Based on OP profile showing its age its very likely

Hey, Carrieka23. Thanks for the opportunity to read your work and comment.

Tomorrow_Is_Today1 has already pointed out things like tense consistency and characterisation. My main feedback is about point of view (PoV). You are using first person past tense narration. I think first person present tense or third person past tense would be better. The latter is easier. Also, the plot structure is predictable and lacks a compelling driver for your MC's change of heart.

Argument - flight - consoling - [what touches MC's soul?] - climb down - denouement

Have all the memories come to MC because he sees in his friend's desire for dinner with his own family, something that is missing for your MC himself. A story like this can really tug on the heartstrings and leave the reader weeping. It would be great to see you work on this story and find out what you do with it. Cheers.

Good job on seeing your mistake, OP. It sounds like you guys have something special, glad you're willing to talk it out. Good luck!

That, was the best plot twist I have ever read. Wonderful.

I wanna sequel

“Wow.” Anders stopped lumbering forward, letting his greatsword fall. “Just…. Wow.”

“Your descriptive powers are as sharp as ever, for a barbarian,” Astrid, the halfling rogue, snarked from behind him. She pulled her hood back from her face, craning her neck around Anders’ unmoving bulk. “What’s the problem now - oh.” Sharp intake of breath. “Wow.”

The skeleton - easily Anders’ height and breadth - was glaring menacingly in their direction. Wait, how is it glaring? Astrid thought wildly. It doesn’t even have eyebrows.

It held a black cane in one hand, now pointing directly at the halfling. “I don’t care how short you are or how sneaky you little twerps think you can be! Get… off.. My…. LAWN!!” The other hand was busy hoisting a blue, fluffy bathrobe up around its ribs.

“Um… sir?” Anders started. “Excuse me, sir. It’s just that there’s no lawn here.” He spread out an arm, gesturing at the dirt and rocks within the underground cavern in which they were standing; it was, at most, 30 meters wide. Anders and his group had entered the cavern via a narrow, manmade tunnel at the north end; the skeleton stood in front of a tunnel at the south end. Oddly, there was a rocking chair near the entrance to the south tunnel, with a table nearby.

Therin, the cleric of the group, snickered. “You’re calling him ‘sir’? Are we back in school or something?” he said in a loud whisper.

“It’s just that he sounds like one of my old training masters… well, a little, anyway,” Anders stage-whispered back, embarrassed.

“Best be civil. For now. Until we know what we’re dealing with,” said Grilda tersely. The wizard came out of the tunnel, up behind the others, now standing a few feet off to Therin’s right. She produced a ragged piece of parchment, holding it up in one hand while her other hand supported a small orb of light. “Hmm. This cavern doesn’t have any notes. Just… tunnel in, tunnel out. Nothing special.”

The skeleton wasn’t done, though. “You think I don’t know there’s no grass here now, boy!?” It took a few steps forward, seizing on their reluctance to engage. “Of course there isn’t! The last batch of whippersnappers through here burned it up! Doesn’t mean I’m not trying to regrow it now, does it!?” The skeleton turned back towards the rocking chair and table, fuming and muttering: “Kids these days….no respect for other peoples’ property…” Anders looked down at the ground, and realized it was indeed scorched; any plants that might have grown there had long since burnt to a crisp.

It suddenly reached out for something on the table, whirling around and shaking the cane at the group again. “They even made me spill my drink! My last Innersea Ale…” It held a plain iron stein up in a bony hand.

“How does a skeleton drink ale?” Astrid wondered aloud.

The skeleton heard this. “Just never you mind, halfling!” it snapped, returning the stein to the table.

Anders cleared his throat. “Umm.. sir, it’s just that. Well. We need to get into the tunnel over there.” He pointed. “The one behind your chair.”

“Therin,” Grilda murmured, nudging the cleric in the ribs. “Isn’t that the stuff you like? You still got any?”

He looked at her in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“If it gets us through? Yeah, it’d be a bit faster.” She shrugged at the others. “Besides, I’m thinking it might be a good idea to leave him alone, in case there’s a reason he’s here that we haven’t figured out yet.”

Therin took a serious tone. “You know, maybe this was some kind of…incomplete reincarnation? It might explain the attitude, at least.” He sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine.”

The cleric slowly pulled out a small flask from the waistband around his crimson robes. He held it up a moment, then stepped forward, holding it out towards the skeleton, who was now watching him warily. “Excuse me? I have some Innersea Ale here. I’ll give it to you if you’ll let us pass.”

The skeleton regarded him a moment. “Well…” it finally said, lowering its cane and adjusting the bathrobe once more. “I wouldn’t say no to some of that stuff… it’s been a long time, you know.” With sudden speed it lurched forward, snatching the flask out of the cleric’s startled hands.

“DONE!” it bellowed. “Just mind you walk around the edges! No more traipsing across other peoples’ property like you own the place.” Grasping the flask firmly, it retreated to the rocking chair, now pulling it away from the entrance to the south tunnel.

–

Several minutes later - after having edged around the “lawn” as the skeleton had instructed - the group resumed their journey through the south tunnel, walking single file. Therin finally said, “Not happy about this, guys. That was all the ale I had.”

Astrid smirked over her shoulder at him, holding up a flask. “You didn’t exactly have it.”

Therin stared at her. “Wait… you stole it from me before I traded it to him?” he stammered. “What did I give him, then?”

Astrid put the flask back in the depths of her robes. “Just saving you from yourself, you know. Yours was empty.”

“But that means…” Anders started.

Suddenly there was a howl from the cavern behind them. “ARRRGH!! YOU DAMN KIDS!!!!!”

You should definitely keep going with this dude

I sat with my phone, proud of myself, when I received a notification. A response to my prompt!? Already!?

Nope. Turns out, it was a message from the mods of the WritingPrompts subreddit.

>Stop submitting superhero and alien prompts. They're just as bad as the dark lord ones, and you're spamming. Thanks! -- Mods at WritingPrompts

I felt the color drain from my face. No aliens? No superheroes? What prompts were left? Nothing that I would read, certainly.

A few taps on my phone later, I found myself satisfied with my prompt, and submitted it. Let's see if the mods think I'm not creative, now!

[WP] An r/WritingPrompts user struggles to write a prompt that isn’t about superheroes or aliens.

Harold was lying on the floor, bleeding from the bullet hold on his shoulder.

“Are you the boss here?” Thuderia asked.

“Yes,” I replied, my anger starting.

“Give us the money,” Flame Lord snarled.

“Why?”

“Because,” Anne began, “we’re your Trio of Salvation. We deal with the super villain Blackout. Now give us the money.”

“No,” I said, and threw them out telekinetically. I wasn’t finished. I repaired Harold wound, and created some new blood for him. He should live, but I’ll get him to the hospital later.

The Trio got up, with great rage.

“The fuck?” Thuderia growled, covering her face.

“I am Blackout. And you crossed a damn line.”

“Hah. Blackout? You’re just a ‘comically incompatant’ super villa-“ Flame Lord tried to say, but ripping of the bottom of his jaw shut him up.

“I’ve never been all that interested in taking over the city. I’ve only continued as a hobby to prevent worse villains from showing up. Turns out they showed up today!”

I kicked Anne to the tops of the buildings, and brought my leg down on top of Thunderia.

“Before I was known as Blackout,” I continued, beating these fakes to a pulp, “I was Creator! The only Hero undefeated! With the power to make new abilitys! I brought down Snatcher! I defeated the duo villains of Time and Space! And all of it was done singlehandedly!” I finished, leaving badly broken but living bodies of these false helpers. “And now I’m bringing you to the Tartarus.”

The shock on their faces was quite something.

“Bu-but we’re heros! Why would we be brought to the jail for extremely dangerous villains?” Thunderia wimpered.

“You shot an innocent man, demanded money at gunpoint, and claim to be innocent?”

They fell silent, realizing their pleas would obly fall on deaf ears.

—-

“Hey Creator!” A cheerful voice cried out.

“Hey Snatcher. I got some new faces for you.”

“Oooh, an S ranked threat?”

“No, some C ranked heros.”

“Damn it, I was hoping for a 4th member. I want to play Mahjong!”

“Not my problem. By the way, I’m currently known as Blackout, a Grade D villain.”

“Grade D? Isn’t that reserved for Villains that can’t actually harm anyone? And private info?”

“I’ve been requested by the city of Lancurk to be their villain, so they report me as grade C. Anyway, I gotta get going, these fucks shot my employee.”

“Bye!!!”

I like how PCM also did not know.

I did give her a book about vampiric traditions, but it appears she didn't read it or something? I will take responsibility for not making sure she knew.

She does have a few traditions that make me uncomfortable, including serving garlic during special meals, but I have done my best to participate. Frankly, if a tradition such as what you suggested exists, I'd wonder what she really thought about vampires...

Though saying that, I see how my tradition may imply how I feel about humans. I really don't want to lose her over this... I guess I should sit down and talk with her.

Thank you for the insight!

Hmm I could sure use a part two it’s just that damned good.

Weaving through the maze of the underground dungeon had been a cinch for someone like myself. I had spent the last two decades going through dungeons with my wife, and this one promised to be easy pickings, so I didn't think twice about her staying home this time.

There were countless rooms I had passed with nearly endless loot. I can't be luckier, I thought. I'm the first one to clear this dungeon, or at least get this far! I noticed there were strange things in the rooms I had entered - tables and beds and brushes, amongst other goods. I didn't think twice of it, nor of the clattering skeletons that attacked me with nothing but their meatless fists.

Finally, through chance, I came to a particularly nice look door. As expected, a skeleton came out as soon as I approached. What wasn't expected was its gear: a fluffy pink bathrobe with fluffy pink bath slippers.

"Uh...?"

"Sir!" spoke the skeleton, the first one to do so thus far. "Sir. You cannot- no. You are stepping on the fungi! Back it up!"

"What?" I looked down at my feet to see there was indeed a plot of earth with mushrooms growing out of it. I stepped backwards until I had stepped nearly all of the ones in my path, as walking on them was unavoidable. "Shit! Sorry! I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't MEAN to, but you did! How are you going to compensate me for my losses, hmmm?" asked the skeleton, putting its hands on its hips. "I was enjoying my tea before your clumsy, ungraceful living self trampled over my precious Fly Agaric."

"Your what?"

"Of course you don't kn-"

"Wait a second. I don't care. I'm here for the loot, and you're undead," I said, placing one hand on my forehead and extending the other palm-side out in an attempt to silence the skeleton.

"Loot? LOOT? You're lucky if you find anything worthwhile in these hovels - especially with you going about with reckless abandon, lowering property values. Do you know how long it took me to earn enough to get this close to the center of the dungeon?"

"A... long time?"

The skeleton said in a mocking, high-pitched voice, "A long time?" Before growling out, "Yes, a long time. A very, very long time. Now you leave here before I call for security and have a painting of you posted all over this dungeon!"

Ah yes, a legendary monkey, from ancient China, not being able to speak or understand English. Who would have thought?

Very interesting read. I wonder how Wukong, or should I say Saul, will react to the current major religions of the world?

I knew there’s going to be at least one Dragon Ball reference here lmao

My dad loves watching Columbo. I watched a lot with him as a kid lol. "Just one more thing..." was his catch phrase before he nails them with a pointed question if I remember correctly. Thanks for answering

YTA.

While you're right to want tradition, it's selfish to expect others to blindly follow them.

What if they have a tradition you don't like? Your fiancé could have a tradition that, as a vampire or as a person, you don't want to do. Would you be disrespecting her tradition or simply setting boundaries?

You should've also discussed this early in the engagement. "Just found out" implies that she didnt even find out from you. You say you follow tradition, yet don't tell your fiancé the tradition. Now this is just an assumption, but from your wording it seems likely. Imagine how that makes her feel.

Now also imagine if she had asked you to cure your vampirism because it's her family tradition. You would probably say no, and for good reason. You are happy with your vampirism and you should be, no one should take that away from you unless you are more than willing to. It's the same situation with her - she seems to love you, but doesn't want to give up her humanity.

Honestly, the answer is so simple, it's embarrassing you even had to ask. Do better, OP.

Basically, the aliens can't attack, they can only defend. a real-life example would be Japan. Hence the launched missile gives them an opportunity to respond in kind.

Hey, Astro. Your penchant for present tense is admirable. Might I suggest some ways to improve this particular piece. To my mind, it lacks flow and sensation. I get the impression that you are standing back from the scene and describing individual observations, rather than using the here-and-now capability of present tense to convey Ackley's PoV.

I have amended your first two paragraphs to show what I mean. I'm not suggesting you make these changes in particular, but that you engage the reader in the plight of your character.

​

>The door squeaks open and Ackley, hunching in the corner of this stone cellar, looks up. He is cold and hungry. As usual, an unseen figure slides a plate along the floor, out of reach. He catches the jibes of villagers for a second as they tease the guard, then the door slams shut.
>
>With stick in hand he shuffles till his chains are taught, slumps to the floor then uses his prop to tease the plate closer. Ackley takes a ravenous bite from the piece of stale bread in his hand. It's not moldy this time.

Cheers.

This time it had to work. It couldn't be like that time the duct tape broke in the torture chamber, releasing the bar that kept Doctor KingKitty from morphing into her feline form and escaping. Or like the time my blaster cannon had no ammo while I finally had WhipWorm in the scope. And most certainly never like the time when I had all of the CloudWing crew trapped in a bus and hanging off the cliffside, and instead of using my extender arm to push it off, I activated the grapple instead.

The CloudWingers had to be stopped at any cost.

Ash stung my nostrils as I prowled about the ruins of my 6-12 convenience store, a business that had nothing to do with CloudWing and which they untargeted with contemptuous unfairness in an act that could be described as villainous. I'm supposed to be the villain. I had ignored them for too long, allowing them to go about telling the tallest of tales and exaggerations about their minuscule superpowers while I focused too much on the project. Oh me.

It hadn't been all that difficult to get them all on that bus. They weren't exactly the brightest superheroes ever, usually gullibly falling into whatever trap suited their fancy the most. KingKitty was had with merely a piece of catnip. WhipWorm just wanted to hide and slithered right in. MellowSnow hated heat and was forced on with nothing more than a cigarette lighter. Then the leader, the pathetic RiverRaven, was so full of their own appetite that a squirrel carcass had brought the bird faster than I could count to ten.

If only I had finished them then.

No point in crying over past opportunities. I looked over at the automorpher with glee. If only I had it complete... It would be the most perfect way to dispose of them. Plants, reduced to nothing more than ordinary garden weeds. Then, onto the rest of the superheroes. Yes, yes. I could plant them in a garden. So much fun.

I licked my lips. Time to go to work.

-----------

I couldn't help but let out a smile directed at nothing as I watched all of them get into the back of the brown van, the automorpher pointed out the window at it. This was going to be all too easy... They had fallen for the same traps that I had laid out the last time! Oh me.

Once all four were inside I called down to the security guard whom I'd paid a handsome sum and he shut the door. At once I charged the automorpher and pulled the trigger, expecting a cathartic blast of energy to rush into the van.

What came out instead was... a wisp of smoke?

That's when the gun started to feel hot. Not just hot like it'd been warmed by the sun on an afternoon, or hot like a cell phone gets when its overused. Boiling hot, enough that I was forced to drop it.

Of course, when it hit the ground a blast of energy finally did come out of it, directed at me. It didn't kill me, instead giving me these stupid petals around my face so I look like a sunflower. A loser.

<pouts>

----------------

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i cried

that's how good this is

[removed]

I believe a very high risk area such as a nuclear launch room would have just a few cameras at least, if not several hundred cyber security forces on top of it 24/7. All it takes it that one video recording to be shown to any allies helping