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[errant-wordsmith]

‘I don’t believe in fate.’

‘As you’ve said, many times. What if I told you the gods are real, and they told me this is my fate?’ 

Protagonist’s immediate instinct is to scoff, but something about their rival’s defeated shoulders forces themself to stop, and look. Really look. Antagonist just stands there, more tired than anything else. 

‘If you told me the gods are real, and that you spoke with them,’ Protagonist says slowly, ‘then I guess I’d still say the same thing; I don’t believe in fate.’ 

Antagonist grips their sword tighter, a bitter laugh curling onto their lips. Why had they hoped for anything better?

‘And then,” Protagonist adds, ‘I’d say, “Lead the way, because you and I need to pay the Gods a not-so-friendly visit.”’ They cautiously approach and lay a gentle hand over Antagonist’s, lowering the sword for them. 

Their eyes meet. One pair widening with a fearful but growing hope, the others blazing with conviction.

‘I’d say; “Let me prove that any fate the Gods write can be broken.”’

[errant-wordsmith]

‘You’re a monster!’ Hero snarls, thrashing. They embrace their fury and hate, let themselves go feral with it; anything to stave off the despair and impending horror of being at the Villain’s non-existent mercy. Anything to avoid thinking about the dead and broken people they couldn’t protect. They will not cry. Not in front of them. 

The villain, for their part, sighs and clicks their tongue. ‘How disappointing. To hear that from you of all people.’ They hum. Peel off a glove. Ghost their velvety soft fingers along their captive’s throat.

‘See,’ says Villain softly, ‘not a monster. Just another human.’ 

Then they smile and yank the Hero so close they can feel the other’s ribcage heaving with rage. And the tale-tell rabbit-fast heartbeat of fear.  

‘And isn’t that so much worse?’

[errant-wordsmith]

I know this is suppose to be a warning but I've been grappling with code all day and am ready to embrace death right now. I'll take a ring thanks.

Fairy Market lore

There are merchant ‘matchmakers’ who pedal rings given to them by fae and other creatures. They’re ‘free’ but if you accept one, you’re betrothed to the creator who’s ring you got.

And they’re excited to meet you.

[errant-wordsmith]

We are all ghosts-in-waiting.

[errant-wordsmith]

Prompt

‘I always listen to the monologues.’ says Hero once the raucous laughter begins to die down. 

The room falls silent. Awkward looks are exchanged. 

One of the other heroes scoffs. ‘What, you willingly listen while villains throw themselves a pity party? Why would you do that?’

‘Because,’ says Hero quietly, ‘I want to understand.’

[errant-wordsmith]

I am a monster. And I hunger.

Constantly salivating, eternally ravenous, unendingly consuming. I need - I need.

So feed me, Author, you wondrous creator of universes. String together rich worlds, fleshed out people and sweet, intoxicating emotions so I may swallow them whole and grind them between my teeth; their pain and your devotion savoured until the page ends and I howl for more. Coax your children into existence through words and offer them up to me in sacrifice.

Do this, lest I devour you instead.

[errant-wordsmith]

“A human cannot love a monster.”

They say this, but their expression burns with the desire to be proven wrong. You read shame and pain in the fragile way they suddenly twist their face away from you, vulnerable and afraid to be seen. They think themself hideous. You think them glorious.  

‘I’m tired of hurting like this,’ they whisper. ‘Can a monster stop being a monster?’

You stretch up, run your hand down the back of their skull and they let you gently pull them close. Your lips brush together, lighter than moth wings. Softer than petals. When you speak they inhale your words like oxygen.

‘A monster stops being a monster…’ your grip tightens, your eyes shine, and your voice becomes a growl, ‘when everyone else in the room sheds their human disguise.’

You claim their soul.