Corty
Ra’Coon
- Joined
- Oct 7, 2022
- Messages
- 4,660
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- 183
Okay, guys, gals, and everything in between, from muffins to vampires and witches!
Let's see your take on our lovely demon king and his Christmas scenario. What will he get as a present? Finish the prompt! The winner gets cookies.
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The air in the grand hall, made of the bones of failed heroes, flickered with the faint hum of infernal fire, casting dreadful shadows across the towering throne in its middle. Upon it sat the Demon Lord Jeff, his clawed fingers drumming against the armrests of the charred skull embedded into its armrest. Before him, on a pedestal of molten rock, rested a box.
It was wrapped in festive paper—red and green stripes running around it, bringing color into his evil chambers. A curling golden ribbon topped it off as though mocking the macabre throne room.
Jeffy's crimson eyes narrowed, the flames within them dancing as he leaned forward. "Who dares," he rumbled, his voice like an earthquake, "offer me a token of... sentiment?"
The imps cowering near the door exchanged nervous glances, but none spoke. A jolly, fat man just simply barged into their hellish domain, kicking down the castle's door, placing the present in front of their master before popping out of existence, leaving behind a loud "hohohoho" laughter.
Jeff slowly stood from his throne, his towering form eclipsing the light of the firepits around him. His claws hovered over the gift, hesitating for only a moment before he seized it, snatching it for himself. The paper crinkled under his touch, soft yet strangely resilient. He growled, feeling something stir—a flicker of curiosity he hadn't felt in eons.
With a sharp claw, he began to tear into the wrappings and—
Let's see your take on our lovely demon king and his Christmas scenario. What will he get as a present? Finish the prompt! The winner gets cookies.
??????????????????????????????????????????????
The air in the grand hall, made of the bones of failed heroes, flickered with the faint hum of infernal fire, casting dreadful shadows across the towering throne in its middle. Upon it sat the Demon Lord Jeff, his clawed fingers drumming against the armrests of the charred skull embedded into its armrest. Before him, on a pedestal of molten rock, rested a box.
It was wrapped in festive paper—red and green stripes running around it, bringing color into his evil chambers. A curling golden ribbon topped it off as though mocking the macabre throne room.
Jeffy's crimson eyes narrowed, the flames within them dancing as he leaned forward. "Who dares," he rumbled, his voice like an earthquake, "offer me a token of... sentiment?"
The imps cowering near the door exchanged nervous glances, but none spoke. A jolly, fat man just simply barged into their hellish domain, kicking down the castle's door, placing the present in front of their master before popping out of existence, leaving behind a loud "hohohoho" laughter.
Jeff slowly stood from his throne, his towering form eclipsing the light of the firepits around him. His claws hovered over the gift, hesitating for only a moment before he seized it, snatching it for himself. The paper crinkled under his touch, soft yet strangely resilient. He growled, feeling something stir—a flicker of curiosity he hadn't felt in eons.
With a sharp claw, he began to tear into the wrappings and—
