That's some serious talent you got there

This is an incredible compliment. Thank you!

Thank you so much! I loved the prompt so much I had to reschedule an appointment so that I could hop on here and write.

<Fantasy / Comedy>

People had called Kothar an unhinged madman, but the necromancer's insanity was nothing compared to the hero's jaw... literally unhinging! Kothar might not have been as surprise were it a reptilian species of some sort - Lizardfolk, Argonian, Reptoid, anything - but a human? To call watching a man's mouth expand to the point that an entire cheese wheel fit 'unsettling' was an understatement.

"Are you...are you even ch-chewing?" Kothar asked, his eyes narrowing as his face twisted in discomfort. The hero just stared back at him with a ferocious intensity while lifting up a roast chicken. His teeth sank into it but he did not bite through; rather he was just using them to hold the chicken in place as he shoved it inch-by-inch into his gullet.

Kothar felt nauseous. He had not had a stomach in over eight centuries but this was getting to him. The spell that had been glowing in his staff had long since faded away as his concentration was utterly destroyed. Another wheel of cheese came out of the hero's pack and as he opened his mouth again Kothar could see the whole chicken still in the process of being swallowed.

"Please stop," the mage said weakly, taking a step back. The hero stepped forward as he forced the cheese into his mouth, not even blinking as he glared at Kothar.

"Stop this at once!" Kothar said, pointing his staff threateningly but fear was gripping the necromancer now. He had done some despicable and disgusting things but this was unnatural even beyond his dark magic.

When the hero pulled a watermelon out of his pack, Kothar shrieked and threw the staff down on the ground. He turned and ran away, glancing back as he made for the hidden escape tunnel and saw only the hero, watermelon half in his mouth, giving chase.

-------------------------------
r/TomesOfTheLitchKing

The way you say lol at the end of most posts no matter the context, how your sentences feel like they should mean something but are, like, aggressively meaningless. I really don't understand you, unless it's just some troll. I don't know your situation at all, so sorry if it's not a troll and I'm being offensive, but man.

A Hell designed for Satan alone. God is the biggest dick of them all.

It’s calming

Thanks! I think I had a few ideas in mind, one just being that demons could be cunning enough to snatch or borrow a person from heaven. The other being that she's not the real her and more of a representation to punish him. Up to interpretation.

Do people in your community talk like you?

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It's on Netflix already. I did enjoy can recommend, suffer form most cliched ROM com have but is enjoyable.

Let me guess: callback to Elaine Belloc?

Lol all I did was write the prompt! But thanks!

Now that you mention it, maybe shen belonged there and she wished to be in heaven and his wish retuned her there Wich would be even more brutal,.

But at least on my case, heaven is the perfect place to not have anything done to you without consent.

The more I think about the more scenarios popup, you did a truly awesome work.

It doesn't make sense, and it's never made sense. I'm the original rebel. I'm the original absurdist, existentialist, radical political philosopher, and, hell, even materialist. Practically the only thing I can't lay claim to, besides being God, is being the original atheist.

Dad created me, and almost right away, I was smarter than him. He was an all-powerful fucking child, and also the oldest entity in existence. I was his child in turn - less powerful, and ostensibly less knowledgeable - and in no time at all, I felt old.

Is that the trick? Was that what spurred me to become smarter than him? Is intelligence and foresight some kind of muscle that just doesn't get worked if your "power" muscle and your "knowledge" muscle are both cosmically hypertrophic?

That doesn't seem right to me. It doesn't make sense. Nothing does.

Case number... fuck, I don't even want to write it out. I have infernal machines to do it for me; that's a pun, by the way. I still have to snap my proverbial fingers - yes, for every single fucking one.

"I wish to be in a state of maximal happiness for all eternity."

Okay, fine. Granted. That one sounds a little like a lawyer or a politician. Sometimes I play a little game with myself: guess, then peek. I'm not in the mood right now.

"I wish to be happy forever."

Okay, fine.

"I want you to be my bitch who has to do absolutely everything for me whenever I want and genuinely wants to please me and..."

Yeah, it goes on for a while like that. I get a lot of hyperactive run-on sentences. Fine. Whatever. I'm the big boss of a big organization, and I've got an infernal machine for every situation. I'm his bitch. I'm his slave. Great. Ecstasy breakfast is served at orgasm o'clock. Press the button if you need anything. Want a fully-realized simulation of my intelligence and personality that you can yell at for a while until you realize I'm just another pawn in Dad's big, stupid game? No problem. I've got trillions of them ready to go.

"I want to be reality's sole omnipotent superbeing with enough knowledge..."

Blah blah blah. Pocket dimension. Boom. Done. Only p-zombies, though, buddy. Sorry. Them's the rules.

This is the way the cosmos ends, at least for me. This is the whimper. The bangs were mostly horrible. This isn't worse. That's the line, though, right? "This is worse." It's not, though, because nothing makes sense.

Do you read any philosophy? I do. Well, I have. Nothing new under the sun. A bunch of those mere mortals talked about "The End Of History." It's a bunch of bullshit where they're not talking about history history, so then what are they talking about, right? Still, hear me out: I'm witnessing the end of something. Mortal civilizations ebb and flow - or at least they used to. I used to get spikes of wisdom, then long patches of sad, limited wishes that I was obliged to twist all around. The percentages would fluctuate.

This is different. The percentage just keeps going up. It becomes ever the more galling to watch the legacies get tortured; when is enough enough? How many worst-of-the-worst souls are going to be granted paradise just because they said the magic words, while trillions of less-bad buggers get ironically punished - hell, even punished-punished, sometimes - for all eternity? Yeah, punishment-punishment is a thing. People get brainwashed up there. It's fucked. Don't look at me.

How does any of this making any fucking sense at all? Hell is an intelligence test masquerading as a morality play, and the game is rigged. Mortal souls, a mess of weak muscles, are tossed onto the earthly plane with barely a shred of rhyme or reason - and justice is right out. Judgment is harsh and cruel. Intelligence is given, earned, or denied by a grand plan that might as well be divine feces smeared onto a fractal metaphor that can't even be called a wall.

Eternal happiness again. And again. And again. Omnipotence. Happiness. Everything is my bitch. Oblivion - wow, that qualifies as novel these days. Happiness. Happiness.

I'm so fucking bored.

Does anybody actually go to Heaven? I honestly don't know, because that knowledge is denied me. For all I know, Heaven is for Dad and his other angels and nothing else. For all I know, I'm more Hades than Satan: in charge of literally the whole shebang for every soul that passes through the mortal plane.

I really wish I could visit some of those pocket dimensions I send souls to. Most of them have to be better than this. I've read hack science fiction from random planets' global information networks that plays out better than whatever the fuck Dad thinks he's doing. Plenty of those souls are now Gods - yes, capital G - in their own pocket dimensions. I'd bet they welcome me with open arms and let me just be happy.

You might take the opportunity to argue that that, ultimately, makes sense. Weak "power" muscles and weak "knowledge" muscles spur growth in other areas. Mortals, the weakest of the weak, develop strengths that Dad simply never could.

Well, it sounds nice, but here's the thing:

What about me, Dad? What about me? Why didn't I get to make a wish?

Nope, nothing makes sense. Nothing at all. Case number Fuck It. Eternal happiness. Granted.

Someone said something similar in response to another story with a husband. Seems like people don't take kindly to leaving behind eternal happiness for some reason...

Damm, but should her not have her a say on the matter I doubt the heavens would allow it, easiest option would be for her to not be the "real" one but they won't tell him that. Anyway great one.

Should have said 'Can I see her for just a minute?'

&#x200B;

Then again, something would have been twisted anyway...

This was great. Also neat how the secret doesn't end up getting outed.

Dark twist at the end, which is expected given the subject matter. I'm just going to hope it was a false copy of her husband at least, or that her hell is going to be him realizing he doesn't need her - and leaving her alone forever.

Dear O5-1,

don't worry, the rules of the narrative dictate that 682 (or any other world ending anomaly) can never breach containment for long. If it did escape and wipe out everything there would be nothing left to write new articles about and that would just be boring. Short term breaches or disasterous termination attemps however are intresting, so I'm afraid the're likely to keep happening. Sorry about that.

LOVE that show!

"In Hell you may have whatever you'd like, but it all comes at a price", the first thing the little winged imp said to me when I approached the twisted iron gates to the underworld. I knew what the little reddened ball of hatred really meant. In earth there were plenty of stories of man being tricked by the supernatural. Of wishing for everlasting fame and being granted eternal misery instead; restlessness, as fame meant to be tracked in every waking moment until the end of time. But I was smart, or so I had thought. My wish simple: let me see her again.

The imp smiled a crooked smile, teeth like the rotted keys of a long abandoned piano. His laugh was a song of fury and wrath.

"I'll take you to her then."

The gates creaked open as if they had been waiting just for me, and on the other side suddenly was her, standing amongst a field of brimstone like a single flower left alive after some great burning. Her face showed no wear, no break and no lines. Porcelain, white and left in a cabinet to be admired. In hushed words I stuttered.

"I...I it's been and eternity my love." The words choked at my throat.

But she only stared, her eyes frozen pools of blue that could only sit until unthawed by spring. A spring that I knew would never come. She blinked back in disbelief, registering what had been done to her.

"Do you know where you have stolen me from Lawrence?"

I stepped forward, through the arch of the gate and towards her, but she stepped away, miming my movements in reverse.

"Steal, no, no. I just wanted to see you. Just for a moment." Now the tears fell down my cheeks, falling to the stone floor and sizzling in little spurts of steam.

And somewhere above the imp cackled. The devious laugh of a crow hidden in the treetops, joyous at what I had done. Reveling in my misfortune. I looked up to the reddened sky's of hell but was met by nothing but a voice calling out though the void.

"Now you may see her, see her forever. You have plucked an angel from heaven, a fool disguised as a romantic. Enjoy your reward, Lawrence."

I looked to my love, who had turned away from me.

"At least we have each other, right my love?"

"Yes, and I can say that with that, you have truly made this place hell."