Kraken of the deep, all magical services come with a price.
Selective, Indie RP blog writing/roleplaying since 2010 Mun and Muses are 21+ Multiship and Multiverse friendly, plot in IMs, no discord Please read rules before interacting ||
We all love urban fantasy but we have to contend with the fact that if monsters were real, some of them would be normies. Your werewolf boyfriend posts on LinkedIn. The tentacled horror you've been thirsting after is a Disney adult.
"Tormenting Maverick doesn't count as having fun." She reminded him with a cocked-up eyebrow. She stifled a laugh at the confused look on his face- it was exactly the one an old fogie would make. Then again he was very very old so she could forgive him.
She scoffed before considering. She did have her hands full trying not to fall for someone she couldn't have. "Okay, so you win that one." She admitted. "Not a museum...just a gallery in New York where my ex has a bunch of his paintings." It was really the first time she'd thought about her past life. "Bet its worth even more now that I'm..." She made a noose motion by her neck.
She considered for a moment before chewing into her lip. "Okay...but just one." She had to admit maybe a little part of her vanity had been poked at again. She couldn't resist.
“What are friends for, if not to incessantly torment?” Ulysses smiled in a way where it was not easy to pinpoint if he was serious or not. He left it as such, and decided to head over to the large marble stone that was there the whole time, just a few feet away, and then pull off the drape that he put over it to conceal it. Picking up his tools, he chipped away at it, at first it looked like nothing but a few lumps, but the warlock was a fast and talented artist. Soon, it started looking more like a woman, and with finer details, he had a live, frighteningly realistic statue of Alex.
“And it only took… less than an hour. Try brushing off the dust all over you, that’s just marble residue. I hope your body isn’t aching too much from sitting for so long. This is probably way better than whatever your ex drew. Do you bring up your ex a lot in conversations? Don’t do that. Kind of is a mood killer if you know what I mean.”
“Alright- where is a good place in the garden to place it? Near the flower bushes?”
Greta was so lost, she felt so … hopeless. Everything was darkness, horror, and hopelessness. She felt it, digging into her mind. Its fingers it was all wiggling, invading, persistent needy fingers. Getting at her, touching her, working their way inside of her. The air contracted, pressing against her glands. Once, twice and then suddenly the pressure was gone. Withdrew almost immediately as if it was a living thing.
She let out a ragged breath and collapsed in relief so tangible she almost confused it with pleasure. The witch took what time he gave her and collected herself. Making an effort not to move too quickly so as not to incur any more of his ire. Her limbs felt weak as she got them under her weight and she steadied herself against a nearby structure, avoiding his gaze. Luckily for her, the monster was too busy pontificating. She would have made a joke if she wasn’t so terrified.
Somehow the witch got to her feet and began to gingerly make her way away from him. She still felt the residue of what he’d done and felt the need for a bath. Except now he was speaking to her …
Even his attention on her felt like a cicada burrowing into her ear, echoing in her skull. Her eyes began to stink again, and she shook her head, still not able to look at him. And she dare not speak for fear her voice would break.
There would be no problem, at least not from her.
Good. Looks like Cthulhu got the point across. If his magic worked on this ordinary witch, then it can work on anybody else, easily. That is what this summer was about- an experimentation. Rome wasn’t built in a day- and the world was not dominated in one season.
He will be building minions soon, but for now he wanted to take it easy and not stress himself out too much. Tormenting her mind was rather… exhausting. He wiped a sweat off his brow just thinking about it.
“Your silence speaks volumes. I am glad to hear it,” he chuckled menacingly, arms on his hips as he leaned smugly backwards. “I will leave my pretty, just for now, but I won’t be gone forever. Be good, okay?”
you ever accidentally create a recurring theme in your writing. you start putting together an outline for something you’ve never written before and get partway through planning, rearrange the pieces, and go “GODDAMMIT THIS IS ABOUT GRIEF AGAIN”? because let me tell you,
