Hello, quarantine pals!
Wouldn’t it be lovely for things to be interrupted by something pleasant? A little welcome intrusion into all the gloom and monotony? Something lovely to find and keep and hold on to during this decidedly un-fun period? I think so, and apparently the rest of our community does as well. That’s why…
This week’s prompt is:
Can We Keep It?
RULES AND GUIDELINES BELOW!
Make sure you scroll down and read them if you haven’t! You may not be eligible if you don’t!
We’ve all heard this before. A couple of people end up in some kind of creature-related mischief which inevitably earns the thing a place in their hearts. When it’s over, the littlest member of the party holds it up and asks the pivotal question:
Can we keep it?
If you watch movies or read books or consume any kind of media whatsoever, this is probably familiar. And like all tropes, there’s a good reason you recognize it.
It’s loaded.
Not only is it the promise of a potential value shift (alone > accompanied); it also reflects a great deal about the ethics, dynamics, and relationships of all the characters involved. It’s a deciding moment, and that’s where we see the difference between character and characterization.
That’s what I’m seeing in this prompt: A question of loneliness/companionship, and how all those involved respond to it. Your story need not include the question verbatim in order to address its emotional core: Should we invite something new into our lives?
That’s a hefty question. Hefty enough, certainly, to put some stress on the heart strings.
So, hop to it. Let’s see some lonely creatures and some difficult choices.
—
Remember, this is part of our weekly Writing Group stream! Submit a little piece following the rules and guidelines below, and there’s a chance your entry will be read live on stream! In addition, we’ll discuss it for a minute and give you some feedback.
Tune into the stream this Friday at 7:00pm CST to see if you made the cut!
The whole purpose of this is to show off the creativity of the community, while also helping each other to become better writers. Lean into that spirit, and get ready to help each other improve their confidence in their writing, as well as their skill with their craft!
Rules and Guidelines
We read six stories during each stream, three of which come from the public post, and three of which come from the much smaller private post. Submissions are randomly selected from among the top ten most-liked of each post, so be sure to share your submissions on social media and with your friends!
- English only.
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- Submit your entry in a comment on this post.
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- Your piece must be between 250-350 words (you can use this website to see your wordcount).
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Comments on this post that aren’t submissions will be deleted, except for replies/reviews left on existing submissions.
Clear by Not’the ChosenJuan
In an isolated tower within a forest underneath the sky full of stars, a man with silk robes is walking down the spiral staircase looking for something.
“Maxis, come here son! I need you right now!” The man with the silk robes shouted towards the bottom of the stairs.
A soft voice of a young boy replied “Coming father.” giving out a long yawn when walking up the staircase.
The Man with the Silk Robes “Maxis I have been looking for something all night, a moving piece of gl…” his face made immediate contact with a seemingly invisible force “…ass.” as he slowly rips his face off of said glass.
Maxis gives off a quick giggle from the collision, then the Man in the Silk Robes rubs his wrinkled face but in an instant lunges his hands towards the glass only for it to no longer be there. “This is my fault Maxis, I tried making moving spectacles so when I wake up in the morning I wouldn’t have to look for them. Before I could finish,one of the lenses fell off but instead of shattering it seemed to grow and gained enough intelligence to annoy me.”
While the Man in the Silk Robes is moving his arms around like trying to catch fireflies the little Maxis came up with something to catch the glass, “Father can you please stay there for a moment.” now running down the stairs.
The Man in the Silk Robes “Don’t worry I will keep this devil at bay.” He hears some sounds down in the kitchen like the opening of drawers and pouring some sort of substance.
Maxis rushes up the stairs with a sack and a cup of flour with a smile saying “here we go!” With a swift motion he covers both the glass and his father with flour then quickly puts the glass in the sack.
Maxis opens the sack slightly to peek and sees it turning into many different beautiful shapes ending with itself as a figurine of the two.
Maxis asks “Can we keep it?”
Title: An Odd Aquisition
By: T4COG4M3
“I tell you javi, i was rather perplexed at the sight. I’d be lying to you if i could describe what actually happened. Something sort of.. Clicked on her”
Javielle, curious but composed, she leaned forward on the table and jokingly replied to him
“you hardly know what’s going on half the time you go scouting, less when you go with Haskerie”
“Well i guess she’s got the blood of her grampa” he replied. “But seriously, the ambush wasnt like the ones we usually cover. They were five knights targeting us, i tried to keep her at bay but she sort of knew there were too many for me to protect her”
“So she just…..slid from behind you and attacked?”
“That’s the thing, i attacked first and disarmed one as a warning, the others raised their swords and went straight for her, and THAT’s when she sort of snapped-
Ducking under me she grabbed the sword from the ground and her carnage began, i just watched as she blurred between the attackers and after a few seconds there she was, blood all over the sword she picked up and the four attackers on the ground”
“Wait wait wait, what happened to the fifth?”
“Once he saw what went down i released him and he ran away”
Javielle, surprised by those words asked him “Strange action of yours. When do you let criminal prey get away?”
“It was all about setting an example for your daughter” he sarcastically replied
“Uhm… Do you….”
Javi went silent for a few seconds
“Do you think she may have inherited my…..you know…”
Haskeld inmediately catched up to her awkward question
“No. I dont think so, havent seen magic from her, i am afraid she may have my instincts though… … …
But to the point, once the last guy dropped she just stood there, watching the outcome of her actions, she walked up to me and asked lifting the sword “can i keep it?”
Photograph by Speckled
Mary coughed out dust as she rifled through boxes that haven’t been touched in years. The cramped attic air of her mother’s house made her jeans cling to her legs where she sweated. She opened a box, it held blankets, hand knit, whether by her mother or someone else, Mary couldn’t tell.
She pushed the box aside, and opened another. Old ceramic dishes that might be worth something, should they decide to sell them. Downstairs, her husband John was going through the Kitchen, the last place that hadn’t already been cleared out by her brother and her sister in law.
Her mother’s death had been sudden and unexpected, a brain hemorrhage when she was still in her 60’s. She had left a lifetime of possessions to her children. Mary opened another box.
She and her brother did not know who their father was, their mother had never told them. Mary did not know if he had died young or simply left.
Now she may never know. She opened another box.
A distorted photograph looked up at her. The old polaroid kind, blurred as though the photographer had stumbled mid-stride. Mary could make out the subject to be a house, with a gray blob on its steps. The whole box was full of photos. She sifted through them.
Photos of her brother graduating highschool, of her 18th birthday, of her first driver’s permit, of her on the beach, of Halloweens, Christmases, Easters, snapshots of her childhood life. Her mother occasionally appeared. Either smiling alongside Mary as her brother took the photo, or a pair of legs here and a reflection there. Throughout it all her mother looked younger and younger, until Mary reached a clearer image to the one that sat on top.
Her mother, barely 20, smiling next to a stack of boxes, just like these that surrounded Mary now. She stood on the steps to this house, and reflected in the glass door behind her was a masculine photographer. Beyond lay photos of a wedding.
Her husband called up. “Find anything good?”
“Yes.”
“Can we keep it?”
“Yes.”
Berrys and snakes
By athens32
The grounds have always seemed inviting compared to the cold stone building that sat upon the hill. The small bushes and tall trees, there are always cute creatures wandering around here. Little rabbets and squeals running to and from the garden. Baby dear and foxes hugging the far off tree line. the small black crows camouflaged in the thick foliage, And snakes on the sun-baked rocks.
My favorite of all the small creatures has always been the snakes. Their long bodies rapping around whatever heat source that they find. they’re never intentionally being the dangerous creatures that people believe they are.
It is a worm day and my basket is filled with small lumps of black and red. There was always something I loved about gathering the berries. it could be the clime through the bushes, or the sweet taste of the ones eaten whare no one will see, Or maybe it was walking along the path lined with dark-colored rocks and the snakes poking there heads out.
There is always one, their slavery green scales shining in the summer sun as they watch me. They always follow my sent when I pass by. Lining on the grass next to the berry patch when I was there. they loved to follow my back and forth, seeming to keep an eye for anyone who comes to attack.
Everyone in the house didn’t mind the snakes, they went after the mice and rats better than the cat ever did. So as I walk along the path I glance over to see my snake friend sliding next to me.
“How are you?” I ask, lowering myself closer to the ground.
“Not ssssso lonely with your visssit” that snake replies, startling me. I wasn’t expecting a reply I could understand.
“You can speak?” I hear the words leave my mouth without meaning to.
“Yessss” they reply slithering closer.
“Wow, can I keep you?” I question. The snake slides into my hand curling around my arm “Can I take that as a yes?”
“Yessssss”
Maybe I should have checked with mom first.
The Cat, by Eliza Grey.
It is a small cat. Fragile bones and thin brown fur. The owner can feel it’s tiny claws dig into his hands as he places it in the cardboard box. It doesn’t have any siblings, they all died within their mother, taking her life with them. Now the small cat is placed in a cardboard box and left by the side of the road. It nuzzles the thick, slightly papery side of the box, mewing softly.
She’s walking along side the road, in the gutter where tangled plastic lurks. Her clothes are filthy, herself filthy. She wears no bra, and she tows a rattling shopping cart behind her, eyes dead looking. She’s much filthier than the cat, but her cart has food and shelter stowed in it. Protection, too, in the form of a long, gleaming knife. Her eyes light on the box, and a spark of curiosity comes into them. She leans down to look past the cardboard walls. The cat doesn’t see her. It’s too young, it’s eyes underdeveloped. But she sees it. Her eyes grow soft, that flinty death in them melting. She reaches out and brushes her fingers along the skinny spine. The kitten continues to mew. It’s ears flick, and it listens to her crooning voice as she speaks to it. It doesn’t understand the words, soft nothings, but it knows that they are soothing. It’s good nature purrs.
She picks it up, and puts it in her pocket.
“The Struggles of Love,” By refreshing firecum
The ritual is almost complete. A seven pointed star spans wall to wall, crafted from a fine mixture of salt and crushed chalk. Several gizmos encircle the star. Some beeping. Some glowing. But most redundant. A robed figure enters the room, carrying supplies fit for a deity. “It’s all finally here,” mutters the figure under his breath. The man seems abnormally passionate about his craft. While his intention is unclear, it seems as if he has something — or someone — on his mind.
A book lay open on a warped nightstand detailing a ritual capable of resurrecting the dead. Very carefully, he observes the book and compares it to the contents of his room. The candles lit. The wires tied. The shrine of the woman resting at the back. Everything, including the items of unreality, is all in place. The figure inches towards the center of the star where a dagger has been placed, oozing with anticipation and excitement. He picks up the dagger and carefully drags it across the palm of his hand, whisper-yelling several rites as the blood trickles down his wrist.
One by one the candles go out as he says his dark prayers, each emitting anomalous amounts of smoke after extinguishing. As the smoke, accompanied by manic laughter, fills the room, a light appears at the shrine. The man’s hood falls back as wind rushes through his hair and beard, reflective of his desperation. Desperation that finally paid off. Tears of joy flow from his eyes as a figure steps from the newly opened portal.
And then another.
…And another.
…
This was a trap.
Panicked, he attempts the deactivation ritual but fails, and all he can do is watch as these eldritch horrors spill from his handiwork. A small blob creature begins making noise towards a large mass of muscle and receives a reply. The now joyous blob approaches the terrified robed figure and restrains him in its mass. All the man can do now is watch as these beings destroy everything he once knew and loved, from the perspective of a maniacal horror’s mere pet.
“New Friend” by Carrie (Glaceon373)
Duncan burst into the kitchen. “Mom! Mom!”
“What, sweetie?”
Duncan held out his hands. “I found this! Look!”
It was a metallic shape the size of a medium frying pan. Clumps of sod stuck to its silver frame and exposed wiring.
“Honey, this…” Duncan’s mom rubbed the dirt away on the side of the chassis. “Duncan, this is an RW-3617 Fighter drone. It’s a soldier bot. Put it back where you found it.”
“But there’s no weapon! It’s a nice machine now!”
“Duncan, it’s not even move—”
Whirs and popping noises filled the room as the drone came alive. It darted out of Duncan’s hands and began flying around like a hummingbird.
“Scanning. Unfam—familiar environment. Damage assessment: critical. Weapon systems: lacking. Conn—connection to control center: offline.
Duncan watched the drone in wonder. His mom stared, worried.
“Alert, lifeforms de—detected.” The drone stopped, its dirt-caked visual sensors refocusing on Duncan and his mom. “Facial recognition: not r—responding. Requesting to fire.”
“Duncan, get down!”
“Request failed. Mission statement, statement, mission—” the drone sputtered and fell to the floor.
Duncan broke free of his mother and grabbed the droid. “See? It’s harmless!”
“Duncan,” she sighed, “I know everything’s been rough lately, but keeping this robot would be another host of issues. Again, it’s a soldier bot. It’s not safe.”
“But Mom!”
She sighed. “I worked with robots like those. Their programming is strictly—”
Duncan jumped. “Then you can change it, right?”
“What?”
“Like my toys! Make this one into a, uh, cleaner! It could vacuum! Or wash dishes! Or make breakfast!”
Duncan’s mother opened her mouth, then closed it. She knew how these bots worked, and it couldn’t hurt anyone, so maybe…
“All right,” she sighed. “I reprogram it, and tomorrow l we’ll see what it can do. But you have to clean your room and help me with dinner. Deal?”
Duncan’s face lit up. “Yeah! I can’t wait!” He set the drone on the table and ran upstairs.
His mom laughed, then turned back to the droid.
“All right, then. Let’s see what you’re capable of.”
“A Puffin Pet”
By MinniLou
“Just look at these cute, lil’ eyes.” Val cooed, holding Shelly up to Clementine’s freckled face. “How can you say no to them?”
“We can’t take her in.” Clementine replied, pulling her striped scarf away from the puffin’s grasping beak. Val pulls Shelly closer to him and takes out a tiny, dried herring from his pocket, which Shelly gobbles up immediately.
Val had found the puffin while looking for some Angler-bulbs by the shoreline. He realized that her wings were broken so Val, being Val, immediately forgot what he was doing before, and dashed back to the cottage.
“There’s barely enough room here for the both of us.”
“So I’ll build a big, adorable birdhouse by the window! And we can give her a big, fluffy bed, and a little chair for her to sit at the table with us, and we can make some Petalshell crowns for her, and then we-” Clementine puts a pale finger up to Val’s rosy lips, cutting off his ramblings.
“You’ve had her for five hours, think about this.”
Val takes Clementine’s frail hand, kisses it, and looks at her through his filthy, roes tinted glasses.
“I know, I know, I should…” Val mutters as he releases Clementine’s hand.
Shelly looks up at Val, then at Clementine. She wiggles out of Val’s grasp and hops into Clementine’s lap, curls up, and quickly falls asleep. They both look down at the puffin and back up at each other.
“…”
“…See,” Val cuts through the deafening silence. “She likes you!”
Clementine gazed back down at Shelly, grazing her root-ridden hands over the puffin’s shadow black feathers. Her eyes went down to her legs, and the cursed roots that grew out of them, once again forcing her to go bedridden. Val could do little to stop it, as he had other responsibilities to tend to. A little friend to help pass the time and cheer her spirits didn’t sound half-bad.
“Sigh, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have someone else around, we’ll keep her.” Clementine said with a smile sneaking onto her face.
“Dust Bunnies and Coat Hangers”
By ThornWolf
Most kids in my neighborhood sleep with a nightlight. I do too. They say it’s because they’re scared of the monsters under their beds. I’m not. When they ask me why, I tell them, “There’s nothing there except dust bunnies.” It’s the truth. They just don’t realize that the ‘d’ and ‘b’ are capitalized when I say it, and that there’s only one.
Every night, after my parents give me a goodnight kiss and close the door, I wait until I can’t hear footsteps or voices anymore. Then I lean over the side of the bed and say “Clear to come out, Dust Bunny,” and she does. My monster and best friend.
I met her a while ago, when I had stayed up reading a book well past bedtime, eating cookies I had snuck out of the kitchen earlier. She had crawled out from under the bed, a giant mole with a long scaly tail, dark gray fur, and curled ram’s horns. I was scared at first, but she hadn’t attacked me, simply sat up on her haunches, huge clawed forepaws held out in front of her, and whined. I shakily held out a cookie, which she took and ate, then purred. She clambered up onto the bed beside me and leaned against my side. I read to her, petting the soft fur on her back. We’ve been friends ever since.
Last night there was a banging in my closet. Dust Bunny’s fur was spiked out in an instant and she was growling. I got up and carefully opened the door. Tangled in the coat hangers hung a lanky creature. It stared at me in surprise. I introduced myself, shaking a long fingered hand, and set to work freeing it. By the end, I was holding a monkey-like monster with two pairs of arms and teeth too big for its mouth. I turned to Dust Bunny and held out my find. “Can we keep him?”
I’m not scared of monsters under my bed or in my closet. There’s nothing there except Dust Bunny and Coat Hanger.
“An Orphan”
by Zendrelax
It was a small thing, a purple egg with the lightest touch of swirling, whirling blue. While in the day it had been merely colorful, the fading light of the evening gave way to a faint glow across the shell, but strongest in the blue.
“We found it while mapping the eastern gorge, near the bodies of a pair of wind prophets.”
Lorakan looked back up at the scout captain. “Wind prophet eggs don’t ordinarily glow, Captain.”
“I understand that, Commander,” said the Captain, “and mountains don’t ordinarily rebel.”
And, it went unsaid, those treacherous mountains were not ordinarily torn apart by angry gods, necessitating the mapping of new gorges. But things had not been ordinary for some time now.
But before Lorakan could respond, the egg shook. They both watched, breathless, as thin, jagged lines formed. A small, white nub pushed through, followed by the tip of a tiny, scaly, purple snout.
“Sir,” whispered the captain, “after what happened to its parents, it would be cruel to leave it out there.” The captain gestured out the entrance of the tent.
“We only have so much, Captain,” said Lorakan. “This one is small now, but they grow to be very large, and eat only meat. We can’t afford whims, Captain.”
But Lorakan was distracted from the captain’s look of disappointment when the little creatures head pushed all the way out of the shell. It looked up at him with large, red eyes. In those eyes, for a moment, he saw a flash of blue.
Without looking up, Lorakan said, “Fetch the quartermaster and the loremaster.”
The captain looked confused. “Sir?”
“We’re here to learn.” He looked back up at the captain. “This creature may have something to teach us.”
“Officially,” said the captain.
His face placid, Lorakan gave him a firm nod.
The captain left, and Lorakan fell back into his chair with a sigh.
The egg fell over, and broke apart. The wind prophet was still covered in the shards, but Lorakan could make out small wings, and smaller claws. It looked up at him, and he laughed lightly.
Stone Golem
By Alexander (BrokenEarth)
“Ah, yes! I’ve found it! Now we can go home, to our lovely home, and be happy and fat forever! Nothing can ruin this for us!” The creature exclaimed in delight.
“You’re wrong. The dirty men can take it from us. The dirty men hate us.” the creature retorted to himself. He would not let the dirty men take his happy, fat future from him.
“But what can we do? The dirty men cheat, they use magic! Their thundersticks will-”
“The awful, smelly, dirty men don’t know where we are, if we stay hidden, yes, quiet in the shadows, we can stay far away from their magic and tricks.”
The creature thought this plan, which would of course develop further along the way, would keep the ‘dirty men’, as he said, at a safe distance while he escaped. He was wrong.
Moments later, lights filled the area. Shouts could be heard from a large group of people, and the creature had very little time to hide.
“No! We cannot be seen!” Both sides were in agreement, and that made the creature much faster to make a decision. He dashed to the nearest corner, curled up in a ball, and hoped to be mistaken for a rock.
“Are the dirty men gone?”
“I do not know! We must keep waiting. Yes, keep waiting.”
“But I am sore! The dirty men are surely gone, and we are hidden, yes. Let’s take a small peek, very small, yes.”
Before the other could decide, the creature quickly darted his head up, looked around, and set it back down.
“They are all gone. They are all gone! We can go!”
“Yes, the dirty men are gone. I do not smell them anymore.”
“Oh, hello there! Who are you?” A feminine voice called.
The creature did not respond, but instead tensed up in hopes that whoever had called was not talking to them.
Then he felt hands grab onto him.
“No! No dirty hands touch us!” The creature struggled his hardest, but he was simply too small to get away.
“A Golem! I’ll take you home.”
Dawn
PitL
Amplified sunlight illuminated the surface of Europa, casting a pale blue light through the translucent wall. The conference room was nearly empty; several of the admirals had yet to arrive. Those who were there were already debating, arguments being passed in circles. Even the quieter members were waist-deep today.
“A perpendicularity? All the money we’re funneling into your research department and that’s the best name they can come up with? Figures.” Admiral Pehr leaned back against the glass, her arms crossed. “That sounds like something out of those 21st century pulp novels my nan used to read.”
Admiral Deckhard took a step forward, jabbing at a paper-thin tablet in his hand. “The names aren’t finalized, of course, and it was the Fleet that came up with that one – wasn’t us this time, Vera.”
“Can we please try and keep questions on-topic?” Admiral Belot said, standing up from a chair near the corner of the room. “We don’t have enough time to go off on one of your tangents, Pehr.” He pauses, before checking his watch. “We need to go ahead and begin.”
The council assembled around the center of the room, sitting cross-legged on the ground. Admiral Belot glanced over towards the door; a woman waited there, holding a tall stack of papers. “Summary, Captain Semenov.”
The woman straightened, then addressed the group. “Travel through the perpendicularity above Saturn was successful, sir.” She walked around the circle, passing a pamphlet to each person. “As expected, Coalition spacecrafts Smetana and Aurora were deposited somewhere within a radius of three-thousand light years of the origin point, though the exact location is still being analyzed.
“After exiting the perpendicularity, a solar system was detectably within range. After eleven day’s travel, we arrived; strange structures were noted shortly thereafter, and we descended to the surface of the fourth planet the next day – first contact was made during that visit. The rest is in the report.”
Pehr stood and turned towards the woman. “Dismissed, captain.” She sat back down as the captain exited the room. “So they want to form an alliance, then – a coalition? After nearly two centuries out here alone… ” she broke off. “Well, looks like we have a choice to make.”
An Old Friend, by Matthew(Handsome Johanson)
“I have some mixed feelings about this story.” she said as her face turned a bright red.
“Go on!” I encouraged her with a bright smile. “We all have silly stories in our pasts. You can’t just mention it and not explain it! I promise I’ll tell you one of mine if you do.” I held out my pinky in a gesture of good will.
“Fine.” She said with an annoyed sigh whilst grabbing my pinky.
“It was a long time ago. Uh, I was about 4 when I started learning about plants.” She seemed slightly more nervous than before.
“I was told that plants grow from seeds and that even big things could grow from tiny, tiny seeds.” She demonstrated a tree growing with her hands in a vivid display.
“S-so…” Her face was really red then. “I somehow got it in my head that…” She looked as though she were about to burst.
“I thought that bricks could be grown into houses.” She said as we both laughed loudly.
“That’s hilarious!” I said, desperately stiffing a laugh. She looked embarrassed then, so I gave her a little squeeze.
“Aww, don’t worry Emily, we all make silly mistakes” I assured her. “Especially when we are young.” I gave her a smile and she smiled back.
“OK, but you have to see what I have in my backyard.” She said with a proud smile.
“Wait, what?” was all I could manage before she tugged on my sweater and led me to a shed outside.
“Please be quiet, he’s sleeping right now.” She whispered while holding her finger over her lips.
I looked inside to see a large blue theropod dinosaur covered with a red blanket.
“His name is Brickosaur, but you can call him Brick.” She smiled and put a hand on the beast.
“I found him where I buried a brick all those years ago. It looked like he was growing from it. I’ve taken care of him since then.” She put her arms around me and looked right into my eyes.
“Cliff, can we keep him?”
“The Search Resumes”
By Madelyn
“Can we keep it?”
Damocles stared at Reneé’s attempt at puppy dog eyes as she wrapped her arms around the dragonling’s body.
“Mr. Debroux is making sure it’s healthy right now,” Damocles told Reneé. “When its checkup is done, you can ask him if it’s alright. Deal?”
Reneé considered it, then nodded before going back to play with the dragonling.
“You’re a better parent than I thought.” Avi wrote something down in his notes.
“It has its challenges, but she’s more interesting than my co-workers. How is your significant other?”
Instead of answering the question, Avi kept his eyes on his paper. “My love life is none of your concern.”
Damocles felt a grin on his face. “You haven’t told him yet.”
Avi took a breath and looked up at Damocles. “How’s the search for Reneé’s birth parents?”
Damocles stopped grinning and rubbed his temples. “I have a headache just thinking about it.”
“I’m sure Balthazar would be willing to help.”
“No…No, I can handle it.”
Avi glanced over to Reneé and the dragonling, then looked back at Damocles. “You’ve grown attached.”
“…That’s one way of saying it.” Damocles ran his nails over his skin in an attempt to calm himself. “I’m just worried that her situation is like mine.”
“An abandoned bastard with a notorious father?” Avi waited for a response, but got none. “You can still let this go, but you have to make the call.”
Damocles looked at Reneé. Even if she did not want to meet her parents, he at least wanted to know who they were. Damocles leaned back in his seat. “I may need Balthazar’s help. Just promise me one thing?”
Avi tilted his head. “Yes?”
“Tell Balthazar your feelings.” Damocles held back a laugh at the sight of Avi’s shocked face.
“Aren’t dragons supposed to be more mature?”
“I’ve been told I have my father’s personality.” Damocles calmed himself. “In all seriousness, thank you.”
Avi pulled out his phone and began dialing a number. “Don’t mention it. Especially that last bit.”
“No promises.”
Title: Why are they so cute?
By: Twangyflame0
Brax’s head turned when he heard the rustling of the grass. The orc’s green skin blended in perfectly with the grass, though he worried that his brown spears might give him away. His quarry padded and grunted right beside him and never noticed. He almost jumped for joy right then and there, proud he had actually learned to be stealthy like Master Nerg had taught him, but he kept himself still, as much as possible.
Following the creature was easy as it left giant prints and much destruction in its wake. It was also very loud as it made its way through the forest. He saw it stop by its den and may what beauty it was. Its tusks were so long and sharp. Its body, rotund and muscular. Its constantly pissed off face. It was such a beautiful animal, Brax could almost cry. But instead, he pulled out his spear, tested the wind, closed one eye, because he was pretty sure hunters did that to make them hit better, and he threw the spear.
The spear flew through the air with blinding speed. It slammed into the side of the giant boar. It turned and charged at Brax’s direction. Brax got in a squat and held his hands out, ready for the charge. He held onto the giant boar’s tusk as it pushed him back and then some. The dirt beneath churned and was flipped up as he kept his feet planted. After a dozen feet or so, the boar began to tire out and so Brax pulled out a knife stabbed it in the side, killing the beast. Now Brax actually jumped for joy and did a little dance, happy that he had completed the hunt all by himself for the first time.
However, he heard more noise coming from where the giant boar’s den. Brax made his way over and found a hole in between a much of grass and looked inside to the source of the squealing.
“Ah fuck, they’re adorable.”
…
“No.” His master gave him a look
Brax was holding the piglets, pleading, “Pleeeeaasse, master.”