exchange, I want death. The king he takes more by the day and we cannot manage. My parents they-" out of her many battling emotions sadness took over for a moment. "-they did not make it. I want him to be gone, he needs to be gone." I could feel her sadness encase the room as her tears touched the floor.

I considered her request. A simply request, maybe not to her, maybe not to any mortal, but a man is a man. They bleed the same. They hurt the same. They die the same. In my thousands of years I had never known these facts not to be true. When you wrung their souls dry besides the flicker of firelight they all eventually begged. It was just a fact. But a spark of brilliance crossed my mind.

"Alright morsel. I will fulfill your request, I will give you the power to undo what the tyrant had done, though I will do you one better. Bring me back bodies to turn of those you slaughter and in return I will bring back those you've lost for each. Mother, father, anyone else you'd wish."

"Olivia Flease" she replied without pause.

Well then Olivia. Balteese is at your service. And you at mine.