I mean, "This is my hole! It's made for me!" wouldn't be entirely out of place in the boudoir. Weird, maybe, but not horrific.

Oh, and to think that I hoped you were just a misguided fledling, led astray by the last remnants of your feeble mortal feelings, that haven't yet been cleansed by the vampiric blood, which I am now ashamed to share with you.. Now I see you for what you are, a craven traitor to the Children of the Blood, no different to that vile usurper in whom you foolishly place your faith. Your empty threats only serve to amuse me, as we, the true scions of the Great Dragon all know that your false lord and your council of cowards have fallen far from the glory of the ancient Lords of the Night. Only our Unholy Order of the Dark Age, which you so ignorantly slander as a cult, has preserved the true power of the Gods of Darkness, and your corrupt new system cannot assail us. Our roots are deep, our connections are wide and our ambitions are high! May the Endless Night come soon!

Too short, doesn't really go anywhere, or explain why they reacted with terror. Confusion would make much more sense.

I mean, it could easily be explained as "this is actually someone else's book, and some prankster switched the dust covers." No reason for horror to be the first reaction.

Love it, thanks!

Love the story. Only comment would be maybe incorporating how she was sipping the drink with broken hands and and take out/adjust her opening the envelope at the end.

With a partner and a twisted sense of humor, quote it during intimate times.

It's an old code, but it checks out...

Not that I know of. Have a look at r/AmITheAsshole ;)

Protip, trying to indent text with spaces converts it to being displayed as code. For text stories, this means entire paragraphs are on a single line and nigh unreadable

Interesting concept! There's a couple grammar issues like was -> were for plural but it was enjoyable

Part two

I escorted the Adventurer into my Father's home, feeling her suspicious glare as she followed me. "NPC?" I asked her as I rested the Iron Sword on a table. She used the term, one I felt a vague memory of but could not define.

"Non-Playable Character," she replied. "That's what you are. Or at least, what I thought you were."

"What does that even mean?" Her words were abstract, meaningless. I understood each word at the individual level, but together they were nothing to me.

She sighed, eyeing me the whole time. "What's your name?" she asked. "What do you do here?"

My brows narrowed in confusion. The change of conversation was sudden. "Theo. I'm the Blacksmith's Apprentice."

She nodded. "And your Father? What does he do?"

"He's the Blacksmith."

"And his name?"

"My Father's name? It's ... My Father is called ..." My brain halted. My Father had a name. Of course he did. A name I should know. And yet, I didn't know. My Father was simply Father. The Blacksmith. "I don't know," I admitted.

"That's what I thought," the Adventurer said. "So, he's the Blacksmith and your the Apprentice. When did that start?"

Again, mouth opened even though the answer was unknown to me. I simply had no idea how long I'd been the Apprentice for. "I don't know," I repeated softly. "I think I've always been the Apprentice."

"Because you're an NPC. You're just a string of data. A set of actions and responses." Her look was one of pity. "Or you're supposed to be. But, somehow, you are so much more than that."

"So, I'm nothing." I slumped onto the ground. "Just a simple character with no goal?"

"You were," she replied. I looked up as she offered me the Iron Sword from the table, my Great-Grandfather's Armour in her other hand. "But now you have the chance to be so much more."

Magic was something Opeli believed ever since she was a small child. Many tought she was crazy, that she had a wide imagination.

Now, a fireball in her hand, a smug look on her face, and the confusion, endless and deep, in her professor's eyes worth the years of humiliation.

"Magic is nothing but converting energy as you please." She explained, just like how she explains a child that one plus one equals two. "When concentrating the right part of our own energy, we can bend the atoms around us to diferentate. Thus explains spells." With a move of her wrist, the fire flicked a last time, before transfoming into a small light orb.

"This is..." The professor looked trought the papers, everything explained shiftly, yet it was too difficult to understand even for him.

"With enough knowledge, even necromancy is possible." Opeli inched closer to her professor. "Love spells, healing, all you can ask for with the move of a hand. Isn't this a miracle?" She lained closer untill she was inches away from the older man.

"How..."

"Isn't this knowledge worth an A, rofessor?" She asked in a whisper. "I just proved the reality of a fairy tale."

Ah, I see you're a member of the 'Dark Age Cult'. Well, I shall have you know that I showed this response to the Vampire Lord and he is NOT pleased. Your IP address is being traced and you'll be found and captured in no time. I hope your prepared for what punishment comes your way!

And FYI, my fiancé is my equal! I came here to find out where we went wrong, and now I know we had both made mistakes! I still love her even if she DOESN'T wish to become a vampire!

​

>Player: Jack Portman
>
>SCORE: 98
>
>TOP ACHIEVEMENT: FAMILY MONARCH- Have at least 7 grandkids by the time you die!
>
>Highlight: Marriage to Kirsten Mackenzie, July 16th, 2007.
>
>Would you like to Spectate, Play in Creative, Start A New File, or Return to Hub?

I was dead. I knew it. I heard the flatline, felt the tears hit my face with a splash as my sister, in her old age, saw her lifelong best friend and closest confidant pass from this world. I heard my son scream, wishing he had a punching bag, as he fell to the ground in tears. The room smelled homeless, sterile and insincere, but the aura of the room was anything but. Poor little Jack Jr, my daughter Lilly's kid, had only been born a month before, and didn't know what was going on. I was happy to see my successor before I passed.

The words haunted me.

>Spectate, Creative, New File, Return to Hub

I remembered everything. My birth, if hazy, was there. My brain knew that I was human, I had to be. I'd just lived a solid 98 years, after all! It wasn't like I was just... playing a game. No, I had a wife I loved, a construction job that I had done for 35 years, and a management job I had done until I was 73 and broke my hip. I had grandkids, my daughter Lilly was a lawyer, my younger son was a wonderful househusband, and my older son was a human rights advocate and had spoken to the UN. My family was successful. It wasn't just... simulation. It couldn't be.

My family was real.

Kay-baby was real.

I felt the helmet get yanked off of me, as bright lights blinded me.

The face staring down at me was one that took me a real good while to recognize.

Feeling came over me again. My limbs felt awkward to move, after having two very mobile arms and grippy fingers to work with. My own skin felt slimy, gross, like I was leaking. My body felt flat, lumpy, like it was falling apart. I could feel each and every wrinkle in the... table I was laying on. I felt my eyes shift around, muscles in my head moving them into different sockets so I could see from a wider angle. The idea that I had hands, and feet, solid, flowing together perfectly, felt foreign, as the muscle memory I had developed tried to find precise, detailed ligaments failed to work properly.

(the dialogue in this scene has been translated from Ygriggian in order to provide reading pleasure)

"How do you feel?"

The voice was tangy, tinted with a scent of orange that scraped against my very soul that I thought I'd had. My core shivered, as my memory of my old life failed to materialize. It was all I could do to scream.

"Are you okay?" He- no, it- placed a ligament on me, and the slimy gross feeling that I was experiencing was nothing but torture. I tried to smell, but recognized I had nothing to smell with. I opened what I thought was my mouth, to feel no tongue. Little but rows and rows of sharp teeth.

"Hey, hey, man, watch it!" he backed off. "I know it may be rough, but-"

I screamed.

I screamed, screamed, and screamed again. I made sure that the God I now knew was fictional, created by a machine, could hear me. I made sure that whoever created this machine, to convince me of a world where I was happy, cared for, and loved, would know the hell of leaving it.

Deep in my subconscious, I saw them.

>Spectate, Creative, New File, Return to Hub

Deep in my subconscious, I knew what I had to do. If the last world was a simulation, all I could hope for was that this one was too. Simply returning to that fantasy would give me nothing now.

Somehow, somewhere, the being opposite me in the room reacted. "No, stop that! You can't! Please, I have a family, don't-"

Deep in my soul, something clicked "Return To Hub"

I heard another flatline, and my eldritch body went limp.

Kay-baby, I know you aren't real. You're a character created by my mind.

But I am too.

And I'm going to wake up.

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

It got multiplied by i and became a plane where Santa and his fat dumptruck can roam free, I guess.

Also, nice username

Amazing work. Inspires me to get back in writing.

This is amazing! I would probably read a whole book on this.

You should have reminded the readers to swallow, I drooled my shoe onto thr table (I am a linguapod) (I'm not sure why I made this joke)

NTA (is that what the fledlings say these days?). In all of my centuries under the Moon, even amongst the inferior mortals I have never heard of such an entitled, spoiled and thankless bitch! (I apologise for my base and vulgar manner of speaking, but the insolence of this wretch has my immortal blood boiling). Imagine (shudder) having the misfortune being a lowly, feeble, stupid and disgusting mortal, and a woman at that, to whom an exalted specimen of the Eternal Ones, the Children of the Blood, the Lords of the Night, has (ill-advisedly) taken a liking, and has even offered not only to make her his lawful wife, but also to share the Gift with, and then having the audacity to refuse, and to even presume yourself to be worthy of setting terms to a Vampire! If I was in your place, I would have snapped her neck on the spot for such insolence, and fed her body to my hounds instead of allowing myself to be sullied by that cunt's filthy blood. In our degenerate times, those foolish mortals think too highly of themselves, and have forgotten their rightful place, all because the sissies currently taking up space on the Council of Shadows have decided to pursue a craven policy of "coexistence" and "equality". What foolishness! The bloodbags need to be brought down under out heels and reminded that they are nothing more than cattle for us, through whom flows the blood of the Gods of Darkness, who alone hold mastery over the night and all its creatures, and the sole purpose of their wretched existence is to be consumed and disposed of by us as we see fit, as was done in the good old days under the wise and benevolent rule of the Count Vlad, the Great Dragon. But I have faith that the Endless Night shall fall again, and the Tide of Blood shall cleanse the world of its impurities! Pardon me for digressing into politics, as my sole purpose is to reassure you that you have not in any way dealt unjustly with your mortal plaything, except perhaps for showing excessive lenience towards such presumptuous filth.

I like the loading screen tips, lol, nice touch!

Change how? Did the book change by turning into a pickle?

[removed]

SHHHH! YOU'LL GIVE ME AWAY! Umm... Vampires don't exist, remember? Heh heh... heh...

"DAAAAAAAAAAD!" Ian runs up excitedly to his father, who gives his hair a good ruffle.

"Hey, kiddo! It's good to see you!" the dad says, smiling warmly.

Ian lets go of his father. "We gonna play games? Watch films? I miss you!"

"I miss you a lot too, ya rascal. Now, wait inside the car, I need to talk to Mrs. Leaves. I won't be long." The father opens the door for Ian, and when he's in shuts it. He looks at me and walks over. "Hey, Airlight" he says. "Didn't realise you were teaching my son. Does he give you trouble?"

"He's such a sweetheart actually. How did he come from YOU, Darkshade?" I smirk, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, I guess I don't leave you with a great impression." His face falls.

I soften my look. Something is clearly going on. "Does Ian know? Your wife?"

Darkshade glares at me. "Maria's gone. Remember when I was silent for a few years? That was thanks to her. She made me better. When she was killed, however... I don't know, I snapped. Ian was only three months old. I didn't know what to do. Happy now?"

I shake my head. "Not in the slightest. So with just you raising Ian..."

"I know what you're thinking. My day job and nightly crime sprees keep me so busy my neighbour watches Ian constantly. I tell her it's because I have a 'night job'." He looks away.

I raise an eyebrow. "Night job, huh? You're a murderer."

"I know" Darkshade growls. "My former buddies told me they'd pay well, and they do."

It all clicks in that one moment. "You're a grieving man raising a child by yourself who used to be a villain. You're broken."

In that moment, Darkshade collapses. "When I met her, I told myself I'd NEVER go back to my old life. She knew EVERYTHING about me, yet CHOSE to be with me! What would she think of me?"

"Why didn't you tell me anything?" I ask gently.

"I was afraid, but more than that, I didn't want you to know I was dead. I'm basically nothing now..." He stares at the ground, tears streaming down his face.

A little hand touches his shoulder. "Dad? Why are you crying?"

I blink. I have no clue what to do... I have to fulfil my duty to the citizens... but I can't tear apart an already broken family...

An idea forms in my head. "He confessed to me that he only had time today literally just to pick you up. His job is sending him on a work trip, he doesn't know how long he'll be gone for, but he doesn't want to abandon you."

Darkshade looks at me, and I give him a wink. Ian seems sad, but nods. "Ok..." he looks at Darkshade. "Dad, it's ok, I know your job is important. I'll be fine."

He looks at his son, and gives him a big hug. "I'm sorry. I promise things won't be like this forever. You can stay at Mrs. Leave's place for now."

My eyes widen. "I'll check with the principal..." I whip my phone out. I'm NOT getting fired! I mean, I'll help Ian, but I won't have a bad reputation involving children, of all things! As I confer with my boss, I overhear Darkshade and Ian talking. I get the all-clear from the principal and tell Ian to wait at the school entrance for me. I look at Darkshade. "Ok, you know full-well I didn't cover for you just because I feel sorry for you. You're getting help. Go to Starshine Mental Institution, they have a good reputation for helping people not quite insane, normally the last step for someone recovering from difficulties. They'll refuse to take you in, tell them I sent you, I'll get a call and confirm with them. Just remember: you step out of line, they won't hesitate to throw your ass into maximum security. You'll never see your son again. Believe me when I say I don't want that."

Darkshade stands up and nods. "So for what purpose am I there instead of minimum security or something?"

I laugh. "You think ANYONE would trust you in MINIMUM SECURITY? Listen, you'll have therapists to talk to. It's a good place for a person to get their life together. I'll come by once a week, ok?" I smile reassuringly.

Darkshade sighs. "Ok. But if anyone asks, I was captured and deemed insane. Only us and the people at the institute are to know the truth. Keep Ian away from the news, he does like watching it but I can't risk him finding out what his father was... what he is..." he gets in his car and drives off.

I turn... and Ian is right behind me, a look of concern on his face. "I do really like the news..."

I bend down and hug him. "Ian, you weren't supposed to know..."

"I know, but I got bored. I'm sorry, Mrs. Leaves. But dad isn't a bad person, is he?" he stares at me with big eyes.

I look towards the road, and my phone rings. The institute. Dang, Darkshade was fast! But... he kept his promise...

I smile. "Not at all. Come on." I take Ian's hand as I answer the phone.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading! More stories here!

Hi. Let me introduce myself. I'm everything wrong with the sport.

What? Don't look at me like that. Haven't you heard? I grew up in the city and used my athletic skills to get a break. And that break came from a scholarship to the school I'm with now. You know, the arrogant, pompous, preppy, school full of *them*. *They* don't deserve a team with our talent. And especially people *like me* should not go to a school *like that*. As if getting a top-class education and plying my trade on the national stage is somehow making me a sellout.

Apparently it does. Really. Just ask the people who worked together to find my private email address. Ask the ones who posted my private cell phone number to fan groups so I could hear the words all day. Every day. Dozens of messages. People wishing for me to fail, hoping I choke on the big stage... and those are the ones I can repeat. Campus security had to check in on my younger sister after a few of those messages.

The nationals was my chance at redemption. The championships were when I stood tall. Memories of last year still remain. I know what it's like to be in that dogpile of players who achieve their lifelong dream. I've raised that trophy high. I've felt that euphoria -- it's addictive. This year, we had a chance to do it again. That's the kind of history making you undeniable.

But something happened along the way... we played a team that was up to the challenge. Hey, it's the championships, this happens. It was a back-and-forth game, and it came down to the last shot. And as luck would have it, that shot, the one that would have flipped the game result and allowed us to continue through to history, left my fingertips.

And... well, it didn't go in.

Look, I've made and missed game-winners before, but this one hurt, because it was my last game for the school that gave me a chance to escape poverty. I do want to thank my coach and teammates who consoled me... and yeah, the alums sent hundreds of messages thanking me for my service, keep your chin up, blah blah.

But THEY were out in full force. Hundreds of emails. Hundreds of text messages. Hundreds of voicemails. People drunk in their glory. Rivals and wannabe rivals upping their attack 100 percent. All of them, taking pleasure in my failure. All of them, telling me I deserved it. Some of them using hateful speech, others saying I sold out my heritage so I can go... well, you know. All directed at me.

So that's me. I'm 21 years old. And as you can see, I'm what's wrong with the sport.

---

[Author's Notes: slightly based on an amalgam of actual events. Word count: 463. No celebrities were harmed in the making of this story.]