ink-singer

I DO NOT consent to the use of AI for generating comments of any kind on this story, or to the use of these words for AI training or any other AI purposes. . The sky was red – red like a bloodmoon, red like a fire, red like blood. Beneath the eerie ruddy sky, terrifying creatures seethed and writhed and squirmed. Creatures with barbed tongues and horned eyes and bulbous bodies. Creatures with flippers for legs and legs for tails. Creatures with teeth for claws and shrieks like wailing Death. Jade and I watched the scene from behind a boulder and waited for our opportunity to run. But we were only partially shielded from sight, and the creatures on our side of the rock were already starting to notice us. It was now or never. "Go!" Jade shouted. "I'm right behind you!" I nodded and took off across the valley of horrors, barely slowing to cut at the disgusting creatures with my twin daggers as they lunged and slashed and bit at me. Panting and somehow uninjured, I made it into the

I DO NOT consent to the use of AI for generating comments of any kind on this story, or to the use of these words for AI training or any other AI purposes. . He was the good kind of toxic. Like sitting back with popcorn and candy to watch a doomed-from-the-start venture fail spectacularly. Like eating the wrong kind of mushroom and coming out of it with a spiritual awakening rather than a near-death experience. Like enjoying an especially beautiful sunset even though you know the improbable ombre sky is an aftereffect of smoke pollution from rampant summer wildfires. He was the good kind of dangerous. Like petting the cute, furry little cactus and ending up with a pincushion for a fingertip. Like stroking a pretty cat and being bitten for your trouble. Like walking barefoot down a pristine beach and getting stabbed in the foot by a pointy shell. Like letting your former race-car-driver friend drive you home and arriving ahead-of-schedule but with heart palpitations and a shortened

I DO NOT consent to the use of AI for generating comments of any kind on this story, or to the use of these words for AI training or any other AI purposes. . *CONTENT WARNING: violence, blood, gore, killing, murder (active)   Nick, Harry, and Arty were the best freelance crime-scene cleanup crew this side of the Olde river. But despite their sparkling reputation, they didn't usually get called in to clean up a scene that was… well, not a scene just yet. When the trio pulled up in their truck, they just sat there for a moment in stunned silence. Nick could see why they'd been called: the alleyway was absolutely bathed in blood, and he counted at least five bodies in the dim light of the streetlamp two buildings down. The problem was, they couldn't start the job when two of the combatants were still alive and going at it. One was a big bald man with a beer gut, a long knife, and a snarl twisting his thin mouth; the other was either lean or scrawny – swimming in an oversized

I DO NOT consent to the use of AI for generating comments of any kind on this story, or to the use of these words for AI training or any other AI purposes. . Quasar always forgot how brain-stabbingly boring lifeguard duty was. (Wait, not lifeguard - bodyguard. Yes of course, bodyguard was the more accurate term. Why had he first thought lifeguard…?)  He felt reasonably sure the merchant and his daughter were safe enough in this isolated little cabin by the lake, as his forces had scoured the surrounding woods (wait, no - combed, not scoured) for any sign of dangerous predators, nefarious intruders, or even nosy residents of the nearby village, and returned with nothing of note to report. Which wasn’t too surprising, since no one should be aware as of yet that the merchant’s daughter had recently become the Prince Royal’s fiancé, and no one should have cause to go after an ordinary merchant and his ordinary daughter. But secrets were an assassin’s stock and trade, so Quasar knew

I DO NOT consent to the use of AI for generating comments of any kind on this story, or to the use of these words for AI training or any other AI purposes. . When your friend burns a book, you know you have to burn one too. So you huck a copy of Mein Kampf or The Little Red Book or maybe The Bible into the blaze – something you think both you (and the rest of the world) would probably be better off without – and enjoy watching it be reduced to nothing more than a pile of ashes. When you and your friend start burning books, other read-ravers are bound show up. It's bound to be loud, it's bound to be hot, and it's bound to be *spicy.* It's bound to turn into an all-night, book-debating, book-hurling, burn-a-book-bonding party. And if there's a party with a bonfire and burning books, you can be sure news of it will spread. When news of it spreads, you might hear about more book-burning bonfire parties popping up here and there. And when it morphs into a trend, you can definitely

I DO NOT consent to the use of AI for generating comments of any kind on this story, or to the use of these words for AI training or any other AI purposes. . Am I The Asshole For Going On A Once-In-A-Lifetime Trip? I'm not on good terms with Time at the moment, and I really need some outside perspectives on our debacle, because I'm starting to wonder who the asshole is here. Ever since I went on that once-in-a-lifetime trip through a wormhole (le gasp! what sacrilege!), he's been getting back at me by completely messing up the flow of my timeline – at times making months feel like years, at other times making days feel like seconds – and I'm seriously about to go insane from the whiplash. I think he needs to get a grip because when you literally win the MegaMilleniums Lottery of the Universe, of course you go on the prize trip! Seriously, starlettes, this is the Lottery of the UNIVERSE we're talking about!! Like read the name, it's literally once-a-millenium-type odds! How could

I DO NOT consent to the use of AI for generating comments of any kind on this story, or to the use of these words for AI training or any other AI purposes. . Dee's smile was small and tight, and Delaney could tell she was about to snap. So like any good sister, she sat back and put her feet up (figuratively, of course – she wasn't a heathen… well, not that kind of heathen) to watch the show. "…-e on, you can't humor me for just one song? Come on, I promise I'll be a gentleman…" Delaney's eyebrows flew up when the guy actually had the audacity to reach for Dee's shoulder… And that was when she finally snapped. She jerked away from his looming hand and snarled, "Touch me, and I'll feed your fat fucking fingers to my hamster." Delaney couldn't help her astounded gasp-bark of laughter. "What hamster?" she wheezed, but the murderous look in Dee's eyes didn't falter. The guy finally stepped back, hands raised and brow pinched as if he was suddenly confused or uncomfortable or weirded

I DO NOT consent to the use of AI for generating comments of any kind on this story, or to the use of these words for AI training or any other AI purposes. . … Day 23: The moon is finally on my side! It took longer than expected, but she finally opened up and admitted she'd only been taking the sun's side because he's her brother and you don't NOT support your own family. I told her I sorta got it, but as her cousin, I felt like it wasn't really a choice between family and not-family, you know? Like, I'm her family too… She got this look on her face at that, but then orbited away from me before I could get a good read on it. Something like… guilt maybe? Or sadness? Something negative. Maybe it was just anxiety? I dunno. Whatever it was, I'm just glad she finally admitted she agrees with me. I mean, I really don't get how anyone wouldn't, you know? Like, it's just a simple statement of fact. I have no idea how the sun could possibly see it differently, but then he refuses to

I DO NOT consent to the use of AI for generating comments of any kind on this story, or to the use of these words for AI training or any other AI purposes. . Love is a fickle emotion, but you’d think your lover would at least ask to wield the sword at your execution. I glare at Trevor, wishing I was free – to throttle him! The executioner makes me kneel, but just before the blade falls, I see Trevor turn away, pale and sick. A delicate flower… Pathetic.

I DO NOT consent to the use of AI for generating comments of any kind on this story, or to the use of these words for AI training or any other AI purposes. . i. The day we met, I swear my soul recognized yours: kindred beings far too innately familiar with each other - too quickly too connected - to believe they'd only just met for the first time. I could swear I remembered your mocha eyes, your sunflower smile, your aura like pine and tea and violets; your voice like an echo of home. I know you, I heard my soul say. Hold this one dear, she whispered to me; keep this one close; trust this one safe. And we both know my soul is never wrong.   ii. A decade and more of laughing-to-tears days and too-late-talking nights; a decade and more of your tea-steeped fervor and my partly-cloudy ambition; my un-masked expressions and your un-filtered mouth; your merry-knowing-burning wolf-eyes and my dreaming-candid-flying word-song; your fiery nature and my open heart, your quick wit and