The Grimoire,

While it is often among the greatest desires of mankind, it is hard for me to think of a curse worse than immortality.
I don't need to throw you into the depths of space in such a state to drive you mad (though never you wonder, it would do the job). All I would need to do i make you immortal and force you to live your life endlessly. Imagine, watching your every investment eventually fall through as the world decides it doesn't need that thing anymore
Every person you get close to ages and dies, and all you can do is stand there and helplessly watch
You have forever to think about and agonize over your mistakes and failures.

Want to be really evil about the whole affair? Add another layer: make a small child immortal. Make an amputee immortal.
Make their immortality such that even come the Rapture, in its time, you will still be alive, only this time you are truly alone.

Not brilliant, not magical, not superhuman. Not immune to pain or emotion. Just alive. Forever.

Overheard my mother say this in a conversation recently: Whenever I come here (to the cancer center) I would not let your father go in one of the rooms. There is no one to talk to; it's like a prison

And I said, okay:

Someone of some importance to the character has cancer, and is undergoing chemo. She goes to every one of this person's sessions to watch over them. She gets there and goes into one of the rooms, shutting the door. Said patient is already asleep. She doesn't need to go out and talk to anyone; she just pulls out her laptop and does things, waiting for the treatment to finish.

UPDATES + some new junk

Biker gang story: while the club as a whole is probably somewhere in the realm of 50+ members, the group we follow numbers 13 bikers (this includes our main girl) plus 8 old ladies. This does not include the journalist

Necroverse: there will be a case Mal and Company get involved with where they find a book full of street names, and can't figure out what they are for, as there doesn't seem to be any particular pattern to them. Tired and out of ideas, they go get dinner at a local restaurant. When they order, instead of getting a number, they are given a stand with a street sign on it. They sit down and look around. Every other table has a different street sign.
The book was literally just the reclusive guy writing down his table designation at his favorite pizzeria.

OC:
Two things of derangement.
First, was watching some clips of Pacific Rim, and thought it would be interesting to have a Jaeger pilot who was so disturbed that they couldn't find a co-pilot for him, and any candidate who tried required psychological counseling afterward. I wondered what would happen if and when they were ever able to find someone who could actually deal with him, as that person would need to be very similar in matters of psychological well-being.

This brings me to second thing
A couple of years ago, I was reading a d&d sourcebook called Exemplars of Evil, and found a section about the obviously evil and psychotic villain finding someone just like him, a soulmate if you will. I thought was an interesting thought, but me being me I added my own twist on it. You have a villain like that, who enjoys inflicting pain on people, killing, eating flesh, drinking blood- you know the type of villain I am talking about.
Well, in the course of the story, he was brought on by a cult to do some protection for one of their rituals. I don't know how she got there, but there was a girl in my imagining, who was not part of the cult, protection group, guards, or anyone else. She was a noble girl, who somehow got there at the wrong place at the wrong time, and ended up covered in blood.
Now, the cult and the guards start fighting, but our villain sees this girl, and that is it; he has decided that she is his soulmate. From that image, he envisions the rest of her as someone just like him. He is wrong of course, but that ceases to matter.
And from that point on, we have this villain constantly following this poor girl, trying to get her to show her 'true self', professing his love for her, killing people in her defense (whether it was necessary or not; there will be cases of both). Simultaneously a powerful guardian and an incalculable danger to her.

Aaand I am reminded of Yuno from Mirai Nikki. Except older. And male. Fuck.

The evil queens are the princesses who were never saved
Okay
Have an ‘evil queen’ find one of these princesses, and rescues her, because she knows what it is like to be lost and scared and helpless like that.
This creature, that the rest of the world considers heartless and cruel, has a spot of compassion. You will find most people do



For a story in the olden days of Necroverse, have a situation like when the monster in Frankenstein took refuge in the peasants’ hut, except have the wretch be a necromancer instead.
He quietly takes up residence in their shed, and secretly starts repaying them for his use of it
One day the house is attacked by bandits. The young man and the old man are beaten, and the girl is about to be raped when the necromancer steps in and swiftly slaughters the lot of them
Past that, who knows


Sometimes it’s better to tell the ending first. Give the preface of how everything turns out to the reader, then go back and tell them how they got to this point.
A series usually contains several storylines, otherwise there is little point in making it a series

My Bastards & Bloodline group: couple of scenes

They get summoned to a city- for most of the group this is their first time being in a true city


A woman is going over a small bridge to another part of the market. She is getting jostled by the crowd. Suddenly, wall of flesh. One of the bigger members makes a hole in the crowd to let her and her child through. The whole crowd is nervous.


Group resting by the riverwalk, trying to figure out where to go


Group goes shopping


Half-nymph curls up next to one of the bigger members in a park so she can take a nap in the noon-day sun. Some children come along to play. Might end up playing on the big guy, using him as a jungle gym


Half-nymph gets a lot of attention, as usual. Some unwanted, some uncomfortable, some just awkward.


Group eats at a riverwalk restaurant. Obviously, really cramped, lot of people going by. A small band comes up and offers to play for the ladies. “You no pay; gentlemen pay” Embarrassing, but a little grumbling later one of the men does, red-faced, pay for a couple of songs


CROSSOVER: at the riverwalk restaurant there is a girl with several ravens at her table

Had an idea for a while now that I wanted to throw out there
Thought it would be amusing to run a story in a hotel
Run by former assassins

Now, this is a very nice hotel, but it is primarily meant for people who need protection, privacy, and discretion

Just don't expect them to bend to your every whim; they are professionals, most of whom have lead incredibly hard lives. You go up to one of them and complain about a spot on the floor, or that you don't have enough towels, or try and get your room comped, or any other inane shit, you will probably get a knife at your throat and a gun in your eye.

Fun placement

There is a definitive difference between a soldier and an assassin, a warrior and a killer
A soldier, a warrior will meet his enemy face to face, toe to toe, singularly or in vast numbers, and clash for glory, gold, or whatever else strikes his fancy.
An assassin, a silent killer, watches his enemy closely, unseen from the shadows or from plain sight, searching for a weakness and the proper time, before striking with suddenness and subtlety, vanishing into the night and the crowds as the corpse cools behind him.

So, what would be the interaction between a warrior and an assassin forced to work in tandem? I think that would be a fun experiment...

This fits one of my stories so well...

Update to the June 29th post:

Yes I want to make a princess who ends up saving the adventurers.

Adding to my list, I also want to make a princess who is a villain. Not a 'sits on the sidelines and lets daddy do the dirty work' princess, but one who makes the plots herself, and isn't afraid to get her hands dirty in the process.

Inspired by a youtube video i watched on underrated disney princesses, of which the top pick was Irmaplotz from Dave the Barbarian. I seem to recall seeing the show once or twice, but i don't think i have ever seen it in its entirety (puts new item on 'to-watch' list)

A man in a dark trench coat and hat is fighting a wizard (think jurgen wulf, from bloodrayne)
The fight ends as the mage is dying of blood loss
As a last ditch effort, the wizard ignites a fireball on his location (because he can’t lift his arms and throw it at the man)
The man is literally inches out of range of the fireball, and lights his cigarette in the heat
Screen fades to black as the man exhales a stream of smoke, observing the destruction wrought before him

Below the wrist the hands turned sugar white, the fingers thickened, and the phalangeal ends were blunt

A large hand in a jar of formeldahyde, when the jar is opened and the hand removed, it comes to life, crawling around, very nimbly, evading attempts to stop or squash it. It is looking for something, but what?

Mortals, by progressing, have driven the gods away. The angels wept, and wept for centuries. Now the tears are dried up and there are no more. Now, at long last, the angels in heaven come to wage war.

Gem once took a guy into a vehicle graveyard in the desert, strapped him to a car, and spent three days pouring small amounts of lye over his body. She sat there, eating a picnic lunch, listening to his screams.

She looked at the walls, up one strip and down the other. It was not exciting, it was just something to do.
Then she saw the dot.
It was not big or important, just a simple black dot. It sat there innocently.
She sat up immediately. She knew these walls in their entirety. She had looked them over a million times, and knew every fleck, crack, and spot on these walls.
That dot had never been there before.
That was about when the dot started to grow

The sky is dark grey, and rain pours down almost too sick to see through. Out of the rain, a door appears; an open door, a safe haven. They duck inside. The rain patters to just inside the door, but the space is pleasantly warm, lights dim, only slightly brighter than the gloom outside.

Girl’s mother died, and she was raised by her magician father. She grew up surrounded by challenges to normal perception, illusions, and hallucination. But she was also a blossoming psychic, and her young mind began to accept these challenges to physical realities into true reality. Ex. Her father had her learn to walk on a glass platform over a pit, so she grew up believing she could treat empty air as solid ground, and so she does. She walks straight off the top of a mountain and talk to migrating birds.

A student is giving a eulogy for a public speaking class, and lying on a table gives a line about being a hopeless romantic, and asks for a kiss. Obviously, he doesn’t expect anyone to get up. So imagine his shock when a pretty student unfolds her legs, gets up, walks over, bends down, and gives grants his request.

Imagine being in the middle of a long skyway, nothing but glass as far as the eye can see, between multiple convex skyscrapers. A thunderstorm rages around you, but though you can see it, from where you stand it is calm.
Then you make the mistake of turning around.
You see your enemy. The fight commences. Inside and out, the battle rages until finally you kneel over your enemy’s broken body, covered in blood.
You have slain your own self.
Outside the storm continues to thunder.

Does it have a function, or is it just art
It’s a lesson
A lesson? And what does it teach?
Kindness
(looks at art; it is a scene of death and destruction, a war in full swing)
It look a bit violent for that
Only through violence and pain and bad things can we appreciate the value of kindness
*Words of wisdom from the mouth of a child*

They wanted to get married on Easterling campus. Her parents thought it was So romantic. His parents were all aflutter. The student body was ecstatic. Marie was slightly ill.


‘drew is a necromancer. Don’t worry- he doesn’t go around raising the dead, he just brushes with them. Talks to them, especially on those first few nights when they are still trying to hold on. …drinks with the dead; huh, it’s kind of funny when you think about it.
Honestly, what ‘drew does is pretty harmless. That being said, I have no desire to meet his Mistress personally.
So, of course, that is exactly what was going to happen.



This is going to sound really weird, but given a choice I would prefer to have Sarah cut me open than anyone else.
It’s because she wouldn’t be cold and emotionless about it, but she also wouldn’t be one of those creepy, touchy-feely necrophiliac types.
She would cut me open with politeness and respect, and a lot of grace
She would make my autopsy an art display.
Like I said. Weird. I know. Sue me.

You don’t have to think to kill people; in fact, thinking is often what gets you killed yourself.

I am accustomed to unkindness, that doesn’t mean that I like it, or that I don’t hold grudges.

Now now, that wasn’t a very mannerly thing to do.


Had Ferra been any normal person she might have broken down and chortled at the idea. As it was, she simply let the façade of confusion slip away and replaced it with a small smile, mysterious and discomforting.

“Tell me,” she asked the Lady Morton, “do you recall at the Hyde Ball two seasons past, you met a girl, and the authorities questioned you about her later in reference to a young lord’s unsightly demise that evening?” The Lady nodded; she remembered that girl’s face rather well, as striking as it had been. She had only talked with her for a matter of minutes, but she had wished to return to their light banter as she continued to mingle with the party’s other, far more dull attendees. It had been a pleasant breeze on the night, the only thing that had made it bearable. But how did this girl before her know-
Ferra bowed her head, her loose hair falling about the sides of her face. She lifted her head to face the Lady once more. Only, it wasn’t Ferra.

It was the girl from that night at the Hyde Ball.

There was no mistaking it- the almond-shaped green eyes, filled with silent laughter, the beautiful skin, the slim jaw and delicate brow. Everything was the same… except for the smile. The girl was not Ferra, it could not be, but the smile on the girl’s face, small and strange, was painted on that face with her beautiful, pomegranate-red lips.
Lady Morton gaped, her surprise choking her. The girl’s smile became fractionally wider, and she flipped her head to the side so that the loose strands formed a curtain over the right half of her face. She lifted her hand and with a single finger lifted the hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

The Lady Morton’s jaw opened wider, if that was possible. The right half of this person’s face was no longer the girl’s, but nor was it Ferra’s. It was the profile of a matronly woman, older than Ms. Gertrude’s, covered in wrinkles and laugh lines. The weight of decades were plain on this face, but the left half was still that of a beautiful young girl, still vibrant and full of life. There was no division between them; one simply became the other at the midline of the face, right between the brows, as if a sculptor had cast two masks, cut them in half, and fused the two opposing sides into a single whole.

The person raised her hand again, this time simply covering the left half of their face. When the hand fell away, it was all the Lady could do not to scream in horror. The girl from the Hyde Ball was gone, and in her place was sculpted that of Ursula, a perfect likeness of her own daughter.

Still the smile remained in place, twisted through several generation gaps, but plainly unmistakable.

The figure once again raised a hand, the opposite one this time, and covered the face below the nose, as if politely stifling a laugh. When it fell away, the mouth and chin no longer belonged to Ursula or to the matron, but to… Fredericks?

To be certain there wasn’t a nose or eyes to tell by, but the Lady Morton had known her butler since she was a teen herself. Those jowls, that smile, those teeth, crooked from fights in his youth, were plain as day.

The Lady said nothing. She was shocked to silence. All she could do was stare in horror at this, this… thing before her, and dread what it was going to do next.

It leaned forward, setting its elbow on the table and resting Fredericks’ chin upon it. It was still smiling. Never once had it flickered. Slowly, almost lazily, it raised its other hand and swept it downward over its face-

-and suddenly it was Ferra again, staring and smiling at her as if nothing had passed between them but a butterfly.

A man, an adventurer in the wastes, awakens after finishing his latest quest to the sound of hoofbeats outside his tent

For whatever reason, an entire team of fiendish horses has adopted him and taken up positions around him.
And he looks around like, well fuck, what the hell am i going to do with the lot of you
So he has no choice but to go about his adventures surrounded by these magnificent and monstrous beasts

Can you imagine wings just being a normal part of everyday life? like imagine:

Stepping out of the shower and blow drying your wings each morning before work

Sitting back in a chair and having them flop over the back lazily

Shielding yourself from the sudden rain with your thick feathers

Waking up in the morning with bedhead and bedfeathers

anime guy walking along

friend glomps out of nowhere

guy doesn't even flinch, just keeps looking at his phone, walking along with glomper still on his back

18 years
For over 18 years I have called this place home. This is where I lived, where I learned, where I laughed, cried, ate, played; this is where I did everything that I can recall being worth doing in my life
18 years, 8 months.
For 18 years and 8 months, I have lived under that man. He guided and taught me. He taunted and teased me, pushed me and prodded me. He showed me that the best way to understand something is to jump headlong into it, and learn from the mistakes you make along the way. He taught me all about the spaces between the stars, and took me there to see them for myself. He taught me that there is water you can breathe, and he flooded an entire ancient complex with the stuff to prove it to me. He taught me that just because you are strong, or wise, or powerful, doesn’t mean that you can’t still learn more, and that the journey doesn’t end just because you leave the road set before you. He taught me that there is nothing to be feared in life, that the unknown doesn’t have to be scary.
And in 5 days, he was gone.
He was taken far beyond the reach of any of the spells he taught me, gifts he gave me. I would have given the world, fought the devils, the demons, the angels, and the gods themselves if he had asked me.
And he slipped through my fingers.
As a succubus, I learned long ago not to cry- it’s a sign of weakness, of emotions that others can use to manipulate us. There are a great multitude of things I have done in my life that I am not exactly proud of, but I never shed a tear for any of those.

Yeah, I cried like a baby.
I bawled my eyes out for weeks. I couldn’t stop myself, not when literally everything around me reminded me of him. And don’t think it didn’t cross my mind to console myself elsewhere; I tried. I got as far as the hallway outside my room, and it caught my eye, the mirror on the right-hand wall. He had cast it himself to talk to me every time I walked past, as a prank. I broke down sobbing, and couldn’t leave the hall for hours, because every step brought something else to my attention. By the time I managed to drag myself to the kitchen to replenish lost fluids (another bout of sobbing; yay), I decided it was going to be too painful to just getting to the front door, so I just stayed put.



In all the time I knew him, he had never changed. 18 years and he hadn’t aged a day. It didn’t surprise me. When you reach a certain tier of magic, age ceases to matter. Mortality is no longer in the equation. Once you reach that point, immortality is taken for granted. Great mages don’t die, they make spells to keep them alive forever, so it had never crossed my mind that he would actually one day…
…die.


No, I am not a devil looking to strike a bargain, you dunce, I am a 3rd-tier mage, and I am here to offer my help
Why
I raised an eyebrow. There was so much acid in that question it almost stung. “Because I can? Because I want to? Because you need it? How many reasons do you want me to give you?”



The old geezer did in fact show her all about a type of water that could be breathed like air. He had her sit in a pool, and then pushed her under. Not realizing what his intentions were, she struggled violently, but he held on, until she finally took a gulp of the stuff, and stopped her struggling, wondering how she was still alive after being ‘drowned’.  He then joined her beneath the water, and took her exploring, for the pool was just the access to a much larger system- an ancient mining complex/city that he had actually flooded with the stuff, just for her.


IMPORTANT EDIT!!!!!


COLLAB: with Nyamesiss
by irriKUN

This image is perfect!!!

Being a real asshole in character pairing:
Have a character who refers to literally everyone as ‘doll’
Pair this person with someone who outright despises being called that.
Thinking of having these be two female characters, but I could slice it any way.


Detective story and a necro

A mysterious necromancer aids a detective by killing perps who slip through her fingers and the system, and sending their bodies walking to the precinct.

After the 3rd body shows up, the captain orders her to take a vacation. The necro switches to another detective, but switches back when she returns. He communicates with her with various bodies, and with notes, always bringing her what she needs (including, late one night, a cup of coffee. Yeah, that’s fun: sitting alone in the precinct, your head on your desk, and suddenly a zombie places a cup of coffee in front of your face)

Funnily enough, throughout the series the necromancer’s face, or even body, is never revealed; never shows himself. At one climactic fight, there is a figure shrouded in a greatcoat, seemingly controlling the zombies. She tries to get him to put his hands on his head, shooting him when he fails to comply, but finds it is only another zombie. She gets a note the next morning that reads, “That one will cost you, Detective. It isn’t easy, making a vessel”


Mage summons a demon, to demand a wish of the bound fiend.
Instead of getting the massive, monstrous figure he expected, in his circle appears a pretty, red-skinned girl with small horns and a tail.
She is wearing pajamas: boyshorts and a t-shirt with the logo:
I’m here, what are your other two wishes?
When she appears, she is about to drop a cherry into her open mouth. When she realizes where she is, she sighs and says,
“You better make this quick; my ice cream is going to melt”


She didn’t bother to question her fortune that they accepted her into their ‘quaint’ little lives; she merely thanked every god that would listen that they didn’t eat her on sight.


Custom-built, massive operating table. Put a normal-sized character on it.

The thing lowers its massive weapon to its side. It raises its other hand; you flinch, but it pats you on the head with surprising gentleness, before grabbing you by the back of your harness and lifting you up like a kitten.


She stifled a laugh, but he noticed anyway.
What’s so funny?
I am reminded of a saying? [he groaned, but she continued], God gives unto no man more than he can bear
Your point?
You may not believe in God, but to a believer it would appear that God has given you exceptional tasks because he knows you can complete them.
You may not believe in God, but he certainly believes in you
[he began to say something]
-as do I
His jaw hung open for a moment; he stared at her incredulously, before it snapped shut. He stared at her for several more moments, the muscles of his neck taut, before he spun on his heel and stamped off in the direction of their objective
Her smile was hidden behind her veil, but her laughter rang clearly as she set off in pursuit

Radoslava is a professional dancer; she performs on Broadway, music videos, all over the place. Dancing is her life and her passion, and she loves doing it. She is also well-known for it.

She is attending a big event, a meet-and-greet, or possibly an after-show party, and in attendance is an individual who is an absolute fan, and their sheer joy at being right there with their favorite performers becomes too much for them. They have an asthma attack, begin asphyxiating, and faint.

Radoslava herself resuscitates them, and gently teases them

"As flattering as that is, we usually prefer our audience members surVive the show- after all, it isn't easy finding fans as loyal as you"

Quinn giving a lecture on love
She starts out speaking as a scientist and a doctor; it’s all just chemicals. Then, she completely shifts gears, talking about it in terms of poetry and philosophy. It whiplashes her students, which is exactly the point


(PS: Yes, I am talking about Quinn Sullivan, from the Post-Unhonorable War. She is not a teacher, she is a doctor; she was asked to come in and give a series of lectures by a colleague, as he had an urgent matter to attend to. Plus, she does have medical and grad students come in with some regularity, so having 'students' in general shouldn't be that unusual)

"Your sister is weak; you must take care of her"

Think of the twin sisters from 'Jacob Have I Loved'

One sister is born hale and healthy, but is paid little attention by her parents and other authority figures because her younger twin sister was born sickly. Growing up her sister always ended up being more popular, more attractive, and more well-liked, but was still sickly and often unwell, while her sister, who never took sick or became weak all her life, remain virtually friendless.

Despite this, it became the older sister's duty to care for her sister, to raise her and protect her from harm
A responsibility she took to with a passion


She ended up becoming an unholy vampire, sacrificing a life of sun and purity, solely for the sake of becoming strong enough to defeat the enemies and oppressive suitors that come to knock on her sister's door.


Don't have a full plot for this, but thought I better write it down before I forget it. May come back to this one, may not

A girl goes into the university bookstore on the first day of classes starting. The building is packed and bustling, full of loud, obnoxious, and angry people.
She grabs what she needs, and gets in line. She is pushed and shoved along, directed this way and that, and stop-walks for nearly an hour before she can finally reach the register.
All she wanted was a candy bar.



Also, in the mood of me being an asshole to my characters:
A character who absolutely adores bondage/fetishwear- is Deathly allergic to latex

The dogs certainl weren’t pets, and most definitely not for show. They were ugly, hulking brutes, thick and powerful. They had slobber drippin in wet strings from strong, jagged teeth, and they stank something horrible, of wetness and mildew and blood and meat gone old and obnoxious, with that peculiar musk all dogs seem to have. But by the gods were they affectionate. Provided you weren’t their prey and were approved of by their master, they would knock you over and lick you silly. They would butt heads with you and try to climb in your lap.


The main villain of the story owns and operates the local pizza parlor. He’s a swell guy and everyone likes him, but he runs the old, pub-style place like a mafia outfit.


Random name pack:
Victoria
Henderson
Lincoln
Joplin
Laurel
Lodi
Gilroy
Amode’os
Whisper Doll
Saint Simone Angelou
Sarah Samson

Things I want to see in a story:

Instead of the protagonist being scared of the antagonist and what the antagonist might do, have the antagonist be the one who is absolutely terrified of the main character, all through the story

Have a protag/antag pairing with mutual respect and understanding.
What am I talking about? Say the two of them are doing battle next to a river, just hammering away at one another. All of a sudden, there is a whimper, barely audible over the sounds of combat. Both of them freeze and look towards the river. There, trapped on a floating log is a bedraggled puppy, which is obviously exhausted and in serious danger of falling into the river and drowning. They both look at each other, nod, and drop what they are doing and help each other save the dog from the water. When the puppy is safe and sound, dry and wrapped in a blanket, they look back at one another, nod again, and resume the fight.
Better yet, it looks like they are about to have their epic, movie-ending showdown, it’s all built-up and dramatic, and into the scene bursts that asshole that everyone has hated the entire story, and they just stop. They don’t even look at each other this time; they just move as one and beat the fucker to death. And then they just, walk off.

Wants to see: the main character/player character is going about their business, wrecking all kinds of evil shit, and they get a call to a city under threat of attack

character makes their way there, only to find the city a smoking pile of ruins

A single figure walks out of the ash, clearly the villain responsible

The character charges forth to engage him in combat
And suddenly they are dead

The villain pulled no punches at all- in a single motion the hero is dead

And the only reason the story continues is that something about the hero amused the villain, so he resurrects them, puts a geas/magical seal on their hand, which can simultaneously weaken the character and give them access to a host of other abilities, to be unlocked as the story progresses.

The villain leaves the player curled up in the fetal position, and tells them they are going to have to get a lot stronger before they do this again