#writing short

[flw3rrr]

Following Dutch around as you cling to him can be seen as a way to be near him, and it might come across as slightly annoying to him initially. However, with time, Dutch might start to appreciate having you around, enjoying the fact that you want to be close to him, which could be seen as a sign of his dominance. By showing off his power over you, in which could make him feel powerful and in control

#dutch van der linde x reader #rdr2 #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde imagine #writing short

[soukokumychildren]

Au Short

Well, this idea has been kind of buzzing around in my head for a long time but only recently with the help of another song, (of course...incidentally both of them have the name "Villian" as their title), I finally decided out the entire write and just went at it for like--two full hours or such lol. Anyway, here it is, I'm really proud on how it turned out! :D (Ps...this is far in the future and MASSIVE spoilers for my au...but heck it.)

It was a glorious night, stars obscured by a gloomy whirl of clouds hovering near to the tallest of Yokohama's skyscrapers. The structures were illuminated with tiny lights, all buildings alive and bustling, the outside even more so, with traffic moving home from work and parties being held all throughout the night, the ocassional vibration from a club not unfamiliar as you got used to the bustling surroundings. But somewhere in Yokohama, across the bridge, held warehouses.

And a certain man that stashed a secret organization away in one of those said warehouses was bristling. Because a pest was found among the buildings. The said certain pest was a man that went by the name Doppo Kunikida, bound by ribbons that felt like several layers of leather keeping his arms close to his sides. Red electricity zapped across the fabric, but it didn't affect its current prisoner. Kunikida lowered his head, dirty-blonde hair covering his gray eyes from view. Usually, it was neatly tucked back into a ponytail, but currently, it was scruffy, and strands stuck out from everywhere. He breathed heavily, the squirming he did achieved nothing to escape the bonds. The man looked down at his red necktie, black shirt and lime-yellow vest. But he wasn't looking at himself. He was looking down at his feet, where a green book was located, Japanese letters sprawled across its front, reading: Ideals. But not even his skill could aid him in this position.

He squinted at the distinct shape of his rectangular glasses, as they had clattered to the floor a minute ago. Footsteps approached, and his head snapped up. But without the aid of glasses, and the darkness surrounding, he was practically sightless.

"Isn't this quite the predicament?" Said a voice that usually was doused with the tone of singsong, but instead, sounded amused. And…cold. The shape bent over, retrieved the glasses, and held it up in front of Kunikida. His breath caught as he blinked rapidly. "Huh?" He asked after a moment, seeing the shape unfold the glasses and slip them onto his face. When the dirty-blonde adjusted, he shook his head in shock.

A much sharpened image of a brunette stood there. A bandage obscured his heavily scarred left eye, the remaning one red and smoldering with a burning anger that didn't quite reach his features. The scar on said eye ran down to the corner of his mouth, and it was deep. He smiled, arms crossed over his chest, a brown jacket covering a gray turtleneck, rolled up to the sleeves to reveal more bandages wound around his arm to wrists. A new addition had been recently added-a pair of black gloves concealing his hands. Another jacket, a seeming dark green draped over his shoulders, a black opal in a golden pendant strapped to his right shoulder.

"It seems we found a little roach running amidst in our territory." Dazai said silkily. Kunikida looked over his surroundings once he spotted boxes, more crates piled up haphazardly around the area. He couldn't read the inscriptions from his current standing point. His eyes followed the trail of black cloth to a man concealed half by shadow, and his eyes widened. Akutagawa Ryunosuke. The man had precariously cut black hair with slight bangs, piercing gray eyes, and hair that draped the sides of his face, framing his cheekbones. Their ends were white as if they were dipped in some sort of reverse-colored ink. The coat he wore had a sort of extended form of turtleneck that was wider than average, a sort of beige color that was relaxing on the eyes. Brown straps decorated his chest, winding around his shoulders and back. His coat was torn at the edges. Akutagawa rose his arm and lightly coughed into his hand, before providing Kunikida with a glare that seemed less menacing without eyebrows.

"You…" Kunikida snapped his head back to Dazai, who merely grinned wider.

"So, Kunikida," Dazai said silkily, lifting his wrist to check how taunt the bandages across his arm were. "What could someone like you be doing at a place like this at this hour?" Kunikida was acutely aware of the duel scythe blades attached to Dazai's sides, held by an endless supply of chains.

While the dirty-blonde thought of something to say, Dazai had answered for him. "Oh, so you've thought that you caught onto me being suspicious?" Dazai asked, red eyes glinting with malice as he met Kunikida's gaze. "Took you a while, it really did. I suspect all the others knew except you." Kunikida's eyes narrowed. "You aren't the Dazai I know." The brunette tutted, stepping closer to Kunikida, and suddenly, his back was bathed in a silver glow from the moon behind him, gracing the night with a full shape, albeit a bit obscured from the clouds that loomed over the city.

"Oh but I am, you see. I'm the very Dazai you know, love and appreciate." Kunikida scoffed, and Dazai shot him a look, void of emotion, though his eyebrow twitched upward. "But I wear a mask, you see. Always hidden behind the several masks I’ve programmed myself to adapt to. It just seems you were always too slow to catch on.~" "Like hell! Reveal who you really are!" Dazai gave him an unamused expression, sighing, and working the fingertip of one of his gloves off. "You really are useless. I sometimes do wonder why the Agency thought you were a good hire," he sighed breezily. "How absolutely DARE-" But he was promptly slapped with leather fabric to the side of his cheek, shutting him up immediately. His eyes landed on a shape that shouldn't have shocked him to his core, but still shook him nonetheless. Strong legs dangling off a large crate, swayed, gray boots meeting up to the mans knees. He wore a shirt crisscrossed with belts horizontally and vertically, with a tie laid over his chest and held to his black shirt with a gray clip. Sleeves rolled up to show scarred arms that had black bandages wound around the wrist with black gloves overlaying them to a point. Ginger hair rolled off the mans shoulders gracefully, a cross between masculine and feminine, sharp, cerulean hawk-like eyes wandering to find Kunikida's gaze. More scars decorated his cheeks, a black hat perched on his head with a brown based rim, a chain rolling off the lip, a blue crystal glinting in the moonlight. He raised his brow, just a hair higher, when Kunikida looked at him, baffled. Aghast, even.

Dazai slipped his glove back on. "Come here, my love." Dazai commanded, voice booming across the warehouse. Chuuya barely hesitated, sliding off the crates and leaping down gracefully, and striding over to Dazai. He scrunched his nose, giving Kunikida a glare as he went to Dazai's left side, protecting his blind spot instinctually, despite being shorter and less imposing at Dazai’s side. A magnificent maroon wing stretched and spread behind Dazai, incasing his backside in a protective, feathery shield, light pink feathers embedded on the underside of Chuuya’s wings.

“Chuuya!” Kunikida suddenly yelled without thinking, and the redhead let himself slowly look at the man. “Atleast you have some sense of decency! Tell him to let me out immediately! I beg you!” Chuuya sneered. “Don’t Chuuya me like you know me, Kunikida.” He said, with a tone so full of venom, that the dirty-blonde shuddered. “What…?” Kunikida asked, exasperated. “Don’t think for a second that you’re my friend.” Chuuya stated simply, yet darkly, his feathers rustling as he sidled up closer to the brunette. “Not here, and most certainly not now.” Kunikida was taken aback, and he tried to slide backwards uneasily, but the ribbons of black cloth extended to his legs, rendering him immobile.

“What do you want?!” The dirty-blonde burst out, starting to feel the endless cycle of terror start to take hold over his brain. “Simple,” sighed the brunette. “You’ve treaded and trespassed across our territory. You must pay the price, as you know. People like us don’t take things lightly.” Dazai’s grin widened, and his expression darkened. Kunikida recoiled physically, eyes widening with a stroke of fear.

“Let’s see…what kind of punishment can I inflict on you that would be…fitting.” Dazai cocked his head in Chuuya’s direction. “Be a good dog and fetch me something appropriate for this occasion, will you?” The brunette asked, closing his eye and waving his wrist. The redhead studied him for a moment, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits, before slipping away behind a big crate, and returning swiftly with a pistol in hand, crafted out of dark-gray-blue metal.

Dazai took the weighty weapon of artillery, and nonchalantly twirled it by the trigger hole with a finger, smiling to Kunikida. “What the hell are you doing?! Don’t you work for the Agency!?” Kunikida blurted out desperately, eyeing the pistol with pure terror. Dazai’s smile cracked. He doubled over. And threw his head back, releasing a disturbing cackle of laughter at Kunikida’s desperation. Chuuya gazed at him emotionlessly. “But of course I work for the Agency!” Agreed the brunette, amused. “Doesn’t mean I can’t do anything on the side, now. Hmmmm?” “If the President knew about this—!” “He works with us in this organization as well. I appreciate the effort though.” No shine of life glinted in Dazai���s eyes, an eerie aura rolling off him in waves. “You—“ Dazai cocked the gun, aimed and pulled the trigger, shooting a bullet through Kunikida’s right shoulder. A blast of blood spewed from the other side, scarlet as it splashed like a fountain, the bullet going right through. Kunikida howled in pain, writhing in place, still held firmly in one spot by Akutagawa’s ability, Rashomoun. “Be a bit more quieter, will you? Your voice is starting to grate upon my ears.” Dazai said cooly, snorting.

As the dirty-blonde gasped, shuddering in agony, blood seeped into his clothes. He raised his head to glare at Dazai. “You….are a monster…” “Thank you for the compliment,” chimed Dazai, and then unloaded another bullet into Kunikida’s foot when he saw it trying to maneuver closer to his ideals. It penetrated through his shoe easily, providing no protection from the bullet. The man cried in agony, and Dazai merely watched, unbothered by the fact he had shot his co-worker twice with bullets. Blood spurt out of his foot. “But I think I warned you to stay quiet, didn’t I?” Kunikida grimaced as he looked back up, catching Chuuya snarling deeply at him.

“Hey Akutagawa,” called Dazai, tilting his head in the man’s direction. “Why don’t you escort our guest from the grounds?” “Huh? Wait!!” The dirty-blonde, regardless, writhed again, refusing to leave. Not until he recieved answers. A beat held between before Dazai held his hand up to stop Akutagawa from undergoing the task.

“Let me guess,” Dazai overly sighed, pressing fingers to his temples. “You want to know why I’m doing this, right?” Kunikida opened his mouth to speak, but Dazai went over him, walking around Kunikida in circles. “You’ve heard rumors and decided to see if they were true. The all great and liable Dazai Osamu running an underground criminal organization? And right from under the governments nose?” He gasped dramatically. “Oh my, that sounds like a bunch of hocus pocus, huh?” He chuckled, as if this were some hilarious sick joke. “But,” He grasped at Kunikida’s uninjured shoulder from behind, grinning against the man’s backside. “You had to find out, make sure the rumors weren’t true. So you wanted to catch me in the act, didn’t you?” He circled Kunikida once more before settling back infront of him, Chuuya at his back and keeping close with his partner. “Yes, but—“ Kunikida began, and was once again interrupted. By…clapping. Dazai was clapping. “Well, congratulations. You’ve caught me.” He flicked his hand upward. “Release him.”

Akutagawa did so, but after a moments hesitation. Kunikida nearly fell, dizzy from the blood loss, but he forced himself to keep himself upright. Suddenly, he was tossed an object, and he clambered and fumbled with the item before he got a good grasp on it. …The gun he was shot with. Kunikida looked up, confused. Dazai spread his arms wide—even catching Chuuya off guard, hence the fact his eyes widened.

“You’ve caught me doing something illegal, Kunikida,” Dazai chirped, as light as a feather, grinning widely. “Shoot me. As someone who works for the government, it’s your job, is it not?” The manipulation tactic was working. Kunikida was hesitating, and he wasn’t moving. And he was flabbergasted. Or maybe he couldn’t.

After several heavy seconds of silence, his arm dropped to his side, though a little exaggerated, shaking his head. “It’s against my morals.” Kunikida choked, gripping the pistol tightly. He didn’t know what to do. Dazai’s grin widened, his arms returning to his sides. The man was breaking down. “But I have to,” Kunikida said, dropping to his knees, landing on his hands. He didn’t even regiester the pain in his foot nor shoulder anymore. “But if the President is also here, then….what…?” Dazai watched the dirty-blonde fall apart with a sadistic smile, arm sliding around Chuuya’s waist. The redhead leaned into the touch, tilting his head into Dazai’s shoulder and tucking his wings. “Kunikida,” he said, loud enough to capture the dirty-blonde’s attention. “This organization kills, but we kill for the greater good.” Perhaps it would ease Kunikida. Perhaps it wouldn’t. “This organization alone balances this city out more than the Port Mafia or the government ever could. We deal with stronger threats than the Agency can handle,” his voice boomed, and Kunikida stopped shaking, just to listen. “But you kill—” “People die all the time, Kunikida.” “….” The dirty-blonde looked up, a set of blue eyes and one red one staring down at his hunched-over form. “We’re doing things for the better, not for worse. These people hurt other people, the ones we take care of.” Kunikida opened and closed his mouth like some form of flabbergasted Venus fly trap. “We may not be as kind as the agency. But we do it to protect this city—nothing more, nothing less.” “I can’t be certain of this information!” Barked Kunikida, snatching up his ideals. “You could be lying to me!”

Dazai’s grin was smothered, quickly turning into a frown. He crossed his arms again, side stepping into Chuuya. “I suppose you’ll never be sure.” He looked back to Akutagawa. “If you please, escort him out of our estate. We’re done here.” Dazai whisked away, Chuuya following as they turned towards the crates, walking away. “HEY!” Kunikida screamed, and Akutagawa’s tendrils wound around his legs and yanked him backward, before throwing him out of the warehouse, the door closing behind. As soon as Kunikida regained footing, the doors were already closed, and the possibility of gathering answers was no more. (By the way, if any of you are wondering where they're located and I wasn't very descriptive of the area, here's a link to a drawing I did a good bit ago.)

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #chuuya nakahara #au #soukoku #dazai osamu #dazai x chuuya #avian #akutagawa ryuunosuke #kunikida doppo #bungou stray dogs #bsd au #writing #story #short story #writing short #i love how i wrote this

[plants-and-poetry-and-punching]

Pursued

In this dream, she ran.

Tonight, it was a steep slope, spattered with clumps of spiny evergreens and patches of sickly green moss. Her feet kicked up rocks and gravel as she half sprinted, half skidded downwards. The dislodged stones kicked up their brethren, which kicked up even more, and soon a small avalanche battered against and around her like a river.

At once, her foot slipped between two of these stones, and she fell. She tumbled and rolled, one with the rockslide, until she came to rest at the bottom of the slope.

She pulled herself to her hands and knees as the world kept spinning around her. In the strange way of dreams, she knew that she couldn’t stop. There was no option, no hesitation, no time to catch the ragged breath that burned through her lungs and throat. She rose, unsteady, to her feet.

Once again she ran, in no particular direction besides away, away, away. In her brief moment of idleness, she knew that the… thing that pursued her had only gotten closer.

She risked a glance behind her, only for her fear to be confirmed. At the top of the slope, a dark mass was coalescing into the vague suggestion of a human shape. In a heartbeat, she felt it see her.

She stood there for a moment, frozen with the awful terror of a prey animal. As she watched, the human form broke, becoming a wave of inky black ichor that oozed down towards her, an unnatural echo of the rockslide.

Something roared, snapping her back to her body. She turned again to take flight once more, only to feel a strange tug at her left hand. There, on her finger, a plain gold ring had begun to warp and melt, corroding away to reveal the same oily muck as the entity behind her. It did not want her to run.

It wanted to be whole.

#writing #my writing #writeblr #oc writing #oc: sorrel #writing short

[moremysteriesthantragedies]

Thinking about my Dr. Fluffster character so, have another snippet I wrote for him;

“He seems so…afraid of me. How can I help him relax around me,” Dr. Fluffster wondered. He looked around, noticing his jar of fake vampire teeth placed on his desk for Halloween, smiling.

“Hello?” his patient asked as they came in. Only for him to turn around, pink vampire teeth in his mouth and give them a playful rawr.

There were tears in their eyes as they couldn’t help but laugh.

“What are you doing?”

#tw doctor #dr. fluffster #screw it he gets his own tag! #I love him hehe #writing snippet #my writing #writing short #my ocs #writeblr

[sylvies-kablooie]

i do unironically think the best artists of our generation are posting to get 20 notes and 3 reblogs btw. that fanfic with like 45 kudos is some of the best stuff ever written. those OCs you carry around have some of the richest backstories and worldbuilding someone has ever seen. please do not think that reaching only a few people when you post means your art isn't worth celebrating.

#i often wonder about how many things would be considered classic or high art had they only received the marketing #how many short films that were made for class could have been the most powerful thing you'd ever seen? if you'd seen them? #“you know the greatest films of all time were never made” etc etc #but like. these works of art ARE being made. it's just enjoyed by a smaller audience with equal impact though #i think about this one furry i used to follow on insta who had the coolest worldbuilding ever. it's been years. #thought prompted by that sketch of nimona from ten years ago that was just for a character design #posted to the creator's tumblr and now it's nominated for best animated feature film at the oscars #and by the genuine emotional reaction a fan comic made me feel. how much work had gone into it. how beautiful it was to me. #idk what to tag this but i hope whoever needs to hear it does #writing #writer #fandom #fandom culture #artist

[sing-you-fools]

me: this is a background character who's in one scene, has two lines, and is completely irrelevant to the rest of the story. i am going to stop obsessing over what to name him and use the random name generator on behindthename.com. i am going to accept the first thing it gives me and move the fuck on.

behindthename.com:

#guess i can call him charlie #i'll know what it's short for #and maybe someday i'll have a Fandom and someone will deep dive this far and find out the truth #a bitch can dream #writing #writeblr #naming characters #behind the name #names #character names #my writing #charizard cockburn #pokemon #sing-you-fools #1k #5k #10k #25k

[strangelittlestories]

After the occupation, the princess was confined to the palace.

Once a month she'd be taken on a walk around the city, heavily guarded of course, to show the people that she still lived. It also served, of course, as a reminder of what they stood to lose if they made trouble. The princess did her best go wave and smile and give the people what encouragement she could.

The rest of the time, her life was spent in musty rooms and dusty towers. She filled most of her time scouring the castle for materials which she would sew into more and more elaborate outfits, which she would show off on the days when she was allowed outside.

Indeed, the public loved their princess and her dresses so much they'd often sketch or paint them along the route and pass the images on so that all could see the princess at least was well.

This pleased the occupiers for two reasons. First: it kept the princess out of trouble. Second: it gave them a reason to sneer and they did love a good sneer.

"What a vain creature she is!" They would remark.

"Doesn't even care we murdered her brothers so long as she gets enough satin to make her little dresses!" They squawked.

This was unfair, of course, for to call her creations "little dresses" was to call Queen Murderfun the Needlessly Genocidal "a tad piquey". Her dresses were gravity-defying wonders lace and pearl. They were thunderstorms captured in velvet and waterfalls summoned in silk. She was a wizard with silk.

Still, she bore their mockery with a tight smile and careful deference.

"Please, good sirs, my home, my people and my city now belong to you. Let me keep, at least, this one last joy."

And they sneered and they crowed most unpleasantly, but they let her keep her sewing room.

Of course, they would have known their mockery to be doubly unfair had they realised the true purpose of the princess's elaborate designs. For hidden in the intricate embroiderings across her gowns, jackets and fans, the princess had encoded secret (and very detailed) messages. When she would go on her monthly walk, the city's loyalists would line the route, sketching down the patterns to decode later.

Thus did the princess transmit all the occupiers' secrets (unearthed while supposedly 'searching the castle for old fabrics') to the city and thus did she build her resistance.

On the day the revolution finally came, she girded herself in armour of thick spider silk and whale bone. She cut a fine figure with a lacy handkerchief in her top pocket and a razor sharp knitting needle keeping her hair up.

As she waltzed through the castle to open the door for her army, the Usurper King tried to stop her and she simply unfolded her handkerchief and showed it to him.

Upon seeing the impossible arcane pattern emblazoned across it, he fell to the floor with blood streaming from his eyes.

She always had been a wizard with silk.

---

Thank you for reading. If you'd like to support my writing, you can do so at https://ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

#writing #microfiction #short story #flash fiction #wrote this a few years back and finally got round to posting here

[kithj]

good games i've played on itchio lately:

please tell me you love me - chat with your guild members for the last time before the game's servers are shut down

GIRLKILLER (covet) - there is a girl who looks like you, and today you're going to kill her

cover me in leaves - stuck in your small hometown, you get your first tattoo. and then a few more, and more, and more

don't rock the boat - play through the different perspectives of a women's crew team as they are stalked by something in the water

GUTLESS - you are the captain of a deep sea vessel. your mission doesn't go well

so, about last night... - you wake up sick and weirdly hungry after hooking up with someone at a party. you spend the next night trying to find her.

close the window, my love - short bitsy poem about closing the window. sound on! this creator has a lot of short bitsy works i recommend.

there is a beautiful star - just a short, cute side scroller. lots of short, lighthearted games from them, definitely recommend for a mood booster.

#these are all p short except for so about last night gutless and rock the boat #still not super long tho #these are all on my itch page too but whatever lmfao #also cringe i feel so awkward writing descriptions but i dont really have a lot to say personally #except. Good Game 👍 #also sorry recommending gutless a second time sue me #i think girlkiller is my favorite atm... i like the ambiguity in that one and two different endings #games

[delicacysblog]

“what was the most pain you have ever felt”

healing from someone, i once thought i would heal with

#aesthetic #feelings #inspiration #inspring quotes #mental health #mental health awareness #literature #life quotes #words #thoughts #poetry #poem #original poem #short poem #poems and poetry #poems and quotes #poems on tumblr #prose #heartbreak #i miss you #life #i miss him #I love you #writing #relationship #Relationship Quotes #relatable quotes #relatable #quotes #spilled ink

[swamp-chicken]

mountain man etho confirmed

#i could write 10k of meta about this clip and i just might #short version: etho is a freak abt personal info there is no reason for beard reveal to be this monumental #etho #scar #joel #todays clip to contemplate

[knife-filled-plushies]

i love the Smiling Critters as a cartoon concept and if it ever developed like mlp or something like that I can absolutely see something comical like this happening djkfskf

lesson at the end would probably be something about getting a healthy amount of sleep and staying on a good schedule jfhskf

#pastel doodles! #smiling critters #poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #catnap #dogday #hoppy hopscotch #bubba bubbaphant #picky piggy #kickinchicken #craftycorn #bobby bearhug #wanted to write something about this but writer's block is an ass shjfhsf #also like the idea of a reverse scenario happening in contrast to the official cartoon short #the smiling critters wanna sleep and catnap is just like 'no. now drink your green tea.'

[reidiot]

don't fucking interrupt me when i'm reading my x reader fics it's rude

#× reader #fan fiction #tumblr writing community #tumblr writers #fics #fanfic #wattpad #stories #fandom #booklr #reading #fangirling #spencer reid x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #rafe cameron x reader #spencer reid #stiles stilinski #rafe cameron #imagine #short story #one shot #author #ao3 #recommend me stuff #female hysteria #girlblogging #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #girl interrupted #x reader #writers on tumblr

[agirlwiththoughtsandnegativity]

”oh so how did you get into writing?-“ no, writing got into me. Actually it infiltrated my brain, starting with the slow takeover of my room with books to the extremely fast claiming of my notes app and now there’s no way to stop it and no way for me to stop.

#short story #writing #poetry #books #fiction #orginal writing #writer #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing memes #writing humor #writing problems #writer problems #writer stuff #writers life

[thestuffedalligator]

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin. They both looked down at the crumpled shape of the Overlord, His Unholy Majesty, in his obsidian armor.

His final spasms had been mesmerizingly acrobatic. The fall down the steps leading up to his iron throne had pretzelled his body quite impressively, both arms folded behind his back and one leg bent at a jaunty angle.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

"We're likely to get blamed for this," the goblin said. She walked over to the head of the glittering mangled heap and started pulling the helmet off.

"It's not our fault," the orc said. "It's hard to help someone choking when they wear two-hundred pounds of spiked armor at all times."

"Yeah, well," the goblin grunted. The helmet came free, and the bald head of the Overlord bounced on the stone with a hollow, coconut noise. "You know how it is in this bloody country - thieves get their heads cut off so they can't think about thieving, and all that." She fished in the Overlord's mouth with a finger and pulled out the obstructing olive on the end of her claw.

She popped it into her mouth and chewed. "What do you reckon they do for a regicide?" she said.

"We should run," the orc said. She had started bouncing her leg. "I hear that there's some places in the Alliance where they just kill you and let you stay dead. That's got to be nicer than what'll happen if we stay here."

The goblin started to nod - and then her gaze fell on the helmet.

It looked like a pineapple designed by a deranged blacksmith. It was all thorns and spikes and hard edges, as though the maker had been very determined to not let pigeons roost on it. The only bits that weren't solid iron were eyeholes. Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face.

She held up the helmet and squinted from it to the orc. One of the thorns had been bent badly in the fall.

Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face...

"Right," she muttered. "Right. Could work - or."

The orc had a sudden vision of the immediate future. "No," she said.

"I mean you're about his height-"

"No."

"It would just be for a-"

"Absolutely not."

"Just hear me out," the goblin said. "Outside of this room are two-thousand men and orcs and goblins who are absolutely gonzo about this man, and there's a whole country of them outside of the castle, and at any moment someone's going to walk in that door and see one dead tit in black armor and two unbelievably dead idiots next to him.

"Or." She tossed the helmet up like a basketball to the orc, who fumbled and tried to find somewhere to hold it that wasn't a knife's edge. "We chuck him out the window now, walk out the door in the armor, and ditch the armor as soon as nobody sees us."

The orc had started bouncing her leg again. "They'll know something's up the second I walk out of the room."

"No worries," said the goblin. "Leave that to me."

---

It had been a very strange year for the Empire.

Change had rolled across the land as slow and inevitable as a glacier. Roads and bridges carved the gray, blasted wildlands, and a number of social reforms had made the country a place where you could be miserable, yes, but miserable in comfort and safety, and that was an improvement.

Barely anyone got boiled alive in molten metal, and even if the disgusted sun never rose to light the Empire, at least you had a roof over your head to protect yourself from the acid rain.

"Your empire flourishes, Your Unholy Majesty," the magician said over her wine glass. She looked down from the tower's balcony over the gleaming stone battlements. Some work had been done to line the castle and surrounding city with sizzling, crackling alchemical lights at night. The whole thing glowed like something dangerously radioactive.

The suit of armor waved a languid, glittering gauntlet over to the goblin, who bowed.

"His Abominable Gloriousness Thanks You," the goblin recited. "The Prosperity Of His Empire Can Only Be Achieved Through The Prosperity Of His People."

"If I may be so bold, I am quite pleased that you had chosen to take my counsel under consideration," said the magician. "We have accomplished many things together."

Another wave. Another bow. "The Overlord, May His Presence Swallow The Sun And Stars, Thanks You As Well."

"It was quite gratifying to see you change your mind, after so many centuries of denial." The wine was swirled. "Tell me, what was it that finally gave you cause to listen to me?"

There was the slightest hesitation. The goblin's eyes flicked to the armor, then to the magician. She puffed out her chest. "Do you question the wisdom of His Austere Lugubriousness?" she asked.

The magician looked at the goblin. She looked at the armor. She tipped her head back and drank the wine too quickly.

She looked back at the armor. "I know you're the orc, you moron," she said.

The room went deathly still. An alchemical light fizzled.

The orc pulled off the helmet, sending long, untied hair down tangling, and said: "How could you possibly-"

"Because you're both idiots!" the magician said. The goblin jumped. The orc jumped with a noise like a dropped stove. "What kind of a plan was this?! If it wasn't for me, you would have been turned into fertilizer months ago."

She closed her eyes. She took a long, dramatic breath. She set the wine glass down on the balcony rail.

"How did the Overlord die?" she asked when she seemed like she had gotten a hold over herself.

"Choked on an olive," said the goblin.

"Threw his body out the window," said the orc.

"You don't have to mention the window," said the goblin.

"Right," said the orc. "Sorry."

The magician looked out over the city, hand curled thoughtfully under her nose. "Who knows about this?"

"Just us. And, uh. You. Apparently."

"And why did you accept my counsel?"

The orc blinked. "Sorry?"

"Why did you accept my counsel?" the magician repeated.

"Well," the orc said. "Well - you seemed like you had good ideas-"

"Great ideas!" the goblin said with an edge of desperation. "Don't know why the old bastard didn't listen to you!"

"Right - right," said the orc. "And when we figured we were stuck doing this - well, it just made sense, really."

The magician seemed to absorb this. She nodded. "All right," she said, striding between the two and grabbing the crystal decanter.

"Um," said the orc. "Sorry. What happens now?"

"What happens is that you two will continue to serve as Overlord," said the magician. "You will continue to take my counsel. We will continue to reform this bloody country, and gods willing, we will turn it into the crown jewel of the world by next Midwinter."

The orc looked at the goblin. The goblin looked at the orc.

"Really?" the goblin asked.

"Oh yes," said the magician. "I've worked hard to be counsel to the Overlord, and I have no reason to stop now. And besides-"

She looked the orc up and down with a deliberate slowness, poring over every microscopic detail, eyes tracing over every jagged line, and grinned like a panther.

"You look much better in the armor than he ever did," she said. Dark robes swirled like a becleavaged thundercloud, and she strode out through the high iron doors, decanter in hand.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

#short story #fantasy writing #narrativia #10k

[and-corn]

#this was the first comic that i made in this style and i think it's still my favorite #comic #comic art #original comic #web comic #webcomic #illustration #illustrated story #relatable #thoughtful #thoughtful comic #thoughtful writing #writing #original story #original poetry #prose poetry #short poem #illustrated prose #original art #illustrative art #storytelling #relatable story #relatable writing #ramblings #random thoughts #comic artist #illustration artist #amateur poet #poetry art #artists of tumblr

[delirium-mind]

I miss the way I viewed the world before I knew too much about it

#short poem #spilled ink #beautiful words #poems #poetry #poems and quotes #poems on tumblr #poets corner #writing #poems about pain #poets and writers #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #spilled thoughts #thoughts