You're the asshole if a) the so called 5 year old nephew only got trapped in that body trying to foil your evil plot b) there are better alternatives and you're a horrible king

No That's too much to put on a 5 year old. Just rule well.

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...I was about to give you a manga recommendations, but then I remembered that it's only very technically not a hentai lmao

the God of the Bible in the Highschool DXD light novel outright died in order to seal a being called Trihexa/666. Just thought it's related.

I like this biblical twist.

Scar, you will ALWAYS be the asshole. We've discussed this.

How to Become an Oungan

​

Raymond thought that he might be blind forever. The mud was in his eyes, mixing with the blood. He saw only brown and red, and he navigated via feel, bumping against familiar boulders. Eventually, through the roar of rain, he heard the trickle of his stream. That’s how he knew he was almost home.

The water was bitterly cold; it numbed the gash on his forehead, taking away the pain. When he came up for air, the forest was quieter. Peaceful, somehow. His little shack still stood watch at the river’s bend, as it always did. He headed towards it.

Raymond’s English teacher once told him that an expert was someone who knew something inside and out. Raymond was an expert in getting beat up. His bullies, Josh and Allen, were experts in hurting, like soldiers were. The difference was that soldiers could get killed, but he couldn’t kill Josh and Allen. He was too small.

The shack was ramshackle, childish. It was a wonder that it kept any of the rain out at all. Raymond removed his plywood door and crouched inside. Home again.

Raymond’s English teacher had given him a story about voodoo once. He loved that idea, that you could take a big thing and make it small. Breakable. He had practiced every day since. There was his handiwork, on his makeshift workbench. A pocket knife and two small wooden figures. Below the bench was a pile of all the figures that hadn’t worked. You can’t be an expert the first time, Raymond’s English teacher had said. You have to practice.

The thing with voodoo is that you have to believe every time. If you don’t, they won’t hurt. Raymond felt the gash on his forehead again. Still bloody. You can be an expert in anything.

​

(WC: 299)

You screw over support staff?

Stop that! Stop it right now!

NTA, but you're going to have to be careful from here on out. If people think you're abusing your royal power, another noble who is an asshole might see that as justification for a revolution.

First, DO NOT wear the crown or call yourself king. Instead, use a title like 'Steward' or 'Regent'. This will assure people that your reign is temporary and that you're not just grasping for power. You should also announce a date for your nephew's own coronation in 10-15 years, for similar reasons.

Second, avoid making radical changes to the kingdom. It ultimately belongs to your nephew, and you should not tamper with it beyond necessity. Any part of your personal agenda, or the fact that you have an agenda at all, may be used against you. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" as the peasants say.

Third, be involved with your nephew. Spend time teaching and training him, but also play with him. Allow, perhaps even encourage a hobby of his choice beyond his official duties. You want to cultivate a relationship of mutual respect and trust. This is true for any parent, but especially when your future may be directly in their hands. Honestly it sounds like your brother and sister-in-law got you off to a good start here, don't mess him up.

Maintain these for the 10-15 years and you should be able to abdicate peacefully. From there, you should be in a great position for an advisor, with years of experience in ruling as well as the inherent trustworthiness of a family member. You'll have many of the benefits of being royalty while no longer having the responsibilities that come with the crown.

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To make sure I'm understanding this correctly, glubnyan, your main argument is that your nephew is a sociopathic, deviant, immature demon worshipper, and that's why you overthrew a centuries old line of ascension to seize the throne for yourself?

Firstly, obviously he's immature, he's five. It is agist and highly inappropriate in 1500 to still judge people based on factors they did not choose. Unless you are saying he's immature for a five year old, which is a different story entirely.

You also say he's a sociopath, but offer no evidence that you had alchemists and court sorcerers check him for any disability that would disqualify him from ruling. You didn't even take him to a barber to have his bad blood leeched. If anything, you are the immortal one here, for child neglect.

As for the charges of deviancy and demon cult participation, well, we were all present at the Sacrifice of Gaul. You MAY recall that most of us refused to participate in a blood orgy involving a minor.

You may ALSO recall that you were hierophant at that weekend celebration, and one of the participants who refused to stop the madness before the regrettable summoning that took place. May those poor souls claw their way out of Beelzebub's scrotum eventually, amen.

Ultimately, I have to strongly denounce the behavior that led to your uprising and the banishment of poor Friedrich, last of his name. However, now that you are king and rightful ruler of these lands, who has decreed that all criticism of your reign is most heinous treason to be punished by death, I must say:

NTA. Long live the king.

So... God's the Emperor of Mankind, and we secretly live in 40k?

..... Yeah, you know what, that's not the least plausible idea....

No, no, I insist you take it from me. I don't want to change back. Don't you realize? Having transformed into my true fursona, I have made my inner self visible. Sure, I may be more and less than human now, and I will certainly face more problems than the ones I had, but this is all I ever wanted here on Earth.

What? AnthroCon? Guest of Honor? Wait, we're seriously sending this thing to all the furries in the world? You do realize that... Okay, okay, got it. Yeah, that might just work. Transmogrify into more Rocks of Transmogrification, transmogrify back into yourselves from those rocks...for free? Seriously? You... Ok, wow, you actually just did it. And now there's a lot of you in this room. I... I'm going to step outside. This could get messier than a chessboard of rice.

For a second I thought a squirrel had become a werewolf and was shouting "squirrel" when shifting back, as if it was a pokemon.

Empires rise and fall, people come and go, but I'll never forget your face, what you did to me, for those 400 years I have harboured my hatred for you, every little thing you did only serve to increase my growing urge to decimate you.

When you took the last strawberry shortcake from the fridge, I looked the other way, silently seething and cursing your bloodline as you chow down on the pastry.

When you stepped on my shoes, "Sorry." you said, I smiled and replied "Don't worry about it." even though deep down I wished for your demise.

Every small, petty, however insignificant mistake only makes me angrier, stronger even.

For 400 years you kept doing it, those same mistakes, those same slights that makes me madder and madder every passing era.

When you stepped on my foot in the trenches during the battle for Yorktown.

When you accused me of being a British spy in the first cabinet meeting.

When you almost shot me during our 50th duel, this time with flintlocks instead of bows.

I hate you so god damn much. When I attend Harvard, I thought that would be the best part of my long-lasting infinite life, a chance to gain more knowledge, a chance to finally be away from YOU.

But what did I see when I entered my dorm for the first time? Your stupid visage looking back at me with widened eyes, and a shit-eating grin on your face.

Somehow the stars aligned, and I've been assigned as your roommate.

Sometimes I wish you'd just up and di-

"Ryan, what are you writing?"

"My growing hatred for you knows no bounds."

"Look dude, if it's the whole trench thing, I already apologized."

"Your death would do wonders for my mental health."

"Let me see that-" Ryan snatched the journal out of my hands, another slight added to the list.

"You've been documenting all of my actions?" He drops the journal in shock, ruining my property? That's another slight.

"Yes."

"You consider 'stealing your position as a factory worker for the Model T' a slight that's worthy of crucifixion?"

"That was supposed to be my job."

"Ok dude, how about this one, 'killing Hitler before I did.', how the hell was that a slight against you? I didn't even kill him!"

"That was supposed to be my glory."

"He killed himself!"

"Still supposed to be my glory."

"Y'know what? I'm not dealing with this right now." He walks away, that bastard, I pick up my journal and continue writing. Two more slights added, only a matter of time before he finally meets his end at my hands.

If it's 500 more years, I'm willing to wait for it.

"That's a Hamilton reference!"

"YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

Fair enough. Vive la dif·fé·rence!

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The Mushroom Marriage

Glump the toadstool bowed to the giant hickory tree. "Then it is decided?"

Old Man Hickory's bark groaned as he also bowed, albeit at a much slower and in a much slighter way.

The circle of shrooms danced around their glumpiest Glump. Their shrill acclamation reached not far from the forest floor, for fungi lack large lungs.

Glump sidled up to one of Old Man Hickory's roots, where a porcelain ballerina pirouetted inside a hollow knot. She wore a perpetual smile beneath long lashes. Her blue skirt billowed about her waist, making her look to Glump very much like an upside-down mushroom.

He embraced his new wife in the traditional way that mushrooms hug, and stared up at her glassy, dark eyes. He loved her eyes, and her flowing hair, and most everything about her. But he liked her most because she never said anything cross.

"Chanterelle and I will live here, beneath your boughs, Father." Glump pronounced this last word with reverential awe.

Old Man Hickory had not the heart to tell the tiny toadstool that some unfortunate lass had dropped her childhood toy some years ago, and that he had merely been caretaker since then.

"Son," he managed through taut vocal cords. With a shake of a branch, he showered them with a dozen leaves, laden with enough nutrients for another generation of mushrooms.

Glump would have smiled if he could have, but instead he spread mycelia in the dirt beside his bride, drawing out nutrients from the rich soil and detritus.

"What shall we do on this fine day, love?" he asked.

Figuring her silence for generous deferral, Glump lay his cap against her brow and sighed. "I think so too. It's much too fine a day to cuddle to do anything but."

I think it’s perfect as a short story, kept me guessing till the end maybe cuz I’m dumb lol and the reveal was succinct without need for elaboration.

I looked at the map. "We're almost there." I said. "Just need to get into the village."

"There's an entrance, right?" said Jack.

"Somewhere."

After about an hour of searching, we found it- an ancient stone gate nestled between two mountains. It was closed, but not locked.

"You have the Lady, right?" I asked.

"Yup."

"Good."

I opened the gate and followed a dirt road to the cluster of houses. On the way, we passed a villager. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Charlie and Jack." I said.

The woman looked skeptical. Clearly, this place didn't get many visitors. "What's your business?"

Jack pulled the Lady out of his backpack. "This figurine came with a map that led here."

The woman looked at the Lady in awe. "It can't be..."

Soon, the entire village was crowded around us, talking over one another. After some time, I shouted "WHO'S IN CHARGE?"

Everyone went quiet. An old man said, "I am. My name is Chief Rafael."

"Well, Chief, have you seen this before?" I pointed to the Lady.

He nodded. "It is Goddess Bettina- guardian spirit of our village. But why do you have it?"

"It was in my basement." I said.

Rafael looked at me analytically. "Who are your grandparents?"

I told him, then asked why.

"Many years ago, we had too many children. Some of them left the village for homes elsewhere. One was named Eleanora."

"My grandmother?" I asked.

"I believe so."

"She died 20 years ago. I never knew..."

"This means you are one of us. Welcome."

##Hesa's Children

The people of Bromt watched as the statues of Hesa the first Queen were toppled in every town square. The Grahns spat at them as they did it. Spirits and families were broken. A nation had been broken when Grahnt conquered Ricadlia, and Bromtians were meant to fend for themselves.

The weak-willed ones accepted their fate. Grahns were fair and generous people. Ricadlia had never been good to them, and Bromtians were always slightly different from the rest of the kingdom. To most, these excuses fell on deaf ears.

Others refused to accept their situation. In their homes, they kept figurines of Hesa hidden in their homes. Every day, they stared at it in silent reflection. Hesa was the mother of them all. Though she failed to protect them, she continued to watch and weep.

Children of Hesa formed throughout Bromt. The smallest chapters had five members, but combined, they were a force that couldn't be ignored. Grahns may be enjoying their temporary victory, but the Bromtians will triumph in the end.

r/AstroRideWrites

Fuck you

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