The Grimoire,

And then this was a thing:

This topic will be for me to throw out actual story ideas and concepts. If I have enough to go off and actually start making the story (like with Undertaken) then I will probably make a topic for that specific story. For anything that I just think, huh that would be fun to write, that goes here.


One interesting trope I have noticed is that sometimes in a story you have an anti-hero who, if the bad guys left him alone, they would be unstoppable. Because they piss off that one particular guy, or more commonly realize that he is 'the Chosen One', they keep coming after him again and again to try and kill him, and due to those actions, the anti-hero is drawn into the fight and the Bad Guys inevitably lose, because they had to try and kill him when he just wanted to be left alone.
So I thought, why not have a story where they actually...didn't?
Where they came in to kill him and he was just like, 'Seriously, I don't care what you do, just stay away from me. Leave me alone, and we won't have a problem.' And the Bad Guys were just like, 'uuuuum, okay.'
It would end up being a post-apocalyptic world most likely, in the aftermath of that. The protagonist would likely be a survivor of the catastrophe, and would spend at least part of the story trying to pull the guy into the fight.
Whether or not he would actually join the war is debatable, but I suppose it would be possible.
Weird, though

Character/Story Concept
Girl just finished college, and is packing up to head across country to take up a position in a firm across the country. She is a bit nervous because she still doesn’t have a car of her own, but her dad tells her not to worry, because his old best friend, who had just passed away, had promised to give her a car.

Sure enough, in his will the deceased mechanic bequeaths her an old muscle car that he and his son (also deceased) had worked on together.

It’s powerful, gets surprisingly good gas mileage, and is a shockingly good car, even if it smells strongly of must and oil.

Still, something isn’t right
She can’t tell what it is, but the car almost seems to be…alive.

Like it’s taking care of her or something


…Aaaaand that’s about as far as I have gotten
I know the girl is loosely based on filia from skullgirl, and the car is probably going to be a ‘70s-era Dodge Charger, unless I can think of something more suitable.

Other than that, crazy hijinks ensue.

Someone remind me to write that random idea about the gargoyles...

Write that random idea about gargoyles

Here is what we have so far:

A college-age girl and her best friend, the first girl's father (a best-selling author who dabbles in magick), and a bunch of other people

++ also and the estate that they live on
the mansion is rather beautiful, but it is filled with all sorts of fun dangers. these include, but are not limited to:
living gargoyles that watch every going-on
ensorcelled animals
magical topiary that wanders the grounds and tend to devour people they come across
and a shit-ton of other dark, fairy tale things i am currently forgetting

It should also be mentioned that the estate is growing. Literally. Through some (as yet unknown) but doubtlessly sorcerous force, the estate is pushing outward, engulfing the neighboring land and incorporating it into its ever-expanding maze of gardens and forests. This includes not just the land, the hills and grass and trees, but also houses, vehicles, roads, and if they are unlucky enough, people.

The father is a natural storyteller, and has always told his daughter fantastic tales.
At some point in the past, after the death of the girl's mother (which may or may not have been his fault), the father begins to weave magic to ensure that his daughter can always believe in fairy tales, because she will live among them. These spells take a heavy toll on the man, and by the time of the book, he is dying.
By this time, his stories have also made him a world-famous author, with most of his works being fantasy fiction, inspired by the tales he heard when he traveled the world as a younger man.
The girl has been off at college, and is returning home during a break, bringing her best friend with her. Best friend does not get to see much of the estate as they arrived (she was tired, and it was like, 2 in the morning), but she is a little taken aback by the girl's bedroom.
Well, not so much the bedroom itself, but by the fact that there are Four, Full-Sized Gargoyles at the corners of the bed.
She doesn't really feel welcome. She doesn't know why, but she feels threatened.
The girl does some strange and silly little ritual, and claims "you are family now"
friend doesn't think a few words will make her feel better, but the uneasiness subside. They go to sleep.
The wake up the next day, and friend realizes the estate is a lot bigger than she first guessed.

And there is also a lot more going on.
She can feel it.

People have been disappearing. The long-time employees of the estate are actually worried. Even with her friend's blessing, she feels very skittish.
And a lot of strange stuff starts happening, especially around the girl.

The weirdest part? The girl doesn't even seem to notice.
Taking a walk were they just were, and a new path has sprung up: "sounds fun"
Walking down that trail and a full-grown fucking tiger pads out of the forest in front of them: she gives it a pat
The topiary statues are exactly 10 feet away anytime the girl's friend looks back: mhmm

What will be the actual plotline? no idea, yet. it will most certainly have something to do with the magick surrounding the girl, and the various inhabitants of the growing estate. Maybe there will be a quest to stop the estate's growth, some ancient evil is getting through and the girl and her friend must make use of the estate's defenses to stop it.
Or maybe the girl turns nasty, or always was and was faking obliviousness. perhaps she is plotting to destroy the mundane world around her, and re-imagine a brand-new fairy tale playground for her to explore.

Either way, the girl grew up
and so did the stories
and the entire world is waiting to see which words she will make come true first.

My only real question is, do i want to make the girl the protagonist, or her best friend?
.
.
...yeah, probably the best friend

More often than not, necromancy is considered one of the despicable forms of magic, feared most certainly, but usually just disgusting, and not worth the sacrifice in power to focus in

but, what if

what if necromancy was actually the rarest and most dangerous form of magic there was.
perhaps in a world where magic is a bit more rare

In a world at war, a figure steps out of the shadows, and offers services to whoever will give what he asks- and when someone does, he raises an army of the dead
an army that does not stop, tire, or fear. an army that needs no materials or food. all you need is to pay this man

make a story or a roleplay out of THAT. of a necromancer, maybe one of the players, maybe a dmpc, joining an army, and the pcs are the squad attached to defend him or her at all costs

or a soldier suddenly finding that he possess the gift of necromancy out of nowhere

about two necromancers, working for opposite sides, dueling one another.

I mean, think about it, necromancy is, by definition, the focus on Manipulating, Creating, and Destroying Life. Even someone with just a little talent for necromancy would be absolutely terrifying.

She wore a long, flowing dress of brilliant white, with a train of puffy silk snaking behind her as she walked. The gown was elegant, and hugged the curves of her body just enough to entice the imagination without giving it too much to work with.
    white satin opera gloves encased her arms to the elbows, with gold thread embroidered in, starting at the fingertips and snaking their way, almost invisibly, and conjoining to a single wavy strand just below her tricep.
     On her right middle finger was a large ring- masculine in design, but the band was fitted to her more slender digit- set with a diamond. her only other accessory was a glass rod pinning her hair up in an elegant fashion that Steven could not call a name to.
     her lips were frosted with gloss, understated, but drawing attention further up the line of her face, which brought one to the eyes. They were framed with winged eyeliner and painted with gold, and each of her lashes had been accentuated to draw contrast to the beautiful color.

a pity her eyes didn't match the innocence the image crafted.
That was the only problem.
There were plenty of models and power players in the mix tonight, and many wore similar looks; some looked hungry, some looked contemptuous, some arrogant
    but hers? Empty. A windswept Arctic tundra.

The boys and girls in the make-up department back at headquarters must have bullied her for hours to get her to wear that get-up. Steven couldn't recall ever seeing her in something so extravagant, and it didn't suit her personality one bit.  If it made her uncomfortable, which it probably did, she never showed it.

And it hit Steven in that moment that seeing her like this, a picture of beauty and purity, an angel, actually made him, for a split second, forget what he had seen her accomplish. And that was what scared Steven the most about that night- not the political maelstrom that was brewing, not the territory marking, not the hordes of bodyguards, and not even the terrorist threat that was in this very room

It was that a necromancer could look just like any of them



Just a little blurb I thought of while I was at work
going off the tangent in the above post, just going with a more modern angle
needs work, I know, but it is after midnight, and I need to be up in 5 hours. Sue me

Continuation of this ^ post:

I have actually got a plot, kind of
more to the point I have several. both take place in the same world, where magic exists, to an extent, and of the branches of magic necromancy is by far the most rare and dangerous of them all.

Most of these stories will take place in the 'past', which is an era much like most d&d settings- kind of medieval, kingdoms vying for positions of power and respect, and sorcery is an art discovered in war and is only now being adapted to everyday life. These stories will follow a number of characters for different reasons- some born mages, some not. All of these stories will be driven or shaped by necromancy
as will the last one

The last story, which I want to make more of a series, takes place far in the future, in a world more like ours, or even more futuristic.
At some point in the past, necromancy faded into mystery. people stopped being born with the ability, and after a while most people stopped believing it was anything more than myth. Necromancers became the boogeymen, scary stories to tell children to make them behave.

At this point in time, necromancy is returning, or at the least coming back out of the shadows, and gods is it a sight to behold

Anyway, this series follows a necromancer of considerable power who, for whatever reason, decides to join an as-yet-unnamed agency, helping them solve crimes and deal with crisis situations.
Thing is, despite how much power she displays, her co-workers get the feeling that she is holding back
A lot.
That she is just going through the motions
Not only that, but she keeps going through old records when she is off the clock, taking trips at odd intervals, and collecting artifacts that, even for a necromancer, are a it odd.

Come to find out that is actually destined to fight another necromancer and kill him. More than that, this mage, who has lived for a considerably long time, wants to be killed by her

but she isn't strong enough to kill him yet

You see, this mage is not only a necromancer, but also has control over time. So, whenever they meet and duel, and he inevitably defeats her, he de-ages her, turning her back into an infant, so that she can gain more power and perhaps beat him the next time.
Obviously, that hasn't happened yet.

Now, she retains memory of her powers when she reverts, but she has no memory of her past lives (and yes, there have been many). The only times she gets a hint of who she really is is when she sees the mage, and even then she only gets clear knowledge of who and what he is to her, and moreover what he has done to her.

Anyways, that's the basic plot. Don't expect feedback, but if anyone feels the need to comment, feel free

Juevo was getting tired of waiting.
His throat was dry, and his head throbbed from lack of water. His back was stiff from leaning against the concrete wall for hours on end. All around him, his comrades voiced similar complaints at their de facto leader, Abshir, who in return told them to keep their traps shut.
They had been here for a long time, having arrived on-site early to make a proper impression. After all, this was supposed to be a powerful mage, and the General had made it very clear to Abshir that he would not take no for an answer. So, they had thought best to impress him, give a display of force, preparedness, and forward thinking.
Now time was quickly passing, the sun had long since set, and the mage had yet to show.
Juevo sighed and pushed away from his section of wall, thinking he might be able to bully a drink of water out of one of the younger guys.
As he walked, he looked out over the city once again. This had once been a metropolis- a hundred-thousand lively souls had once called this place home. That was before the last war, before hundreds of bombs had rained down on the city. That had been almost forty years ago now, but not a single person had come back to rebuild the city. No one had even tried. They said the city, the land itself was cursed.
It kept the locals away, but even a guerilla veteran like Juevo got jumpy hanging around these ruins. Something just wasn’t right about this place.
Not for the first time Juevo wondered why the damn mage had made this junk heap their rendezvous point. It was too far out of the way, it offered no tactical advantage to a single individual, and it was already too dark to pull any kind of—
Just then, Juevo spotted something. At first, he wasn’t certain it was actually there. If you stared into the darkness too long wishing for something to be there, eventually your mind would create the scenes for you. But sure enough, it was really there, a tiny flicker of light in the deepening darkness of the ruined city.
“Abshir”, Juevo hissed, “Abshir!” There was an urgency in his voice. This was the first hint of any human life they had seen since they had gotten here.
“What!”
“Light! In the city!”
Cries flew up from the men as they were roused from their boredom-induced stupor. They swarmed to the city overlooks, pointing and chattering loudly, until a bark from Abshir silenced them.
“What of the light? The mage said he would meet us here, so here we shall wait.”
Boos ensued.
“Actually,” started Jeuvo, “he only said within the city limits. This is the first w—“
Abshir cut him off, “And if it is not? What then, boy? If we go into the city and the mage arrives to find our forces gone, what will he think of us?”
More booing. One of the other men retorted, “And if he is there and we do not meet him properly and respectfully?”
The men chattered in agreement.
“Yeah”. “Who else could it be?” “No choice, really…” “we have to go”
Abshir massaged the bridge of his nose. A vein in his temple was starting to pulse. Juevo thought it prudent to stop the ensuing disaster early. “A compromise,” he declared. “We will send a team down into the city to see if that is indeed the mage. The rest of the squad will remain here on the off-chance that we are merely chasing a ghost.” He paused, looking around for signs of acknowledgement. Most of the faces were nodding in agreement. A few of the older ones remained impassive, but only Guntaal, Abshir’s right-hand man, actually looked at him with any hostility.
Abshir snorted in disgust, but he relented.
“Fine then. Since you’re so keen on this, Juevo, I suppose you and yours can join me. The rest can resume positions under Guntaal’s direction.” He looked around, but he looked not for agreement, but for challenge. None were forthcoming. Guntaal grinned and raised his chin proudly, but no one was looking at him.
Juevo raised a call to his boys as he jogged back to his place and grabbed his rifle, his thirst forgotten in the excitement. Finally, the game was in motion…


The game had stopped being fun about five minutes into the trek. Once they were beyond the fluttering light of the fires, their only guiding lights were the tips of their cigarettes and the faint, distant glimmer that was their destination. Between those two points was a stretch of snarled, sharp rock that shifted under the feet, decayed rubble that sought to ensnare passers-by, and all manner of holes in which one could snap an ankle. It was painful and treacherous, but Juevo dared not complain- he had, after all, volunteered for this. If he voiced any discomfort, he would not only lose face, but likely his life as well.
The light Juevo had first seen ended up being nearly three kilometers into the city. The men struggled and bled in the tough terrain. The constant uphill/downhill quickly had them sweating. Juevo’s thirst returned with a vengeance, but he quashed the desire to ask for a drink.
At long last, the source of the light came into view- it was a broken structure that must have, at one point, been a two-story family home, but was now nothing but a wreck. Still, a warm yellow light spilled from the lower story window where the living room must have been. There was no possible way that the power lines were connected to this place, but there was a distinct lack of any machines whirring; no vehicles growled, no generators hummed, but that light had to be coming from somewhere. Maybe the mage had created the light with his magic?
Abshir signaled the men to spread out, and they took positions around the house. Juevo, being squad leader, took position at the door and waited for Abshir’s signal to—
Wait.
What was that sound?
Something was playing inside the room- sounds Juevo almost remembered, like a thought suddenly revisited after a long interlude.
Nothing about this mission seemed right. The location, the light, the house, and now these sounds.
Juevo almost didn’t notice Abshir’s signal, but he got the hint as the man next to him rushed into the entryway, and he ran forward to take his station.

All training went out the window the moment the men stepped into the room. Even Abshir stopped dead, his eyes wide with wonder.

Instead of being strewn with ash and burned wreckage, the house was clean and sparse. The few pieces of furniture were upended, but in superb condition. The light came not from any sorcery or vehicle, but from bulbs, intact in the ceiling, impossibly functioning without a generator or power lines.
The air was cool on Juevo’s skin, and he realized the AC was on. Air conditioning- Juevo had not experienced such a sensation since he was a child playing at his mother’s feet in the town deli, before the new laws had closed it for good. This wasn’t possible, but here, in the middle of ruins of what was once the greatest city in the country, where the humidity still made their feet squelch in their boots, the air was cool. The sweat gelled on their skin as they stood there in awe.

In the middle of the room, on a simple metal folding chair sat a man. He was positioned with his back to them, facing of all things a television. The sounds that Juevo had first heard were the speakers of the ancient device, playing an episode of a cartoon children’s show that none of them had seen since boyhood. Again, the device should not have been functioning without electricity, but there it sat, cheerfully chanting a silly sing-a-long. Regardless, the man didn’t really seem to be paying attention.
The man appeared to be of some height and slightly heavyset, though not necessarily muscular. He wore a pair of simple jeans and a drab, oilskin coat. He sat hunched forward, resting his elbows upon his knees.
“You’re late”
The statement was low in pitch and intensity, but it was filled with authority and power, and rolled like thunder in the open space. It snapped Abshir out of his stunned silence, and he immediately began to make apologies.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but we—“
“I know why you’re late. That was what we like to call a statement, boy, now quit wasting your breath.”
Abshir’s mouth hung open and then snapped shut.
“I know you and your General in his fortified basement want to impress me into allying to your cause, but understand this, if I had not intended to join your cause I would not have contacted you to begin with.”
The squad members outside the windows-intact, against all odds- were staring in at the man with wide eyes.
“I asked to meet me here for one reason: to remind you that, however terrible you think your government is, however devastating its armies, despite the horrors you have seen in your skirmishes, in famine and in war, I am far worse.”
The man stood. The men could hear his joints crackling and popping. The man rolled his head about his shoulders, realigning the vertebrae in his neck. Finally, he turned around, and Juevo got his first look at the mage’s face. His skin was a bit tight on his bones. His eyes were sunken into his face, eyes a deep blue that made Juevo feel as if he were sinking. The man had a full beard, a dirty blonde heavily gone to grey, but was bald upon his scalp.
The man picked up a small, black duffel bag that no one had noticed from beside the chair and pulled out a bottle of water. Zipping it closed, the man looped the bags handles over his left shoulder. He took slow, heavy steps towards the group, and they took a collective, involuntary step backwards. The man stopped, but took no notice of them as he uncapped the bottle and took a swig. He recapped it, and rather suddenly lobbed it in Juevo’s direction.
Juevo was so shocked he almost didn’t catch it, and even so he juggled it several times before successfully snatching it out of the air with both hands, holding it straight out in front of him. He looked back up to find the man staring at him.
“Drink up boy. I won’t have you dying on me just yet.”
With that, the man wordlessly walked out of the house. The squad stood dumbly for a moment before Abshir stirred and started gesturing them out of the building. As Juevo was supposed to be the first member in the house, he was the last to exit.
Right as he was about to exit the building, he felt something unusual- it was becoming warm. Rapidly. The air conditioning had stopped humming, and the heat was leaking back into the house like water.
The house creaked and sighed, like it was releasing a heavy burden. Juevo turned on his heels, and felt his stomach drop.
The light was dimming as the temperature increased. The picture on the television screen stretched and twisted, and the speakers screeched as the image and sounds faded to static and died with a pop. Moments later, the screen disintegrated and the box was reduced a broken shell.
All about the room the sparse furniture elongated and turned to matchsticks. Dust filled the room, making Juevo’s lungs spasm and his eyes water. Ash covered the floor and chunks of the wall fell to the floor. The metal folding chair in which the mage had sat rusted red in a heartbeat, and the glass in the windows vanished in jagged shards. Ivy and lichen sprouted up the walls, small bushes broke the floor in front of the windows. The sounds of insects, utterly absent since the squad had entered the house, suddenly seemed oppressively loud.

Juevo’s mouth gaped like a fish’s, his eyes wide. His blood drained from his face, and his stomach flip-flopped. He was going to be sick. His fingers locked tightly around the mage’s water bottle, making it crinkle loudly in the room that now resembled every other building in the city: a crumbled, decayed and forgotten ruin.
His legs shook violently as he took one shaky step backward, then another, before he spun desperately and sprinted out of the house as the lights of the house finally sputtered out.
The city was dark once more.

Note:

three people walk down a hall, the man in the middle slightly in front, a man to the right, a woman to the left, and slightly behind.
Sounds stereotypical, until you start thinking of the reasoning behind their arrangement:

The man in front may not be the leader of the group, but he is their face, their voice, so he has to be centered and prominent in order to grab the attention of those he needs to

The man on the right is not the 'right-hand man'; in fact he is probably the least important of the group. If everything goes well, he won't even be needed, and if the shit hits the fan then he only has so much ammo. But he is the muscle, the intimidation factor. More importantly, he is the man with the gun, and since he is right-handed, he can be anywhere else without his gun hand being obstructed.

The girl is arguably the most important of the trio, because the discussion is probably going to go badly for them, and they are going to be vastly outnumbered. It is her job, as the mage, to make sure they all get out alive when everything goes to hell. Towards that end, she needs the extra distance to keep her out of harm's way and to attract less attention to herself, and to keep her left hand, through which she manifests her magic, unobstructed.

Just a blurb. You may move along now

Dream? Reality? Aside from magnitude there is no difference, and fantasy is by far the worse affliction.
Life paints you a beautiful picture atop a pile of decaying bones, and you imagine for yourself a better world. But how is it better? It is an even bigger lie, because fantasy doesn't exist anywhere but within your head.
Death alone offers clarity and vision, and you reject it solely on the fact that the truth it reveals to you is "uncomfortable"
You know what? Life is worse.
Time to grow up, little girl





Psychic Self-Indulgence

Her 'legal' name, the one that she gives to her team, is Malconthet Kothar
the team mostly calls her Mal

One of her aliases is Molvira

Her real name is Malconthet Minlauneth

if you want where those names come from and what they mean, ask

back to work

In the Necro AU (reeeeeeally thinking i might just need to make that its own topic), there are 'asylums' for people with magic potential. Like any real asylum, these facilities exist for both people with minor and severe problems, for people who just need a little time to readjust before going back out into the world, and for people who are so unstable that they need long-term/permanent treatment and supervision. Still, like their real-world counterparts, the purpose of these asylums is to help people get better, to rehabilitate them and to get them back in a position where they can lead a 'normal' life.

Unfortunately, also like their real-world counterparts, they can become rife with corruption, greed, and sadism.

Mal, at least in her latest lifetime, spent a great deal of her childhood in one of these disturbing places.
That place has also, by the time the story starts, ceased to exist. No one knows what happened, but one day all connections to the place just stopped. A couple days passed before anyone got up the nerve to go and check on the asylum (it had a reputation, after all). The people that returned were not the same ones that had departed- they had been changed by their experience.
The facility they described would have fit in with most video game or literature interpretations of asylums- seemingly possessed by spirits, inhabited by things that should not be, inmates walking free, writing on the walls, etc. Prime difference: when captured, the people were not killed, but dragged before a patch of darkness, from which a girl's voice emanated. When they told the voice their reason for coming, the voice had their captors drag them all about the ruined building, experiencing everything the inmates had gone through on a daily basis. When they were finally dragged before the voice again, it told them to take all they had learned and take it to the surrounding towns.
What has happened to those poor souls since is yet to be determined, but it is unlikely that they went on to live happy lives

As for the asylum itself, no subsequent findings were conclusive with what had been described, and no singular voice made itself known to investigators. Locals still see it as haunted though, and keep their distance, so the asylum has fallen to disrepair.
On some nights, though, local teens, out for a stroll and a chance to prove themselves tougher than their peers, enter those forbidden grounds, and some of them swear that they have seen a figure their, sometimes arriving, sometimes leaving, sometimes simply meandering.

But it always notices them.

Not one of them to date has stayed long enough to find out what it is or what it wants, and it is unlikely any ever will


**********************************************************************************

This one won't make sense without some backstory, but it is late and I am wanting to go to bed, so i am jotting this down while it is still fresh:

Stephen has gotten used to his unusual houseguest, but not really
they sleep in the same bed, they eat at the same table- stephen has even taken her out a couple of times, bought her a few things

Well, she tries to do something nice for him, to pay him back for his hospitality and companionship
alas, she tries to do so after a string of unfortunate accidents and on a day when stephen has had a particularly bad day at work. needless to say, he does not take her gift well

When he goes to work the next day, it is nagging in the back of his mind, distracting him. As this inhibits his ability to give Mal updates on the case, she demands to know what is on his mind. So stephen tells her

And Mal, who never really shows emotion, basically says,
'stephen, you are an asshole. she is trying to do something nice for you after everything have done for her- all the things you could have let slip and fall by the wayside but you did anyway- and you throw her attempt to repay you back in her face and treat her badly over something that she has absolutely nothing to do with. Go home and apologize, and never seek to hurt her in any fashion again, because even if she won't hurt you if you continue on this course of action I will hurt you'

okay, going to bed

Mal does not often get divine visions, but she does on occasion, and when that happens, they are never, ever wrong.

Example: Mal never attends any get-togethers, but one day a very polite co-worker, having heard she would be spending the night alone, insisted that she come to dinner with him and his wife. Much to everyone's surprise, she said yes.

The wife was a good bit pissed, and rather jealous, but while the man was out of the room and she tried to needle her Mal turned to her and asked a few basic relationship questions- do you know his birthday? his favorite take-out dish? his favorite movies? the moment you knew he loved you? And having received a yes on all accounts, Mal told her that she had nothing to fear from her, because she knew none of those things; they were only coworkers.

During dinner, Mal notices that the couple is conversing very awkwardly, not knowing what to say in her presence, so she bends an illusion that makes them forget that she is there, and the night goes much more smoothly; the couple happily talks about their days, their plans, each other and people they know.

The evening is coming to a close, and the man walks Mal outside, where he asks her what has happened that night. She tells him how she manipulated things to erase herself from the picture, and how it made the night much more enjoyable. The man is slightly crestfallen that she took on such a lonesome burden, but Mal tells him that that is her lot in life, that hers is not to live as he does.
She then tells him that he is going to go back inside and make love to his wife, because he would not get the chance tomorrow.

A moment passes between them.

The man, understanding, begins to sob, but does indeed go back inside and makes love to his wife.

The next day, the case comes to a climax, and the man inevitably dies.

At the funeral, Mal admits that she knew that the man would die. When asked by the weeping widow why she didn't try to change his actions, she informs her that the universe would simply adjust itself to ensure that the result was the same, even if the circumstances were much worse- if the man had tried to run, he would have gotten in a terrible accident, and if he had stayed home, the suspect would have found him there and killed him before slaughtering his wife and unborn daughter

beat

the woman starts to break down crying, but Mal puts one finger under her chin and lifts her head up. She then touches the woman's abdomen with her free hand and says a few words.
Mal turns to leave, saying,

'Do stay out of trouble, won't you dear? I would hate to think all this effort will have gone to waste...'

tl;dr: Mal knows the man would die no matter what, tells him to have sex, which he does. Man dies, and Mal protects pregnant widow with curse that will kill anyone that tries to fuck with her.

Guy is driving somewhere central west U.S. Guy’s car breaks down. Guy wanders to town, and into town diner to ask for help and directions. Girl on motorcycle arrives- diner is nervous, guy is clueless. Girl eats lunch, offers guy ride, guy accepts. Girl takes him and meets up with her friends. Girl is full-patch member of motorcycle club, while guy is investigative reporter. Club rides to perform some dangerous task, girl does the most damage and accomplishes goal. Reader finds out that reporter was going to write a tell-all about the club, but seeing girl’s sacrifice decided not to. Guy loses job, girl laughs, guy becomes member of club. Club continues to do stuff.

Skeleton of the story, but it gets the point across. The motorcycle club makes people nervous because, well, they are a motorcycle club- rough people riding motorcycles and carrying guns. Still, the club are good people at heart. They go out of their way, risking life and limb for people who don’t always know or appreciate what they do.
Sometimes they are recognizable. One of the stories involves them coming to a town to run protection on a girl who was sexually abused while she testifies at trial. The reason they came to town is because guy she is testifying against is mob-related and tight with the police, so the entire town is against the girl and her mother (dad fled town), and trying to get them to back down. The club simultaneously protects the girl and her mother while also solving the case and gathering enough evidence to go to trial and win (it is in cases like this that the reporter guy starts to come in really handy, because getting to the bottom of things, despite odds and obstacles, is what he as a reporter does best).
There might be some supernatural themes, there might not be.
Anyway, like I said the girl is a full-patch member of the group. Only, she doesn’t wear a patch jacket- she wears a jacket with line of long fringe going up one sleeve across her back and down the other sleeve. Some of the fringe strips have little silver charms on the end, and it turns out they are symbolic (this is also her second jacket; her first one had so many charms that it wasn’t comfortable to wear anymore). Turns out the club was attacked once upon a time by a large number of enemies, and the only reason it exists today is because that girl came along and killed a massive number of the enemies. She was made a full-patch member pretty much on the spot.
Back to the point, girl is decently pretty, slightly scarred, and incredibly strong. She is light-hearted and free-spirited (when she picked up the guy, she was technically miles out of her way), and happy to help people. Always has a smile on her face, and always willing to make time to help others, but by no means slow or naïve; if someone is trying to trick her and she is playing along, she has a plan in mind to fuck that person six ways from Sunday, she’s just biding her time
Don’t know what bikes the club would ride yet, but I know the girl’s will be different, maybe a Kawasaki Vulcan instead of a Harley. *shrugs*
Guy is kind of classic reporter: intuitive, tenacious, unruly, and willing to stab someone in the back to get a good story. That being said, he does have some good qualities, and can recognize that goodness in others, and can hold himself to standards if need be. May or may not be too attached to his job, as he was reluctant to go out there looking for a story in the first place, and when his boss fired him he wasn’t all that broken up about it. Some inspiration, and a lot of similarity, could be drawn between this guy and Rock from Black Lagoon.
Girl was known for riding solo, but after the reporter joins he rides behind her. Makes for a fun dynamic, don’t you think?
Rest of the club is a blank. I know there is a Russian girl with a foul mouth, a really big guy that the reporter mistakes for the leader initially, and an older guy (50s or 60s) who actually did run the club until the attack where girl joined. Then there is actual leader. Other than that, nothing. Straight nothing



Other idea was something I know was supernatural.
Gigantic circus, even bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. Caters to all your entertainment needs, from standard, family friendly stuff to arcades and video games to insane daredevil tricks to adult entertainment.
Original inspiration was a few years ago when I was at KU Band Day at KU’s memorial stadium, and I just looked up and thought to myself, I wonder how big a circus could fit under a tent that big? Mind you, that tent would end up being probably a hundred feet high at its peak, and would completely cover the football stadium, seats and all. Hell, now that I think about it the flaps would probably cover the parking lot too.
Anyway, the idea is that this is a supernatural traveling circus, the spirit of all circus performers, but very much twisted and darkened. All sorts of weird fetishes and interests are catered to, if you can stomach watching it. Also no real notion of privacy: girl and boy are making out at the tippy top of the bleachers, and suddenly spotlight, and the announcer starts giving them advice, the clowns yell out suggestions, and the crowd, thinking it is part of the show, cheers them on. That kind of thing.
Well, girl happens to be lost, and stumbles into the circus quite by accident, after it is closed down. The person at the ticket booth leads her through the darkened bigtop, past all the inactive rides, machines, and other attractions, until they get ‘backstage’ where some of the staff are lounging. Turns out that most of the people would definitely qualify for the freak show: a guy with thin skin and blood who, when he drinks blood thinner or paint thinner (yeah, straight out of the bottle), you can see straight through his skin to all of his organs and shit. Another girl with naturally deep red skin (belly dancer, in case you had to know). They take care of the poor girl, wrapping her in blankets, bringing her tea, and putting on a little show to cheer her up.
But, when the circus goes to move on in the morning, she can’t leave. She is now part of the circus.
Not only that, but no matter what town they hit, and no matter how crazy they get, no one remembers going there. They only remember something big happened, and they feel all kinds of emotions: sadness, elation, embarrassment, but mostly straight happiness. They never know why, though…

Yeah, never actually had a plot for this one, it was just a blurb; fun idea that never went anywhere and never had to. If it ever became anything it would probably be a short story, or a series of short stories as the case may be.

Mmm, I see your problem kid
You think that by becoming one of the undead that the laws of the reality won't apply to you anymore, that as a ghost you will be outside the rules

Well kid, that's probably one of the stupidest things I've ever heard.

Everyone is subject to rules, even me. sometimes especially me

There are always laws of some kind, like gravity. some of them can be bent, others can be broken, but there are a few laws in particular that you don't break- they break you

The living have their laws, and so do the dead. So do the fairies, so do the dwarves, and so do the dragons. Some of these boundaries overlap, or fall under the same roof, but for the most part we exist solely within our own circles, living to living, dead to dead, mortal to mortal, immortal to immortal. Open to those within the same circle, but exempt to the laws of all others.

When you switch sides, like from living to dead, you divest yourself the rules you lived by, but that doesn't mean you can then exist without rules- you just trade out and pick up a new set.


So, you little plan still sound all that appealing?

I has a story idea:

Girl is born. When she is 5 years old she is taken by her father so that he can groom her to be his apprentice and take over his business... as a contract killer

Age 12- she is taken on jobs as bait and and espionage tool. She suffers abuse of all kinds on jobs, but she gets shit done

Age 14- she is formally taken into the business, taking the deep-web codename Princess, alongside her father's King

Fast forward to Age 17- her father is killed on a mission. Since she is still legally underage, she has to move to her uncle's. She closes down shop, ships her gear to a storing facility under several false names, and informs her contacts that she will be taking a short sabbatical, and will be opening for business in several weeks when all issues are ironed out.

She moves to the new city, and unfortunately has to enroll in public school to keep up appearances. Once there, she tries to keep to her roll as an average teenager, excelling in some classes and 'failing' in others (she's done harder studies before). As part of her act, she goes to another girl in her class so she can get tutoring and 'catch up in math'.
What she did not expect was to actually befriend this girl.
However, her new friend, being slightly dorky, gets picked on a lot, and one day the bullying gets particularly bad. Her friend gets accused of sexual relations with a teacher, and faces a lot of public ridicule.

And for one split moment, our main girl's facade falls.

But she gets herself under control. She quietly gets up, leads her friend outside, and takes her home. She calls up the other people in the poor girl's friendgroup and invites them over for a night of movies and gaming, and also to keep an eye on their mutual friend while she goes out to run some errands.

That night, the popular kids who bullied her friends, who were having a party without parental supervision, suffer a serious home invasion by some local gangbangers, and all of them die as a result

The girl who was bullied is miraculously forgotten about in wake of the tragedy, allowing her to go back to regular life unheeded.

And the series goes on, with our sweet little contract killer going about defending this girl and her friends, no matter what it takes, all the while trying to balance her job as an assassin and her daily life as a high school student.

At some point in the series, CK tells her friend that she will never lie to her, promises to tell her the truth, no matter how painful it may be- all she has to do is ask. Early on in the series, and very important.

The series ends with CK finally getting caught. She is not talking. Her friend is brought in, having been told by the FBI agent in charge what they suspect of CK, but nothing else. Girl asks CK, and CK knows she is trapped. She stays true to herself, and tells her friend everything, effectively confessing to dozens of murders she did in defense of her, as well as all those she did under codename Princess.
Girl realizes too late that she has been tricked, and tries ineffectively to take it all back.

CK is put on death row. Girl attends her execution. When asked if she has any last words, CK just looks at the one-way mirror and calmly says, 'no'

She is executed

The girl is inconsolable, but her friends try and cheer her up. They leave for a minute to get some stuff, and suddenly
There is CK.
Turns out she has been taking injections like that one for years, since her training began, just for this occasion.


Honestly, I kind of pictured this as an anime instead of a book, but either way i think it would be really cool, to explore the mind and world of a contract killer who, as it turns out, is still a person. She is highly trained and viciously capable, of course, but as her cover becomes her life, she shows emotion more and more naturally, as she finds that she does want some small moments of happiness, some little things out of life.

Like it, hate it, comment about it- or am i by myself in here?

Finally getting back to the post from May 28th

If you'll recall, I mentioned that the second half of the post (regarding stephen and his roommate) required a little bit of back-story. Well, here it is:

'Stephen' is the name currently given to the effective team leader and head investigator of the federal unit Mal joined, and is also her liaison.

As for the 'roommate', she was actually a former suspect and wanted murderer that i based off a creepypasta i read a while back. Provided the link works, you can read it here (don't worry, it's a short one): http://www.pinterest.com/pin/291115563384460944/

I am having trouble remembering her justification, but she went after people who loved each other deeply, I know that; she would kill one, and let the partner do whatever (usually just lie down next to her), and in the morning she would be gone and they would find their spouse nailed to the wall.
Needless to say, Mal and company get involved.
They don't have a whole lot of luck finding her

So, Stephen goes home for the night, and climbs into bed
And as he is lying there, someone crawls into bed with him.

This causes him to immediately tense up, because Stephen lives ALONE.
guy has no love life, he is married to his job.
For whatever reason, she doesn't think that is fair, for a person to work so hard for others, but have no one to talk to and comfort them, or even hold them when they get home. So she pretty much just...moves in.

Stephen can never find her in the morning, can never catch her if he tries, but she is always around somewhere, and she always snuggles up with him at night. In some cases, it is possible she actually turns the place into a magical sanctuary, where he can be certain of his own personal safety (Stephen is a mundane, probably should have mentioned that earlier). Hell, that might even be why he got pissed at her to begin with.

Now, what makes this situation even more awkward, and possibly more entertaining, is that Mal actually knows she is there, and where she was in all the other cases. She didn't say anything because Mal actually likes her, and in the case of Stephen in particular she knows she means him no harm.

So, with no one else able to catch her and Mal refusing to do so, Stephen really has no other choice but to accept his new roomie.

Now that that is settled, go back up and re-read the post; with any luck it will make more sense now

Note to Self:

even if they are only temporary, give Every main character a name from now on; it is confusing to both other readers and to yourself trying to keep up with all the girls and boys, men and women.

Find a name randomizer, make use of it. Everyone will be much happier

The girl who grew a castle out of an airport

Her sister planted one in the middle of Time Square in NYC, and most of the city got twisted in

A battlefleet (don't know if Atlantic or Pacific) goes missing. Its materials are used to grow a citadel on the bottom of the ocean; think Rapture, but not really. Rapture was made to be a city, the citadel used scrounged material to build what it could

The memo of 'that is disgusting' went practically unnoticed on her mental desk filled with reports of pain from various parts of her body

Character trope: Dying alone
Hero carries the majorly powerful, evil artifact into the barren wasteland to keep its curse to him or herself and keep the innocents from dying.

After days in the desert, the hero, lost and dying from hunger and thirst (as the sacrifice demands) collapses on the dunes.

Then, the Hero is found, in the middle of the desert, by the main villain. The villain that was either tricked or outright defeated. Either way, he shouldn't be there.

Said baddie takes the evil artifact.
The hero, crawling at this point, tries to take it back, but is too weak to stop him.

The baddie has the option to kill the hero, or leave him/her in the dust to die.

For one reason or another- because the villain respects the hero, genuinely likes the hero, or wants the hero to watch as the villain's plan is ultimately successful because the hero wasn't strong enough- the villain takes the hero into his lair, and either nurses or has them nursed back to health, as his plan is being set into motion, of course.

Haven't got an actual story for this, yet. I know the hero is a critical player in the previous story, in this story, and because the villain saved him/her, will be a critical player in the next story, where they will have to escape from the villain's grasp and get rid of the artifact, or else just fight whatever the artifact did.

Either way, the villain and the hero will likely end up dying together
just lying in the ruins and wreckage, surrounded by the mass of corpses they destroyed, and smoke a cigarette as they bleed out, side-by-side

For a few years now, I thought it would be fun to write a short about a group of high school boys that liked to build bombs
not to blow up buildings, or cars, or any private property really
They just like the challenge of building bombs, and the visceral pleasure of setting them off

They got their hands on a large amount of materials, including a copy of the Anarchist's Cookbook
They also got found out by some school administrators and were reported to the cops. Faced some serious reprimand
All goes by, the year continues, and suddenly there are real terrorists in the buildings, who planted bombs all over the place.
Everyone is freaking out and panicking

But not them.
They calmly get up and spread out, taking each and every bomb apart, and turning over the disassembled detonators and dissected payloads to the cops
Then life goes on

I really want to read, or write, a story where the princess saves the adventurers.

Seriously

"Low fantasy is a sub-genre of fantasy fiction involving "nonrational happenings that are without causality or rationality because they occur in the rational world where such things are not supposed to occur"

Okay
Seriously

I want to write a story where these 'nonrational happenings' occur, and the only, and quite logical explanation, for them occurring is that they aren't supposed to.
Because let's face it:

The universe has a sense of humor