Challenge #01791-D330: Reserved Seating — Steemit
It was a nice little house. Cosy without being cramped. Light and airy without being exposed and drafty. It was, in essence, the last place anyone would expect to be haunted. And yet it was.
The living room was always rearranged on Tuesday nights, with the comfiest chair arranged just so and the television angled in almost the same way. There was the smell of popcorn and Jack Daniel’s, even though the owner of the house was on a carb-free diet.
Madame Tracy had been called in, and she spotted the phantom in seconds. “Why are you staying here? What business is it that you have unfinished? What is keeping you in this plane?”
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Challenge #01771-D310: Helper Dragon
This post: https://blue-shadow-fire-dragon.tumblr.com/post/139867120326/elfoftheforest-but-imagine-if-we-had-tiny – TheDragonsFlame
Eldarol Vale, the sign read. Here there be dragons. And it was amusing since Elderol Vale was the Pet Dragon capital of the world. The best breeders came from Elderol Vale. The best breeds came from there. The most sincere and severe show judges grew up there, and knew what was good for the animals. In smaller print, the sign boasted, Zero rapes since the Year of the Eternally Staring Owl.
Dragons may be small, but they were good guardians of their owners. They could go from soppy, half-asleep pet to whirling ball of sharpened and angry pain in instants if they felt their owner was threatened. Maidens trained them to sit on their shoulders. Mothers kept them next to their babies. The anxious or the fearful had little to be afraid of with a dragon clinging lovingly to their body heat.
Legends tell of enormous dragons. Bigger than cities. Sleeping on hoards of gold or gems. But those were laughable. Everyone knew that dragons never got larger than a housecat. And they would guard anyone and anything they got attached to. They also came in handy for lighting fires. A dragon was second only to dogs as being mankind’s best friend. They were also ideal for allergy sufferers, since they had no fur or dander. Something Faline was looking forward to.
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Challenge #01758-D297: Old Tricks, New Places
Employment Agency for Supernatural Beings and Creatures. – Anon Guest
The Fae Folk don’t get to steal as many babies as they used to. Their usual shenanigans are now written off as the souls of dead humans. And that’s just insulting. The worst they can do is already being done, and to humans, by humans. They have lived for centuries. Millenia. And they have yet to see depravity like human depravity. Humans can’t be scared of them, any more. What they are afraid of most is other humans.
Make no mistake, the Fae still have their strongholds. Doorways and places where they can slide into this world, or places that allow them to observe the modern era. And they still hold true to never bothering the artists. Much. They might borrow a bard or two, but the bards are few and far between, nowadays.
Which is why Snowdrop had come here. An employment agency. The Fae court has always had a very thin grasp of economics, but she knows that things aren’t as… worthy… as they had once been. So she came, and she expected to be given things, just because she happened to be a Faerie. You can imagine her shock when the Lupercain at the desk said, “That’s not how it works, any more.”
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Challenge #01731-D270: They Call it Dragoncote
Why do dragons hoard wealth and guard it so jealously? Because for dragons, much like for kings, money is power.
With kings, such a phrase lies more in the metaphor of capitalism, but for dragons it is taken much more literally - the greater the amount of gold and jewels and other treasures a dragon can amass and claim as their own, the more magically potent and physically larger they become, and likewise the less riches they possess, the smaller and weaker they become. Thus can their kind span from colossal ancient beasts dwelling in caverns lined with gold and gems down to tiny bat-sized wyrmlings clinging to their first silver coin… – Anon Guest
They say money is power, and it’s a good thing that most dragons don’t get to hoard enormous amounts of gold. Most remain small, and hoard a single coin of negligible value. Their young are indistinguishable from geckoes, and the only way to truly tell is leave a coin in their line of sight.
Some infest bankers and trade-halls, where the people test money by seeing if the nearest dragon will try to snatch it. In towns that prosperous, it is bad luck to take off jewelry. Some dragons curl jealously around their first coin, and come along when it is spent. And rarely, very rarely, a dragon will find something more… valuable than a single coin.
Value is not the same as wealth.
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Challenge #01701-D240: Chosen by Disorder
“When chaos bears fruit, you eat first and think about the stomach ache later.” – @recklessprudence
It was the only tree that grew sideways. Its leaves were purple. Its fruit was a shade of pink never seen in nature. But this… was not natural. This was a tree that grew in the Realm of Disorder. It stood still in the wind and waved when it was calm. And whenever it rained[1], it danced.
The Lord of Disorder held a Fruit Party whenever the trees like it ripened. And the effects were always… unpredictable. To any bold enough to complain, the Lord would ask, “Did you read the address in the invitation?”
Sal had no idea why she was invited but, having read the instructions, followed them anyway. She rarely got any kind of invitation at all, and this one was not to be ignored. Now, she had to note, her offcut dress fit in. Her strange way of dressing her hair was no more strange than anyone else’s. And she was seated primly on a floating chair between the God of War and the Lord of Disorder Himself.
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Challenge #01685-D224: Alarming Reflection
Traditionally, vampires could not see their reflection because mirrors were silver-backed. With the invention of aluminum-backed mirrors, a vampire sees their reflection for the first time only to find out… they are the ugliest thing they have ever seen. – Anon Guest
For centuries, Vampires avoided mirrors. Silvered mirrors would not show them, and the ones backed in gold harmed them. Some would have mirrors made that were backed with brass or bronze… but by and large, Vampires avoided mirrors.
Pierce Opal Silkyoak was quite shocked in 1953 when, moving into her new residence at night, she saw someone else moving about. It was the shock of her undeath. Fortunately, Vampires are immune to heart-attacks and she investigated the motion with a handy weapon.
The ugly stranger was also walking cautiously and carrying the same baseball bat.
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Challenge #01659-D198: Kind and Dangerous Stranger
Never annoy a sleeping dragon, for you are fat and crunchy, and taste good with BBQ sauce! – Fliss
At first, she thought it was a lava flow. One of those ones where the lava ran under a relatively whole, cooler skin. It was warm enough to be one. Then she noticed the way it flexed rhythmically, and realised that, in fact, this was a sleeping dragon. Fire was their element and this black-scaled beauty was no different. Their skin luminesced as they breathed in.
Which would have been fascinating if she wasn’t so hopelessly lost. Or that this was the third time she had come across the same sleeping dragon. Or that her food hadn’t run out a long time ago and she didn’t know what was edible down here[1]. In fact, Blase had lots of reasons to not be fascinated and none of them were remotely happy.
At least this time, she had found the dragon on a level where she could approach them. Their skin was warm, but not burning. Slightly uncomfortably warm, in fact, which was a welcome change from cold, dank caves full of slippery moss. Blase could feel her toes thawing, and tried not to make a noise as she crept over the dragon’s hide to their massive head.
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Challenge #01657-D196: Spiteful Ascension
Depression Tips: Kill the gods and eat their flesh to rise above human chemicals into horrifying immortality
…Sounds more feasible than “just think positive!” – @recklessprudence
People around Lase would later swear that they all heard it when she snapped. A lifetime of hearing people say, “Just think positive,” will do that to you.
“You know what?” she said. “I’m going to summon an Elder God, kill it, and drink its blood so I can rise above the need for mortal chemicals. It’ll certainly be easier.”
Dave, who suggested every other hour that Lase just think positive, backed away from her cubicle. “Geez,” he said, “I was just trying to be helpful…”
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Challenge #01651-D190: Ill-Met By Neon
The city sleeps, if the city is large enough to support night workers, cops, nurses, cleaning staff and cab drivers, somewhere there is a place open with hot coffee, hot food, a place to sit and grab a meal or snack before heading home to sleep. – @knitnan
Towns can sleep. Villages definitely slumber. Cities? Cities never close. There’s always somewhere going. Some light that is on and someone who is using that illumination for something. Not always something nice, because the have-nots figure out where the haves are and attempt a little manual redistribution.
But neither of those are here, in this tiny island of light in the darkened streets. It’s a spot where the permanent and the itinerant alike come for a moment. A moment of peace. A moment to think. A moment to have a coffee, or bitch about politics, or catch up on a news station that isn’t interrupted by static. The regulars sit with their laptops or their studies, and ask Joe about his corns or his lumbago. The people who aren’t regulars watch the shitty television in the corner and process their food and beverages.
This is a space for the Night People. The flotsam and jetsam who just don’t fit in the daylight. Those for whom the sun is their enemy. Those for whom normal is not obligatory, and unusual is acceptable. It is a realm of cheap but neat clothes and fading uniforms. And into this speck in the night-time galaxy of the city, there comes a complete stranger. Trouble about to happen.
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Challenge #01650-D189: Not the Usual Madness
And so tired of the Mad God’s priestess falling for Hero du Jour and grabbing the priceless treasure and buggering off to live with Hero type. So! what if your Mad God was just annoyed that “Nobody Listens to Me!” - random thoughts on popular Barbarian fiction. – @knitnan
The temple of Sargax the Mad God was silent. Eerily silent. The walls were furnished in sculpted felt and the floor was made out of cork. Nidrus the Mighty could not still the noise of his armour as he made his way through the quiet corridors, well aware of how the metal plate protecting his body clanked and rattled with his every step. And he was also well aware that the sound from his armour didn’t echo back from the soft walls.
There were no soldiers. No bloodthirsty demons. No acolytes bent on killing him. No eldritch monsters. There were rather a lot of Faerie lights to illuminate the temple. But then, they were the only known light source that made no sound. There were no doors with hinges to creak. Merely baffle upon baffle of thick curtains made of Anteludian Spider silk. A fabric also noted for its sound-deadening qualities.
Nidrus journeyed onwards down the snail-shell spiral of the temple. There was no sign of any treasure, but there was always treasure in the centre of a Mad God’s temple. Usually after a pitched battle to rescue a high priestess from human sacrifice. But there was nothing like that here.