Thus reminded of godfathers for some reason.

Philadelphia Sucks Hate All Women

Lmao are there more? I’m new to this I need to learn

Social media has always been a thing though. In the 1800s, you'd have couriers delivering your txt msgs a dozen times a day. In those days you were judged on your penmanship rather than encyclopedic knowledge of unicode glyphs, but it was basically the same thing.

Before the internet, making up drama about the meanings of flowers was basically the only entertainment.

[removed]

”Don’t you think this subject is a bit overstudied?”

“What do you mean?” I let the flames in my hand die down.

“The field of magic is relatively well studied with that it is separated from all other fields. There is a reason we have a science apartment in this university separated from the magic apartment”

“Yes, but what if they are not separate but strongly linked. They co-exist so surely there must be a link between them.”

“There have already been several studies throughout the ages that have tried to prove this, all have failed. Magic and science follow different rules. They can interfere with each other but always follow one set of rules: the rules of science or the rules of magic”

“That is true professor, but what if I can prove instances where they the same? Because I think I have found that.”

“There are already examples of this. Magical fire and real fire will behave the same. But magical fire will not abide by the same thermo laws as real fire. This is a widely accepted fact, and proven more that a thousand times.”

“Thermo laws yes, but what about the law of reflection from the light admitted by the fire?”

“Interesting… I don’t think I have read any papers on that… Tell me what you have found!”

"What is this? What?" I said in shock, turning the pages in the bookstore. But why did I say it? And turning the pages of what? None other than the book written by my significant other, or my wife as I call her. Hardly the occasion for shock and surprise, you'd think. Surely I'd read the book before it was published. And I had. When she got her book deal and handed me a copy of the manuscript, I'd read every word, beaming with pride, even if I didn't actually enjoy the writing, though I might have. And that was that, or so I thought. "The book is getting published, and off it goes to the shelves, and that's it. Same book I just read", I said to myself. But one day in a bookstore, a strange thought occurred to me. An odd notion, almost as if it was beamed into my brain by some incredibly advanced alien species, far beyond the cosmos, their machinations totally unknown to us. "Why not buy the book?" I thought. "What if I, just out of nowhere, right here in this bookstore, buy my wife's own book?" I picked it up and paid the price. But I paid the price in more than one way. While flipping through the book, I felt shock. I felt terror and fear. "Wh-what is this?" I stammered as I threw the book to the floor. It was completely different. The entire book had changed.

The jade green glow emanating from her eyes danced in the tears welling beneath. All I ever wanted to do was make her proud, to make up for all the trouble I’ve been. It took me a minute to realize why Sonia was crying. I ain’t never been a smart man.

Maybe that’s why I took the blow of the curse. I wanted to be useful, just for once. Even if it was my last scene in this play, I wasn’t going to go out having it be said that I never broke even. Of course, she always told me she didn’t mind. They all did, all those wizards, warriors, and people of prophecy that lined the pages of ancient texts we’d dug up. They were the chosen, the fated eight, and I was the ninth. Well, I was technically the first to join Sonia Oakhearth back in Kirk’s Drift. The other seven came along the winding path that has been this wild journey of ours… Of theirs, really.

They were the ones saving people. I just watched and did all the small necessary jobs required to keep ‘em alive. “We need you to get this from the stables” or “Hey, Hoak, go get us rooms at the inn whilst we go and talk to the queen.” They didn’t mean harm by it, I just ain’t meant for that spotlight. That’s why I wasn’t in the prophecies. Well, that’s what I thought, until then.

Turns out, I was in the prophecy. I was the lich, the one that needed to die in order to save the world. Tough luck, huh?

So there I was, all undead-looking and wheezing through dusty lungs. None of the eight moved. They just looked at me all sad-like. I was confused because, hey, we’d won. We beat the fucking High Lord of Lowen in a brawl. All that needed to happen was finishing the curse that was now trapped in me, the curse that I was. I wanted to tell ‘em to stop hesitating and finish it before something or someone showed up, but my vocal cords were decayed. I couldn’t speak. A cough shot dead lung tissue onto the rubble at my side. I fell over onto my hands and knees as black sludge, what I reckon was my blood, poured from my mouth like the fountains in the queens court. Well, at least what Aya said they were like.

“No… Gods, this can’t be…”

I would have told Sonia that I should have stopped smoking like she asked. Bad jokes at worse times was my most important contribution to the team, but my last words were going to be whatever stupid shit I said before diving in front of that ritual dagger. She rushed over and knelt next to me. She was always the kind one, never let herself believe that things would end badly. Most of the time, thanks to the eight, they never did. And here I was, ruining the mood.

“There has to be some way to fix this! We can’t… I can’t… I…”

I placed my withered hand on her plated shoulder. Destiny did many things, but it never lied. I was done. I was going to die here or else we all were. Was I scared? Yes. I just didn’t want to think about it. I just needed her to get it over with before I got stuck in my head. I shook my head, bones creaking and muscles snapping. I didn’t want to die, but I certainly did not want to live like this. Sobs choked her words.

“Hoak, please… I can’t… I won’t. I’m not letting you go. We still need you.”

I don’t know how I replied to Sonia. I guess it was magic. I ain’t a damn lich expert. I always left shit like that to Solomon. But, when I did speak, I wasn’t… right. It wasn’t coming from me.

“No… you ain’t gonna need me… not anymore.”

She hugged me tight, which really must have sucked because I probably stank like, y’know, a corpse. She just kept saying “no” and “I can’t” as she wept into my shoulder. I could feel her tears dripping down into my exposed rib cage. Being a lich ain’t no fun. I pushed her back. She had sludge on her face, but channels of tears were cutting through it like the Rivers of Rowan. I miss that place, but I was a goner. My story was done. This was my lot in life, and I can’t argue with fate. I spoke again, ethereal and strange.

“You… you have to… please… I ain’t… I ain’t worth the world.”

“I owe you everything. I can’t let you go like this. Anything but this.”

What I said next was cruel. I didn’t mean it to be, but bad jokes at worse times were my best contributions.

“No… I still… owe you twelve gold…”

I broke her wagon in Kirk’s Drift. It’s a long story, but that’s how I ended up with my first of many debts to her. She remembered, clearly. She couldn’t even look at me after that. Sonia unsheathed Solace, her divine sword. She looked ready to finally get fate under way until she looked back. The sword tip fell to the ground between the two of us.

She was right. She couldn’t do it, but fate never said she would be the one to kill the Armageddon Lich.

I lifted the point of the sword and lunged into it. Sonia wasn’t quick enough, I caught her off guard. She and a few of the others screamed. They all rushed forward as I felt holy fire cleansing me away. That’s when it hit me. I did it. I killed the greatest evil in the world.

Sonia couldn’t stop screaming as my arms and legs turned to ash. Flashes of magic, prayers, and all kinds of things came out from the eight in a vain attempt to save my burning body.

I closed my eyes and slimed. I did it.

I had paid my debt, all twelve shiny gold pieces of it.

Nice

Alright Junji Ito we get it, you're the master of horror, no need to rub it in our faces

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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AH YES anthropomorphic red turkey sidekick for the win!

Bro imma need some of this it’s really quite good.

He stared at the house down in cherry lane for brief moment. A normal looking house with grey walls and a white ceiling decorated with flower pots. It was a special normal house though. It was hers. The woman of his dream's house.

He fixed his hair in Ann's car window and started thinking about her reaction when she sees him as he was hesitating to ring the bell. Ringing a simple bell seemed harder than stealing a train, he finally proceeded to knock.

"Coming!" A female voice said. Tommy realized that voice, it was Ann's. He started posing, crossed arms, leaning on the wall and... but he decided just to go with hands in pockets as he heard a creak. "Hey Mon come on in, you can't believe what I just found! He left another clue, I don't know if he's stupid or he's doing it on- " She looked. She finally looked , clearly in disbelief she was staring at the guy she's been chasing for the past 9 months. Tommy smiled at a confused, messy looking Ann who was wearing a kitten t-shirt. "Hello detective." Tommy said playfully, "How have you been?"

Ann did what her instinct told her to, she shut the door. Tommy let out a disappointed sigh and grumbled "Here she goes again.." "Tom Thompson, you're under arrest, put your hands where I can see them." It was Ann pointing at Tommy with a gun and a determined look, you could see joy in her face. The fact that she was so looking forward to arresting him was annoying but he shrugged it off anyway. With his hands up he said "Oh come on detective! I came here all by myself and you won't let me in?" Ann gave him a suspicious look. "I could give you info on One Eyed Assef?" Ann narrowed her eyes, Tommy was still grinning, she finally gave in. "Alright, but we're doing this under my rules."

"..My my detective, I didn't know you were into this stuff." Tommy said, handcuffed to a chair. "Alright Tommy spit it out, why are you here? Are you here to finally destroy all the info you leaked? Because it's no use, I've already copied them all." Ann continued rambling with a smug on her face. "You're cute when you don't know what you're talking about." Ann rolled her rolled her eyes "Alright so why are you here?"

"To ask you out?" Tommy said it like it was an obvious thing and in fact, it was. He's bought Ann gifts for her birthday and valentine's day, he's taken her out to places, he's even had fireworks spelling out her name when they were out. But no, Ann didn't take the hint, it was all clues to her. She gave him a puzzled look. Tommy sighed. "Ann? Ever thought that maybe taking you out and buying you flowers meant something other than clues?" "..What's your point?" "My point is I like you and I want you to go out with me, besides if I wanted to leak information I would've just emailed them to you."

Ann was silent. "That's.. new." Tommy raised his eyebrows and gave her a 'is it?' look. "I- I'm still a detective and-" Someone started knocking the door. "Ann! You there?" It was Monica, Ann's friend. "Coming Mon! Just a sec!"

When Ann looked at Tommy again, he was already out of his cuffs and he was running to the window. "Bye bye detective! See you on our date!" "Wait!" Ann started running but it was too late. She stared as the man got away and his shadow vanished.

"..He got away." She said. For a moment, she didn't know how to feel.
"Dammit!" I said for a moment.

This is your weekly reminder that Worm is awesome.

I actually wrote two, the one below I wrote first but I liked that other scene so much I wanted to send it first. Here’s the other scene:

My arm ached with a deep thrum that kept time with my pulse. The burn ran deep, but I wouldn’t let the paramedics touch me. Let it burn. It would serve as a reminder of what they’ve done. I sat on the curb as the firefighters worked, hoping they wouldn’t put the fire out in time to save the building. Let it come down, let me start fresh. I could see my wig in the entrance, the bright green reduced to a dull gray. I hadn’t even realized I’d lost it. I fought back flashes of an hour ago. The window fully ablaze, mannequins melting against the blackening glass. The screams from inside.

I was interrupted by a reporter, ambling over notebook in hand. “Excuse me, Mr. Ulavale, I’m from the times. I’m so sorry about your store, would you mind talking with me? I heard you single handedly rescued some of your employees, what happened?”

“Fuck off.” I flicked my cigarette at him half heartedly. Without my face, or my hair, I didn’t have the energy for anything more.

“Ok, I’m not trying to harass you, I’m sorry.” He started to walk away, but paused at the corner. “You’re a hero, you know.” I felt a surge of rage.

“The fuck did you just call me?” I ran after him, but the little fucker was quick. He had a point, though. Heroes were murderous, selfish little cowards, and here I was. Hiding behind my mild mannered alter ego. Wading in self pity. I was acting exactly like a hero. Id never killed anyone before, but it was high time I learned how.

Back at my house I worked to become myself again. The grease paint slid on like a second skin, cool and comfortable. I took my time painting on my mouth, making it deeper and redder than I ever had before. I slid into my shoes and pulled the suspenders tight over my shoulders. I took a deep pull from my pocket flask, let the cheap vodka make my insides match my outside with a deep burn.

No more ruining kid’s birthday parties. From now on, Bobo the Clown was coming for blood.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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I started reading the comments and then saw 'Septiplier' and almost choked on my apple

That was... Unexpected

HONK HONK “I heard there was a birthday here. A birthday where? A birthday here! I heard there was a birthday here and I’m Bobo the Clown!”

The man at the front door looked confused and angry, his muscles bulged out of his stupid little tank top and his eyes darted around furiously, scanning the space behind the clown.

“What the fuck is this, do I look like I’m having a birthday party? Who sent you?”

“I’m a special kind of clown for a special kind of boy. Here to say ‘Happy Birthday Billy’ just for you.” The clown reached out to boop him on the nose but the man grabbed his arm and twisted it hard behind his back. The clown gave a hearty chuckle and the man hesitated. “That’s not very nice, Billy.” The Clown’s arm broke off in his grip and the clown spun around to hold the man in a bear hug.

“Birthday hugs are the best hugs!”

“Who the fuck are you, what do you want?” The man dropped the fake arm.

“I want to say hello to Mr. Dangerous.” The man’s composure slipped. It only lasted a second, but it confirmed everything. The clown’s voice changed suddenly, dropping several registers.

“Oh Mr. Dangerous. You’re my hero.” His lapel flower sprayed into the man’s face and he began to scream. The clown let go and watched him collapse to the ground, the skin of his face melting into a puddle. “That’s for LaSondra. She didn’t make it out of your cute little fire.” The clown said, circling the man as he slowly melted.

“I did a little money laundering, sure. You burned my wig shop to the ground. You killed my employees. You ruined my life. You call yourself a hero?” His oversized shoe landed hard on the man’s back. A rib cracked like splintering wood.

“I’d better be careful, Mr. Dangerous. I’m acting more like a hero by the minute, wouldn’t you say?”

The man’s left arm was liquifying into a reddish brown mucous. The man was pressing a button on his shirt furiously with his one good hand, though it too was beginning to melt.

“Don’t bother.” The clown said, “the ‘super squad’ won’t be coming. But I’ll pour you into the container I’m keeping them in if you want. Well. Whatever bits of you I can scoop up.”

The man’s screaming stopped. The clown gave another chuckle and skippped his way into the kitchen.

“I heard we have a birthday here! A birthday where? A birthday here! I heard we have a birthday here and I’m Bobo the Clown!” He sang as he scooped what was left of Mr. Dangerous into a Tupperware container.

> PolyChromatic Man

too funny!

fun answer to the prompt, thanks.

Look I'm a man who can handle many things...

Being listed by the World Villian League as 'Ridiculously D-Teir' because i don't personally feel the need to do more than rob banks and steal tech from labs was fair.

Having the Wrecking Crew be my assigned "Nemeses" was a hard pill to swallow but i got over it. Hell, i got used to it.

Jungle Kid's cheesey lines and speeches as the "Team Leader" even though all he instructs them to do is just "Wrecking Crew Topple 'Em" was admirable for the children.

Cheese Man's gimmick was a good laugh to my henchmen so he was good to keep him around.

Playing to Atlan's strongside of having random water puddles made the fights fun with his creativity.

And Tim... I still don't know what Tim did.

But they were always the ones who would let me get my things run away and the foil my plans last second.

They weren't Watcher who would place a tracking device, or Millennium who would just hear my plans and escort me to jail. They were simply reactionary, not on pursuit.

So when the ignorant children find out that i had my little coffee shop on the corner of 5th, and didn't do any research to see that my staff were just average people looking for jobs. BARGED IN WHILE I WAS AWAY, DESTROY THE PLACE, PUT MY STAFF IN THE HOSPITAL! Then Doctor Tinker isn't going to play nice.

Doctor Tinker is going to drop the advantages, Drop the crappy junk machines that a can be dismantled by a thrown screwdriver. Goes to their doorstep, and pardon the corny line it's a habit i need to work on, Wreck the Wrecking Crew and have their nearly lifeless bodies flowing down the Hudson River.

There simply isn't a better feeling.

Now hopefully the next time some heroes try to do the whole song and dance they're old enough to know, Don't mess with the people I care for.

Infanticide

"Ah! I've found a clue!" I said, looking at the fingerprint through my magnifying glass. Yes, it is I, the famous detective you know so well. But how could you know me so well when we've never met? That is, never met in real life? An interesting question, and perhaps a sign of things to come? Only a great detective would know, and that's what I am. Not all detectives know that mysteries can actually conceal greater mysteries, as I learned one fateful day, when everything changed. You see, I was investigating the murder of a certain victim. Just an ordinary day in my life, if you can even call it a life at all, which is not something I would have said before this mystery, but soon all will be revealed. I was going through the list of suspects and trying to piece together the clues. But it was all too perfect. Too contrived. I had an odd thought... but no. That's absurd. But could it be? Could real life, to which I thought I belonged, truly operate in such a matter? As if it were penned for me, plotted by the hand of a master? As if I were in.... a book? The thought struck me like lightning. And further deduction proved it was true. I was a character in a book!

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