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#Modern Fantasy Prompts

girlwithherheadinthestars · 2 months

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responses to "you're the lost heir"

"THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU FOR THE PAST TWO WEEKS."

"the what now."

"i cannot spell that let alone pronounce that there are too many vowels."

"now really isn't the time to drop new dramatic family lore can we save it for our monday gossip session?"

"no."

^"what...what do you mean no?"

^"i mean no. i'm not doing that. nah-uh. no way."

^"but...but -- "

^"no."

"...do i get a castle?"

^"you'll have a bunch of duties and responsibilities and -- "

^"yeah, yeah, but the castle?"

^*sigh* "yes. yes, you get a castle."

"and you're telling me this AFTER i killed the king?"

"this would have been helpful a few years ago when i was stuck in line for hours trying to buy concert tickets. thanks for nothing."

#writeblr #writing #spilled ink #fantasy prompts #fantasy #modern fantasy #prompt list #writing prompt #fic prompt #dialogue prompt #prompts #writing inspiration #story ideas #writing ideas #dialogue ideas #creative writing #character dialogue #funny prompts

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the-likeable-wizard-mack · 1 year

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What if werewolves sounded like huskies arguing in their transformed form?

Werewolf: *UNGODLY WAILING*

Roommate: “NO. YOU ALREADY ATE YOUR SNACKS. YOU ARE NOT EATING A WHOLE BLOCK OF CHEESE!!”

Werewolf: *MORE UNGODLY WAILING AND HOWLING*

Roommate: “YOU’RE LACTOSE INTOLERANT JERRY!”

#urban fantasy #urban fantasy writing #urban magic #modern magic #modern fantasy #werewolves #werewolf #werewolves being dumb #drabble #blurb #random #random post #writings #writing prompts #writing #my writing #the wizard speaks

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daybreaksys · 7 months

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Neighbourhoods of poor vampires in the lowest, ever-dark parts of fantasy cities, vampires who aren't wealthy because they're a racial minority and the system was designed to keep poor people poor.

Poor vampires who are functionally disabled because they can't take sunlight in the only hours services are open and have to fight stereotypes of them being all snob nobles.

A nonprofit program immersed in the neighbourhoods paints portraits of vampires for free so they can see themselves for the first time because they can't use mirrors or cameras. Some cry, some don't recognise themselves, some are weirded by their unexpected appearances.

Mixed-race vampires who struggle to navigate their neighbourhoods having to advocate for themselves reminding people they are vampires as well as their other ethnicities.

#writing prompts #writing prompt #writing #prompts #prompt #storytelling #fantasy #nonhuman #class consciousness #vampire #vampires #modern fantasy #fiction #fantasy fiction #disabled #disability #social model of disability #mixed race

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cmrosens · 4 months

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Fantasy Religions: Rethinking Hell & Prayer

I'm creating a fantasy hellscape and death realms so I had some thoughts about that for worldbuilding:

What happens if your hellscape isn't a place of punishment? What alternatives are there to "punishment" as a concept, and what does that say about your fantasy religious system(s) and so on?

like: I'm using a system where it's about how you die. It literally doesn't matter what you were like as a person, if you die in a specific way, you go to the corresponding realm of the dead and you're at the mercy of whoever's realm that is. If they are pretty nice and the place is the one everyone wants to get into, you may need to convince the gatekeeper to let you in when you get there, but that's doable. Also people might then try and manipulate their deaths to fulfil the criteria for getting where they want to go.

It's also fun because then people can go to hellscapes (various) even if they don't deserve it, and what happens then? Can they escape? Can they journey through and find a way out? Can everyone?

Do/how do prayers function in this system?

Are people praying to a deity that can hear them?

How do they try and get said deity's attention and why is that meant to work?

If the deity/deities are very annoyed by the prayers of the living and have deliberately made it difficult for prayers to reach them, what then?

Or, is it more that the living require someone to open a channel of communication so they can be heard, and this also helps the souls of the dead in some way?

Can prayers benefit the dead? How and when?

Can the dead pray for themselves/for the living, so it operates in reverse?

I'm going with the system where you can't pray for yourself, that's an alien concept, because the person who prays becomes a conduit or a channel for somebody else. They have to try and make their mind go blank with repetition of words given to them by the wind - which carries the voices of the restless dead, who died without anyone to pray for them and open a road for them to travel on - and in that moment of blankness, the soul they are praying for can cross over from life to their appropriate death realm. If you don't have someone to pray for you like this, your soul joins the wind forever, and you are just a whisper bringing warnings and bad news to people, and telling them what to pray for everyone else.

This is based on the old folklore that you can hear the voices of the dead on the wind, I think it pops up in Flemish folklore in some form, but also I've heard it elsewhere. I just adapted it.

From this, you can build outwards and work out fantasy religions and philosophy and ideology. Just keep asking questions, layer on layer, and see where this goes, as your answers are the scaffolding and the shape will grow from those first decisions you make.

Like, ok, what's the terminology for these concepts and processes (do they even have words like 'hell' and 'prayer')? How do these terms show up in the language and casual conversation - idioms like "he hasn't got a prayer" or "not a hope in Hell" wouldn't work if prayer isn't something that's synonymous with 'chance this will work out', because in this world, the idea of asking for something in prayer doesn't exist.

So in my world, for example, 'he hasn't got a prayer' wouldn't mean 'he doesn't stand a chance', it means, 'he's going to join the restless dead because he's got no one to pray for him'. That might be used for a very unpopular person: he's so bad, he hasn't got a prayer. (He's such a bad person that he hasn't got anyone who will pray for him when he dies). Or, a very lonely, isolated person: I think that's so sad - living alone without a prayer.

Similarly, if there's no Hell, then all the idioms that use "Hell" as a place of punishment no longer apply, and if there's no equivalent, then "not a hope in Hell" would have to be retired and swapped out for something else that does make sense in this world instead.

Conversely, "living on a prayer" like Bon Jovi would mean "selling my ability to pray for you", like a service that people offer so you don't join the wind, or go to the wrong death realm, or that you'll get passed the gatekeeper if a prayer operates like a ticket to enter, or whatever this might mean in your world.

If this is something that can happen, how are these people seen - as necessary to the community, or as unscrupulous opportunists? Bit of both? There's a whole interesting series of characters you could develop from just that concept, which might draw parallels with the sin-eater figure. And what happens if someone who doesn't deserve a lovely afterlife pays someone to pray for them so that they get entry into a lovely death realm?

There's a lot to play with when you just take one idea away, and try to swap it for something else. In this case: Hell isn't a place of punishment, so what is it then, and does it exist at all, and if not, what is there instead and how does it work?

That's a good place to start with building fantasy religions. I've already done a few other posts on my thoughts there!

#fantasy world #fantasy worldbuilding #writers on tumblr #writeblr #fantasy #fantasy writing #fantasy religion #dark fantasy #high fantasy #modern fantasy #medieval fantasy #urban fantasy #world building #worldbuilding #thought dump #writetip #writing tips #writing prompt #writing process

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pandorasopenboxes · 5 months

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GhostSoap Prompt #1

Here me out – a GhostSoap modern fantasy AU where magical familiars exist. The only thing is Soap has failed to call anything, despite his lineage of powerful summoners. One day, his photography professor, John Price, persuades Soap to take a leather book and says he will return for it. Hours later, Price’s disappearance is announced on university forums and his familiar, a hellhound, is found cowering in fear – the fifth missing person’s case in three weeks.

Out of curiosity, Soap opens the book to find an odd variation of the summoner’s chant – the standard spell used by everyone to beckon their familiar. Soap says it aloud, and against all expectations, a humanoid figure arises from the shadows.

Ghost has returned, bringing with him a tale of vengeance, murder, and maybe even love.

#call of duty #modern warfare 2 #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #writing prompt #john soap mactavish #fantasy au

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writing-to-survive · 3 months

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#173

Fortune cookies aren't something to take lightly. Such a delicious, fun treat has been turned into a life or death gamble. Some bring a lifetime of luck. Riches. Happiness. But others leave misery. Curses. Death. Once you crack open that cookie, that fortune is set in stone for you.

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writers-potion · 19 days

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hi! its fairy anon again, thank you for your suggestions! i know my story sounds very gore heavy with my fairy eating babies worldbuilding but i promise my tone is actually much lighter than that 😭 i was kinda trying to take inspo from old fae stories where children would get lured away and go missing because of fairy antics. but anyway! i really like the idea of a chamber where people cant really see what happens inside. it actually gave me an idea to take that a step further to say that no one in-world actually knows what happens to the babies, so people just assume they get eaten. the idea of babies being whisked away somewhere else somehow, and that the place they get sent is linked to the fairy's longevity, i think is a good way to get my lore across without being gratuitously gorey. id love to know what you think of that idea and definitely would welcome any ideas you have in addition if you have any!

also for clarification, you understood my worldbuilding very well but i made a mistake by saying "enslaved" instead of "imprisoned". each noble house has a fairy living in a cell somewhere in the head of house's estate, and each noble house gets one element. for example, my protagonist is the heir to the house that recieved the ice blessing. but also the whole "fairies eating babies" thing is a secret from the public, the commoners of this kingdom have been fed lies for generations about the ancestors of the nobility saving the fae from extinction, which resulted in the faries "blessing" them. this is their justification for why they should be the ruling elite, despite there being very obvious corruption throughout the nobility

"The Mysterious Cave" Trope

Hi! I'm glad that my ideas helped you :)

I think the best way to further develop this idea of babies being whisked away is to take inspiration from existing ones:

The Piped Piper of Hamlin Type

The imprisoned fairies sing/whisper an enchantment that lures children, who walk voluntarily down to their prisons at night.

The "fairy song" picks up a baby, cradle and all, and delivers it to the fairy waiting in their prison

After that, no one knows what happens to the kids who were taken.

The Arabian Nights Type

In this case, there will be some action required from the child/baby, which will open the doors to the fairy's prison

For example, multiple babies can be brought forth in front of the prison's gates. The first baby to cry will automatically get the gates to open, and he will be claimed by the fairy.

Goldilocks and The Three Bears Type

The child/baby to be given is kept for a while (you can decide for how long) in a special room, fed special meals (this can be related to the particular element that the fairy controls) to optimize them for...consumption.

After the baby has been fed/washed/dressed for the occasion, the fairy can be brought into the chamber, or the babies given away to them in prison.

The Sleeping Beauty/Rapunzel Type

This is where the destiny of the babies are determined even before birth.

You can have the loyalty pay for their magic by giving up their second-born to the fairies, or have the loyalty pay off peasant parents to give up their unborn child in exchange of lifetime's worth of wealth.

Alternatively, it can be the fairies who foresee the birth of the babies that they'll consume ("a girl born in -- at -- hour shall be given to me" and such), and as soon as they're born, they'll be claimed.

Hope this helps! :)

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

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five-rivers · 7 months

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By Storm, By Claw, By Sanguine Moon

Remember how I said stay tuned for a sequel to Stargazer, Moonweaver, Net? This is that sequel! You can also read it here.

This was conceived of for Phantasy Phest, but written for Ectoberhaunt 2023: Tabletop.

This fic was a collaboration! The authors are @akela-nakamura, @datawyrms, @seaglass-skies, @jackdaw-sprite, and myself.

“The sky goes dark, and a cold wind rises. In the distance- thunder, growing closer! The forest goes quiet, holding its breath.” A heavy pause, then, “Suddenly the wind howls! But you know you can’t seek shelter. There is something lurking in these ruins, and if you aren’t careful. It. Will. Find. You.”

A low whistle breaks the atmosphere sharply enough that not even the very real wind rattling the equally real windows can bring it back. Tucker shoots a glare Danny’s way, slowly lowering his hands from where they’d been wiggling dramatically in the air. All it gets him is a sheepish grin and an apologetic shrug. He pushes his glasses up his nose with a huff, ignoring Sam’s snickering, and turns his glare back to the screen in front of him.

“Anyway. Roll for perception.”

The rattle of dice was followed by a couple of groans and a soft yes! from Jazz.

"Okay, what did you guys get?" Tucker asked, peering at the dice on the table. "Oh."

"I think we can safely say I don't know what's happening," Danny said at his expression.

"Yeeah. Sam?"

"Twelve."

"Jazz?"

Jazz bounced a little in her seat. "Twenty one!" She knew playing a ranger was a good choice.

"Okay, okay.” Tucker took a deep breath and looked back at his laptop. “As the thunder rolls like great wheels in the sky, the wind whips at you. It flattens the grass around you in vicious ripples and grabs at your clothes. The ruins stay motionless around you, unmoved by the building storm.

“And yet, beneath the keening of the wind in your ears, you hear something else. It’s rhythmic, sharp. Repetitive. And it sounds like–

“Snap. Snap. Snap.”

Tucker smiled.

“Sam,” he said. “You see that it’s coming from a ragged banner, fluttering in the wind.”

Sam frowned in thought.

“You,” Tucker pointed at Jazz, “see a little head poking around one of the fallen pillars. It's got a beard, and its hair looks kind of weird."

"What do I see?" asked Danny.

"You're staring at the sun, I think." said Sam.

"You’re not the DM,” said Danny. “Tucker?”

“The sun is no longer visible,” said Tucker. Before Danny could gloat, he added, ”You’re staring at where it was.”

While Danny pouted in betrayal, Jazz was mentally rifling through the manuals she’d read as research before playing. Something small and bearded, and it had weird hair. Or something was wrong with the hair. Or something was in the hair?

But there weren’t that many short bearded races eccentric enough to do any of that.

She hazarded a guess. “Is it a gnome?”

Tucker raised an eyebrow. “Roll for knowledge nature.”

That was a yes! And Danny had said she didn’t need to read everything to be prepared.

It was not a gnome.

It was something smaller and weirder called a grig, and as Tucker described it escorting them from the (apparently cursed) ruins, Jazz looked out the window.

The rain was still pouring down outside, dense enough to make white cloud the farther houses on their street and gather in mist along the ground. Water streamed down the glass in rivulets, leaving the image of the street distorted.

The reflection of their room in the window was warm by comparison, all yellows and creams and scattered paper.

And a little bit of green.

Jazz smiled back at her brother in the windows’ reflection, not letting on that she'd seen the subtle iridescence of his eyes. He'd tell her when he was ready, and until then she'd just be supportive. And patient, even if she could feel a horde of questions burning in the back of her mind.

“The grig sits on a log and pulls a doll-sized fiddle from his pack,” said Tucker, and Jazz returned her attention to the game.

“He puts it to his chin,” and Tucker mimed holding a fiddle to his chin –

“I thought that was violins,” said Danny.

“Danny, I am going to commit some violins,” said Tucker.

“Never mind.”

“He puts it to his chin,” repeated Tucker, “And begins to play. And it’s beautiful.”

He consulted his laptop and fiddled with some keys. With a decisive tap on the spacebar, music began to play. Tucker spoke over it.

“The music fills the air like raindrops on leaves. Slowly, it grows to a musical crescendo and you find your spirits bolstered, your burdens lessened. It’s as though there’s air beneath your feet and you could –almost– begin to dance. But he stops after just a few more chords and chuckles under his breath.

“‘Nah,’ the grig says. ‘I won’t do that to ya.’”

“Do what?” asked Jazz before she could help herself.

“Ya don’t know, miss?” Tucker said, still in the grig’s voice.

Oh right. This was supposed to be in character. And Jazz was playing a ranger. “Maybe?” She reached for her dice, rolling them between her fingers. They were, she had quickly discovered, surprisingly fun to fidget with.

“Knowledge nature,” Tucker suggested in a stage whisper.

Jazz straightened in her seat and rolled the d20, watching as it settled. “Eighteen?”

“They’re good enough musicians to weave spells with their music like bards, and can trap people in dances for hours. They do it as a prank, sometimes.”

Jazz remembered the siren from a few months back and winced.

“Thank you for not doing that,” she said.

“It just didn’t seem like it’d be funny enough,” said Tucker, back in character.

“Wow, reassuring,” said Sam.

Tucker smiled.

“And that’s less reassuring,” Danny commented. “I roll diplomacy for him to not do that. Twenty five.”

“What do you say?” asked Tucker.

Danny thought before responding.

“That was some of the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard. You’re very talented. Where did you learn to play like that?”

“You’re right it’s a talent! Everyone in the clan’s got music in their bodies, right down to their feet,” Tucker said. And then he switched back out of the grig’s twang. “He puts his legs together and rubs, and they fill the air with a deep hum. His wings tremble from the effort and the sound.”

“That’s not a trick I’d ever manage,” said Danny. He sounded impressed.

“Not you! And not those lepre-cons,” said Tucker in the grig’s voice, snarling on the last word.

“Leprechauns?” asked Danny.

The start of whatever Tucker was going to say was cut off with a crash as the basement door was kicked open with a heavy thunk immediately followed by Jack Fenton’s booming voice. “Did somebody say leprechauns?!” He charged into the room, swinging some kind of… something vaguely resembling a gun, forcing Sam to duck and earning a yelp from Danny as he dove under the table.

Tucker was quick to pipe up, slapping a hand down over the monster manual in front of him. “Nope! No leprechauns! No, uh, sir. Not here!”

Maddie’s voice trailed into the room more slowly than her husband’s, followed by the woman herself. “Now, dear, you know the Fenton Fae Fryer isn’t ready to use yet!”

Danny’s hiss of “The what-” went ignored.

“But it will be! Soon! And those monsters won’t know what hit them!”

“That’s right dear! Now, kids, remember to stay inside after dark this week- I know, I know it’s raining, but the rain’ll let up eventually, and with the eclipse coming up you can’t be too careful!”

Sam looked like she wanted to say something, but stopped when she caught Tucker shaking his head at her. She sat back in her seat with a huff.

“Darn right!” Jack chimed in from where he’d finally set the huge weapon down on the kitchen counter. “This is a huge opportunity for hunting! All those monstrous meddlers will think they’re too strong to bother hiding like the foul fiendish felons that they are!”

“We’ll remind them why humans drove them into hiding in the first place!” Maddie chimed in. “Oh, I hope we can keep some captive specimens too, there’s so much to learn! The small ones just fall apart so easily, we can barely do even a single test…”

Jack squeezed his hand into a dramatic fist. “Of course we’re gonna capture ‘em! We’re gonna grab those ghastly goons or my name’s not Jack Fenton!”

With a whoop, he punched the air.

Jazz had been glaring at her parents, shoulders tense, but something twitched in the corner of her vision. When she looked, Danny’s reflection in the window was haunted. A pit formed in Jazz’s stomach, and her heart sparked with anger.

Danny was one of the ‘small ones’ in his other form. She didn’t think they’d managed to catch any like him. She didn’t think he would still be here if they had, but–

“Now, Jack. We’re not guaranteed to have success just yet,” her mother said, but she was smiling at Jack’s cheer. “We haven’t finished baiting everything. And without first-hand data to back up our research, it’s just that much harder to hunt efficiently, much less decide what bait is effective. Knowledge is power, of course!”

“And we’ll have plenty to work with soon, baby! We’ll catch one this time for sure! Maybe one of those ‘fairies’ that keep tricking the kids–”

Jazz shoved her chair back with a horrendous screech and slammed the fist still holding her dice down on the table, ignoring the one that went flying off across the room and the brilliant flare of lightning that had the overhead lights flickering. “No. No nono, no. You are not doing this tonight!

“Maybe, just maybe, for once in your life you should try to understand instead of just finding better ways to kill people who never did anything to you!”

"Jazz," said Maddie in a tone of forced patience, "they aren't people. These things are monsters, even the small, pretty ones."

Danny had sunk so low in his chair that his chin was level with the tabletop. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

"Especially the small pretty ones!" shouted Jack.

Danny flinched.

A bibliophile, Jazz had read the words ‘shaking with rage’ dozens of times. She’d always thought it was a turn of phrase. A metaphor. A literary device. But here she was, physically trembling. Not all of the static on her skin could be attributed to the lightning outside.

“Have you two even bothered to confirm that?” she asked. ”Or have you just gone around committing atrocities for the fun of it?”

“Don’t you take that tone with us, young lady! We’re just trying to keep you safe!”

“You’re not trying to keep anyone safe with your awful, deranged experiments! I don’t know how you even call yourselves scientists!”

Thunder crashed, as if it had only been waiting for her cue.

She looked between their shocked faces. Heaved one breath, two, and ran up the stairs towards her bedroom.

Maddie ran after her. “Jasmine Marie Fenton!”

Jazz whipped around and almost snarled at the look of indignation on her mother’s face. Static jumped to her hand from the doorknob as she reached for it, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she squeezed it so hard she was surprised it didn’t come off.

(She was fairly certain the few dice she still held in her other hand had fractured. It was too bad. She’d liked those.)

“Do you two even hear yourselves? ‘Especially the pretty ones?’ ‘The small ones just fall apart so easily?’ You want to see monsters? Take a look at your reflections!”

WHAM.

Jazz looked at the darkness in surprise. She hadn’t expected the door to slam shut quite like that. It had rattled the windows with a force she’d felt in her chest. And then there was the darkness.

Oh. It was a power outage.

In the sudden quiet, Jazz heard her mother’s footsteps returning down the stairs, and then muted conversation. The front door opened, then shut.

She took the three steps to her window, and peered out. Her parents were standing on the front stairs, headlamps strapped over their hazmat hoods and their arms full of pre-loaded net-launchers.

They were still going hunting, then. After all that.

Jazz turned from the window before either of them could look up at her watching them and get ideas about whether she regretted her words. She didn’t.

As she followed Jack out onto the street, Maddie sighed. “That girl, I swear. I don’t know where she gets these ideas in her head…”

Jack sighed. “I think it’s just a phase, Mads. Kids and the internet these days, you know?”

“Maybe,” Maddie said. She looked up at Jazz’s window before she turned her attention back to her husband. “Either way, I’m not thrilled with her tone. We’ll have to have a talk.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jack bellowed, grinning wide. “She’ll see that we were right, soon enough. Everyone will, after we catch one of those dastardly fae! Or a hobgoblin! Or a vampire! Or a sidewinder! Or a dragon!”

“Yes, dear. But first we need to figure out what took out the power, and…” Maddie narrowed her eyes at the still-dark Fentonworks building behind them. “That’s strange. The generator should have brought everything back online by now.”

“I bet it was those dastardly gremlins! Well, if they think they’re gonna stop us from wrapping them all up in triple-strand hemp braid reinforced by silver-iron alloy, pinning them down with steel-jawed monster-chompers, or canning them up tight with the Fenton Thermos, then they’ve got another think coming!”

Lightning continued to flash overhead, bright enough to see color, and for the puddles and windows around them to flare brightly with reflected light. The ozone and charge in the air, combined with the strange lighting and lack of normal city noises conspired to give a magical cast to the night.

Magical meaning dangerous, in Maddie’s vocabulary.

Usually, she wouldn’t leave the children home alone with the power off, but lightning alone wouldn’t knock out the electricity at Fentonworks, and they’d monster-proofed the backup generator to within an inch of its lifetime warranty. Whatever was out here was their responsibility to deal with, as monster hunters. Jazz, Danny, and his friends would be safe, behind the wards of Fentonworks. This was for everyone else. For all the citizens of Amity Park and the wider world who had been convinced that the supernatural didn’t exist, who were vulnerable, unprotected, unaware of the dangers they faced constantly.

Even if Jazz couldn’t appreciate that.

“This way!” cried Jack, shaking her from her partial reverie.

She shook her head before following him. That was a bad habit to get into while on a hunt. But then, fighting with her children had always unsettled her.

She followed Jack across the half-flooded road. It would take days for things to dry, even if the rain let up.

But the rain would let up sooner or later. This storm may or may not be natural in origin, but they had good evidence that there was at least one creature that could manipulate the weather in the region. No such creature would allow clouds to reduce the amount of power it could gain from basking under a Blood Moon, much less a Blood Moon that was both a supermoon and a blue moon.

That only made it more important to catch whatever this was. As excited as she and Jack were about the opportunity presented by the carelessness of monsters and the loss of their illusions, the lunar eclipse would be a dangerous time indeed. Reducing the number of monsters present even by one would make everyone much safer.

Jack skidded to a stop and fired one of his nets. Its weighted edges wrapped around the glass sides of a bus shelter.

“I think I really got it this time!” said Jack, bounding forward as Maddie covered him. Nothing was going to sneak up on her husband on her watch.

On the other hand…

“Jack, sweetie, I don’t think there’s anything in the bus stop.” Her goggles, which had been treated with their Fenton Paranormal Peeper Powder (not for direct use on eyes) (patent pending), weren’t picking up so much as a glimmer.

“Not in the bus stop! Down there!” Jack pointed at a storm drain just under the overhang of the bus stop shelter.

Gun ready, Maddie approached it.

The shadows between the grate bars gave way to the pale glare from her headlamp, throwing the inside into stark relief. The light sliced across water-stained concrete walls, reaching down until it met light.

The water at the bottom of the drain was stagnant, the drain so full of rotten leaves that they piled above the water in places, outlined in the brilliant white of her headlamp and bright enough to leave scribbled lines dancing in her vision.

The only motion Maddie could see in it was in her own face.

“Nothing,” she sighed. Chasing mirages again. And wasn’t that a metaphor for life?

“Oh,” said Jack. His face appeared alongside hers in the water. “Sorry, Mads, I really did think I saw something.”

Maddie patted him on the shoulder and surveyed the surrounding street. The light from her headlamp bounced off of the mirrors of parked cars and the windows of nearby businesses. All dark.

But a few streets over, there was still light, still power.

“Maybe you did, but something interested in electricity is going to go that way.” She pointed. “Let’s sweep these streets.”

Jazz didn’t sleep until her parents made their way home, defeated.

She didn’t know if it was worry for them, as they ran around in a lightning storm, or if it was fear for everything else that could be out there that kept her awake.

But if she had to guess, it’d be the latter.

Omake:

“Well, uh. I guess game night’s over?” Danny asked. He was still under the table, having hidden when Jazz started yelling.

With a thunk, Tucker’s head met the table next to his laptop. It was followed by a swish, a rustle, and the clatter of dice falling to the floor. The room was still pitch black, only the occasional flicker of lightning casting any light.

“Well,” Sam sighed. “At least your house is never boring.” Danny let out a dry laugh, missing most of its humor.

“I could use a little more boring.”

“Good luck with that,” Tucker said, his voiced muffled by the table. Danny sighed, having not yet moved.

Good luck, indeed.

Stay tuned for more!

#ectoberhaunt #23 day 6 #23 prompt tabletop #eh23 #ectoberhaunt 2023 #ectoberhaunt23 #phantasy phest #Alternate Universe - Modern Fantasy #fairies #moth!danny #fae & fairies #fairytale curses #mentioned unethical experiments

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sadlynotthevoid · 3 months

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Okay, hear me out—

Exorcist! Og!Cale.

Exorcise the shit out of White Star, sweetie.

Even better, make it a modern fantasy AU. So, you can have both world's characters and college student og!Cale, who is Rok Soo's young neighbour nextdoor, but also deals with haunted stuff almost every tuesday.

Rok Soo doesn't know exactly what Cale does when he's not at the college, but he doesn't want to know. He almost run on him once outside the building and heard him talking to the air... Then a trash can flew off the floor and disappeared into nothing.

He turned around and left.

When Cale finally meets him, he takes a look at the gloomy smoke surrounding this guy and is like "uh, are you aware of the remannents of a curse clinging to you?". Then he hires himself to clean Rok Soo from the curse because "knowing that there's such a dangerous thing, only an idiot would let it be".

He convinces Rok Soo by telling him it's for free.

Some time later white star is pulled out of his body, sealed into a rock and threw into a fire.

#original cale henituse #Exorcist Og!Cale AU #feel free to write it if you want #btw this is before lsh and cjs's deaths #so #no more curse= they live #eruhaben is cale's teacher #and like it is a modern fantasy AU #the college also teaches magic #eruhaben teaches history or maths tho #lcf AU #prompt #I guess #og!cale henituse

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the-likeable-wizard-mack · 11 months

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Modern Fantasy Monsters: Summer Time!

I have said this once and I will say it again. ORC BBQ BLOCK PARTIES. Imagine all the food. Like seriously ALL of the food you could ever eat plus some really cool war stories from everyone who has them. Orcs trading recipes with other members of the family while they also share different smithing techniques.

Merfolk gathering at night at the beach when humans are our partying disguising themselves to look like humans to take food and drinks back down to their secret cove to have their own party that actually recycles all the excess wrappers that nonmerfolk don’t think about throwing away.

Werecreatures having close to turning bon-fire nights where they all commune with each other in their wildness. All were creatures are invited to be to feel as free as they are while in their shifted form.

Vampires who stay out of the sun already are used as cold-water-bottles since they’re naturally pretty cold due to being a vampire. So this makes them prime content for their non vampy friends hugging them with their warm bodies to try to cool down. Vampire emotion can range from okay to this practice or “I SWEAR IF YOU DO NOT GET YOUR SWEATY BODY OFF OF MEEEE!!!”

Demons that sneak into abandoned places to have wicked parties. Imagine a group of rambunctious demon teens sneaking into an amusement park after dark partying it up.

Merfolk using small kiddie pools as tanning beds to get a nice summer tan.

Witches that create mix potions with cool drinks for different effects. Mostly effects to cool the body…hopefully it won’t turn the person drinking the potion into a giant ice cube.

Dryads soaking In pools to keep their bodies from drying out due to the heat. Sometimes they have to stay inside due to hot wealthier advisories.

Dragons who sometimes stay out in the sun and let the sun shine on their scales to sunbath (like the big lizards they are lol) or they sit in a pool of water just to cool down from all the excess heat.

Giants that don’t mind their smaller friends using their arm and hands as a diving board. Though they are still careful that their friends are safe and won’t raise their arm too high for them to jump into the water.

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starboy-whump · 8 months

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I am a normal person who likes whump and hurt/comfort a normal amount

...I am a normal person who likes whump and hurt/comfort a normal amount, buying tea-grade rosepetals to make rose tea & rosewater bc exactly ONE line in a Fall Out Boy song from over a decade ago convinced me that rosewater is an intoxicant and/or sedative for angels, in the sense that it could b useful in field medicine, and the entire idea of rosewater gives me whumperflies now

but im rly rly normal i swear

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the-wizard-writes · 1 year

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Angel Roommate being a roommate

I did a post a long time ago on my other blog about an angel roommate and their shenanigans so, I wanted to make a longer post about it too with some headcannon’s along the way.

Angel wings (depending on the angel) can be pretty damn big. They can stretch their wings out pretty far which is kinda annoying when trying to share a space. A few times you’ve been hit with a wing or have walked in trying to sit down on the couch only to accidently sit down on their wings. Human: [Lightly kicks the angel’s wing] “Adriel, can you please move you’re wing? I’m trying to sit down.” Angel: “But, I am cozy. Human: “Yeah, but, you’re wings are huge.” Angel: “Yes.. but, I am under the blanket of weight. I cannot move.” Human: “....”

Also imagine introducing your angel roommate to different things. About the world. Since they’ve never been out in the human world before they are super curious about the world...or the city there roommate live in. City tours are a normal occurrence where the angel just loves to watch everyone and everything. Also ask a lot of questions. They’re almost like a kid in a candy store watching all the amazing things that the world has to offer.

However, you had to explain to them that no you may not keep the raccoon as a pet...Or the opossum...Or the bear.

Angels have no concept of shame and or embarrassment when it comes to their bodies. They wear loose clothing because it’s comfortable to them. They are uses to wearing flowing robes, shirts and other items of loose clothing since they also live up in their own realm and it can get pretty warm up there so they have to wear clothing like that.

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corwynnasmith · 12 days

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Writing/drawing prompt I want to see:

Someone keeps leaving roses on your doorstep, getting progressively more elaborate from a single long stemmed rose to a bouquet, an arch, and then even live rose bushes planted in your lawn. You try to spy who's doing it, but fall asleep against your will.

When you wake, there is a single crystal rose growing outside.

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