Take it easy there big guy... Yeah, you are a bit taller than normal today.

They gave you this mushroom too soon, huh? Still haven't worked out all the bugs with it? There there, we'll get it out of your system shortly. Yeah, we have the head of the nation on the phone right now, and she would like to see you soon. Says she's making you a cake right now actually.

You'd like to change your suit first? Well which one? You have a variety of nice ones, and some unique animal ones too.

Alright Mario, take a deep breath. This is gonna hurt a bit, but we need to make sure you lose the fire flower and mushroom. Worst case scenario, we have some green mushrooms right here. Now just close your eyes and...

Wow! Is it your original lore or is it based on a folktale from someplace? Either way I really enjoyed reading it, quite captivating and game me the warm fuzzies.

Eat It

Beverly was a small woman with arms that bent like bird bones at her sides. She stared down at her lap, chewing her bottom lip with two top teeth that were jagged and almost broken at the edges.

"I don't know anything," she said softly.

"You don't know anything about your husband? The man who we just found in your basement with a fish hook in his mouth and groin?" the detective asked.

She shook her head. "I know Ron. We were married weren't we. Forty three years."

The detective tossed two photos onto the metal table between them. One was of Ron on a boat, holding a large mouth bass and smiling. The other photo was of his body as they'd found him. Slumped over in a fetal position, two large fish hooks piercing him. Blood pooled under his body, soaking the dirt floor of their unfinished basement.

"Quite a contrast," the detective said.

Beverly peered at both photos. Her gray eyes were as flat as a doll's.

"He was always on that boat. Ever since he started winning those tournaments."

She pointed to the first picture. "You know he had a portrait done of that damn fish? Spent a thousand dollars on it but couldn't give me so much as a dollar for a new hairdo or new shoes. He wouldn't even buy us a new tv set. Ours still had the built in VCR. The man was a prime example of accismus. That was his vice."

"Is that why you killed him Beverly?"

"I never said that. I never said I killed him. Maybe it was one of his competitors. There was some talk of Ron cheating. Putting weights in his fish. He was never a good fisherman before. Never good at anything really. Just sat on the couch all day, watching gangster movies on that old tv set. Sometimes I'd put a dollop of salt in his coffee to see if he'd notice. He never did. The man had the taste buds of a frog."

"I can't help you unless you tell me the truth," the detective said. "You need to tell me what happened. I know you couldn't overpower him on your own. Did you lure him into that basement and smash his head open so he wouldn't struggle? Did you have help?"

Beverly smiled. "I see that fish portrait wherever I am in the house, you know. Its beady little eyes follow you. Sometimes I could hear the bass talking but it sounded far away like it came maybe from the river or the ocean. It said, "the most important thing is to build more" and "how splendid it would be... to swim among the stars".

She'd thought that a lovely idea, to swim in starlight. She'd read it in a book once. Or the fish had spoke it to her. One of those was true.

"Crazy is not going to work here Beverly. Are you trying for an insanity defense? No one is going to buy it. We found cyanide in your house. When we find it in his blood we'll have you cold."

"Is that the one that smells of bitter almonds? Ron barely touched that pie," she said, staring at the picture of Ron on his back. His blood had never looked so red. When he'd cut himself shaving or busted his knuckles on her face, it had always seemed to ooze out in a black sludge.

She wondered if there would be big screen televisions in prison. But she'd be gone then at least. Far from the house and the talking fish. Free maybe. She thought she'd like to try being free.

The sound of joyous laughter echoed just outside the humble hut that this peasant's family called home. The children playing were full of vigor and life, pretending to be knights and monsters, engaging in battle with one another. It was almost cruel to subject this poor, young boy to the sounds of people his own age making merry when he couldn't muster the strength to speak.

Nobody knew for sure what was wrong with him, and to be honest, it didn't matter to Arian. She emerged from the shadows of the boy's room, and her arrival stirred him into wakefulness. He saw her as a fair-skinned woman with long, straight, silvery-white hair and iridescent eyes. She was wearing a simple black robe on her slender form, otherwise barefoot. Arian approached the boy, but stopped a couple of feet from his bed.

"It won't be long now," she whispered to him soothingly. "It will all be okay."

"Do I... have to go?" the boy rasped out. He would be surprised at his ability to speak if not currently more awed by Arian's arrival.

She reached out a hand to him, but stopped herself from making contact. "The longer you stay, the more it will hurt," she responded.

The boy looked at her outstretched hand. He struggled to lift his own hand and took hers, holding it. "Will you stay with me?"

Arian smiled sadly. She noted that his parents were not home, and his siblings were among those playing outside. She closed the gap between them and nodded, standing beside his bed. "Of course... would you like to hear a story?"

"A... a story?"

"Yes."

The boy's eyes grew teary. It had been so long since anyone paid him enough mind to spend this much time with him. "Please."

"Once upon a time, a long time ago, the Underworld was a dark and dangerous place. Nobody could traverse it, save demons, the Lord-and-Lady of War, the King of the Underworld, his Queen, and the Winged Sisters. When someone would die, their soul would be set to wander the Underworld aimlessly, no matter how bad or good a person was, searching for any hint of life. If they were lucky, they found nothing. If they were unlucky... they were eaten by a demon and gone forever.

"For a long time, this was just how things were. One day, however, the King and Queen had a child of their own making. She was not their first, but she was their youngest. The young girl, unlike her siblings, was not born with any powers of which to speak. It wasn't until her third year that she came into knowing what she could do. She kept her powers a secret from her family, but not from humanity: she was the Lady of the Beyond Lands.

"She discovered she could summon a door in the Underworld that would open up to a world not unlike that which the mortals had come to know and love in life. Green, rolling fields; a perpetual, gentle sun; friendly, fluffy white clouds. From that age onwards, she would attempt to arrive before the Winged Sisters, and would gather up the souls of the innocent, the kind, and the reformed to come to the Beyond Lands with her. She still, to this day, searches the Underworld for any older, wayward souls who may have deserved to retire to such a place but had not found their way to her."

The small boy, in his bed, coughing, found himself smiling by the end of her story. "Is anybody I know in the Beyond Lands?"

"Do you remember your grandparents?"

"Nana is there?"

"Yes. She is. She talks about you often, and how you were when you were a baby."

Tears began to flow freely from his face. "I miss her."

"You don't have to miss her. We can go to her, together."

It's hard to say what goes through the mind of someone when they exhale their final breath; still, he did, like a long, relieved sigh. He sat up from his body and climbed off his body and bed, hand-in-hand with the woman before him. "Please, take me to Nana."

"As you wish."

The two of them, together, descended into the shadows of the room into the frightening, crimson underworld with its wine-dark sky full of baleful stars. As soon as they arrived, Arian outstretched her hand and a red, white, and gold door appeared before them. She opened the door inward, and behold, before them, the lands of which she had spoke: there was grass on endless hills and valleys! A warm sun, which he had not seen in weeks! People!...

... and an elderly woman with her arms outstretched, calling to him.

"Nana!" He sobbed and laughed, and ran through the door off to the woman. "Nana!!"

Footsteps were approaching Arian on all sides, and so, she closed the door as quietly as she could and allowed it to vanish before the unclaimed demons descended on her once more.

An endless cycle of misery and suffering, all worth it for that moment.

Nice🙌🏽

“You still have your wish?” “Yup.” “Holly shit! That’s amazing?” “How?” “How?! Everyone always wastes there wish when their a baby, yet you’ve managed to make it to 19. Im surprised you’ve been saving for so long.” “I haven’t been saving it though.” “What?” “Yeah, I just never really wished for much. As long as a survived that’s all I cared about.” “Hm, sounds like you.” “Yeah.” “You could at least use it at some point.” “True, but what do I use it on?” “Maybe in a life or death situation, or you could get something really nice.” “Something really nice…” a spark shoots out above both their heads. “Wait, did you just wish for something?!” “Yeah.” “What was it?” “I wished for no one to ever starve again, if they are hungry they’ll just get food in-front of themselves.” “Oh! That’s a good wish!” “Yeah.” “Although, doesn’t that mean we don’t need crops anymore? A lot of farmers will lose their jobs.” “Oh shit, your right.”

Holy fever dream hell. I woke in a sweat, I hated humans.

With every bit of life in my blood. I could feel the freedom of the ocean. The instinctive pull towards the nearest jet stream. The connection to my herd.

The pain I felt from the atrocities from humans and their incessant waste, it boiled my blood.

We, my herd followed my lead. We knew that our creed was against harming if not to defend but was this not to defend?!?

The sweat beaded above my upper lip, the rage was enough to wake me.

My mission in this human body is to fix the word. But my position in this current world is lowly. I need money for food and to supply my life with sustainable longevity based things. We need THINGS in this life and to get them we must destroy the environment through work. Even driving to work creates problems.

I feel stuck and it’s because I am.

Edit: misread the instructions but hope you enjoy anyway lol

Great prompt! Wish I'd had more time so I didn't have to rush the story. I loved the idea of someone being forced to move up against their will, and then forcing their way back with some implied evil :D

Oh I want more Father Time Magical Girl Man and his daughter sound like a fun duo

Loved the opening line, the world-building, the god's perplexity at the humans rite. Really nice take on the prompt.

Oh, there are some really good lines here. I can practical picture the different moods on our narrator's face as things happen.

Captivalism was my favorite part for some reason. Just really captured the dynamic between this guy and himself.

"... what?" Mr Takada asked.

"What you hear. I am bound to a specific bloodline, your late wife's" Sumineko, the Patron of Healing, had said. "And your daughter has no remaining relatives on that side. Akumatsu made sure of it"

"So, Akumatsu... what did he do? Send monsters after them?" Mr Takada asked. "Sumire-san died because of a sickness..."

"Akumatsu sent a plague over the bloodline that only wielding me can ward them against. Ai-chan is infected, but she wields me and thus she is not affected by it" Sumineko said. "She wants to avenge her mom and her other relatives, and I would choose you if I could..."

"Why me? I don't have Sumire-san's blood" Mr Takada said.

"Because you're Ai's dad, and thus technically count as close family. But I wouldn't be able to choose you anyways, because Ai would die if she gave up on me and if she died you wouldn't be eligible anymore" Sumineko said.

"You could've just said the first thing" Mr Takada said. "So... what should I do?"

"There are other Magical Patrons that are not bound by bloodlines and don't have users either. The Patron of Time is one of them. Only a person with a strong will can wield them, but your will is strong enough if you got through so much trouble to find me and save your daughter"

"About that..." Mr Takada lowered his head, apollogetic. "I'm sorry I threw you into the washing machine. I didn't know you would be this reasonable"

"So you were happy with throwing me in there if I was a sociopath happy with endangering your daughter?!" Sumineko asked.

Mr Takada couldn't help but nod.

That's what it was supposed to be

Jevil

Yes. The recipe called for 10 onions. I don't make the rules.

They are savage and brutal, I know this. I’ve spent months joining them on their hits, bombing, flooding, and causing as much damage as possible. They are the enemy of the state. They have been planning for months to assassinate the king. While I have helped I have relayed information back home.

Home. Maybe it’s been too long but that word doesn’t seem right anymore. I have spent months living in perpetual disgust with them and myself for what I had to do to protect the realm, but now… I’m not sure about anything anymore.

“Don’t just stand there!”

I am pushed and jostled towards the inferno. My ears are numb to the screams but the acrid smell of burning flesh chokes me with every breath. Not something I could ever get used to.

I avert my eyes, swallowing bile as a group carry a limp body past me. This was not supposed to happen. It was supposed to be a simple extraction. Raid the base and take a small number of them including me. A few unlucky ones would die but not this kind of destruction. This needless death.

I am moving before I fully know what I’m doing. I join the chain passing water to the burning building I should be going to the extraction point but I need to help. All I had been told about them crossed through my mind again. They were vermin, a disease. They needed to be beaten into submission but I had not expected this extermination. Or had I? Had I been naive, or wilfully ignored the worrying messaging?

I thought I couldn’t hear the screams anymore but the sound of agony, panic and fury made my blood run cold as burned and bloody Mrs Kepler was dragged away from the blaze.

“I have to help, Let me help!” she screeched, fighting the two men who carried her away. She had been kind, and caring. She could have been useful to us. I wasn’t supposed to think of them like that but she had the softest touch I had ever encountered. She wasn’t like them. Neither were the others burning in that building. Why had they, we, done this? Why target the school? The tiny bodies of three children were carried past. I recognised the wild shock of red curls on one of them, Mary. She was a curious one. Always rooting through my things for treats but never malicious. Innocent. All the children were. The plan had been to take the adults not burn the children.

“They’ve broken through the gate!”

I leave my place in the chain. Where am I going? I don’t know if I want to join them, my people, or kill them all. I yearn for home, the one I’d known before. Where I was safe and believed in the power of the realm but I know I can never go back there.

I am moving to the breached gate but turn before I reach it. There’s a hole in the fence which I used to sneak in and out of the base camp. He’ll be here. The knights are murdering their way through the base. They know the layout, where they keep the weapons, the food. I told them.

I cannot stay but will not leave. I will die here. But I will take him with me. I will kill the king.

[removed]

I hope you are writing this in a book 10/10 would read more lol

Note: lol posted on accident

… to his mysterious problem. “ Oh umm the gentleman stole something,” chuckled the conductor, “I, I was trying to hold him until the police came.” For a moment his eyes fell on me, a kid with a spider man backpack gripping his mom’s hand just waiting to get to school. Was that pity I saw cross his face? “Well let’s get going then!” The conductor mused, I pulled my mother’s hand. “Let’s take another train.” I whispered. “I’m gonna be late for work.” She groaned, “You’ll be at school in 5 minutes.” However 30 minutes passed as my mother and I stared at the wall of the same tunnel. People were starting to bang on the conductors door. “Where are you taking us?” They cried. Finally the train stopped and the doors opened. Before anybody could exit. Men with black armer rushed in and started restraining people. Those who resisted were sedated. My mom tried to hold on to me but the men quickly separated us and dragged her to the other side of the train. That was the last time I saw her. As they lead me off the train. I overheard an argument between the conductor and one of the armored men. “Why weren’t the patients restrained!” Yelled the man “ I, I , I,” stuttered the conductor, “they got out.”

Patients? I thought. The sick realization hit me as I read the sign on the building I was being escorted too. “Psychiatric hospital for the clinically Deranged,” I don’t know who had it worse. Those who were lead into the hospital or those still in he train station at the mercy of the “clinically deranged.”

It had really crept up on me. The numbness had come over me like a tide, slow moving and rather undetectable until it starts to whisk your things away from the beach. I hadn’t thought much of it when I stopped brushing my teeth, when the water brushed my toes. I barely even noticed when I started skipping breakfast, when my beach towel got wet. When I stopped reading, a daily habit of mine, I knew something was wrong, when I saw my things drifting off into the water. I was simply too drained to enjoy my favorite pastime. I was too drained to stop the waves as they carried me away from my life’s work. My hero work. That was all I had cared about, bettering the lives of the people around me. But now, I barely cared at all. I floated around my apartment like a ghost, plagued by apathy. I added a cereal bowl to the growing stack of dishes in the sink. I hadn’t gotten to the store lately, so my Frosted Flakes had remained dry on my reused spoon.

I had just sat down on the couch and swaddled myself in a pink blanket that really needed to be washed. The door bell rung and I strongly considered not answering it. I wasn’t expecting any deliveries and I most certainly did not feel like dealing with a salesman right now. I had almost made up my mind, pulling up The Bachelor on demand when I had to reconsider as the person at the door began being rather persistent. Several knocks rattled through the door way as I made my way to the door. Great, just what I needed. A broken door. I briefly considered looking through the hole before opening the door, only to decide that it wasn’t necessary. What’s the worst that could happen? Some serial killer comes to murder me? I laughed at the thought.

I was met by a man with shaggy black hair, who sheepishly pulled his raised hand from the door, clearly poised for another knock.

“Whatever you’re selling I don’t want it.” I turned to slam the door in the man’s face, only to be spun back around by a strong hand on my shoulder. The guy seemed to take in my appearance then, my rats nest of a head and my stained clothes. What? They were comfy! I mustered up my most annoyed look and waited for him to speak.

“Annex?” He asked questionably.

“Yes?” I answered, annoyed, before I realized what I had just done. Annex was my hero persona. I had just confirmed my secret identity to this random guy. Great. Just great.

“I don’t mean to scare you but, I wasn’t sure if you were ok? I mean you haven’t been around to fight recently and…” He cut off his ramble and scratched the back of his neck as I gaped at him.

Maze?! Maze, my nemesis, was standing in the doorway to my apartment. And he knew who I was. Where I lived. And more importantly, this supervillain was socially awkward. Guess that makes two of us.

I didn’t muster up an answer, and it seemed I didn’t need to by the way Maze’s eyes were fixed behind me into my apartment. Probably noticing my collection of pizza boxes. I couldn’t bring myself to be embarrassed though, and strangely found tears coming to my eyes instead.

My body leaned forward, and he seemed to understand by the way his eyes flickered and his arms accepted me into a hug.

“I’m just so tired,” I sobbed, probably transferring my tears and grime onto his clean shirt. “I know,” he mumbled, hesitantly rubbing circles into my back. Slowly he led us inside and we sat down on my couch. It didn’t occur to me that confiding in my nemesis might be a bad idea. He’d never hurt me before, why start now?

“I know the city needs me, but how can I save them when I can’t even save myself. When I can’t even drag my feet out of bed in the morning?” My sobs came back full force, and Maze pulled me against him again.

“I’m here, Annex. We’ll figure it out.”

I may have had to still wait for the tide to recede, but I wasn’t treading water alone anymore.

Thanks for your story, it's really wholesome but funny

Ooh, I hadn't considered that reason for the switch. Nicely done as well.

[removed]

Davik was little when he was taken into the custody of the state. He couldn't remember his parents. Sometimes he would have dreams about a woman in a pretty dress hanging from a tree, and wake up screaming, in a cold sweat.

Very early in his education, Davik showed an aptitude for modifying his personality to suit any social situation. Fitting in meant survival, and he was a survivor. This did draw attention from scouts, however, and by the time he was 12, he was receiving lessons that the other students were not.

Poison crafting, languages, bomb making. The tools of espionage. His tutor was Nav Pogin, a short man with short cropped hair who was aggressively average looking, presumably by design.

"If you survive my trials, Davik, you will join the Eyes of the Emperor."

Survive he did, and on his 16th birthday, Davik officially joined the Eyes in a secret ceremony in the catacombs beneath the Holy Temple of the Divine Emperor. Shortly thereafter, he was given his first assignment; to infiltrate the peoples resistance and provide intel on their activities.

Davik was excited to contribute. Excited to start a new life in a role he knew he could adapt to. Getting recruited was easier than Davik anticipated. He slashed a tire on an imperial supply truck, and stole food from the back while the driver changed it. Then he distributed it to the hungry children prowling the alleyways, before settling into a box himself and going to sleep. When he awoke, three armed men with the band of the resistance on their arms were towering over him.

He was questioned relentlessly, but his cover story held up. He certainly looked the part of a down on his luck young man with no prospects. It wasn't hard to summon a venom in his speech when speaking of the Emperors hands.

For two years he walked among them. Worked, ate and slept among them. For two years he left intel packets at the designated dead drop. The previous packets were always gone each time he visited, but there was never any response. Not until now.

Davik carefully opened the letter, since it was made of flashpaper and would combust with little agitation.

"Codename Chameleon, Assignment Complete. Extraction on hill outside rebel base tomorrow at midnight, sharp. All persons inside will be liquidated. Do not be late."

Davik crumpled the paper and it flashed alight and turned to cinders in an instant. That night he dreamt of the tree. He could see the womans face clearly for the first time, and she had his eyes.

Was this personality he had cultivated to infiltrate the rebels just another one of his forgeries? Is the spy really who he is, or can he choose? Never before had he considered the concept of choice in who he would be. Chameleon, they called him. Shifting who he was but never being just one person. Never finding a sense of self.

Davik chose. He chose to set his colors, permanently. Chose who he was, and it was treason. Davik knew he risked the hanging tree. Something deep within his heart told him, though, that it was a family tradition.