Writing Group: I Wasn’t Aiming for You (PRIVATE)

Hold it steady Cannoneers, Cosmonauts, and Whalers!

Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I promise! Please stop screaming! Because…

This week’s Writing Group prompt is:

I Wasn’t Aiming for You

Make sure you scroll down and read them if you haven’t! You may not be eligible if you don’t!

This prompt is a tried-and-true action trope; a cocky hotshot pulls out a gun and shoots at the villain…only for the shot to go wide and the villain to laugh maniacally. That’s when the bullet hits the intended target: a street sign that falls over and knocks the villain out cold. It’s cheesy, but it works. Now…how do we write stories out of that?

The first place my mind goes to is weapons. Whether swinging, stabbing or shooting, all weapons require you to aim. You could write about a sniper hitting the wrong target, a knight cutting down his own page, or even a soldier blindly tossing a grenade over a wall. Or maybe that was the intent; think of the thief who aims for the giant keg behind his opponent, soaking them in beer. Or else, maybe an unforeseen element comes into play like a drunk stumbling between the dartboard and the players. 

You could go fantastical with it. Perhaps a time traveler tries to shoot someone through time only to find out they’re not there anymore. A superhero might be aiming their laser blast at a villain…and accidentally hit a civilian. Or vice versa. They could even accidentally save the villain’s alter ego, unaware it’s really them. Magic works well too, but you don’t have to stop at lightning blasts and fireballs. Maybe a witch intends to turn the prince into a frog…but accidentally hits his servant. Maybe a necromancer is trying to raise a corpse…but accidentally brings a streetlamp to life, not even knowing they could do that. This way you can have scenarios of all sorts—from hilarious to heroic to horrific!

An interesting adjacent take on this prompt is an authorized strike. This prompt isn’t about the shot; it’s about the aiming. The person who aimed could very well be the big wig sitting safely away from the battle. Maybe they authorize a bombing of a certain city…not realizing their family member is currently vacationing there. Maybe an evil queen creates a law she never thought would affect her loved ones. 

Most sports have something you’re aiming for, whether it be the basketball at the hoop or trying to get your horse to jump over the right log fence. You could write about the wrong teammate catching the ball, or about one player accidentally hitting someone hard enough to hurt them. You could write about getting the wrong person out in dodgeball, despite a pact made. You could even do something like the episode of Ted Lasso where Dani Rojas accidentally hits their greyhound mascot with the ball instead of the goal. 

What about a camera? It’s only too easy to get a picture of someone you weren’t “aiming” for. Perhaps you want to write about a paparazzi who discovers evidence of a crime on their camera roll. Or you could write about a skeevy person trying to get pictures of their crush…without their current significant other in them. 

Even information can be sent to the wrong person. You could write about the spy trope where briefcases are switched, where a random passerby accidentally picks up the briefcase full of government secrets. Another common trope/joke you could play with is hitting “reply all” in an email, and sending sensitive information to way too many people. Letters are another way information might be sent to the wrong person. (The beginning of Dear Evan Hansen I think has two great examples of this). A letter could contain many different things you might not want sent to the wrong person. If a love letter suffers this fate, and the unintended recipient accepts the profession of love…things could get very messy very quickly. 

Love could be aimed at the wrong person in many different ways. Not just a letter, but flowers sent to the wrong address, chocolates put in the wrong locker, even blown kisses could be mistaken in the hallway. It’s a common experience to think someone is waving at you…when actually they’re waving at someone behind you, after all. One of the most fun uses of this could be Cupid’s/Eros’ arrows. I could see lots of fun takes on Cupid accidentally hitting the wrong person. You could even play with a retelling of the Psyche story, where he accidentally shoots himself. 

That itself could be another really fun use of the prompt: what happens when the person aiming accidentally hits themselves? Voldemort’s killing curse backfiring on himself could count as this. What happens when a witch accidentally drinks her own potion, or a mad scientist accidentally shrinks himself? 

Accusations and threats, or praise and jokes, all work. You can easily accuse the wrong person—whether it be “You left this ice cream out to melt!” or “You murdered this man!”—as well as threaten the wrong person—be it aloud, or in writing. Recent real-life events have taught me that even something as official and important as a Cease and Desist can be sent to the wrong person. A boss might want to praise one employee, and accidentally send it to someone they are intending to fire. 

But this prompt doesn’t have to be negative. It could be especially intriguing to see how you could take it in positive directions—how the recipient is actually very happy to receive…whatever it is, and the aimer must decide if they’re going to tell them the truth, or roll with it. 

I could see this prompt having a vast variety of tones, from extremely dark, to extremely funny. The focus could change the story too; the whole story could focus on the aiming, only to end with a wail of pain coming from the wrong person; or perhaps the story doesn’t include the actual firing, only the aftermath where they’re desperately pleading with their victim. 

My first challenge for you is a simple content challenge: this prompt lends itself very heavily towards weapons, my challenge to you is to think outside the box and write about something other than a weapon being aimed. You could add extra challenges to this as well—level one being “Don’t write about a weapon,” level two being “Write about something more symbolic being aimed,” level three being “Write about this being something positive (or received positively),” and level four being “Write about the person accidentally hitting themselves.” (You can mix and match, as always!) 

My second challenge is to use the structure, syntax, grammar, etc. of the story to pair well with the content. What I mean by this is that if your character is very carefully aiming, be intentional about the technical aspects of your story to make it feel like the story itself is aiming. However, if your character is scatterbrained, structure the story in a scattered way. Don’t just tell us a character is careful, show us the carefulness in our reading. Don’t just tell us a character is messy, make us feel their messiness in the very structure of the story.  

Remember, these challenges aren’t mandatory! They are meant to be a fun bonus if you’d like to have a little extra challenge. But, if you don’t want to use them, please don’t feel obligated to!

Oh, you don’t mind? That was a scream for joy? Well umm…cool I guess. I’ll just be going, then!

—Pearce & Kaylie

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 Saturday at 3:00pm 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! Get ready not just to share what you’ve got, but to give back to the other writers here as well.

Rules and Guidelines

We read at least five stories during each stream, two of which come from the public post, and three of which come from the much smaller private post. Submissions are randomly selected by a bot, but likes on your post will improve your chances of selection, so be sure to share your submission on social media!

  1. Text and Formatting

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  2. What to Submit

    1. Keep submissions “safe-for-work”; be sparing with sexuality, violence, and profanity.
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    5. Submissions must be self-contained (everything essential to understanding the piece is contained within the context of the piece itself—no mandatory reading outside the piece required. e.g., if you want to write two different pieces in the same setting or larger narrative, you cannot rely on information from one piece to fill in for the other—they must both give that context independently).
  3. Submission Rules

    1. One submission per participant.
    2. Submit your entry in a comment on this post.
    3. Submissions close at 12:00pm CST each Friday.
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    5. Be constructive and uplifting. These submissions are not for a professional market, and shouldn’t be treated as such. We do this, first and foremost, for the joy of the craft. Help other writers to feel like their work is valuable, and be considerate and gentle with critique when you offer it. Authors who leave particularly abrasive or disheartening remarks on this post will be disqualified from selection for readings.
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Comments on this post that aren’t submissions will be deleted, except for replies/reviews left on existing submissions.

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jesse fisher
jesse fisher
1 month ago

The sound will be missed
By Jesse Fisher

The sound was the last thing that entered the now shattered eardrum. Falling to the ground, something wet fell on my hands. Was it mine or did luck save me again. My mind began to fade back to how I ended up here.


It was just a boring day, my job was just to drop off a package. I get paid less than my value but I rather get a job that I can just be out of the house. I don’t question what is in the boxes, nor where I go.

Back alleys were common, a knock on a door and “leave it by the door” as a response that washes my hands of whatever this is. Then the sound of a door screamed into my ear and my feet moved faster than my head.

The loud bang came from my left and fell to the ground.


My eyes hurt as a blinding white light filled my vision, I tried to move my arms but the jerk on them caused me to look towards it. Them being able to move gives me hope but the jerk makes me worried.

I tried to get up, but my legs did not respond yet my back could move. All of this ran in my mind, then I felt something touch me. I jerked but while doing so I noticed my eyes had adjusted, but something was still off.

I could see this was now a hospital and the one that touched me was an officer. My voice echoed in my mouth but it did not sound right.

It was only after I calmed down that I noticed the paper.

“Can you hear me?” it read.

It was then that it clicked in my head in the craziest ways, I was shot at. That is why I can’t hear now.

I yelled this to the officer, my rage was great but once I calmed down they had another note.

“They were trying to kill you.”

1 month ago

“Entries from Project Jiyesid Tagustul K’bisa”
By Hemming Sebastian Bane (Jinndina)

Entry #1

Experiment Leader: Shaima Euluim

Experiment Codename: Project Jiyesid Tagustul K’bisa

Duration of Experiment: Nine months

Statement by Experiment Leader: Samples were collected from a donor with parents’ consent. Donor is best described as a female djinn of hatif heritage with “boyish tendencies” according to her mother. It is the opinion of the research team that the donor is an ideal subject for this project. The team has observed the specimen, and its development has progressed as expected. Testosterone replacement has been a simple procedure so far. Everything is going according to plan.

Entry # 5

Experiment Leader: Shaima Euluim

Experiment Codename: Project Jiyesid Tagustul K’bisa

Duration of Experiment: Seven years

Statement by Experiment Leader: The team has vaccinated the specimen and reported its growth to be nominal. A schism has started to form between my personal team and team members hired by my sponsor. It is my personal team’s professional opinion to develop the brain so that in the scenario we believe may come to pass, there is less risk for neurological damage. Others have asserted that such efforts would force the specimen to develop in a metaphysical sense and may make this project unethical. A compromise is yet to be reached.

Entry #9

Experiment Leader: Shaima Euluim

Experiment Codename: Project Jiyesid Tagustul K’bisa

Duration of Experiment: Thirteen years

Statement by Experiment Leader: The team has elected to develop the mind of the specimen and supplement the activity with mind altering chemicals. Close examination of brain activity is necessary to ensure specimen integrity remains intact. While a compromise has been reached, the schism remains. Other members of the project team have reported to me incidents in which during mind enrichment activities the specimen has spoken. Efforts to corroborate their stories have been met with a lack of sufficient evidence. I fear they may be correct, but until I have proof, I can do nothing.

Entry #VHlwZSAiSW5

Experiment Leader: jaWRlbnQgMTkz

Experiment Codename: IiBpbiByZXBse

Duration of Experiment: SB0byB0aGlzIHN0b3

Statement by Experiment Leader: Experiment JTK compromiJ5IGZvciBtb3Jl Specimen has escIGluZm9ybWF0aW Lab team in critical condi9uLg==


Last edited 1 month ago by WolfsbaneX
1 month ago

Who Says Trophies Are Easily Won?
by Lunabear (CW: Violence, blood, death)

The heat of the mid-day sun was unrelenting.

A slug whizzed above Charles’ perspiring head. It ricocheted from hard tree bark and disappeared into thick underbrush.

“What fun is the game if you don’t run, old sport?” Edwin chuckled with derisive glee. The reloading of his sturdy shotgun echoed.

Charles almost threw up his lungs, but still circled to the other side of the tree. Without sense of direction, he stumbled his way through the untamed jungle. His heart pounded as though it meant to escape, and the blood rushing within his ears matched the harshness of his breathing.

Edwin’s jovial whistle called to the sky. “I am hoping we can drag this out a little more, dear boy. What with Julie having sacrificed herself, it doesn’t seem like you all will win.”

Bile doused the back of his throat. Julie’s head had been a macabre crimson painting against the jungle floor. Charles couldn’t decide if Edwin was closer or further away than before. Regardless, he wasn’t keen on finding out. At least Ian and Miranda were safe. He hoped.

Spying a coiled vine, Charles rushed to climb it. A knife sailed and cleaved the flora in half. Charles yelped as he fell and thumped against the earth beneath him.

“Tsk, tsk, Charles! Surely, you can do better than hiding! Be a man!” Edwin’s growl reverberated from everywhere at once.

Charles swiped his forearm across his forehead and sat with some trouble. His elbow screamed out when he put weight on it. “Come on, little Charlie. Don’t let him beat you!” Shoving to his feet, he pitched from side to side. The world spun, but he kept his feet moving. Desperate, he dove into a shaking bush, landing face down into the dirt.

“Charles!” Ian hissed.

Charles bolted upright, his eyes wide. “Oh! You’re alive!” His friends were as haggard as he was.

“Edwin’s gone mad!” Miranda moaned.

A shot parted the brush and propelled Ian backwards. He screamed, holding his bloody shoulder.

“Damn!” Edwin lamented. “That one was for Miranda!”

Ian was tended to while another slug was chambered.

1 month ago

Not Mad, Just Dissapointed (Chronicles of The Dragon)
By Makokam

The warehouse was full of caged therians. They cowered, glared, cursed, and struggled against the bars. The stronger ones were chained up as well.

The Black Fox mercenaries had been hired to collect a few dozen therianthropes, and after a month of stalking and snatching animal-people, they’d met their quota and were eager for their quarry to be picked up and to get their pay. Now they just needed to guard them until they were picked up.

They were disciplined enough to wait until the mission was actually done, but the excitement of a huge payday coming their way was palpable. Perhaps that’s what made them let their guard down, as they didn’t realize they had an intruder until he spoke.

“I thought better of you.”

They all reacted instantly, turning their weapons on the man wearing a long coat and smoking a cigarette. Fox herself addressed him, “So you’ve heard of us! But if you know our reputation, then you should know that we’ll take any job if the pay is high enough.”

He shot her a glare. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He took the cigarette out of his mouth. “I was talking to her,” and he jabbed it at a small curly-haired cat girl.

“I’m sorry!” she said, “They ambushed me! But look, I’ve almost got this…” The mercenaries all turned and watched, confused, as she pulled at her chains. Her jaw set and muscles went taught as she pulled and pulled, and then the chains holding her snapped. She let out a breath, then bent the bars on her cage and jogged over to the man.

A more proactive mercenary drew their weapon on them, but the man instantly pointed a finger at him, a fireball at its tip, without looking away from the girl.

“So, do you want to get out of here, or get some payback?”

“Payback!” she said, punching a fist into her palm and dropping into a three point stance.

“Nice,” he said, flicking his cigarette away.

The first few mercenaries were down before it even hit the floor

1 month ago

Target Practice (Students of the DiamondBridge Academy universe)
by Carrie (Glaceon373)

Roselyn walked along the line of study rooms, glancing through the windows of each one until she saw a familiar face. She couldn’t help but smile as she opened the door.

The hinges had barely enough time to squeak before a loud noise cut them off: a booming impact inches from Roselyn’s face.

“Oh my gosh!” Sam, dropping a bunch of foam shapes, shuffled Roselyn inside the study room, closing the door. “Did that hit you? I’m pretty sure it didn’t, but…?”

“W-what just happened?” Roselyn asked.

“Nicklescribe’s homework. Apparently we’re getting tested on our knife-throwing ability now? Not with real ones!” Sam proved this by picking up a foam knife and squishing it. “But with how far we are from the syllabus already, we all doubted it.”

Roselyn now noticed the hand-drawn target taped to the door she’d just walked through. It had a lot of impact marks near the center.

“Well,” Roselyn mused, “you seem pretty good at it. Mind helping me with the history homework instead?”

“Sure!” Sam shoved the knives to the side. “What do you need?”


Roselyn took a deep breath and slid on her blindfold.

She knew exactly what her spellcasting range looked like. She knew exactly where her feet were on her bedroom floor, and she knew exactly where the target was in front of her.

She did not need her eyes to cast a simple icicle spell. Well, it wasn’t simple, but it was on her next test from Prof. Paqulamar, so she needed to do it.



“Did I get it?” she asked the empty room.

“Yup! Bullseye. Nice job—”


Roselyn ripped the blindfold off. Sure enough, Sam was there, appraising the two-foot icicle sticking out of the target.

“What? How?! Are you hurt? Oh goodness, I—”

“You left your history homework with me, remember? I’m here to bring it back. And I’m not hurt, because you’re awesome. Also, here’s your homework.”

Roselyn took the papers from Sam, still discombobulated. “Do you think there’s a reason our assignments have been so… violent lately?”

“I… hope not.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

1 month ago

Beneath a Blanket of Stars
by Alexsander Edwards

Under the evening sky, She lied down on the grass, her crimson hair glistening under the bright light of a full moon. From inside the cabin, He smiled.

Stopping for a moment to look through the window, his hands still grasping the wine bottle, He felt both at peace and endlessly anxious at once. And yet, this sensation was pleasant. ‘Is this love?’ He thought.

Snapping from his own mind for a moment, He put the bottle on the kitchen counter and went on to find his corkscrew. ‘I never thought I’d see the day,’ He mused. ‘But here I am…’

She looked at the stars, appreciating the beauty of the Milky Way’s many arms stretching across the skies, shining their own oh-so-subtle light on the meadows.

Hearing a creaking noise, She sat up and looked back at the cabin, its front door now open, as He stood, occupying the frame. On his face, a smile – and in his hands, two glasses of red wine.

She smiled back as a sense of warmth washed over her body. Handing over a glass of wine, He sat next to her, both sharing a toast under the moonlight.

‘I never thought I’d be here,’ She contemplated. ‘But I like this.’

The couple lied down on the grass, each wrapping an arm around their partner’s shoulders, appreciating the soft breeze and the beauty of the heavens. He could feel his heartbeat slow down as the warm embrace brought comfort and calm.

For hours, the two took turns pointing at constellations, sharing fun facts and stories, and laughing at their own jokes. Hours upon hours passed, until He noticed, looking to his side, that his partner had eventually fallen asleep.

As the wind stroke his hair, so did He softly stroke hers with a gentle smile on his face. ‘You were never the one I was looking for,’ He thought to himself, before looking up to the blanket of stars that adorned the moment. ‘But you are definitely the one.’

Fog Wall
Fog Wall
1 month ago

Breaking Breakfast
~Fog Wall

The Speakeasy we called home was empty this early in the morning and while I sat with a bowl of cereal, I couldn’t stop looking at James who had fallen asleep on the bench of one of the booths off in the corner. I ate my cereal dry, because soggy grains just weren’t appetizing.

Clacking my hooves off the floor below me whilst lost in thought, debating the content of our work and the crimes we were committing. Is it worth it? Granted, this was all in an effort to better the lives of millions. Taking down or bringing to light the criminals of higher stations.

The rapid tapping below me was thoroughly tuned out and I lazily chewed on a pinch of grains. Sure, this is the only life I’d ever known, being orphaned and taken in by this gang of information brokers. Couldn’t there be a better life to be carved out in this city?

I fidgeted, looking at a piece of cereal I held up. Accidently crushing it, the broken chunks fell to the tabletop. Scooping out some more, I dropped them into my mouth and began chewing slowly. This is my home. They are my family. Surely I should do everything in my power to keep them safe.

Frustration boiled just behind my eyes. Taking a few quick deep breaths, I almost wanted to scream it out. I didn’t like this life. I don’t want this future. To be a criminal, yet a Robin’s Hood.

I stood abruptly, sweeping my forearm across the table; hitting the bowl and sending it flying across the room. “It’s not fair!”

I expected to hear the bowl crash, but only heard the cereal scatter across the floor. I whipped around to see James standing nearby, the bowl held from the bottom in one hand.

“Koelle? What’s not fair?” He asked in a leveled tone.

My eyes burned, threatening to tear up as a pressure built behind my brow. I looked away, punching the table as hard as possible. My fist broke straight through the wood, unphased.

Lee Strangely
Lee Strangely
1 month ago

Icicles (Amelia)
by Lee Strangely

Even as the seared meat steamed on the table, the air seemed thick with cold awkwardness. While Amelia and Prince Lorn kept to themselves, the King and his General debated aloud.

The General spoke, “I would recommend that you prepare soon. Winter’s practically on us. We wouldn’t want to let the cold in, would we?”

“I suppose you’re right…” The King mumbled.

“Winter’s such a horrible season, isn’t it?” his eyes drifted across the table, towards the prince and his witch, “So dark, and cold…”

“You could always put on more clothes, if you don’t feel comfortable.” Amelia jeered.

“Should a man have to cover himself further just to walk in his own home? I’d take the hottest summer over the coldest winter.”

“But what if his home gets too hot?”

“Then he can enjoy the outdoors’ warm embrace.”

She raised an eyebrow, “And what if that gets too hot?”

“Then… he’ll do away with unnecessary clothing,” the General faltered, still projecting some confidence.

“I see…” Amelia smirked, “And once he runs out of clothing, will he be rid of his dignity as well?”

The King gave a drunken chuckle.

Lorn finally butted in, “Honestly, I quite like the winter. It’s very beautiful. I particularly love the icicles that hang from the ledges, glistening in sunlight.”

“Yes, the icicles… Beautiful, aren’t they? Clinging to the brick, dangling over us. Dazzling us, distracting us as they grow longer. And grow, and grow till the bricks can’t hold them anymore. And then… They drop. And when they’re high enough up, they’ll kill anything… in… their path.”

Lorn caught a glimpse of the flames that spewed from her glare. His hand hovered over hers, He could feel the frost that was forming around it.

He whispered, “Don’t.” Lorn then turned back to the General, “Seems a bit harsh…”

“Winter’s a harsh season… besides, we’re only talking about weather…” he looked directly at the two, feigning innocence. “Aren’t we?”

Amelia’s hand then seemed to fly from her chair. While the General flinched, Lorn jumped to stop her.

She paused, “I just wanted another drink.”

2 months ago

Made Ya Look
By Gerrit (Rattus)

Yaichi pulled the trigger, eyes locked with the demonic creature before him. This was his one shot, he knew. These things were fast, and the distance between them was short enough that it could reach him before he could ready another shot.

The bullet sped through the air. As it approached the hulking beast, it leaned to one side, the projectile flying through the air past it. It’s face twisted into a rictus, muscles tensing in preparation for a counter attack.

“You missed,” it grumbled, voice deep and rumbling. Its snarl revealed a row of sharpened teeth, yellowed and blackened.

Yaichi watched as the bullet continued its trajectory, directly towards where Marik was standing, shield at the ready.

He saw the bullet strike Marik’s shield, the energy rippling out from the point of impact. The bullet seemed to fade into the shield for a moment, before protruding back out facing the opposite way. Yaichi smiled, and the monster noticed too late.

The bullet shot from the shield, still carrying all the momentum of when it first left the muzzle. It caught the enemy through the chest from behind before it could even think of reacting, inky blood quickly staining the front of its armour.

The beast tried to snarl, the sound coming out breathy and faint. It dropped first to its knees, then onto its face. Yaichi and Marik converged on either side of the fallen body.

“These things are so full of themselves,” Yaichi said as he shook his head. “Always think I’m aiming for them.”

2 months ago

Hunting Rabbits (Genre Break Universe)
By MasaCur

Breathe in deeply. Empty your lungs to one quarter full. He’s not that far away. Aim for the second mil dot down. Squeeze the trigger. Do not pull at it; it will ruin the shot.

The rifle bucked in Mizuki’s grip, the butt pushing hard against her shoulder. She released her hand from the grip, and up to the bolt handle, quickly turning it and drawing it back before slamming it back into position.

She looked through the scope once again, to see Ritsu hopping around from one foot to another.

“Dammit, Henjinko! I know you’re the one shooting at me!” he yelled, looking around. “Where are you?”

Mizuki focused her sight on his foot, now that he had stopped jumping. A great sense of accomplishment filled her as she saw that one of Ritsu’s slippers was missing a rabbit ear.

Again. Breathe in, let out all but one quarter of your breath. Don’t rush it. You need that oxygen in your blood to keep your eyes sharp and muscles steady. Aim. Squeeze.

Another shot rang out.

Ritsu jumped back. “FUCK! Stop shooting at me!”

Mizuki glanced through the scope again. The second rabbit ear was missing. A grin spread on her face as she cocked the rifle again. “All’s fair in love and war, Tobose-san!” she called out. “And you are on the opposing side in this genre break.”

“You need to adjust your aim, Henjinko. I expected better from you, but that’s twice you’ve missed me.”

“I’m not trying to hit you, Tobose-san. It’s your slippers I take offence at.”

“What have my bunny slippers ever done to you?”

“I think they’re stupid. Now just surrender before I have to kill you. I’m giving you this courtesy as my best friend.”

“If you’re going to kill me, then kill me! Stop toying with me, Mizuki-chan!”

Deep breath. Empty your lungs. Aim. Squeeze.


“Dammit, Henjinko! Leave my slippers alone!”

Notes: Henjinko – Weird Girl. A nickname.

2 months ago

It’s All About the Game, And How You Play It
By Marx

“Have you lost your ever-loving mind?! How could you even suggest that?”

Jasmine sighed. “Daisy, look… I get where you’re coming from. I do. But you catch more flies with honey…”

“Alex is NOT a fly.”

A smirk curled up Jasmine’s lips. “I’m just saying you’re his thrall now. He literally controls you. He’s clearly a very old, bored demon. You’re a shiny new toy to him, you know?“

“So… your great plan… is to have him PLAY with me?! This isn’t one of your stupid novels! This is my life!”

A blush colored Jasmine’s cheeks as she nodded. “Got it. Sorry. Different plan then. We’ll get him to release you. It’s just… You do realize he’s part incubus? He’d probably be really–”


“Sorry. Sorry.”


I can’t stop a chuckle from escaping my lips as I watch the two bickering in the distance, clearly unaware of how easily I can see and hear them.

I generally try not to be noticed. The game works better that way. So it’s fun to be someone’s focus once more.

Daisy’s soul is encompassed in a glowing darkness, but there are already glimmers of a bright red within.


Jasmine on the other hand, she’s immersed in crimson. Her fire burns so much hotter than any sane human’s should. I am a demon after all. She should know this won’t end well for her. But that’s what makes this game so fun.

Just as Daisy has little sparks of red that will take over as all thralls eventually do, I also see some viridescence within Jasmine.

My grin widens.

It’s already starting.

They’re such polar opposites in regards to me. Daisy’s change has already begun. Regardless of if I’m cruel or kind it will end the same way.

But Jasmine…

She’s going to be fun.

Nurturing that envious tint. Discovering what will finally make her own inner obsidian void infest and bloom.

It makes me appreciate painters. Taking a plain canvas and manipulating colors until it’s art.

Bringing beauty out of nothing.

This will be a very fun game, indeed.