Scribble Showdown Novels & Stories

​The Re-Printing Protocol ​" The Grounded are the only ones who can provide the 'Paper' for their return, " the Scribe explained. " Your Shield-Ink, your Scriptoriums, your 'Human-Ground'... you are the Substrate. You can choose to Re-Print the lost, but it will require a 'Debt of Presence' from every living human. "

The Great Interdimensional Hide-and-Seek Tournament turned our garden from a sanctuary into a stadium. The Chaos Realm’s “Game Master,” which Lina had nicknamed “Scribble,” was a formidable, if infuriating, opponent. It played by the letter of our hastily invented rules, but its imagination was… unconstrained by things like “physics” or “good taste.” Finding the acorn-noir had taken us three hours and required Kael to build a micro-empathy scanner tuned to “gumshoe melancholy.” We’d won the first point. Scribble had taken its loss with the grace of a supernova, immediately demanding a rematch.

I nodded, scrunching my nose up to match his distaste causing him to giggle. We were going back to how it used to be, again. "Okay," Mr. Min sighed and I suddenly realized that he hadn't said a single word during the whole dinner. "I've picked out Insidious and The conjuring. Now, who's voting for Insidious?", he questioned, holding up the two discs in his fingers, careful of not touching the inside part.

Chase quickly trapped me in a tight headlock, i could feel the warmth coming from his breath on my ear “come on Mia give up” arching my back and using my strength i flipped Chase over my head. still holding one of Chase hands i bent it behind his back. Chase was lying on the floor, chest face down. holding his bent arm i use more strength in my grip. “okay okay i give up Mia, you win. now please let get off me you weigh like a ton of bricks.” with an angry smirk on my face- angry because Chase just insulted me and a smirk because i won the duel and beat up his ass- i twisted his arm one last time. Chase let out a pained cry before i got up.

We needed the intel anyway. “So, how’d everything go?” Nathan asked, casually raising the bet. I tossed in my chips. Tomas folded with a scowl. “Man, it was a fucking shit show. The Riding Hoods rustled up some asanbosam—closest thing to real-life vampires you’ll ever see. Picture a bare-ass monkey with huge claws and bigger teeth. They turned them loose on an entire village. Killed everyone—men, women, kids. Even the pets. Drained fucking dry.”

Jamiel doesn't see that coming on the way,she was awestruck too, she wasn't expecting that,Anger was clearly written on the opponents face. Crystal couldn't just imagined someone disrupting her one time chance with Damien. She couldn't resist the urge not to fight, not after seeing Damien's reaction. Her two little bunnies stood behind her seeing the J's group are ready for a fight too. They jumped on each other turning the party into a fight

“I already know what I’m listed as. I saw the folder.” “No,” the Scribe said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You know what they call you. You don’t know what you cost.” I clenched my jaw until it ached. “Then talk. Stop with the riddles and tell me the price.” He reached beneath the table and pulled out a single page. It wasn't like the other ledgers. This parchment was translucent, shimmering with a faint, bioluminescent glow. The ink wasn't black; it was a deep, bruised purple.

Tabitha’s POV We take turns sketching across the stone wall, passing the marker back and forth. We layer over each other’s drawings like we’re trying to outdo the last. Reed snickers while drawing an alien with three eyes and a meteor shaped like a dick. And then, there’s also something he claims is a “space wolf,” which I honestly think is quite cute. It’s the only decent thing he drew. We keep laughing until my stomach hurts and I’m wiping tears from my eyes. I lean over the narrow window to catch my breath.

The scent of digital ink and forced rivalry hung heavy in the humid Southern air the morning of the ritual. "The Gilded Scavenger vs. The Fallen Silver: A Battle of Bloodlines" and "The Rise of Riley Knox: Eclipsing the Old Guard" were the headlines howling from the local scrolls.

I sat on the concrete floor as blood from my forehead trickled down my cheek and dripped onto my white shirt. The pinhole camera hidden in my shirt's buttonhole had already captured everything in 4K resolution and transmitted it in real time to an encrypted group chat. The group chat was named "Execution Team". The latest message in the group came from someone labeled "Legal Director". "The video has been secured as evidence. The threshold for criminal charges has been met. Ms. Stanton, are we ready to make our move?" I typed on the screen with my bloody fingers. "Tomorrow."