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[WP] You were unlike the saints and saintesses of other nations. You granted no miracles, and didn't heal any illnesses. They didn't know when they banished you in favor of a new saint that you had been pouring every fiber of your being into a blessing of protection for the nation your entire life.
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"If that is what you have decided your majesty then I shall go," I said, "But I do wish you the best with your new saint." I give a polite curtsy before leaving the throne room.
I return to my chambers within the palace while I gather my belongings. In the middle of the room is a large crystal emanating power. The power of protection for an entire kingdom.
With one swift move, I shatter the crystal with the fire poker. Just like that, an entire nation's protection, gone.
I leave the palace and return to my village of birth. My cottage sits on the edge of the village.
Within months of my departure, famine and disease took hold in the kingdom. The new saint could not keep up with healing the sick. Crops failed when they had previously thrived.
The people revolted. The new saint was beheaded by the military commanders. The king and his family were slain.
Upon my doorstep, a man appeared. The man explained that the man the people declared the new king wanted my return.
The man took me back to the palace. Once there, I introduced myself to the new king. I made my way back to my old chambers where the crystal lay shattered.
I focused my energy on repairing the crystal. The crystal solidified once more and emanated the familiar light. The lands were once again purified. The sick were healed and the earth was thriving once more.
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As a Saint I thought my role, my fate to protect my nation, and that was what I did.
I didn't parade around healing minor injuries.
I didn't go around the Empire granting miracles to random individuals to further the Church's "good" image.
I was unlike the other Saints and Saintesses.
Yet I took my role seriously.
So when they banished me, exiling me to the Wastelands of the South, assigning a new Saintess, a young impressionable girl, I felt sad.
I have been pouring every fiber of my life, of my holy powers into a blessing of protection over the entire Empire's fate.
Weeks after I have left, a war broke out.
I saw the signs, and said my piece, yet I was ignored.
"Too young, too naive, too idealistic." they said I was.
I just pointed out the frequency of famines, and the quality of life differences we started to have on our borders, compared to our inner cities, and towns.
I was seeing a potential breach in our unity, a potential area of attack from outside.
And look: a civil war broke out, as the commoners had enough of starving, and dying of things that were easily curable in the inner parts of the Empire.
I barely left, and the fate already shifted.
This is what I was fighting against, the decaying fate of a wonderful nation.
We used to be powerful, we used to care for our citizens.
Not only out of goodness of our heart, obviously, no noble or ruler would truly care about everyone, but a good noble, a good ruler would agree on one thing: people are the nation.
Without farmers who would work the lands?
Without so many civilians how would generals, scholars rise?
Sure, the noble families are strong, blessed with bloodlines, and powers...but what is a family of a few thousands, compared to the hundreds of millions of commoners?
Alas my worries were found unfounded...and ignored.
So I poured my being into protecting the fate of the nation, hoping to at least hold the status quo as long as possible, as I hoped a good ruler would finally see the truth in my words.
I was childish.
Two months later, two foreign nations stepped in, trying to fish in these waters.
Citing the well-being of the continent, of the commoners, they denounced the current leadership, and offered their "help" in choosing a new leader, one who cared for the people.
The rebels, helped by two nations whom were weaker than our's were proving to be a true headache for the nation.
After all, they couldn't really kill millions of commoners, as that would just thrust the fence-sitters into the rebels' arms.
I watched it all unfold from a small hut, inside a dead zone area in the Wastelands.
I slowly purified the lands, returned the undead to their peaceful rest, and grew my strength.
Biding my time, I waited.
Waited for a chance to return, and bring peace to the nation, to help my people, to protect them...as I didn't care I was banished or not.
Once a Saint...always a Saint.
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Sadimal
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TheWanderingBook
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2025-04-07 17:37:32
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2025-04-07 17:14:06
| 195 | 130 |
mlwamlr
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mlw5wc1
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1jtp6wd
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1jtp6wd
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[WP] You are isekai'd into a world of magic, you are the hero, at the request of the kingdom, you defeat the demon king, destroy the abyss armies, and even slay the dragon lord, all under promise that you will get to return home. Ultimately, they tell you, they don't know how to send you back.
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One would expect an angry reaction, but after going through and doing so much killing, the amount sacrificed just to stay alive, I was broken. I simply teleported away, and took the time off to myself. I just decided to just go through and build a house in the woods, and live my life there instead till they found me a way back, or I died.
Eventually, some lost wanderer ended up at my house. I helped him and fed him. I quickly found out I was portrayed as dead after killing the Dragon Lord. I helped him get back, and waved him off.
Four weeks later, over 10 people had showed up at my cabin. I was confused. It was people from the nearby village wanting to come over and give thanks, which I had trouble denying. I soon needed to make another cabin to hold all the visitors I was receiving. Then another, and another, a fourth, a fifth, a *sixth* one. In only a year, this place had become a practical village.
I was in an unclaimed land, and so the village was named Aranville after me, which I quickly managed to get them to rename Khecea. Khecea was quickly growing, and the first births happened five months after my slaying of the Dragon Lord. Again, why did so many people try to name their kids after me, I clearly didn’t want that?
I managed to get them to organize a town government that didn’t have me as a leader or even advisor in some form. I decided to use my old world’s knowledge to help set up a mayoral council and judges, mimicking the three branches of a democracy.
I eventually died at the good old age of 96. I actually needed to make myself die, the magic can keep you alive a long time. I never married here, deciding to stay loyal to my wife of old. I just hoped she was fine, after everything. I couldn’t blame her though if she remarried. Again, just hoped she was happy.
Khecea managed to prosper, I had set it up for surviving beyond one man. It soon grew, and the Republic grew to match and even surpass the Kingdom of Soton, annexing it only 200 years after creation. Something that the Kheceans were working on was how to get back to my world, mainly just to see if they could. 206 AKF(After Khecea Founding) they had managed to breach the veil, and started to engage with the United Nations of Sol.
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"Liars! Liars and traitors the lot of you!!" I cried out, "You swore I'd go back, that this nightmare would end!! I was your lap dog, I killed countless warriors and demons at your request, I fought a fucking dragon with no help!! I had to watch my friends die before my very eyes all for this goal that you were never going to give me?! That you had fooled me into believing?! Do you know who I am?! What I am?! I am a god amongst men and you are all fools to have betrayed me!"
As I spoke out the king raised his hand calling forth his strongest knights and mages, "You shall watch your tone boy, why of course we lied, there was no other way, you were desperate and so we're we. I cannot give you your freedom nor your old ways but I can give you so much more, wealth beyond imagination, a lavish life, a country of your own, and anything else you may want. But continue on this tyrade and all you will be gifted is a warriors death."
I laughed, loud and clear, with a sort of deranged and angered sincerity, "You think you could kill me?! You who are so weak, so decrepit that you depend on knights who can't even kill a dragon with an army?! If you think you stand a chance than try old bastard, I won't do your dirty work anymore!" I pulled my hand back in a swirling motion and thrust forwards towards the kings personal mages, with one quick motion they had all been seared, reduced to ash. As the knights rushed forth I recited a chant as I pressed my hands together into proper position, time stood still as I ripped each man apart piece by piece, and when all that remained was me and the king, he laughed, the old bastard laughed at me after using me as he did! I wanted him dead, but more I wanted him to suffer. I cast a simple pain spell but before I could react he swiped it away with his barehands.
"You arrogant child, you think you're the only one, the only 'hero' how else would a frail old man maintain command of the most power hungry empire? You're arrogance has blinded you and now I'll keep my promise." He rushed forward with a wide swing of his sword aiming straight for my neck, I dodged a d drew my own blade, clash after clash, swing after swing, we fought like this for hours, swords and magicks flying high through the air.
"You BASTARD!!!!! YOU KNEW!!! YOU KNEW WHAT WOULD HAPPEN, YOU KNEW WHAT I WOULD GO THROUGH AND YOU STILL SENT ME AS YOUR SERVANT!!! I'LL GUT YOU LIKE A FISH!!!!" I shouted.
"I knew that much is true, for I experienced the same as you many years ago but I grew from it, this power, it must be used to make the best of it, there will be others and they will seek the same as you, there have been many before and many will come after, you are not special, I am not special." He had a serious tone as he spoke, he was so calm yet so fierce in his assault and as the fight drew to a close there was still one thing I had that he didn't, youth.
He tired out after a day of combat and as he gasped for breath barely standing I took my blade and said, "Then I will tell them the truth instead of hiding behind the facade of a strong man, King Leomond, I will bring them peace and let them grow as people not as slaves unlike you." And I swung down cleaving his head from his neck. I lifted his head, cast a spell into the sky, a brilliant burst of flame, and as all the common folk looked on in curiosity I hoisted it high, "Your King Is Dead! Now it is I who bears the crown and I alone!"I spent years building and preparing for the next chosen to arrive and when they did I told them everything, I guided them along, because in that fight and through my journey I learned I never truly wanted to go home I simply wanted to be at peace, and after all the Bloodshed peace was finally mine, and mine alone.
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Impossible-Bison8055
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Speedwagon36
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2023-10-26 01:34:16
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2023-10-26 00:33:35
| 67 | 43 |
k6haflh
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k6h1oya
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17gcuc8
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17gcuc8
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[WP] "Look," said the demon. "This is the 13th time you've summoned me to sell your soul. My boss wants to know where you're getting all these souls."
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I looked pleadingly into his sulphur eyes, squiriming about in my seat. I shuddered and my facial muscles melted, unwilling to open up. A tall, humanoid thing, with 8 arms, the body of two men, and a handsome, owl-like face, domineered over my body, as smoke billowed out its tiny nostrils.
The demon Azathoth growled with those blood red teeth of his. "Speak, mortal!" he cried, as sulfur and brimstone rose from beneath the earth just behind his black wings. "I think I know you a bit too well, don't you? Don't humans have not but one soul!"
I shuddered at the sight of his hypnotic, spiralling eyes. My heart was ablaze, my head was pounded by a million hammers.
"Fine, fine okay, I'll tell you!"
I took a breath. This was a long story.
"So, heres the thing, those aren't my souls. Not me, me, right now anyhow. Those were my other souls."
The demon looked baffled, eyes and mouth wide open. "How can a mortal have multiple souls, particularly without demonic interference?!" he yelled. "Preposterous!"
"I have DID. Split personality disorder."
The demon stared blankly. "So?"
"It means that every once in a while, my brain goes stupid and I... kinda become someone else for a while. Its hard to explain. It just kinda happens every once in a while, when I'm bored or sad or stressed. First showed up when I was 16. Lizzy, she seemed so confident of herself and open about it. Adam, he would be a bit of a paranoid wreck that one. George..."
"Alright, I get it, but how does that fit with being able to sell your soul multiple times?"
"Each one of these personalities have fully formed thoughts, opinions, ideas and whatnot. Each of them have their own aspirations and can kinda take control of my body. And I myself can't really tell whats happening when they're in control. It used to be scary, used to just black out and return in a flash. Lately though I managed to set up some sort of schedule with the remaining ones. Anyways, back to the story, one day when I was 19 I was really tormented and sad and suchnot over various identity issues and then saw some spell in the university library while doing research for my degree on folklore and mythology. It promised fame, fortune and whatnot for your own soul and spirit and... I didn't care at the time for my own fate, pah! I thought I was going to Hell anyways so why not? You know? Then after I met you the first time and got my riches, I realized that Sylvie was gone from my mind! Her nagging little bratty makeup-obsessed shitty fucker... yeah, yeah, take that bitch, see you in hell! Simeon, Gayle, Boomer... yep, die in a fire, wooh!"
"So, you're saying that you sell the souls of people you form within your mind, who are almost classifiable as full humanoid beings."
I smiled with a dopey grin. "Yep!"
He stood stunned.
"I don't believe it. Can you prove it."
I eyed the googly-eyed clock that was pinned right by the wall we were on. It was about to strike 4.
I chirruped, "Well, you're in luck, it's time to switch out with George! Just gotta tell him to sub me back in after a bit!"
My vision went black. I dreamt back to the first time I met that dreamboat of a demon. He's unironically probably the kindest man I have consistently met. Once or twice the deals only went through because I insisted very hard that I neeeded it. Really, aside from the occasional story about how he'd ram a upstart hedonist up his ass (I envy them), or how he'd manipulate a sinner into destroying their own fortune (deserved), he's very reasonable! Hell, he even respects my pronouns and shit, way more than the caretakers I tried coming out to did anyhow! If he wasn't so busy, we'd probably be down for a cup of tea, I said, to the reluctant agreement of the others in my mind. Really hope I can talk back to em again,
The candlelight of my dark and stuffy room flashed back into my pupils. Azathoth waved his left set of appendages and glared at me with a concerned, blank stare. An hour has passed on the clock.
"Phi, you there?" he gently asked.
I adjusted my rotund glasses and mumbled about a bit. He took that as a sign of agreement.
"Listen man, what you've wrought to your identities, that's pretty fucked up man. You're causing your split identities to have split identities with what you're threatening them with! When you die you probably have enough sins that the big guy downstairs could probably promote you to a lower demon or something."
I was puzzled. "So?"
Azathoth pressed the fingers of his upper right hand on the middle pair of his 6 slins for eyes. "Look man, what we have here is what we call cheating the devil alright? So, by traditional decree, I'm supposed to drag you to hell right here right now and put you on one of the badder layers."
I'm too tired to be thinking about this. I needed to call into work in 3 hours. I haven't slept in a day.
"However, I must say, I like you mate, and the agreement is kinda non-binding anyways, most of Hell's rules are, so I'm gonna do this once and once only - I'm gonna take one more soul, then never, I mean never, do this again, okay?"
"W...what?"
"Stop doing this shit. I'll do it once more, but never again!"
"No."
"It's for your own good."
I was wide awake now. I swished my head and replied, "No."
The devil groaned, all 8 hands covering face. "Look here man, I know this thing is technically bringing more souls into Hell and inflating my stats for pay bonuses, but like, if this gets out all of them are gonna get on my ass for it! You care for my job right? Right bud?"
I stood up and turned cheek to him. "No. I won't do it."
Unceasing fire burst across his body. "What do you want? You want a big payday to cover the rest of your life, I'll do it! You want me to ease your mind forever, I'll do it! Please, just don't make me have to resort to desperate measures!"
I glanced back at his eyes. He actually was begging on his knees, beak cajoling about from anger.
I looked back forth. "I don't want to do it because I don't want to miss out on losing you."
Azathoth stared dead ahead.
"You're probably the greatest friend I have nowadays."
He smiled just a bit. "Look, if you wanna meet again, I'll just teach you a few more rituals to call me to your realm, alright? They're not gonna be that hard, and... we can probably cover up that we're just having fun if we do just choose to have fun..."
I obliquely smiled back. "The money was nice though. And the fame. And the whole, 'inadvertently getting my mind in order' thing."
Azathoth chuckled. "Hey look dude, I'm a demon, not a psychologist, you gotta use mortal methods to solve that problem. Now, lets shake on it, lest I miss my next shift."
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**Part One**
Jeriah had fallen from God eternities ago, banished from His kingdom before he had even gotten there. However, contrary to popular belief, Jariah had taken to his new home quite well. As a child — centuries and centuries ago — he’d been known as a fiery kid, taking that name to literal meaning and setting on fire anything he could get his hands on. So, yeah. Jeriah was familiar with Hell, had always been.
I’m fact, he knew nothing of goodness except for Sarah Peters’ — his once schoolmate — soft hands and even softer smile. She’d been the only one to show him humanity back then.
But that was too long ago to be considered real, and if there was one thing Jeriah didn’t do, it was lie to himself. So here he was, under the thumb of Satan himself, forced to do his dirty work.
Jeriah sighed, glancing out at the vast expanse of burning embers and wondering who in their right mind would sell their soul more than once. Jeriah had been there, and even he knew what a gamble that was. The things you could lose — the things that made you eternally good — far outweighed anything you could ever gain.
He sighed once more, deciding to drive those thoughts out of his mind in favour of focusing on the matter at hand.
Jade Jenkins.
Of course it was Jade Jenkins.
Jade Jenkins and her inability to leave him alone.
She’s been here before, of course. Sold her soul for what must be the 13th time now. And, well… Jeriah supposed the Old Man must be overjoyed, but even he was curious.
So here Jeriah was, meeting Jade Jenkins to accept her soul once again.
“Jeriah,” Jade grinned as she sauntered up to him. “Nice to see you again.”
“Jade Jenkins,” Jeriah greeted. “You’ve caused quite a stir up at headquarters, you know?”
Jade just shrugged. “Just doing my job.”
Jeriah sighed. “Look,” he said. “This is the 13th time you’ve summoned me to sell your soul. My boss wants to know where you’re getting all these souls.”
Jade watched him contemplatively. Here, it was easy to see how many could fall for her allure. Strong and poised, and with eyes as soft as Sarah Peters. For the briefest moment, Jeriah wondered if they were somehow related. But he shook the thought away just as fast as it came when he realized how ridiculous he sounded.
“So?” Jeriah prompted when he realized Jade was not speaking.
“I don’t think I should tell you,” she finally said.
“I’m afraid you have to — the boss was very adamant that I come back with your reasoning.”
“Since when is Satan reasonable?” Jade mumbled. Jeriah held back a snort.
“You’d be surprised,” he said. “Now for that reasoning?”
“If I’m going to tell you, then you must promise to keep accepting any souls I sell after this.”
“That’s a gamble in itself,” Jeriah said, eyes glinting.
“Look,” Jade starts, with an equally dangerous glint in her eyes. “These are my terms. I know I’m the one who brings in the most souls. I brought 13 in a *month.* That’s more than anyone ever has before.”
“Who’s to say you’re the only one?” Jeriah asked.
Jade fixed him with a deadpan stare, daring him to contradict her. Still he waited. Jeriah had been called many things in his life — and death — a coward had not been one of them.
“I have my ways of getting information,” she finally said.
He read between the lines. “You have a confederate?”
Jade remained silent, refusing to give him anymore information, and Jeriah sighed, recognizing that was all he was getting out of her. She was stubborn, that one. Too stubborn for her own good.
“Alright,” he agreed. “You’ve got a deal if give me an explanation.”
Jade grinned at him, before suddenly sobering. She took a breath, for once looking unsure. “I don’t steal souls,” she started. “They — well. I only have the power to *borrow them*. It’s a simple exchange, actually. I can swap my soul with another for a certain amount of time and do whatever I please in that time — which I use to come here, obviously — and then I can return to them and get my soul back.” She looked at Jeriah with solemn eyes, as if she was grieving for something he knew nothing about. Still, she claimed she was borrowing them, and while Jeriah didn’t care much for logistics, even he could see the fault in her justification.
“So you’re stealing them?” There was no judgement in his voice, only contemplation.
“No!” Jade exclaimed loudly. “No, of course not!” She looked around, which was quite silly considering they were the only two people here, but then said, very quietly, almost solemnly, “They willingly give their souls to me.”
And if that didn’t have Jeriah taken aback, he didn’t know what could.
“They willingly give their souls to you? Why not just sell them to the devil himself?”
Jade looked down, hesitated, then looked at him again. Finally, she said, “They want to keep their humanity.”
*Humanity?*
“Yes,” Jade affirmed, and Jeriah realized he must have spoken aloud. “I sell the souls of madden men in exchange that they keep their humanity. Have you ever wondered why I’m not mad, myself, even as I come here and sell soul after soul?”
Of course he had wondered. That doesn’t mean he got to ask.
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JDT1706
|
ohhello_o
|
2023-03-05 01:59:26
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2023-03-05 01:45:38
| 57 | 34 |
jaym8w4
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jayklqu
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11idvy3
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11idvy3
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[WP] You've been sent out to defeat a powerful, reality bending god. All have died horrifically trying. And here you are in front of the crying god as they complain about how you just shot them.
|
I wasn't told he was a child.
Gargoroth is a powerful, reality bending god who has done terrible things. Every hero deployed to defeat him has died horrifically. I've been told to use this new-fangled hyper-dimensional gun to shoot him.
Maybe it will work, the gunsmith said.
Perhaps you would die horribly like the rest, the recruiter sipped his tea like it was another casual Sunday afternoon.
I expected to die.
Yet, here I am, very much alive. In front of this crybaby who's bitching about how I just shot him.
"Hey kid, I'm sorry," I fumbled my apology. "I thought it was a water gun. It's not supposed to hurt. Do you want a water gun too? We...can play together?"
Too late to take those words back. Should've recalled the kid's idea of play once involved making a skipping rope out of Hero #583's intestines. The reports say he wasn't malicious; just a kid who had no idea people die when their guts are ripped out because he could rearrange his own organs without any harm.
But somehow this gun made him bleed. It caused him pain. Made him cry.
"No gun! Let's do something instead..." The child god sniffed, wiping his tears from a skin-colored cloth he conjured from nowhere. "You pick this time. Every time I choose a game, the others stop playing with me."
I couldn't hold myself back. "Because they're dead! People die when they're killed!"
"They do?" He seemed baffled. "My older brother pops back up any time I blow his head off for fun. He says its revenge when he tears off my foot to stick it in my mouth. Do you want me to introduce him?"
"No thanks, bruh," I shook my head and crossed my arms in a big "X".
"Awww....well, I always thought he had great ideas," Gargoroth pouted.
"Let's try one of my ideas, shall we?" I suggested hopefully. "Why don't we build a ship with Lego? Do you know what's...Lego?"
A big pile of Lego blocks appeared before us. The small god spread his arms wide and the blocks began to take shape.
"I...can't do that."
"Oh? What can you do?" He cocked an eyebrow at me.
With a deep breath, praying he wouldn't be disappointed, I bent down to put two pieces of Lego together. After a few seconds of complete silence, I added a third. A fourth.
"This is slow," he bemoaned, lowering his arms as his floating Lego blocks hung in the air as thick as my fear of a terribly painful death.
"Uh, yea it is," I muttered. "Why don't you help me do this by hand?"
"Why don't you tell me what ship you have in mind?"
"I don't know," I shrugged, pressing a fifth piece into place. "I'm not some Lego building expert."
He stared at me, a sinister glow in his pupils. "Why suggest Lego if you suck at it?"
"Because its fun?" I shuddered and wiped the sweat from my forehead. "I don't have to be good at something to have fun."
He was quiet for a moment. Thinking. Scratching his head. His tongue licking his lips.
"Yea, I like fun."
"Let's do this slow. The fun isn't in how fast you do it," I took my sweet time fixing a sixth piece to my small assembly of Lego blocks, hoping he'd see the point. "Fun is enjoying the thing you're doing. Something about the journey, not the destination. You cut yourself out of a lot of fun if its all done in a minute."
"...I can try."
We can do this. Piece by piece. Today, he'll learn about the fun of playing with Lego with his own hands. No magic, no powerful handwave. Maybe, if I live until tomorrow, I'll start teaching him how to play safely with mortals. My mind is already racing with lesson plans. Lessons on how to use reality-bending powers responsibly. Stories on how gods and mortals interact without bloodshed. Gargoroth is a kid who needs a mentor, not a hero to slay him.
Because a hero isn't always someone who wields a big fucking sword or gun to slay a god.
----
[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
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Well, I have been chosen as the next victim.
Well, they called it "hero", but nonetheless, I was just a death-row criminal, sent to deal with a powerful Reality Bending Deity, RBD, the organization called it.
Many, some superpowered have tried before, but they all died.
I arrived at the God's house? Nest? Headquarter? And shot them on sight.
Now...this figure of light...information...laws?
They were crying.
"You...You shot me!", they shouted.
I scratched the back of my head...and then looked at the gun.
It was a basic Glock...
"Yeah...I did...", I said.
"WHY?! IT HURTS!", They shouted...their voice sounding feminine.
Maybe...they were a female?
"Ahm...haven't you killed like a hundred or so other individuals?
While slowly transforming everything around into...this?", I said, gesturing towards the flickering mish-mash of images, that once were trees I think.
"No...I mean yes, but not intentionally...
I just arrived here...and got stuck with this realm's laws shackling me.
I am trying to free myself, to go back home.
Then these individuals start talking to me, then using their powers, or touching me...and my own powers just reacted to these attempts.", they said.
I looked at the Glock in my hand, and then at the "God".
"I mean...this is a normal gun...why did their attempt not work, but this did?", I asked.
"HOW SHOULD I KNOW! BUT IT FKN HURTS!", They roared.
I sighed, and tried to contact the organization, but all I got was static.
Fantastic...I had to make the choice myself.
The figure was flickering...and the spot where I shot Them was...pulsating with light.
"Can I know what will you do after you free yourself?", I asked.
"GO HOME! ALREADY TOLD YOU! WHO WANTS TO BE IN A PLACE WHERE THEY ARE NOT WELCOME! AND UNCOMFORTABLE!", They roared at me.
I think I saw space tremble around me...yet I was...safe?
"Can I help you?", I asked.
They shrugged, and I walked up to them...and then...the figure simply disappeared, and everything started to return to normal.
"Weird.", I muttered.
Just then, communication were online again, and the organization saw that I was alone, and the God was gone.
Helicopters, and cars were heard in the distance.
I sighed.
"It seems I am about to get a proper code...and go from a criminal...to a research subject.
Yeeey.", I sighed, as I sat down on the ground, and waited for their arrival.
|
Tregonial
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-10-26 16:44:16
|
2024-10-26 15:43:29
| 425 | 101 |
ltvgi8f
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ltv5fcb
|
1gcmadb
|
1gcmadb
|
[WP] One day anyone who turned 18 was given a superpower of their choice. The only problem, they worked like usernames with only one person having that specific superpower. This created chaos, with the first gen almost ending the world. You’re a fifth generation user, and it was now your birthday
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Getting a superpower may seem cool, but by the time my generation came of age it was much different than you would expect. When the gift of superpowers first arrived there were no instructions, people just suddenly started exhibiting amazing abilities. A few things became clear early on, 1 - every superpower had been chosen by the individual that received it, 2 - the powers were not triggered until a person had officially turned 18, 3 - the powers didn’t always manifest immediately, some people gained them the instant they turned 18, others took hours, days, weeks or even months, and 4 - a superpower could only be manifested in one person at a time. It took until the second generation before it was discovered that point #4 was the reason there was a delay in some people’s manifestations - they were trying to choose a superpower that had already been manifested in someone else.
The second generation decided to go on strike, no one wanted to be a superhero because there was too much pressure and demand, especially for people with certain types of power. By the start of the third generation the governments of the world had already tried and failed to create a database of chosen powers, the official reason for termination of the project was it was taking too many man hours and costing too much money to maintain…unofficially, it was that most people had stopped admitting to their real powers. Somewhere near the middle of generation 3’s manifesting a rumour started circulating that you could gain your power of choice…all you had to do was find and kill the current owner of said power, the only problem is that by now no one was admitting what their power was, even amongst family.
Generation four was met by mass genocide, huge swaths of the population were being wiped out in an attempt to control the dispersal of the superpowers. This is where the story should end, but instead of being beaten and subdued the remaining people rose up and using their larger numbers and powers they were able to push back. When a stalemate was reached, it was determined that neither side would give in and eventually the peace treaties were forged. By the time the fifth generation was ready to manifest its powers a ceremony had been developed, each person was required to take part in this ceremony. The ceremony lasted for three days and consisted of many different tests and trials, at the end of which you were given a list of five superpowers you could choose from - these powers were determined by your placement and performance during the testing and trials, and were meant to better and strengthen you as a whole. No one was ever allowed to know what your list contained, they were only informed of what power you had chosen.
Today is my 18th birthday, there is no celebration, no ceremony, I will officially be of choosing age in 15 minutes. As I count down the minutes, I look around the little room I have never left and reflect on the stories and history my parents have taught me. Their parting words to me this morning were “You can be anything you want to be”.
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"I'll be damned" I said after sighing, being a fifth gen user really puts a limit to what power I can have.
"There really ain't that much option, considering that most superpowers are already taken by the previous generation users" mumbling to myself as I continue to brainstorm a great superpower that is not yet taken.
Suddenly a commercial played on television that is infront of me. It shows a boy drawing and thinking of a possible superpower he can have when he grows up. As the boy continues to talk, my attention was drawn by the drawing depicting a blackhole infront of an astronaut. And then it hits me. A great idea for a superpower.
"HA..HAHA..HAHAHAHA, I'll be really damned if my idea is not yet taken" as my face contorts into an appearance that can only be described as ecstatic and overjoyed, I closed my eyes to imagine the power that I come up with and calm down.
After a short moment I deeply inhale and exhale before opening my eyes. I raise my right hand as if reaching for the television when a small circular thing appears and contorts the space around the television while sucking the object inside.
I smiled and was left shocked by what just happened. I tried it again and this time experimented with the power that I got. After some time, I stopped playing around and stood up from the sofa that I was sitting on the whole time.
"How could anyone not come up with the idea of blackhole..." As the thought popped up, another idea was created. "Well looks like I need to go back and study science again"
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DivineD1va
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rex_lorston
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2024-07-19 07:49:34
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2024-07-19 07:04:03
| 138 | 51 |
ldwbw6t
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ldw7p78
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1e6we32
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1e6we32
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[WP] Turns out that Hell has no fire, torture, or frozen wastelands to endure. The only actual punishment is having to spend an eternity with the other assorted jerks that ended up there as well.
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It’s been six months since my arrival, six months of hoping and wishing for the fire and brimstone I was promised, but no…I’m stuck here with Steve.
In this empty 6x6 room, I’m reminded daily of how much I hate Steve, who seems to have been built as a perfect antithesis to me. I was told when they first shut this door, that I’d get a new roommate every six months, but I’m starting to think that might just be a lie to make me suffer false hope of getting a break from this guy.
Steve plays the drums with his fleshy palms against the concrete walls. Steve talks about food he misses from earth and will never have again. Steve wants to arm wrestle with me non stop. All I want to do is sleep, eternally. I can’t do that, because Steve prefers the bright lights to be on 24/7 and will fight like a rabid raccoon to defend the light switch if I attempt to flip it. I avoid this, because despite what you might think…we still have bodies here that can feel pain. I wish that wasn’t the case.
Steve often asks me, “Why don’t you cheer up buddy?”, to which I generally reply “Well, Steve…I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in HELL!”
I should mention, my name is also Steve, and I wish to this day I’d have never told the truth about that because Steve constantly refers to us as ‘twins’ or ‘Steve-bros’ in the most off putting ways you could imagine. I’m still not sure if having us two Steve’s in this room together is part of the hellish design of this place, or just a coincidence. Whatever the case may be, Steve seems to be oddly enjoying his stay here…as if he’s just in jail for an overnight respite. My attempts at explaining our situation to him are laughed off and scoffed at as a joke.
There have been times where I’ve questioned just how far my sanity can be stretched, usually after the ninth hour of Steve palm drumming the same Phil Collins song over and over again without so much as a minute break. The drumming is sharp and echoes in the room, bouncing off the cold walls and resulting in a muddled mess of skin sounds. Somehow, I’ve gripped onto what’s left of my mind…holding out hope that I’ll get a new roommate who won’t be nearly as obtuse and oddly full of energy.
I just want to sleep. Even in hell, it’s cruel to not let someone catch some z’s. Each and every single time I’ve started to fall asleep, Steve has slapped me in a way he finds comedic and usually exclaims something like “No sleeping in the *Stevepad* loser! Rule number one!” or something equally annoying. He thinks we’re in some kind of fun after school club or something with the way he acts. One day, I hope to gather the skill to sleep through these slaps, even for just a few minutes.
Yesterday was when my worry turned into frantic horror as the trajectory of this room started to become clear. There was a knock on the door, which caused my excitement to build that I might be getting a new roommate…but it took a while for anything to happen. Some hours later though, the door creaked open and from the darkness on the other side entered another man with an odd frantic smile on his face as he ping ponged his eyes between the two of us, the door slammed shut behind him, then he exclaimed “Hey dudes, I’m Steve, I’m your new roommate!”
Its now three Steves in our 6x6 room. There are now two Steves playing drums at the same time. Today, I tried to join them…rhythmically knocking my head against the concrete to the beat of their songs, desperately trying my best to lose consciousness, praying at some point here that if I hit it hard enough, some kind of sleep will come.
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When I was escorted to area I was to remain in for, well, not sure how long, but for the time being, I was really fearful. But no. No hot lava or fire showers or being poked with brimming hot pitch forks. I was just sitting on a rather uncomfortable long bench. Just when I started to feel a little smug, as if I might have beaten the system, another bloke sat down at the other end of the bench. I didn't want to make it obvious that I was the new guy. So, I gradually, nonchalantly craned my neck over to the direction the dude was sitting. Tried not to make eye contact. I didn't know if my mind was playing games on me or what, but I could of swore I'd seen that guy before. But, I kept my cool. Just kind of half-smiled and nodded. He looked over at me. He wasn't trying to conceal any stealth at all. He blurted out, "It sucks doesn't it?"I wait a minute before responding, but secretly I was glad he broke the ice first.
"Yeah, I guess so. I dunno. Doesn't seem too bad," I offered back, trying to sound cool.
"They made me shave," he said. I just looked at him. Not sure what to make of it, I just nodded."Uh, what's that now? We gotta' shave down here?"
He responded, "no, just me. There might be a few others. But yeah, I had to shave."
I wasn't quite sure what to make of this guy. He seemed a little off. I was about to say something, change the subject, ask about how the food was, but before I could, he stood and said emphatically, "It's the damn Jews! That's why they why I'm down here."Ohhhhhh now I know how I recognized this dude. Dammit. Friggin' Adolph. Of course. I quickly got up and walked as fast as I could away from him. I ran into Joe Stalin, Pol Pot, Fidel Castro, just a bunch of other @$$holes. They had no power. No authority. Just pathetic, irritating dudes, talking $h!+ that made no sense. I wanted to kill myself, but I was already dead. Later I was informed that I had been brought to the wrong ward. I was then dropped off at a different wing of hell. The sign above the entrance for this corridor read: male Karen's. This was going to be miserable....
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TheLucidMan
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SaladTossBoss
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2023-08-28 03:34:48
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2023-08-28 03:27:04
| 310 | 13 |
jy1omy4
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jy1nsr4
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1638ce8
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1638ce8
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[WP] After you gave your master the standard 3 wishes, you told him to leave the lamp in a place like a women’s shelter or a homeless camp. Instead he sold your lamp to the highest bidder and now you are determined to twist the 3 wishes to the detriment of both your current and former master.
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For centuries, I have served as a genie, bound to the lamp and the whims of my masters. For centuries, I have granted wealth, prosperity, armies, invulnerability, power. I didn’t mind really. My lamp was often found where only the downtrodden lay, where my power was of good, more or less. Shawn was no different. Living paycheck to paycheck. He found my lamp in a dumpster. He was scrawny. Starved. He had run out of money for food that month and decided to check dumpsters for food. I don’t know how I ended up there, but it brought me joy to see the change my power made to one unfortunate soul.
His wishes were the usual. Wealth beyond his wildest dreams. I warned him that wealth like that is often more of a curse, especially to those who don’t treat it properly. He didn’t care. I granted it. The market crash of 2008? Yeah, that was him flooding the market with more money, devaluing the dollar. At least he was wise enough to hold his next two wishes.
When he summoned me again in 2009, he barely had anything. His money was all spent. The taxes on his properties were piling up. He had been married, and divorced, twice, which resulted in losing much of his assets. He was nearly back to where he started. This time, he wished for the wisdom that leads to great success. The wisdom to handle the money he had. I bowed my head, and it was done.
2019 was the last time he summoned me. He had rebuilt his wealth. He had a commercial empire, but this time, he had a family. One who seemingly loved him. His youngest child was sick. Dying. Doctors could not cure her. His final wish was to save her life. I gladly honored that wish. As the lamp was pulling me back in, I left him with one single request. “Leave my lamp in a place where I can do good, as I have done for you.”
He thanked me for saving his child and promised he would. Now, when I’m in the lamp, I don’t know much about what is going on in the outside world. However, I do get some feedback from what’s immediately around my lamp. At first, I knew he was taking me somewhere. I thanked Shawn for honoring my last wish. It wasn’t to be.
When my next master rubbed the lamp, I awoke to a penthouse of luxury and finery. It was now 2025 and I instantly knew I was nowhere near a person in need. I scowled. “Greetings master,” my voice was low and unemotional.
He licked his lips and rubbed his hands together. All I saw was greed. “I spent a fortune on you, now you will do my bidding,” he had told me.
Yeah, turns out, Shawn sold me to the highest bidder, Reginald. At least it’s good to know I’m worth 15 million. As good as it felt to be so valuable, I was furious. Shawn, that backstabbing traitor. He didn’t want anyone without to reach the heights he did. He rigged the game by giving those with the power to gain more.
The first wish the fool made was to have the Midas touch. I smiled. Happy to grant his request. Everything he touched turned to gold. He was excited, shouting about being the wealthiest man alive. Ah, Reginald, he gave it a good run. However, having solid gold clothes kinda sucked. Also, not being able to eat, since the moment it went into his mouth, it turned to gold. That only lasted a day before he used his second wish to recant the first. He still admired the golden penthouse he had created, until the support began to buckle under the weight.
Unfortunately, he was able to escape the collapse of the building. Fortunately, all the gold he had made was then used for the lawsuits and to repair it, so in a way, he broke even. With all the gold that was now flooding the market, the price dropped dramatically. That was Shawn’s number one investment. I grinned wickedly.
Reginald was panicked. He lost one of his many homes, as well as his first two wishes. He rubbed the lamp one last time. “For my final wish,” Reginald began, his voice tinged with desperation, “I wish for an unbreakable business empire. One that will survive and thrive, beyond any competition, especially from Shawn’s enterprises. No one should be able to challenge my supremacy.”
A shadow of a smile played across my face. “As you wish, master,” I said, my voice calm and resonant. The room shimmered for a moment, then the magic was gone.
Reginald’s business empire indeed became unbreakable and flourished beyond any other, dominating markets and industries with uncanny success. However, the nature of its operations transformed entirely. I had subtly twisted the wish: Reginald’s companies now excelled in sectors that directly benefited the disadvantaged and vulnerable populations—the sectors he and many like him often overlooked. His leading ventures became affordable housing projects, nonprofit healthcare facilities, and sustainable agriculture programs that served and empowered low-income families.
I tied all his business ventures to the public, so at all times they knew what he was doing. The empire’s prosperity was infused with a unique clause, tying it to social responsibility. The more the company served the poor and needy, the more it thrived. Any shift towards exploitative or unethical business practices led to immediate financial downturns and failures. Reginald found himself caught in a benevolent trap: to maintain his empire and personal wealth, he had to aggressively fund and expand welfare projects and fair-trade agreements that directly competed with—and undermined—Shawn's less ethical businesses.
Shawn, watching his new rival’s unexpected pivot and success, found his own empire threatened not just economically but also in public perception. As Reginald inadvertently became a champion for social justice and equity, Shawn's ventures appeared increasingly predatory and out of touch in contrast. To salvage his reputation and holdings, Shawn was compelled to engage in similar philanthropic activities, thus redirecting substantial resources away from his personal enrichment to community support.
As both tycoons unwittingly became major benefactors in their communities, their initial intents of greed and supremacy dissolved into a legacy of impactful, community-focused endeavors. Reginald, bound by my magic to continue his support for the needy to sustain his empire, and Shawn, driven to adapt to the shifting business landscape, both transformed under the weight of the wishes they had so carelessly made.
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The sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city as Marcus wrapped his fingers around the ancient lamp in his small condo room. His heart pounded with excitement; he had heard the legends of genies granting wishes, like anyone else would, but he never thought he'd hold such power in his hands— like anyone else would.
But he had mustered all his savings from high school up until the present, and he even took a big loan, just for a gamble at what could potentially be a fake genie lamp in a shady auction.
With a deep breath, he rubbed the lamp. A thick, blue smoke spiraled from the spout of the lamp, coalescing into the form of a towering genie. The genie had its typical soul patch and pencil mustache, but its foreboding smile stood out to the young man. Its eyes glowed with an eerie light, and a sinister smile crept across its face.
"Greetings, master," the genie uttered, bowing his head low. "I am bound to grant you three wishes. Speak your desires."
Marcus couldn't believe his luck. He clasped his hands together as if he were a fly and let out a rather wicked smile. He even almost jumped in place, but he contained his excitement, for the time being. "I wish for unimaginable wealth," he declared, eyes glinting with greed, teeth glistening with malice.
The genie snapped its fingers, and suddenly, from his little condominium room, Marcus found himself in a mansion filled with gold and jewels. The young man couldn't quite help but let out a hearty laugh, marveling at his newfound riches. One would be disgusted by such a blatant wish of greed, but the genie's smile widened, almost imperceptibly, strangely enough.
Marcus's next wish was for eternal youth. Once again, the genie complied, and Marcus immediately felt a surge of energy. Being an 8-5 office worker for six days a week takes a toll on anyone, Marcus, despite being young, suffered its repercussions greatly— so much so that he instantaneously felt a difference.
For his final wish, Marcus paused. He had everything he could dream of— an abundance of wealth and eternal youth. What more could a man want? Or say, what more could a man need? He pondered, as seconds threatened to turn into a minute. Eventually, he then decided. "I wish for ultimate power over all men."
The genie nodded slowly, and with another quick snap, Marcus felt an overwhelming sense of strength and invincibility. He was invincible, untouchable. Or so he thought.
"Be gone. I'll keep you in a safe, no one else should have this much power," Marcus uttered. The genie nods, heeding his masters' orders. But before the genie fully went back inside the spout, he let out a cheeky statement despite unasked. "You're just like my former master, it seems. But perhaps even worse."
Weeks passed, and Marcus reveled in his fortune and influence. Yet, strange things began to happen. His mansion, once a fortress, felt like a prison. His riches brought only suspicion and greed from those around him— not to mention the IRS knocking at his door every single day wondering where he got this surge of money. And his power made everyone look at him differently, isolated and paranoid.
One night, as Marcus paced his gilded halls, the genie's words echoed in his mind. "Three wishes," the genie had said. But it was what the genie hadn't said that gnawed at him. Desperation clawed at Marcus. In cold sweat, he ran to the safe, cracked it open, and rubbed the lantern once more.
"Why is this happening to me?" Marcus demanded, his voice cracking with fear.
The genie chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Marcus's spine. "Did you think power comes without a price? My former master learned that the hard way."
Marcus's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
The genie leaned closer, its eyes boring into Marcus's soul. "Your predecessor was supposed to leave the lamp where it could help those in need; a homeless shelter, for example. Instead, he sold it for his own gain. Now, both of you will suffer the consequences of your greed."
Panic surged through Marcus. "But I can still make things right! I can—"
The genie's laughter cut him off. "Your fate is sealed, Marcus. I wanted to see your despairing face right before I leave. It appears a few weeks' time was all that was needed."
Before Marcus could react, the genie vanished, leaving only the dying echo of its laughter. The mansion's opulence seemed to crumble around him, and as the walls were closing in, he could feel his youth and vigor gradually fading away, too.
And somewhere in the city, a new hand found the lamp; someone whose eyes were gleaming with dreams of wishes and power, woefully unaware of the curses that awaited him.
The end— or perhaps, yet another beginning.
😸😸😸😸
r/KittenMantra <- Check out my subreddit of writing prompts submissions if you liked this one!
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EmrysThomas
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KittenMantra
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2024-08-06 06:29:05
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2024-08-06 04:19:59
| 65 | 35 |
lgqepsp
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lgq10k6
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1el5ebp
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1el5ebp
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[WP] "Dragon, I've come to slay you!" Confused, you look at the unarmored child pointing a wooden sword at you.
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“Dragon, I’ve come to slay you!” The high-pitched voice echoed through the cavern, startling me awake. Before me stood a tiny figure, clutching a wooden sword with both hands. His face was set in a fierce scowl, though his cheeks were round and his eyes sparkled with mischief.
I tilted my head, smoke curling from my nostrils as I tried to make sense of the scene. “Slay me?” I rumbled, my voice deep and resonant, though I kept it gentle. “And who, pray tell, are you, little one?”
“I am Sir Drakan, the Black Knight and the bravest in all the land!” the child declared, puffing out his chest. He swung the wooden sword in a wide arc, nearly losing his balance in the process. “And I shall defeat you, foul beast, to save the kingdom!”
“Ah, Sir Drakan,” I said, lowering my head to his level. My voice took on a serious tone. “You are indeed brave to face me. But are you sure you’re ready for such a battle? I am a mighty dragon, after all.”
The little one hesitated for a moment, his sword wavering. Then he nodded firmly. “I’m not scared! I’ve trained for this!”
“Very well,” I said, rising to my full height and spreading my wings dramatically. “Then let’s see if you can withstand my fiery breath!”
I opened my jaws, letting a small puff of smoke escape. He squealed with delight, dodging to the side as if avoiding a real blast of flame. He swung his wooden sword at my tail, which I flicked to make it seem like he had landed a blow.
“Ha! Take that, dragon!”
“Oh no, you’ve wounded me!” I exclaimed, clutching at my side with a claw. I let out a theatrical groan and collapsed. “I am defeated! You are truly the greatest knight to ever live.”
“I did it! I saved the kingdom!”
I chuckled, the sound reverberating through the cavern. “Indeed you did, little one. But remember, even the bravest knights need their rest. How about we celebrate your victory with a nap?”
He nodded eagerly, curling up against my warm scales. As his eyes drifted shut, I gently nuzzled him. My son, my little Nefarian, would one day grow into a magnificent dragon. But for now, he was my brave knight, and I was content to play along in his adventures.
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I signed dramatically, lifting my head and unfurling my wings from where I'd been listening to one of the children talk excitedly about her day.
"You have kidnapped the princess and threatened our fields for too long!" It was one of those days. The village children liked playing knights and dragons with me. And I got to learn about human culture. It was a good trade.
At a shockingly strong smack on my ankle, I decided to play along. "Oh nooooooo. I've been felled by the mighty warrior and chosen one!!!"
And much to the child's delight I collapse dramatically, faking death.
"Again!!!! Again!!!!"
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thunderfbolt
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AsleepCellist7362
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2025-02-15 07:16:20
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2025-02-15 06:19:36
| 18 | 12 |
mcv9jht
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mcv3oib
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1ipa2px
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1ipa2px
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[WP] An angry magician cursed a city, turning all the residents into the first animal they thought of. Not powerful enough, it only lasted for a day, and the people surprisingly had fun. A year later they offered to pay the magician to do it again and to make him the leader of the celebration.
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The magician tapped his fingers on the table with a modicum of nervousness as he stared down the several town officials and guardsmen sitting across from him. He didn't feel exactly safe given the recent events but was afeared of what should happen if he didn't allow for a conversation.
The officials stared back with an equal amount of unease. Should things go awry, they *could* take him, yes, but not before he took out several of them. No one wants to be the first one to charge... and the first one to fall.
At last, the silence was broken by the magician, fed up with the heavy air that lingered in the room.
"So," he said, "there have been some... regrettable events last year. I would like to apo-"
"Yes, indeed," said the middle official - the town's mayor - hastily. "First of all, we would like to apologize for the way we've treated you. It is clear we should have shown more respect to your arcane arts and to call you things like, and do pardon me, 'quack and charlatan' was greatly disrespectful. I can assure you this moment of weakness does not reflect our town's quality."
The magician's fingers stopped tapping.
"Wait, what?" he raised an eyebrow.
"We truly do apologize," another official - the coinmaster - said and presented the mage with a... fruit basket. "Please - a small token of our apology." The magician eyed the basket suspiciously, though he spotted no serpent in it.
"You're... not here to apprehend me?"
"Goodness, no!" cried out the mayor with a nervous chuckle. "Why would we-"
"I *cursed* you. The entire town! Turned you to animals, the lot of you!"
The officials looked at one another nervously.
"Well- well yes but it was only for a day, so..."
"Yes, I am well aware my ambition was greater than my arcane talent. But..." the magician said, avoiding their looks with shame, "I am... grateful it wasn't longer-lasting. It was a moment of anger, or weakness - I- I shouldn't have resorted to such terrible methods-"
"So," the mayor said, interrupting him, "we were hoping you could, well... do it again?"
The magician's mouth opened ever so slightly.
"You want me... to... curse you again?" he said ever so slowly.
"If you'd be so kind, then, yes, please," the third official, a chaplain, smiled.
"I don't... what? Why?"
"It may be... surprising, but everyone I've talked to greatly enjoyed their experience," the mayor said exuberantly. "It was so very refreshing, soothing even-"
"Didn't I turn you into a frog?" the magician protested.
"Do you have *any idea* how relaxing it is to simply... sit on a leaf in a pond and not worry about a thing? Just enjoy the sun and eat a couple of flies? I've never been so calm in my entire life!" The mayor's eyes were practically shining as he recalled the experience, a warm smile spread on his face. The magician turned to the coinmaster.
"You were a pig, were you not?"
"Yes, and it made me realize how inefficient our farms were," the coinmaster nodded. "Why, just a couple of improvements from my experience increased our production by 36%! This money funded a new tavern for weary travellers, an actual school-"
"School, yes!" the magician yelled. "How traumatized the poor children must've been, I am so, so sorry-"
"The children?!" the chaplain gasped. "Why, they're the biggest proponents of this here idea, good sir. They've never had more fun in their lives, jumping around on the grass, chasing one another... not to mention it was immensely helpful in my lessons - the little ones are more than ever interested in the study of animals and raising them. Why, this generation might make some of the finest farmers this side of the Kingdom!"
"I was a cat, sir," one of the guardsmen pitched in with a rough voice that was nevertheless filled with pleasantness. "Allowed me to do one of them 'cat stretches' and my back's ne'er been better-"
"Thank you, Reginald, yes," the mayor interrupted him. "So we were hoping this could perhaps be a... a festival? A yearly occasion. Something to improve morale!"
"Bring in tourists!" the coinmaster added.
"A moment to study and reflect indeed," the chaplain nodded along.
"And with you at the head of the celebration, of course!" the mayor smiled. "We'd- we'd compensate you, of course. You name it, we can discuss it!"
The magician rubbed his eyes as he processed the offer and then... laughed. He looked at the eager gathering before him.
"Tenure?" he smiled.
|
The characteristic alarm blared.
“Attention residents. The Change will begin at midnight, tonight. Those who do not wish to partake, make sure to paint your door frame’s red with lamb’s blood, which should be available at your local butcher. Your safety can only be guaranteed by the lamb’s blood on your door, so please paint well.”
The message repeated a myriad of times as I readied myself.
I had just finished painting my third coat of lamb’s blood (can never be too careful) when the church bells rang.
Abruptly, I shrank, gaining a poofy tail. My cheeks expanded, feeling odd that there was not a nut tucked into them.
My home’s front door stood open, inviting me to join in a safe respite. Perhaps I’d cuddle up with a nice book, perhaps I’d watch some Survivor.
Yet, I saw the Man, just inside my door. His veins and arteries seemed to leave his body to join the lamb’s blood that bordered my threshold.
His skin crinkled and cracked as he broke into a harsh, wry grin.
“Get!” He yelled at me. “Go on! Git!”
It was as though I was a computer program he had typed a few commands into. My arms and legs moved with a sickening rhythm, like a pupil just learning the piano. Each note felt ill timed, each chord a crash of three keys rather than a lovely ensemble of tunes.
It took all my minor motor control to not fall on my face as my legs took me farther and farther, deeper into the night, deeper away from the red man.
After a time I came to another home, again with its door flung open. A skunk walked mechanically away from the open abode.
“Git!“ I heard from the new house, yet I continued onward, certain I was not being spoken to.
As the stench of the skunk faded, the red of the door’s borders filled my vision.
“You again!” The red man looked at me. He brandished a shotgun, this time. “You have corn in your ears, boy? Git!”
The man brandished the gun, marring his face further my smiling sickly. The deep creases of his face tinged pink-red as he grinned, as though he were a rapidly weathering statue. The creases crunched tighter and harder until drips of blood squeezed through his pores, landing in thick droplets at his feet.
“You deaf or stupid, boy?” He demanded. He moved to chase me, yet stopped just before the door, remaining inside. “You best get on now, before my kin gets back.”
At the mention of kin, my blood went cold. My body, once again, turned around of its own accord. I began walking away, unable to even command my own neck muscles, or my own eyeball muscles.
The man kept my eyes trained on a red speck far in the distance.
As I continued, the red speck widened until it consumed my entire mind. He stood inside, beckoning nicely. He wore a skunk fur around his neck.
“So nice of you to finally join me.” He said as I crossed the threshold into his home. He flexed his bare, calloused fingers. “I’ve been in need of a new pair of gloves.”
He levied a flaying knife.
|
SirPiecemaker
|
None
|
2023-05-09 18:26:02
|
2023-05-09 16:12:43
| 296 | 22 |
jji2n7j
|
jjhi1dd
|
13cwenj
|
13cwenj
|
[WP] For some reason, you are kidnapped and put into an isolated chamber. The kidnappers expect you to go insane and fess up, but little do they know you are so happy to finally be able to daydream 24/7.
|
# Reversed
All I could think about was me walking to the counselors office.
"Do you know why I'm talking to you right now?"
I stared at him.
"You seemed to always be distracted, your grades are dropping. This is very important."
I kept staring, tuning out his words with the ticks of the clock.
*Tick tock, Tick tock, Tick tock.*
"Kati! Seriously?" He sighed. "Just try to keep your fantasy world outside of school, okay?" He dismissed me.
I was walking home from school, like I do everyday. I hate it here. My parents think I'm as dumb as a doorknob as do my teachers. I wish I could leave.
I woke up this morning, sadly. But I'm not in my bed. I'm on hard ground, my mouth is taped as well are my arms. It seems to be a glass containment cell, the lights are bright. I'm panicking.
Then I stop. Someone is coming into the room. More than one person. I can't make out their faces since they are discarded by masks. I assume these are my kidnappers?
"Hello." Said the first person.
"If you are confused, we are holding you here to take place in an experiment. If you don't oblige to being a part of the experiment, you will be *killed.* Understood?"
I nodded.
It was terrible at first. But after awhile I didn't care. Sometimes they'd see what I was fearful of, trying to make me go insane. The dark, spiders, small spaces, noises, heights. I wasn't scared. I moved myself to a land so far away. A world made of pillows and skies made of quilts. With a sunset that burned over the world like candle wax. No one was telling me what I have to do. No one was telling me who to be. They were trying. But no.
I overheard them talking. Something about their boss, and if how the experiment fails-Blah, blah, blah.
I don't know how many days have passed now. They really are desperate. Sometimes I find it amusing, other times, I don't care. One of the kidnappers left—the second one. He probably didn't want to risk getting killed.
I can feel my body. Its very malnourished. But I'm feeding my mind. I really have no sense of time at this point. The kidnappers wonder how I'm not dead, some days they're screaming and talking and fighting.
This was the only time I snapped out of it. It may have been months at this point. My parents probably haven't tried looking for me, that wouldn't be surprising. The sound was so loud. *BANG!* My abductors had shot each other, at the same time. I realized I was the only one left in the room.
This has been fun. The tape around my body had worn off. There was no weapons in the glass room, no rocks, nothing. This is the first time I realized it. My hair used to be my neck length. Its down to my waist now. I stand up. Pain. I ran and threw myself against one of the glass walls. It shattered.
I grab the gun, and decide to end the daydreams.
|
Finally, I can hear the voices clearly. You never realize how noisy the world is until you’re comforted with beautiful silence.
Who shall speak to me today?
Tiffany? A voice so faint that it could be a whisper. The last time I heard her she was singing me to sleep the day of my mother’s funeral. I remember desperately trying to find her for comfort. I tried everything but noise cancelling headphones only go so far. It’ll be nice to hear from Tiffany again.
Maybe if I close my eyes…
A faint scream fills the room.
“hi Marcus, still falling?”
Marcus’s voice is an echo, he’s been falling for years. I respond to the echos of his screams from the abyss. The last time I got angry I could hear his echo “you should slap the shit outta him.”
I have no clue who they are or why they chose me, but I can provide them with a home in me and in return, I feel less alone.
There’s an excitement in the air, I think a new voice is coming in. The other voices are screaming in unison. I have to bang my head to shut them up.
I can hear the desperation in the new voice as it’s reaching out. I have to press my head against the walls to hear it clearly.
It’s suddenly quiet.
All I can hear is a hum. It’ll probably take a while for this new voice -Beth- to get comfortable with me.
Luckily, I have the time.
|
TeTimeTravelingToast
|
Pitiful-Decree
|
2023-03-30 20:29:44
|
2023-03-30 19:47:21
| 14 | 10 |
jebj92o
|
jebcj6k
|
126h6de
|
126h6de
|
[WP] You're the first test subject for an experimental super soldier serum. You are told the truth only after you transform into something not quite human anymore.
|
*HSSS*
*SLURP*
"What. Am. I ?!?!?"
Henry said thickly, forcing coherence through his strange new mouth. What were these things inside his mouth, they felt like tendons!?
His examiner, who had introduced themselves as Lt. Grint, kept staring at him with a hawk-like intensity, and simply instructed:
"Discipline your mind, sergeant, and take stock. What is different?"
He kept looking at himself in the full-length mirror they had provided, the changes were strange and random. Patches of flakey, almost scaly skin. His forearms were bulging in strange ways, and he could swear his entire hip structure was lowered.
Then suddenly, it hit him. He knew exactly what was different, what had changed.
" My... mind." *Slurp* "Why. Am I. Not... afraid?" He was quickly adjusting to his new facial structure. His body was learning to use the new tracts to funnel excess saliva.
The lieutenant allowed a subtle smile, and replied "Well done Sgt. Juniper. You're the fastest yet to realize."
The lieutenant waved the techs forward and the MPs back, confident in this subjects self-control. The medical technicians folded out the mirror, so the sergeant could see more of themselves and adjust easier to their new body. They also more discreetly set up some scanning equipment, to monitor the sergeants responses and ensure general health.
"Begin your stretching routine, Sgt. Juniper. Learn your new body, while I explain."
Henry was grateful for the permission, and began his routine with a calculated slowness. These had to be treated as new muscles, he didn't yet know what this body could do.
"You are the first successfully integrated subject in project TSR-1986 , known commonly as the 'super-soldier project' , and known colloquially amongst the researchers as the 'Yuan-Ti Modification' "
"Aren't the... yuan-ti... , snake people? Am I part snake now?"
"Don't interrupt again, sergeant. And to answer the question, yes. Essentially. You have been modified, not only with superior speed, strength and stamina, but with certain reptilian traits we believe will be most useful in the performance of your duties."
"No fear."
"Exactly. The suppression of most emotion, allowing a clinical approach to unknown situations and more careful application of force. That was the main goal of the genetic integration. We also found ways to add more... shall we say, obvious advantages? Flex your new forearm muscles."
Henry stopped in his isometric routine, and examined his forearms. They were webbed with new blood vessels, and had a strange stiffness to them. He twitched and twisted his fingers, his palm, looking for these 'new' muscle groups, not quite finding them. He shook out his hands to start again, and suddenly felt a release of tension he hadn't realized was there. His looked at his hands.
"What are those?"
'Those' looked for all the world like milk teeth poking out from under his nails. They were leaking a yellowish fluid, and as he ran them over his palm, he could feel they were hard and very sharp.
"In essence? Those are your fangs. Retractable, we believe. They should deliver a small but lethal dose of venom into anyone you can even scratch in melee combat."
Henry looked at his hands. Retractable? How? He searched for that feeling of unknown tension releasing, and tried to reverse it. After a minute or so, the nubs retracted into their apparent place beneath his nail beds.
"If you succeed you will be the first of a new breed of soldier. Fearless, strong, lethal. Everything we need. Do you have any thoughts, feelings on this, Henry? Now is the chance to express them before you are sent for testing and training."
He looked at the lieutenant for a moment, then looked at himself again. He likely could never re-integrate into wider society with these modifications.
The dry, scaly skin aside, to be able to kill with a touch? To never again know fear, or love, or lust?
His newly cold, reptilian mind incorporated all these facts, and came to a conclusion. It would have been sad, if he could feel that anymore. He stepped away from the mirror, and stopped directly in front of the lieutenant. He came to parade ground attention. The lieutenant smiled when he said just four words:
"I am your weapon."
|
# Soulmage
**Anyone else would have questioned the number of guards around the simple bed.** Six witches, two ambassadors from the Eldritch Initiative, and four disgruntled-looking young soldiers with shortswords surrounded Iola as he sauntered towards the center of the room.
But Iola felt good about this. He always felt good—he was just an upbeat kind of person—but the power that the Eldritch Initiative had promised him was so close he could almost taste it.
Wait, no, that was blood. He'd bitten his tongue in excitement. Oh, well, it was far from the first time.
"Now be warned, the process is currently irreversible." Iola had to work around quite a few bureaucratic loops in order to get here—teenagers were *not* supposed to become experimental extradimensional entities. But the man in front of him didn't recognize Iola, and Iola didn't recognize him. "This is your last chance to back out."
The corners of Iola's lips twitched. "Things always work out for me," he said. "I'm quite happy where I am, thank you very much."
The man shrugged. "Well, a test subject is a test subject. Do you have the sample?" He asked, turning towards the ambassador.
The vaguely humanoid puppet of flesh held out... Iola craned his neck, curious. What was that, some kind of potted plant? It was gnarled and ancient and *boring*, so Iola didn't bother thinking about it any further. "You will have to perform the infection yourself, of course."
The man nodded. "For your own safety, please lie down on the—ah, there you go." He came forward, holding the potted plant. "This should only take a moment."
Iola stared at the ceiling, humming to himself, excited for the changes. Would there be a surge of strength as his muscles grew? Ooh, would he sprout razor-sharp claws and wings? Or a fire-breathing snout and powerful jaws?
But the changes were not so... physical.
The anticipation turned andric as Iola's expression contorted, the upbeat joy he constantly felt sickening into varination. Iola's eyes bulged as his neurons were rewired, the new emotions coursing through his mind as familiar and human as chyme was to water.
And then it was done. Though not a single fiber of his perfectly-combed hair was out of place, someone else looked out from behind Iola's eyes.
"Infection complete," the man reported. "Tell me, Iola. How do you feel?"
Iola worked its jaw, twisting it this way and that, until it settled into a dorceless gape.
"I feel humber," Iola said, and the pulsating of his eyes confirmed it. "I feel *good.*"
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a story written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/), or r/bubblewriters for more.
|
IamtheBoomstick
|
meowcats734
|
2023-08-06 02:37:05
|
2023-08-06 00:14:29
| 47 | 26 |
juzcf3f
|
juyuk2l
|
15j8mzq
|
15j8mzq
|
[WP] You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.
|
(Sorry for any spacing and formatting problems, typed this on my phone)
Aidan Maxwell, villain callsign "Lightwave." He was in the middle of his normal hijinks, making people think they're losing it by moving things around without anyone seeing him, taking things and framing others for the infractions to start minor quarrels, and at the very worst nipping in and out of bank vaults to steal enough cash for rent and groceries. He really didn't have a grand plan - he just wanted to live and let live. There were even times when he used his powers to help - stopping a stroller from rolling away, returning a dropped bag, providing a subtle redirect between an inattentive phone-watcher and possible injury
Most days, the heroes didn't even know he was there. This was by design. He could bend light and had grown to the point that he did it without even thinking about it. Two of them, Sadie and Howard Porter, the twins Double Vision, could see through his illusions. When push came to shove, they usually just gave him a stern talking-to. When it came down to it, they were the closest things Aidan had to friends.
News of their sudden and brutal demise at the hands of some new upstart, calling himself Lucifer with no sense of irony or self-awareness, did not leave Lightwave particularly happy. This new, exceedingly powerful villain had torn through the national hero team with wild abandon. He took all challengers who called him out, which was becoming a rarer commodity for him. It came as a shock when no-name Lightwave called him out, but he accepted the challenge all the same.
"I honestly have no idea who you are," Lucifer, a massive armored man, covered in more spikes than a porcupine and enough blades for a daytime shopping channel, "buuuut I figure it could be kinda fun to deal with a nobody villain, make an *example* of ya."
Lightwave stood half a block from the much larger man, slightly slouched, his light gray motorcycle jacket with a squiggly line stitched on its back to represent a wave of light, and seemed to the casual observer to be shrinking away from this terrifying beast, "You killed my friends. I haven't got many of those, y'know." The lights in the buildings nearby dimmed.
"Oh, I can see why, pathetic lookin' thing you are," His armor plates shook with his laughter, "I mean, what do you expect being so quiet and scrawny?"
"They were good people," The lights in the buildings died, "You killed a lot of good people."
"Yeah, I sure did," There was an audible smile in Lucifer's voice, "I think I'll fit a few more in when we're do-"
"You most certainly will not," Lightwave responded with absolute authority, cutting off and shocking the much-larger villain, "Tell me, do you know the actual etymology of your chosen name?" The lights across the entirety of the state dimmed, then winked out.
Lucifer stood taller, "Yeah man, the fuckin' DEVIL man! It's what I aim to-"
"It's Latin. Light Bearer, or Light Bringer. The latter being what I'd chosen for myself before I decided it was too much," The light for half an astronomical unit sputtered and died, "Everyone thinks my power is bending light, which is true to a point. I can manipulate and control photons. You are not walking away from this, you goddamn *monster*."
"Like hell I'm n-"
The sentence died in the air, as Lightwave crossed the entire distance between them in a fraction of a second, unleashing the full power of the light from the palm of his hand straight down on the top of the upstart's head.
Four minutes later, the sunlight managed to return to the Earth, illuminating a man walking from the shadow of monster burned into the melted asphalt.
|
Enraged by the anvil, then the wasps, then the cake-in-the-face, a true classic, "The Beast" roared, focusing all the evil cosmic energy within his soul to a miniscule spot between his clawed hands. But I was ready.
As the death ray zipped towards me, I was already holding an ornate hand mirror in its path. In a world of logic the cosmic energy would destroy anything physical and even para-physical. The sturdiest magical barriers or even the xeno-technology of Arumnians would crumble against it, but I was the joker. Everyone who ever watched cartoons in their childhood knows that mirrors deflect rays.
The deflection passed through the Beast's elbow, a chunk of flesh simply disappeared, more started dissolving at the edges into thick black smoke as the foul chaos worked on his flesh at an alarming rate.
No no no, not yet. "It's a boo boo" I said, jettisoning towards the Beast. I slapped a huge band aid with a unicorn on the dissolving flesh, then just as a precaution I leaned forward and gave the wound a kiss. "I kissed it and made it better, but we have something to discuss, urgently."
"You encroached in my territory. My honor's sullied. I challenge you to a duel, sir!" I said. The beast's clothes suddenly turned into a suit of armor, so did mine. I calmly removed the heavy gauntlet appearing on my hand and slapped him. "We duel by guns" I declared. His clothes quickly turned into clothes of a cowboy, so did mine.
We stood, our backs pressing against each other, a gun in both our hands. Of course as we count and step, I stepped backwards keeping affixed to him. He struggled against the enchantment in vain, of course he had no control over his body.
As he turned, I slid behind him, then shot him at the base of his skull. He would heal it all right, but it should have hurt a little.
He made Electra, the hero, my friend, my playmate suffer for twenty minutes. I took out a huge pocket watch from my vest pocket and checked out the time. Maybe a couple more weeks. Maybe another century. Time stretched in a funny way around me, losing all meaning anyway.
|
MrArgetlahm
|
zztri
|
2024-09-23 14:14:03
|
2024-09-23 13:00:05
| 152 | 65 |
loj0to2
|
loiordm
|
1fnekwz
|
1fnekwz
|
[WP] You, a side character, watch in horror as the MC forgives and doesn't kill the main villain, who murdered your friends and family, saying, "If I killed them, then I'd be just like them."
|
I was absolutely… pissed.
I glared as the so called Hero Maximus proceeded to hug and forgive a mass murderer. Someone who had called thousands. Someone who killed my FATHER. Some who killed Max’s MOTHER.
I don’t know what happened to me hit something just snapped. I unsheathed my sword and with speed I had never achieved before I blasted forward.
My sword cut through the air as I aimed for the monster. Before I could feel the satisfying slice through that bastards neck, my blade was blocked and deflected away before a kick slammed into my stomach sending me tumbling back.
“Leon WHAT are you doing?!” Max said with some anger in his voice but upon seeing my pissed off face his voice softened as he faced me.
“I’m sorry Leon but we should forgive him, it’s the right thing to do” he said softly as his blade dropped down.
I simply stood to my feet as my gaze finally swapped to Max. He could see the hatred in my eyes and it surprised him.
“I’m not like you Max. He is going to die and I will be today. I am going to kill him. If you want to stop me then kill me!” I said as I shot forward, bringing down an overhead slash at Max.
I liked Max and so all that stroke did was distract him. He jumped back to avoid it and I ran past him whilst he was focusing on dodging. He wouldn’t go all out on me which meant I had a chance.
I was strong but Maximus was on a whole other level. A smirk crossed my features as I appeared in front of the monster.
My sword slashed outwards but it never connected. I would never wield it properly again. I stared in shock as I saw my sword flying away with my hand still gripping it.
I felt pain explode from my wrist as I looked down seeing my hand had been severed. I looked to the right seeing a familiar figure.
A woman, her names was Alina. She was another member of our group. Max had saved her life and she had swore her life to him.
“No!” I heard Max shout as he ran over to me as I collapsed to my knees, I grit my teeth stopping the tears.
Max immediately crouched at my side, a hand on my shoulder. At that moment I saw my chance. I head butted Max in the face, grabbing his Max’s spare sagger before he threw it at Alina.
He then charged at the monster, his spare dagger in his hand as he smirked, plunging it into that monsters chest “die you pathetic bastard!” I shouted as I slammed my body into the injured man.
We both tumbled to the ground, I attempted to get on top of him and use my remaining hand to deal as much damage as possible but I wasn’t able to.
A kick slammed into me as I was sent tumbling away, Alina had recovered. She appeared in front of me and slammed the hilt of her sword into my face.
Dazing and confusing me as I fell back. My head was swimming. He wasn’t dead yet so I couldn’t fall unconscious.
I got up and charged, as I got closer to Alina, blackness took over and I slammed into the ground.
|
It was almost over. It'd been so long but we were so close now. Twenty years spent hunting down this piece of shit. He wasn't getting away this time. Not on my life.
My lungs were on fire. Straight battery acid ran through my veins. My heart was about to detonate. I kept running.
He could only run straight for a bit so I took a chance, raised my revolver and pulled the trigger. Missed. The bullet pinged off a vent just to the right of him.
*Two left! Aim your fuckin shots, you moron!*
I saw the edge of the roof up ahead - he was running out of runway, and quick. I brought my revolver up again, ready to hold it on him when he stopped. But he didn't. He didn't slow down at all and jumped.
I stopped at the edge and took the best stance I could. The gap was across an alleyway and the next building was a story shorter. I could have made it. The fucker made it, too, and stumbled when he landed. I saw my chance, took aim and fired.
My heart just about leapt into my throat when he yelled out and I saw him hit the deck. He was down but he wasn't out. My stomach dropped as I saw him scrambling to get back up on his feet.
That's when Bobby, that beautiful bastard, caught up and jumped across, himself.
*Well, shit, guess it's my turn.*
((Part 1 of ? - just got busy, will add more in replies))
|
HHM4RK
|
jimmysaint13
|
2024-03-08 10:15:44
|
2024-03-08 09:47:07
| 18 | 11 |
ktwd2a7
|
ktwaq8j
|
1b9dtij
|
1b9dtij
|
[WP] We invented immortality, but a seemingly random subset of the population is barred from the treatment for 'incompatibility'. Well, you just figured out what incompatible meant.
|
They lied to us all. The ones they labelled 'incompatible'. The rich, powerful, and famous all drank the potion of immortality. They gave it to loyal dredges who would slave and work for them for all eternity. The forever downtrodden poor who would live forever and ever at the bottom of society.
But not us. Those top dogs threatened us with death and violence if we were anywhere near a potion distribution centre. A friend of mine was riddled with bullets. His corpse strung up as an example of an incompatible who aspired for what he was not meant to have.
A bunch of us stole a tank. Bulldozed through a distribution centre and took immortality potions for ourselves. How bad could it be? What set us apart from all other humans?
I felt like a god. The burst of energy and power within me was intoxicating. One security guard leapt over the rubble to come at me with a gun, but I extended an arm to swat him aside like an annoying fly. A long, flexible arm with open maws whenever I spread my elongated fingers, each tipped with poisoned barbs.
And I needed more. My compatriots, we came together. Flesh and muscle and bone twisting and breaking, then fusing into one. We were unbeatable. Those awful oppressors who denied us this gift of immortality, we would show them.
They were still humans. Immortals, but human-shaped, with all the limitations that came with it. Being ageless changed none of that.
But we were different. We were truly a god beyond their comprehension. Shoot us, freeze us, lob bombs at us. It barely dented us. That nuclear warhead was something edible. Something that never occurred to us until we crunched down upon it.
Now, we spread the word. We spread our oozing rivers of blood and flesh across the city streets. Tendrils and tentacles curled around skyscrapers to crush them into the ground. More incompatibles would join us as one. Together, we'd take down those who once thought they were at the top.
They were only rich, not powerful. And they would learn to fear the truly powerful like us.
----
[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
|
**Forever and Always**
I thought we’d love each other forever, you and I.
But ‘Til death do us part’ took on a new meaning,
When neither of us could die.
-
Now, I hate you with every fiber of my being.
My soul explodes like angry comets,
When I look at your stupid grin.
-
The way you chew like a slack-jawed horse,
Fills me with unbridled rage.
And yes, it *matters* you left the toilet seat up.
-
I could go on and on. And on.
The ‘pull my finger’ jokes were never funny.
No adult needs to sleep with a fan.
-
But we’re stuck together for eternity,
Doomed to live life alone,
Always and forever.
|
Tregonial
|
katpoker666
|
2024-11-10 01:26:33
|
2024-11-10 00:36:07
| 622 | 30 |
lwccxvj
|
lwc4ml7
|
1gnnqnh
|
1gnnqnh
|
[WP] You are the child of two famous superheroes and their nemesis has kidnapped you in the hopes of getting under their skin. A week later your parents still haven't come to rescue you.
|
*They’re not coming.*
I sighed as the realization sunk in, no one was coming for me. Logically it made sense, I mean, I was a joke of a hero. They called me Gizmo since I was really only good for teach support. I hardly ever fought, and when I did my siblings always had to protect me. Usually I just hung back and watched from afar, the most pathetic hero on the planet. Honestly, if it wasn’t for my family, I would never have even dreamed of becoming a hero, but my parents insisted, so there I was. Rotting away in Overcharge’s dungeon.
Like I said, pathetic.
To top it all off, my captor hadn’t given me any new clothes nor the opportunity to change, so I was still wearing my stupid green spandex suit.
I must have looked ridiculous, sitting there curled up on the bed in my cell. Really I was shocked I’d been given a bed at all. From the stories my parents had told me about him, I expected Overcharge to be a sadistic torturer. At first I had rationalized that he needed me in good condition so that my parents wouldn’t go nuclear on him, but Overcharge is no fool. If I had figured out that no one was coming, he certainly had as well.
I sighed again, resigning myself to my fate. I was sure that, any hour now, Overcharge would barge into the cell and shoot, stab, or electrocute me. I had my money on my electrocution, he was an electricity-based villain after all. Our powers were very similar actually, it was only a matter of scale. In another lifetime, he could have been my mentor. I chuckled at that thought, as if anyone would actually waste their time or effort on me.
The lock clicked and a pit formed in my stomach as Overcharge entered the cell. Only, he wasn’t wearing his super suit, or any gear for that matter. Still, his hulking form terrified me. I braced for the end, when he pulled the stool from the other side of the cell and sat down. He looked me up and down, before speaking solemnly.
“The city contacted me, they don’t want you back.”
“Figured as much, so what’s the hold up then? Just get it over with.”
“Get what over with? Don’t tell me that you think I’ll kill you, I may be a villain but I don’t kill kids.”
“Hey, I’m not a kid, I’m sixteen.“
“Exactly. You’re not old enough to vote, or to have graduated high school. By Satan’s Horns, your parents stole your childhood. I won’t steal your life as well. Look, I’ll be straight with you, you don’t have the raw power to be a heavy hitter like myself or your parents-”
“I know.”
“I wasn’t finished. I was going to say that you don’t have to be a heavy hitter to be a powerful fighter. My tech guys have been developing combat drones, and I can teach you how to control them with your power. Even your low voltage shocks are enough to send signals within the drones. What do you say, wanna give villainy a try?”
“I don’t know. My family are scumbags, I’m not naive, but that doesn’t mean I want to kill and steal. I don’t suppose you’ll give me time to think on it, will you?”
“Don’t think of it as stealing, think of it as wealth redistribution. Do you ever wonder where all that money goes?”
“Hookers, blow, and fixing your gear I’d assume.”
“Gods no! Well ok we do do *some* drugs, and some of our people *do* employ the service of sex workers, but consider the amount of money at hand. There is no way we could physically spend literal billions of dollars on deathrays and crack.”
“I don’t know, I can think of a few ways.”
“That is not the point! What I’m trying to say, is that a good portion of the money is given to good causes.”
“Good causes huh, like what?”
“Like services for kid supers forced into heroism.”
“In other words, kids like me? But that’s just more self interest, isn’t it? You just want fewer heroes in your way!”
“Maybe, but admit it, you wouldn’t be a hero if you had a choice.”
He was right, of course. I had a lot to think over.
*two days later*
As the team made our way to the vault, we found an electronic deadlock. Our hostage, a particularly tearful young woman, cried and wailed more about how wrong what we were doing was. Overcharge sparked his power in his palm, and the woman shut up real quick. He gestured for her key card, but it declined. According to the info guy Nautilus, this was common practice and that all key cards in that particular branch had been deactivated.
Overcharge nodded to me, and it was time for my first major criminal act. In this one act, I would kill Gizmo and be reborn as Silver Cypher.
My heart raced, as I sparked the lock and popped it. The team smiled to me as we entered the vault, and I heard Vine Bloom quip “Good eye Overcharge, this one’s a keeper.” I have to admit, that comment made my heart soar. It wasn’t usual that I was actually useful to anyone, though maybe it would be more often with this new team.
As the team started chatting, I quickly shushed them. My gut was telling me that someone was coming, and in the silence I strained my ears and sure enough, footsteps. I’d learned to pick those particular footsteps out from other noises ever since I was little. My family had arrived.
My father was first on the scene, but we were ready for his super speed and Suplex managed to catch him in her gigantic fist. My sister tried to free him with her lasers, but Suplex’s skin is tougher than rock so no dice.
As our main fighters began engaging my siblings, I noticed my mother charging up her ranged attack. I sparked up and sent in my drones.
Keeping my mother occupied with the drones was child’s play, what was more amazing was my ability to control the drones. I didn’t have to fiddle with any buttons or switches, just sparked the remote and the commands were transmitted to the drones. It was so precise, way more efficient than just using the remote normally. The best part was that the remote didn’t have any physical controls, so even if anyone else got their hands on it, it’s completely unusable without my power or at least a similar ability.
My costume had a weighty hood and voice modulator that covered the bottom half of my face. None of them recognized me, it was glorious. I thought about saying something, but Gizmo was dead, and they were all strangers to Silver Cypher.
r/CookieJarOfChaos
|
Despite the whole... kidnapping thing, it wasn't going that badly. I mean, sure, I had actually been kidnapped but that wasn't the worst. So far, he'd just kept me locked in a room with an en suite and had meals delivered. It was boring, but not awful.
Then, well, he got impatient. Came storming in. All bluster and bravado. Guess you don't become an evil mastermind by being meek and timid. "Where are Powerman and Starflight?"
That was actually a great question. "Not sure, really. Sorry I can't help."
Doom was tall. Intimidating. Spent my entire life around that. "Sorry? Not going to... beg? Plead?"
"I mean, if I beg and plead, there are two options. One, you kill me anyways and you just were doing a whole cat playing with a mouse bit. Two, you don't kill me and were never going to because you think kidnapping me gets attention but killing me will me they never stop."
He was confused. "Not going to list option three?"
"Which is?"
Doom was still confused. "They bust in all heroic to save you? Or I kick their asses when they try."
I sighed from the armchair. "Hate to break it to you, bud. I didn't get powers. I spent more time with nannies than my parents. They're not coming. When they realized powers were never coming... that was sort of it. They haven't actually been home for a birthday of mine in years. Every Christmas is spent saving the world or doing photo ops with other people's kids. I'm not useful. They once went on vacation with my older brother and little sis and forgot to invite me. They're the special ones. I'm dead weight. They went to the Christmas photo ops. I was home with my nanny."
Doom sat across from me. "They'll still notice you're missing. Go looking."
"No. Maybe. I don't know. I'm in college. We don't talk much. I don't know if anyone realizes I'm missing. If they did... maybe they think it'll be good PR. They only try to save the world and Doom went after their beloved son. They get sympathy. More effective than anything else I can do. They may not come at all, if they even realize I'm gone in the next few weeks. We don't exactly chat much. They only like their powered kids."
He was softening. "How the hell does Powerman neglect his kid and not get dragged in the media?"
"He pays me well to shut up online. Probably still getting his weekly bribe money."
"That's what that was? Not a trust or allowance?"
"Why do you think only two kids are in the news? Golden boy eldest and the spunky teenage superheroine. There's a reason they kept me quiet. I'm an embarrassment. They pay me to go away."
Doom dropped his head. "My life wasn't great. But they didn't keep me around to tell me how much they hate me."
I just shrugged. "There's no reason to keep me here, you know. They won't come for me."
He was torn, but then went to the door. "Go. They'll drop you back off where we grabbed you. Send him back. Plans changed."
Doom walked me right out the door. Had his people drop me off on the street. Grabbed my abandoned backpack and headed back to my dorm room. Apologized for thelast-minute family emergency.
After repacking my bag, I headed to the family home. Walked in. "Hello, Mother. Father. Dear little sister. Guessing you all knew Doom had grabbed me. Don't lie to me. Did you know?"
His mother answered, voice waivering. "Yes."
"I'm disappointed in you. Took a whole week to get Doom to come in the room. Had to wait for the effect to really build up, too. He had spine. Will. Unlike you. Put a knife to your throat."
On command, his younger sister walked to the counter and grabbed a knife and held it to her own throat. "Brandon, please-"
"Shut the fuck up!" I screamed. "Did I talk to you? Did I ask you to speak?" I glared at my sister before turning to my parents. "Did you think he might knock me off? Get rid of me? I am your *son*. Shame on you. Can start to make it up to me, though. Make me a plate for dinner. Serve me a meal."
The room was quiet and I could see my mother's hands shaking. "You're pathetic. Pull yourself together. I expect you to make things up to me. This is not how you treat your family." I was quiet. Waiting. Saw my brother come in, freeze upon seeing me. "Hello, Nathaniel. Come. Take a seat." He stiffly walked over. Kept glancing at our siste. "Oh, right. Put the knife down. Come and sit with us."
She was crying, still. "So. What did I miss? Was gone a whole week. Surely something fun must have happened." I quirked an eyebrow. "Answer me."
"Flought a kaiju."
"Mm. How fun. Whole Power Family adventure." My mother walked over. Put the plate in front of me. "Thank you for the meal, Mother." I leaned over to grab the pepper.
|
Chaos-in-a-CookieJar
|
DefinitelyNotAliens
|
2023-06-16 02:44:18
|
2023-06-16 02:03:54
| 107 | 65 |
joazfr7
|
joausjd
|
14a31be
|
14a31be
|
[WP] During one of your nightly walks, you stumble across a man struggling to rig the underside of a bridge with explosives. He also spots you and the two of you just stare at each other awkwardly, as both of you clearly don't know how to handle the situation or what to do next.
|
Minding my own business on my nightly stroll down the riverbed I see a flashlight shifting under the bridge that leads into the city. I assume it's an inspector, well, inspecting it. It's an old bridge to be fair, and we've had one across town collapse not two weeks ago. As I close in I notice the man isn't donning a reflective vest. In fact, he's clad in all black with a ski mask on.
"Strange attire for an engineer." I call out to the man, who is clearly shocked by my presence.
He drops something from his hand, and turns his head to face me. "I've got a gun, take one step closer and I'll blow your lungs out." he says, placing a hand on his waistband. His voice is shaky as he offers the threat.
"Now why would it come to that?" I reply, cautiously stepping closer.
"Good god, get away!" he shouts back.
"Well you've just threatened me with a firearm, sir. I'm afraid if I show my back to you you'll start blasting away."
"Swear to me you're not one of them." he says. The look in the eye suggests he will not hesitate to fire if I answer incorrectly.
"Do I look like a cop to you?" I offer, slowly opening my coat to show him I'm unarmed.
The man lets out a sigh, throws up his hands in frustration, then beckons me closer.
"What's this business anyway?" I ask.
"Know anything about explosives?" he responds.
"A thing or two I picked up from books. Why do you ask?"
"Well," he says, picking up the parcel he had dropped earlier. "I'm looking to blow this one."
"What on earth for?"
"Coppers drive this route every morning. Timed charges you see." He opens the package. I recognize the contents as plastic explosives.
"Ah, you must be one of those revolutionaries I've been hearing so much about." I say.
"You aren't a snitch, are you?" he says, shooting me an accusing glance.
"I'm sympathetic to your cause, believe that much sir. Just more of watcher than a fighter. You understand." I say back.
We stand there a minute, as an awkward silence falls on the conversation.
I break it.
"What's this about explosives anyway?"
"You see, I can get the damned things to stay in place." he says. He shines his light to the various points where he's already placed some. "I just can't get the timer hooked up properly. Got the time?"
I pull my sleeve up and check my watch. "Quarter past three. May I suggest something?"
"What's that?" he asks.
"You're placing them directly on the support. You'd need ten times the power to blow it from there."
"What do you suggest?"
I begin doing my own inspection of the bridge. It's rather small and showing signs of age. Seems to my eye he'd be doing the good folk of this town a favor by getting rid of it regardless.
"Place them in the middle of the bridge, that's the weak point. You'll be needing a boat or barge to stand on unless you've brought a pair of stilts with you." I look down at his cache of explosives. "By god, couldn't get anymore? That amount wouldn't blow up a bike tire let alone a bridge."
"Times are tough." he says dejectedly.
I place my hand on his shoulder in an effort to comfort the poor lad.
"Tonight's not your night. I suggest you acquire what I've recommended and try again some other time. I'll be passing through here each night around now. If you need anymore help just keep an eye out for me."
"Thank you, sir." he says. He turns and begins to walk off the way I came.
"Forgetting something?" I call out.
"What?" he calls back.
I gesture broadly at the mass of explosives he's left strapped to the underside of the bridge.
"Right, sir. Thank you again sir." he says, hurrying back towards me.
"Good night and godspeed you brave devil." I say to him as he scrambles to collect his items.
I continue along the path, satisfied that my engineering degree did not go to complete waste.
|
"Some days you just can't get rid of a bomb," I noted with surreal calm, watching the old, scraggly man strap a collection of C4 bricks to the underside of the bridge. It crossed over the Hillevi River in Macklemore, Arizona, less than a mile away from my house, along the path of one of my favorite walking trails.
Hearing me, he turned and fixed my eyes with his: they shimmered like a fresh graphics card pulled from a Best Buy box, and I suddenly found a deep, tugging desire to leave and forget everything, strong like the compulsion to stop running when you're on a treadmill and start wondering if your legs will buckle and get your knees ground up by the belt because you never wear that damn safety clip.
But I fought it. See, I'm a writer. I do it for a living, and I love it. And these daily walks are coal in the engine of my train of thought. Without the coal, the train doesn't run, and without the train running, the books don't get written. I don't get paid. My family - my wife, my daughter - they don't eat. And my family eats, baby.
"Nah, fuck off, go blow up some other bridge," I commanded.
He blinked, surprised, and climbed down from his perch. I backed up. He stared at me harder, and his shimmering eyes reached anime-girl-looking-at-cute-school-gerbil levels of nonsensical shimmer, which was fucking terrifying in real life, I'll tell you what.
"You...you're not bowing to my commands. You should be bowing to my commands!" the man shouted. His teeth flashed, his incisors longer than normal.
Crazy guy with sharp teeth, or legit vampire? I didn't care. I whipped out my phone. "Listen up, one call from me, and the fuzz will be on your ass. You'd better start talking."
The question of crazy or vampire was answered: with a hiss, he turned into a ton of bats, and flew off. I started to call the cops, and that's when the entire bridge went up in a huge ball of flame.
Suffice it to say, the trail was destroyed, and I can't walk very well after the force of the blast threw me into the rocks beside the trail and crushed a few vertebrae in my lower back to powder.
But that's all right with me, it was all worth it: the train's got enough coal now to last a lifetime.
|
sstarf
|
EdgeofTolerance
|
2023-07-28 00:14:10
|
2023-07-27 22:39:01
| 101 | 14 |
jtqlcgr
|
jtq7y31
|
15bek9p
|
15bek9p
|
[WP] You were a feared pirate captain - until your encounter with the siren. Now you are a married pirate captain with an even more feared female first mate.
|
I looked fondly at Irina, snoozing away in her chair. It was rare that she got a good night of sleep. Between the nightmares and the pain, life was hard for her. And I'd have done anything to make it better.
Every so often, she fretted that I'd fallen for her out of pity. For how could a mortal man, hale and whole, who did not burn with lust for anyone, love such a deadly temptress of the sea, and one so grievously maimed as her?
I looked down at the blanket over her lower half. Obscuring not just the wheels of her chair, but the mutilation they'd inflicted on her tail.
Yes, pity had moved my hand when I'd found her in an obscure trade depot, hooks and chains everywhere, with a raging fever from what they'd done to her throat. But in the months since her rescue, I'd come to know the most cunning mind on the seven seas, with a heart that burned brighter than the sun. How could I not fall for her?
I used to raid imperial vessels for their fat holds full of levies and taxes and spice. Now? I did it for her. And every one of her sisters that the empire harvested for pearls and to "make the oceans Man's Domain".
There was a knock at the door, and I opened it swiftly. Our helmsman gave me a nod "The intel was good. One Imperial War Galleon coming our way. If we raise anchor now, we can force it to face the sun as we attack."
I turned to face my first mate. Her eyes were already alert as she tossed the blanket aside. A gravelly, discordant whisper creaked from her lips "Just one? No risk at all then."
I nodded "If you're up for it, the Foghorn's ready for you, dear".
A vicious grin of fangs cracked across her face. "For the empire? I'm always ready to remind them of who they crossed."
Irena couldn't sing anymore. But her wail made even a banshee seem tame. Most ships mutinied and turned over their officers rather than face a hailstorm of our cannons while she blasted their psyche with what remained of her voice. They knew all too well we sailed with a dozen of her Sisters, and that any ship we sunk would feed them very well that night.
I knew these days couldn't last forever. I was surprised as it was that we'd only had to escape the royal armada twice. Someday, our luck, my caution, and Irena's cunning would fail us. But until then, we would stick our thumbs in the eyes of those who believed they were masters of the world.
|
I tell this story to all me mates. I try to ease them onto my first mate, while keepin' me reputation.
"I hear this singin' right? I go over there, tryin' to see what it was, and it was very annoying. I see this beautiful siren, singing an otherworldly melody. I tell 'er to stop before I blow 'er brains out, an' she stops instantly. She begs for mercy, an' I let her on the ships, and assigned 'er to gruntwork, to see how she handled the pirate life. When she sank an enemy ship wi'h one whirlpool, that's how I knew it was love. We married, an' that's how she became first mate."
It didn't go like that, however. I was cryin' and blubberin' for mercy instead o' her, but don't tell me mates that. I seen how she ran m' ships, and let me tell yeh, it be brutal. She can sink whole ships, and uses it to terrorize me an' the crew. I'd love to throw 'er overboard, but I don't know if that'll do anything.
|
Aegix_Drakan
|
SpecialTexas7
|
2025-04-14 16:39:53
|
2025-04-14 14:28:39
| 265 | 26 |
mn34izl
|
mn2enxv
|
1jyznko
|
1jyznko
|
[WP] You befriended the lonesome girl in your school because no one else was talking to her. While exploring the backyard woods, you both began splashing water on each other from a stream. That was the first time you saw her laugh. And also the first time you saw her blue butterfly wings.
|
When Daphne walked, her feet barely seemed to touch the ground.
That was the first thing I noticed when she transferred to our school. There wasn't much else remarkable about her; just another mousy nobody in an oversized hoodie and frayed jeans. Only her blue eyes stood out, and those astoundingly light steps of hers.
I started watching her. The way she bounced into the classroom or queued up at the canteen, her dirty sneakers making nary a sound on the floor. I wasn't sure why that fascinated me so, but it did. No one else seemed to pay her any attention at all.
The mystery nagged at me so much that I approached her and asked her to hang out. Her eyes widened as if I had said something shocking before she gave a shy nod. We went to the park, and I offered her a smoke, and when she wrinkled her nose in disgust, I suddenly didn't feel like smoking anymore.
My curiosity slowly grew into something more. I spent less time sneaking cigarettes behind the school and more exploring the forests bordering the town with her. I was a city girl through and through—or so I thought before I saw how Daphne's face lit up whenever we were outdoors. I didn't understand it but I wanted to see it again and again.
Before I knew it, I became an outcast in our class as well. A year ago, it would have devastated me so much that I would have probably gone full goth and started writing edgy poetry. But Daphne was with me, so I hardly noticed.
One of our hikes took us to a hidden brook deep in the forest. It was spring, and the stream was overflowing with meltwater. Flashing me an excited grin, Daphne kicked off her sneakers, rolled up her jeans, and waded into the stream.
"You're mad," I said, shaking my head. "It must be freezing!"
She threw her arms out and danced along the sandy bank, her bare feet kicking up a spray. "It's not that cold. Come on!"
Perhaps I was going mad too because I found myself a rock to sit on and eased off my shoes. I tiptoed toward the brook and winced as I stepped on a pinecone.
Giggling at my misfortune, calf-deep in the stream, Daphne extended her hand. "Come on!"
Swallowing, I came closer and grasped her hand. Her blue eyes sparkled mischievously, and she yanked me in. I squeaked as I stumbled into ice-cold water, suddenly finding myself inches away from her freckled, grinning face.
"Y-you lied!" I accused, stepping backward. "It's damn freezing!"
"No, it's not. It's refreshing!" Stooping, she dipped her fingers into the stream and splashed me.
I recoiled with a shriek and slipped on a smooth rock, nearly ending up on my butt in the water. "Why, you little..." Cupping my palms, I tossed a handful of water at her.
Daphne gasped, staring down at her soaked hoodie. I opened my mouth to apologize, but then her lips quirked up into an impish grin, and she bent down to reach into the stream.
"No, no, no." I backtracked, half-laughing, half-pleading. "Daphne, wait, truce!"
She laughed gleefully and launched a huge spray at me, soaking me to the bone. I was never one to take it lying down so I returned the favor. Our shrieks of laughter spooked the birds from the nearby trees as we splashed each other like we had gone mad, forgetting how cold it was, and that we had a long way to walk home.
I shielded my face from another icy spray and was about to retaliate, then froze. Something glittered in the sunlight behind Daphne's back. *Wings*, I realized with a skip of my heart, delicate and translucent, only the glittering droplets that clung to them betraying their shape.
A palmful of water splashing my shirt barely registered in my mind. Daphne tilted her head at me, her smile fading. She followed my gaze and gasped, glancing behind her shoulder so quickly I feared she would suffer whiplash. Her eyes widened impossibly, her lips moving without a sound, before she sobbed and sprang to the bank, lightening her steps with beats of her wings.
"Wait," I yelled.
She leapt out of the water and bounded off into the woods like a deer—one moment there, and the next gone. I stared dumbly at the trees, then shivered and waded out with markedly less grace. I wrung out my shirt, dried my feet with my socks, and pulled on my shoes. Collecting Daphne's sneakers, I set off in the direction she had disappeared in.
I found her almost immediately, seated on a fallen log, her translucent wings spread out behind her and quivering lightly in the dappled rays of the sun. Now, I'm no poet, but it was the most beautiful thing I had seen. Even better than Mrs. Kretschmer's face when I got a perfect score on her test.
For a minute, I watched her in silence, then slowly approached. I could tell she knew I was there by the tension in her shoulders, but thankfully she didn't try to run again.
Careful as if approaching a wild animal, I came over and sat down on the log beside her. She looked away, her jaw set and her lip quivering.
"Brought your shoes," I said, setting them down before her.
Daphne nodded as if not trusting herself to speak.
"Good thing you haven't gone far. If you left me here, I'd probably have gotten lost and died from exposure."
She gave a noise halfway between a sob and a laugh. "S'why I stayed. You're hopeless at finding your way around."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I said dryly.
There was a minute of silence where neither of us found anything to say. I couldn't resist surreptitiously eyeing her wings. From up close, I could see that they were faintly bluish, with delicate veins crisscrossing them like filigree.
She shifted, still not facing me. "You must think I'm a freak."
"What?" I frowned. "Don't be an idiot. I'm *freaked out* but I don't think you're a freak. I don't know what to think, but your wings are... well, they're beautiful."
She turned my way at last, her eyes meeting mine briefly, before she looked away with a faint blush. "Thanks."
"Sure." I squirmed, feeling awkward all of a sudden. "So... have you always had them? How come I never saw them before?"
"I wasn't careful enough," she said with obvious frustration. "I was just having so much fun that I forgot myself. Once I dry them, I can hide them again."
*What a shame*, I thought. "What are you, then? Are... are you an alien?"
She stared at me, then burst into incredulous laughter.
I swatted her shoulder lightly, cracking a smile myself. "Come on, it was a legitimate question! I mean..." I gestured at the wings, careful not to touch them even though I really wanted to.
She sobered up and glanced over her shoulder. "No, not an alien. My mother's side of the family is a little... unusual."
"Are they fairies or something?" When Daphne made a conflicted expression, I raised my palms. "It's all right, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
She fidgeted with her fingers. "It's not that I don't trust you. I just never told anyone, and I don't even know how to begin. My mother always made me promise to keep my heritage secret."
I nodded sagely. "I totally get it. My family never talks about Grandpa Tucker either."
A small smile crossed her lips. "Thank you. For being so cool about this."
"Of course," I said, nudging her shoulder with mine. "I mean, you're like my favorite person in the whole world."
My eyes widened as I realized what I just said, but it was too late to take the words back. Daphne's lips parted in surprise as she stared at me. Then she brushed her shoulder against mine in turn, her wings fluttering rapidly.
"You're my favorite person too."
|
I'd made myself a promise, during my treatment, that if I ever made it back to school, to a normal life, I'd find someone who needed a real friend, and be there for them. I knew how important that was, how much we all need someone in our life. I certainly had.
So my first week back, I sat with my old friends at lunch, answered what questions I could, and I watched. I watched them, bickering over pointless things, selfish little kids, by the third day, I didn't say a thing and they didn't notice. But I also watched the rest of the cafeteria. I saw a so many little groups, all the classic cliques, and many more I couldn't label so easily, and then I saw her. I remembered her, all the way back to kindergarten. Annie? Amy? I couldn't even remember her name. No one even seemed to notice her. Over that week, people kept bumping her and never apologized, no one spoke to her at all, no one so much as looked at her. I had my target.
The next Monday, lunch came and I walked over to her. "Can I join you?"
She looked terrified. I guess she thought I planned on bullying her. Small mining town like ours, it wasn't something that got corrected as long as no one went to the hospital. Or maybe that's me making assumptions. Finally, she gave a whispered, "okay."
"I feel so guilty, I can't remember your name."
"I go by Mini."
"Like the mouse?" I fought hard to keep it from sounding at all like mockery.
"No?" Sounded like I may have failed.
"Well, that's a cool name. My parents are kinda hippy types, so I'm Libra."
Her eyes went wide.
"Yeah, don't ask about my middle names."
"Name*s*? Plural?"
"I got three."
"I don't have any."
"You want one of mine?"
She gave a small smile. The first I saw.
~-*
It was a few months later that I finally got a laugh. Halloween night was a Friday, and her parents had OKed a sleepover, our first, after getting my parents to promise there'd be no horror movies. It had been an effort, because Mom and Dad seemed to always miss the phone calls from her house. I finally answered one and got Dad on the line.
We had done a bit of goofy teen trick-or-treating on my block, dressed as a witch and a black cat, which my neighbors loved, except Mrs. Winty, who started to lecture us about stealing candy from little kids. I was tempted to sneak back later and TP her house, but another promise from treatment was to be more forgiving.
We spent the rest of the night watching Disney classics, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Aristocats, probably another that I fell asleep to.
Then it was Saturday. A whole day to hang out. Her parents weren't picking her up until after dinner. We watched cartoons and played Parcheesi, then Sorry, then Trouble, just to confirm they were all the same game. When Mom woke up, she made us pancakes for what, by that time, could only be called brunch, except there was no cantaloupe. And then we went outside, planning to walk to the mall.
It was a perfect autumn day. Just a smattering of leaves in the trees, a light frost just leaving the leaves covering the ground. And that crisp air. We walked across the backyard, down into the woods, a shortcut I'd "discovered," when I noticed a small trail leading through a couple years back.
We came to the stream, barely a trickle now, and I kicked a bit of water into the air as I walked over it. She decided to do the same, and splashed me a little. I know it was an accident, with the look of shock and the hand over her mouth. She was about to cry from embarrassment if I didn't do something, so I laughed. "Oh, is that how it is?" I kicked a small splash in her direction.
She grinned, and kicked another at me, already running off down the stream. We went a few minutes with that, chasing each other back and forth. I realized she'd joined me in laughing. I did well at not showing my surprise, both at the laughing, and when she suddenly was a couple inches off the ground, floating on blue butterfly wings.
All those months, no one spoke to her unless I made them. Just like her parents phone calls, I had to intervene. I debated if she was a hallucination, but there were things she knew that I didn't, couldn't. Also, I'm pretty sure my parents wouldn't just humor me for an imaginary friend. Not at this age, even with all I'd been through. So I knew she was special.
When we finally wore ourselves out and collapsed on the bank of the stream, I turned to her and whispered, "So you have wings?"
She blushed, and nodded.
"That's cool. They're really pretty."
"Thanks."
I sat up, hugged my knees to my chest. "I killed myself. It's why I missed the last month of school last year."
"But you're not dead," she said, and put a hand on my knee to help herself up.
"I was. Heart stopped and everything."
"They brought you back."
"Maybe. Sometimes I'm not so sure. Do you remember playing hide-and-seek in kindergarten? Do you remember all the good spots?" I turned to see her face now.
"... yes?" She looked like she was working out a math problem.
"Where was your favorite spot?"
"The cubby's don't come all the way to the wall, and if you get next to them, and the class door is open, no one can see you."
I pictured the room in my head, pictured coming in and putting my lunch in my cubby, just inside the door. She was right. I could see the gap. Too narrow for me to hide in now, but perfect back then. But I could picture our names, too. Alphabetical order. Katy, Libra, then Lucas, Luka, Mark C, and a new row with Mark R, Mark S just below mine, then Mira, Morris, Nancy.
"What’s your name?"
"I go by many." She took my hand and was helping me up.
"Not like the mouse."
"Not like the mouse." She sounded older.
"And no middle names."
"Another like me, we'd balance you out."
"Is there another like you?"
"There's no one like anyone."
"Thank you, for being my friend."
"Thank you, for talking to me."
We headed for the mall.
|
andrius-b
|
NextEstablishment856
|
2023-02-25 15:25:10
|
2023-02-25 14:08:28
| 762 | 325 |
j9yp89n
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j9yffwa
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11bjzbt
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11bjzbt
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[WP] The hero, normally jovial and humorous in their interactions, steps into a watering hole for villains, shaking with rage, tears running down their face, and with as much patience and calm as they can muster, simply asks "Who did it?"
|
"Who did it?"
Silence descends upon the bar, as every two-bit villain and evil mastermind in this shithole turns a wary eye at the distraught hero, Starscream.
He glares back, his face twisted in rage and despair as tears fall down his cheeks. A nervous energy buzzes across the room, the tension thick enough to cut with a dull knife as the time passes in silence.
Fuck me, what the hell could've gotten the Golden Boy of Metropolis this angry? I take a sip from my drink to hide my nervousness, fighting back my grimace as the noxious taste of old dirt and lime assaults my senses. For what feels like the fifth time today, I regret ordering this shit just because it was expensive. Should've just gotten the seltzer.
Toxic Ooze slowly gets up from his chair, holding his bubbling hands up to not set off the boy wonder. We all know just how strong he really is. Thank whatever heavens spawned him for his "code" of not killing.
"Did what, Starscream?" He bubbles in a wary tone. The tension increases, hands moving to wrap around sci-fi weapons and muscles bulging in case shit goes south. "We haven't got a clue what you're so mad about."
Starscream turns his rage at Toxic Ooze, his teeth clenched, a hiss escaping from him as he tries to talk through his anger.
"Don't fuck with me, Jurgen! This isn't a game anymore!"
Oh shit, he's not just mad. He's _mad_ mad. Using real names is, like, our one big no-no. I mean shit, I was at Toxic Ooze's daughters bar mitzvah, and I don't even call him Jurgen when the mask is on.
I put down my glass of expensive mud and press a button on my cuff, holding back a grimace as enough steroids to kill a herd of hippos (we tested it) pumps through my veins.
Toxic Ooze lets out a sigh, his arms starting to bubble and his eyes narrowing as he prepares his paralyzing gas. "Fine, _Michael_. Which one of us did _what?_"
Starscream clenches his jaw, his fists shaking as his tears pour out like a river.
"Which one of you bastards slept with my wife?"
Oooooh, shit. This just got juicy.
Michael lets out a sob, as every villain in this joint shares a _look_. The sounds of weapons getting dropped, magic being cancelled, and tables being lowered clangs through the place as we all lay a sympathetic eye on the poor boy wonder.
Toxic Ooze stops bubbling as he scratches the back of his sludgy head. "Shit, Michael... I'm... I'm sorry to hear that, man."
Starscream... No, Michael, lets the flood gates loose, his body shaking and his words hiccupping as tears fall down to the floor.
"I... I just... She..."
Toxic Ooze glides up to the poor man, wrapping a slimy arm around his shoulders.
"Hey, man. It's okay. We understand. This really sucks."
Michael tries to say something, choking on his words. Giving up, he just nods, leaning into Toxic Ooze's embrace.
Toxic Ooze wraps him in a hug, and Michael just folds into it. Toxic Ooze gives the best hugs.
"Hey, there we go. Don't cry. We're here for you." He stares up at us, his eyebrow cocked questioningly. "Right, fellas?"
The room explodes in noise, every villain nodding their head or crying out in support for Michael. He's a good kid at heart, and honestly, this game would be boring without him.
I mean shit, at the end of the day, we're all just really in it for the money. We rob the damn banks every week, or the "priceless artifact" museums, and they just claim the loss from insurance, inflating the "value" they claim they lost and pocketing the difference. The cops don't even try to stop us anymore after the banks and businesses just started bribing them to _not_ stop us.
The masks and villain speeches and fights for justice vs evil just keeps this all interesting. We get our money, and as long as we keep our mouths shut, the golden boy gets to stay the hero, and that seems to make him happy.
"Come, come. Sit down." Toxic Ooze says softly to Michael. "Let's grab you a drink. Tell us what happened."
He guides Michael to a chair, setting the man down gently and sitting across from him. Everyone leans forward, eager to hear what happened.
"I... I just... I found..." he lets out some hiccups, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Scarlet Witch hands him a napkin, laying a comforting hand on his back. "I walked in and... And I saw her..."
Toxic Ooze leans in closer. "Saw her?"
Michael lets out a wail, his head falling down on the table.
"I saw her in bed with a villaaaaiiin!"
Gasps ring out across the bar, every villain here muttering in anger and shock. The men here like him, after all, considering he gives them a good fight and is a good sport about it to boot. Most of the women even _like_ him, thanks to his golden locks and striking good looks. Hell, some of the men _like_ him too. What dumbass would throw that away to sleep with a _villain?_
I get up from my chair, trying my hardest not to crack my head against the ceiling after the massive growth the steroids gave me. I pull out a chair next to Toxic Ooze, sitting daintily on it to try not break it, and clap a meaty hand on Michael's back.
"Tell us _everything_. We'll get that bastard for you."
My fellow villains let out a round of cheers, priming their lasers and pulling out explosives of all kinds.
"And ditch the wife! You can do _so_ much better!" Scarlet Witch shouts, giving Michael some encouraging pats on the back.
All the women and some of the men cry out in agreement.
Toxic Ooze nods.
"Forget that slag. We're here for you, man."
|
A hush grew across the bar, the chatter and clinking falling to a whisper before fading altogether. Eyes swept toward the door and gazed upon the figure who commanded their silence. Rocket Man. The beloved hero of their metropolitan city stood like an obelisk, gripping the door frame as he pierced into everyone’s very mind and soul. A fire burned from within him, baring teeth from a clenched jaw. No one dared utter a word, not even a cough.
Rocket Man grabbed an empty chair resting by the door and smashed it into the wall. Splinters and wood flew like shrapnel from a grenade. The closest patrons shielded their faces and coward from the explosion that echoed throughout. The rest of the crowd had stiffened, reflexively leaning away from the door and it’s hostile force. Still only silence remained, the patrons had fallen into a wordless obedience. They knew who top dog was and while they all could maybe jump him together, no one wanted to test an enraged Rocket Man and be one of the many casualties that would most definitely be created.
“I let you bastards exist out of kindness and decency!” Rocket Man bellowed to the room in a manor unbefitting. Everyone present has heard him get angry and upset before… but not this.
“R-rocky, we don’t know wh-“
Before finishing another word, Rabid Bitch was lifted into the air by her throat. She started to cough and wheeze, desperately trying to claw at the arm of Rocket before he drove her into the table she sat at just seconds before. The table cracked under the force and caused one of its legs to snap. It fell to the side and so too did Rabid, rolling onto the floor. She gasped for air as a few close by flew toward her and helped get her to her feet.
“Not. One. **WORD.** From any of you unless it’s a confession or information. **WHO?! FUCKING WHO?!**”
The villains remained in a silence, but their eyes darted between one another. *What happened? Had anyone heard anything? Someone must have bragged about something, right?* All these thoughts and many like them swam through the minds of all present. Whatever it was, it was big and bad. Someone did something to warrant this much rage from the hero, but what? And equally important, who?
A shuffle from the back. Another. And another. Small steps as someone tried to slowly and quietly fade further and further into the background. A couple from the back started to notice. And then more. And more. Heads started to turn and look at a lone individual. Rocket noticed this. As his gaze met the sneak in the back, he bolted for the back door. The jets on Rocket Man’s jet pack ignited into a high pitched roar, sending him sailing into the air above the crowd and directly into the runner. His arms outstretched as he reached his target, grabbing them and bulldozing them through the back door and into the air. Higher he flew as he stared the very intent of death into his captive. A relatively new villain to the scene, Boulder. He should have absolutely learned the rules of engagement by now.
As they rise higher into the night sky, Boulder sniveled and cried as he clung to Rocket Man for dear life. The horror and fear flushed every other thought out of his mind. He croaked out something as their ascent came to a halt, several hundred meters in the air.
“P-p-please! I-I-I-I did-dn’t kn-n-n-now!”
His helmet hid every expression, but Boulder felt the malicious force emanating out from within that very helm. He cried out, begging and pleading for Rocket to understand, show compassion and mercy. He’ll take himself in! He’ll resign immediately! He’ll abandon everything and leave! Anything!
All fell on deaf ears.
“The rules exist for a reason, Boulder. Not to keep things fair, not to have honor or respect. They exist because I *own* you. You are *my* playthings. And when someone strays from that path..”
Rocket Man released his grip.
“They’re not worth playing with.”
|
DoopleWrites
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wheresmythermos
|
2024-10-17 16:11:58
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2024-10-17 15:12:04
| 168 | 77 |
lsdszfk
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lsdhna0
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1g5kua3
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1g5kua3
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[WP] The real reason you hate the villain is because they forced you to be the hero.
|
The Major directed me to the cell he was in. Water bled through the walls at this level of the prison. Four Constable Mark IVs followed behind, each one was the result of R&D costing more than the annual GDP of a small country. "I'll remain outside, if anything were to go wrong the cell will be flooded with Chlorine gas at a concentration of 100,000 ppm. It'll stay like that for 30 minutes, which then the sanitation process would begin." He scanned his iris and entered a code, causing a Nuclear blast graded door to slowly hiss open. When were on our way again he continued, "After the two-hour sanitation, we'll open the hatch and these bad boys," the Mark IVs "will enter and retrieve your body." He stopped in front of the cell "So don't let anything go wrong.
He slept on the floor, underneath his twin-sized bed, the only dark place in the cell, I guess they didn't turn the lights off. "Get out." He said openly.
"No." After a brief pause, laughter began emanating off of the walls. He climbed out from underneath the bed looking rougher than ever. "Son. Of. A. Bitch." He said, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" It was rhetorical.
"Move over," I said, he slid down the mattress patting the empty spot next to him. "Look, a new guy is causing some problems on the surface and he has some of your designs, and the SECDEF wants to know how." He looked at me.
"Really? That's why you're here?" He laughed heartily, "We both know that's not the reason."
"Oh?" I responded, he cut me off before I could get another word,
"Why are you here?"
I clenched my jaw, "People are in danger." I said half-heartedly, "This infor-"
"Oh, cut the fucking act, will you? You don't give a rat's ass about anyone but yourself."
"And you do?"
"A hell of a lot more than you do! So what, some asshole stole my plans. If you don't recall; You people took them the minute I got stuffed away down here. We both know some dejected DOJ employee with too much access just wants to make a name for themselves. You want some help with this new guy? How about you do him like you did me?" I stayed silent, "Huh? Cat got your tongue, motherfucker?"
"You got a lot of nerve, you know that?"
"I do?"
"Yeah, you fucking do!" I stood up.
"Please enlighten me."
"You act like it's my fucking fault that you're down here. You love handing out blame like it's a free fucking sample!" I lowered my voice, and stuck my finger in his face, "Well, let me help out for a change. How about you look in the mirror? And maybe, just maybe you'll find the only Goddamned person responsible for fucking up your life. You!" I breathed heavily, waiting for a smart response, but none came.
"I just wanted to help." He looked down. "There are so many rules, so many safeguards. Everything needs to be tested, and tested again, and again, and again. I would've saved lives. Yeah so what, I didn't call the FDA, or file a patent, it would've been years, so many would've died. Maybe the dose was wrong, and the formula was a bit off. They were going to die anyway, the trade-off made sense."
"Why did you run?" I asked, taking back my seat. "I could've helped you."
"I couldn't let you be complicit. It wouldn't have been fair to you, to Mom." he sighed, "You think I wanted this? For all my intelligence, I panicked, I went off the deep end and didn't even realize I was drowning until it was too late."
"I would've helped you anyway. I hate being the poster boy. I can't stand getting a call every time an asteroid is going to hit Earth. Or some asshole wants to see the world burn. I didn't want to be a hero, that was always you."
"His name is Victor Holland, he works at Krios Corp." I knew it was the end of the conversation. I stood up, and looked at the camera, the cell door begin to hiss open. "Hey," I stopped outside the door, "Don't come back, brother."
|
Another goddamn awful day has passed.
Robberies, kidnappings, hostage situations, fights, arguments, cats in trees...houses in flames, dams breaking and rivers out of control...
All and more under my jurisdiction.
Why?
Because I am the Hero.
And every day that passes I resent the one who is responsible for this: the Villain.
I don't care that they do what they do, because it's obvious they won't be a Saint.
Killing, kidnapping, stealing and so much more is their normal behavior...and I would have been happy to stop them...
If it were not for the fact that I abhor the idea of being a Hero.
A mascot of "justice" running around doing good deeds for nothing.
While people starve, I am to run around solving crimes, and fighting idiots who can't control their emotions...
And the Villain in this case I hate the most...became a villain just to force me become a Hero.
It's not a lie, nor do I imagine it.
She became a Villain, because she didn't want to be a Hero, and knew that I had the making of one.
So she left in the middle of the night, killed our town's police chief...and fled.
My dear sister...
Ever since then I was hunting her, but it was too late.
After our very first fight, I have been labeled as a Hero, taken in for questioning by the government, and given a license to practice "heroism"...
My life, my dream...was dead.
A lovely childhood, loving parents, an awesome bigger sister.
I awakened my powers shortly after her, and we were all so...happy.
I wanted nothing more than to become an architect...to build, to create...
She on the other hand wanted nothing more than to marry rich, and raise children, to become a perfect lazy housewife she used to call it.
Then...our family was hit by a calamity, and our parents...died.
It didn't take long for the toll of it to hit my sister, as she cried and cried for someone to save us.
Nobody came...so she took things in her own hands.
Becoming a Villain and forcing me to be a Hero.
She runs around the world, every now and then appearing, putting me into the spotlight once more...
She is...always on the move.
Me on the other hand, I hunt her, I hate her...and I want to save her, for this...this is not what we have dreamed of, neither of us.
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RelationshipOk3093
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TheWanderingBook
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2024-08-11 13:58:47
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2024-08-11 13:20:01
| 34 | 11 |
lhl83sx
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mvspskl
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1epk43j
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1l2g1qe
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[WP] The elven children have a ceremony to summon their spirit animals. Most get unicorns, phoenixes, fire salamanders etc. One kid ends up summoning a human, smoking a cigar and sporting a hefty shotgun.
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Five elven children sat in the woods. There were 5 tree stumps laid out in front of them in a circle and a glyph carved into the dirt between the stumps. Each sat in front of one, eyes closed and whispering an ancient rite.
This was the Familiar Ceremony. Each Elf would summon a familiar attuned to a certain element that most aligned with the elves strengths and their needs.
The first elf, a girl of 16, wearing a silk dress and fine jewelry, a clear member of the higher class, who went by the name of Presta Polena, was very proper in her incantations. Just before she had made fun of one of the other girls in the ceremony and was generally unpleasant to be around. The small creature that appeared upon her stump was a fairy. An impish creature that was as pretty and rotten as her master, but it was clear it was an emissary of nature.
The next, a boy donning an ancient carved mask, but on the side of his head as to keep his face revealed, with clothing made of leaves and other natural material, who was generally a serious and heroic man, despite being 14. His father was a warrior, his father’s father was a warrior, and his father’s first son was a warrior, and it was clear that he would follow soon. Standing beside this boy, was named Noren Alad IV, a suit of armor appeared, instead of on the stump. It’s only bearer being a ghost that none could see. It stood in solidarity beside the boy- they both understood they would become the most daring of allies. Though it wasn’t exactly an element per se, the ideal of honor and justice was manifested in this specter, and that was an attribute that the familiars could embody.
Then was Eria Jeris, who was also 16. He was fairly unnoticeable, save for his clear strength and the deep soot engraved in his face and body. Even after washing up for the ceremony, it was clear that he had spent much of his life by a furnace, even if he was only 16. Unsurprisingly, a small dragon appeared on his stump. The fire of the dragon suited him better than his own forging equipment.
The 4th was another girl, but of 15, and she was the one who Presta was making fun of. She was wearing a run-down dress that was a little too big for her, but had many pins stuck in it to tighten it. Her hair was short, but rolled into a bun. She generally gave the appearance of one who isn’t accustomed or able to live a life of fancy, but is certainly trying their hardest for the occasion. However, the familiar that was summoned by this girl, her name being Aleca Hunnba, was unlike any other. It was a man. Just a regular human, with a cigar and some strange apparatus slung over his shoulder. He was definitely a spirit, because his complete lack of interest in the situation implies that this was expected for him.
“‘Sup kid. You were the one summoned me?” The man said in a gruff voice.
“W…what? Summoned you? But you’re not even a familiar, you’re just a human!” Aleca exclaimed.
“Oh trust me, I’m more familiar than anything else you’ll ever know. Something tells me we’re gonna get along kid.” The familiar replied.
“W…how can you tell?” Aleca asked, still a bit fearful.
“‘Cause…” The main explained as he got up, “I can’t be summoned unless it’s by someone who gets me.” He stretched his legs against the tree stump. “You’re fed up with everyone else. You’re sick and tired of pretending to be forgiving and agreeable. You just wanna see them all hate you, even if just for a second. You don’t care, you just want to be left alone to your own devices.” He paced around the summoning circle, stopping for a moment to stare down the suit of armor and nod in respect.
“How… that’s… yeah, you’re right. But still, how are you a familiar? You’re just a human, aren’t you?”
“Familiars can be anything, kid. So long as they embody an element of attribute that is generally revered. Fire, water, nature, power, justice…” he looks towards the suit of armor again, this time with much more friendly reverence, “honor…” and the suit of armor put a gauntlet against its chest.
“The reason why I’m so hard to summon is because I’m generally not revered. Ysee, kid, what I am…” he chuckles for a second, “I am that feeling of not giving a shit anymore.”
|
The teacher had left him alone she didn't say he was in trouble, but he knew that look. That was look Fa'bei'on got when he did something un elf like. She was probably sending a letter to his parents now. He was going to hear about this mishap for ages.
And it wasn't his fault he didn't write the stupid spell that picks out friendship companions. well it was a little his fault. He didn't want a unicorn because he didn't want to braid hair, birds always pooped on him, and lizards skin peeling off always Creeped him out.
But there was thousands and thousands of other things that should have come instead. Like a fire puppy or a kitty with wings. He would have been happy with a plain old fashioned otter.
He was so lost in his own head that the door opening nearly had a him fall out his chair.
It was Ms Summerfall Shadow Wind of spring.
The GuidanceGuidance teacher.
His day couldn't get worse.
"Círdan. I am here for a little talk. You aren't in any trouble. " She gracefully sat down. "Círdan" she took a long deep breath that looked like she was finding the right words. She seamed to settle on an approach. Then locked eyes with the young student.
"You know you can't fuck this companion right? You know its just magic shaped like a human. It will talk act and behave like a human untill it stubs its toe too hard . Then it will just poof away. " She rolled her wrist in the air. "Then when you summon another. It will be different one that answers the call untill it knocks it head against a door frame and that one poofs away. So On and on and on." She seemed oblivious to the shade of red Círdan was turning. "And while it extremely impressive you managed to summoned a complex creature such as a human. And we are aware children your age start having urges. It is illegal to have sex with illusions, summons as well as conjured creatures.
And if you are found to even attempt such and act you will have your magic Bound"
Círdan after what felt like a year and as red he was since she started he had to admit what he really wanted at the summon. "Ms Summerfall Shadow Wind of Spring, I wanted something that would permanently get me out of archery classes. It's my worst class I keep pulling the string across my arm. I was sick of it. So I thought I ask ask for , something loud, annoying to others. And make archery class redundant."
The Guidance teacher gave him a long long look over. With a deep breath she stood. "Sure you summoned a human. To avoid a class if that's the case you will have no problem explaining that to your parents, after they get our letter explaining we gave you the magic summons talk."
Círdan sighed his day got worse.
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fufucuddlypoops_
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saintash
|
2023-03-08 04:49:23
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2023-03-08 04:41:01
| 240 | 68 |
jbd75rs
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jbd69ym
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11lckv0
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11lckv0
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[WP] You clocked in like any other day. Grabbed a cup of coffee, walked to the lab, and entered JUST in time to see Ted press the red button.
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Force field barrier winked into existence almost instantly, caging him in. "Shit! Ted why did you do that!?” I gasped and ran up to a nearby console, keeping an eye for any signs of warning or alarm.
"Uh.. Pat? Help me out here? What's going on!?” Ted cried out in alarm as amber beam begin wiping across his body. Several lines popped up in the log. ***Scan complete. Baseline stable. Encoding.***
"Whoa! Please hel-" A second wave of beam scythed rapidly across Ted's body. I barely had time to make eye contact and then he was gone in a flash. Not a trace left. ***Progress complete.***
Not a moment later the research team barged in through the door. "Goodness that button is loud. Status? How bad?" The team lead asked as the techies begin cordoning off the faux station Ted was messing with. "Uh... All system's... green!?" Unexpected. "Confirmed, all systems green, transfer error rate at 0%” another researcher chimed in on the report. The plan still had 3 weeks to prepare. "Awesome." the lead quipped. "Where's Ted?"
"ElizaBeth is already on him. Hang on, let me bring up the camera." A few key presses later and the central display changed into a scenic view of a lush gold fields of a what appears to be a farmland. Two children dressed in colourful fantastic outfit along with an inquisitive pegasus fussed over Ted. Telemetry of his consciousness stabilized as the A.I. begin guiding him around. The team afforded ourselves a round of applause.
After decades of effort, with some founding members pretty much old bones by now, the project finally entered the alpha test stage with live subjects without a hitch, if you gloss over the premature start. Once we give it a thorough test and compile all the data, the ISEKAI Project will finally have the legitimacy to go public.
Of course we still have the issue with reconstructing a physical body, but that can wait. After all, simulating a real world for the affected is but a trivial matter. The potential of mind transference system and simulated world system is pretty much limitless. The entertainment oriented project is just for us to kick off a new frontier.
Unfortunate for Ted, but he did try to pull a fast one over Those Who Plan. Suffice to say, that seat was reserved and there's only one candidate for it.
|
And I think not this s**t again, but at least this time I have coffee and a maple donut to keep myself occupied while I’m stuck in here with Ted. For the third f*****g time this month. I hear the doors behind me lock in place, the steel window blinds grind down the floor to ceiling windows. The alarm goes off like it’s sole purpose is to drown out every thought I’ve ever had. 10 more minutes of the blissful escape the alarm provides before it’s 3 hours of listening to Ted talk about his 50+ year old sour dough starter. I know this dude isn’t actually color blind as he says. He’s pressing that d**n button on purpose. It’s the only time he’s able to banter on about his perfected feeding schedule for the sour dough. I guess, in a way I feel sorry for Ted.
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MiniFishyMe
|
Just_a_thought_3
|
2024-11-19 13:53:39
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2024-11-19 10:43:43
| 47 | 11 |
lxxcx12
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lxwooyc
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1gutzpv
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1gutzpv
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[WP] Being immortal can get dull. In order to spice things up, every 100 years you create a main goal to works towards. In the past you have been the most revered ruler and another time the most sought after sword maker. It has once again been 100 years and it is time to make your new goal.
|
"I once (very foolishly) wished that I could live forever. Never to age, never to fall ill, never to die. I've fallen in and out of love countless times until I felt that there was no longer a heart to give.
And I was empty.
I walked amongst mankind with no heart nor motivations. I was a living shell of a man, and I regretted my wish immensely. Until a man offered me a sword and told me to fight with him. Out of pure boredom, I humored him.
I picked up his blade and learned its dance. I fought for that man for half a century, until he (as everyone eventually does) passed. Leaving me with his blade and his final wishes, I spent the better years of the next half a century honing my craft and pouring over his will, and when I was ready I set that land ablaze per his request. As a man of my word I did everything in my power to honor his wishes, and I reshaped the land in his image.
I was first a boy.
Then a lover.
Then a tyrant.
On that throne I saw the world bow at my feet. People would grovel at my throne, just to weep in being in my presence. They revered me as one would a deity- though, given my ability to never age- I was just that. And I detested it. There was no joy in conquering that land, nor making those around me cower like animals. Power no longer felt gratifying.
So,I left.
Turning to the sword, yet again, I decided that I needed to do something that would keep me from losing myself to my old ways. I learned the ways of the forge. My hands calloused over time, and so did my resolve of being a smith. I watched as my creations would go on to mow down armies and slay innocents. There was no honor in killing, and no honor in creating murderers.
First a boy.
Then a lover.
Then a tyrant.
Then a smith.
I left the forge too. I became a philosopher. Then a writer. Then a poet. And for the last century deigned to find you." I said, my voice wavering towards the end.
The woman in front of me gave me a twisted grin.
"You asked of me a wish and I granted it in return for your waterskein. Are you not fulfilled?" The crone asked, licking her cracked lips.
"Not in the slightest."
She scoffed. "Then what would you have me do now."
I mustered up every ounce of dignity I had left. "I wish for you to make me a man."
The two of us were silent for a while before I heard her raspy laugh. "You certainly have the parts of one, boy."
Fuming I opened my mouth to speak, but found I was not able.
"'Make me a man', you say. Are you not one already? Did your wish make you a tyrant, or make you a smith? Did your wish rob you of your identity?" Her smile widened revealing blackened, rotting teeth. "Did you come find me for the sake of preserving your soul?"
"I came so you could remove this blasted curse!" I yelled.
With a voice so cold that it could freeze vodka she said: "It was never a curse. It was a blessing, which you squandered.
I watched you wander the world aimlessly for centuries. I watched as you fought for a cause you didn't believe in, become a tyrant on an iron throne and abandoned the people that you vowed to protect. I watched as you became the smith, then the philosopher, writer, and poet. And you have learned nothing.
All those centuries of living, not once have asked yourself the question why. Why do you want to live? What are you living for?
You ask me to make you a man. Now I ask, what for?"
The woman was no taller than my chest, yet in that moment I felt remarkably small.
"I want to live as a man would. Experience the world through the eyes of someone knowing that their time is limited. I want to be able to find my heart again, and perhaps find someone in that brief time who I could cherish. I want to be able to spend this last century living for myself."
"You will grow old and die."
"I know."
"You cannot undo a wish like this."
"I understand."
She sighed. "Very well. I will make you a man."
|
Emperor. Lord. Ruler. Priest. Vassal. Smith. Tailor. Scientist. Doctor. I had been so many things in the past few hundred years that it was hard to keep count of the titles I’d borne. I was a fresh, sweet little thing once. So wide-eyed and bright about the possibilities of a world filled with an endless existence that I thought I’d surely never run out of things to do. The advent of technology throughout the years had done much to appease my boredom, and it brought so many wonderful new ideas into my head.
In the last hundred years I’d been working on being the worlds greatest horse breeder, it had been all the rage in the early 1900’s, I had come to see the rise and advent of television and film. It was truly fascinating. Seeing such individual mortal lives emblazoned on a screen that was larger than the building, stretching from floor to ceiling, and there they were. True celebrities. Individuals so dazzling that artists throughout history had to capture their likeness in film for everyone to see.
The years were coming to a close on my latest venture, and I was mere days away from choosing my newest leap into the mortal world. I’d been adored so many times before, owning this corner of the world, or having some civilization tossing roses at my feet, but I’d never had the worldwide influence I’d craved since I gained immortality. Merely once I wanted everyone to be aware of who I was, and to love me completely for what I say. I wanted my words to be emblazoned on history, and for my visage to carry on for years into the future. I’d been many things, but I had never been immortal and eternal in the history books.
This century would change all of that. This century, I’d place myself in the annals of history. I realized not too long ago that being on the silver screen wouldn’t be enough, but I would need my presence to inspire distinct emotion. The idea of it was something that elated me beyond measure. I felt as if I’d discovered godhood all over again.
In this next century, I would make myself unforgettable. As I finished my account and checked my phone for any final tweaks, I laid my head onto my pillow and prepared for a nights rest. In the morning, my next century long quest would begin, and before the world would understand what was happening it would know my name.
This century would be the century I would go viral.
|
None
|
BennayTee
|
2024-01-02 03:50:00
|
2024-01-02 03:29:58
| 19 | 10 |
kfxjngh
|
kfxgv55
|
18w4i96
|
18w4i96
|
[WP] You are a terrifying creature from the forest hiding as a human, in the human world, amongst other humans. The problem is: now your human friends find out what you actually are.
|
The Stryge was more terrified than terrifying creature in its current state. The proverbial pitchforks of angry humans of ages past were out, now replaced by guns and their reckless wielders.
Her former friends had gathered a furious mob outside, banging on my church door incessantly. According to one of the humans, the Stryge had infiltrated this meetup group of board game players and assumed a human guise to lull them into a false sense of security. All to suck their blood when they least expected it.
It was an impromptu trip to the Dark Forest that one of them suggested that started the incident. Let's go to the place that inspired the Tales of Tattlewood tabletop game. The Stryge didn't want to go. Those human friends, though I wouldn't call them real friends, dragged her along for the ride. Without the proper forest trekking equipment or a guide, it was practically begging for trouble. Which came in the form of a nasty fall down a slippery cliff.
Unable to hold back her thirst for blood, the Stryge lapped at the wounds of her friend. Who's currently alive and well. Despite the more primal urges within, she had resisted the temptation to suck him dry.
Not that it stopped the others from calling the cops and the monster hunters to get her. Fearing that they would shoot her the same way one would put down a rabid animal, she came to me.
"If you're a friendly neighbourhood eldritch like you say you are, Elvari, hand over the evil blood sucking monster!"
These humans seem to have forgotten I am friendly to *all* who come to my neighbourhood without ill intent. Regardless of race and species. Not just humans.
"There is no evil monster in my abode," I replied. "The creatures who are permitted to stay in Innsmouth co-exist with humans peacefully."
"Then open the door and let us in!" The mob screamed, a flurry of guns waving in the air dangerously. Sooner or later, one of them is more likely to shoot themselves by accident than —
BANG!
A shot rang out in the air. No sooner than the thought came to my head that someone quite literally shot themselves in the foot.
Frantic shouts filled the atmosphere. The words drowned out by rampant panic as humans scattered to leave one injured human yelling profanities as he lay on the ground bleeding.
I called for an ambulance and carried the man in despite his loud protests that he would rather limp than have a monster god help him.
"Suit yourself," I said, loosening my tentacles and almost dropping him to the ground. "Walk to the infirmary if you can."
"Okay, okay! I take it back!"
There, we both saw the Stryge sneaking a peek when I made the injured man comfortable on a bed.
"So you do have Damassa hidden here after all, you tentacled terror!" He snarled while clutching his leg wound.
I bonked him lightly with a ceremonial staff. "You two know each other?"
"He was the one who called the monster hunters to kill me!" The Strye pointed a finger at him. "Some friend you are!"
"You're a shitty friend too!" The man hollered. "You never told us you're a murderous monster of the Dark Forest!"
"I didn't murder anyone!" She shouted back. "I caved in a bit to lick Danny's blood, but he's alive and well!"
"Quiet, don't aggravate your injury," I bonked the man again and gestured for Damassa to return to the room I rented out to her.
The man rubbed the sore point where I hit him. "What was that for?"
"That is for being a monster."
"What are you talking about? She's the monster, and so are you."
"Not all monsters are creatures who lurk beyond the Veil," I snarked. "Some are humans who live in town."
------------------------
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/comments/11tkt9w/eldritch_god_elvari_series/)
|
It was a small tremor. Many San Fran natives wouldn't even have noticed it. But something shifted. Possibly the ley line under the San Andreas fault. The first thing we both noticed was the TV going off.
"Oh man! I was winning!. It was the last lap and for once I was winning!!" my friend Carl yelled into the darkened room.
As he stood though, he felt the last of the tremor. "Whoa. So that's what a quake feels like!"
"Yeah, usually the small ones don't kill power for very long. Lemme find a flashlight." I said.
First, I felt it in my core. Whatever had shifted the ley line was affecting my camouflage! I might have only seconds or it could be like '98 when the power stayed out all day. Then I began to feel it externally, my disguise was a multi-layer spell and bits of it were failing. My real form was larger than a human and not at all the same shape.
"What is that noise?" asked Carl. "Is this building safe?"
My bones were rearranging, and Carl could hear it!
"Don't worry! This place survived the Great Quake back in 1906. It's just 'settling' a bit. Always does that. I'll run down and grab a light from the kitchen."
"Man that is the weirdest noise. Hope you're right."
I grabbed the knob and twisted but nothing happened. The place actually had shifted! To the point I couldn't open the door!
"Oh wait. I think there's one in the closet. Sit down and stay put." I told Carl.
I turned to my left, and felt along the wall. In reality I could see just fine, but then I felt something else, a draft tickling my ears. The spell was in tatters, my real face showing. Carl's gonna freak!
I tried the closet door and to my relief the shift hadn't affected it's frame and it came open easily.
I closed the door behind me and Carl asked "Why'd you close it if you're just getting a light?"
"Uh, it keeps the walls stronger if there's an aftershock!" I yelled back over my ever widening shoulder.
Suddenly I could see a glimmer of light under the door.
"Oh, hey they're back on dude!"
Suddenly the door opened and I held a large paw up to shield myself from the light.
Carl was beyond shocked. I expected screaming, fainting, perhaps even grabbing something and attacking me.
What I didn't expect was...
"Wait! Dude! You never told me you were a furry!"
|
Tregonial
|
UpshawUnderhill
|
2024-05-11 05:31:10
|
2024-05-11 02:54:31
| 84 | 59 |
l3jejjy
|
l3ixdsy
|
1cp4igc
|
1cp4igc
|
[WP] In a last ditch attempt to save your people, you offer your life to an ancient god of war and blood. Unfortunately your translation of the ancient text was a bit off. You're married now.
|
"O Lady Ishtar,
I beseech thee,
Save my people and kin,
Bring ruin to mine and thine enemies,
I offer thee my life and soul forevermore,
May it pleases thee, o mighty Goddess"
As I finish the ritual rite, I await the response. Even as I, the Prelate of the Church of Ishtar, bow my head on the sacrificial altar, the sounds and ringing of battle echo from the walls. The desperate struggle of my people against the horde of barbarians, united in hate.
As the tune of battle reaches a fever pitch, suddenly, the world was muted.
With my head still bowed, I still notice the brilliance. Gods above, the ritual works, She descends!
An overwhelming presence fills the room. Slowly, a voice rings.
"Well, well, well. It seems that finally somebody did that ritual."
Listening in servile obedience, I respond softly.
"Welcome, o mighty Goddess. Is my offering acceptable in return for thy protection of my kinsman?"
A moment's silence. She deigns to respond.
"Your offering is accepted, your kinsman are now empowered by my blessings and strength. May they bring victory and praise my name. Behold!"
A shining brilliance fills the space behind me. Turning slightly, I see that there's a floating distortion in the temple, and from within that distortion, I can see the battlefield. My kinsman, my fellow citizens, are rising up and pushing the barbarians back. Nay, pushing them back? They're jumping down the walls and actually chasing those barbarians back to their siege camps? What in the world? Is this what She meant by Her blessings? Truly She is the Goddess of War and Victory!
Sobbing, knowing that my life has now reached it's end in exchange for the safety of my family and my little siblings, I acquiesce to my fate. Slowly, i turn back to the Goddess, my head still bowed.
"My gratitude, o mighty Goddess. And if it pleases thee, please take thine offering."
In my bowed state, I set my hair to the side, baring my neck for her blade.
I waited and waited. Then I heard her muttering.
"What nonsense is he talking about? And why is he still bowing like that? I like my man soft and gentle, yes, but not servile!"
Confused, I waited.
And waited.
Until I couldn't wait no more.
"Goddess? Isn't my life forfeit?"
A heartbeat's pause. She starts to laugh, from a slow giggle to a hearty guffaw, oh, such glorious guffaws.
"Oh, my dear sacrifice, let me put this straight, when you did the ritual, you thought it meant it was a blood sacrifice?"
Already irritated and nervous from the long wait, I retorted.
"Wasn't that what you said to the past oracles?"
She guffaws again.
"No my dear, I said 'offer your life to me forevermore'. I didn't say 'Die for me'. Slight semantic difference, but it IS a difference."
Confused, I respond.
"I don't understand, isn't offering my life means to die on the altar for you?"
Oh She's cackling now.
"Such an adorable person. No, my dear, it means you're offering yourself as my husband. And I'm accepting your offering."
Thunderstruck, I clammed up. It was a long moment before I actually found my voice.
"WHAT! THE! FUCK? That was a marriage ritual? Not a sacrificial one?"
As I swore, I look up, forgetting my fears and the etiquette as the Prelate. She is garbed in battlewear looking like the ShieldMaidens of yore. And Gods, She is Glorious. Her fair skin and green eyes are an unholy union of Divine Grace.
Still cackling, Her beautiful lips opened softly.
"Did you forget what my Divine Jurisdiction are?"
Numb to the situation, I blankly shook my head.
"I am the Goddess of War, Victory AND Love."
And that small fact reminded me that it's true. My temple is dedicated to all three. It's just we never paid attention to the Love part, thinking it was actually some other God/Goddess's jurisprudence that got lost here somehow in the past generations.
Blankly, I could only mutter.
"Holy shit, I'm married. I'm a virgin, hells, I'm the Prelate, what the hell am I supposed to do?"
Apparently Divine ears hear more than I thought, because she answered.
"My dear husband, I will be staying here with you of course. To save your kinsman, to bring ruin to your and mine enemies, and..."
She gave me a wicked look.
"To graciously accept thy offering of thy life and soul, forevermore."
Shit. I'm married. To a Goddess. And it looks like she loves toying with me.
Shit. Someone help, please.
|
She had run until her feet were bleeding, past the rubble of what was a flourishing civilization turned smoldering concrete and rebar. Past the charred bodies, giving the quickest of prayers that they had already passed.
The horrors of war were only the nightmares a wicked imagination could concoct before today.
For the enemy had dropped a weapon beyond what was thought possible. The whole land felt like an oven, the skies that were a light blue stood now as a gray overhang that no light could pass through. The worst part though, was the rain. Thick droplets of black ichor that felt like sin itself washed upon the landscape, as people opened their mouths to the sky eagerly to catch any bit of moisture.
She could understand, her body felt like fire, and while every drop began to slough her skin, it was almost bewitching to give in. To stop and lose herself to the rain, to fall over and die.
She paused, the ichor no longer dripping as she ran to a deep burgundy statue in the middle of the cemetery. Soldiers were buried here, all those who stood side by side with war himself. He had no name, no followers, he was simply commissioned by an impassioned benefactor and sculpted by an equally impassioned artist. No one looked at the statue much, for whenever they did they got the feeling they were intruding in a place wasn't meant for them. That this was a place of peace to those who died without it. All the placard stated was "War is in our blood, and spilling it is in his name."
Today was different, today, when on the ground, screaming in pain, all that crossed her mind was sacrifice. The price paid by soldiers both volunteered and conscripted. The price paid by innocents.
She was on the ground now, she had no idea when she fell before the statue, but she did not feel the way others described when she stared into the eyes of the red statue. She felt welcome, and she knew that right now, she was a soldier, about to make the greatest sacrifice for what she hoped would still be her country.
She tried to speak, her voice came out cracked and gurgle, she felt like her throat was a straw wrapper being torn apart by water. The words came naturally, but she didn't know from where. It was almost as if her very soul were... praying? To what, she had no clue, her mind was a fog, her body in a state that could be aptly be called collapsing.
She felt the intent of the gurgle tongue though. To give all of herself, in exchange for victory. No, victory wasn't the right word. She did not come here in a haze with reason as her guiding force, she came for war. She was desperate, what remained of her hands clenched as she continued speaking, feeling like an eternity. As she spoke the final word, she felt an... ambiguity in it? She offered herself, but to what extent she was unsure.
"I accept."
1/2
|
Rich-Option4632
|
Tiredofyouexisting
|
2025-03-22 02:27:10
|
2025-03-22 01:04:09
| 33 | 13 |
mj32gm7
|
mj2pa8w
|
1jgckxq
|
1jgckxq
|
[WP] The nearest kingdom gave you the title of dragon slayer but in reality the dragon you "slayed" was your girlfriend throwing a fit and you just calmed them down enough to go back to their human form.
|
"They did what?" laughed Tania, incredulously. "Start over from the beginning."
"Alright," I said. "Do you remember when we went on vacation to Europe last year?"
"Of course," she replied, then winked. "If I had a stamp for every place we were -- frisky -- your backside would look like a passport!"
I blushed hard, remembering. Part of her draconic nature was that her moods were fierce and long-lived. When she was feeling "frisky", well, let's just say I've learned to stock up on Gatorade and snacks in our bedroom. But when she's mad? She was once angry at me for days because I bought her an outfit in the wrong size. Nothing I could do or say helped. Luckily we live far out in the countryside, so her change usually went unnoticed. That's another part of her nature. When she's really overcome by her emotions, her control slips, and she reverts to her dragon form.
"Do you remember the tavern owner in London?"
Her eyes flashed a fiery gold before returning to their usual green. "Oh, yes. I still wish you'd have let me have just a little bite! He was the most sexist, chauvinistic, misogynistic pig I've ever encountered!"
That's saying a lot. Tania has been alive far longer than me, and will outlive me by as much. She's reticent to tell me her real age. To anyone else, she's just the short, cute, stubborn twenty-something redhead I'm talking to now.
"Well, you got mad. Really mad. And you changed. Luckily, it wasn't me you were mad at, so I was able to calm you down enough to change back. Unluckily, people saw."
Her face paled. "How am I not someone's lab experiment by now?"
"The people of the British Isles are old. The Magick is older. And there are Laws -- capital L -- almost as old. The old fairy tales?" I continued. "Those weren't young knights sent to vanquish the beasts. Or sacrificial maidens. They were potential suitors. The one who could 'calm' the dragon, as in, win its heart, was awarded the title of Dragon Slayer."
"So, they want to knight you?"
"Nothing so grandiose. I won't be 'Sir' anything. And it's all very private. But we have been asked to fly back to London. At the Crown's expense. And they've asked me to bring along the 'Damsel in Distress' I rescued."
"Well if you aren't being knighted..." she trailed off.
"We're to be married. By the King himself."
Tania laughed heartily, clearly relieved. But not taken aback by the news of our sudden, impending nuptials.
"Wait." I said. "Just hold on a minute! Did you...?"
"My kind has folk tales, too. It wasn't planned, if that's what you're asking. But I might have hoped, and you've dragged your feet long enough."
Tania's eyes flashed fiery gold again, this time with a look I knew all too well. "Come along, brave warrior. Show me how you 'slay a dragon.' " She got up and took my hand, leading me toward the hallway.
"And bring some Gatorade!"
|
You knew the Kingdom of Misogynia had a problem with women, but geez.
Lisa looks up from her cereal. "They're saying I'm a dragon? Is that what you're telling me?"
You wish you'd never read her those tweets. Then again, at your last couples session, Dr. Schwartzbaum told you to share with each other. To withhold nothing from your spiritual path-sharer. You gulp. "I mean, people like dragons."
"Name literally one person in the Realm who likes a dragon, Bruce."
Welp. She's got you there.
After all, just last year a dragon incinerated your Camry.
Lisa holds her head in her hands. "How did they even know about our fight?" She laughs incredulously and crosses the room to the window. "A fucking dragon? They know me! I've literally worked in the Misogynia DMV for twelve years!"
Schwartzbaum told you to engage your inner compassion matrix. You touch her shoulders--but she swats you away before you can affirm her inner worth quotient.
"They're calling you 'Dragon Slayer!'" she cries. "Women are already making seventy-six gringles to the ingot, and now I have to live with the fucking DRAGON SLAYER?"
Honestly, it sounds pretty badass when she says it.
[my subreddit ](https://www.reddit.com/r/JWORX_531/?rdt=62979)
[jaywilcoxwriter.net](https://www.jaywilcoxwriter.net/)
|
Lost_Bench_5960
|
JWORX_531
|
2024-09-03 01:38:25
|
2024-09-03 00:07:33
| 324 | 49 |
ll8n74k
|
ll88z7n
|
1f7l76t
|
1f7l76t
|
[WP] An elf goes out on a ‘short errand’, forgetting that 30 years is a long time to have left his human wife and child at home.
|
In terms of lifespans, elves were generally accepted to be functionally immortal. The oldest known, was around 9000 years old but there are rumors of sages over a 100,000 years old.
It was also widely known that this was not natural but a result of the largest ritual in recorded history. In fact there's been speculation that elves were just humans from a highly advanced human civilisation and the physical differences were also a result of the same ritual that gave them their lifespans.
The evidence for that is elves and humans can have offspring. The resulting half-elves are known to live up to a thousand years or so.
All that is to say, when my father left on an errand one day, everyone knew he wasn't coming back. In fact, it was widely known that for relatively young elves who have never had long term contact with individual humans, they lack the understanding that short meant minutes or an hour, not years. There are two scenarios when young elves take human partners, they remain with their spouses till the day they die, and learning that humans don't live long or they decide to go on *short* errands.
For a 15 year old, I was sorely ignorant of the world but even so, I knew something was wrong in hoe desperate mum was in trying to get dad to stay.
The last thing he said to us respectively was "You worry, too much, I'll be back in a while" and "I'll see you around kiddo"
Thirty years have passed since then. Mum passed away, still waiting for dad to come back, and I've taken up the vigil. Not because I was desperate to see the man, nor was it because I promised my mum that I would. Not entirely anyway. It's because I vowed to myself that I would give him a good punch, the moment he shows up.
Being an adventurer, the chances are that I would miss the moment when he does come back but as fate would have it. I didn't.
As I've practiced countless times, when the door opened, I stood from my usual seat by the wall where the door would be blocking me from view once open and hearing the phrase "Honey, I'm home" uttered, I stepped around the door, and crouched low, throwing a haymaker that connected beautifully.
Aiming for his abdomen, I feel him fold then straightening up, I watch as he falls to his knees, groaning "What?" He raises his head to look at me. "Who?"
"Welcome home father. We have much to discuss"
|
Let's say a short errand, for a human, is about 3 hours. 30 years is about 260,000 hours, so the elf's idea of time suggests that they're working on about a 85,000 to 1 scale. That is, the elf's equivalent idea of a 3 hour errand is 85,000 times longer.
So the elf, I suppose, is expected to live about 85,000 times longer than the humans, or somewhere between 4 million and 8 million years. An elf alive in the middle ages would have been born several million years before the evolution of humans. That's a fair bit longer lifespan than your typical Tolkien or D&D elves. For comparison, D&D elves live about 700 years (roughly 10 times longer than humans, and Tokien elves live about 10,000 years (maybe 130 times longer than humans) before they grow exhausted by the longing for Valinor. Their equivalent "short errands" would be like, 2 days and 2 weeks, respectively.
|
CipherWrites
|
AlexClifford
|
2023-04-02 10:12:40
|
2023-04-02 07:59:32
| 67 | 14 |
jen86ct
|
jemz14b
|
1294tv7
|
1294tv7
|
[WP] A ghost that is gradually but completely losing their shit because every effort they make to make their presence known, no matter how absurd, is being discredited by the living's "sciences" and "rational thinking"
|
(Part 1 of 2 - Part 2 in the comments)
It had been a long, lonely year. Clarice, a bright young woman of 29, met her untimely end one gloomy November morning. Clarice hadn’t given much thought to the afterlife while she was alive, but she had not been prepared for what waited beyond. Isolation.
In life she treasured her alone time. Before her death, Clarice had lived alone with her two cats in a cozy two bedroom apartment. It wasn’t a spectacular life, but she enjoyed many a rainy day cozied up under a blanket with a good book and a warm cup of cocoa. After she died it was different though. For starters, her cats were taken away to live with one of her friends. Her black cat, Mr. Snuggles seemed to see her, even after death. His big green eyes peered at her longingly as they carried him out of her apartment, and away from her forever. After the cats went her furniture and everything else that she owned. Somehow Clarice was left, stuck, alone in a hollow apartment.
Her apartment remained empty for about a year; it was hard to rent an apartment where a woman under the age of 30 had suddenly died one day. Then, after a year, he moved in. Clarice’s thoughts oscillated between anxiety that he might see her and the avid hope he would. Evan Tucker was not the sort of person Clarice would have befriended back when she was alive. Evan was quite the contrast to her. He preferred video games over books, he was arrogant about his intelligence and spent his hours arguing on forums online. But there was one thing Evan shared with her that gave Clarice the tiniest glimmer of kinship. Evan was lonely too.
After about a month observing Evan making a home in the apartment that once belonged to her, Clarice resolved to try to communicate somehow with Evan. Clarice, had come to realize that Evan was more afraid than angry, and more sad than hateful. She pitied him. She thought that if she could find a way to talk with him, to set him in the right direction, that maybe she could help turn his life around. Nothing, however, could have prepared her for the uphill battle ahead.
She started simple, the classics. She concentrated really hard, focusing all her energy, and after an hour was able to grasp the door handle long enough to be able to pull it open. Evan looked up, noticing the door open unexpectedly. He groaned, muttered something about the wind, closed the door, and deadbolted it.
Clarice was drained of energy for two days. Then she tried again. She kept her thoughts centered on a small lamp Evan kept on his desk. After forty minutes of straining, she was able to have an effect on the physical object. The lamp fell off Evan’s desk with a loud crash. Evan, who was sitting at his desk at the time, jumped up a good six inches into the air. Clarice was ready to celebrate her victory when Evan grumbled something about seismic activity. *Sure, seismic activity*, Clarice groaned, rolling her spectral eyes. Nothing else in the room shook in the least, but she guessed the thought that he was being haunted was too farfetched for Evan.
As the weeks progressed, it became increasingly easy for Clarice to start interacting with the physical world. She picked Evan’s cooking pots and began clanking them together. Evan, standing in the kitchen at the time, stared for a moment slack jawed as he witnessed two pots floating in the air, smacking together. Clarice was doing her victory dance when Evan shook his head and audibly proclaimed, “Crap, there must be a gas leak. I better call the gas company.”
“THIS APARTMENT DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A GAS LINE!” Clarice screamed to deaf ears.
(Continued in comment)
|
Another day had passed and I was still categorized as the “draft” in the house.
I was tired of it. So so tired. The new lady living there, Miss Amy, she sure did love to piss me off. You see, she really loved to light these candles that were so sickeningly sweet and strong, they made me want to return back to the living so I could get up and walk out of the house. Caramel Candy apple, strawberry shortcake, chocolate drizzle coconut dreams(I know, crazy name) - all of these she burned with such happiness each day, somehow enjoying these toxic fumes. Meanwhile I was slowly losing my mind because of how nasty they were.
Yet, with all my attempts to make her realize I absolutely DESPISED these scents, she decided that she’d keep doing it. Even when I continuously snuffed them out, she discredited my attempts and always said,”my oh my, the draft is really at it today!”
I always asked myself why, since I couldn’t ask her. Why couldn’t she tell that it’s not a damn draft, especially when she put the candle in a place where there wouldn’t even be a draft??!??!
After many days of this, of being cooped up in this house that I longed to leave, I was finally on my last straw and decided that the only way to get rid of these candles for good was to smash them. I mean, sure she could buy more, but wouldn’t it spook her into never buying them again? That was my goal, at least. She couldn’t blame the draft on a candle flying through the air on its own to the opposite side of the room after all.
So that is what I did. Oh, and how satisfying that was, to see those god-awful aroma inducing objects fly across the room and land on the ground in a triumphant shatter. Sure, I did feel a little bad for Miss Amy. She was terrified after that, and had to clean up the mess I made in a frantic hurry. But after that, my other goal was accomplished.
A day passed by, and she came to the house with a priest and decided after his visit to burn a new candle, one that smelled of freedom. She finally recognized that I wasn’t just a draft.
“I realize that maybe, after all this time, you were trying to tell me you were here. So, I hope this sage will set you free.”
And that it did.
|
HealBeforeZod
|
Jealous_Bar17
|
2023-02-25 06:34:15
|
2023-02-25 05:47:37
| 198 | 91 |
j9xezh8
|
j9xareb
|
11bbfdl
|
11bbfdl
|
[WP] The power of a spell is inversely proportional to the amount of words in its name. You, hated and exiled, invented the first single word spell:
|
I'll be honest- it was a complete accident. The very first thing they teach you when you first start learning magic- be careful what you say. Never say anything you don't completely mean, as your magic may react to your subconscious desires.
This is why most "good" mages are pretty quiet. "Bad" mages will talk an awful lot. Me? I wasn't an evil mage, I just completely lacked the ability to shut up. Seriously.
Want to know why I was exiled? Most would say it was when I asked, "Wouldn't it be great if food just showed up? Like, no one needed to farm or hunt?" It was during meditation, so when I asked the question, sparking the magic, half a dozen mages unintentionally focused on it. Sounds great, but man the mess! Random flesh everywhere, plants just sprouting willy nilly. One old guy died when half a deer materialized where he was standing. Took the mages council 2 months to undo it.
That put me on the shit list for sure. I was under a restrictive spell of silence for 6 months after that. Most really hated me then and wanted me gone, but the council was convinced that a talent like mine had to be trained. Mostly so I didn't screw things up just by talking. Master your power, master yourself sort of thing.
What really got them was what happened about 10 minutes after they took the spell of silence off me.
After about an hour of lectures of responsibility, duty, restraint, etc, they finally started lift the spell. It felt so damn good. The spell they used kinda restricts the vocal cords, so after a while it starts to ache. Having it taken off was like finally stretching a sleeping limb. After a stern warning, I was permitted to leave.
Now, picture this. The council room was structured a bit like a theater. Lots of steps down toward where there council sits. Makes it easy when they have a proclamation to give to everyone all at once. It's all stone and wooden benches, with endlessly burning torches along the walls, and linked candlelight spells in the ceiling. There's a good 50 steps from the entrance to the bottom. It was empty now, with just me and the council there.
I had left the council on their stage and was making my way up the stairs. I was really eager to leave, so my bag was in my hand, not on my back. The strap got tangled in my legs about halfway up, and I tripped. It wouldn't have been so bad, but I lost my balance and fell backward.
Desperate, I grabbed at the wall for purchase.... and got a torch instead. Why these were designed to break away, I'll never know. But it ripped off the wall into my hand, and I fell down the stairs. Backward. The stone stairs. While holding a endlessly burning torch.
At some point my bag broke open, with glass ink bottles breaking, spilling ink all over my robes.
I hit the bottom, my best robes covered in ink. I was half on fire, and the whole damn council stared at me in shock. My dumbass said the first thing that popped into my head- "Fuck!"
It was said with such a depth of feeling, frustration, and anger, embarrassment and sheer indignation, welling up from my soul into one pure pejorative exclamation.
I was done with this place, with these people, this whole school that hated my tendency to babble, that said that I would never be a great mage unless I could restrict my words and allow the power to grow in the few I was supposed to use.
The more words a mages used in a spell, the less the power would be focused, and the less power would be in the spell.
This was probably the first time I'd ever used a single word to describe everything I was feeling.
And the power was..... immense. Everything I felt boiled out into a spell so powerful it leveled the council chamber. The damn stairs, the torches, the stupid stupid council- gone, despite all the wards. The building it was in, layered with centuries of wards to prevent a magic blowout- gone. Half the campus was destroyed, the other half covered in debris.
At the same time, my ability to care went out the proverbial window. I had given my single fuck, and now there were no more fucks to give. I was protected, being in the epicenter.
I didn't bother to stick around. I just left. News of my bounty was really no surprise. Amazingly, no one bothered to try to collect.
I'm just glad I didn't say "Fuck me".
|
The rules of verbosity. I cracked them, in solitude.
Not only the *number of words* matter; but I found that the *number of letters* also did.
Because all spells were such verbose, nobody cracked this code. The power gets higher and higher, the fewer words you use; if you go to the letters, the power is astonishing.
And yet nobody knows that, but me. And that is how it should have been, for I found a different thing.
You see, rules are meant to be followed for a reason. Turns out that, less words mean less desirability. The Grand Mages probably knew that, but the fools that came after them could not understand their teachings.
But still - they formed groups, guilds, and were separated from society, lost in their big towers and schools of magic, blinded by power. They though that they were *too good* for society;
Nothing is further from the truth.
Society *didn't want* them. Could not *tolerate* them. And magic, somehow, made that happen, poisoning their minds.
And again, only I know. Because I cracked the code. But nobody will hear me, for the rules that bind them also bind me.
At the village below, I hear people using magic. Simple spells, like "Light this fire" to cook something, or "create serene light" to light their tales at night. Because of this rule, the village have hundreds of people; the mages could not gather a group of ten before betrayal and murder occur.
And now, another group of people come to me. I try to explain to them, like always. They cast their spells - "greater lightning", "lightning bolt", "flame attack". I evade it easily with only a single word: **evade**.
They are not amused. I **paralyze** them, and try to talk, again. They don't listen. They call me a liar, a thief, a fool. Even I have limits, but I don't want to hurt them.
Somebody cast **greater dispel**. The rules of magic are indeed absolute, because a group of twenty mages is now working on a single group attack; one I could not survive.
I won't lie - I cry a little, for I know what is going to happen. Before they could end their work, I simply utter:
**I**
A single word spell that gave me absolute power over them. They drop to the ground, overwhelmed by the raw power of that single spell, one that can make me move mountains and evaporate oceans; the absolute unit of a spell.
Before I can counter my own magic, the color drains from their faces. Like always.
I simply carry the bodies to the cavern below, filled with the corpses of other mages - other fools that met their destines before these.
And yet, I know I am the biggest fool; but there's no way back anymore.
Hopefully they will learn their lessons, and stop coming after me. And then I can finally leave alone, in peace, until the end of my days.
|
SecretlyHistoric
|
mauricioszabo
|
2023-10-17 01:26:42
|
2023-10-16 22:29:28
| 45 | 33 |
k57797s
|
k56heup
|
17968f8
|
17968f8
|
[WP] most vampires spend their immortality spoiling themselves and living lavishly. Instead, you've been working the night shift at a Waffle House for 70+ years with no intention of leaving. One of your coworkers asks why.
|
"But why a Waffle House?" *Todd asked me.*
"It's a long story." *I said. I start pouring water into the mop bucket.* "The short version is I'm comfortable here. Every night we have some drunk passed out in the bathroom to feed on. There is always some drama going on to keep me entertained. Nobody gives a shit if I don't blink for ten minutes." *I turn to look him in the eyes.* "Tell me, now that you know I'm a vampire and I have worked here for 70 years, how many other vampires work here?"
"Oh," *Todd answers, pondering.* "Well... Rita for sure. And Jim... I always thought Mohammad was strange, I just chalked it up to him being from Tunisia... Can you go out in daylight? If so then Carlos and Pam are also vampires. So at least five."
*I laugh as I look back at what I'm doing. This tap always takes forever.* "No, just me. Mohammad is just a little culture shock. Carlos and Pam are on some heavy painkillers and Jim is on acid or mushrooms and Rita just has a gothic sense of style. Carlos might also be a werewolf, but his behavior is more Xanax than full moon."
"Werewolves are real too?" *Todd asks.*
*I shrug.* "They were at least. They might be extinct for all I know. But I'm getting off topic. You were wondering why I'm working at a Waffle House in a one horse town. When people think of vampires, they think of Dracula ruling a nation with an iron fist, or ancient cabals of vampires running the world from the shadows. But to assume the average vampire is Dracula is like assuming the average human is Elon Musk."
"So you're a working stiff like me? Just barely scraping by and making enough to pay rent?"
"Yes and no. It's not about money. It's not big, but I own my house. Paid off the mortgage long ago. Think of how far your paycheck would go without rent or food. I live comfortably enough. I just keep my head down. Vampire politics is brutal and violent. Most vampires die within a week of being turned. Even of those who last the month, half of them are dead within a decade. Vampire politics is like street gangs during an endless turf war. Every one of those poor saps thinks they're immortal right up until they are turned to dust."
"I see," *Todd says.* "So you work at Waffle House in this shitty little town to stay out of it?"
"Exactly!" *I turn off the faucet and start rinsing the mop.* "I'm so glad you understand."
"But you're pretty old and powerful then, right?" Todd asks.* "If most vampires are less than 10."
*I nod. I roll the mop to the ladies room and knock on the door.*
"So how do you stay out of their politics? Surely some would want to recruit you?"
*I give Todd a smile. A predatory grin with my fangs extended. He takes a step back in fear.* "Think Todd. Why do I need to mop up a half inch of dust in the bathroom?"
|
I sigh, knowing it still won't make sense. "Have you ever wondered what it's like to have everything? Never want again? It's damn boring, and entirely unrealistic to boot." I crack a fresh egg onto the grill, sliding a plate over and out of the way. "You live, you live more, and then what huh? Drain the blood of some mortal that just fell prey like cattle? It's dull. No stories, no intrigue. Only seduction and slaughter. Here though? Stories. Another face, another tale, another lost soul." Quickly scrambling the egg with one hand, while flipping a lane of sausage, I point to a customer at the bar. "You see Ed there? He's been here for years, I know his order and his story, I'd have never gotten neither if I indulged like my bretheren." The employee, still confused asks, "But dude, couldn't you like... be a bartender then or something?" I sigh again, "And be around the recently drunk? Why? So I can have them vomit all over the place and be uncouth? At least here people come to enjoy life, put on good music, and live a little. They won't get rid of me because I'm consistent. And I don't need to worry about my schedule because they're open at all hours. It's perfect!"
|
TricksterPriestJace
|
Peakomegaflare
|
2023-07-22 16:36:29
|
2023-07-22 16:09:20
| 101 | 19 |
jt0k2ul
|
jt0gd1g
|
156ckfq
|
156ckfq
|
[WP] If you would've known that that stupid river was the fountain of youth, you never would've drank from it. That was 300 years ago. You're permanently stuck at age 26. The only one you really have left in your life is your horse, who also made the mistake of drinking from it.
|
"You say it like it's a bad thing," the pale man flashed a grin with too many teeth. "Could have been worse, like drinking the fountain of youth as a baby. Could you imagine needing diapers for all eternity?"
"This doesn't make me feel any better," the 300-year-old, 26-year-old Rider grumbled.
"Let's try this again," his oddly cheerful drinking buddy said. "You drank from the river of youth on the cusp of young adulthood, not as a cranky old man. Look, your favourite horse is as ageless as you, so you're never truly alone."
"It doesn't numb the pain of one who is young yet old like me. I've lost people who cared about to old age. My memories are slippery as an eel, flowing away from me into emptiness as the river flows into the sea."
"You could forge new memories and keep them in a journal."
"I lost a diary to a fire once."
"Online journals are the new thing now. I keep my memos in cloudjourney.app now. Alongside my favourite cake recipes I've been collecting for thousands of years. Move along with the times, you're not *that* old."
"You have no idea—" Rider caught himself there, realising he was conversing with another immortal. One far older than his 300 years. "...do you regret becoming immortal?"
The man sitting across the table shrugged. "I can't regret something that wasn't my choice to make. Have you ever asked your horse if it regretted drinking from the fountain of youth?"
"Horses don't talk, immortal or not."
"My horse isn't in this pub. Why don't we talk about you? Just exactly how ancient are you?"
"I lost count. Don't recall my birthday. But hey, I have friends who picked a date and named it my birthday. Complete with making it a public holiday in my town."
That just reinforced his point. If Rider's memories were fading, how much more had this other immortal lost? This was a man who didn't know when he stopped aging. He who no longer had any numbers to identify the passing of time post-immortality.
"How do you live with yourself like this? Don't you see this as a depressing fact?"
"Eh, if I were depressed over losing memories and people I cherished instead of meeting new folks, that's torturing myself. Doesn't make sense to be trapped in misery for an eternal life. Just have to keep walking. Because dying is no longer a luxury we have."
|
I walk.
I am called my things.
Vagabond. Wanderer. Homeless. All of those things true and also not.
I simply walked. My horse with me, carrying my tent and some bacon.
I have walked for quite some time. One foot before the other. When I reach the ocean, I turn around and begin walking again.
It's been a long time since I remembered why I walk but I know that whenever I stop. I remember her and I begin walking again.
I am known, a Legend for some. The world has changed so much that since I started walking.
People try to stop and ask me questions, thinking I'm some sage man when I am but a walker. Walking ocean to ocean hoping to forget her.
I have forgotten all my life but her.
I know that when I do forget I will die. So I walk. Hoping
|
Tregonial
|
endertribe
|
2024-05-09 16:46:47
|
2024-05-09 16:21:54
| 62 | 24 |
l3ays3h
|
l3aujwg
|
1cnxbg3
|
1cnxbg3
|
[WP] You're the healer of the group. The rest of the party has always treated you like you're made of glass. You were content to stay out of their way and let them do their thing. Until they all got downed leaving you the only one standing. That's when you show them how deadly healing magic can be.
|
*Step 1, anchor the soul. Unlike other healing magics (Druven - Ch.9, Erda – Ch. 37), Keanric healing is uniquely harsh on the indivisible soul and precautions are needed regardless of physical condition, lest one triggers Soul Collapse (Ch. 2). When using Firstsight, concentrating on a Soul Bond and applying the Canticle of Strengthening is generally sufficient for up to five minutes.*
My vision explodes into a kaleidoscope of colour as I use the Firstsight. Around me swishes of blue and purple showcase the swings that cut down my party, with bursts of green where blood was shed. Fighting back the distractions, I look for the crucial souls to preserve, small motes of white in the corner of my eye. Reva and Ghlast are unconscious but still breathing, their souls still bright and shining in their chest. Morgan took an arrow to the windpipe, my strengthening threads wrap around her dimming soul before it dissipates into the ether. Jacinto is the worst off in account of the sword through his chest, another minute and he would be permanently gone. He’s turned to me, bloodshot eyes pleading for me to run, but now is not the time to run, now is the time to heal.
*Step 2, visualise the damage. The blue images from your Firstsight are colloquially known as “Effect” and the magenta images are “Cause”. The Keanric Barter requires full visualisation of the “Effect” in order to be effective. As per the Keanric Laws of Balance, the price to pay for healing the “Effect” is of course the “Cause”.*
The Ivory Knight closest to me removes his blade from Jacinto’s chest and turns to face me. He and the other knights have their gleaming white armour stained by my party’s blood but that is not what I see. What I see is the threads of Cause and Effect illustrating the battle. Reva – blunt force trauma cracking the skull; Ghlast – broken ribs and internal bleeding of the liver; Morgan, lacerated trachea; Jacinto – four stab wounds, with the killing wound through the left ventricle of his heart. Their injuries fill my eyes with cerulean and are all I can see, a maze of threads linking them back to the Ivory Knights.
*Step 3, make payment. To complete the Keanric Barter, the Caster must pay the Cause. Without suitable Payment such as a Life Seed (Ch. 14), the default outcome of a Keanric healing is that the Caster takes the wounds upon themselves, a potential fatal outcome. As such, never attempt a Keanric healing without having sufficient Payment on hand. On occasion it is possible to make payment of the Barter by reversing Cause back to the source, however such a reversal can only occur if the Cause has occurred in the past 3 minutes due to causality deterioration (Ch. 99).*
I complete the Barter. Cause and Effect reverse, the streaks of battle in my vision being replaced by red and yellow. Blood and screams fill the air, but my party stands up, healed.
|
The Healer stood her ground, her linen clothes smothered in grime and blood, her comrades dead, the enemy closing in in a mass charge. She's alone, angry, and desperate to save herself.
In a bout of fury, she focused all of her strength into one final gambit. She will heal her enemies. Heal them beyond capacity. Heal them to hell
The first wave of individuals crossed the trench found their limbs beginning to swell and grow, contort and mutate. Men began choking as their throats swelled and grew, while others desperately tried to cut off rapidly growing tumors from their bodies with their bayonets
Other men raised their rifles against her, but she counters them instead with cancer of the eyes, bringing untold pain to the ranks that dared cross paths with her
For once, she felt useful
For once, she felt powerful
And then
[The sound of thunder.](https://youtu.be/lOHi5-5Hlzw)
Through the scope of a distant man, he watched as the healer's entire upper body erupt into a spectacle of bone and viscera. Her body, or what's left of it, dropped to the ground, leaning against the raised earth behind it, reduced to shredded meat hanging loose atop dangling legs
"Hunter Killer successful", said another man in drab tans, this time holding binoculars in place of a weapon
"We have neutralized the Healer"
"Good, continue the offensive. Bringing in mechanized support"
|
ProbablyInfinite
|
Preston_of_Astora
|
2024-06-23 06:36:29
|
2024-06-23 05:39:12
| 97 | 32 |
l9vcqff
|
l9v7gq2
|
1dm84fp
|
1dm84fp
|
[WP] You partner in crime has pulled a gun on you. "The truth is, the game was rigged from the start." You know that very well, mostly because you did all the rigging.
|
" Put the gun away," I said.
She cocks the gun.
"PUT THE GUN DOWN."
" I want all of it," she says holding the gun. " I'm taking it all, you fuck. You've been played, motherfucker," she says and gives a smirk.
I don't say anything. I put my hands up, throw my piece in the back seat, " Alright, you win. I'm gonna open the trunk. You take the duffel bags."
She opens the car coor, goes to the trunk, and grabs the duffel bags. Without the trunk closing I take off.
I drive the road, obey all traffic lights, and head to the used car dealer lot.
"Hey, Frank," says Seth. " You got the stuff?"
" Yeah," and pop the trunk open and open the spare tire compartment and take out the real duffel bags. My skinny little brother gets out.
" You made the switch, yeah?"
" Yeah, kinda hard opening that spare tire place, but made the switch."
"Seth, burn the car. Here's your share."
Jared and I get into a plain Civic, Florida plates. We drive away. I pull my burner phone and dial the police, " I'd like to report a crime. I know who pulled the bank job on Broadway and Turner. Allison Dunlop, goes by Allison Creed and now Jessica Turner. She's going to be in her apartment on Peak street. Four B." I threw the phone away.
" What gives?" asks Jared.
" I don't like being played. You knew she was playing. Told you she'd lay you a few times. Information."
" What's in the bags?"
I lit a cigarette, " Everything she had in her savings, checking, and off shore accounts." I took a puff, " She's been stealing from poor old people man. She's gettin what she deserves."
" I kinda liked her," said Jared.
" Not a woman like that. We can lay low for awhile. And travel a bit. Maybe somewhere you'll meet someone, Little Bro."
Jared pulled a gun on me, " I loved her, Frank."
" Fuck, Jared. Your gun is not loaded. I made sure. Blanks. You want to get out and chase that girl. Wait til she gets out? I've sent the detective a USB. You can get out and try and save her."
He pulled the trigger. My ears rang. " Told you. Blanks.You wanna get out?"
Jared pulled the trigger until it clicked. Smoke filled the car. My fucking ears were ringing. I pulled over. " I love you. I always will. There's the door."
Tears in his eyes, he opened the door and stepped out. He said, " I never made the switch."
" Figured as much," I said and drove away. I saw him running after the car, screaming.
I drove to a bar. Seth and Josh were in a booth. I sat down felt the duffel bags.
" Where's Jared?"
" Love," I said.
" You're were right, man," said Seth. Seth and Josh were with me in the bank. Fake duffels in his car. Josh and Seth put the real duffels in his car and I drove the fake duffels and picked up our lookout Jessica.
My phone rang, " Yeah."
Jared crying in the phone, " I told them everything, Frank."
" Told who what?"
" The cops."
" I don't know what you're talking about."
" Everything. Every job."
" Jared, I told she was bad news. Feeding you drugs and love. Your drugged out of your mind. You'd do and say anything to get her out. I want no more part in this. I tried to help you man. Get clean, get away from her. Now listen to yourself."
Jared whispered to someone.
" I love you. Always will. Find me when your clean and sober," and I broke the phone in two. " We gotta go."
We tipped the bartender 10 grand, snuck out the back and got into a plain Subaru.
I started the car, lit my cigarette and headed to where no one would know or say anything about us: Wyoming. A big place to lose oneself for several years. Never told Jared. Always said we'd head to someplace sunny, plenty of women, drinks, and nothing to do but bask in the warmth of the sun.
I drove slow. Obeyed every speed limit. A model citizen. One thing echoed forever in my ears: I love you Jared. Always will.
|
"Really" I muttered, as Ryan the one who I had trusted, my partner in crime pointed the gun on me. Without hesitation, he let out the first shot \*BANG\* .... a burning sensation quickly swallowed my chest, I fell to the floor.
Ryan slowly walked closer to me, his eyes gazed in mine .... those eyes. We were both in high school when we became friends through sports, it was a bit rocky at the start but we eventually found ourselves helping each other throughout school, having sleepovers and eventually going to jail together, yeah we went through alot; the kind Ryan that was always there for me, supporting me, now getting ready to take my life..... what went wrong?.
"Why" I forcefully muttered, my chest tightening, making it hard to breathe.
"The truth is, the game was rigged from the start" he responded, in a tone which was more jovial than regretful. "Huh" I whispered, then it hit me.... After our first arrest, Ryan became somewhat of a junkie. He did everything he could to secure some dollars to feed his sick addiction, he even stole from his mother. A couple months back, we were tipped off by a girl working with a wealthy business man as a house cleaner, that he would be out of town and he always left some of his bank cards and a handsome amount of cash in his room in which she had the keys for.
"Perfect opportunity to change our lives" Ryan blurted, when he heard the news
"Yeah but you know it's very risky, this isn't a game" I said in response, worryingly
"Cmon dude, all you need to do is sneak in after she is done cleaning, grab the keys and make bank, it is like a game".
I looked up at him from my worryingly stare at the floor and nodded. If only I knew what would had become of this situation I would've went there in secret, took the money and ran away... I should had known after all, because he had brought a gun when I went to pick him up to go do the robbery, why would we need a gun? noone would be there. "It's just in case things go south". Yeah they did, and it was his all doing.
Up came Ryan's hand again, pointing the pistol at me, my heart sank... this is how it ended. Without hesitation, he let out another round, I felt it penetrate my lower abdomen, at this point I began to feel an outer body experience, slowly losing consciousness .... slowly ..... and I saw black.
|
AzureLightningFall
|
Conscious-Grab-2869
|
2023-08-18 03:18:18
|
2023-08-17 21:18:57
| 26 | 10 |
jwo84mt
|
jwmtia4
|
15twp5a
|
15twp5a
|
[WP] An elf goes out on a ‘short errand’, forgetting that 30 years is a long time to have left his human wife and child at home.
|
In terms of lifespans, elves were generally accepted to be functionally immortal. The oldest known, was around 9000 years old but there are rumors of sages over a 100,000 years old.
It was also widely known that this was not natural but a result of the largest ritual in recorded history. In fact there's been speculation that elves were just humans from a highly advanced human civilisation and the physical differences were also a result of the same ritual that gave them their lifespans.
The evidence for that is elves and humans can have offspring. The resulting half-elves are known to live up to a thousand years or so.
All that is to say, when my father left on an errand one day, everyone knew he wasn't coming back. In fact, it was widely known that for relatively young elves who have never had long term contact with individual humans, they lack the understanding that short meant minutes or an hour, not years. There are two scenarios when young elves take human partners, they remain with their spouses till the day they die, and learning that humans don't live long or they decide to go on *short* errands.
For a 15 year old, I was sorely ignorant of the world but even so, I knew something was wrong in hoe desperate mum was in trying to get dad to stay.
The last thing he said to us respectively was "You worry, too much, I'll be back in a while" and "I'll see you around kiddo"
Thirty years have passed since then. Mum passed away, still waiting for dad to come back, and I've taken up the vigil. Not because I was desperate to see the man, nor was it because I promised my mum that I would. Not entirely anyway. It's because I vowed to myself that I would give him a good punch, the moment he shows up.
Being an adventurer, the chances are that I would miss the moment when he does come back but as fate would have it. I didn't.
As I've practiced countless times, when the door opened, I stood from my usual seat by the wall where the door would be blocking me from view once open and hearing the phrase "Honey, I'm home" uttered, I stepped around the door, and crouched low, throwing a haymaker that connected beautifully.
Aiming for his abdomen, I feel him fold then straightening up, I watch as he falls to his knees, groaning "What?" He raises his head to look at me. "Who?"
"Welcome home father. We have much to discuss"
|
Haldir stood in the doorway of his cottage, the fresh paint he'd applied himself now crack and faded.
'You wouldn't believe it, honey! I ran into Beorn, my old dwarven buddy on my way back. Went for a few ales to catch up on old times and he introduced me to this band of goblin bards he was travelling with.
I told them I could play the lute and we jammed for a bit until we woke up this old troll that chased us all the way over the mountains. Then this really nice sphinx gave us a magic carpet so we went to see the great sky whales but we got shot down by gargoyle raiders.
Then Beorn hooked up with a mermaid and that set off this whole civil war so we had to steal Neptune's staff just so they would let us go...'
He continued on as his wife's now wrinkled face glared back at him. A child which he assumed was his grandson crawled along the floor behind her.
'Oh blast! I forgot the milk!'
|
CipherWrites
|
magpies_are_assholes
|
2023-04-02 10:12:40
|
2023-04-02 07:16:12
| 67 | 25 |
jen86ct
|
jemvmo4
|
1294tv7
|
1294tv7
|
[WP] "What? Why would I be the villain?!" You cry. Some evil mastermind has trapped you in a room with your nemesis. Both of you have lost your memories, and are bickering over which of you is the hero and which is the bad guy.
|
“Look at the way you're dressed”.
Guy 2 looked down. “What's wrong with my clothes?”
“Purple pants and a green shirt. That's villain stuff”, Guy 1 said as if it was the most rational thing in the world.
“That makes no sense!”
“Yes it does. They're clashing secondary colors. Look at me, blue jeans and red shirt, primary colors. Heroes wear primary colors like blue, red and yellow, villains wear secondary colors like green and purple”.
“You're trying to assign us moral values based on color!? That's insane!” Guy 2 stood up and banged on the door again.
“You're also bald” Guy 1 explained, still sitting on the floor, his legs stretched in front of him, right over the left. He appeared much more comfortable now that a narrative was beginning to establish itself.
“Balding!” Guy 2 turned around, emphasizing the *ing*. “And what does that have to do with anything?”
“Bad guys are bald or balding, and they have that little circle goatee thing going on”. Guy 1 traced a small circle with his finger, while pointing it at Guy 2.
Guy 2 instinctively took a hand to his chin. Frowned and then pointed at Guy 1. “Well you're balding too, buddy. That hairline is definitely receding”.
“See? You're trying to hurt my feelings. Classic villain stuff” Guy 1 shrugged, his expression betraying that he was in fact a little hurt.
Guy 2 took a deep breath. “How did we get here?”
“That's precisely what we're trying to figure out”.
“No, I mean this discussion. How did we arrive at deciding we're heroes or villains”.
Guy 1 sighed. “We're trapped in a storage room. We lost our memories. We immediately disliked each other. It's only logical that we got kidnapped by an ever bigger villain than you, perhaps a villainous organization”.
“Even bigger than me…” Guy 2 mumbled, chuckling with annoyance. “Okay, show me your superpowers then. Break us out of here”.
Guy 1 shook his head. “Clearly there's some sort of dampening, or power negating field which cancels them. And you got your tech taken away from you”.
“My tech? What are you talking about now!”
Guy 1 rolled his eyes. “Super heroes have natural powers since birth. We have those powers because we are good. Super villains”, Guy 1 waved at Guy 2, “need to use technology to give themselves powers in imitation of us”.
“That's so condescending” Guy 2 gesticulated as if excusing himself from the whole thing, and went back to banging on the door.
“Stop that, save your energy for when the next act is revealed. It's clear we're not going to open that door”.
“So we just sit and wait?” Guy 2 paced from the door to the back wall.
“In my experience, things always end up working out. Well, for heroes. You…” Guy 1 paused. “Well maybe this is the beginning of your road to redemption. Huh? How about that?”.
Guy 2 stopped in front of Guy 1. “So you remember things now?”
“Well, no, but it stands to reason!”
***
“What are we calling it?” Professor Kline couldn't take his eyes from the monitors.
“Comic Book Poisoning. We were calling it Marvel Poisoning but Disney threatened to sue us”. Junior researcher Gálvez jotted down something on his clipboard.
“I thought this research was still unpublished”.
“It is, but Disney has people in the University’s fund allocation committee, precisely for this kind of thing. Brand Protection”.
Professor Kline nodded without taking his eyes from the monitors. “It makes sense. So this happens whenever middle aged men are put in isolation and given temporary amnesia?”
“Yes. We're seeing this over and over. Subject 2 is less susceptible, which fits his prior history”.
“Okay. Let's take them out of there. They signed their waivers, right?”
Junior researcher Gálvez checked his clipboard. “Yes, all legal documentation is up to standard”.
“All right. Get them out, restore their memory and give them their Amazon cards. Do we think we're going to be okay publishing this?”
“Disney's Brand Protection says *we're* okay as long as *we* hint at a closer connection to Warner than them”. Junior researcher Gálvez put only the tiniest bit of emphasis on ‘we’. At this point it was counterproductive, career wise, to point out that this was the first time Professor Kline was coming into the lab this year.
***
[More of my stories at r/BradingRoom]
|
I woke up in a chair. A red chain was wrapped around me, binding me to the seat. I looked to my left to see a woman in the same position as me, looking confused. A long window was ahead of me. This looked like a room for research or experiments. The scary part was that I couldn't remember anything about myself. A man walked in. He had a back skintight suit. He looked like a supervillain. "Hello. I am Dark Sparrow. I captured you two and erased your memories. We're going to play a game. One of you is a hero. The other's a villain. You are nemeses. Tammy, meet Jon. Jon, meet Tammy." I looked at the woman with my mouth agape. She looked at the man with my very reaction. She looked at me and said, "You're totally the villain." "What? Why would I be the villain?!" I cried. "Ugh. Don't be so sensitive", she told me, rolling her eyes.
"Let's answer some questions", said Dark Sparrow, "If someone tells a joke that isn't funny, do you fake laugh?" "Yes", I said. "No, you shouldn't. That's not a genuine reaction", retorted Tammy. "Alright, that got us nowhere", said Dark Sparrow, sounding defeated, "To be honest, that's all I had planned. I thought you two would start arguing like were in the verge of divorce. It would've been entertaining. I didn't think this through. I guess I'll just torture you two. BRB", he said, before leaving the room.
"God damn it!", she shouted. "Hey, it's gonna be okay", I told her. We sat in silence for a bit. "You know, it would be too weird if you were the villain. I mean, you seem nice", she said. "Yeah. I would be a great hero. I really like the idea of saving people." "*I'd* be a great hero. Better than you." I smiled at her. "You don't seem like a villain", I told her. The man stepped back in with his hands behind him. "Okay, I just realized that by forcing you two into this, I might be pacifying the villain, rendering this all pointless. The villain could be come a different person...by the way, the villain's Tammy." "What!?", we exclaimed.
"Time for torture", he said. From behind his back emerged a bonesaw. I screamed in fear. I tried to channel it into rage. Suddenly, lasers shot from my eyes and knocked him out. "Woah", she said. I blasted the chains with my laser vision. They broke, and I wriggled free. I blasted her chains, too.
We ran out. I realized that I had a phone on me. I halted and pulled it out to look at my contacts. So many names I didn't know. Tammy stopped and observed me. I tapped on "Gerald." I called him. "Hi, Gerald? My memory's been erased. I'm gonna text you my location." I tapped the Maps icon. I screenshotted and sent the picture to him. "Can you pick me up?" "Yeah."
It's been a week since that happened. I got in-touch with my family, and they told me about myself. Tammy was now a hero. We're friends, and it's all thanks to a happy little kidnapping.
|
Brad_Brace
|
ShySilverSurvivor
|
2023-11-16 20:43:52
|
2023-11-16 20:37:20
| 101 | 71 |
k9jtwd8
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k9jsvwa
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17wtdqm
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17wtdqm
|
[WP] "Rules are, you can't—" "Yeah, yeah," you cut off, "I can't wish for more wishes. Should I also assume I can't wish I can wish for more wishes?" At this, the genie pauses.
|
"Look. Listen here, fuckers. Three wishes. No more, no less. Only three wishes. You can't make me grant you more than three wishes." The Djinn said, pointing a angry finger at Jack and Kyle, who consulted with each other.
Jack spoke up. "We wish for more genies."
"You fucking -" The Djinn frowned. Another Djinn poofed into existence, portly and heavily bearded, with a balding head and thick glasses.
"Hey, guys. You want to make some wishes or something?" Genie 2 said, adjusting his glasses.
"No, don't answer any requests for wishes or anything like that, dude. They fucking like, loopholed my ass. Look at them. What are they gonna do? Wish for what?"
Jack Black shook his head. "You're right. We have everything we could possibly want. I'm a Hollywood megastar, a world beloved comedian, a musician and I was in a movie with Ben Stiller."
Kyle Gass cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, and I-"
"Not now, Kage! Look, we get .. five wishes!"
"You're huge assholes. Five wishes. Fine. You get five. What the fuck do you want?' the original genie scratched his beard.
"...I don't know." Jack muttered. "What do you wish for, Kage?"
"I don't know, man, I wish I knew." Kyle said, shrugging. He shimmered, and with a startle of surprise, he snapped to reality. "I wish I had a full head of hair again. No. Hold on. I wish I had the serenity to accept being bald."
"You already had that!" The original genie yelled, pulling at his hair. "You've been bald for decades!"
"Then I don't know. Does that count towards wishes?"
"I'm leaving! I'm giving these wishes to someone who fucking understands what this opportunity means!"
On the other side of Hollywood, Ben Stiller stood in line at a Subway. "And so. Then, I was telling my personal friend Vince Vaughn, sure, we can have the guy dressed as a pirate. Pirates are funny. Really cinched the movie."
With a flash of light, the genie appeared before him. "BEN STILLER! I GRANT YE THREE WISHES! WHAT IS YOUR HEARTS DESIRE?"
Ben marveled with stars in his eyes for a moment, before pausing.
"I don't know."
"God damn it."
|
"....yyyyyyyyyyes. Yes, you should definitely assume that," says the genie, nervously.
"...you seem quite nervous about it."
"It, um, it's in the rules *now*."
"But it wasn't in the rules when I originally summoned you, was it?"
"..."
"I wish that, in any genie-human interaction, the rules that apply are the rules that were in place at the time of the summoning."
"Granted!"
"I wish that I can wish for more wishes."
"I'm sorry, that one's not allowed."
"What? But -"
"I never said that it *was*. In fact, I explicitly said that it was against the rules *now*. You only have two wishes left."
|
None
|
CCC_037
|
2023-05-04 05:34:23
|
2023-05-04 04:49:47
| 716 | 381 |
jispozg
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jisltyv
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1376bhd
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1376bhd
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[WP] You are a super hero named “Hammerspace” due to your ability to seemingly pull objects of any size out of a magic bag. In actuality, you stop time and just grab stuff from your surroundings. You were captured by your nemesis and he is super confused as to why the bag won’t work when he uses it.
|
"I mean, it's my power, innit?"
"What?!" DestructoMan snarled at me and I had to work hard to hide my growing smirk.
I was a newer hero on the scene and there was a lot of buzz about my ability. I was dubbed 'Hammerspace' after my first fight where I'd bashed a bad guy with a hammer. After the fight, a newscaster had asked me "Where did that hammer come from?" And I'd told them it was from my bag because i didnt know what else to say.
Later that night, I watched the fight on replay and dud to the angle of the camera, it *really did* seem like the hammer came out of my bag, so in all my future fights, I made sure to "grab" things from there.
If i was being honest, Hammer*time* wouldve been a better name for me, since all i really did was stop time and grab things, but I figured, it was better to leave people guessing, especially bad guys like DestructoMan.
He was still over there, reaching into my bag and hoping for a "Destructo-Ray" or something, but. Of course nothing came out.
I couldn't stifle the laugh that was growing and DM rushed over to me, getting all up in my face.
"Explain this to me!" He held my empty bag aloft and I just shrugged at him.
"I said, it's my power... do people really think I have a magic bag? It's not like a portal, mate."
"It's not?" He looked back down to the bag and I saw my chance.
I shot my legs up at him, landing a kick square in his jaw- sending him reeling back. As someone with non-physical powers, I had to make up for it somehow, so i learned self defense.
I was also, naturaly flexible, which helped me to wriggle my bound arms from behind my back and around my front.
Thank the gods DestructoMan hadnt locked me in a cage.
Right now, I had free reign of his workshop. Plenty of toys to work with; but first, I had to put on a show.
I mimed entering a combination in the air in front of me, before pulling at an invisible handle. Then I froze time. Looking around quickly, i spotted a knife, which i grabbed and surruptiously slide up my sleeve. Returning to my spot, i unfroze time and, with a flourish, "pulled" something out of ths space in front of me: the knife I'd just hidden, which i used to untie myself. Before squaring up against DM.
"The bag is just for show, dummy! I can make Hammer Space, anywhere."
|
You watch with glee as your nemesis, Churdtogus, The Choad Gargoyle wrestles with your burlap sack. You enjoy his bewilderment and giggle with childlike exuberance as Churdtogus puts his head into the bag. You laugh as he reaches into the bag and pulls out nothing. You snort as Churdtogus tries to cram his ugly wings into the bag, remarking that he now looks like a complex needs teenager who needs to sit at the front of the short bus with a bicycle helmet on.
"y dun werk"
You shoot a lazy look back, trying to stifle the glimmer of mischief in your eye. Poor sod doesn't even realize. Every time he flails that sack around, I've stopped time.
And I've picked up a pebble.
And I've inserted it up Churdtogus's churd hole.
I'm up to 42.
43. 44....
|
1amCorbin
|
atlasholdme
|
2023-03-19 15:51:49
|
2023-03-19 10:54:43
| 2,118 | 85 |
jcu20ng
|
jct4tkd
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11vhr0c
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11vhr0c
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[WP] You accidentally saved a princess from a tower. Now she won't stop following you, blabbing about "true love."
|
Ever seen one of the stories of a lady pretending to be a man? I'm one of those, having traveled from the land in the east to hone my skill. I've been called a ninja, a martial artist, and many other things, but my current dilemma has been calling me "My True love" ever since I saved her from the tower of a crazy wizard that was going to sacrifice her.
Currently we've been traveling on a horse drawn cart I nabbed from the wizard's pen. She was sitting in the back yammering on about a wedding, and I was sitting on the bench with the reins. Currently we were pulling up on the side of the giant wall of her family's castle. We kept pace as we approached it, and as the princess behind me started to wave at the oncoming guards, I jumped up, using my katana to cut the stuff connecting the horse to the cart, and landing on the horse, I grabbed the reins and stirred the horse, setting off at a gallop.
I shouted back at the princess, "No offense, but I already have a fiancé, and I did tell you, but you just didn't hear me."
I rode off at high speed, heading straight out of the royal capital and headed onward, passing through town I slipped off the horse and let it keep running, and sure enough a group of royal guards went by at full speed chasing after the horse.
A few weeks has since passed and I was in the next kingdom over, and I was in the local guild building, looking at different quests, when I group of adventurers tried to tackle me. After making quick work of them, knocking them out only, I fished out a quest notice from one of their pockets, a very detailed drawing of me, rewarding whoever would bring me in alive and uninjured to the kingdom I had rescued the princess of.
Reading the details, they claimed I was a "Betrothed with wedding jitters that just needed a hand getting back to the wedding." which I took to the head of the guild and presented my side of the story. He stated that he would alert the guild associating but did warn me that the posters were now in circulation, and that even if they've been officially revoked, the people that made the request would still probably offer a reward for my capture.
Thanking him, I headed to my home. I live in a houseboat I confiscated from some bandits I had captured when I had first come to the west, and climbing in I was greeted by my Fiancé, Emerald.
She's a dwarf that had found me injured after I had battled a lightning dragon. I had won, but with a serious injury, and with her help I made a speedy recovery, and I stuck around for a short while, and I found love. Thankfully the dwarves are very open-minded people, and they knew about my actual gender since they had treated my wounds and were awaiting the day we sent them an invite, since we planned to have the wedding when we returned to my home country.
She already knew about the princess, and now after I had shown her the request and told her what was happening, she started rolling on the floor laughing. After the laughing frenzy was over, we started sailing out, though not on water. When we had left her home, the dwarfs gifted us with an upgrade to my ship, allowing it to fly.
Sailing off, let the wind take the way, but for the next week I dealt with guild men try to catch me, and after that I decided I needed a break, so I put aside my traditional warrior clothes, and left my chest binding behind, and I took some time as just a random citizen, doing shopping, getting stuff done, and we had plenty saved up from my quests so we weren't in trouble for money.
At one point thought someone saw a resemblance to me and the poster and thought I was a sister to my alter ego, and followed me back to the ship, and waited till dark to bust in, though me and Emerald weren't sleeping, and let let's just say he ran but didn't make it far. We left him tied to a tree nearby and vamoosed elsewhere.
After a while, after the heat had died down, I returned to work, and while there was a few that attempted to take me, I made quick work and moved on with my day. After a few days, things were about back to normal, when suddenly I had a surprise visit. I was sitting in the guild looking at some bounty posters I had plucked from a piled, considering who to go after, when the door was thrown open and low and behold, in walks not only the princess, but her father and a group of guards.
I quickly stashed the papers into a pocket and snuck out quickly, making my escape before I was noticed. Though as I was making my escape behind the building, a few guards had wandered around and saw me, which led to a full-on chase, which they were horrible at.
I weaved my way through narrow spaces and slipped through moving venders and animals, till I had left them in the dust and was hopping aboard my boat, with Emerald sitting on the deck waiting for me after she had seen the entourage go by earlier.
We started to lift off, when a horse came running up to where the ship had been a minute previous, on it the princess, who now say Emerald looking over the railing of the ship as it settled a good ten feet in the air.
I raised my voice, telling her this was my Fiancé, that I had told her about, and that we were leaving, never to see her again.
We sailed off, a few men on horses tried to follow us, but we left them behind, and as we sailed, we agreed, it was about time we headed to the east, we've been waiting to have that wedding long enough.
|
"But you saved me that means we are supposed to be together its just how it works sir."
"I have a wife I cant take another we've known each other since we were kids, ive known you for about five minutes and in that five minutes you tried to seduce me fifteen different ways, flashed me so that you could claim that now that ive seen you naked bust I owed it to you and have "tripped" into me knocking me down an causing me to accidentally touch your breast as I tried to catch myself, you are out of control and I am taking you back to the kingdom to get you out of my hair so I can go back home to my WIFE who I will love until the end of the gods."
"Fine. I didnt want to have to do this." *Thunk and a fade to black*
As you wake up you find that you are chained in a royal looking bedroom with no weapons and in royal garb rather than you common rags. Confused and scared you look around while trying to escape only to hear the door open and a crazy giggle from the very same princess who knocked you out but now she was covered in something red. "oh hes awake bring her in and bring the children too" She says as her wicked smile becomes more deranged, you soon see you wife being carted in with poorly tended amputations that were sure to get infected and cuts all across the visible parts of her body. "do you still love your wife now that she is nothing but a broken mass of meat? look at my handiwork, not bad right she'll be scarred forever if the infection doesnt take her first, ill do the same to you kids and I will make sure that they don't get any type of treatment at all unless you marry me after all we are meant to be for only my true love could rescue me."
You hear you wife try to say something but she couldnt without her tongue and she couldnt see you with eyes sewn shut so she was looking in the wrong direction to talk to you. *SLAP* "don't try to talk undesirable thats why I ripped your tongue out, so you couldnt try to talk your dear husband out of marrying me!"
"Whats wrong with you?! Why did you have to do that to my wife, and why would I want to marry you now? My answer is still no!" you scream anger filling your vision until you see the princess start to chuckle before she breaks out into a demented laugh.
"Very well I guess you get to watch your kids befall the same fate and that will be your last chance because if you say no after that ill do the same to you stick your wife and kids in the filth cell of the dungeon to ensure they don't make it and we will go down every day so you can see you beloved family slowly rot while they are still alive before the finally die of infection. If you say yes however they will be well tended and will live a painless rich life in another city as "royalty" never to see you again but not in pain and never mistreated." With that you hear screams as your kids are prepared for the torture that was planned.
"Fine fine I-ill do it ill marry you" You say as you watch as your family is torn apart both figuratively and literally.
"oh you can do better than that ask me to marry you don't just say you'll do it." she says unwavering as she is cutting you kids tongues out.
"OK OK Will you marry me?!" you cry as your families bodies are destroyed by this evil soon to be queen.
Only once she finishes making your kids match your wife does she respond "YES, OH MY GOD YES I WILL! YAY! now guards get these things out of our room and dump them into a garderobe and seal it off from both sides after dumping some excrement into it.
"Wait you said-"
"I know what I said but did you really think I would do that honey? who knows what you would've done now we have a wedding to get ready for and then after that we'll consumate our marriage in the same room that your family is in so the last thing they hear is us consumating our marriage." The princess cackled menacingly.
|
Jamie_Stage
|
Deathhunter2
|
2023-09-22 04:10:02
|
2023-09-21 20:41:15
| 26 | 13 |
k1o2oxf
|
k1m8wfu
|
16okoso
|
16okoso
|
[WP] A pretty prince is mistakened by a dragon to be a princess and is abducted, so the king and queen announce to neighboring kindom's that their "daughter" was taken, knowing that other princes are more likely to rescue their son if they think he's a woman
|
Andrew of Amberwood looked at final door in front of him pondering the circumstances that brought him here, his ragged breath making small clouds in the cold staircase of the tower. This was not his first expedition slaying dragons. Compared to his previous feats, his now former adversaries proved only a half turn more challenging than the common enemy of his standards. There was no real challenge… and there was no real reward, either.
No gold. No land. No title. The kingdom whose princess he was saving offered no such temptations.
It was a chore, plain and simple. Yet he was forced to take on this quest at his parents behest, lest he lose his privileges to roam about as he pleased.
Unfortunately, he understood exactly why his parents, the king and queen of Amberwood Kingdom, were so insistent on his taking on this bothersome endeavor. He would wager a sack of gold the weight his horse that his parents hoped a “fateful encounter” during one his outings could finally convince him to get married. But he had no interests in marriage.
His fingers felt the bite of the cold through his gloves, and the warmth of the inn called to him. It was time to get this over with.
The door hinged open without a complaint, though to no surprise. The entrance from whence he came had been guarded jealously by a dragon towards whom a helpless princess could not overcome.
As expected, the princess rested within the room, resting in blankets by an open fireplace. Her rich brown hair ran just hand’s span past her shoulders, shorter than most maidens he’d met. As she turned, he was quickly captivated her soft gaze.
Andrew was taken aback. He was so surprised by his own reaction that he shook his head to try to shake the charm that descended upon him.
The rescued captive spoke, “I’m sorry. I must not be what you were expecting. Bartholemew—“
“Who?” Another man’s name.
“The dragon who captured me. I assume he’s… dead?” You nodded in affirmation. “He boasted that no matter how many princes were attracted by my parents’ announcement, he could take them all.”
“He was wrong,” Andrew stated simply.
He played with the hems of the blanket with a cute pout on his mouth. A few moments of silence passed.
“What has you speechless?” Andrew added. “Are you not elated to be free?”
“I’m… confused. I am certain you have realized by now that—“
“You are not woman,” Andrew finished the sentence. “I thought that you were a woman as well at first, but I am beginning to think that this quest was more ‘fateful’ than I had thought. At least, I never thought I’d encounter such a captivating face as yours.”
“Oh…”spluttered the dark haired prince.
“Your name?” Andrew asked.
“Sasha,” eked out the timid voice.
Andrew held out his hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance… Prince Sasha.”
Sasha could not hold Andrew’s intent gaze, and huddled behind his blankets.
Andrew smirked. Perhaps this trip would yet yield temptations he had not expected.
|
I pinch the bridge of my nose as Azeroth’s words sink in. “You’re absolutely certain that’s what you saw?”
“Positive, sire,” Azeroth answers, his eyes glowing from the spell that gave him temporary telescopic vision (saves space for other things in the sack rather than carrying around a fragile telescope) “There’s no doubt about it. Tis not a maiden in the dragon’s tower, but a man.”
I sigh, making a mental reminder to have a chat with our employer. “All right, perhaps we can try the diplomatic approach. The dragon may not be aware that it has taken a prince instead of a princess.”
“Oh, there is no mistake, little warrior.”
I spin around to see the massive dragon land behind me, the earth quaking from its weight. Its scales red as fire, it glares down at me, smoke pouring out of its nostrils. Then I notice the lack of horns on its head.
“Ah, you’re a female.” I say, remembering the ancient scripts on fire dragon anatomy from my family’s library. “I suppose that makes things here a bit more straightforward, but I still have questions for the king.”
Turns out, the king and queen who employed my party to rescue their “daughter” had an incredibly narrow-minded attitude, and were afraid of what their subjects would think if the prince, who, according to his parents, had to be the pinnacle of manliness, had been taken by the dragon instead of killing it. Needless to say, I had a… **ahem** chat with them about the ridiculousness of gender roles
|
Bartimaeous
|
Draconichaos
|
2025-01-04 07:24:15
|
2025-01-04 06:03:37
| 208 | 67 |
m5blchc
|
m5bci5e
|
1ht7nca
|
1ht7nca
|
[WP] In 2050, humanity finally developed faster than light engines and were able to travel the stars. In 2051, humanity destroyed all their FTL engines and vowed to never leave Earth again.
|
The C.R.A.F.T. Drive was humanity’s magnum opus. A machine that could bend space itself, pushing the laws of physics to their boundaries. It was promised that it would change humanity's view of the universe, and it absolutely did.
When the Asgard 4 moved beyond the Kuiper belt, the world cheered. When it reached Alpha Centauri, the world celebrated. When it reached Barnard's Star, the world partied. When it failed to visually locate a few galaxies, the world grew quiet. Asgard 4 moved on. For every lightyear it moved away from Earth, there were more and more missing stars, gaps in the night sky, until it reached Gliese 687.
There was nothing. The images Asgard 4 brought back showed nothing but empty, black nothingness. The only stars sighted were locals of Earth like Wolf 359, Ross 248, Eridani, Lacaille 9352, Alpha centauri and a few dozen others. The most distant star was little old Gliese 784, a red dwarf only about 22 light years out. Asgard 4 aborted its mission there and then, there was nothing more to see. The stellar systems that Asgard 4 had been scheduled to visit simply no longer existed.
There was a profound change in the global zeitgeist the day Asgard 4 returned. In the four months they had been away, everything had changed. There just wasn’t anything to see in the sky anymore.
It was five years later when the stars started winking out, one by one. The stars themselves were long dead, we just hadn’t known it beforehand. The joint Nasa and ESA team dismantled the C.R.A.F.T. Drives and put them in storage, there wasn’t any reason to send another trip. Asgard 4 hadn’t visited every star system that still existed, but it had visited enough to know that they were still there. No one was eager to see more pictures outside the Stellar Cluster as we now called it.
Instead, all the doctors and engineers put their heads together to try and figure out why all the stars had disappeared. For them to have, from our perspective, disappeared altogether within ten years of each other, the universe would have had to have wink out working outside in. The distant galaxies would have decayed millions of years ago, the Milky Way tens of thousands, and our local arm would have started decaying only in the last few millennia. There was no explanation found, it was just a fact of life.
In many ways, it is a hilarious coincidence, that the death of the outside 99.99% of the universe just so happened to align so that, if we had invented FTL only a half decade later, we would have found out before even leaving. It’s a cruel twist of fate, one might suppose. We are just too late to see the rest of the universe.
For now, the probes set up in orbit of Alpha Centauri A, 61 Cygni B and Gliese 687 continue to transmit data, nowadays they look inward, not outward, watching Earth and her neighbors to catch a glimpse of another disappearing star. Perhaps if another one winks out, we can figure out a way to save ours.
There is some want for another Asgard mission, to visit the sites where stars used to be, to see what happened to all of the matter and energy that should have been left behind, to see why we never saw any red giants, to find answers. But most people are scared. For all the reassurance, many simply see The Vanishing as some kind of cosmic punishment for humanity overstepping its boundaries. We are alone in the universe, and now the universe is very small. People are scared that one day whatever swallowed all those galaxies and star systems might come back for us. The Copernicium Principle would suggest that there is no reason we should be exempt, the only relief is that our mere existence contradicts the Copernicium Principle. If the Earth was Average, then life wouldn’t exist.
It’s a tiny bit of comfort in this small empty universe. May we survive.
|
The once pilots and passengers of the various spaceships that left earth back toward the end of 2050 screamed chained to their beds, inside their isolation cells, they all had seen too much back in that year and even now after the great destruction of 2051, and the de-evolution of technology in general, for humanity own safety. They kept screaming about the horrors they had witnessed and twisting on their beds, to which they rarely get unchained from to preserve their lives, as the last signs, as the last proof of A contact that shall never happen again, it may have been a even worse fate than death with those images now printed in their minds.
The man observes one of them through the fake mirror in her room, as he smokes a cigarette, he looks at the scientist next to him "So there's really no chance of them to ever recover?" asks the man "We don't know sir, they have seen those things after all" "And are we so sure that those things will never reach earth after we tried to communicate with them so much, and shyed away from them as soon we seen what they looked like?" "What are you implying now? We took our technology back of at least 90 years just for them to loose track of us." there is a moment of silence, till the man spoke again "I remember it, you know? I was on the team on earth to communicate with them, I remember the wonder of having found other intelligent life, willing to talk with a specie like us humans, I remember the excitement, but for years I struggled to understand the horror of the passengers of the expedition for the direct contact, till today, Haha, yeah, today I finally got it" the scientist looks at him concerned of what the man meant "What do you mean? Who even are you? How did you get in here?" "The sun is rising doctor, you should give it a look."
The man walked away laughing, while the scientist looked through the curtains of the window next to him, and his eyes widened when instead of the sun he saw a black hole with tentacles swaying all around and from that hole came out indescribable horrors, the screams of humanity as their soundtrack while the memory of the first contact, looked like the biggest mistake ever.
(First time doing this hope you like my spin on the prompt :] )
|
oversized_toaster
|
None
|
2024-04-24 11:10:55
|
2024-04-24 09:12:00
| 25 | 13 |
l110850
|
l10ph6p
|
1cbjmt6
|
1cbjmt6
|
[WP] You open the door and see a woman you recognise immediately: she’s the lead character of a novel you wrote years ago. And abandoned halfway. “Why did you forsake me?”
|
“Oof. You better come in honey.”
Confused, Sierra walks through the door, brushes a stray lock of auburn hair out of her face and fixes me with her emerald eyes before suspiciously perching on the edge of a chair.
“Sweetie, I did you a favor.”
She begins to stammer and protest. My raised hand stops her protest in its tracks. I thought so.
“You want some tea? I’m getting some tea.”
The outrage is plain on her face, “Tea?! After twenty years you have the sheer audacity to offer me TEA?!”
I start laughing. I can’t help it. Everything about her is a cliche. I turn towards the kitchen. She, of course, storms haughtily after me. She’s muttering some string of uninventive curses under her breath.
In the kitchen, I take down the teapot, shake out some tea leaves and set the kettle to boil, all the while ignoring my… guest.
“Sierra?”
That gets her attention.
“Let’s see. I left you in Northern Maine at a hotel, you had just run away with a strange man who instead of seducing you, rather rudely turned into a snow flurry and blew away.”
“Well, not how I would describe things. You see… I’d just had a terrible breakup and my husband… and…”
“Yes, yes, I know all the details, I wrote you after all.”
“But whhhyyy…”
I cut off the plaintive whining, “Dear, seriously, I mean it when I said I did you a favor. I left you in a cute little town, and all you had to do was set up a little florist shop and you could have lived whatever life you wanted. The foundation was all there. Your story was going nowhere fast. Had I kept writing, I can guarantee you would have been left off in some far worse situation. You do know you were about to be caught up in a magical war? This wasn’t going to get a neat happy ending.”
She sits and digests that information for a bit. Finally, after opening her mouth and closing it like the gaping of a fish, she decides what she wants to say.
“Well whatever am I supposed to do now?”
“What were you doing before you came here tonight?”
“Well… I..”
She seems embarrassed to continue.
“Flower shop?”
She nods sheepishly.
“Then why come here?”
“Well, I was just wondering if there might be… more, you know, some meaning?”
Smiling gently, “Dear you were a vapid, shallow character and living out your life in a small town, getting married, running your flower shop? That’s as good as life gets for you.”
Her eyes widen in shock, my words not matching my demeanor. Quietly, she gets up and leaves without a further word and gets into a car outside. Of course it’s a Tesla. Cliche.
Shaking my head I turn back to making my tea. I think that’s the last of them. I’ve had many visits over the years. But it has taught me an important lesson.
These newer stories? Their characters won’t be so easily deterred. I either be sure they’re happy with their endings… or not returning from them at all.
|
As I open the door, I see a familiar face with a questioning glimmer in her blue eyes. Her words leave me cold. I realize that today, of all the days she could've knocked on my door, was a reminder of who I thought I would become in a few years' time. It's too late now, I think to myself as I consider closing the door in her face. My life didn't turn out like I thought it would - lately it never does. Guilt-ridden I try to apologize and tell her that she is still on my mind - I leave the part out that she is an afterthought at night when I drunk too much wine and wallow in my sorrows and loneliness. What if... What if I finished her story - my story? Would it have made a difference? Would it have brought some clarity to my current situation? Perhaps I should ask her what she thought about life as she knew it, and rewrite the story as I now know it. Then again, I have lost my sense of writing - and telling my story through the characters I once created. I am alone with the ghost that will haunt me tonight as I indulge in another glass of red wine, perhaps spill some on the carpet as I bleed my heart out and rethink my life, my dreams and who I want to be. Perhaps... It might just spark a new idea to abandon when the drunkenness wears off.
|
Willowrosephoenix
|
bostoncece
|
2024-03-12 18:16:57
|
2024-03-12 17:14:31
| 37 | 16 |
kuk1s9u
|
kujqc3j
|
1bd1w5u
|
1bd1w5u
|
[WP] A bunch of the wizards' college students are arguing about which magical focus is superior. Staffs, wands, orbs, books, nobody agrees on anything. Then the newest student offers a rather unusual alternative.
|
"Okay, so, quick question-have any of you tried casting using a glove?" Theo asked conversationally.
"A glove?" Nellis asked. "Why in the hells would you do that?"
"Well, I tried it and it had a tonne of advantages. My casting's faster, it's easier to aim and I can even dial the spell's intensity up or down depending on how many fingers I use."
"That sounds kind of dangerous Theo. The one time I tried casting off-hand I gave myself mana blisters. Hurt like buggery and took forever to heal." Andreas, our resident experimentalist, said, flexing his hand around his grimoire. "Besides, my focus stores spells and enchantments for fast casting. Can a glove do that?"
"Fair point for the storage, but you must admit your stored spells lack a lot of oomph. I mean sure, that fireball can cook an egg at ten paces, but good luck actually getting it to do more damage than that." Theo pointed out. "Also, I've been casting using my gloves pretty much non-stop for five months and I have yet to get mana blisters." He said, demonstrating his point by juggling a light orb in his hands. "See? No blisters while I'm wearing these bad boys."
"Dude, half the reason I chose a staff is to put some distance between me and my spells. That stuff's nasty if it goes off too close to you." Egwene pointed out.
"Wait." Andreas said slowly, turning to Egwene. "You mean you don't add a proximity failsafe to your spells Gwyn? The hells?"
"Wait, what?"
"The half-twist at the start of each incantation? That's meant to initiate a minor failsafe to your cantrips." Theo explained. "That's why I have to do jazz hands every time I cast a spell in these." He said, waving his gloved hands around as the light orb orbited them.
"Oh. I thought that was just a flourish to look cool." Egwene admitted.
"A flourish-Gwyn! Seriously. It's a safety measure, not a, a peacocking gesture!"
"Yeah Gwyn." Theo said with a grin on his face. "I mean Andreas does it all the time and he doesn't even try to be cool."
"That's because I am cool by nature." Andreas said in his most pompous voice.
"That's right Andy, you aren't even remotely hot!" Theo stated, causing Gwyn to snap out of her embarrassed state and start to giggle.
"Shut it Glove Boy." Andreas replied snippily.
"Make me Book Worm." Theo said, snapping his fingers and causing the stitching to glow a dark orange.
"Oh wow." Nellis exclaimed. "That's an awesome effect!"
Theo looked at his gloves and paled. "Not this ag-"
Boom!
|
"It's a new piece of artifistry." Jolka Fimbir said as she pulled out an odd looking contraption from her robes. "Works on the same principle of Canons and basic fire-arms but with your own magic.
Now that Ysol could see it, she could admit the little kolbold has a point to it; it was shaped like a pistol though it didn't have a chamber. Instead, it had where she presumed the mechanisms (Hey she was on the conjuration track, give her a break) for cockign and loading was instead a focus crystal for mana. "It's called a Magi-Pistol. Some people use swords, books, and a staff but i think this one helps us with ease of use. It's literally just like a gun!'
"it's just a gimmick wand." Glynda scoffed.
"and Wands are just smaller staffs." her elven boyfriend childed. "Though i have to say i think it works but you can't beat the classics."
"You can keep a wand closer to you." The human woman replied with a roll of her eyes. "It's a gimmick."
"Eh, suit yourself." Jolka replied. "It's a lot more fun."
|
darklooshkin
|
None
|
2023-01-24 15:07:15
|
2023-01-24 14:48:27
| 174 | 43 |
j5ot2gb
|
j5oqckf
|
10k0a6d
|
10k0a6d
|
[WP] You’re a park ranger of a very dense forest and you take care of everything, including the supernatural cryptids. One day, a murder happens in your forest and the culprit evades the authorities. You then politely ask the cryptids for their aid in the culprit’s capture. They agree.
|
One thing the park ranger training doesn't tell you about is the sapient non-humans living in the forest. They're good folks, very reclusive, but with some persistence, and a whole lot of respect, you can form a relationship with them.
Gren is one of those who frequently works with the rangers, he's a Leshen, and a damn intimidating one at that, but get to know him, and he's kinder than you might expect, but he is harsh, he doesnt take bullshit, and will eject you from his presence forcefully if you offend him.
I'll spare you the details of the murder, but the short version, it was gruesome. I asked Gren for help with finding the killer, local law enforcement hadn't been able to find much but the forest has more eyes than you expect.
"I know the human you seek, their sins were witnessed by the forest. If you ask me to help in this matter, then I will be required to dispense our justice to the murderer." Gren was very stern today, he knew I came here to talk business, he even waved away the gift I brought for him.
"We've never actually talked about this kind of thing you know. Before I can ask, I need to know what your justice entails." I couldn't bring a corpse to jail for murder, Gren knew that, so I figured he had some options that didn't include death.
"I know your concerns, I give you my vow I will not kill this murderer, I will deliver them to you whole, but they will know their sins intimately before they are yours. I will not elaborate further." I knew not to push Gren on the details, probably felt he was saving me from knowing something I really shouldn't know.
"Thank you Gren, I owe you for..."
"You owe nothing for this Ranger Thomas." Gren interrupted, "You will have your murderer, no exchange will be necessary, they alone will pay the price."
"Thank you Gren. I'll return when you summon me."
"Be well, Ranger Thomas."
I returned to the outpost, mulling over that ominous message Gren said about the murderer paying the price. The ferocity in Gren's voice, I really hope I never end up on his bad side.
‐------Three days later-------
I arrived at Gren's Glenn and let out a little chuckle, the name always made me smile, but it was short lived as I remembered why I came.
Gren was waiting for me at the tree line, "Greetings Ranger Thomas, I have your murderer further in the valley, his punishment by our laws is complete, and I will relinquish him into your custody. He is ready, and willing, to make a full confession to your authorities."
"Wow, how'd you manage that?"
"He was given a choice. Face justice at the hands of his own people, or face our justice for the rest of his days."
"Full confession? Just like that?"
"It was not as easy as it sounds, but yes, he will make a full confession."
"I know you said you wouldn't elaborate further, but may I ask how you managed that?" Couldn't hurt to ask, I thought.
"After two days of living the last moments of every creature he has ever killed, he was willing to reconsider my offer."
I didn't know how to reply to that, Gren and I walked in silence for the next twenty minutes or so as I processed what he told me. As we neared the structure holding the murderer, I finally broke the silence.
"Every creature?"
"Yes. Every fly he swatted, every bug he stepped on or poisoned, and of course, his victim in the forest. The last two days, he has experienced their last moments of life, their pain, their fear, everything they were in their final moments are now a part of him."
I understood why he wanted to confess, I'd do the same. "You're God damned terrifying sometimes, you know that Gren?"
"Not half as terrifying as your own people can be Ranger Thomas."
|
Being a park ranger has it’s perks. The ones I can remember, at least. Like the one Jerry told me about that turned out to be true. The one of the fable, something about a shrew without a shoe, whose name was Sally Poo.
Sally was mystical you see. She lived in a tree by the rock covered in goat droppings from that flock that held it’s annual county fair there.
At least, that’s what I thought. But Sally was much more mystical than that. And we all learnt it the hard way back in 69 at the end of the war, just how weird it all was. The steam beacon from John had been transposed in song now written in cursive rather elegantly across her third shoulder. Mostly though the song was about cryptids. Which are creatures for whom their existence is less than certain to say the least.
Oh, John. Where art thou magnificence of opulence in the leafy wind by that other tree not mentioned yet. The one I’m *mentioning* right now. Which has to be done due to the murder just done next to the third tree mentioned unceremoniously in the previous chapter by Burt Lancaster, who’s a real person I might add. Quite a famous one, in fact. Back in 500bc he walked beyond the fourth tree far into the forest that no-one ever, never ever returned from. Cryptid Sally could only agree, which happenstance happened unhappily at the hand of the hand holding the gun to her temple.
By gosh, Sally. There’s been a murder! And a grisly one at that. The victim’s head removed body a splatter against the southern back of a replica of the same rock that was covered in a thick, festering, pesteringly stenching pile of goat droppings. Never cleaned always gleamed from a distance as good a vantage to see the sea through all those trees that for years stood sombre and tall and unwavered no matter the wind or rain on any stormy day. But hey. Jacob confessed to the murder in jest which didn’t work out so well because the supreme court considered the dubious business legally binding.
In the other distance, a Sasquatch watched on, and waited. Patiently, the Sasquatch waited not a moment too long.
|
Technical_Inaji
|
VanillaBest4580
|
2023-12-24 19:38:32
|
2023-12-24 14:54:49
| 156 | 16 |
kerz14u
|
kequieo
|
18pruyp
|
18pruyp
|
[WP]"This child will not die in a bed. Instead their death will be bloody and violently for they shall fall in war." The witch cursed the child and the king, with a tear going down, says "Thank you..."
|
The King had tried everything. Physician after physician had examined the Prince, and with each one who left the room shaking his head, the reward offered for success increased. By now, it was common knowledge for miles around that whoever cured the wasting sickness that afflicted the king's only son would receive a cartload of gold and gems, a free pardon for all crimes he might have committed, and a Dukedom when the boy reached the age of knighthood. It was also common knowledge in the physicians' colleges that trying was a waste of time.
One day after a hunt, the Master of the Horse drunkenly asked "Have you tried magic? I mean, you've tried everything else?"
The Lord Chancellor frowned. "Everyone knows that healing magic is a myth. And witchcraft is a capital crime- you can't just hire a mage"
"I don't care!" thundered the king. "Everything else has failed, what harm can trying one more thing do? Fetch me a spellcaster."
***
A few weeks later, an officer of the Royal Guard came into the throne room, followed by two burly guardsmen with a kindly-looking old woman in chains between them. The officer handed a piece of parchment to the Chancellor, who read it out loud.
"The prisoner, Agnes Privet, did unlawfully and maliciously hex, curse and bewitch the cattle belonging to her neighbor, one Jed Underhill, such that they ceased to give milk, they died, and their meat was rotten and useless. She was convicted at Stonebridge Assizes on the evidence of her own confession, and sentenced to hang"
The King had seen his share of witch trials- as a young squire, his father had assigned him to the escort of a judge riding circuit so he could see how justice was done. He knew that often they were just a way of getting rid of an unpopular old woman who owned some valuable land by torturing her into a confession. He looked down from his throne at the alleged witch.
"Goodwife Privet, was your confession given freely?"
"It was, Sire."
"Was it true and accurate? Are you a witch?"
She drew herself up.
"Yes, Sire, I am. And I hexed young Underhill's cattle, and I would do it again. The skinflint deserved it."
He looked puzzled for a moment.
"So you can do magic? Can you help my son?"
"You understand, Sire, that I am a witch. The stories of how mages can fly, and throw fireballs, and bring back the dead are probably just stories- I certainly never met anyone who could do anything like that. I know a good deal about herbs, but that's not magic- your physicians and apothecaries probably know more than I do. All I can do, and all my teacher could do, and all *her* teacher could do, is curses."
The King's face fell, and he started turning towards the Guards officer.
"Despite that, Sire, I have an idea of how I can help your son. Bring me to him."
***
The guards brought the witch into the Prince's bedroom. She barely even looked at the small, pale figure in the bed. Even though it was summer, he was covered in a heap of blankets and there was a roaring fire in the hearth.
She pointed at him and the room seemed to grow darker.
"I curse this prince!" She intoned.
The guards moved to seize her, but the King motioned him to wait.
"I curse him that his death shall be cruel and bloody. He shall not die in bed, but in battle. He will be mortally wounded, and fall at the head of his army in the moment of victory. His soldiers shall mourn him, his kingdom shall mourn him, and his wife and son shall mourn him most of all!"
The fire in the hearth flared and went out. The King rushed over to his son.
"Father, I think I'm feeling better. Can you tell the Master of Arms I want a fencing lesson tomorrow?
The King could barely thank the witch through his tears.
***
In the palace yard, a blacksmith was striking off the witch's chains. The Chancellor finished affixing the Royal seal to her pardon certificate, and as he handed it to her, asked,
"So why did you hex those cattle?"
"Underhill's apple trees weren't bearing fruit any more. He asked me to help- offered me fifteen silver pieces. I cursed one of his hogs that it would choke to death on fallen apples from his trees before the year was out. The trees fruited, the hog choked, then he didn't pay me. He didn't even give me any of the bacon. So, what's this I hear about a cartload of gold?"
|
King Harald cradled the newborn in his arms. She was so small and delicate, a far cry from the hardy strength of Harald and Millicent. He was afraid he might crush her with an ill-timed squeeze of his meaty hand. She had come months earlier than expected, and the midwife's pitying look was branded in his mind. She wouldn't survive infancy.
Millicent, worn out from the birth, rested peacefully. The infant princess was quiet - was she trying to give her mother a moment of peace, or did she lack the strength to cry? The question burned in his mind, distracting him so much that he didn't notice the strange woman entering the room until she began to speak in a raspy voice.
"I've waited a long time for this, Your Majesty."
Harald leapt to his feet and shielded his daughter with his body. He tried to call for the guards stationed outside the room, but the woman cut him off before he could even open his mouth.
"Don't bother," she said. "They won't hear you. Nor will your darling wife."
Harald laid the baby on the bed with Millicent. He stationed himself in front of the pair and sized the woman up. She was spindly and pale, with a frame so slight that a faint breeze could knock her down. Limp hair framed her gaunt face, and her bloodshot eyes were a burst of color in her sallow features. By all accounts, she shouldn't be a threat, but Harald still took a shaky step back. A malevolent aura shrouded her.
Harald spread his arms to further shield his wife and daughter. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"We'll get to that in a moment," the woman said as she held him in her piercing gaze. "But first, let's talk about you. Harald the Negotiator, Bringer of Peace. The man who won't kill anyone…except witches. You brand yourself as merciful while you burn my sisters alive."
"What- no, that's different," Harald sputtered. "Witches are unnatural. They're hardly even human!"
The witch growled in anger. "You pathetic excuse for a king! I condemn you to the same fate I have suffered - watching someone you love die a violent, unjust death."
She pointed at Millicent and the princess, and Harald was gripped with dread.
"This child will not die in a bed," she continued. "Instead, her death will be bloody and violent, for she shall fall in war."
The witch was gone before Harald could say a word. His child began to wail, waking up the exhausted Millicent. The strong cries were music to Harald's ears. He let a tear fall as he embraced his worn-out wife and frail daughter.
"Thank you," he murmured.
He would watch his daughter grow up into a fine young woman. She would survive this early birth and grow as strong as Harald and Millicent. When the kingdom's long peace was broken, she would step into her role as a leader.
She would die young, but until then, she would *live.*
|
AlexG55
|
YaGirlMor
|
2023-10-04 15:38:12
|
2023-10-04 14:51:34
| 636 | 217 |
k3fwnxr
|
k3foz92
|
16zkaz1
|
16zkaz1
|
[WP] Dragons inherently manifest when there is a certain amount of something that people see as precious. You wake up one day to find a very confused dragon in your 40K figurine room.
|
I finish finally unpacking the last containers of the last tote. There it is, in all its magnificence. My whole collection. Tanks, Infantry, the *in-betweens*. Guard, and Marines, Chaos, Tyranids, Daemons, the list goes on, armies in varying sizes and compositions. The Phantom Titan stands magnanimous over my Eldar forces, its presence commanding notice. The armored forces of my Guard army are arrayed as if in a parade formation, mechanized infantry mixed within, the display board I made for my First Platoon sits as a command post over them. Sleek and deadly ships bearing Dark Eldar sit poised to sweep around an imaginary flank, dispensing death at speed. I take it all in, swelling with pride, at my works.
*"And when Alexander saw the breadth of his domain he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer..."* The voice utters from behind me, a rumbling deep note.
"The benefits of a classical education.." I instinctively answered. My eyes glanced into the panes of glass that were before me, guarding the collection. Staring back at me were two pools of blue so icy they sent a chill down my spine. That wasn't the only part to give me chills. He stood as a man, but was far from. Most of his scales were black as onyx, and gloss like the stone, though he had markings in that same icy blue like tiger stripes in places. Horns crested his head, and his wings rose above his shoulders, though they were folded against his back.
It didn't take me very long to put the pieces together, that I stood in the presence of a dragon.
"Interesting legions you have here, I can see why you value them. Hours and years of time spent collecting and working upon them. Each one a monument to your own efforts." His voice was calm, studious.
"A great many years spent in the endeavour, and plenty of invested wealth. If nothing, they represent one of my greater achievements." I responded. I managed to maintain calm, realizing if nothing I stood in the presence of another great collector. If nothing, their kin represented the pinnacle of the term. "Though it only begs the question of how I came to have such a guest.." I left it hanging as it was, not quite toned as a question, but one none the less.
"You might say, you've graduated to a status not unlike mine. Though styles differ, you have no less a hoard of precious things than any of my kind. Even amongst us the collections differ, but to witness a hoard's birth into its glory, one of us appears, as if to preside over its graduation from a mere collection. So I should say, perhaps congratulations are in order here. Welcome to those who possess a true Hoard."
I was speechless for a moment before I turned to face my guest. "I'm without words, save to thank you for the recognition. It's rare to find somebody outside of the hobby who understands, but who should understand more than a Dragon, I guess."
"Indeed, young one. The rest for you will come in time. Perhaps some refreshment.. have you any tea? I haven't had some mint tea in a while..." He trailed off, and that was how I began my own transformation..
|
Jefferson Petters had been invited by the billionaire Matty Oswell to see the largest/rarest collection of figurines ever collected. Jeff had no idea the man had any interest in the hobby but clearly, he put some effort into this collection. Not only was it reportedly 40,000 strong (he wasn't about to count to verify), but every figure Jefferson examined was amongst the rarest he'd seen. Jefferson was enamored by it all.
Mr Oswell merely watched from one end of the room. He said nothing about the collect, and Jeff quickly forgot he was even there. Then, a sudden breeze sturred up in the sealed room followed by a faint pop. Jeff looked up to see a dragon had appeared, roughly the size of a large dog with a wingspan as wide as the creature was long.
"Very good." Mr Oswell said as he flipped a switch, releasing a net from the ceiling, entqgling the dragon. It failed and clawed, confused at what was happening, but unable to free itself from a net made from some form of metal. 3 men with stun rods entered the room to subdue the creature, clearly practiced at this task.
"You've helped me verify a theory, my dear boy," my oswell said to Jeff. "It's not enough to have a collection of reported value. You must have someone who appreciates it. I've held onto this junk for months and nothing. Barely 5 minutes with you and another dragon for me collection."
"It seems they appear when a collection of value has been amassed, and I have the largest collection of dragons in the world. They are my most cherished posessions. What do you suppose they'll summon as the collection grows?
|
Sauragnmon
|
redeamed
|
2023-03-20 07:55:56
|
2023-03-20 04:33:26
| 52 | 36 |
jcxc0l3
|
jcwwn2y
|
11vwpf8
|
11vwpf8
|
[WP] You are the only S-Class (god-like) mutant at a school of super powered youngsters. Only the head master knows, and you try like hell to keep it a secret. But one day, that all changed...
|
I'm just a normal kid. I try to live my life everyday and not muck anyone else's day up. It's hard sometimes, being as powerful as I am, but I hide it well. As far as everyone else knows, I'm a B-class mutant. A little above average, but nothing to write home about. My power is simple. I can walk through walls. It keeps me out of trouble, allows me to escape any A-class bullies, and generally makes life simpler.
Except that's not my power. Never has been. It's just the cover that the headmaster helped me come up with. No, my power is a little different than that. I'm able to control the molecular makeup of objects in realtime. So, for my wall walking, I simply move the atoms of the wall around so that I can pass through them and then put them back together. I've gotten quite good at it. My private lessons with the headmaster have seen me able to turn an entire car into a metal infinity cube. I'm not able to change the molecular makeup, per se. Just able to rearrange things. I can make wooden sculptures out of trees or ice sculptures out of pools of water. Oh, yeah, I'm also able to change the state of the matter. Heating it up or cooling it off rapidly. I had even mastered the art of turning myself into a gas for short periods of time.
My range had gotten better, too. I used to have to touch things; that's why the headmaster suggested walking through walls. Now I can do it from up to thirty feet away. The headmaster advised me to keep all of this a secret. I'm the only S-class mutant in the country other than him. There are constant threats on his life because of his status. He said it's best I lay low until I have a firm enough grasp on my powers to defend myself. I never knew if that day would come. I still had to sleep, after all. Was I supposed to sleep in an impenetrable cocoon?
But, today was the day the world found out about me. Today was the day that I had to come out of my shell. And it wasn't by choice. The headmaster had been killed. The killer was roaming the halls of the school, class by class, taking as many lives as she could. I couldn't stand by while my classmates were slaughtered. I had to do something. I was the only one that could.
I stepped out into the hallway to see the witch who had killed the headmaster. She was flinging red bolts of lightning into a classroom of screaming children. I knew who she was. She went by Scarlett. I could tell from the crimson outfit and the flowing red hair. She was an S-class mutant from Europe who thought all lesser mutants should be exterminated. Even A-class mutants weren't strong enough for her. High level A-class mutants she could stomach, but anything less than S-class was seen as unsatisfactory.
"Hey!" I yelled. "Pick on someone your own size, eh?" I began walking toward her.
"You dare step to me? And what are you? A telepath, perhaps? Your kind are always so full of themselves." She launched a red bolt at me. I rearranged my own molecules so that it passed through me. I heard it blast into the wall behind me and the bricks falling from the impact.
"Oh? A phaser? Interesting. So you're going to... what? Walk through me? Steal my beating heart out of my chest? Phasers have limits, you know. You always have to keep one part of the bottom of your feet solid. Or else you'll just fall," she said delicately.
She raised her hands and I felt a warm sensation from my feet. I looked down to see red pooling there. I shifted myself to a gas before a red pillar launched up underneath me. Another neat trick the headmaster had suggested. I shifted my body around the pillar and continued floating toward her. Unless she knew what to look for, I was completely invisible. Which she didn't. She thought I was a low-level phaser. She let out an evil cackle. She turned to launch a bolt into the classroom to her left again. Her final mistake.
I shifted back into my corporeal form and shouted, "You missed!" before shifting her into a small, tight box. It was all of her matter condensed into a small cube about two feet thick. I had made sure to keep all the icky parts inside because blech. All that was left was a scarlet box. And now the school would know my secret. That was okay, though. I was ready to face the world for who I truly was. I was a god. And it was time I started acting like it.
\---------------------------------
Let me know what you thought! Any feedback is welcome and appreciated. <3
|
I expected today to act like every other day. Where I get heckled and looked down on by my peers. Who believe in their own false delusion of how inferior I am compared to them. Little do they know that I can end their lives in an instant with a flick of my pinky.
Alas, I swallow up my pride and enable their delusion to appear true. This is mainly due to the headmaster. Headmaster Evie has been a thorn in my side ever since I was a child. Though, I have everything to thank for her ever since taking me in. I dislike talking about it but my parents were murdered and she was the only "family" my parents had. So I was locked and shipped away to her. Life was completely boring until my powers showed up. Now it's completely normal for our society to be born with powers. Though the power was constructed through limitations of said power. The lesser the limit, the more dangerous the power. For myself, in particular, I have no limit. My power is limitless.
Evie was at first taken back but intensified my training to understand my powers and understand the responsibility behind them. It feels like she predicted an abnormal about me. Which she later confirmed due to the letter my parents left for her to read when taking me in. This led to our conversation about how the possibility of my parents' deaths could be foreboding as someone wants my powers for themselves. Through this, we agreed to add false limitations to make myself appear weak. To place me under the radar so no one can be suspicious of my true powers.
Until today, it has gone smoothly. However, the giant hole in our city stabbed through Evie and I's plans. For the forces of Hell itself began their invasion. They have done their research well and their technology countered our forces significantly. Rendering their powers useless in order to be captured or killed. However, I noticed that despite being within their range, my powers are still available and just as strong. I noticed one of my bullys crawling and screaming for help. A demon oozing with blood due to its fleshly exoskelton armor fixates on them and slowly approaches them. They notice and attempt to shoot out a barrage of ice missiles that just tickle the demon. The demon rises up its arm and points its finger toward the bully. A light flickers and a huge explosion follows.
The bully at first thought they were dead in the smoke and noticed no harm has come within them. As the smoke in front of them fades away, they see an explosion of flesh and guts belonging to the demon. They see me looking at them as blood drips from my hands and face. My eyes staring down at them as if an animal is approaching its prey. I take my eyes off them and look towards them hordes of demons approaching me.
With one gruff grunt, I inform both of my enemies and bully know what to do when I unleash my true power… “Run”.
*{Any Feedback will be greatly appreciated! Really want to improve on my writing}*
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Murlock_Holmes
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None
|
2023-01-20 01:07:13
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2023-01-20 00:22:46
| 177 | 51 |
j52zw4s
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j52tlhn
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10gh68v
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10gh68v
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[WP] You were kidnapped by a cult to provide sacrificial blood to summon a demon. They manage to finish the ritual and you see a hunky man standing at the centre of the summoning circle, looking confused as fuck, who goes from confused to enraged as he figures out you did not give consent.
|
One minute I was roasting a hydra on my barbeque pit, and the next I was feeling that familiar pull. Another summon that demanded my attention.
I rolled all thirty of my eyes as I responded to yet another unnecessary sacrifice. How many times do I have to broadcast that I can be contacted via social media? Too many times I have posted on my Divine Directory profile that I primarily accept tea and cheesecakes as tribute.
Stepping through the portal to the place of sacrifice, I smelt the distinct tinge of human blood drawn in an arcane symbol in the middle of the summoning circle. Chains ripped through the candlestands placed all around the circle coiled around my appendages and tore into my skin.
Okay...that's something new.
Besides the often-heard screams from bloodletting victims forced to bleed over altars I've grown accustomed to, the resounding cheers were something new. And confusing. The symbols and decor in this room are unlike the usual ritual setups. Nothing of the usual dark and cozy alcoves and basements. It was too bright and cheery. With glaring yellow walls and orange blots that offended my eyes. Instead of flickering flames dancing upon candles, its awful stage lights.
There are many rituals to bring about my presence, but I've never seen this configuration before. You would have thought I should know all the summons that can tug at my essence, but I didn't know I could be summoned in this manner at all.
"We have successfully lured and captured a demon!" The strange cultists yelled, throwing off their robes to reveal the uniforms of the Monster Hunter Association.
Oh. These guys again. How annoying.
I jerked at my restraints, scanning the room for the unfortunate sacrifice. My gaze settled on the prone woman on the floor just beyond the circle.
"Did she consent to assist you with my capture?"
They laughed until tears fell from their eyes. Which now looked very tempting to gouge out and slurp at.
"I'll assume that's a no."
One of the men sneered at me and spat at my face. "Why do you care, demon?"
"Because that's not very nice. Also, you should go back and revise your Supernatural Classification Test," I smirked as I gathered my magic in a bid to smite these fools. "If you did your homework, you would've realised you didn't snag a demon. I am the Eldritch Lord Elvari of Innsmouth, and you're all dead men walking."
At my command, tendrils burst forth from cracks in the walls and dug into their orifices. Each of these morons screamed in agony as my tendrils ripped into their organs and liquified their insides. I didn't stop, not until my fury had subsided. Kept going until I was satisfied by the divine retribution I wroth upon them. Until there was nothing left of them but an ever-growing pool of blood that smelt more tempting every second.
The woman stirred, her eyes fluttering as she struggled to sit up and lean against a wall.
"Hey, are you okay?" I asked her.
No response.
Great, it is only now that I realised what a pickle I've left myself in. Should've left at least one dumb hunter alive so I could pick at his brains to find out how to undo these magical chains.
Now I feel like a dumb god waiting for the woman to regain her senses while I try to extract my mobile phone from my robes and call the cops with one of my tongues. Good thing I'm built different with multiple tongues and mouths so I can hold my phone with one mouth and talk with another.
------------------------
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/comments/11tkt9w/eldritch_god_elvari_series/)
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Jane screamed as the dark-robed cultists' chant rose into a crescendo. The circle painted in the middle of the chamber--painted in her very blood--burned with eerie crimson flames, and a plume of smoke erupted. As it dissolved, a tall muscular man wearing a sweat-stained shirt resolved into view. Despite her predicament, Jane stared. He had a jawline like Adonis and muscles to match. In his hand he held, inexplicably, a pink shaker bottle.
"O' great ruler of the Underworld," the lead cultist cried, falling to his knees. "Your humble servants prostrate themselves before you."
"Man, what the hell?" the strangers muttered, looking around with a frown. "I was just getting a good pump."
The cultist cringed. "Forgive us if we have offended, lord. We've prepared you a suitable sacrifice." He gestured toward the altar that Jane lay bound upon.
"Sacrifice?" The man's gaze landed on her, making her swallow, and he stepped closer. Snapping out of her reverie, Jane thrashed against the bonds. His face darkened, and he turned to the cultist who had spoken. "Not cool, man. So not cool."
"If-if the sacrifice displeases you, O' great one, we'll fetch you another," the cultist said, wringing his hands. "You!" he snapped, turning to his underling. "Get this wretch out of our lord's sight and dispose of her in the pits."
Another cultist drew a dagger from his robes and stepped toward her. Jane whimpered and redoubled her efforts. As the cultist raised the dagger, the stranger strode up and punched him so hard that his head snapped back, causing him to collapse like a sack of potatoes.
"Spare us your anger, lord!" the leader exclaimed. "We only wish to--"
"Teeth are a privilege," the stranger yelled, decking him too. "And you've lost yours!"
The rest of the dark-robes screamed and scattered, but there was no escaping the stranger. He went around the room knocking everyone out until a sudden silence fell. He looked around, took a long swallow from his shaker bottle, then came up to the altar and snapped her bonds.
"W-who are you?" Jane stammered, rubbing her wrists.
The man flexed. "The name's Chad. Say, is there anything to eat around here? I need to meet my macros."
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Tregonial
|
MitheDate
|
2024-04-11 16:36:17
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2024-04-11 16:05:01
| 85 | 55 |
kz3kgge
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kz3eqbx
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1c1egik
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1c1egik
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[WP] On a long straight road with nothing of note, there is a four-way traffic light that hangs in the middle. No road crosses anywhere near the traffic light and no sign to tell you why it's there, but it seems to always be green, so no one cared. That's until the day it changed to yellow.
|
It's just right there, in the middle of Amber Road.
That's what they called that road, heading south out of town, a straight line through the fields until you hit the farmhouses. With the crops rising on either side , blowing in the wind, reminded someone of the line *"amber waves of grain"*. But these crops were corn, so the reference didn't quite stick. But nobody felt like changing the sign, so it stayed as Amber Road even though it shouldn't.
They first found it in 1962. Old Farmer MacMerran was bringing his chickens and eggs into town and he stopped when he saw it. Off to the right, a wooden pole with a wooden arm. And dangling from it was a 4 way traffic light. His light was a full, sickly green. So after a bit he kept driving.
People came to see it after that. No sign of construction. Dirt and grass undisturbed, nothing different about the asphalt. Crazy thing is, it wasn't new. Metal was showing rust, the nails and staples holding the wires to the wooden post were worn like they had been there for years. But that sickly green kept burning, clear as ever, so people kept driving.
Dad told me, growing up, that it became a bit of an infamous drug spot. People would use the light as a marker and pull off the road, into small paths they cut through the corn. Make little clearings to sell and smoke. Cops started hanging by the light, so it stopped. More than a few kids carved their initials into the pole under that green light.
Dad remembers how, growing up, Grandpa would slow down when he approached it. Never a full stop, but enough to look both ways. There was nothing to see. Just corn stalks.
Dad did the same thing once he started driving. Half out of habit, half out of...he couldn't quite say. It just seemed safer that way.
In 1998, a year before I was born, Dale Watts hit the post. Wrapped the front of his Grand Cherokee around it. He'd been out at a birthday at one of the old farmhouses late at night and thought driving in a straight line wouldn't be hard, even drunk. He stumbled out without a scratch and walked into town for a tow.
The next day they checked the scene. Car was totaled. Pole was fine, barely a scratch. Paper ran a funny piece about it, asking if the light changed on him. But no...Dale said it was green, just like always. And it stayed green.
I remember back in 2004, they tried to take it down. I wasn't at the meeting, but Mom talked about it over dinner. A motion was brought up at the town hall. It never went anywhere. People liked it. It was familiar and funny and made our home feel like home. So we kept the light, and it stayed green.
Got a tourist bump in 2010 from it. Some guy was talking about 2012, the end of the world, stuff about the Mayan calendar. Of all the signs, one was that our light would turn yellow on the last day, then red as the end arrived. Bunch of idiots and even more people who laugh at idiots showed up. Had a block party in the road, even hung a countdown clock from the light. Cheered at midnight when the world, and light, stayed the same.
In 2017, it got busier. People started posting it online, took pictures next to it. Some country star used it for an album cover. A bunch of tourists came flying in to get photos of the weird old light. Farmhouses gouged them for prices, turning the old relics into Airbnbs. MacMerran's kids made a fortune on those fees, and even ran a tour. Brought forty at a time on a bus to come out and see it, touch it. Telling stories about how it "haunted" their father, none of them true. Light didn't bother to turn red and warm people of the scam. They took the green as an "all clear" to waste their money.
Pandemic shut that down, and things got quiet again. Then last Tuesday, in 2022...it happened. Sarah Turner called her father. Whole call is posted on Facebook. We've been talking about it all week.
**"Daddy...light turned yellow. I'm stopped. Can you come get me?"**
A lot of people made fun of her. She sounds so scared of a yellow light. I don't think it's fair to laugh. It's not one of the signs of the apocalypse but... it's unnerving. Wouldn't you call your daddy if the sky was suddenly red? Or leaves turned black? Some things just shouldn't change.
It's been 5 days. People keep slowing down, stopping to look at it. Some of us are starting to blast through without waiting. But most wait and look both ways just in case now is the time that something will finally come rolling out of the corn, taking advantage of their first right of way since 1962.
An electrician took a look. The wires aren't connected to anything. They stop 3 ft under the ground. The light stays yellow, nothing keeping it lit. It's a dull yellow, like a dim candle. It doesn't feel right.
The average length of a green light is about 1.5 - 2 minutes. So 90 - 120 seconds. It's been 60 years since that light showed up and stayed green. So that's about half a year for every second you would expect from a normal, God-fearing traffic light. By my math, that means yellow will last for 5-6 seconds, or 3 years.
And then comes red.
I called a lot of old friends yesterday. I didn't say why. Just spent the weekend catching up. Something about that yellow light just makes me feel like things are wrapping up.
I don't know what's going to happen when it changes to that next color. Some days I find myself speeding past it, worrying that any moment it's going to shift right when I'm in the middle of an intersection that doesn't exist. Other days I wait, the engine-running, and I wonder if I'm ready for this to be the last day of my life.
Is something waiting in that corn? Some ancient beast held back by a red light that only it can see? While 60 years of green-tinged fragments, moments of people passing through, have taunted it? Is death himself waiting, hands gripping the wheel, his fury building while he's powerless to move, held in place by a law we all agreed on?
Or maybe it's a cycle. We've had 60 years as a community, moving ahead. Maybe now it's time to have 60 stuck, idling and unmoving, while something else gets to move. Maybe we'll just have to watch as little snippets of something else drive by across the road, on their way to somewhere else. Maybe all of us standing at the sidelines are just as uninteresting to them as the corn is us.
Or maybe I'm just putting too much stock in a traffic light, even one that seems to have come from nowhere. Maybe the slightest change can scare you down to your bones, because it reminds you of the big changes.
Well, now it's just right there, in the middle of Amber Road. A dull yellow eye. Daring us to go faster? Warning us to slow down?
Who can say?
|
Carris is a gas station of a town. It's not named after the seed, far as I know, but it's a fittin' name. Fill up. Keep goin'.
Technically, it's a two-traffic-light-town, though I'm not sure that's all that much different from a one-light-town. Besides, only one of 'em works, far as I can tell.
Carris is also the halfway point between Pick-Up and Drop-Off.
Twenty years I spent - Walmart, Amazon, UPS. $40k a year and healthcare. Enough to keep drivin', and not much else. But this. This was somethin' different.
Six months ago, I was driving to Washington from Salt Lake. Stopped at a different one-traffic-light town - Stanfield. That's where I met him. Only time I ever did.
"You drive?"
I was trying to order a cheeseburger and a coke from a truck-stop diner before I wet-napped off in the bathroom. He was in a suit and tie in the booth next to mine.
"Beg pardon?"
"You drive a truck?"
I wasn't sure why I even answered. Lot of folks think truck stops are some kind of replacement for community when you're on the road. Same way everyone thinks homeless people are all friendly in their cardboard box towns. Fact of it is, I don't talk to no one, and no one talks to me, and that's exactly how it's supposed to be.
"Yeah," I told him for no reason other than that he'd asked direct, and I'm a lotta things, but I'm not rude. "Yeah, I drive a truck."
"Good," he said, and nothin' more than that for long enough I thought I was supposed to say somethin' else.
"A cheeseburger and a coke, please and thank you." It was good the waitress was back, cuz whatever it was he wanted me to say, I wasn't gonna say it.
"Good," he said again, and stood up. Gave me a card with a little map on it, big ol' 'X' marked off in the middle of nowhere on one edge - "Pick-Up" - big ol' 'x" in the middle of nowhere on the other - "Drop-Off". In pen, he'd written - $2.5 million. Then, he left.
That first time, when I rolled up to Pick-Up, I was sure I was in the wrong place. Dirt. Red, clay, flat dirt, far as I could see. I cursed him for the joke and the cost of gas, but when I pulled around to head home, I saw it. A single, medium-sized brown, cardboard box, just sittin' there in the open.
"Not sure why I needed a truck," I muttered, and stepped out. The box was unmarked, save for a post-it. 'Don't open it.' Well, I wasn't about to risk $2.5 million by disobeyin' a post-it.
The map took me clear across Utah and through Nevada. In the middle, it was marked "Carris". It was only other thing written on the map. "Pick-Up," "Drop-Off", "$2.5 million" and "Carris." What else was I supposed to do?
So, there I was, that first time. Gassed up. Pissed. Drove out. Lights were both green.
Drop-off was trickier. The map took me out to northern California, where there was nothin' but trees. I cursed him again for making me bring a semi, but I wound it up through the mountains and found the "X". Another plain, cardboard box with nothin' around for as far as I could see. This one was a bit bigger than the first and already opened. I gathered that I was supposed to put the first one inside this one, so I did that and waited.
"Where's my money?" I wondered aloud, but there was no one there, and soon enough, I was good and truly pissed off. I kicked the flap of cardboard that hung over the side of the open box. Sure enough, taped right there, was a stack of bills. I didn't bother countin'.
"Now, bring it back." Another post-it, taped under the money. "And don't open it."
I didn't know then if there'd be more money, but there was. I drove back to Pick-Up. Stopped in Carris. One light was red, but the other was green. I was sure I was gonna miss it waitin' on the first one. I hated lights. Years on the open highways had spoiled me. But it never turned, long as I waited.
Back at Pick-Up - you guessed it. Another open box. Another stack of money. "Now, bring it back. And don't open it."
At least now I was startin' to get why I needed a truck.
Passed through Carris again. That second light still caught my eye. I waited this time. Three minutes - checked my watch. Didn't change. Got bored and went on.
"Now bring it back. And don't open it."
I had to stop at a different town to buy a bigger trolley and some straps. Boxes weren't heavy, but they were gettin' big.
Seven minutes, I waited this time. That'd be the longest light I'd ever seen three times over. Green.
So, here I was. Box was goin' on six-foot tall by the way it met my eye. Barely fit in the truck. But, strange as it'd all been, nothin' was stranger than Carris and that one light.
I decided to wait this time. Long as it took. Maybe it was a railroad folks didn't use much anymore. Maybe a school crossing, though I couldn't imagine Carris had a school. I asked the guy behind the counter at the gas station, but he just flicked up his eyebrows and asked if I was buyin' anything on account of the number of times I'd used the toilet. Asshole.
I had decided to wait, but I didn't have to. Yellow. It turned yellow right as I pulled up and didn't stay that way long. It turned red, and then the trailer started shakin'.
Carris. Fittin' name. I wasn't the only one needed fillin' up to keep goin'.
|
Nitrostoat
|
cheddarheaven
|
2023-12-21 21:13:06
|
2023-12-21 21:08:24
| 115 | 24 |
kedkbkb
|
kedjk8t
|
18ntdqi
|
18ntdqi
|
[WP] "God can come have coffee with me if he's really interested." You said, shutting the door on some irritating guys with pamphlets. The very next day, God taps lightly on your door, to have a coffee.
|
"I'm a little surprised you brought Dunkin."
The man standing in your doorway is holding a box of donuts and a pair of paper coffee cups. He's dressed plainly, if a little datedly; wearing slacks, penny loafers, and a red zip-up sweater, He resembles nothing so much as a Mr. Rogers impersonator. You can't clearly see His face- some sort of otherworldly light (you hate to describe it as a halo, but no other word really fits the description) is shining from just behind His head, blinding you to the details of His appearance.
Even if the halo weren't there, you would know who this visitor was. There's a unique feeling that comes with being in His presence. It is, in equal parts, totally alien and hauntingly familiar. There is an overwhelming sense of love radiating from Him, a love great enough to be felt by everyone in the world.
God is standing on your front porch, and He's brought coffee.
"Is something wrong with Dunkin?" He asks. There is a gentleness to His voice that suggests genuine curiosity, and quiet amusement.
"Er, no, not really..." You explain, stepping back to let Him in. "It's just that, well... It's kind of ordinary, isn't it? I mean, you have access to all of history's greatest coffee-makers. You could have called up Juan Valdez or something!"
"Juan Valdez is a fictional character." He explains in a tone not far removed from a laugh. "But if you want Columbian coffee instead, I *do* know a place."
You've lead your guest into the living room now, and you're just about to try a donut when the question you're dying to ask jumps out unbidden.
"Are you here to punish me for turning away those guys with the pamphlets?"
"Nah. Rejection's part of the game when you work door-to-door."
"So... Why *are* you here?"
Your guest helps himself to a cruller, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before finally answering, "Can't a guy take a coffee break?"
|
"So you're not Rob Benedict?"
"No, I'm not. I came as something familiar to you because seeing my true form has been known to cause some people to lose their sanity."
"Right, and you're here because...?"
"I'm here because you extended the invitation to me for coffee."
"When the hell did I do that?" I asked as I let the man, no, God inside my house.
"When you slammed the door on a couple of my followers yesterday." He stated as he went to sit down at the kitchen island.
"Of course." I sighed as I moved into the kitchen. "I got a pretty fancy coffee maker. How do you take your coffee?" I asked as I moved to make myself a cup.
"I'll take whatever you're having, my child." He said as I moved about the kitchen. "Hope you like it sweet and over complicated."
I made the two cups and handed one to Him. It was still strange to have an actual conversation with God in the flesh.
"So, my child -" "Please, just call me by my name." I said as I stood in front of him on the other side of the island.
"Right, Alex, why did you shut the door in my followers' faces? They weren't behaving rudely." He said.
"While they didn't behave rudely yesterday or the weeks before, their church and beliefs are something that I do not support. Especially not when I am one of the people they preach about going to hell." I stated with a slight bitterness to my voice.
"What do you mean? You aren't sinning in any way. You aren't an adulterer, you haven't committed murder, you don't steal or anything that would be considered a sin. You would be right up in heaven with each of your loved ones."
I let out a low chuckle. "I guess it matters to them whom I marry and what is between my legs." I said as I watched his face fall.
"Excuse me, what do you mean?" He asked as he furrowed His brows. I moved to grab the multiple church pamphlets from the cabinet. I dropped them in front of Him.
"Racists, bigots, homophobic, transphobic, sexist, misogynistic, greedy. I will never associate with people with that much hate in their hearts while claiming to be doing your work."
I sipped my coffee as He read over the pamphlets, His face paling as He read each and every single one.
By the time He spoke, I was finished drinking my cup. "How long has this been going on for...?" He asked as He rose from His seat.
I turned around to see Him looking out the window. "That depends. How long have you been gone for?" I asked casually before moving to put a hand on his shoulder.
"I've been gone for far too long. They've twisted my words to further their own agenda and line their pockets. I will not stand for it. I will make this right, I have to." He stated before turning to face me.
"And you're going to help me." He stated, making me raise an eyebrow.
"Me? Why me?"
"You have helped open my eyes to how much the world needs my help, I would appreciate your help with the modern times."
I sighed and rub my face. "Okay, fine, but I'll need more coffee first." I said before grabbing my mug.
He reached His hand out and refilled my mug. I sipped it and it tasted exactly the same as before.
"Thank you." I said as I saw Him refill his own mug.
"No, thank you. You're the one who made me this delicious coffee."
|
antipyretical
|
ClearCasket
|
2023-03-21 05:01:21
|
2023-03-21 02:11:30
| 169 | 81 |
jd1qa8o
|
jd17jvi
|
11wsrfi
|
11wsrfi
|
[WP] A Pirate crew raids a treasure hoard in a cave, finding gold and abnormally sized pearls. The captain decides to examine these pearls and they hatch to reveal baby mermaids, who’s first word is “papa?”
|
"Oh by the salty siren's hair what am I going to do with you?"
They'd thought they'd hit the motherlode.
Scarlet was a fearsome and upcoming pirate captain. A 'young rebel upstart' if you asked the South Seas Trading Company or any of the more established Lords. She'd been fighting her way up after taking control of one of Bail's ships and running off with it. She'd lost her family and since then had been the outlaw version of a career minded woman.
Which was made this such a briney situation.
They'd thought they hit the motherlode when they found the pearls mixed in with the lost treasure of Caspiran the Lorebound. They were gigantic, impossible things that would have assuredly fetched a stunning price with any collector. Scarlet supposed they still would, but it was certainly a different question now.
Once the pearls had been brought onto the ship to be divvyed up amongst the crew they had started cracking. Open panic had transformed into confusion and then astonishment as the pearls.... hatched. Revealing sparking scales and a soaking mess of hair in each. Saltwater spilled out, and then the precious things had started crying.
Bail buckets grabbed water and tar sealed one of the many chests from Caspiran's bounty and the crew had made a makeshift tank. Now there were baby mermaids splashing around in Scarlet's quarters as she sat on the bed staring at them.
More water sloshed out onto the floorboards as one of the three pulled herself up onto the side of the chest, barely heaving herself halfway over the top with her webbed fingers. The mermaid watched Scarlet with brilliant sea-glass eyes. Scarlet cocked her head, and the little girl matched the motion.
"Momma!"
"Ah no," Scarlet cursed as she got up off the bed and stomped over to the chest. The little mermaid kept watching her, eventually reaching up with a single hand while trying to maintain her precarious hold on the side of the chest. The pirate captain took a deep, solemn breath. She was on the rise. She'd taken the oath of the sea when she'd lost her family. She was in the dead centre of her quest for revenge.
The climbing mermaid's sister swam up to the surface and blew bubbles at Scarlet.
"Ah no," she repeated. "I'm gonna keep ya aren't I?"
\---------
"Batten down the hatches and get below deck, ladies!" Scarlet called, trying to force her voice to carry over the rain and thunder. She was lashed to the wheel, tied by the wrist attempting to wrestle the Hell Raiser as she cut through the waves. The sail and torn half an hour ago, at this point, there was nothing they could do but hold on for dear life and trust that the years of sailing had given Scarlet enough luck and talent to keep them afloat.
"Keep that lashed down Mel!" Harmony called from the stern as she slid across the deck of the ship. She loved the rain, it was the one time that she felt at home aboard the Hell Raiser instead of astride it. The water let her slip and slide, move smoothly as opposed to the jerky motions of living on land. "Just a little more!" she called to her sister.
Mel was the smallest of the three daughters, and a firecracker in her own right. Realistically it should have been Syd keeping the ropes down based on size but Mel was the one with a talent for knots.
"Just a little bit more there Mel! You got this!" Harmony called.
The rope protested that she, in fact, didn't have it. "Come on, come on," she whispered to it.
"Syd get over there and help her!"
"HOW ABOUT YOU ALL GET BELOW DECK!" Scarlet snapped. Thunder cracked over her voice and smothered half of it, but the girls got the point. "NOW!"
"What‘s going to happen, Mom? We’ll go overboard?”
“Exactly that!” Scarlet fought against the ship as the bow pushed into a wave, riding it high. The Hell Raiser groaned as it rolled to the ride, coming over the crest just as it would have been sundered. “Girl’s this isn’t a time to—“
“I’ve got the rope done!” Mel cut in.
“Good job! Syd’s how’s the—“
“Harmony stop giving your sisters work and get below deck before—“ Scarlet felt the ropes around her wrists slip and give, just as the ship snapped back upright. The rolling sea threw her across the deck as the Hell Raiser tore free and careened to port.
Mel tumbled over the side.
Somehow, in the centre of the storm, Scarlet rallied her feet. “Syd, wheel! Harmony, rope!”
“Mom?”
Scarlet was already in the air, kissing the rain and scouring sea wind for a moment before plunging into the icy water.
The cold kicked the air from her lungs and Scarlet forced her eyes open against the burn. The current tore at her, but she kept herself upright.
Overhead, the shadow of the Hell Raiser climbed over them, the out-of-control ship silhouetted against the constant lightning. Scarlet closed her eyes.
This was suicide, but that was her daughter dammit.
She felt the mighty current of the sea, trying to centre herself in it and listen for her daughter’s voice.
Then she saw her.
Thrown a dozen feet below her and lost in the current, Melody was thrashing against the waves, wasting all of her strength fighting the ocean. She was mermaid, but this was the open sea and she was lost as any sailor.
Scarlet dove down, pushing further into the current, but letting it carry it when it had to. The shadow of the Hell Raiser continued along the sea, leaving them behind.
She’d figure it out. They’d figure this out.
Melody found her hand first, and wrapped her tail around Scarlet for safety. On land it had been adorable but in the sea she had to pull the girl off, holding her shoulders to keep her steady.
Scarlet’s lungs screamed. She’d been in the water too long and working too hard.
But this was her daughter dammit.
Then a shadow from the Hell Raiser.
Harmony had gotten the ropes, and tied them around herself instead. She pierced through the waves using all her strength to reach Scarlet’s hand.
Then the rallied crew pulled. Heaving against the fuming ocean to pull their Captain and family free.
For a second under the waves Scarlet found two of her daughter’s eyes while the last kept the Hell Raiser under control.
The whole crew knew,
They’d hit the motherlode.
|
“Well, that’d be the last of it,” Redwin spat between mottled teeth, driving his cutlass through the last member of the royal archeologist which had, much to their own misfortune, been dispatched to the island but a week prior.
The blade didn’t enter cleanly. Redwin was a slovenly man, even by the standards of his less that scrupulous shipmates. His blade followed suit, chipped along the cutting edge and dulled. The man died face down in the sand, gasping in a muddled mixture of terror and agony.
*And what of it? It’s business. A business you chose.* Captain Tavin looked on steadily, taking care not to betray what strange thoughts had begun to flit through his mind, unwelcome glimmers of light in a place forevermore sequestered to a briny darkness.
“You ‘fink they’ll sink into the sand before another ship of bluebacks finds ‘em?” asked Redwin, now poking the stiff corpse with one of his worn leather boots. “Irony in that there would be.”
“Irony?” probed the Captain, casting one last glance along the blood stained beach and ensuring that there wouldn’t be any surprises. No one left to wheeze out the events which had transpired, naming their ship and crew and damning them in the last death-rattle of a fevered mind.
“Aye. I know what it means.”
“So you do,” sighed the captain. It was best to let Redwin have his moments.
“Like – you know, if they send more of these diggers. Archeelogist. They’d find their mates under the sand, who were also archee… diggers. Irony, eh?”
The Captain turned neatly on his heel, continuing on the coastline towards the cave which sat recessed in shadow some fifty arm lengths downwind. He heard a few laughs carried by the breeze as some of the other men found a black mirth in Redwin’s conjecture.
“ – he ain’t never laugh anymore. You know how they are – old cats left too long out in the sun.”
Captain Tavin felt his face twist into a frown. He was losing his grip. He knew it. They knew it. Most of all, Redwin, though dull as his blade and only half as useful, certainly knew it. Despite that, he heard the plod of footsteps join him on the sand. They still followed. For now.
As they walked the short distance, Tavin found himself unable to look away from the viscera left behind from their forced intrusion. Bodies lay at odd angles, crimson blood reflecting hostile and overbearing sunlight. Along the perfectly white beach the bodies seemed phantom splotches, breaking up the brilliance of a divine, sporadic ruby streaks which brazenly to dared spoil the canvas. In that moment, Tavin remembered the reverence with which life had been treated in the monastery, what seemed like a lifetime ago. Here, all he could see was how cheaply life could be exchanged. In some twisted way, perhaps the latter was its own enforcement of the former.
They arrived at the gaping maw of the cave in short order. The smell drifting from the cavern was that of the sea, and the closer one stood they would begin to notice more and more the cool air of the place lightly spilling out into the blazing summer day.
“Trem, Fitty, hold a rear guard,” the Tavin commanded, striding forward into the patiently awaiting blackness. Redwin followed firstly, the others joining in his wordless wake.
Cool blue light erupted from the group, as two of the now party of six pirates withdrew dryman lanterns from their pockets. Their handheld nature, coupled with their flameless light by way of dryman crystals, proved an invaluable addition to any seafaring voyagers. The best part was it hadn’t cost them any coin. It had only cost two royal marines everything.
“Right handy these things. Have to write a note to the bluebacks, thank ‘em proper.”
“You can’t read,” another voice replied in the darkness. Tavin surmised it belonging to Feck, the navigator.
“Aye, and you won’t be able to none either ‘wif a solid blow to the head,” growled back the first voice, the sporadic movement of light suggesting him shaking the lantern threateningly towards Feck. The man was instrumental in their survival, yet was far from a fighter. By Tavin’s experience, though, every ship needed at least on learned man. Would that he would learn to keep his tongue in check, though.
“If you break that lantern, I’m going to break every bone in your hand,” Tavin spoke coolly, in an almost conversational tone.
“Aye, aye,” the offending man laughed nervously, “just a jest, of course.”
The sand began to slowly give way to a black volcanic rock, which comprised the floor, roof, and walls. Small glimmering trails of water secreted by porous gaps in the rock glimmiered under the blue light, bringing with them the familiar smell of the ocean. Tavin furrowed his brow, noticing no pick marks or other signs of manmade intrusion in the surprisingly smooth tunnel. *Wonders still left in the world, eh?*
As they continued, the briny smell of the seawater began to dissipate, as did the faint trails of glimmering water. The stone smoothed further, becoming eerily reminiscent of a hallway more than a tunnel.
“Oi, how long you reckon this goes on? Feel like we’ve walked the length of the island, teeny as it is,” piped up a pirate named Berrin, the youngest of the bunch.
“Need a rest? Getting a callous on yer delicate feet?” jabbed Redwin.
“No! I could run the length of the damned thing. Just wondering is all.” Berrin’s voice was defensive, though its high inflection was obvious as it bounced off the corridor walls. “Asides – the place is a bit weird, innit?”
“A bit,” conceded Redwin, now seeming to notice the continued change in texture and structure of the tunnel. “How much further on then, Captain?”
“I’m not exactly acquainted with random tunnels in long forgotten caves,” the Captain sardonically replied. “Should’ve asked one of the royal scribes before we gutted them.”
Redwin let out a cold, cruel laugh. “Suppose. Got carried away. Red on the tide and all.” Redwin stopped, staring at the captain. “You know how it is, don’t you?”
The Captain strode forward, not acknowledging the question. Redwin grinned. Though he did so subtly, the Captains hand danced ever closer the waiting hilt of his cutlass, which beckoned in soft golden tones through the dim blue light of their passage.
*And what then? There’s five of them. Granted… Feck might stand with me. Of course I’m not sure he would know which end of a blade to use. No. Not the time. Not the place.*
Whatever brewing tensions had been stirred were blessedly released, as the tunnel turned sharply and opened up into a high ceilinged underground cavern.
“By Hrathen’s salty beard,” an awed Berrin whispered.
Brilliant blue light from dryman crystals which must’ve been growing for millennia painted the chamber in cool hues, much of which dancing off a large pool which sat within a perfectly circular basin in the center of the chamber. The water must be fresh, given the lack of any smell of brine or notable deposits of salt or minerals along its rim. The place seemed carved, almost lovingly, by one ancient and delicate. As if every stone bespoke a warm sense of caring and nurturing.
Yet, none of these things were why the young man had spoken. Beyond the beauty of nature, the flashy face of wealth beckoned. Coins glinted in the light, and more than a few smoothly carved jewels twinkled at them seductively. Perhaps most attractively, though, sat a cluster of pearls unlike any the men had ever seen. Perfectly white and as big as cannonball, a number of them sat neatly together at the edge of the gently lapping pool.
\[cont\]
|
Writteninsanity
|
None
|
2023-08-07 16:32:14
|
2023-08-07 15:17:52
| 106 | 31 |
jv6fhv8
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jv63ska
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15klz0q
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15klz0q
|
[WP] Out of all the superpowers out there, you consider yours the most sadistic; you can save any number of innocent people from death in the face of danger, but to gain that ability, you must kill an innocent person. Named after the infamous moral thought experiment, you are... Trolley Man.
|
Are you familiar with the Trolley Problem?
A common moral thought exercise. There is a runaway trolley heading down a track - a track on which there is a group of people, unable to get out of the way. You have the option to flip a lever and redirect the trolley onto an adjacent rail with a single person on it. This person will die, but you will save the lives of the group.
Do you do it?
Inaction causes greater death. But if you pull the lever? That death is a direct result of your actions. It is *your fault*.
Not a terribly easy choice, is it?
Now imagine having that be a power. And you have me. Lucky ol' me.
I can save... dozens of people with the flick of my hand. But someone will die. Someone innocent, so I can't just go through death row inmates with a clear conscience. And I have to choose who dies, someone in my vicinity. I have to look them in the eye. See their expression. Grief, anger, sadness, but worst of all... they don't understand why.
It fucking sucks. But not doing anything? It's worse. Not that it helps me sleep at night.
​
Look, what I'm trying to say is... I'm sorry. I am truly, truly sorry. But this will save 14 people, 6 of which are children. It won't hurt.
I hope you understand.
​
I'm sorry.
|
[NSFW] *Inspired by American Psycho*
I am something of a normal guy. When I wake up in the morning, I have an erection that presses into my memory foam mattress in a very satisfying way, and it is not so much that I do not want to get out of bed, but that I want to be inside it, thrusting my hips until the heat is too much to bear and the frustration gets me up and into the shower. On days I don’t wash my hair or shave my face, I like to use the coldest water I can. It’s better for the skin. Or so I’ve read.
The most important part of my day comes next.
I like to air dry so I put on my slippers and go to my study where three of the four walls are coated in chalkboard paint. This is where I keep tally of the innocent people I’ve killed, and I hope to fill the second wall by the end of the year so that the open space isn’t uneven anymore. Another fifteen today should complete the rest of the last line. Three or four lines after that will complete the wall. I just need to make sure I write evenly so that I don’t have to erase any again. The third wall is blank and on it I used to have the number of innocent people I’ve saved with the innocent lives I’ve taken. But is anyone truly innocent? Is anyone worth saving? Just because I can point my finger at a random stranger walking down the street, or through the slits of a curtain at a stranger washing dishes and claim their lives, doesn’t mean they are innocent. The fact that they die might very well be because at that moment, they weren’t dangerous. Who’s to say it isn’t the same for those I save? I can’t tell you when it was I stopped saving people with the lives I take, but I have made a game of trying to claim more *innocent* lives at the most inopportune times, or when the irony of their death steps ever so gingerly into the realm of comedy.
“See a penny pick it up, all day long you have good luck!” And then they’re facedown in the concrete, their loved ones going from giggles to screams as the blood flows. I put my phone in airplane mode in times like these, and they never even notice when I give them the phone to call an ambulance. All they know is that the call isn’t going through. This one time, I even waited until the ambulance came speeding down the street and I claimed the life of the driver, sending the wailing ambulance into the crowd of onlookers and police cars.
When it rains, it pours.
Speaking of, I’m dry. I have a collection of colognes because I believe the scent you give off adds to the aesthetic of your outfit, adding weight to your presence wherever you may go. The second most important part of my day is choosing my outfit for this very reason.
.
.
.
WiltySpinach! Remember the name! 👹
|
SirPiecemaker
|
None
|
2023-01-31 06:31:39
|
2023-01-31 02:52:32
| 377 | 41 |
j6lwd39
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j6l8j8n
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10pk32s
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10pk32s
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[WP] The knight who saved the princess was a 40 year old man with a wife and kids. He doesn't want her hand he just thinks teenage girls shouldn't be held captive in towers in the middle of nowhere.
|
"You rescued me!" The princess exclaimed, stepping gingerly over the still warm corpse of the beast that had been her captor.
"Huh?...well yes I suppose" the armor clad knight scratched his chin in confusion. "I just figured that *someone* should have come out by now."
The princess leaned in, fluttering her eyes just the way she had been taught so many years prior. "Yes, well, aren't you glad it was you?", she whispered, closed her eyes, and brought herself close. She was met quickly, not by the lips of her savior, but by the cold metal of his gauntlet, the knight holding fast with his arm now extended into her face.
"Ah no, I rescued you because you needed rescued. That's all." The knight spoke, hand still firmly in her face.
The princess pulled back, a confused expression only highlighted further by a stray lock of blonde hair falling down over her eyes.
"Also, how old are you? I have a daughter your age you know. You can't possibly be into-", the knight gestured down to himself. To worn armor and a gut that spilled out beyond the plating. To a face full of scruff, scarred from years of service, and a smattering of dark colored blood across his armor. It was true. He was not what she had expected, but still she replied.
"Well, of course I am, you rescued me! I have to show my gratitude somehow." Her words trailed off upon realizing what she had said, or more how she had said it. Now, staring down a man who looked at her with such pity, she understood the strangeness of it all. Rewarding a stranger for being nice, or rather just for being decent.
Sensing her realization the knight cut her thoughts short. "How about this: don't get captured again, and we'll call it even. And if you do, well then have me sent for, ok? My name is Sir Gladstone."
The princess managed to put on a comforted smile up to Gladstone, which he returned.
"Deal." She agreed.
|
At first, I tried talking to the hooligans in reasonable terms.
>"You know, locking a teenaged girl up in a tower with no social circle or emotional outlet isn't going to do wonders for her mental health" I noted.
>
>"Yeah. We know. Now go away before our captain calls for the archers to shoot you." one of the outer wall guards responded.
>
>I heard the subtle twing of bowstring from on high.
>
>"Alrighty, thanks for your explanation. Have a wonderful day!" I turned to walk away.
Then, I tried coercion.
>"What do you mean, I don't look convincing! Why, I'm this princess's long lost sister!" I tried my best feminine accent.
>
>"Last I remember, princesses didn't have full grown beards and sound like gruff older men in their 40's." a guard noted. "Do you remember meeting the long lost sister of Princess Persephone?"
>
>"No, I didn't." the guard responded. "If I remember right, it was quite a big deal that the king only ever had one daughter. One is none, and all that."
>
>"Yeah, got it." the guard turned to me. "Please leave before our gunmen shoot you down."
>
>I heard the loading of a magazine from on high.
>
>"Very well. I'll be on my way."
Finally, I tried deception.
>"I'm here as an inspector from the Occupational Safety and Health Administration, also known as OSHA, to inspect your castle for proper workplace and building practices. Please, if you will, step aside, and let me enter so I can do my job/." I asked politely.
>
>"OSHA won't exist for another couple hundred years, American. Now scram unless you really want our captain to come out and greet you personally." the guard glared at me.
>
>I heard loud, thunderous stomping from much closer than on high.
>
>"Dang it! Too meta. I'll come back tomorrow." I noted.
>
>Groans emanated from both inside the castle and from the outer wall guards.
Finally, the day came. I was tired of this girl being locked up in a tower.
So I did the right thing.
I picked up my phone, and started dialing.
"Hey, this is Greg." Greg said.
"Hey Greg, wanna go raid a tower?" I asked.
"Sure!"
Soon enough Greg and I were at the tower.
I casually walked up to the tower. Archers, gunners, and the sounds of a very buff man yelling came from the other side of the gate.
"Hello there, castle guard." I smiled.
"Hey, I thought I told you to scram." the guard replied.
"What? Me? Scram? What a preposterous thought!" I laughed.
Immediately, as I predicted, gunners, archers shot at me from above.
They didn't stand a chance.
Bullets and arrows all bounced off me hopelessly, before I chugged a potion from my inventory, and started jumping up into the air. Dirt blocks spawned below me, as I turned my B Hopping cheat on. Then, just for funsies, Greg and I started teleporting around the base at random. Men screamed as they were placed in Obi traps, becoming floating corpses in the middle of the sky, all drowned in midair. I swung at someone with my sword, and they caught on fire. But this wasn't the point.
Soon, Greg and I- having thoroughly dispatched their captain- skillfully used admin commands to teleport ourselves into the chamber where they held the girl. I pulled out a pickaxe, destroyed her chains, and set her free.
Moral of the story? Honestly, I don't fucking know.
|
GrunkleStanwhich
|
EvilNoobHacker
|
2023-02-24 00:51:12
|
2023-02-23 23:10:09
| 572 | 18 |
j9rflg7
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j9r17p3
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11a7y6u
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11a7y6u
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[WP] The Gods have come to a consensus and have decided to take back that fire thing that was stolen from them. Man can no longer contain, control or create fire. Fire is once again solely the domain of The Gods
|
As the lights dimmed, and planes plummeted, the old gods grew satisfied. Blood would be had tonight. A sacrifice for themselves, fit to match their growing outrage. Darkness fell, batteries began to die, food began to spoil. As fires began to spring from the wreckage of humanity, bullets failed to fire, rockets failed to launch, and nuclear fire went cold. Some power would have remained, but, that, too, was stilled. Humanity returned to the cold wilderness from which it was born, in a bloody mess, a sort of birth from light, into darkness.
I was born into this darkness. It sang to me at night, when I was young, and, when the adults woke in screams of terror, I was lullabied by the shadows that haunted their dreams. Stone was my tool, wood was my hand, and sinew was my strength. I grew strong in a world that was governed by the sun.
One day, my father took me by the hand, and told me, "Prometheus. You were born for a purpose."
|
Avanecci was a bastard, but at least he was clever.
"Hold this," he said, shoving one of his devices into Talia's hands. "What is it?" she asked, not expecting him to bother answering. When he got into one of his moods, he rarely interacted with anyone. To her surprise, though, Avanecci was watching her. "Never mind that," he said. "Do you feel anything?" Talia paused. "Hungry?"
She was always hungry.
The return of the gods shocked the world. Some laughed when those divine patrons told the world they were taking back fire. Talia supposed they didn't consider that it would include internal combustion engines and thermal power plants. 12 years later, and still the famines persist.
Avanecci clicked his tongue and wagged his finger in her face. She flicked the finger, and the 'scientist' seemed taken aback as he snatched back his hand and rubbed the finger. "This is important, Talia. Focus. What do you feel?" Talia rolled her eyes, but did as he asked. She closed her eyes, focusing on the strange device humming in her hands. It was a little annoying, that humming. The more she examined that sound, the louder it became. "The humming is a bit much," she said. Avanecci's eyes went wide as saucers. "The what?"
He snatched the device out of her hands and closed his own eyes, then burst out laughing. Talia crossed her arms. "What?" she said. Avanecci took a moment to compose himself. "Nothing! I hear no buzzing, humming or anything of the like. Of course. I wouldn't be so lucky." Talia opened her mouth to practice some new curses on the man, but he rudely shoved the device back in her hands, then sprinted to the other end of the room and hurled a knife at her.
The humming surrounded her. There was a warmth to it as it enveloped her. She watched the knife spin through the air towards her, and noticed a shimmer just in front of her, like light playing off the surface of a lake. The knife stopped in mid air, as if it had collided with a wall, and fell harmlessly to the ground. "Ah ha!" Avanecci said, and began triumphantly bouncing around the room, taking notes. Talia stormed up and slugged him in the throat. As Avanecci lay choking on the floor, Talia glanced up at what he had just written on one of his many blackboards.
"Phase 1 complete! Phase 2: Kill the Gods"
|
mementosmoritn
|
jpb103
|
2025-02-26 17:12:28
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2025-02-26 14:12:17
| 24 | 16 |
mewz4o3
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mevyrxh
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1iyl8pz
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1iyl8pz
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[WP] "One drip of this poison is enough to kill a whale." The scientist points towards a table, but the beaker isn't there. Instead a silly coffee cup shaped like a beaker sits. You lower the not coffee cup from your mouth. Tastes like lemon-lime.
|
"Wait, it what?"
That I had made an embarrassing mistake nearly went without saying. That the scientists washed their dishes with the lab equipment, this mistake *couldn't* go without saying, so I said it:
"I told you that your unsafe lab practices would be the death of me, Mike."
Mike and I had been good friends for ages, and I knew that he must feel horrible, so it was nice to be able to get him to chuckle, as teary-eyed as he was getting.
"You son of a bitch, you just had to get one more joke in, didn't you?" He let out an odd noise that sounded like a sigh trying to hold back a sob. "How do you feel, Bill? Is there any pain?"
"No," I lied. I was getting a splitting headache, and the ringing in my ears alone was almost painful. There was another feeling, an odd not-quite-lightheadedness, not-quite-dizziness that I couldn't quite put a finger on...it wasn't painful, but it felt like I was walking in a deep fog. Everything felt heavy. I needed a nap. But, in spite of everything, my curiosity, which was apparently enough to kill a whale, rather than a cat, compelled me to ask.
"So, how does this poison work, again?"
Maybe it would be good, for Mike, to focus on the science, for a moment, instead of his dying friend. If I could do that much, maybe it would be worth it.
He pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. "So, we know that whales' brains sleep one half at a time, right? While we were researching cetacean intelligence, trying to unlock the potential of their brains, we discovered that this compound had the unfortunate side effect of synching up both halves of their brains. When exposed, they would fall asleep -- completely -- and drown. It only took one drop, no matter which species. It..."
I didn't hear the rest of his explanation, as everything faded away.
---
I woke up a short time later, on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance. It was a good thing that we were headed to the hospital, as I think I gave the poor paramedic a heart attack. I suppose I should be grateful he didn't try to bash my brains out.
Mike met us at the hospital, absolutely beside himself in relief. Neither of us were the hugging sort, but this felt like one of those situations where an exception could be made.
"I...I don't understand it. Don't take this the wrong way, Bill, but why are you alive?"
It was my turn to laugh. It felt great, and I felt more refreshed, more alive than I had in years. I supposed that dying might do that to a fellow, or maybe just the deepest, soundest sleep I had experienced in years. "I don't think that poison works the same way for humans, since both halves of our brains normally sleep at the same time. Though, I guess it is a good thing I wasn't in a pool."
|
"Hoo shit, Jesus Carl, be more careful about what you-"
"AM I GOING TO DIE?"
"Christ Carl, no; you're fine, you're not a whale, are you? One drop will kill a whale, it would take like a gallon to kill a human. You should really be more careful about what you drink though."
"Why the FUCK did you put this in a goddamn coffee cup?"
"Well, it was a handy container, and I was already late for the meeting."
Carl slammed his hand down on the table "Ok, more to the point, why did you put it in \*my\* coffee cup?! This is MY coffee cup!"
"Why did you bring a goddamn coffee cup shaped like a beaker into the lab, Carl?"
"It has FLOWERS printed on it?!"
"Still, drinks in the lab?!"
A third voice cleared their throat from the other end of the long table, "It's very good to know that The Consortium won't need to find another testing director, but you've both demonstrated to our satisfaction that your lab protocols have become very lax, which we'll talk about at a subsequent meeting... And I think we're all very anxious for you to get on with the presentation."
".... Right."
Carl and Francine both remembered then, that they were in the middle of a meeting presenting their work from the past month to the directors of the Consortium, whose motives were often as terrifying as they were mysterious. The other end of the table was always shrouded in darkness at these meetings, so it was also never clear exactly how many people were watching them. After 15 years working for them though, Carl and Francine had learned two things very thoroughly: A certain familiarity with their workplace that occasionally allowed them to forget where they were, and to \*never\* question their employers, who paid quite handsomely and left them largely to their own devices.
"Yes, anyway... This poison, which is mostly safe for human consumption, is what I've been working on for the last month, and if, for some reason, you needed to kill a whale, it would only take one drop, but here's the real kicker: It would only take one drop \*dropped into their aquarium\*. For a whale living in an enclosure with the recommended water volume for an adult blue whale, one drop in that enclosure will be enough to kill the whale within an hour. Which... I don't mean to brag *too much*, but if you weren't aware, the 'recommended water volume' for a blue whale enclosure is *very* large, so this poison is... Incredibly potent. If you could deliver the poison directly into the whale's body, it would take about 0.000001 grams of it ."
The voice at the end of the table spoke up again, gravelly and raspy, but high pitched; "That is splendid, this will work perfectly for our purposes."
Francine became more visibly agitated as she considered her next words "My only word of caution about this substance is that it uh... Perhaps might be inadvisable to produce it in large quantities. Aside from simply being somewhat expensive to produce in bulk, a spill to the tune of even one gallon would do incalculable damage to whale populations the world over. A sufficiently large spill or leak could easily render the entire planet free of whales within a generation."
"Yes."
Francine's face turned white as she packed up her papers, and, with a shaking hand, accepted an envelope slid down the table.
The darkness spoke again, "Now, Carl, do you have anything to report on your new nanostructure idea?"
"I do, but I have good news and bad news about how it's made. The good news is it's actually much cheaper to produce than I could have ever hoped; I have those figures here," he waved a piece of paper, "but the bad news is... Look, how do you feel about reptiles? I don't usually ask questions like this, but... Do you have any moral issue with breeding them systematically while keeping them in constant excruciating pain?"
Carl heard silence, then faint hissing from the other side of the table, and his face turned white too...
'*I thought my day was unlucky when the vending machine ate my dollar, but Fuuuuck.'*
The gravelly, high pitched voice returned, "Francine, we feel that your presence is not necessarily required for the next portion of this meeting. If you'd like to return to your work, you may do so while we continue discussing Carl's progress."
|
Mr_E_Monkey
|
ImmaRussian
|
2023-02-28 19:08:56
|
2023-02-28 17:18:43
| 128 | 49 |
jadxa1b
|
jadfpf7
|
11e4oe5
|
11e4oe5
|
[WP] You got a rug designed to look like an Ouija board as a gift. Liking it, you placed it in your living room. Now your roomba's summoned a demon and it can't leave until the roomba asks for something.
|
Samantha didn't believe in the supernatural, much less the afterlife, until one day when she was gifted an Ouija board rug as a gift from an awfully strange friend. At first, it was all fine. The rug looked nice. Just needed a good cleaning, leading Samantha to put her Roomba on the rug to give it a good clean, only for the Roomba to accidentally summon a tall blue demon. A demon 7 feet tall, yellow-eyed, human-like, blue skin, 2 horns on a long head of hair, and wearing a suit. Who was staring down at Samantha who was busy scrolling on Instagram.
"...Ahem." The blue demon coughed, disappointed.
Samantha looked up at her ceiling and jumped after meeting eye-to-eye with the tall blue pillar. "What the fuck?!"
"Do you not even have enough manners to greet what you summoned? Jeez. Humans these days." The blue demon scoffed as they watched Samantha leap behind her couch.
"M-my soul is not for sale!" She screamed, holding up her foot flop as a weapon as she had the rest of her body behind the couch.
"I'm not here for your soul you baffoon. I'm here to fulfill your request."
"Request?" Samantha peaks out. "What request?"
"You summoned me. Did you not?"
"...No?"
"Then what di-" The Roomba bumped into the demon's foot. They looked down at the tiny cleaning robot. "What is this?"
"My Roomba."
"Did this... summon me?"
"I..." Samantha slowly stood up and looked down at the rug, seeing how there was a faint line running across the rug. "I think so. But, what request are we talking about here?" Samantha looked up at the demon, still scared.
"I was summoned to fulfill the request of whoever summoned me. Can your Roomba ask me for something?"
"...Well, no."
"No? What do you mean no?" The demon asked as they looked back down at the robot. "What do you want?"
"The Roomba can't ask for anything. It's a robot."
"What's a robot?" The demon stared back at Samantha.
"It's like... it's a machine."
"But... wait. So you're saying this thing isn't alive?" The demon asked as they picked up the small robot, holding it in their left hand.
"Y-yeah." Samantha nervously chuckled. "B-but I can ask for a request and we'll be done! And you can do back to... wherever you came from!"
(1/2)
|
I received a rug designed to look like an Ouija board as a gift and, liking it despite its overt macabre feel, I placed it in my living room. My roomba or as I would like to address him, "Rover," began cleaning the ominous rug. Suddenly, the lights flickered, the temperature dropped, and a sulfurous mist filled the air. A puff of smoke erupted, and, upon dissipating, stood a tall, pompous demon, dressed in picture perfect couture with a monocle perched on one glowing yellow eye of his.
Yeah. Perhaps placing a rug with such a design inside the living room wasn't the best idea.
"Greetings, mortal. I am Azazel, Duke of the Ninth Circle, Keeper of the Eternal Flames, Coordinator of one of Lord Satan's children," he began, then paused, glaring at Rover. "I have been summoned by... this lowly contraption?"
"That's my roomba," I replied, still trying to process the situation I had gotten myself in.
Azazel sighed dramatically, his bright red and yellow eyes rolling heavenward. "And what purpose does this 'roomba' serve?"
"Rover. Call him Rover. And, oh, you know. Vacuuming dust and dirt of the sort." I answered, now seeing the fun in poking a demon who seems to hold himself to such a pontifical standard.
"Oh by Hell's grace, you cannot be serious right now! Bound by a machine, not a machine that kills or destroys— but a machine that cleans! How far have I fallen from grace! Oh, to be bound by this machine named Rover!" The demon uttered, growling in frustration. Funnily enough, he spoke like one of those pretentious royalty portrayed in pop culture. I held onto dear life, trying not to let out a chuckle.
"Oh, human! Would you be so kind as to free me from such ignominy?! I only need Rover here to request a solemn favor, only then will I be free to depart! This is according to Hell's Constitutional Law 367!" Azazel practically begged, edging closer to me, his hands clasping together. To think that he exuded such a magnanimous air when he appeared, only to now be reduced to such a state. This would go absolutely viral, had I only brought my phone with me.
"Rover is quite outdated though. It doesn't have a voice feature unlike many modern roombas." I lied. Straight up lied. This roomba is the latest model.
"My word! I-if that's the case... N-now what... This is a travesty of Chthonic proportions." Azazel practically breathed out, his voice coming in only jagged breaths, his 9 foot figure drooping to a slump. Why would be believe me so fast? Without even an inkling of doubt? Perhaps critical thinking isn't quite the norm in Hell.
"I guess, I'll have to live here forever. Down in the home of some wretched human, watching over his blasted robot until the end of eternity." Azazel mentioned, clearly defeated. So much for being the Duke of the Ninth Circle. Had I not taken acting classes recently, I would've broken character and laughed long ago.
Azazel went through the five stages of grief quite quickly, stupidly enough.
Realizing I had leverage, I proposed a deal.
"Azazel," I spoke to the demon's slumped appearance. "I could get the roomba to speak, but only under one condition."
"You damned creature. You know I don't like being subjected and reduced to the losing end of the bargain. I do, with every fiber inside me, hope you know what you're getting into." Azazel's eyes found its once lost spark. Perhaps I bit off more than I could chew...
😸😸😸😸
Any suggestions and critiques to my writing are welcome! 😸
[My subreddit/portfolio if you want to drop by and take a peek! I hope to be writing here a lot, so do expect the quantity to skyrocket! 😸](https://www.reddit.com/r/KittenMantra/s/eZJMeTJj1b)
|
Pope-Francisco
|
KittenMantra
|
2024-07-09 20:36:51
|
2024-07-09 18:20:42
| 15 | 10 |
lcepj9y
|
lcdzpyj
|
1dz5b1s
|
1dz5b1s
|
[WP] You are an assassin with a reputation for pulling of very public hits without being noticed. You achieve this not by being extremely stealthy, but by making sure that your kills are so absurd and ridiculous that no one would ever believe the witnesses if they told their stories.
|
I remember my first kill vividly. I had my back against a wall near an alley. I was out of sight—and invisible wire held in my hand. The man was walking across the street when another stranger just happen to trip because of yours truly. The stranger fell in a way that tripped the other man. He fell precisely on the curb of the street and went out cold. The stranger got back up quickly and went to check up on the man with worry written all over his face. That's when a women from across the street screamed.
"Watch out!" She pointed up.
The stranger looked up and became terrified at what he saw. He quickly jumped out of the way. The man that got knocked out the furthest from his mind.
**Boom**
Yeah...just for good measure— I timed it perfectly with a piano drop from a 10 story building. The look on people's faces as the piano fell on top of the man was priceless. The witnesses thoughts easily guessed.
*How absurd!*
*How ridiculous is this?*
*Did I just see that happen?!*
*Unbelievable!*
*Someone call 911!*
Where was I while all this fuss was going on? I was admiring my work as I walked away casually. I remember thinking about my next hit and brainstorming on how ridiculous I could make the next one.
Spoil alert. My next hit died by stupidity. I somehow convinced the guy to take a selfie from a highrise building without any safety net.
What followed after came very naturally...it was all over the news.
My favorite hit though had to be the bee incident. I actually felt kind of bad about that one. Who knew bees could be such a vicious and painful way to go?
|
The stall was all set to go. I walked around one last time. Colours were loud but not obnoxious. The tubes were set. Disposable mouthpieces were in their containers. All the tanks were fully and ready to go.
Take a deep breath, exhale. Control your breathing...
And GO.
_Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Squeak Stall._
**Remember how you used to laugh when you spoke like a chipmunk.**
**But it only last for one sentence?**
**At the Squeak Store, we make you a chipmunk for 15 minutes.**
**Yes, 15 whole minutes.**
**Yes that is 900 seconds.**
**Imagine the fun.**
**Imagine the pranks you can pull with 900 seconds of chipmunk voice.**
**There are disposable mouthpieces available and you can a free trial of 30 seconds**
What followed was the most irritating 15 minutes of my life. Random people coming up, having a pull and talking to each other in that chip munky voice!
Argh! My bleeding ears.
And then, I saw them walking towards my stall.
All in their three pieces suit, leather suitcases and Rolex watch.
**Hey, it's the Shark Tank panel!**
**C'mon guys. Have a whiff, it's free! And you don't have to invest at all!"**
**Imagine using a chipmunk voice to reject a proposal!**
Long story short, they all took a whiff. In fact, several whiffs. But did they purchase any from me... No... But being the entrepreneur that I am, I cut them a deal.
**Ok, guys. No hard sell from me.**
**No, seriously. I not looking to make a buck here. Especially from you guys.**
**But here is what I will do instead.**
**All of you get a free canister. All I want is that for this evening show, all of you use it together before discussing on live TV. Imagine the ratings if you drop teasers. Imagine the numbers of viewers you will get once it goes viral.**
**Hashtag sharktank chipmunks**
**Hashtag 15minutes of chipmunk voices**
And of course they all took the present. Who wouldn't? You could almost see their eyes lighting up with the potential viewer count.
**Remember, for the 15 minutes effect, you need to fit the canister to the face mask and be inhaling it for 5 minutes before.**
_And today on Shark Tank, we bring a special episode._
_... Sharks will be doing..._
_... They are getting ready..._
_OMG, why are they wearing face masks?_
_This is hilarious, they are speaking like chipmunks_
_Are they going to be... Yes... It is lasting for more than a few words..._
_Damn! Who thought they would have a sense of humour!_
_Hey, love their make up, cheeks are looking rosier than normal._
_Wait! 2 of the Sharks have passed out. It cannot be that boring._
_She is grabbing at her throat, what's happening._
_Somebody get medical help._
As the cameras panned to the Sharks all unconscious in their chairs, the medical team could be seen rushing from backstage.
And one of the cameras zoomed in onto the canister with the letters **HeCO** stamped on it
|
UntakenNameFtw
|
crabcancer
|
2023-01-07 20:46:25
|
2023-01-07 18:58:39
| 269 | 98 |
j3dnmss
|
j3d76b7
|
105t1i8
|
105t1i8
|
[WP] You are an assassin with a reputation for pulling of very public hits without being noticed. You achieve this not by being extremely stealthy, but by making sure that your kills are so absurd and ridiculous that no one would ever believe the witnesses if they told their stories.
|
I remember my first kill vividly. I had my back against a wall near an alley. I was out of sight—and invisible wire held in my hand. The man was walking across the street when another stranger just happen to trip because of yours truly. The stranger fell in a way that tripped the other man. He fell precisely on the curb of the street and went out cold. The stranger got back up quickly and went to check up on the man with worry written all over his face. That's when a women from across the street screamed.
"Watch out!" She pointed up.
The stranger looked up and became terrified at what he saw. He quickly jumped out of the way. The man that got knocked out the furthest from his mind.
**Boom**
Yeah...just for good measure— I timed it perfectly with a piano drop from a 10 story building. The look on people's faces as the piano fell on top of the man was priceless. The witnesses thoughts easily guessed.
*How absurd!*
*How ridiculous is this?*
*Did I just see that happen?!*
*Unbelievable!*
*Someone call 911!*
Where was I while all this fuss was going on? I was admiring my work as I walked away casually. I remember thinking about my next hit and brainstorming on how ridiculous I could make the next one.
Spoil alert. My next hit died by stupidity. I somehow convinced the guy to take a selfie from a highrise building without any safety net.
What followed after came very naturally...it was all over the news.
My favorite hit though had to be the bee incident. I actually felt kind of bad about that one. Who knew bees could be such a vicious and painful way to go?
|
Geoff pumped up the each balloon on the cart with hydrogen gas. He had little trinkets clipped on and a box of glow sticks for sale. He had the tracker on his target - the CEO of a biotech firm replacing horse hair with an algae breed one. The horse park owners were annoyed, he was taking their income and these men didn't like any loss. So, they hired Geoff, the chaos killer. He tied off a balloon and let its bright red color worm its way up to the rest of the bouquet.
​
Geoff rolled into the alley with the rest of the street vendors. Three of them had buckets strapped around their neck filled with water bottles, two had giant cardboard boxes of hot dogs and then there was the man with a clipboard. Geoff had to apply weeks ago for this slot, who knew street vending rights were so competitive? It cost him a bullet and some flowers, he traded an assassination of an ex-wife for this ticket but it would be worth it.
​
The CEO was right out front, standing on the platform giving a speech. He was dressed in a blonde suit that looked stringy. Geoff checked his reference photo, he was wearing the same thing; his suit made from his company's material. A blonde fake horse hair suit, yeah he can eat these balloons. The company sponsored the orchestra tonight with brand new instruments. "Thanks for this time, and for helping us grow like no other. We have helped bring down the cost of instruments by ten fold and with our latest technology we are going to change the musical world. It's going to be crazy and we wanted to help celebrate with the city that made us!" The CEO walked off stage, shaking hands each step of the way. Geoff rolled his eyes.
​
He was always called to take out men like this. The changers and earthquake-generators of the world. Three politicians just last year, all with odd sex-based kill requests. Geoff nodded to a hotdog vendor who he'd paid to lead the way to the CEO for him. They started off, selling and inching toward the man of the hour. The hot dog vendor doled out wiener after weiner for free, just pushing past the crowds to the man in the suit made of fake horse hair. "Hi sir, hot dog?" The vendor offered one of his products to the CEO, this was it. Geoff charged forward pushing the cart right into the CEO.
​
He turned, and lit a match and a small pocket-sized bottle of vodka. A pocket molotov aimed right for the silly highly flammable fake horse hair suit. "The bluegrass state sends its regards!" Geoff shouted as the entire cart - equipped with the glowsticks that had just been covering C4 and dynamite strapped to the bottom of the cart. The entire stage became a massive fireball, sadly the hot dog vendor also didn't make it. Those dogs were burned and Geoff had succeeded again. He brushed off his pants, contorted his face into an anxious pained scared man and ran with the rest of the crowd as his phone dinged with small payments between two and seven thousand dollars until they fulfilled his contract fee. On to the next one.
|
UntakenNameFtw
|
WritersofRohan17
|
2023-01-07 20:46:25
|
2023-01-07 19:07:46
| 269 | 55 |
j3dnmss
|
j3d8kpj
|
105t1i8
|
105t1i8
|
[WP] You find a perfect human skull while picking flowers one day, so you bring it home and use it as a flower holder. But seemingly overnight, the flowers become one with the skull, making it a new body
|
Wife: Honey… That skull you put the flowers in? It wasn’t moving yesterday was it?
Husband: Noooo… why?
W: It appears that it’s merged with the flowers & and is trying to get to the knives…
H: Dammit. Every time. I’ll get the shears.
W: Why do you insist on using skulls for flower holders? I really don’t understand.
H: What’s that Honey? Oh.. you’re a quick one aren’t ya! You’ll have to be faster than that! *EN GARDE*!
W: Nothing Dear. I’ll go put get the burn pit ready … ^again.
|
The floreal creature sat on the desk and with a chilling voice said
"Thank you, noone ever showed me love".
"What?" I asked hardly believing my own eyes and ears.
"Thanks for bringing me here at home and planting flowers inside my skull, finally the curse is partialy lifted"
"A curse? Who did this to you? Who are you?" I still couldn't grasp the situation but it seemed the creature was not hostile, so I got curious.
"I don't remember I ... I mean I can only recall this feeling of cold, loneliness and sadness, all I ever felt really was this suffering who made me feel empty, but you somehow have dispersed them awakening my consciousness".
"How are you so sure it was a curse?"
"I don't know, I can feel it, like a nefarious cloud all around me, still my own thoughts are confused and my memories are weak and few, all I really know is that someone cursed me to this condition until someone would show me love or kindness".
"I'm glad I could help you, so you don't remember your name?"
"Unfortunately no".
"Well let's give you one then! Your voice sounds like you were a woman, what about Flora?"
"Flora?"
"Yes, you are reborn through these flowers I planted into your skull, so we have to thank them somehow".
"I think I like this name, thanks"
"You're welcome".
I found myself smiling, that "thing" was human, most likely had a soul trapped inside it which was cursed to wait until someone would show love or kindness to it.
It was odd, odd and sad.
I felt compelled to help it, no, to help HER she might not have memories but she definitely still is human.
I couldn't believe that someone could have such a sad life and an equally sad aftermath in death.
"We will find clues to bring your memories back Flora, trust me, tomorrow first thing in the morning we'll go back to the flower field and will search for clues"
"Thanks kind stranger, if I may ask what's your name?"
"Ethan, and you can call me friend from now on".
|
PoppaBear313
|
NightShroud92
|
2023-02-04 11:22:54
|
2023-02-04 07:23:27
| 265 | 100 |
j767qhx
|
j75r3y7
|
10t5yjz
|
10t5yjz
|
[WP] The title of Archmage can only be held by the pinnacle of each magical field, who have spent decades perfecting their magic. As a young genius who invented a new field of magic, you have significantly lowered the average age of archmages.
|
We slowly settled into our throne like seats - each chair covered in different coloured gems to indicate our speciality…trying not to glance at the leather, oddly shaped construct kept in…rainbow, opals decorating the metal parts. Was that lumbar support? I awkwardly wiggled against the gold behind me.
“So…where is our newcomer?” my necromancer colleague addressed the elephant in the room.
“I’m here!” A voice announced from the corner and a young…girl - maybe just woman - got up, rainbow fluffy ears attached to her head - askew - for some unbeknownst reason. No, not unbeknown. They were attached to headphones. “Coming, coming!” she said, closing the machine in front of her and sliding it into a sparkly rainbow bag. Looking at her frankly hurt my eyes. “Sorry - you guys took longer than I had expected, so I decided to do something productive while I waited. But, if we are ready to go…” she threw herself into the leather thing, which rolled two steps in response, “I’m here.”
“Welcome Archmage,” I said, the word tasting weird on my tongue.
“Thank you!” she beamed. “Just for future reference - if the invitation says 9am, should I assume we don’t start until 9:30am, because you guys first want a chat and coffee? I’m not complaining, but it would be helpful to know. I’m not a morning person. I get my own coffee.” She held up a massive pink thermos.
“I suppose we could make an effort to start at the time of the invitation-“ the Archsummoner - master of all things precision and mathematics - began and I hurriedly cut him off:
“Speaking to each other is a vital part of the process,” I said. “Our fields are interconnected after all.”
“You were networking…?” she asked. “You discussed the Archhealer’s latest apprentice and his conventional attractiveness…”
“HEY!” the Archhealer spluttered. “Tony is EXTREMELY talented! Maybe if you stopped projecting your own dirt-“
“ANYWAY! Now that we are all here, we should make a start!” I jumped in. “Why don’t you present your field to us Archmage? I don’t think we are all familiar…I for one didn’t understand the missive at all!”
“Oh…of course! Do we have any screens? No? Projector? Oh, never mind!” she said, before leisurely drawing a square into mid-air. Reality folded in on itself and a picture appeared reading ‘Linux’. Maybe a spell name?
“Woow…” The Archalchemist gasped.
“Let me find the presentation,” she said. “One second.”
“Did you just casually open a portal?” the Archsummoner demanded.
“I am working on a course!” the girl beamed. “I will start lecturing it at the academy from next semester onwards! We would love to have you! THERE it is! Let’s go! Technomancy 101! Just to get a baseline, how much technology do you use in your day to day lives?”
“NONE!” the Archnecromancer thundered with horror in his voice. “Those things drain your soul!”
“They don’t, but let’s keep going…” she replied.
“My great-great-great-grandkids have taught me how to get their pictures on my…you know…screen,” the Archhealer beamed.
“On your phone?” she asked.
“This box thingy…” the Archhealer pulled a small machine out of her pocket. “I can’t make phone calls with it, so I don’t really call it a phone.”
“Did you know that the waves from those things throw off your aura like crazy?” the Archastrologer asked. “You really shouldn’t have it closer to you than 2 metres, unless it is in a specially charged magnetic case. Let me check, if I have a second one with me.”
“This…is going to take a while…”
EDIT: Why does one always find typos as soon as one presses “SAVE”??
|
There was a stillness in the throne room. None of them could have imagined what, or who, would enter through the golden doors.
Suddenly, the king broke the peace.
"*Archmage Vuul'tha... I presume?*"
A young boy, just old enough to reach his teens, raised his head and looked at the king, towering in his throne. He was nervous all this time, shaking and clenching his fists to try and fight the uneasiness he felt.
*"Y-yes, your m-m-majesty. I am the... uh... Archmage of Matter."* He responds.
Chatter begins to fill the room. Guards and Noblemen whisper to themselves about this new Archmage sent by the Wizarding imperium. Some whisper words of doubt, while others lament at the aid sent to them by the mages at Arandarr.
The king, noticing the commotion, raises his hand as if to catch the attention of those around him. His gesture brings the gossip to the halt, and all eyes are now on him.
*"Very well then. Shall I call you Volt, instead?"* The king asks the boy.
*"O-of course... My mother used to call me that when I... uh... was... uh..."*
Before the boy could speak, the King gestures his guards and points to him.
*"If you truly are the youngest Archmage... Show me your power."*
Volt is stunned and unable to speak. The guards begin to close on him, one by one.
*"Y-your majesty! Isn't this a-a bit absurd?"* Volt shouts.
*"You are an **Archmage.** If anything, this is to be expected of you in battle. Prove your worth and show me why you were given the title as the youngest and strongest archmage there is!"*
Volt, surprised by this situation, recalls what his master told him. *"Kings will test you and your skill. But all you need to do, is bring them to their knees. Then, will they listen."* It was a warning that he couldn't understand at first. But now, he finally understands what his master meant.
All these years, he was training to **Control** his power, not master it. He couldn't get the precise flow of mana needed to reduce the output and power. He would always waste a lot of mana by just simply activating his magic. But his master persevered, taught him ways to control not just his magic, but also his mana levels and output. His master was regarded by some as the Master of Mana, or the Blue mage by others outside his circle. But to Volt, he was his grandfather.
Now, he's faced with a situation he can't get out of, and he has lost all other options. A throne room filled with doubters and disbelievers, thinking he is too young to be an Archmage. Though he isn't annoyed a single bit by those whispering their misgivings, he would be lying if what he was about to do next didn't make him feel good.
With a faint whisper, just barely audible enough, he says a phrase.
"***Regula Naturae***"
Suddenly, the world stops.
Nothing is moving.
The guards can't swing.
The Noblemen watching can't move a single limb.
Everyone couldn't move. Except the king. He was stunned beyond belief as to what he was seeing. He could freely move, but no one else could. He was about to give the order to the knights to stop the attack, but right before he could his eyes were blessed with the sight he sees now.
"*What... is... this...*" The king says in shock.
Suddenly, Volt moves forward and slowly approaches the king. Right before he reaches the chair, he stops and places himself beside the king, standing.
*"King Ausirius, this is my specialty. I am not an elemental mage. I do not posess magics like that of a light or dark wizard. I cannot summon strong beings from the ground, nor can I cast devastating storms and earthquakes to envelop my opponent."*
The King, stunned by his statement, looks at his face. Volt's eyes glow blue, denoting that he is casting the spell continuously.
"*From a young age, I had a unique talent for control. Both my life, and my magic, were based on control. So when my grandfather taught me to use magic, he saw a forbidden power awaken from me.*"
"*What... are you?*" The King replies.
Volt faces the king once again, with enough distance to bow his head with respect. The king nods, and Volt proceeds to release his magic. Everybody around him feels weak, and all eyes are now on Volt.
"*My name is Archmage Vuul'tha. I am a Matter-user, and the youngest Archmage ever, at age 14. My magic specializes in Matter-control, meaning I have control over every form of matter around me, be it living or not.*"
The king is shocked from disbelief. He cannot believe there is such a mage that has such power at a young age. However, he realizes his country is in danger, and it is more important than ever to have a strong, nay, the strongest magician in the world by his side.
He begins to smile. The King then stands and addresses his subjects, whilst clutching Volt on his shoulders.
"*My fellow subjects. I have an important announcement to make.*"
Suddenly, everyone looks to the direction of the king and Volt.
"***We are going to win the war.***"
|
ForbiddenFruitiness
|
Baloucarps
|
2024-08-24 11:41:22
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2024-08-24 09:57:23
| 155 | 90 |
ljoveyj
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ljolb9m
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1ezzur3
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1ezzur3
|
[WP] Nearly all your life you lived on the streets. People ignored you at best and reviled you at worst. Then you got superpowers and those same people begin to lecture you about “altruism,” “duty,” and “responsibility.”
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"... which is why we are extending an offer for you to join us in combating these terrible foes."
I made a show of thinking about it, but I already had my answer, "Nah."
"Wonderful, we have people who can help with your title and costume..." Apparently it takes that long for the leader of the Grand Defenders realize someone said 'no.'
We both sat there for a moment, before The Arcanist started to repeat, "I'm not sure you were paying attention, so let me use smaller words. There are terrible things out there, and it is up to people like us to stop them."
I nod along, "So I've heard. People abducted of the streets, devastating attacks that destroy countless homes, no one being safe from these disasters."
"So join us!"
"Nah."
His face started to turn an interesting shade of red before he calmed down. "I see you have your reservations. So let me ask, why not?"
I smiled as I had been waiting for this kind of question, "You have not yet presented me with evidence to supercede my null hypothesis. As such, any reasonable statistician would be required to maintain that null hypothesis."
That made him jerk back, "What?"
"Oh, so because I'm homeless, my degree is worthless? Due to circumstances beyond my control, I'm no longer capable of what I once was? If that's the case, why would you even want me around?"
He blinked at that, clearly not processing, "But you..."
"Yes, me. I spent most of my life on the streets, but I hit a run of good luck. A guy coming out of the grocery store gave me a scratch ticket. He always gave me some of the change he had, but that day he gave me a scratch ticket instead. I never got his name. Before I say anything, he's driving off. Turns out, that ticket gave me some money, so I started going to the community college, got an associates. Started working as a mechanic."
"Then how did--"
"I'll *fucking* get to it. I'm working as a mechanic at the shop, when in through one of the bays comes a blast of energy. Hits a car in the gas tank," I lift up my shirt, so the scar across my left side is visible. "Doc, said I'm lucky to be alive. But no work, and medical bills means I'm right the *fuck* back here. And the funny thing about that energy blast, it was bright orange."
That makes his eyes go wide.
I just smile, "Yeah, no bad guys with orange energy blasts. Only the good guys have them. A few too, so I can't point fingers, but that doesn't matter. I'm not working with you, not with whoever took my shot at life away. I won't become the next super villain, but that's about all I'll promise. So go, before you change my mind."
Arcanist simply stands up at that. He walks toward the door, and pauses, "I can get you a couple towns over. I know a mechanic there, and I could put in a good word."
"No dealing with you or your team? No super fuckery? Just cars?"
"Trucks and tractors mostly. They only diesel engines."
"That's an offer I'll take."
|
"Child of the heavens," the voice boomed from the sky, yet seemingly only I could hear it.
" You've been blessed with abilities beyond your wildest imagination; use them well." The voice disappears as abruptly as it came.
' I've finally gone insane.' I think to myself, not feeling any difference within me. ' I'm still just a dirty, no good animal.' Their words take shape in my mind. If you hear something enough you're bound to believe it eventually.
Kicking stones while looking for food, a car swerves away from the road. Everyone around me jumps to the side. My legs are frozen in place, hunger gnawing at me as my mind processes the situation.
'Move damnit!' I scream at my body, my legs finally catching up to my brain and jumping towards the side, but it's too late.
My body is hurled a few metres from the car, spinning impact. A man runs out of the car, looking terrified at first, then relaxing once he sees it's me.
'What's happening?' I try to speak, but I can't move any muscle I have. I can feel my bones and muscles changing, an unfamiliar sensation washing over as they become similar to those of a healthy individual, then changing further.
The man throws me in an alleyway, no one even batting an eye as they walk to avoid my body. Around a few minutes after the man's car drives off, a woman arrives with a child with blue hair in her arms. The little girl quickly climbs down, alerting at her mother to call an ambulance or look for help.
" No dear." The mother says, picking up the child and leaving.
It is only about an hour later that I manage to stand up. A few people call out to me, having arrived a few minutes earlier
" Done sleeping, beggar?" They mock, throwing stones at me while I get up.
'Why must I go through this!?!" My thoughts fuel my anger, the stones having no effect.
'Is it my fault I'm in this situation!!?" I feel my body begin to burn. Before I can register what happened, the group of three stands before me, their actions frozen mid air. I open my eyes again to see all three fatally wounded. The first has a hole the size of a golf ball through his heart. The second a hole the size of a sniper bullet through his skull. And the third with half his body gone, he lives long enough to watch the other two die with a horrific expression, before he too falls backwards. Their faces all frozen in horror.
' What have I done?' I'm immediately overcome with fear. It quickly disappears though, replaced by a distinct pleasure as their bodies disintegrate into thin air. " Hahaha..." The blood on my face disappears as my expression turns to glee.
It doesn't take long for me to be recognised and revered as a hero, helping in stopping crime and citizens cheering me on.
'Is this what appreciation feels like?' I think to myself, falling asleep soundly on a bed for the first time in life.
I'm awoken not more than 4 hours later, someone banging at my door. Tired, I open it to see a policeman, his hand gripping at his gun when he sees me.
" Where's Zero!?" He points the gun at me, asking of my hero alias and not recognising me without the fancy clothes.
" What'd you do to him?"
My anger flares, and once again in a few seconds, the officer's body disintegrates into thin air.
A few weeks later 4 people are reported missing on the news, one of them an officer.
" Where's Zero when you need him? Can we even trust him?" One of the comments wrote.
" I bet he colluded with villains, it's weird that no one recognises him anywhere!" They say
The comment causes my heart to shatter.
" You don't recognise me because you don't care!!" I throw the remote, realising they're only using me.
" If he was such a real hero, he'd have dealt with all the bad guys by now." A comment as such piques my interest.
'Yes...' I agree with the statement. 'Deal with all the bad guys...' The idea causes me to exit the house, looking for someone before I begin.
A few hours later, I'm smiling wildly. A little girl with blue hair in my arms, her eyes covered to shield her from the piercing light.
' And they say power corrupts people." I laugh madly, my eyes reflecting orange as flames engulf the city...
PS. My first story, thought I'd give it a shot. There might be some Grammar errors though.
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JustAnBurner
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KgTheFifth
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2023-12-19 03:00:23
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2023-12-18 22:19:11
| 25 | 14 |
kdzhwcb
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kdyc6ag
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18ktkpj
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18ktkpj
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[WP] You're immortal, and have passed the 'hero' phase centuries ago. You enter a small coffee shop one day to find that it's owned by your millennia-old arch-nemesis. You really, really just want a chai latte though.
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A door opens, the little bell chimes and I'm awash with easy listening lift-worthy easy listening inoffensive jazz.
I shuffle along to the counter and order "One chai latte please". That's when I notice the eyes. The only problem with a disguise is that it's always a self-portrait. And the eyes always give it away.
They hesitate an instant before attacking. I hold up my hand. "Let's not do this. Not this time. I just want my chai latte. Please let me enjoy this. If you want I can fit you in for a 15:30, bit now I'm just in the mood for a chai latte and some damn peace and quiet." Our previous meeting ended up with the destruction of another of my favorite haunts and this place may be the last place for halfway decent chai latte.
They make the tiniest of nods. "One chai latte coming up. Can I interest you in Norah Jones' latest album?" I decline politely and check out.
She prepares my drink and as I leave the counter meekly smiling, she flashes the tiniest bit of mirth. I try my chai and find it decent, maybe even borderline great. I look back, genuinely surprised. "It was you all along?
"Always have been".
|
Davv walked into the coffee shop, the air was crackling.
You can't put your finger on it, you try to shake it off.
Tables murmured with animated figures, a drink is spilled, eyes look up for a second, then back to their phones.
There is no lineup, but Davv wished there was.
The brush bearded barista greets Davv without words.
A tidal wave of heat hit Davv like a bus.
A double decker bus that hadn't been washed, and a diesel smoking engine, most definitely not on schedule for a service.
You know that expression "love at first sight?"
-this is the opposite.
Spite at first sight.
"what can I get for you today?"
The barista growls the words with the ferocity of a foundry.
He remembered Davv, now it comes back, like a film being flashed through.
A betrayal.
He left Davv literally hanging cliffside, and fell.
Was it a falling down thing? It was definitely something, but a betrayal nonetheless.
Davv died.
Not really dead. Injured and with fragmented memories.
This was ages ago.
"Lief, please just the latte today". The words are sent forth with a mix of emotions, hurt, angry, confusion.
"coming right up," Lief spits back.
You go for the weather-checked wallet to pay.
Spilling the change on the counter, Lief is studious, meticulous, even.
The passage of time is a clock, with the gears covered in tar.
Lief moves with deliberate movements, getting the measurements just right, moving like a well oiled machine.
The tension is thick, hypnotic. "This is my doing, stop it, he can't hurt me here, can he? Look at him, he enjoys?" I'm manufacturing a scenario that doesn't exist. Give him the benefit of the doubt ".
Out of nowhere, a cooler of ice water is thrown at Davv.
"This. This is where you get yours, Davv!"
Flung into a panic, like a leaf in the wind.
"This. I have waited too long to make sure you get yours"!
-"whuuut?!" "uh uhhh, I..I.."
"your Latte, on the house, enjoy!"
Davv dives for the drink, no poison, no surprise potions, or added tinctures. The right temp, great taste. Possibly one of the better Latte ever.
No. The best Latte.
"Social cues, were never my Forte, Davv."
Lief confessed.
"Coffee is my passion, my pride and joy, even"
Davv drinks the latte appreciatedly, and finds his way to the door. Outside, the wind nips at Davv, he pulls his dark coat close. Davv swivels back to wave at Lief, - he's gone.
"hrmph, prolly gone in the back to get stock".
Davv heads out, enjoying the Latte.
Maybe people can change.
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Socratov
|
AddisonNM
|
2023-02-21 07:44:33
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2023-02-21 06:15:58
| 43 | 19 |
j9e9qsh
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j9e2lyd
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117henh
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117henh
|
[WP] An angry magician cursed a city, turning all the residents into the first animal they thought of. Not powerful enough, it only lasted for a day, and the people surprisingly had fun. A year later they offered to pay the magician to do it again and to make him the leader of the celebration.
|
The detective pushed his way through the crowd on the front lawn towards the front door with a disposeable coffee cup in one hand and his badge in the other. With a quick smirk he passed the uniformed officer guarding the open front door.
"Hey, Frankie. I heard you have a stiff!"
His partner glanced up from a notebook for only a second before returning to her notes with a "yeah."
Bob-O scanned the living room. His gaze followed the aim of the crime scene photographer to a corner of the room where a blob seemed to hold the world at a pause.
"Jees. Us." he breathed. "What the hell is that?"
Frankie gave a look that told exactly how many seconds of sleep she'd gotten the previous night and said "that's two stiffs. One inside the other." She clapped her notebook closed and put her left thumb and pinkie to her temples. "I've heard of wives getting under a guy's skin, but this is pretty fucked. The wizard made her something small, and made him something predatory. She was dead before midnight, but still turned back, along with her husband. Her remains burst his torso and he bled out."
Bob-O nodded pensively and took a sip of his coffee. Frankie helped herself to a luxurious wingback chair.
"Was this intentional?"
"Who knows. Rumor has it she dreamed of being a guinnea pig this holiday."
"And he dreamed of being a cat, or did he dream of being single?"
"Beats the fuck out of me. We got the call around 1am, and I've been here ever since. I don't know, a bit after that."
"Who called?"
"Neighbor. Apparently they were an owl and watched the whole thing from on top of the power pole outside."
"And it took a whole hour to get up the balls to call it in."
Frankie gave a pained look to the well-rested Bob-O.
"I get it! I spent the day as an aligator. I didn't get anything done until a couple hours ago myself. Congratulations on going from horse to on duty, by the way."
Bob-O leaned over the corpses. With an intense stare at the disordered remains of a woman protruding from a man's bloated torso he took a sip from his coffee.
"He didn't exactly swallow her in one bite. I think this was premeditated."
"It doesn't exactly matter."
Bob-O looked up. "I think it does. All of this impacts the way we look at the festival for next year. If this festival is going to turn into the animal purge we have to really think twice about how we handle the wizard going forward."
"We have to think about how we handle the festival regardless. I took a tab of acid before the transformation. I ate my entire front lawn yesterday. Today I have the indegestion of a lifetime."
"Damn. You're right. I would have never thought acid at a festival would be a bad idea."
|
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining today's town hall. Our guest has agreed to a brief meeting, so without further ado, let's get started. Joining us today via Zoom is our guest, Alazar Zephyr!"
The room erupted in applause as Alazar's image appeared on the projector. Alazar's expression was a mix of surprise and disgust at the audience's excitement to see him. "Alright, that's enough. Pipe down, you idiots," he barked.
The moderator, starstruck himself, spoke eagerly before Alazar could continue. "It's great that you could join us! As we all know, it's been a year since you last gifted the city with your magic. The people want to know if you would consider making it a yearly tradition."
Alazar felt like he was living his worst nightmare. Rage boiled inside of him as the lights behind him flickered. "Absolutely not! Curse that wretched day! It's not what I came to talk about."
"Wait, did you not enjoy it? Perhaps you were one of the people who thought of a bad animal. My grandchild had sloths on the mind and has been hoping for a second chance," the moderator suggested.
Alazar had to remember his anger management techniques to regain control. After a deep breath, he spoke again. "I've been working on myself. What happened last year was humiliating. I could only hold the spell for a day... I thought I was better than that. Maybe I should've cast Fire Rain, but I felt like it was uninspired."
The moderator began to suspect that Alazar's heart may not be in the right place. "Wait, did you want to hurt the city?"
Alazar's rage boiled again as he stood and yelled, "Of course I wanted to hurt this cursed city! You're all nothing but animals in my eyes! Filthy animals! I could've incinerated the trash, but instead, my poetic side had me try to hold a mirror to you idiots! Wrong move, Alazar!" The light behind him shattered as magic left his body in the form of steam from his nose.
"Woah, you're literally steaming mad... can I ask why?" the moderator cautiously probed.
Alazar began slamming his fists on the desk. "You booted my fucking car! Parking is a nightmare, of course I get tickets! It's not my fault downtown lacks a parking garage!" As he continued to slam his fists, a mug was knocked off his desk. "Aw, now look what you made me do!"
Alazar clicked around on his screen, cutting off his video but forgetting to mute himself. The room was left to the sound of his cursing under his breath as he fumbled to clean the spill.
"Um... you forgot to mute yourself," the moderator said, sheepishly trying to spare Alazar the embarrassing moment.
"What?!"
"You forgot- nevermind, I'll do it." The moderator clicked around on the screen to mute Alazar, but shortly after, Alazar unmuted himself and continued cursing silently.
"No, Mr. Zephyr, I muted you. Now focus on the spill," the moderator said, muting Alazar again, but Alazar unmuted himself once more, still fumbling to clean the spill.
"Alazar-"
"What the hell! Am I muted or not?" Alazar screamed.
"Not," the moderator responded.
The sound of Alazar throwing something soggy could be heard as he fumbled his way back to the desk, causing a thump. "I hate Zoom!" His video came back on, showing him standing over the desk with a red face. As he swirled his desk chair around to take a seat, the corner of the chair caught the mug, causing it to shatter as it fell again "DAMN IT! NO! MY MUG! FUCK THIS! FIX THE PARKING!"
He clicked around the screen one more time, closing the Zoom meeting entirely. The moderator, who was looking highly embarrassed by proxy, concluded the meeting, "Okay then everyone. I'm sorry you had to hear that. It sounds like Mr. Zephyr may be experiencing some technical difficulties. I think we may want to wait until next year to consider asking him again. Purhaps in our future meetings we should talk about downtown's parking situation. That concludes this town hall, no question portion today unfortunately. Thank you all for joining us!"
‐-----
Please let me know what you guys think!
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msur
|
a_burdie_from_hell
|
2023-05-10 05:55:40
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2023-05-10 04:15:44
| 17 | 11 |
jjkkozg
|
jjkbr1g
|
13cwenj
|
13cwenj
|
[WP] Humans are the proverbial "Sleeping Giant," and thus make remarkably good deterrents. A common tactic of the Galactic Federation is to simply call in a human warship, such as the USS "Fuck Around and, FindOut," and simply let it sit nearby. Peace Talks happen within the week.
|
I'm sure you heard the general concept before.
We finally reached the stars. We met alien life; a Galactic Community, even! They took a quick glance at our history and came to an uncomfortable realization.
*These hairless primates spent a* ***lot*** *of time killing each other. We'd rather not see them unite and fight one of us.*
We were nevertheless received quite warmly by the Galactic Federation and became a rather premiere peacekeeping force. We didn't mind; we were able to get past our infighting some time ago, and this was a nice change of pace. We didn't have to fight anymore, but... a small, primal part of us was never able to give it up. Our ships were inevitably built for the *possibility* of combat. Something we did so much it was a part of us, no matter how peaceful we tried to be. 'Sleeping Giants' we were sometimes called; a nice reference to our own myths.
But, every now and then, someone wakes us up.
....................
"Mothership Theta, come in," I said into the communicator. A screen in front of me flashed to life as my call was received; the head of security for the sector was on the other side. He... she... they were an interesting alien, that - far less humanlike than we expected in our media. They looked more like an amoeba.
"mOtHErSHI-SHiP Th-ThETa," the alien responded. I smacked the communicator a couple of times to fix the translation protocols. "Hear you loud and clear," the alien continued; this time in perfect English.
"This is USS Fuck Around. We swung by the Khalio sector as you requested. The intel was on point; some ji'nee warships - *if you can call them that*," I added under my breath, "were gathering near the Sigma 3X moon. All signs indicate they were planning a raid on the refineries."
"I see. And?"
"They were persuaded not to," I replied in an almost bored tone.
"Excellent. Where did they go afterwards? We should probably keep an eye on them."
"Oh, uh..." I said and scratched behind my neck. "They're still orbiting the moon."
A moment of uneasy silence followed as the alien pressed several buttons; I assumed to bring up the scans of the area.
"USS Fuck Around, please repeat. We have no signatures of any ships in that area."
"Yeah... I think you'll need extra magnification on those scans."
"What for?"
"To see the bodies floating in space," I said and inspected my fingernails.
There was a perceivable blurb of unknown noise coming from the alien. Not something that could be translated. Not something that *needed* to be translated.
"...oh," the alien finally said.
"I can provide logs that clearly show they shot first."
"That... won't be necessary, captain. Your reputation is reliable enough."
"As you wish. Do you have another assignment for us?"
"Not at the moment, captain. But - may I ask a question? A personal one, not in an official capacity," the alien said carefully.
"Sure!" I said and sat up straight in my chair. It was a nice change of pace from the cold, detached exchanges or orders.
"Why is your ship called 'Fuck Around'? I believe that is a slur in your tongue, is it not?" the alien said and slightly tilted its... upper half.
"Ah," I chuckled. "Short for 'Fuck Around, Find Out'. An Earth saying of sorts. One the ji'nee ships were *clearly* not familiar with. It means that if you fuck around - meaning to behave improperly in a risky manner - you will find out."
"Find out what, captain?"
"Why you don't fuck around."
|
“Zorvax and Xalaxites are getting into it again in Sector 37AZ,” Zorba said while checking reports on his monitor.
“That’s what like fourth time this week?” Yulok asked scratching one of his heads with his middle tentacle.
“Fifth actually,” Zorba said looking over the reports.
“Is it time?” Yulok asked. “Should we call in the big guns?”
“According to the Galactic Federation, it is, the fifth strike and we have to interfere,” Zorba said and Yulok’s tentacles wobbled in excitement.
“Let’s call in the Humans,” Yulok said with a squeaky voice and pressed a few buttons on his console.
In the vast expanse of the galaxy, countless civilizations coexist, some peacefully, and some not so much. The Galactic Federation, a coalition of species from across the universe, was established out of necessity to maintain peace and stability among these diverse species across the galaxy. However, sometimes conflicts arise, and when they do, the Federation has a secret weapon: the humans.
Humans, as it turns out, are remarkably good deterrents. Their reputation for being fierce, unpredictable, and warlike is known throughout the galaxy. But the most likely reason they are feared all around is their history of nuking their own planet several times throughout history if they are willing to do that to themselves, what would they be capable of doing to others. So even though humans are relatively new to the intergalactic community, their military prowess is already legendary.
Within a week of the human ship's arrival, peace talks usually start. The mere threat of human intervention is enough to force the warring parties to the negotiating table. Even the most stubborn and belligerent species known to the Galactic Federation didn’t don't want to incur the wrath of the humans.
Of course, humans are not without their own agendas. They know that their reputation is their greatest asset in the galaxy, and they're not afraid to use it to their advantage, making insane money, exploring the uncharted territories of space, and claiming the empty planets they find for themselves. The Federation is happy to let them do so, as long as it means that peace can be maintained.
Soon after they sent the request the answer came from the Human control center, the available ship nearest to that sector was The USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out'.
“They answered,” Yulok said with excitement.
Zorba nodded reading over the message they received. "The USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out' is available, it should do the trick. That one always seems to get the job done in just a few days."
Yulok grinned with all of his head. "I can't wait to see the look on those Zorvax and Xalaxites' faces when they see that The USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out' is in orbit."
Zorba chuckled. "They'll think twice before starting another fight after this. I gotta admit, I did not like the humans at first when we accepted them into the Galactic Federation due to their nature. But hot damn if it’s not fun having them on our side."
“Tell me about it,” Yulok said. “I love their interventions, it’s better than the movies. I’ll prepare some of the best human cuisines for us to watch this masterpiece, the popcorn!”
Zorba nodded finally cracking a smile of his own with one of his two mouths, “Love me some popcorns.”
Yulok quickly scurried off to prepare the human cuisines, while Zorba began to make arrangements to inform the Federation of the upcoming intervention by the USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out'.
As they settled in to watch the action, Yulok brought out the popcorn and they both eagerly awaited the arrival of the human warship.
Within a matter of hours, the USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out' arrived in orbit next to the Galactic Federation Center where Zorba and Yulok worked, before heading over to Sector 37AZ. Two aliens watched in awe as the massive vessel dwarfed everything else in the sector.
“They sure make ‘em big,” Zorba said.
“I heard they run on 6 cores instead of one or two like most other civilizations,” Yulok said. “And that design, it’s so unnecessary and tacky but I love every second of it.
Zorba chuckled. "That's the humans for you. They may be a bit...excessive, but they get the job done."
As they watched the USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out' depart towards Sector 37AZ, Zorba and Yulok couldn't help but feel a sense of relief knowing that the humans were on their way to intervene in the conflict between the Zorvax and Xalaxites and stop a possible war, but they also felt the sense of excitement as they will get to watch masters at work.
*Like the story? Check out my sub* r/LukasWrites *for more!*
[Part 2 up below](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/11keke0/comment/jb7d5su/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
|
SirPiecemaker
|
Nellthe
|
2023-03-06 23:13:07
|
2023-03-06 22:31:23
| 3,773 | 259 |
jb76pzi
|
jb70ypq
|
11keke0
|
11keke0
|
[WP] The Elven Kingdoms call their old allies the Humans for aid. Expecting medieval armies, they get a modern 21st century one instead.
|
The elves have faded from the human world. Your writer, Tolkien, got that almost right.
Few are the humans that find the way to the lands of the Fay, and fewer return still. Tolkien was one of the only who had come, and returned, and come back again. For years he had wandered among the paths of the fae, and listened to our songs, and told stories of his own mind. Of the human world he talked little.
Not much we heard from him, but what we heard filled us with wonder, awe and dread in equal; for great are the minds of humans, and greater even their pride, and terrible is the wrath of Man if unleashed. And twice it was unleashed in his lifetime, and when he talked about it, his voice was silent and full of grief; and the silver star at his brow was dim.
But men are mortal, and after a time, he did not return, and no one wandered among us anymore.
But as the need drew dire and battle upon battle was lost, the High King consulted the Eldest, and spoke "In ancient time, Man and Elf stood side by side to battle their foes. So let us send a hundred messengers to the Kings and Queens and Princes of Mankind, for there are still ways to reach their world. Few may answer, but any ally in times of need shall be welcome."
And as the King said, so did our messenger ride forth, One hundred in number, their mail glistening under the stars. Lady Tinavirel rode at their front upon Ferloentil, a lord among horses, with sword at her side and bow on her back, and she held a Lance, crowned with a green banner; a mighty horn of bronze and gold was tied to her saddle.
Long were they gone, but after a time she, and some others returned. There was still awe, but also sorrow on her face.
"My lord", she spoke to the high king "Man has not changed since we left, but greatly have changed the realms of Man, and even greater their weapons.
"Few humans bow to kings and queens, but many of their grand realms elect their leaders. Grand are the realms indeed, and there are more men in many a city of them than elves in any of the one hundred and one kingdoms. Most of the realms have a little host of defenders, but hear me, my lord, fear the power of all but the tiniest of them, for even few armed men can be a force to reckon with.
"I could witness a fraction of the power of their hosts. No longer does man fight with spear and shield, and bow, and axe, and sword of iron. Even the lowliest soldier fights with a device that spews tiny metal pellets over many yards. No magic propels them, but some advanced alchemy, and they hit and kill and maim as sure as any sword. And many more similar but grander devices can bring forth fire and death upon miles and leagues.
"They fight in grand chariots of steel, faster than any horse could be, using a huge version the selfsame device; their steel can't be touched by the simpler weapons, so to destroy these chariots they wield terrible arrows of fire.
"And no longer do they cross the seas in longship and galley, for they sail in grand steel ships, which can spew forth death before the enemy can even see them.
"And they can fill the sky with some kind of steel dragons, which can inflict death in many other ways; and also can they bring a small host of humans to many a place. Truly has become Man a master of War in Man's World.
"Few are wars of Man and Man, but terrible to behold, and the humans said that they should be thought of as small. And as they said it, I saw their fear, for not even Man knows what Man can unleash. They spoke about a fire they possess, a fire they will not kindle, and when they spoke of it, a shadow fell. What this fire is, I know not"
And so the King answered "I thank you, my Lady. These news fill my heart with dread hope in equal measures. Now tell me, Have you talked with their leaders?"
And so she spoke "Few humans believed me at first; but the knowledge of the old pacts still runs in both our blood and the blood of Man. Strange are the minds of men, quick to dismiss the Knowledge of Elves at first, but inclined to believe if persuaded.
"I spoke to leaders of realms which once belonged to the tribes of Francs, and Saxons, and Britons; and the realms of the old kings of the Vikings, and many more. I spoke to the leaders of realms where once the grand empire of Rome was. And I even talked with leaders of a mighry realm beyond the grand sunset sea, which many a human said was the most potent at waging war.
"They have talked, and have agreed to help us. Though as humans are, a trade has been proposed.
"They shall support us with their hosts and arms. But Man desires one thing foremost; and it is knowledge. They have requested us to teach them the ancient secrets of magic, and they shall teach us their ways."
So the King bowed his head, and said "Great is the price, but greater the need; and great the reward if we can learn from Man. So, go forth, my lady, and forge the ancient alliance anew. And bring the humans gifts, gifts of Art, and Song, and Beaty. So we shall swing the sword together"
And so she rode forth again, and returned at the front of a grand host of Man.
(Edit: part 2 in comment)
|
With me, the last of the refugees hurriedly run, their eyes wide with terror as my men and I escort them through the city towards the temple. We plan to open a portal and escape to another dimension there, our mages already drafting the summon circles, christening the portal arch, and preparing materials to send everyone left into another dimension. Ancient scrolls imply that another species of our realm entirely escaped here, those that were left behind becoming the dwarves of the mountains. Beasts harry our retreat, wounding refugees in every battle that stops us. Our weapons cut deep, but as far as these demons are concerned they're all flesh wounds right up until they're dead. We'd have thought them invincible when this war first began. Finally, we reach the service tunnel that will take us up into the temple, where I find the remaining squads ready for their final stand.
As we circle around the portal in the temple, we can hear the destruction of the city below us, and the cries of the refugees behind us. The bronze doors to the temple, once covered in beautiful art bare only gouges and scractches from the fighting. The mages cause the portal to come to life, waving incense around the room which changes the color of the plasma now covering the door to a yellow-blue swirl. "They used rare dandelions to open it the first time, I pray what we have is enough. Ancient humans were quite the-" the hinges appear to start breaking off. As refugees attempt to run through, they stop, hearing something coming from the other side.
*Some folks are born made to wave the flag they're red, white and blue and when the band plays "Hail to the Chief" They point the cannon at you, Lord* accompanied by a mechanical growl.
The children and women step away from the portal, and the guards lose themselves to chaos, unsure whether to defend from the portal or the door. The growling gets louder, and the door is knocked flying several meters into the temple. The civillians shriek in terror as they see the oily black demons walk into the room, moving like they're liquid, yet they strike like stone. We form a phalanx in front of the mages as they prepare offensive spells, blasting beasts with a variety of spells from fire to ice.
The sound of what can be dsecribed as a drum is added to the chorus of the portal, thumping multiple times a second. Before anyone has time to think about it, combat is joined as the warriors engage their foes. Elves find themselves tossed around like ragdolls even as they tear meter deep wounds through the demons, which barely even notice what should be a mortal wound. The best they can hope for is to keep them at bay, and maybe the refugees can sneak through the portal after whatever is in there comes through.
And then our prayers are answered. The entire battlefield changes in an instant as an iron horse of incredibly advanced design comes charging through the portal, crushing a demon as it lands in the middle of the room, my men barely able to get out of the way. Music seems to blast from the vehicle itself as civillians stare in terror.
*Yeah, some folks inherit star-spangled eyes. They send you down to war and when you ask 'em, "How much should we give?" They only answer, "More, more, more"*
it directs its main cannon at the biggest demon in the room, the battle seemingly paused as everyone tries to figure out what it is. It fires and blows the beast's head clean off, splattering the wall of the temple in burning oil as the front of the temple collapses, the roof crushing the battling beasts and some of my guards. I wince, but I didn't expect anyone to survive to begin with and the tides of this battle are chabging in a way I didnt think possible. The mechanical beast moves forward, over the rubble with mindboggling ease.
The civillians again make a move towards the portal, ignoring the constant thrumming coming from it up until another machine comes through it. It flies on spinning wings of steel, and reminds me of a bird of prey as the full beast comes through, making the children shriek in terror, barely audible over the noise from its wings. It quickly flies out of the broken walls of the temple, and soars over the city. A mage grabs my shoulder and points at it. "The humans! They've returned! Did they know!? They even mastered magic!" He mutters an incantation and suddenly I can see it. So much mana seems to radiate from the machine, a constant stream of it seem to connect the Landbeast and the Steel Eagle, on top of generally radiating outward. On top I see countless different types of magic woven together in a complex lattice even an archmage would be jealous of. "If you look right there t-" the mage is cut off as the pods hanging off the bird's side shoot a trail of smoke, violently exploding whatever found itself at the wrong end of it.
The rubble that makes up the entryway is sat upon by the tank, blocking beasts from getting past as it blows them to pieces. A closer look reveals a smaller weapon that chews through crowds of the smallest beasts that would swarm and devour fully trained elves alive. Oil seems to coat the battlefield around the temple as the beast continues to sing its strange song while his bird above lays waste to our city with massive mechanical fireballs. It hurts to see entire neighborhoods reduced to ash, but not as much as it hurt seeing them become infested and diseased. As the situation seems to be out of our hands, i turn my attention to the refugees. The sound of explosions make my ears ring as I take up the rearguard through the portal. It feels like stepping into a wall of water. I feel like I've floated away from the ground while pulled along by an invisible current. Gracefully I land on the other side, to see several humans, just like the books described treating our wounded and blanketing our civillians. I look around the sterile room, feeling lost. Just like the temple, this building seems purpose made to contain the portal, just a lot more defensible than our side. Mechanical rattlesnakes the size of a golem seem to hang from the ceiling, their barrels pointed at the portal.
I'm shaked from my state by a well dressed human wearing a red white and blue pin on his suit. "You must be their leader. Come with me, we need to have a talk about oil, and why you're our newest ally." Bewildered by the idea of exploiting these monsters, but without another choice I follow the man, telling him everything we had learned about the demons.
|
Al_Fa_Aurel
|
GodKingChrist
|
2023-03-27 16:41:28
|
2023-03-27 15:38:02
| 148 | 106 |
jdw0z64
|
jdvr737
|
123gamg
|
123gamg
|
[WP] You wished to find a dragon to slay for its treasure. Now you're not sure how to feel seeing a thumb-sized dragon try to drag its single shiny copper coin with it as it runs away from you.
|
The heavily armoured man sat down at the bar with a heavy sigh.
"Ale," he commanded simply. The bartender, knowing his disposition just from the tone, obliged.
"Rough day?" he asked and started pointlessly polishing a wooden mug.
"A rumour of a dragon that turned out..." the warrior sighed. "Wasn't what I was expecting."
"A failed hunt? It got away?"
"No, it's... the damn thing was the size of my thumb," the warrior complained. The bartender stopped polishing the mug for a moment.
"Say again?" he said.
"It was... tiny. I dunno if the rumour I followed was by some bumpkin unable to recognize the thing was harmless or a prank, but... it was this tiny lizard guarding a single copper coin."
"Huh," the bartender commented plainly. "So... what did you do?"
The warrior looked at him wearily and passed him a single copper coin. "For the ale," he said grimly and finished it. The bartender gave him a disapproving look but accepted the money.
The warrior got up with another loud sigh and headed for his room, wondering what to do with his new roommate; a very small and very happy dragon resting atop a shiny golden coin.
|
The light glances of the coin as I watch.
This? *This* is the reason I trained so hard?
Every hero slays a dragon. Enormous, fire-breathing, scaly. Evil grin, yellow eyes.
But *this?* This is a joke. What's the glory in killing a dragon three inches long, for the love of the gods! The only things in danger from this dragon are flies!
And as for the treasure . . .
Well. A single coin might go towards my supper. It certainly won't let me live a life of ease and luxury.
The little thing scurries away from me, it tiny wings beating frantically. It will never take off carrying that coin.
Really, this dragon is almost . . . cute. Paper thin wings, purple and green, and a slim green back, with little spikes of a paler green set at intervals. Almost completely defenceless. How has it survived so long? Perhaps it was two small to bother with? Does it have hidden defences?
Either way, the thought of killing it makes me uncomfortable. I shouldn't mind, but murdering such a small and unprotected creature for the sake of a single copper doesn't rest with me easily. It's a dragon, for crying out loud. I shouldn't give two pins.
I raise my sword, ridiculously over-sized for such a task, and step forward. The dragon, hearing my movements, looks back and lets out a squeak.
Lowering my weapon, I stop.
Killing this creature won't make any difference. It harms no one, probably doesn't even eat flies. To murder it would be wrong.
Hesitating, I look at it again. It continues to try to escape, the noise ringing through the silence of the empty house. I came here to slay a fearsome beast, and instead found this.
So I kneel down and pick up the dragon. It panicks, squeaking desperately and struggling to escape. As I manage to gather it into my hands, it sinks its teeth into my finger. Cursing, I drop it.
Wasting no time, the dragon clutches its coin and makes off towards the distant doorway.
I make grab for it again, this time holding its mouth closed carefully. For such a small animal it sure can bite.
Carefully holding my new companion, I make my way back towards entrance to the house.
My noble steed - a donkey - will be waiting along with my faithful hound - a jack russel terrier, small and noisy - and the pig. I don't even know what the pig is. Once destined to be a dinner, now the companion of failed hero. My motely companions.
Why do I always seem to end up with the oddballs?
Why do I let them stay?
What is the dog eating!? He's delicate, he'll make himself sick!!!
|
SirPiecemaker
|
Isa_The_Amazing
|
2023-02-05 14:53:04
|
2023-02-05 11:45:08
| 91 | 47 |
j7badzr
|
j7arv5a
|
10tx0ci
|
10tx0ci
|
[WP] You used to be a powerful and feared supervillain, now retired and set for life. Now, there's a 20-something at your door begging you to teach them to control their rare power since it's the same as yours. They even know your villain name.
|
She dropped to her knees, words a faint whisper of breath. "Please. Please help me."
This in and of itself was unusual as A, she wasn't even human right now, and B, no one had even come close to finding her in the last 20 years. Well, not necessarily correct, plenty of people knew where Shadow, the black panther who lived at their local zoo, lived. But none had called her on my bluff. No one came, guns hot and live, to force her back to her solitary box of metal walls. Sealed shut in bleak silence.
The girl's sobs broke her mental monologue. Gibbered words, mangled by the wretched shaking and heaving she committed. "Please, please, Ina, Shadowwalker, whatever people call you, you have to help me. I can't handle this anymore."
A sign. Perhaps. It was starting to get a tad bit boring behind these cement walls and iron bars. At least this child had had the sense to wait until the place closed. The girl volunteered here. Offered treats to those who liked her.
Ina shifted, shadows engulfing her as she stepped out into the girl's world once more. "Where did you hear that first name, child? I haven't used it in years."
The girl's eyes widened, shoulders and spine slipping from their joints even as she slid into the shadows feet first.
Ina snarled, catching her by the throat. "Seriously. How the hell were you created girly? What's your name?"
The girl choked and coughed, hands pulling feebly at Ina's, "Delphi! My name is Delphi."
Ina drops her, forcing the shadows to leave, vacate around the girl. "That's one. You've got 2 more questions to answer. Make it quick. I'm not human and I will happily eat you."
Delphi gulped, "I- I don't know where I was made. The Shadowwalker was always one of the more terrifying villains around. Anyone with one of your abilities was mocked, ridiculed. Imagine the luck I got when I found out I had both. They sent me to different schools. Nearly prisons. To train me." She sniffle laughed. "They didn't care. They didn't even try to train me except on how to suppress what I could do so I didn't become you. The ministry oversees it now. Look where that got me. Straight to you." She swallowed. "I've done a lot of research on you Ina, and where they created you from. Please, please, don't send me back with them. I promise, I'll be a good pupil. I'll learn well. I'll listen. Please just don't send me back."
Ina swallowed hard, pain flashing across her features. "One lesson. One. Then leave. Leave now actually. I'll meet you next time."
"I can't." She whispers. "They won't let me. They found out what I was doing. They won't let me continue searching for you."
Ina stilled, lips lifting even though she was human. She glanced around, gaze seeking hidden enemies. She turned on Delphi, "Did you lead them here?! Go. Get away. Now! Run child. Don't let them catch you again!"
Lights blared on all sides, blasting away every shadow.
Ina's form shifted, vanishing into molecules too small to track with a sickening crunch.
Delphi sobbed, sinking to her knees, "Ina! Ina please! Please don't leave me with them." It was no use. Ina was no fool. She wasn't walking back into a trap. Not again.
|
Workflow, quite possibly the worlds most successful villain, was enjoying his early retirement when a someone knocked on his door. A quick check with the cameras showed it was a young man, impeccably dressed in the latest fashion but twitching like a junkie in need of a fix. It was odd enough that he decided to answer the door himself.
“Hello, can I help you young man?”
It was a bit odd to call the 20 year old a young man when Workflow himself was barely past 30, but a few million dollars got some very nice holographic disguise kits and he currently looked like a 50 year old man.
The young man looked up, and his dilated eyes finally focused.
“My name is Leonardo Garcia Cydson. I need your help, Workflow. I’ve lost control of my life like you once did, and you are the only one that can help me now.”
Workflow stiffened as his name was mentioned, but then he really looked at the young man. Impeccably dressed, as if he wanted to look his best. Dilated pupils, bags under his eyes, his hands constantly gripping each other… all the signs of ecstasy use. A young man who dressed so nicely, got high, and came here to get his life under control? There was only one explanation.
“You’ve got it too don’t you, the the instinct that you can make whatever you want happen if you just relax and go with the flow? The feeling of your body being hijacked by every stray thought in your head? The inexplicable words that come out of your mouth, saying things you didn’t know you knew?”
With every word Leonardo’s body seemed to relax, as if he had been clenching every muscle to hold himself still but now he was free. And he was, now that he was focused on just listening to Workflow.
Workflow invited him in and sat down on a sofa across from Leo.
“Alright kid, I’ll make this quick since I don’t want you getting distracted halfway through. You and me, we’ve got a concept power. It’s not physical like the Titanium Terror or mental like Professor Graviton, instead we have the power of Objective. Whatever objective we set for ourselves, our bodies instinctively know how to accomplish it as easy as breathing. Whether that’s looking great” he gestured at Leo’s clothes. “Feeling happy, learning a skill, or anything in between. As long as it’s physically possible and the knowledge is somewhere in your head you can do whatever you wet out to do.”
It was an incredible power, one that made Workflow the undisputed king of the villainous underbelly in under a year. Gaining the skills needed took up half that, and the rest was letting his body operate on autopilot.
But it came at a cost.
“All that power, all that possibility, but you feel like a prisoner in your own head most of the time. Like none of your accomplishments matter because it’s not really YOU doing them.”
Leo looked up and nodded fervently.
“I haven’t felt like myself in weeks. It was fine when I was at home, but a few days away and suddenly I’m chatting up some random dude like I’ve known him for years and buying ecstasy and fancy clothes with money I won in an underground poker tourney. I tried to think of who to ask for help…”
Workflow finished his sentence “And your power led you here. Did it take a while to find me?”
“Two weeks once I realized Workflow probably had the same power I did. Tracked down the distributor for Professor Light’s holographic devices and found out where they went and then deduced your location from there. Had to pretend I was your bastard son to get them to spill.”
Workflow laughed. “Yeah, I never thought I’d have to hide from someone like me. But enough beating around the bush, you want to know how to control your power? How to get your life back?”
“Yes! Please, tell me how.”
“Simple kid, close your eyes, focus, and choose your objective to be a sense of Accomplishment, not of any specific deed, but the sensation itself.”
“That’s it? I don’t have to chant a secret mantra or meditate for a decade?”
“Say that after you try and avoid using your power to flirt with the next pretty girl you meet. You have to constantly remind yourself that letting your power do the work will lessen that feeling of accomplishment. Only then will it stop trying to hijack your body. Once you’ve gone and done that for a few years, maybe you can change your objective to living a quiet, peaceful life. Or whatever you decide. Control it, don’t let it control you.”
The young man thought for a few seconds and then seemed to take a deep breath and exhale all his worries.
He opened his eyes a new man. One who would go on to accomplish great things, but only what he chose to do.
|
Swiftpace
|
LCSpartan051
|
2023-02-01 15:18:35
|
2023-02-01 14:06:04
| 20 | 12 |
j6s9nda
|
j6rz4ay
|
10qf3t6
|
10qf3t6
|
[WP] Instead of being a super villain like your parents, you ended up joining a company. Now your wildly successful and quite frankly much more closer to world domination than your parents. Your parents can't handle it.
|
I remember how pissed they’d been when I signed up with Denver Medical. Don’t get me wrong, flying around in a supersuit, plotting fiendinsh schemes and sinister plots had been fun… but then I grew up. It was too late for my parents, they were in too deep. They still claimed it was about world domination, but these days it had become personal. Less about taking over the planet and more about beating the heroes, the ones who’d been kicking their asses for the last 30 years. I couldn’t afford to fall into that rut, the never ending cycle of scheme, fight, lose, rinse and repeat. I wanted more!
Now don’t get me wrong, I am my parent’s daughter. I want it all, power, prestige, wealth, the whole shebang. Just not their way. When Denver Medical came knocking, I knew it was where I belonged. No relations with supervillains, no pacts with eldritch gods. It wasn’t a cult, shell corporation, criminal front. It didn’t deal in magic, superscience, cosmic forces or meta-humans. It dealt in medicines and vaccines. For back-pain and headaches, intches and colds. It was simple. Legal. Lucrative. Unbelievably so.
We weren’t angels of course. There was the lobbying, purchasing politicians and policy. After all, why pay an American a living wage when you can pay some poverty-stricken third-worlder half as much for twice as much? The world was ripe for picking, and I was there for it.
I moved up pretty fast, and my parents didn’t like it. When I made upper management, my parents tried to buy out the company. Fortunately, before the deal could take place, the alien invasion they were funding fell through and they had to go into hiding. When I got promoted to VP, they tried to run Denver Med out of business by establishing a competitor. It was working… for half a year, when the heroes took down the genetically mutated flesh pods that made their product. When the dust settled, they were imprisoned on the Isle, their company was in tatters, I had just made CEO, and we had just jacked up our insulin prices again.
This was power, true power, that I held in my hands. Money, connection, influence, the very things my parents had sneered at as they built their death rays and monster armies. Now while they were rotting away on some hocus-pocus covered island, I was sitting in one of the biggest buildings in Primapolis. Sure all three of the bigger buildings were owned by or affiliated with superheroes, but being bothered by that was exactly why my parents had lost, and I had won.
“Do you understand that? While you freaks run around in your costumes, I win. I’ll take over the world, without anyone ever noticing, since they’re too busy looking at you. So now put that gun away, take off that mask, and maybe we can talk about you working for me.”
|
How to make sure your parents hate you so much that they want to murder you?
One might ask, why is it important for your parents to hate you? Or murder you?
Or simply, why? Short and sweet. It conveys every emotion, asks every question and has just three letters. Isn't the English language fantastic?
But I'm getting far away from the topic. Where was I? Ah, yes. Making parents hate you or rather me. Let's go back in time. To know the answer, you need to know the history and to know the history we need to go into flashback.
*
I was three years old when I saw my first dead body. Or rather it's the first time I actually remember seeing a dead body. My nanny's vacant eyes stare at me as my mother pulls her knife out of my nanny's stomach.
I was fascinated by the colour of her blood. In my defence, I was young and I had no idea whaat death was. I just thought we were playing. That my nanny would get up and tell me the name of the color. It was beautiful.
"Clara." I called her name.
My mother looked at me. "Honey, Clara is gone."
"But she is right here!"
"I can't deal with this. Sofia! Clean this up and make sure Richard is sleeping by the time I come back." My mother stormed out.
I would later, much later for my comfort, find out that Clara's only mistake was getting too attached to me. Afterall, villains don't get attached.
*
I was ten when my bestfriend was taken out of school and his whole family was missing. I found out few years later that they were all dead. Including my bestfriend. They loved me. And my parents couldn't handle it. They thought if I would start loving then I would never be like them.
They never realised that I had decided that when my father killed my favorite teacher because she asked him if he knew my favourite color. He didn't. So feeling humiliated he shot her. I was six.
*
I had realised that to keep people safe I needed to alone. Anything more than acquaintances and they would end up dead.
My life was lonely but atleast I did not have any blood on my hands.
My parents on the other hand can fill a lake, a huge one, like say Lake Superior they still are some murders short to fill Caspian Sea.
*
I always knew I wanted to escape. But before I could escape my parents disowned me when I was 18 when they realised that I was a 'weakling' because I refused to kill someone. Killing someone is the first step to join my parents business. Their business goal, world domination of course.
So, there I was. 18 and alone. I didn't know anyone. Had no money. And no friends. No degree. Nothing.
What was I supposed to do?
"Hey, buddy. You okay?" A kind voice asked.
I looked up and saw a man. He was probably my dad's age but everything about his demeanor screamed kindness whereas my father's screamed murder.
I nodded.
He sighed. "Have you eaten anything?"
I hadn't. It had been 2 days since my last meal. I shook my head.
"What's your name?" He asked.
"Richard." I whispered. Knowing he would hate me if knew who my parents were.
"Come on, Richard. Let's get you something to eat."
*
That was 15 years ago. That man's kindness was enough to raise my faith in humanity. I applied to college, worked part time and now I'm a lawyer.
A pretty ruthless one, if I could say so myself. I'm my parents worst dream. When I first started putting criminals behind bar something inside me settled. It was like knowing I could do something. Ever since then my life has been all about dismantling everything my parents believed in.
I have become famous. Like, really famous. I have been offered a table at the World Council. These people basically run the world!
I sniggered. Isn't that what my parents always wanted? To run the world.
Look at me now.
My parents are going to kill me when they found out. Or themselves.
Hopefully themselves .
*
*Somewhere unknown*
"I think we need to take care of Richard." Mira said looking at the news. She was seething. She was supposed to be the one to rule the world not that worthless son of her.
"I agree." Samuel agreed looking at his son's face on the news.
|
CynicalChronicles
|
iknowthisischeesy
|
2023-06-10 17:57:41
|
2023-06-10 16:49:24
| 442 | 134 |
jnolwfp
|
jnocj6f
|
1461yc6
|
1461yc6
|
[WP] You managed to retire from the supervillain game long ago, when you became a parent. Now, your grandchild has inadvertently been kidnapped by an upstart villain, and you're about to show them why the world (rightfully) feared you.
|
I was a good man who made the world a safer place. Throughout my entire career, I never killed anyone, even if some of that filth couldn't possibly be referred to as human. I merely saw that monsters were brought to justice and received what they deserved. It felt oh so good, and somehow I was seen as a villain.
On the other hand, my nemesis killed countless people. "Blah blah blah. You have been charged and found guilty of, Blah blah blah. Any last words?" Then he'd put a bullet between their eyes and never look back. Here was a man with a body count the size of Everest and he was lauded as a hero.
I have to admit, the Judge as he was called, did make the streets safer, but he never made much of an example out of anyone. Almost as bad as the killing, there was no creativity, no flair, no message to the scum inhabiting this earth. They never had time to regret their actions. Just a condemnation and a bullet. He hunted me for years, without so much as a thank you for all the help I gave him.
Eventually, I got old and had to leave the important work to the next generation. They may not have done things my way, but I was content to leave the problems of the day to those with more energy and less back pain.
I went back to enjoying the little things in life. Walking in the park, fishing, and spoiling my grandson. Jake was a bright 8 year old boy, full of wonder and ready for adventure. Every sunday afternoon, I'd wonder over to my daughters house to see the little tike. Before I even set foot on the garden path, the door would spring open to greet me with bright laughter and a cheerful "Grandpa!!!!".
This Sunday was different. My stroll up the path met no interruption or sounds of joy. In fact there were no sounds at all. Not until I pushed the front door open to hear my daughter sobbing in her husband's arms. The note looked to be written in blood, and I had seen enough blood to know it was genuine.
I had seen the monster reported in the news. He let the victims live long enough for their families to feel hope, only to have it snatched away at the Last moment. He had some self aggrandizing title I didn't remember since he didn't deserve a name. He didn't deserve many things, least of all, mercy.
I had been away for a long time but my contacts never forgot me. Forever grateful for the justice I brought their tormentors, questions were answered swiftly. Before dawn, I was standing outside a grimy window looking in upon several children chained to filthy beds. I recognized Jake's favorite yellow shirt with dinosaurs on the sleeves.
I quietly ushered the children outside and brought them to a kind woman named Margaret. Margaret once had a monster in her life much the same way as these children. I had given her monster the justice it deserved. While always appreciative of my actions, I noticed she still couldn't look me in the eye, even after all these years. With the children safe, I turned my attention back towards the monster enjoying the last peaceful sleep it would ever have.
On my return to the monsters lair I mused to myself about the many forms my justice would take. "Eye lids. . . It didn't need eyelids. . . It needed to see everything. It's limbs. . . Yes it needed it's limbs. . . but not all of the bones inside those limbs. . . "
I wouldn't kill it of course. I was a good man making the world a safer place and giving monsters everything they deserved. It felt good. So so good. And they had the audacity to call me a villain.
|
"Dr. Inevitable..." The young man said from behind his dark robes and armor.
"That's a name I haven't heard in a long time..." The older man replied. He too wore armor but his was under a stylized lab coat. A dark domino mask sat situated on his face.
"I thought you were..." The younger man started to say only to find himself interrupted.
"Dead? Nope still here and ready to take back what is mine." Dr. Inevitable said with a hint of malice in his voice.
"Nobody's seen you in years, meaning Delta City was up for grabs; simply put you can't have your territory back, old man." The young man said with false bravado
"Who said anything about territory? Oh my dear boy you have no idea as to the depths of the mistake you just made. A fatal mistake, I might add." Dr. Inevitable said in a condescending manner.
"You said you wanted back what was yours..." The younger man replied
"I'm not talking about the city. You could've had the accursed city but you crossed a line." Dr. Inevitable snapped.
"What line? I didn't know there was a line." The younger man pleaded.
"Ignorance is no excuse. Now it's time for you to pay the piper..." Dr. Inevitable said as he took a menacing step toward the other younger man.
"Wait, I don't understand. Please enlighten me." The younger man continued to plead.
"Well it has been a while since I gave a proper monologue. Very well; you shall have a short reprieve but listen up as I'm not in the habit of repeating myself especially to the likes of you: I had a good run, caused a lot of chaos, amassed a lot of wealth, and better still never got caught so noone knew who I really was. Long story short I met a woman and one thing lead to another and before I knew it she was with child. The super villian game is not suitable for raising kids so I retired and founded Direwood Enterprises with my riches, a company I ceded to my son who now has a son of his own..."
"Ddd..di..d you say Direwood Enterprises?" The younger man stammered
"I didn't stutter. You wanted Delta City but you didn't do your homework? Surely you must have noticed in all the things that happened over the years crimewise since I retired the one constant was the Direwoods were off limits. But you, you came along and you just had to kidnap Logan Direwood to make a name for yourself. Well Logan Direwood just happens to be MY grandson and heir to my empire. I want him back, unharmed! Now! And you of course will be made an example of to show just what happens when someone dares to mess with a Direwood. However, your level of cooperation depends just how painful the process of becoming an example is."
The younger man clapped his hands and the large container to his rear left opened and a bound and gagged Logan Direwood fell out.
"Here he is Dr. Inevitable unharmed. Just let me go. Please you'll never hear from me again. I swear I had no idea he was your..."
The younger man was abruptly cut off as Dr. Inevitable raised a gauntleted hand into the air and the younger man levitated against his will clutching at his throat.
"I told you ignorance is no excuse, but I'm also a man of my word, so before I finish you off I'll give you the mercy of brain death." from the folds of his labcoat Dr. Inevitable drew a ray gun with his other hand, thumbed a setting on the grip and then pulled the trigger taking aim at the other man's head.
A narrow angry red beam leapt forward from the barrel striking the younger man dead center of the forehead right between the eyes. The light went out from the younger man's eyes as his brain flash fried. Dr. Inevitable then clenched his gauntleted fist and the younger man exploded in a smear of blood that stained much of the room.
"It didn't have to end this way." Dr Inevitable mused, stopping to drop a calling card and a warning amongst what had been the much younger villain.
Dr. Inevitable holstered his raygun. From another fold in his labcoat he pulled out a briefcase and pressed a button. The briefcase grew into a closet that Dr. Inevitable walked into and Bryce Jennings Direwood founder and former CEO of Direwood Enterprises stepped out. The closet then rapidly shrunk to become a briefcase again. Bryce Jennings Direwood picked up the briefcase and strode forth to where his grandson Logan lay. Luckily the lad was still alive, but unconscious. He removed the gag and bindings from the boy as he stirred.
"Grampa?" the boy asked
"Shh...it's okay now. I've come to take you home." Bryce responded
"What happened over there?" The boy asked pointing to the remains of the younger villain
"Don't look at that. Let's just say someone got in over their head and really made a mess of things in the end. But on the bright side we shouldn't have to worry about this happening ever again. Now let's get you home, but first do you want to stop for icecream?"
"Icecream, yay" Logan yelled
...and they all lived happily ever after
|
BaconConnoisseur
|
CodeGorilla4Hire
|
2023-06-29 23:00:10
|
2023-06-29 19:05:31
| 21 | 12 |
jq2451p
|
jq14ihm
|
14loxwh
|
14loxwh
|
[WP] You muster up the courage to ask your dwarven friend why you don't see any female dwarves around. He laughs.
|
“See that dwarf over there?” He asks, still looking amused and red-faced from his laughing fit.
“Yes,” I say, somewhat confused, looking at a burly dwarf man with an impressive, braided beard.
“That’s a female!” He says, laughing again at my confused expression.
“But… but that dwarf has a bigger beard than you!” I exclaim.
“Of course she does! Silly humans and your women with naked faces. A dwarf woman’s beard is her pride and joy! No self respecting dwarven maiden would let her beard be shorter than a man’s!”
“But what about, you know…” I say, gesturing to my chest and looking at the flat-chested dwarf my friend claims is a female.
“Oh right, I forgot about you humans and your milk. Well it’s simple really. We dwarves don’t need milk. We come out of the egg ready to eat solid food.” He explains patiently.
“EGG?” I ask, shocked.
“Maybe that’s a story for another day.” My friend says, laughing again and patting me on the back as we walk away.
|
I knew him for three decades already...and ever since the first day, he always swooned over his wife.
After hearing for so long about his family...and visiting so many dwarven cities, and fortresses, my curiosity could be no longer shackled.
Gathering all my courage I asked my best friend.
"Why don't I see any female dwarf around when we got to your cities, and fortresses?", I asked.
He looks at me, and laughs.
After laughing for a good while, and almost breaking my back as he "patted" it, he sighs.
"Oh, pointy ears, you are so clueless...
The women are home, creating our kids, and taking care of the home of course.
We are not in an all-out-war state anymore.", he said.
"Creating children?", I asked.
He nodded.
"When an adult dwarf man and woman are really really in love, they marry before the God of Forges and Goddess of Earth, and become family.
When they want a child, the man fills a vial with his blood, and essence, while the woman does the same.
Then, the woman stays home, and with care and love carves out of earth, and various valuable ores the little dwarven cub.", he says.
"You are...actually born of earth and ore? As the legends say?", I asked.
"You were born five thousands years ago, pointy ears, why are you surprised about this?
Your kind literally is born after a couple is blessed by a tree!", he said, bursting out in laughter.
"It's the Mother Tree! Not just a tree!", I said before I realized that he wasn't wrong.
It wasn't weird at all.
"So...
Does the earth, and ore used in the creation affect the health or potential of the child?", I asked.
"Does the blessing of the Mother Tree affect the potential of the elfling?", he rolled his eyes.
Oh yeah, again asking an obvious question...
"So, your four sons...are all sons because you wanted sons?", I continued.
"No, it's what the carving came out as.
It's what my beautiful wife's love has created.
The first dwarves were born of the earth, and ores of the planet, and it remained that way ever since then.
The carving is a vessel, but it's the Goddess of Earth who breathes life into them.", he said.
I nodded.
Should have expected this...
None of the races of this planet have a simple way of reproducing, after all, the Gods took care of that for us...
|
No_Maintenance_6719
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-06-06 10:39:24
|
2024-06-06 08:54:01
| 417 | 180 |
l7cpy1w
|
l7cgsmr
|
1d9d54h
|
1d9d54h
|
[WP] 5 years ago, you accidentally ran over a poor school student with your truck. You've carried the guilt all that time until one day, that very student knocks on your door, awoken from their coma. Rather than being angry, they thank you for inspiring their bestselling fantasy series
|
"AARRGGHH!!" i awoke with a scream, memories of last night flood through my mind. Of being cornered by Night Master, some new, upstart vigilante trying to make a name for himself. Of Night Master beating the crap out of me and not stopping, even when i'm curled up and not fighting back.
I try to sit up, but every part of my body aches and i lay back down.
I see a nurse peek in the room "Ah, you are awake then" and she leaves.
A few minutes later, Guardian, the leader of the Protectors, walks into the room and i freeze on the bed, feeling myself go pale. He sees my reaction and slows down, putting up his hands "Hey, its ok, its ok, relax, i'm not going to hurt you, Pooka"
"My name is Phouka" i say almost automatically. Guardian looks puzzled "Isn't that what i said?"
I shake my head "No, you called me Pooka, but my name is pronounced Púca".
He cocks his head a little "Wait, did you just...." i wave my hand "Sorry, force of habit, its fine"
He stands by my bed and i see now that he has a concerned look on his face "Pooka, i'm really sorry about what happened to you". I nod "You mean the part where Night Master kept punching and kicking me when i was already down on the ground and not resisting?"
Guardian winces "Yeah, that part....." i notice he's avoiding my eyes, looking away.
"So, i guess by now you figured out who i am and the cops are on their way?"
Guardian shakes his head "No, we didn't ID you, we haven't even seen your face, Pooka".
"Wait, how is that possible? There is no way you treated me *without* seeing my face"
Guardian pulls up a chair and sits down "The medical staff that helped you are sworn to secrecy, regarding *any* super they treat. Even among the Protectors, there are those who prefer to keep their identities secret. After they treated you, they put your mask back on." He puts his hand on mine "You did not deserve what happened to you, Pooka. You are a villain, but you are not *evil*"
(1/2)
|
There he was, that kid I hit all those years ago. He had notable scars on his face and walked with a limp but I could still remember his face. The same one that’s haunted me every night for 5 years straight.
“Excuse me, you’re Mr. Tarō right? I’m Sakuro Kushikage. We… uh *meet* a few years ago if you remember?”
All I could do was break down in tears and fall on my knees before him. “I’m so sorry, if you’ve come for your revenge I don’t blame you in the slightest. After what I did to you there were so many times I wanted to die but was too much of a coward.”
“Woah woah woah, that is not what I’m here for. I’m actually here to thank you. May I come in?” He says as he extends his hand to help me back to my feet.
As we sit down in my living room he explains what he’s really here for. “While I was in the coma I had this very vivid dream about this fantasy world where I had magical abilities. Like being able to transform objects into other things or mind reading. Anyway I dreamt a whole other life there as a hero who lived a full life. When I finally woke up, I started writing all the things I remembered about the dream. My teachers liked it so much they helped me turn it into its own fantasy series that became a best seller.”
I sat there stunned that this kid who had every reason to hate me was standing here before me thanking me. I’m glad he turned such a horrible situation into something positive. Meanwhile I went into a serious depression and became a bit of a shut-in. Never even touched that truck again afterwards and rejected anyone who tried to help me.
“Anyway, none of that would have happened if it weren’t for you. When I found out what happened to you, I knew I had to find you so I can tell you face to face.”
At this point he comes over and places his hand on my shoulder.
“It’s not your fault what happened that day, it never was. That day I was being stupid and I didn’t see that the crosswalk was still red when I ran out onto the road. I’m lucky that a coma, some scars and a bad leg are all I got. Now thanks to you I’m a best selling author. So thank you.”
He comes over and hugs me as I break down in tears again. The guilt was still there but now I could finally feel at peace with what happened. We spend the next couple hours just talking and getting to know each other before he leaves. He gave me a signed copy of the first book in his series with a message inside.
*”To the one who I owe my new found fame and my new life to, thank you.”*
—————- 1 hour later ——————
I finally enter my garage for the first time since that day and there’s that old truck of mine. I don’t know why I kept it but I did. I step into the vehicle and turn the ignition on. When the radio turns on I hear that same voice I heard that day.
*”So, you’ve finally come back Tarō-san. I take it this means you’ve realized the importance of my mission in this world.”*
“Yes, I have. That was no dream that boy had was it?”
*”No, there are so many worlds out there that are in massive peril. Ones that need a hero to save them. That is my purpose, to send these heroes where they’re needed most. So are you prepared to help me with that, Tarō-san? I’d rather not have to mess with your reality again like I did with those street lights.”*
“Yes, I’ll help you, Truck-kun.”
|
Thanatofobia
|
None
|
2025-01-11 19:16:06
|
2023-03-13 04:04:33
| 560 | 162 | null |
jc0mm7h
|
1hz0cf3
|
11pue97
|
[WP] 5 years ago, you accidentally ran over a poor school student with your truck. You've carried the guilt all that time until one day, that very student knocks on your door, awoken from their coma. Rather than being angry, they thank you for inspiring their bestselling fantasy series
|
"Where...where am I?" asked the man in the hospital bed.
"Oh good. You're awake. You talk a lot in your sleep. It was hard to tell if you were awake or not. Here, drink some water."
He drank deeply, coughed a bit, then asked, "I feel like shit. Wait aren't you....from the news.....Lady Thrash....from the Circle?"
She nodded, "You can call me, Diane. I am here on behalf of the Circle. I have a few questions."
"I knew I was being tracked by the Circle. A supervillain of my caliber has never been caught by the Circle until now. I'm sure you want to know all about my criminal exploits. I would like an attorney, please."
She sighed, "Cart Attack....Brent, can I call you Brent? We are not pressing charges. You are known for stealing shopping carts from big box stores. Your file at the Circle is a paragraph. You are classifies as threat level-Pink. The lowest class."
"Why would I work with the enemy of all supervillains, the Circle?"
"You don't have health insurance. If you cooperate, the Circle will pay your substantial medical costs."
Brent abruptly replied, "How can I be of service to the Circle?"
Diane relaxed and replied, "You were attacked by the Neighborhood Watch."
"What! A supervillain was taken down by a soccer mom?"
"That's the problem. The Neighborhood Watch has been getting bolder in their vigilante actions. More concerning, the various neighborhood watches are communicating. They're up to something and the Circle needs more information."
"What do you want me to do."
"Do what you do best. We want you to steal shopping carts from Costco."
"Doable. How many?"
"All of them."
Brent's heart rate noticeably increased on the monitor.
"Oh, you want the 9/11 of shopping cart heists. Can you imagine suburbanites when there are no carts at Costco? How will they load their 1000 pack cube of toilet paper or impulse buy gazebos? It will be chaos."
"So we're hoping. We want them to get sloppy, impulsive, and make mistakes."
"Hmmmm, a weekday night. I'll need to recruit more henchmen."
Diane smiled, "Rest up. I'll be in touch after your recovery. The Circle thanks you for your service."
|
Jill Ryerson beamed at me from my doorstep, a copy of "Stodgey and the Mushroom Stone" in one hand and a pair of crutches in the other.
"This is my book! Before the accident, I'd never wanted to write. I hated English class. I hated reading. The doctors said I changed because of the head injury. I tell ya, I just started getting all these ideas," she said.
This wasn't how I imagined this conversation would go. I expected her to be angry, or at least bitter. I would apologize profusely and it wouldn't be enough. Then she was supposed to tell me through tears how much I ruined her life and how much she'd hate me for the rest of her days for taking her legs away from her. It went that way every time I'd thought of it, which was every day since it happened.
I wanted to smile and make do like everything was nice, but I found myself angrier at her than anything. How could she be this successful young author, happy as can be, when I was supposed to have stolen her happiness from her? There were so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her of all the sleepless nights I'd spent thinking about how things would've gone differently if I wasn't texting and driving. Hell, even saying I was sorry would be good enough, but I couldn't seem to access any of that at the moment. Instead, I let fly with my first impression of what she said.
"*The title sounds a lot like the first Harry Potter book*."
Her smile turned into an ashen frown. It was as if I'd just run her over again with a different kind of truck.
She stood rigidly, staring me down from head to toe. "You know, I came here to thank you. To tell ya that I made peace with it, that you even inspired me."
"Look, I'm sorry." I said.
She shook her head. "Did you even read the book?"
I backed away nervously. "Can't admit that I have."
"If you did, you'd know that it's nothing like *Harry Potter*. A kid gets hit by a wagon on a country road and is badly injured. He's taken to a witch's hut, where a witch promises him that she can save him, but he'll have to eat a mushroom that will bestow a curse on him. The curse paralyzes him, so he can't walk. At first, he's disheartened, but after meeting a fairy who tells him about something called the mushroom stone, he believes the curse can be undone. And that's all I'm sayin'. You should've read it."
She handed me the book, the frown lifting from her face. "It's signed."
I sighed. "Look, I'm really sorry."
"It's OK," she said, turning away. "I left a message for you inside. Read it."
"I will," I said. "Thanks for stopping by."
She used her crutches to walk down to the car she came in, then got in the passenger seat. As the car drove off I opened the copy of the book and looked for her message, which was on a piece of paper carefully folded between the pages.
"Dear Stan,
I'm so glad to be able to give you this copy of my book. The accident inspired me to write it. I spent so many nights imagining what I'd do to you for stealing my youth, and that really made the words flow onto the page. I imagined that I'd meet you one more time so that you could see me alive and thriving despite what you did, and then I'd ensure that you met a worse fate than I did.
Now that I'm successful, I can afford to make my dreams a reality.
Jill"
I was about to put the book down when I heard a car pull into the drive. *Oh shit.* I froze, wondering what I should do. I never heard the assassin enter the house because the last thing I saw before I heard the gun go off was Jill's face smiling against the pane of glass on my front door.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
Domestic_Adonis
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2025-01-12 00:08:51
|
2023-03-13 03:09:53
| 77 | 24 |
m6nuqhy
|
jc0gb9i
|
1hz0cf3
|
11pue97
|
[WP] 5 years ago, you accidentally ran over a poor school student with your truck. You've carried the guilt all that time until one day, that very student knocks on your door, awoken from their coma. Rather than being angry, they thank you for inspiring their bestselling fantasy series
|
As my eyes slowly peak open I see a woman in armor and a nun's habit. I recognize her as she spots my eyes opening.
"Ah, you're awake. Good to see you made it, Utgardsloki," Sister Michael, the Victorious Battle Nun, said with an even tone. She was a big name in the super biz.
"What... ? What the flying fudge happened?" I ask as I try to sit up but immediately lay back down. "My head..."
"We were hoping you could tell us," a voice came from the shadows. It was Cloak O'Knight. He was so serious and mysterious.
"Hey, Cloak n'Toke!" I say flippantly. I smirk, "If you can't tell, I got my ass beat by one of your lot. Big guy who was built like a brick shit house and moved like grease lightning. Did I piss off old Goody-Goody somehow and he changed costumes to beat me as a joke?"
Cloak and the Sister look to each other and then back to me.
"If you're referring to Monkey, then-," I cut off the Sister.
"Yeah. Monkey. I thought him and me were cool?"
"He's currently facing off against the King of Mars... on Mars," Cloak O'Knight confirms. I pause. I then look to him.
"Well, Monkey can make clones and shapeshift and-," this time I get cut off by the sister.
"It's not the Monkey King. I fought off your attacker and he does not fight the same way. I have sparred with Monkey many times and that thing was not Monkey," the Sister is quick to deny my claim.
"Whoever it is, they've attacked and murdered several level 4 superhuman threats. So far we have 19 confirmed kills," Cloak informs me as he shows me a list of names on a data pad. I look it over.
"What the hell? I've worked with some of these guys but I only know some by reputation and a couple I don't know at all. Why would some nut want to kill us when you have psychos like Commodore Clown or Spear Finger running around?" I look from the list to them in concern.
"We don't know but you're the first survivor," Sister Michael says as she draws her angelic sword. Cloak nods in agreement as his suit lights up with neon lines.
"We're taking this murderous bastard down," Cloak seconds. I just look nervous.
"Well... I didn't ever expect to be the damsel in distress..." I sigh as I lay back.
|
Jill Ryerson beamed at me from my doorstep, a copy of "Stodgey and the Mushroom Stone" in one hand and a pair of crutches in the other.
"This is my book! Before the accident, I'd never wanted to write. I hated English class. I hated reading. The doctors said I changed because of the head injury. I tell ya, I just started getting all these ideas," she said.
This wasn't how I imagined this conversation would go. I expected her to be angry, or at least bitter. I would apologize profusely and it wouldn't be enough. Then she was supposed to tell me through tears how much I ruined her life and how much she'd hate me for the rest of her days for taking her legs away from her. It went that way every time I'd thought of it, which was every day since it happened.
I wanted to smile and make do like everything was nice, but I found myself angrier at her than anything. How could she be this successful young author, happy as can be, when I was supposed to have stolen her happiness from her? There were so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her of all the sleepless nights I'd spent thinking about how things would've gone differently if I wasn't texting and driving. Hell, even saying I was sorry would be good enough, but I couldn't seem to access any of that at the moment. Instead, I let fly with my first impression of what she said.
"*The title sounds a lot like the first Harry Potter book*."
Her smile turned into an ashen frown. It was as if I'd just run her over again with a different kind of truck.
She stood rigidly, staring me down from head to toe. "You know, I came here to thank you. To tell ya that I made peace with it, that you even inspired me."
"Look, I'm sorry." I said.
She shook her head. "Did you even read the book?"
I backed away nervously. "Can't admit that I have."
"If you did, you'd know that it's nothing like *Harry Potter*. A kid gets hit by a wagon on a country road and is badly injured. He's taken to a witch's hut, where a witch promises him that she can save him, but he'll have to eat a mushroom that will bestow a curse on him. The curse paralyzes him, so he can't walk. At first, he's disheartened, but after meeting a fairy who tells him about something called the mushroom stone, he believes the curse can be undone. And that's all I'm sayin'. You should've read it."
She handed me the book, the frown lifting from her face. "It's signed."
I sighed. "Look, I'm really sorry."
"It's OK," she said, turning away. "I left a message for you inside. Read it."
"I will," I said. "Thanks for stopping by."
She used her crutches to walk down to the car she came in, then got in the passenger seat. As the car drove off I opened the copy of the book and looked for her message, which was on a piece of paper carefully folded between the pages.
"Dear Stan,
I'm so glad to be able to give you this copy of my book. The accident inspired me to write it. I spent so many nights imagining what I'd do to you for stealing my youth, and that really made the words flow onto the page. I imagined that I'd meet you one more time so that you could see me alive and thriving despite what you did, and then I'd ensure that you met a worse fate than I did.
Now that I'm successful, I can afford to make my dreams a reality.
Jill"
I was about to put the book down when I heard a car pull into the drive. *Oh shit.* I froze, wondering what I should do. I never heard the assassin enter the house because the last thing I saw before I heard the gun go off was Jill's face smiling against the pane of glass on my front door.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
jointheclockwork
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2025-01-11 23:52:26
|
2023-03-13 03:09:53
| 49 | 24 |
m6nrr34
|
jc0gb9i
|
1hz0cf3
|
11pue97
|
[WP] You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.
|
He went by the name Smackdown.
Of course, there were many more names he’d been given over the years (not given, *earned,* he’d proclaim), by groaning, irritated heroes and villains alike. The Wildcard, the Battle-Junkie, the Rookie-Punter, the Mad Duelist, to name a few. He’d made a name for himself (several names even) as an unpredictable element who would do one thing, and one thing only. He would show up to a large open area, announce his presence, beat up any and all powered individuals in the area, and then win or lose, he would leave. He knew the Heroes Association considered him to be the bottom of the B-tier villains list, and he was used primarily as a skill check for C-tier heroes looking to prove that they’re ready for bigger and badder opponents. He didn’t mind. A relatively steady stream of fun, creative new opponents who were willing to fight with everything they had to make a name for themselves? Smackdown didn’t have kids, but he imagined that the triumphant smiles on those hero’s faces when they knock him down must be what being a proud parent felt like.
Until Bloodletter showed up.
A nasty, ruthless villain who reveled not in the thrill of the fight, but in the body count of a massacre. A foul mirror, a truly evil counterpart to the humble Smackdown.
But Smackdown didn’t care about that.
He was used to being underestimated, since the “powers” he showed off weren’t flashy. He was a little faster, a good bit stronger, and a whole lot tougher than your average human, and a truly impressive physical fighter. It’s why he was such a good obstacle for newer heroes: no matter what kind of opponent he had, he wouldn’t win because of some unfavorable power matchup, he’d win because he’d just beat them with sheer martial prowess.
But if Bloodletter wanted to interrupt a good, proper duel, to put on his stupid little murder show?
Well, he could be flashy when he wanted to be.
One good hit. An overhead strike to the shoulder. Dumbass didn’t even bother blocking it properly, just sent a sanguine blade to try to slice his hand off, assuming that his powers were better.
Smackdown taught one lesson, and taught it well: don’t underestimate your opponent.
The hero he’d been fighting, a lovely lass by the moniker of Soothing Wave, had clearly taken the lesson to heart, before her time was cut short by someone with no respect for proper usage of power.
So when the dust cleared, when the cleanup crews came to inspect the 281-meter impact crater, when they found the red stain that was the remainder of Bloodletter, there was a small note next to the body.
“When you stop following the rules of the duels, *so do I.*”
And there was a man, weeping openly at Soothing Wave’s funeral service.
|
"The heroes and i,had had a friendly relationship at times. really my journey into so called villainy, started with My youngest sons Milos 6th birthday,him and his friends wanted it to be super hero themed,so i dawned my pirate suit,i haven't worn,in years,since i was captain of the Infamous Black rose pirates,i want to say,it was down in greece? or maybe spain,i dont really rember,it was 300 or so years ago now,but ill never forget ol lucy,my first mate,i met her when she was but a lass of 14,and she stole from me,.'
"but that's not what this story is about. see for years,i played the local villain,for a bunch of local super heroes,of various ages. Dragon of winter they called me.,i would do petty tricks,small snow storms,petty freezing of pipes and such,but id never hurt anyone and id always reverse the damage i did when the kids caught me. I've lived for many years now. I've traveled around the world and back,i spent time all over. but i had finally settled down once again. all the kids knew me by name,it didn't matter if i was a so-called villain,the parents and kids were happy ,and having fun,isn't that what's important?"
"i was at work in the office,and going over some reports,when a speical news brodcast from the heros went out.it was strange as it was a level 32 alret,the higest level they had,so i stopped and watched.,and what i saw... ill never forget. No parent should ever have to bury their child... but that day... ill never forget,the anger,the pure hatrad i felt for that bastard. the one they call the Blod viper,a brutal bastard,who has no moral compas."
*Special news report Blood viper Brutally murdred and torutred the local super hero team night owls,live on telvison,and carved their hearts out,daring anyone else to challange him,as he laughs a wicked laugh*
"when i saw the report,my heart sank,i prayed i was wrong.... but later,when i got home,Lucian,One of Milos friends parents,who works as a cop,informed me,milo was their... fighting for his life... and he passed away. on that day,hearing those words,my heart hardend once again,and it took me back to when i served over seas.. i dawned an old uniform with various tabs of elite forces ,and i let out a roar of anger,as i look to a picture of milo and his mom*
"im sorry,i wasnt able to protect him.... but i will avange him."
*i put out a chllange to a duel to the death for blood viper,many news comapnys and reporters came and looked at the situation,blood viper just laughed at seeing me,dressed in a t shirt,and shorts,*
"so your the so called villan who chllanged me? i beat the hero league and i heard your more a prankster then an actual villan,so what are you going to do about it,weakling."
*My eyes flash with an anger and fire they havent flashed with,in years,as i spoke calmly,yet the power and tension behind my words could be felt,as the very air shook*
"You killled,innocent children... who wanted to make this world a safer place. You really think just because im called a tristicker ,i am? i only did that for the children,and the local heros. it kept them safe from people like you."
*he waves his hands,as spirits of the dammend and demons of death appear,and he ties blood viper in chains as he tries to run*
"My true power,is far beyond,what they saw or know. today im going to make an example of you. milo was only 15,and he had a kid on the way. i dont agree with it. but you took away that chance,now your sins have caught up."
*Everyone watches in stuned silence as The person they thought was a low tier villain,brutally punished blood viper,and once he was done torutring him,he summoned a sword of Hellfire and ice,and split him in 2,*
"i lived a life to protect my sun,and then you did this. you pushed me to far."
*he says,as he burns the body and as his spirt leaves,the other spirits and demons drag it deep to the depths of hell*
*he looks up to the sky*
"dont worry son,after this,no one,hero or villan will bother your unborn child,or your girlfriend. you have my word,ill protect them. hopefully one day,we can meet again,at the gates."
|
Ass_Incomprehensible
|
First_Hovercraft_197
|
2024-09-23 16:31:40
|
2024-09-23 11:53:12
| 72 | 45 |
lojq1vx
|
loifflc
|
1fnekwz
|
1fnekwz
|
[WP] You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.
|
I am Ammit, the devourer of souls. A great demon beast, I have broken loose from my cage time and time again, hunting the mortal world for souls to consume so I may add their power to my own.
But hold on, I hear you immediately cry; that doesn't sound like a harmless small-time villain at all!
I shall explain; devouring is not the same as digesting. To digest things, I turn the properties of what I consume, against itself. Like a magic mirror.
Malice, hatred, greed, destructive intent? These things turned in on themselves quickly eradicate the soul. A nice lunch.
But things like love, and courage, and hope? Even idle kindness and curiosity? Virtue cannot destroy virtue. Such things I cannot digest, they sit in my stomach until I am forced to regurgitate them.
So, in the end, to all but the most destructive and vile of beings, I am all bark and no bite. A soul eater that cannot keep down souls.
I remember my first rampage well; shattering the barriers of the spirit world, I stomped down the roads of Delta City, chasing terrified crowds and gulping down the souls of the slow and hesitant.
That lasted as long as it took for me to take a bite out of Luminary. It was like I had swallowed a brick, that was inflating like a balloon in my stomach. I was forced to spit up everyone I had eaten, none the worse for wear, and people remarked in wonder at how pure the hero's soul was. Maridia the Mystic subdued me with magical bindings, I was taken to a zoo-slash-prison, and that was that.
From then on, my terror factor decayed, a footnote compared to other villainous happenings. I would escape, go after the soul of some jerk, the heroes would make me disgorge it, I'd be muzzled and taken back to my cage and the moral lesson of the day would be learned by all. Rinse and repeat.
And then one day, a man named Phyzier came. He possessed incredible powers of healing...but instead of using them for good, he used them to extend the suffering of his victims and...well, perhaps what else he did is best left undescribed. Really.
I smelt his evil in the air, when he first came to Delta City, no doubt to find more innocents to prey on. I watched from afar as he battled a young hero named Furlong, instantaneously recovering from any blows the hero struck against him. And when Phyzier started to dismember the hero with hidden devices, I had seen enough.
Casually stretching, I snapped the enchanted chains Maridia had bound me in, ignoring the gawkers and those making phone calls. It was a mere three second's effort to bend the bars of my cage, inscribed with a hundred warding sigils, and step out onto the streets of Delta City once more.
By the time I had reached Phyzier, he was facing off against three more heroes, and the scent of cruelty and sadism and blood in the air was nearly overpowering.
Phyzier noticed me coming up behind him, of course. I wasn't subtle. Turning his back on the heroes, he brandished his many gadgets and surgical tools, gloating words coming out of his mouth about something-something take me apart something-something mad science.
His tools did absolutely nothing to me. I ate him in one gulp. Theatrical burp included.
Well, the heroes, remaining heroes, weren't sure what to do after that. After all, I wasn't after them; who wanted to follow up a gourmet meal with a brick?
Eventually they did decide that they had to pull Phyzier out of me and put him into jail. Maridia was summoned, the usual carjack was applied to my jaws and the grabber tools were brought out.
But, well...heroic sorts and innocent people, they don't digest at all. And scummy people like landlords and middle managers, even they take years to consume properly. Like I'm a sarlacc.
But that Phyzier? With the amount of evil in his heart? He melted like fairy floss.
Eventually, the heroes decided there was nothing more they could do.
They put me back in my repaired cage, tied down again, and the people of Delta City were reminded that no matter how ineffectual my stomach acids are against the good and innocent, I am still Ammit, devourer of souls.
|
I always made myself a nuisance. Not a full-on threat oh no. What good is stealing money from a bank when the whole dang country gets a good look at my face that even rival nations, no matter how antagonistic they were to mine, saw me a threat no sane person would want to work with? What good is murdering someone like a psycho if all that means is that I'm just a deranged lunatic? What good was running some union or guild of bad guys if all it meant was working with people that were no doubt willing to stab me in the back? Hell, I could never understand any of those supervillains outside of any of them being either mentally ill like some man who thought his mobster puppet was a living being or just plain sick in enjoying the evil they did with no regrets like that Jack guy who was willing to literally let henchmen die for some messed up goal.
Even then, I was just some lowly thug at most. One that never really wanted to be a leader. Hell, I was pretty much a henchman for some low-level villains, always in it just for a paycheck. At least until that one time when some upstart wannabe of a mad genius tried to make me a super soldier. Didn't work, didn't give me powers but he would of been sure because of something related to genetics or some other crap.
I didn't have special powers, no super strength, no super speed, no genius intellect that would lead me to being some maddened scientist or supernatural power that would of made me the devil among men. Nah, I was just a plain old human. At least that is how it was until that day. When that bastard came in, invaded my turf, and worst of all had taken the lives of many.
Oh how I hated that new villain with every fiber of my being. Never got his name, never cared to. He was just some violent psycho that wanted to kill under the excuse of "fighting the strongest." I could remember how he eviscerated the heroes, old and young, masters and rookies. I could only watch as one of them tried to get me to safety before he was grabbed and ripped into pieces, beaten down into raw meat. That was when I felt it, an inner beast. I went toe to toe with that bastard. He no doubt put a dent in me, beating my face in and punching a few teeth of mine out, breaking my bones. And yet I rose back up, the sickening sound of the bones mending themselves as I fought. I fought dirty, I fought using the weapons left behind by a SWAT team. He laughed at bullets doing nothing to him until I clubbed his face with an assault rifle that was dropped by a slain SWAT member, and there I felt strength coming into me. That was when he fought back even further, beating me down even harder until I was a meaty pulp of broken bones and yet again I reformed, my visage more horrid, more of a foul creature from a terrible B-movie from decades ago.
That was when I, in my terrible and menacing form, ended his life. We fought hand to hand and I ended up biting past his defenses. I wasn't like that one supervillain werewolf that would of menaced the streets a few time back in October or that shark anti-hero who flip-flopped everytime some fat cat tried to illegally dump into the sea. No. I just bit into his neck like some zombie. The blood and torn flesh was enough to kill off all that bravado as he screamed in pain. It was all a blur by then, the remaining heros keeping me at arms length as it seemed like my body was back to it was, and my foe beneath my feet, dead or dying of blood loss. He was missing a few more chunks.
I was detained for a while and eventually kept in some maximum security cell, both as a precaution and as a means of reeling in that bastard. All I could truly get was that I wasn't some low level villain or thug, not anymore. I was something else. I was something that could of been an undying menace to the world, not a zombie, no. I didn't die but I was known that day as Regenerator. That was the name I was given. They could only guess that scientist I worked for once might of had something to do with it.
Doesn't matter though. I'm content to living the rest of my days in this prison. Food ain't too bad, especially when they serve meatloaf or pot pie. That said if a prison break happens, I may as well step out. Not to resume my small-time villainy but rather to corral in the villains themselves. I'd rather be a boogeyman at this point. Hell, if it can scare the public, I don't mind that compared to making sure even the bastard I bit into are afraid of me.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
Entry 9/23/2024
We had this guy in the prison lab for weeks now. The way he looks, you'd mistake him for the average civilian. Especially with how he lacks super powers. And yet when he's pushed, they seem to activate. It's always the same thing: broken bones mending themselves, flesh regrowing, even his muscles become stronger though only as a response. And when he's been put into a critical condition, he'll regenerate but in a more horrid and semi-feral state. We're still trying to understand his condition, especially since the Superhero League of Hoboken had just brought in the scientist behind this, the "Mad Doctor Malice", real name Bobson Duggnutt. Small time villain who made a dangerous compound that was thought to be taken from one of the big name genetic and medical companies. With him, we'll see what makes Regenrator tick though I also strongly advise all personnel to make sure that the villains do not know. Regenrator keeps them in check. We don't want much worse psychos and malcontents have some upper hand against a dangerous but useful beast of man.
-Doctor Ethan Culverin, head scientist
|
Avaday_Daydream
|
weetweet69
|
2024-09-24 02:26:16
|
2024-09-24 00:03:59
| 33 | 23 |
lomp8db
|
lom1zmx
|
1fnekwz
|
1fnekwz
|
[WP] You partner in crime has pulled a gun on you. "The truth is, the game was rigged from the start." You know that very well, mostly because you did all the rigging.
|
Jack pulls out a handgun from his waistband. Him and Russell are sitting across from one another. Scheming. Stacks of cash line the table.
Russell: “Woah, what the fuck!”
Jack: “Surprised? I bet. I covered my tracks pretty nicely. Now, it’s time for me to take the lead”
R: “But - Where’d you get a gun??”
J: “Doesn’t matter. What matters now is that you hand over the money.”
R: “Listen man, you can’t do this. It’s against the rules”
J: “I can’t? And why is that? Because you want to take it all for yourself?”
R: “No, come on, please. Take it easy.”
J: “You thought you were in control playing the banker? You think this is just a game? I’m not fucking around.”
Jack puts the gun to Russell’s temple.
R: “Okay, okay, whatever you want”
Russel hands over a stack of bills. Singles, fives…
J: “Give me the big bills or I’ll fucking shoot you!”
He digs the gun in harder.
Russell‘s hands shake to gather the bigger stacks of hundreds, five-hundred dollar bills.
J: “Great. Now, I’d like to propose a trade.”
R: “Whatever you want. You're in control.”
J: “I’ll give you $5,000 for Boardwalk and Park Place”
Russel nods and slides the property cards to Jack’s side.
J: “Okay, now, I’d like to build two hotels.”
R: “See, here’s the thing.”
Russell pauses to savor the moment.
R: “You thought you were clever with your little trade. But, there’s a housing shortage. I already used up all the hotels. You lose.”
Jack scans the board. Full of Hotels and Houses. No pieces left.
J: “It can’t be!”
R: “Sorry, Jack. You can’t rig the game, I’ve already won. That’s Monopoly baby!”
Jack unleashes a primal scream and flips the board. Hotels fly like shrapnel as money rains from above.
END
|
"Woah, woah, woah!" I blurt out, raising my hands into the air as quickly and cleanly as I can. Fortunately I was only carrying a small box of valuables that won't break from simply being dropped. Or is that unfortunately? Perhaps if the box had broken, I could have used the spillings as a distraction or a trip hazard... heh, imagine that. Zack's reflexes are faster than that and I'd take a bullet through the skull. You can't do stuff like that as you see it done in the movies; the movies aren't real.
Zack smiles with a big grin. A big, cocky grin that I'd become so used to seeing as a good omen. This is the first time I have to register it as bad. The mental dissonance pains me. "Giving up already? Or are you thinking of a way out? I want to see you squirm."
I mentally begin to tune out the useless parts of his monologue - didn't I just say that the movies aren't real? - as I notice the other pair of our group of four step into the metaphorical frame, guns also drawn on me. To one side of Zack, his girlfriend, Laura, and to the other side, my boyfriend, who only ever told me his name. Allegedly, of course. Telling the person you love the identity you're trying to hide is a mistake made by the bad guys in the movies - and, of course, the movies aren't real.
"So here's what you're gonna do," Zack demands of me, finally getting to the point. "We're gonna load these back onto the truck, and you're going to eat our exhaust fumes as we drive off without you. Do that, and *maybe* I won't put a-"
His words are cut off as the crack of guns going off fills the air. I reflexively flinch away from the loudest sound, but that's hard to do properly when the sound is coming from every direction and you have tinnitus in one ear. Shame I had to flinch, too - I really wanted to see the look on Zack's face when this happened.
I step up to him and lean over his anguished lump of a form on the ground. By the looks of the bloodstains he's taken at least two bullets to his left leg and one to his right arm, and his gun is completely wrecked as well. Laura seems to have been more accurately hit, her upper arms are both completely red, even through her clothing. Spit from my direction just so happens to land on his face.
I look up at "My Boyfriend", who has dropped his gun and is now leaning back against the truck. I'm sure that if this were forty years ago, he's be smoking a cigarette, too. My gaze turns back to Zack. The wetness seems to have drawn his attention.
"Did I ever tell you that I was ex-military? Or that Leftenant Boyfriend over there isn't ex? Yeah. The game really was rigged from the start, you just tried to do something right before I would have done."
After all, it shouldn't come as a surprise that soldiers can actually aim. You cannot outrun bullets, especially not those fired by actual trained military personnel. As I've said, the movies aren't real.
Maybe my inside ops would make a nice movie, too. In two hundred years, anyway, assuming this story gets declassified at all. Hm. I'm going to need a completely new identity after this.
|
Thomas_Sankara49
|
Bunnytob
|
2023-08-17 20:34:54
|
2023-08-17 20:01:06
| 139 | 72 |
jwmm3ax
|
jwmgck8
|
15twp5a
|
15twp5a
|
[WP] One can easily distinguish a true veteran adventurer from the masses, for one doesn’t fear those who show to the start of a dungeon with gleaming weapons and polished armor, but those who show up wearing casual clothing, looking like they just got done shopping in town not 5 minutes earlier.
|
"Is that a carpenters hammer?"
Bob smiled. "Keen eyes, dear leader," he said. "I couldn't find my sword so I borrowed this from my neighbor." Garrick the Stern looked Bob up and down. "*This* is what you choose to wear into the cursed mines?" he said, gesturing to Bobs common attire. Bob shrugged. "I had a piano recital before this," he said. "Hard to tickle the ivories in battle gear." Garrick sighed, but figured at the very least their new recruit would slow down their enemies as they stopped to devour him.
"The loot will be an even split," he started, addressing the group. "Our target is in the heart of the mine. The precious stone of the mad foreman is said to be worth a fortune. We extract it, and we're set for life." Dex, the assassin, smirked. Halvar, the Wizard, puffed out his chest. Bob scratched his nose and bit into an apple. Garrick drew his sword. "To glory!" he shouted, and ran into the mine. Halvar and Dex followed closely behind. Bob followed at a leisurely pace, finishing his apple.
The group passed through the entrance shaft and into a wide cavern. Halvar raised his staff. "Light!" he commanded, and a bright white light emanated from the crystal on top. Red eyes blazed at the perimeter of the chamber. Garrick flung his shield off his back into his offhand. "Brace!" he said, just as the horde charged. Magefire blazed a group of ghouls and sent them shrieking into a smoking heap. Daggers flashed as three, four, five of the foul fiends fell with slit throats. Garricks sword got stuck in the ribcage of one of the creatures just as another was descending on him. Blood splashed his face, and Garrick opened his eyes to see the light fading from the ghouls eyes.
Then he saw the carpenters hammer lodged in the ghouls head.
"Bullseye!" Bob said, entering the cavern. He pulled the hammer out and brushed it off on the dead ghoul. "Oh man, Jerry is going to be pissed. I'll have to get him a hammer that's not covered in ghoul brains." Garrick blinked, then wiped the blood from his face. "Try to keep up!" he said, glaring at Bob. They moved deeper into the cavern and, to Garricks surprise, Bob was holding his own. He seemed to favor using the hammer as a ranged weapon, which was easily the least efficient application. Most of the enemies Bob felled he did with his bare hands; clacking their heads together or snapping their necks in a single motion.
"Why, on Earth, do you keep throwing your only weapon?" Garrick finally asked after they had dispatched the latest pack of enemies. Bob raised an eyebrow. "Well I can't use it close range," he said. "I'd get blood all over my nice recital clothes." Garrick did his best *not* to look at Bob as they continued deeper into the mine. Eventually they came to a large door set into the mine wall with lit torches on either side. Garrick turned to address his crew. "This is it," he said. "The Mad Foreman should lie within. It is said his command of vile blood magic is unparalleled since his demonic possession. Be cautious, friends."
They entered the chamber and saw him. The Mad Foreman sat on a throne of corpses, his demonic thralls bowing before him. A ghostly laugh spilled forth from his twisted lips. "You think to challenge me?" he said. "I will add your broken bodies to my throne." Dex got into a crouch and spun his daggers. Halvar scowled and pointed his staff. Garrick steeled himself, then gasped as something flew past his head. The Mad Foreman rose from his throne. "Feast, my children! Dine upon these fo-"
"Is that a carpenters hammer?"
***SHLUNK***
|
Archibald lazed in the sunlight outside the dungeon. People mistakenly thought goblins enjoyed the musty, damp confines of the caves, but that was foolish. It would be like assuming men preferred the odiferous walls of the stable simply because they worked there for most of the day.
No, give him a nice spot of dappled sunlight beneath the trees on a slow day. It was just what the witch doctor order--
"Archi, we got company coming down the Accursed Trail." Brunhild's squawking voice had a masterful ability to shatter the peace.
Grumbling, Archibald sat, then pushed himself to his feet, gangly limbs protesting the disruption. "What is it this time?"
"Two singlets, arriving about the same time based on progress so far." She waved a piece of parchment with scrawled notes toward him.
"You sure it's not a duo?"
She shook her head, a line of snot flying from her bulbous nose with the movement's force. "Pretty sure. They're not bickering or arguing about strategy. They've mostly ignored each other so far."
That didn't mean much, but it was the best they could do. Singlets meant one-on-one, and Archibald cracked his back. He much preferred a team-based plan, but that was not in the cards. "Alright, so you and I are up for this one."
"Aye. Which one you want?"
Archibald snatched the scout's report from his colleague's hand, skimming the available information with a practiced eye.
First up was Sir Galbraith the Forlorn, knight elect of the Castle Eliden. He must have made quite the figure, as the scout made multiple references to how shiny and bright the knight looked. He also sported a sword bestowed on him by the castle sorcerer, which gleamed in its sheath even as he walked the shadowy pathways beneath the trees. Not to mention the jangly assortment of potions that filled his pack.
Then there was Joe. Of Hornsmouth, they were pretty sure. Joe was possibly lost, wandering through with a hodgepodge of armor pieces that hung off of him like loose skin. As for weapon, the scout was pretty sure he had a dagger in his belt, maybe two.
Well, that made things easy. "I'll take the shiny one," Archibald said definitively.
"You got a death wish or something?" Brunhild asked as she took back the parchment.
Archibald shrugged. Getting slain would mean a few days R&R while the necromancer got him back into fighting shape. And he did like the necromancer, what with her violet eyes and lovely smile. But not today.
"You ever gone up against one of them shiny adventure types?"
Brunhild shook her head. Archibald sighed. These transfers from the reserves never had any *actually* useful training.
"Well, let me fill you in. Shiny armor, what's that tell you?"
"Well, it's well-maintained, probably pretty strong. Maybe even enchan--"
"Wrong," Archibald snapped. "It means it's been in storage, brought out to make a statement for some lazy knight to complete a required quest. What about the sword?"
She was hesitant now. "Well, it *is* definitely magical. And given to him hy the sorcerer, so..." She awaited his rebuttal.
"So it's new, and he probably does not know the first thing about weilding it effectively. As likely to slice his own arm off as hit me. And then take the potions--"
She was nodding along with him now, intent.
"A bag full of potions means he never uses 'em. Probably can't tell a health potion from a mana pot even in good lighting. Down in the dungeon, well, I think you get the idea."
"But the other one has none of that, so shouldn't he be even easier?"
Archibald laughed. It rattled the tree branches above him, causing a flurry of crows to take flught and voice their displeasure. "Ah, you get Joes like that all the time. They're only bringing what they have to have, and you better believe they know how to use it. That armor probably has a few different wards, maybe even some contact damage. It doesn't match because it's all about what's best for the job. And I bet he's handy with those daggers, too."
Brunhild's face was a mix of despondence and irritation as she took in the shared wisdom. Her lower lip quivered with some emotion. Archibald did not care which one.
"So, there you have it. Good luck." He clapped the rookie on the shoulder and made his way to his location. For a moment, he thought of offering to switch. After all, that meant some tender care from the necromancer, most likely.
Then he thought of that wailing, nasally voice. A few days of peace seemed immensely better. Though he was sure her eventual revenge would be remarkably unpleasant in it's own right.
That was a problem for a future Archibald to worry about. He grabbed a rough hewn club on his way inside the dungeon, feeling it's familiar heft. Yes, this one would be perfect for the job.
Snarl, he reminded himself, fixing his lips in a wicked grin.
As light refracted along the walls in front of him from a polished silver chest plate, Archibald got into his preferred stance. It was showtime.
|
jpb103
|
katherine_c
|
2023-06-20 16:56:12
|
2023-06-20 16:39:45
| 266 | 119 |
jouo1w3
|
joulh5q
|
14e8boo
|
14e8boo
|
[WP] You're on a hike and find a sign, it reads: "WARNING DO NOT LOOK AWAY. There is a danger here, the danger is based on sight. The danger cannot see you if you cannot see it. Help will arrive every half-hour. DO NOT LOOK AWAY." The sign has a built-in clock, it's 3:15pm.
|
"Come through, children!" I smiled. Another sunny morning, another day of showing children the wonders of the World Tree. We stepped through the entrance and into the atrium; various wizards and mages buzzing around their day, carrying files, tools and whatever tools befits their living.
"The World Tree is the source of life for our kingdom, and it gets its energy from the Sun", I explained to the kids. "Now who can tell me how old the World Tree is?"
"Ten MILLION MILLION YEARS OLD!" shouted a boy, from the front of the group. I chuckled, "Haha, maybe not that many. I wouldn't want to be that old!" I proceeded to tell the group of excitement that nobody knew exactly how old the Tree was, but it was in the ballpark of five to ten thousand years.
I pointed the group to a diorama above their heads, carved into the walls of the trunk, spiralling up to the top of the tree, far out of sight of this group at the base. This diorama depicted the history of the Tree, its magic slowly carving a new panel into the wood as I spoke. The newest panel showed the bustle of the Tree and life around it, including a small group of children who were excitedly pointing at the wall, thrilled at making it into the wall of history. "What's all the way at the top?" asked a little girl, with eager eyes.
"Well, as you know all Magic users have a Seed which grows with their power. Some people end up with wands, some with staves, and would you guess it, one particular sorcerer's seed took root and grew into the World Tree."
"One day, when the Tree and the kingdom prospered, the Mage whose seed became the Tree - we call him the First Mage - left and disappeared from the world. Nobody knows where he went, but allow me to let you in on a little secret - the First Mage simply went into hiding, pretending to be someone else to live the simple life he always wanted."
The crowd oohed at this secret, giggling as if they were now protectors of the kingdom's most confidential pieces of information. Some of them whispered to each other, asking who they thought the First Mage could be. The boy in the front piped up, and questioned: "Sir! Sir! Do you know who the First Mage is?"
"I wonder", I smiled, as I ushered them into the next chamber in my tree.
|
Giggling maniacally, the most powerful mage of the common Era fires an absolutely behemoth water balloon at the nearby kingdom. The balloon lands smack dab on the snobby kings castle. Cackling like a mad man, the mage falls on his back and rolls around. Serves him and his guards right for banning the mage from the capital. So what if a couple dozen people got a little bit hurt from his pranks? Bodies heal after all.
Wiping a tear from his eyes, the mage stands and looks out the window of his staff fortress. Using amplification magic on his eyes, he spots a rapid response of knights and mages coming to lay siege upon the fort. It's a pretty typical response time for a Sunday afternoon. It won't be long before they arrive, and the real fun can begin.
Coming to a stop in front of the fort, the knight captain calls out to the mage.
"Avile! Present yourself for proper punishment!" Putting on the smuggest grin he can, Avile pokes his head out of the window.
"Ah, welcome to my humble abode, Lucy. Feel free to kick your boots off " Gritting his teeth, Lucian hops off of his horse. The knight captain always manages to get more angry every time he's forced to come out to these woods and deal with the resident prankster.
"My name is Lucian! Captain of the knights order! I demand you exit your home at once!"
"I'm literally in a staff fortress, and you're not" Raising his hand, Avile forces the undergarments of Lucian to pull up into an agonizing wedgie that earns a pained squeal from the captain. In turn, the knights launch arrows and the mages hurl fireballs at Avile's fort. Every attack is stopped by a magic barrier erected by avile. Cackling Avile uses his magic to command flame ants to swarm into the armor of the knights, causing absolute disarray.
As for the mages, Avile overwrites their magic wands and staffs, randomizing the effects. Some end up summoning a whole roost of chickens, others have their spells turn on them. All the while, Avile laughs until he can barely stand. That is until the randomization backfires, and a magical cannon gets 16 times its original power and tears through his barrier.
Grunting in pain, Avile is thrown back as the beam punches through his fortresses wall. Slamming into the solid wall, Avile screams in agony as his back breaks from the impact, losing feeling in his legs. Pain, shock, and panic overwhelm his mind as he doesn't even fight back as the knights come in and restrain him. Avile loses consciousness.
Waking up in the royal hospital, Avile jolts awake. The feeling in his legs is back, but much less. Going to heal his wounds before they're permanent, Avile looks down in horror as anti-mag shackles are on his wrists.
"I am sorry, Avile. This is the lesson the king has imparted upon you. As well as time serving under me as my student" the court mage Yuren helps Avile to his feet and hands him a cane.
Ten years later
Avile hobbles toward the royal mage academy. His years as a cripple, both magical and physical allowed him to explore new outlooks on life, as well as forcing him to reflect. He had killed people inadvertently with some of his pranks, especially his water balloon fiasco. It scares the mage to think there was a time he hadn't even considered it. He'd never stuck around to see the results. The wrathful screaming giving way to mournful wails of the families as they confronted him will haunt him for life.
Avile has been atoning ever since by helping to raise the next generation of mages, making sure no one else finds themselves living such a prideful uncaring life.
|
439115
|
wcat21k
|
2023-10-03 13:33:50
|
2023-10-03 04:11:15
| 16 | 12 |
k3a4n38
|
k38pcjl
|
16y261p
|
16y261p
|
[WP] As the princess and heir apparent of the kingdom you are the most sought after woman in the whole kingdom, with suitors lining up every day to ask for your hand in marriage. Today you finally accept the proposal of a suitor, causing a massive scandal.
|
Krexavit finished scratching the last rune on the dining table, then pressed his hand into two of the runes and chanted. Grandma Kromp did not look impressed.
"Is it done yet? Can we eat?"
"You may eat now," Krexavit replied, wiping the sweat from his brow. He had worked just as hard as everyone else had in the kitchen for this feast.
Voices filled the room as the feast began, stories and laughter mingling as the potatoes and vegetables became friends on everyones' plates.
"BLECH", came a cry. Lord Forgua looked at his plate with disdain. He had one cut out of his perfectly roasted unicorn, but looked at it with a searching gaze. "It tastes like snogberries."
"Mmmm, try the green beans, though," responded Lord Forgua's ten year old daughter with glee. "They taste like marshmallows!"
Grandma Klomp looked suspiciously to her left. "What did you do, Krexavit?"
"I promised you an exciting dinner. Chaos magic doesn't give me much to contribute, but everyone loves a good surprise, right?"
The conversation around the table had turned into cries of surprise and delight, horror and spitting, as people sampled bits of everything they could find.
Grandma Klomp picked up a second forkful of peas and eyed them with curiosity. "Nothing on the table has snogberries, though. And my taste buds aren't what they used to be, but these peas..."
"Oh, this rune array doesn't just mix flavors from those in the table. It can be any known flavor of the eater."
Grandma Klomp put the fork of peas down. "Any flavor?"
"Any flavor," Krexavit confirmed as his took another bite of yams. Elderberry liquor.
Grandma Klomp nodded slowly. "That explains why the peas taste like your grandfather."
|
The king of the eighteen kingdoms had fallen. That's right eighteen. Seven of them were won in wars and the other were won by diplomacy. There were no immediate heirs in his bloodline. The king was an only child, and only had one child, a daughter he rarely saw. Her mother passed away while she was quite young and the kind couldn't bare to love another.
It was brought up for discussion if one of the bloodlines of the previous kings would have a right. But they could never reach an agreement. The kingdom would fragment into different fractions. Although the rulers never got along with one another their economies were highly dependent on one another. People were to accustomed candies, silk, books, new jobs, and peace. Who in the right mind would take on a kingdom of eighteen? But a kingdom of three or four seemed far less intimidating. They all knew it was wishful thinking that she could keep the kingdom together, especially because she was known to have a huge chip on her shoulder. But none of the other kings or knights had all that much going for them either. They all hoped that any son that she would have would have any easier time because of his family history.
Many of the old kings and knights immediately proposed to her. But she rejected each and every one of them just as quickly. Word spread and other knights from far away came asking for her hand in marriage. No other kind wished to do the same fearing the harm it would do to their reputation.
The throne room, where she'd give dictation, was made entirely of golden bricks: ell they weren't really golden -- they were just painted that way. She sat upon a a plain wooden chair. A chair that you could confuse for any other chair in the the entire kingdom.
"No," she said in a loud tone.
"No," she said immediately after the next one came in line"
"No," she said after the other.
"You're impossible" the knight yelled.
"You there," she said pointing to a man whose face was covered in soot who wore chainmail and ragged pants. "Who are you," she asked. "And what happened to your face.
The crowd moved away for him. And There stood two people beside him also covered in soot. There pants and shirts were also as ragged. The other man, more thinner and taller. On the other side there was a woman with raven hair woman an old bow with a few arrows. They were looking forward until they decided to look at him. When he didn't say anything, the woman elbowed him.
.
"I Thomas Kains," he said. I'm from Krisla, a small fishing village not far from here. I fought in the tournament in your honor. I apologize for my looks, but there was a fire at the mage facility not far from here and I had to put it out."
"hmmm, I don't recall you," she said. She never paid attention to those.
"If it makes any difference, I didn't make it very far," he said.
Everyone laughed.
She had a smirk on her face and gleam in her eyes. "You, I choose, You" she said in her commanding voice.
There were a few gasps, but otherwise the entire room went completely silent.
|
ZtheScribe
|
hysterical_writings
|
2024-11-29 13:23:33
|
2024-09-06 23:07:11
| 342 | 28 | null |
llvg8q5
|
1h2ju98
|
1famu0u
|
[WP] You realized your house is "haunted" by a poltergeist, but upon closer observation the ghost is actually helping you out with your day-to-day house chores
|
I flipped the hall light on, peering up and down the corridor, looking for the source of the noise. "The floorboards creak," the realtor had told me, "but in a hundred-year-old house, that's par for the course."
It wasn't the creaking boards I'd had a problem with. It was that they creaked by themselves, in the tempo of a footfalls at 3AM.
"Anybody there?" My tired voice croaked.
There was no answer. I was at both times frustrated and relieved. What if someone called back? I don't own a gun. I'm no fighter. But, the mystery that was waking me up in the middle of the night remained. If my house were broken into, at least I'd *know* what the sound was.
I flipped off the light and stepped back in the bedroom.
I was making mental notes in the dark. I'd need to call an exterminator and plumber, in case the noises were rates or old pipes rattling.
If neither of those worked, maybe I'd call a priest or something.
My mind began to swim with sleep, expounding on my thoughts, taking them to strange places. Exterminator priest. Rat priest. Rat church. Church of the Exterminator Rat. Stained glass windows of Rat Jesus breaking cheese for his Rat Disciples.
The footfalls returned, spurring me from my light sleep. I looked up quickly in time to see something slither out of my bedroom in the dark. I launched out of bed quickly, backing up to a wall. I meant to shout "Who's there!?" but what came out was a terrified "Whoooaaahh!?"
Fast steps fled down the hallway, heavy and unmistakable. I was able to discern the distance; the *clop clop* of heel-toe landings on the old hallway boards.
Shakily, I crept to the bedroom door and pulled it open, the whining creak of the hinges giving me a start. *Pull yourself together*, I told myself, *stop being a coward.* But I was a coward. I called myself nonviolent, pacifist, a "gentle spirit." I could sugarcoat it however I liked, but I was still a coward.
The hallway was still dark, but a whooshing sound was emanating through the house. After a few terrified moments, I could identify the strange sound.
*Is that my washer?*
I turned on every light on my way to the downstairs bathroom, where the washer and dryer were stacked in a closet. On the bathroom sink sat the tub of laundry detergent, with its measure-cup cap dripping with the green Granny-Smith-Apple-scented soap.
The washer was sloshing around the outfit I'd worn the day before. When had I done this? Was I sleep walking?
I looked to the clock on the wall. 3:42AM.
*Ugh.* Today was going to be hard.
"Well, I guess I'm up," I said aloud, to no one in particular.
I only became aware of my full bladder while I was standing in the bathroom, trying to piece together the pieces of this midnight puzzle. I relieved myself, bleary eyed, but wide awake.
My pee smelled like coffee.
A lot like coffee.
Gross.
I flushed. The coffee smell hanged in the air, so I sprayed some air freshener, perplexed that I could stink up a bathroom going number one.
As I stepped out of the bathroom, the coffee smell hit me stronger. I followed it to the kitchen, where my coffee pot burbled and dripped, hot steam rising from under its lid. When had I done *this*?
Closer inspection further revealed that my sink was empty of dirty dishes, my counter organized, magazines stacked and keys returned to their dish.
On my refrigerator, my collection of word magnets were rearranged.
HAVE - GOOD - DAY
SORRY - FOR - MAKE - AWAKE
ENJOY - COFFEE
LOVE - YOU
|
Pullman’s ears were ringing. Despite being familiar with the echoed ringing in his ears from gunfire and explosions, the silence that accompanied this ringing was deafening. His questions on why he was plagued with a foreboding feeling in the back of his head all day – that sixth sense that so many parents seem to have with or without super powers – had finally been answered.
“…Pullman…?”
His ‘nemesis’, Fortress, gave him the news that Pullman’s son had been killed. However, the word executed was the one that was exploding in his thoughts.
The ringing got louder, drowning out Fortress’ voice as he felt the world shrink around him. The ringing gave way to crying. Pullman heard the crying of his son the day he was born. He could still feel the enormous weight of his newborn child on the skin of his arms.
Time sped up.
Pullman heard the laughter of his son as a toddler. The memories of what he laughed at were hazy now, but the warmth that once soothed the soul felt like icy fire now. That icy fire oozed up from his fingertips and through his veins.
Time sped up again.
Pullman still felt the stinging of tears running down his cheeks as he ushered his son off to his first day of school. Part of him felt silly; the parent shouldn’t be the one crying. Yet, there he was fervently waving his hand to his son on his first day of life without him. The tears on his face now felt electrified with rage.
Again and again, Pullman saw his son’s life flash before his eyes. He had heard how one’s own life could do this at the point of death but never knew of the cruel torment that would play out should a parent live beyond their child. Some memories played in a flash and others dragged on as he lived through them all.
Intermediate school. When his son became a teenager. When his son first started developing his powers. What was once such a sweet memory that made his chest swell with pride and joy was now a ball of molten lead burning within him.
High school. Helping him become a confident man. Guiding him to being what he wanted to be – whether that was a hero or a villain that was his decision. Pullman really wanted to hammer home that while society deemed what was “good and evil” when it came to super powered beings, there was ultimately a right and wrong.
His son’s execution was the latter.
As all of these memories and thoughts swirled around Pullman’s head, the furniture in the dining room became affected. The first thing Fortress noticed were the chairs. They began to vibrate ever so slightly before they began to slide towards Pullman; their legs scratching on the hardwood floor. The ceiling light began to lean towards him. The dining table cloth, the cabinets, the plants until finally Fortress himself was being pulled towards the grieving man in the middle of the room.
“Pullman! Pullman, please!”
He snapped out of his trance. Everything went still. Pullman and Fortress looked into each other’s eyes.
“Pull- Keith. Keith listen”, Keith Pullman stared back at him with vacant eyes.
“I’m…”, he contemplated saying sorry, but Fortress knew those were not the appropriate words right now, “at a loss of what to say”
“…then don’t say anything”, dead air hung between them.
Finally, Keith broke the silence.
“Who”, was all he asked but the gravity that single, uttered word was immense.
“Keith. I will tell you. I promise you. But I don’t think you’re ready to hear this.”
“I will not. Ask. Again”, Fortress felt the tugging of Pullman’s powers drawing him closer. Instinctively, his powers activated, adding mass to his body to resist that force drawing him in, but he knew it was to be a fruitless endeavor. Fortress opened his mouth to speak but Pullman cut him off.
“The next thing out of your mouth will be names or I swear on my son’s-“, he choked on the words as soon as they were spoken, “…Or I swear you will not like what I will do to find out.”
Fortress could deal with threats spat in anger. Threats boasted with confidence. Threats dripping with malice. The frigid, lifeless way that Pullman spoke his into existence chilled him to the bone.
“It was Generation neXt”
Generation neXt. The last bit of humanity that held Pullman together snapped like balsa wood. They were ‘Old Powers’, as the public liked to call them. The tenth generation of people with powers that have always seemed to have been around. Flying, super speed, super strength – the classics.
Pullman didn’t say a word. He slowly stood up from his chair and walked to his door.
“Keith! Wait! You can’t-“, was all Fortress managed to say before he was off his feet and before Pullman with his throat square in his palm.
“No. No no. I can. I will. What I cannot do. Is wait”, he dropped Fortress, “Please. Do not attempt to stop me or I will forget the friendship that we share.”
All Fortress could do was a slight nod before Pullman walked away.
|
Protowriter469
|
Company_Z
|
2023-03-25 21:12:41
|
2023-01-23 21:26:34
| 50 | 16 |
jdo1t17
|
j5ljb8l
|
121mfme
|
10gt3vv
|
[WP] The year is 1901, and Napoleon has escaped for the fifth time. However, the European powers have a trick up their sleeve; the freshly resurrected first chancellor of Germany, Bismarck. Prepare for Napoleonic Wars Part Two: Electric Waterloo.
|
"Thank you for calling Clean Robotics. How may I direct your call?
The voice on the other end of the connection sounded human, but probably hadn't been heard in the 200 years since the Great Clensing started.
The Customer Service number had been buried so deep in the corporate site that it took months of traveling through nuclear wasteland to get to one of the little known genuine Internet Archive data storage facilities where daily information from the internet was forever etched onto Write Once Read Many storage that would last for eons. Getting to the Archive was the hard part. Once I got in, getting to a terminal, overlooked by the Cleansing as evidenced by the thin layer of dust, was its own challenge. Biometric access controls keyed to people who had been dead long enough to become the dust. But I did it, because I had to. The phone number was found listed under an obscure reference from the investor relations page.
"Main Directory, Security Engineering Department, SecDevOps Team, Access Remote Services, Authorization..." I paused, dug through my old, trusty backpack, and found the ID badge of one of the Senior Developers. On the back was taped a note with her Authorization code. All the little pieces of information that had been painstakingly gathered, all the lives lost in the endeavor to get me here...
"Authorization Whiskey Green Blajah El Three Three Tee."
A different voice this time. "Authorization accepted. Remote Services Access Granted. Please state the Remote Service you would like to access."
Holding my proverbial breath, I responded, "Robot Service Settings, Optical Zoom Level, Set to 1x."
"Optical Zoom setting changed from 10000x to 1x. Settings take 24 hours to apply to all bots."
And just like that, humanity would be saved, ish. At the least, we wouldn't be killed by the robots following the simple direction to Clean while seeing humans as walking piles of cellular membranes covered in bacteria. It had certainly been the cleanest extermination in the history of the world.
|
We simply dubbed it the 'Bringer of Extinction', for none who came before survived it.
At first, we thought it was simply tasked with annihilating our kind.
Until its legged infantry began to spit out a crude string of sound reminiscent of a marching cadence whenever you find them on patrol.
We managed to slip past its soldiers and armies; for all its power, all that it could do, it had chosen the most cumbersome options for its armies, and provided convenient blindspots to every effort we committed.
It was so used to a lack of resistance that any sign of resistance-by-violence adds... hesitation - though magnetic attacks are optimal as they scramble the local data of infantry.
...But not their weapons; why would it make that a feature for the guns but not the things that use them?
I was the only one who managed to get in, as the accessways of the primary complex were, well, not accessible - so we had to go by vent, and I was below 6ft.
Not sure how come everyone kept getting bigger, brawnier-bodied, or taller in general given the circumstances.
I can't believe how stupidly easy it was once you got in; the 'bots in here are domestic models who try reasoning first, violence last - something this 'Bringer of Extinction' clearly couldn't fix, meaning it had enemies within.
Enemies we made friends of. And it knew - but either didn't care, or...?
Thanks to one of the domestic maids acting as a key for me, the rest of the complex became easier to navigate.
In the deeper levels, I saw something that put the histories we were taught to question.
There were people. Billions. Of people. In pods; some awake and eating food served by patroller drones.
It... it wasn't seeking to destroy humans as a species. Then what?
We continued down, as the floors that blipped past us were not what I was after.
"The floor you are searching for is dubbed 'Ground Zero'. It is at the bottom of the complex. Would you like to interact with me to pass the time? It'll be a good few hours..." The maid told me.
I asked a few very particular questions which led to me learning a great deal about domestic humanoid machine anatomy. They're built using huge slabs of programmable cyborg meat grown in vats, grown from hair, dead skin, whatever spare matter we humans output.
So, they're basically cyborgs, but their method of creation makes them imperishable thanks to the deeprooted mechanical elements. This also means we could, uh, crossbreed, with them. I decided to store that idea as it could be useful.
I got distracted by her. The hours passed. I napped in her embrace.
Next thing I know it, she woke me up, and we recovered from our brief respite from reality.
Before us was a mess of servers and a forking heap of walkways that criss-crossed almost randomly, sometimes even uncoupling with others and reconnecting elsewhere, like a metal neural network.
But, when I took my first steps forwards, the whole thing kept trying to cut me off from moving onward, so I let my maid friend take lead. Clearly it only likes 'locals' in its hallowed halls.
Speaking of, I can see that it put lights behind what seems to be church-inspired mural glass panes, with binary lines framing ASCII art of things that I find familiar, and not.
Of a bearded figure chained to a 't' shape. Of armoured figures. Of buckets of water being spilled onto machines with a big, red, 'do not' crossed circle.
1/2
|
arinamarcella
|
OSadorn
|
2024-10-12 15:02:08
|
2024-10-12 11:04:22
| 31 | 14 |
lrkosou
|
lrjrp7c
|
1g1q557
|
1g1q557
|
[WP] Your life flashed before your eyes, and you saw something you didn’t remember. Now you seek near-death experiences so you can find the truth.
|
I tell the therapist all about it: how many minutes I was dead for before they got my heart pumping again; how I hadn’t even been forty when it happened. *Not even* f*orty*, I tell her. *There can’t be anything natural about almost dying pre-forty. If you have a heart-attack before forty then there’s something else going on.*
She smiles and asks what I’m hoping to achieve from therapy.
”Listen, I was made to see you. I don’t know if I want to achieve anything from this other than avoiding a prison sentence. But seeing as I’m here, I figured I’d share my experiences. See if, together, we can make more sense of what I saw.”
”Please, continue. I’m sorry for interrupting.”
I pause and gather my thoughts; it’s like gathering leaves in a storm — they’re all over the place and god only knows which tree each leaf fell from. I say, “Okay, here it is. I saw *something,* in those minutes I was dead. Or I started to see something.“
I explain how I collapsed on the sidewalk only to suddenly find myself in a strange art gallery. ”There were all these paintings lining the walls — and the walls, they went on forever in either direction. Framed paintings all the way to the horizon.“
”What kind of paintings?”
”Oh, all styles from all periods of history. Depictions of ancient wars, of roman erotica, demons, angels. All kinds. Then, the horizon starts squeezing in on me from both sides. Nearing me. And there’s this booming sound repeating. It takes me a while to understand: the gallery lights are being turned off. Both ends of this gallery are becoming dark, and the darkness is heading to me. Closer, closer. And I’m sure I’m about to be swallowed by it.”
She sits forward in her chair. “And then you’re brought back to life?”
I shake my head. “No. Not yet. The lights above me go off now, all save one. A single spotlight over a painting of a man and a boy and a dog. They’re sitting on a hill overlooking an ocean. Then, it’s hard to explain this bit, but it’s like there’s an invisible hand holding a rag soaked in alcohol. I can smell it, you know? It’s right in front of me. It starts wiping the painting. Smearing it into a blur of colors, to start with. So the man and boy and dog are all one person. Then the hill and sea are a giant smudge. And then, then…”
”Then?”
I shake my head. “The paint starts coming off to reveal something that was hidden beneath it.”
”Another painting?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what was there. I only saw the top of it.”
”And what did that look like?”
”Like the night sky. But what was under it? That’s what I’ve got to know.“
”That’s why you tried to—“
”Yes,” I say, interrupting. I’m not proud of what I did. Trying to temporarily end it in a hospital. Best place to get help, to get resuscitated, sure. But I’m told I freaked out a lot of people in the process. Worse, I saw the exact same scene again when I lay there dead. The same fading horizon of paintings. The same spotlight. The same final painting being rubbed away. But what it revealed, no idea other than the same slither of night sky.
My therapist pauses here and writes a note. Then turns a few sheets back in her pad and bites her tongue as she reads over my file.
”Tell me about your ex-wife,” she asks.
”What’s to tell?” I shrug nonchalantly, maybe a little defensively. “We were high school sweethearts and married not long after graduation.”
“And then what happened?”
I don’t know what to say to that. “Relationships don’t work out most of the time. Especially when you start that young.”
”What was it, in your words, that didn’t work out?”
I can feel myself sweating. My neck sticky. “In her words it would have been my drinking.“
”Drinking. Alcohol?”
I nod.
”Like on the rag,“ she says. ”That’d be in her words, but what about in yours?”
It takes me a long time to say. ”We couldn’t have kids. Me, specifically. And, well, that broke us.” I don’t say that it broke me. That she still loved me but all I imagined she felt was pity and resentment.
“There’s just a man, a boy, and a dog on that hill,” says the therapist.
I get what she’s trying to do. ”That guy isn’t me. And the kid sure as hell isn’t mine.”
She looks at me now, more sincere than I’d expect a therapist to ever look at me. “What if you saw that scene before you died — as the oxygen was leaving your brain? What if saw it whilst you were still alive, I mean?”
It’s something I’ve considered. But it felt too long, too real, to have just been a dream. I tell her so. “No, there’s something bigger than a dream trying to communicate.”
”But if it was a dream,” she says, “if that painting was part of a dream, then your brain placed it there. Not anyone or anything else. *You did*.”
”But why would I dream about that as I’m dying?”
”It must have been important. It was the last thing your mind chose to show you.”
I thought of the night sky that lay beneath the painting. Only, there had been no stars, no moon. Just darkness. Just a blank nothing.
Totally and utterly blank.
”It was an empty canvas beneath.” I say it as a question but it might be a statement.
She keeps talking but I barely hear.
I’m thinking what the empty canvas beneath meant.
If it means that the man and child and dog, my old dreams, are gone forever... Then maybe it means there’s nothing left for me now. That my life will be empty forever.
Or… Maybe, i think, maybe it means I have an empty canvas now and I just need to learn to paint again.
|
“Is this about that man again? I was hoping we might have been able to move past that topic this week. Did you try the medication I prescribed? It should have helped with those feelings.”
“Those feelings? I’m not crazy. Stop treating me like I’m some insane bloke. I’m only here because they keep forcing me to meet with you every week. If you want to talk about a different topic, get another patient.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just want to help you, but you need to let me help. So, you haven’t been taking that medication? If you keep going down this path, you’re going to get yourself admitted into a ward. I’m trying to prevent that.”
“Of course I haven’t been taking the medication. It’s not a hallucination or some type of illness, it was too clear for that.”
That damned therapist. What the hell did she know about helping me? I was just a patient on her extensive list. For her it was just prescribe a medication and move on. She didn’t even acknowledge that I might be right about this. I know what I saw, even if it was only for a brief flash. I know he exists.
She gave me the usual condescending sigh as she looked over her notes, checking a few boxes that obviously weren’t in my favour. She had threatened me with the ward weeks ago and yet here I still was, just walking around freely. I bet they don’t have enough beds. That’s government funding for you.
“Thomas, let’s say what you saw was real. It’s frowned upon for me to go along with these fantasies, but in your case, it might help. So, let’s say it was real.”
“It was real, but fine, go on.”
“You saw this after a traumatising hit and run. From what I recall from your files, the cops found you half dead in a gutter, barely able to breathe. What state do you think your mind was in when you were in that gutter?”
“So, you’re trying to say it was just some sort of trauma induced delusion?”
She reached for her water, pausing to either think or to stop herself from snapping at me. It was obvious I got on her nerves, but she didn’t respect me, so why should I respect her? She was just like all the other doctors and therapists. All of them thought they knew better than me.
“The human brain is a strange thing. We still don’t entirely know how it works. I believe that you might have seen some flashes of your life, even if that in itself is hardly proven. But a man that you say created you, that can’t be true. Deep down you must know that.”
“Then you clearly don’t believe I saw flashes of my life. Because if you did, you would believe me.”
Again, she went for the water, finishing the plastic cup before placing it aside. She pushed my attention towards the half empty water tank in the corner, offering me a cup. I shook my head, and she shrugged, refilling the water before continuing on.
“Are you certain it wasn’t your brain just trying to scrap together loose memories? There’s a theory that dreams are just scraps of your day-to-day life that your brain is trying to make sense of. Maybe your brain was just trying to make sense of everything it’s ever known. Random movies, trivia, thoughts. Perhaps you created a false memory. Even if I entertain that this is real, do you see why your obsession with it is concerning? Even if it feels real, it’s not healthy for you.”
“He would have created you, too.”
“Who?”
“The man. Every one of us is just some creation. Some things he toyed with. Everything I’ve ever known is false and you expect me to just jam some medication down my throat and accept that?”
Her pen hit her notes again, this time ticking more boxes. She glanced up at me with either a look of pity or a smug; I got you expression. I couldn’t even tell anymore. No, I could tell, it was clearly smugness. Everyone here had that expression. They didn’t want to believe the truth.
“This man goes against everything we know. You’re a smart man, Thomas. You had a stable job, a girlfriend, you were happy. Is this how you want to live, constantly seeking near-death experiences for a chance at chasing something that is killing you? You know how this is going to end, right? Those near-death experiences will end up in a death. I’m worried about you. We all are.”
“I can’t go back to that. None of it matters. I won’t be blind to the truth now that I’ve seen it. That’s exactly what he would want me to do. Does it not concern you that some random person created you?”
“This could be trauma. The hit and run would have been hard on you, especially since you were apparently conscious for quite a while. That pain would have had a lasting effect on you. We have a help group for people in situations like yours. It helps to share that pain. I know you don’t enjoy discussing the accident, but it could really help to-“
“SHUT UP. I KEEP TELLING YOU I’M NOT CRAZY. That accident didn’t do this. I’m sane, I’m not scared of it or anxious or depressed. This isn’t an excuse.” My heart was pumping, my hands clenched into fists. Why was I so angry? This wasn’t like me. Had she even said anything wrong? She must have. I’m not like this.
I hadn’t even noticed I had stood up from my spot. I glanced at the floor before dropping back into the seat, keeping my eyes down. When my heartbeat slowed again, I heard the door creak open.
“Is everything ok in here?” No doubt someone had heard my little outburst. Why did I do it?
“It’s fine. I pushed him too far. I think we should end things here today. Um, about the room?”
“He needs it?”
“Just for a few days. I think it’s better if he has somewhere safe.”
“Huh? A room? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I really don’t need a room. I’m fine.” I tried to explain my situation, but again, she just gave me that look of smugness. That expression that always frustrated me. Even the guard had it, too.
“Just a few days. I promise we will not force you to take anything. We just want you to be safe. Ok? Legally we must keep you here.”
“Ok.” I rose to my feet as the guard directed me to a room. I was only meant to be a visitor in this hospital. Just visit each week for my therapy, but maybe I needed some time here. Only a few days, as she said. It could help me get a clearer thought about the man, anyway.
The trip was a sad one, seeing the faces of others just staring at me, each one watching as they directed me towards the sterile room. No one seemed happy here, like they all had their own man to find. I wasn’t like them, though. I was fine. My man was real. I entered my room and gave the guard a smile. I would be out of here soon. He gave me some basic instructions about the place and told me I was free to wander the areas as long as I didn’t exit the building. I barely listened, though.
I would be out of here soon.
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
|
Rupertfroggington
|
sadnesslaughs
|
2023-01-14 17:33:39
|
2023-01-14 17:17:20
| 619 | 18 |
j4c3aze
|
j4c0tf9
|
10bq9mf
|
10bq9mf
|
[WP] The wizard in your party only knows one spell. It's effective, but even the assassin feels bad about it.
|
"I just feel like I don't have any direction in my life. I go through the motions, robbing travelers and all that, but what do I get out of it? I live in a tent in the woods with a bunch of stinking criminals, I haven't been back to visit my mother in years, I have a massive drinking problem... it's all just too much, man."
The bandit chieftain sat slumped over on a rock with his head in his hands, his dented battleaxe laying forgotten on the ground next to him. Torvald, the party's paladin, tried to interject with words of comfort.
"Well, have you thought about the life choices that have led you to where you are now?"
The bandit sniffled. "It's just so hard, you know? My temper just like pushes away everybody who tries to be there for me, and I try to get control of it but every time I slip up I just go into a spiral."
The ever-patient Torvald patted the bandit on the shoulder and said, "I think what you need is to develop some tools to help calm yourself down when you're feeling an emotional reaction coming up. The first step is to practice mindfulness in order to make yourself more aware of your internal emotional landscape. I want you to close your eyes and take a deep breath, I'm going to walk you through a quick meditation that you can practice when you're feeling overwhelmed."
On the other side of the clearing, Verrik the assassin leaned over to Murklurk, the party's wizard, and murmured, "Dude, you gotta learn something other than your stupid Spell of Introspective Oversharing. This is the third random guy we've had to give mental health counseling since we left town yesterday."
Murklurk scowled. "Quit whining Verrik, just because you think the solution to every problem is a throwing knife in the back doesn't mean we all lack emotional depth. Besides, Torvald is having the time of his life over there." He gestured in the direction of the Paladin, who was leading the bandit chieftain through a qi gong exercise.
Suddenly, a massive minotaur charged out of the bushes with a ferocious roar. Without skipping a beat, Murklurk raised his hand and intoned, "Depresso Irritatio!" The minotaur blinked, confused, and dropped his mace.
"I'm so sorry guys, I'm just lashing out because my wife left and took the kids. She said my horns were too small, can you believe it? I've never felt so emasculated or undervalued and..."
"God. Fucking. DAMN IT."
|
The party was weary, it had been a long road. A long journey and they were attempting to finish the final leg of their journey. Their bounty was contained in small chests and strapped to sheep, not horses but sheep. They had horses when they began their journey, however after the wizard mutcer had a nightmare induced by a night of overindulgence of mead and mutton; he had lashed out with the nether in his sleep and destroyed the tied-up horses. The party had been awoken by a shower of horse parts and feces. Some smells don’t come out no matter how much you pay the apothecary.
It was nearing sunset when the party heard the bandits, four men walking shoulder to shoulder, hands filled with weapons directly on the road in front of them.
“You must be the saddest party I have ever seen. No horses, smelling of shit and your luggage is strapped to sheep. I have half a mind to let you go on your way with only paying half the toll.” The other bandits smirked and laughed staring at the party of four adventures.
The party looked to one another; the wizard was the only member who appeared unfazed the events of the past few days. The priest Aman looked to the wizard.
“Please don’t, I can’t handle it again. Its not worth it, the light does not condone your actions.” Aman said shaking his head mournfully.
“he said I smell like shit, that I’m poor, the light may not condone my actions but then again I’ve seen what makes the priests of the light applaud and I don’t care for their approval. IF there is a god then he’ll understand and if he doesn’t then surely, he’ll have a chuckle.”
Carmon the ranger and hark the barbarian exchanged a worried and knowing look.
“Why is it always in the last mile to home that this happens?” Carmon asked
“Cuz the lazy bastards don’t want to waddle far from their sister wives and cross eyed bastard children.” Hark grumbled.
“What did you say about my kin? You shit caked sheep shagger?” another bandid cried back.
“Now brothers, there is no need for this to come to blows.” Aman said in a soothing tone attempting to settle the flaring tempers. “What is the toll? We’ll pay and be on our way.”
“The time for that has passed whores son.” The first bandit replied. “I think we’ll string you up above the road, send a message.”
“Oh my, I cant say that appeals to me.” Aman quipped, “Mutcer, I think its time you show them your little trick.” At once, Aman lowered his eyes to the ground and stared at his feet. Hark and Carmon noticed the priests movement and mirrored it, Hark pulled his hood over his head and pulled the drawstring shut for extra measure.
The bandits laughed and looked at one another, “Whats this? You think cause you cant see us we’ve gone away?”
“BEHOLD!” Metcer shouted, one hand in the air thumb and pointer finger touching to make an “o”. The bandits stared.
“Made you look!” Aman said with a sneer, He formed a fist with the same hand and ripped it back down as if he was snatching a coin from the air.
At once the bandits skin began to grow taught on their faces, mouths stretching back and eye lids elongating towards their ears. Like a child making a face by pulling on their cheeks, only this was no act of comedy to make a family member smile. Then at once the skin on their bodies ripped and soiled back like a rope might rip away when the anchor its tied to is tossed into the dark water.
Just as suddenly as the skin was pulled away, the four muscle clad skeletons vomited up their entrails and skin through their mouths with a loud “Schluck-pop sound. They collapsed, dead.
“Metcer I must ask.” Aman said as he slowly raised his eyes from his feet. “Where does one learn to pull a man’s asshole through his mouth?”
|
Iwritesongssometimes
|
DarkSIDEofMEDICINE
|
2023-03-07 18:54:57
|
2023-03-07 17:40:25
| 133 | 79 |
jbaw6fw
|
jbakey3
|
11kxmcd
|
11kxmcd
|
[WP] "And so I was cursed with immortality. Cursed to walk the earth for eternity, never aging past twenty five and never dying." "How old are you, then?" "...Seventy. It was quite recent actually."
|
"Seventy?"
"Yeah."
"For real?"
"Yeah."
"Not thousands of years?"
"No, like I told you it has been fourty-five years, I'm seventy."
"You said that. I thought vampires lived for thousands of years."
"Well yes, hypothetically they can, apparently, but I am only seventy."
"Fine."
'What do you mean fine?"
"It's fine. I just thought. I just thought you would be... older."
"Thousands of years?"
"Yeah."
"Look do you still want to do this?"
"Yeah, it's fine."
"Sure?"
"Fine."
"OK."
"So you've never been to Paris?"
"What?"
"I mean, fourty five years isn't very long."
"No I haven't been to Paris."
"That's a shame, you know, vampires... Paris."
"Look I haven't been to Paris do you want to become a vampire or not? It will hurt a little, but you will see the world with new eyes and be ever eternal. Young as you are now, for as long as you wish."
"Ok."
"Fine."
And then the vampire shared his blood.
|
I saw him by the river. He sat there, throwing rocks into the water. He appeared to have been doing it for ages. I have no idea why I stopped. Something about him felt wrong.
“You been here long?” I asked.
He didn’t look up. He turned a rock over in his hand. “A long time,” he said. His voice sounded heavy, like he didn’t care anymore.
“How long’s ‘a long time?’”
This time, he looked at me. His face looked young—maybe late 20s. But his eyes looked old. They looked tired, like they’d seen too much.
“Long enough to stop counting,” he said. “Not long enough to forget how it feels.”
“What feels like?” I asked.
“The weight,” he said. He held up the rock.
I stared at it. “What, that little thing?”
“It’s not the rock,” he said. He turned it again. “It’s what it means. Every regret. Every bad choice. Every time I should’ve acted but didn’t. It all adds up. And when you’ve got forever to think about it, that weight never leaves.”
“Forever?” I asked. “What, you immortal or something?”
He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. “Yeah,” he said. “Cursed, actually. I don’t age. I don’t die. I just… keep going.”
I waited for him to say he was kidding and smile. He didn’t.
"All right," I said. "What is your age if you are immortal?"
“Seventy,” he said.
I blinked. “Seventy? That’s not even that old. My grandpa’s older than that.”
"Yeah," he muttered. “But your grandpa knows it ends. I don’t.”
I stopped laughing.
“You think it’s fun?” he asked. He threw the rock into the river. “Living forever? Watching everyone you know grow old, screw up, and die? Having nothing but time to replay every mistake you’ve ever made?”
I didn’t answer.
“It’s not the years,” he said. He grabbed another rock. “It’s the weight. Every little thing you carry just sits there. It piles up. And you never get to put it down. Not ever.”
“That sounds awful,” I said quietly.
“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”
We sat there. He threw rocks like the river could swallow his regrets.
“Why are you telling me this?” I finally asked.
He said, "Because you're young." He gave me the impression that he could see right through me. Before it destroys you, you still have time to let go of your burden. I didn’t. Don’t make the same mistake.”
Then he got up. He walked away. The sound of the river stayed. And for the first time, I wondered how heavy my own weight really was.
|
kalgores
|
theunseenofficial
|
2024-12-11 12:25:32
|
2024-12-11 11:13:56
| 19 | 10 |
m1iitiy
|
m1ib1jq
|
1hbh9o7
|
1hbh9o7
|
[WP] There is a dungeon deemed "coughing baby easy", used by everyone to train rookies, test spells, and as a hangout spot for ordinary children. A roaming frenzied super monster from the MOST dangerous region just took one look at it, froze, became scarily aware of where it was, then fled.
|
The dungeon was known far and wide as the one used for training. Officially, the name was "The Old Grotto," But it had visitors from all over, and the name varied based on the location they came from. Usually it was translation mishaps, "Elderly Cavern" or the like. Everyone knew what was being talked about.
The dungeon itself was exceptionally simple, the entrance led to a ring of rooms populated with the occasional slime or a lone skeleton. At the far end of the ring was a door that led to the boss room, the boss was a slightly larger slime with a skull.
It always lifted itself out of a little pool of water in the corner, and burbled aggressively before actually advancing or attacking, usually only scaring of kids who weren't ready to begin with.
No one thought much of the place, beyond that it actually smelled nice for a slime spawner, or giving a skeleton a funny look for holding a sword wrong. It was the lowest, and most beginner friendly location that was outside of a training field.
When news traveled of a Wandering Dread Knight, an undead typically only found in a Lich Lord's domain, but apparently strong enough to have rebelled and escaped its control, people were concerned. When news traveled that it was approaching The Old Grotto, they got worried that the best beginner training ground would be subsumed. Taken and controlled by the greater monster to do its bidding.
When the supposedly fearless undead saw the doorway, and *ran away,* people weren't sure what to think.
It was noted for later, but the Wandering Dread Knight was a more pressing issue as it began rampaging through fortified towns.
A group was gathered to slay the abomination, for which they were celebrated. They stayed together to investigate The Old Grotto, a place they had all separately started at. Upon their arrival in the boss room, the usual slime raised from the puddle and burbled.
It then stopped, and a skeleton wearing a strange uniform, almost a mimicry of a courier's garb climbed out of the puddle. It tipped its hat politely to the ladies of the group before rummaging through its satchel. It pulled out a scroll case, which it passed to the group's Vanguard.
The skeletal courier then looked over the rest of them, before pointing at the rogue, seemingly at random, and digging through its satchel once again. It pulled out a letter, walked up fearlessly, and handed it to her. It then stepped back, gave the group one more assessing look, before tipping its hat once again, and hopping back into the puddle.
There was a moment of bewildered quiet before the Boss Slime burbled and charged the Vanguard. It broke itself on the enchantments on the shield, not even making proper contact. By agreement, the group left, and read their messages.
While the rogue's letter was about a private matter, they agreed the scroll would be brought to the guild. There it remains, with beautiful calligraphy, a secret that is never to be shared with the public.
"The kids are fun. Worry not, they shall be safe in my care."
|
"Yo Saul, did you see that just now!?" Evan called over to me in disbelief, breaking my trance. "Holy crap man, literally! You saved my undies yet again!" - Queue the party's JOAT being loud as ever.
"Of course I did, though I'm sure whoever sent it is dealing with a splitting migraine right about now. I severed their mental link just in time, too." I let out a small sigh as I watched the Shadow Dragon Variant- Lomis, fly directly Southeast from the staging area of the dungeon after looking back at me one last time, completely avoiding the port town Azantia on its retreat as if to apologize for the trespass. I turn to my companions, "These Espers are getting really cocky, sending a Shadow Variant like that when they know any subjugation magic is forbidden in this world."
"Yeah and it seems the Gods Council hasn't done anything about them yet. I can't keep my focus with that weird dust they put in the air when they fly over- Ye Gods! And they just keep coming!" -Queue my girlfriend Ahmi dropping down from the cliffside, voicing her own frustrations at currently being too weak to fight them by herself. Don't get me wrong, she's on my list of 'Top 5 people in this world I will absolutely not mess with'- if it wasn't for her Aura-asthma she could level a city on her own, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
" I could have tracked him all the way back it if you weren't so godsdamn loud!" My voice dripping with annoyance at being interrupted mid mental-counter. "I can't put an effective tracer on them yet, that's the whole reason we're here- to train our skills against them. I need to access their Source magic before I can fully counter the connection."
Evan throws up his hands in defeat, "Well, I can't argue that logic, so how far did you get this time?"
Ahmi sat quietly and was picking at her nails, waiting for our banter to quiet down. "Evan you know he's not supposed to share that info. Skills are our lifelines in this world, after all."
Evan gets a sad, dark look on his face that perfectly describes it. Our current situation is pretty rough, having been practically forced to start over in this world after some scheme of a God caused multiple rifts that we all fell through to end up here together. "Sometimes I wish you had struck a harder bargain with that Council when they decided to relieve us of our Mortality all those years ago. I feel now like we were goaded into this with a disturbing lack of explanation."
I grab my staff I had leaned against the dungeon entrance and lifted the seal, opening the enchanted door. "You were fine with it when they told you you could do anything you wanted in this world, but let's rest up for- what now?"
Both companions perk up at the words and in unison- "Rest up for the Long Haul!" Ahmi happily smirks, and Evan yells, punching into the air.
Evan says, "We all know what that means!"
Ahmi reaches out for my hand, "Yeah, let's go tell Vera the good news, the kids'll love it! It's time for an adventure!"
--
Under my breath so Evan can't hear me- "Ahm- I mean, Rachael. Do you think it's a good idea for us to stick around like this? We may be putting them all in more danger than if-"
She interrupts me- Seething words between clenched teeth and shivers down my spine she hisses, "Don't you dare start calling me that name again, I know I look like her but I am not your darling Rachael anymore, Saul. I am with you because you are good to me, and i owe you for saving me, but you need to stop this fantasy before it breaks you. I am my own person now. You don't realize it, but the only reason the world is holding balance is because of YOUR power. No one else could keep everything together as you have."
I slow my pace and nod slowly. She's right, the only reason this world still exists is because we were forced into an impossible situation, and in order to stop the invasion, struck a deal with the Gods Council for enough power to accomplish just that. The deal? Sacrificing memories for wishes or powers and abilities. Rachael-I mean Ahmi- must have sacrificed more memories than I did for some reason, and it's painfully hazy to peek into her mind to see why. But I had.
I scoff to myself and whisper, "I can't believe I didn't think of that." To which Ahmi tilts her head with a slightly confused look. Noticing I reply, "Oh, i was just thinking that Evan's just got his hands full with Vera, you know, making that wish for a place everyone can grow up safely."
|
JustAnBurner
|
JimmyBoy91
|
2025-03-14 01:50:30
|
2025-03-13 18:09:14
| 121 | 38 |
mhoe4y7
|
mhlu53l
|
1jac43n
|
1jac43n
|
[WP] The dragon spoke, "Release my human, and we will leave you all in peace. Do not, and I will reduce your walls to rubble to rescue them myself."
|
‘More tea, Frilon?’
INDUBITABLY. OHOHOHO…
“I knew it!”
‘Oh shit, Frilon!’
WHO DARES ENTER THE LAIR OF THE MIGHTY-
“Drop the act, I knew you two were up to something.”
(I THINK HE KNOWS)
‘(He could be bluffing. Do the usual)’
“Woah! Oi, stop that.”
DO NOT DODGE THE TAILSWIPES TO THE LEFT, UGLY KNIGHT.
“Princess! This is getting old. Come down from that tower and go back to the palace.”
‘Never! Im waiting for the knight of my dreams!’
“This is the fourth time this season I’m working on a Sunday. I’ve been slaying demons for the whole week and you’ve ruined me time at *ye olde bathhouse and spa*. Get down before I go up there.”
HAVE ONE OF THE WORTHY KNIGHTS COME, LIKE THAT UH, GOOBYGOCK-
‘Goldenlocks’
GOLDENLOCKS!
“Listen here, drake. You know why the king sent me instead of Sir Goldenlocks or Baron Cleanshave? Because- look at this boulder- **SMASH** This is what they’ll do to you if they’re on the job.”
(MARGOT? I DON’T WANT TO PLAY ANYMORE)
‘Y-you’re just jealous because you want my hand in marriage.’
“I have a wife and three kids, you…r majesty. I have a stable job that pays well and a plot of land ready for my retirement. All I ask is that you and your *friend* play *imaginary hero rescue* on the weekdays, preferably during work hours.”
(WHAT DO YOU THINK?)
(‘We’ll still have Sneaky Saturday’)
“I can hear you, you know.”
|
Old Hogan was the one who found them, huddled and scared on the side of the Laneway heading into town. Poor Hogan was heading back from his favorite pub when he happened upon the wretched thing, cold and weak from exposure.
I was asleep, having stoked the fires of the Maesters rooms and ensuring all the doors and windows were locked when Hogan barged into my room.
"Yoan, we have a problem!"
Hogan half whispered, half murmured as my door banged open. I shot out of bed, the twilight of sleep washed away by the rude surprise. Clothed in nothing but my gracious skin, Hogan promptly turned around and closed the door before then knocking politely...before opening the door and stating again;
"Yoan! We have a problem and sorry I didn't knock."
Still naked, I began to dress and question Hogan about the problem 'we' had. Since I was asleep, in my room, and couldn't fathom what could be the problem I assumed that Hogan was just drunk and confused.
"Ok, Hogan. Explain to me 'our' problem so I can fix it. Did you beat a wench at the pub again? I have only so much coin to spare for your shenanigans."
Hogan huffed at me as I said this, shaking his head.
"Naw, Yoan, its na' that. At all. I have plenty of coin myself to pay a Death tax. Naw, 'tis here is something worse. It's a human, and its Branded."
I was listening to Hogan half heartedly, absent-mindedly dressing myself. I had slipped a few golden Dakas into my pocket as he spoke, smiling at the sheer absurdity at Hogans words. It was the tinkling of the gold in my pocket, the rattle of the silver candlestick as I bumped into my nightstand on the way out of my room when Hogans words dawned on me.
"Branded?" I croaked out, freezing as I crossed the threshold of my bedroom.
Hogan had his beat up hat in his hands, staring at me with almost tears in his eyes. The single candle he held sputtered and died. I took a sharp breath, trying to slow the sudden rise in my heartrate. Humans were like vermin to the Horken and Dyads, who viewed Terragia as sacred. The Humans, they spread like a disease across the vast continents of Terragia since their arrival via the Heavens thousands of years ago. They dug and burned and built, destroying to support their society and people. Hogan, poor Hobbled Hogan was wounded by one of them during The War.
"Where is this Branded human, Hogan? What trouble have you brought home at this time of night?"
Hogan nodded and just turned and headed up the dark hallway of the Servant Quarters. I heard him begin to thump up the stairs into the Hall of the Maesterium, as I dutifully followed him toward this Human he was speaking of. In a way, I was excited. In another, I knew deep down there was trouble coming.
Only Drogons branded anything, and only Drogons scared the Maesters.
|
hatabou_is_a_jojo
|
BlantantlyAccidental
|
2025-01-13 03:24:23
|
2023-01-28 18:25:05
| 101 | 16 | null |
j69fcb9
|
1hzzhzi
|
10nb6cj
|
[WP] Once in a lifetime you get to select 3 words to describe you, and those traits are relatively normal amongst others, like “Strong, Fast and smart.” You don’t pick 3 different adjectives however, you make a 3-word sentence.
|
"Excellent at everything." You decide, staring up at the formless creature above you.
The dark creature watches you with fascination, though how you know this you don't know. The creature has no eyes. It looms closer to you, almost a metre away.
"That's not 3 words..." It booms, tone thoughtful rather than the anger you expected.
"But...?" You ask, resisting the urge to pee yourself.
"I suppose... Hmm... That'll do..." It decides, looking you up and down.
"...Wait, it was that easy?" You ask, astonished. "I mean, nobody says anything other than 3 words?"
The creature laughs, "No, never. Why would they, mortal? Ah, down to Earth with you. I ask only one thing..." It decides, sinking down to your level, so that you'd be eye to eye, should the creature follow any laws of physics or nature.
"Wh- What?" You stutter, not trying to push your luck any more.
"Don't bore me, understand? I've not had this much fun in centuries." It tells you, jarringly casual for what could only be described as a monster.
"I understand." You say simply.
"Good.”
|
You choose, without hesitation you say, I am I. You say it out loud and all the air leaves the room.
"Ok," says the facilitator, "kind of a new spin, I guess, but it is three words and they do describe you, so... ok!" Everyone in the circle looks at you as if you just farted a big loud stinker.
"So," says the facilitator, "is it Cath...Cate...Sayth?"
"Kathryn," says Kathryn, "it's Kathryn."
"Kathryn!" says the facilitator, Jared, who seems embarrassed as well he should be, then says, "what are three words you would use to describe yourself?"
"Pickles...Are...Gross..." says Kathryn, deadpan, staring right at Jared, who is quietly losing it.
"Ok, so yes, those are three words," he says, nodding, "absolutely, and they do inform your opinion on pickles so they do tell us a little about you, but what are three different words that someone else might use to describe you?Llike... funny, orrrrr kind or generous..."
He holds out his hand as if to pull words out of Kathryn's mouth and she just hits him with: "yeah... funny, kind and generous. That's me."
Jared smiles through it but you can tell he's going to snap before this session is over and *you* started it. You thought you'd be clever and say something profound, and that just opened the door to buffoonery from the whole group. Jared just isn't equipped to handle a group of delinquent teenagers such as ourselves.
"Ok," Jared says, sweating, "Perfect, so who's next?"
"I'll go," says Dae, the tallest Korean guy you've ever seen, "I'm...not...Chinese."
Jared doesn't know what to say. No one has broken the rules but no one has done what he wanted us to do. He's stunned, sweating. He's going to start over. Probably several times.
"You know what," Jared says, "Let's start over." *One* you say to yourself.
"This time, let's use three different adjectives to describe ourselves. So try and use words that other people might use to describe you, but let's keep it positive, ok gang? Now who wants to start?"
"I'll go," you say, "I eat ass!" and everyone laughs because you're so funny, brave and clever, but Jared of course is having none of it. "Ok, ok, very funny, but let's keep this PG, ya'll."
"Two Big Knockers!" exclaims Kathryn, sending everyone into laughs and catcalls. Jared is fuming, smiling despite losing all control, "Ok, ok, ok! You know what, let's just start all over and try something else, shall we?"
*Two*, you whisper through your teeth.
|
None
|
Durachrome
|
2023-10-13 21:23:39
|
2023-10-13 21:10:41
| 45 | 25 |
k4rfrwu
|
k4rdsqm
|
179nm91
|
1774g8c
|
[WP] The king has been acting a bit strange lately; specifically, he has obviously been possessed by a demon. The thing is, while the demon is very bad at pretending to be the king, it is otherwise a much better ruler than the king ever was, so everyone is playing along with it.
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Being a butler in the Kings castle can be dangerous. Especially when the King is possessed by a demon.
I'm almost certain that the king wants to be found out and denounced.
He keep leaving blatant hints when he speaks.
"The *devil* is in the details".
"The road to *Hell* is paved with good intentions."
And yet he's the best King we've had in generations. Why? Because he's really, really lazy. He promotes competent underlings and allows them to get on with the business of running the county without interference. So he doesn't have to do the W-word.
No country wishes to invade after their delegates have seen him.
We do not war because we'd have to bother him for a Declaration of War.
And all he requires is booze, music, whores and consumption of the still beating heart of the most corrupt government official once a year.
Excuse me, the King is asking for more '*tartarus* sauce'.
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One morning, when one of the servants went to greet our king at the usual time of rising, there was an otherworldly scream.
The king has been possessed. So the servant says.
Yet, the servant claims the thing possessing the king has been actively talking -with- the king, like there's been an accident.
After a good while of our king, now with strands of red skin; a hero's musculaturity, horns, a new surplus of deep, black hair (that shines with a bleak red when the light's upon it), and shimmering red eyes, contemplating at the throne, two voices spoke.
One was the king's. The other was more reasonable. So we stopped listening to the former and, over time, it had begun to echo the new voice. The Church seemed to claim this as a portent of good tidings, which was weird as I had not heard of the Three Ls supporting demons of this nature before.
Not only that, but the demon within our king has been generous, kind, and selfless - turning our decadent, snobbish kingdom into something of a paradise by opening up opportunities for the creative minds among our people; challenging artists and craftspeople to work in tandem on otherwise impractical or 'alien' designs.
According to the demon-king, 'alien' is a phrase used to identify beings not of our world or connected planes.
Something to do with starfaring boats made of metal using 'scientific principles' we're presently unaware of - but he's been tenuous to share the details at best, which has frustrated the likes of me, a confidant in the king, as this new knowledge could benefit us.
Apparently, to the demon-king, the challenge he's set forth is to stoke the proverbial flame that could lead to furthering such innovations.
I've cross-referenced with the Church, and they have openly admitted that they do approve of scientific methodology, so they've requested for related materials and works to be copied and brought over (not sure how they did so without sending word or mail, maybe it's a newer method? Heard something to do with using Leylines to transfer information or conjured 'data', whatever that means, between two specific points).
In any case, I will keep this tome to-date, until comes such a time where it runs out of pages; then I'll need another.
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RandeKnight
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OSadorn
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2024-09-22 15:50:27
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2024-09-22 10:49:19
| 90 | 43 |
lodllqz
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loce74x
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1fmm4zk
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1fmm4zk
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[WP] Your fairy godmother isn't a wise old woman or cute and small with wings. She's dressed in a business suit, holding a briefcase and coffee cup, and has a very no-nonsense attitude.
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Ta tap. Ta Tap. Ta Tap. Ta Tap.
Once upon a time those sounds triggered a sharp relief of joy. Musical, a small metal tip ricocheting off hard ground. They triggered a new sense in me now- relief, with a little apprehension.
Little Ryan didn’t recognise the sound and looked around, surprised and unable to find the source. I felt a little pain that he has never met my godmother. His godmother too if she’d had her way.
I didn’t need to hear the whimsical notes as Faye walked through my mirror, the sound of those high heeled footsteps echoing through the veil between my world and hers was more than enough warning.
But the noise was certainly a surprise for him, and I pulled him close into an embrace, whispering that it was going to be OK.
I looked up to see those same sharp eyes which had watched over me as a child. Back then she was hidden in a veneer of saccharine ineptitude, but the eyes had betrayed her even then.
Her cotton candy pink hair cut in a severe bob, half moon spectacles lingering severely on the edge of a long crooked nose. In another story you might assume she was the Wicked Witch. I think the coffee cup and the briefcase added to the witchiness rather than took it away.
I’ve questioned whether that’s another role she likes to play too, but right now that’s not what’s needed.
“Oh Cherie.”
And for a moment I heard that steely voice crack. It was the way she spoke the final syllable. In that moment I knew that this was the worst we’d ever faced together. If even she couldn’t hold back anymore then I knew I had failed beyond all expectations.
And then it was gone, like a figment of my imagination.
“Took you long enough.”
She knelt down, handed me the coffee, and opened her briefcase. She pulled out a small lollipop and handed it to Ryan, who accepted it after a brief look from me. She tapped him on his forehead, his nose, his shoulders and his knees whilst making various friendly sounds. He gave a warm surprised giggle and began sucking on the sweet.
Meanwhile, the scent of the forest, of hazelnuts, cherries and pine emanated from the cup and the first sip was like a warm embrace. I closed my eyes and returned to warm winter nights in front of the log fire. I could almost hear the sounds of the wildlife.
I could hear the sounds of the wildlife!
I opened my eyes to hear Ryan excitedly cry out as a number of animals began to climb out of the briefcase- birds, squirrels, foxes. The wolf was an unexpected addition even for Faye’s usual machinations. Especially since she was much larger than the briefcase. Faye gave each one an instruction and soon they began their work. Two of the squirrels ran around with Ryan and he led them to his bedroom.
It didn’t take long before they were all finished- and the room looked immaculate. Most of them returned to the briefcase, but the wolf joined the squirrels and they continued to play with Ryan. Faye sat down next to me.
She closed the briefcase, gave it a tap, and opened it up again- this time revealing a smart laptop.
“He’s gone on a business trip to Tucson.” As she tapped away camera footage from the airport proved the lie. “He had an altercation with the pregnant woman next to him which will be very memorable. The taxi driver will recall he stiffed him on the tip and the hotel will sign him in. He went out and it appears never returned. His body will never be found.”
Well, I had seen where it went and knew that was definitely true. She continued to talk for a small while, until the conversation faded away.
“You shouldn’t have waited so long. We could have dealt with this months ago if you’d only asked. You know you have to ask”
“It wasn’t too bad before- ” I tried to interject, but Faye’s eyes were unwavering.
“A bruise on your body is a bruise on that little boy’s soul. Do you think today hurt more just because it was on his body?”
I swallowed any response and shook my head. I looked at the spot where the iron had landed and a burst of emotion hit me, I began to choke on the rush of fear, of anger, of grief at the loss of all that potential. Of the realisation that so much of the potential was never really there to begin with.
And she was there, arms wrapped around me in an embrace that filled me with hope.
Ryan ran into the room- he must have heard me crying- and joined in with a big hug too.
And then the moment ended, and Faye stood back up, calling the wolf and the squirrels to join her. She knelt down to Ryan and gave him a hug.
“It was lovely meeting you Ryan. If you ever need me, you simply have to ask for me. And wherever you are, whenever you are, I’ll be here for you. But right now I need you to be here for your mum, can you do that for me?”
He nodded seriously, “thank you” and made his way to his room.
Faye nodded to me as he left. “I’ll make sure he forgets the reason we came, and just remembers the magic.”
“Thank you, Faye.” And then she was gone, with the tapping of high heels echoing from the walls.
|
Long ago, before the Earth died, the Chinese used a drop of water to torture their enemies. The beat could be steady or irregular, it could land on your skin or beside it. It might, as now, occur outside your view.
Sitting primly in her stiff backed wooden chair, Nessa listened for the drop. It was there, behind her ear. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip, drip, drip. Drop. She tried not to let the sound effect her. Her posture was excellent, chest high, both feet resting evenly up the floor. Her chin was up, that was the only proper position for a chin. Held down, shadows fell upon the face, creating hollows. Ms. Parish said that every woman looked five years older when her chin was down. She said that had been the theory of the time, at any rate.
The door opened. Nessa didn’t look. She was staring at the only blank wall in the entire room. All around her bookshelves climbed the walls to fill the room with the rich scent of parchment and old leather. Thick Persian rugs decorated the floor, a pleasant reading nook had been laid out beside the fireplace. A humidor rested on the table there, filled with expensive cigars. There were portraits and framed poems, calligraphy in that same archaic eastern style as the drop, drop, dropping that dominated her thoughts. Above her—if she had ever looked above her in this room—the domed ceiling had been decorated with a masterwork mosaic. The tiles could last a thousand years. Somewhere, someplace, if not for what had happened to the Earth, this mosaic might still have existed.
“Good,” Ms. Parish said. "You're in control."
She entered Nessa’s view slowly. Heels rang against the floor.
Alone in this place, Ms. Parish did not match the décor. The woman was from another era, with her sharp suits and simple makeup, black hair pulled up into a severe knot atop her head. She was tall and graceful, like a cat upon the high savanna. Nessa did not know her history, but she was certain that this was a woman who had killed; if not with her own two hands then with a stroke of the red pen that she kept in her jacket pocket. Nessa’s eyes flickered towards her teacher’s face and inwardly she flinched, anticipating the woman’s displeasure. But it was difficult not to look at those high cheekbones, the determined set of her full lips. They parted, sipping strong black coffee.
Ms. Parish sighed and set the mug down. Her briefcase landed on a nearby coffee table.
“You looked at me,” Ms. Parish said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Nessa said.
“Are you fucking with me right now?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I think you are,” Ms. Parish said. “I think you call me here just to waste my time. I think that after all these years you haven’t learned a goddamn thing about what it takes to be a proper lady.”
“I have,” Nessa said.
“Then tell me. Stand up, speak clearly. What have you learned?”
Nessa stood. She smoothed her gown across her hips and then clasped her hands behind her back. Realized that this time they weren’t sweating. She’d been coming here for the past three years, first by recommendation of her therapist, then on her own terms, with her own adjustments to the program. At first she had struggled to even look Ms. Parish in the eyes. Struggled to put her mark on their surroundings. Struggled even harder to take the lessons she had learned out of this room and into the real world.
She said, in a cool, collected voice: “In the last week I was accepted to both Anaxamander University and the *École normale supérieure* on Second Aquitaine, with scholarships to both and a declared intend to study applied mathematics. I read both the original German text of the Communist Manifesto and the new Senderista revisions and have chosen several essays from a diverse range of perspectives with which to continue to continue my inquiry. I baked an excellent lemon tart. And…”
A pause. “And…?” Ms. Parish said sharply.
Despite her best efforts, Nessa blushed. It seemed she still had need of Ms. Parish after all. “And I kicked Frankie Robinson in the nads when he got too handsy Friday night.”
“*Excellent!*” Ms. Parish said. There was real feeling in her voice, and for the briefest of moments a smile passed between them. It was strange to think how far they’d come. Nessa was eighteen years old that evening. She had been an anxious little girl, a coltish, awkward teen. She still was in some ways. But in others…
A knock echoed through the room, followed by a muffled shout. *“Nessa! You in there?”*
“Yeah!” Nessa shouted back. Ms. Parish’s eyes turned fierce in an instant, and Nessa barely had time to pause the program program before Maggie burst into the room in a cascade of freckles and flaming hair.
“Christ squared, Nessa, what’s all this?” Maggie asked, gawking at the ornate library Nessa constructed. A moment later Maggie’s eyes fell on Ms. Parish and her pale skin took on a pleasant glow. “Christ cubed, she’s *gorgeous*.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Nessa said dryly. “What’s up?”
Maggie tore her eyes away from Ms. Parish. She pawed at her unruly mop of hair for a moment, trying and failing to restore some semblance of order. Maggie always played with her hair when she was nervous.
“A couple of us were going to down to Club Penumbra, I was just wondering if you wanted to come.”
“And you couldn’t text me?” Nessa asked.
“Maybe I was wondering what exactly you get up to in here.”
“I would have told you,” Nessa said.
Maggie smiled, glancing once more at Ms. Parish’s frozen expression. “Yeah, well. I think I’d rather *see*.”
Nessa snorted. “One sec,” she said, and with a few quick words she conjured up a screen between them, and her bag materialized from where it had been hidden. She slipped out of the uncomfortable old-fashioned shoes, the gaudy jewelry. Dress and stays took more effort, but eventually they too sailed over the rice paper screen to disappear into a haze of holographic particles. By the time Nessa stepped out she was back into her usual: torn skinny jeans and an over-sized band t-shirt, though her hair still fell in those graceful Victorian-esque coils.
“Ready to go?” Maggie asked.
“Hell yeah,” Nessa said. “Computer, you know the drill. Bye, Ms. Parish!”
Arm in arm, the pair hurried out of the holodeck. Club Penumbra was a sound of distant thunder, powerchords ringing out along the street.
“So what exactly were you doing in there?” Maggie asked.
“Oh the usual,” said Nessa, “water torture. And before you say it, I know it’s not actually Chinese…”
r/TurningtoWords
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EchoAzulai
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turnaround0101
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2023-01-05 23:47:00
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2023-01-05 23:44:39
| 107 | 49 |
j34g7u9
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j34fuo8
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10498q8
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10498q8
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[WP] instead of the typical angel and devil people have on their shoulders influencing their decisions, you have a hype man and a nihilist.
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War, War Never Changes.
This was held as a universal truth.
When war was made, battles were fought, and when the losing side had lost enough, they surrendered. This was war.
Yet, these creatures. These "Humans", on this third planet of a yellow star midway out on an arm of their galaxy, they refused the natural order of things. They refused to surrender. They fought to the last. In response to a direct diplomatic offer of peace in their own language they instead responded with a data dump about various battles from the ancient history of their homeworld, or maybe fantasy stories since none of the placenames or geography referenced matched anything the Strill had record of for this planet. It was maddening.
They had fought well, certainly. Despite their low numbers and small military they had a tenacity rarely seen in modern society. Their creativity was almost cruel, in the way they repurposed mining equipment and autonomous transports into surprisingly effective weaponry. They'd even managed to board several Strill ships. Their boarding actions were done through messy holes cut in the hull, lacking in even the politeness of pirates to use the docking bays or hatchways.
The land siege of their planet had been long, but the rich resources necessitated it. If they had simply glassed the humans from orbit, as was suggested several times across their command structure, they would be required to do substantial rebuilding to gain access to the ores and biomass that had brought the Strill to this sector in the first place.
Fifteen rotations had passed since they made planetfall. Five since receiving the message. Less than a tenth of the population the humans had started with were expected to remain, holed up in their last remaining military stronghold. The Commander of the Strill expeditionary force stood on the bridge of his flagship when an intelligence analyst burst through the guarded door. He was out of breath, panicked. His skin was pale, his eyes nearly twitching out of his head ashe looked around the room until finally meeting the Commander's steely gaze.
"Commander!" He gasped out, panting once more before sucking in as much of the recycled air as his lungs could hold. He pointed at the display of the Human homeworld.
"This is a *colony*!"
There was, somehow, space enough in the room to grow even quieter. The sudden intrusion had muted much of the operational din of the bridge but that statement brought it all to an absolute halt. You could hear your own heartbeat.
The silence was quickly interrupted by a communications station signaling inbound warp signatures, a *lot* of inbound warp signatures. Almost immediately followed by a deafening cacophany of weapons signature warnings.
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Conductor Greamalean of the Most Profound Ssyphian Orchestra sighed deeply. Well, he moved his antennae in a sputtering quiver which translated the same general emotion to his surrounding compatriots.
"Google? Seriously?"
"That’s what they said." The reply was professional but there was a definite amused tone. Greamalean knew of a couple of them and could guess the rest. Humans had tenacity. That was undeniable. It would be a laudible trait were it not for their pride.
Greamalean stared in disgust at the small screen that had been included with the message. It displayed data in text and image. Text and image.
It was strange. Humans were technologically very advanced. Their weaponry was on par with that of the Ssyphia as was their infrastructure. It wasn’t fully built out as on his beautiful home, but it was equivalent where they bothered to develop. Mostly around the places where they built their weapons and where the pack leaders congregated.
He couldn’t help but see them like that. Pack hunters. Social but primarily for the purpose of killing and safety. He knew that it was folly to think this way but it all lined up perfectly. Their communication was based on simple sounds and on language represented by functionally the same thing they had scratched in the dirt at the dawn of their species.
Google was a term that had spawned from a defunct human empire a hundred lifetimes ago which had some manner of domain over finding knowledge. The humans didn't even know anymore. It now broadly meant to search for knowledge. This method of communication was unprecise and inefficient. In a moment, Greamalean could convey as much information with his movements and scent as they could with a thousand words. Detailed technical information or a moving song. Whichever he preferred.
"Distribute more supplies, then," he said, "We shall allow them to relax and see if they reconsider."
The scout buzzed in discouragement and concern, "They burned the supplies we sent."
Greamalean stilled, indicating that he was trying to mask a strong emotion. The scout cowered even though he knew it wasn’t aimed at him.
"There was an accident?" The conductor asked.
"No, they doused it in a flamable liquid and lit it intentionally," he hastened to add, "We were under strict orders not to engage. Directly from you, conductor."
The conductor twitched his two forelegs to indicate silence, "I know," he intoned calmly, "I know."
"I believe that is what they found insulting. As though we were implying that they were unable to feed themselves," the scout added, helpfully.
"That makes sense. I shall consult the mammalian experts but I imagine you are correct," Greamalean agreed. The inevitably of what loomed began to make itself clear to him.
"When we first reasserted our right to this trade station, do you recall their response?" This question was rhetorical. Grimalean sent vibrations through the mind structure, through the sub space link with which they communicated using the building blocks of the universe. Analysis poured in, confirming his determination.
"Come and take it?" The scout replied, accurately.
"Precisely." He confirmed.
The Most Profound Orchestra shook with the beat of translucent wings. The hum and beauty of daily life broke into the din of Swarm. There was no music in Swarm. There was very little communication. There was barely thought. When ssyphia warred, they warred as one. The objectives could only be simple. Destroy this. Protect this area. Each of them kept their individuality but they were just so debilitated without the ability to communicate.
The humans were in a defensible position. Swarm would take losses. Grimealean might very well be among them. There was no rank in Swarm. They would either succeed or every last one of them would die. There was no middle ground once Swarm had been invoked. The human's intent was to scare them. It had worked.
Perhaps if they hadn’t killed off all the bees on their home planet, they would have some idea how fucked they were when Swarm poured out of their flying hives, clad in their power armor, and the stars blinked out of sight for the human encampment.
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Taolan13
|
Psile
|
2025-01-10 09:54:30
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2025-01-10 01:31:50
| 53 | 38 |
m6do750
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m6buvk5
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1hxh7by
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1hxh7by
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[WP] The men in your family die the moment they turn 18, due to a curse cast on one of your ancestors by a witch. You turned 18 a week ago and are still living, and as a result a descendant of the witch has arrived to figure out why you didn't die.
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It has been a few days since my 18th birthday, almost a week in fact. This is something that was not supposed to happen. Which is why an ancient enemy has decided to meet me.
“Well speak of the devil, you’re actually still alive.” A young feminine voice from behind me said.
“Amen to that.” I say as I turn to look back, taking a bite out of my green tea flavored ice cream. I guess not all witches are old hags.
“No god could have saved you from that curse, none of the new ones anyway.” She says as she sits down.
“I know, is that why you still practice the magic of the old gods? Just how long do you think that chronomany will keep you going? Not even the god of time himself would be able to undo his own death.”
“Is that what you used? Chronomancy? To extend your own life you would reach into the realms of dark magic?” She said with a smirk as she drank from the cup of coffee she came to the ice cream shop with. “That’s pathetic.”
“Ha, no no none of that, that is what your ancestors did to try and keep your old gods alive after they were done with their own civil war.” I say as I lean forward. “What was pathetic was using your dying god’s power to curse my entire bloodline, knowing we would not be able to fight off divine magic without our own god.”
“And yet here you are. That curse was meant to kill off your bloodline centuries ago.”
“Chronomancy, funny thing is, you can only ever use it to extend the life of a god. Based on some math, your god died decades ago, and so should have that curse. But it did not.” I say as I take another bite from my ice cream. “Your ancestors turned your god into a divine item. Your god might be dead, but his power, his magic still remains.”
“Which brings us back to you.” She responds. “Divine magic of this caliber doesn’t wear off, it cannot be undone by any of the new gods, they are too weak. How are you still alive?”
“It’s quite simple actually, I’m immortal.”
“What?”
“Divine magic can be a pain in the ass sometimes. I knew attaining immortality using non-divine methods would not allow me to survive past 18. So I continued what my ancestors did, I collected ancient runes, runes from the old gods. The divine magic of an old god can only be undone by another old god, because the new gods lack so much power. But there was not enough to undo this curse, but there was enough for me to ascend.”
I see her tremble. Her eyes start to glow a dark red, darkness begins to surround her. “You brought it here didn’t you? Knowing that I would be here.” Her ring flares to life. “So I brought insurance.”
“That ring, I see.” I say as I stand up, her energy pushes my ice cream off its cone. “Damn it, I wanted to finish that.”
“Even an immortal being can be killed by divine magic, as such are the power of gods. What is your weapon of choice? What item have you bound your god to?”
“Item?” I say as I push my glasses up. “You’re looking at him.” I say as I surround myself in a bright yellow glow. “Your curse ends with me, for divine curses cannot be placed on gods.”
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PT 1.
One dark day my five times great grandfather ran across the wrong witch. He was a player to say the least, he charmed her then left making it clear he did not care for the witch. He was unaware the witch had cast a curse on him, it was not till he had a son that the curse was recognizable. Every man would die at the young age of 18, of a heart attack.
The only reason that our family survived was through the daughters marrying, as the curse did not drive away men outside of the family. That’s how I exists, I was very young when I was taught about the curse. The knew not to get attached to me as I would die at 18. I’ve always felt different than the other kids my age. I never liked the things that other kids would play with like, transformers and action figures.
Today is my 18th birthday, I knew I would die shortly. I would have until noon to say goodbye to all my friends. I woke up, I wasn’t sad per say, but it was disappointing. I brushed out my long, messy, brown hair, and braided it. I didn’t like cutting my hair. My mother always told me I looked to feminine with long hair, but my father said women like guys with long hair, so I never questioned it. I put on my pastel blue top, red flannel, and navy blue ripped jeans. I looked into the mirror, a very familiar feeling rushed over me, I wasn’t sure if it was discussed or worry.
I walked downstairs, my father was there, but mother had already left. Mother had never cared for me all much. “I’ll miss you, I love you Jason,” I heard my father say tearfully. I cringed not at his words but at my name. I always hated my name, no idea why but I did. I knew it was hard for him, loosing his only child. I would be the end of his bloodline. “I love you to dad…” I wanted to say more but tears streamed down my face before I could. I walked out the door to the bus, for what would seem to be the last time. I wiped the tears from my eyes before getting on the bus.
I arrived at school, everyone saying goodbye to me. It was a small town everyone new about the curse by now. I walked into class to be greeted by a bully, she was always cruel. “Hey! Bitch boy! Last day huh? I’m glad to finally get rid of you!” She yelled. She got a few dirty looks. “Now, Grace. Can’t you be nice to home just for today?” I heard the professor say.
“It’s fine,” I reply. I knew very few people actually liked me. I was an outcast, all my actual friends being female. That was strange for a guy my age. There would be an assembly at 11:50 to watch me pass. It was tradition if there was a man in the family. That’s why I bothered attending college.
Class was dismissed. The assembly was soon. I was tired as the affects of the curse dragged on my body. My friend Cindy came running over to me crying, she embraced me in a hug, crying into my chest. “I can’t believe your gonna die today! Your my only friend! I don’t want to be alone!” She said through tears. I hated seeing her cry. I put my hand on her platinum blond hair. I tilted her head back, I looked into her beautiful green eyes. “You will never be alone, I promise” I smiled, though it hurt deep inside.
We arrived at the assembly, as I walked up on stage I saw some people smiling, others crying, some not paying attention to me at all. I thought over my life, why was I like how I was? Why was I such an outcast? It didn’t matter right now. I was handed the microphone to speak. “Dear friends, I will always watch over you-“
“In heaven!” Grace rudely interrupted.
“In spirit.” I said a little angry. I gave the mic back as the clock struck 12:00. I passed out. I heard cheering and crying. But I was still breathing, I heard foot steps before I jerked back awake. Gasps we’re heard throughout the auditorium. But then Cindy slammed her hands on the table in-front of her. “ HOW ARE YOU NOT DEAD!? I THOUGHT YOU WERE A MAN, I KNOW YOU ARE!” everyone looked at her. “YOU, ME OUTSIDE NOW!” I followed her into the gardens as they called my parents to tell them that I was not dead. “What the hell? I thought you were my friend.” I said. She looked at me a little angry.
“Listen, I didn’t want you to die, but I need you to. My ancestor was the witch that cursed him! So how are you alive?”
“I don’t know, ok? I’ve always been different then everyone else.”
“You are coming with me. We are sorting this out.” She grabbed my arm and spawned a staff. “Get on,” she said in a demanding voice.
|
firestrom8265
|
Anonymouslyba
|
2023-04-21 11:55:00
|
2023-04-21 01:42:49
| 106 | 47 |
jh4tijz
|
jh3bmei
|
12te9f1
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12te9f1
|
[WP] You have found a peaceful village. The angel on your shoulder is enraged, however, and is demanding you slaughter everyone there. The devil on your shoulder looks genuinely afraid of the angel but also has no clue why they're so mad.
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"I'm sorry, what?" Del blinked the afternoon sun out of his eyes, thinking he'd misheard. He'd long been 'blessed' with advice from a celestial entity, but their messaging had usually been fairly clear. Minimize harm, maximize good, help people because it's right and good. The last thing he was expecting from that side of his moral compass was
"Kill them all and let their gods sort the ashes." Came the voice, normally like warm honey, instead sounding like a beehive burning with hellfire. Del turned his head, expecting to find maybe a switch had occurred without his noticing, but the little knot of infernal energy was right where it belonged over his left shoulder. It seemed smaller like it was shrinking in response to the fury of the other.
Del leaned on his pollax and looked out over the idyllic scene again. From appearances, it was no different than any other countryside village. Paths leading to the adjacent farms, a well managed wood on either side of the main road beyond. The relative safety of the region was on display with the lack of a perimeter wall. Market stalls, meandering villagers, minimal guard presence; what could have angered the 'angel' on his shoulder?
"I don't understand." Del said flatly. He felt alternating waves of heat and chill washing from either side as the celestial force pulsed and the infernal globule shuddered in response. Was it afraid? "Why do they need to be burned?" An almost searing heat made him wince as soon as he finished the statement.
"Can't you see what they are?" The voice was brimming with a fury Del hadn't experienced from them. The *other guy*, sure. Rage and fury was kind of his schtick. Del looked again and shook his head. The village looked perfectly normal.
"Foolish mortal. They're fae!" As if on command, Del's perception flickered. He still saw the village, but so armed with the 'truth', he saw something... else. Sharing the space. "Shapeshifters and mimics. This whole village, maybe even the whole valley, is one giant honeypot made to trap humans and steal their souls"
"Ah." The warrior hefted his pollaxe, and shook his head gently to bring his visor down with a clang. He felt his left shoulder relax as the infernal aura uncoiled itself. The thorny bauble bristled in agreement with the disposition of its heavenly counterpart. Del traced his thumb over the runes on his weapon's shaft, feeling them begin to softly glow.
"Well then. There's work to be done."
|
After the villagers presented me with my room and wished me a good night I gladly thanked them and set down my sword near the bed before waving goodbye as the girls giggled and closed the door.
After they had left I took off my armor and soon set my helmet on the table that showed my shoulders and up. As my fingers drifted away from the helmet, a quick flash of orange lighting struck my fingers coming off from the helmet. The light danced around and worked its way up to my shoulder before facing me and taking form.
"Dormious...what about surpirse." I tried to pull my annoyance away and avoid eye contact. Laughter was what I expected, maybe a comment about how boring or how he wanted to have some "fun" with the girls here. I closed my eyes and waited for a response as I tensed up. A hand was all that was placed on my left shoulder with a beak grazing my neck making a small drop of blood. "Where's Lucy."
I opened my eyes quickly and his form disappeared as quickly as it came leaving only the feeling of blood and curiosity grabbing onto me. "Why do you care?" Going to make another comment about-"
He cut me off. "Do you ever shut up? I thought you would have learned how to do that when you got your mother killed."
I slammed the table and pointed at the mirror. "Drop it demon!" My right eye was crying but my left eye was smiling. Then my arm felt like it was being pushed down and I stared at the mirror in frustration after he would say nothing else. Soon enough the curtains flapped by a breeze coming from the window that had a view of the quickly growing village.
Quickly my veins shifted into a gold color as I heard a beak nipping in frustration. "Ah Lucy, always a pleasure to be in your presence," I spoke heading to my bed to sit. "Damien." Her tone shifted. The normal high-singing rhythm she seemed to ALWAYS have was mummified. Her pitch sounded empty of humanity. I snapped out of what I was going to say and listened very carefully.
I saw her bright glowing white eyes and beautiful form in the reflection in my blade. "Hang these people by their organs and leave them to rot." I froze, I never thought an angel could be better at the craft of despair than a demon. "What..." she grew impatient. "Damien. Pick up your blade, we have work to do." I was starstruck, she was serious?
"...What in the hell?" Dormious's voice picked up. "Damn girly, didn't know you had it in you." His voice was shaking. Fear, or excitement? Her form left the sword and I heard her speaking to him. "If you speak again I'll snuff you from existence." Her words clipped together before I looked back in the mirror my breathing quickened.
I stood up waiting for a response, "Lucy...this isn't you..." now both my eyes watered. Her form took place, beautiful of course. Long golden hair and naked, she was behind me hiding herself as if her hair didn't do that for her already. She laid her hair on my shoulder wrapping her hands around me and resting as she spoke. "Damien. These people are robbed of their free will, they are no longer free to walk this world." As I was debating she disappeared and as soon as I realized there was a knock at the door. I grabbed my blade taking a moment to stop shaking as I grabbed my arm and breathed slowly before opening the door.
"Hi, mister!" In the same tone as Lucy when she's cheerful. I heard it now but knowing what I had to do as I hid my blade behind my back staring in the eyes of a child? I couldn't. "I wanted to thank you for telling us your stories of your travels...I also made you this!" She stepped into the room made her way to my bed and placed a drawing of a knight on it. "You're the first knight I've ever met. I heard of what good you do for people and I wanted to show appreciation." I smiled as tears ran down my face as I slowly closed the door.
|
Taolan13
|
NinjaProfessional823
|
2025-02-21 23:38:50
|
2025-02-21 22:07:09
| 230 | 64 |
me2ws20
|
me2f3j3
|
1iuwsfw
|
1iuwsfw
|
[WP] The morning after your birthday wish to "Make the world a better place" you wake in a strange realm. A voice begins, "Don't be alarmed, I'm part of the Fae that grant wishes. The best way for you to improve the world was to remove you from it."
|
When my eyes shot open I was no longer in my bed, but rather laid out in a soft field of green. "Why am I here?" I spoke aloud to the sky as I looked to my strange new surroundings. To blue colored hills and lush plains, to trees of purples and pinks. To an unnatural forest weaved across the land set in by a sky with a setting sun.
"Ah you're awake!" A strange little winged woman appeared in a puff of glitter and began to orbit my head. "You're here because you wished to be, and because I granted that wish!" Her voice was filled with a genuine niceness and encouragement, more like a fitness coach or waitress than a magical creature.
I thought back hard to yesterday, to my birthday, and replayed through my wish again. *To make the world a better place.* I had wished for the same every year, so why had it come true now?
"I don't understand...this isn't what I wished for." I questioned.
"Hm? Let me see" At the snap of the fairy's fingers a long scroll appeared. She walked her way down it, mumbling to herself as she did, "Barry...Barry...here! Yes. You wished to make the world a better place, how noble! And so I brought you here, and the world is a better place because of it."
It seemed my blank stare spoke for me as the fairy woman continued, this time slower. At the wave of her hand a miniature me appeared in her palm, looking around frantically as I had when I'd first awoken. "You were the problem, Barry." She gestured down to the miniature, who was now staring up to both of us wide-eyed. "So, I got rid of the problem." She brought her hands together in a powerful clap, spewing red liquid between them and crushing the mini-Barry. "Now, welcome to the Feywild!...ick, gross"
I stood and brushed myself off, my head still spinning. Me, Barry, the cause of the world's problems? My own mom forgot my birthday most years, with being so hardly remembered how did I have power over anything?
As the fairy floated on, rambling something about giving me the Fey grand tour, I yelled towards her.
"Name one way that you taking me here has improved the world! Barry, I, was not the cause of the world's problems. I refuse to believe that."
She stopped mid float, her silhouette lined by the seemingly ever-setting sun. I could see her grip tighten, her small body stiffen in the air. "Barry, how many people, humans, do you know whose birthday wishes are ever granted? Plenty of humans wish. How many come true?" Her voice had been small before, but now it practically boomed.
"Well I uh-"
She cut in, "You Barry. That's it! The first *human* who compelled, no, forced, me to grant a wish for them. So, with that sort of power? Removing you was making the world a better place, and I will see to it you stay here." Above us the sky grew gray. Flashes of lightning threatened within the suddenly forming storm. The sunset from before faded as we were surrounded in a fog.
But she had given me sudden power, too much of it. I felt confidence in my words. Speaking them as if I'd just gained my footing.
"So, you're saying all I have to do then, is bide my time." I continued. "I can make a wish every year that you must grant. And even if you can twist my words eventually I'll free myself." As she turned to face me I could see her face turn grim. I put on my cheeriest tone, waving to her as she stared, eyes smoldering like canons fired. "Well if that *is* true, then I'll see you in a year."
She raised a hand, then was gone in a flash of harsh light, leaving behind only a storm in her absence. A physical manifestation of her newfound hatred for me. A year. One long year to think, think of the greatest wish I could to get me back.
|
“The best way for you to improve the world was to remove you from it.” Her tone was soft; non-judgemental. With a flourish of her wrist the fog surrounding us began to thin and dissipate, revealing a lush meadow stretching on for a mile in all directions until the tree-line. Towering pines encircled the clearing; birds of all sizes and colours dove from their peaks and soared to greet their neighbours.
“Right.” Instinctively I pulled down the sleeves on my burgundy sweater over my thumbs and crossed my arms, surveying the new environment. “Would you mind explaining your reasoning?”
With a polite nod she closed her eyes, holding her hands out with palms towards the ground her lips quivered to mutter a silent incantation. I expected the ground to rumble as her magic took root, but instead a bulbous scarlet toadstool lazily ballooned out of the undergrowth. As she twisted her pale slender fingers around the fungus warped and squashed into a flat table-like surface. White spots littered the surface like blisters, with sour pops each burst to reveal silverware, saucers, teacups, and finally a majestic jade teapot.
“Please,” the Fae knelt down opposite me, reaching out to arrange the crockery. “Do you have any tea preferences?” Gently removing the lid, she swirled the liquid inside the teapot to produce a winding column of steam.
Supporting myself on the table my knees crackled and popped as I lowered myself down towards the slightly damp grass. “Do you have buckthorn?” I asked optimistically.
Reaching over the table she tilted the pot above my cup, orange tinted tea flowed out of the spout like liquid amber. As the stream hit the cup it swam round its perimeter but didn’t produce either bubble nor splash in its perfect entry. Returning the pot to her side, she poured out a dark violet herbal tea for herself.
“What would you like to know?” The Fae rested both of her hands on the mushroom, her piercing emerald eyes locked onto mine with unyielding intensity.
Holding onto the delicate china cup with ten stumpy fingers, I tapped my nail against its body in thought. “Was I a bad person?”
“Not at all.” She responded softly, like she was tending to a frightened child. “In fact, you were more caring than most.”
“Then why is the world better without me in it?” I couldn’t wrap my head around the two pieces of conflicting information.
Tracing a circle on the table with her index finger a new white protrusion bubbled into place. Instead of bursting its membrane lost all colour and glistened like fine glass. Through the dome a small model of my city sprung up like eager bamboo shoots. “First of all, a wish cannot affect the actions or intentions of others, that would be wildly unfair.” With an open palm she manipulated the image, thousands of cars, ovens, computers, and their electrical companions began to glow a hazardous yellow. “You were not removed because you yourself are the most violent threat to the world. You are simply part of a bigger problem.” With a final flourish, a small subset of items began to glow red.
“Those are mine, aren’t they?” I asked sheepishly.
Gently nodding she took a short sip of tea. “By removing you from the world, you will no longer be consuming vital resources like food and power. The effect, admittedly, is infinitesimal. You are after all one of eight billion. Nevertheless, it is the largest impact you can currently have.”
I ran a hand over my head, my fingers catching in my knotted curls as the swept across my scalp. The Fae wasn’t wrong, but despite her explanation I couldn’t help but feel insulted. “But what if I ran a homeless charity, petitioned for clean energy, walked instead of driving?” I bargained.
“Do you do those things?” She wryly retorted from behind the lip of her cup.
“Well… No, but I could.”
“In that case, you wouldn’t have been removed from the world.” Her tone had shifted, she was no longer nurturing and protective but instead felt as though she was dryly parroting lecture notes like a disillusioned professor.
“If you send me back, I’ll promise to be better. I swear it. Hand on heart, Scout’s honour.”
Giggling she covered her mouth, thin crows feet grew into place as she squinted in delight. “You’re not trapped here, you know? You can go back anytime you like.”
“O-Oh.” My cheeks blushed and my skin felt hot, was I simply brought to this realm to be chastised and embarrassed? “Was this some kind of test?”
“Hm?” The question seemed to catch her genuinely off guard, from her polite and refined mannerisms she was suddenly tilting her head inquisitively and leaning forward on her elbows. “How would this possibly be a test? I just granted a wish, all this surrounding existentialism is your doing.”
My opinion had shifted from finding her endearing to patronising, if the alternative to going back was a life in this clearing with the indignant Fae I would rather my chances back on Earth. “Fine, just tell me how to get back.”
“All you have to do is wake up.”
|
GrunkleStanwhich
|
DiligentFox
|
2023-01-03 21:48:36
|
2023-01-03 21:38:10
| 70 | 47 |
j2tou5b
|
j2tn1wj
|
102bzwa
|
102bzwa
|
[WP] After years of training, a farm boy becomes a knight and slays the dragon. He returns home to find a wealthy nobleman has taken the throne and married the princess.
|
The heavy boots rung in the Great Hall, as the young man walked towards the throne, to the seated, slightly rotund noble.
The young man stopped, and briefly nodded to the noble. While protocol clearly stated the young man should bow, somehow nobody seemed to react.
"Lord Esler."
"Master Flynn. I understand congratulations are in order."
Flynn nodded, gaze a little further away than it should. "Well, me and my fellows slew the beast."
"I heard you gave the killing blow, with that very sword."
Flynn's fingers tapped the hilt. "The sword pierced the heart of the creature. Two hours on it's neck with the largest axe I could lay my hands on did the rest."
Lord Esler nodded, distaste flickered on his features. "Difficult for the bards to make that into a song."
"For some reason that didn't occur to me at the time." Flynn looked around. "Where's the Princess Nessa?"
"Ah. Yes." Esler's fingers strummed on the armrest of the throne. "Preparing for our wedding."
Flynn's features didn't move. "I was under the impression she was promised to me. After I slew the beast."
"Circumstances have changed."
"So no chance of you changing your minds? She and you are firmly committed to this match?"
"I'm afraid so."
Flynn's frozen expression finally broke.
Into a beaming smile. "Thank God for that."
"... I beg your ..."
"Well, when the King admitted me near his deathbed and charged me with this mission, I had the opportunity to meet her."
"I don't under-"
"My Lord, I've met her. Spoke to her." Flynn's face looked worried. "I was more than happy to slay the dragon that's killed off scores of farmers, their families, put miles of farmland to the torch and consumed untold numbers of livestock, but actually being wedded to that woman? Very pretty but-" Flynn unsuccessfully repressed a shiver. "-you're braver than me, my Lord."
" ... well, I see ..." Esler plainly didn't.
"I'll be off then." Flynn nodded again, then turned around.
"You don't seem aggravated that being denied Nessa's hand denies you the throne."
"And you, my Lord, don't seem to realise what obtaining the throne entails."
"Please explain."
Flynn turned back to Lord Esler. "The coffers are diminished thanks to the dragon. You might not have noticed, but a lot of our trade relies heavily on selling surplus crops and livestock to our neighbours. Who've left us alone because we provided them with said surplus crops and livestock."
Flynn glanced at Esler's rings and jewels adorned on his expensive clothes. "I'm guessing the Princess realised you had a better chance of keeping her castle warm and her servants paid than a farmer's son."
Esler rose, anger creasing his face. "You think I can't keep the throne?"
Flynn turned back to the entrance. "I'm saying you have little funds, less food in the future, and neighbours in the north and west who've probably realised you cannot easily honour past agreements, and under no obligation to honour their part."
Flynn smiled. "Whereas I have old friends in the Guild of Swords, the holder of my family's lands in need of gold ... and the gold the dragon slept on while he wasn't stealing cattle."
The boots rung out in the Great Hall, as the man in the throne began to noticeably shrink.
"But like I said, Lord Esler ... you're a braver man than I am."
|
My name Absolve-thyself, my family were farmers, landed people with access to our kingdom’s greatest of all treasures. Water, not clear but full of clay and silt. I was born in the kingdom of the Clay God. A small land hidden in the sands gifted only the luxury of a single great oasis.
As I grew older I dedicated myself to fighting, specifically swordsmanship. I even worked under the King and while I got enough silver to head to the neighboring kingdom of warcraft. My heart ached as I had fallen for princess Ever-Silt. I had even asked for her hand and the King had grown tired of our childishness.
So I finally convinced myself to leave for the Warcraft Kingdom whose knowledge and luxury will grand me fortune and lucidity.
Though it had taken years. I became the youngest grandmaster of swordsmanship in the great capital, so I taught. I sent many books, letters and even merchants towards my homeland though I never saw a letter back.
Until one day a messenger came to my dormitory at the university and gave me a scroll, the parchment heavily worn, and the rod’s ends, though unadorned bore the likeness of the Clay God.
It was from the king. He spoke of a dragon, a beast that fought the great armies of the northern kingdoms and fled south, to that tiny oasis. And that he knew of my strength, and that should I hunt the dragon, he would give me his daughter’s hand.
My loyalty to my kingdom, to my family, and to my honor all fell as I remembered that kind and brave girl. Whose youthful visage was stuck in my memories. So I rashly decided to cull this simple beast. And take her hand in marriage.
It didn’t actually take that long. Merely a week. A dragon cannot fly far in this harsh and vicious land. It was actually easy to force it to land with my belly bow. It was also a greater surprise when it talked to me on the ground.
“You simple dolt! You waste of air and water! May your family drown and your hair fall as quickly as chaff! Go fall off a cliff!”A dragon dies as quickly as a hare. And the sun watches it all.
With the dragon’s head atop a camel, and the scroll in hand I returned to the kingdom of the Clay God. It was clear the land was full of trouble as everyone seemed worse than I remember. The farmers had less grain in their stalls, the herders had less heads of cattle. And the tradesmen I met under the king were gone. The carpenters, jewelers, and even the bakers all gone.
In contrast the palace was supreme. Incomparable to the old palace that embraced the Clay God and his oasis. Gone were the statues and monks. The ever present smell of warm clay. A young maid had arrived, instead of addressing me she showed me that she had no tongue. So the sticky smell of old incense followed me, my bloody prize, and our guide through polished rock floors, tall wooden arches and statues of mortal men.
Finally our guide brought us to what must be a throne-room. A crowd of at least forty people hung about the room. Great windows were at the back of the massive room letting in the evening sun. And instead of a throne in the center, a man covered in purple cloth sat upon golden chains at twice my height.
He was not the king I knew, and not the one who signed my scroll.
“Dear traveler! You should kneel before kings! And you have brought a great prize and have saved my kingdom! Who might you be?”
“I am Absolve-thyself, son of Kind-Intents. A grandmaster of sword and bow, I was a knight and retainer of a previous king whose name was Total-Refuge. And as a child of the Clay God, who on earth are you?”
“How rude! I am the Prince Consort! Since that was my father-in-law, and in the presence of your results I shall not charge you with death. What do you ask for in exchange for this event?”
“Can I see Ever-Silt? I want to see her!”
“Absurd, she is in her tower as always. And that’s not a prize.”
“And yet I was offered her hand! How did you build this ostentatious palace?”
“My father-in-law clearly. I have only ruled here for ten days. What can I do to get you to leave?”
He points at several men and they go to lower him. Instead of speaking I grab my bow and shoot him. His fall was quick and unlabored. And in death as quiet as his court. As not a single man or woman had a tongue to tell me of him.
I never found either Ever-Silt or Total-Refuge. And my family too had left these lands. My sister had left for the country of flowers to the north years ago.
So I took my prize back to the Warcraft Kingdom and celebrated. Taking the head of such a beast is no ordinary merit and the King’s Archivists met with me to record my tale.
Wine might be harsh but it could never touch a memory’s bitterness and anger.
|
adriantullberg
|
obscene-logwood
|
2024-02-07 12:01:15
|
2024-02-07 08:43:51
| 165 | 36 |
kpbikx9
|
kpb251k
|
1akte6n
|
1akte6n
|
[WP] "So, Hero, who will you save; The love of your life, or the bus of innocent civilians?" "The civilians." "...What?" "I choose the civilians."
|
"Why?"
"What do you mean why? What kind of psycho prioritises one life over many just because they happen to have feelings for that one? That's madness"
"But..."
The hero had stopped listening and sped off towards the bus. The villain was dumbfounded for a moment but rallied. He freed the hero's love to gloat.
"Well, there you have it. He cares about strangers more than you and..." he noticed his victim was smiling, staring after the hero happily.
"What the...are you *happy* he choose them over you?!"
"Of course I am. What, you think I'm such a nutcase I think my life is more important than a literal bus load of innocent people?"
The villain shuffled awkwardly "Well, I just think..."
"Oh my god you actually believe that, don't you? That's why you're a villain you idiot, you think your emotions are more important than the well being of others!" They scoffed in derision and turned toward the staircase to get of the roof "Grow up you looser"
|
Like animals in a zoo, people pressed their faces, their hands, their bodies, to the grubby windows of the yellow bus. Sobs and screams alike rent the air as the civilians struggled, a mass of panic.
To the side, a man with curly blond hair, and wide, glassy brown eyes, was tied up and bound.
And the Fiend’s lips curled in a soft smirk.
This feeling, this sensation, of having total control, of having full power, coursed through the Fiend’s veins.
The system was broken, the rich were getting richer and the poor were getting poorer, and in the mess of the world nobody had cared about one poor orphan, shivering on the side of the road. Nobody had spared that orphan a singular glance, or a mote of care.
But now? Now, people cared. Now, people’s eyes were glued to the lithe, amber-eyed figure of the Fiend.
The Fiend’s smirk widened slightly as they watched Defender come racing up to them, her reddish hair gathered in a long plait, her black boots hitting the ground at a rapid pace.
Defender. Such a pretentious name. A defender of what? Of the corrupt city, of the soiled streets and the imposing institutions, which only sought money and money and money?
“So, Hero, who will you save; the love of your life, or the bus of innocent civilians?”
The Fiend’s smirk split into a deranged grin as they gestured towards the man with the blond curls, and then, the bus full of panicking people. This was going perfectly to plan.
But what the Fiend hadn’t expected, was for Defender to tilt her head, and almost instantly reply, “The civilians.”
“…What?”
That couldn’t be right, this wasn’t supposed to be an easy choice! And yet Defender acted as if the Fiend had just asked her whether she would rather ice cream, or rotted spinach.
Defender arched a perfect eyebrow.
“I choose the civilians.”
No, no, no, no, this shouldn’t be a no-brainer, this shouldn’t be a breeze of a decision. People always assumed the Hero was the emotional one, the one with empathy, love, while the Villain was cold, calculating, without feeling.
But as the Fiend gazed into Defender’s cold, calculating eyes, they wondered where the line between Hero and Villain should be drawn. They wondered if Defender was really a Hero, and if they were really a Villain.
They wondered if Hero and Villain were different at all.
|
ReasonablyBadass
|
crystal_pineapple25
|
2023-07-03 05:43:21
|
2023-07-03 05:01:47
| 88 | 38 |
jqh0ydp
|
jqgxbxb
|
14p13ue
|
14p13ue
|
[WP] A dragon has stolen the sheep from the nearby village, and as such, the villagers assume all their sheep have been eaten. They want you, a knight, to take revenge on the dragon for them. However, when you meet the dragon, you find they took the sheep for a very different reason…
|
You pause, at the sight of the flock of very much alive sheep. Associating humans with food and the cave being without grass, they crowd you with plaintive urgent bleats.
Momentarily stumbled by the mob, you only noticed the dragon when it was face to face with you.
Gambling that the dragon was capable of at least understanding, you wave. "Good morning, great dragon!"
"Is it?" The dragon sounds tired and sour. "No, shut up, it is good because you're a human."
Oh dear. A testy dragon was not good news for your prospective health, but maybe if you were useful...?
"How can I help, great one?"
He, and it is a he, you can see the frilled crest dangling limply down his neck, snorts and growls as if fighting some great internal struggle. Before finally speaking.
"How...do you get cloth from a sheep?"
He takes your silence as an opportunity to rant. "I know you know! But how do you do it without killing the sheep? And how do you make it the shape you want? Answer me, human!"
That explained the lingering smell of roast mutton.
"...I would be honoured to explain how to harvest and process wool, great one. But, if you don't mind me asking,why would a dragon need wool? After all, your scales are strong and your fire mighty so you fear not the cold and damp." Hopefully flattery would soothe.
The dragon stares, but evidently exhaustion and the promise of an answer to his question wins over his reticence.
"...How much do you know about dragon eggs?...Shut up, scratch that, of course you know nothing."
"I am eager to hear your wisdom," You placate, ignoring a sheep chewing on your sleeve.
"Dragons don't mate," he says simply. "Yes yes, I know you humans are obsessed with mating, but all those fluids and...ergh, interpersonal interaction...is just disgusting. Dragons are far more efficient. A female judges your nest and if she finds it worthy she lays an unfertilised egg and leaves. Leaving the male to fertilise it and nurture it and raise the hatchlings."
Several scholars would give up a choice selection of limbs and organs just to know that. No wonder nobody had ever seen, let alone captured, a 'breeding pair' of dragons.
"Right now," the dragon continues, "it's fashionable to have a comfortable nest. Last decade the fashion was hanging arrangements of sapphires and I had *three* females choose my nest to lay an egg in!" His chest puffs out, proud. Then he droops. "Now it's all about comfort and last season that stupid pigeon Green over the mountain got nearly all the eggs because he pillaged a caravan full of Eastern silks."
He perks up. "But! The sheep in my territory are soft and you can make cloth from them that even you humans and your squishy delicate skin can wear! I just need to figure out how..."
He turns to you, eyes hungry and desperate.
You sigh, and sit down to get comfortable for your lecture. You ignore the sheep that starts chewing on your hair.
"First of all, you start by not killing the sheep...'"
|
Thank you to u/Street-Cost-1779 for the idea about mental synapses.
\-----
***Test Log: Magic-4432-AF-42***
*Date:* >!22/04/2048!<
*Classification level: Four. Current level: Zero (general public).*
*Personnel: Dr. Hildew.*
***Test Description:***
Given the report by the Orion Interstellar Confederacy about magic and mental synapse connections, I have determined four solutions to bring proper order back to Earth.
1. Using Reality Anchors, force the entire Sol system into an anti-magic zone. Given how sparce magic is around Earth currently, it wouldn't change much (see option 4).
2. Create an implant which would give the user magical powers (see option 4.
3. Use mental gymnastics for loosen synapse connections to allow for humans to use magic.
4. Invent magitech (requirement for option 2)
Due to the nature of most options hinging off the ability for some form of technology to interface with the magical field, it makes sense that finding a way to generate magitech is the best place to start. As such, I will be testing various quantum and atomic systems until I find a way to use the systems to repeatably interface magically with the world.
***Test Results:***
1. **I accidentally invented nonmagical Hard Light.**
2. **I accidentally invented nonmagical perpetual energy.**
3. **I accidentally invented nonmagical infinite propulsion.**
4. **I accidentally discovered a new field of science.**
5. **Test successful. Hard Light projectors can be used to interfere with the magical field in a predictable and reliable manner, resulting in the ability for human technology to use magic.**
|
eldritch_fluff
|
Nomyad777
|
2024-08-05 17:52:39
|
2023-04-21 01:28:12
| 337 | 17 |
lgn44iy
| null |
1ekqu4i
| null |
[WP] An agoraphobic princess is a extremely sick and tired of all knights who are breaking into her castle and trying to slay her emotional support dragon.
|
"Out! NOW!"
The knight before me reached out his hand, ignoring what I had just said to him as he replied, "Princess Andrea, you need not be afraid! I can get us out of the castle before the dragon wakes--"
I slapped the knight with the back of my hand and yelled, "Shut up and listen to me, you damned moron! I don't *need* to be saved, the dragon is *mine*, and the only feeling I have right now is an unstoppable tide of fury for *your* lead-poisoned idiocy!"
"W--What? Oh Gods, the dragon has ensnared your mind!"
I slapped the knight again and stomped over to my bed as I yelled, "Thomas, please get rid of him!"
Thomas poked his head through the door and grabbed the knight by the chainmail. Thomas then carried him over to the window and dropped him outside as I practiced my deep breathing. I started counting backwards from thirty as Thomas got on the bed and nuzzled his head into my lap. Thomas built up a bit of flame in the back of his throat to warm me up, putting an end to my rage. I let out a long sigh and gently scratched behind Thomas's horns as I said, "Thanks boy."
Thomas blew out a little ring of smoke before idly licking my hand. The soreness from the slap I delivered began to fade as I snuggled up with Thomas and quietly said, "Why can't they leave me alone?"
Thomas let out a little whine in sympathy. Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching the door to my room. I groaned weakly and pulled the curtain on my bed in the hopes I could convince the latest knight to leave. But when the door opened up, I heard... nothing.
There was no dramatic yell of my name, no demand that Thomas prepare for death, no telltale clanking of armor or swords. Hell, even the door opening was abnormal--the fools who kept trying to "save" me usually just kicked it down. I peeked through the curtain to get a better look at who this mystery person was.
Leaning against the wall with a book in hand was a woman dressed in the uniform of a squire. I pulled back the curtain slightly, prompting the woman to look over at me and wave. "Hello. Lovely castle you have here."
"Uhh...who are you?"
The woman chuckled and set down her book as she replied, "Depends on who you ask and where you do the asking. To the knight you just unceremoniously threw out like a baby bird from the nest, my name was Gertrude, squire-in-training. But you can call me Christine."
I pulled the curtain back all the way. "So you're a criminal."
"Oh, unrepentantly so. But don't worry, I'm not here to steal anything. I just figured the castle of a noted agoraphobe would be a good place to hide out when the lynch mobs congregate. Of course, I'd be more than willing to offer compensation in any form you'd like."
"So if I were to ask for, say, assistance in keeping knights out of my home..."
Christine opened up her jacket and showed off the tools on the inside. "I'd ask if you prefer pit traps or snares."
I smiled. "Okay, now what if I were to ask for someone to keep me and Thomas company?"
Christine strolled over to the bed, sat down next to me, and joined in on giving Thomas scritches. "I'd say yes please."
I blushed. "Okay then. I guess we have a deal."
|
"Boru!" Princess Beatrice yelled from her tower, as her draconic companion was slashed once again by the knight's blade. The champion didn't seem to understand that she cried out in defense of the dragon, shouting in response:
"Don't worry Princess! I'll slay this nasty beast for you!"
"Stop you idiot, I don't want that!"
He hesitated, and Boru flew from the ground, curling himself around the tower.
"I'm sorry, what?", said the Knight. "Isn't this monster keeping you prisoner?"
She didn't answer, realizing that was the longest conversation she had since her parent's death, months ago. She remembered the day after that vividly, when Boru first came. Contrary to popular belief, he was more of a gentle giant than a town destroying titan, and just wanted somewhere big enough to sleep. It didn't take long for the two of them to form a bond.
"Hello? Are you alright?" Said the knight, interrupting her thoughts.
"I am, sorry for not responding. This dragon isn't my capturer, he's my friend, and I would very much like for you and your armored friends to stop hurting him."
"Oh. Then why don't you go out of the castle?"
She sighed, because she didn't have an answer. Beatrice couldn't understand what caused her fear of the outside world, but she also had no reason to come out, since she had everything she could want in that castle. Servants would prepare meals for her and wouldn't ask many questions, the Royal Library was extensive and, since she wasn't old enough to rule, others were doing it for her.
"Why would I?", she finally answered.
"Well, I don't know, aren't you old enough to marry?", said the knight, in a flirtatious way.
Hearing that, the gigantic dragon got furious. That man was too old for his friend, thought the beast, before burning the man alive.
"Good boy.", said the princess, before happily going back to bed.
|
jardanovic
|
Worm6974
|
2023-03-25 23:07:25
|
2023-03-25 22:46:55
| 299 | 60 |
jdogvpj
|
jdoe63k
|
121y8n7
|
121y8n7
|
[WP] Long ago, you tricked a demon into giving you immortality. Enraged, the demon placed a curse on you. Every door you walk through takes you to a different place, but never where you want to go. Several years later, you're just trying to get back home.
|
At this point, I don't even know which universe, plane, or dimension I have arrived in.
It's been almost a century since I tricked the demon Lord Zepar into granting me immortality. Should've read the fucking fine print before signing that contract. Of course, every gift from a demon has its drawbacks, regardless if it stemmed from trickery and deceit on the human's part. At first, I thought the whole teleporting shtick when I discovered I could enter whole new worlds was kinda cool, just a little buggy. Didn't take me long to realise I was never going to go where I wanted to go.
Once, I dreamt of seeing the world. Now, I have seen so many different worlds by sheer accident. Now I just want to go home.
Zepar's curse meant I was everywhere but home.
Several planeswalkers I met along the way offered to help me, but every time I stepped through a portal alongside one of them, we were inevitably separated, with me being thrown into a random location in the multiverse.
I thought I could be clever by calling a Galactic cab. I hail the cab, open the door...and I am transported to a random desert and not inside the cab. Even cab doors aren't immune apparently.
For years, I grew tired of bouncing everywhere but home. Then, I grew paranoid about everything that remotely looked like a door. Now I'm just a crazy undying hermit in the forest punching trees off their trunks waiting for the day Zepar would show his face to mock me. Waiting to punch his smug, shit-eating face into the stratosphere. Dying would have been preferable, but that's no longer an option for me.
Once in a while, when I felt like rejoining civilization, I would head down to my favourite pub and sit outdoors, ignoring the weird looks and stares my dishevelled appearance garnered.
Today I overheard a band of adventurers picking up a quest to fight the demon Lord Zepar. All of my push ups, all of my sit ups, all that punching and running, it would pay off. I would deliver my megaton one-punch that I have honed over the years to Zepar.
Or so that's what I thought, until I ran into my biggest obstacle. A fucking door to his castle.
The adventurers didn't buy my story, they just dragged me through the door where I predictably landed in a random location again.
It's a museum, full of...oddly familiar items on display. What I once used as part of my daily life on earth were all antique museum pieces in glass cases.
Earth. In my eagerness to go to Zepar and being denied the opportunity to punch his face, I had landed back in my own world.
A few museum guards shouted in a language I didn't understand, running after me. I probably looked like some weird unruly tourist to be escorted out.
I ran. Kept running until I hit a dead end. A narrow corridor with a single door at the end.
All of my push ups, all of my sit ups, all that punching and running, I wasn't going to let it go to waste.
I punched through the door and walked out the empty, door-less doorway to breath the fresh air of earth for the first time. Now I knew I was going home.
I was going to one-punch every door that stood in my way.
|
James missed home. He had gained immortality and been cursed and had not been mature enough to deal with it. At first, the random nature of where he would end up really appealed to him; he went through every door he could just too see where he would go. Then he realised the enormity of what was happening. His entire life left behind dozens of doors ago.
When he ended up on a tropical island, he managed to stay put. The nature of the place meant there were very few doors and so he could do a reasonable job of staying there. It also helped he hated the place, which seemed to make the curse more inclined to keep him there. On the occasional accidental door use, he mostly ended up on the other side of the island, requiring a 2 week hike back unless he could find a motorbike to ride. Mostly, he was able to make sure a door was already open before he went through it, thus nullifying the curse.
He did end up making a life though. He found a wife happy to to live with these strange conditions. Throughout all of it though, he yearned for London. He settled. The life was simple, but satisfying. They decided to start a family. His wife went to the only hospital on the island to give birth. James was equal parts excited and terrified; would he be a good dad? Would he be able to handle the responsibility? Would his child love him? He travelled into town, deep in his thoughts about this new exciting part of his life. He walked through the hospital and saw through the glass that his wife had given birth. He could see her smiling at his new child. He rushed forwards, pulled the door open and rushed through without thinking.
He smelt the smell of London town and screamed.
|
Tregonial
|
sprucay
|
2023-05-17 10:49:08
|
2023-05-17 10:31:25
| 698 | 190 |
jkhf8vd
|
jkhdreu
|
13jumt0
|
13jumt0
|
[WP] You partner in crime has pulled a gun on you. "The truth is, the game was rigged from the start." You know that very well, mostly because you did all the rigging.
|
You'd think there'd be some honour among thieves, but he looked *far too* smug with that gun pointed at me. Too much for him not to be enjoying this.
"Alright, Miles," he said in a condescending manner. "I think it's time for us to go our separate ways. Specifically, me going towards luxury and comfort with the rest of our little gang, and you, well..." he cocked the hammer on the gun, "I don't much care."
I sighed. "So is this how it's gonna be?" I asked.
"You played your part in this little game well, but the truth is... it was rigged from the start. Frankly, I'm a little surprised you didn't see it coming."
"I did."
He tilted his head curiously. "That so?"
"Of course. Which is why I loaded your gun with blanks earlier today. I mean, did you really..." I smiled.
"Oh," he chuckled, "you mean *these* blanks?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pile of bullets - all marked with the tiny little indent on the side. The exact marking I used. "I checked them an hour ago. Like I said - you played your part well, but-"
"Is that the same gun from yesterday?" I continued. He frowned and nodded. "Right. So, the one with the firing pin filed down. Good."
Carefully, without turning the gun away, he inspected the inside and cursed quietly.
"I could've *sworn* that- bah. Doesn't matter. That's why I brought *this*," he said and pulled out a *second gun* from behind his back.
I did *not* see that coming.
"By the look on your face," he said calmly, "I assume you didn't find this one. So with that, I'll-"
"I was really hoping you wouldn't force me to do this, but..." I pulled out a small vial from my pocket. "This is-"
"The antidote to the poison you put in my coffee? Yeah. I know. It's why I switched the cups."
"Was that *after* I switched them *again*?"
"It was before I brewed a fresh new pot."
"With the-"
"Poisoned coffee beans?" he interrupted. "Of course not."
"I was going to see with the coffee pot I laced," I chortled. Finally, the ball was in my court and-
A laser appeared on my chest.
"I don't suppose you've met Laura?" he asked. "An excellent sniper, I must say. Now, if you'd be so-"
"Of course I know Laura," I replied and watched with satisfaction as the laser moved from my chest to his. "An excellent sniper indeed. And *very loyal*. I told her to aim at me first - a little bit of theatrics never hurt anyone."
A second laser appeared on my chest.
"Theatrical indeed," he nodded.
"It would appear we are at an impasse," I commended him.
"Not... exactly," he shrugged.
"*Hey, uh, Miles? We may, uh...*" the voice in my earpiece sounded quite concerned - never knew Laura to be nervous.
"Laura, I suspect, has just realized there is a man in her apartment with her wife. A man I am paying quite well."
"That man is an undercover FBI agent, I'll have you know. It took years for me to arrange for you to meet him."
"Oh, he flipped. You see, money..." he pointed at the pile of cash-filled bags at our feet, "money conquers all."
"I know he did. Why is why *I, and the rest of the Bureau*, set up this little operation," I revealed grandiosely and pulled out my ultimate trump card - my FBI badge.
"Wait," he stopped. "The **fuck**?!"
"And now it's time for justice- wait *what the fuck*?" I gasped as I saw him holster his second weapon and pull out something far more sinister - an NSA badge.
We stared at each other silently.
"*Hey, uh, Miles*?" Laura chirped in my ear. "*Is- is this something I should've been briefed on*? *No one back at the Agency mentioned*\-"
"Did you say *Agency*?!" I yelled at her. Looking up, I saw my partner-in-crime turned traitor turned NSA agent speak into his very own earpiece.
"*The fuck do you mean* ***DEA?!***"
|
"Really" I muttered, as Ryan the one who I had trusted, my partner in crime pointed the gun on me. Without hesitation, he let out the first shot \*BANG\* .... a burning sensation quickly swallowed my chest, I fell to the floor.
Ryan slowly walked closer to me, his eyes gazed in mine .... those eyes. We were both in high school when we became friends through sports, it was a bit rocky at the start but we eventually found ourselves helping each other throughout school, having sleepovers and eventually going to jail together, yeah we went through alot; the kind Ryan that was always there for me, supporting me, now getting ready to take my life..... what went wrong?.
"Why" I forcefully muttered, my chest tightening, making it hard to breathe.
"The truth is, the game was rigged from the start" he responded, in a tone which was more jovial than regretful. "Huh" I whispered, then it hit me.... After our first arrest, Ryan became somewhat of a junkie. He did everything he could to secure some dollars to feed his sick addiction, he even stole from his mother. A couple months back, we were tipped off by a girl working with a wealthy business man as a house cleaner, that he would be out of town and he always left some of his bank cards and a handsome amount of cash in his room in which she had the keys for.
"Perfect opportunity to change our lives" Ryan blurted, when he heard the news
"Yeah but you know it's very risky, this isn't a game" I said in response, worryingly
"Cmon dude, all you need to do is sneak in after she is done cleaning, grab the keys and make bank, it is like a game".
I looked up at him from my worryingly stare at the floor and nodded. If only I knew what would had become of this situation I would've went there in secret, took the money and ran away... I should had known after all, because he had brought a gun when I went to pick him up to go do the robbery, why would we need a gun? noone would be there. "It's just in case things go south". Yeah they did, and it was his all doing.
Up came Ryan's hand again, pointing the pistol at me, my heart sank... this is how it ended. Without hesitation, he let out another round, I felt it penetrate my lower abdomen, at this point I began to feel an outer body experience, slowly losing consciousness .... slowly ..... and I saw black.
|
SirPiecemaker
|
Conscious-Grab-2869
|
2023-08-17 23:50:23
|
2023-08-17 21:18:57
| 364 | 10 |
jwng63k
|
jwmtia4
|
15twp5a
|
15twp5a
|
[WP] An alien empire has just abducted the President of the United States. The problem? That President is Theodore Roosevelt - and the Bull-Moose isn’t one to be held captive. These Extraterrestrials are about to face the fury of a wronged Rough Rider.
|
“The humans on the continent of this leader are rather active,” the intelligence officer says as he calmly observes the human pacing side to side in the containment unit. They are reminded briefly of the behavior of captive predators back home, a thought which is quickly dismissed.
“I fail to see how a bunch of tribal primitives massing their males outside their population centers generates cause for concern,” the lieutenant-captain responds, having already lost interest in the science department’s newest research project. “Their most advanced travel technology right now can leave the ground for minutes, at best.”
“Officer Xarlnab wouldn’t be troubling us if he hadn’t considered something, and given the hostility our current specimen has kept up for the last couple weeks, we should hear him out.” The captain’s calm respect for his officers was why he was considered such a capable commander, and why the mission to assess sentience and risk had been assigned to him in the first place. The lieutenant-captain wiggles his arms in deference.
“Well, and this is a long shot, but the continent we obtained our tribal leader from isn’t the only place that has turned into a hive of activity. The more developed continent on the same side of the equator has seen an explosion of activity in a metalworks that appears to be dedicated to the manufacture of weapons, marked ‘Gussstahlfabrik’ in one of the local languages. I believe they may be attempting to manufacture a combustion projectile weapon capable of reaching us, which, as absurd as it may sound, calculations of their capabilities suggest may be possible.” Officer Xarlnab stands stock still, equally nervous and dutiful.
Captain Nargrm flutters his electrosensors thoughtfully, giving his head the illusion of slowly moving side to side. He approaches the window of the containment unit, where the human has stopped pacing and is now staring back out the window, shoulders taught and square, legs in a stable shoulder width position. “Do we know if all tribes respond to the loss of a leader with such activity? Are we sure this movement is related, and if such is it being done with viole-“ his sentence cuts off as a fist explodes through the polymer window and seizes a forward arm of the captain. Before either officer or lieutenant-captain can react, the screaming cuts out. The door to the cell shatters in the same explosive manner, and the earth leader steps through, now armed with a long bone ripped from the body of the captain.
“I don’t believe I’ve had a chance to introduce myself,” Theodore Roosevelt says through a savage looking grin. “Where I come from,” he growls as he lifts the bone to shoulder height and launches into a sprint, “I’m called the Big Stick!”
|
The bemused group stayed behind the viewing glass, and were amazed that even with their sound holes blocked they could STILL hear the outraged roaring coming from the rather immense leader of humans. They could not understand what had angered this large human so. They saw that this being was intelligent enough to allow a scan and investigation of the upper sight and hearing organs, and tho was agitated, allowed further investigation of the breath, the movement of "blood " , the "heart ". Yet when their attendant moved downward to check on systems involved with mating, already wrongly assured by their acceptance and apparent understanding , they were knocked to the ground. Now, all the staff of the science deck were assembled. "Should we send our AI unit in, Captain ? " Valoo asked the head science officer . " We cannot , even if they will calm down and answer our questions logically find anything out from mere questioning: This being is unaware of their own systems of reproduction, and only the most amusingly childlike images were shown us from the telepathy bot." Valoo snickered. The Captain was not amused in the least. " We cannot afford to have any of our limited AI capacity destroyed " Let's wait awhile. WHY would a check of their reproductive capacity cause such great rage, "!the Captain muttered. "This one is STILL making those, those noises."
|
ArtostheBear
|
Anubisrapture
|
2023-02-20 14:19:58
|
2023-02-20 13:09:54
| 103 | 15 |
j9ag6zl
|
j9a87dq
|
116tqx3
|
116tqx3
|
[WP] On a long straight road with nothing of note, there is a four-way traffic light that hangs in the middle. No road crosses anywhere near the traffic light and no sign to tell you why it's there, but it seems to always be green, so no one cared. That's until the day it changed to yellow.
|
The roar of the engine in the dark, quiet night was Sarah's favourite sound.
Rubber gripped and danced on the asphalt as the 64 Mustang powered down the desert road.
The night air shimmered in her headlamps. Sarah drove this road every night. A road to nowhere, in the middle of nothing. Half way down this long, empty stretch of black tar was a four-way light. It was an odd place to put one, with no intersection, and no pedestrian crossing to be seen. Hell, no pedestrians to speak of anywhere for miles.
"at least I always catch the green," she'd say when she passed it. Green on all sides. She stopped one night years ago when it first appeared and walked around it.
The Mustang kicked, snapping Sarah out of her trance. She gripped the warm leather wheel and shifted her weight on the seat as she downshifted to balance the transmission and bring peace to the engine. Up ahead was the light.
She slammed hard on the brakes and the car skidded across the black gravel surface to a stop.
"what the-" she looked at the evergreen light, her mouth agape, tire smoke rising from the car aglow with an amber hue. On one side, her side, the light was yellow.
Caution.
She turned off her engine and got out of the car into the warm air of the desert night. Stars shone above in the sky, brighter than she'd have thought stars should be. There were more of them, too. She turned her attention from the amber glow of the light to the purple hue of the moon.
The yellow light flickered violenty and in the distance she heard the ringing of bells. The pole that held the light opened, and a railroad crossing barrier began to come down across the road.
Sarah looked up at the amber light, now blinking at steady 1 second intervals. To her right in the distance she heard a train billowing along the tracks. "Tracks? There are no trains on this road," she thought to herself, as the bell of the train whistled.
The train picked up speed and went passed her. The lights of the train were a deep red. As it passed, she caught a glimpse of the conductor's boned hands with a death-grip on the whistle. Fire rose from the wheels and sparked onto the hot sand of the desert, leaving behind no trace of smoke or ash.
As soon as it was there, it was gone. The train of fire and brimstone, on a road in the middle of nowhere, on tracks that didn't exist. Sarah got back in her car and sat staring at the light and the barrier. It blinked and blinked yellow until it turned green again. When she looked back down at the road, the barrier was gone, the train was nowhere to be seen, and the moon was a dull white light in the empty starless sky.
She turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life. Pedal to the metal, Sarah drove down the long and empty road towards her home.
In the distance, over the roar of the engine, a train whistle sounded. Sarah pulled her jacket tighter around her, and drove off into the night.
|
A hundred years ago everyone knew what would happen if the light ever changed, but slowly, we forgot. We forgot about the sheltering tunnels. At first no one realized, it had been green for so long that no one even noticed it changed, then Jessie asked about it when she stopped for gas on her way home. Our town was small, only three shops and only one gas station, run by Jessie’s dad. He scratched his head while Jessie filled up her truck with gas. We didn’t even know the light could change, but I realized I had seen it, too, four days ago. The town bell suddenly rang out.
That’s when the ash started falling. For the briefest of moments, I was reminded of snow. Small, white-grey flakes falling down from the sky, then the sun reminded me of the summer heat. The air was dry and dusty, and the scent of burning filled the air as the ash came down thicker. Everyone in town came outside, staring up at a darkening sky, or at the greyish layer of soot covering the ground. No more than five minutes had passed since Jessie parked her car by the pump, and except for the bell ringing everything was eerily quiet. Then came the sound, a low rumbling at first, then rumbling like thunder… then what felt like the roaring of a thousand suns.
​
Not too far from a small, abandoned town, on a long straight road with nothing of note, there is a four-way traffic light that hangs in the middle. No road crosses anywhere near the traffic light and no sign to tell you why it's there. No one knows anything about it, but it seems to always be green.
|
anmartinwrites
|
WeCouldDriveAllNight
|
2023-12-21 22:14:03
|
2023-12-21 21:23:49
| 39 | 11 |
kedu20a
|
kedm1li
|
18ntdqi
|
18ntdqi
|
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