Inktober 2025!

[Edema Rue she/her]

Hi guys!! It’s Inktober time!!

I’m not too good at drawing, but I usually do a few of the prompts and have fun with it, or I’ll use them as writing prompts. So here’s a thread for people to share whatever they make this month, whether that’s words or drawings or something totally different.

To those who’ve never done Inktober, there’s a prompt for each day of October, and the idea is that everyone takes it totally differently and then shares. So you do each number on that day of the month. Here’s the 2025 list:

Spoiler

 

Edited October 1, 2025 by Edema Rue

[___ He/Him]

Oh I've got to use some of these as writing prompts

[Honors Spectral Image She/her]

Ooo I might write some 

[The Great Wyver She/Her]

Oh! I;m not the best at art but I'll probably do some tomorrow or something.

Do we have to follow tthe prompts or can we do our own prompts though?

[Edema Rue she/her]

19 minutes ago, The Great Wyver said:

Oh! I;m not the best at art but I'll probably do some tomorrow or something.

Do we have to follow tthe prompts or can we do our own prompts though?

The idea with Inktober is that everyone does these same prompts and then shares, I didn’t start it but you can see their official website here.

[The Great Wyver She/Her]

Just now, Edema Rue said:

The idea with Inktober is that everyone does these same prompts and then shares, I didn’t start it but you can see their official website here.

Alright then.

[___ He/Him]

*trying to figure out how to integrate "mustache" into a story*

[___ He/Him]

Just something short:

Spoiler

Tom Buckner walked down the road, a burlap sack of bread slung over one shoulder. His farm had yielded a good harvest this season, and he had lots of carrots and potatoes to trade with the other farmers. He inhaled deeply, the smells of Autumn wafting through the air and right up to his nose. He could smell bread baking from the farmstead he had just come from, and the scent of hay and leaves permeated everything. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself; this Autumn had been much colder than usual. 

The path that he walked on was one of gravel and dead leaves, and the crunch of each step resounded in the chilly silence of that Thursday morning. He began to hum to himself, an old folk song that all the people of his small rural town knew by heart. It was of friendship and love for your fellows. Still humming his song, Tom rounded a bend in the road and came across another farmer, Fred Turner. Fred stood by a cart full of pumpkins, and a horse snuffling around a bucket of apples. One wheel of the cart seemed to have broken off, and he was standing next to it, his hands on his hips. “Howdy, Fred,” Tom called out. “Need some help there?” Fred turned toward him, bringing his giant mustache into view. 

Every man and boy in town was jealous of it; it had even won contests. It was a dark brown, at least three inches long on each side of his face, and unimaginably bushy. It somehow covered his whole mouth, and then some. “Sure, Tom, that would be great.” His mustache bobbed up and down as he spoke, and Tom eyed it enviously. Tom set down his sack of bread and walked over to stand next to Fred. “How’d this happen?” Said Tom while inspecting the broken wheel. “It had been a little loose,” Fred replied, “and I forgot to tighten it. Then it just broke right off! Probably rolled over some rocks or summin’.” He stroked his mustache thoughtfully. Tom stood back up. “I’ll run back to the breadmaker, I reckon he’s got a spare cart. He owes me a favor anyways, with that time I took care of his wheat for him.”

Fred gave him a thumbs-up. “Take the horse too, so you can pull the cart.” Tom returned the thumbs up and, grinning, began to lead the horse behind him as he walked back the way he had come. 

Fred watched him leave, again stroking his mustache. He loved this town; the people all cared for one another. He bent down, grabbing one of the apples from the horse’s bucket. He then sat on the edge of the broken cart, taking a big bite out of his apple, his mustache moving up and down as he chewed. He thought about his family, friends, and all those he interacted with in his day-to-day life. A breeze blew some yellow and red leaves by him, and ruffled his mustache. He sat thoughtfully, and soon saw Tom returning with a new cart. He smiled, and threw the core of the apple away. Yes, he loved this town, and all of the people in it. He dusted his hands off on his pants, then as the light wind continued to blow through the trees he walked over to Tom to thank him for his help.

Didn't want to write something super long, felt that was enough.

[RoyalBeeMage he/him]

ooh we're allowing writing??? i might be able to whip something up not for today but for the weekends...

[CoderDrag0n8 He/They]

Can i do worldbuilding?

[___ He/Him]

3 hours ago, CoderDrag0n8 said:

Can i do worldbuilding?

As far as I understand, of course. I'm literally gonna just write short little things every day (hopefully)

[CoderDrag0n8 He/They]

OHHH i have idea

Spoiler

Once upon a time, a man was born with a mustache fresh on his face. The legends told of a mustached plumber to save the world.

His twin brother, was but a second thought

and so, Luigi killed Mario. Luigi, the twin of Mario, the mustached plumber, was the true savior. However, no one believed so

"MURDERER!" They cried, and Luigi was shamed away

in the outscrits of society, he found something. A lone pipe. And so, He jumped in.

and then for today:

Spoiler

As Luigi fell, falling through, he looked down. Below, a spider. "Dear spider," He pleaded, "Please weave me a net! One that would let me land safely."

And the spider replied, "Whats in it for me?"

And Luigi responded with a promise, "If you save me, I will spin you a tale. One of an evil brother, a murderous twin, and a society full of shame."

The spider, intrigued, spun him a web. And he landed saftely to there.

:D

[Edema Rue she/her]

2 hours ago, CoderDrag0n8 said:

OHHH i have idea

  Reveal hidden contents

Once upon a time, a man was born with a mustache fresh on his face. The legends told of a mustached plumber to save the world.

His twin brother, was but a second thought

and so, Luigi killed Mario. Luigi, the twin of Mario, the mustached plumber, was the true savior. However, no one believed so

"MURDERER!" They cried, and Luigi was shamed away

in the outscrits of society, he found something. A lone pipe. And so, He jumped in.

and then for today:

  Reveal hidden contents

As Luigi fell, falling through, he looked down. Below, a spider. "Dear spider," He pleaded, "Please weave me a net! One that would let me land safely."

And the spider replied, "Whats in it for me?"

And Luigi responded with a promise, "If you save me, I will spin you a tale. One of an evil brother, a murderous twin, and a society full of shame."

The spider, intrigued, spun him a web. And he landed saftely to there.

:D

Nice!

oh, and btw, this one isn’t writing only, it’s just one where everyone can share their things in the same spot instead of on individual threads.

[CoderDrag0n8 He/They]

1 hour ago, Edema Rue said:

Nice!

oh, and btw, this one isn’t writing only, it’s just one where everyone can share their things in the same spot instead of on individual threads.

no i know!

[___ He/Him]

Weave:

Spoiler

Music flowed through the air. Exactly what instrument was making that sound, that beautiful noise, could not be discerned. It flowed through the air, into windows, up alleys. It was music the likes of which had never been heard before. If you listened closely, you might be able to pick out individual tones; strands that wove together into an overarching melody. Windows opened and heads stuck out, cars stopped, and doors opened. 

The entire city stopped what it was doing to listen to the beautiful notes playing in the air. Some broke down in tears right there in the street, weeping for quite a while. The song continued, never-ending, always changing, with new harmonies being added; the separate tones mixed and flowed together to create something always new and wonderful. As time wore on, the music never seemed to wane, and people began to search for its source. No matter how hard anyone looked, the source could not be found. It seemed to be born out of the air itself. 

Days passed, then weeks, months, and years, and the city recovered from the beautiful shock. People grew accustomed to the music, and it became a part of their lives. Whenever a citizen visited any other place, it felt too silent, and it would weigh on them. They would soon return. The population of the city surged, and it quickly became overcrowded. It was discovered that the music seemed to respond to one’s emotion. If the sky were grey and the air bitter and sharply cold, it would take on a melancholy tone. If you received happy news, the tune in the air would become quick and gay. Strangely, the music was only heard within the city, and as soon as you stepped beyond the limits, the air would grow silent. Tests were done, but all remained inconclusive. 

The citizens of the city began to change. They grew carefree, groups of ten or twenty at a time, gathering together and adding their voices to the song, adding a whole new depth to the song. They began to separate from the people in the surrounding areas, calling them the “silent ones”. The people of that changed city, now called the “Audience” by the rest of the world, seemed to have song embedded into their very being. Any member of the Audience seemed to bring the music with them wherever they went, so long as they had lived in the city from the beginning. As the rest of the world began to fall into war and disrepair, the city of the Audience stood firm and bright, a stability for all to hold on to. Then, something changed once more. The music became slightly discordant, slightly offbeat. However, the Audience did not panic. They stood firm, cheerful, and continuing to shine. Day after day, the music continued to fail, the rhythm decayed, and those who had moved to the city after the day the music appeared began to grow on edge. They began to move away, leaving only the true Audience. Even after the music became painful to listen to, the members of the Audience continued to listen, continued to create. 

One day, a decision was made. In the center of the city, every Audience member gathered. Then, one by one, music began to rise from each person. Whether they played an instrument or sang, every citizen created their own thread in the song. The Audience members’ song slowly overtook the discordant song of the city, and it rose to a crescendo. The song rose and fell like the wind, and it was just like that first day long ago when they had first heard the Song. The people held the last note, then let it fall away. And all was silent, no song of the city. Yet the song that they had all created continued in their hearts. All at once, every member realized what they must do. Streams of the citizens flowed out of the city and out into the world, and every person brought their beautiful song to all people, everyone. They took on the new name of the “Players” and brought the world out of the dark age it had fallen into. Technology and culture surged. People were happy again, and the Earth became a place of music and light once more.

 

The End. 

 

[Edema Rue she/her]

Oct 2: Weave

Spoiler

“Look.” Rue was as excited as I’d ever seen her, surrounded by a dozen pages of neat Latin. “It’s a weave.”

“What?”

“No Primaries, no Mains, no Finishes. It’s all together at once.”

“Magic can’t do that,” I said crossly. “Everything in its time and place. Primary chants first, then mains, then finishes.”

“Are you…quoting Professor Seid?”

“He’s smart.”

“I tried to get him fired my sophomore year.”

I eyed her. “So you’ve always been this hateful.”

“Efficient. He wasted my time. Come on. We only need one more person to test it.”

“It takes multiple people?” Rue pursed her lips. For all her faults, I’ll say this: she really was efficient, even when that meant she didn’t get to yell at us half as often as she would have liked. “Right. Fine. Three?”

“Who’s that kid who’s always following you? Grab him.”

I spluttered. “Olive? He’s following you, not me.”

“Please. I’ve never met him.”

“Do you have any idea how famous you are?”

“Do you know his Alignment?”

I bit my lip. “Stone.”

Rue grinned. “That means he wouldn’t follow someone to be popular, and that means he can finish our spell. Go find him.”

I started to protest, but Rue was already laying out ingredients, and wouldn’t listen to a word I said. As it turned out, you were waiting just outside the door. “Come on,” I said, not meeting your eyes. I still thought you were a pompous brat back then. Actually, that hasn’t changed. “We need you.”

You acted all surprised, but you followed. Of course you did. Everyone knew Rue was working on something big, something no one had ever done before. Just to say you’d been in her practice room meant bragging rights for a month. Rue broke the rules. She was silent and untouchable, as arrogant a witch as ever there was. I know you think we were friends, but it’s more that I was useful. Every senior needs a freshman puppet, and I was hers. But that’s not the point.

“Do you speak Latin?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” You were trying too hard to sound dismissive. It wasn’t a bad performance, except that you were two years younger than her and your eyes were the size of oranges. Don’t look at me like that, it’s true.

“Not what I asked.”

“I…know a few words.”

Rue’s jaw tightened. “You aren’t even a freshman.”

“Most seniors don’t—”

I couldn’t help but laugh. You stopped to look. “I said the same thing,” I mumbled. “But it’s not about them, apparently. It’s about you, because you’re the one in her practice room. If you don’t know Latin, you’ll have to learn it later.”

Your mouth was hanging slightly open. “Why? Spells are just reading, and I’m never going to write my own.”

“Then you’re an embarrassment to the school, and to me. Come here and I’ll translate.” Rue spent ten minutes explaining the Finish. If it was anyone else, I’d have called it a waste of time. But Rue’s Alignment was Atmosphere, and that meant no wasted motion. Most people remembered their Alignment only while performing magic—she lived it. So I trusted that it mattered, even though they weren’t anything you should have had trouble with, even though you were getting more annoyed, even though Rue was making comments about grammar that you couldn’t have understood.

Then it was done, and she handed me the Primaries, and left you with the Finishes, and straightened her stack of Mains. “Wait. I thought it was all together.”

Rue winked. “We’ll read them at the same time.”

You started. “Seriously? This is your big idea? People have to have tried that.”

“They have,” Rue said. “But it’s about timing. It’s woven—some pieces on top, some on bottom, some before, some after. Like singing.”

We stared blankly. “I don’t play an instrument,” I mumbled.

“Are you kidding me?”

“I sang in a church choir once!”

You snickered. “You’re a witch. There are so many things wrong with that sentence.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Rue interrupted. “Can you count to three?” We nodded, because with Rue, that was the only option. “Think of each line as a measure.” She paused. “Just count to three once per line. I’ll give you a tempo. Does that make sense?”

“Sure,” you said. “The Finish, though. This is senior level stuff.”

Rue raised an eyebrow. “If you’re going to tell me you can’t do it, I’ll put frogs in your bed for the rest of the year.”

You thought about that for a second too long. “I can do it. But Primaries and Finishes are easier than Mains. At this level, a teacher should…” that was when you finally caught on to my shushing. 

Rue was as cool and haughty as ever. “Is that all?”

“Yep.”

She tapped her foot in a slow, rhythmic beat. I started reading, she joined, and then you jumped in. Rue spoke quickly, the words flowing into one another without room for breath. The Mains are the longest part of a spell. Usually, a witch spends 20% of the time on Primaries, 15% on Finishes, and the rest on Mains. It makes sense. Primaries are about preparing ingredients. No one wants that to be messed up. Finishes are making sure the spell lasts. The Mains are where the magic happens, which is why they’re so much harder than the rest of the spell. I think only a handful of teachers at that school could decipher Rue’s Mains. It was no wonder the teachers let her do what she wanted.

With the speed Rue spoke, I couldn’t understand a word of her chant. My first Primary demanded purity, my second strength. Yours were about the ease of stillness, the power of unity. Standard enough, which left us no clue to what Rue was trying. As she spoke, she started picking through herbs, adding them to a small jar of clear liquid. They dissolved as they touched it, each leaf changing the color. Vibrant purple, dangerous red, hopeful gold, mocking orange.

I finished two lines before you, two lines before Rue. She dropped a tiny, perfect mint leaf into her jar, and the room froze. There weren’t many moving parts, so it took a moment to notice. But in the corner was a sink that had somehow been left running, and the water seemed to have paused. Fascinated, I reached to touch it. The water in contact with my fingers fell at a regular speed, but when I shook my hand dry, each droplet hung in the air. Rue started to laugh.

Then time resumed. The water fell, the ceiling fan spun, the light hummed. The liquid returned to its clear. Rue stuck a dropper inside, then let a single drop fall onto her tongue.

“It worked.”

I gawked. “What we just did is impossible.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You were staring at the jar. “What if it had gone wrong? That could have killed you.”

“If we hadn’t done anything, I’d have been fine. If it was wrong, the potion wouldn’t be clear. Besides, time doesn’t stop when a spell goes wrong.”

“It usually doesn’t stop when one goes right, either,” you grumbled.

“It does for me,” Rue said softly, eyes reflecting her potion.

“Do the teachers know?”

“Some of them.”

“Are you going to tell them the spell worked?”

“I’m sure they already know.”

As if on cue, the door opened. Professor Farris stood there, eyes wide, hair mussed. “Out,” she snapped, and we filed out.

Rue waved goodbye. “Thanks.”

 

[CoderDrag0n8 He/They]

26 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

Oct 2: Weave

  Reveal hidden contents

“Look.” Rue was as excited as I’d ever seen her, surrounded by a dozen pages of neat Latin. “It’s a weave.”

“What?”

“No Primaries, no Mains, no Finishes. It’s all together at once.”

“Magic can’t do that,” I said crossly. “Everything in its time and place. Primary chants first, then mains, then finishes.”

“Are you…quoting Professor Seid?”

“He’s smart.”

“I tried to get him fired my sophomore year.”

I eyed her. “So you’ve always been this hateful.”

“Efficient. He wasted my time. Come on. We only need one more person to test it.”

“It takes multiple people?” Rue pursed her lips. For all her faults, I’ll say this: she really was efficient, even when that meant she didn’t get to yell at us half as often as she would have liked. “Right. Fine. Three?”

“Who’s that kid who’s always following you? Grab him.”

I spluttered. “Olive? He’s following you, not me.”

“Please. I’ve never met him.”

“Do you have any idea how famous you are?”

“Do you know his Alignment?”

I bit my lip. “Stone.”

Rue grinned. “That means he wouldn’t follow someone to be popular, and that means he can finish our spell. Go find him.”

I started to protest, but Rue was already laying out ingredients, and wouldn’t listen to a word I said. As it turned out, you were waiting just outside the door. “Come on,” I said, not meeting your eyes. I still thought you were a pompous brat back then. Actually, that hasn’t changed. “We need you.”

You acted all surprised, but you followed. Of course you did. Everyone knew Rue was working on something big, something no one had ever done before. Just to say you’d been in her practice room meant bragging rights for a month. Rue broke the rules. She was silent and untouchable, as arrogant a witch as ever there was. I know you think we were friends, but it’s more that I was useful. Every senior needs a freshman puppet, and I was hers. But that’s not the point.

“Do you speak Latin?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” You were trying too hard to sound dismissive. It wasn’t a bad performance, except that you were two years younger than her and your eyes were the size of oranges. Don’t look at me like that, it’s true.

“Not what I asked.”

“I…know a few words.”

Rue’s jaw tightened. “You aren’t even a freshman.”

“Most seniors don’t—”

I couldn’t help but laugh. You stopped to look. “I said the same thing,” I mumbled. “But it’s not about them, apparently. It’s about you, because you’re the one in her practice room. If you don’t know Latin, you’ll have to learn it later.”

Your mouth was hanging slightly open. “Why? Spells are just reading, and I’m never going to write my own.”

“Then you’re an embarrassment to the school, and to me. Come here and I’ll translate.” Rue spent ten minutes explaining the Finish. If it was anyone else, I’d have called it a waste of time. But Rue’s Alignment was Atmosphere, and that meant no wasted motion. Most people remembered their Alignment only while performing magic—she lived it. So I trusted that it mattered, even though they weren’t anything you should have had trouble with, even though you were getting more annoyed, even though Rue was making comments about grammar that you couldn’t have understood.

Then it was done, and she handed me the Primaries, and left you with the Finishes, and straightened her stack of Mains. “Wait. I thought it was all together.”

Rue winked. “We’ll read them at the same time.”

You started. “Seriously? This is your big idea? People have to have tried that.”

“They have,” Rue said. “But it’s about timing. It’s woven—some pieces on top, some on bottom, some before, some after. Like singing.”

We stared blankly. “I don’t play an instrument,” I mumbled.

“Are you kidding me?”

“I sang in a church choir once!”

You snickered. “You’re a witch. There are so many things wrong with that sentence.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Rue interrupted. “Can you count to three?” We nodded, because with Rue, that was the only option. “Think of each line as a measure.” She paused. “Just count to three once per line. I’ll give you a tempo. Does that make sense?”

“Sure,” you said. “The Finish, though. This is senior level stuff.”

Rue raised an eyebrow. “If you’re going to tell me you can’t do it, I’ll put frogs in your bed for the rest of the year.”

You thought about that for a second too long. “I can do it. But Primaries and Finishes are easier than Mains. At this level, a teacher should…” that was when you finally caught on to my shushing. 

Rue was as cool and haughty as ever. “Is that all?”

“Yep.”

She tapped her foot in a slow, rhythmic beat. I started reading, she joined, and then you jumped in. Rue spoke quickly, the words flowing into one another without room for breath. The Mains are the longest part of a spell. Usually, a witch spends 20% of the time on Primaries, 15% on Finishes, and the rest on Mains. It makes sense. Primaries are about preparing ingredients. No one wants that to be messed up. Finishes are making sure the spell lasts. The Mains are where the magic happens, which is why they’re so much harder than the rest of the spell. I think only a handful of teachers at that school could decipher Rue’s Mains. It was no wonder the teachers let her do what she wanted.

With the speed Rue spoke, I couldn’t understand a word of her chant. My first Primary demanded purity, my second strength. Yours were about the ease of stillness, the power of unity. Standard enough, which left us no clue to what Rue was trying. As she spoke, she started picking through herbs, adding them to a small jar of clear liquid. They dissolved as they touched it, each leaf changing the color. Vibrant purple, dangerous red, hopeful gold, mocking orange.

I finished two lines before you, two lines before Rue. She dropped a tiny, perfect mint leaf into her jar, and the room froze. There weren’t many moving parts, so it took a moment to notice. But in the corner was a sink that had somehow been left running, and the water seemed to have paused. Fascinated, I reached to touch it. The water in contact with my fingers fell at a regular speed, but when I shook my hand dry, each droplet hung in the air. Rue started to laugh.

Then time resumed. The water fell, the ceiling fan spun, the light hummed. The liquid returned to its clear. Rue stuck a dropper inside, then let a single drop fall onto her tongue.

“It worked.”

I gawked. “What we just did is impossible.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You were staring at the jar. “What if it had gone wrong? That could have killed you.”

“If we hadn’t done anything, I’d have been fine. If it was wrong, the potion wouldn’t be clear. Besides, time doesn’t stop when a spell goes wrong.”

“It usually doesn’t stop when one goes right, either,” you grumbled.

“It does for me,” Rue said softly, eyes reflecting her potion.

“Do the teachers know?”

“Some of them.”

“Are you going to tell them the spell worked?”

“I’m sure they already know.”

As if on cue, the door opened. Professor Farris stood there, eyes wide, hair mussed. “Out,” she snapped, and we filed out.

Rue waved goodbye. “Thanks.”

 

Dang, that was good.

Dang.

You should become a novelist

[Edema Rue she/her]

9 hours ago, CoderDrag0n8 said:

Dang, that was good.

Dang.

You should become a novelist

We can dream  

[CoderDrag0n8 He/They]

1 hour ago, Edema Rue said:

We can dream  

I would read ur work

[Vielence She/Her]

On 10/1/2025 at 11:42 AM, Edema Rue said:

Hi guys!! It’s Inktober time!!

I’m not too good at drawing, but I usually do a few of the prompts and have fun with it, or I’ll use them as writing prompts. So here’s a thread for people to share whatever they make this month, whether that’s words or drawings or something totally different.

To those who’ve never done Inktober, there’s a prompt for each day of October, and the idea is that everyone takes it totally differently and then shares. So you do each number on that day of the month. Here’s the 2025 list:

  Hide contents

 

Oh I’ll do it if I can!!

[___ He/Him]

Crown

Spoiler

The boy knelt in front of his father’s grave, weeping over his death. In his hands, he clutched a bright green emerald, light seeming to swirl inside. He was a boy of 16, with blond hair and bright yellow eyes; the mark of his family. His mother, tall and slender, stood behind him, her hand on his shoulder. “Come. He is gone.” She turned and began to walk away. The boy, Julian, wiped his eyes and stood up. He stared at the grave for a moment, grief turning into bitter resentment. 

He stalked away, angry at his father for leaving him. He stuffed the emerald into a pocket as he walked. He returned to the castle alongside his mother. The citizens of the kingdom waited for them, waited for guidance, waited for someone to tell them what to do. The king was the last wall, the last barrier against the Evil Things. As soon as he was killed in battle, the barriers and strength of the kingdom began to fail. The boy’s eyes stared forward emotionlessly as the people shouted questions and cried out in despair around him. What should we do?! Are we to fall now, after all this time? He did not have the answers they desired. He knew what was expected of him. To take up the dark power the King had held and fight off the Evil. But… he couldn’t. He remembered his father the day the horrible power had fallen upon him. He had changed. His eyes–they had become dark and terrible. He couldn’t, just couldn’t change like his father had. Something in the crowd caught his eye.

A man in the crowd was staring directly at Julian. He stood alone, an empty circle around him as if no one wanted to get too close. Julian snapped back to the present, his eyes widening in alarm. “A servant of Evil!” Julian shouted as he tore his sword out from a scabbard at his waist. “Get in the castle now!” The man grinned wickedly as his eyes began to glow red, and crimson mist rose around him. People around began to scream as they noticed the red vapor in the air. Those touched by the red mist fell to the ground, wailing in agony as they died. The citizens began to stampede into the castle. Julian started to walk in the direction of the monster surrounded by mist. “Julian!” His mother shouted in panic behind him. “Don’t try and fight it! You’re the kingdom’s last hope!” Julian ignored her. All the knights were at the borders holding off the Evil. They were alone. If Julian ran, every person here would be slaughtered. He couldn’t let that happen. His sword began to glow green, and it grew lighter in his hands. Not all of the power had yet left the kingdom. A strange humming filled the air, and a translucent green bubble formed around him. The monster grinned even wider. It no longer looked like a man; claws had sprouted from its fingers, and it had far too many teeth in its mouth. As Julian neared it, some of the mist came into contact with the bubble. Hissing filled the air as the vapor turned gray and dissipated. 

Julian’s mouth was set in a firm line, and his eyes were determined as he swung his sword. The monster dodged and attempted a counterattack with its claws, but was blocked by Julian’s sword. The monster’s countenance was filled with insanity as its strikes grew faster and faster. Sweat beaded on Julian’s brow as he desperately blocked the monster’s claws, and he grew more and more tired as the battle wore on. He had been given some training with his sword, but not enough, and he was receiving the penalty for that now. 

Julian was eventually thrown to the side as his protective bubble failed to stop the claws, and he struck hard. He lay there panting as the monster stalked past him, in the direction of the castle entrance. The people had not yet closed the door, watching the battle with despairing eyes, and they scrambled to close it as they saw the monster coming. The monster continued its slow, almost leisurely walk, as if it were in no hurry. It began to cackle, loud and horrible. It seemed to have completely forgotten about Julian. “Come back here and fight me!” Julian yelled at the monster, his hope fading. The green light around him had begun to dissipate. It seemed that the power was leaving them finally. He had only one choice. 

He took the green emerald out of his pocket, where he had placed it earlier. The monster turned back around, its cackling ceasing, and it looked at him, just as he smashed the gemstone down into the hard cobblestones of the street. Green fire burst all around Julian, completely engulfing him. A couple of seconds passed, and the monster started to laugh again, uneasily. Then, a figure stepped out of the fire. It was Julian, but he had changed. His eyes shone bright green, and a shining suit of armor enclosed his entire body. A helmet materialized, covering his head and face. His sword shone once more as he raised it in both hands. The monster’s face went white, and before it could do so much as raise its hands in defence, Julian was directly in front of it, his sword having been shoved through its gut. It screamed and burst into red smoke, which turned gray after coming into contact with Julian’s armor. The door to the castle opened, and people rushed out, cheering. They had been watching from hidden barred windows. 

Julian walked toward them. He had been changed. The Julian they knew was gone. But that didn't matter. The necromancer’s power had returned. The entire landscape behind him shone green, and skeleton warriors began to claw their way up out of the ground. “I will take back this kingdom! I will do what my father failed to do!” His voice was different, deeper, grating in his throat. Now it was a battle between the two evils. Demons against the dead. It would be a long battle. Julian, the Necromancer, turned East, the direction of the closest section of the Wall. An emerald crown materialized on his head. The citizens had stopped their cheering. They knew all was not right. But this was necessary. Otherwise, they would all die. “March!” Julian roared to the army behind him. “March, my soldiers, and let us take back this lost land!”

He began to walk in the direction of the Wall, his unholy army behind him. And he smiled, a wrong smile. Yes. This was the right thing to do.

 

 

The End.

Hastily written but eh

[CoderDrag0n8 He/They]

1 hour ago, mippo said:

Crown

  Reveal hidden contents

The boy knelt in front of his father’s grave, weeping over his death. In his hands, he clutched a bright green emerald, light seeming to swirl inside. He was a boy of 16, with blond hair and bright yellow eyes; the mark of his family. His mother, tall and slender, stood behind him, her hand on his shoulder. “Come. He is gone.” She turned and began to walk away. The boy, Julian, wiped his eyes and stood up. He stared at the grave for a moment, grief turning into bitter resentment. 

He stalked away, angry at his father for leaving him. He stuffed the emerald into a pocket as he walked. He returned to the castle alongside his mother. The citizens of the kingdom waited for them, waited for guidance, waited for someone to tell them what to do. The king was the last wall, the last barrier against the Evil Things. As soon as he was killed in battle, the barriers and strength of the kingdom began to fail. The boy’s eyes stared forward emotionlessly as the people shouted questions and cried out in despair around him. What should we do?! Are we to fall now, after all this time? He did not have the answers they desired. He knew what was expected of him. To take up the dark power the King had held and fight off the Evil. But… he couldn’t. He remembered his father the day the horrible power had fallen upon him. He had changed. His eyes–they had become dark and terrible. He couldn’t, just couldn’t change like his father had. Something in the crowd caught his eye.

A man in the crowd was staring directly at Julian. He stood alone, an empty circle around him as if no one wanted to get too close. Julian snapped back to the present, his eyes widening in alarm. “A servant of Evil!” Julian shouted as he tore his sword out from a scabbard at his waist. “Get in the castle now!” The man grinned wickedly as his eyes began to glow red, and crimson mist rose around him. People around began to scream as they noticed the red vapor in the air. Those touched by the red mist fell to the ground, wailing in agony as they died. The citizens began to stampede into the castle. Julian started to walk in the direction of the monster surrounded by mist. “Julian!” His mother shouted in panic behind him. “Don’t try and fight it! You’re the kingdom’s last hope!” Julian ignored her. All the knights were at the borders holding off the Evil. They were alone. If Julian ran, every person here would be slaughtered. He couldn’t let that happen. His sword began to glow green, and it grew lighter in his hands. Not all of the power had yet left the kingdom. A strange humming filled the air, and a translucent green bubble formed around him. The monster grinned even wider. It no longer looked like a man; claws had sprouted from its fingers, and it had far too many teeth in its mouth. As Julian neared it, some of the mist came into contact with the bubble. Hissing filled the air as the vapor turned gray and dissipated. 

Julian’s mouth was set in a firm line, and his eyes were determined as he swung his sword. The monster dodged and attempted a counterattack with its claws, but was blocked by Julian’s sword. The monster’s countenance was filled with insanity as its strikes grew faster and faster. Sweat beaded on Julian’s brow as he desperately blocked the monster’s claws, and he grew more and more tired as the battle wore on. He had been given some training with his sword, but not enough, and he was receiving the penalty for that now. 

Julian was eventually thrown to the side as his protective bubble failed to stop the claws, and he struck hard. He lay there panting as the monster stalked past him, in the direction of the castle entrance. The people had not yet closed the door, watching the battle with despairing eyes, and they scrambled to close it as they saw the monster coming. The monster continued its slow, almost leisurely walk, as if it were in no hurry. It began to cackle, loud and horrible. It seemed to have completely forgotten about Julian. “Come back here and fight me!” Julian yelled at the monster, his hope fading. The green light around him had begun to dissipate. It seemed that the power was leaving them finally. He had only one choice. 

He took the green emerald out of his pocket, where he had placed it earlier. The monster turned back around, its cackling ceasing, and it looked at him, just as he smashed the gemstone down into the hard cobblestones of the street. Green fire burst all around Julian, completely engulfing him. A couple of seconds passed, and the monster started to laugh again, uneasily. Then, a figure stepped out of the fire. It was Julian, but he had changed. His eyes shone bright green, and a shining suit of armor enclosed his entire body. A helmet materialized, covering his head and face. His sword shone once more as he raised it in both hands. The monster’s face went white, and before it could do so much as raise its hands in defence, Julian was directly in front of it, his sword having been shoved through its gut. It screamed and burst into red smoke, which turned gray after coming into contact with Julian’s armor. The door to the castle opened, and people rushed out, cheering. They had been watching from hidden barred windows. 

Julian walked toward them. He had been changed. The Julian they knew was gone. But that didn't matter. The necromancer’s power had returned. The entire landscape behind him shone green, and skeleton warriors began to claw their way up out of the ground. “I will take back this kingdom! I will do what my father failed to do!” His voice was different, deeper, grating in his throat. Now it was a battle between the two evils. Demons against the dead. It would be a long battle. Julian, the Necromancer, turned East, the direction of the closest section of the Wall. An emerald crown materialized on his head. The citizens had stopped their cheering. They knew all was not right. But this was necessary. Otherwise, they would all die. “March!” Julian roared to the army behind him. “March, my soldiers, and let us take back this lost land!”

He began to walk in the direction of the Wall, his unholy army behind him. And he smiled, a wrong smile. Yes. This was the right thing to do.

 

 

The End.

Hastily written but eh

That’s really good.

I was inspired by @Edema Rue to do actual writing

but then my computer died

lets see if it survives!

edit: it survived!

Day 3: Crown

Spoiler

*ding ding*

The sound of the door to the tavern opening.

A jolly Jesk is laughing at all.

Everyone is grumbling, looking away.

"You, in the doorway! Would you like to hear a tale? A tale told by a liar and a fool?" The Jesk asks.

"Ah, you want to know if it is myth or history? Why don't you listen and find out?" The Jesk replies.

Everyone grumbles, and the Jesk tells them to shush.

"Everyone, one and all, who wishes to hear a story, especially you, curious man, and listen to my tale." He begins his story, telling of another time.

"This is a tale of Kings and Thrones, a tale of an evil crown that touched many a heart.

There was a king who was slain. Slain by the one who held his crown buried in his flesh. But I digress. You dont want to hear the end of the story before it even began!

There was a king who was seen as evil by everyone, even his son.

His son was to inherit his crown and title soon, so he searched and traveled for a witch.

A witch who could make him invulnerable and so he could not be usurped by his son.

For in this kingdom, sons take the throne in a battle to the death; the winner takes the crown.

So he searched for the witch.

Bestower of curses, master of pain. This evil witch was deep in the swamp.

Now, you all know this tale. The tale of the witch that lives in the swamp. A terrifying area unlike any other on the planet. However, back in those days, there were many.

Many, many swamps throughout the world, but the king couldn't find the witch.

However, one day, he heard of a disturbance near a swamp. A carriage's horses were running away, even though there seemed to be nothing special about the swamp they were going towards.

The king hopped on his noble chariot, and sure enough, when he got there, his horses fled.

He entered the swamp."

By now, the previous doubting onlookers had gathered around the Jesk.

"Ya see, they dont like being made a fool, but love hearing a fool's story, Mr. Curious."

"KEEP ON WITH THE STORY," One of the angry onlookers shouted.

"Alright, alright.

As he traveled through the swamp, he frequently heard chilling sounds.

Eventually, he approached a large wooden structure.

He knocked on the door, and sure enough, a witch emerged.

They bartered for days, and eventually, the witch cursed his crown for him.

He left, satisfied.

However, the witch had placed a particular curse on the crown.

As long as he wore it, he would be king. He could not be killed by a mortal hand.

That part he knew.

However, the second side to the curse was not known to the king.

The crown could kill any living or unliving thing known to the earth.

And the king was fated to be killed by it.

The king returned home, seeming all joyous.

And the palace knew not what had changed.

However, the first assassination occured.

An arrow, tipped in poison, ran straight toward the king.

And it struck him in the temple.

And then

...

It bounced right off.

The court was shocked.

They finally figured out what the king had searched for.

Many had theorized, but few knew.

After that faitful day, assassination attempts ceased.

But the court was filled with unrest.

They whispered with each other, trying to figure out which item on the king was cursed.

No matter what they tried, they couldn't figure it out.

However, one day, an assassination came.

The king had become confident, and the crown hung sideways.

2 daggers were thrown, at the head, one at the throat.

One dagger missed and knocked the crown off the king's head.

The other dagger fell too low and pierced him in the shoulder.

Clutching from the pain that he had not felt in so long, he lunged for his crown.

He quickly put it on, and the dagger popped out.

However, the court and the world now knew his weakness.

He didn't even get his chance to see how this would unfold,

For on that day, he entered his chambers, his son was waiting for him.

He sprang up, knocked the crown off the king's head,

grabbed it, and stuck it through the king's heart.

Then, the son, full of hatred and fear, took the king's crown and shattered it. He gathered all the pieces, put them in a box,

and put the box far, far away."

The Jesk stopped, looking at the crowd.

"And that is the tale. Any questions?"

The entire tavern, transfixed, was stopped in silence.

"What was that, Mr. Curious? You still wish to know if it was Myth or History?" The Jesk laughed. "Why dont you ask the witch?"

Did you like it?

Edited October 4, 2025 by CoderDrag0n8

[___ He/Him]

41 minutes ago, CoderDrag0n8 said:

That’s really good.

Thanks!

 

44 minutes ago, CoderDrag0n8 said:

That’s really good.

I was inspired by @Edema Rue to do actual writing

but then my computer died

lets see if it survives!

edit: it survived!

Day 3: Crown

  Reveal hidden contents

*ding ding*

The sound of the door to the tavern opening.

A jolly Jesk is laughing at all.

Everyone is grumbling, looking away.

"You, in the doorway! Would you like to hear a tale? A tale told by a liar and a fool?" The Jesk asks.

"Ah, you want to know if it is myth or history? Why don't you listen and find out?" The Jesk replies.

Everyone grumbles, and the Jesk tells them to shush.

"Everyone, one and all, who wishes to hear a story, especially you, curious man, and listen to my tale." He begins his story, telling of another time.

"This is a tale of Kings and Thrones, a tale of an evil crown that touched many a heart.

There was a king who was slain. Slain by the one who held his crown buried in his flesh. But I digress. You dont want to hear the end of the story before it even began!

There was a king who was seen as evil by everyone, even his son.

His son was to inherit his crown and title soon, so he searched and traveled for a witch.

A witch who could make him invulnerable and so he could not be usurped by his son.

For in this kingdom, sons take the throne in a battle to the death; the winner takes the crown.

So he searched for the witch.

Bestower of curses, master of pain. This evil witch was deep in the swamp.

Now, you all know this tale. The tale of the witch that lives in the swamp. A terrifying area unlike any other on the planet. However, back in those days, there were many.

Many, many swamps throughout the world, but the king couldn't find the witch.

However, one day, he heard of a disturbance near a swamp. A carriage's horses were running away, even though there seemed to be nothing special about the swamp they were going towards.

The king hopped on his noble chariot, and sure enough, when he got there, his horses fled.

He entered the swamp."

By now, the previous doubting onlookers had gathered around the Jesk.

"Ya see, they dont like being made a fool, but love hearing a fool's story, Mr. Curious."

"KEEP ON WITH THE STORY," One of the angry onlookers shouted.

"Alright, alright.

As he traveled through the swamp, he frequently heard chilling sounds.

Eventually, he approached a large wooden structure.

He knocked on the door, and sure enough, a witch emerged.

They bartered for days, and eventually, the witch cursed his crown for him.

He left, satisfied.

However, the witch had placed a particular curse on the crown.

As long as he wore it, he would be king. He could not be killed by a mortal hand.

That part he knew.

However, the second side to the curse was not known to the king.

The crown could kill any living or unliving thing known to the earth.

And the king was fated to be killed by it.

The king returned home, seeming all joyous.

And the palace knew not what had changed.

However, the first assassination occured.

An arrow, tipped in poison, ran straight toward the king.

And it struck him in the temple.

And then

...

It bounced right off.

The court was shocked.

They finally figured out what the king had searched for.

Many had theorized, but few knew.

After that faitful day, assassination attempts ceased.

But the court was filled with unrest.

They whispered with each other, trying to figure out which item on the king was cursed.

No matter what they tried, they couldn't figure it out.

However, one day, an assassination came.

The king had become confident, and the crown hung sideways.

2 daggers were thrown, at the head, one at the throat.

One dagger missed and knocked the crown off the king's head.

The other dagger fell too low and pierced him in the shoulder.

Clutching from the pain that he had not felt in so long, he lunged for his crown.

He quickly put it on, and the dagger popped out.

However, the court and the world now knew his weakness.

He didn't even get his chance to see how this would unfold,

For on that day, he entered his chambers, his son was waiting for him.

He sprang up, knocked the crown off the king's head,

grabbed it, and stuck it through the king's heart.

Then, the son, full of hatred and fear, took the king's crown and shattered it. He gathered all the pieces, put them in a box,

and put the box far, far away."

The Jesk stopped, looking at the crowd.

"And that is the tale. Any questions?"

The entire tavern, transfixed, was stopped in silence.

"What was that, Mr. Curious? You still wish to know if it was Myth or History?" The Jesk laughed. "Why dont you ask the witch?"

Did you like it?

I did! It's good!

[CoderDrag0n8 He/They]

3 minutes ago, mippo said:

Thanks!

 

I did! It's good!

Thank you

i tried to do well on it

[___ He/Him]

9 minutes ago, CoderDrag0n8 said:

Thank you

i tried to do well on it

Yeah I like how it's someone telling a story