r/WritingPrompts • u/katpoker666 Moderator • Aug 03 '24
Off Topic [OT] Fun Trope Friday, Writing with Tropes: Made of Phlebotinum & Romance!
Hello r/WritingPrompts!
Welcome to Fun Trope Friday, our feature that mashes up tropes and genres!
How’s it work? Glad you asked. :)
Every week we will have a new spotlight trope.
Each week, there will be a new genre assigned to write a story about the trope.
You can then either use or subvert the trope in a 750-word max (vs 600) story or poem (unless otherwise specified).
To qualify for ranking, you will need to provide ONE actionable feedback. More are welcome of course!
Three winners will be selected each week based on votes, so remember to read your fellow authors’ works and DM me your votes for the top three.
Next up…
Max Word Count: 750 words
Trope: Made of Phlebotinum–something magical happens in your world and you can/t explain it? It’s made of Phlebotinum. Hard science too hard to discuss? Phlebotinum. You get the idea!
Genre: Romance– Love is in the air!
Skill / Constraint - optional: Include a description of a kiss
So, have at it. Lean into the trope heavily or spin it on its head. The choice is yours!
Have a great idea for a future topic to discuss or just want to give feedback? FTF is a fun feature, so it’s all about what you want—so please let me know! Please share in the comments or DM me on Discord or Reddit!
Last Week’s Winners
PLEASE remember to give feedback—this affects your ranking. PLEASE also remember to DM me your votes for the top three stories via Discord or Reddit—both katpoker666. If you have any questions, please DM me as well.
Some fabulous stories this week and great crit in campfire and on the post! Congrats to:
Want to read your words aloud? Join the upcoming FTF Campfire
The next FTF campfire will be Thursday, August 8th from 6-8pm EST. It will be in the Discord Main Voice Lounge. Click on the events tab and mark ‘Interested’ to be kept up to date. No signup or prep needed and don’t have to have written anything! So join in the fun—and shenanigans! 😊
Ground rules:
- Stories must incorporate both the trope and the genre
- Leave one story or poem between 100 and 600 words as a top-level comment unless otherwise specified. Use wordcounter.net to check your word count.
- Deadline: 11:59 PM EST next Thursday
- No stories that have been written for another prompt or feature here on WP—please note after consultation with some of our delightful writers, new serials are now welcomed here
- No previously written content
- Any stories not meeting these rules will be disqualified from rankings
- Does your story not fit the Fun Trope Friday rules? You can post your story as a [PI] with your work when the FTF post is 3 days old!
- Vote to help your favorites rise to the top of the ranks (DM me at katpoker666 on Discord or Reddit)!
Thanks for joining in the fun!
6
u/raqshrag Aug 08 '24
(I just realized this has too many words, but I also just finished writing it, and I'm too tired to edit it, so just don't vote for it, I guess)
Ellanith was probably just a baby the first time she met Ilariel. Of course, being a baby, she wouldn't have remembered it.
Her earliest memory of springtime, when the tribes emerged from the desert foothills, and converged on Nymeti, were the unicorns. Thousands of them spread across the valley, their glittering white coats blending into the snow.
When she got older, Ellanith became interested in other things. The dances, the feasts. But the biggest reason she started looking forward to spring every year was Ilariel.
There were too many elves in each tribe to get to know them all in the short time they stayed in Nymeti, before moving with their herds out across the Shining Vale. But Ilariel was special.
Besides for being close in age, which was rare for elves, she was also the only other child who would rather go hunting for treasure, or making up extensive ghost stories, instead of the things the other children liked to do; things like sledding, or wood carving, or hide and seek.
The feeling of being different, of not fitting in, grew stronger for Ellanith over the years. Most of the things she was expected to learn: catching, training, and raising unicorns, hunting, growing food in the sheltered gardens, weaving, the various songs and dances, were things she wasn't good at. It seemed that the only time of year she truly felt she could be herself, be happy, was when Ilariel came.
Ellanith found out she was good at tracking. All the time playing treasure hunting had paid off. When Ilariel wasn't there, she amused herself by creating false tracks for others to follow. She particularly liked ambushing unsuspecting elves with snowballs. To most of the city, she became an annoyance, but to younger children, she was a hero. She organized snowball fights, she had an audience for her scary stories, she hid trinkets for them in the area around Nymeti, giving them maps and clues, like her grandparents had done for her. On nights the sky was clear, she took them to watch the stars, or the green dragon lights, reflected in the crystal and ice boulders that gave the Shining Vale its name.
Still, the most fun she had was with Ilariel. She always felt an urgency to make the most of their limited time together. They carried out their own private alchemy experiments, without the guidance of a teacher. There were more than a few explosions, followed by more than a few scoldings.
They explored off-limits caves on the edges of the valley. It was in one of those caves that she kissed her for the very first time. After that, they took any excuse to go off alone together. Please forgive the oxymoron.
There was some danger. The caves were off-limits for a reason. Like the time they happened to stumble upon the den of an ice tigar. Luckily, they heard it in time, and were able to escape. Another time, an especially harsh blizzard caused the entrance to the cave they were in to collapse. All it took was a single crystal falling loose to create a chain reaction. They had to be dug out by a rescue party led by the city elders. During that long and terrifying night, huddled together in a frozen cave, the explored each other’s bodies more intimately than ever before. That means they slept together. They had sex.
Despite their strong connections with each other, there was still so much that separated them. They might have both been Mawganae, but a shared national identity could only go so far. Ellanith was a city elf. The farthest she has gone from Nymeti was to the foothills and mountains.
Ilariel on the other hand, was a nomad. Her tribe, Glaurhîr Ithildin, followed the unicorns back and forth between the Northern Sands to the Shining Vale. She never stayed in one place for long, always on the move.
At some point, they realized that being apart most of each year wasn't good enough. They wanted to be with each other always. That meant that one of them would have to completely change her lifestyle. Would Ilariel settle down in Nymeti, learn to use an oven, grow leaves for making tea, make clay pots, set traps for wild unicorns? Would Ellanith walk many miles each day, learn to handle hundreds of unicorns, get acclimated to the desert each year, set up her house every night? Would they part ways, each unable to make the compromise, but can't handle the pain of only being together for a couple of months each year, so every spring, they try to avoid each other as much as possible?
7
u/wileycourage Aug 08 '24
Departure
Magus dashed quickly out of the darkness in the hallway of the palace to the door of his goal. He opened the door slowly and crept inside shutting it ever so softly behind him.
“Hello?” A soft quivering voice issued from the darkness inside. “I . . . I’ll call the guards!”
“Amelia, do not fear, it is I,” he spoke calmly and confidently.
“Mag, you are far too loud,” she hissed in a whisper. “You must never be found here! Why would you risk everything between us?” She moved to sit on the edge of her bed and lit a candle with a snap of her fingers. “There. Oh my, the black suits you, dear.” She beckoned him to sit beside her.
Her lover moved towards her. “While I wish we could spend a last night together, your majesty, but it is too late.”
“You know I hate when you call me that. The penalty is a kiss.”
He smiled genuinely. “If there’s time for anything before . . . Well there’s time for that.”
Magus pulled Amelia close and locked his lips to hers, opening his mouth slightly wider and pushing her head forward from behind while tenderly massaging her scalp. They stopped a moment before pulling away completely to stare into each other’s eyes.
The young noble’s expression dropped. “My love, the Heart’s condition is worse than reported. I witnessed the cancerous growths myself! I saw it stop. The Keepers shocked it back to life, but I saw the burns. It’s unsustainable.”
“That. That can’t be. What will become of us without it?” Her eyes widened as the full extent of the consequences dawned on her. “Our entire land will fall to the ice wastes below,” she concluded out loud and flatly. “We must warn the others, we must evacuate!”
The ground shook violently beneath the pair.
Magus held Amelia close, “my dear there is no time. I have our glider prepared. I have our supplies. If you leave, I fear we will forever be apart. Please do not make me even bear such a thought.”
“But mother-“
“She already knows. She saw exactly what I did in the Chamber.”
Amelia stared blankly and couldn’t respond.
“We must away, my lady!” Magus grabbed her by the hand and began leading the dazed princess down the escape tunnel connected to her room and to the air docks.
A large rumble and matching tremor nearly knocked the pair to their feet as they loaded into a thinly walled glider. Magus focused and created a gust of wind which guided them down the slope and off the edge of their floating continent from below its surface.
“Higher. Take us higher. I must see it.” Amelia shouted over the buffeting air.
Magus obliged heating the air and cause a further gust of wind to propel the craft upwards and above the city with its enormous palace at the edge of the flying landmass. As he circled back around and prepared to descend below, a great crack appeared in the land.
The towers of their former home crumbled and fell below as the city split from the core and began to fell away in pieces.
“The Heart!” Amelia exclaimed, tugging at Magus’s shoulder. The gap that had formed revealed the twenty foot high beating organ hanging in place by the arteries and veins that kept the kingdom in the sky together. “It’s glowing!” It pulsed laboriously and arrhythmically.
“Amelia, look away!” Magus pleaded, sensing impending doom. The heart obliged and imploded into a perfect sphere of nothingness which began to suck in everything around it. Bricks that were falling away from collapsing buildings were caught midair and pulled within, disappearing once they reached it.
No matter how hard Magus tried, he could no longer call upon the winds to power their plane. Their fate was inevitable. They would be pulled in to their unknown fate.
Simultaneously they turned to each other and embraced. Magus kissed her neck gently, then her cheek, then softly turned her head towards his and slowly caressed his face again before kissing her deeply.
The streamlined craft carried the lovers to their end.
Magus awoke lying soft grass under a warm sun next to Amelia. He turned to her, met her eyes, and smiled.
--
WC: 715
2
u/Go_Improvement_4501 Aug 09 '24
Amazing how you managed with so few words, to create such a grand scenery! I love the imagination. Especially the literal heart inside the city.
5
u/wordsonthewind Aug 08 '24
I had heard of Margara in the background chatter of the web long before I found myself at its bronze gates.
The Dreamlands were a persistent rumor in the newsgroup I frequented. We were all accomplished lucid dreamers, and we had all reached a limit, a point in our dreams that resisted our will.
Until I broke through to the world waiting on the other side, landing somewhat unceremoniously outside a grand pair of bronze gates.
The landscape beyond it made no sense. Not in the way that cities in the real world didn't make sense, sprawling organically outward. It reminded me of the plays I'd seen, when I was looking at the empty stage and waiting for the house lights to go down.
Margara felt like that. Like empty scenery, waiting for actors and lights to truly come to life.
I was supposed to present something here. A passport or an invitation or a key, to show that I had a right to be in this place. Searching through my pockets turned up nothing. It didn't matter.
I strode up to the bronze gates. I didn't keep the expectation that they would open for me in my head, because that would imply a part of me thought they wouldn't. I simply walked as though they would.
The gates swung open. My clothes shimmered as I crossed the threshold.
The streets were thronged with people now when they had been empty from outside the gates. They were dressed in every fashion imaginable, retro and futuristic. Some of them pointed at me and smiled. My clothes were now an elegant black gown and a tiara adorned with rubies and obsidian. A queen.
But I wasn't the only one wearing a crown, and I didn't think I'd been set above them in any way. We were nobility, then. Maybe they'd all marched through the gates too.
Others were emerging from the buildings, walking confidently up the streets. I'd read enough discussions in the newsgroup to guess what they were. Many lucid dreamers in the group used their skills to craft the most attentive paramours and ardent bedmates. These newcomers had that look about them. Custom-made to be perfect lovers for one person.
Just behind me, someone tapped my shoulder.
The indistinct figure that stood there might have had a crooked cheeky smile. Tousled brown hair or short-cropped blond. I wasn't sure.
"What's your name?" it asked.
"Emily," I replied. "What's yours?"
"Give me a name," it said. "Personify me. Make me human."
I'd never given much thought to what I liked beyond assuming they were probably male. Maybe the shape in front of me could be a girl? I knew such things were possible. But that didn't interest me either.
"Jamie," I decided. I'd known both guys and girls with that name. Maybe it would make things a bit clearer.
But the shape didn't change.
Hands intertwined around me. Mouths met, wet and sucking and driven by a primal hunger I had never known. But their minds were here, not their bodies, and that meant certain barriers no longer existed.
I'd felt other hungers. I'd sat in my room, absorbing chatter from all over the world through a brightly lit screen, and wished the people on the other side could be my friends. But all they were was text on a screen.
"I don't want to be friends," "Jamie" said. "I want more. You owe me!"
"No." It was so much easier to say that in this dress and crown. I couldn't help but smile. "And if you try anything, I'll destroy you."
I turned and walked away, hoping to find a more interesting part of this dream, but Jamie followed. Its counterparts turned a little more unreal in its wake. People stumbled away, shaken. They glared at me and muttered.
"You're ruining it," the streets said. "Turning this dream into a nightmare."
"Dreams are chaos," I said.
"Dreams are reality," Margara replied. "How could your world compare to this? But you're dragging it down with you."
"You're blaming me because you couldn't satisfy me?" The double-meaning was intentional. "That doesn't seem fair."
"Why are you even here?" a dreamer shouted. "Go home. You're lucky, you know? At least you'll never have your heart broken."
I wanted to scream. I did have a heart. Life wounded everyone in different ways, that was all.
But my eyes had already opened. I would never try to go to Margara again.
1
u/Go_Improvement_4501 Aug 09 '24
I love the feel of your story. Some sentences got me really hooked, they are so interesting. I had the feeling I could almost grab them but then they slipped away from me, like in a dream. For instance:
"I didn't keep the expectation that they would open for me in my head, because that would imply a part of me thought they wouldn't."
I really like the intuitive logical insight. Another description I liked a lot is this:
"Hands intertwined around me. Mouths met, wet and sucking and driven by a primal hunger I had never known. But their minds were here, not their bodies, and that meant certain barriers no longer existed."
This is just beautiful how you created this image of chaotic deconstruction of the bodies, stripped from the minds.
6
u/katpoker666 Aug 08 '24 edited Aug 08 '24
[ineligible for voting]
—-
The clock chimes eleven times.
Three months, thirteen days, and four seconds to the last time we were in love. Three months, thirteen days, and now six seconds since I’ve been happy.
I stare at you: all sharp lines and bone. Not an ounce of flesh to mar your form.
And yet I love you for your imperfections, those things others would dismiss as wrong. Ugly. Each dent. Each ding. Because I made them, you see. Made you.
But you won’t know that for another few minutes. Not until the pot boils and the kettle whistles.
“Ah. It’s ready.”
I knead the clay and press it inch by inch onto your waiting skeleton. Lingering on your lips, I plump out your pout just the way I like it.
The clock chimes twelve. Masking mud melds into human tissue. Warmth blossoms in frigid depths. Your eyes open. Blue. Alert.
“Galatea?”
You blink in recognition. Then your eyes widen in fear.
My mouth descends. Hungry. Seeking. Ravenous.
My tongue plumbs the back of your throat. Tarrying in each corner. Each crevice. For this kiss must last me until we meet again, my love.
Your ceramic skin shrivels. Fades. Porcelain bones peek forth again.
Another three months and thirteen days until I can taste you.
I take a sip of tea and sigh.
—-
WC: 218
—-
Thanks for reading! Feedback is always very much appreciated
2
u/raqshrag Aug 09 '24
Well, that was horrific. Not romance. The opposite of romance. Horror.
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u/katpoker666 Aug 09 '24
Thanks, raqshrag! Remember romance is in the eye of the beholder. For Pygmalion (it’s based on the myth), he’s preparing for and has his romantic date with his perfect woman. For Galatea, it’s her worst nightmare. Love isn’t always clean or pretty. But yes, this is far from a classic love story :)
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u/Go_Improvement_4501 Aug 09 '24
Hello katpoker,
This is a great story about a scarily hungry lover. It's short, but it reads so nicely organic. I think it has a very good beat. Awesome!
1
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u/Tregonial Aug 08 '24
Crafting the Love in Lovecraft
“Behold the Lovecraft, crafted with love by your favourite tentacled terror, who put the love in his craft!” I pulled back the veil of illusion to present the new loveboat I made to embark on a summer trip with my favourite human.
With sleek, arching tentacles, smooth flesh and curvaceous bones, and those glossy doe-eyes, my hand-and-tentacle crafted vessel was a beauty to witness. It was my wish Katrina would fall in love with my dear ship as much as I adored her.
“I have so many questions,” Kat rolled her eyes with a bewildered expression. “Does this boat run on puns? Because, goddammit Elvari, you haven’t stopped making them during this entire trip.”
“It runs on eldritch energy,” I replied. “And puns.”
She groaned louder than the collective murmurs of talkative tentacles and verbose voices, some of which were probably in my head. “Is it alive? Because its breathing and wriggling,” she remarked. “The Abyssal Beast we rode during the last road trip isn’t as weird as this.”
“It applied for annual leave and I granted its request.”
“What.”
“I’m a nice god who doesn’t coerce my creations into slave labor.”
“Shall I reward your kindness with sexy fun times?” She teased, jabbing a finger at my chest.
“I look forward to that,” I flashed her my most inviting smile. “Shall we board already? I can’t wait to take you sailing on a trippy trip down my domain.”
I extended a hand to pull her up, and she gently placed her hand in mine. In a flurry of tentacles, I reeled her in along with her luggage. On my command, the hovercraft lifted off into my portal and sailed into the dark skies of many eyes.
We stood together at the helm, as The Lovecraft soared the depths of freshly fluffed clouds. I pinched one, relishing in the burst of sweetness in my mouth and offered another to Kat. Her brain churned and twisted at the absurdity before she gingerly plucked the cloudy tuft to eat it.
A sudden lurch threw her off as the ship’s bow pierced into murky waters floating in the atmosphere. The rush of the flowing sea was a soothing shower washing past us to pour into the skies below.
“I’m a human! I can’t disobey the laws of physics!” She yelled, clinging onto the ivory railings for dear life. Followed by a pause, a deep inhalation, then words of surprise. “…How did I talk underwater?”
“The laws of physics apply to Earth, not my domain.” I floated casually with my appendages outstretched, gesturing her to follow me. “Trust me, I would never endanger your life. Let go and float to me.”
“How do they not arrest you for serial offences against physics?” she laughed while swimming towards the starboard where I waited for her.
“They can’t catch me when I’m sailing away from reality like this.”
When she drew near, my tentacles circled around her, pulling her into my embrace. In turn, she tugged at a tentacle curled around her waist, pressing it towards her luscious lips. It shuddered as she left it hanging in anticipation. Her finger teased and circled around each suction cup as she meandered her way to the tip, which she nudged upwards to kiss gently.
I tapped my lips with my index finger.
“Kat, my face is up here.”
“Oh?” she chuckled. “Are you jealous of your lucky limb?”
With a tenderness that belied the burning fervor in all my hearts, I cupped her face, fingertips stroking her skin as a brush against canvas. Her breath hitched, a saccharine symphony breathing upon my visage. Her lips a warm invitation, sweet and alluring.
Our mouths met with a soft caress, like the first touch of dawn upon the night. I hugged her closer, feeling her body pressed against mine. She responded with a sigh that melted into my mouth, her hands unbuttoning my shirt and pushing my collar apart. Fingers deftly slipped beneath the fabric, gliding across from collarbone to exposed shoulder as she peeled my shirt off. Our kiss grew bolder, more insistent, like waves crashing against the shore, leaving us both breathless yet starved for more.
A thrilling squeal distracted us. We broke away from each other to watch my Abyssal Beast wheeling about at sea.
“I thought you said it was on leave?”
I snarled and waggled a swarm of hissing tentacles. “Don’t be a third wheel, or I’ll cancel your leave!”
“Sorry, boss!”
Word Count: 747 words
4
u/JKHmattox Aug 08 '24
Eldritch energy and puns, I absolutely love this little exchange here. It shows that she knows him so well and though she might not be amused by his puns a lot of the times, she knows it's part of him. Plus puns are very powerful yet sneaky why wouldn't you use them as energy.
You paint a fantastical world here just as the prompt requests, literally denying physics to get the job done. I also love the romance here too which also defies logic and reasoning. Most would assume a powerful God with tentacles would be so terrifying one could never fall in love with them. You have shown here though that there is far more to love then what we see onnthe surfice.
I also like the humor at the end. It becomes obvious in a comical was that Elvari granted the beast leave not just out of benevolence but also other motivation. I laugh at the last two words imagining Elvari's frustration. I enjoyed this story, Good Words.
4
u/Go_Improvement_4501 Aug 08 '24 edited Aug 09 '24
Androphoria
The night had been long and wild and I was still dazed when I woke up. I pushed the covers aside and sat on the edge of the bed. The sun shone through the large window into my spacious apartment on the twenty-fifth floor. I looked to the side and saw him sleeping peacefully next to me with a smile on his face. Objectively speaking, he had a perfect body. Athletically muscular and clean-shaven, like the body of a sprinter or swimmer. He had said his name was Daniel, but I should call him Dan. He slept with a black eye mask that he probably carried with him just in case when he went out. I had to smile at that.
I had gotten myself into a big problem. That fact slowly dawned on me. I put my head in my hands and thought about what to do next. I couldn't think clearly as long as there were still traces of the drug circulating in my body. I got up and went to the kitchen to make myself a coffee. As the smell of fresh coffee made its way through the apartment, Dan was already standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a dreamy smile.
“Did you make me coffee, sweetie?” he said in a flirting tone as he blew me a kiss.
“Uh Huh,” I replied tersely, concentrating on pouring the coffee into the cups with excessive care to buy some time. I was embarrassed by what he had called me. But I couldn't blame him either, given what had happened between us last night.
He approached me from behind and gently put his arm around my waist. I could feel myself tensing up more. When he kissed my neck, it was too much for me.
“Ahhrrrg. Damn it!!”, I cursed and accidentally spilled the hot coffee on my hand. He deftly grabbed a kitchen towel, held it under cold water and pressed it onto my hand. I let it happen, the cold felt good. I couldn't be mad at him, it hadn't been his fault. I had myself to blame for the whole thing.
He looked me in the eyes with concern as he blew on my hand and asked, "Does it still hurt?" His concern was genuine and I could feel a lump in my throat. I felt cornered and didn't know what to do. I remembered that I must still have traces of the drug in my body. I felt deceived and pushed him away from me. When the effects wore off, I told myself, the whole thing would dissolve and turn out to be what it should have been from the beginning. A new experience. An adventure without much consequences.
But when I saw how hurt he reacted to my push, I realized that I could no longer fool myself about this matter. It wasn't at all fake, he was really deeply hurt by my rejection. I felt terribly sorry and I could hardly bear the feeling. So I rushed towards him and took him in my arms. I had to admit it to myself: I had fallen in love with him!
The drug had only provided the sexual attraction towards men for me. But the love itself was real. I wiped a tear from his face. He looked at me expectantly and then slowly moved closer to my face. When he was very close I could feel his breath. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth. As our tongues entwined, I felt a warmth flowing through my body. I wanted to feel him very close to me. But the kiss no longer aroused me sexually like it did last night. It now felt more like a strangely deep friendship. Or like coming home, after a long journey.
I could feel his erection. He pulled me from the kitchen back into the bedroom. I rummaged wildly in my bedside table drawer. The package was empty. I had taken the rest of the pills last night. He lay on the bed and tried to pull me down to him. I knew I couldn't do this now. I just didn't feel it. Nevertheless, I knew Dan was the one. I just knew it. I had to put him off until next time and decided to subscribe to the premium subscription service of Androphoria immediately, so that I would never have to face this kind of embarrassment again.
WC: 731
4
u/atcroft Aug 07 '24
Cupid Takes Aim
Pvt. Cole Cupid took a break from scanning with his binoculars to look at his target. Seven years, five continents, but this was the first time he had her in his scope, out in the open. He reached over to scratch his missing stripes; completing this mission might just get them back. His wings itched beneath his black uniform. He longed for the good ol' days, when his only gear was a trusty bow, a quiver of arrows, and maybe a loincloth.
One hundred beats, he thought as his training echoed in his ears. The other must get the second round within a hundred beats of the primary's heart. He chuckled to himself as he remembered that conversation. "What happens if the shot arrives after a hundred beats?" "Better not to take the shot in such cases." He jostled the magazine in his hand, its two matched rounds feeling somehow heavier today.
Five years since Cathy'd traveled for work or pleasure--five years of pandemics, anxiety, WFH, RTO, HW, and other abbreviations she'd thankfully forgotten. Five years that had threatened to steal her joy in travel. Overcoming that had been a major victory, and she had decided to enjoy this no matter what. Laying on her stomach on a chaise lounge enveloped by an umbrella's shadow, she ignored other vacationers behind over-sized sunglasses, book in one hand and cold drink in the other. She was not so ignored by other vacationers; her curves, flowing dark hair, and black one-piece against alabaster skin escaping no one's notice. That afternoon foot traffic near her chaise doubled.
Pvt. Cupid wiped the sweat from around his eyes before raising his binoculars again. There! Not the tall, dangerous ones hiding in the darker recesses of her mind, but another difficult case on his list. And from their files birds of a feather. Two birds, one stone... or one magazine, he thought as it clicked into place. He waited until she turned on the chaise, his cross-hairs on the "V" at the bottom of her neckline. With the squeeze of the trigger he watched as Cupid's round entered silently, leaving not a mark on her beautiful marble-like skin.
Jimmy stood by a column, looking around. His first time on vacation since starting the new job, he felt like a fish out of water as he stood there. Mentally he compared his scrawny self-perception in a Panama hat, Hawaiian shirt, and swim shorts holding a novel to the seemingly beautiful people so relaxed and engaging all around. I shouldn't be here, he thought. Maybe just find an out of the way seat. Slowly he started to make his way around the edge of the pool area.
Quickly Cole turned his scope back to his other target. Crap! he thought. Where'd he go? With every heartbeat drops of sweat appeared on Cole's forehead. His heart beat faster with each moment. "Where are you?" he whispered. Scanning the shadows around the pool, his forehead was dripping when he suddenly started. "There you are!"
A squeeze of his trigger and he watched as the round hit, sliding mutely into its mark. Cole watched as Jimmy turned his head and tripped over his own feet, flying through the air to land on a chaise, his arms on either side of an onyx swimsuit and its owner of ivory skin.
A curtain of surprise fell across Cathy's face when her book and shades were suddenly knocked aside, replaced by the face of a guy her own age. Pupils flinched as Cupid's rounds took hold, time slowing to a crawl in the space between a shared breath as soft, warm lips touched one another for the first time, slowly pressing together, a low moan breaking the silence as eyes closed then opened as their lips separated.
"Hello..." Jimmy said shakily.
"Hi," Cathy replied, a smile spreading across her face.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, lifting himself onto his hands and knees, his eyes still locked on hers. "I don't know why I--"
Her eyes briefly glanced from his to the two copies of the novel splayed out beside her, returning to his. "Sh-h-h," she said, pulling a finger to his lips. "You had me at 'hello'."
(Word count: 702. 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.)
5
Aug 06 '24
Too Soon Sunshine
The starry night was clear, the moon full as it looked down on an island shore. A sorrowful tide drew away, an inhale as Envy stood watching, his eyes turned up to the moon. A shadow loomed—a dark phase—the stars blotting out along the horizon. It was the moon’s expelled breath—a tsunami.
It crashed down and swept across the entire island, all of reality dislodging and stirring like an upended snow globe. Envy stood fast, his own identity peeling away with the rest of his world. Gone was his shore. Gone was his black hair, his black cloak, and his somber gaze. Gone was Envy.
Daniel stood in his place—the remaining black dripping from him like caked mud washed away. His hair was brown, his blazer green, his eyes closed to conceal blue irises. Violins began to play, soon joined by other strings, then brass and percussion as a rejoiceful melody spanned the space, its tempo one of dance.
“You came,” called a girl.
Daniel opened his eyes and oriented on her—a green-eyed blonde, her hair pulled up, her form contoured by a summer dress—yellow with flowers, their pastel pedals mid-fall like leaves in autumn. The island had become a polished hardwood floor, the surrounding ocean showing a starry sky while the actual sky was filled by the stuff of dreams—a swirling gray where rabbits and small animals bound around, their impression cast onto the clouds’ backside as if a light shone upon them.
“You say that like I went out of my way,” he replied, then shrugged, his hands sinking into his pockets. “But you never left, so it wasn’t a long journey.”
She stormed towards him, their sliver of reality following and centering on her like a spotlight shining down from the heavens. When she crashed into him, he stood against a different storm, her head colliding with his chest, her arms enclosing his waist. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This is all my fault. I wish it hadn’t—”
Daniel interrupted her, his hand moving under her chin and turning her gaze up to his, her eyes twinkling. “It’s in the past, and we’ve already said everything that needed saying.”
“But you’re hurting.”
“I’ve never regretted it. And I never will.” He looked around, the orchestra playing somewhere beyond their horizon. “It seems tonight should be one of dancing. Surely, you wouldn’t want to waste it on the past. Otherwise, we should howl into the wind while we’re at it.”
She glared, her lips curling playfully.
“I believe this is our song.” He drew back and proffered an upturned palm. “May I have this dance?”
She smiled, shook her head, and took his hand. “They’re all our song, Daniel.”
Daniel tugged her close, their chests colliding, her lips letting loose a giggle. Then, they were away. They made their own waltz, the world turning around them. The sky’s texture smeared, the animals scurrying with their turn, remaining visible instead of fleeing for cover.
Her dress flared as she twirled, like colors flinging out into the surroundings, the spotlight’s perimeter absorbing them as it passed. The colors rose up from the horizon. They bled into the clouds, soon tinting them, their contours contrasted by sprouting grass as if some unseen brush added strokes of green to a dome above.
Daniel spun her out, then pulled her back in, the collision causing her to grip his arm where she laughed into his sleeve. Every step, every turn, every time, her smile grew warmer. He kept moving them away, dancing towards a sunrise rather than the horizon where it had long since set.
Her gaze threatened to grow somber, then widened as he leaned back in a dip, smiling. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” She clutched his wrist with both hands and leaned away, trying to keep him upright. They collapsed to the floor where she spilled onto his chest, more giggles knocked loose as she propped herself up on her forearms.
They were both panting, both smiling as her eyes flicked down to his lips. She pounced, their lips converging, the pastels suddenly sharpening, their eyes closing. The kiss soon tasted of salt, then too soon it felt warm like sunshine.
Envy opened his eyes, the sun’s first rays spilling over his face as he lay back on an island beach, his hands behind his head. He sat up, squinting into the sun. I’ll carry it—your story. And I’ll tell the world.
Phlebotinum? I didn't realize there was a name for the material constructing my worlds. :)
I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to share your thoughts. Thank you for reading!
747/750
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u/AGuyLikeThat Aug 06 '24 edited Aug 09 '24
Dreamland
(A Lizard & Wizard tale)
Urban Fantasy
“Tell me more about accidental deaths by auto-erotic asphyxiation!” Alana was breathless with excitement.
She leaned close to George's ear so that her breath tickled the fine hairs as she spoke. “You make forensic science sooo interesting,” she breathed.
George! Wake up!
George’s eyes opened blearily to see a small green dragon perched on his chest, face inches from his own.
Didn’t you hear me? It’s here! The lizard’s telepathic voice was too loud.
“Gosh, Barry. Give me some space.” George rolled into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. He heaved a big sigh as he rose from the battered couch.
Awake, he was well aware that Alana was out of his league. Now that he was a fricking wizard, he had no chance.
He opened the door and collected the package.
‘George Saint George’ was written on the front in Nan’s spidery script.
Open it!
George shook out an expensive, hand-stitched, velvet-lined, black leather trench coat. “What is this?”
Barry settled gently on his shoulder. You needed wizard robes. Your Nan kindly agreed to help out.
The note read. “This counts for your birthday! Nanna.”
George shivered. “Tell her thanks, I guess.”
You’ll thank her yourself when you visit next week!
“Oh my god, you’re her damn simp now?”
Ugh, grow up, George. She may be a ghost, but she is also very gracious.
He made a face as he tried the trench coat on.
The miniature dragon had saved his life several times already and George did trust him - where magic was concerned.
The coat was a good fit. He checked his reflection. Kinda cool, actually.
You have to charge new wizard robes.
“Okay, then.” George reached for his wizard staff.
Not that. You have to travel into the astral realm. And for that, you’ll need the wizard’s pipe. The tiny dragon tipped its head at his coffee table.
“That’s a bong!” George crossed his arms. “I can’t smoke that shit! Sheesh!”
It’s not marijuana. This is special Shire Tobacco. Intrinsic part of the spell. It’s just that your predecessor was a bit … loose. That pipe is all we have.
The reluctant wizard wished he could just go back to dreaming about Alana.
Instead, he did what the dragon told him. Reciting a spell from his stained old grimoire, he lit the bowl of the dragon-carved waterpipe.
He almost coughed his guts up.
He’d never even tried a cigarette before. George felt very sickly as he sat down.
“Uh. Mwhanawaddaplease…”
Suddenly, he was falling back. Spinning. The room dissolved.
George let go - and everything drifted away.
A panorama of gold-streaked clouds stretched across the opalescent sky spinning slowly around him.
“Oooh, what are those?” The sickness was replaced by incandescent wonder.
George tried his best to remember the gist of the spell. This was a magical source - he had to gather magic to imbue his robe. Probably from those glowing clouds.
He looked at one and was somehow reminded of his pleasant dream.
“That’ll do.” He willed himself towards it.
He shot forward and golden light swallowed him.
George blinked. He was in a park.
And Alana was there.
Her face lit up as their eyes met. He could almost believe that she was pleased to see him. “Hello, handsome,” she purred. “Can you help me find my dog?”
Suddenly, they were face to face.
The delightful aroma of her proximity tickled a special part of George’s memories. A piece far away from his everyday mind - the inner him, that existed in a safe, warm place. Summer jasmine and clear skies opened a pathway to his heart.
George had never kissed a girl before. It was a huge surprise when Alana kissed him.
Her lips were so soft against his - an unearthly feeling. Everything began to tingle. He was transported to another world. A world made of kisses that stretched out forever.
Alana’s lovely face swam into focus. “Wait. George?” She blinked in disbelief.
And just like that, she was gone.
Lightning flashed in the suddenly empty ether and the sinuous body of a great wyrm coiled through the clouds as reflections danced along its length.
“There you are! You’ve collected much power already!” Barry’s voice was like the roaring ocean.
“You’re so big!”
“Of course, this is my home! Those golden clouds are dreams, the source of all magic.”
“Other people’s dreams?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Oh. Shit.”
And George learned how to blush in the astral realm.
WC-749
Notes:
The Fun Trope for this week is Made of Phlebotinum and the genre is Romance. The optional constraint is 'include a description a kiss'.
In this story, it turns out magic is made with dreams. Dreams are the Phlebotinum trope, and the romance genre here is made of dreams, tying the two nicely together. When Alana kisses George here, his dreams come true, even though there's not a lot of truth between them. (George and Barry battled and barbecued Alana's demon dog back in chapter two, then used an enchantment to make her forget.)
Thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoyed the story! All crit/feedback welcome!
3
u/Tregonial Aug 08 '24
Hi Wizzy,
Funny story, and great use of dreams for the theme. The banter between George and Barry is always a fun read.
For some crit:
You repeated George around 20 times? Perhaps you could vary it up a bit with "wizard", "forensic student", "he" etc?
It may be a personal preference, but it feels you used "suddenly" a bit too much towards the end.
Perhaps "golden clouds" would be a better descriptor than "gold-shot" clouds? the gold shots I am familiar with are "Gold shots are a type of treatment for arthritis that use gold salts, which are either injected into the muscle or taken as an oral tablet". So medicine pill studded clouds ...don't seem so fun.
Still, it is overall an entertaining read and good words, Wiz.
7
u/MaxStickies Aug 04 '24 edited Aug 05 '24
Alive Again
Euric’s heart races as he climbs the ancient mound in the depths of night. Up above, cutting the dull, clouded moonlight, standing stones rise like withered fingers into the sky. An owl screeches from the great branching oak at their centre, and bats carry out their circuitous routes over its crown. All in all, a perfect night for a resurrection.
He grips the gold and ruby pendant tightly, in fear of losing it. The scents of frankincense, rose water and chalk waft up from his satchel. He scratches his papery pale skin where his cloak rubs his neck; a horrid sensation, yet he prevails up the slope, towards his goal. No amount of discomfort, nor pain, will deter him.
He reaches the summit. Beneath the tree, within the stone circle, there stands an iron cauldron with spirals along its flanks. Euric starts by marking chalk lines on the solid stone ground between the oak and the stones. Next, with much finesse, he crumbles the frankincense into the pot and adds a splash of the rose water. The ritual almost ready, he takes an ornate dagger from his cloak and cuts a straight line through his palm, wringing the viscous blood out into the concoction. The crimson blooms in the water, soon becoming one with it. He stares into the deep red pool.
With everything in place, he raises the pendant to the sky and recounts an ancient spell from memory. The words tumble smooth as liquid gold from his lips.
And with a tumultuous roar, lightning strikes the oak. The tree erupts into cyanic flame, a crack creeping down its centre. With a snap akin to a bone breaking, the tree separates into two halves and falls away. In its place, there stands a tall figure, arms crossed and eyes closed. Euric looks upon his handsome, strong features and paled dark skin with admiration. Tattered wrappings around the man’s body billow in the wind.
He walks forth and embraces him. No warmth comes from the man’s body, yet Euric is comforted all the same. Gradually, he feels him move, the man’s long arms wrapping around him. They hold each other for some time before the man opens his eyes.
“Euric. You came back for me,” he says, his voice as soft as silk.
Tears well in Euric’s eyes. “Yes, Akli. It took me eons, but I’ve finally brought you back.”
Akli smiles, revealing his gleaming teeth, untouched by time. “You must have been lonely. But I am here now, to be yours once more.”
“I feared that you would be angry that it took so long.”
Euric feels his chest heave as he laughs. “Angry?! At you?! Such a thing is impossible, dearest one.”
He stretches up to meet Akli’s lips with his own. A tingle races through his body to the very tips of his finger and toes, an electric sensation that brings life renewed to his immortal flesh. He opens his eyes and watches the dead paleness of his lover’s skin wash away.
“You look just as you did before the sickness,” Euric says, beaming.
“And you look as beautiful as you ever did.”
His cheeks grow hot as the blood rushes to them. “Heh. The first time I have blushed in one thousand years.”
Akli brushes his hand through Euric’s brittle hair. His expression turns a little more sullen. “What of humanity, Euric? Have they… changed?”
Euric looks past him and to the lights of the city in the distance. A great many people still roam the streets in their cars, travelling home after work or going out for the night. “They have multiplied many times over, their cities far more complex and extravagant than they were in our time. And some still hold on to prejudice.” He looks deep into Akli’s eyes. “But many are accepting of those like us. I have a home we may turn to, live out our lives in peace, for however long we shall last.”
“How long does not matter, my love. As long as we are happy and in each other’s arms.”
They turn as one, Euric leading his lover down to where he parked. Akli falls asleep in the seat, so he drives towards the main road leading back home. The streetlights play pretty patterns on the windshield, the spaces between them even and reoccurring. Like a timeline, counting down, returning to an age when they were both happy.
Now, they can be again.
WC: 745
Crit and feedback are welcome.
1
u/raqshrag Aug 09 '24
Maybe there is too much description? I realized I skimmed through some of it. I think I do the same thing. The colors of the ruby or the individual smells of the satchel probably don't add much to the immersion that you accomplished well with the first paragraph. It starts to become a bit clunky, I think?
2
u/raqshrag Aug 09 '24
I love how visually descriptive your scenes are.
Why did it take Akli eons to do the resurrection? Why couldn't he have done it when he set up the cauldron?
I got a bit mixed up with the names and pronouns.
What are they, if not humans? They're immortal, but can be killed by sicknesses? Are they vampires? Do they age? More specifically, did Akli age physically while Euric didn't? You mentioned his papery pale skin. And was Euric aware of time passing while he was dead? Akli was worried that he would have been angry.
I love happy endings, and this one is particularly beautiful.
2
7
u/JKHmattox Aug 04 '24 edited Aug 08 '24
Seen But Not Heard
I sat on the couch listening to an afternoon thunderstorm while reading a book when my husband Jack got home from work. The door shuddered closed behind him as he shook off the rain and kicked aside his work boots, beaten well past submission.
“Hey babe!” I yelled gleefully from across the house, with no response.
Jack sloughed off his coat as if I hadn't said a thing, and hung it on a hook in the mud room. He then staggered into the kitchen. The refrigerator door clinked open and my husband selected his next victim from a row of neatly arranged bottles on the inside of the door. He then slammed it shut with the frustrations of the day.
My tired husband groaned as he dragged himself into the living room where I was curled up beneath a blanket, and flopped down in the recliner across from me. With a forced exhale, he opened the beer and raised it to his lips.
“Nice to see you too, honey!” I fumed in my mind while my eyes burrowed into his thick skull.
“Jezz, when you say it that way, dear…” he smiled before he took another sip, “It's nice to see you too. I'm sorry about all that, it was a long day at work.”
“Well that doesn't mean you get to come home and be rude!” I snapped. His lack of reaction to my scornful statement infuriated me even more as I slammed my book down in my lap.
“Who the fuck does he think he is!” I screamed in my mind as he nearly jumped from his easy chair.
“I'm sorry, dear, I didn’t hear you say anything when I came in is all,” he apologized to my agitated thoughts as if he had heard the frustrated exclamations in my mind.
“You should be, mister!” I shouted as he eased back in his chair.
“How was your day, Moxie?” he casually asked as if I hadn't just yelled at him.
“It was great, until you dragged your happy ass in here and ignored every word I've had to say,” I fumed as he seemed not to hear me again.
“How do men do this?” I snapped in my head.
“Do what, dear?” He replied as he took another sip from his bottle.
His answer to my guarded thought sent my consciousness reeling. “How did he hear that,” I thought, “what's happening?”
“Are you OK, Mox, you seem a little tense tonight?”
Cautiously, I tested my theory, “Jack, I'm pregnant!” I blurted out loud.
Jack said nothing, not even a snorted chuckle as we both knew by then it was an impossibly. Istead, he quietly finished his beer and hoisted himself from the easy chair to get something else from the kitchen. After my frivolous revelation, I was sure he could hear only my thoughts, so I decided to push the strange new quirk in reality further.
“Hey, while you're in there, can you make me a sandwich? I'm starving.” I thought while he rummaged through the pantry for something.
“Mox, What do you want on your sandwich?” he answered my thoughts by calling out over his shoulder as he opened the refrigerator again.
I grinned as I envisioned ham and swiss on sourdough with a pickle spear on the side and some potato salad. A few minutes later, Jack reappeared from the kitchen with a plate of just what I imagined layed out precisely as I had in my mind.
“There you go dear, just like you asked,” he smiled as I took the plate from him.
He motioned for me to lift up my feet and he slid onto the other end of the couch beneath them. I placed my legs back across his lap as he pulled the blanket over us again. Rain pounded against the window and a slight crackle of thunder echoed in the distance. As if he'd read my mind, he took my feet into his callus hands and began to rub them. I closed my eyes with content relief and rolled my head back as his strong fingers worked away my tension.
“I love you,” I thought in my mind with a smile.
“I love you too, dear,” Jack answered aloud as he leaned back and closed his eyes. A few minutes later, he drifted off to sleep as I returned to my book and the rain danced off the windows in the late evening twilight. Whatever had happened to the universe, it was quite alright by me.
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u/raqshrag Aug 09 '24
It's a bit hard to follow along. I think maybe it's a bit jumbled, jumping between Mox's thinking, speaking, and observing, and what Jack's doing. There also aren't clear indicators to show when Mox is taking or thinking.
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u/raqshrag Aug 09 '24
I have questions. How doesn't Jack hear Mox's thoughts of what they're about to say? What did Jack think when he thought he heard Mox ask out loud how someone could hear something? Why could he suddenly hear Mox's thoughts, but not her words? How long does it last? Were other people also affected by whatever it is?
At first, when Jack ignored Mox, and immediately went to the fridge filled with beer, I thought he was one of those men who drink beer all the time and mistreat their spouses. Especially when he slammed the fridge door shut. I was worried he was violent. And when Mox started yelling at him, it didn't seem like a healthy relationship.
At first, I thought the fuming was in their head, and the words were out loud. When I got the plot twist, I had to go back and reread Mox's and Jack's entire interaction.
In the end, they do seem like a happy and loving couple, so I guess it's a happy ending, even if Mox lost all the privacy of their thoughts.
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u/Whomsteth Aug 08 '24 edited Aug 09 '24
Special Delivery
Sneakers slapping concrete, half shuttered stores in the early morning with wary eyes peeking out, just another usual day Manling. Difference is this time it was Rocket speeding down the narrow alleys, zipping between the shifting shades of neon signs.
Miya specifically asked for me, so an augmetics problem unless she’s—
He didn’t let himself entertain that idea as he skidded over to a faded yellow freight container, thundering up the steps along its side to the house squatted on top.
“Oi Miya! I’m here,” The response was silence. More silence… Then creaking, groaning and a couple more zombie movie-esque noises. “You okay in there?”
The door lock clicked green then swung open slowly. There was a little girl on a wheelchair, all knobbly bones and pallid skin. Took a moment to even register them as alive. She looked up, thick locks of dirty blonde hair falling out the way of her flushed face, breath puffing and sweat dripping down the side of her sharp features.
“Shit, wrong house. I uhm…”
“Rocket? No no, stay.”
“Her roommate?”
“No I’m… Miya,” She giggled exhaustedly, hand gripping her shirt that extended past the stump of her leg.
“I’ve literally met you before, in person.”
“I’ll explain just, ugh, get in here already.” The inside was dirty, oversized clothes and cities of pill bottles surrounding half finished gadgets, with printed messages on cutesy paper dotting the walls.
“Are those?”
“Your words always make me feel better so I—” And then she erupted into a coughing fit, doubling over and clutching her chest. Without thinking, he grabbed Miya and tried to keep her steady, noting how hot her skin was.
“Miya! Miya what’s going on?”
“You’re the augmetics guy aren’t you? Get me on the bed, check my chest,” She groaned. And, as always, she was right. Steel cabling coursed out and over her chest from a poorly maintained aug-organ implant, the flesh around it bearing tiny flecks of dried blood and a nasty red spreading up her neck, sweat streaming down every which way.
“What the fuck is this?”
“Car crash, years ago, where do you think the leg went? Just, fix it, please.” I glanced wildly at her then at the tools around her cluttered room.
“Fine but I’m charging for this.”
— — —
Miya woke up four hour later, her hand being crushed in Rocket’s. “Phew, you’re up. How do you feel?” He asked from the bedside, synthetic sea green eyes sparkling with such concern they had to be real.
“Better thanks, how much do you want?”
“That explanation would be a good start.”
“Heard of a holo-deck? I built one to mimic being someone else. Has sounds, a voice changer, the whole nine yards. Wanna see how it works?”
“Listen, I might be the augmetics bloke but that high tech shit goes right over my head, keep to the oil and steel level please.”
“Okay. Sorry by the way,” She rasped, earning a cocked eyebrow. “I know you were into me… sorry for the disappointment.”
“So you knew, huh?”
“You were never good at hiding it.”
“Evidently you didn’t know that much, since you’d have figured out I didn’t like you for your looks or nothing, can make yourself look however you want in this city long as you have the money, I like you for you, ya idiot,” He bent back down to her level. “Can I?”
“Can you-?”
“Kiss you, that’ll be your payment.”
“Can’t you see how I’m…”
“I can see well enough to say that I don’t care, you’re still the same funny, smart goofball I’ve known. Please?”
She responded after a long pause.
“Be gentle, okay?”
He brushed aside her hair, taking one thick lock in his hand as he gently brought it to his mouth and planted a long kiss on it. From there his hands traced through until they were caressing her scalp, little kisses dotting the crown of her head. One large hand fell down to brush against an eyebrow, before cupping the side of her face and bracing the other hand beneath Miya’s head to support her. She would always describe herself as fragile, something on the verge of breaking. In contrast, it seemed Rocket’s hands saw her as… delicate, something to be held with the greatest care and reverence. Her heart was pumping, fast. “It’s fine, don’t push yourself. Let me do this for you, okay?”
“Isn’t this meant to be my payment?”
"You'll get your chance next."
---------------
WC: 748
Just in the nick of time fellas and fellettes! As always, crit and feedback much appreciated.