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I wish I could do all of these, but i Ain’t got the time! Thanks y’all for the prompts!

Corrupt hero group?

Villain group looking to do something?

Leader with control over birds?

I like the story!

Maybe I'm biased by the strong Parahumans vibes I'm getting, but if that was intentional, props! It was a really good read.

now I go to find out if Chicken Little got a rename in the chapters I've not read yet

“Your fry cook’s an ass!“ shouted one particularly rude customer. “What of it? Don’t like the waffles?” My boss, Edna, asks. “How the hell is he cookin’ them? With his teeth? I ain’t paying for this shit!” I roll my eyes, refocusing on my orders. Truthfully, I never thought of what I wanted for my life. I was happy being a general ass all the way. Stubborn rude all that. Then the nightmare came and suddenly I can do shit like this. “Sweet mother of Aldric!” The man cries, the words, “Kindly Fuck Off” in black letters floated over his partially eaten plate. I honk as I hear a thump. Serves him right. Edna tsks and calls back, “eggs over hard, taken on the road, hashed and bloody!” I grab 3 more eggs from the fridge and the other ingredients. Breakfast rush is almost over thank god! I need to go to the guild later to finalize my papers. I pop the waffles out of the griddle and stack them with an order of scrambled with bacon. Classic. I carry the plate to the window and ring the bell. Dark numbers 1 1 hover over it. This job has been incredible for my magic control. Once my certificate of personhood is signed by the local guild head I’ll be an actual person. My own badge and everything! Yup, not what I expected or even what I wanted at the time. A whole lotta work but… Edna smirks at me, “stop scaring the patrons, we need the business if imma hire your replacement.” I whinny and flick my ears in agreement. Today a fry cook, next week an adventurer, next year? Who the hell cares. Long as someone’s cursing me out it’ll be a good day.

Bad bot

Good work.

Nice.

Cool.

There is an ai for anything apparently.

Witches were not to be bargined with; some claimed they made deals with an otherworldly patron or the fae. some said they WERE Fae. The Truth, no one could say, not even witches. They were simply witches. They did magic and could make bargains with others but their desires were ont the same as humans.

So she took the infant boy from the Kingdom of St. Paprica, and raised him. The Kingdom thought this a wise move, because the female heads of the kingdom (far easier to track compared to a kingdom they claimed and kept the woman at the head honest as the first female child would always be the heir)

But that was not why she took him; it was his blood. Being the Witch of Blood, she understood blood in every sense.

----

"Tch, Sanguine you've had this done to you a hundred times before."

he was 17 now. Sanguine grew up well in those 17 years; tall, but very skinny without his mother (his true mother, far as they both cared). Still he never really liked it when she needed his royal blood for something. "Mom, you never get the blade quite right."

"oh hush." She said. She looked like a woman in her late fourties; Shorter then her son with hair and eyes the color of her epithet, she watched as his Kingsblood mixed with the blood of lions and ancient redwoods. "The Blood of the Kings of all true Kingdoms: Man, Beast and plant, together in a potion of strength. Just enough for your Journy to face your Mother and Sisters." She grinned. "Don't want you to run into any trouble while you're there after all~"

he frowned. "Wait if it's my Blood then why did you need it to mix in there?"

"because Sanguine, i don't know if you're going to give me grandchildren with some noble floozy. You must be careful with them; human women aren't as kind and gentle as I have been with MY bladework."

"... I'll take your word for it. I just want to ask why and hear it from their mouths."

"They don't' care, I can assure you... but at least get your sister's friendship. that Bitch of a Queen didn't care much about me, until i helped her armies against the Demon Lord." She smiled. "But she did pay me with something more valuable than she could imagine."

"Which was?"

"Heh, forget i said anything. Good luck with then, my dear little prince."

Is what the queen thought but unfortunately the witch was wickedly smart.

She trained the young prince in all kinds of shape shifting magic until he could turn himself into a woman.

Now the newly minted princess walks through the streets demanding citizens overthrow the evil queen who would happily give up her own children for power and wealth.

At first the queen tried to defame the witch princess calling her witch and casting doubt on the fact that she is not a real woman, but a man shape-shifting into one.

At first the citizens struggled to believe who but the Princess who thoroughly hated her mother for using her as part of the faustian deal used her magic to sway people until they all followed her.

It was not long before she ascended the throne and became the new queen with her witch master as her advisor.

Long the live the witch queen.

Very curious to know what Shift's power is! One of my characters has that alias also in a story I've been working on for a while.

Wonderfully written and a great story as always.

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Ah, I missed this the first time.

1. I have two favorite environments. Either at my work pc during a break, or at home on my laptop resting on my mattress. I'm kind of simple that way.
2. If I was stuck with one thing, it would be finishing the novel, definitely.

Do you have an ETA on a part 2?

Credit where credit is due: the Hero Agency had some top notch break rooms. I was sitting on a cushioned bench with my mask off, alternating between eating my sandwich and icing my shiner. I had gotten jumped by a low-ranking hero named Titan after I registered with the Agency. At first, I was terrified that my ruse had been discovered already, but that notion was discarded when Titan told me to, "Stay in my lane."

As I wiped the avocado bits off of my chin, two rookie heroes walked into the room mid-conversation and started helping themselves to the fruit bowl. The pair were jabbering happily about sponsorships, endorsements, and the like, prompting me to put my headphones on to block them out. This couldn't have been the Hero Agency, I thought to myself. This was like a fusion of reality TV and emergency services.

My isolation was interrupted by a note getting set on my lap. I looked up to survey the room, but there was nobody else around. I read the words on the note: "Room 0561". With nothing better to do, I tossed my lunch and made my way to the room in question.

The room was a storage unit on the same floor, thankfully. I stepped inside the room and saw about twenty-five or so heroes sitting on the various crates that filled the room. As I shut the door behind me and hesitantly approached, I said to them, "I got your message."

One of them got off of their makeshift seats and pressed a finger to my black eye. Instantly, I felt the pain subside. Once she pulled back, I sighed and said, "Thank you."

The woman nodded. "Don't mention it. I'm Anesthetic. I've got a proposition for you."

"Gonna go out on a limb and assume this is related to your little knitting circle here?"

Anesthetic chuckled. "Not much of a knitting circle. See that guy over there?" Anesthetic pointed towards a man dressed like an old school punk rock fanboy. "That's Powerchord. Hero Agency Insurance refused to cover the destruction of his guitar shop even after working for the Agency for three years. The weirdo next to him is Gnasher." A person wearing a full face dog mask waved energetically. "The Agency denied their request for an investigation into a kidnapping ring, despite the fact it was recorded in their own goddamn files that they got their powers from an altercation with said ring."

I looked over Anesthetic's shoulder at a woman in emerald body armor slumped against a crate like she was unconscious after a bender. "What about her?"

Anesthetic looked at where I was looking and sighed. "That's Saving Grace. Not my place to tell. You're gonna have to get her to trust you to find out."

"What about you? What's your beef?"

Anesthetic grimaced. "Same thing that brought you to my attention. A big, violent thing named Titan."

I winced and rubbed my arm. "Good reason. So what, this is some kind of resistance movement?"

"If you join, it will be. We got the drive, but none of us are leaders. You, on the other hand? I saw how you passed the practical exam. I saw you command those birds. You're what we need to take this to the next level."

"You're asking me to lead you?"

"I'm asking you to help us hit the Hero Agency where it hurts."

I fell silent for a bit. As I weighed the options, I eventually took a deep breath and replied, "Alright, I'm in. But if we're doing this, you need to know: there is nobody named Black Kestrel. I am, and always have been, the villain known as Shikkoku."

Anesthetic grinned. "Oh, I know. Why do you think I asked you in the first place?"

Chapter 2

The next morning found Cody standing outside Apartment 13 as Mrs. Krokomar fumbled with a ring of keys, muttering and cursing in Russian as she tried each one in turn. Finally, one of the inserted keys turned in the lock.

"Ah!" she cried, triumphantly. She began to open the door, and then paused. "By the way, place might need little spring clean -- haven't had time to do since last tenant."

Cody nodded, agreeably. "I don't mind." Despite his reservations, he was feeling enthusiastic about his new situation -- it seemed like it might be the start of a run of good luck, given what had happened when he'd gone to work earlier that morning.

"What you doing here?" his boss had demanded when he came in, a few minutes before his shift was scheduled to start."You did not take apartment I find for you?"

"Uh, no -- I mean, yeah, I did," Cody had said, "I haven't gotten moved in yet, but I'm on the schedule today so--"

Roman waved him off, seeming oddly irritated by his employee having arrived to work on time. "No, no, no! Take day off --eh, no, take two days! Three! I still pay you. Get cozy in new place, then come back."

With his spirits buoyed by Roman's inexplicable generosity, he'd gotten a load of his possessions together, and returned to the Pandora Arms. These became somewhat less buoyant, however, as Mrs. Krokomar opened the door to his new home and he saw inside. His jaw dropped.

The apartment seemed to be fully furnished, which would have been a pleasant surprise, had all of said furnishings, not to mention virtually every surface, not been completely coated with a thick layer of dust and cobwebs.

"When did the last tenant move out?" he asked, incredulously.

Mrs. Krokomar paused, thoughtfully. "Eh, was about...2003."

Cody frowned.

She shrugged. "What? I am busy woman. Lots to do." She gestured to the room. "So, dust, yes, but no rat, no roach, no bedbug. That I guarantee. Anyway, is all yours. I think they took most of last tenant's stuff besides furniture, but anything left, you can have."

"They?" Cody asked.

She waved a hand vaguely. "Somebody. After he go. Don't remember." Fumbling with her keyring again, she slid off the apartment key, and pressed it into his palm, closing his fingers over it and then giving it a little pat for good measure. "Alright, I leave you to it. If you have problem with lights, problem with pipes, talk to Pavel."

"Pavel?" he asked, as the old woman began to waddle away.

"Superintendent. Basement apartment." she called over her shoulder, before slipping out through the door and closing it behind her.

Mrs. Krokomar made her escape before Cody could ask any more questions, and he turned back to his new abode with a resigned sigh. It didn't take him long to decide that there was no point moving any of his own stuff in before he put the long-abandoned apartment in order, as everything would just get covered with dust.

He rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He found an ancient but functional canister vacuum in the closet, along with a couple packages of bags for it, which greatly assisted in exhuming his apartment from its dusty grave.

Beneath the undisturbed layer of grime, it turned out to be rather nice. The apartment's main living space and kitchen were on the small side, but it included a fairly spacious bedroom and bath, plus a small extra room that looked like the previous tenant had used it as an office.

And, to his surprise, Mrs. Krokomar hadn't been lying about it being free of vermin -- he didn't see so much as a spider, despite the ubiquitous cobwebs layered over everything in the room.

Hours later, he collapsed into the old rolling chair in the office to catch his breath, and mopped his brow with the back of his sleeve. Though it had taken most of the day, he'd managed to get the apartment more or less clean, and most of it seemed to be in working order, apart from a few light bulbs that had to be replaced.

While seated in front of the desk, he casually perused the drawers, finding them empty apart from a ream of blank printer paper. When he opened the top drawer, however, he heard something clatter onto the floor. Frowning, he slid back his chair and bent over to pick it up.

It was a USB flash drive, its gray plastic casing yellowed with age.

"128 MB...?" he mumbled, incredulously, reading the faded label. It really was old. It also had a few brittle strips of Scotch tape clinging to it. Apparently, it had been taped to the underside of the drawer, but time had dried out and weakened the adhesive.

After curiously turning it over in his hand a few times, he pocketed the drive, and then reluctantly rose from his chair. While cleaning, he had found that one of the taps in the kitchen sink wasn't working, and so it seemed like it would be good time to meet Pavel.

He rode down to the basement on the elevator, which despite being of an open design and bearing a faded notice that it had last been inspected at the end of the previous century, seemed to be in good working order.

He could say the same for the condition of the basement. The lights on the lowest floor seemed dim, with some occasionally flickering. From the end of the hall, he thought he faintly heard a sound like rushing water.

Cautiously, he crept down the hallway, passing several unmarked doors that he suspected opened on various utility rooms. At the end of the hall a door labeled "MAINTENANCE" hung slightly open, and the room beyond seemed to be source of the strange sound.

He knocked on the door, and to his surprise it swung inward easily at his touch, revealing the room's occupant.

Inside, seated a desk with a layer of dust almost as thick as the one that had covered his new apartment, sat the hairiest man Cody had ever seen. He had a full beard of curly gray that seemed to almost form a perfect sphere around his head, in combination with his unkempt tangle of curly gray hair. The thin old man wore a gray long-sleeved work shirt with "Pavel" embroidered on the breast, but gray curls poked out from the cuffs, and also adorned the back of his bony hands and his knuckles.

This atypical hirsuteness, however, was not what Cody found most disturbing. The man was staring blankly at an ancient TV set atop his desk...despite the fact that the TV set only displayed static, and made no sound except the white noise he'd mistaken for running water.

Cody swallowed. "Uh...hi. Pavel?"

Pavel gave no response -- not so much as a blink.

"I, um, I have a tap in my kitchen that...that, uh..." Cody began, but trailed off, as he saw a strand of saliva slowly descend from the corner of the old man's slightly open mouth, and stretch out into a long dangling thread of drool.

"You know what, i-it probably just needs a new washer or something. I'll take care of it." he said, hastily, before backing out of the room, and then walking very briskly back to the elevator.

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I like the story, but personally; if I were the Witch in this situation, I'd be laughing my head off at this news.

Waffle Dark Donkey

Isobel Grove let out a soft sigh as she stirred the murky substance in the cauldron. The room was dark, but too much light would spoil some of her more valuable ingredients. One hand reached up to brush away a strand of stringy, gray hair.

What a fate, reduced to brewing basic potions for that accursed kingdom.

Acrid fumes drifted up from the turgid surface of the cauldron, tickling her nose. They curled through the air before drifting out from a vent near the ceiling. After a few more minutes of simmering, she added some diced ginseng roots and the smell abated. Her seat creaked as she sat back with a sigh.

I’m getting too old to play their games as well.

She dozed in her seat as the potion simmered to completion. The amount of wood she had used would cause the temperature to drop at precisely the right time. She was old and, at this point, could probably make a stamina restoration elixir in her sleep. Several hours later, a knock on her door caused her eyelids to flutter open.

“Grandma? I’m back. Are you still busy with work? It’s almost dinnertime. I made some stew.”

Isobel stretched, feeling her old bones pop. “Thank you, Elias, I’ll be up as soon as I finish here.”

The stairs creaked as Elias ascended the basement steps. She scooped the potion into the waiting bottles and stoppered them. With a wave of her hand, the cauldron hissed, and the residue began to dissipate. She left her basement lab and made her way to the kitchen of her woodland cottage.

“I thought you’d finally had enough of me and left.” She let out a chuckle as she closed the door to the stairwell.

A young man with cropped, white hair stood near a woodfire stove. A savory scent filled the air, banishing the stench of her lab.

He turned with a wry grin on his face. “Where would I go? This is the only place I get treated with some semblance of civility.”

Isobel let out a cackle of laughter and sat down at the table. A moment later, Elias placed a bowl of stew and a plate of bread before her. Once he served himself as well, they began to eat.

Partway into the meal, Elias spoke. “I stopped by Everspire on the way back from the hunt to pick up some nails and pitch. Our roof is leaking again.”

Isobel paused, spoon partway to her mouth. “Did you remember your disguise?”

Elias rolled his eyes and replied in a dull voice, “Yes, grandma.”

“Good. You know that kingdom is wary of your hair color.”

“I know. You’ve been telling me that for over twenty years now.”

The mood dropped as Elias pushed his stew around in his bowl.

Finally, he said, “I still think it’s ridiculous that they would try to arrest me just for my hair.”

Isobel huffed. “The Queens of Everspire have always been a bit too superstitious. They seemed pretty relieved when you turned out to be their firstborn.”

Elias scowled. “Deal with a payment and a prophecy, huh?”

She shrugged in response. “Prophecies come true in the strangest ways. Their kingdom will fall, one way or another. It might end up being some random person with white hair that just happens to be present during the battle.”

Elias’s gaze grew thoughtful. “The situation in the kingdom seems to have gotten worse in recent months. A lot of merchants are starting to avoid the city because of their discrimination.”

“We both knew the day would come when your parents gave you up to cheat my payment.” Isobel set down her spoon. “Be honest with me, Elias. Would you rather have grown up in that place knowing what you know now? Even as royalty, you would’ve been barely better than a servant.”

He snorted. “I doubt I’d know half the skills I know now if I stayed there.”

They finished their dinner, and he brought her a mug of herbal tea. She watched him as he cleaned the dishes.

“You know, I received word a few days ago that certain groups are beginning to mobilize. They could use a strong fighter. Maybe even a leader.”

Elias’s hands paused and his shoulders tensed. “I don’t want to lead. I just want a fair price for common goods.”

“You could get back at your mothers for what they did.”

With a shake of his head, he said “I don’t have parents, grandma” before getting back to cleaning.

“Just keep it in mind. My contacts told me it’s a sizeable group. Seems like people from all walks of life are sick of the stranglehold Everspire has over the economy. Men and women, elves and lizardfolk. They even have a dwarven clan helping with their weaponry.”

He made a noise of disbelief. “The elves are getting involved? They never get involved in anything.”

“It’s what I’ve heard.”

After a pause, Elias finally said, “I’ll think about it.”

...

I like the idea of a story where the witch isn't deceiving the hero...

If you're interested in my works, the archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile. There's also an original story, The Crossroads.

Thanks for reading.

Oh please continue, this is awesome

Thank you for your submission; it has been scored at 14 points!