r/WritingPrompts • u/Cody_Fox23 Skulking Mod | r/FoxFictions • May 01 '23
Constrained Writing [CW] Smash 'Em Up Sunday: Mad Libs XIII
Welcome back to Smash ‘Em Up Sunday!
SEUSfire
On Sunday morning at 9:30 AM Eastern in our Discord server’s voice chat, come hang out and listen to the stories that have been submitted be read. I’d love to have you there! You can be a reader and/or a listener. Plus if you wrote we can offer crit in-chat if you like!
Last Week
Community Choice
Cody’s Choices
This Week’s Challenge
Since it was Historical Fiction month here I decided the Mad Libs week theme could follow that. So I’m digging into the History of SEUS. I’ve gone back to the beginning, 2019, to pick up a few constraints and tap a few people that are still active to give us constraints. For those that may not know, /u/Pyrotox started the feature with a more loose structure: a list of items, characters, genres, whatever to help craft a story using as much or as little as you like. Then about 3 months later it was reshaped into the format the persists today: 4 words, 2 sentences, and 2 defining features totalling into 14 points. With the form cemented a few months later the title of SEUS Custodian would move to /u/Alybee. Finally in late November I would pick up the feature to help out and it ended up becoming permanent. I’ve been stuck here ever since for 177 postings. I jest, I do love this position. Watching people come, grow, and as bittersweet as it is, move on is so incredibly rewarding. Picking up on familiar names that appear after long times away is such a thrill. Having the staunch regularity of longtime contributors for years is delightful and heartwarming. Seeing that submission in the inbox is more dependable than a lot of other things in my life!
Anyhow this week has some crazy constraints given to us from the old custodians, first era contributors, and — since some people hadn’t gotten back to me— very early SEUS posts. I know I say this often, but this might be the most unhinged Mad Libs yet. I hope you’ll have a lot of fun and maybe even jump back to some early posts. If you see some old constraints that you’d want to see make a comeback just let me know!
Previous Mad Libs:
Mad Libs I
Mad Libs II
Mad Libs III
Mad Libs IV
Mad Libs V
Mad Libs VI
Mad Libs VII
Mad Libs VIII
Mad Libs IX
Mad Libs X
Mad Libs XI
Mad Libs XII
Mad Libs XIII
How to Contribute:
Write a story or poem, no more than 800 words in the comments using at least two things from the three categories below. The more you use, the more points you get. Because yes! There are points! You have until 11:59 PM EDT 06 May 2023 to submit a response.
After you are done writing please be sure to take some time to read through the stories before the next SEUS is posted and tell me which stories you liked the best. You can give me just a number one, or a top 5 and I’ll enter them in with appropriate weighting. Feel free to DM me on Reddit or Discord!
| Category | Points |
|---|---|
| Word List | 1 Point |
| Sentence Block | 2 Points |
| Defining Features | 3 Points |
Word List
Whiskey (from the first SEUS)
Serpent (from the first rudexvirus-run SEUS)
Hors d'oeuvres (from my first SEUS posting)
flight (/u/atcroft)
Sentence Block
Indulge in sweet temptation for a cost. (/u/-Anyar-)
Why am I afraid to eat this slice of cake (Tomorrow_Is_Today1)
Defining Features
Have a character who speaks in unnecessarily fancy wording (/u/Pyrotox)
Include a Volcano (/u/rudexvirus)
What’s happening at /r/WritingPrompts?
Nominate your favourite WP authors or commenters for Spotlight and Hall of Fame! We count on your nominations to make our selections.
Come hang out at The Writing Prompts Discord! I apologize in advance if I kinda fanboy when you join. I love my SEUS participants <3 Heck you might influence a future month’s choices!
Want to help the community run smoothly? Try applying for a mod position. We offer free protection from immortal invulnerable snails!
I hope to see you all again next week!
5
u/wordsonthewind May 07 '23
Henry Piker would swear to his dying breath that he hadn't gatecrashed this party. He had so many good reasons to be here, after all. One was in his hand at the moment and several others were arranged fetchingly on the metal trays in the hall.
He gulped down another shot of whiskey. It burned his throat and made his head spin, but he needed it. He would just have to consume more hors d'oeuvres to take the edge off.
Well, finger food. Everyone else was calling it finger food. But he had to use his high school French somehow and so hors d'oeuvres they were. Just a little flight of fancy to dress up the dull dreary world around him.
He set the empty shot-glass on a nearby table. It blended in perfectly with the other discarded glasses. Then he loaded a few crabmeat-and-mayo concoctions onto his plate and popped one into his mouth.
"Delicious," he muttered.
"And who might you be? I haven't seen you around here before."
Henry looked up. A woman with a serpent tattoo was looking at him. She had a plate of her own, loaded up with a giant slice of cake and several comparatively tiny fruit slices. A little cartoon volcano decorated the base of her wrist.
"Neither have I," he said. The whiskey worked fast. He doubted he would have said anything so bold without the shot of liquid fire coursing through his veins right now.
He grinned a drunken silly grin. "But it's an indubitable pleasure to make your acquaintance. What's your name, gorgeous?"
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Did you eat an entire thesaurus before heading out? Who talks like that? Seriously."
Sure, it had been a joke, but it still stung. He didn't get out much. Most nights he just holed up in his room playing the viola and writing truly abysmal lyrics. It was cheaper than anything else worth doing in this city. He didn't need a thesaurus when he had Project Gutenberg and Google.
But no one wanted to hear that, just like no one wanted to hear his music.
So instead he said, "Have it your way. I suppose I'll just have to call you 'gorgeous' for the rest of the night. Because you are."
"I'm sure you say that to all the ladies," the woman said. "But what the hell, I only came because my boss has a bee in his bonnet about team cohesion. I'm Rose, from marketing."
Henry couldn't help but feel a surge of elation because it had worked, he was actually talking to another human being at a party and she wasn't making more comments about his weirdly big vocabulary.
"Henry," was all he could say.
Rose smiled. "And which department do you work for, Henry?"
"I'm an auditor, actually," Henry said on a surge of whiskey-induced bravado. "I'm here to... audit this party. Make sure all the spirits and hors d'oeuvres are up to snuff."
"Well, I hope we're meeting your standards."
"I can't say yet," Henry said. "I'm still on my fact-finding mission. It's a difficult task, but I just had to gird my loins and attend this soirée."
Rose's grin widened. "Are you always this..."
"Ebullient?" Henry asked hopefully. "Loquacious?"
"I was going to say 'pretentious', but we can go with yours," Rose said.
Damnation and perfidy, this always happened. Now she would make some excuse to leave the conversation and tell someone that the company event had a gatecrasher.
But she didn't.
"You know what, maybe you could help me with something, since you're so smart," she said. "Why am I afraid to eat this slice of cake?"
"Diets aren't my bailiwick," Henry said.
"It's true, though!" Rose said. "It looked so good on the buffet tray, but now, faced with this chocolatey goodness, I'm just too intimidated. What should I do?"
"Every diet needs a soupçon of debauchery," Henry said. "Indulge in sweet temptation."
"For a cost," Rose said.
"Maybe..." Henry hesitated. "Maybe we could split the bill?"
Rose smiled. "Sounds good."
It took some maneuvering with their plastic forks, but they managed to split the cake between them. Henry dug in without hesitation. It was just as decadent as it looked.
"Have you read any good books lately?" Rose asked. "I loved A Series of Unfortunate Events as a child."
1
u/Cody_Fox23 Aug 04 '23
Thank you for your submission. Apologies that this message is so late, but your story scored 14 points!
5
u/rainbow--penguin May 07 '23
<Fantasy>
Defeating Dastardly Deliciousness
Hazel grabbed her broomstick, took a swig of whiskey to warm her bones, and headed out into the night. As she took flight over the Otherworldly City, her snake familiar, Buttercup, coiled tighter around her wrist.
The journey to the portal was short, situated at the top of the Veil headquarters. She held her breath as she flew through.
The world around her shifted. The tower blocks beneath her disappeared. Heat roared against her skin and the stink of sulphur permeated everything. She could feel the acrid stench at the back of her throat.
She pulled up as hard as she could, desperate to escape the volcano's mouth, eyes streaming and lungs rattling. When she finally reached fresh air she gasped in a deep breath. At least that bit was over.
While she understood the need to place portals where humans would never find them, the volcano was still one of her least favourite options. Still, she'd known the commute would be terrible when she took this job, so she couldn't complain.
She cast a cloak of invisibility over herself and Buttercup and set off toward her assignment.
--------------------
Hazel landed at the end of the cobblestone street. Leaving the cloak of invisibility in place over Buttercup and her broom, she cast a glamour over herself, transforming the pointed black hat and cloak into a summer dress and sunhat while also smoothing away the soot that clung to her.
When she was satisfied that none of the passers-by were paying her any attention, Hazel peered down the street. Everything looked normal. There was a cafe, a sandwich stall, a couple of stores selling things crafted locally, and of course the usual tacky tourist gift shops.
She shifted her focus to her second sight.
Most of the street stayed the same. A couple of the people walking down it had the pinkish glow of latent power about them, but nothing to worry about. There were a few sigils scrawled on the walls — messages from fellow Veil officers — but the buildings were unchanged.
Except one.
The cafe practically hummed with energy. It wasn't even really there, layered over some other poor, unsuspecting shop, projected from wherever it existed in reality.
She felt the invisible Buttercup slither up her arm to her shoulder as she reached for the door.
A bell tinkled as Hazel stepped into the most garish, floral nightmare she had ever seen. Yellow armchairs and sofas covered in flowers of every colour filled the space. The walls were covered in a mishmash of wallpaper, as if the owner couldn't decide which they liked best so had decided to use all of them.
A little old lady stood behind the counter wearing a floral dress and apron. "Why hello! Greetings and salutations to you, good gentlewoman!"
"Hi."
"Can I interest you in some of our scrumptious, succulent, superb hor d'oeuvres? Or our mouthwatering, moreish, marvellous cake?"
Hazel surveyed the array of goods on offer. Of course, it didn't matter what she chose. She knew that all the 'woman' cared about was that she ate something, but she still had to appear like any other customer.
"You know you desire it, deary!" Waves of persuasion magic were coming off of the woman. Hazel could feel it reaching inside and making her mouth water and stomach grumble. "Go on! Indulge in sweet temptation for a cost."
Hazel pointed to a rich-looking chocolate cake.
"Excellent choice!" the old woman crooned. "Now recline in one of my comfortable, cushioned couches and I will deliver your deliciousness in but a moment."
Hazel took a seat and, sure enough, the lady soon hurried over with a large slice of cake. Deciding to give her one last chance to come clean, Hazel chuckled. "Why am I afraid to eat this slice of cake?"
"You aren't, deary." Another wave of persuasion magic so powerful it took all of her willpower to resist.
The old lady watched expectantly as Hazel raised a forkful to her mouth. But at the last second, she diverted, passing it to where the invisible Buttercup lay on her shoulder. With his highly sensitive tongue, it only took a second for her familiar to identify the whiff of a hidden fae contract in the food.
Hazel dropped the fork and reached for her rune, pointing it directly at the fairy in disguise. "Freeze!" The word activated the spell she'd stored there, freezing the criminal to the spot. "You're under arrest for crimes against the Veil, risking exposure of the Otherworld, and tricking humans into fae contracts."
As she bundled the fairy onto her broom, she sent a message back to base via Buttercup. This was going to be a big clean-up job, but it might just be the biggest collar of her career so far.
WC: 798
I really appreciate any and all feedback
See more I've written ar r/RainbowWrites
(p.s. sorry it's a little late, this week has been crazy)
1
u/Cody_Fox23 Aug 04 '23
Thank you for your submission. Apologies that this message is so late, but your story scored 13 points!
7
u/InquisitiveBallbag May 07 '23 edited May 07 '23
Darling Apolline,
Happy birthday, mon petit chou. Seventeen, you are growing up so fast! It seems like just yesterday I was holding you in my arms for the first time. You were so small then that when your mother handed you to me, I was afraid that I would drop you! I’m sorry that I cannot be there to celebrate your birthday again, papa has been busy at work. I wish you could have seen me off, but the flight was very early and I didn’t want to wake you. Don’t tell maman but I stole a few of her canapés and other hors-d’oeuvres for the dinner party that night, and a slice of her plum galette with the whisky syrup. Quel désastre! The two did not go well together, and I had to wash it down with plenty of water during the flight. Even as I write this while eating, I shudder. Why am I afraid to eat this slice of cake? As they say, indulge in sweet temptation for a cost!
As you know, the research project has taken me to Turkey, where we were continuing our work on the ruins of Ionopolis, a city in the north of Anatolia near the Black Sea. Astonishingly, we discovered a hidden trove of coins, as well as several serpent statues and idols. We have yet to identify when they were made but based on other coins with similar snake designs, they may come from the second or third century. The serpent represents Glycon, an ancient god worshipped in the area who was tied to the Roman and Greek god of medicine, Asclepius. It was said that the worship of Glycon would bring about fertility in women.
I expect we will be in Turkey for another few months before I am being sent on a different research project to Italy. We are going to be part of a team that will be examining the ruins of Ancient Roman cities in Italy and examining how they used volcanic ash in their concrete. Part of the trip will be spent at Vesuvius. As you know, their buildings have lasted for thousands of years and currently, scientists are trying to discover these secrets. All very cool how something so old can influence the present and future!
It took me some time but I finally solved the riddle you sent me in the last letter. The answer is perfidious. You thought you were being sneaky with the reference to Corbulo, but I’m smarter than that! My trivia question is this, who said the following?
“Thou awaitest, I suppose, thine
honour in its wonted guise: a white robe hanging
from my shoulders, a smoking altar garlanded with
chaplets, the grains of incense snapping in the holy
fire, and myself offering the cakes that mark my
birthday and framing kindly petitions with pious lips.”
As you get older, I often think on how work kept me away from you and our family. You are almost your own woman now and yet I feel like I have almost missed my chance to spend more time with you. After these two trips, I will take a long break and take up teaching again to be closer to you all.
You have and continue to make me so proud, and as a father I could not ask for a better daughter.
Gros bisous,
Papa
---
w/c: 565
1
u/Cody_Fox23 Aug 04 '23
Thank you for your submission. Apologies that this message is so late, but your story scored 11 points!
7
u/gdbessemer May 07 '23 edited May 07 '23
The Cafe Atop the Volcano
“We do not take checks.” The owner of the cafe atop the volcano shrugged and spread his hands, a gesture both apologetic and firm in its denial.
“Oh, but these are not checks. These are original shares of the Dutch East India Company,” Martin said, proffering the yellowed paper.
The owner thumbed the crinkled sheets. It was well know that the cafe only took trade in kind as payment. A bottle of Shackleton’s missing Mackinlay whiskey from Antarctica might warrant sip of the coffee that Voltaire drank before writing his first draft of Candide. Bring a plate of Churchhill’s hors d’oeuvres from lunch at the Malta Conference, and a waiter might set out an exquisitely poached sea serpent egg. Indulge in sweet temptation, for a cost seemed to be the unofficial motto. In passing, some customers complained that the cafe overcharged, but Martin never regretted what he gave up.
“Very well. We can use them to wrap the sandwiches,” the owner said.
Martin wiped his brow, relieved.
The table was situated between a pair of stained marble ionic columns draped with ivy. It commanded a stunning view of the caldera, which was even now churning with magma. Far above, gliders caught drafts of heated fumes, flashing and turning in flight.
Shortly a waiter arrived with a white cloth on his arm and a chipped wooden tray. Martin held his breath as the waiter set down some food—jasmine tea in a cup made from the skull of a dodo bird, and a single slice of cake with eye-wateringly pink frosting. Instead of a sense of ease and wonder, he felt a stab of terror.
“Why am I afraid to eat this slice of cake?” Martin asked.
“Undoubtedly, esteemed patron,” said the waiter, “your trepidation is inexorably linked to the fate of the cake and your own.”
“Meaning?”
But the waiter was long gone, twenty tables away now, serving an older woman a pastrami sandwich wrapped in crinkled yellow paper.
Martin focused on the cake. It begged to be eaten, its pink frosted shell quivering in anticipation underneath the fork. He could feel the resistance as the metal bite down into the sponge.
As he lifted the moist cake to his mouth, a memory he’d long forgotten surfaced to his mind; it started with the clack of his grandmother gnashing her dentures, followed by his mother laughing too loud. The room was thick with the smell of over-steeped early grey tea. Bored, hungry, he reached for some food—a pink cake set on the green vinyl tablecloth. His mother slapped his hand away.
He looked at his hand again; where he expected thin, cherubic fingers, he saw wrinkles and blue veins. He took a bite of the cake. It was as delicious as he’d always imaginged it.
The volcano erupted, which was a shame. The waiter came around with his hand out, collecting tips. Martin reached into his pocket for his wallet, but was engulfed in flames before he could pay.
“Oh well, maybe next time,” said the waiter’s burning skeleton.
Martin woke in his four posted bed with the taste of frosting on his lips, and an urge to call his mother who’d been dead some forty years, just to ask her how she’d brewed her earl grey tea.
WC: 547
Liked what you read? Get more at r/gdbessemer!
1
u/Cody_Fox23 Aug 04 '23
Thank you for your submission. Apologies that this message is so late, but your story scored 14 points!
7
u/nobodysgeese May 07 '23 edited May 07 '23
A Bond Decision
Argent Silvertoe cycled through the monitors, making sure that the cameras had a view of every inch on his volcanic lair. It wouldn't do to miss the big moment, whichever trap it was that finally got her.
Behind him, his butler said, "Sir, I really must protest this plan. I could fetch your rifle from the safe and you could shoot her the moment she disembarked onto the island. It would be effective, and swift enough that you would be done in time for dinner, to enjoy your victorious whiskey in peace."
"I could, Aiden," Silvertoe agreed, turning in his chair to face him. "But what good would that do?"
"Sir?"
"Do you remember the plane?"
The butler leveled a glare at Silvertoe, which he ignored. "Yes, I do. I clearly remember Miss Tie defenestrating you mid-flight."
"Exactly!" Silvertoe exclaimed. "And of course there was that time in Berlin. Bad enough to drop a building on someone, but did she have to use my own building to add insult to injury?"
Aiden sighed. "Sir, I still fail to see why any of this means you can't simply shoot her. Indeed, it seems killing her quickly, and more importantly at range, ought to be the goal."
"It's the disrespect!" Silvertoe gestured vaguely. "I can shoot anyone. But when someone has burned down your arsonist robots, or axed your deforestation operation, their death requires a more... personal touch. One with as much irony as Agent Tie has inflicted on me."
A look of defeated enlightenment crossed Aiden's face, as if he'd figured out some mystery and been deeply disappointed by what he found. "Ah. That is why so many of these... contraptions have ropes."
"Yes! I'm going to-"
"Tie up Miss Tie. Yes sir, I understood."
"It's brilliant! It's ironic! It's a worthy end to my most persistent foe. And the pit of serpents is close enough to ropes to count! The piranhas aren't thematically appropriate, I'll admit, but they were on discount."
The butler cleared his throat. "Alternatively, you could tie her up after you shoot her."
"Aiden, where's your sense of artistry?"
"Sir, your connivances never succeed. I know this is your preferred pastime, but I fear that you indulge in sweet temptation for a cost."
Silvertoe spun back to his monitors. "Never mind, she's here!"
A figure came into view of the entrance's camera, and Silvertoe leaned forward. His voice boomed from the speakers scattered throughout the volcanic tunnels. "Tie. Bo Tie." The figure leapt and looked around, and Silvertoe cackled. "I congratulate you on finding my lair, but I won't be so easy to capture. I'm hidden deep inside, and you'll never get past my traps!"
His butler was polite enough to wait for him to turn off the sound before speaking. "Sir, please, at least let me bring your guns here, so you can shoot her when- if she gets past the traps."
"My traps never fail!"
Aiden lifted an incredulous eyebrow, and Silvertoe suddenly found the monitors fascinating again. "Now, let's see which trap she's heading toward first. She's nearing the crossroads, and she's going to pick the- What?"
Silvertoe almost climbed out of his chair to peer more closely at the screen. "Is that... cake?"
"Yes sir, with a selection of hors d'ourves."
Slowly, Silvertoe nodded. "Respectable. I'm glad to see you taking an interest in the villainous side of things. I wouldn't have personally picked poison, but-."
"No sir, they are not poisoned." For the first time in the twenty years Silvertoe had known Aiden, he dropped his formal mask to massage his temples. "I just felt a certain comradeship with Miss Tie. Dealing with the traps from the other side, as it were."
Silvertoe paused. "...Fair, I suppose. I guess this has been more stressful for you than I thought. Tell you what, after I've done away with Bo Tie, I promise I'll shoot the next victim."
"Thank you, sir. Much appreciated."
Silvertoe raised a finger to silence him and turned up the volume. Agent Tie was still looking at the table of assorted snacks, and the microphone could just barely pick up her whisper. "Why am I afraid to eat this slice of cake? Better safe than sorry."
She tipped the table over. The cake splattered. The deviled eggs rolled away. The bruschetta bites wobbled to a stop like coins carelessly cast to the floor. Agent Tie's boot heel ground the cake further to mush as she moved into the lair, and Silvertoe winced, chancing a glance to see how his butler would take this culinary heresy.
Aiden stood straight and blank-faced as his work was defiled, but his eye was twitching. After a long pause, he said, "Please do shoot the next foe, sir. But drop this one into the volcano."
WC: 800
More of my stories at r/NobodysGaggle
1
u/Cody_Fox23 Aug 04 '23
Thank you for your submission. Apologies that this message is so late, but your story scored 14 points!
6
u/atcroft May 07 '23 edited May 07 '23
Capt. Mike Jones's hands relaxed on the controls as his B-25 Serpent Whiskey as they cleared the target area for the return to base. He flicked his microphone.
"Glad to have you back as navigator, John. Why were you gone so long? You only had a 3-day pass. Did you have to spend time at the Casanova Hotel when you got back? Were they late getting your hors d'oeuvres? Sheets not turned down properly? Didn't get your hot towels, signore?"
"Hell no, Mike. I got stuck in Rome on leave," John Russel replied.
"What do you mean, 'stuck in Rome on leave'? That was three weeks ago."
"Yeah, what gives John?" engineer Sam Wiley piped in.
"I couldn't get back. I'd go check in with ATC, there'd be no flights, they'd tell me to come back the next morning to check."
"So you didn't play Romeo in Rome?" radio operator Paul Sandman quipped.
"Noooo -- My first night..."
So I'm sitting at a bar nursing a beer when this cute little piece of Italian cheesecake sits down beside me.
"Indulge in sweet temptation, for a cost."
"Huh?"
The bartender slid a glass in front of her before I could ask what she'd have. "Have a dulcinea back home, or the girl to whom you couldn't profess your undying love? I can be her, for tonight." She examined the light refracting through the glass. "For two packs of cigarettes, I will be the personification of any dream you hold dear."
I took a moment to examine her in the bar's dim light. She wasn't bad looking, but I could see desperation mixed with dark circles around her slightly sunken eyes. And the only thought in my head was, And why am I afraid to eat this slice of cake?"
"Anyway, that suggestion had me rattled. Anything, for two packs? No telling how many might have taken her up on that offer. No way. Felt sorry so I bought dinner and gave her a pack anyway when I got up to leave."
"You were probably being played, John," tail gunner David Curtis called over the radio.
"Probably so, David," John replied. "Didn't care -- was just a pack of smokes."
"I think you dodged a shot there, John, (or several, depending on how vindictive the doc is that day)," Mike said. "How long before we're back to base?"
"Should be about ten --" John started. "What's that?" he said, staring at a column of dust and ash miles ahead in their path rising well above them.
"Paul, get on the radio to Poggiomarino -- see if you can find out what's going on." Mike said, his hands tightening on the yoke.
"Roger," Paul replied. Mike could hear Paul radioing the Pompeii airfield.
"Mike, they said debris from Mt. Vesuvius is falling at the airfield, and they're redirecting us to Salerno."
"John, can you get me a course for Salerno?" Mike called out.
"On it."
"We'll pick up your story later, once we're on the ground -- okay, John?"
"Sounds good."
*(Fictionalized events relating to the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, Italy, March-April 1944 CE.)
ATC = Air Transport Command
"Casanova Hotel" = a hospital wing housing service members being treated for venereal diseases (V.D.).
Poggiomarino = Pompeii Airfield
Being "stuck" somewhere on leave really occurred. My grandfather, who served in the Italian campaign (U.S. Army, 1943-1944) experienced the same issue described above -- spending 15 days in Rome from a 3-day pass.
(Word count: 503. Please let me know what you like/dislike about the post. Thank you in advance for your time and attention. Other works can also be found linked in r/atcroft_wordcraft.)
1
u/Cody_Fox23 Aug 04 '23
Thank you for your submission. Apologies that this message is so late, but your story scored 14 points!
1
u/TotesMessenger May 07 '23
8
u/Dependent-Engine6882 May 07 '23 edited May 07 '23
The sunflower's last spring
Taken aback by the beauty of the scene offered to her, Hinata paused to admire the different shades of colors that painted the sky. It’s been over an hour since she left her village and about a dozen minutes since she parted from her father and the group that offered to share a fraction of her journey.
See, Father, the sky is blessing me with such a sight for accepting my destiny. A soft smile brightened her face when she remembered her father. His big and calloused hands that made her hundreds of dolls, his eyes that burned with passion, and his kind heart.
Hinata was born and grew up in a village near the Kirishima Mountains. Believing that offering the volcano a pure and young girl would prevent it from erupting, the elderlies of the village concluded to determine who was going to be sacrificed by a draw.
“Looks like it’s going to be you, Isamu,” the chief of the village spoke in an empathic tone.
Being true to his reputation and sense of duty, the middle-aged man didn’t discuss the decision. The rest of the family chiefs silently thanked the goddess Sakuya-Hime for not being picked as they watched the broken-hearted man making his way to his place.
“Hinata,” Isamu called for his daughter.
“Yes, Father,” she immediately appeared in front of him. Isamu’s eyes swam with tears at the thought of his only daughter’s faith. How can one send off his child to a certain death without breaking down? “What is it, father? Is there anything disquieting you?” she asked in a soothing tone.
“You… Hina-san you have been… the elderlies have…” He didn’t know where to start or how to explain the situation to her. “You were designed to carry out the sacrificial duty.” He finally managed to speak.
Hinata resumed walking, as images from her last night at the village kept coming back to her. The delicious and variant hors-d’oeuvres the women made, the songs that echoed in the air until an advanced hour of the night, the bottles of whiskey and sake going from hand to hand, and the gifts everyone offered her.
Before they part, her father touched her shoulder. “This necklace was your grandmother’s,” her father attempted to speak. “I was intending to offer it to you on your wedding day but this…” he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t protest the decision…”
Pulling up a heartfelt smile, Hinata shook her head. “It’s alright, father. If the goddess has chosen me, then I shall comply.” She held his hands in her delicate ones. “I will always be around to look after you, make sure you come and greet me whenever the sunflowers blossom,” she followed smiling through her tears.
she took off her michiyuki, folded it, and put it in her bag before she started climbing the mountain. it was her neighbor Yuna who made it for her while her husband gave her a dagger in case she ran into a serpent. Closing her eyes for a bit, Hinata remembered their son stumbling over his words mumbling something about how she shouldn’t be afraid about eating some daifuku.
“Why would I be afraid to eat this slice of cake,” Hinata stuttered before accepting it.
Tonight, was the only time she allowed herself to be close to him. I could at last permit myself to indulge in the sweet temptation for a cost, she told herself while sharing the piece of said cake with the young man she loved. But what cost? she wondered.
Her pads reached for the small pin he slipped in her hand before she left the village and smiled. May fortune smiles on you, my beloved.
Memories from the sixteen years she spent on earth accompanied her through her way up the mountain. some made her lips curve up into a smile while others made her beautiful face crimson, as tears ran down her cheeks.
“Hinata daughter of Isamu,” a sound carried by the wind spoke. “Your sacrifice and noble actions shall be redeemed by the goddess herself.” After a brief pause, the voice followed, “you shall be granted a palace and the title of the guardian of these mountains.” the wind blew transforming her necklace into sunflowers. “And for your father, the brave man, these sunflowers shall blossom at the same as the ones he planted”.
Habitants of the Island transferred the tale of the girl who sacrificed her youth to protect the lives of the ones she loved the most, from generation to generation.
Historians confirmed that none of the volcanoes erupted during the following two centuries to honor her sacrifice.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Word count: 800
Disclaimer: the present story is a product of my imagination, the sacrifice, the part about volcanoes not erupting for two centuries and the characters are pure fiction.
2
u/Cody_Fox23 Aug 04 '23
Thank you for your submission. Apologies that this message is so late, but your story scored 13 points!
7
u/Tomorrow_Is_Today1 May 07 '23
I stared at the plate before us. Its rim sported a pink post-it note from Jakob with the words “Indulge in sweet temptation for a cost” and a winking face, and on the plate sat a dark brown slice of cake with red icing.
“It just means it’s spicy, right?” I asked.
I dunno. I’m not Jakob, Nova replied from somewhere in the front of our mind.
“I’m trying to think what else it would mean. It’s probably just spice or something. Or maybe he filled it with extract.”
Extract does get very strong. Be a waste, though.
“Well, we’re not using the almond one ever.” I read the note again. “Fuck. Why am I afraid to eat this slice of cake?”
I mean, we don’t have to. Just because he placed it here before leaving front so you’d see it right away doesn’t mean you actually have to try the cake. You can make your own food, or pick up whichever novel it is you’ve been reading, or something.
“Yeah, but now I’m tempted.” I sniffed the cake. It smelled a bit chocolatey, but I didn’t notice anything weird.
Well if it’s anything gross, don’t leave front for me to deal with it.
“I promise I will deal with the consequences of my own actions,” I said. “And maybe you will too, depending how long they last, but we’re not worrying about that right now.”
Hey!
I picked up the slice of cake with my hand, Nova muttering something about us boys not using forks, and took what Nova quickly deemed to be an unnecessarily large bite.
It was definitely the almond extract. Jesus.
Never liking to spit things out, I chewed, swallowed, and exclaimed, “God, why does it taste like that?”
You knew it wouldn’t be good.
“I would not call that sweet temptation. Isn’t that what Jakob wrote on the note?” I checked the post-it again. “Yeah. Sweet temptation. That’s bullshit! Next time we’re co-con, I’m going to. Have a word. With him. What’s the phrase? That doesn’t seem right.”
You know, I’m honestly just glad alcohol cooks out when baking. Extract’s got more alcohol than whiskey.
“Extract has more alcohol than a lot of things. Bleh.” I walked to the fridge for a cup of water, glancing around the kitchen as I did so. Silly as Jakob was, he didn’t leave anything out after baking this cake—not even the cake, which was concerning. The countertops looked clean, though you can never really tell when there are crumbs on them anyway, and he’d even wiped off the stovetop. Funny, I wouldn’t think you’d use the stovetop while baking a cake. Maybe he spilled batter or something.
Nova didn’t seem to be as present now as earlier, or at the very least she wasn’t making comments. I took a sip of the water cup we’d left in the fridge and considered what to do next.
Judging by the sun outside the kitchen window, it was early afternoon and bright as hell. Plenty of time left in the day to read, eat, exercise, any of those other things. Though there’s a decent few of us in our system, Jakob and I front the most, our other headmates usually sticking in the background as we control the body. So there’s a pretty decent chance whenever I leave front that Jakob will be the one to pick it up from there.
And Nova was gone. It was revenge time.
Remembering I didn’t see Jakob’s cake on the counter, I checked the fridge and found it hiding (poorly) behind the milk. See, unlike Jakob, I don’t bake. I can if I have to, but it’s annoying and I usually just let someone else take over. So I don’t want to make a whole ass cake on my own. But if I take one of his slices, scrape off the icing and mix in a darker food coloring, then he might think I baked something myself. And he falls victim to his own trap.
Taking a new plate, I dyed the icing dark blue and placed it at the table. I added a blue post-it note of my own:
“I know you’re curious.”
I added a smiling cat face and sat us down at the table. It took a few minutes, but I slipped out of front, watching from inside as Jakob took over the body and read the note.
“That slippery serpent,” he whispered. “Why am I afraid to eat this slice of cake?”
2
u/Cody_Fox23 Aug 04 '23
Thank you for your submission. Apologies that this message is so late, but your story scored 9 points!
6
u/katpoker666 May 06 '23
‘The Tumultuous Tale of Dictator Smurf’
—-
Name’s Narrator. I’m a smurfling, but all Smurf when it comes to inkslinging, if you know what I mean. I might be an occasional Smurf-off in using fancy words to fully follow the foibles of the MC as well as utilizing a potentially annoying amount of alliteration, but Smurf you if that’s a problem! Wait, sorry. I got this new gig to calm me down due to the ‘viciously violent vagaries of youthful angst.’ You Smurf up a couple Smurfs and it’s like ‘You’re the Smurfing bad guy.’ Sorry, that steams a Smurf up. Anyway, a job’s a job, so let me just tell the Smurfin’ story already! Here we, Smurf.
—-
Running the length of the faux volcano’s exterior, the fire-and-magma-breathing serpent was four mighty feet of sheer intimidation. With a steady stream of whiskey at the ready, alcohol-fueled flames flared forth constantly.
Dictator Smurf was taking no chances at cowing his Smurfy compatriots into fulfilling his extensive sweet tooth. From the maleficent mountain’s majesty to his sassy sartorial stylings, Dictator was a vain and venomous villain indeed.
One day, he smurfed up a decidedly diabolical plan—use cake pops as hors d'oeuvres for an imminent soirée with the admirably evil wizard Gargamel and his crestfallen cat Azrael—and force the Smurfs to make them by threatening to set the very village alight with his ‘volcano.’ The Smurfing idiots would Smurf for it Smurf, line, and sinker. And Dictator would have his sweet reward of particularly prominent popular pastries. After all, why indulge in sweet temptation at a cost if you could Smurf it for free?
He hopped aboard Feathers the Smurfs’ very own crane and flew the short flight to the village.
“Smurfs! I am ordering you to smurfin’ smurf the smurf out of some cake pops for me by tonight. Can you smurf it?”
Several seriously surly Smurfs stepped forward. “You and what smurfin’ army?”
“Me and a smurfin’ volcano! You really want to smurf with that? I’ll smurf the whole village to the ground if I have to.”
“Oh, smurf on, it’s not like you can command the volcano to do things…”
On cue, the volcano belched forth a ten foot-high plume of fire.”You were smurfing?”
“Holy smurfin’ SMURF! We’ll smurf your cake pops! Just don’t smurf us!”
Dictator smiled, his lips thin and filled with mockery. “That’s better. Feels good to obey, doesn’t it?”
“Why, I’ll smurf the ever-loving smurf out—“
“Hefty smurf it!” Brainy shouted, attempting to hold the significantly stronger smurf back. “Smurf of the village!”
“Aww, fine,” Hefty spat out through gritted teeth.
His cooler head prevailing, Brainy continued calmly, “Want us to smurf the cake pops back with Feathers?”
Mollified, Dictator agreed. “Thanks. It’s good you can smurf reason, Brainy. Smurf you later, smurfers!”
—-
And that’s where things smurfed ugly dear reader. I couldn’t smurf this insult to Smurfkind. Not any smurf.
That night, on behalf of the village, I snuck into Dictator’s lair.
Dagger plunging hard and fast, I smurfed him right through his cold, callous heart. Blood spurted forth as my foe fast faded from this world.
As he smurfed his last, I cackled into his ear, “You smurfing deserved it—I’m the Dictator Smurf now.”
I yearned for a well-earned cake pop, its cream-colored frosting blossoming with a beautiful burst of my enemy’s blood. Far from squeamish, I reached out, mesmerized by its messy meaning.
But then, my thoughts shifted. “Why am I afraid to eat this slice of cake?” I mused. Pausing mid-reach, I realized that one day as Dictator Smurf, I too would likely fall. The anticipated sweetness grew bitter in my mouth before my lips even smurfed the treat.
—-
WC: 612
—-
Thanks for reading! Feedback is always very much appreciated
1
u/Cody_Fox23 Aug 04 '23
Thank you for your submission. Apologies that this message is so late, but your story scored 14 points!
7
u/QuiscoverFontaine May 06 '23
Carlyle blinked in the light as his blindfold was pulled away. His vision was still blurry after the beating he took from the henchmen, but the shape of an all too familiar face gradually swam into view.
‘Scathelocke! I should have known!’
His old enemy smiled down at him lazily. ‘Mr Carlyle. ‘I’d already surmised that you were the invader,’ he drawled. ‘Although so much time had elapsed since our previous encounter, I’d begun to suspect that you had chosen to abandon your vendetta against me.’
‘I thought you were dead!’ Carlyle said. He struggled to stand, his head swimming, only to realise that his hands and feet were bound. ‘You should never have survived that explosion.’
Scathelocke stalked to a side table where he poured himself two fingers of whisky. ‘I comprehend your reasoning for holding such a conviction. I was fortunate enough to evade the situation, but numerous others weren’t.’ He drained the glass in one swallow. ‘Do you approve of my new headquarters?’
Carlyle strained to take in the cavernous room. ‘The evil-hideout-in-a-volcano is a bit cliché, but I think you know that. Still, it’s better than the Arctic bunker. And the underwater lair.’
A brief look of triumph crossed Scathelock’s face. ‘I’d always intended the Aquapalatium to be inadequate. The scheme was a complex long-term plan. The act of committing insurance fraud is an effortless undertaking in this field, especially given your high level of predictability. Indeed, I built the Electro-Gravity Magnet with the payout.’
The words washed over Carlyle while he took stock of his options. Only one door, a few chairs, a table, an antique chandelier, and an oil painting of Scathelocke before he needed the eyepatch. Not much to work with.
Scathelocke poured himself another whisky and swirled it idly around the glass. ‘Have I ever regaled you with the fable of the serpent and the crow?’
‘Yes. Many, many times.’
‘And yet you have still failed to fully appreciate the allegory.’
‘It’s an allegory? I just assumed you were trying to sound clever.’
Scathelocke quirked an eyebrow. ‘Regardless. How frequently have we found ourselves in this identical scenario, you and I? No matter my flight of fancy, whether I’m breeding indestructible laser-sharks or attempting to mine out the earth’s core, the sequence of events defies alteration. You infiltrate my operations, I capture you, you abscond, everything explodes…
‘So, we’re going to dance a different dance. After you and I will share in one last repast together, I will proceed to dispose of you in the volcano. How does that sound?’
As if on cue, a hidden panel in the wall slid away. A suited attendant walked in and wordlessly placed a silver tray on the table.
‘Come, take a seat,’ Scathelocke cooed, picking Carlyle up from the floor with surprising ease for a man so thin, and dropped him onto one of the chairs.
‘I admit, I will experience a sense of loss in your absence,’ Scathelocke continued while arranging several baked goods on a plate and placing it before Carlyle. ‘I’ve always rather relished having a nemesis. It does so compel me to challenge myself.’
Carlyle studied the food in front of him while attempting to disguise how badly he was failing to untie the knots around his wrists. ‘Why am I afraid to eat this slice of cake?’
‘I harbour no intentions towards poisoning you. How gauche,’ Scathelocke said as he reached for a dainty hors d’oeuvre. ‘Although, if I were in your position, I’d accept the jeopardy of indulging in sweet temptation for a cost. The poison would doubtless be preferable to the magma.’
‘Aren’t you going to untie me?’
Scathelocke swallowed his mouthful and smiled. ‘Your endeavours are commendable but ineffective. Just do your best as you are. Returning to our previous discussion, I do hold a certain degree of admiration for you. In some capacity, our similarities outweigh our differ-’
He paused, one hand clutching at his throat. ‘How-’ he croaked before collapsing to the floor.
Carlyle took the opportunity to overturn the table, sending the food to the floor. He stamped on the slice of cake he’d been served, revealing the small knife concealed within.
‘You’re right; we aren’t so different. I, too, am fond of elaborate long-term plans,’ he said to the gasping Scathelocke while he cut himself free. ‘You had to replace most of your staff after last time, didn’t you? Let’s just say I managed to employ your chef before you did. Though, unlike you, I’m not above using poison.’
The hidden door opened with almost disappointing ease. A better man might stay to see Scathelocke die, but what was life without a little uncertainty? Plus, Carlyle had to think of his job security.
Besides, he had a large volcano base to destroy.
----------------
800 words
1
u/Cody_Fox23 Aug 04 '23
Thank you for your submission. Apologies that this message is so late, but your story scored 14 points!
7
u/wandering_cirrus May 05 '23 edited May 05 '23
The Archean: A Matter of Magma
Reed clutched his forehead and turned to his companion, an oddly built penguin. “This is a volcano.”
“Duh.” The penguin preened, paying no heed.
“When you said you knew a fantastic vacation place, you didn’t tell me it was a volcano, you dumb flightless bird!”
“So? Ignoring such blatant and unforgivable attacks on my intelligence, it’s only a fancy, fire-filled mountain. What’s there to get excited about?”
“It’s a volcano! I will burn to death! I will suffocate from fumes!”
The penguin cocked its head. “Don’t you regularly channel that Archean? If you can handle one type of molten rock, you can handle them all.”
Reed threw up his hands. “That’s that, and this is this! My magical girl transformation into the personification of an asteroid collision has nothing to do with a. Freaking. Volcano!”
The penguin sniffed haughtily. “And here I went through the immense trouble of finding an incidence of quartic syzygy so we might kill the Reaper who’s taken up residence in the volcano. And how am I repaid? Ingratitude, I tell you. Ingratitude.”
Reed froze. “Say that again?”
“And here I went—”
“The Reaper, the part about the Reaper! Argh, I want a whiskey! Why didn’t I sign up for that nice, discounted cruise? I’d have been sunbathing, eating hors d'oeuvres, and indulging in sweet temptation for barely any cost, where my only worry is being afraid to eat the last slice of cake. Instead I’m staring a volcano in the face!”
“But you can’t drink when you’re on the job. The last person who tried to summon an Archean drunk—”
“Stop! I don’t want to know!” Reed sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Anyway, we’re here on business? Tell me that ahead of time, you underdressed, sorry excuse for a penguin.”
“Great auk. I’m never undressed. You’re just jealous of my immaculate plumage. And how is this not a vacation? Fresh air, clear skies, stunning landscapes. What’s not to enjoy?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the volcano?”
“The threat of impending, fiery judgment from above contrasts with the idyllic scenery and adds to its charms.”
“I don’t like it when my vacation spot explodes.”
“It will if you don’t do anything about it.”
“Oh god, that makes it worse! Okay, okay. I get it. When’s our power-of-friendship day?”
“Quartic syzygy. Tonight.”
“Great. Let’s just hope you’re right and that channeling one molten rock makes you invulnerable to another.”
That night, they stood on the lip of the crater. Reed had already called on the asteroid, and his skin now pulsed with the red heat of molten metal.
“If I die here,” he warned, “I’m coming back to haunt you.”
The penguin nodded. “This is an acceptable risk.”
Reed rolled his eyes and leapt off the edge. The asteroid roared to the surface. This, this was what it did. It fell and crashed and grew hot from the rush of air over its surface, from the force of impact.
Reed thudded into the center of the volcano. The ground melted beneath him with a hiss, red cracks splintered out from his impact in all directions.
He rose to his feet, taking inventory of his surroundings, tamping down the excitement of the asteroid at the molten earth far beneath it. Not burning to death, check. Still upright and not keeling over from poisonous gas, check. An oddly serpentine Reaper attempting to burrow deep into the faint covering atop the volcano, check.
“Hey,” Reed called, voice crackling. He started to walk towards the sickening swirl of darkness, leaning a trail of smoking footsteps in his wake. “I believe we have an appointment, Reaper-Snake-Sir.”
A triangular blob of smoke that must have been a head snapped around in his direction. It slid out of its burrow, folding its coils underneath it. Suddenly, Reed realized exactly how far away he still was.
“Oh god that thing is big!” A flicker of movement. He dove to the side. Its tail slammed down where he’d stood only moments before. He glanced at the massive indentation and shuddered.
He staggered to his feet and released the dampener he’d had on the asteroid. Wild, unfettered joy surged, burned through his veins. It liked this place, this wild heat. The tail came again. Distracted, he couldn’t dodge. He crashed across the crater. Groaned at the pain.
But to hit him, the tail had to touch him. The asteroid laughed, an armful of tail clutched in its grasp. Everything turned into fire.
Too late, the Reaper realized its mistake. It thrashed, trying to free itself. The fire reached its heart.
The twisting serpentine shadow burned and scattered into ash.
Hours later, Reed crawled out of the crater and glared at the penguin. “No more volcanoes,” he growled.
“But—”
“I don’t care. No more volcanoes.”
Go check out Reed’s first Madlibs misadventure as an Archean here!
1
u/Cody_Fox23 Aug 04 '23
Thank you for your submission. Apologies that this message is so late, but your story scored 14 points!
7
u/ZachTheLitchKing May 05 '23
<Speculative Fiction>
Lest We Forget
Whiskey and hors d'oeuvres flowed freely around the luxurious hotel suite. Weston had arrived the night before, his flight having been delayed as he told his friend, Jerry.
"Mm, yes, indeed," Weston's compatriot nodded. The two of them chatted idly, passing the time, as more members of the Order of the Serpent arrived; wealthy individuals who traced their lineage back centuries to an ancient Pact. Wealth for blood. Weston did not believe in the myths but he loved to indulge in sweet temptation for a cost.
"Mmm tell me, Jerry, did you procure something a bit more sporting this year? Last year's chap was piteously ill-suited for a hunt."
"Oh my yes," the mustachioed man said, smiling broadly as he extracted his cigar to speak, "Excellent fitness and health records. Had Olympic aspirations until his visa was declined. Practically kissed me when I made him the offer, though he only has half the story. It is amazing what someone in his state will do for a few thousand dollars." Both he and Weston chortled.
Nearer to midnight, no other members of the Order yet arrived. The dozen present rested in lounge chairs by the fireplace. Oscar, the oldest member, drummed his fingers irritably while everyone else seemed bored.
"I say, may we begin early?" Weston glanced at his Rolex, "Loathe as I am to admit it so openly, I do have a flight to catch on the morrow and I would like to be well rested. I prefer a good night's sleep before I must partake further in the swill that obtuse laymen call 'champagne'."
"We need twenty," Oscar stood up in what might have been an imposing gesture a few decades earlier, but his thin figure seemed more frail than anything, "Where is everyone? Only three canceled, we should have near three dozen!"
"Oh let them tarry. Call them all defeated and let us enjoy the sport! Jerry, can you release the game?"
"No!" Oscar barked, looking at the clock. It ticked closer to midnight, "If we don't perform the Rites it will lead to the ruin of us all."
"Mmm, yes, quite," Weston sighed. At fifty-seven he was the youngest man present and the most eager to hunt. There was no greater thrill than plunging a blade into a man and watching their life drain away.
Ding the clock rang. Oscar looked alarmed; were it possible for the nonagenarian to be paler he would have been so.
Ding Weston stood up, "Well, gentlemen, it is midnight," Ding, "Let us begin the ritual," Ding, "I dare say we can make a circle still with only twelve," Ding, "Can we call someone to move these chairs aside?"
Ding
Knock, knock, knock
Ding
Weston approached the door to the room, assuming that room service had been called earlier.
Ding
Oscar grabbed Weston's wrist.
Ding
"Don't." His eyes were wide with terror.
Ding
"Oh calm down," Weston said, shaking off Oscar's hand with ease.
Ding
He opened the door.
Ding
"Good evening, gentlemen," the hotel attendant said, bowing his head deferentially while entering, pushing a cart with a small cake into the room, "Mister Caito sends this with his regards."
The cake was sliced and most took a bite while the attendant moved the chairs per Weston's request. They started eating slowly, languidly, but before long they were gorging themselves even licking the plate. Only Weston - busy instructing the attendant - and Oscar - cowering in a corner - had not indulged.
Boom The room shook and an orange glow came from the distance. The nearby volcano, Katla, launched fire into the air.
"Ooooooh!" the members looked awestruck by. Weston smiled, liking the view, but then he saw everyone run to the large paned glass and press themselves up against it with no decorum. He frowned at their behavior.
"If you like the view, gentlemen, you should go see it from outside," the attendant said. Everyone ran to the door, jostling and fighting to be the first out, leaving Weston alone with Oscar and the attendant. Their behavior was uncouth, brash, and unlike any of them. Weston glanced down at the plate in his hand.
Why am I afraid to eat this slice of cake? he thought.
"Because you have a strong predatory instinct," the attendant said, "Unlike your compatriots. Oscar, there is a sheep like them but he at least remembers the Old Ways."
Weston looked the man in the eyes, seeing for the first time a fiery glow from the volcanic eruption reflected in them.
"You failed to give me blood this year, so your friends will burn. Next year, Weston, I won't be so lenient."
Weston looked back out the window and saw figures in the night running towards the fires. When he turned back, both the attendant and Oscar were gone.
----------------
WC: 800/800
All crit/feedback welcome!
r/TomesOfTheLitchKing
Notes:
-
Thanks to JaynNewell from the WP Discord for helping me with the idea
-
Thanks to Dee from the WP Discord for helping me trim this down to size
-
"Stórkostlegt" is Icelandic "Grand" or "Magnificent"
-
"Caito" is Italian for "Leader"
→ More replies (1)
1
u/AutoModerator May 01 '23
Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.
Reminders:
📢 Genres 🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 💬 Discord
I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.