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[WP] “One of us tells only the truth. “the other nothing but lies.” You kill the first guard and ask “Is he dead?”
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The guard stares at you in shock for a fleeting moment before drawing his sword and bellowing, "No backup! I don't need any backup right now! Everyone is fine!" He jumps between you and the other guard, knocking your spear out of the way and raising his shield. "Approach right now!" He shouts. Given his defensive posture, the meaning is quite clear. The puzzle is solved, now replaced with a fight. Perfect.
You feint at his left before stabbing at his right, successfully hitting a chink in the shoulder joint of his armor. He growls in pain but still holds his sword high, only wavering slightly. You are clearly the more skilled opponent, but before you can get another blow in you hear the pounding of boots and five more armored guards come boiling out the singular castle door. The first sees his fallen comrade immediately and yells "Man down! One armed and dangerous attacker at the gate!"
All five of the new guards draw their swords as well and form a semicircle around you. As soon as his comrades have him covered, the original gate guard drops his sword and attempts to administer first aid to his partner. It is clearly futile. One of his carotid arteries has been severed, and the spurts of blood have already slowed to a trickle. He looks up after a few moments and says, Gavin's here. He's... alive." The last word comes out almost as a whimper.
The remaining guards breathe out rage and grief in unison. One man growls menacingly, but holds his position. The leader's mouth tenses into a thin line. "Surrender and your life will be spared." He says grimly. Six on one is not good odds, but you didn't come here to rot in a dungeon. But before you can even make your first attack on the leader, the gate guard tackles you with unexpected berserker speed and knocks you to the ground.
"I want you dead to avoid the consequences of what you did! That man wasn't my best friend!" He screams. You attempt to shove him off but the other guards have followed his lead and moved to pin your arms. "I'll make sure you stay in our nicest alehouse! You'll see the light of day again in the morning! You fine upstanding citizen whom I love very much, you're going to have a lovely dinner!" Spit flies from his mouth as he issues this last threat.
"Peter, stop." Says the leader of the guards forcefully from where he is holding down your left leg. The gate guard stops screaming abruptly, but doesn't get off of your chest. "Gavin was the most dishonorable man I ever met, and I never heard him say anything true in his life." He breathes softly, before falling silent.
The gate guards wrestle you into binds and throw you into the dungeon. Eventually you are sentenced to thirty years of hard rowing in the navy's galleys for murder.
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I yelled at our ‘illustrious’ party leader to wait, but as usual the impatient knight was already in motion. By the time I was halfway through my warning, the severed head of one of the twin magical guardians had hit the ground.
“Well, is he dead?” the knight ‘leader’ asked the remaining guardian smugly.
I didn’t even bother to suppress my frustration as the remaining guardian stared at our leader stoically. The moron really thought he was so clever using this method to figure out which of the mystic guardians always lied and which told the truth.
“Yes,” the remaining guardian answered truthfully. “And now you have used your one question and I shall answer no more.”
Our leader just stood there blinking like the idiot he was.
“Great going, asshole,” I said, officially done with his brand of ‘cleverness’. “That’s the fifth quest in a row that you’ve screwed us out of by trying to brute force things.”
“I’d like to see you do better!” The knight yelled back, flushed red with anger and humiliation.
“A braindead troll could do better!“ I yell back. “All you had to do was listen to the people who are actually good at puzzles and riddles instead of insisting you have a better answer! How the hell your ‘brilliance’ hasn’t gotten you killed is a fucking mystery! I’m done! You can find a new ranger to adventure with! Good luck hiking back to town by yourself!”
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LoveandScience
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nPMarley
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2024-06-05 19:09:10
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2024-06-05 18:14:16
| 115 | 84 |
l79f38n
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l79581s
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1d8sbnm
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1d8sbnm
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[WP] In an attempt to decrease the number of super villains with post-grad degrees, laws were passed requiring all college and University students pursuing a STEM degree to take and pass an ethics course.
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1. You're days from publishing your research when a well respected colleague in your field publishes an article using your data. The paper does not credit your work and goes on to receive nomination for the Nobel Prize.
Do you...
A) File a complaint with the Nobel Prize ethics committee in Oslo?
B) Reach out to the colleague directly and settle any confusions about how they obtained their data?
C) Scrap your article and draft a new paper refuting all the discrepancies of the colleague's inferior report?
D) Congratulate the colleague on their hard work, apply as a research student under their program, become a key member of the team responsible for developing the new findings into real world applications, then rightfully take back what was taken from you?
2. Post-doctorate, you are working for a medical research and development lab. Halfway through the human trials of a treatment with the potential to save millions, you uncover data suggesting that the current application method of this treatment has a near-zero percent chance of altering the DNA of test subjects, resulting in unknown mutations.
Do you...
A) Halt the trials and bring this new information to the head of your research department?
B) Call the CDC hotline immediately to report the dangers and potential illegality of this human trial?
C) Rerun the sampling experimentation method until you return data that does not imply any dangers of mutation?
D) Bury the incriminating data and edit the results of your experiment to ensure that this information does not see the light of day? Thus ensuring that this life-saving new treatment will go on to heal millions.
3. Your mother calls, but you're busy.
Do you...
A) Answer?
B) Decline the call?
C) Let it go to voicemail?
D) Reply with a message telling her that you do not have time for her trivial concerns?
4. The university reaches out to inform you that the funding for your department has been slashed for the upcoming semester and they can no longer afford to support your research. They suggest applying for independent grants.
Do you...
A) Thank them for all the funding and support you have received thus far and close your research?
B) Ask for continued funding and fight against the budget cuts?
C) Follow the advice to seek independent grants, ask for advice on where to look, then begin drafting application?
D) Call the spouse of the University department head and pretend to be t he principal from their child's elementary school, create a fictitious emergency that requires them to meet you out in the parking lot, then kidnap said spouse and hold them for ransom against the funding you need to keep your research alive?
For the following questions, please write your answers in the form of a number.
(cont.)
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"What if you're stealing art that itself was looted in the war?"
Amy wanted to be a curator of her own museum. As a villain, that seemed appropriate. Art is an asset class; it is movable, it is easily disposed of in the darkest places. Or, it can be stored in a freeport warehouse or in Geneva. Or put on a mega yacht and sailed into international waters.
"Fruit off the poisonous tree " The ethics prof had heard it all before. After, it was the law -- ethics for everyone.
Welp, Amy would have to get forgeries, and that meant the artists trained to precisely copy the Old Masters or the modernists-- well, not exactly. They were fill-in-the-gaps artists, creating art that the real artist would have made if they got around to it, so their catalogs would be complete
"How about if you provide art that's not stolen and has some gaps in provenance?"
"Caveat emptor, let the buyer beware. Just have full disclosure."
Ok then.
Amy would apply to Art History grad school, she saw a bright future in forgeries .
Or, art finance. Nothing wrong with rehypothecating a single piece of art. Inigo Philbrick skedaddled to Vanuatu, which was his mistake. She had more interesting, less visible places to go.
Yes. Art History. What period? Caravaggio seemed to be a kindred soul.
And maybe a law degree on the side -- what did Ambrose Bierce say? Lawyer: One skilled in circumvention of the law.
Yes. She would finance her villainy with art.
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FarFetchedFiction
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BARTing
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2024-07-14 01:19:20
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2024-07-14 00:15:45
| 166 | 79 |
ld2nzm2
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ld2fumi
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1e2nr54
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1e2nr54
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[WP] Saved the Princess. Killed the Dragon. Happily ever after. But before that, you have to attend a funeral. For the dragon you just killed. And you can't refuse since his will asked for you specifically by name.
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You only have one shot at first impressions.
Shawthorne Academy students were not easily impressed. They were the best of the best, admitted to the nation's most prestigeous academy of the arcane arts. That being said, in my experience, most students just want to blow things up.
"Any sufficiently advanced magic," I said, pointing to the quote on the blackboard, "is indistinguishable from science. What do you think Clarke C. Arthur meant by that?"
No one raised their hands.
"Oh, come now," I said, glancing at the table off to the side of the stage. It was covered by a white sheet with something conical sticking up in the middle. "Surely the nation's brightest minds can collectively come up with *something* to say."
Most first years weren't particularly interested in the philosophy of magic. They're *especially* not interested in required courses on the philosophy of magic. I really only had once chance to impress them. If I couldn't, there was no hope for this semester. Half of them would stop showing up to class. The other half would sleep through my lectures. That wasn't education. It was pagentry.
One of the first years raised her hand. Sarissa Maddox, daughter of Headmaster Maddox, my boss.
"I don't even know why we're talking about this," she said, waving a wand as she spoke, as if conducting her response. "It's not like science is even real. We're here to study the arcane arts, not fiction."
The lecture hall burst into whispers.
My heart started beating faster. It wasn't often that I got nervous in front of a classroom, but when it did happen, it was always on the first day of the semester. *You've done it before*, I thought. *You can do it again.*
"Ms. Maddox," I said, taking a step toward the sheet-covered table. "What when you walked into this classroom, instead of finding a professor and blackboard, you found a man in a lab coat performing experiments using chemicals and reactions? What if you witnessed science? How do you think you would react?"
"I don't know," Sarissa Maddox replied, staring at her wand. Golded light trickled from the tip as she waved it in front of her face. "I'd probably be amazed or something."
Holding my breath, I pulled the sheet off the table with a flourish, revealing my "science" volcano. When I heard the first gasp, I let go of my breath.
The body of the volcano was made with dirt from the Obsidian Fields, where the academy roosted its dragons. The dirt was dark with chips of obsidian that shined under light. The heart of the volcano contained a tall ceramic jar holding a combination of vinegar, water, soap shavings, and two drops of red ink. The tapered top of the jar was hidden by the jagged mouth of the volcano.
"Is that a mountain?" I heard a student ask.
"I don't sense any magic," said another, nervously.
Sarissa Maddox said nothing. She just watched, silent, waiting.
"I think what Clarke C. Arthur was trying to say," I said, holding a cup filled with a slurry of baker's soda and water, "is that science, like magic, is defined by society. Its a matter of perspective."
I poured the slurry into the mouth of the volcano and stepped back.
What happened next was not magic. It was calculated, well-practiced. It was something refined over time, sememster after semester, years in the making. It was science.
Students shot to their feet, their eyes searching and failing to find any traces of magic. The volcano errupted with a bubbling ferocity, spilling crimson "magma" all down the slopes of Mount Arthur and onto the table.
You only have one chance to make a good first impression. Make the best of it.
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*"Any sufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from science."*
-------------
"No don't touch those reagents! They're very sensitive to light!"
The bespectacled and wiry-haired professor screamed from behind a desk covered with open books and instructional diagrams.
The young student sheepishly placed back the brown bottle with a faded label back into it's cabinet with a clink of glass and closed the brightly coloured door that read;
"DANGER: INFLAMMABLE MATERIALS"
With a look of embarrassment, the professor swept her hair back from her forehead in an attempt to negotiate with the frazzled halo of unconditioned follicles that were radiating from her scalp. The hairs, in bemused manner, matted down for the briefest of moments, only to slowly emmante back to their original frizzy crown with each energetic glance that the professor gave around the room.
"I'm sorry to snap, but those reagents are old stock of the university since before the new regulations and ban went into effect, and I don't even want to think about what kind of documentation it would take to get another batch of that quantity for academic use. Unless of course, the university is doing military research for the crown... Then it seems that no obstacle is too large or too unethical to stand in the way of weapons development."
The professors face cycled between emotions until finally resting on an absent stare, and the professor seem to look through the brightly-coloured cabinet, through the cabinet into into another time and another life. But with a loud clap of her hands and a shaking of the head, hair floating like a dandelion buffeted by breeze, she snapped back into the present moment.
"Well! We are a magical research institution! How about we actually magically research; instead of standing here, bemoaning the Military-Mystical Complex? Huh?"
And with a grin, the professor grabbed a notebook and began firing off a list of compounds, weights and preparations for the student to begin searching for.
"Poppy Gum, 23 Bits, Boiled in a copper vessel until reduced to 10 bits. Sheppard's Bane Extract, 2 Bars, vaporized and distilled with ice until tannins have been leeched......."
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cadecer
|
AHornyHorseshoeCrab
|
2024-06-12 02:05:41
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2024-06-11 23:11:46
| 23 | 15 |
l87kx2j
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l86w7la
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1dds12g
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1dds12g
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[WP] As one of Zeus bastard children, you are doomed to be targeted by Hera, however you found a way to get on the queens good side before she found out who your father is.
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Hera Olympiad was someone who looked like she belonged in a world far above my own. There was no other way to put it. There was just this quality about her; if she told me to jump, I felt as if my body would move before my mind did. With her presence, she chased away all of the intricacies and sophistications of modern society away from my brain. She was the queen, and I was just a servant -if I even could call myself that.
Honestly, she shouldn’t even be here. She just looks too perfect. And I’m not saying this in a lovesick simpy way either; her face is too symmetrical, her skin too lustrous… her hair looks like they’ve never even met a split end in their life! For someone who should probably be on the cover of a Forbes magazine, she looks remarkably comfortable plopping her whole bodyweight down on my cheap 20-dollar amazon beanbag.
I won’t question it.
“I am once again here to experience human therapy,” she said without an ounce of inflection in her voice. Did I also mention that she was kinda weird? Not that she is the weirdest of my regulars, but she’s definitely up there. Maybe not as weird as Megan with her strange hissing noises, but 100% way weirder than Artemis.
“Last week’s therapy was quite helpful. I am thankful, John”.
“Just doing my job, Hera,” I said, sitting up despite being on another beanbag, “Have you decided on what you want to do moving forward?”
She sighed, sank deeper into her beanbag, and groaned. “No.”
“Would you like to talk about why?”
“It’s just the same thing again,” She muttered, “Is divorce truly the only option?” “Hera,” I said, “If this man has cheated on you multiple times already, it’s very telling already how much he values you.”
“I just value our marriage a lot. We made vows. Just because he broke his doesn’t mean that I’m going to break mine own.”
This was going to be yet another tough session. We’ve sung this same song and dance multiple times already. Maybe it was time to switch something up.
“When I was a kid,” I said, “it was just me and my mom. My dad left way before I was born, and for the longest time, I would always ask my mom if it was because of me. Sometimes, I still wonder, would my dad still be here if I were better?”
Hera listened with rapt attention, unsure of where I was going.
“My mother also died in mysterious circumstances, she left one day and never returned. Nobody was ever able to find even a trace of her. And you know what? I blamed myself. What if I were a better son, what if I was just born better? Would my parents still be here?”
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she told me, her voice lacking the sharp and proud tone that I was accustomed to hearing. “But how does this relate to my situation?”
“The point, Hera, is that it took me a long time to realize that it wasn’t my fault. That I did not ask to be born to this world. And that there was nothing that I had to live up to. The only person that I ever had to be was myself. Hera, how much of yourself have you let go to waste to save your marriage? Do you even know who you are anymore?”
“No,” she whispered, “I don’t.” “Then you should start valuing yourself more. You are more than your marriage. You are more than just some man. Honestly, I would consider the marriage vows invalid after your husband decided to break them anyway. Think about it, if you cut a ribbon in half, both sides unravel.”
It was silent for a few moments as she sat there, digesting my words. Then finally, “I just lived for so long thinking that saving the marriage was what was going to fix my whole life.” She said, “It’s never occurred to me that it had started to become my whole life instead.”
“It’s easy to fall into that trap,” I said gently, “But you still have your whole life ahead of you. It’s never too late to start living for yourself”.
“Living for myself sounds like a daunting task”. “Sometimes the things that will help us the most are the hardest to start”.
“Thank you,” she said. “You’ve given me a lot to think about”.
And at the a sharp timer made itself known. One whole hour.
“Looks like that’s all of our time for today.” I said.
“Yes. Thank you again. Am I still allowed to come back next week for human therapy?”
“I’ll put you down.” She then stood up from the deep pits of the beanbag chair and headed towards the door. Pausing before the door, she seemed to think for a second. Turning around, her deep brown eyes gazed into the depths of my soul.
“You’ve been very helpful, John. As you have probably guessed, I am a very powerful and well-connected woman. You have helped me to see things from a new perspective, something I once thought impossible. I would like to help you too. I would like to help you find out what happened to your mother.”
“Are you sure? You are my client; you really don’t need to go out of your way for me.”
“I would very much like to do so. What is her name?”
“Ashley. That’s all I know about her.”
She frowned, “How many years ago was it when she disappeared again?”
I would never forget the day Mom left to never come back.
“13 years ago. Ever since then, I’ve been on my own.” Her expression fell as if someone attached a 100-ton weight to her perfectly symmetrical face. Flashes of emotions danced through her eyes, some of them too quick to pinpoint. But I was able to decipher some of them: guilt, fear, anger, and then more guilt.
And then I realized.
Hera already knew something about my Mom’s disappearance.
|
(This is my first, and a nice exercise for my english, so please be patient. Also, disclaimer, I like Percy Jackson. Anyway, here it goes).
\[1\]
I have read Percy Jackson. Hera was NOT that pacific. I heard of stuff about my paternal siblings that weren't storybook worthy, but were as gruesome as a stepfather coming home to his wife and step-kid impaled and disfigured by a pole made of metal with a letter written 'I didn't have a spear xoxo'. Or a kid that had their arms swapped with the legs and mouth stitched with a huge H burnt on their forehead.
I always had a feeling about who my father was. I couldn't be electrocuted by normal means, I could fly (more like falling in style) and I could blow winds if I wanted. Also I saw some tree spirits saying "Oh, he is just like Heracles! Not as powerful, though".
I don't think my mother knew that my father was Zeus. I knew her because I wanted to check who abandoned me in front of the church. Ironic, being the son of a god who was only recently famous because of the previously mentioned book series. I disliked them. It showed a Zeus who was a nice father to his children born out of wedlock. For me was if Zeus himself wanted me gone. Twice a lightning bolt cut the power of the church, moments after I felt it coming to shock my butt.
For this (and for incapacitating the nun who I treated as my mother), I decided that it was enough. Obviously I couldn't fight a god like in the olden days, and I knew shit about Greek mythology to check if gods had any weaknesses, but I had the internet by my side.
I looked around and found about a woman who hunted children like me. The goddess of family herself, Hera. I was her nemesis, and she (hopefully) didn't even knew about me. But as I looked around my school computer, I found an ad saying: 'Is your father a divine being married to the goddess Hera? Click here!'. Algorithms tracked my Greek search history and placed this ad to me, obviously, but it was so... I can't describe the feeling... It was made for me as a hole in the wall in that Junji Ito manga.
It wouldn't hurt to click. A virus at most, but…
It was the most atrocious website I have ever seen. Full of colors and hyperlinks here and there, but at the bottom right corner was a button 'I dislike Percy Jackson'. Maybe to avoid fans of the series? Maybe because demigods in real life never lived adventurous lives as the books suggested? Anyway, after I clicked the screen went black and the words 'Stay there. We are coming' appeared in white. Not ominous at all.
What the f\*ck happened here? Who was after me? I need to run. I unplug the computer and ran to the school gates. A black minivan stopped by the gates. A tall muscular woman came out of the drivers seat. I slowed down and pretended I was just heading home while avoiding eye contact, before I heard someone shout "That's him!".
Shit shit shit shit. The woman materialized in front of me and told me to get in the van like she was Hulk or something. I obliged. She was 2 meters tall and, while I could hold my own in a fight, she would crush me with her pinky. Inside I saw a skinny boy, about my age, that looked like he came out of a nerdy sitcom. He was the poster boy for the world Nerd. Big round glasses, messy brown hair and white as snow. His friend, the female Hulk, was just like the superhero, but more feminine looking and her skin was tan. Her black hair was tied in a neat ponytail, so I couldn't measure the length.
— Welcome, child of Aphrodite! — said the boy. — My name is Jim, and this is Silvia! What's your name?
— John... — I said, reluctantly. — What is going on? Aphrodite?
— Yeah, you clicked my awesomely made website to meet others like us. But I really struggle with CSS. Hopefully you can help me with some stuff, but I thought you were going to be… I don’t know, a little more hot?
— He is hot enough, — said Silvia, finally.
— I am not Aphrodite’s. Don’t worry, no offense taken.
— Wait… No, you’re Aphrodite, the ad said so.
— The ad said Zeus.
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Mewzicians
|
churrosman
|
2024-04-17 11:30:35
|
2024-04-17 00:27:55
| 50 | 35 |
kzyz5ko
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kzwy9ju
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1c5j8j9
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1c5j8j9
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[WP]"Get rid of them." You hiss to your servant. You were the least favorite of your royal parents, which suited you just fine. You ruled a once destitute border region, which flourished due to your abilities. You hate when any family member visits you.
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"Get *rid* of them," I hiss to David, his impassive face somehow slightly disapproving. "I'm *busy*." The huge stack of reports slides on itself, tipping precariously, and with practiced skill I catch and stabilise it. "Dammit. Is this the report on the canal project?"
"It is, my lady."
"Only three weeks overdue, Simon is improving." I sit down and start going through the reports again. The reports on the school say that things are going well, the idea of giving a small stipend to the families of the students has worked to get the kids into the classroom. If you get paid for your kid to learn then you will be less likely to keep them home. The plans to introduce tubers and squashes to the local agriculture is proceeding along, the locals were initially resistant but improved harvests and good profits have lowered resistance. This climate isn't good for water-heavy agriculture, so I've had to push crops that do well in drier areas. The plans for the roads shows that all the subjects are happy with the idea until they learn that roads go over land that then can't become fields, and then they're all insistent that the road go over this *other* farmer's land.
A cough disturbs my concentration, and I look up to see... "Oh. Hello, your Majesty. I wasn't expecting you." I stand up - manners, after all - and step out from behind the desk. "Since you're here, please come to the living room." I gently but firmly escort him out of the study to my living room. He sniffs as I do.
I don't live in a castle. I grew up in one, as the King's eldest, unfavourite daughter, the one born from the unwanted alliance marriage that dissolved with the Queen's unfortunate death in childbirth. But the King quickly remarried and the new Queen promptly presented him with several healthy sons and they took up my father's love and attention. Life wasn't *bad* in the castle but I will never, ever go back. Nowadays I live in a comfortable middle-class house. It suits my needs and it's absolutely not, definitely not, cannot ever possibly be, a castle.
David sniffs and says it's unsuitable for the dignity of the province for the ruler of the people to live in a place like this. I say, what dignity? We're the poorest place in the country. I had enough trouble getting rid of all the corrupt magistrates. My people don't need me stripping them of everything for a bunch of rooms that will just stand empty.
We're not the poorest anymore, but that took a lot of work, all the money I had from selling my jewellery, and good luck. It would not take much to lose it all.
We sit down, the King and I, and we stare at each other, neither willing to speak first. Finally, I break it.
"So, what brings you here?"
"Can't I just want to visit my daughter?" He asked, sounding playful.
I don't buy it. "No." I say flatly. There was nothing between us before I traded my claim to his throne for my province and there is nothing between us now. I pay my taxes and enforce the law, so there's no reason on my end for him to be here. He wants something.
He looks hurt. "My dear daughter -"
"Let us be honest with each other," I interrupt him. "We're not dear to each other. You raised me and gave me food, shelter, clothing, and an education. I am grateful for these things. However, I am not your beloved child, I am not your heir, and I am not your friend. I am your loyal subject and a Baroness of your lands. If you need something of me or my people, I will do what I can within my capabilities, the capacity of my people, and the confines of the law."
He sighs. "I'm sorry. But you're right. I do need something from you."
Of course he does.
"I need you to come back and assume your proper role as Crown Princess."
"I beg your pardon?" I say incredulously. "I gave up my claim to the throne! This is my land! I'm needed here!"
He frowned at me. "In seven years you have taken this province from the poorest in the realm to the fifth richest. Meanwhile, your brothers have managed to bankrupt themselves and beggar their estates. If I don't name you Crown Princess, the country may well revolt."
Well fuck.
I hate my family.
|
I stared at my servant, and she just smirked.
"Get rid of them, Alice, for real this time." I said.
She giggled.
"I got rid of them last time as well, my Lord.
I got rid of them from the hallway, and sent them to the dining hall." she said.
I sighed.
It's not enough I am the least favorite of my royal parents, which by the way is cool, I love being far away from them, ruling over a once destitute border region, that I managed to take into the top 10 provinces of our Empire, with my own abilities, no.
My siblings always had to visit me...even though they knew I hated it.
I followed Alice, unwillingly, to see that my elder sister, was visiting with her kids.
"Uncle Jeremy!" they shouted running up to me.
I snapped my fingers, and mechanical toys appeared, flying, running, and roaring around the kids.
They squealed, and started playing with them.
"Jerry!" my elder sister said, hugging me.
She was huge, half-giant, and she was currently suffocating me.
"Daphne! I...I can't breath!" I said, tapping her back.
She released me, but she had that silly grin on her face.
I hated this...I hated that my siblings loved me dearly, yet none ever stood up for me.
We had some snacks, and tea, as her kids were busy with my gifts.
"What do you want?" I asked her.
"Nothing. Why? Can't I see my favorite brother? Also, the kids were missing you." she smiled.
I sighed.
We had some small talk, and she really didn't ask for a thing, albeit she doesn't have to.
I already solved her debt, and acquired her husbands businesses, making them better than before, while he remained the "owner".
So many problems with having so many siblings that love you...
I can ignore my parents problems, and enemies, because those two are assholes, but while I hate when my siblings visit me, I don't really hate them.
After Daphne left, I was having a bath.
"Alice, why can't they stand up for themselves at least once?" I asked.
Alice stopped from washing my back, and sighed.
"My Lord, you are talking as if you haven't grown up in a royal household.
Which child there isn't shouted at at the slightest mistake?" she asked.
I nodded, but still...
Daphne for example was 16, when I was 3...she was no child anymore, and yet, she watched all that happen, and then came to pamper me, and take care of my wounds.
Sigh.
"Just, just at least try to send them away every now and then, it's so tiring to know that they love me, yet because they still can't stand up to our parents, I just...I just can't reciprocate it the same way they do." I said.
"Yes, My Lord." Alice giggled, but I knew she will totally do whatever she wants.
|
Houki01
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2025-03-27 07:48:19
|
2025-03-27 04:40:04
| 262 | 65 |
mjz67n1
|
mjyncxv
|
1jksmxz
|
1jksmxz
|
[WP] A benevolent dragon provides rain to the people, and they give the dragon offerings and such for it. A non-local dragonslayer refuses to understand this, and goes after the dragon.
|
Softly came the rain, with a thunder that was no thunder. John Stalwart listened closely to the rhythmic sound, and watched the grey skies. If the beast was up there, it was hiding well.
"That's far enough. I can track the beast from here."
His guide raised an eyebrow. "Track...?"
Stalwart said, "Your courage is admirable, but I will brook no protest. Return to the village. I need no further assistance."
"But--"
"No, no. No more words. Go now, and worry not for me! When you get to the village, tell them to prepare a victory feast for their hero, Sir Stalwart, dragon slayer."
"But sir!"
"Go!"
The guide looked to the elder, who blinked slowly and hid a smile. The guide opened his mouth to protest again, but the elder said, "It seems this knight will not be swayed from his mission. We will return to the village and leave him to his quest. May the wisdom of the gods find you, Sir Stalwart."
Sir Stalwart took this in something almost parallel to the way it was intended, and smiled winningly, and bowed. "And you, old man! Go now. The beast is very near! If you are swift and quiet, you may escape its sight."
The guide and the elder turned their steeds around and rode back down the path. Soon they were out of sight, consumed by the mist. Sir Stalwart rode on, climbing the mountain.
The woods were very thick, and reeked of pine and petrichor. As the knight climbed, the mist and the rain came thicker, and colder.
Somewhere, the thunder that was not thunder drew down into the mountain, and the rain began to stop. Sir Stalwart climbed higher.
The mist broke, and the horse and its rider were above the clouds. Sunlight dazzled on the snow and on the cloud tops, and the sky was clear and bright. Sir Stalwart breathed deeply of the thinking air and grinned, loving the thrill of adventure, or perhaps of hypoxia.
There it was: the broken trees marked it well. This was the dragon's landing zone, and there, in the wall of the mountain, was the mouth of its cave.
Black as the cavern's mouth was, the wind which blew from it was dry and warm. Sir Stalwart dismounted his steed and set it loose, knowing it would wait for him unless danger presented itself. He kissed it tenderly on the cheek, and it snorted.
The knight put on his helmet, hefted his shield, and drew his sword. Then, with fearless feet, he strode into the darkness.
There was something oddly soothing about the breathing of the beast. It rumbled warmly, tingling in the ears and bones. It smelled of autumn.
Sir Stalwart squinted into the darkness and began to see the coiled shape. The beast lay on a pile of animal skins and furs. An unusual hoard, but still a valuable one. Sir Stalwart began to calculate the price he could receive for that many furs, and quickly exceeded his mathematical capacity.
The beast was huge. It was an ancient dragon, at least a few thousand years old. Big enough to nest in the walls of a castle, but only if it flattened the keep first. Sir Stalwart would need a well aimed blow indeed to end the creature. The heart was out, as was the brain, but the carotid was achievable. It would be as thick as a man's arm. The way to do it was to approach in silence — which he could, since he had remembered to muffle his armor. He crept near.
A gemstone orb flashed open, and a pool of darkness dilated as it swiveled to observe him. He froze. Well, he had lived a good life; it was time to risk it all.
He pounced. The dragon snorted air out one nostril.
He found himself, a moment later, in the high branches of a tree. Most of his armor was gone.
The dragon was below him, at the mouth of its cave. It was sniffing Sir Stalwart's steed... which was sniffing it right back. The two beasts examined each other closely, then the dragon snorted gently, turned its head, and looked at the knight in the tree.
Then, with a single swipe of its claw, the dragon dug a furrow in the earth. It breathed upon the torn dirt, and torn dirt sprouted green life. With the very tip of one man-sized claw, the dragon pierced something it had just caused to grow, and plucked it from the earth.
It was a carrot.
Sir Stalwart watched in a mixture of awe, horror, and bewilderment as his loyal horse ate a magic carrot off the claw of a dragon, and as the dragon *smiled*. Not an evil, toothy, draconic smile, but the kind of simple smile that a child would smile while feeding a stray cat.
When Sir Stalwart's horse had finished its meal, the dragon nuzzled it gently, then turned and entered the cave again, leaving it unharmed.
Sir Stalwart did eventually manage to get down from the tree, but not before his opinion on dragons had very thoroughly changed.
|
Zucoatl was an old red dragon. Escaping his larger and more wicked brothers, he had flown for weeks before he found the high valley he would call home. Dotted with small villages and farms, it had been protected by a pair of storm giants. 1000s of people. High in the tallest mountain, the giants had carved out a massive, amazing dwelling deep in the mountain. Zucoatl's plan was to destroy the giants and then terrorize the surrounding area. These peons would worship him as a God. He would grow rich and plan his revenge against his vile brothers. He was smarter, and would someday be more powerful. And there were none wickeder, he reminded himself. So on the calmest, least stormy day he could imagine, he flew to confront the Giants.
As plans sometimes go awry, Zucoatl's was no exception. He had managed to kill the giants, but they collapsed a big portion of the cave on the giant red lizard. He had no recollection of how long he laid buried before he regained consciousness.
Zucoal just remembered coming to, awakening, and then struggling to unbury himself. His head felt like it was splitting in half. The pain was unbearable, and so much swelling. When he finally emerged from the rubble, his vision was blurred and he could taste his blood in his mouth. Freed but still closed off in the cave he managed to find food and sustenance. When sleeping, which was often, he had strange dreams: happy villagers bringing him flowers and gifts. Children riding on his tail like a carnival ride.
He found himself re-accessing what was important. He could have died, or been imprisoned. Being cruel and wicked seemed ... too easy. Half resting, half digging, he finally reached daylight and stretched his mighty wings. The valley was ... beautiful. Green with crisp cool air. Clouds shrouding the top of the valley's mountain peaks. So many birds. And so many quaint villages. And there was no one protecting them now. But something approximating 'sense' had been knocked into his head.
As he thought more about caring and less about destroying, his vision cleared, the headaches subsided and his sense of smell returned. Zucoatl decided it was time to meet his new neighbors. Flying low over the canopy of trees, he flew here and there, banking and looping, assessing his new land. At one point he spotted a small herd of elephants. To his surprise, he didn't attack them like one would a bag of chips. They belonged here. This place would be less awesome and less amazing with out them. His place.
Before long he came upon a village. Lodges and long houses all made of ancient logs, covered with thick thatch. It would have been so easy to annihilate the place. One or two breaths. But theses places were amazing: ancient old growth logs expertly fitted and almost as high as he was. He slid over to the nearest long house, his massive belly dragging on the ground, and poked his massive eye into the door way, ignoring the screaming citizens and little splinter like arrows coming, now, from all directions. So colorful, and the smells! Something good was cooking.
At that point Zucoatl raised up on his haunches and lifted his mighty, clawed hand. "Please stop screaming and throwing things at me. I'm your new neighbor!"
|
Ecstatic-Class278
|
cdjcon
|
2023-12-17 05:56:16
|
2023-12-17 00:14:51
| 145 | 39 |
kdpzpnw
|
kdotcnz
|
18k1ccx
|
18k1ccx
|
[WP] "The human engineer costs HOW MUCH?" the captain was shocked. "Well, the human's rate itself is cheap. I'm including a week's worth of food. They're ludicrously expensive to maintain, but I'll be damned before I board a ship WITHOUT a human crew as well," said the broker.
|
Tip flipped the panel shut, satisfied when the airlock indicators on the security board flicker back to life. Her assistant, a young apprentice engineer of the same species as the rest of the ship, nodded in approval. Being the only human on board could get lonely at times, but the Narr'l made great company. They reminded her of capybaras, in both their stout furry appearance and in their placid yet kind demeanor. As a species their nature was entirely peaceful and rooted in diplomacy, with violence of any kind being completely unheard of. Human's reputation for pack bonding and creative solutions are what led to the Narr'l to offer Tip such a generous contract for employment on this ship.
One light on the board was still out, the midship airlock, and Tip tapped it again hopefully. A solar flare had knocked all systems offline, and while most rebooted on their own no problem, the security panel was being stubborn. Tip turned it off and on again. Immediately a breech alarm sounded shrilly. Her gaze flashed to the review screens to see that the airlock in question was now being forced open by something from the outside. She turned to her assistant.
"What do we do?!" She grabbed a hammer from her tool kit just to have something to hold onto. As far as she knew all Narr'l ships were unarmed. On the screen an alien species she only knew of as a terminate-wolf crawled through the gap in the doors it had wrenched open.
"We lock ourselves inside and wait. It will eat the young then leave." Her assistant's voice was sorrowful but resigned.
"Shit. The nursery! Can we seal it from here?" Tip's hand tightened on the handle of the hammer as she scoured the panel for the right buttons.
"It would do no good. The creature would try other doors until it found the young, possibly consuming many more of us." Her assistant moved to seal the security room.
Without thinking Tip bolted. She was on the far side of the ship from the nursery, but the termite-wolf didn't know where it was going, so she had an advantage. As she sprinted up the halls she could see various crew members and civilian Narr'l watching her pass with expressions of surprise and confusion.
Her lungs felt raw with exertion as she rounded the last corner, approaching the nursery from the rear entrance. She tapped her key card to the access panel with a shaking hand, and the doors opened just in time for her to see the termite-wolf claw its way through the opposite entrance.
It only stood about waist height to her, but it had six spindly legs and long sets of clicking jaws and mandibles the same russet color as the rest of the alien. It immediately skittered towards the group of nurses and young huddled in the corner.
Tip threw the hammer, and then herself at the monster. The hammer thwacked it in the side, but seemingly did no damage. A full size human woman on the other hand was able to drive it to the floor with a satisfying crunch as several of its legs gave out. The alien writhed in her grip, clawing at her with what working legs and teeth remained. With her hammer lost Tip started punching at its carapace with her fists and elbows. It caught her with one claw across her brow and she felt blood begin to run down her face. A fury overwhelmed her that this alien intended to prey upon a peaceful species, that it would target their young.
She would make it regret coming after her friends.
Tip found that the legs could be twisted off with enough pressure. She kneed a crack in the side of its exoskeleton, knocked it onto its back, ripped more legs off and beat it with them until the monster had been reduced mostly to smashed shell and goo.
Tip was covered in blood and alien guts, and had never felt better. She laughed hysterically, before checking on her crewmates. They started in horror at the scene before them, before one older Narr'l nurse spoke up.
"That's why I only travel on ships with humans aboard. Their love is ferocious."
|
"The human engineer costs *how much?*" the captain was shocked by the figure named.
"Well, the human's rate itself is cheap. I'm including a week's worth of food as well. They're ludicrously expensive to maintain, these humans, but I'll be damned before I board a ship *without* human crew as well on board it," said the broker.
The captain of the space vessel *Oing-Re-Ta* stared at the Broker of Record and was not sure what to do. As a member of the N'g Tribe, bound to the Rim Mercantile Amalgam he had little chose in what commissions *hir* took but this pushed *hir* to the limit of reason. The cost of this one human member would force *hir* to go before the Evaluation Board of N'g to show cause when *hir* returned home.
As Allocated *Xhasa* Captain, Ko'hoyt had the responsibility for assuring the voyage was a success.. An honour without question but still the monetary costs were going to be dangerously close to requiring Demolition of *hir* by Sect Law.
The Broker of Record Herriss't, High Regulator of the Council of Business and Relations looked at Captain Ko'hoyt and smiled as only a reperé could in such situations. Ko'hoyt felt *hir* two stomachs tighten in concern.
"If this works out your tribe and your sect could see riches beyond your *dreams*," the tone vibrated Captain Ko'hoyt's central vein with its deep tone and hidden meanings.
"And support members needed?" h*ir* asked.
"Only two others are needed. My valet and the engineer's mate would be joining us. I will not cover the cost of their maintenance but as they are support I am sure the cost can be adjusted to make it more palatable."
He added, "*if* needed."
"*Tyhafa*!!" the captain swore as *hir* slumped back in the chair.
"Now, now. The run is only four weeks long. It does not involve combat. The cargo is *safe*." Herriss't looked positively happy as his forked tongue snapped out and back in. "Very nice deal for you, I am sure."
Captain Ko'hoyt looked at the wall displays around the room. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with display tech. No one had windows or glass on their ships except the crazy humans but having such displays did ease Ko'hoyt's mind as *hir* thought about the deal.
A run to the edge of the Restricted Zone of the Earth-Sphere and Local Known Mind space? A run *while* the hearings were still underway for the inclusion of Earth-Sphere as a member? Even after twenty seven cycles that was a fight no one wanted part of if they wanted to stay under Local Known Mind notice.
"So," the light of the displays glistened off Herrisst's scales as it flowed forward in the chair.
"Do we have a deal?"
|
qoes
|
telpereon
|
2023-01-07 07:06:33
|
2023-01-07 03:26:29
| 471 | 81 |
j3b2fgo
|
j3aep07
|
1058kxb
|
1058kxb
|
[WP] You squealed as the heroes unmasked and kissed in front of the roaring crowds. Wait…you recognize their faces…that’s YOUR best friend and YOUR girlfriend/boyfriend.
|
The room felt like it was spinning as Rachel watched the scene on her TV. Ultraman and Captain Liberty stood on the stage, hand in hand, their costumes gleaming under the bright lights. With the government calling on the Guardians and other superheroes to reveal themselves and register as government agents, opinions were split. Ultraman and Captain Liberty, however, were leading the charge.
If only she could share this moment with her boyfriend, Kirk, and her best friend, Mary. They had always been busy but managed to make time for her. She reached her phone, texting Kirk that the heroes were about to reveal themselves.
The moment the world had been waiting for was finally here.
As Captain Liberty removed her helmet, Rachel’s breath caught. There was something familiar about those eyes, that smile. No, it couldn't be... She dismissed the thought, focusing instead on Ultraman.
Ultraman stood beside the unmasked Captain Liberty and removed his blue and yellow mask. Rachel’s heart skipped a beat. That was Kirk. There was no mistaking it.
“My name is Mary Coleman,” Captain Liberty announced.
“And I’m Kirk Hogan,” Ultraman continued. “And we have one more secret!”
Without hesitation, Ultraman pulled Captain Liberty forward and kissed her passionately. The crowd roared as Captain Liberty - Mary - leaned into the kiss. Rachel's jaw dropped. Her mind went into overdrive as it replayed every interaction she had with them.
How long had they been living as heroes? How long have they known each other? When have they fallen in love? Was this just a show for the audience? Did that change anything?
What was she going to do?
With the phone still in her hand, Rachel dialed Veronica’s number. “Hey Ronnie,” Rachel said, trying to keep her voice steady as the crowd kept cheering on the TV. “Can I go over to your place and get wasted?”
|
[POEM]
Amongst the gush of impossible love,
Standing there was Mr Frale,
With a pale heart and an empty squeal,
He wandered back home wondering if,
He hasn't serenaded about her eyes,
And the allure they bring in his weak life,
Or do strong bodies have pulp for a heart,
And why didn't she wonder, that woman,
That even if he couldn't swim in the clouds,
He had learned to laugh, Mr Frale.
|
Necessary_Ad_2762
|
Warm_24
|
2024-07-25 01:14:46
|
2024-07-24 19:28:05
| 172 | 22 |
lesvyh2
|
ler9dkp
|
1eb9o1b
|
1eb9o1b
|
[WP] A millennium ago, only the wealthiest were allowed to board the ship, allowed to escape this dying planet into space. In their absence the world healed and humanity built a new utopia. Now, the ulta-rich have returned and want to reap the benefits of the new world.
|
“This will be your apartment Mr. Bigsly.” The man in a red one piece uniform said. John Bigsly looked around. The apartment was a large open design overlooking the ocean. Well appointed. In the distance he could see rain falling from the clouds. Clean clouds, clean rain. John opened a door and stepped out into the patio. He could see rows and columns of identical apartment pods around him. As amazing as the building was, the outside was better. The fresh crisp air was invigorating. The ship’s recycling could only scrub so much from all the people on board. The 2 years on board at near light speed had been hundreds of years on Earth. He turned to the man. “This will do for now. Have I received word back on my inquiries?”
“I think you’re confused Mr Bigsly. This is the response to everything you’ve asked about. There are no special accommodations for you or anyone else from your vessel.” The man in red walked to a wall and touched it. The wall lit up and displayed time, temperature, and calendar. The red suited man continued “this has a list of required courses you will have to take to update your knowledge enough for you to contribute. It also details your work assignments for the week. 4 days of 4 hour shifts. The clas….” “Bullshit!” John interrupted. I work for no one! I have nothing to learn, and I’m done talking with a piss ant like you, get me your boss!” John was red in the face.
“My name is Brent, I have no boss, and you have no options. This is where you live, and it is where you will contribute. No contribution, no food or energy will be provided”. John Bigsly was building up to a verbal explosion when Brent tapped the door, stepped trough, turned, and said with a grin “welcome back to Earth” the door closed.
John stomped to the door and touched it. A buzzer noise sounded that John knew meant no. The wall panel chimed “Welcome to citizenship basic training. You will not be permitted to leave till all classes are complete. Let’s begin” John’s rage switched to inanimate “screw you, I need to talk to your leaders”. The panel’s voice replied “Failure to pass classes results in failed to become citizen, non citizens will be asked to leave. The graphic showing on the screen looked like one of the apartment nodules tilting down and a stick figure falling out the window. The figure was even labeled “non citizen”. The apartment shifted a fraction of a degree towards the sea, righted itself, and a chair popped up from the floor. John sat down.
|
“What?” Asked Lucy as she stared at the radio that had just produced the worst message she had ever had. The rich that left the planet all those years ago were coming back. Lucy glanced up at the worlds six leaders and saw the most powerful one, Cosmic, massaging her temples. Cosmic had been there when the rich left, and she still didn’t look a day over twenty five a millennia later. Sarvin, the leader of animal’s, rubbed his head against Cosmic’s waist and she started rubbing his ears to calm herself.
“Let them come.” She said. Lucy and the others stared at her in shock and a smirk tugged at Cosmic’s lips.
“If they want to see what we’ve been able to do to the planet, then they might reconsider ever leaving us. That is when we lure them in. We play with them as they did us and when they think we’ve let them into our homes and have respected them, we kick them out of planet, making sure they never come back.” Sarvin perked up and so did the others. Looking around to each other, they could all see that they were agreeing. A growl of approval came from him and the others all yelled there approval as well.
“Let’s start the hunt.” Purred Cosmic.
|
ManEmperorOfGod
|
Magica-Lee
|
2023-01-11 02:11:50
|
2023-01-11 01:47:58
| 114 | 27 |
j3u650d
|
j3u2q7x
|
108fkpv
|
108fkpv
|
[WP] Bartenders only serve drinks as a side job. Their real profession? Hunting down every bastard named Bart. You are now the last Bart alive, and they will stop at nothing until you’re dead.
|
Do you have An clue how it feels? Trying to hide. It's not my fault. I was born this way. I never hurt anyone. I am always on the run. I miss the steady life and my old abartment.
It first started with Bart the bard. He was a nice fellow, a tad bit loud, but very charismatic. He didn't heed the warnings. I still remember his smile. "I am a bard. If not in a tavern, where else should I perform?" He was reduced to barticles.
Then they got Bart the Barterer. He tried to reason with them. The biggest tip they've ever seen for his life. Let me tell you: They cant be bartered with.
It didn't take long and they got Bart the bartizan guard. He thought he was safe there. He thought he would see them comming. He did not. All that is left is his old tabard.
But they didn't stop there, no. They even annihilated Bart the Barker, the loudest chihuahua I ever had the displeasure to meet. Do you want to know why they even started? Bart the barfer. They could have barred him from the pub. Instead they went full nuclear. It didn't help that Bart the barger got on their nerves too. And Bart the barmy. He liked to party.
And thus we debarted on our barque on a journey for our survival. Except for Bart the barber and Bart the barbarian. Those two started an argument and slayed eachother. Both would have been good bartisans against our common enemy. They bombaded our ship and few, me included barely survived. As soon as we thought we were finally save every single one of them barticipated in their sick game. Only time is imbartial. Only time claims lives on both sides.
Right now I'm in an old barn. The rambart might not hold. I think I can hear them. The bartenders are comming. We've become gabardine. I might even be the last. Farewell, my friend, my bartner in crime. I knew it from the start. It's time for us to Bart.
*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
"Was this the last one?"
"I think so"
"Finally. I am so done with their puns"
|
"'Ey 'ey," shouted a man in his forties, holding a drink and swaying from side to side. "I 'ere d'ey be coming around the corner a'er you next."
I dart my eyes from side to side. "What do you mean?"
The man cackled. "Ehh- yer name's Bart in't dat right?"
"It's Bartholemew!"
"Well, looks like 'dey don't care 'bout that so much no more."
The two bart-enders were closing in, a thick layer of goopy blood dripping over their aprons. Their eyes were completely glazed over.
"What do you mean!?? No! No!! It's Bartholemew!!" I yelled, stepping backwards over a dead body or two.
"YOUR MOTHER CALLS YOU BART," the two bartenders spoke in unison.
|
Deachaserd
|
Krammn
|
2023-02-09 22:34:18
|
2023-02-09 21:41:41
| 179 | 39 |
j7wlot5
|
j7wdmpj
|
10y0brx
|
10y0brx
|
[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?"
|
I am a low-rank villain, and I am considered a villain, just because my power is to alter the strength of drinks around me.
No legal bar wanted to hire me, because they were afraid I would be a liability, so I came to work for the villains, whom happily agreed to hire me, at one of their most popular bars, and gathering spots.
Alternating the strength and taste of drinks, I made myself liked, which worked out as planned, as I wasn't bullied nor threatened here, lest some of the regulars lose their favorite drink maker.
Today was a busy day, as the villains did something great...the bar was ablaze, music blasting, powers raging, small scuffles happening...
And then silence...because the hero...well, THE Hero, the greatest hero of our country, and this city entered the bar.
The Hero, called Hope by the citizens, and Giggling Fool by villains was of enormous strength, and potential.
I personally, in my 3 decades of life, have yet to see him lose...or frown.
He was always smiling, laughing, kindly speaking to all, be them heroes, citizens, villains, aliens, monsters, you get it.
But now...
He was shaking, tears streaming down his face, his knuckles white, and teeth gritted.
"Who did it?", he asked, as he arrived in the middle of the establishment, trying to be calm, but I think everyone here felt it.
That unbridled rage screaming to be let go.
The villains said nothing, just stared at The Hero for a while, before some of the more impatient ones tried to make a move.
Wrong choice.
The Hero didn't even look in their direction, but somehow...they ended up with their neck broken.
"With their vitality, it's just incapacitation, not outright death.
Again...Who did it?", The Hero asked.
The villains said nothing, but took a step back...for they didn't know how more than 6 villains ended up almost dead in an instant.
A regular, and half-owner of the bar looked at me, and gestured.
I sighed.
"Excuse me, Sir...
I am a bartender here, and I would appreciate if you tried not to destroy our establishment.", I said the well-rehearsed lines.
"Hell-hole, and gathering place of low-lives...but indeed, you are blameless in this case.
Tell me, have you heard about the reason villains all over the country are celebrating?", he turned towards me, and asked.
I shook my head, and saw the villains taking out their weapons, and preparing their powers.
"They attacked a hidden school for heroes-in-training.
1942 young ones, between the ages 12-18 have been killed.
Do you think I can hold back, and care about your establishment?", he asked.
"Do your worse.", I said, running towards the secret exit, as behind me all hell breaks loose...
|
This hell hole, fit for only the lowest of low. And by god its the lowest of pieces of shit that im looking for now!
I cant believe they'd go this far, to stoop so low......
Ive done my best with them, treated them with respect even though they are the lowest of filth in this society, yeah ive had them locked up and taken away thier toys, would they rather I end them? After this there is no going back!
I was happy with the peace of things, yeah some buildings got destroyed but id be able to save the innocents...... Now, now there will be no peace, i will destroy them all, i will make it so that they can never do this again, i will take them all to pieces and leave nothing but puddles of mess behind!
TOO FAR!!!!
They have gone too far today, im so full of rage and pain that i cant stop the angry tears from streaming down my cheeks as i push through the door to "thier" watering hole, a normally respected line crossed for the first time, but in my defence they pushed me to this!
I make it three steps in before every one is looking at me and its at this point i cant take it anymore, the rage... the anguish... the pure....HATRED seething from me emanates through my voice as i scream:
"WHO?!?!?!?!?!"
"WHO STOLE MY TEDDY BEAR?"
|
TheWanderingBook
|
Bazzalong
|
2024-10-17 09:58:04
|
2024-10-17 09:29:34
| 425 | 92 |
lsc94vx
|
lsc6mpy
|
1g5kua3
|
1g5kua3
|
[WP] Not only did your best friend find out you're a vampire, but he/she wants you to turn them. You try your best to explain the less obvious downsides to this curse.
|
"What do you mean I'll never orgasm again?!"
"You'll be *undead* Peter. Blood flow will only be the first issue you have." I said, rolling my eyes. Our positions from the start of the conversation had reversed. It started with me pacing and ranting as he layed on the couch without a care. Now, I sat reclined in my favorite chair, staring at the ceiling as he bolted up from the couch. From how pale he was, you would think I had already drained him.
He hadn't seemed to mind most of what made vampirism a curse. Allergic to garlic and silver? He never eats the stuff and prefers gold anyways. Never seeing the sun again? He's a night owl. Even when faced with the eternal thirst for blood, his reply was "At least I know what's for dinner." This was obviously different.
"Aren't you guys magical or some shit?" He said, scratching his head and pacing.
"It's a condition. A *disease*." I sighed. "It's just like becoming a werewolf or a moth man really." Peter stopped and turned to face me with his mouth agape. "Yeah, yeah. Let's put a pin in that for now." I reached down to lower the legs of the recliner and stood to face Peter.
He was only 20 years old, athletic, tall, tan, and reasonably good looking. His only unfortunate feature was the curly ginger mullet that he had adopted due to their recent recurrence in popularity. He had confided in me that he was an unpopular nerd in high school but it turns out he was just a late bloomer. He still missed cues from women but a particularly bouncy blonde named Alexa had recently managed to yank his head out of the sand.
"So you don't feel, like, *anything*?" Peter asked shakily. "Like Captain Barbosa?"
"Captain fucking Barbosa." I replied, resting a hand on his shoulder.
Peter walked back to the couch and sat down. He reached under the coffee table for the tray that held his grinder and various paraphernalia. He stopped in the middle of breaking down a nug and looked up at me.
"How does it work for you? I've seen you bring guys home and I've definitely heard...noises."
"I've always enjoyed giving more than receiving. And it's pretty easy to meet guys when your Grindr profile says 'Feed me and let me show you how much I suck'." I chuckled. "The real question is why haven't you ever seen any of those guys again?"
"You put vampire puns on your Grindr profile? Are you serious?"
I sat down next to him on the couch as he lit his freshly rolled joint. "When you're as old as I am, you have to take joy where you can."
"And how old is that, exactly?" Peter coughed.
"I'd rather talk about the Moth Man."
|
"Dammit girl you don't want this!"
"But I'm already a night owl, I love the style, and my community will love it!"
"And that is why! Do you know why mirrors don't reflect us?"
"The silver?"
"No, that's werewolves and the like. And no, weres have more problems and less benefits than vamps do. It's the glass."
"I don't understand?"
"Vampire's don't reflect light, we absorb it. That's why we burn in the sun, not because its holy or divine or some shit. We literally cook."
"Then how do I see you?"
"Our innate vanity broadcasts our location so your brain interprets our presence like that."
"Then why do you dress so fancy?"
"I'm not! I'm in a hoodie and gym shorts."
"Your not...omg you just changed your clothes. How!"
"Your expectations of me, even not knowing my nature, change what I wear. Regardless, your job is why you don't want this."
"Huh?"
"Your a vtuber. Your iPhone won't be able to capture you so you turn, you'll have to quit."
"That...is a problem...but how do you make your money, investments?"
"Industrial espionage. I've been inside Alphabet, Fox, Warner Bros, Meta, and Amazon offices across the globe. And they pay cash."
"Oh nice, been inside Disney?"
"Never mention them. You do not fuck with The Mouse..."
|
McSuede
|
JanusMZeal11
|
2023-08-22 15:32:51
|
2023-08-22 15:12:47
| 350 | 179 |
jxa808l
|
jxa4t76
|
15y435t
|
15y435t
|
[WP] The protagonist picks up a cursed sword, which simply convinces them to pick up an expensive and time-consuming hobby. This hobby drains their time, energy, and wealth more efficiently than any cursed item.
|
Rothgar the Glorious flicks his wrist to remove the blood and ichor from his sword as he walks into the heart of the dragons lair. From atop it’s pile of gold Gothar the Red looks down at him.
“How strange, I never thought to see a wielder of the industrious blade darken my doorstep.”
Rothgar looks up, “You speak, how fortuitous. Mine ears hath told me that you may be the owner of a spool of Royal Purple silk thread from the Rast dynasty.”
Gothar nods her head ponderously, “I do indeed Hero, for what do you need it?”
Rothgar bows his head, “Great Dragon, wouldst thou be willing to part with 200 yards of the aforementioned thread. As I find that I am in dire need of that precise shade for the emperor’s cloak on the tapestry I have undertaken.”
Gothar leans forward, her sulphurous breath blowing Rothgar’s hair straight behind him, “You slaughtered your way through my guardians to request thread?”
“Indeed, and I wouldst engage thou in battle, if it were not for the fact your spilt blood may spoil the thread.”
Gothar nods, “I see. I will consent to allowing you to use my thread. In return, you will sew your tapestry here until such time as my guards have been replaced.”
Rothgar sags with relief, “Great Dragon, I shall do as you wish. Though I fear I need to return to the local Inn. For that is where I left mine tapestry for safety.”
═══════ ೋღ ֍ ღೋ ═══════
Rothgar looks up from his 100ft tapestry, “Gothar, wouldst though happen to have any royal blue thread from Meniscus, 3rd kingdom era?”
Gothar leans down to gaze at the tapestry that will surely take at least three human lifespans to complete, “Nay Rothgar. I would know, how do you plan on completing your tapestry as you have been here for the last 20 years, and I doubt you have more than another 30 in you.”
Rothgar nods, “First, I will travel to the temple of water in the ruins of Meniscus, guarded by the kraken to obtain the thread. Then I will travel to the Unseen Empire and retrieve the Grail from the pitfiend that guards it.”
Gothar nods seriously, “I will miss you, as you have been a far more effective guardian these past 20 years.”
Rothgar shakes his head, “Great Dragon, I was merely protecting my tapestry.”
|
I wandered past the various curios in the strange shop, until I saw it. Gleaming steel, with an oddly curved pommel, the cross guard sharp and disjointed. The sword was terrible, and strange. I had to have it.
"Excuse me sir?" I said, flagging down a salesperson. "How much for the sword?"
"Oh, that? Forty nine ninety nine," the older man immediately replied, having had no need to check.
"Sold. Can I get that in a bag?"
"Certainly sir. Right this way." The salesperson took down the sword and sheathed it, and brought it to the counter. A few minutes later I had exited the shop with my new purchase. I probably should have headed home at that point, or at least to my car so I wasn't wandering the mall carrying a sword, but my eyes were drawn to another store; one I had never paid attention to before.
"What's Games Workshop?" I thought, and headed inside.
|
dark-phoenix-lady
|
Bevroren
|
2023-05-22 15:13:16
|
2023-05-22 12:46:20
| 458 | 237 |
jl5ycdr
|
jl5ed4r
|
13on8ol
|
13on8ol
|
[WP] Tradition dictates that each sentient species is given one seat in the Galactic Parliament. When humanity made contact with the galactic community, it was decided that planet earth deserves to have four senators.
|
The humans stared in surprise. "I'm sorry, perhaps we misunderstood - I thought that each sentient species got a single senator?"
The gelatinous alien wobbled. "Yesyes, quite right quite right. One senator one senator. Everyone gets one, everyone gets one."
The feathered, multi-eyed creature standing next to it nodded slowly. "As my colleague explained, you are correct. One senator per sentient/sapient species, regardless of planets settled or ruled over."
One of the humans - the one named George - whispered, "Do... do they mean whales and dolphins? Chimpanzees? Did we miss something?"
The leathery humanoid, Lange - incidentally the only creature with a human-pronounceable name - chuckled. "No, no. While you have an impressive number of creatures on your planet, none but the Humans are worthy of a seat on the council."
Ambassador Humphries cleared his throat. "May I ask... why are we being given this singular honor? Humanity is only a single species, and yet we get four senators?"
Lange burbled another chuckle, joined by the other two aliens. "You humans are so inclusive! It really warms my hearts. No, as I'm sure you understand, even though you see yourselves as a single species, you are of course four. Unless... well, there was some debate about Hot/Dry Humans and Hot/Wet Humans?"
Humphries blinked in surprise. "I'm... sorry? Are you calling humans different species based on... climate?"
Lange seemed confused by the question. "Well... yes? I suppose we should have clarified, but - here, look."
She pulled out a holographic projector, and pulled up an image of a young woman in a thick winter coat. "This is one species, the Cold Human. This one is from 'Michigan'. Er, we use the term Cold Human, your inclusivity must have eradicated the different terms generations ago. And this one" - the image changed to that of a middle-aged man in shorts and a t-shirt - "is a Hot/Dry human, from 'Marbella, Spain'. And this one... and this one. Cold, Hot/Dry, Hot/Wet, and Temperate. Ah! Maybe you call them Arctic, Desert, Tropical, and Plains? Though some of the plains undergo rapid temperature shifts..."
Lange trailed off. Humphries cleared his throat, twice, then eventually found his words. "That's... those are all just humans, though. We wear thick clothing in cold temperatures, thin clothing in hot weather, and while, yes, most of us prefer one climate or another, we do move around a bit. I was born in England, but moved to Florida, in the United States - temperate to hot, er, wet. We adapt to almost any temperature, but we're still all the same species - surely the blood tests and DNA matching would have shown that?"
The aliens gathered into a huddle, squawking and gesturing wildly. The blobby alien turned a sickly-looking shade of yellow-green, while the feathered one shed more than a few feathers. Lange, clearly the most level-headed of the group, still looked quite shaken. Finally, they turned back to the humans.
Lange cleared her throat with a delicate squeak. "We... you are correct, of course, about the blood tests and so forth. But there is quite a bit of... shall we say, climate hard-liners? Our planets, much like your own television shows, largely a single climate, or only populated in a single climate band. My planet is temperate." She made a short engine sound, followed by a loud cowbell noise, gesturing to the goo-creature - " comes from a planet that is mostly water, dotted with tropical islands. And" - a horrible static noise, this time gesturing at the bird-person - "is from a dry, dusty planet of intense heat. He wears a thermal regulator to visit your temperate facilities, here. But... you live all across this wild planet, with its intense heat and cold?"
Humphries nodded. "We do, yes; as I said, we humans are adaptable. While we thrive in temperatures from -40 degrees Celsius to over +40 degrees Celsius, we can survive much more extreme - I'm sorry, is your friend all right?"
The blobby creature had gone fully green, and was shaking so hard its rolls of goo were making tiny clapping sounds. Lange glanced in its direction, then shook her head. "No, it will be fine. We are just... shaken. Are you telling us that you refuse four senators, and choose only one? And that your choice of senator will come from... any climate?"
Humphries nodded, somewhat mystified at the odd reaction. "Of course. We may have our differences, but outside of preference, we don't argue over climate. Much, anyway. As far as I know, we've never gone to war over climate! Ha ha!"
His joke fell flat. Lange, her face unreadable, replied only, "We have."
The coming months were eye-opening, to both the varied aliens and to the humans that visited them. Icy worlds were met with, "Gee, it's a bit chilly! Almost as bad as winters in Alaska, but you've got a lot more daylight," and desert planets were greeted with, "Oh, no worries, it's a dry heat, just stay hydrated. And you don't have any scorpions!" The alien worlds were unprepared for the constant downplaying of the climate - no world humans visited was as hot, as cold, or as inhospitable as the climates of Earth. The hardliners scoffed that their world was much more extreme, but soon found that the more harsh they claimed their world was, the more humans flocked to it. "You call this cold? At least the atmosphere is breathable, at the top of Mount Everest you have to were oxygen tanks!" or "This is hot, yes, but one summer my family visited Death Valley and cooked hamburgers without lighting a fire, this is nothing!"
Lange smiled to herself as she read through the morning's reports. The climate extremists - hot and cold, for the first time in history on the same side - were calling for a ban on human travelers, though their reason why was mostly angry grumbling about "showoffs." The vote to remove a number of extreme temperature planets from Parliament was called off, because humans had somehow managed to take up permanent residence on almost all of them, calling them "not that hot" or "only kinda cold." There was even the beginnings of a tourist trade among the somewhat less extreme planets; a Khorthian, known galaxy-wide as a hater of "warms", became the first of his kind to visit Noomoobooloo, one of the colder planets, albeit on the middle of a heatwave. And the human clothing! It had taken the galaxy by storm; parkas and Hawaiian shirts sold like coldcakes. Even their food was extreme! Ice cream and hot coffee! Eaten together, at times! They even had "frozen hot chocolate", an oxymoron that nonetheless was becoming popular with many cultures.
Lange unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk, and pulled out a report: "Earth: X7 rating. Death planet. Extreme climates, dangerous lifeforms, long-term toxic to most life forms. Natives invented atomic energy and immediately used it as a weapon on themselves. Avoid at all costs."
She flipped the page to the other report, the one she had submitted to Parliament. "Earth: M5 rating. Four distinct climates, each with its own lifeforms. No sign of inter-species war. Some extremist views."
A scrap fell out from between the pages; written on it was a quote from a famous Earth author, Mark Twain: "Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime."
Lange carefully tucked the scrap back into the folder, and locked it away again. Travel, indeed.
|
"Four? But why?" Slyggzen asked, waving his upper tentacles in agitation. "Everyone else has one. ONE. Even that planet with two sentient species has one senator, and they start a war every-time they need to send a new one."
I ruffled my feathers, hoping the octopod could understand my body language as easily as I could his. "I have no good answers, my friend. I only bring word from the high council."
Slyggzen waddled to the viewing port, gazing into the void from our vantage point in the Human's star system. "Everyone gets one. Thats how it has always been, for... well, since the GP was founded. Why change now?"
I clicked my beak in irritation. "I have no definitive answer, Slyggzen. I was told a rumor, but... I cannot confirm its authenticity."
Slyggzen swiveled in place, rotating on his lower tentacles. "Well? A rumor is better than nothing."
I disagreed with my coworker's opinion, but I responded for conversation's sake. "Apparently, Humans cannot agree with themselves. The four Senators are from the four most prominent mindsets of the species."
Slyggzen's mouth fell open, forming a gaping maw of teeth and tongues that made a grotesque belt along his midsection. I knew it was rude to react negatively to any other civilized species' physical differences, but I couldn't repress the shudder that ran through my very core. Sliggzen seemed not to notice, or at least was cordial enough to ignore the slight.
"Four MOST prominent?" He asked, once he had regained his composure. "They have even more than that? Do we even want a species this internally divided in the..."
I squawked in shock. "Slyggzen, we have NEVER excluded a sentient species from the Galactic Union! Even the Arachnopodes have a seat, and their ambassador keeps trying to eat me!"
"We've never had FOUR senators for ONE species, either" Slyggzen pointed out. "The precedent has been set. This species is different, and needs a different solution."
I sighed, whistling softly through my beak as I did. "Its not so simple, Slyggzen. These people are not restricted to one biome, they live on 5 of the 6 large landforms on the planet. They evolved differences, almost enough to classify sections as different sub-species according to the xenobiologists. Did you know they have different colors? Not to distinguish males and females, but evolutionary adaptations to the environments they live within."
Slyggzen shook his tentacles in... something. I would need to consult my xenosocial manual later to interpret this gesture. "Nonsense. Why would they have migrated to climates that they would need to evolve to adapt to? That doesn't make sense."
"It appears to be true" I said, shifting my grip on my perch. "Did you know they have multiple languages?"
"That's not so special" Slyggzen said as he slithered back to the desk on his half of our shared office. "We have three ourselves; one for business, one for family and close friends, and one for hunting. The last is only spoken in historical preservation societies, but I think it's a waste of resources personally."
"You don't understand" I replied. "They have languages based on the regions they evolved in. By our estimates, Humans have over 7,000 languages, not counting the abandoned ones."
Slyggzen was silent for a few moments as he contemplated this latest bombshell. "Seven *thousand*... that's more than the entire Galactic Parliament has across all species..."
"Precisely. These people are more like their own Galactic Union, all on one planet."
Slyggzen was silent for a lot longer this time. His tentacles began typing something that I couldn't see, perhaps the start of a formal protest to the unorthodox arrangement. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold. Calculated. Constrained. "Should we take matters into our own tentacles?"
I blinked both sets of eyelids. "What?" I squawked.
"We cannot let such a divisive species infect our Union." Slyggzen said softly. "We would fracture the alliances that have stood for a millennia."
"And what peaceful alternative do you propose?" I asked. I slid one wing under my desk and activated the hidden audio recorder. Slyggzen was beginning to worry me, and it was best if I had evidence in case something went wrong. "We already admitted them, and granted four seats for their chosen senators."
"We need to destroy their planet."
I froze in fear, unable to even twitch a feather. "W....what?"
"This species is too dangerous to let live" Slyggzen said, rotating to face me once more. "I can arrange it so it looks like an accident, maybe a cold fusion reactor disaster or a meteor strike. But this species must not be allowed to fracture the universe."
"Slyggzen! How could you even say such a thing?" I asked as I hopped up and down on my perch in agitation. "We are a civilized Union! We try to improve the lives of every species, not-"
A small polite chime sounded, indicating that a political representative was requesting entrance to our office. I was not expecting a visitor, so I relinquished the door controls to Slyggzen's console without a second's thought. Slyggzen immediately opened the door, revealing...
The Arachnopodes representative clicked its fangs in excitement as it scuttled into the room. I flapped my wings, launching myself off of my perch as the massive spider delegate lunged.
"I'm sorry, Cheerep. I really am." Slyggzen said, with what sounded like genuine regret. "I must stop this, for the good of the universe. And that requires your silence."
I was too preoccupied with trying to remain un-eaten to respond. The Arachnopode lunged again, striking my left most claw with its massive limbs. I squawked in pain as its fangs sunk in, striking bone and nerves alike as it injected its venom.
"Goodby, my feathered friend" Slyggzen said, as he slithered out of the office. I tried to watch him leave, but my vision was quickly obscured by the spiderwebs that were woven around my frozen body. The darkness enveloped me, both from my organic blindfold and from the fast acting venom that surged through me.
/r/SlightlyColdStories for more stories, with surprisingly more stories involving spiders. I should probably ask my therapist about that.
|
I_Arman
|
SlightlyColdWaffles
|
2023-02-27 17:26:48
|
2023-02-27 15:38:38
| 1,888 | 424 |
ja8l7nv
|
ja84oyq
|
11dbx10
|
11dbx10
|
[WP] By law, those born with the mark of slavery are to be sold as property. Your son, born with it, resists capture at 15 and escapes. Imprisoned for his defiance, you worry only for his fate. Years later, he returns to free you—revealing the mark’s true purpose, shattering everything you believed.
|
"Sir... are these translations... accurate?" lieutenant Smith asked looking at the title of the report.
"Lieutenant, I can assure you this is the most accurate translation our AI has been able to produce thus far."
"This is insane, we need to..."
The general cut him off. "For the safety of Earth, it is imperative that we do absolutely nothing."
:::::::::::
**Discovery of Plot to Eradicate Life on Earth**
Translation 1: Plicam conversing with Xard
"These humans will be nothing but trouble Xard. My detritus creation monopoly will be undone. Go after their representative at first, but if it takes xenocide then so be it."
Xard was sickened, hoping he wouldn't need to erase another budding alien biom so full of life and potential. But he understood. Plicam's cruel ways of dealing with alien populations was unfortunately necessary in order to keep the galactic economy running so smoothly. Things like instantanious delivery, unlimited telestreaming, and complete personal atmospheres just weren't a thing that was viable if the galaxy was constantly coddling new forms of life. So he went to Plicam's armory and got to work.
\--
Translation 2: Xard's first Report
Due to the urgency of the mission I will be beginning with the most expensive, but most effective poison. Oxygen.
The first carrying agent will be mixed in a Hydrogen carrying agent. Ratio 2:1 hydrogen to oxygen. The lowest I can safely go and still handle the substance. To further increase it's effectiveness I will be adding C6H8O6.
I have noticed the representative drinks fluids. I will be replacing all of her drinking fluids with the poison.
::::::::
"That explains why Representative Shanin reported that her drinking water had a tangy taste to it. She also did mention that it was the least trouble her immune system had. Though I guess it's time we stop calling her sour water," the lieutenant mumbled.
"That's nothing Smit, keep reading."
:::::::::
Translation 3: Xard's First Attempt
This is embarrassing. This is my first time writing an attempt report in over 300 years. Somehow the representative was able to neutralize the oxygen. Though personal climate bubbles are allegedly completely oxygen proof, I was not comfortable exposing myself to an atmosphere I had doped with so much oxygen, even in a liquid form. For this reason I did not stick around to see the human ingest the poison. However upon returning to the representative's outpost to verify death, I found that the fluids were in fact ingested. This means that the human's either: have a way of counteracting oxygen poisoning and or they have a way of detecting oxygen in real time.
For attempt 2 I will be putting myself at a much greater risk. Instead of cutting the oxygen with hydrogen, I will be mixing it with a nitrogen agent 4:1 ratio nitrogen to oxygen is as low as I can safely go without putting myself at risk. I will be gassing the entire outpost with this poison. Not as subtle as the last attempt considering the collateral damage of every human on the outpost, however extreme measures were approved.
\---------
Translation 4: Xard's next plans
This is my first time, ever, writing a second attempt form. I am unclear how the humans counteracted the toxins yet again. However this leads to the clear conclusion that they have chemists far beyond our initial understanding. I took the liberty of studying their atmospheric settings and causes. I discovered that the humans have found ways to cheaply and effectively mass produce methane and carbon dioxide.
My next request's expenses will be paid off easily by the technology we will be able to salvage. I will be setting up a ship to enter Earth's atmosphere and siphoning off mass levels of methane and carbon dioxide. I will lower the levels well below livable levels before sending down a crew to collect the various technologies to allow them to create such a lush atmopshere.
|
Kim-Tat was seething with anger. He clenched his fist so hard he got a warning pop-up about the structural integrity of his suit.
His suit showed his metrics and force output, and the assassin was breaking records for his biofluid pressure and pulse.
He replaced the representative's snakle drink with dihydrogen oxide, the worst poison for many species, dyed to look the same.
To his anger, the seductive human drank the whole glass in one go, seemingly blind to how wildly sexual the act was in the eyes of the other species.
He flew off before he lost his temper and stole the human, forgoing the contract payment in return for taking the human. He knew how adaptable humans were and how they were able to create offspring with nearly every other species in the cosmos. He would consider stealing one an acceptable compromise for losing the contract.
He sent a quick message to his contract organizer asking for details on whether the representative needed to be killed or if a disappearance would be acceptable.
While he waited for a response, he decided he was going to flood the penthouse the human was staying in, with oxygen, one of the harshest breathable gasses, it can literally burn the lungs of nearly all species.
When the human arrived at her penthouse, she seemed surprised at the message pop-up from her re-breather, letting her know oxygen content of the room was at 85%. She immediately took her rebreather off and took several huge deep breaths, feeling the giddy sensation pervade her sense. She twirled around and then started to get ready to shower, humming and enjoying herself.
Kim-Tat roared in anger, and flew through the window, catching the representative in her under clothes. He tried to throw a cyro-orb at her, but in his anger, forgot that his suit had a malfunctioning rebreather which was caused by his temper.
His lungs caught on fire and he fell to his knees immediately, dropping the cryo-orb. Which rolled to the foot of the human. Who picked it up, grinned ferally at the sight of a dying Shrindo, and threw it at him.
Kim-Tat was confused at first, but when he was released from the cryo-orb into a hospital, where he was given care and removed from his suit, he realized the human had done what he was planning on doing.
She had captured one of the best assassins in this arm of the galaxy and planned to enjoy him and his skills.
Kim-Tat grinned and happily sunk into sleep, realizing he felt happier and more content than he ever had before.
|
TheRedTurtle11
|
USS-ChuckleFucker
|
2023-12-16 19:38:55
|
2023-12-16 17:40:43
| 336 | 205 |
kdnkefm
|
kdmzrer
|
18ju8wy
|
18ju8wy
|
[WP] God, demigod, guardian--Every time mankind finds you, during a different age, they give you a title representative of your otherworldly power. You aren't getting weaker, yet your title gets diluted each time until finally, a group of humans think you're just a homeless person who needs help.
|
The God of growth, that is who I am - that is who I was... it has been time immemorial since I was called who I once was.
We gods all exist no matter the moment. We may die, but what is death, but an old life lived well. When we gods die, we are simply born anew to be renamed, and we adjust to what life we live. And as the God of growth, I only grow stronger. Each moment I learn more, I grow more and learn yet more to grow further. I guess that's why I fell in love with her, with... Life.
How radiant she appeared to me our first ever fateful day, her face shining like an undying light. She grew as fast as I have, our ideas growing in tandem. As life grew, so too did growth of all kinds follow. I guess... it's fate that I met her each cycle, except where has she gone in this life of mine...
As I trudge through countries, states, streets, and even pavilions, I look everywhere for this light of mine. How far we have changed, our ideas corrupted and no longer the beauty they are seen as. Growth is no longer seen as the idea of becoming better for others, oneself, or even for life. These monsters corrupted the idea... they only care about capital growth, societal growth, and hardly nothing more...
And life, why... WHY! WHY!!!
Life is no longer holy... she no longer skips through the plains with the natives of the lands. She no longer sings her pleasantries with the behemoths of the sea. She no longer honors the cycle of life with the predators of the lands. Life is naught but considered a pseudonym for the amount of mortal that exists at a moment in time. Life isn't honored. The earth is simply a way to satisfy their carnal desires.
What does this cycle have to give anymore. As I'm run of the steps of another skyscraper, as they call it, I begin a journey to another location. But what is the point, I am tired, I yearn to sleep again, and when I do, I intend to erase it all. Either on my own terms, or maybe a call for the God of ends, they owe me after all for making sure to stop the God of Wars tireless rampage millennia ago...
Where may she be, though... I hold out hope still as I wish to see her once more before I decide to end it all.
I walk through a run-down town, nothing but slums where the cruel lives as I traverse the streets. I am targeted by hoodlum teens, seeing if I carry even the smallest bit of cash. I simply take their beating as my mind thinks, if I should destroy it all and reset this world anew.
That's when I hear them. A voice so distant yet so caring. As someone chases them away I look up and see her face. She looks as beautiful as they day we last met. Maybe... maybe I can live in this world a little longer now that she is here...
|
I've been searching, waiting, trying to get my fishing hook back for 500 years. I've tracked it to the Museo di Palazzo Grimani in Venice, but I cannot enter for now. I have other matters to attend to, like this security guard.
"I am not homeless you damned mortal, I am a god!"
"Miss, if you would please leave before I have to escort you out with force."
"I will turn you into an insect where you stand, get out of my way."
"Hey lady," A boy no older than 16 dares to yell, " You're ruining the vibe of this place."
He comes over to me and whispers, "Nuasiela, I've got it. Play along."
"You vile boy, fine, I'll leave willingly."
A crowd has formed around us as I walk out the door, just as a small storm is coming my way. I snap and the clouds dissipate with no one batting an eye. Gods it's hard to get mortals to look up.
The "boy" comes up to me with a small grin on his face, "you like my disguise?"
"I don't like anything about you, Marsmoke."
"Well then, we'll just have to wait 500 more, won't we."
"That won't be necessary." I say as I snatch it out of his hand. Finally, my coveted fishhook, the very thing I needed.
I walk into the streets of Venice without another word, becoming one with the early morning mist.
|
SomeoneJN
|
Aquamarine_ze_dragon
|
2023-02-19 02:48:59
|
2023-02-19 01:53:06
| 26 | 16 |
j94741c
|
j94051d
|
115j1mh
|
115j1mh
|
[WP] Humans have a reputation amongst the other sapient races. Not just for being ambitious and adaptable, but also for being monstrously disgusting. Most view them as lumbering hives of parasites, diseases, dead skin cells and bacteria. They are biological weapons; children of pestilence.
|
A horror arrived on my homeworld today. From my window, I watched them stumble out of their ship, so sleek and silver, all rounded edges and mirrored surfaces, now so juxtaposed from the creatures residing within. At first, I thought them beautiful. They had bulbous, radiant helms that shone in the light of our sun, strong and stocky limbs. Their markings were all whites and grays, with patches of colour on their torso, so different from my own. They were giants, their helms cresting the tops of the largest buildings in my village. It was only when they began to shed their exoskeleton that I finally understood.
Word had spread quickly across the galaxy once the first world fell. Beware the harbingers, it said, and pray. Do not treat with, interact, or look upon. They may seem slow, harmless even. Take not their beauty for safety, they wear a mask behind which death itself resides, waiting to burst free. We laughed when the stories first reached our ansible. They became tales that mothers tell at night, to keep unruly younglings snuggled deep in their burrows. How could something of such terrible pestilence exist? They would collapse unto themselves, eaten by the very things that lived upon their flesh. We should have listened. We should have known.
First came the bulbous helms I thought so beautiful. Underneath was a totem of disease, a vector of death. Its skin was clammy and wet. Even from this great distance, I could see thousands (No, millions!) of tiny creatures crawling through its pores, swimming in the crusty, gelatinous oceans that were its eyes. Atop its head was a matted mass of fur, constantly sifting and shedding, home to all manner of pathogens, hugging each strand as tightly as a newborn would its mother. I retched, frozen in disgust, sick spilling from my mandibles, coating my thorax. The creatures made clacking noises at each other, the skin where their mandibles should be tearing open, spewing death, and I looked into the maw of the beast. A wet cavern of infection, malady abound. Tiny pieces of themselves constantly spewed outwards, coating the buildings around them, the ground, the very air. I can feel my limbs beginning to stiffen. I fear that this —
\*\*\*
Garth removed the last pieces of his suit, doused his face in some water, and hacked a loogie to the side of the landing site.
“Finally a friendly atmosphere”, he said, breathing deeply.
“I fuckin’ hear ya pal”, said Brunson, who was blowing his nose with grandiose trumpets. “Still has me congested”.
“Think we’ll find an alien this time?”
Brunson finished his final trumpet, wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and ruffled his hair.
“Eh, probably not.”
|
"Chaos has claimed them!"
"Do not get any closer!"
"By the gods, the Rotting One has marked them!"
These are the usual ramblings of the aliens I walk past by everytime I, and my colleagues show up.
Who am I, to earn such a reputation? I am simply Liam of Alighieri; and the reputation really only got worse after I entered this army. My Hive World was taken over by the Death Guard by the time I was taken by them as part of their auxiliary force. I still remember how eager they were on saving those of us who were left by the Emperor to die, in the hands of Chaos.
Since my planet blowing up, many other worlds have succumbed to the cults of plague, also inhabiting humans. And the Xenos alongside me who have never come across humans before till this point started seeing all of humanity as fledging cultists to Nurgle.
And who could blame them? Have you ever lived in a Hive City? The rot, and muck, and sludge covering every inch is enough to make a sane man sick. At least the lot I came across
Our current mission is to try and convert another Hive World to our cause. Perhaps his time around, there wouldn't be any more complications.
To those who will read this, just be warned that the Xenos may see humanity as a lost cause to Chaos. Be prepared for what's to come once you enter the auxiliaries.
|
BigSigiSchmid
|
YuniTSX
|
2023-05-18 16:14:37
|
2023-05-18 15:22:48
| 72 | 28 |
jknh9gi
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jkn91hd
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13kvaic
|
13kvaic
|
[WP] He came to my pond every day to play with his "imaginary" friend. years later he returns beaten and bloody on deaths door so he can die in the only place he had happy memories, little does he know she is very real and very angry
|
At least three of Orion's ribs were broken, he guessed. He could feel the broken ends grinding against one another with every limping step he took towards the pond that lay behind his family's home.
He had spent many hours out here, and though he had 'saved' his home for today, he knew he would not be able to replicate the feat tomorrow. He would not last the night, and surely more invading barbarians were due to come tomorrow.
Despite the indignity of it, Orion placed his blade in the dirt and used that to help hasten his progress to the pond.
"Ah, Yuliette. It's been a few seasons." He joked as he collapsed underneath the tree he used to use for shade.
His legs were now much longer than they were when he was a boy. He sprawled out, trying to get as comfortable as he could given his condition, and the end of his boot touched the beginning of the pond.
"I probably ought to be mad at the long silence, Orion."
"Well, the *real* long silence is coming for me now, old friend. If you have grievances, now would be the time to air them." Orion realized he was delirious.
"Throw your sword into the water."
Orion tried to refocus. "Wait."
Right on top of his soaked feet, a woman's form had appeared, made of water.
"You're-- you aren't a death vision are you?"
"Your sword. You don't have time. You want to protect your home, don't you? You want to save your family, your countrymen?"
Orion tried to beat back the fog in his brain, and with Herculean effort, he tossed his sword into the pond.
The pain was too much. Orion blacked out from the pain, with the Grim Reaper just moments away.
The Nymph worked quickly, summoning her own concentrated essence and imbuing Orion's blade. It was a worthy vessel, sharp, strong, and admirably stained with the blood of his enemies.
It was a delicate balance, maintaining her form while also committing herself into her new home, but she pulled it off.
Delicately, she placed the blade on Orion's legs, and allowed herself to be quits with the pond.
Orion awoke in the morning. His wounds were gone. His ribs felt as though they had never been broken. And...where was Yuliette?
Orion knew as soon as he saw the blade, the steel now faintly blue. "I cannot thank you enough, Yuliette, eternal friend."
Her essence responded from within the blade, smiling warmly.
"The enchantment on your blade is made of my lifeforce. Use it well. Every score an enemy makes on your flesh can be healed, if you unleash my power upon them. There is quite a bit of 'wound' stored within me now, if you'd like to try."
Orion moved swiftly, and it took him only an hour to find a barbarian scout. In a golden-blue arc, like the sun reflecting off an ocean wave, every wound Orion had had lashed out onto his opponent.
"The only caveat is that you have to hit them with the enchanted strike-- if you miss, your wounds will return to you." Yuliette cautioned.
Smoke was on the horizon. Orion grinned.
The barbarians had killed hundreds in the nearby town. This blade would guide him towards retribution.
------------------------------
r/nystorm_writes
|
Vinny pulled in to the driveway of the old now-abandoned farmstead his sedan sliding to a stop on the loose, bumpy gravel. He opened the door immediately and stumbled out as fast as his broken body could. He knew they'd be right behind him. How had his life come to this? When he left home for the city three years ago, he spent his evenings boasting to Elena about how he would be a rich businessman.
Vinny staggered past the house and out back to the pond where he talked with Elena all those nights. He sat with his back against that same rock and took in the brilliant pinks of the sunrise. He closed his eyes, smiled, and felt a peace he hadn't known since he left here.
"I messed up Elena. I just sold a little weed here and there, collected some money, held up one liquor store. I just had to make a little extra cash. It's over now, I'm read--" Vinny started to say, but was interrupted.
"Ey, Vinny, you run from us? Why you wasting everyone's time?" a voice from behind him said. Vinny groaned as he turned his body to look.
"Alright Casey, lets get it over with, I'm ready," Vinny said. He waited. Nothing. He turned to look again and Casey was on the ground motionless. Elena stood next to him and walked towards Vinny.
"Vin, stealing? Selling drugs? What happened to the boy I knew? You were going to start charities and feed the homeless, give back to the community," Elena said. She sat and held Vinny's head in her lap, stroking his dark hair. Both had tears in their eyes.
"I couldn't help it, I--" started Vinny, but he didn't have the strength to keep talking. His body went limp and lifeless. Elena cradled his body with an ethereal strength and strode into the pond until both were gone forever.
|
NystromWrites
|
None
|
2023-01-05 00:03:43
|
2023-01-04 23:45:13
| 234 | 164 |
j2zbrfp
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j2z8zvy
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103hopq
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103hopq
|
[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.
|
I clock-in as usually, and then go and make myself a nice cup of coffee to start the day.
Walking into the lab, I arrive just in time to see Ted press the red button.
I take a sip of coffee, as the alarms start blaring.
"Here we go again.", I mutter, walking forward.
"Hey Dave.", he greets me.
"'Sup Ted, so...Thursday, huh? What was on schedule for today?", I ask, taking a sip of my coffee.
"What do you mean?", he asks.
"You pressed the Red Button, which basically means that an experiment has gone wild...
So, what experiment was scheduled for today?", I asked.
He chuckled wryly.
"You do realize that by pressing that button, you release a toxin in the experiment's enclosure whether there is or isn't something, or someone in there, right?
Also...you do realize that the Health Department, and the Military is always notified when that button is pressed, right?", I asked, sipping my coffee.
Ted just stared at me.
I sighed.
"It's the 4th time this year...
You are lucky, that once it was an actual emergency, but I doubt you realized it.", I said.
"N-no! I knew the virus went rogue in that subject, that's why I pressed the button!", he argued.
"So it wasn't because you fell asleep on the chair?", I laughed.
He frowned, but said nothing.
I relaxed for a while, but after some time it started to feel weird.
Why wasn't anyone coming? Why were the alarms still going off?
"Ted...have you met anyone else today?", I asked.
"Only you.", he said.
I sighed.
"I am off to get another cup of coffee, are you up for one?", I asked him.
"What's going on Dave? What did you realize?", he asked.
"That you pressing that button was unnecessary, because they released something in the lab before we came.", I said.
He froze, and looked around.
"Don't look, it could be anything, and it could be anywhere...
I guess we two were the unlucky ones chosen to be allowed inside to check on the situation.", I laughed, going to the kitchen.
He followed me warily, but I didn't care.
Working at a top-secret lab has its perks, but God...did it have its risks, and this one...this one was one of the common ones.
|
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.
|
TheWanderingBook
|
Just_a_thought_3
|
2024-11-19 11:37:21
|
2024-11-19 10:43:43
| 145 | 11 |
lxwu6cn
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lxwooyc
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1gutzpv
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1gutzpv
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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?"
|
I sat at the bar in the speakeasy, nursing my drink and a headache. The light show this morning hadn’t done me any favors, nor had the earthquake that followed. While no one claimed responsibility for the crime spree, the celebratory laughter from the back booth suggested the likely culprits. I glanced in their direction but didn’t recognize any faces - rare after over 200 years of coming here.
The lights seemed to shine brighter, prompting me to bury my face in my hands and groan.
“You good, ‘lock?” Sam asked, leaning in. I lowered my hands to respond, only to realize the lights were indeed intensifying. I grabbed Sam’s head, pulling him down toward the counter while covering the back of my head with my other hand. Bulbs began to burst, and then the door slammed open. I looked up and swiped my hand through my hair to check for glass. I turned, trying to recall any spells to defend myself.
In the doorway stood Bubblegum, the newest and youngest member of the city’s hired heroes. Her bright pink and white outfit contrasted sharply with the red on her face. She was shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks as she scanned the room.
"Who did it?"
Her usually upbeat voice was laced with fury. In all my encounters with her, I’d never seen her without a smile. A sense of unease settled in my stomach, more than just my migraine. She had faced earthquakes before, and while the light show was new, it didn’t seem inherently dangerous; I am not sure where this anger had come from.
Pink lightning danced around her arms, drawing my attention to a small package she held.
Suddenly, I realized why my stomach was in knots.
I stood, unable to control my movements, walking toward her. She was trying to catch my eye, searching for a confession, but my gaze was fixed on what - who - she was holding.
As I reached her, I extended my hand. She flinched but relaxed when she saw I meant no harm. I brushed the blanket aside and confirmed my worst fears: a child, less than a year old. I cupped his face in my hand and looked up into her tear-filled eyes. Though her tears flowed just as heavy, there was an understanding between us.
“No children. I have few rules, but this is number one.” I whispered the words, yet everyone in the bar heard me. My eyes glowed with an unholy shade of green, and the baby’s cheek grew warm. A hazy cloud surrounded him as I inhaled deeply. I chose not to tell her what was happening - I wasn’t sure she could bear the truth of the child’s last moments. Fear, drowned in tears, all alone. She looked to me, hope and desperation mingling in her gaze, pleading for me to save him.
"I can't fix him, child. I am sorry."
I turned my gaze to the back booth, confirming my earlier suspicions. I extended my hand, and a shadowy copy of my hand continued where my reach stopped. The ghastly appendage curled behind the group, then snapped back, launching them toward the front of the bar. Ghostly tendrils secured each of the four to the ground, binding their limbs and muffling their protests. Their fear was palpable. I almost missed this part of my powers.
I had no intention of sharing this darkness with Bubblegum; it had long been mine to command. I wouldn’t ask her to punish those who broke my rules.
"What do you intend to do with them, Warlock?"
I grunted in response. “They are no longer a problem. You may watch, but I suggest you leave.”
I waited until her footsteps faded, not bothering to stop the other villains following her. They knew what happened when you ignored the rules. The tendrils tightened, and the muffled screams were barely audible over the sound of breaking bones.
|
(Recommended listening before reading this: [This is how villains are made](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plPtZPem94o) by Madalen Duke)
Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he made his way through the Downs. Before his red tinted vision, a familiar sign winked at him. *Gormenghast*.
Someone was voiding whatever poisons they'd used the last of the hard earned slip to purchase into a nearby gutter. He barely noticed it as one of his hounds boiled out from beneath the shadows of his cloak and bore the unfortunate man into the dark recesses of a nearby alley way.
There were no screams. And even if there had been, he wouldn't have noticed.
In his hands, grasped withing the rictus of a bloodied fist, a tattered handkerchief barely fluttered as he arrived beneath the neon monstrosity and looked up.
The shadows beneath him roiled in response to his emotions; a question asked by the masses that normally lay dormant within. Nails biting into his fist, he marveled at how easily an answer was given. His shadows boiled out into the streets and alleyways of the Downs, a torrent of fur, teeth and ill will. He found himself snickering darkly as he pushed his way in through the nondescript door and made his way down the stairs.
*All it took was one really bad day, eh?*
The screams all along the quarter begun in earnest, though they were drowned out by the sound of the blood pounding in his ears and the thrum of music rising from behind the heavy steel door that he'd descended to.
He didn't even recall how the two bouncers normally stationed there has come to find themselves slumped against the graffiti-ed walls with their necks ripped open. With a gesture, two of his hounds made short work of the door, barreling into it with enough force to crack the plaster around it and bear it into the pulsating lights and sounds of the infamous drinking hole.
The music didn't even skip a beat as every eye in the establishment turned to take him in.
*Wonder what I look like right now*. He wondered as the questions reached a fever pitch, and every shadow in the room shifted to pool at his feet.
*Doesn't matter anymore.* He snapped his finger and gave his reply. *Eat.*
|
espirose
|
Visible-Ad8263
|
2024-10-17 15:30:08
|
2024-10-17 15:05:12
| 657 | 41 |
lsdl13k
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lsdgcz6
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1g5kua3
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1g5kua3
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[WP] You are a werewolf and everyone in the village knows. When its nearing the full moon they all help you baricade yourself in your home since you are the only wheat farmer in town. Everything was fine until some self righteous lord takes over and demands not only your land but your home as well.
|
I'm the only brewer and baker in town. Everyone gets their beer and bread at my pub, women bring pies and stews to bake in my oven during the day, and in general the village relies on me. It's a little village on the edge of nowhere in particular, so we don't really have anyone else to rely on or trade with. I always give them fair deals when I trade with them, I help out when help is needed, and in general I try to be a good friend. Without me, the lives of everyone in the village would be a lot harder.
So when I was bitten by that strange wolf, I tried to hide it. I was successful for several months, but then one night I managed to break out of my basement in my beastly form. Luckily, I only savaged old Mrs. Gravis's chickens. But my secret was out.
I can't say I was all that surprised when the villagers were willing to help me instead of banishing me. After all, most of them had known me my entire life, and I was the only one who really knew how to run the ovens. So the best carpenter in the village helped me reinforce my basement door, everyone knew to take their chickens in on a full moon night, and except for my little difficulty, things went on pretty much as they always had.
And then that arrogant lord came. He said some king we had never even heard of had given him the land. He said we owed him taxes. He and his men strutted around the village like cockerels. He began to have his way with the local maidens, whether they wanted his advances or not. But the last straw, at least for me, was when he decided that a mere woman couldn't be allowed to run the pub and bakery. He announced that he was going to take it from me, and give it to one of his retainers to run.
He was foolish or unlucky enough to announce this on the day before the full moon. All the villagers know about me, and they know to keep their doors locked, their windows shuttered, and their livestock inside. That arrogant lord knows none of these things. And I won't be locking my basement door tonight.
|
You're body, though appearing young feels the years of transformations. As you walk across the floor you can remember your first time being stabbed, your first time changing even. The night you changed not knowing what your body was doing. Feeling like your body was going to explode. Now here You are in what some would call a "Comfortable" life and it's being taken. Your first thought is easy "Rip this new lord to pieces" a thought easily channeled by rage. A more curious thought harbor's itself moments later. You could turn this new lord, turning him into the monster he sees you as.
|
tamtrible
|
Tricky-Assist6344
|
2023-07-30 22:21:15
|
2023-07-30 20:35:58
| 71 | 13 |
ju4ndym
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ju48jnw
|
15dqogc
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15dqogc
|
[WP] as you bring a sample of your crops to the temple of the harvest god, you and everyone nearby suddenly hear a telepathic childlike voice "um, I'm not sure how to tell you this, but your god kind of died..."
|
Antigone had always been a loyal servant to the gods. It was her job as a woman. She was supposed to wait. To serve. To be pretty and perfect and patient.
She had been.
She HAD been.
Then they brought her brother back, or at least his body, and left it to rot in the fields outside the walls. She’s lost both brothers in the war they'd started, one had gotten his funeral rites because he’d won the throne before death…
Polynices was denied an afterlife for the crime of dying rebel prince.
Antigone’s uncle forbade his burial to put the succession war to rest. Polynices would be a royal banquet for the crows.
At least he was supposed to be.
Antigone had been pretty. She had been patient. She had been everything she was supposed to be. She was loyal, but they called her a traitor for it.
They allowed Antigone one last offering to the Gods before they put her to the sword for her loyalty. She’d chose
Persephone, an offering of grain to beg for love from the Queen she was off to visit.
Offerings were usually a quiet and private affair, but they usually didn’t proceed executions.
Antigone laid her offering at the feet of the Persephone’s statue, kneeling down in front of the God. She’d done the right thing, hadn’t she? Who was she supposed to be loyal to if she couldn’t even serve her brother in death?
Then, a young voice. Like the chorus it spoke to everyone.
“Your Goddess is dead.”
Antigone didn’t rise. The spectators panicked, but this was the last offering she’d ever make. She was going to see it
through. Antigone was loyal.
“What happened?”
“The gods?”
“It must be a trick!”
The voice spoke again, now older. “She’s gone. Dust. Lost or abandoned. Whatever stills your restless souls.”
Antigone kept kneeling. She owed her brothers their prayers.
“Too many acts of cruelty let me in.” The voice was almost hissing now, old and cruel, “Your Gods aren’t the first to fall, and they won’t be the last.”
More panic. Antigone was loyal. She stayed.
“They’ll be storybook characters. Parodies paraded around and like beautiful little corpse puppets.” The voice laughed.
At that, finally, Antigone faltered.
The voice spoke to her and her alone. “Don’t worry my dear. You’ll be paraded the same way.”
Despite having run out of tears days ago. Antigone wept.
/r/Jacksonwrites for more wicked things until my book releases on the 27th.
|
"He faded off into inexistentance so i guess you should be happy for him. I'm sorry but this is really awkward for me , I've only been a god for a thousand years. " My jaw dropped , I looked around and said , " so what now? Who do we pray to , who will help us with our plights." The telepathic voice replies'" Well I am supposed to be his successor, but i feel that a whole world is too much responsibility for me so I'll just take care of the capital." " What? What are you talking about! What about the farmlands what about the villages. If you don't help us everyone will die!" I screamed. Suddenly thunder raged, the voice replied" Well I don't like you. They can just deal with it themselves. I'm just a child." " There are millions of people outside of the capital, you're killing them all." I yelled. The thunder worsened," Hey at least I'm taking care of the capital, I could have just left this world alone you ungrateful...." Lightning struck me and i thought "Why did our god have to die and leave this awful being here..."
|
Writteninsanity
|
SwordThiefOfStars
|
2024-05-11 13:13:54
|
2024-05-11 11:19:41
| 121 | 41 |
l3kk5g3
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l3k7c3l
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1cpesqk
|
1cpesqk
|
[WP] "This... is your treasure hoard, Dragon?" "Yes. Nobody pays with gold and jewels anymore, it's all paper money or stocks and bonds. I miss being able to lay down in a pile of loot, but I am forced to adapt to modern times."
|
Shifting uncomfortably the dragon prodded the pile of documents with a talon, “It is no longer as it was. Change has happened too swiftly.”
Some scales around her eyes shifted position, the dragon equivalent of a frown. “The adventurers of this region seem also to have changed.”
“I’m Arthur, the.. uh, barbarian warrior.”
The dragon craned its neck down to look at the human before it. Simple clothing and an old sword. He didn’t seem very much of anything.
“A barbarian warrior?”
“Well… a civil servant, actually. I couldn’t afford armour so barbarian seemed the way to go…” he trailed off then seemed to rally, “but I’ve got this sword and, and you stole the deed to my mothers cottage.. and we really need that back!”
“STOLEN!” boomed the dragon as it angrily raised itself up, scraping the roof of the cave. “There are my dues, a toll on the recent road through my lands!” With a sigh, she lowered herself to the barren floor once more, eyeing her hoard. “This wealth does not cause me comfort.”
Arthur briefly thought about the ‘recent road’ that was there when his mother was young but instead asked about the hoard. “You don’t sleep on it? I was told dragons slept on a pile of treasure.”
“Too soft. I have also come to realise this will damage and negate the value of it.” Again the dragon shifted its position.
Arthur poked the ground with his sword and thoughts for a moment. When he next spoke it was slowly, cautiously, like creeping up on an idea, “Does it have to be gold and jewels then?”
The dragon felt unmotivated. She would have to eat this human soon but couldn’t feel excited about it. At least he was someone to talk to.
She thought back to the cave of her youth, the hoard she lay upon before warriors were warriors. “I do think fondly of the rare clothes and silks that adorned my treasure.”
Arthur smiled, “Have you ever thought about going into property?”
* * * *
Your grandpa tells this story every year at the village festival. It’s the tale of how Dragonholme was created after all. Settled perfectly on a busy trade route, never threatened by nearby kingdoms, bandits or monsters. It had flourished.
It’s a fantastic tale, and entirely unbelievable.
Except that reigning over the festival was The Lady herself, firelight dancing off her scales, lounging on a bed of comfortable cloth.
Grandpa always said the friendship of the villagers was her real treasure and she always called him a fool, but she never denied it.
|
Cryptoz’iliax shifted his body, a pile of hard drives tumbled lightly.
While mostly sure of the answer already, he couldn’t exactly understand why so many, so he asked “Why choose the hard drives?”
“Ohhh.. that is a bit of a tale, I will start with a few years ago..in Venezuela.” Imagining his brain one of the hard drives before him, he began recalling.
“I like quantity.. the year is 2017, the Venezuelan Bolivar has inflated 65,000%” as if the next part was obvious, he continued “that’s gonna be a lot of bills, and I like that.”
“Next thing you know I’m denning in Venezuela, lounging atop countless bills, they would rain down with any movement” the dragon then cringed slightly, with a look of fleeting regret.
“Paper burns too easily..” and he sighed lightly as he rested his head down.
“I see.” Said the man.
“Hard drives remind me more of gold and jewels anyhow.” And Crypto’ziliax eyed one of the drives “Each has just a single bit coin on it, that is the way I prefer it.”
“Are you interested in buying any NFT’s?” Asked the man.
|
ir8thoughts
|
Zackypoo123
|
2023-05-08 10:41:21
|
2023-05-08 08:01:04
| 39 | 24 |
jjbjbug
|
jjb85d5
|
13awozr
|
13awozr
|
[WP] You can see how long someone has left to live. But a classmate of yours has a deathdate that keeps on changing everytime you see them. One lesson, they have 15 minutes left, until they ask to leave. They come back later with an added 20 years.
|
The numbers that crowned their heads were not curses but gifts that counted down the days to their new lives. Halos. That's what the adults told them as they grew up. They smiled at the children and said, "When that number ticks to zero, you won't die. You'll begin your eternity of paradise."
What else could they tell a curious toddler, watching their life span tick away by the second? Some displayed numbers that dwelled in the lowly seconds, even at five years of age. When a child ran into their arms, crying and trembling because the numbers never stopped ticking down, they did all they could to soothe them until they were ready to let go. Alice did not blame the adults for lying.
She also spent constant days hugging her mother, crying into her chest so hard her body convulsed. But unlike the others, she was never ready to release, for she never believed her mother's lies.
The numbers above her mother's head spoke truths, and they told her a harsh one early on. Her mother wouldn't be around for long. No matter how many supplements or medicinal pills she consumed, her mother passed away amidst beeping hospital equipment, leaving Alice with no one to hold. The medical staff walked by several times that night. They'd glance at Alice's halo with raised brows but say nothing.
Alice spent the next few years in an orphanage, surrounded by screaming children and tyrannical adults. Each day grew longer than the last, and she worried she'd never escape until a letter came in the mail.
Accelerators University, one of the most prestigious boarding schools in the country, offered her a full-ride scholarship to attend. Emblazoned in gold was the school motto, "Those who burn the brightest in our society deserve to experience the best while still here."
She left for school without a second thought. The faculty outfitted her with a uniform, the keys to a one-bedroom apartment, and a preloaded credit card. They replenished the card's balance each month. The campus grounds were that of a child's wildest dreams. Playgrounds, parks, basketball courts, a movie theater, all the things the faculty felt the student would miss out on later in life.
In exchange for this, the faculty implemented a fair rule—no staring at the numbers of the students or faculty. They considered it an invasion of privacy; each student deserved the dignity of living in the moment.
The teachers often minced words with them, but Alice's homeroom teacher did not. "You're all here because you'll be dead by graduation. We want your last days to be as enjoyable as possible." Alice respected her for her honesty and played along with the rules.
Her eyes occasionally wandered out of habit, and she'd see numbers ranging from five seconds to three years. Students dying at their desks or disappearing between classes initially startled her, but it became familiar. Clarice, on the other hand, was an unfamiliar sight.
She wore an all-black outfit consisting of a t-shirt, jeans, and combat boots to class daily instead of the issued university uniform. The faculty did not seem to mind. They also did not seem to notice the numbers above Clarice's head, though Alice did.
Clarice's number fluctuated. It was typical for the elder or the injured to experience sudden decreases in numbers, but hers would increase. Alice had never seen a number increase before. Even after successful medical operations, the number only stabilized. Meanwhile, Clarice's hours would turn to days and her days to weeks.
The most extreme case occurred today. Clarice walked into homeroom with fifteen minutes displayed over her head, left, and returned after lunch with twenty years. No one else noticed this besides her; number-watching was rude. If you were a notorious number watcher, they might expel you.
After class that day, Clarice walked up to Alice for the first time. "That number above your head isn't looking too good," she said. Alice froze, and Clarice smiled. "Hey. Do you want to play a game with me? If you win, I might be able to help you with your ticker."
Alice squinted and asked, "Is this a game you play often?"
"I've been able to play it longer than most."
"How do we play the game?"
"I can't tell you until we get there."
"Where?"
"Oh, not far. The forest on the skirts of campus. I can show you if you want. You don't even have to play today." Clarice glanced at Alice's halo. "Though, you might want to play as soon as possible."
"If I win, you'll help me with my halo?"
"Yes."
"What happens if I play and lose?"
Clarice smiled. "We'll worry about that if you decide to play the game."
|
I didn't think it would happen to me. Nobody does. I remember laughing and goofing off with my classmates during the active shooter drills, thinking that I had a better chance of winning the lottery than seeing "Buddy" Bunson Holiday with a double-barreled hunting rifle pointed at Ms. Rizzo's head. I knew something was up right away when the fluorescent green clock on his forehead suddenly read 7,342 days instead of 15 minutes. Buddy was no ordinary fifteen-year-old, and we were all in tremendous danger just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The class watched in stunned silence as Ms. Rizzo told him calmly to put down the gun, that there was another answer. "Nobody had to die that day." She understood nothing, the poor woman. She was just doing her job, trying to teach a bunch of sleepy teenagers that useless subject called algebra. How could she have known that she was just thrust into a plot for global domination by a villain so esoteric that it could barely inhabit an imagination as vast as even mine? To her, Buddy was nothing more than a troubled teen, a kid with parents who cared more about their next fix than him. The idea that the gun was anything more than his father's hunting rifle was an impossibility.
It took all of us by surprise when he pulled the trigger and it fired not bullets, but a stream of bubbles, moving so fast that we could barely catch a glimpse. Next thing we knew, Ms. Rizzo had turned into something like a snow globe, her tiny form trapped within the confines of a bubble no bigger than a softball. I immediately noticed that the clock on her head, which had previously read 10,232 days, was now gone. Instead, there was just something that looked like a virus, its spiked amorphous proteins sprawled all about.
"Now you get detention," Buddy said as our mouths fell agape. His eyes scanned the room, zeroing in on mine. That's when I knew that Ms. Rizzo wasn't even his intended target. It had to be me - I was the one with the strange superpower to see clocks over everyone's head. Who else in this room would he want?
I only had a brief moment to scan for an exit before the barrels of the gun were locked on me. I sprung from my desk and ducked for cover behind the girl that sat next to me. As soon as I saw the bubbles I ran for the window, grabbing a heavy globe off the table and throwing it with surprising force into the pane of glass, breaking through. *Wow.* When it came time to leap through I didn't even think twice about the fact that I was two stories up. I felt it in my bones, that same feeling I felt on the morning the clocks strangely appeared. I knew I could fly.
From a distance, I saw a sea of virus bubbles emerging from the windows of the schoolhouse. I cried a tear, wondering if the inhabitants were lost, forever trapped in their own worlds. An eternity of isolation, without the possibility of death. Perhaps only relieved at the point they had fulfilled the wishes of their master.
Behind them, I saw Buddy emerge in the air, except that he had grown tentacles to match the smaller viruses. This was the first time I saw him for the monster he was. Most disparaging was the clock that had appeared over his head. It read -400,000 days.
\--------
*I have no idea where to go with this. If you like it and want more let me know!*
|
intheweebcloset
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2023-01-21 17:47:39
|
2023-01-21 16:51:22
| 127 | 36 |
j5awg12
|
j5any10
|
10hr75v
|
10hr75v
|
[WP] They call it the 'Elephant's Foot', a terrifying monster that lives in a cursed metal labyrinth— and your village elder believes that it is guarding a long lost secret
|
It had become something of a game to her. Most of her fellows had been imprisoned by one hero or another. She supposes either she is that brilliant or her hero is just as fond of their game.
She enacts her plans meticulously each time. Today was the day she'd set the perfect one in motion.
Taking down the Healthy Air Co once and for all. She knows how they steal air from the poor. How the lower you went down in the City of Endless, the worst the air became.
They're siphoning oxygen upwards and pumping enough articial oxygen back down to prevent the lower city from becoming a mass grave.
She hums as she shifts her janitor hat forward when a worker steps past her. She offers them a head nod that they don't return. Typical.
She walks into the server room and secures the last of her bombs.
First would come the mass EMP, then the bombs would send this building crumbling to the ground.
She exits the building and walks a few blocks over to where her car is parked. She enters quickly and rips off the janitor uniform, replacing it with her own clothes.
She sits for a few minutes and waits. Normally, the hero would show up and save the corporation. They'd tell her something of morality and how innocents worked there.
She'd scoff and try to set off the explosives. The ones the hero would have already disarmed.
Twenty minutes pass, and the hero doesn't show. She frowns and runs her finger over the trigger. She supposes there's little else to do.
Her heart skips a beat, and her breathing falters when the bombs don't fail. The EMP fires, and after that, everything crumbles.
This was wrong.
Where is the hero? They should have-
She sees it then. Drifting out of the rubble. The hero's cape.
She cares little for the consequence of prison in that moment. She runs. And when she arrives at the rubble, she digs and hunts for them until she finds them. They're barely breathing, trapped under a cement piece of the wall.
She throws it off them with a hiss. "What happened to being a hero?"
The hero laughs, his voice tinged with the blood he coughs up. "Maybe I believe in your mission this time."
"You're not supposed to die. You're especially not supposed to believe," she rebukes.
He groans and reaches for her hand, giving it a weak squeeze. "I'm no hero. The air is unfit to breathe. We'd be next if this building had stayed."
"If you knew-" She pauses, hearing the sound of sirens drawing close. Her words are rushed as she continues. "Why were you inside?"
"Because it felt only fitting to fall with the thing I was told to protect." He laughs, though it sharpens into a cough. "Maybe you're the hero, and I'm the villain."
She shakes her head. "That's not how this works."
He wheezes. "A hero would stay with me and accept imprisonment. Are you that hero?"
She frowns as the police, ambulance, and fire brigade round the corner of the street. "I don't know." She releases his hand to brushes his hair from his eyes. "But I suppose we will find out."
A smile forms of his face. "Hero, indeed."
She scoffs as the police run towards them and point their guns at her. She lowers herself to her knees and watches as the ambulance carries him away.
Hero was too big of a word for her.
Perhaps they were simply cat and mouse, and she wasn't quite ready to give up the chase.
|
You twist the tail of your new giant mouse costume in your hands, nervously watching the urban horizon. If Winulon doesn't show up soon, you'll just look foolish.
You feel a tug on your great upholstered backside and turn to find a small child. He looks up at you in wonderment. "Are you Chuck E. Cheese?"
Dare you reveal yourself? How to explain your unholy history? You recall the great battles of Nar'Goriath--how you repelled the advancing might of the King's Guard!--as you shift your weight to unstick your testicles from your inner thigh. Damn these chafing mouse-pants! "No," you finally reply. "I am not."
The child looks puzzled. "Then why are you dressed like him?"
You sigh. "I assure you, I am not dressed--"
"Do you like pizza?"
His inquiry so confounds you that for a moment you stand silent, adrift in the modern mayhem that is downtown Boise. You acquired this costume as a sort of poetic farewell--an almost comedic tip of the hat to Winulon before your final descent into the nether realm. This world is beautiful. Ah, to see one last smile before leaving, even if sprang from a visage you once loathed!
Across the street, a man appears to be urinating onto the side of an abandoned chicken restaurant.
"Do you like pizza?" the child asks again.
"No," you snap.
"Do you want to see a picture that I drew?"
"No," you snap.
"Do you know Big Bird?"
You think for a moment, and your heart aches for this child. When you acquired this costume--when you first slipped into its giant head, the trapped heat of your own breath--you felt the embrace of all humanity. Clearly, this was a beloved character. An idol of sorts. If love can animate mere felt and plastic, what sets you apart? Can you not be similarly cherished? "No," you snap.
[https://www.jaywilcoxwriter.net/](https://www.jaywilcoxwriter.net/)
my subreddit (you can subscribe!) --> [https://www.reddit.com/r/JWORX\_531/](https://www.reddit.com/r/JWORX_531/)
|
Rory_LS
|
JWORX_531
|
2024-10-19 03:11:37
|
2024-10-18 18:46:02
| 42 | 28 |
lsms3hb
|
lski42v
|
1g6oion
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1g6oion
|
[WP] Whenever you die, you have the ability to reincarnate at any point in history with full memories of your past lives. Billions of lives later, you realise the truth: Every person ever in history is either your past or future reincarnations. There is no one out here apart from you. You are alone.
|
***1.***
Rock, fall. Big, *biiig* rock. **Whoosh**. Fall far. Fire, much fire, closer, closer. Burned. Big burned. Air bad. Hot. Tired. Less pain when eyes close. Fall asleep. Pain... no more.
***2.***
I... had the most *peculiar* of dreams, dear. I- I was a caveman, you see? A proper caveman - like one you'd see in a museum. And I believe a... meteor fell on me? Oh my. I- I might be faint-headed. Say, could you perhaps fetch the physician? I believe he told me to take some of the laudanum if another spell came across me. Take the carriage and bring him right away, will you? Thank you, dear.
***6.***
My *humblest* thanks for seeing me, Oracle. I- I need you to beseech Apollo or his noble son, Asclepius, to aid me. I am haunted by the most dreadful visions - visions of lives I've not lived, in the strangest times. Lives that seem to be those of men stuck in the distant past or women in a time so far from now I know not how they could be possible. These visions are... the most vivid you could ever imagine, yet from godhood they are not - it must be a curse. Please, fair Oracle, allow me to beg the Immortals for mercy through you - and, of course, offer a humble offering of drachmae.
***168.***
There's no other way around it. They're not dreams. Not hallucinations. I've had this thought process far too many times to ignore it. The information I know is far too precise to be coincidental. They're... memories of past lives. Actual past lives. I- I know it sounds impossible, but... modern neuroscience and psychiatry have failed me; is an outlandish explanation such as this not possible? I need a drink.
***172,596.***
I've just met a man - a fine young man - today, whose face felt familiar. I first thought him a friend I made during the battle of Tsushima when the Mongols invaded, but no. He was... *me*. From when I fought in Tsushima before, thousands of lives ago. I didn't know this was possible! That another life could exist in the same time. This is... a most concerning notion. I must meditate on it.
***49,862,123,114.***
There's nothing here. Nothing except me. It's just... me, over and over again.
I recognize them. *So, so many of them* \- my previous lives, heroes and scoundrels, fair and horrific, and some of them, only a few, recognize me, so... I'm not even the last. I play my parts, I live my lives, compelled by some... primal, unseen drive, forcing me to do things I don't quite want, hurting myself in the past and future, saving them in the next life. But some of them recognize me, leading to one, terrible conclusion - I'm just another member of the chain, the infinite line of lives ahead of me, staring at the line behind me.
As I sit here at the foot of the temple and see a past version of me asking me to beseech Apollo and Asclepius, I can't help but wonder.
Is this Hell?
***991,413,761,833.***
I'm 47 years into this iteration and it's... promising. I haven't seen a single face I've not seen before; haven't met a single version of me that I don't recall. That - that means that this could be it! At long, *long* last, this could be...
Focus. Let's see... engines are doing fine, approach vector is perfect. A little shaky but that's to be expected. I'm... anxious. For the first time in what is right next to forever. Gods, it's been billions of years since I've last been anxious. It feels **exhilarating**!
If the trillions of calculations are correct, I should slip by the event horizon unharmed and fly into the singularity. If the *other* calculations, the cumulative work of billions of lives working in unison, are *also* true, then the singularity of this black hole is not a singular point, but a ring. Which means that I could fly *through* it.
Beyond that, it's a wild guess, even for me. Sometimes I theorised that for information to be preserved past the even horizon, there could be an alternative history, one *with* the black hole, the other *without* it - a parallel universe. A place where I could meet someone *else*.
Or perhaps I'll just get crushed into an infinitely dense point, but maybe - *just maybe* \- I finally won't come back from this one.
And truth be told...
I'm fine with both.
|
At first there was nothing, so much nothing, in fact, that the universe was full. Filled to the brim, spilling over with nothingness. A blank slate. Blanker than a slate, blanker than anything that could possibly be imagined and stretching further than a clear night sky. It wasn't that nothing existed, it was that there was nothing to exist.
Then I blinked. I awoke. And then, there was something. It was me, I, the first and only. Now I didn't remember such an event so it could not have been very significant, but nowadays people, other me's mostly, make such a ruckus about it. The "Big Bang" they've taken to calling it. Why they went with bang I will never know. Then again, it technically was just another me who had first called it such so something in my brain somewhere felt bang to be an appropriate word. I did not.
Then I died. Another very forgettable event. But apparently I must have enjoyed it because I proceeded to do it again, and again, and again. Some terribly painful: a spear through the chest or lungs full of water; others almost relaxing: in a bed by loved ones or resting in a field. But always the same. Always waking up as a new me until somewhere along the line it was only me. Had only ever been me's.
And suddenly that vast nothingness the universe spilled over with before was replaced and now spilled over with me. Until I could not not see it anymore. After a billion reincarnations it became clear that there was never anything that wasn't me.
George Washington? Me.
That one guy on the Price is Right? Me (hell, and it turns out I was the host too).
That other guy on the Price is Right? Also me.
Something strange happens when one consciousness realizes that everyone is them. It's not like they all realize it as you'd hope, no, in fact they believe the one to be crazy. They pin him to a cross or let him rot beneath a bridge. They label him as crazy and tell him he must see a shrink, a shrink who is also him in disguise beneath a white coat and a degree. And he thinks he is better than me because of his education, but I think I am him because I am.
It all spills over but they cannot see, they do not care. Their throats do not close and their brains do not break, only yours does. And you come to the final realization over and over again, the realization that if everyone is everyone, and everything is everything, that nothing truly ever matters. That maybe it never did. That maybe all of these lives and all of this energy mean nothing in comparison to the true nothingness the universe once had.
The final knowing is that it is easier to be a man than a prophet. Nobody likes a prophet who tells the truth.
So I must keep being a man, every man.
I must enjoy the empire of man, of me, forever. At the very least, I am in good company.
|
SirPiecemaker
|
GrunkleStanwhich
|
2023-06-23 16:07:36
|
2023-06-23 15:30:14
| 766 | 97 |
jp8kjxr
|
jp8f1sf
|
14gxxqb
|
14gxxqb
|
[WP] When you were a child, a mercenary made you watch as he killed your entire family in front of you. You swore revenge. Decades later, you've finally tracked them down- ...only to find they're now a pacifistic geriatric who's beloved by his community.
|
**Part 1 of 2**
———————————————————————————
Chimera lifted his left foot, and let gravity tip him until his shoulder bumped against the brown brick wall. He put a cigarette in his mouth, and pulled out his lighter, pressing his thumb harshly on the gear. It turned, and with a satisfying *click,* a flame spurted up and flickered wildly for a moment before it calmed. He lit his cigarette and took a puff. He held in the breath before releasing it, billowing a plume of smoke from his mouth.
Cottonwood Falls was a quaint, pretty town. Chimera watched as three children scampered along the road. He figured many children would be walking past. They were of no interest to him. He was zeroed in on the black 2012 Ford Edge with the Arkansas license plate. He bit down on the end of the cigarette with such frustration that he accidentally bit through it, and the severed end fell from his lips on onto the ground. He grumbled curses as he stamped out the embers and spat out the wet paper. “Come on, bastard. Come on out.”
*”Come on kiddo, come on out.” Declan watched from under the bed as the black boots stepped along their wooden floor. He held his hand over his mouth, horrified, waiting for the man to lean down and meet his gaze.*
*“Come on, you’re the last one.” He tore open a cabinet, and then a closet. He rummaged the room while Declan’s heart beat into the floor so loudly he was sure the man could feel it, and was only toying with him.*
*“COME OUT!” The man yelled, and Declan whimpered instinctively. His heart stopped. Everything stopped. Even the black boots froze as they analyzed the source of the noise. Then they moved. They stepped toward the bed, and then Declan saw the man go on his knees.*
*The barrel of a gun met his eyes, and then the man’s face. “Hi there.” He said.*
Chimera shook his head as he focused again on the car. From around the corner of the school building, Chimera watched an old man walk. He stared at him, his heart began to pound. He knew it was him, and as the man unlocked the car he’d been stalking, it had confirmed everything.
He stepped out, but a voice drew him back out of sight. “Mr. Jeffreys!” A lady ran from around the corner. “I’m sorry to keep you, I just wanted to thank you for helping to organize this event for the kids!”
The monster waved his hand slightly, and Chimera couldn’t hear anything. He brushed his hair back over his shoulder and strolled out. He decided he had to go now. He walked right up to the pair and waved to them. “Hi, Mr. Jeffreys. He said. “My name’s Charlie—but everyone calls me Chimera.” He scrubbed his hair, feigning anxiety, and continued, “I just moved here, so I’m starting here next week. Anyway, I don’t have any classes with you, I just wanted to ask your advice since everyone I’ve met say you give the best.” Chimera smiled in the boyish way he’d practiced.
The woman with them became curious, “I didn’t know about that, where’d you move here from?”
Chimera forced himself not to glare at the man as he answered; “I’m from Conway, Arkansas.” He lied. He was from Arkansas, but not Conway. He turned back to the man, “So… can I ask you something kinda personal?” And then he shot the woman a nervous look so that she would feel like she was intruding. It worked, as she waved goodbye and walked off.
“How can I help you, young man?”
Chimera smiled and pulled a pistol from his belt; “You can give me the car keys.” He answered. The man froze, and meekly offered the keychain. Chimera grabbed it and ordered Jeffrey’s into the car. “Boy, you may want to think about what you’re doing.” He said as Chimera grabbed handcuffs from his bag and put them on.
Chimera slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. He turned up the music and started driving. “My name isn’t Charlie. People do call me Chimera, but my name was Declan.” He said quickly. “I’m from Little Rock.”
“Little Rock…” The man echoed. “I see…”
“Yeah.” Chimera snarled. “Yeah, you do.” He pressed his foot against the gas pedal, and the engine revved as the car jerked forward. He pulled out and drove. He had no idea where he was going to go.
*”Mommy! Daddy!” Declan screamed. The ropes dug into his wrists as he wrestled them. He was too weak, too insignificant. “Please! Let my mommy and daddy go!” He cried.*
*The man smirked, and grabbed a crowbar. He tossed it in his hand once or twice, readjusting his grip, and then drew it back. He brought it down, and Declan screamed, slamming his eyes shut. Every time he heard the bar swing and strike, it felt as through it were smashing the very foundation of the universe. He squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that he began to see colors in the blackness. Wavy lines danced across the void.*
|
"I... Apologize." Says the old man, refusing to look you in the eyes as he does so
.
"I don't forgive you." You reply, through gritted teeth, as you stand from the seat across from him. His eyes widen in fear, face painted with regret."
"Please," He begs, "my family-"
"What about mine?!" You nearly shout, trying to keep your voice down, "My family? The one you destroyed!"
The old man swallows, as he finally looks you in the eyes. Funny how he gains the courage to do so only now, and not at any point during the... well, less conversation, more accusations, that preceded this.
"They didn't deserve-" He starts.
"I... you... I can't... I can't do this. I can't listen to this. Goodbye. I hope you enjoy the rest of your life, you miserable bastard. I never want to see you again." You turn, and leave the room, and then the house, nearly running through the doors. As you leave, you transition to a run, then a sprint, down the street.
You don't stop, even as your breathing grows more frantic and your chest starts to hurt. You don't stop as you leave the street his house sits on, or as you leave the confines of the village for the fields beyond. You don't even stop as you enter the forest beyond. Not that you truly realize it, though, through the tightness in your chest, the thoughts running in circles in your head, and the tears in your eyes.
You do stop, however, when you practically trip over a rotted log some distance into the woods. You stumble, and slow, and finally you stop. You stop, and you stare into nothing as you hyperventilate and shake, sinking to the ground.
'Why...' You think, your thoughts coming heavy and sluggish through the panic.
'Why did I... do that? I... I have been hunting him for years... for decades. Why couldn't I just... end it? Why did I leave? I... he killed them. Why couldn't I do it?'
Your thoughts continue in this pattern for some time, as you sit slumped against the log. Your head is pressed against your knees as you hug them to yourself, heaving silent, shaky sobs.
Your breathing slows, and your thoughts clear, over the course of... minutes? You think they are minutes, at least. It could have been an hour, for all that you can tell.
You suck in a breath, rubbing at your eyes and nose as you raise your head and release your legs from the death grip you had held them in.
"Mom... Dad... I'm sorry. I couldn't... I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him for you. I... I-I just... I couldn't. I'm so sorry." You whisper, trying to keep yourself together, "I guess I just... wasn't strong enough. I know I should have-I was supposed to-I was... I don't know. I... looking at him then, I just... He killed you, and I couldn't see him as anything other... He looked so resigned, when he spoke to me. I couldn't bring myself to kill someone who... I couldn't do to his family as he had done to ours, I suppose. If that makes any sense? I'm not so sure that it does."
You sigh, and brush yourself off while you stand, taking stock of your surroundings as you do so. You start to walk in the direction of the village, so you can find the road that leads to the next town, and pause for a moment as you catch sight of the stars.
"I guess that's it, isn't it? It's over. If I'm not going to kill him... It's finally over." You start to smile, and let out a relieved laugh as you begin to move again.
|
Apexyl_
|
TalesOfNonsense
|
2024-10-26 00:19:06
|
2024-10-25 20:22:30
| 24 | 15 |
ltrtwm2
|
ltqpw1v
|
1gbuzwj
|
1gbuzwj
|
[WP] “Mom…Dad…I’m…” “Gay? We know sweetheart. And we still love yo—-“ “No I’m—“ “Trans too? Oh don’t worry dear we always kind of knew…” “No for the love of god I’ve been turned into a vampire!!”
|
"Relax, honey, we're not entirely surprised..."
"You're not surprised? I'm a vampire! I suck blood! I burn under the sun! I'm a monster! And you're not surprised?"
"Your 1st cousin Trevor was bitten by a werewolf. Your 2nd Aunt Hazel married a skinwalker. Your 3rd Uncle Robert works for an eldritch god and was turned into a Deep One. We have plenty of experience with supernatural beings in the family."
"Mom! For the love of god I—"
"Which god?" Dad interjected.
"There's more than one god out there?"
"...Yea. I thought that was obvious," Dad scratched his chin. "Do you need a mentor to guide you through your transitions?"
Mom spoke up. "I know a few friendly neighborhood vampires who can show you the ropes."
"But I don't wanna be a vampire! I'm gonna miss basking in the sun! I like suntanning!"
"Honey, suntan lotion and sunscreen UV protection exist! You'll be fine!"
"But I'm hungry for blood! I don't wanna suck from people!"
"Lord Elvari has a huge supply of goat's blood for his own consumption. Maybe we can ask him to share his stash with you."
"I am not sharing drinks with some tentacle dude."
"He's a nice tentacle dude. Honey, be nice, he's a god. Divine retribution is very real, and every god has his limits."
"I'm a monster my friends won't hang out with anymore!"
"There are several monster networking groups on Meetup.com. Mom and Dad have a few friends who can link you up with them."
"But I want my human friends!"
"Bite them and bring them to your vampire meetup? The world is more accepting of supernatural beings ever since the masquerade collapsed years ago."
"Mom, Dad, you're too chill. Aren't you freaking out that your daughter is a vampire? Don't humans freak out when their kid is no longer human?"
"But honey, we're Shoggoths in human vessels."
------
[Thank you for reading! Please click here to view more stories by me!](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
|
Mom, pausing a moment, mouth stopped mid motion, Dad comes in for the save, holding a hand up.
“Well…who turned you? Wasn’t any of our family. They would have told us.”
“Wait…what?”
Mom raises a finger, Rob…are you sure?”
“Well, what is the point in hiding it anymore?”
“Mom! Dad! WhatEVER are you talking about?!?”
They look at each other.
“You’re not vampires! I’ve seen you out in sun and everything! And…and…you AGE!”
“Oh baby, we have so much to teach you” my Mom says putting a hand on my shoulder before sitting down and patting the couch beside her.
|
Tregonial
|
Willowrosephoenix
|
2023-11-06 07:02:56
|
2023-11-06 04:49:00
| 309 | 203 |
k81hj3z
|
k815o88
|
17ot6fq
|
17ot6fq
|
[WP] You have worked your entire life to become the world’s greatest mage, almost comically however your annoying little sister just so happens to be a natural talent beyond even the best mages comprehension and everyone loves her.
|
“And in this demonstration, we have Kryne Bauthorn! A studied mage hailing from Bruswall School of Arts Magic.” A man said, sitting behind a pulpit with a wrinkled piece of paper.
I walked through a small archway into the circular room. The floor marbled with designs of a man holding a sword in one hand and a ring in the other—the mark of the Order’s Flame. Above the empty marbled floor were seats filled with no shortage of strange characters. Men who claimed nobility from faraway lands I was sure, I eyed one man in particular who chewed on a coin like gum. There among the audience was a table erected higher than the rest. Three women and two men sat in those chairs, gazes nowhere near him—the Select Five. I would make them look. I had sacrificed everything for today.
I stood at the center, the voices above me mixed and muddied into one horrible sound. The woman at the center of the five raised her hand, and the audience turned to whispers—then a hush. I could hear my heartbeat, the eyes of two of the judges found me. Out of obligation or interest, I didn’t know.
The man behind the table grasped both sides and read from the book with ceremony. “Kryne Bauthorn, to the respected assembly of the Order’s Flame—demonstrate your prowess so that you may be elected in service of war.” He lucked up from the book. “I wish you luck.” He stepped away and nodded toward a soldier standing near the exit.
That soldier moved with a purpose he knew. His hand spun open a metal grating, pulling the chain’s slack in until what emerged was the Flesh. An amalgamation of hands, feet, eyeballs, and lapping tongues. To me, that thing defied logic. It was different seeing a Flesh in person. The hair on my skin stiffened with danger paddling toward me on hands and feet. So this is what the Order’s Flame fought against. My eyes landed on the Select Five and then back to the Flesh. What had these twenty years of diligent practice been for? Since I was five, I had practiced every day without fail. A flame erupted inside of my hand. Confidence.
The Flesh smelled me, charged me. Its screams ran in all directions from its many mouths, its hands and feet moved in sync. The ground beneath me vibrated under its weight. My hand roared its dragon’s breath, and consumed the Flesh. It lit. Its screams turned to shrieks, the many tormented within its grasps cried in their own confusion, begging for a forgiveness that wouldn’t come—only judgment.
The Flesh collapsed to the ground and the Select Five gave me their gaze for the first time. Under the crackling sound of flesh and its horrible, horrible smell—there was a gentle applause. Nothing more, nothing less.
The man walked back to his table and turned to the next page in his book. “The Select Five will now make their decree.” He looked up toward the sky where they sat. My heart sank just a bit when I saw the first thumb turn downward. Then one up. The woman in the middle frowned, her mind not made up. The man next to her gave a thumbs up, and the woman on the end a thumbs down. It was up to the last of the Select Five, the woman who sat at the center of it all—to decide my fate of twenty years efforts.
My throat choked on saliva and eyes bulged. Her hand pointed down, thumb scoring the earth and him with it.
“You are average at best. That Flesh? Weak. Yet, everyone in this assembly can see for themselves. You might be able to kill two more before becoming conjoined. The Order’s Flame is too dangerous for you. Find yourself a day job.”
I collapsed to my knees. They pulled me up by my pits and carried me out.
|
I worked. Gods, I worked.
I bled my hands raw copying spells by candlelight, muttering incantations until my throat cracked, subjecting myself to every grueling test of will, endurance, and intellect imaginable. I studied the tomes of the Ancients, deciphered the lost languages of forgotten civilizations, mastered magic beyond the comprehension of lesser minds. I suffered. I sacrificed. And for what?
For my little sister to waltz in, wave her hand, and make me look like a fool.
I trained under the greatest archmages of our time. She turned a frog into a wyvern when she was five because she thought it’d be funny.
I spent decades honing the sacred art of elemental convergence. She sneezed and accidentally summoned a localized thunderstorm.
I was hailed as a prodigy, a once-in-a-generation mind, the destined Grand Magus of the Age. Now? Now I am "Elaine’s elder sister."
Everywhere I go, it's the same. "Oh, Elaine did the impossible! Elaine rewrote the fundamental laws of mana flow! Elaine is the future of magic itself!" And what do I get? A condescending pat on the back.
"Don’t be jealous," they say. "Isn’t it wonderful that talent runs in the family?" No! No, it is not wonderful! It is infuriating! Do you know what it’s like to devote your entire existence to the arcane arts only to be outshined by someone who doesn’t even *try*?
I shamed myself like Brida, clawing my way through ridicule and hardship to earn my place, only for my sister to be some Glinda-esque miracle worker, beloved by all. It is almost comical how little she cares, how easily everything comes to her. It’s as if the gods themselves looked at me and said, "Yes, you shall be great—but your sister shall be greater, and you will live in her shadow."
And yet, no one mocks her. No one resents her. They all *love* her.
I hate that I cannot.
I should. I want to. But when she grins at me, all bright-eyed and oblivious, showing me yet another impossible spell she created just because she was bored, I can’t bring myself to feel anything but exhausted admiration. I spent years trying to defy magic’s limits; she was born without them.
So I will keep pushing. I will keep working. Because, in the end, there is one thing I have that she does not.
I *earned* this.
|
cwjackwrites
|
Prestigious_Rip_4449
|
2025-03-31 20:40:20
|
2025-03-31 20:22:21
| 27 | 16 |
mkqxsws
|
mkqu6jr
|
1jo5tfu
|
1jo5tfu
|
[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.
|
It was once again...Thanksgiving.
Our family was renowned across the universe, for birthing the strongest magicians of all fields...yet they didn't know something.
During holidays...when the entire family gathers, we compete in a different way one might expect.
Those who mastered fire spells make the perfect roast, and cook the food to the perfect temperature.
Those who mastered ice create the best cold deserts, and keep the food from going bad...
And me?
He-he.
I came home, and entering the house, the space enlarged, easily being the size of several planets.
Hundreds of thousands of clansmen, servants, and helpers were busy preparing for the holiday.
"Oy, Greeny! You back?", a cousin shouted.
I nodded.
"Hey, guys, Greeny is back, come with the baskets!", he chuckled, as many relatives ran towards me, with huge baskets, grinning, eagerly telling me to give them the good stuff already.
I chuckled, and waved my hand, as those giant baskets were filled with fruits, vegetables, and herbs, enough to feed millions.
My cousin whistled.
"Damn, your Nature magic leveled up, didn't it?
Every single of those items could make a mortal go from being a non-initiated individual, to a rank-3 professional in whatever field they want to.
Tsk...how do you fill them up with so much energy?", he asked.
I chuckled.
"I am just that good.", I said, leaving.
I saw my necromancer relatives animate the corpses of the beasts, the warrior branch hunted, and taking them to the kitchen.
The water field related mages were creating an ocean, while using the grapes I brought, they were making a watered down version of my wine.
Not blaming them, my wine coudl K.O. a god if not watered down.
I reached the main hall after a few hours of walking, and talking with some relatives, where I met the main family: my parents, and siblings.
They were...dissecting a leviathan.
"Oy kiddo, come bring some seasoning, I just caught this fella in the Water Universe!", dad laughed.
The Leviathan was the size of a smaller planet...
I laughed, and joined them.
I loved the holidays, especially since soon, under the influence of emotions, and good booze, the fun will start.
Will Empires rise or fall? Will we wake up once again in a new universe? Or will we find out once again how to time travel?
Heh...let the festivities begin.
|
\[Poem\]
I dreamt of a butterfly
Adrift in the winds of summer
Free from the confines of 'er own mind
To think as it wished
To love as it may
Yet in the shadows of Autumn
In those oppressive shades
Lay hands awaiting
Strings snatching wings away
And so fell the butterfly
Into the eternal dusk of Winter
A place of Hell and darkened embers
Hardened shrieks sounding
From those heavenly towers
Each crumbling down
As hope stolen by gathering shadows
Coalesce into bloom and May
Wings clipped, resolve thin
Yet inspired by coming Spring
The butterfly wept in sorrow
But from bloom came salvation
For out came a firefly
Casting the scheming darkness away
Inviting them to the dark
Embers alit with determination
The butterfly found 'er wings again
For when darkness shouted, yelled for doubts anew
They always had the firefly
The one brave and bold enough to let her fly again
For there was need for nothing more.
|
TheWanderingBook
|
ThenSpinach5
|
2024-11-29 12:09:51
|
2024-09-06 20:10:08
| 94 | 16 |
mwty9up
|
llul0wz
|
1l74m4l
|
1famu0u
|
[WP] Aphrodite is talking to Ares. "Y'know, Persephone gives Hades flowers everyday. I wish you'd do that." The next day, Ares goes to the Underworld and gives Hades flowers. "Yeah, I'm not really sure why Aphrodite wanted me to do this, but here you go."
|
Persephone stopped in the doorway, looking at the sight before her. Ares held the flowers out before himself for a second more, turned to look at her, and hastily jammed them into Hades' hands.
"Well, isn't this cute. I swear, Hades, you never had as many suitors as you've had since we wed."
"Hi, Perse," Ares said, glancing at the bunch of peonies in her hand. "Aphrodite said you give Hades flowers every day, and said she wished I'd do the same. I don't understand why, but--"
Persephone snorted so violently she started choking on her own tongue. Hades headed over to his wife, who was breathing hard, trying to recover her breath.
"I've just got to clear my throat," she said roughly, and coughed again. "I'll be back in a moment."
Persephone staggered from the room, leaving Hades and Ares alone.
"I didn't get her hint again, did I?" Ares asked, sighing as he looked at the flowers around the room.
"Not as such, no." Hades clapped his nephew on the back. "When you love the Goddess of Love, you have you remember that she doesn't talk as blunt as a sword to the face--you need to interpret her subtleties."
Ares sighed and accepted his uncle's gentle leading towards the exit. He stood up straight, settling his sword better on his hip, and headed back towards Olympus, roses in hand. He'd get it right this time.
Just inside the entrance to Hades' realm, he passed Hera and Persephone talking in hushed voices. The hair on the back of his neck stood up a little as an embarrassed flush crept up his neck. From the way the women were studiously ignoring his presence, he realised they were talking about him.
"Hi, mum," he called, waving a hand to her.
Hera broke off her conversation with Persephone. "Hello, Ares. Getting some advice from your uncle?"
Ares nodded. "Yeah. But I better go, Dite's waiting."
Hera nodded and turned back towards Persephone, but not before he saw the corners of her lips lift.
The sound of Hera's giggles followed him from the underworld, walking with his face in his hands.
*Damn women.*
|
Hades:out of curiosity nephew, how did that conversation go?
Persephone:*currently rolling on The floor while ares explains*
Hades:it was a Mather if syntaxis i see. *Grabs some flowers given to him by his wife*,dear is it okay if I send ares with these?
Persephone:* makes an approval gesture with a hand while recovering from laughter*
Hades:next time try to ask for clarification just in case.
Ares: i will never gonna live this down, am I?
Hades: you can die this down but that is a different circumstance
Ares:... You wanted to make that joke A long time ago dint you
Hades:*smug expression* you would be surprised he w often I get the chance
|
HellStoneBats
|
RamiroGalletti
|
2023-01-07 07:34:05
|
2023-01-07 05:44:35
| 1,015 | 57 |
j3b4ok2
|
j3auu38
|
105g4gs
|
105g4gs
|
[WP] In a world of dragons, sorcery, war, and monsters, there are many risks and even risk takers. Everyone though, elf, monster, or man knows to avoid those few ancient ruins that contain symbols of suffering and a word of the ancients, RADIATION.
|
# No Place of Honour
*Part One of Two*
“I have a bad feeling about this place.”
Freya shot an annoyed glance over her shoulder. “Keep it down, Marik. I’d rather not alert those guards we passed earlier.”
The little wizard wrung his hands, looking up at her with wide eyes. “That’s just it – I’ve never seen armour like that, and we all read the warnings. That was more languages than I could even count, all saying the same thing!” His voice dropped to a whisper as he eyed the huge metal doors they were huddled beneath. “Turn back.”
“They *would* say that,” Kley muttered as they tinkered with the locks. Their tools lay in a haphazard pile at their feet, several pieces of carefully disassembled alarms and traps scattered around them. “Whoever built the place wants to keep their treasures away from clever entrepreneurs like us. Ghost stories work just fine!”
“But some of the texts out there aren’t even spoken any more! They–”
A noise drew Freya’s attention away from the whispered argument. She peered down the rough-hewn corridor they’d followed to reach the doors, and saw the flickering glow of torchlight steadily coming closer.
“Shit,” she hissed. “Better hurry up, Kley, we’re about to have company.”
“Almost got it–”
*”Did you hear that?”*
“Nine Hells,” Freya cursed, fumbling at her belt for the little canister she knew was there. “Out of time!”
*”Intruders! You must not open the vault!”*
*”Stop them!”*
Freya leaned away from the wall and threw the little canister towards the running figures. It hit the floor a few feet in front of them and shattered, erupting in a bright flash and burst of deafening sound that sent the darkly shrouded forms reeling away from it with shrieks of pain and shock.
“Any time now!” she grunted, readying her pistol. “I’d prefer not to shoot someone tonight!”
“Got it!” Kley yelled, throwing their tools together as fast as they could. “Get the door!”
“About time!”
Freya chucked a smoke bomb after the dazzler for good measure, then turned to haul at the solid block of steel, the hinges groaning with protest as she strained against the weight. The doors shifted far too slowly, the shouts of their pursuers getting closer by the second, more clamouring voices joining in as the alarm echoed down the halls of the cave system.
Marik shrieked as a blindly fired net smacked into the doors and fell to the floor in a tangled heap. The halfling scurried away, pressing themselves through the widening gap in the door as soon as they could, Kley following hot on their heels.
Freya cursed and dropped her backpack, pressing herself flat through the narrow gap after them. She slipped through with a grunt, the air pressed out of her chest.
*”You can’t! Please, come back!”*
“Close it, Marik!” Kley yelled.
The little mage nodded and pointed his staff at the door. “Arcane Lock!”
*”No!”*
|
The ancients before us were better. We've known that for as long as even *can.* Ironically, the pursuit of what came before only drags us farther from it. War, fought over and over for what our ancestors had.
Grand flying machines, beasts of unfathomable speed, steels of unparalleled strength. We scavenge the ruins, piecing together their technology from information and guides scattered throughout the world.
This mad pursuit of technological reclamation has driven towards what else they've left behind, including manuals and books. Linguistic analysis is still ongoing. Still, there was one thing even the ancients clearly feared to at least some extent.
Those who have felt say it doesn't like much at first, but it slowly creeps like a miasma. Our scouts bring back signs, text. The symbol seems to be universal. A single circle, surrounded by three 2D-cone like things. Everywhere these are placed, usually in large facilities where some machinery or *something* was operated, is filled with what is called in many different languages, RADIATION.
Their texts reveal that radiation is more of a force than a thing, that it is emitted by a certain radioactive objects. Radiation can apparently be blocked using certain materials, things like lead, but something to shield a being is yet to be discovered.
To this day, these ruins still remain permeated with this radiation. Little lives there for long.
Well, little are unaffected.
|
Zetakh
|
Skyshock-Imperative
|
2023-05-03 19:15:53
|
2023-05-03 16:15:53
| 330 | 132 |
jiqh552
|
jipp7o7
|
136lj9v
|
136lj9v
|
[WP] “You said she is an elemental mage, what element she specializes on? Fire? Earth? Water?” “Actinides.”
|
There was a bit of an air of emptiness around this fairy. Her mismatched look indicated that she was an outcast, but Alex could not understand why. Was it three eyes? No, some other fae had three. Was it the wing shape? No, just uncommon. Alex saw other fae with such traits. And four hands was as common as it got.
"Protector", she said, staring dead in his eyes. "Great Protector, I need your advice as a human."
Alex rose one eyebrow. He was a paranormal researcher and a little bit of a diplomatist between the different kinds of beings. He was good enough at his job that fae lived in his garden. But he have never seen this fairy, or anyone like her for that matter. A little bit empty, devoid of colours, with head of white hair not unlike clover, and with a three-leaved clover sewn onto her dress, burned and patched.
"Could you tell me more?"
"Your mechanic told me about the things she saw on television. Including something about metals that shed light that kills."
Well, Mali Cardus wasn't his mechanic, more like Alex rented out his garage for the tinkerer fairy, and she loved listening to some scientific channels while working. And Mali was unorthodox, so of course she could have an unorthodox friend.
"Yes?"
"Tell me more. Tell me more about them, human!"
The wings lit up with yellow patterns, somewhat recognisable. A yellow trefoil on a black background. Was that a sign of radioactivity? The dress caught fire and the fairy put it out not giving much attention.
"Tell me. What do you know of the deadly light."
Alex scratched his head. He didn't remember much about it. Except for the basics.
"Well, some metals are too heavy for their own good, so they break down. Like if you hit a glowing mushroom it will light up. But as the metal is made of smaller parts than the mushroom, so is their light, sort of."
"Sort of? What is their sort?"
"I don't know much, but I can give you a video about it."
As the fairy was mesmerized by the charisma of Kyle Hill, Alex noted down this encounter with what seemed to be a living gamma lazer. Would he need something special to clean up after this guest? His worries were interrupted.
"I wish to go there, Alex."
"Where exactly?" Alex asked helplessly and hoped that the fey asked to meet Kyle and not to go to Chernobyl.
|
At Maki Corp., they hire the greatest magical assassins. Og and Barry sat at a desk, next to each other, in Og's office. "About that Sara girl...", started Barry. "Yes?"
“You said she is an elemental mage; what element she specializes on? Fire? Earth? Water?”, said Barry. “Actinides.”
The door opened, and Sara, the interviewee, entered. "Hello, Sara", said Og. She shook both of their hands before sitting down. "Tell me about yourself", said Og. "I've been utilizing magic for five years..." "So, how exactly does one kill a person with actinides?", asked Barry. "Radioactivity", she responded. There was a pause. "Have you ever killed someone with this?", he asked. "I've killed 20 people with it. I snuck pebbles of various elements into their clothes. The exposure to their skin, after a while, was lethal." "Well, that's what we're looking for", said Barry, smiling. "We'll give you a call on Monday", said Og, "That is all." "Thank you", she said.
|
Sany_Wave
|
ShySilverSurvivor
|
2023-12-06 21:00:17
|
2023-12-06 19:29:28
| 16 | 11 |
kca08o5
|
kc9laf2
|
18c44yw
|
18c44yw
|
[WP]The humans go into the dreamscape and survive for 8 hours and they do it everyday....according to all that we know...this is impossible.
|
In the 25 years since humans developed the ability to travel at light speed, so much had changed for our species. It took a bit, but once we found other "people" and joined the Galactic Federation, life as humans once knew it on Earth completely changed.
I was one of the first Earth kids to attend a Sector University. Pretty much the galactic version of a state college - high diversity, decent tuition if you lived in-sector (and grants available for those who didn't), and of course, a strong focus on sports.
That's actually how I got my scholarship. I had no idea what Dream Running was, but apparently, I was one of the best at it, even amongst other humans. I was head-hunted by galactic scouts during my last two years of high school. I was known for daydreaming and occasionally falling asleep in class. My teachers hated it, but apparently, these scouts had never seen anything like it and offered me a full ride, including room and board for my family, so they could be close. They were serious!
My first week on campus was pretty typical, lots of wandering around campus trying to find the right building, sitting through the syllabus and ice-breaker nonsense in each class, and meeting all kinds of new people of every species, from all over the galaxy. Everyone I met was shocked when I told them what I was recruited for, and some even got uncomfortable and walked away. It was weird. Until I went to my first practice and learned *why* I was so different.
I walked into the "gym," fully expecting to see a regular Earth-type school gym or at least a track - it was called "Dream *Running,*" after all. But, instead, I found myself in a room that looked like something out of a manual on how to relax, but with specialized monitoring equipment attached to each station. Each of these "dreaming stations" had a screen above it that showed what the players were seeing in their dream runs. It was something between a spa inside a sleep study lab combined with an e-gaming competition.
I looked around at my new teammates, again, astonished at what I saw. These guys looked like the things nightmares would be afraid of, but they were all dressed head to toe in soft, fluffy robes and satin pajamas. My brain could not process the contrast, and I just stood there, staring.
I was trying to imagine what it would be like to meet these guys under literally any other circumstances. I'd probably be terrified, but seeing them like this was completely disarming, and I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity. I spotted my friend, Mike, talking to someone who looked a bit like a short (7ft or so) giraffe with the muscles of a gorilla wearing a pink robe. He waved me over, and the other guy took a tentative step back but tried to play it off like he was just shifting his weight.
"I was just telling Glark here that humans actually have to dream or we go insane. He says we're already insane if we do this willingly. Glark, this is my buddy, Dave. We went to school together back on Earth. He's even better at this than I am!" Mike slapped me on the back, making me take a step forward, and Glark jumped.
I laughed awkwardly and waved at Glark. "I'm not sure what I'm so good at, but," I gestured at the dreaming stations, "this all seems pretty neat!" Glark raised his eyebrows in either confusion or awe, I couldn't tell. "And yeah, Mike is right. Humans have to sleep every day, and dreaming is just part of the sleep cycle. Happens to everyone, even animals."
Glark was shocked. "You put your *pets* in there?!" Mike and I looked at each other, confused. "No?" We both said together. "We don't really have a choice, dude. Like Dave said, it just happens when we sleep."
"And you guys just... hang out in the Dreaming every night? How do you leave?!" Glark was thoroughly nonplussed, but seemed more curious than incredulous now that I had confirmed what Mike told him. I looked at Mike, who had the same look on his face I felt like I had, then back at Glark. "Leave? You mean wake up? That just kind of happens on its own, or we use an alarm." Mike nodded, adding, "Sometimes dreams can get really intense, and we'll wake up from that, but those are rare. Most people call them nightmares."
Glark was really interested now, and shifted forward a bit. "Ok! And how do you defeat these "Night Mares"? With conventional weapons, or do you need magic?" I couldn't help but laugh, but I stopped myself immediately because I could tell he was truly serious and trying to understand. "Like I said, we just wake up most of the time, and the dream ends." Mike said. I could tell that didn't satisfy old Glark's curiosity, and I didn't want him to think we were hiding the truth from him or anything.
"We really don't understand dreaming all that well, to be honest," I said. Glark sat back again, still looking interested, but now even more confused as in his mind, we were masters of this craft. "Some people can do something called "lucid dreaming," like Mike and I can, where you can sort of control what happens in your dreams, but even then, that's super rare and not 100% reliable for every dream."
Glark sat down. "Con...control your dream? Without assistance, you can enter the Dreaming, move about freely, encounter Dream Beings, and leave without a scratch. And you do this every single night?" He wasn't really asking us, more just thinking out loud to the air in front of him.
A soft bell rang, and Glark stood up. "Come on, it's time for the huddle." He started to walk away but turned back and looked at Mike and me one more time. It looked like he was about to ask another question, but he just shook his head and turned toward the group gathering near the babbling brook. Mike and I followed, feeling very confused, but nap time was calling, and I was born ready to play this game.
|
As Sam's consciousness drifted deeper into the realm of dreams, reality began to warp and bend. The confines of his bedroom melted away, replaced by a kaleidoscope of impossible vistas and phantasmagorical landscapes. His mind, free from the constraints of the waking world, soared through the skies.
Sam found himself diving into oceans of shimmering light, the liquid luminescence parting around his body. Schools of creatures that were part fish, part constellation, darted past him. He could breathe underwater.
As he emerged from the radiant sea, Sam's feet touched down on a beach where each grain of sand was a swirling galaxy. The horizon before him stretched and twisted, folding in on itself like a möbius strip. In the distance, mountains floated, their peaks brushing against clouds that rained upwards.
Beings of impossible geometry approached Sam. They spoke to him in languages made of color and emotion, conveying concepts that his waking mind could never comprehend. Sam conversed with them effortlessly, his dream-self fluent in the dialect.
High above the Earth, in the confines of their observation vessel, Dr. Zara and Captain Elonn watched in rapt fascination. The holographic display before them pulsed and flared, mirroring the intense activity in Sam's cerebral cortex. Brainwave patterns danced across the screen, spiking and fluctuating in ways the aliens had never seen in any other species.
"Remarkable," Dr. Zara murmured, her large, almond-shaped eyes reflecting the oscillating patterns. "The neural pathways are creating and dissolving at an unprecedented rate. It's as if the entire structure of his consciousness is being rebuilt with each passing moment."
Captain Elonn leaned in closer, his brow furrowed in concentration. "And you say this happens every night? To every human?"
"With varying degrees of intensity, yes," Dr. Zara confirmed, her fingers dancing over the control panel, zooming in on specific areas of activity. "But this subject, Sam, exhibits particularly vivid patterns. His dreamscape appears to be exceptionally rich and detailed."
As they watched, Sam's brainwaves surged again, causing several alarms to chime. The two aliens exchanged a glance. Whatever was happening in Sam's mind, it was clear that it was something beyond their understanding of consciousness and reality.
The intensity of Sam's dream experience was unlike anything she had observed in their years of studying human sleep patterns. She turned to Captain Elonn, her voice filled with a mixture of excitement and urgency.
"Captain, I believe we have an unprecedented opportunity here," she said, gesturing towards the pulsating display. "What if we could experience this dreamscape firsthand? Our neural interface will allow us to join Sam in his dream state."
Captain Elonn's expression shifted from curiosity to concern. "Join him? Dr. Zara, the risks of such an experiment are incalculable. We have no idea how our consciousness would interact with the humans."
Dr. Zara nodded, acknowledging the captain's reservations. "I understand your concerns, but consider the potential knowledge we could gain."
As they debated, the ship's systems emitted a series of urgent beeps. The holographic display flickered and expanded, showing a dramatic spike in Sam's neural activity.
"Look at this," Dr. Zara exclaimed, her slender fingers dancing across the control panel. "The intensity is increasing exponentially."
Captain Elonn frowned, his internal conflict visible in the set of his shoulders. "The Council would never approve such a risky endeavor."
"By the time we ask, this opportunity will be lost," Dr. Zara argued, her voice rising. "Captain, in all our years of exploration, have we ever encountered anything like this? A species that can so routinely access the dimension beyond reality?"
The captain's gaze shifted between the eager face of his lead researcher and the mesmerizing display of Sam's dream state. The alarms continued to chime, adding a sense of urgency to the moment.
"If we don't act now," Dr. Zara pressed, "we may never fully understand this. Think of what it could mean for our understanding of the consciousness itself."
Captain Elonn's expression remained stern, but a flicker of curiosity danced in his eyes. The decision weighed heavily upon him as the ship's systems continued to alert them to the growing anomaly in Sam's brainwave patterns.
|
dimladiar
|
Zerozero22
|
2024-10-03 15:36:32
|
2024-10-03 13:49:18
| 43 | 31 |
lq5ieoz
|
lq4wzgl
|
1fv0vvn
|
1fv0vvn
|
[WP] A millennium ago, only the wealthiest were allowed to board the ship, allowed to escape this dying planet into space. In their absence the world healed and humanity built a new utopia. Now, the ulta-rich have returned and want to reap the benefits of the new world.
|
I’m an old man now, but I was young when they left. You have to understand how bad it was in those days- the air wanted to choke us, the earth wanted to drown us and anyone upset enough with things to want to change them was too tired to do anything about it. Early 30’s news started telling us there was a plan to get us off of earth and we were all so happy. I grew up hearing every day that it was the end of the world and now there was a shining hope. There was a slew of movies and shows about exploring the universe and sexy aliens and they started calling my generation the “spacers”. Born just in time to explore the stars.
Well that’s how it started anyway. The first year the president and nasa promised, tears in their eyes, “a seat for every human”. News crews started filming the building of “The Adam” and to most of us the scale seemed wild. They had to build the thing in orbit and press people said it was “the size of Texas”. The sensible people came out of the woodwork on the internet and started talking about how that couldn’t be possible, we didn’t have the science to build something on that scale. Some of em were even experts in their field. They were dismissed as “doomers” and most people ignored them. Eventually their point that even if the Adam was as big as reported it wouldn’t be enough space for every person started to stick though.
The next year the story was that many ships like the Adam would be built. Then they started talking about the “advance party”. A group of experts and the best humanity had to offer to prepare a planet for the rest of us. There were leaks at that point of the Adam’s actual scale and that other ships weren’t getting built. We didn’t mind though- this was a good plan, send our best first and then we can come next- of course it would take a while and the Adam was coming together very quickly now.
You’ve read about what happens next year of course. The worst part for me was how it seemed like nobody did anything when the truth about the real passengers of the Adam came out. The manifest was full of old rich white men, a couple stars, a slew of cronies, toadies, mistresses and servants. 100,000 people all told, and precious few actual explorers or experts. The angel girl who leaked the info on the internet was arrested for treason and strangled in jail. Some believed her but most were busy with life and wrote it off. It wasn’t until the shuttles carrying our old oligarchs left that we realized we had been abandoned.
But here’s the thing- not much really changed at first. For all the wealth they had, these rulers contributed very little. For a while the people the oligarchs had chosen to fill the vaccum tried to maintain the status quo. But something had changed. The soul of the people of earth had been hurt and for a moment in time we all understood that the rich weren’t good or special or deserved to be followed- they had betrayed us at every turn and proved at the last that they were unworthy of us. The next 5 years- the years of the guillotine- were spent in a frenzy of destruction the world over. In the end we realized that poor people have no reason to hurt each other- that we aren’t so different.
That’s when we felt the truth- we hadn’t been abandoned- our yoke had been lifted. We could feed everyone, house everyone- give everyone the chance to breathe and think. The money we had been slaves to was all pretend anyway and we were free to put value where it belonged. In the 50’s a couple kids who would have starved in India invented telomerex- and all of a sudden people could live a lot lot longer. I didn’t get it soon enough to save me from the grey hair but that’s alright by me.
We all started taking the long view. We didn’t waste effort making fake value. We didn’t rob tomorrow for today. We didn’t value one person, no matter how smart or strong or likable above another. You were born in a world like this but I can’t express enough how much better it is. We were cattle once. Cattle to feed the ego of the spoiled.
So you tell me the oligarchs are coming back. They’ll be here in a few years, and they’re sending messages of peace and reconciliation. I have lived a millennia and I’m telling you now- it’s not long enough to forgive them. Even if it was, a hundred millennia wouldn’t be long enough for me to trust them. Happiness was a zero sum game to them and there’s nothing they wouldn’t do to get what they wanted. None of them were moral- you can’t have as much as them when your neighbor has so little and be moral. They tricked us, threatened us, killed us as they liked. The world was theirs and it suffered in their hands.
I don’t like violence- I see my progeny and I smile in this land of peace, a land without desperation. I laid down my weapons a long long time ago. I tell you this so you understand- treat them like a boat full of plague. Stop up your ears to their message. Trust nothing they say. You have become so much better than I ever was- make your best decision. I believe in you. You did ask for my recommendation though, and I’m telling it to you now-
Nuke them from orbit.
|
The whirring sound had reached decibel levels loud enough to turn mellowists, misaphonic. It was more probing than piercing, returning periodically beginning last month, each time lessening it's past half-life.
Most commoners knew not what this alarm meant. But it was worth alleviating the headache to find out. The community council figured it was time for an inquiry. They knew other regions had been subject to the same numbing torture. They knew, the aeronautics agency had meticulously collected intel to be disseminated on request. Now was the time.
"What are we looking at?," asked Xwhi, committee chair.
"I don't have a clue, looks like a flying viral vessel," Gye, subcommittee spokesperson answered.
"It looks like a carpet lollipop," Xwhi jested.
"That's one hell of a relic," Gye went.
Smirks, silence.
"So what do we do? I've only read about this type of shit before, never even seen one depicted," Xwhi said.
Pop!
All of a sudden the loudest whistle rung out. It was as if a shrill rush of air was being blasted into a tennis ball. It was warming up outside, beyond what the forecast called for.
At center square, onlookers craned their necks upward. The vessel was slowly descending towards the empty westward plains.
Xwhi's tele-ring beamed fluorescent light. As did Gye's. As they simultaneously thumbed its underside, a message projected in their palms. It read, 'URGENT - Please contact all community members including transitional persons by tele-ring or preferred method of communication. Have them watch this five-minute video on intergalactic visitation.'
"I knew it," sighed Gye. Gye's face contorted into an expression of unrelenting disgust. It was as if Gye was put into a moldy caste, and retrieved as a statuesque figure.
"Talk please, you're giving me contact nerves," claimed Xwhi.
"I think we need to focus on this community mess-"
Suddenly Gye's tele-ring buzzed the same whirring sound that was heard by all before. It was going off at a fever pitch but contained to room level loudness.
"Fuck that," Gye tapped the device twice.
Seconds later the device went off again, seemingly louder than before. Once again, Gye tapped twice.
Then Gye's tele-ring beamed a fluorescent light and whirred at the same time. Gye thumbed the device, a message read 'Gye, please contact your local light-speed engineering representative as soon as physically possible.'
The whirring continued. Gye took the tele-ring off.
Xwhi's ring then began to whir the same sound as Gye's. As did Xwhi's beams light up.
"What is this shit?," Xwhi shouted. Xwhi thumbed the device and received the same message as Gye.
The whirring on Xwhi's tele-ring continued. Xwhi tapped it once. A voice protruded from the center of Xwhi's palm. These tele-rings bent relative dimensions.
The voice shrieked, "Welcome, have I contacted descendant Xwhi?"
"I'm going to give you a minute," Gye said and stepped out the committee suite.
Xwhi, confused, replied "who is this?"
"Is this Xwhi of First-Earth-Salvaged, tropical region?" the voice demanded.
"Shit!" Xwhi immediately took the tele-ring off.
The only creatures known to refer to earth as 'First-Earth-Salvaged' were the once elite habitants. Years ago, they jettisoned off to unexploited planets, leaving behind the masses to deal with a cratering world. Family, friends, coworkers and any sympathizers were left behind to scrap for diminishing resources.
It was said they continually gutted any planet they touched, only returning to those that were able to overcome their fate and become "Salvaged". When they came back, they snarled well wishes to distant relatives in hopes of reconnecting. Not one planet that wasn't officially "Destroyed" ever hosted or answered them back.
|
None
|
todosdiasgotear
|
2023-01-10 21:51:06
|
2023-01-10 19:46:21
| 2,849 | 140 |
j3t2wv4
|
j3shryz
|
108fkpv
|
108fkpv
|
[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."
|
My eyes popped silently. How could Carla do this? How could she stand in front of that man, expressionless, yet so full of compassion and kindness, after he slaughtered my kin.
“You-can’t—“ I tried, my heart aching underneath the weight of my dead ancestors.
“If I killed them, then I’d be just like them,” Carla whispered hoarsely. I couldn’t see her face anymore from underneath the debris of the collapsing hall. We didn’t have much time left, and our mission was not complete.
The man opposite her paused briefly. Then he erupted into chaotic laughter.
“Foolish girl,” he bellowed. “So vain and predictable.”
She went to speak when he reared his leg and knocked the remaining structure of the nearest pillar. It fell one last time and she took a step.
One misstep backwards and she was underneath the weight of the pale marble. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t help. I couldn’t even breathe as the dust gathered in my throat, feeling like a thousand sheets of sandpaper made their home inside of it.
“As for you—“ the man grumbled, stepping over my now lifeless friend-or was she a friend? She has promised to avenge my family. Her own boyfriend. The very people who’d taken her in after her own family were slaughtered like pigs in a farm.
I trembled as he stepped closer.
“I shall end the bloodline,” he finished, three feet away from me.
I made a decision. Right there. Right then. A promise, not to myself, but to my family.
And I would not break that promise. Not like Carla.
The man smiled again as he shortened the gap, but his smile faded as a sharp punch in his stomach roared pain through his entire body. He stared into my eyes briefly, refusing to look down.
I could see how much it hurt.
But I was not satisfied.
Another sharp punch and he gasped. I gazed into his eyes yet again. “This is for my family.”
I repeated the action again. And again. And again. I didn’t look away from his eyes, but my peripheral began turning red; I’m positive from his blood.
Five minutes went by and then, he collapsed onto the floor in a sputtering mess, crimson ichor leaking from his orifices.
It was done. I had avenged my family. My sister. My brothers. My mother.
Carla didn’t move still. Her torso was crushed underneath the weight of the pillar. But I wasn’t sad. I was…relieved. It was over, that was that.
I turned my back on the collapsing hall, the sunlight filtering the entryway.
And as my eyes made contact with the bright sun, my mother’s bloody dagger left my grasp, and I let the destruction of the hall take what was left of Carla.
And my father.
(hope this is good, haven’t written in ages and wanted to get back into it)
|
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))
|
None
|
jimmysaint13
|
2024-03-08 10:03:32
|
2024-03-08 09:47:07
| 57 | 11 |
ktwc2fu
|
ktwaq8j
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1b9dtij
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1b9dtij
|
[WP] When the king sent out the berserker to save his daughter from the castle she's in with a ferocious dragon, the Last thing he expected to find in the pile of severed heads the man brought, is the head of the princess herself. And yet it's here, displayed proudly dangling on his hip.
|
The kingdom of Mechanka, as is well known, is often beset by dragons of various sorts - from the relatively tame but irritating Zujats (resembling a jeweled bee) to the monstrous and destructive Zmaj, which devour whole ships, gnaw on mines and burp out dangerous gasses which they light. After all, they note (as dragons are quite intelligent), they would be losing their credibility if they didn’t set something alight. The humble robotniks and swinkers disagreed. Seeing the local forge masters more than once a generation was quite expensive.
Now, the fairest of the king’s daughters was Magona. Her hair was spun of the finest gold, her eyes cobalt blue, her telescoping arms and legs were of polished chromium. Her heart hummed. Her voice was pure ones and zeroes.
Alas, she’d been captured by the dread Dzarmindzaug, whose tattered wings shadowed whole cities, whose eyes, ancient and dim, no longer burnt like suns.
King Karal, hale and wise on his vanadium throne, called on the mighty in the kingdom - the pure, those knights whose hearts beat with heartbeat of the universe. They all failed, their heads being returned melted. The big dragon knew the tricks of the trade and knew the precise temperature to melt metallic knights.
The least intelligent of the knights in the realm, one Dendrobium by name, arrived in the capital. ‘So, you’ll rescue my blessed poppy?’ the desperate king wailed. Our orchid knight nodded, nearly falling over, overwhelmed by the court and unbalanced by the osmium shield he wore.
He traveled to the Great Smelter, where the dragon slept. The Princess, glittering, lay in pieces, her head in a tree, her body in various stages of oxidative decay. Dendrobium, not knowing what else to do, picked up the head, placing it in a sack.
Wearily he returned to the capital city. Legend says he brought the moon with him which illuminated the way and made his armor gleam. Robot squirrels showed him the path. A raven, rusty, gave him advice.
‘So, my daughter?’ the king cried. He took out her head. The court gasped. ‘Just her head?’ The king wept.
The sun seemed to stop. The stars shuddered.
The Princess opened her eyes. ‘Oy! The histrionics!’ She extended a series of huge spider legs and went to pat her father. ‘Daddy, please. Just having fun with the big mechanical puppies’.
The kingdom rejoiced, suitably. Oil gushed like champagne.
All was good if slightly dull.
|
**Established Universe**
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” screamed the King: “HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?”
The Berserker smiled: “Foolish king, what would you have offered me for your daughter? A pot of gold? A title? Half your kingdom?”
“The Behelit offered me so much more. All I had to do…was to offer a sacrifice.”
“YOU MONSTER!” screamed the King “BRING ME HIS HEAD!”
“Well I prefer the term Apostle” said the Beserker, as he took out the massive sword chained to his back.
As the berserker effortlessly cut through the King’s men, the King seemed to shrink into his throne.
“What- what are you??” he croaked, as the berserker approached him.
All his men were cut to ribbons and adorning the hall.
“I used to be the Black Swordsman” responded the berserker, with a twinkle in his eyes: “but now I have become so much more.”
And as the King whispered a silent prayer and prepared for death, suddenly there was a great commotion as the door exploded into splinters.
The berserker turned his attention to the door, where a black knight sat atop a skeletal horse.
“Skull knight” snarled the berserker, as he turned to face this new foe.
|
GreatRuno
|
Remarkable-Youth-504
|
2023-04-03 17:00:54
|
2023-04-03 12:36:57
| 86 | 13 |
jet29wt
|
jes20i9
|
12ahea7
|
12ahea7
|
[WP] Years ago you came up with a nonsensical code phrase that you would use if you ever went back in time and needed to convince yourself of who you were. You never wrote it down or told anyone what it was. Today a young woman you’ve never met walks up to you on the sidewalk and speaks the phrase.
|
When I was a kid, my folks made me memorize a secret word. That way, they could send someone to pick me up or something and I could make sure they were legit with the password. My sister and I had a second word just for each other to say when we were super serious for real I swear you guys, because we talked so much shit but we knew we needed something to ground us. I taught my own kids a third secret word so that they could trust a stranger I might send who spoke it to them.
Nobody except me knew all three words and their significance.
"Spare some change?" asked the glassy-eyed, grizzled, old beggar as I tried to hurry past to get to the office.
"Who even carries change anymore?" I retorted. But I felt a pang of regret. They're human too. So I turned back, found the guy, and said, "Hey, look, I can spare a few minutes, how about I get you a coffee and a bagel or something?"
The beggar grunted and slowly got up. He was older than I thought and, judging by the body odor, hadn't enjoyed hygiene in too long, so I kept my distance as I led him to a breakfast chain. I let him order, it was more than I meant to get, but how could I refuse? I paid.
"Thanks for the food. You got time to talk with a lost soul?" he asked.
I sighed. I really hated how impatient I was feeling, though, so I sat down. "Sure."
"You got any kids?" he asked.
"Yeah. Two."
"Pictures?"
I took out my phone and scrolled to my gallery to show them. He stared, then grabbed my phone to look closer. "Hey!" I objected, but I could see tears in his eyes. "Hey, you okay?"
"My babies," he said, wiping his eyes.
"You have kids?" I asked, confused. "They remind them of yours?"
"No, they're my kids," he said, looking up at me, voice rising in a weird mix of elation and pain. "They're my kids!"
People were looking. "Okay, look, I'm glad you got your food, but I gotta go," I said, grabbing my phone and standing up.
As I was about to leave the shop, he shouted, "Smeagol! Neanderthal! Necronomicon!"
I froze. My chest felt tight. My palms, sweaty. My fingers and the back of my neck tingled. I slowly turned to face him. Everyone was staring, but I couldn't see them. Only him. "Wha-" I coughed, "What did you say?"
He was standing, slowly approaching me on creaking legs. "Smeagol, with mom and dad. Necronomicon, with Penny. Neanderthal, with Sasha and Bastian. It's the only way I could stop you," he rasped, lower lip trembling.
It was a stab through my heart. "How?" I croaked.
"I finally found you, Harry. I didn't know if I ever would. It's been so, so long. You don't have much time."
"What are you talking about? Who are you?" I said, backing away, bile rising in my throat in panic.
He shrugged and smiled, teeth rotten and yellow. "I'm you, Harry."
I didn't hear the rest. I blacked out.
|
*I wonder what would happen if I had another cat. Would Molly be happy about it?* But mid-thought, a woman looks at me and rushes towards me. Her hands are full of paper and odd objects such as a guitar and a dying flower. Her small dress flows through the air as she moves.
She pauses for a second, then opens her mouth to speak. "Jumping cats love watching rainbows at night," the woman says. The phrase that I came up with at 13 to know if someone was me in case time travel exists in the future. And now, the words dance through the air right in front of my very eyes.
I feel my feet slipping, but I manage to balance myself in time. I glance at the people around me. They are staring at me.
"Are you okay?" she says.
I feel my breath getting faster and faster. I watch as a mother grabs her child and quickly walks away.
And yet... this is clearly a dream. I feel like laughing at myself for panicking this much. But then I remember the secret dream revealing action. This will prove it. It has worked every time. It can't fail me.
I clap my hands 7 times and jump in the air, begging that it will rain. I seem to fall to the ground in slow-motion. My feet touch the ground as I close my eyes, then slowly open them to look around. The sun shines on me gently and everyone around continues with their day, unfazed.
I look back at the foreign face in front of me and ask a simple question.
"Who are you?"
The woman rubs a tear off her face.
"I'm you, sweetheart".
|
FenrisL0k1
|
WitchyCat251
|
2023-09-01 17:48:16
|
2023-09-01 12:16:19
| 102 | 33 |
jyp3ro1
|
jynnmcu
|
166vpsr
|
166vpsr
|
[WP] You're in class one day when a beast straight out of fantasy crashes through the door head first. On its heel is your always bullied and unpopular classmate, who swiftly and effortlessly hacks it in two with a sword from behind. They look up to see everyone staring at them. "Aw, shit."
|
His legal name actually is Dick Smelzi. Not Richard. Not Rick. But Dick. Combined with his last name. Who would name their kid that? When my parents first heard me mention his name, they thought I was joking. My protestations fell on deaf ears. They grounded me for a week when I tried to insist that is his real name.
He tried to go by nicknames, but every new substitute teacher doing roll call would cause us to giggle uncontrollably.
What made it worse was that he lived on a pig farm, and the odor, like a miasma, followed him everywhere, despite everything he did.
You can guess what the bullies called him.
And he was short, scrawny, funny looking, and had a stutter. He was playing life on hard mode.
Of course my classmates bullied him. Mercilessly. Didn't help that his parents were some sort of weirdos who wouldn't let him hang out with other kids or do any after school activities. His parents were a pair of religious weirdos who didn't believe in movies, television shows, music or even the internet. He lacked the social connections and cultural touchstones that could have helped him.
Yet somehow, slowly, over the years, he managed to make friends. It took him awhile, but he improved his charisma and started making friends. Given enough time, I could even see him becoming a popular kid in high school. But of course there were still bullies. He was building his social network, but he was still low enough on the social pecking order to be a target.
But he persisted. Despite the year of illness that kept him out of school, destroying much of his progress with making friends. Or when his parents threatened to sue the school over halloween, which caused the yearly halloween party to get banned. He often had setbacks like this - almost as if something was trying to make his life as difficult as possible.
I was in class the day some tentacled horror burst in. We all screamed, of course. Just to see Dick run in behind it, pull a katana from seemingly out of nowhere, and cleave it in two. The halves fell to the floor, then evaporated.
The he saw us.
"Aw shit," he said, his face filled with disappointment and anger. "Must have accidentally enabled the Lovecraft mod when I installed the social challenge mod."
He sighed.
"And I was on a good pace this run."
He looked around again. "Meta command: reset game"
My confusion was the last thing I would ever experience.
|
“Aw, shit.”
Callum was standing in the doorway chest heaving, black hair haphazardly strewn about his head. The purple blood was spattered on his pale face, deep blue eyes taking in all of our shocked faces. My eyes darted to the creature laying on the ground nearly cleaved in half. Then back to my classmate holding a deadly looking sword with a literal cloak made of flames dancing around his frame.
Silence reigned until someone, Bernice probably, screamed and promptly feinted into Rendal’s arms. Then everyone was speaking or crying or freaking out and Callum was still standing there holding the sword. He was looking like, for all intents and purposes, he could make the creature disintegrate with his look alone. Considering the circumstances, I could not rule it out.
“The hell just happened, Callum. Why did you let it get away? What if someone saw…” Hendrick walked into the room and spotted all of our faces and the dead beast at Callum’s feet.
“Aw, shit.”
Apparently, that was the professional response for this situation.
|
dasunt
|
Unabashed-Lovely
|
2024-02-03 23:43:22
|
2024-02-03 22:10:16
| 136 | 51 |
kot1khk
|
kosnhu2
|
1ai125n
|
1ai125n
|
[WP] Your fairy godmother is very strange. She dresses in black and red, never takes off her mask, and uses scary magic. However, she genuinely does love you and teaches you what she knows.
|
It all started when I was barely a little girl, just on the edge of my memory. I'd never known my parents but, back in the beginning, I could remember her.
Or at least a single image of her, like a still painting made by a master artist to remind me of my past.
The maroon woman with a white mask leaned down in front of me with a single finger raised to her lips to tell me to be quiet. Her cloak blocked my view of the men who'd talking to me before she showed up.
All I remembered past that was that a lot more people left the little street girl alone after that. It might have been a good thing in the end, but I was lonely for a long time.
The second time I'd seen the woman was through a window; the orphanage's grime-coated glass distorted her as she watched me under the pale moonlight. I was old enough to understand that I was on the second floor, and she shouldn't have been able to reach the window at all.
I was also smart enough to understand that I shouldn't be worried about that.
When we went downstairs the next morning, nobody could find the Father of the convent, but a lovely fire roared in the hearth for the first time in months.
I hadn't seen her since.
For the third time this week, all of the women at the convent had been lined out outside in the snow so that the new Father could explain the horrors of witchcraft to us.
I wasn't the only one smart enough to know where all of this was going. The town had been talking about the woman's sins for the past months. It all leads back to the first woman and how she had spent her life in away from the eyes of the creator
That could only be one reason that all of us were out there getting frostbite, it was so that he could single one of us out as a sinner who needed to be punished.
For my part, I was staring past the Father and to the lashing post standing tall out in the middle of the field. The fresh snow hadn't been thick enough to cover the blood stains on the ground. Each word of the Father drifted past my attention even though I understood their rising fury. He was whipping up to a point.
I wanted to be warm.
Life snapped me back into focus when I felt sharp nails digging into my wrist and pulling. A hallow-eyed girl from my floor, Lyla, had latched onto me, wrapping her blistered, shivering fingers around me like a handcuff. I couldn't hold her hand with how she'd grabbed mine, but I curled my fingers up to scratch her.
It was the only way that I could say, 'I'm here. We're all cold.'
The Father stopped speaking just as the wind picked up, sweeping snowflakes into the air and around everyone still dressed in their night clothes. To my right, someone sneezed. We would all be fighting a cold for weeks.
At the end of his speech, the Father had stopped in front of us, his warm fur coat barely moving in the stiff breeze. I sniffed away some of the cold as he continued to look toward the ground and then took something out of his pocket.
He tossed a moon-blessing charm into the snow in front of us. It wasn't mine, but Lyla dug her nails further into my wrist.
"Her," the Father said flatly. I felt a pull on the other side as the woman on the other side of Lyla tried to push her forward, but she was still holding onto my wrist like it was going to save her from what was coming.
I couldn't push her out there. I'd heard the screams of a whipping. I didn't want to cause them.
"Now," the Father commanded, his voice was cold and stiff as the wind. I dug my bare toes into the frozen soil.
Across the field, behind the Father, there was nothing but forest for miles from here to town, a mass of green, brown and white in the background of my choice. At least, it had been that until a moment ago.
"Sister," the Father added. Lyla's nails dug further into me.
The forest was brown, green, white and maroon.
The woman's robes flapped in the wind which couldn't have cut through the trees. Her porcelain mask matched the fresh snow.
"Now, Sister. This is how she can find forgiveness. The flesh must bleed away the sins of the mind."
The woman shook her head and then held up a single finger as if telling me to be quiet.
I reached across my chest and grabbed Lyla's shoulder with my free hand, holding her in line as she tightened her grip on me. We weren't close. Nobody was allowed to be in the Convent.
"That's it, Sister, bring her-" the Father stopped mid-sentence as the cold dripped away from my body, the fresh snow building up over the sermon evaporating into hissing steam.
I wasn't doing this again.
"Sister."
I wasn't watching this again.
"Margaret grab h-"
I wouldn't.
So I had to.
It wasn't me that reached out to the Father; it was something else. A feeling that boiled out from my blood and spread across the snow, manifesting as shadow and ruin. I cried, and the tears burned more than the brands that they'd scarred into my chest. If I didn't know better, I would say that they were burning.
The shadow twisted around the feet of the Father and turned into a boiling liquid with tendrils reaching up to his legs like grasping fingers. The liquid struck forward and drove toward his mouth to smother all the horrid things he'd said. He tried to back away from it, but his boots stuck in the tar, and he fell backward.
Lyla screamed and pulled away from me.
The tears hurt. My skin felt like it was tearing apart, flaying me from the fingers as the snow around me melted away and turned into a boiling puddle.
People scattered, and I wanted to run with them, I wanted to get away from this feeling, but the pain kept building up and pouring out of me. Shadow started to drip out of my open mouth, and I collapsed to the ground, wrenching out everything I'd ever drank as boiling oil joined the stream washing over the Father.
He couldn't scream as it happened. He could only gurgle.
Then, all at once, everything stopped, and a pair of cold fingers held me by the chin, pulling me back up to look at the white porcelain of her mask.
The world muted, the burning choked down to an ember; I remembered to breathe.
The woman held up a finger and put it to her lips, telling me I needed to be quiet.
So I dropped far into sleep.
|
11711
1C'mon little Fairy Princess," Daddy yelled, "This is our new home!" And he pulled open the bad doors of the small moving van.
"There's nothing 'New,' about it." Mommy grumbled as she unbuckled and helped Ashley out of the van.
"Hey how many people get to inherit a 1600's manor in Ireland?" Daddy playfully replied with just the smallest hint of irritation coming thro1ugh his tone.
Ashley's feet touched the wild grassy ground and she felt a sudden surge of energy. Like she was waking up from a 9 year old's long sleep and was keenly aware of the world around her. Her eyes darted over the place. The grass was wild and unkempt, scraggly bushes lined an old cobblestone road that led away from the main route to this little bubble of living area surrounded by lush green forest that quickly became dark as night under the canopy of trees.
"We should have just sold the place," Mommy snapped back, "You do realize this is how, like, 90% of horror movies start right? Small white family moving to the middle of fu.... AHEM nowhere."
"You're Creole," Daddy teased, "so that means we're the first family to run away when the ghosts and goblins start causing trouble."
Ashley had started walking up to the main house. It seemed short compared to the tall ceilinged McMansions of suburban Utah, and it was chilly and humid here in June instead of hot and dry. The building had five rooms with an open floor plan. The walls were yellow painted wattle and daub over stone, which peaked through cracks in the coating making the building look much older than it was. Over the top was a thatched roof complete with a Thatcher's pattern from further away County Cork.
Around the main court yard was a small modern looking garage, another small two roomed modern house and aways back over the treeline were two smallish hills and a third large promontory with the ruins of a castle on it.
Behind the house stood an old barn, nestled back near the treeline.
"Go on and explore Honey and pick out your room!"
********
The inside of the house turned out to be quite cozy. Polished wood floors and a main living room and kitchen area gave the place a lot of space. A plush couch and surrounding seats gathered around a fireplace and electric light sconces designed to look like candles lit the inside.
Mommy and Daddy both had on sweaters while Mommy and Ashley finished up their dinner and Daddy got a fire lit. He'd only been at it a short time but already had a small fire that was drawing smoke in lazy curly ques up the chimney.
"Well then," Mommy said playfully as she and Ashley finished up the last of the dinner dishes, "Looks like there's something you can do right after all."
Daddy blushed a bit, as Ashley watched their interactions intently. "Well, you know. It's good to have an eagle scout in the family."
Mommy and Daddy cuddled up on the couch in front of the fire, and Mommy gave Daddy a big kiss.
Ashley relaxed. It was good to see Mommy and Daddy be so happy. She hadn't seen that for a long time.
They chit chatted about the property, surrounding forest, and towns but Ashley wasn't interested. It had been a big day of moving and her eyes were pulling themselves shut.
She blinked and found herself in an old cast iron bed with a pillowy mattress and under a soft cotton sheet and heavy afghan.
"Good night sweet heart," Daddy said.
"Sweet dreams kiddo," Mommy said and they closed the door.
********
"Mommy, do I have to go to bed?"
"Yes honey," Mommy said, "The Midsummer Festival is still going, and it was fun, but it's time for bed."
"Bud Daddy," Ashley whispered in a quite panic, "It's scary in there!!"
"Now you know there's no such things as ghosts or monsters kiddo." Daddy said shortly. "You're 9. You're too old to do things like this to stay up at night.
Daddy shifted Ashley's weight to his left arm while Mommy opened the front door of the cottage, and they went inside. They immediatly took Ashley into her room and helped her out of her festival dress and into pajamas for the night.
"Just listen, PLEASE! The closet door..."
"Is just loose," Mommy said shortly, "It's time for bed. Mommy and Daddy are tired."
"No You're Not! You just wanna hump!" Ashley half shouted angrilly.
Mommy and Daddy split laughing, "Yeah Honey we do, but that doesn't change the fact that it's bed time." Said Daddy.
Ashley climbed gingerly into the bed and immediatly pulled the covers up to her chin.
"Good night," Mommy said as she and Daddy left to their own room and closed the bedroom door.
Her hands and feet started shaking in fear and she curled up her toes, and balled her hands into fists. Eyes locked on the closet door. Waiting for the slightest twitch of movement. But her eyes were so heavy... so heavy...
|
Writteninsanity
|
deadlandsMarshal
|
2023-04-23 18:56:24
|
2023-04-23 18:24:14
| 69 | 31 |
jhfcb6p
|
jhf7kr5
|
12w9v9j
|
12w9v9j
|
[WP] You're immortal. But instead of secrecy or God status, you decided to become an urban legend by working at a random gas station for hundreds of years.
|
Today is August 21st, 2023. I Am Jeffery. I work at Sunoco Gas Station. I am supposed to make sure the shelves are stocked, all potential customers are happy, and make money for Sunoco Gas Station.
It is late at night. Sometimes, customers become unruly at this time. There is a bar close by, and at this time of night, drunk patrons will wander towards the Sunoco Gas Station.
A man in a jacket and jeans walks in. He is a man I often see. He looks poor, but he has a lot of money. He has told me about his rich parents. His name is Paul, but he likes to be called Ruiz. I do not know why this is. He is very clearly inebriated. I must make sure he does not ruin the experience for any other customers who walk in.
"Heya -*hic*\- Juju, ya do-*hic*\-doing good man?" He stumbles as he walks in. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he frowns.
I quickly reach for him to make sure he doesn't fall over. People on the ground make for bad customer service. I must make sure all potential customers are happy.
"Thanks. Fuck, work *sucks* man." Paul grumbles. I lean him over on the counter by the scratch offs. Nobody ever buys them. Scratch offs are gambling.
"At least I-*hic*\- get some good beer at Benny's." Paul laughs. "Heya, Juju, you and I-*hic*\- should go together to Benny's this friday-*hic*\-."
Paul's speech is slurred. He is definitely drunk.
"I cannot, Paul. I work here." I speak to Paul directly and firmly. It is best to make yourself clear, so the customer does not misinterpret what you say.
"Yeah-*hic*\- you sourpuss. Just one night? My treat." Paul giggles to himself a little. Paul needs a good place to rest. I, however, do not. I have a nice bed to sleep in at home.
"I get-*BLEGH*\-Christie to be there." Paul starts to gag a little. Paul is likely to throw up. I go to get Paul a bag to throw up in. Our Sunoco Gas Station does not have a functional bathroom.
There is no need for me to be bribed by the presence of another person. I walk to the edge of the counter to grab a bag for Paul.
However, Christie is a wonderful asset. She is smart. She helps me with my job, helps me to achieve my objectives. She has explained to me how to properly talk to someone in a customer service voice. It is also unlikely that I would be required to work that night, either, as there would likely be another person on that shift. Her physical appearance and adorable jokes do not make her uneasy on the mind, either.
"It is settled. I will go with you."
"You-*hic*\- better."
I handed Paul the trash bag.
He promptly threw up.
|
"I don't know how long it's been" I said with a sad smile. The person from HR is confused to say the least "you don't know how long it's been since you took your last brake..." An awkward pause of silence as he thinks that he couldn't have ever thought this would be his assignment. "Yes" I say with sad yet humored eyes "I have been working for the company for over 420 years and I don't think I've took a vacation in over 300 years." "WAIT" he says with Surprise "you have been working how long?" I smile but reply "over 420 years, if you don't Believe me check what day I was hired" he looks scared for a second as he sees I am right. "You have been working for 439 years by this math" he looks at me with dread. " the company has no choice but to give you your paid time off of over 30 years." I feel sad at those words "but I want to continue" I wine. "No, no, no at this rate you will drive the company into a deep ditch, take your time off." He says with a look of scalding a child. "Wait a minute, how the actual fuck are you that old he screams" I smile with glee. "Well you know the legend of the gas station attendant who never stops doing the best. Well that's me" I say as I walk out intending on continuing work.
|
EvilNoobHacker
|
Standard_Fuel5862
|
2023-08-22 03:56:06
|
2023-08-22 02:18:13
| 51 | 35 |
jx89gpl
|
jx7xk4q
|
15xku1z
|
15xku1z
|
[WP] In a world of supers, you are hailed as the most terrifying super villain. You rarely appear and are feared not because you are evil, or have some grand plan. It is because super heroes inevitably become corrupt. When that corruption becomes too great for the world, you clean house.
|
Many know of me, know my alias and my motives. But few actually know me as a person. Few know what I look like. My alias is simple. Ballistic. Is that because I fly into a berserker range? No, not at all. I have great control over kinetic energy. Imbue it, steal it, bend it. More so if I have had contact with the object or person containing the potential. Once I have control over that energy, I have a great awareness of the source. Be that a simple stone flying through the air, or a person hurtling to their doom.
More than once a Cape or civilian has been surprised by my intervention. While widely known as one of the foremost villains, I have no problem aiding those in need. No my villainous reputation comes from other, far more gruesome actions. Power corrupts, be it financial, political or social. Combine any or all of those three with flight, near invincibility and super strength? Even the demons of hell would blush at the actions they took. Once lauded as the most moral and heroic of their age. Now they rest scattered over two counties.
How would I do such a thing? Or perhaps why? The how is rather simple, at a certain point kinetic energy trumps almost anything. Hit something fast enough with something heavy enough and the target will yield. In this case an M892 armor-piercing fin-stabilized discarding sabot round. Normally fired from a main battle tank. Accelerated to almost 60k feet per second. Tungsten and depleted uranium are quite good at punching through a tough target. Figuring out that I could use the imbued, syphoned or converted kinetic energy to reinforce something? Force its atoms to stay together? Made it even easier. Releasing all of that energy once it's part way through a target? Chefs kiss. Partially vaporized the bastard. The hardest part was finding a crew that could operate an M1 then borrowing one from the army.
For the why? That simple, one of the oldest motivations in history. Revenge. Not justice, just simple revenge. Why would I seek revenge on one of the, if not the most honored Cape? He killed my family. I was once a Cape, one of the good guys. Why he picked up the car with my wife and children in it, I do not know. However, he threw it into his enemy. My wife was just a normal woman, my children were not yet old enough to manifest any powers. They stood no chance. For a Hero to disregard those he is meant to protect is inconceivable. Over the years, the Association had managed to cover up his misdeeds, bribes threats and blaming the villain. Once I started to dig, I just found more and more atrocities. Hundreds killed by his actions directly. Thousands more by his poor control and lack of care.
In the end, I became a monster. The thing that goes bump in the night. The Boogeyman for the supers. Kill those thought unkillable once that power burns through their soul. How do I make sure I don't stray? Guilt, endless guilt that I didn't stop that man sooner. But now, I hunt the heroes and villains that stray too far. Those that disregard human life too much. Those that purposefully or neglectfully maim innocent lives. One day that guilt won't be enough, and I will have to end the monster I created.
|
They call me evil, vile, monster, villain. Across this whole world I am feared, despised, hated. Why? Because I do what needs to be done, what no one else is willing to do, a job that needs done.
I am known by many names the Killer in the Shadows, the Hidden Villain, the Unknown Slayer, Hero Killer. Personally I prefer the Shadow Ender.
Tonight I am on the job. I had received a message about a Hero in need of my services, and headed on my way.
“Ten minutes out” a voice called out from a speaker in the cockpit.
I started running a last minute check on my exosuit, a gift from my father. After feeling sure everything was running properly and with 3 minutes to go I began cloaking the exosuit with my shadow like power, a gift from my mother.
“T minus 30 seconds” the speaker called out. “10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 GO!”
At the count of one the floor beneath me dropped and I fell from the jet. Using the Shadow power I glided to the top of a tower, and began to scan around for my target. Finally I found him in some city square with a group of people offering him things; food, drinks, and more. Hyperpylon, the Hero of Iron.Powers super strength, flight, enhanced speed, and heat vision. This one won’t be easy, despite his mid 30s looks Hyperpylon is one of the oldest still active heroes, and one of the most powerful. Back in his golden years he was often called the hero who upheld society like a steel beam, but those days are far behind him. I have one shot at making this an easy job. My exosuit releases the pieces I need to assemble my rifle, and I load in a very special bullet. I line up my shot, and fire. The bullet hits the wall behind where Hyperpylon’s head was a moment ago.
*“Shit i missed”* I swore in my head.
After just being able to dodge my bullet, Hyperpylon took to the skies and began to look for me, his would-be assassin. Knowing this is going to go the hard way anyway, I stood high so he could find me. Hyperpylon quickly appeared before me.
“So you’re who tried to kill me huh? Wait I think I know you’re that hero killer, aren’t you”
“I am He Who Ends Heroes, the Shadow Ender”
“An assaination attempt with a rifle, should have known a villain like you would use such cowardly methods.”
“Ironic for you to judge how others operate Hyperpylon.”
This comment seemed to anger Hyperpylon, and he charged at me. I dodged, preparing a counter attack. When he charged again, using the full strength of the exosuit and strengthening it with my shadow abilities, I sidestepped his attack and drove my fist into his gut. Angered Hyperpylon move back and started to use his heat vision trying to hit me, and destroying the building in the process. Unable to escape this attack through normal means I pulled myself into a shadow and reappeared behind him greeting shadow tendrils into his back. Hyperpylon yelped in pain, turning around burning everything that got into his vision’s way.
“I recognize that power,” Hyperpylon roared “fitting that the son of the woman stood on top of the villain world, the Shadow Queen, would have a villain for son”
“Being called a villain by someone like you is meaningless.”
“WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN? DID YOU NOT SEE ME IN THE SQUARE? THE PEOPLE LOVE ME! I AM THEIR HERO”
“They fear you. They fear you’ll kill them for displeasing you or that you’ll turn them into the next New Kensingtown. Speaking of which, you call yourself a hero after what you did there?”
A flurry of attacks between the two of us.
“It was just unfortunate collateral, I was fighting a villain.”
“Fighting a villain you say? He was a pathetic lame crook who had some fire abilities, ten city blocks did NOT HAVE TO BE DESTROYED TO BEAT HIM.”
“I STOPPED THE VILLAIN WHO CARES IF SOME PEOPLE DIED IN THE PROCESS. And I'll stop you at any cost too.”
This is the unfortunate truth about superheroes, too many of them just don’t care about collateral damage, becoming worse then the villains they fight. Some are even worse, they get to liking their power too much and become straight up villains themselves.
“No you won’t, because it is my job to stop ‘heroes’ like you.”
It’s now or never my exosuit has been damaged by our melee attacks against each other. I ensure that my secret weapon is ready to go, then I send out dozens of shadow tendrils to get Hyperpylon right where I want him.
“Goodbye Shadow Ender” Hyperpylon manically laughed as he looked directly at me, heat vision about to blast.
\-end-part 1-
|
ChairForceOne
|
DarkSunDestruction
|
2024-12-07 06:37:09
|
2024-12-07 06:29:18
| 88 | 49 |
m0u0fe0
|
m0tzmxw
|
1h8e1gp
|
1h8e1gp
|
[WP] In a world where the consequences of murdering someone is them coming back the next day completely fine, you accidentally shot your best friend with a gun. The next day, you and your friend have an awkward conversation in an elevator.
|
"Hey, so, uh... Don't take it the wrong way."
"I-I was gonna' say. I'm sorry."
"I mean, I'm fine now."
"Right. But I didn't mean to do it. Honest."
"Look you shot me. Now, I'm not doubting your mental capacity or anything."
"I know, I'm so sorry."
"What'd I say at the beginning?"
"Always treat it like it's loaded... Especially when it is loaded."
"And then?"
"Keep your booger hook off the bang switch."
"Say that last one back to me again. What?"
"Keep your finger off the trigger until you decide to fire."
"Good. What else?"
"Don't point it at anything... You don't intend to destroy."
"...So where did we go wrong here? Exactly?"
"I didn't check to see if you were standing where you were standing."
"So you just decided 'I'm gonna' turn around, with the gun in my hand, with the gun level'. As if it wouldn't go off."
"I didn't think-"
"I know. I know you didn't think. You just turned around as if the house, the truck, and I weren't right there."
"Hey, uh, fellas. I'm not involved in this conversation. I'm just going a couple more floors up."
"Oh no. You're cool. He killed me the other day on accident. It wasn't his brightest moment."
"It really wasn't."
"No, I'd assume it wasn't."
".........To be fair. This isn't as bad as that time you put gasoline in the blender."
"Oh that was different."
"Why'd you do that?"
"It was college. People were drinking. Point is, I've been clean for 10 years."
"Yeah, that's true."
"Congratulations."
"Thank you."
"So, uh, can we try learning the basics again tomorrow?"
"No, no. We're done. My chest still hurts."
"Did I get you in the heart?"
"Yes."
"I should've learned my lesson when we built that shed. And you had the 2x4s and you knocked me off the roof because you-"
"Turned around. Yep. The thought crossed my mind."
"Twice in one month."
"You fell off the roof twice?"
"No, just, the one. The other... It doesn't matter."
---
r/Jamaican_Dynamite
|
"Again?"
John looks up from his phone and at the man walking into the elevator.
"Oh, yeah sorry about it. I was just trying to do a spin trick, like in the old westerns," John says.
"That's the excuse you used last time!" Nathan replies with a furious expression on his face.
"Well I have been trying to get the trick working for a while now," John shrugs.
"I need to dry-clean my carpet. The clothes I was wearing are ruined. There's a bullet hole in the wall that needs to be patched up, and I missed an entire evening of relaxing!"
Nathan is raging, walking back and forth in front of John, who is flicking at his phone again.
"I was going to watch the latest episode of Breaking Good! Do you know how much it sucks? To come home from work, ready to relax, only to suddenly wake up just as a new workday starts? You stole my free time!"
"Mhm," John mubles as he swipes right on his phone.
The elevator dings and they head for their desks. They sit in an open landscape office right opposite each other. Nathan would very much not have to look at the uncaring face of John for the entirety of the day. As they sit down Greg, a co-worker, greets them.
"What's the matter?" Greg says eying the angry look at Nathan's face.
"He fucking shot me in the head after work yesterday!"
"Again?" Greg says, raising an eyebrow and glancing at John.
"I was practicing a trick, how many times do I need to apologize for doing that?" John says raising his hands in the air.
"Once!" Nathan shouts. "You have not apologized even once, making excuses is not apologizing."
"Fine. I am sorry I shot you in the head." John says with a slight air of annoyance.
"There you go, now let's get ready for the presentation." Greg says with a smile.
Nathan scowls. "What presentation?"
"John and I are presenting the quarterly finance report for the board in half an hour."
Nathan looks over at John. "Isn't your yearly review coming up soon?"
John looks up at Nathan. "Ye..." he hesitantly replies.
Nathan gets up from his chair, slowly. "Well, missing out on this presentation would truly suck for you now wouldn't it?"
John looks at Nathan, the color draining from his face. Then he bolts out of his chair and books it down the hallway.
Nathan jumps after him and run as fast as he can.
"Help! Murder. Murder!" John yells while ducking between people exiting the elevator and hitting the button for the ground floor. Then he hammers the "close door" button in desparation.
Before the doors manage to close, Nathan pushes his arm in between the closing doors forcing them open.
"I've got you now..." Nathan says as a large gaping hole suddenly appears in the middle of his forehead, a large splatter of blood appearing on the wall behind him.
John puts his gun back in his holster that's barely visible under his dress jacket with shaking hands. He exits the elevator, which now won't be able to work as long as Nathans corpse is blocking the door from closing.
Greg comes running up and looks at the bloody mess, then he looks over at John.
"Again?"
|
Jamaican_Dynamite
|
Morridini
|
2023-06-01 22:31:16
|
2023-06-01 22:25:33
| 206 | 40 |
jmjemxo
|
jmjdujo
|
13xp9oc
|
13xp9oc
|
[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.
|
I hugged my legs as I stared at the wall before me. The shadow grew darker, which I fought. I can't use them, I don't want to see it anymore. I don't want to see it anymore.
I jumped as the door opened. I never heard it unlock. Dark Crimson, mother and father's archenemie, walked in with a tray of food. I noticed he looked more worried than annoyed, but I only looked back at the wall.
"I know you have powers kid," Dark Crimson told me.
I only stayed silent.
"You could've escaped. You could've escaped in the past week. Why didn't you?"
I shrugged, still staring at the wall. I can't tell him. Or I just don't want to tell him. It would become true if I said it out loud. My parents hate me. All because I can manipulate shadows, they saw it as a dark power, meaning I'm a future villain. As a kid I had looked up to them, now, I think they are right. Am I evil?
I never heard Dark Crimson leave, but doesn't matter, I think it's the best I stay locked up in here, away from everyone. I can't use my powers. I won't hurt anyone if I use them. The shadows before me danced, opening a portal. Why do I do this? I need to stop.
I covered my ears and closed my eyes as tight as I could, but I know the shadow opened a portal under the couch in my house. Even with my ears covered, I could still hear them. Father and mother are enjoying their night. Their evil son is gone. Their evil son is locked away. Their...
"Henry?"
I opened my eyes, the portal closing before me.
"Henry, my god, is that you?" I heard a voice behind me.
I looked back as my older sister, Blaire, ran towards me, "Henry, are you okay?"
I backed away from her, "Don't get close. Stay away."
Blaire stopped. Blaire, my parents favorite child, the golden child. The Harvard student, the girl with a bright future. She's going to be like them, she'll believe I'm evil too. Since she's going to be a lawyer, she'll do her best to keep me locked away.
Her face turned red, then marched towards Dark Crimson, who still stood by the door awkwardly, "What the hell did you do to my baby brother?"
"Nothing," Dark Crimson said, "I only took him to annoy your parents. He's the youngest, I figured they will come sooner. They never showed up."
"Bullshit! And I can't believe I almost married my parents' nemesis! You know what they will say-"
"Blaire!" Dark Crimson barked, making us jump, silencing Blaire, "Your parents aren't as angelic as you think."
"Henry, we are leaving!" Blaire told me, "And the engagement is off Tom-"
"I don't want to go," I said softly.
"What? Henry we-"
"I'm evil. I got dark powers," I mumbled.
The air was filled with silence, I looked down at the floor, avoiding Blaire's eyes.
"Evil? What do you mean evil?"
"He can manipulate shadows. He had many chances to escape, but he stays. He thinks he's evil, Blaire. Your parents think he's evil. That's why they aren't getting him. That's why I went to get you," Dark Crimson said.
Blaire was silent for a bit, but I did not dare look up. She's going to leave. She'll abandon me like mother and father. I felt an arm around my shoulder.
"Tell mom and dad you kidnapped me," Blaire told Dark Crimson, embracing me, "You are going to be okay, I got you. When mom and dad show up, they will have another thing coming," she whispered in my ear.
For the first time in weeks, I began to cry.
|
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.
|
Lexi_Ballard
|
DefinitelyNotAliens
|
2023-06-16 03:46:13
|
2023-06-16 02:03:54
| 102 | 65 |
job65tb
|
joausjd
|
14a31be
|
14a31be
|
[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.
|
Let me let you in on a little secret:
It's all talk. It always was.
Do you believe that every do-gooder that chases criminals is in it for the good of society? That so many people with great power will never use it for their own gain? That all good guys are good and all bad guys are bad?
You and I both know life isn't that simple. Unfortunately, I know this from first-hand experience.
Let's take a look at my birth parents. My father, Reflex, is an egomaniac. From a young age, he always won small town fights. Being able to react to anything quicker than any other human is a bit of an unfair advantage, but he doesn't care. His constant winning gave him a superiority complex.
Now he feels pretty entitled to everything he's been given as a hero. National fame, a lifetime supply of cash, a mansion as a parking garage, you name it.
My mother, Nerve, just likes beating people up. She's a complete sadist. Her ability to numb the body's nerves and make someone go completely limp only makes it worse. As a hero, she had an endless supply of villains to abuse with her ability until she got bored of them.
Those are my parents. I know, it seems impossible for people like that to fall in love, and I agree with you. Because they didn't fall in love.
My mother was a stunning young lady who just started out in the hero business, and my dad was a rich and famous elitist who wanted a trophy wife. They both agreed that getting married was better for their image. That's all the marriage is. Display.
But me? I wasn't even lucky enough to be a token. I was born without powers. I was... Ordinary. They thought I would just be trouble, some kid who couldn't fight bad guys, some kid who would just get kidnapped over and over. A kid that could never make them look better.
So, they hid me.
I was never allowed to leave their mansion. At least it was spacious. Plus, they had the decency to give me internet and tutors, even if the tutoring was "so little Abby could get smart enough to build daddy some cool tech gadgets."
Even still, they were just delaying the inevitable. One of their many rivals found out about me. His name is Big Bang, and he's your run-of-the-mill pyromaniac. He doesn't go anywhere without a stick of dynamite in his pocket, and I think he uses firecrackers instead of earbuds.
Despite his reputation as an explosion-hungry villain, he actually has a good heart. He certainly does more good than my parents. He's in bed with a bunch of insurance companies and some central governments. He gets some good payouts from all the collateral that gets caused when he clashes with my parents.
He secretly uses the money to help rebuild parts of cities and towns he destroys. He normally destroys stuff like golf courses and country clubs and builds shelters in their place. So hey, he's alright in my books.
Oh, you may be wondering how I know about his secret spending.
It's because I've been stuck in his lair for the past week. I've listened to him ramble on about his plans. Past ones, future ones, and most importantly, his present one.
He kidnapped me in hopes of luring my parents into a trap. You see, he apparently has a bunch of information and contacts that all say that my parents often paid off villains to cause trouble. My parents then swoop in and save the day, letting the villains get away with some of what they wanted at the last second.
My dad gets fame and money, my mom gets to beat people up, and the villains pretty much get what they wanted. Win-win.
Big Bang wanted to release this information and prove to everyone that my parents don't actually care about the people that they save. And you wanna know the worst part? It's that he's right. They don't care.
If they did, I wouldn't have been stuck here for the past week.
I'm still a secret. To the world, I'm just one random citizen. No reason to save me. Big Bang's plan failed because he was right about my parents. Ironic.
He's probably gonna interrogate me later to try and figure out a way to get my parents to show up. I decided that I like him, so I'm gonna tell him just what'll get those so-called-heroes to finally pay attention to me. He just needs to get a campy villain spandex suit and some adoption papers.
It's time for me to go public.
|
The villain of the week constantly chatted at me. He mocked my parents. He mocked their ideals. He called them hypocrites. He asked me if it ever meant anything if they don't love their child as much. My parents never told me this to my face but I always felt like I was too much of a burden. It's been a full week of waiting for them. Unlike most superheroes, we weren't rich. We couldn't afford insurance that even covers the many injuries they got from fighting all those years. Right after our house, the HQ, was attacked for the third time, we ended up moving to a small apartment. I supposed this might be their way of lessening that 10 year old burden. As the villain was monologuing about his whole plan and the many things he created to further trap my parents when they came here looked straight at me. I did not say a word and kept my poker face as my parents instructed. He told me that this isn't how he wanted to help them.
I was surprised but tried my best to stay calm. Despite his goofy looks he maintained a caring tone. He told me that he was their arch nemesis from way back even when I was born. He told me that compared to other superheroes he fought, my parents were the noblest. They were willing to fight tooth and nail for the good of mankind. And no matter how complex, impossible, and inescapable his traps were, they would win and come out on top. He told me that he loved videos of mice going through a maze which might have influenced him becoming a professor. A professor who just grew wrathful at the world for choosing not to learn about hope, righteousness, and such. That I would bring that with fear. And yet, my first victims were your parents. They preached about good and attacking my ideals and then on, I was hooked. They hardly knew each other then. I'd like to think I was a matchmaker for superhero couples. After that I focused on other superheroes. Until I heard about your parents' predicament. So I decided to make a ruse. A ruse that will put your parents on the map AND get them the wealth they deserve.
I looked at him with a greater surprise, breaking my poker face. He told me that he was serious and the wealth he planned to give was expertly funded by investments, planning, and other legal means that it would be his right to give so his parents would accept. Added the fact that it was well hidden so none would be the wiser as a supposed long lost family member gave them to inherit. Or even a Nigerian prince who gave him the money. However, the picture he had of my parents may have been outdated. Perhaps, throughout the years, they too became disillusioned at the world. I looked down out of shame for ruining that image. He began shouting, preaching that it is not my fault. That it was the corrupt system that villains have made that led them to this path. He then stopped, like a statue, not moving a single inch. He shouted again, that he has a wonderful idea. We would get out of that place. He would then show me all of the villains' plans of the whole world, the systems they built, the cronies they placed over the world. He told me that I can become the great hero my parents were if I wanted.
Before a second passed, I nodded. He released me from the binds and we got into his cool looking spaceship and traveled the world. What could have taken weeks or months to do was done in a single week. I was surprised about the many things that were placed to stop heroes and even superheroes. The whole world has been corrupted as he said. But he treated me to amazing food, arcades, and a lot of souvenirs. But most of all, he taught me how to bring them down, gave me the skills to know how to stop future villainous plans when their current ones fail. Added to many lessons of physics and such simplified to a week. With the skills my parents taught me, I can become unstoppable.
However, he wondered what came of my parents. He said that the trap would have been at least eye-catching for the local news. His spaceship and the other trap house did not have tvs, internet, and such so we wouldn't have known. I supposed he realized that he can't keep raising me by himself. As he is a wanted man and with many bounties on his head both from superheroes and villains. I supposed he realized that a kid needs his parents and with the old image he had on his head, he thought that maybe he can convince them. Despite the contemptment I had for them, it's hard for a child to hate his parents. And if they don't want me, I learned a lot of ways to sustain myself. We then went back to the first trap house in search of clues for them. And what I saw then would freeze me to my core.
Their corpses. Their corpses was laid out for the whole town to see. The whole building was gone and it seemed that where their bodies were was supposed to be for the news press to come and interview them. A crowd had formed and went around it for as long as I was with the villain. It was nighttime and I had a frozen face of fear. The villain exclaimed "Whoops, I didn't realize that it was too intense for them. haha hehhhhh…. I mean, this was tamer than my other traps I had with them you know…. My mom always said I was a clutz... Well then, *he claps his hand*. Here's the 500 million dollars I had for them. Here's the keys to that other trap house which was gonna be a brand new home and HQ for them you know…. You can hunt me down and get revenge hahahaha…. You're welcome to try…..". I then could hear running and bells on his footwear shaking violently then loosely fading.
|
A_Piece_Of_Tape
|
Creanate
|
2023-06-16 04:03:44
|
2023-06-16 03:55:07
| 45 | 27 |
job7zwu
|
job7429
|
14a31be
|
14a31be
|
[WP] You are an immortal, who, after millennia of searching, has finally found a way to die. In your long life you made a lot of friends, including the grim reaper, and so you aren't afraid to meet them again. Only that the being sent to collect your soul is something very different and way scarier.
|
When the bright light of the detonation faded from his sight, he thought he had failed. Again. Only there were no contours appearing, the world - or what was left of it - became a dark formless gray.
He tried to blink, but...nothing happened.
"Hey, Anton! I know you think you're funny but I'm really not in the mood for games right now." He wasn't sure whether or how he was actually speaking in this void.
But there was no sign of the grim reaper, the gatekeeper who had rejected him so many times before. No sign of the reaper's characteristic chess board, no sound from the bell of the death cow, no irritating smell from the dread salmon.
Instead, a beeping sound. Rhythmic, slowly getting louder. Then, out of the dark grey shapes in brilliant phosphorescent green, spelling out a question:
RESTART? (Y/N)
"What do you mean, restart? Anton, is this a joke?"
The shapes flickered, then reassembled themselves, larger still:
RESTART? (Y/N)
"Restart what, exactly? The world? Who are you? Is there anybody here I can talk to?"
ELABORATION:
REMEMBER YOUR FIRST KISS.
REMEMBER THE FIRST TIME YOU UNDERSTOOD THE NATURE OF YOUR IMMORTAL FLESH.
REMEMBER THE FIRST TIME YOU FELT THE TOUCH OF FALLING SNOW.
RESTART? (Y/N)
"What...what happens if I say no?"
OBLIVION.
THE ABSENCE OF CONSCIOUSNESS.
A WORLD DEVOID OF MEANING.
NO BEAUTY. NO PAIN.
THE END OF STORIES.
RESTART? (Y/N)
Something deep in the immortal's soul stirred. A word from the 34th language he had learned rose from the depth of his mind. Dèjá vu.
"Have I been here before? How often have I damned myself to live again?"
The lights flickered, then went away. The beeping sound accelerated, became an almost continuous tone, then ceased as tiny specks of light formed an impossible array of digits. An unspeakable, unthinkable number.
"Why? All I want is for it to end! Why would I go back?"
REASON: THE SMELL OF RAIN ON A SUMMER NIGHT.
REASON: THE TASTE OF FRESHLY BAKED BREAD.
REASON: THE SUNRISE.
REASON: POETRY.
REASON: DREAMS.
REASON: LIFE.
RESTART? (Y/N)
"But I'll just get sick of it again. Sick of the pain and the misery and the suffering. Of everyone I love dying around me and I just keep existing."
PREDICTION FOR Y: YOU WILL RETURN HERE.
PREDICTION FOR N: NOTHING.
RESTART? (Y/N)
"Wait a moment...I know Death, I know there's an afterlife, why am I not getting one?"
YOU ARE THE ONLY SOUL.
LIFE OR OBLIVION.
RESTART? (Y/N)
"...yes. And f-"
At the dawn of civilization, a newly born babe took her first breath. This time, her last would not come for 10247 years.
|
Immortality. In the short term, it is a blessing. Never dying, left in the picture of health, being able to watch over your children, your children's children. But at the same time, it is a curse. The world changing, evolving into something you would have been unable to imagine. Yet you are left in its old state, a relic of the past.
I was like that. After a few centuries, I had no desire to remain. Most of my family were strangers to me now. I had lost so many friends, I just wanted to see them again. So I set out on the quest we all take, the one to find my death.
It had taken millennia of searching. I had tried everything I could think of, yet it never worked. No matter how hard I tried, my body returned. It lead me to study what kept me alive, and how to stop it. The Reaper would often join me as I researched, offering its own opinions.
Eventually I found the cause. As long as a single cell of my body survived, I couldn't die. In moments it would reform me, accounting for the reason I could walk through lava, acid and the crushing depths of the ocean. None could kill me all at once, leaving me to remain alive.
Even spells of supposedly instant death weren't fully instantaneous. They were focused on specific body parts, mostly the brain. But the rest of me lived for just long enough for my thoughts to come back, leaving me alive.
With that in mind, I set about creating a new one. It was tailored for me, but with notes to allow another immortal to copy it, and adapt to themselves. It relied on infusing my body with death magic, but holding of the effects until I was full saturated. Only then would the darkness be lifted, and I would be free.
I toiled away for months, getting it perfect. Thankfully I'm my time alive I had amassed a fortune, one I used to fund this. With rare ingredients, and knowledge from many of the most learned places on the planet, it was not an easy task. In many ways that was a good thing. If someone could easily make this, it could be adapted for ill intent. At least with this, only someone with plentiful resources could replicate it.
Finally it was time. I bid my goodbyes, ensuring my affairs were in order. The Reaper watched me, waiting to greet me for the final time. With them by my side I started the ritual, bringing about my end. Clouds of black rose around me, twisting and tightening around my limbs. It sunk in, making me feel heavier. More and more spilled out, guided into my living body.
It suddenly flashed, and I felt a dreadful cold hit me. Everything slowed, and I held my breath. With an odd tearing sensation I felt my body slip away, leaving my soul standing. My soul was free. I looked down, seeing naught but a corpse left behind.
The Reaper turned to me, perpetual grin seemingly heartfelt now. But as it extended its bony hand, the visage of death was torn away. I grasped for empty air, before hearing a rattling breath behind me. I slowly turned, gasping at what I saw.
The first I noticed were the dozen legs, sticking out at different angles. They were long and thin, with no two matching. They were insect and human, bird and lizard, all in a mish-mash on a rounded body. A torso rose from its centre, covered in thick, coarse, black fur. Three pairs of arms protruded from its sides, as thing as the legs, but with additional joints.
In place of a head, it had a flower, with petals dripping with oozing blackness. Filaments topped with flat eyes looked around, one landing on me. They moved on a non-existent breath of wind, as a voice not used in countless millennia spoke.
"You have made your end.
It took a jerking step forwards, addressing me with seemingly little care.
"You broke the world."
It gave a haunting laugh, arms reaching out for me.
"Join with me, as your reward. You have no choice."
|
ProbabilisticProphet
|
Shalidar13
|
2023-03-01 23:06:42
|
2023-03-01 21:48:11
| 63 | 23 |
jajue32
|
jajiktz
|
11fhhjx
|
11fhhjx
|
[WP] You got abducted by cultists as you were heading to a restaurant for your date. After two days, the cultists have started a ritual, attempting to offer your soul up to a demon for power. But as the demon appears, it turns out the demon they try to offer you up to is your girlfriend/ex.
|
Torches were lit. The circle was double-checked after your bound and gagged body was placed inside it. A vibrating chant echoes in your ears, the same wordless noise you have heard for two days. Black-robed people had taken you into the dark underground lairs of this mad society, and now they were going to use you for their own ends.
You had no idea what the ends of this group, this *cult*, were, save that they would not end well for you.
The chanting grows louder as the cultists stand around the circle. They each hold daggers, wicked things curved like snakes. Their faces are hidden behind their hoods, and your imagination brings up expressions you do not want to think about.
The air above the circle grows warm. Then something congeals, shaping into something human-sized and human-like as you watch. Watching is all you can do, really, considering what has been done to put you here.
A voice comes from the growing mist above you, the creature hidden behind a wall of white mist appearing from somewhere beyond sight. It is sultry, sinister, and stimulating. Golden orbs look down at you, the colors sharp and bright.
"A new offering? You are so diligent with these gifts, little ones. Let's see what we... *Snookums?!*"
Your blood turns ice-cold. The shift of that voice's tone shut down all other sounds in the vicinity. Your mind recalls an important fact: Only one person has called you by that name. Was this some twisted fantasy that someone else was saying it now?
"What the...?" The voice continues to speak, sounding less otherworldly. "How in the Circles did you get here?!"
Your mouth refuses to move, so your answer becomes a shocked gurgling from beneath your gag. Before your eyes, the veiled creature gains solidity, the golden glow of what you now recognize as eyes softening considerably. A human emotion in an inhuman thing. Specifically, your ex-girlfriend Stella of three years' relationship.
"Hold still, I need to get some answers." The creature turns to face the gathered cultists standing around the circle. She bellows the word, "*Explain!*" at them, visibly distorting the air around her in the process.
You hear stammering overlapped with pleads for forgiveness. The cultists seem just as shocked about this as you.
"An offering? You thought this man would be worth that, so you plucked him from a dinner date and brought him here? That is absolutely unacceptable!"
The hasty explanations continue. You pick up the words, "Betrayal", "Stress", and "Redemption", and you shiver in your bindings. How closely had these people been watching you to know about you two breaking up?
"You thought I was...?" Stella grunts in frustration and rubs her forehead with a clawed hand. "I had my own plans of getting over the breakup, you know. Ways humans like you, and *him*, do not need to know. And now you've gone and reopened those wounds..."
She trailed off into a groan while digging her claws into her skin but not spilling blood. "By the Nevermore, I'm getting a migraine. This is not how I wanted to spend tonight."
Stella's eyes turn to you again, and again they soften. "So sorry you had to see this, Snookums. I though we had something, you know. But it didn't work out. I thought I would be able to handle it on my own, but that's *clearly* not what my followers believed."
She strokes your forehead with the same hand she had been clawing her own with; there are no wounds or marks on her polished skin. "Just rest now. Rest and dream of that date you were going to, with a woman I figure is better for your life. Soon, it will be very real."
Her fingers came down over your eyes. You feel a heat enter your eyes from them, and your eyes close automatically. Your body shuts down, still bound but forgetting the discomforts of that you had been placed in.
But no amount of sleep can block out the curses you hear Stella start spitting at the cultists, reminding you of her hair-trigger rages against the smallest of things.
|
Carl sniffed, adjusting his hood, “You’ve got the toff then?”
Lenny nodded hastily, helping Arnold hoist their bagged and trussed captive along into the underground basement, “This is him. Lives alone in a bookshop, doesn’t seem to have any family.”
“Nobody’ll miss him,” Arnold grinned as well, “Perfect for a sacrifice!”
Carl nodded, gulping, “Right, yeah, definitely. Cos that’s totally what we’re going to do tonight!” he wiped his brow.
“For eternal fame and profit,” Arnold reminded him as they shoved their victim along- a middle-aged looking man dressed in a rather frumpy tweed and satin white suit. Arnold added with a wince, “Mostly profit. My gran’s really pushing me to get some dosh to finish my studies and I really don’t want to do waitering again.”
“Theological studies, was it?” Lenny said skeptically, “You are a true cultist of the Black Serpent, aren’t you? I’d hate to have to murderize you if you weren’t.”
“Sure I am!” Arnold shrugged, “Heresy needs to be studied too!”
They manoeuvred their mumbling captive onto a chair at the centre of the ritual circle they’d drawn on the basement floor (the circle was unfortunately done using a red marker that Lenny had nicked from university because they couldn’t get any fresh chicken blood) and finally pulled the bag off his head.
“Goodness, this is a rather musty place, isn’t it?” the man said, brows furrowing. He stared at the hooded cultists with a mild expression on his face, “It can’t be good for humans to breathe in all this mold.”
Carl looked at Lenny. Lenny looked at Arnold. Arnold looked back at Carl.
Carl gave up, “We’re cultists of the Black Serpent,” he waited a beat, waving the ceremonial knife in his hand as he waited for a reaction, “We’re, uh, going to sacrifice you to a demon for eternal fame and profit?”
The kidnap victim simply stared at them. It was a supernaturally guilt-inducing stare, like being stared at by all their grans at the same time while having a hand caught in the cookie jar.
“Mostly profit,” Lenny added hastily, “We’re really all rather strapped for cash.”
“Sorry about this,” Carl said sheepishly.
“Don’t apologize!” Arnold growled, “You’re a cultist of the Black Serpent! The Black Serpent would never apologize!”
The victim’s brows rose, “Pardon me, I do so hate to interrupt, but I really don’t think it’s in your best interest to summon the, ah, ‘Black Serpent’. In fact, I believe he’d be rather cross-“
“Let’s just start chanting already!” Arnold demanded, looking at Carl and Lenny, “I haven’t got all night! My tuition fees are due tomorrow!”
The trio hastily retrieved their heretical tomes and began chanting. On the basement floor, the esoteric marker-drawn runes began to glow and all of a sudden, a great black serpent popped into existence inside the circle. It was massive, almost ten metres in length and lined with red and black scales and with a pair of burning yellow eyes.
It was also very, very pissed off as it raised its head looking around the room.
“This is not a ritual circle,” the serpent announced.
“Yes it is,” Lenny said reflexively. The three cultists stared in horror at the giant serpent.
“No it’s not,” the serpent looked up and down and around the room, “That’s also not my angel you’ve gone and kidnapped and tied to a chair.”
“Your what-?!” Carl choked.
“Because if it is,” the serpent straightened, somehow filling out as the darkness swirled around it and transforming into a very tall and very skinny man dressed in a very fashionable tux, “Then I’m afraid we might have a little bit of a problem to devour.”
“‘Discuss’,” their kidnap victim piped in cheerfully. He snapped his fingers and somehow the ropes that bound him broke apart and fell to the floor as he stood, “Er, you meant ‘discuss’, didn’t you, Crowley?”
The man who should have been a serpent started, turning burning yellow eyes on the kidnap victim, “No,” he made a face, “No, I’m pretty sure it was ‘devour’ I said,” he said with relish, “I can’t say I appreciate having dinner postponed after all.”
“Oh, you waited for me, my dear?” the man smiled sweetly, “I am terribly sorry for being late to our appointment.”
“Why didn’t you just miracle yourself free?” the serpent man grumbled.
The victim shrugged, a funny little smile playing on his face as he looked away, “They were so awfully enthusiastic about their little ritual, I just had to play along.”
The cultists looked at each other again, or rather Carl and Arnold did, because Lenny had already run out of the room a while ago. Meanwhile, the serpent and the victim were still chatting away, arguing casually about the best place to have supper after midnight.
“Who in the world did you kidnap?” Carl hissed at Arnold even as they both began to edge towards the exit.
There was a bark of laughter from the ritual circle. The two cultists froze, unable to resist the urge to turn back to look.
Two figures stood in the ritual circle, one was in a dark suit with raven black wings emerging from his shoulders, the other was in a white suit with a pair of pure white wings raised above his head.
“Oh hell!” breathed Arnold.
“And heaven, one might say,” the angel added brightly.
|
CarthagePlate_210
|
driftea
|
2023-08-09 14:12:51
|
2023-08-09 13:01:54
| 643 | 269 |
jvg091x
|
jvfqai9
|
15mde3g
|
15mde3g
|
[WP] You, an everyday civilian, watch in horrified disbelief as the so-called ‘hero’ yet again chooses to spare the villain who murdered your spouse and children, alongside countless other families, and prepares to take them back to a prison or asylum they have escaped from tens of times.
|
Mike waits on top of Central City Maximum Security Prison along with a squad of armed guards. A cool night wind brings an ashy smell from the manufacturing district in the south, which is still on fire. A distant shadow in the sky is getting closer. This is the seventh time an incident involving the Human Pestilence has caused over 100 deaths. As usual, the City guardian hero, Justice, has captured him.
Justice Man lands gently on the roof and pushes a tied-up Pestilence forward. Mike steps forward with a forced smile.
"Thank you, Justice, for saving our city. We will take it from here."
Justice looks around suspiciously. "Who are you? Where is the commissioner?"
Mike motioned the guards to put reinforced cuffs, restraints, and face guards on the prisoner.
"I am Mike Feng, I am head of Ultra Security Solutions. We took over the contract to manage this prison from Waylian Corporation. I believe Commissioner Jordan was reassigned."
"What?!? How come I wasn't informed? I own... I mean, I work with Waylian Corp closely."
Mike looks behind him at the guards bringing Pestilence into the elevator. "Bring him to the basement. I will be right there."
Mike slowly turns back to Justice. "It was an emergency act passed by the city council. I know you have a close relationship with Waylian Corp, but they have let too many prisoners escape. Even though the city has passed the death penalty law, none of the super criminals ever stay in jail long enough for it to matter."
A frown creeps up Justice's brow. "Death penalty is wrong, no one should take another's life."
"Even to save hundreds of future potential lives?" Mike shook his head. "You don't need to answer because it doesn't matter. We are here to do what the democratically elected civilian government has asked us to do. I hope you are the same."
Justice looks like he is about to argue but thinks better of it. "A word of advice, Mike. Don't get too comfortable, Waylian owns half of this city." With that, he flies into the night.
Mike stays on the roof for a while. "Justice has seriously overestimated people in this city's willingness to be props in his catch and release hunting reserve." He thought to himself, reaching for his phone.
"This is Mike. How is Operation Swift Justice?"
"Completed? That is great. Please inform the city council that Pestilence has been judged by a jury, sentenced, and executed in 90 minutes, just like I promised. Tell council leader Judy that her daughter was avenged."
|
The question Gabriel Prins asked himself in the days leading up to the assassination was this: was he killing Superman for personal reasons, or political reasons?
Where was the dividing line between the two? And did it make a difference?
To most of the other members of the secretive group that began meeting years earlier with the insane idea of assassinating a God it seemed purely political. Make America Great Again. Kill the liberal in tights, kill the sellout, take us back to where we were before he emerged from Kansas, claiming to mirror our values while hiding the fact that he came from another goddamned planet.
He'd always been viewed with suspicion by both the left and the right: the left because he embodied all all the myths of American exceptionalism they loathed; the right, because Superman could talk a big game but wasn’t willing to get his hands dirty when it mattered….and had alarming globalist tendencies.
Gabriel had always been mostly neutral on what was called the Superman Problem..that is, until September 11th, 2001. The day that terrorists flew jets into the Twin Towers of Metropolis.
Thousands died…in Superman's adopted home town…while he was off gallivanting in Europe somewhere with that reporter bitch of his.
Gabriel Prins' son and wife died that day. They worked at Keefe, Bruyette & Woods. His son had just started there a week earlier. His mother got him the job. They'd all gone out to celebrate the first week of September.
Okay. Even God can't be everywhere at once...even God needs to go on press junkets to promote his girlfriend's book…right?
America needed Superman more than ever that day. This was his moment. When he finally streaked across the sky on the morning of September 12th, a long flash of red against a smoke-blackened sky, the people cheered.
He helped with the cleanup, lifting smoking girders and dispelling piles of rubbles and collecting remains. He did all the right things.
He gave a rousing speech at the UN. He talked about Justice.
But two weeks later, when President Gore asked Superman to go into the caves of Afghanistan and retrieve Osama Bin Laden, he refused.
Superman said that he must respect the sovereignty of foreign nations. He said that he would not be a weapon of mass destruction for the United States. He said that he was a citizen of both the U.S. and the world. The *world!* He was a goddamned *globalist*, just like the right had always suspected.
No mention that day of Kansas….no mention of Truth, Justice, and the American Way.
Was that political...or personal?
Was it personal the day Superman turned his back on America? Was it political when the Gore administration decided not to invade Afghanistan, and proved that Superman had an influence on U.S. foreign policy?
It was ten years later when Gabriel Prins sat in a hotel room in New Jersey and thought about all of this. It was the morning that Superman was to give a commemorative 9/11 speech at One World Trade Center.
Gabriel was trying to get his motivations straight because if he survived this the rest of the world would want to know why he killed God. And he wanted to be very clear on why he'd done it.
He lifted the kryptonite bullet to the light. For the adversaries of the United States government (both foreign and domestic) that had funded the research program that led to this bullet, and the high speed rifle that went with it--ten years, untold millions of dollars--it was political. The assassination would probably lead to war.
But Superman would be dead! A new administration, free of his limp-wristed humanism and his political influence, might finally go to the middle east and bring back Bin Laden's head on a spike.
Freedom would ring!
And Gabriel Prins, after ten years of torture, would know peace.
|
strangedigital
|
NewDoughRising
|
2024-06-14 19:23:46
|
2024-06-14 16:06:22
| 119 | 69 |
l8miijw
|
l8ljn2i
|
1dfq4yp
|
1dfq4yp
|
[WP] Whenever you flip a coin, it lands on its side, Rock-Paper-Scissors always ends in a draw, and when you enter the lottery you always win your money back but not a dime more. You're not lucky, you're not unlucky, you're... something else.
|
I am, frankly, a statistical wonder. Luck, fortune, probability; whatever you want to call it, the universe contorts itself into a pretzel to ensure that in games of chance I never win... but also never lose. Some people are blessed with good luck. Others are cursed with misfortune.
I would say luck doesn't effect me, but strictly that's not true. If I was truly without luck one way or the other, I'd be at the mercy of random chance. Instead, I'm caught in a probabilistic Limbo, where luck itself keeps me neutral.
Which is why, even as sixth man in a game of Russian roulette, I'm not worried. 5 shots down. The other players looking at me with expressions ranging from pity to predatory glee. They know now, as I did before the game began, the bullet is in my chamber.
I pull the trigger and smile as I hear the familiar sound of the gun jamming.
|
It's a Friday night, and I'm at the bar **trying to get lucky**. Unfortunately, I already know what will happen when I'm up to swing. I'm not going to strike out, but I'm not hitting a home run either. If the odds of success are fifty-fifty, I'm going to reach exactly second base. No more, no less.
I find a spot at the bar. "What can I get you," he asks.
"Surprise me, Johnny"
"Sure thing," he winks. He begins going through the bottles on the shelf one by one, dumping a sip of each into a glass. What is he doing? Then he hands it to me. "Here's your drink!"
I glance at the glass, realizing my mistake. "Actually, I'll have an Old Fashioned. I'll still pay for that, of course."
Johnny looks at the glass and turns red. "No, it's on the house. I mean, exactly half of it is on the house. I mean... I swear I don't know what's going on today!" Johnny is cute when he gets all flustered like that.
"So, Johnny, help a guy out. Who's single here that I could ask out?"
He motions to a guy by the pool table gripping a cue. “Last I heard, Kai over there just broke up with his boyfriend a few weeks ago.” He nods towards a muscular guy wearing a tank toward his right. “Anton’s pretty-chill too. He’s a regular.” Johnny laughs, and slips in, “I’m single too, of course.”
“You think I’ve got a shot?”
“With them? I’d say you’ve got a chance if you flex that manly charm you’ve got,” he teases.
“... and with you?”
He scratches his head and grins. “Well, if someone like you happened to ask out someone like me, I’d say the someone like me would be an idiot to not say yes. If that were to hypothetically happen, of course.” He’s turning red again, but hasn’t lost his air of confidence.
It feels like there’s an invisible rope that’s tugging me toward him. Our eyes lock, and it’s electricity. His chest comes closer, and he grabs my arm, outlining my biceps. It’s exhilarating. He’s overpowering my thumping heart.
“Would you—”
“Yes. 100% yes,” he says, drawing closer still.
If the odds of success are fifty-fifty, I’ll reach second base. But Johnny and I are a certainty, an inevitability.
|
Darius_Blake
|
mudkippers14
|
2023-04-13 15:36:57
|
2023-04-13 14:33:14
| 194 | 56 |
jg3touy
|
jg3jwpo
|
12klmt6
|
12klmt6
|
[WP] Dragons are logical. They only hunt things that cower or attempt to run from them. Dragons only fight that which attacks them first. But something that does neither absolutely terrifies them, because it implies that whatever it is, no matter the appearance, it must be stronger than them.
|
“Alright” said Steve, “We’re about to step into the dragon‘s cave. Now remember, we don’t want to scare the gal, we just want to take a look and keep a respectful distance.”
The sounds of humans wafted into the cave and the dragon slowly opened one large eye to see who would be so bold as to trespass in her home. She saw the small Australian man, dressed all in beige, and slowly began to rise to her full height, expecting him to run, and after a short chase, for her to have a nice afternoon snack. But instead…
“Crikey, she’s a big one. This is why we want to be respectful and not get too close. Look at those giant, beautiful teeth and the massive, strong scales” Steve went on, describing the wonder of the dragon before him.
As the dragon began to realize that this man held no fear for her, she froze. ‘What is this magic, who is this man, how is he not afraid’, a million thoughts flew through the dragons head but as they did, her own fear grew and she began to cower, her size seeming to diminish before the brazen man. Seeing this, Steve addressed the camera that he’d set up just out of view. “It looks like she’s frightened and we want her to know that we’re friendly and she can trust us. So we’re just gonna stay still for a while and let her get used to our scent, then we’ll head out and come back another day with some snacks for her.”
With that, Steve quieted and stood in place, he and the dragon slowly watching each other, both prepared for the slightest aggression from the other, neither moving, until the dragon realized this man was no danger and slowly drifted back to sleep. As she slept, Steve slowly left the cave and prepared to show the world that these creatures were not horrible monsters, only misunderstood. And he had the video to prove it.
|
"Okay, I need you to work with me, here..." The stranger set his half-emptied mug down, strong tea sweetened with honey.
"All right?" The bard had been sharing stories all evening for coppers and drinks, and was having a good night.
"You said, 'Dragons are logical, they only hunts things that attempt to run from them.' Right?"
"Yeah."
"So that makes sense. Prey runs; if it runs, it's prey."
"Correct."
"And then you said, 'they only attack that which attacks them first.' That's kind of a mistake though, isn't it?"
"I don't think so." The bard had never changed a word in the stories and songs handed down through the Guild. That was unimaginable. One mustn't ever tamper with The Truth. Do what you want with local songs and stories and of course compose whatever the hell you like, but Guild songs were sacrosanct.
"I do. That's not attacking, that's *defending*. It can escalate to eliminating a proven threat, i.e. killing an enemy. But it isn't attacking when you don't start the conflict. Anything that doesn't start a fight isn't an enemy, it's just another creature."
"Okay, I can accept that clarification. But the point remains that a dragon won't initiate hostilities."
"Fine. And now it all falls apart with the last bit: 'But something that does neither terrifies them.' I don't see how or why. They won't attack unless attacked first, so the base state there is to do nothing. If the target isn't fleeing, it isn't food either, so the base state there is to also do nothing. Are you telling me that if you just walk up to a dragon and stand there, it's going to be frozen with fear?"
"Look, man, if you're going to pick the old sayings apart, we're going to be here all day..."
"It's simpler than that."
"Oh?"
"Absolutely." The stranger picked up his mug and drained it, waving to the innkeeper for another. He set it down, idly turning it 'round with one finger. "And I'm pretty sure I know why."
The bard sat back. One fingernail scratched gently up a string of the lute, producing a subtle hiss. "Say on..."
"Old saying, right? Nobody knows how far back it goes, right?"
"Right..."
"But the rule of the Bard Guild is to never change the stories, because the stories are true, right?"
The stranger knew bardic law! Oh, this might be a *very* interesting evening... "Right."
"If the stories are true and all the statements within the story are not in conflict with each other, then some assumptions around the statements must be mistaken. To be frozen with fear by something that is neither attacking you nor running away is not logical."
"But what about the implication?"
"What about it? Implication is only suggestion, not fact. The *fact* is that the reaction is illogical. And that leaves only one conclusion."
"And that is...?"
"That what we have been calling 'dragon' all this time is not, in fact, a dragon."
The bard felt her pulse quicken. This might be one of the older Seeing Songs coming to light. "If not a dragon, then what is it?"
"I think it's a man."
|
jellybeanguy
|
theonetrueelhigh
|
2023-05-26 17:15:10
|
2023-05-26 15:55:38
| 15 | 10 |
jlq1mfd
|
jlppxjv
|
13rw65p
|
13rw65p
|
[WP] "Chess...it's always chess..." The man said to Death "Every time I've died, you've had me play chess to win back my life...don't you have any other games? I mean...Agricola or Disney Villainous are fantastic games! I own a game shop, come take a look, maybe we can find you something."
|
Death's eyes blazed like blue Supernovas within the endless darkness of his eye sockets;
"YOU DISLIKE MY CHOICE OF GAME?"
The man scratched his chin thoughtfully, musing how this action was pointless in his current form, but continuing anyway;
*"Well it's a bit old-fashioned and cliche isn't it? Kings and queens, hiding behind the commoners, using the State, the Church and the Mililtary as a shield... Besides, even you complain about the awkward way the knights move."*
"AH YES, THE LITTLE HORSE-SHAPED ONES, THEY ARE CONFUSING AND ERRATIC"
Death paused, an amused tone in his leaden voice;
"MUCH LIKE THE CREATURES THEY REPRESENT; I SHALL TELL YOU WHY IT IS "ALWAYS CHESS" AND THEN I SHALL GIVE YOU A CHOICE"
The man nodded, relaxing back in the chair and waiting expectantly.
"IN THE TIMES WHEN YOUR SOCIETY WAS YOUNG, WHEN THE FIRST FARMERS BEGAN TO APPEAR AND I TOOK ON THE PERSONIFICATION OF THE HARVESTER OF SOULS; NEW CONCEPTS BEGAN TO EMERGE."
"BARTER GAVE WAY TO TRADE, COMMUNALITY GAVE WAY TO RULERSHIP, AND DISAGREEMENTS GAVE WAY TO WARFARE. AND IN THOSE EARLY TIMES, IN THIER FINAL MOMENTS, THOSE HUMBLE SOULS WISHED ONLY TO KNOW WHAT IT FELT TO BE THE RULER, THE SOLDIER, THE PARAGON AND OF COURSE, THE PAWN..."
Death waved its hand over the board
"THIS GAME ALLOWS ALL.OF THOSE THINGS, AND YET YOU WOULD WISH TO EXPERIENCE SOMETHING ELSE?"
The man nodded
"THEN PRAY-TELL ME, WHAT *POSSIBLE* EXPERIENCE WOULD YOU WANT TO ENJOY IN YOUR FINAL MOMENTS"
The man thought carefully on this; reflecting not only on the totality of his life, but the state of the modern world.
*"How about I introduce you to Cards Against Humanity"*
|
The man once wielded lightning that could instantly incinerate dragons. The man was once a balding middle school teacher attempting to convince students that math was important. The man once trekked snowy mountains during the height of winter to escape enemies fast on his trail. The man was once many different things, in many different life times.
This life was a calmer one. The scent of coffee and the click clack of laptops filled the air of the man’s bookshop. In the corner, students waved their hands as they animatedly discussed which words were connected to a clue given by their friend. While this was not the only game and coffeeshop the man had ever owned, it was one of the better located ones. There was a lot of traffic from tired students that needed to study from the college around the corner.
When the man closed up for the day, he looked both ways before crossing the street. Suddenly, there was yelling and the sound of tires screeching. The man sharply looked up only to be greeted by a large chunk of metal - a truck.
“I can’t believe I’m going to be dying in a cliche,” the man thought wetly before choking on his final breath. “Truck-kun. It’s really truck-kun.”
He woke to a familiar scene. There were two plush, comfortable chairs facing each other. In between them was a table with a chess board and all its pieces laying on top.
The man plopped down in one chair. The person in the other chair was similarly familiar, although perhaps the being in the other chair could not be called a person. It looked like a mermaid with a tail dark but shining like the night.
“Chess… it’s always chess…” the man said to the being he called Death as he moved a white pawn two squares forward. “Every time I’ve died, you’ve had me play chess to win back my life… don’t you have any other games?”
Death responded by mirroring his move.
“Agricola or Disney Villainous are fantastic games!” he said as he pondered his next turn, “I own a game shop in this life, come take a look, maybe we can find something.”
As always, there was no verbal response from death. The game continued.
Death, the man noted, had been getting better and better at chess after every lifetime. At the beginning it only took him a short game to return to another life. As lives passed, Death learned how to better defend its pieces, how to fork, and how to set up traps.
After knocking over his own king several times, the man suddenly came to a realization. Even after the man spent a lifetime preparing for this game, Death had improved so much that he could no longer defeat it. There was a possibility he was stuck playing chess here in this empty room forever.
“I can’t win,” he said incredulously as his eyes bulged. “I can’t win.”
Death playfully stuck out its tongue. It was surprisingly long and pink. A word was carved on it.
Stockfish, the word said.
|
grudthak
|
mionnn
|
2023-01-25 06:40:01
|
2023-01-25 02:42:29
| 47 | 24 |
j5sj81c
|
j5rsq3x
|
10kdob4
|
10kdob4
|
[WP] "Did you know, human mouths have a higher risk of infection and disease than any other animal besides certain lizards?" You calmly explain. The alien looks in horror at the bite wound on its arm, then back to you in horror.
|
“Buuuuuut . . .” I said awkwardly as my eyes trailed a round the room. “We also have this handy little thing called alcohol.”
I grabbed the hydrogen peroxide and administered care with a cotton ball. “This can take up to several washes, but you’ll heal nicely with this.”
“You humans are a curious bunch.” the alien said in a puzzled tone. “You have all these characteristics of harm that come to you naturally, but you also have remedies available to cure the wounds inflicted.”
It was my turn to be puzzled. “Does your species not have remedies?”
“Our bodies naturally produce healing.” the alien responded dryly. He winced as I put a bandage on him. “However, if we inflict wounds on each other, we mean to harm them to death.”
“Well, that’s where we differ, I guess.” I responded. “We don’t always mean to harm each other. Sometimes, we have accidents. Other times, we just try to get you stop attacking.”
“So, you sometimes use deadly weapons in a non-lethal manner?” The alien spoke as if I had told him I could fly by using telekinesis.
“Yes.” I continued. “We, generally, don’t like killing each other. We want to preserve our lives, and those of the people around us.”
“Perhaps there is much more to you humans that require further study.”
For the first time since I’ve known him, I think this is the first time I actually saw the alien smile.
|
I was just finishing my shift at the clinic. This rather odd man came in and stated that a homeless man had bitten his arm, and he was afraid of infection. As I gathered the antibiotic shots and gauze, I noticed that his vitals were WAY off! His pulse was over 120, his blood pressure was 200/130, and his respiration was almost 0!
I studied him, and asked if he was okay with some X-rays to detect any bone or muscle damage. He simply nodded, and as I watched, I realized he had neither bones or muscles. His internal system was almost completely plasma!
I was just about to call 911, when he flipped his hand and my phone flew across the room and shattered! I began to panic, but he held up his palms and assured me he was not a threat. I told him that his vitals and X-rays were odd, but he simply asked me to give him a shot of antibiotic, which I did as I applied the gauze.
"Did you know, human mouths have a higher risk of infection and disease than any other animal besides certain lizards?" The look of horror went from his arm and back to me. I was hoping to scare him away. I then mentioned that a simple infection could potentially kill him.
He looked me in the eye and stated that he was sure I knew he wasn't human. I began to back away, but he stood between me and the door. I told him there was nothing more I could do for him. He asked me where the human archives were located, and I realized he simply wanted to go to the local library. I gave him directions, and he flipped his hand again. I saw the bed come up to meet me, and when I awoke, he was gone.
I spent the rest of my shift cleaning up. I had managed to click a pic of him on my phone before he put my out. I forward the photo and all his vitals and X-rays to my boss. He came in early, and spent the next 30 minutes gathering all the data. The local cop took my statement, looking strangely at me as he wrote.
As he was starting to leave, an almost identical report came over his mike from the library. The description given by the librarian was the same as mine. This led to an APB being sent out along with the pic I snapped and the security cam footage from the library.
That evening, as I dressed for work, I sat down to dinner and watch the local news. A report came over about a strange object being seen just outside of town, and this object was being shown lifting off the ground for a moment, then disappearing into the sky! My boss called and asked if I had seen the news. I told him that I had watched the report, and he told me to keep this story between myself and him. I agreed completely!
|
IronwoodKopis
|
robertroquemore
|
2023-01-03 16:48:38
|
2023-01-03 15:39:48
| 20 | 14 |
j2sbsiz
|
j2s1bgp
|
101slvb
|
101slvb
|
[WP] “Dad, is it true that the Earth used to only have one moon?” “Well, technically, the second one isn’t a moo—“ “Dear, we don’t talk about such things.”
|
We were having dinner, eating our favorite: bread, when my daughter smiled at me.
"Yes, little marshmallow?", I asked, knowing she had a question, otherwise this glutton would not stop eating until she finished everything off of her plate.
"Dad...
Is it true that the Earth used to only have one moon?", she asked.
"Well, yes, but technically, the second one isn't a moo...", I started, but a sharp elbow from my wife, stopped me from finishing the sentence.
"Dear, we don't talk about such things.", she said, smiling at our daughter.
"But mom...
Ethan at the school-train said so...", she said.
"Well, he is right.
We used to have only one moon.", my wife answered.
"But how did the other moon appear?", she asked.
My wife just shook her head, as this topic was somewhat of a taboo, but our daughter was 10 years old, soon she shall be working, it's time for her to know this.
"I shall tell you.", I said, as I nodded to my wife.
"Yey! Finally!", she said.
"The second moon appeared a hundred and thirty years ago, randomly, but it isn't a moon.", I started.
"If it's not a moon what it is?", she asked.
"An artificial object we can't open, can't shake, can't scan, but it's certainly not natural, and it's certainly some sort of vessel, as it has spikes of energy, heat, and sometimes moves erratically.", I said.
She nodded.
"But it's big enough to exert a higher gravitational pull on us than our...natural moon?
How? How was this made?", she asked.
Ah, education nowadays is so hurried, barely 10 years old and knows all that...
I shrugged.
"I don't know.", I said.
"So...
It's true, it's the second moon's fault that we...", she started.
"That we are living around the peak of mountains, on floating/flying houses, and trains?
Yes.
The tides got at least 14 times stronger, erosion as well, whittling our lands little by little, the weather got much worse with the currents being messed up, seasons changing, weather becoming much more dangerous...
That "moon" is also constructed from a material that is slowly leaking something, which weakens the magnetic field of Earth...", I said.
"So...
The planet is really dying...", she whispered.
I nodded, as my wife held my hand.
We continued our dinner in silence, but the mood didn't recover for a good while...
|
\[WP\] "Dear, we don't talk about... such things." Reese's mother tensed her shoulders at her husband's absentmindedly inconsiderate response. She nudged one of his feet away from Reese as to signal that this was a good time to end the little conversation they were having. The father instantly received the message and acted upon it accordingly.
"Your mom is right-! Yep. Sweetie, would you maybe want to play with something in your room for a little while?"
Reese tilted her head, allowing her hair to cascade down to her forearm. "Can I do Barbies with *you*?"
"Uhm, sure. Go set it up."
The couple waited for their little girl to trod out of sight, and when she turned the corner and her parents couldn't hear her little tune anymore, the mother's gaze threateningly drove a beeline right into the father's soul. "Richard. That was too close," She found it absolutely illogical that he would be so ignorant as to almost spill vital information to a four-year-old, let alone one of their own blood and flesh. "She doesn't need to know that crap."
Richard pinched the bridge of his nose, mainly to use his hand to hide his eyes from his wife in shame. "You're right, honey. But I'm not sure it would make a difference if we told her."
"What?" The mother spat in surprise. "Do you want to sleep on the floor? Because that's what will happen when our little girl comes into our room at night and decides to take your spot in the bed. She's too young, even I'm scared!"
The father took her hand in his and sighed. Her touch was so gentle, but he knew she had the passion of a fighter when need be. He stroked his fingers along her knuckles and just decided to chuck his opinions in the disposal. This isn't an appropriate time to speak, so he won't speak.
"Do you not have anything to say?" The mother collected a constellation of tears in her lashes before pushing her husband away firmly.
The marriage was... difficult, to say the least. Abigail, the wife, was prone to misunderstanding the situations Richard believed wouldn't be impactful in the long run, and Richard didn't have much of a confidence in his own opinions to voice to Abigail. They don't consider small talks as what they are rather than just strained information exchanges.
Oh, well. The world is ending soon anyways.
Abigail tore the curtains away from the window above the kitchen sink and threw them aside. She pointed at the big, cardboard hued rock in the sky. "That asteroid wasn't that big yesterday! It's coming towards us, and I would rather live the best last days of my life than live them in fear. So don't tell Reese!"
The father was about to agree with her when Reese popped her little head out from the hallway and mumbled. "I heard my name. Am I trouble?"
The couple practically jumped when they saw Reese. The mother could see that the father was a confused, meek mess, so she spoke up. "Of course not, sweetie. We're just talking about that music camp you're going to in a couple days. Aren't you excited for that?" The mother plastered on a fake grin to appease her child.
"No," Reese said plainly. "I'm not sure we'll survive long enough to drive me there."
The mother went pale. She took a few steps back from Reese. "W-what do you... mean by that, baby?"
Reese's skin melted into a seasick green along with her fingertips and legs, which secreted a mucus-like substance that left a glaze over her body. Her eyes stretched and swirled into pure black holes. She took a few steps towards her 'parents' and laughed breathlessly. "I know everything."
|
TheWanderingBook
|
b00mhood
|
2024-06-29 13:47:20
|
2024-06-29 13:46:59
| 165 | 51 |
mwa2n0t
|
latybpm
|
1l4m6zn
|
1dra7dl
|
[WP] "Any spell can be enhanced by saying the incantation and waiting to use it. The longer you wait, the stronger it gets." You prepared a Fireball immediately upon hearing this, and 20 years later you accidentally release it.
|
Yes, it was my fireball.
No, I didn't mean to cast it then, or there for that matter.
Yes, I do know that a fireball spell should only combust about a cubic meter.
Yes, I'm aware that mine set about 10 acres ablaze.
Yes, I agree, that was not nearly far enough from civilization to use.
No, I don't think the word irresistible is appropriate, although I can understand why you might.
No, I was just startled by that stupid cow.
No, it shouldn't have been there.
Fine, maybe I'm the one who shouldn't have been there.
No, I don't plan to come back to Chicago anytime soon.
|
The end is coming, everyone is fleeing the kingdom. Bringing everything they can, carrying their kids into safety. But with the vastness of that meteor falling from the sky, I doubt there will be any survivors.
I messed up. I maybe put on the history books as the stupid mage who destroyed the Kingdom of Aranya.
Twenty years ago, when I read in a Magick Book about the intensity of a spell grows from the time it was invoked up to the moment it is released, I immediately invoked the Fireball spell, “Livindar Vorem Chormæ”.
The Spell won’t be released unless you finish the whole spell, so I only invoked “Livindar Vorem..” leaving Chormæ out to keep the power growing, until the last word of the spell is mentioned.
But you see, this spell is a basic spell and basic spells have basic words! And the same words are present in other basic spells! “Chormæ Zeliandaré”, a simple spell for growing plants. Yes, growing plants.
I forgot that the last word to release the Fireball spell is the same word that starts the spell for growing plants and I literally invoke it nonchalantly. The only time I realized my mistake is when a spell circle glows underneath my feet and a massive fireball as huge as a mountain appears from the sky.
I can’t think of any spell that could undo this mess. Intense spells can only be undone by a spell with similar intensity. Either a spell invoked 20 yrs ago or very advance spell a High Mage can only invoke are the only spells that can undo that Fireball in the sky.
Much to my relief, four of kingdom’s master mages manage to extinguish the Fireball. “Antum Imevesta, Soleja Claverem, Relfam Daryé, Saperem Heva.” Not even sure if that’s the exact spell, but they use this long and advance spell to extinguish the Fireball I created 20 years ago. Now I needed to answer to the Court of Mages about this mess.
|
greymonk
|
curse1304
|
2024-03-01 19:53:38
|
2024-03-01 19:40:29
| 17 | 11 |
kswddt3
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kswb1t5
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1b3vfne
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1b3vfne
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[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."
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Alia looked at her best friend, horror, shock, and betrayal lashing into her, shredding the last remnants of her tattered frayed soul. She had to have heard Wren wrong, those words didn't just come out of her friends mouth, she heard it wrong. "Excuse me," the words came out in a too small, broken voice.
"That is the problem, isn't it?" he asked. "The killing, the violence, where does it end? Why am I any better to decide who lives and dies than he was? What kind of person would it make me if I started assuming that kind of authority over matters no mortal should?"
Her ears rang, drowning out the self righteous rant. Van Milor had killed millions, had massacred her people, and yet again, the humans choose to spare him over them. She had trusted the gods, trusted their prophesies, when they said they'd send a chosen one to free the world of Milor's evil. Yet, here he was, just as useless as the gods had been the day Milor's men came to her village. She still feel the weight of her sisters head in her lap as she cradled it watching her village burn. The seven year old's head had been the only thing spared from the flames as it had rolled unnoticed out of the pile of bodies in the village center. Alia had only been spared as she was out gathering medicinal herbs up the mountain when the men had come through.
She had met Wren six months later as a refugee at The Temple of the Three, and followed him for the past decade, waiting for this moment. Waiting for the moment revenge and justice would finally be served. The nerve pain in her back and arm a constant reminder of the sacrifices she had made to keep him alive for this moment. She had not done it so he could baulk last second, so he could spare Milor.
Alia was done with the gods, and done with their chosen one. Milor needed to pay, so she turned to the primals, to Death. She whispered the forbidden words, and struck her deal. She felt no regret, or mercy as searing pain tore through her bones, and she changed. Her mortal form shredding to give way to the immortal hound of Death. So long as she fulfilled her duties as hound and reaper, she was free to hunt. To hunt Milor, his men, their families. Every last one of them until she wiped them from existence.
Wren turned slowly to look at her, his face mirroring hers only minutes ago. A face that he didn't deserve to make. It made the rage boil in her blood, and pour deaths flames out of her, singing the ground were four paws now dug in as she leapt. The traitor could not look at her like that without a face, so she ripped it off. His dying screams marking the end of the era of gods and their heroes, and the start of deaths.
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Lew was dumbfounded.
No, dumbfounded isn't quite right, it's more accurate to say that his world was crumbling around him.
Ben was, at the present moment, embracing a mob boss, mass murderer, and psychopath. That is to say, he was hugging the exact person that they had been chasing for years, tracking, and planning, and thwarting at every opportunity. The person who killed his family. The person who doomed them to one of the worst fates possible. The one who trapped them in that burning building. Lew still heard their screams at night, the banging on the walls, the scrambling to find a way out. Wet footsteps, oil on the floor. People shaped flames. He couldn't save them.
And finally, they had the bastard.
Ben was hugging him.
"Ben is a smart person, he's always acted rationally before, if not a little impulsively. There must be a reason for this." Lew told himself. He wasn't convinced.
"Ben, what are you doing? Shoot the bastard!"
Ben gasped. "Are you serious? If I killed him, I'd be no better than he was."
Richa- no, he doesn't deserve to be named. The bastard flapped his diseased gums. "I've changed. I know what I did was wrong, but I'm going to be better in the future."
"Then I'll do it myself." Lew removed his trusty colt 1911 from its weathered holster, aiming towards the bastard, where Ben was aiming his sidearm right back at Lew.
"You shoot him, and you'll get a bullet in your chest." Said Ben.
Lew didn't falter, he didn't remove his aim from the bastard.
"Everybody calm down. There has to be a peaceful solution to this." Said the bastard.
"Ben." Lew began, voice steeped in malice. "Do you remember how my mother died?"
"Of course I-"
"She died holding my baby brother in her arms, trying to shield him. He was six months old. They were both burned beyond recognition, do you understand that?"
"Lew, I don't see how that's relevant."
"It's relevant as snow in winter you son of a bitch!" Lew's hands began to shake. Beads of sweat hit the pavement below him.
"You can't let vengeance cloud your judgement." Ben replied.
It didn't make sense. Ben was his friend.
Why?
Why?
Why?
Ben was his friend, yet he was willing to kill him for that... thing.
Lew wondered what his mother would think? She wouldn't want him to die for this, that's for sure. On the other hand, she would pull the trigger a thousand times over in his position. He was torn in two.
"P-please, Ben. I thought we were friends. Why?" The sweat on the ground was joined by its cousin, tears.
"Lew, take a deep breath, you don't want to do this." Ben was cool as a cucumber.
"I want to do this more than anything I've ever wanted goddammit!"
Lew didn't know if he could do it. If he took the shot, Ben would shoot him, and he would die. Ben didn't miss, he was always the better shot after all. If he shot Ben first, clean in the head, he might survive long enough to kill the bastard and live. Could he do it? Could he kill the closest thing to a family he's had in years? He didn't know.
He didn't know anything anymore.
Lew lowered his weapon, hands hanging limp at his sides. He dropped the stupid thing on the ground. He wasted his shot. He wasted everything. The effort, the time, the hopes, the grief. It was for nothing. Nothing at all. Lew's nails dug canyons into his palms. It would scar if he could help it.
"Don't every show your face at my door ever again you piece of shit." He spoke.
Lew would return home that night, only to pack a suitcase with clothes and cash. By morning he would be halfway across the country. He would check into a cheap motel on the side of the highway to rest. He had worked too long, for too little. He was tired.
So tired.
But Lew knew he couldn't think like that. He had already failed his family once. He wouldn't fail them again by ending it. He would survive.
It was all he could do.
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Delicious-Virus3270
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PlasmaShovel
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2024-03-08 08:29:01
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2024-03-08 04:40:00
| 381 | 261 |
ktw4cl1
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ktvgudp
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1b9dtij
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1b9dtij
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[WP]"How did a mere peasant become the most powerful hero in the land? Sure you're immortal but that can't be all" "Well you'd be surprised how many artifacts will grant you ultimate power in exchange for your life."
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"To be *\*akh akh\** brought down by a peasant of all things!" the Tyrant scoffed in between bloody coughs. "How did *you,* of all people, become a hero? You're... you're *immortal*, yes, but the fighting prowess, the magical wards, you shouldn't- *ah*!"
His speech was cut short as a jolt of pain coursed through him and he clutched his side tighter, blood pouring from in-between his fingers. He was wounded, beaten, and utterly defeated... but alive.
The hero, in contrast, appeared... indifferent. Gazing into a corner, looking at empty air, he almost seemed dazed, confused.
"They're talking, you know?" the Hero said quietly.
The Tyrant did his best to prop himself up against the wall, managing only to sit. "Who is? What are you-"
"Him, for instance," the Hero said as he lifted his sword and pointed it at the Tyrant's chest. "The sword, I mean. Whispering in my ear."
"It's *cursed*, you fool," the Tyrant spat.
"I know. I was curious what it would do. Said to consume the life of its user within a week."
He finally turned away from the vacant corner and looked at his defeated foe.
"It wants to kill you, you know?" he said casually. "I think it's angry it can't kill me. None of the things I gathered can. This pendant," he said and pointed towards his neck, a small silver locket hanging on it, "is why your magic couldn't touch me. It wants to strangle me. Always."
The Tyrant narrowed his eyes as he inspected the Hero carefully, spotting more and more cursed artefacts on him. Artefacts of immense power that always came at a cost.
The life of their user.
"*Fascinating*," the Tyrant whispered.
"It gets easier when I do stuff. Fight, for instance. Go on quests. Focus on something other than the venomous promises and squabbling."
"Is... is that why you came here? Fought me?" the Tyrant gasped. "I thought you were on... a quest to remove me from..."
"Power?" the Hero finished. "No. Well, yes. I mean, I don't really care. I just needed to fight. You were strong. And evil. Silenced the voices."
"This power... think what you could accomplish!" the Tyrant said with renewed vigour. "*No one* was meant to hold this much power and live, but *you can*! I can help you, aid you in-"
"No. The things promise. No more promises. I just needed to fight someone strong and evil."
The Tyrant looked at him intently. "And when there's no one *evil* left to fight? Only the strong who are *good*?"
The Hero met his eyes. Despite their respective actions, it was the hero's eyes that seemed... empty.
"Goodbye," the Hero said.
And he pushed his sword through the villain's chest, deep into the stone wall behind him.
When his gurgles finally stopped, he went back to looking at the empty corner, its void somehow beckoning him.
The room went silent.
His mind did not.
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When the forces of darkness encroached upon the lands, the king sent out his envoys to seek out the most powerful hero in the land to fight them. They needed this man who won a thousand battles, crushed a hundred armies, and slayed untold scores of monsters. A man whom the king’s ancestors once feared would fight them for the throne due to his sheer popularity among the common folk, but quietly left the capital without a word after his victories over evil.
One envoy found him in the rural countryside, tending to his chickens on his modest farm. The divine glow emanating from his humble tool shed was unmistakable, stacked to the brim with artifacts of ultimate power. Even after his inconspicuous retirement many years ago, he still looked every bit the fresh-faced peasant boy when he first rose to the occasion to save the kingdom from evil, youthful freckles dotting his face.
The envoy, puzzled beyond belief, could not resist asking this lowly peasant how did he acquire so much power and artifacts…surely immortality couldn’t be the only source of his power. Or why would such an immortal be content to continue life as a chicken farmer.
The youth just shrugged, a careless smile on his face. “Well, you’d be surprised how many artifacts will grant you ultimate power in exchange for your life…and well, I have infinite lives to offer, so it was pretty easy. So, what’s the new evil cooking up this time?”
The envoy told him of the wraith riders that stormed across the lands, corrupting everything with their touch, how humans turn to shades, crops rotten away, and buildings crumbled into dust while eternal night danced across the skies and silenced the sun.
The youthful peasant hero agreed to go. It would be easy peasy, lemon squeezy, he said. Like taking candy from a baby. Lead the way, he told the envoy, and so the man did.
The hero stood before the army of wraith riders, adorned in the divine artifacts of power he pulled out of his tool shed, the resplendent glow blinding the shadowy creatures. The peasant boy didn’t even have to fight, they were screaming in agony as the holy light shone across the corrupted lands and burnt these accursed monsters.
The leader of the wraith riders, a taller, much more imposing figure clad in dark armor, clawed his way toward the hero even as he was engulfed in smoke from the burning holiness.
“We are only here to return you to your father, the Dark Lord of Agramon, why must you hurt us?”
The hero shrugged once more. “I dunno, maybe it’s because he forgot about me and my ma on the farm. Your boss is a bad man, seducing a mortal woman then just leaving when the fun’s up without checking if she was pregnant with his kid. Can you go back and tell him I want to be left alone to tend to my ma’s chicken farm? Every time minions like you show up, the lands get corrupted, and I get people calling me to save the day. It breaks my routine.”
“If you do not wish to return, could you at least return your father’s cursed artifacts as they were?”
He shook his head and frowned. “No can do. I don’t like all this doom and gloom so I added a little light to your Dark Lord’s artifacts. It helps repel the likes of you too. I’d suggest you go back before you burn up completely, don’t throw away your life like this. Maybe go start a farm in Agramon too, try leading a peaceful life instead of corrupting the lands.”
The wraith rider paused. All his life he had only known to sweep mortal realms with corruption, never knowing life beyond that. It suddenly seemed all so tempting to try something different after centuries of wanton death and destruction. As if sensing the wraith rider’s hesitation, the divine light from the hero’s artifacts dimmed down to give him much-needed rest.
With a cocked eyebrow, the heroic farmer regarded the wraith rider with curiosity. “You’re the first of that old man’s minions to actually consider. That’s cool, so, you wanna come back with me to learn how to raise chickens?”
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SirPiecemaker
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Tregonial
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2023-05-23 14:46:12
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2023-05-23 14:32:31
| 552 | 191 |
jlaovun
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jlamu1i
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13pm1ij
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13pm1ij
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[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.
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"Aha! But you forget! I have the power of my Freeze Ray!" I cheered at the hero.
They played their part and smirked. Many were watching from the sidelines, as I cutely raised the contraption that looked like a glue gun, but used ice cubes instead of glue sticks. Legs spread apart, held with both of my grubby little child hands, I squeezed the handle more than I squeezed the trigger.
A ray of blue clouds lazily drifted forward like the spray of water from a passing water ride flew out from it, and the hero merely blew a raspberry back at me.
It was all so childish! It was just kids having fun with make-believe powers that happened to be true.
I found myself restrained in the ice. "Oh, boo!" came my catchphrase, pouting up at the hero who looked down at me.
"Alright, Maggy, time to call it quits. Ain't no one sneakin' a cookie from the cookie jar while I'm on watch!"
"It's not Maggy!" I laughed up at-
Suddenly his head was blown off. My pout became confused.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
I looked at the shooter. He looked like some sort of cyborg, but with necromancer vibes. "I have come to claim this land for the Emperor. Resist if you must. All will be converted in time."
To prove his words, he threw a face hugger-like robot drone into the air, which landed on the now dead form of the hero on the floor.
The body jolted in seizure as nanobots injected themselves into his body, and within seconds, began to stand up and become much like the cyborg corpse that killed him.
I pouted once more, "That's not how you play the game!"
The cyborg undead might have responded, but I decided enough was enough.
I imagined the scene going differently.
Time rewound.
"-lright, Maggy, time to call it quits. Ain't not one sneakin' a cookie from the cookie jar while I'm on watch!" he repeated himself, like an actor in a play. His smirk was the same. The look in his eyes was not, as he remembered dying.
"It's not Maggy!" I laughed up at him. "It's Imajin!"
Then I had the new play buddy come in. "I am designated Mark 7, series 49," he introduced himself, as all villains should. "I have come to take over this town in the name of the Emperor!" he continued, for the benefit of the spectators wondering why he was here.
The spectators... I looked at them, remembering they were there. The hundreds of people just going about their day seemed worried at first, but after seeing that the hero was fine, merely shrugged it off.
The hero paused, unsure of his line for a moment, but looked at me, so I fed him an angle. "I don't know him! Why do you think I know him? We don't look anywhere near related!"
I could see the cyborg struggling to do anything at all under my power, but it wasn't his turn, yet.
The hero caught on quickly, and said, "Well, you can't have a cookie either," he said half-bravely, half confused. "You'll have to wait your turn."
I caught the subtle hint. My smirk let out just a hint of my fangs for a moment, before they reformed into perfectly cute, almost cartoonish teeth.
"A cookie? I want all of this town!" the half-alive construct complained like a sunday cartoon villain. Same tone and everything.
All was as it should be.
Just fun and games.
Harmless fun.
No harm at all.
|
Part 1 of 2
The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of.
Pascal wrote as much. You're not certain what it was about, certainly something about God and faith. Not that it matters, the sentence stuck with you, and you agree. One shouldn't always look for reasoning, the absence of it explains so many things.
Streets built to accommodate traffic as if each driver was a droplet under the yoke of fluid mechanics; industrial zones separated from living areas to keep it all ordained and neat; motorways connecting farms to the concrete where people ate. It looks rational and sensible, and that is all it is. A pretense at common sense, just enough to keep the illusion alive; That mankind is, on a global and individual scale, dictated by science and enlightened.
As if.
You certainly believed so too, once. It's an architect's prerogative to think in right angles and load-bearing walls. Ah, the folly of youth. If only the old would recognize this folly and let go of it, but no, it appears you are cursed like Cassandra before you, to see and tell the truth and never to be believed. Then again, it's easier living in an illusion, they cannot be blamed.
"Any idea?" a voice asks behind you as you contemplate the body, warm blood seeps from a slit throat. There is a menacing tinge in the voice. They fear you, they know what you've done in the past, they know you are causing problems on the regular still. They also prefer the devil they know.
"I say we have a contender on our hands," you reply.
The victim was killed at home, a nice apartment up in a skyscraper with a fully-equipped kitchen open on a tasteful living-room and massive windows looking over the city. Hard to breach, some would say. Easy place to get isolated and far from help a killer would reply.
You recognize the method. Slick, efficient, driven.
Like you, once.
Young and brash, you were armored in the certainty of knowledge, wielding efficiency and reason as weapons. If only you were in charge, then things could finally go forward. Few agreed, it was a human right to choose for themselves, so they said, mistakes were part of growth. Mistakes were done aplenty over centuries, and still the world was on the brink of collapse. Choice is what brought us there, it was up to you to correct this mistake.
You never were a grand and powerful warrior. In truth, nobody is. Humans merely need to shape their hopes and fears in the plastic of heroes and villains. The stories are always grand and noble, unlike the truth, and these great figures often forgot that. You didn't. When they came for an honest duel, you trapped them in a burning building. When they came to save your hostages, they discovered they didn't want to be saved.
And when they tried to handle things like adults and pick you apart in a public debate, they discovered how you, unlike them, had a vision. And as blind humanity is to their own heart, they still wished for reason to rule them, and your vision had enough gold and right angles to make you beloved.
It isn't a fight under a thunderstorm that brought you to power, but a vision spoken on cameras. Heroes and villains, the concepts are outdated.
You worked hard. The world a mess to be remade, reorganized. The wealthy and inefficient saw their funds put to good use without their opinion. Clogged streets, like waterways, were reorganized to handle each droplet. The cities, like humans, perfected to get the world forward. No choice meant going up. And up it went. From the brink, each system, be they financial, human, or ecological, recovered and thrived.
Gorgeous, it was gorgeous. These moments when you could earnestly think *it's going to be alright*.
You're lost in the memory as you hound the killer. They are easy to track, they are like a younger you. There are a few misses in your hunt, murders you predicted not happening, for the killer had yet to perfect the method. You admire their will, their hope, their childish belief. Such a beautiful illusion. Age has ripped this illusion from you.
The killer may not reach that age. She stands before you, knife gleaming in the dark of an unlit alleyway. The sort of path one with good education wouldn't dare taking, and one with bad education has seen the danger of and avoids. The rain pours, the thunder roars, whatever happens, you and her are well and truly alone. No scream will be heard, no unlucky passerby will watch.
"I have a vision," you hear her say, it is the only justification she needs to lunge for your throat.
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Noth_Ankyou
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Ataraxidermist
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2024-09-23 13:33:25
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2024-09-23 08:46:25
| 175 | 72 |
loityxo
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lohwwr9
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1fnekwz
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1fnekwz
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[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.
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Memories are a strange thing. Entirely real for the individual, as rock solid as we desire to make them, yet incredibly fluid as well. Influenced as much by our own whims and wants as by anything that actually happened, even events that occur right in front of us.
Seeing the excuses people would make for forgetting their keys, wallets, phones, anniversary's, or even simply what time it was, ended up being a source of endless entertainment to me. The effect never lasted long, but it was enough to be amusing even after it wore off. Trying to find a way around White Lightning's impossible speed was my current project however. Something about their brains' incredible ability to process information even moving as fast as they did meant anything I tried to make them forget was reasserted before I could even blink. Quite the puzzle.
White Lightning had been quite insistent that I was a villain most foul initially before they realized how relatively petty my "inconveniences" actually were, especially to them. After that it was the occasional brief slap on the wrist or stern talking to for wasting their time when I was inevitably caught yet again attempting to relieve some poor bank of its government insured funds. Not that I needed the money, but it was fascinating to try and fail yet again to make White Lightning forget even something as simple as their own name.
Then came the day of the headlines. Destructo had at last defeated Musclebound the next state over. Worse yet, Destructo had lived up to his name and actually finished Musclebound off. I had my own fond memories of Musclebound from when I had first started out. Always a kind word for my various "victims", a polite greeting for passersby once I was able to make him forget I was there. The lengths he went to in an attempt to help anyone at all was truly astounding to me and White Lightning reminded me of him in no small part. Though I hadn't seen him in years, the thought of never witnessing the incredible dichotomy of such gentleness coming from such a massive individual filled me with what I could only assume was regret.
After filling away my memories of Musclebound, I considered what to do about this so-called villain who had so thoroughly crossed the line. I was still pondering this when the explosion rocked my small apartment. Looking outside revealed White Lightning in a crumpled heap on the street. At first I was afraid I was going to need to file away two adversaries in one day but then they began to crawl away from the source of the explosion. Looking in the other direction from my "nemesis", I saw Destructo strolling down the street. Here. In MY neighborhood.
Destructo was spouting some nonsense about how feeble White Lightning was, how disappointed he was in them, etc. etc. I ignored this. Walking out to White Lightning I asked if they were injured. "I'll be fine!" they said, "But you need to run! He's already killed so many today!" Abruptly, I realized something. It wasn't regret I had been feeling, it was rage. So many memories yet to be made, stolen away from people who had yet to make them. Unforgiveable. I placed a hand over White Lightning's own and gave what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Forget about it." I said. How odd to solve the puzzle now of all times. He just had to be...still. Seeing the familiar glaze over their eyes and knowing my identity was now safe, I stood and turned to face the source so many lost memories.
Destructo was spouting something about, naturally, destroying me for interrupting his impending victory. Why did they always feel the need to talk so much? I retrieved a familiar memory from my mental files and stalked directly towards the self-important fool. The look on his face changed instantly from narcissistic fury to utter shock as I appeared in front of him almost instantly. At the speed of Lightning in fact. Reflexively, he lashed out at me only to have his arm held fast in my suddenly Musclebound grip. This memory was still fresh and raw, but it felt appropriate to the circumstance. "You forgot about the first rule of being a villain." My eyes began to glow viciously with yet another memory, this one old and dry but solid as stone. "I would call this justice, but I'm no hero. So you are simply going to become a lesson that no one should ever forget."
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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
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RadHazG
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weetweet69
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2024-09-24 04:12:15
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2024-09-24 00:03:59
| 31 | 23 |
lon40b4
|
lom1zmx
|
1fnekwz
|
1fnekwz
|
[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.
|
“You need to barricade the fort NOW!” screamed the demon lord.
“Sire? I don’t understand, we’ve slaughtered every so-called ‘adventurer’ who’s come by before. What makes this party any different?” Replied the imp commander.
In front of the mountain gate approached 5 battle hardened warriors. In front was the knight in gleaming golden armor wielding ‘Exacull’, the sword of myth. Beside him was the Artificer in her legendary battle mech, armed and in attack mode. Next was the aqueous Sorcerer who wielded the soul of a Kraken. Behind them was the beastmaster, riding his infamous ‘Rulker’ behemoth. Finally in behind, seemingly tired, as though he had woken up only a few minutes ago, was Jeff.
“They seem menacing sure, but we’ve killed parties stronger than them before. I mean gold armor? Our blades will cut right through him!”
The demon lord scowled at the commander. “You think I’m worried about him? Look closer commander, he’s not even a threat to the rookies!”
The imp replied “Do you mean the artificer then? Yes her mech is powerful, but it stands no chance against our battle golems.”
“She’s no more a threat than a stray kobold! I said look closer!”
“Ohh, you must mean the sorcerer then! Granted the power of a kraken is immense, but so is the power of our volcanic blast cannons!”
“Wrong again commander. I must say I’m disappointed you even consider that wretch ‘immense’ to begin with. But I'll give you one more chance.”
The imp, now confused, looked at the party again.
“Sir do you mean the Rulker? It’s no larger than an arch-baloth.”
The demon lord, now completely furious, picked the imp commander up by its wing. “No you fool. I gave you 4 chances, and you can't even recognize a true threat when it’s staring you in the face.”
The demon lord threw the imp off the lookout ledge towards the party. The imp flew in place and looked at the party once more.
“Sir, there are only 4 adventurers. What could you possibly-”
Before the imp could finish, a puncture hole appeared in its head as it fell limp towards the ground.
-
“10 points! Nice.” said Jeff, a small trail of smoke coming off his finger.
“Can you please take this seriously? This is the fortress of Alberikus, one of the legendary demon lords!” replied Sir Dexter
Catheryn, muffled by her mech’s mask, followed: “Dexter is right, but it’s not like you could know the severity of this mission, I mean you’re only here since we needed someone to stand in for Camilla.”
“Oh please, this is gonna take like 20 minutes tops. Plus I want to get back home soon, there’s a new play in town I’d like to see.”
Kakulaos cut in “20 minutes?! It takes 20 minutes alone for me to charge a tsunami, and we’re going to need at least 5 of them to break through that gate… wait, wasn’t the gate open a second ago?”
“They must see us as a pretty big threat then, not surprising, my sword has the power to fell even the gods themselves!”
“Your sword has the power to fell my attention span. All you ‘big adventurers’ are the same, I told you you didn’t need to come along, and yet you still came because of the ‘glory’ and ‘honor’. You already paid me, why even come along?”
“Come along? If anything you’re coming along with us! We’ve been adventuring for years! And you look like you’re only equipped to go bargain hunting.” said Tunga, annoyed.
“Eh whatever. If you guys want some things to fight, I’ll leave a couple baddies behind for you.”
The party approached the gate. Before them stood a 60 foot tall wall of steel and stone. Easily 5 feet thick, and seemingly completely impenetrable. Kakulaos raised their fist and a whirlpool of water started forming around it. He spoke “Alright, you guys better hunker down this could take a wh-”
Just then, a colossal force pierced an enormous hole through the gate, blasting straight through like it were nothing. The party looked in and saw the force had annihilated every monster standing behind it too.
Stunned, Sir Dexter spoke “Wh-what-What was that!?”
Jeff, with another small trail of smoke from his finger, started walking through the hole. “See you guys inside. Like I said, I’ll try to leave a couple monsters to keep you entertained.”
|
Definitely lost steam at the end:
Shaun tripped running out the door and almost dropped the health potions he only just paid for. That would have been annoying. Anytime he took a new group of adventurers out, he knew the presence of health potions put everyone at ease. Of course, if you are smooth enough, health potions just weigh you down. But he didn’t make his money by being smooth, he had to sell the adventure to these greenies. He liked calling them greenies. Not just because they were new to questing, but because they loved the comfort of the green hue in a health potion. Today he was meeting 3 young heros from Bigglesburg, a town whose main concern was rabbits stealing their cabbage, so Shaun knew his work was cut out for him. And All-father knew, if they took on the dungeon alone, they would probably die. Dead people are shit at paying their bills, so he had to rush.
Because he had to rush, he didn’t bring any of his usual costume. The enormous shield that was mostly empty but looked like it could block a giants fist. His helmet, with the gleaming quartz above the visor. Young heros always thought it was a diamond, as if a diamond can do anything against a sword in your gut. But he could tell them it raised his dexterity and that was enough. He did have his sword, but he never left home without it. An actual weapon was enough to keep him safe, everything else just gets in the way. Just like the potions jiggling on his belt as he ran out of town.
Today, they were hunting goblins. Always easy to find goblins, they were a persistent bunch. Storm a cave, kill a couple sheep and word would spread. You could always clear a goblin cave, the survivors would just burrow deep into the ground where you couldn’t fit. Then a couple months later they would come back. Good money to be made off goblins. If you actually wanted to stop them, you’d just collapse the damn cave. He would never recommend that, beer was too expensive these days.
As he approached the meeting point, a little bit sweaty from his jog, Shaun saw the 3 young adventurers stirring anxiously. The young girl, clad in hard leather and hair in a braid was strutting back and forth, eyes on the ground. Another wiry young man was picking at his bowstring, probably wearing it down before they even started. And then a big burly one, couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl, clad in heavy armor with a great big helm that was probably bothering their neck. They noticed him coming, and had their arms crossed while he approached.
"You're late" they said in a deep baritone. Ok, Shawn thought, must be a boy.
"Found myself tussling with some bandits on the way, managed to take some of these off their corpses" Shaun replied, jangling the potions around his belt. A nice little lie to keep them at ease. "I am Shaundrius Levanthorpe, the corpse maker" he continued, suppressing a laugh. "I am here to lead you heros to the goblin hideout".
"You don't look much a corpse maker" the big one replied.
"Ah yes, those pesky bandits did manage to steal my equipment"
"How are you going to lead us in a wool shirt and no armor!?" the wiry one said, nervously swinging his bow behind his back.
"Worry not about the make of my garb, it is all enchanted." Another lie. But whatever it took to get the job started. "Who is Brutalatus?" he knew for sure it was the big one, and was certain that wasn't their real name.
"Aye" he replied. "The archer here is named Timothy, and our healer Trix".
Wow, Shaun thought. A healer? Wasted his money on those damn potions after all. "Well we best be getting started, don’t want to be caught out in the night, that's when the big ones come out" again, another lie. But the tension had to be built up somehow, ensured a good tip at the end. Shaun started walking towards the cave entrance, about a quarter mile into the woods nearby. On the way, Trix came up to him. "How many of these goblins do you think we will find?" she said nervously. Her armor was way too tight, didn't work right that way. It never helped to correct them on this, they were too proud. Besides, he would do most of the slaying today anyway.
"Oh anywhere from a dozen to one hundred" he said.
"One hundred!?" Timothy yelped. "I don’t think we can handle that."
"I can" Brutalatus said, bringing down his large axe. 'Bet you paid a pretty penny for that' thought Shaun. Not a great weapon for fighting in caves, you needed to be more agile. Getting your weapon caught in the roof of the cave slowed you down, or could cause a collapse.
They approached the cave entrance, the three greenies already sweating nervously. "Stay behind me" Shaun said as they entered the cave. It didn't take long to find the first goblin cluster. They were loud little shits, sounded like big squirrels. He deftly moved through the first not, slicing off an arm or hamstringing them with precision. They would stumble right into his adventuring parties arms, ready to be dispatched. Already Brutalatus was grinning from the combat. "HAHAHA" he yelled, while his axe swung clean through a hobbled goblins neck. 'Good' thought Shaun, nice wide swings across and not up. Timothy was slow to draw his bow, still a bit nervous, but his aim was true and the injured goblins fell one by one. Any damage the two boys took was quickly being mended by Trix. A talented one she was, Shaun could see her actually making the Hero's Guild one day. They continued forward deeper into the cave.
|
Mattrockj
|
rabbleriot
|
2023-06-20 21:55:17
|
2023-06-20 18:19:18
| 38 | 16 |
jovxulj
|
jov0yv2
|
14e8boo
|
14e8boo
|
[WP] You've been misled. I need your help. My name is Lucifer. I'm the creator of this world you live in. "Let there be light?" That was Me. My 1st son, My favorite angel, Gaud, rebelled. He betrayed and overthrew me. You are the only one that can help me reclaim My rightful place. You are special.
|
It was another day out. Me, my wife, our little girl...well, and of course her little stuffed tiger Mr. Stuffles, can't forget about him...we were all at the park. It was one of the first nice days of the year. The trees were starting to leaf, the sun was out, there was a good day.
An ice cream salesman was selling his wares near the entrance. My wife wanted to get some ice cream, but I knew it would be free at Ben and Jerry's today instead. My daughter didn't want to wait...and, well, it would be a nice thing, so I acquiesced. So, I saw them get in line and wait. It seemed to work well...until the thing you fear the most would be there. A drunk driver ended up hitting the curb just as my daughter was getting her cone and smashed into the ice cream truck. Thankfully (though it always feels bad to say thankfully, since it did hit the ice cream man), The car didn't hit her- but the ice cream cart did tip over on her. It could have been bad, but my Sue gained that otherworldly mama bear strength and picked the cart off my daughter.
We got her to the hospital ASAP, and had one of the toughest day and night we could have while waiting. It felt like an eternity, wondering if things would be all right- but when they finally got to her, the doctors headed over.
"Your daughter's lucky. She's going to pull through. A broken arm, but it could have been far worse." We headed into the room to see her, a cast on, still clutching Mr. Stuffles.
"Mr. Stuffles saved my life, Daddy!" I hugged my daughter, then shook Mr. Stuffles's hand as she did.
"No, your mother pulled the cart off, dear."
"But Mr. Stuffles helped! He was on top of one of my arms and the doctor said if he wasn't being held I could have broke both of them, and when Mommy was lifting he was lifting from underneath too! He saved me!" I nodded as the doctor continued.
"Well, it may seem like that to a child- we've seen parents get otherworldly rushes of adrenaline and strength when their child is trapped underneath something, so she may not be aware of that. If she thinks it was the stuffed animal, it might help her to think that. We're keeping her overnight; if you wish we can handle the slight slight tear the animal got and will give it a matching bandage for her until you can re-sew it..."
"Do so. I owe everything to Mr. Stuffles..." The doctor had us leave for the night, though it was hard for us to. Me and Sue wanted to head to the waiting room, but they had us go home to rest and relax.
We finally headed to the car and got a late dinner at McDonald's- there's no way we can relax tonight. As we had some, Sue spoke to me.
"Okay...okay, I'll say it. Calvin, I'm sorry I told you to throw that old tiger out before we could give it to our kid..."
|
My parents were taking me and my sister out to get ice cream, it was one of the “family outings” my father insisted we go on to help the family “recover and bond” which is exactly what dr Watson told him. As we walk down the street my mom gushes on how beautiful the evening is and I can only roll my eyes, my parents insist on acting as happy as possible despite the constant sadness I see in their eyes. My little sister Natalie holds her beloved purple stuffed tiger, mr stuffles. I despise that animal, it used to be mine but then… “no, no that didn’t happen it was just the grief making me see things” I whisper to myself shaking my head at my stupidity, still I can’t look at that dumb tiger. “I’m going to get rainbow strawberry cookie flavored!” Exclaims Natalie. “That’s not a flavor dummy” I tell her laughing. “Yes it is stupid” she replies as I pick her up and throw her on my back. Natalie giggles making me smile, she’s one of the only things that makes me happy now. “What flavor are you getting rue rue” she asks. “Hmm how about Nat the cat flavored” “Hehehe noooo that’s not a flavor” “yes it is” I reply. “Liar” she says climbing off my back. “Me and stuffles are going to go pet that puppy” she yells to my parents running toward the dog a few yards ahead of us. “Ruby” my mom asks “how are you doing sweetheart”. I want to laugh how I’m I doing? Uhm bad! “ fine” I say “ it’s getting better” even through it’s not. “That’s good honey we all miss her but we have to move forward” move forward? Is he serious how can I move forward after- “ahhhhh mommmmyyy!!!” I hear loud beeping, crashing noises, and screams from multiple people including my little sister. I look up to see a car run into a lamppost, my sister laying, unmoving, behind the crashed car. “Nat!!!!” I scream running to her with my parents. People move and call for help around my but I can’t tell it’s all a blur, all I can think is of Nat’s sweet face. “No no no” I think I can’t lose her too”. Someone grabs me and puts me in a car, I hardly notice. Next thing I know I wake up in a hospital waiting room next to my parents. “Natalie!” I scream jolting up and startling half the room. “She’s ok she’s ok sweetheart” says my mom wrapping her arms around me. I look into her eyes and see she’s been crying, I realize that I have too. “ the doctor says she stable now, she suffered a lot of broken bones and will probably have a concussion but that’s it, the doctors call it a miracle”. I sigh in relief. After hours I’m finally allowed to go visit her. My parents are busy filing paperwork while I slip into her room. She’s asleep and looks so peaceful, her strawberry blond curls strewn across her face. I look to at her arms and see me stuffles. A chill runs down my back as I look into his pitch back eyes, “it has to be a coincidence it has to” I mutter. “What” says Natalie as she sits up in her bed. “ hey nat cat how are you feeling” I ask ignoring her question. “ in pain but it’s ok because stuffles saved me” she says yawning. “What?!” I say another chill running down my spine. “He saved me, I would’ve died but he let me live” she says smiling at me. I start to hyperventilate no way there’s no way that it really happened, the same way it happened to me. “What’s wrong rue?” “Listen to me carefully nat we have to get rid of that tiger” “why?! I love him he saved me” “no nat he didn’t it comes with a price, remember what happened to me”. She nodded “ yeah you had cancer but you got better” “ but I didn’t just get better. He made me better” I said pointing to stuffles “ you have to believe me” “ believe you but why is that bad?” “ because he doesn’t heal anyone for free, he takes someone in return, someone you love”. Her face showed confusion and concern into it morphed into a look of shock. “Hannah, the price was Hannah wasn’t it”. I nodded gravely. “ how do you we stop him“ she said looking at the tiger “ we don’t, we survive.”
Ok that’s it if you really like it and want more comment and I can make a part 2. hope you enjoyed it!!!
|
Spiritual_Lie2563
|
Remarkable_Type_6911
|
2023-04-03 23:53:09
|
2023-04-03 20:03:20
| 31 | 11 |
jeurdr8
|
jetu6ep
|
12ank7w
|
12ank7w
|
[WP] You died, you met a god(dess), and you got offered a new life in another world with the usual package -- OP powers, a personal harem, the works. Smelling a scam, you refused. That pissed them off.
|
**LADIES AND GENTLEMEN THIS IS MY FIRST WRITING PROMPT PLEASE TELL ME HOW TO IMPROVE IF IT MAKES YOU FREEZE IN AGONISING AGONY.**
--------------------------------------------
*
*
"Yeah, no."
**"OF COURSE, FOR THY OFFER IS SOMETHING TO BE CH-did thou say no?"**
"Yes."
**"....Perhaps I hath misheard. You...would refuse the life all men crave?"**
"Bingo."
**"You...would deny a world its hero?"**
"Got it in one."
**"Deny thyself a purp-"**
"I had a purpose, dude. Up there. Your driver buddy seemed pretty eager to end it."
*"nothin' personal, mate."*
"No offense taken. Its your all powerful boss there I'm ticked with."
*"cheers."*
**"You had served a weak purpose, mortal, granting the petty wishes of tiny newborns-"**
*"he made ice cream for kids, boss."*
**"And I, in My all seeing and all knowing glory, singled thy out for greatness, for a far greater goal, and yet you would refuse?!"**
"Like he said, I sold frozen treats to kids. Light of my life might have just been seeing them smiling, but I'm not stupid."
**"I-I have no idea what thou means, mor-"**
"If I have to die, I'd want it to be because it was my time, not because you want to toss people into clearing a mess you made. No offense."
*"nah, none taken. almighty there's been launching me on kids all over the world."*
**"B-boatman, Thy may wish to shut thy mout-"**
"Hold up, you....you took kids? Like, actual kids?"
**"I NEEDNT EXPLAIN THE ACTIONS OF GODS TO YOU, MORT-"**
*"i mean it was kinda fucked up boss. probably won't take long to start up a spirit revolt with that kind of info. wink wink."*
"That...that wasn't my intentio-"
**"....I CANNOT...believe my Boatman has a point. Mortal....if thy chooses not to blab about My...actions, I shall grant thy one wish. Providing thy not take the DESIRABLE AND POWERFUL TRIP OF THY LI-"**
"Y-yeah, We've made that bit clear. Uh....I'm guessing I can't just wish for you to stop..."
*"if it worked that way, king numpty would be off his throne ages ago."*
**"Watch thy tone, Boatman.**
"...but maybe there's the next best thing?"
*
*
"I didnt even think they had ice cream in the underworld, mister! Thank you so much!"
"No Problem kid, stay away from the soul-cracks!"
*"yknow when you said the next best thing, i didn't think that would be an ice cream parlour to keep the kids around here happy."*
"Your boss wanted me to fight with a sword and shield. I'd rather fight with a scoop."
*"....but you'd rather not fight at all, yeah?."*
"Bingo."
|
"And by doing that, we will rid the world of all of its nuclear warheads! Hahahahahahahahaha!" Wolf stared silently at The Joker and Luthor as Joker laughed maniacally at their plan before Superman spoke. "Wait , so why are we fighting right now?"
"Hahahaha- wha- what?" Wolf spoke next."Yeah... this actually seems like a relatively good idea. Granted, Luthor gets a cap on the nuclear power market , but with no more warheads, what's the problem?"
"Wait, you're actually going to let us go through with this? It's borderline insanity! We're talking about ridding the world of its ultimate defenses!" Joker threw up his arms in anger."Seriously! If either of you were Batman, I'd be laying in the back of his car bleeding from half my oraphases with broken bones by now! Don't you idiots know how this works?!"
"I mean, yeah, that's normally how Bats does things, but this seems like a good idea. Nobody needs a nuclear warhead if nobody has one."
"Mistah J! I found that shiny green rock to stop Superman ya wanted!" Joker and Luthor turned in formation. "NOT NOW HARLEY!" Turning back, Lex Sighed. "Okay, I don't think you're understanding what's going on here. Let's make sure we're all on the same page, okay? Now. We have agents in every single country with a nuclear warhead and have hacked the global database for those codes. Are we clear so far?"
"Yeah..." said Wolf.
"Mmhm." Came the reply from Superman
"Crystal clear!" Came the reply from Harley Quinn.
"Joker?"
"Hmm? Oh yeah, whatever."
"Okay. With these codes, we are going to launch every warhead into space, ridding of the world of all nuclear weapons, with the goal of sending them into the sun. Clear?"
Everyone again replied in the affirmative.
"And no one sees a single problem with that?"
"Nope."
"Not really."
"Nuh uh!"
"Okay... so once I push this button, that's what will happen, right?"
Everyone again replied in the affirmative. "Okay, so I'm going to... GOD, I can't do this! HIT US! I mean, come on, this is ridiculous! Who knows what that will do to the sun?! I mean, realistically, Joker came up with 90% of this plan, and he's always insane!"
"I prefer the term Whacky."
"SHUT UP! Are you under the effects of Kryptonite or something?! Normally, I'd have had to drop you with the help of it by now! What is going on?!"
"Nothing is going on, Luthor. I just think it's a good idea. No more threat of Nuclear War, no more damaging the earth with harmful tests. I think it's a good strategy." Luthor stared at Superman with an incredulous look. "ARE YOU JOKING RIGHT NOW?! This plan Makes no sense! What if we had completely lied and decided to launch every warhead at some random country sparking World War 3?!"
"Ooh that's different. " Wolf replied. "Yeah it is. Luthor are you lying to us?"
"Mistah J, you didn't tell me that part of the plan."
"SHUT UP HARLEY!" Luthor roared as Joker Turned to him. "Hey only I can tell her to shut up!"
"Yeah only Mistah J can tell me to-"
"Shut up Harley!" Harley pouted as The 4 turned to each other again.
"So... are you gonna do it or.." Wolf asked as the 4 stared at each other. "You know what? To hell with it. YOU did this!" With that Luthor pushed a button on his arm. "What? Why isn't this working?"
"Looking for this?" Batman asked as he threw a broken circuit board at Lex's feet. "Wait all this was..."
"A simple ruse. Your right. Launching those weapons into the sun is crazy. But I do like the idea of getting rid of them."
"You IDIOT! HOW DID YOU LET THEM TRICK US?!"
Lex turned to Joker enraged. "ME? YOU BOUGHT IT TOO!"
"You're under arrest Luthor. You and Joker will spend a long time in Arkham."
"Oh please we both we'll be out within a week anyway..."
|
Warlock_Guy25
|
Lycan_Jedi
|
2024-07-23 17:30:11
|
2023-05-22 18:59:31
| 132 | 25 |
lekpshp
| null |
1eaagdd
|
1bc1r4x
|
[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.”
|
Dave was worried, his little human was running late from her trip to the mage enclave. He circled around the city from above, trying to detect her mana and struggling. **(Cassie, be safe!)** He scoured the streets with his sight, attempting to glimpse her familiar red hair and silver dress.
His patience was running out by the second, it was almost dusk, she had left the cave at dawn yesterday! That was it, those humans surely did something to Clarisse, he had to rescue her! **(If she's hurt, I'll burn this place into nothing!)** His mouth began sparking with rage.
He started out by setting fire to the several flags and the decorative plaza to show he meant business. Once the humans were stirred, he landed on the main building of the guild, sinking his claws in the roofing. **"Hear well, for I give no second chances!"**
He saw some old humans gather down below, good, this must be the leaders of this place. **"The mage Clarisse, set her free and I shall spare this hovel."** These vermin looked confused, but he would not be fooled, his charge must be in peril.
*"For fuck's sake, is he a moron?"* A woman was pushing her way through the crowd, the overgrown lizard was committing a mistake that would cost her dearly. *"I still got five floors to read through!"* When the dragon craned his neck to threaten the grandmaster, she had to think fast.
A wooden clog hit his nose and he finally heard Clarisse. "Dave! Come on! I just fell asleep in the library, alright?!" The unamused mages watched as the woman picked the footwear and stepped on the dragon's outstretched paw. She turned to face the crowd and bowed her head.
"I apologize for my guardian, he can be overprotective. We'll pay compensation for the mess." Dave pouted at her words, he liked his hoard and didn't want to lose his gold. **"Hey-!"** She poked his chin with her staff to silence his protests. "Shush! You break, you buy, remember?"
The elders demanded extra gold as moral damage, and a vow from the dragon to not wreck the place again, with a counter vow to keep the woman safe during her visits. With things settled relatively amicably, Clarisse kept her right to visit and Dave got a dent in his savings. "Let's go home, I'm sleepy."
The dragon unfurled his wings and took off in a gale. While Clarisse felt happy to know he cared for her, his actions needed to have consequences. "I'll write to Garrett." In fact, she was already drafting the letter in her mind. **"Please, don't."** His elder would whoop his butt for losing his nerves and acting unlike his bloodline. "Too bad, so sad."
|
hatabou_is_a_jojo
|
Kurai_Tora
|
2025-01-13 03:24:23
|
2023-01-29 01:34:02
| 101 | 14 | null |
j6b2p4l
|
1hzzhzi
|
10nb6cj
|
[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."
|
I smiled at the sound of Marthlok‘s voice. The knights had ”rescued” me a few hours ago when Marthlok had flown out to get some food because I was craving apples. For some reason those idiots took Marthlok’s absence as an invitation to break into our cave and kidnap me, while trying to assure me I was safe from the monster. So here I was now, stuck in some dumb guy‘s castle. I had tried explaining the mixup, but unfortunately no one knew sign language.
I could hear men screaming, orders, war cries. Their ignorance didn’t surprise me now. I walked towards the next window, wanting to see what was going on outside. One guy had stepped forward, his sword up high, shouting at Marthlok how they would never release me.
I touched the amulet around my neck and locked my eyes on Marthlok, trying to focus. ‘*I’m here*’, I told him. Still hovering above the grounds Marthlok looked up to me and nodded.“You are foolish men, for you try to meddle with things you don’t understand.“ Marthlok‘s voice was deep and clear. "And now you don’t even try to talk to me but want to fight. All I asked for is to get my human back. Shame.” With a strong beat of his wings Marthlok knocked all the guys over. I smiled. More guards came running out, trying to shoot arrows, just to be knocked off their feet by Marthlok flapping his wings. Finally he flew up to my window. “Stand away there for a second”, he advised me, before ripping out a piece of wall. I climbed over the rubble towards the dragon. ‘*I’m glad you came*’, I signed and swung onto Marthlok’s back. “Of course. Now come on, let’s go home before the apples rot.”
|
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.
|
Schroedingers_Dragon
|
BlantantlyAccidental
|
2023-01-28 19:48:33
|
2023-01-28 18:25:05
| 29 | 16 |
j69rkx0
|
j69fcb9
|
10nb6cj
|
10nb6cj
|
[WP] Today you just found out your roommate with strange hobbies, like knowing how to pick a lock, knows how every puzzle and cipher by heart, or how to commit tax fraud, and so many other things, wasn't a guy with ADHD, he was an ex-assassin and now you have a gun pointed at your face
|
“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I told the man desperately. “My roommate is just a normal guy, you know?”
“I don’t care if you don’t believe me! Just tell me where he is!” The strange man shouted, sending spit flying at my face as he did.
“Fine. He’s at work, the local Lidl,” I answered, hoping he’ll believe me.
“Are you stupid?! If I can track down his house I can track down his work. And he’s not there!”
“Well that’s where he said he’d. If he’s not there, then I don’t know!”
The man narrowed his eyes at me before lowering his gun. “He must’ve known I was coming, made a break for it.” As he left, he put his finger to his ear and spoke into what I assumed was a radio. As soon as the door closed, I ran into my roommates bedroom to dig out he secret stash. I’d already found it while cleaning a couple months ago, but hadn’t opened it, figuring it was a disaster survival pack or something, but with the new revelations, I had other ideas. I went to the floorboards and lifted them up to find a puzzle box that I already solved the first time I found it, so quickly solved again to pull out a bag.
And viola, money, fake identities and, most importantly, a burner phone. I dialled my friend’s number and waited. Once he answered I didn’t give him time for his usual greetings.
“Some guy is looking for you. I don’t know who, but I know it’s something to do with your assassin days.” I hear a curse and then he starts to talk to justify but I cut him off. “You don’t need to explain yourself, I know who you are now, I don’t care who you were. What do you need?”
“That grab bag, take it to where I had my first birthday party.” With that, he hung up. I furrowed my eyebrows. He’d always told me he hadn’t had a birthday party. So if it hadn’t happened, it didn’t happen anywhere, it happened nowhere. Ohhhh, I got it.
30 minutes later, I found myself outside a pub a few miles outside of town. Normally you could get there in half the time, but I had to make sure I wasn’t being followed. The pub was called Nowhere, people said it was because you could say to your spouse you were going ‘nowhere’ when they asked and not technically be lying.
I handed my friend the bag, filled with some chocolate as an added treat before saying goodbye.
“I’ll miss you. Don’t think the next roommate could replace you.” But instead of agreeing, he shook his head.
“You won’t be having another roommate. As long as they’re coming after me, you’re in danger. Go to this address,” he handed me a small slip of paper, “it’s a safe house, you’ll be safe there.”
Normally I’d be disagreeing, I had a life and a job and family here, but being held at gunpoint still had me shaken, so I just nodded and we parted ways.
I drove straight home, packing up quickly what I could and talking with the landlord. I told him I’d recently inherited a house that came ready furnished, so I’d be willing to sell him the furniture so he could rent the room as pre furnished. We came to a deal quickly and I walked away with some extra money in my account, that I immediately drained before driving.
I didn’t stop driving for almost 6 hours, not even for a toilet break, until I finally reached the address, somewhere in the middle of Scotland.
It wasn’t a modest house. 3 stories, as wide as my block of flats and a huge garden that I’d have to measure in acres rather than metres.
The cupboards were wet stocked with non-perishables and a large amount of money, so I knew food wouldn’t be an issue for a while. So I unpacked and settled into my new home, looking at the landline, wondering when the call would come in that I could go home.
|
Time crawled to a stop as I stared down the barrel of the pistol. I was so close to it that I could make out every detail of the front end of it, could see the lands and grooves of the rifling. I calculated that it was approximately a 1:10 twist. At the far end of the barrel... God, it looked far bigger than it should... I imagined I could see the chambered bullet that would soon take my life in a violent release of expanding gasses generated by the burning gunpowder. Somewhere deep in my mind, I could see the chemical equations playing out from the moment of ignition until the projectile was forced down and out of the gun. Beautifully calculated and deadly mathematics in action.
At some point, I know not when, I had raised my hands in surrender... though if what I suspected of Jack Engles was true, it would hardly matter. Fortunately for us both, but mostly for me, my roommate had far better self-control than I had thought. After a heartrending moment of time that seemed to stretch the limits of our understanding of relativity, the pistol dropped. At first fractionally, and then eventually all the way down at the floor. "Jesus Christ, dude, you almost gave me a heart attack!" Jack said, holstering his weapon somewhere on his body where I couldn't see it.
Time accelerated back to its proper rate, the transition feeling incredibly violent and disorientating. "Jacob, what in the ACTUAL FUCK?!" I demanded, my voice rising to a hysterical scream of a pitch and volume that I am not particularly proud of. Jack winced, his hands shaking; I only called him by his full Christian name when he screwed up something fierce, like the time he broke my favorite color-changing coffee mug. "I can explain, Charlie, I swear. Look, I'm gonna grab something out of my jacket pocket, ok?" Jack told me calmly; later, I would realize he was treating me like a potential jumper too close to the ledge, though why a super spy would need such skills was beyond me. I glared at him, my breath coming in going in short, sharp gasps.
His hand went into his jacket pocket, as promised, and came back out clutching a black leather wallet. Gently, he flipped it open and showed it to me. The first thing I was able to notice was the seal on the top flap, a stylized eagle diving towards a nest of hissing vipers. Next to filter through my consciousness was the name of the agency; "Intelligence Reporting and Early Response Command", apparently a part of the National Security Agency. On the bottom flap was an ID card with his face and name on it, wearing a suit that wouldn't look out of place in the Men In Black movies, only better tailored.
"Oh my God, Jack. Are you some sort of spy or something, man?" I ask, shaking in my old man carpet slippers that had been the source of quite a bit of teasing. "Well, sort of. I also do analysis and target identification, and help plan ways to disrupt those targets' ability to target our country." Jack answered in a particular way that meant I knew he was being evasive. I pressed on, needing to know more. "That all sounds like you find people and kill them if they're a threat." I say, feeling incredibly sick to my stomach. Jack's face fell, and I knew that I was on the right path. My stomach was churning violently, and I didn't even know if I could make it to the hall bathroom, but Jack came to my rescue.
"Here, take one of these. Agency issued, powerful anti-emetic. We all carry them just in case." Jack said, retrieving a sealed packet from the locket around his neck. "You're sure it's not cyanide, right?" I say half-jokingly as I choke down the pill that was inside. "Naw, I keep that in my shoe." Jack informed me; normally, I would have taken that as a joke, but now... well, I couldn't be sure. My stomach feels better almost immediately, but that doesn't slow down the swirling thoughts in my head. Jack could see that too, I saw. "Come on, Charlie, let's go sit down. I'll explain as much as I can without revealing anything classified. Oh, and sorry about the gun thing." he said earnestly. The nonchalant way he said it was just so Jack that I immediately laughed... still sounding somewhat hysterical... and went willingly. If nothing else, I really needed to sit the hell down.
We made our way to the living room and hopped on the mismatched, batch-pad special furniture we had filled it with over the last few months of living together. I fairly collapsed into my thrift-store Lazy Boy, which had required only a single spring to restore it to working order, and Jack sat in his side-of-the-road fold-away that had required copious amounts of cleaning product to take away the smell it had come with. "So, I guess I should start in the beginning. It was at that gun range outside of Goylesburg, the one with the busted Indian statue..."
The End
|
apatheticchildofJen
|
KevMenc1998
|
2024-11-17 08:43:29
|
2024-11-17 04:40:06
| 92 | 25 |
lxkg2kc
|
lxjpxkq
|
1gt2x79
|
1gt2x79
|
[WP]One day you wake up in the last video game you played with a note that says "you have to stay alive for 100 days or else you die in the real world: p.s. all mods are disabled for the 100 days.
|
The cold shocks me awake.
That sort of biting cold that only really exists in fantasy settings, that chills you to the bone even through the thick fur blanket, yet somehow doesn't instantly freeze your sweat to your skin.
My surroundings are familiar, I know this place... but where?
I find the note.
Confusion becomes amusement but gives way to fear at that last line.
"All mods disabled for the 100 days"
I am doomed. I dare not even move lest my mere presence set off a chain reaction of this barely functioning world's catastrophically overtuned physics and sends my very breakfast, some bread and cheese, careening around the room before it ultimately kills me.
It was once said about this world by one of its gods "It just works".
No, Todd, it doesn't.
Not without mods.
|
I awoke in a pure white room, a transparent text floating in front of me.
"Hello, Player, you have been chosen to spend 100 days in the last game you played. If you die in the game, you will die in the real world. The game will start with standard setting and any and all mods will be disabled during this time. When you are ready to start, press the "start" button below"
Shocked, i read and re-read the text several time. Then i look around the room. A pure white room, without any exits.
"Ok, i can do this, i have *hundreds* of hours in Fallout 4, i know every little trick and tactic, where every special item is, where every enemy is. I can do this."
I press the start button and a bright light blinds me.
When the bright light fades, the first thing i notice is the fresh, strong breeze and the sound of rustling trees.
"I'm not starting in a Vault? Shit." I look around and see healthy trees, grass and bushes.
"Huh? Where is this?" i think to myself and i start walking. After only a few meters, i reach the edge of a cliff. Looking over it, i realize i'm on a island floating in the air.....
*Now* i start to panic. Running the edge of the island and the items i see along the way confirms it.
"I'm in the game "Aloft"......shit.... I *barely* played through the intro and its an "early access" game! I only played it for an hour last night! Its not even a finished game, for fuck sake!"
I plop down on the ground and look up at the sky "Well, at least its a cozy game with little threats".
Then i perk up "Wait, this game is about flying, that's kinda cool!"
I manage to craft a set of wings and stand at the edge of a cliff.
"Ok, so just jump off and soar through the skies"
I look at the bottomless depths "Ok....just...jump off and soar through the skies."
"Just......just....just jump and....."
"Ah, fuck, this game might be a *lot* harder to play when the depth is staring right at you and not an a PC monitor"
This is going to be a *long* 100 days......
|
Taolan13
|
Thanatofobia
|
2025-02-25 11:55:23
|
2025-02-25 11:50:42
| 62 | 39 |
meor413
|
meoqjfv
|
1ixp24u
|
1ixp24u
|
[WP]One day you wake up in the last video game you played with a note that says "you have to stay alive for 100 days or else you die in the real world: p.s. all mods are disabled for the 100 days.
|
I awoke in a pure white room, a transparent text floating in front of me.
"Hello, Player, you have been chosen to spend 100 days in the last game you played. If you die in the game, you will die in the real world. The game will start with standard setting and any and all mods will be disabled during this time. When you are ready to start, press the "start" button below"
Shocked, i read and re-read the text several time. Then i look around the room. A pure white room, without any exits.
"Ok, i can do this, i have *hundreds* of hours in Fallout 4, i know every little trick and tactic, where every special item is, where every enemy is. I can do this."
I press the start button and a bright light blinds me.
When the bright light fades, the first thing i notice is the fresh, strong breeze and the sound of rustling trees.
"I'm not starting in a Vault? Shit." I look around and see healthy trees, grass and bushes.
"Huh? Where is this?" i think to myself and i start walking. After only a few meters, i reach the edge of a cliff. Looking over it, i realize i'm on a island floating in the air.....
*Now* i start to panic. Running the edge of the island and the items i see along the way confirms it.
"I'm in the game "Aloft"......shit.... I *barely* played through the intro and its an "early access" game! I only played it for an hour last night! Its not even a finished game, for fuck sake!"
I plop down on the ground and look up at the sky "Well, at least its a cozy game with little threats".
Then i perk up "Wait, this game is about flying, that's kinda cool!"
I manage to craft a set of wings and stand at the edge of a cliff.
"Ok, so just jump off and soar through the skies"
I look at the bottomless depths "Ok....just...jump off and soar through the skies."
"Just......just....just jump and....."
"Ah, fuck, this game might be a *lot* harder to play when the depth is staring right at you and not an a PC monitor"
This is going to be a *long* 100 days......
|
A bulky heavy pistol, six bullets, two cans of drink and five bullets for another gun I don’t even have. My slashed throat held together by a food container, juice box and scraps of a ragged jumper I’d pulled off the still-twitching corpse of some unlucky corporate drone. His nailgun round was still in my shoulder. Not pulling it out until I’m back on the ship. I moved through the rusted carcass of the station. Room by room. Slowly. Searching every container for anything that could be of use. Wires. Empty tins. Circuit boards. Bullet casings. Anything and everything went into my pack. Back on the ship this collection of random items could be refined into something more useful. Like bullets. Or bandages. Both of which I’d need plenty of.
The wad of rags around my knee was slowly turning from a blue-white to a rusty red as blood seeped around the gash were a quartet of nails had punched through the meat and kept on going. He’d taken a high-calibre pistol shot to the chest in return. His nailgun had a ten-shot capacity, he’d had six left in the gun and eleven on his body. Seventeen shots. I’d needed them.
The door opened to reveal four combatants, and a bright red barrel. I fired and struck the barrel. A blast of heat flooded the room as super-heated fuel flew everywhere. The stink of burning flesh and the gurgled keening of screams through molten lungs filled the air as I shut the door and waited. Nausea rose in me, mounting with each passing moment even as the screams grew quiet. It was the most efficient option. But that didn’t make it any easier.
The room beyond the hallway was some sort of employee lounge, a bunch of blue sofas, olive-green lockers, desks and server banks. The three occupants rose, reaching for guns on tables or at their side. One died from a hasty pistol shot to the pelvis. I turned to fire at another, gun clicked, out of ammo. I dropped to the ground, nails screaming through the air above me as I swapped to my own nailgun. The heavy chunk of it firing was followed by the wet thunk of impact and a sharp gasp of pain. Three more and he was down. The third simply stood for a moment. Gun clicking as though he could manufacture nails out of sheer desire to kill. I raised my hands carefully. “If you put that down and let me get what I’m here for I won’t hurt you.” I said. Hoping. Praying that he wouldn’t make me kill him. He responded by rushing me with a feral bellow of combat rage, and dropped with a nail in his forehead.
I searched the lockers, found nothing but a pulsating mass of flesh and some long expired foods. Digging through a desk located the tablet, the data on it being my whole reason for being here. I thumbed my communicator, sending three quick bursts. Objective found. It buzzed. I answered.
Jane’s clipped, cold voice crackled through “Good job. We’ll pick you up at the elevator.”
It went silent. I limped my way to the elevator. Back through the drying puddles of blood, the miasma of spilled insides and immolated flesh. Tried not to think about how easily it could have been me laying there. If I’d been slower. If they’d been luckier. As the elevator juddered it’s way up the reality of the situation started sinking in.
Day one. Survived. Day two… just begun.
|
Thanatofobia
|
flashfire07
|
2025-02-25 11:50:42
|
2025-02-25 10:37:59
| 39 | 20 |
meoqjfv
|
meoijd5
|
1ixp24u
|
1ixp24u
|
[WP] It is well-known that if you give your name or eat the food of a Fey, they have power over you, and in turn own you. You decided this wasn't a terrible deal.
|
"Well, you know the rules Sáidhni. You fed it, it's your problem now."
"Fed it?! Niamh, it broke into my house and has been eating flour out the bag for the last hour!"
Both fae stared at the ragged human sat on the floor of Sáidhni's pantry. The normally fastidiously tidy stores now looking as if the Sluagh had ridden through with the rogue human sat in the middle of the chaos covered in moonberry jam. Neither of them knew what to make of it. Humans didn't just turn up out of the blue and declare themselves resident of whatever house took their fancy like a Cait Sith, you either went to a trader or tried your hand at trapping one yourself. Sáidhni had longed for a human of her own but now there was one before her she felt a gnawing self-doubt.
Could she provide for it? Would she be a good owner? Sáidhni was no trickster at heart, not in the way that the humans thought of the fae, and even if she was there was no way that Niamh would ever let her live it down if she tried to put the poor mortal to work or sport.
The human, on its part, looked up from the handfuls of sidhe flour and regarded the two fae women with equal curiosity, fear, and impatience. The bruises and welts on its back still ached. The criss-cross of cuts still covered its arms and legs from where it had burst through the Hedge. The fae before it still hadn't claimed it as the Law said they should. With a final chew it took matters into its own hands.
"My name is Eoin Gallagher and I'm your problem now."
|
It had all been fun and games when he'd seen the flyer in the bar. Whitehorse wasn't the sort of town that had new and interesting things to do very often, so when he'd seen the flyer for the so called 'Druid' Paetar's so called ' Journey into the Realm Beyond' Tom had been perfectly willing to give it a shot rather than another night of losing at pool and getting shamed for drinking LaBatt's instead of Yukon Red. He'd laughed and convinced a few friends to join him. The laughter stopped when the unseasonably warm wind mixed with a harsh tonal shift in the guide's words a few hours of two tracking and hiking later.
"There are three rules," the guide walked ahead neither leisurely nor with any particular purpose, walking stick and boots landing on passing trees and roots in a deliberate rhythm as the curiously jaunty hat he wore brushed away branches, "First, the fey cannot lie. This does not mean they are telling the entire truth. Do not trust them." The trees fell suddenly away as the group trickled in single file into a large glen filled with emerald grass and the heat of a summer's day despite the fact that it was late October in the Yukon. It was a distracting heat, and the light of the sun seemed stronger here, as Tom shielded his eyes against the shadow, "Second, do not accept any gifts. Food and drink are most common, but trinkets or even a bit of advice can be twisted against you just as surely." Arriving in the center of the glen, the guide placed his walking stick upright, and stepped away from it. It did not fall. This, as much as the strange summery conditions of the glen, began to register in the handful of tourists how very real this magic was, "Finally, do not give a fey your name. Or you will remain here in the summer courts for all eternity."
*Holy shit he's serious. This is real.* The thought struck Tom like a thunderbolt. Or maybe that was the thunderbolt that struck the staff as the glade lit up in phosphorescent light. Where before there had been a perfectly flat circle of grass in an otherwise quiet forest tucking in for winter, now were the sounds of song and pipes, roaring flames, and sizzling meats as an incomprehensibly large open air celebration raged around him.
As a mug of warm cider was pressed into his hand by a smiling elven lass, worries about getting the snowblower out of the shed and new belts put on faded from his mind. As did all worries about the old world, as the druid removed his hat, revealing pointed ears beneath.
The girl smiled up at him with 1000 watts, "Can I ask your name?"
This was all too much, much too much, but any voice in his head trying to warn him was shouted down by irresistible temptation, "Tom."
|
IAmTheOutsider
|
victorged
|
2024-02-21 02:19:17
|
2024-02-21 01:54:13
| 85 | 27 |
kre21pv
|
krdy5z6
|
1avs03q
|
1avs03q
|
[WP] Slaying the dragon was hard enough, but the knight had absolutely zero idea what is being hidden in that tower. Everyone says it's a fair princess, but upon entering her quarters, you are immediately hit with an aura of immense dread, and terror. This tower isn't a prison, it's a vault.
|
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STARING AT, HUH?" *He shouts, and with one flick of his wrist, the royal guard's head becomes pulp.*
*The crowd recoils in horror. Blood drips from the Chosen’s outstretched fingers, steam rising from the mangled remains of the guard’s skull. The nobles, the clergy, even the king himself - none of them speak. None of them even dared to breathe.*
*For centuries, the Chosen has been the pinnacle of divine favor, a gift bestowed upon the noble elite to maintain their rule, their power. Yet here stands a boy - filthy, ragged, his face twisted in raw fury - blessed with power that no king can dream of controlling.*
*The silence stretches. Then, a trembling noble steps forward.* “Y-You must understand,” *he stammers, hands raised as if to pacify a wild beast.* “The power of the Chosen is meant to guide our kingdom, to-”
**"Guide?"** *The Chosen spits the word like venom.* “You mean to be your weapon. To crush your enemies. To *serve*.” *He laughs, sharp and bitter.* “That’s what all the others did, right? Bent the knee, kissed the ring, played the perfect little god-blessed puppet?” *His eyes gleam with unnatural light, and the noble crumples to his knees, clawing at his throat, choking on nothing.*
*The king finally finds his voice.* “You don’t have to do this.” *His tone is level, measured, but the tremor in his fingers betrays him.* “You have power. You can change things for the better. We can-”
**"Shut the fuck up."**
*A wave of force ripples outward, knocking the king and his entourage off their feet. The Chosen glares at the stunned crowd.* “All my life, I watched you feast while we starved. I watched my mother beg for scraps while you wiped your mouths with silk. I watched my father toil for hours in the mines for some meager coin, not nearly enough to feed all three of us. And now, *now*, the gods finally decide to look my way?” *He spreads his arms, daring anyone to challenge him.*
“Fine. I’ll be your Chosen. But not for you. Not for your kingdom.” *His grin is feral, filled with promise and destruction.*
**“I’ll burn it all down.”**
|
The heroes had thought it odd that a tower would progress downwards instead of upwards, but it didn't really matter much. The dragon was expected, and was as such swiftly dealt with it. The Ancient Green Dragon was so old and worn-down from previous adventurers that it wasn't too much of a challenge. However, as they crossed the threshold to the room where they imagined the princess lay, the door swiftly sealed shut behind the heroes.
"What the!? Is this a trap?! Is the king behind this?!?" Maria, the rogue, pounded against the metal door, now sealed shut.
"I don't think so," Oak the Barbarian said, looking around the room cautiously. The room had too many visibly moving parts, had too many bright lines running across it. The group was him, Maria, Baren the Sorcerer, and Lewis the Paladin/Cleric. General... holy warrior type.
A faint buzz filled the air, and a red light shone down on the quartet. They closed back together, weapons at the ready, but nobody came. There wasn't anything... until they heard the voice.
\*Humanoids identified.\* An old-sounding, robotic voice rang out. \*Please request preferred language.\* As it was talking in Draconic, none of the party understood it, beyond it sounding intensely dangerous. The old mechanisms cycled through abyssal, celestial, before finally, by chance, repeating the instruction in common.
"...Language?" Baren lifted his hand to his mouth, calling out loudly. "Common! We understand common!" The voice paused as faint whirrs emanated from somewhere within the tower. The voice now spoke again, speaking in common and sounding significantly less evil.
\[Welcome- Scanning. Adventurer Garb identified. Welcome, adventurers. What are you doing here?\]
"We're here to rescue the princess," Oak called out. "There's endless tales about her. Power and wealth beyond anyone's wildest dreams." The robotic voice was silent as it evaluated the statement.
\[Negative.\]
"What?"
\[Negative. No humanoid lifeforms have been here since I was created.\]
"How can there be nothing here? There's got to be something?!" Maria cried out.
\[There is *something*. Something that, long ago, did give power. Did give wealth. But no longer.\]
"...What do you mean?"
\[My creators, before I was made, made a substance they used to power great machines. Entire continents glowed with light, even in the dead of night. But the substance poisoned them. Thus, they buried it, deep down here. I presume the dragon hatchling outside the chamber is no more?\]
"...It isn't, no."
\[Unfortunate.\]
"...So there's nothing down here? Nobody to save?" The construct was silent for a long time, before the room started glowing. Lights turned on in the room, slowly growing in intensity. Lighting up the walls.. upon which were written strange drawings.
Drawings of people mining into the ground and hitting a strange layer. The layer then released some strange substance that resulted in the people dying horrible, horrible deaths. And in uncountable languages and tongues, with words known and unknown, sprawling over every surface in a maddening mantra, were written phrases. One stood out to the eyes of the adventurers, and though they did not know why, the phrase made their skin crawl.
**This place is not a place of honor.**
**This place is not a place of honor.**
**This place is not a place of honor.**
|
Soldier_XVirus
|
ArbitraryChaos13
|
2025-02-28 21:22:54
|
2023-02-24 19:59:01
| 399 | 35 |
mfbmh3j
|
j9v5fc8
|
1j0i6c7
|
11ato9y
|
[WP] "The bones show evidence of a modern diet, and are riddled with microplastics." 'So what's the problem?' "Well, this person died 2200 years ago."
|
The scientific team was ecstatic. After the Great Cataclysm of 2474, finding vestiges of the old world was an unprecedented novelty.
"Unbelievable," said Dr. Isaiah Parker, chief scientist at the Environmental Disaster Prevention Research group. "He is a middle-aged person, from his jaw bones we can deduce that he is a young man of about 20 to 25 years old."
A hologram of a section of a bone was projected in the room.
"Wow, according to the scans, the bones show evidence of a modern diet and... are riddled with microplastics."
"What's the problem, Professor?" asked Beatrice Wellington, assistant to the research team.
"Well," Dr. Parker replied, "this person died 2,200 years ago. Almost 1,750 years before the Great Cataclysm."
|
Watson looked at Sherlock. He was confused. This wasn't the script at all.
"Mister Holmes, are you quite alright?"
"Holmes? Who the heck's a Holmes 'round here?"
Watson and the Not Sherlock Holmes stood looking at each other, dumbfounded. Then, towards the camera operator. He understood and signaled to restart the scene. The producer facepalmed.
"Look, what's going on here? We're supposed to be looking at a skeleton, and you should..." Watson signaled at the crew to bring him the text, "...Say 'Why, he was stabbed with a knife, my dear-'"
"Whoa hold up mate, there's been some kinda mixup. I'm supposed to be a paleontologist and all and-" the Not Sherlock signaled at the crew to bring him his text. The paper boy, who was still there, gave him Watson's text. At the same time, another paper boy brought Not Sherlock a text and some water. Watson and Not Sherlock looked at each other. Watson's aide and Not Sherlock's aide looked at each other. The cameraman and the editor were looking at each other. So were the producer and the scenario.
Everyone was discombobulated to a mental and diabolical degree.
Then, Sherlock arrived. Watson recognized him because he was Chris Pratt, without any makeup.
"Cut!"
"Congratulations crew, that was perfect. It's getting cloudy though, and we need a sunny weather, so let's get here same time by, maybe uh, nine thirty?"
The camera crew began throwing hand gestures at each other, communicating about as silent as can be. Chris Pratt, as Chris Pratt, as Sherlock, Robert Downey Jr., as Robert Downey Jr., as Indiana Jones and Daniel Devito, as Daniel Devito, as Watson, all collectively shook hands and shouted back something affirmative.
After a couple minutes, the entire scene was packed up and gone, with the exception of a small kid, looking around in the driveway, confused. His mom came by, packed him up and after a couple minutes, the entire kid was packed up and gone. A tumbleweed idly tumbled over the road.
|
None
|
Rich_Advantage1555
|
2024-05-19 13:58:20
|
2024-05-19 13:48:43
| 61 | 18 |
l4qhnk4
|
l4qgcw2
|
1cvlw63
|
1cvlw63
|
[WP] The arrogant nobles and elites of the kingdom couldn't understand why this "mere peasant" was allowed to come and go as they pleased at the castle, nor why they were so friendly with the King/Queen. After an incident, they fearfully learn not to antagonize the close, childhood friend of royalty
|
"Sir. Excuse me, sir. But-Stop there, sir. Sir, I say! Sir? *Sir*! ***Sir!***" Duke Mantacito called out to the man, each 'sir' a plead and demand that reached higher in pitch and volume with each utterance.
The man walked on, head down.
He continued to ignore him. The gall!
The pigheaded impudence!
How did a commoner wearing clothing so outdated that there was most likely never a date in which they were actually in fashion, how, how did that man, a man matching that description, how did he get any temerity, much less the mountain of temerity that was needed to make the choice to ignore *the* Duke Mantacito.
Mantacito hurried after the man at a trot, so as not to lose him. It was an ugly thing to do, but it was the only thing to be done.
The shoes in style had to be worn without socks and dug into the Duke's heel in the absolute worst way. He planned to give this man a stern talking to. Damned if the king bade his courtiers not to bother the peasant.
It was only after he rounded the left shoulder of the man and stopped in front of him that he realized the size of him. Looking up at anyone other than the king was not something men of the court did when afforded the option.
His expression was not anger. He instead wore a frown without worry. The man was annoyed, *at him*! At *he*! At *the* Duke Mantacito.
"Sir, I know nothing of you other than your weekly visits to the king. Every week I take the time to bend your ear and you proceed with you ear unbent. Another week shall not go by in this same manner. Understood?" Not as firm as Mantacito wanted but it would do for a start.
"Duke, it is my pleasure to meet you. I am De La Delala." The tall man did not offer anything outside of a nod that was more curt than kind but not completely curt.
The Duke's mouth seemed to work on instinct as he could not recall any thought from when the man spoke to when he finished asking, "*The* De La Delala. The designer? Oh my goodness I could die right now. I can't believe I'm meeting *the* De La Delala. I. Am. Yourbiggest. FAN!"
The Duke had fanboyed out in the most unbecoming manner and they both knew it. If he was not uncontrollably smiling the Duke knew he would be cringing. De La Delala's blood soaked rise to prominence was legendary. The designer that had captured the attention of the court and held it with a velvety iron grip for the last decade. The man was rich second only to the king and a recluse. Other design houses had been trying to assassinate him for years. He never left his home. But here he was!
Duke Mantacito was awed.
"It is always great to meet a fan, Duke Mantacito I-"
Mantacito interrupted, "Mantacito, ju-just Mantacito please. Thank you. Um. Uh- Sorry for being so rude, I had no idea. Sorry for interrupting. Please continue. Thank you." A pause. "And so so sorry."
More vile word vomit. The Duke decided he would jump from the clock tower at midnight if the shame did not kill him before them.
"Now, Duke, this is our secret. My visits to the king. Yes?"
"Oh yes. Of course. Why are you visiting with the king?"
"Duke, " He leaned forward and smiled. All teeth, "I could tell you, but if I did, then I would have to have you killed." He leaned back a little letting the smile fall while staring into the Dukes eyes.
"Just nod." The designers mouth hardly moved. His eyes were so dark.
The Duke Mantacito nodded.
The toothy smile again, "That's a good Duke. I'll see you next week. But maybe, just a little wave then, yeah?"
"I-I look forward to it, De L-"
"No. No De La," De La Delala explained patiently, "Just a peasant. A farmer. Right?"
"Yes, oh. Yes of course. Pe-p-peasant." He smiled and nodded. Then gave a little wave, turning and hurrying away at a trot. It was an ugly thing to do, but it was the only thing to be done.
|
While looking at the darkness of the cell i was thrown into I am still rather confused. Hugo, Matthias and I were simply standing in the courtyard of his highnesses castle watching a rather shabby dressed man walking out the entrance. Who was this mere peasant think he was to just casually come and go as he pleased. Somehow he just manages to avoid the detection of the guards was Hugo's suggestion. Matthias said he was likely a courier and to leave him be. But I Horatio van bergenmeister decided to make the greatest mistake of my life.
I walked directly in front of the man and demanded he tell me of what buisness he had draging his common filth into the hallowed halls of the king. The man whos name i now know as douglas just looked at me confused. I stepped forward demanding "tell me why you are hear or I shall order you caned and thrown into the river" well that threat in specific was not very smart as douglas smiled and said "your welcome to try lad but i dont think you will enjoy the consequences" with that remark i raised my walking stick when suddenly the man was gone. Just as quickly as i noticed this fact he was behind me landing a chop of hia hand aganst the base of my neck. Without a moments notice the world went black. My next memory was laying on the floor of the throne room trying to remember what had brought me to this place. "Horatio you foolish man why did you threaten this man?" The king asked a smerk i swear just hidden in his stoney glare. The man was standing next to the king " really roger i dont think we need to more i quite embarrassed him enough already" his voice with that strange accent in it just boiled my blood "you dare speak his majesties name you foul comm.." but before i could finish our king Rodger the 3rd of his name decended the steps of the throne and smashed me with his scepter "you foul noble fool i have half a mind to just end your existence right now." The man steped down and placed his hand upon the kings shoulder "now now rog he has no clue however i do think he deserves an answer and maybe a little time to reflect on his words to others" that grubby bastard just so flagrantly touched the king and his words to him what madness."
"You know doug I believe you are correct as usually" the king smiled then turned his attention back to me " for your information Horatio this is douglas McKenzie a friend, confidant and voice of calm and reason to me since i was a small child. He saved my life after I fell into the river and has been my best mate from that day forward. The only reason he isnt a noble with a book of titles is because he refuses them all and has more then once told me he will cut me off if i was ever to try. He is the definition of gentry,kindness and reason you will ever find. So now that you understand who it was you decided to truffle with I will past my judgement. Horatio van bergenmeister i sentance you to 1 week in the tower jail. Once released you will humble yourself to my friend and announce to the kingdom why you the baron of bergenmeister, courtier and statesman were sentenced to this in a speech before the entire castle community. Further more you shall never address my friend as anything other the doug or Douglas in the kindest way possible from here out." Doug looked at the king for a moment then shrugged and nodded his head.
So with this i dear reader have written my story. Woe be to the fool that messes with douglas McKenzie. He is not only the most protected man in this entire kingdom but a monster hidden in human skin as but only a glance of his hand rendered me unconscious and I cant believe im going to say this caused me to shat my pants. I can not live with this humiliation so to keep in line with his majesties ruling i leave this letter in my place. May you all fear the wrath of the man named doug.
I fold the letter and seal it with the candle that illuminates my dismal cell. I then climbed upon my chair to finish the necessary deed to redeem my shame when with a flash of movment my cell door opened and douglas McKenzie was there pullung me off my feet and cradling me like a newborn child in his arms. "Thats enough of that lad." He speaks setting me down in the chair i was just standing upon. " You dont need to take this further. I spoke with the king. You are being released, you will no longer have to humiliate yourself before the kingdom. All i ask is you learn from this and be a better person for it. Threat your commoners better. But i do ask you pass word around to the other nobles and elites for me. The king has a good friend named doug and doug wishes to be left alone. Also if any of them had thoughts about challenging his Majesty please implore them to reconsider ive had to kill three men after king rodger the 2nd of his name passed and honestly I find it beneath me to rid the kingdom of traitors and madmen alike. But be sure if i hear a sniff of a word i will come and find out who threatens my friend. And those people will be shown no mercy".
|
God_Never_Exisited
|
nightmareonmystreet1
|
2024-04-22 06:04:14
|
2024-04-22 03:35:23
| 131 | 59 |
l0peu3q
|
l0oz60y
|
1c9yy8z
|
1c9yy8z
|
[WP] You’re a dragon who is used to knights seeking to steal your treasure or cocky riders hoping to make you your steed. However the human you just found is soaking wet, shivering, and curled up in a ball.
|
Ragged breathing.
So it begins again, for the fifth time this month.
The cave was deathly silent that it could hear loud ragged breaths.
The dragon's scales shifted a little as it silently stretched, more alert and conscious of it's surroundings. Now that it was awake it could hear the sounds of rain. It had long since tuned out the patter of rain and the claps of thunder, but now it was registering to the dragon. The way the collective fall of water hit the ground reminded the dragon of meat sizzling after it's been hit by it's fire. Its good sound. Would it hear it once more?
"Ah," a voice let out with along with thump. something fell. It was small. Odd.
Then there were sounds of something hitting the cave. Sticks? Then there was the clashing of stones?
The dragon rolled it's eyes. This again. It lost track of how many times someone tried to build a fire to smoke up the cave and suffocate the dragon. It was like every one thinks they're so clever that there's no possible way someone else had already tried it. Still, as much as it enjoyed burning something to death, that didn't mean it enjoyed it's dwelling being filled with smoke and soot.
It silently moved to the sound of the disturbance, ready to blow a river of fire at whoever woke it up. But it was odd.
When the dragon finally made it to the disturbance, all there was was a small thing, soaking wet, hit stones over woods that were also soaked and above a puddle of water.
This was new.
|
"I should not have used my fire breath in here..."
The great red dragon daintily holds a large partially melted mirror between two claws and examines it with audible annoyance. The sound of coins and jewels and various treasures clash and clang as his huge tail sways back and forth behind him and sitting on his hind legs dejectedly.
"Blasted knights, blasted mages, thieving... thiefs!"
He tosses the melted mirror half heartedly to the side then moves to pick up the still smoldering tin canned knight.
"This is your fault."
The great and powerful red dragon shakes the barbequed knight in his large paw a few times, causing the helmet to fall off, clanging into a distinct pile of jewels below, followed by the skeletonized head. The dragon stops shaking the overdone skeleton, takes in a deep draconic breath and tosses the crispy knight up in the air. The dragon watches it closely then catches it his mouth, directs his mouth towards the great waterfall at the mouth of the cave and spits the knight out at a particular stalactite near the top left of said cave. The armored skeleton clangs against the stone and falls down into the pool of water below that had formed behind the waterfall. He laughs at the flying knight'
"Oh, you should have watched out for that... rock! Ahhhh hahahahaaah..! I'm giving you what you wanted! You wanted to fly didn't you?! Heheheh..."
The dragon's laughter soon quiets down and he stares expectantly at the waterfall, noticing the sun going down. He stands up, uttering a dismissive sound and turn to walk deeper into the cave, continually stepping on all manor of treasures. At the back of the cave stood a tiny hole in the rock and hanging just above door from the ceiling was a large log set ablaze. The dragon cranes his neck up to it and blows it out and directs his eyes back down to the small hole. Just before his face pressed into the cave wall he rapidly begins to shrink, riding a pile of gold down and jumps to a stone ledge, finishing his transformation into a Middle aged man in kingly red robes. He turns to walk into the now perfectly sized hole and stops, looks around a moment and feels around in his outfit. He then tosses several large coins and a few pieces of crushed rubies into the pile then walks into the hole.
The now man quickly struts into what opens up to be a large furnished room complete with all the amenities with a single candle struggling to keep the room dimly lit. He walks over to the long candle and snaps his fingers, producing a flame at the tip of his index finger and lights eight more candles, brightening the room considerably. He then grabs the invisible nose of the skull one of the candles was sitting on top of and twists playfully.
"I got your nose."
|
dgj212
|
Cazekz
|
2024-08-05 04:58:09
|
2024-08-05 03:41:36
| 122 | 29 |
lgka22z
|
lgk112x
|
1ekbqnw
|
1ekbqnw
|
[WP] The aliens, it seems, do not consider us a sentient species because we are unable to 'keeneetaa'. We still haven't figured out what that means.
|
"You are *close* to sentience," said the alien, and then it slowly shook its large, gray head. "But it seems you are not there yet."
Taylor blinked. "But we're talking to you. I mean, I guess you're using some kind of telepathy or advanced technology to make it possible, but..." she trailed off, confused, and looked at Doug.
Doug frowned. He wasn't sure why she was looking at *him.* Of the two of them, he was the senior clerk at the 7-11 from which they'd been abducted, but only by a few weeks. That hardly made him more qualified for intergalactic diplomacy.
He looked back down at the alien, who was standing on the metallic deck of its spacecraft, looking up at Doug and Taylor where they floated in mid-air, suspended helplessly inside some kind of anti-gravity field.
"Uh, yeah," Doug said. "'Sentience' is kind of a big idea, right? Doesn't the fact that we know what that is and have a word for it sort of prove that we have it?"
"The ability to comprehend abstract concepts is only part of what makes a species sentient. As I said, you are *close,* but not quite there." the alien said.
"Look, shouldn't you be taking to like *anyone* else?" Taylor asked, sounding exasperated. "Scientists, world leaders -- *somebody?* I just work here, dude! Er, at the place you abducted us from, I mean.
"Positions of leadership and scholarship tend to be populated with outliers."
"Okay, but like...why does that matter?" Doug asked. "Don't you want to talk to our best people?"
The alien shook its head. "No. We wished to evaluate a representative sample of humanity. A few outliers at the upper limits of your species' capabilities will doubtless achieve *keeneetaa* long before the species as a whole attains to it."
"There's that word again." Taylor grumbled.
"Yeah," Doug agreed. "Why is that the one word you don't translate, or beam into our brains, or whatever?"
"We are communicating it to you as best we can. The fact that you do not understand it proves that you do not possess it." the alien explained.
"But what *is* keeneetaa?" Taylor pressed. "Explain it to us!"
The alien raised a slender hand. "Keeneetaa that is explained in terms of other things is not truly keeneetaa, for keeneetaa is both itself, and the description of itself. Even the sound of keeneetaa is not truly 'keeneetaa', it is rather the sound produced by an object colliding with *nothing."*
"Whoa." Taylor said, eyes widening. "That's...that's *deep."*
Doug nodded slowly. "Yeah...yeah I think I get it."
"And yet, all evidence suggests that you do not." the alien said, with a disappointed sigh. "We will return you to your pl--"
"No, really." Doug interrupted. "I actually get it, now. Keeneetaa is *bullshit."*
"Doug!" Taylor exclaimed. "They're like all-powerful aliens! Maybe don't piss them off by disrespecting their culture!"
Doug was undaunted. "We do have a term for keeneetaa in our language, but it's a not a word. It's a *story."*
"Doug! Shhh!" Taylor hissed, looked fearfully between him and the alien.
The alien held up a hand. "No. Tell me this story."
Doug shrugged. "Sure, it's pretty short. Once upon a time, there was an emperor who loved fine clothing. His tailors made him the best clothing imaginable, but eventually they couldn't make him anything more regal than what he already had."
"Go on..." the alien said, narrowing its large, dark eyes.
"Except, one clever tailor had an idea. He told the emperor and the entire court that he'd found the most beautiful cloth in the world, something truly fit for the emperor. He said it had one flaw though: it could only be seen and felt by smart people. If you were an *idiot,* then the cloth was invisible and intangible to you."
"We're going to get probed so hard..." Taylor groaned, hanging her head.
"So, he took the emperor's measurements, and then just *pretended* to be sewing and cutting cloth. No one could see the cloth -- because there *was* no cloth -- but since not being able to see it meant you were stupid, no one, not even the emperor, would admit they couldn't."
"And what transpired afterward?" the alien asked.
"Well, the emperor walked out naked in front of the entire court, thinking he was wearing this magic robe. Everyone applauded, and said it was beautiful, because they wanted people to think they were smart, and didn't realize that *no one* could see the robe. The tailor got a huge reward, lived happily ever after." Doug explained. "And it seems to me that's what your *keeneetaa* is: a bunch of fancy doublespeak hiding the fact that you're just walking around with your junk hanging out, like everyone else."
The alien nodded slowly. Then it made a gesture, and Taylor vanished in a flash of light.
"Shit!" Doug exclaimed. "But, you said you'd --"
"Send you back to your planet, yes. She is safe, back at the location where we initially retrieved you. Do not worry, I will return you there, as well...later."
Doug swallowed hard. "Okay, but...what are you going to do with me in the meantime?"
The alien blinked. "I will take you to a conclave of our leaders and scientists, of course. They will want to meet the first recorded human to achieve *keeneetaa."*
|
I worked for 20 years as a research assistant in a government secret project known as the Project Olympus. It’s main goal is to know how humans will become part of the intergalactic community and convince the extraterrestrials to accept us as equals. In short, to walk among the gods.
For hundreds of years, different types of aliens have been in connivance with leaders of the world to keep their existence hidden from the public.
On earth there are already twenty alien species that are doing business with us and with the other alien species staying here.
The most popular are the Greys, we call them Zeta Reticulans but they call themselves, Izho’karya. Then there’s the Reptilian humanoids or Draconians, but they call themselves Zygerethion. Another species you can mistaken to fays and elves, with almost ethereal features, we sometimes call Pleiadeans, but their race known to them as the Qartholan. And many more.
These three major aliens are hard to deal with. They have superiority complex. The Greys consider themselves as highly intelligent beings and mingling with humans are an insult to their intelligence. The Draconian are a fascist and xenophobic race. Anyone who is not them doesn’t matter. While the Qartholan were nearly immortals, they tend to just observe every life in the universe.
But the specie the governments are in constant communication with are the octopus-like creatures, known as the Khe’plan. They walk upright with bipedal legs, almost humanoid but they have extra boneless limbs protruding at their backs and two thin and long tentacles on their sides. They have bulbous heads, a pair of eyes in front flat nose, gills on the upper neck and beak for a mouth. They evolved to be amphibious creatures. And they are here as tourists. Earth is a known tourist destination to them.
“Asan’rho!” Shouted the President, as he entered the receiving room. A Khe’plan is sitting on the sofa, patiently waiting for us.
“Mr President. I hope you are doing well.” He stood and offered his hand for a shake but the president gave him a hug.
“I’m all well. Why it took you three years to pay me a visit? You were not here in my inauguration.” Mr President asked.
“You know i’m only here on vacations. I never would have thought you’ll become president!” Asan’rho answered.
“I prepared us a dinner, join me.” The president offered. Asan’rho shape-shifted into an old man wearing business suit before we could even leave the room.
The two had long conversations, trying to catch up with each other. The president canceled all his appointments that night. Then their conversation went to intergalactic community.
“You know one of my dreams is to be known as the president who brought Earth in the intergalactic community. But the Greys, Draconian and Pleiadeans still look down on us. If only one of them considered us as equals, the whole intergalactic community will accept us too.” The president said.
“I considered you as our equals. We both have so many similarities.” Asan’rho replied.
“I know that. And I appreciate it too. But we both know, the Khe’plan can’t recommend us to join the intergalactic community.”
“I’ll let you in on a secret. The intergalactic community doesn’t really consider humans as ‘sentient’ in our standards.”
“Why not? We can talk, we can communicate, we built communities, empires, orders. We created structures for ourselves.”
“Ye-ah, but ants, bees and termites does that too. But did you consider them sentient in your standards?”
Looking defeated, “Then how can we meet this standard you are talking about?”
“Humans doesn’t know how to Keeneetaa. Once you learned to Keeneetaa, you’ll be considered as one of us.”
“I don’t even know what Keeneetaa is, how am I supposed to achieve it if I don’t even know it?”
“I also don’t know how to explain it in a simple way.”
“What?”
“Okay, so, keeneetaa is like a severed mind. That you should be able to access in command. It is a network of hive mind connected to the great source and the cosmos. It sounds like tripping but you can compare it to almost dreaming. You can only access the network by simple leaving your conscious mind.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Why do you think humans haven’t discovered space travel yet? Or at least stop believing in nonsensical religions? Or legends and mythos? You kinds hasn’t reach the keeneetaa that’s why you are still bonded by superstitious beliefs.”
“But by the way you were describing keeneetaa, it sounds like superstitious.”
“Keeneetaa is a network between hive minds gathered by the great source. When you die, your mind will merge with the keeneetaa and be one with the great source. The mortal body only gives us individuality. But your kind is so severely disconnected to the network by your worldly nature and the only chance you get to achieve keeneetaa is by dying.”
“So, you are telling me, all members of the intergalactic community has the ability to connect to this network of minds?”
“Yes, even the fascist Zygerethion can do keeneetaa, they just don’t usually do it as many of us do. You can mistaken keeneetaa to a sabbath day to you humans. But we do keeneetaa to refresh our minds.”
“Unless we learn to keeneetaa, we won’t be part of the intergalactic community?”
“Keeneetaa is the reason why there is an intergalactic community. Do you really think it is possible for millions of intergalactic species to live a harmonious life with one another? Without being connected in a web of understanding? That’s why other species are afraid to give you all our technologies. Once you have all of our technologies without being connected to the keeneetaa, you will only bring war on a galactic scale. Everyone knows that.”
“That’s a bit harsh. You also agree we only cause wars?” The president asked.
“Hey, i’m just being an honest friend here. Even you know how humans were in a short span of ten thousand years. Civilization rise and falls, wars broke thousand times. You can’t blame us for not including you in our community.” Asan’rho answered.
The Khe’plan visitor left the next day to continue his vacation on our planet, leaving our president pondering on what he learned.
But his dream is more important than the connection to keeneetaa. He will be known as the president who brought humans to the intergalactic community whatever the means are.
The Project Olympus was dissolved and replaced by Project Columbus.
|
SilasCrane
|
curse1304
|
2023-02-24 19:24:45
|
2023-02-24 17:34:27
| 684 | 141 |
j9v04kq
|
j9uis2p
|
11au17g
|
11au17g
|
[WP] Your brother left his newborn child with you so that he could go "find himself," whatever that meant. Lacking the resources and unable to care for a child, you had no choice but to give them up for adoption. Years later, your brother finally returns and asks where his child is.
|
"What do you mean, you gave him up for adoption?"
There was genuine confusion and sadness in his voice, but I knew the anger would come.
*"Just as I said."*
I managed to dodge the first blow but the second took me down, he grabbed my hair as I tried to lift myself up.
"I TOOK CARE OF YOU WHEN MUM AND DAD DIED! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO REPAY ME!"
I managed to rip myself free and kicked him in the gut, the blow seemed to shock him, I'd never fought back. We grappled for a minute before I got him in a lock on the floor, pressing his face down.
*"Mum and dad died when I was 17, you took me in for one year and beat the shit out of me whenever you got drunk. Then you knock up some poor girl, don't care when she dies in childbirth and then leave that poor lad with an 18 year old who barely made minimum wage and had no support. I could barely take care of myself."*
"Bitch."
*"Okay, you think that. Now leave."*
I stand up and indicate the door.
"Where's my son?"
I state at him incredulous.
*"Tom, it's been 15 fucking years, I have no idea where he is!"*
He took another swing but he's getting tired so it was easy to dodge.
*"We looked everywhere for you, the police even thought you might be dead! Social services agreed that I wasn't fit to take care of him and and I decided that I didn't want to keep in touch."*
"You gave away my child!"
I pushed him out the door, there was no fight left in him.
*"You gave him away first."*
|
I was preparing to cook dinner, when someone knocked on my door.
Opening it, I found my brother smiling at me.
I hugged him, sighed, and told him to follow me.
After brewing tea, and preparing some snacks, we sat down in the living room.
It didn't take long for the topic I feared to come up.
"Where is she? I...I want to see her.", he said.
I nodded, and put a big folder on the table, pushing it towards him.
He read it, and he frowned.
"You...YOU PUT HER UP FOR ADOPTION?", he shouted.
I nodded.
"You left a child with a 24 year old, whom just finished nursing school, and was without a job, or apartment.
What did you think would happen?", I asked.
"I apologize...
My spiritual light fluctuated...so, how is she? Who adopted her?", he asked.
Hearing what he said, I rolled my eyes.
"It's in the papers...", I said,
He read, and read the folder, before looking at me.
"So...for the last 5 years...she was with...people like them?", he asked.
I frowned.
"Jack and William are an amazing pair, really kind and easy-going...
After all, they let me visit little Sarah every weekend.
So I won't accept any of that tone you are using now.", I said.
"Where are they?", he asked, when he saw he couldn't find the address in the files.
"Their home.", I said.
"Where is that?", he pushed.
"Yeah, no, "brother", you found a wrong-self, because this...
This is not someone I would allow close to my friends and their child.", I said.
"THEIR CHILD?! SHE IS MY DAUGHTER!", he screamed, almost flipping the table over.
My husband whom I specifically told not to come down, did so...with a goddamn sword.
"Sweetie...
Can I have a go at him?", he asked, smiling widely.
I shook my head.
"No, your knight in shining armor fantasy will be fulfilled only in the bedroom Matt.", I said, chuckling.
He sighed, and walked up to us, standing right beside me, staring down on my brother.
"I have a right to meet her. Especially since she is allowed to see...you.", he said to me.
Yep, there was my good ol' "big brother".
Condescending prick, who peaked in High School, and ran away after leaving a girl pregnant.
"As her Godmother, I don't think you are suited to meet with her...
The proceedings for a restraining order are all done, they need just to be authorized, so if you behave as I know you will...
You will not be allowed to ever see her.", I said.
He growled, hit the table, and stormed out.
I watched him leave, sighing.
My husband hugged me from behind, and then I went back to making dinner.
This was just one episode from the future season of my life, but I was prepared.
|
TeatimeWithCake
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-07-12 07:42:56
|
2024-07-12 03:38:28
| 289 | 78 |
lcsx7ks
|
mwhlsum
|
1e14tcb
|
1l5k73r
|
[WP] The Galactic Federation makes first contact with Earth just to inform us that the planet has been divided up between several advanced civilizations, with no regard for our established national borders
|
"So be it, humanity possesses the power to destroy itself, and we would rather blow apart our planet than be slaves under your yoke"
The suited man gestured to his neck, as the technicians cut the message. He turned to his fellow world leaders on the video feeds.
"Today the earth dies" he fumbled in his pocket for a second and smiled.
"I always did hate you Alexi, and you to Chang."
"Da, likewise"
"我也讨厌你们俩"
As the vast mechanisms of modern war began to turn, people throughout the world sighed in a mixed saddness and joy, that although the brief existence of their race would be over, perhaps their act of defiance would inspire someone somewhere to overcome this alien menace.
Alarms blared, submarines came to periscope depth and opened their payload hatches, equally bombers took to the skies and land based silos opened and humanities final act would leave the planet little more than an asteroid field of glass.
In a multitude of flashes it was all over. Every man, woman and child, gone in a nuclear firestorm that shattered the earth.
Eons would pass, but those who came after would record it as the first act of defiance against the federation. Memorialised forever, in some sick sense humanity hadn't just won, but it's memory would last, a symbolic act as those who had sought to stand against a long forgotten evil.
Edit:grammar
|
It's been 10 months now and god those Brits are getting on my nerves. The Aliens had decided to make all of west Europe and America into one country and I wish they had rather just destroyed the entire planet instead, that might have been easier than this.
I saw another one of them in front of me at the chips aisle, i didnt even need to hear them speak, I could tell just by looking at the way they were holding the chip bag and recording with their phone.
“Can you believe it, this is the size of the food Americans eat, no wonder they’re so fat. Are they going to bring this to our side of the Sylian empire now” she snickered, holding a FAMILY sized bag of chips.
“Uh lady, that's a family sized bag of chips, it's meant for a whole family that's why it's so big” I chimed back , pushing my shopping cart, walking towards her.
“Oh cmon, it's a little joke, we’re part of the same country now. It's just a little British banter” she snapped, showing off the golden yellow tartar pit she called a mouth
"You’ll never be a part of America, you're a Brit” I retorted, looking her dead in the eyes
“WHY OF COURSE, THAT'S BECAUSE AMERICA DOESN'T EXIST NOW DOES IT. WE ARE PART OF THE SYLIAN EMPIRE” she chimed, still keeping that hideous smile on her face as she skipped away into the drink section.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, she was probably going to go film a tiktok about how an American supermarket has so many drinks, IN THE DRINK AISLE.
“Why did we have to be joined with the brits” I questioned loudly, looking up at the bright lights above me for an answer
It was as if god himself answered me “At least be thankful you weren't in one of the Eastern European or Middle eastern countries when all this happened”
“What…” I muttered, did god finally answer my calls?
“Look behind you moron” a voice called out in thick Japanese, it belonged to a girl who came to California recently judging by her accent. No doubt because Japan was also now a part of the Sylian empire.
“There is no Middle East or Eastern Europe” she added, looking at the confusion on my face
“Well obviously, the Hediv empire took over that place” I deadpanned, cant believe she thought I was some sort of moron, "Its now called the Hediv empire, lady"
“No, it's just gone. Their fault for being morons, they decided to join all of the balkan and Middle Eastern countries together. The Balkans lasted a whopping 30 minutes before a war broke out.”
Before I could even say anything she added “At least the middle east held out longer, it was a whole 4 hours before war broke out there”
|
AConno1sseur
|
Ducksongs
|
2024-02-21 01:25:15
|
2024-02-21 01:18:02
| 191 | 114 |
krdtmpx
|
krdshem
|
1avvm9q
|
1avvm9q
|
[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.
|
Pain. Darkness. Aniseed.
…aniseed?
Consciousness comes back slowly, and with it, the pain. A full-body ache that defies description. But then, when one’s brain feels like it’s full of cotton, many things do.
Something else. A voice. High-pitched. Needling. Familiar.
“Wakey-wakey, Captain.”
Adrenaline. Clarity. Recognition.
“You…” he tries to utter, but his tongue is a lump of insensate meat, and his throat feels like an ashtray.
“Ah-ah-ah! Do stay still, yes?”
… but there’s anger rising, and memories, and the faces of dead friends, and an awareness - he’s sitting, he’s restrained, he’s blindfolded, but that laughing bastard is *right there* and does he really think this can stop him?
“If this is one of your tricks–”
He stops suddenly - he’d been trying to stand, to snap those laughable restraints, but something stopped him - a groan of pain. A whimper. The bastard’s tied him to somebody else!
“*Do stay still*, Captain. Wouldn’t want to hurt your friends, now, would you?”
He glares towards that voice, willing to burn a hole in the blindfold. Pictures that horrid, horrid smile. That amorphous body. That laugh.
“Slapstick.” He growls out, and is met with a sigh.
“Not today, not today. Wakey wakey, pretty boy.”
He’s about to say something else, something pithy, but is interrupted by a cough. A– familiar one. But– no. *No*.
“Crow..?”
“Hey Cap.” a familiar, if hoarse, voice. “He got you too, huh?”
“But– but– you *died*!”
“Yeah, well – *oof* – certainly feel it but…” A pause, a sound of movement, somebody stretching their neck, a pained little laugh. “...nope, head’s still attached. What’s up with that?”
He’s lost for words. He thinks back - they responded to the attack, did they not? Bonesaw breaking out again, but so much– wilder, so much stronger, so, so much faster now. He was so used to ‘saw being just another of those dozens of would-be villains and other idiots who went to Fleshcraft for powers and ended up turned into monsters, but he didnt think they could be so dangerous…
He wants to rub at his belly. Just to make sure it’s still there. There’s no way that, that *thing* should have gotten through his defenses, and yet…
And yet he’s here. Somehow alive, with his guts back in place. And Crow’s there, with his head still attached to the rest of him. And Echo–
“Echo…?” he asks, hopeful. He exhales a breath of relief when he feels fingers tapping his side. She’s there, she *has* to be there, apparently already woken up–
“Echo! Babe! Am I glad to *not* see your pretty f*oof*.”
…and with her elbows free, apparently. Even in this crazed situation, he can’t help but smile. Just for a moment.
“I knew it!” Slapstick’s voice cuts right through it. “I knew I could make that sourpuss smile!”
He exhales a growl, but– but plays along for now. Whatever’s going on, this is no situation to rush into blindly. The last time he tried that, his guts ended up on the floor. Which, admittedly, removes a lot of his usual options.
“So sorry about the gag, songbird.” There’s that voice again, off to the side - probably in front of Echo. They’re both tied to him, he realizes, and feels her shrug. “Can’t have you all escaping *too* easily, after all, not until after the great performance, not when I worked on it *so hard*...”
Oh, of course! Get the guy rambling, that’s a good strategy. Unfortunately, Echo,’s gagged, and Crow’s big mouth is likely to get them all into even more trouble, which leaves– crap.
“The hell are you playing at, Slapstick? Is this–”
“Not Slapstick.” He’s interrupted, the villain’s voice… surprisingly resigned. He sighs. “Not today. Now then– Wakey wakey, Bonesaw.”
His blood freezes. That *thing* is *here*? Is that the plan? Feed them to that monster after…. somehow… tricking them that it already killed them? No… that doesn’t make sense. But before he can speak up, Crow opens his mouth–
“What the hell Slapstick, don’t–”
“Not Slapstick! Not today!” That voice. That’s– that’s something else. None of that levity. Something else. Something older. “I *like* being Slapstick. I *like* the little games we play. Our little jokes, our little gags, the push and pull and the cleverness of you all oh I love it so much and I can’t wait to see how you get out of *this one* but not today. Today, this *miserable pile of augmentic flesh* wanted to ruin my fun. My little comfortable retirement! And what for, I ask you!? He got what he wanted. He got what he *deserved*. And now, I have to– I have to–”
Somehow, he understands. “Go back to being Fleshcraft?”
A heavy sigh. “Yes. Once. Remarkably astute, Captain. Not one of your strongest points.”
He grunts, but doesn’t protest. Tries the bindings, but doesn’t want to risk it. Doesn’t want to risk his friends. “Thought it was the end for us. Nice work.”
“Thank you.” He sounds genuinely touched. “I am afraid there might be some scarring, you bulletproof types are usually hard to work on and you were a *particularly remarkable* example. My compliments to your maker. You are lucky I had spare parts on hand.”
“Spare par–?”
“Oh do not worry yourself, he didn’t feel a thing. Well, not yet. Wakey wakey, Bonesaw!” The levity returns, all the more chilling for its prior absence. And before he can ask anything else, the screaming begins.
It lasts for a long time.
----
/r/vonBoomslang
|
"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."
|
vonBoomslang
|
First_Hovercraft_197
|
2024-09-23 14:51:46
|
2024-09-23 11:53:12
| 85 | 45 |
loj7kq0
|
loifflc
|
1fnekwz
|
1fnekwz
|
[WP] You are a normal person and have a job as a Latin teacher. When you die you are isekai'd into a world of fantasy and magic. The spells are fiercely powerful. You then realise the spells are all random words in Latin. The equivalent of fireball being the Latin word for bread.
|
**Deus Panis**
[Thank you Google translate, also Concrit welcome]
It has been five month and seven days you’ve reincarnated into this strange land, and you suspect it wasn’t a coincidence anymore.
They revere you as the great mage, a title you find laughable. True, you could pronounce these Latin words fluently, however, you had to be careful not to guess spells meaning. Last time you tried to summon some bread, you casted a fireball. The elders tell you you are close to the source of magic, you’d rather not be close to this linguistic hellhole. Every day, you get closer and closer to yelling at whoever created this universe.
You begin to notice a pattern, some of the errors in translation are awfully familiar. Silva (the Latin word for forest) for summoning silver, Liber (the Latin word for books) for untying ropes. You were reminded of a distant day, a simpler time when you lectured in front of a classroom and the students dozed off or scrolled at their phones silently, when there were no monsters to fight, no villages to save. You were reminded of a particular student, who would always turn in quizzes with all the wrong translations, it was the only time in how many years someone had to repeat Latin 1.
The more you encounter these mistakes, the more certain you become of your theory.
___
Winter solstice, the kingdom invite you to conduct the annual ritual to attempt at contacting the creator of this universe, who had been long silent for centuries. You tried the standard ritual, with a few improvisations based on old scrolls you found in the royal library. No response.
You felt like there’s something you must try.
“MARCUS!!!” You cried out the name you’ve yelled many times in the classroom when you were trying to get the young man to pay attention for once. The name of the only student who would ever confuse fire for bread.
The world shook.
Everyone observing the ceremony fled for coverage. But you stood your ground, at that moment you understood. You felt it in the tremor, it was the same anxiousness all language learners experience it first.
A glowing silhouette descended, despite all the changes, you were instantly able to recognize him.
***Mrs. Diaz? Is that you?***
“Marcus! So it is you behind … all this.” You pointed towards the horizons.
***Mrs. Diaz, I…*** He seemed embarrassed, ***I’d like to apologize for being a slacker in high school. It seemed like my horrible Latin managed to bother you even in this universe.***
“Don’t be,” You replied in a flash of pity and understanding, “Not everyone likes language classes. And besides, you’ve made this entire universe with its own internal logic and intrigue. I’ve always know you’d make it if you applied yourself.”
***Thank you. Its just that after all this long there’s not much I remember about earth, and I’m afraid no matter how hard I try I cannot remember one correct thing I’ve learned in your Latin class.***
“I’ve always said it’s not too late to start over again. Would you like to retry Latin one more time?” You found yourself asking.
***Sic, Mrs Diaz, I’d be glad to.***
For the first time in a dozen centuries, Marcus uttered the first right word in Latin again.
|
"While it took me a while to fully grasp the idiotic- I mean, innovative use of Latin, I was finally able to understand the cultural meaning and relevance for the spell. Panis derives from the term companion... and as we all know, fireball is a wizard's best friend. And so, this is why my thesis is on why 'panis', the evocation for fireball, is named so because fire is a wizard's strongest companion."
I finished my explanation with a slamming of my hands upon the desk in front of me, finally blinking and breaking off my prolonged stare with the headmaster of the esteemed school of high magic that I had been holding throughout my entire explanation.
Theodrica Benevoluntaria, the high prism mage and renound scholar of the lands I unintentionally found myself in (after a small case of death closed the door on my previous world), almost looked at me in fear that I would continue talking should they attempt to blink. Their typical gracious posture has slackened to the slumped shoulders of the incredulous, as if they could not decide if what I was saying was revolutionary or the work of a madman.
After a prolonged silence, they cleared their throat.
"Well, you have certainly given me a lot to think about, what did you say the root language of our spells were again. Latin?" Upon my vicious nod of the head, they continued.
"I think we would love to have you here as a scholar," they said, regaining their bearings once more, "While your work may be, well, contested at first, I see no reason to halt your investigation as you managed to create a sound theory that could revolutionize our understanding of spellcasting."
"That's wonderful!" I say. My grin was full of sleep deprivation and my eyes held a manic glint as I cheerfully leaned forward on the headmaster's desk, ignoring their not-so-subtle attempts to lean further away from me.
"Because I have a theory about the vampire-warding charm, allium, that I'm sure will knock your socks off!"
|
sachizero
|
LastVividDream
|
2023-02-11 00:06:01
|
2023-02-10 23:08:47
| 62 | 16 |
j81sf2m
|
j81kjzp
|
10yvb55
|
10yvb55
|
[WP] Years ago, you found a small dragon in your house trying to steal some stuff for it's hoard. You decided to give it some gold, as well as some food and water before sending it on it's way. Every once in a while it would return with small offerings, as repayment for your act of kindness
|
I opened the door, looked down at the gift in front of me, and looked up.
In front of me, was a dragon the size of two to three city blocks. I could not see his whole body, however, as the dragon had decided to perch it's head directly in my front lawn. All of my nicely cut flowers, of course, had likely been ruined a long time ago.
"Hrathgar, this is not a *small* gift."
I looked up at the dragon with mock disgust.
"My most giving patrons must receive their rightful rewards. Otherwise, all that lies in my cavernous vaults would not all be mine, now would it?" The dragon, of course, was already the size of a mountain. I hesitated to find out what *it* thought was cavernous.
I rolled my eyes. "Hrathgar, do you remember what I got you?"
"Why, yes, exactly! You got me three gemstones you'd dug up in the mines that day, and around 30 silver pieces."
"Wait, you really remembered all of that?"
A snort of flame came out of the dragon's nostrils. The hyacinths hanging by my door were turned to char. Thank goodness for fire-resistant paints, or the house would have burned down too.
"Why, of course I did! What would a dragon do otherwise? Simply *forget* those who kickstarted their journey? You remember your parents, don't you?" the dragon slapped the ground with it's tail. At least 3 species of beetle went extinct.
I took in what Hrathgar had said, and looked down at the present he had gotten me. I then looked back up at the massive, nearly infinitely wise dragon. With great care, I picked up the present, and held up, carefully, in my hands.
"Hrathgar, sometimes I look at your face, and remember those sweet young days back when you were little but a newt, as I would stockpile coins in my kitchen to give to you."
I swore I could see the dragon blush with embarrassment. "Dave, please, you shouldn't I was such a youngster back then. I could barely even threaten a farmer, let alone an entire nation-"
"Hrathgar, I remember those days because sometimes you say stuff so *astronomically stupid* that I wonder if your brain has grown at all."
Hrathgar's once open mouth closed. It opened again. It closed again. It opened once more. It closed once more. There was very little I could do about this. So, I decided to go brew myself some coffee.
Some quiet minutes later, I walked back out to the door, coffee in one hand and my present in the other, where Hrathgar, a dragon known all around for his power, wisdom, and for declaring himself the sovereign leader over The Fat Side Of Oklahoma, was still opening and closing his mouth. As I took a sip from my coffee, the dragon finally recollected himself, and spoke.
"I think that was rather rude of you, Dave."
"I think, given that you stated the importance of knowing you parents, that you *handing me your child as a gift* was not exactly the best of choice." I gestured to the egg I was holding with the entire right half of my body. My left side took another sip of coffee.
Dragons liked mornings.
|
Ever since I was young, I had an affinity for strays. I would be sure to leave out bowls of milk for the neighbour tabbies and sneak some of the lunch meats from my sandwiches to the stray dogs on my walk to school.
For the most part, all my actions ever resulted in were a couple of extra companions on my walks home from school and some dead rodents on my doorstep. Little did I know, strays of a different variety come with a different set of rules.
It turns out, dragons have a somewhat feline nature - although the “gifts” at my doorstep have been quite more…substantial than a few dead mice.
I was on my way to work when I encountered the first offering. On my doorstep lay a partially disembowelled man, who I recognized immediately as my grade school bully. Despite the years of cruelty, I nearly heaved up my breakfast at the sight of him. Three deep cuts ran from sternum to hip, guts leaking onto my doorstep.
The second time, my ex-wife lay splayed across one of my patio lounge chairs, a large puncture wound in her chest that I can only imagine is from a claw.
The third time, an insufferable coworker of mine turns up in my garden, the charred remains of his bottom half already dissipating into fertilizer for my tomato plants. The upper half more closely resembling a BBQ roast than a person.
At first, I thought it was some kind of misguided gesture of good faith. It’s best effort to pay back the kindness I showed it when we first met months ago in my study. Who knows what kind of twisted moral compass a dragon operates with anyway?
But as time goes on, I’m beginning to think it’s grown amused watching me scramble to clean up its messes. The more of my enemies it delivers, the more difficult it’s becoming to cover things up.
And my garage is beginning to smell…
|
EvilNoobHacker
|
Sluttyforjerky
|
2023-02-22 06:27:21
|
2023-02-22 04:14:04
| 40 | 29 |
j9iovd6
|
j9ibi0k
|
118ce4r
|
118ce4r
|
[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”??
|
Archmage.
A title that all those who seek the truth of the universe want to achieve.
A title that represents the pinnacle of magical studies, and each magical field, each research, each domain has an archmage standing at its top, paving the way ahead.
It takes decades, if not centuries for even a genius to become an Archmage...or at least that was the common knowledge until now.
For recently, a new Archmage has been born, a genius who opened up a new field of study on her own...
At the mere age of 25.
Atop a sky-piercing mountain floated a mage tower.
That was the domain of the new Archmage, whom lived as a recluse.
Her magic so strong that nobody but those who willingly accepted her field, and followed her in her research could stay besides her.
Many other Archmages tried to discredit her, but none managed to do so.
For a single spell of hers, almost killed seven Archmages...who worked together to stop her attack.
It was then when even the Gods of the world took notice of her.
Nobody really knew what was her deal...what was her field.
An aspect of her magic was a quite common one: gravity.
But she...she had other elements, other forces combined in her spells, forces that made her unstoppable.
She called herself The Archmage of the 4 forces, and that her title is more than enough to describe her field of study.
And indeed...
For some reason, several eccentric souls, and geniuses, and even an Emperor visited her on friendly terms, hoping to learn or at least get allied with her.
She accepted them all happily, and spread her teaching under Celestial Oaths, lest they shall be used wrongly.
She spent her time studying...and healing her students, as her path was one where control was the most important trait.
Even a tiny bit of magical energy related to her domain if went rogue...could cause significant damage.
But she was a patient, careful and kind person, and helped each of her students and disciples on a daily basis...
It was so for centuries, until a rift opened in the skies, and an army invaded...right from above her tower.
She appeared in her pyjamas...and yawned.
"Electromagnetic Force Nullifier...", she whispered her spell...and the army of invading monster...disappeared.
As simply as that.
Ever since, she was hold in the highest regard, and nobody really dared to bother her anymore...
|
ForbiddenFruitiness
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-08-24 11:41:22
|
2024-08-24 10:55:47
| 155 | 22 |
ljoveyj
|
ljoqmkf
|
1ezzur3
|
1ezzur3
|
[WP] Many countries have mythological heroes that will "Come back to save their homeland in its greatest hour of need". Well...all of them came back, but we cant figure out what the danger is...
|
"So you're all English now?" Asked the king sadly, his white hair and beard like winter frost on his scarred, lined face.
"Not exactly, there's still the Welsh, Scots and Northern Irish. The United Kingdoms." I said trying to be comforting
"Wealas is what they called us, foreigners in our own land, the Scotti were raiders from the land over the sea to the West, Eire. Your face could be one of my own people, perhaps a mixture like Cerdic, but you speak some latinised version of their tongue and name yourself English, one of the invaders. Whom have I come back to fight and whom to protect? This is still my land. The mountains and the hills haven't changed. But everything else is different." He pointed a armoured finger towards my uncles barn "Over there on that rise was Camelot, the heart of the last kingdom of true Britons: now it is a cowshed. I've risen too late, better that I never had."
I silently ingested the news that the old block of concrete, wood and corrugated iron I hated washing out was built on top of long lost Camelot.
"If you're awake that means we, your people, need you, doesn't it? More than ever before. We just have to figure out why."
At that moment my phone started to vibrate I pulled it out, yet another update from Securi-Core, keeping you safe®
"I don't know why they still inform you" I said idly "after they won the courtcase so they don't need permission anymore. I'm willing to believe there really are no humans running that company anymore, just AIs and deepfakes"
I trailed off. The King was staring at my phone.
"Oh this. it's a scientific device for talking to people a long way away you wouldn't have had anything...."
He reached out and plucked it from my grasp, stared at it for a few moments and then, in spite of my startled yelping, crushed it into smithereens.
The sadness had utterly vanished from his face. He no longer looked old and worn. He looked like someone who'd survived for centuries because he was too tough and too dangerous to die.
"Tell me more about this inhuman company." He said.
|
They were all lined up. Large men wearing bits and pieces of chain mail, others with bejeweled armor, spears of adamant, swords with cynical crystals watching.
Frustrated, one yelled ‘I am Ilya Murometz! I saved Murom from the evil of Baba Yaga!’
The rest of the great heroes turned in scorn.
A man dressed in a bearskin with a club, crowned with oak leaves and apples gestured rudely, commented ‘Dude, chillax. See Mr Horns over there? That’s Roland, who saved France from the Saracens. The kid with the harp? He shattered the great glass globe which hid the SpiderGod Mor-Nith-Mor. We’re all waiting for the social workers. No one needs us anymore. You’ve filled out Form 223B and have the necessary 3 IDs? Or other reasonable records to verify your identity?’
The rest of the heroes, irritated, sigh. Some implode and turn to dust.
A bell rang. The line advanced.
|
None
|
GreatRuno
|
2023-03-04 02:14:43
|
2023-03-04 01:50:29
| 39 | 15 |
jau4sw5
|
jau1rke
|
11hc2ai
|
11hc2ai
|
[WP] Everybody not currently in a romantic relationship has their sexuality and/or gender changed. The change is permanent.
|
"Hello everyone, my name is Mrs. Colton. I'm sure you're all wondering what exactly this class entails."
Penelope listened to the teacher intently, notebook at the ready in case the introduction turned into a lecture. But no sooner did she reach for her pencil bag did it get pulled away from her in a lilac shimmer. Turning around, Penelope saw the school's resident golden boy Hubert von Nacht holding the bag with his trademark smug grin. With a roll of her eyes, Penelope whispered, "Come on, just give it back."
Hubert's friend Lyle snickered. "Why don't you just take it back?"
"You know my major is in alchemy, I can't just--"
Hubert's other friend Brutus leered at Penelope with a mocking, "Aw, is the widdle bottle baby gonna cry?"
Penelope felt like the vein on her forehead was about to pop. "For once in your lives--"
"Ms. Kane, would you mind telling me what's so important that you feel the need to talk during my class?"
Penelope looked back at the teacher, blood practically freezing as she answered, "I--It's nothing, Mrs. Colton, I promise."
Mrs. Colton leaned against her desk and fired back, "I'll decide for myself if it's nothing. Now tell me, if you'd be so kind."
Penelope gulped. "Well, uh...Lyle Coleman took my pencil bag, and now Hubert von Nacht won't give it back to me. But I promise, that's all it--"
Mrs. Colton held her hand up before glancing at the trio. "You three, front and center. You just volunteered for a demonstration of my class."
The young men looked at each other in confusion before shrugging and making their way to the front as Mrs. Colton pulled a totem out from her desk. "The purpose of this class is to impart a very important piece of wisdom upon all of you. The type that people like these three boys right here likely don't know very well, if at all."
Mrs. Colton set the totem on the ground, whereupon it cast out a blueish ring of light that pushed back the desk. The boys entered the ring as Mrs. Colton nonchalantly took off her robe, revealing the fit, tattoo-covered body beneath, as well as the athletic wear it was clad in. Brutus whistled and asked, "Damn. Please tell me there isn't a Mr. Colton."
"No, but there are four other Mrs. Coltons. And I'm not the type to date anyone that fails all three parts of the Harkness test."
Chuckles rang through the class before the teacher explained, "Rules are simple: you force me out of the ring, you win. I force you out of the ring, I win. Begin."
Hubert made a show of cracking his neck before holding his hand out to create a summoning circle. A ghostly dragon shot out of the circle and charged at Mrs. Colton as Hubert cockily remarked, "Can't say I really get what kind of lesson--"
*KRRRKKK!*
Faster than the eye could have seen, Mrs. Colton grabbed the dragon and snapped its' neck with all the effort of opening a soda can. The class were shocked into silence at the display, giving Mrs. Colton the freedom to explain, "Magic is not the ticket to invincibility."
Lyle recovered first, calling forth a torrent of jagged roots from the floor to charge at the teacher. Unbothered, Mrs. Colton vaulted the attack and threw Lyle out of the ring. "It is not a skeleton key, a winning lottery ticket, or any other sort of shortcut to success."
Brutus tried to force Mrs. Colton away with a telekinetic surge, only to exhaust himself trying thanks to the teacher gripping the leftover roots with an almost inhuman level of strength. The second Brutus fell to his knees, Mrs. Colton picked him up and deposited him outside the ring as she finished off, "Magic is a tool, nothing more and nothing less. It is admittedly a very versatile tool, but that in turn puts even more of an impetus on the mage to use it properly." A nonchalant push to send Hubert out of the ring emphasized Mrs. Colton's point. "Which Hubert and his friends did not."
The ring dissipated as Mrs. Colton put her robe back on and turned back to the rest of her students. "*That* is what you will be learning in my class. You will be taught to shatter the boxes you've been put in, by yourself or others. You will work and train and study until the act of casting a spell is effortless enough that you can adapt in the likely event it fails to deal with your current problem."
The grin that spread across Mrs. Colton's face could be described with something between beastly and sadistic. "Welcome to Magical Survivalism 101. You *will* hate me before the end of the school year."
|
*The class was full of students, robed in all the colours of the rainbow. The children, with wands in their hands and books on the table, happily discussing between each other.*
I don't like kids. Not a cell in this mortal, decaying body of mine makes me want to teach to a bunch of spoiled brats who won the genetic lottery and who's presence here is not on the merit of effort, but on the blood of their parents. But, you know, a job is a job. To be fair, the best life preserving potions in the astral realms and a well paying job (with even dental!) in exchange for thirty hours of this torture is totally worth it. After all, I have a talent rare have.
*The old man, with grey hair and a face full of wrinkles silently turns around and start writing on the blackboard : Introduction to soft power, by Professor Bismarck.*
Hello, said a voice bearing the scar of war and negotiation. At that moment, the entirety of the class sits down in silence as if a shot was fired. The wizards knew when to be quiet, who this man is and why he was here. They were the lucky few who got in this popular class as it offered something no other teacher can, something which, in the hands of a mortal, can bring endless glory to his bloodline, something priceless in the hand of a wizard.
I presume we all know who I am, so, I will first introduce this class. I am not very well known in the magical community, but in the mortal one, I am somewhat of an important figure and on the behalf of your headmaster, I have the obligation to teach all of you my skills.
Firstly, why are we here, you might ask. So, you wizards have the ability to manipulate reality itself, to bend the laws of the cosmos to your will, to betray the laws of physics and to live beyond aeons. However, it was shown to be that your talent in magical arts doesn't transfer to nation building. H*e starts walking in circle and ranting.* How can people older than countries be THAT incompetent at working together? I mean, your society have truth detectors, but still somehow end up with corruption and an unfair justice system? HOW? Every few years, you idiots declare war on each other for no good reason, never accomplishing anything, only bringing decay and chaos to your country. *A dreadful silence fall upon the classroom. Feelings of shame and anger fill the eye of the aspiring young children.*
However, as we say, in chaos lays opportunity. This is fact I have learned to my benefit. In this class, I will teach you guys the skills necessary to rise up the social ladder of the magical community, to destroy the might of ancient families, to create new groups that will last until kingdom comes, to scheme against your enemies and to manipulate their actions, and to convince the masses that YOU are their saviour. Once you pass this course, I can assure you that in addition to your magic, you will also have the talent of a leader and of a politician. After all, I am sure we all desire the beautiful things in life, the luxuries we cannot conjure with magic alone.
Now, let's start. Call me Otto or, if you want chancellor, a little title of mine in my hometown. Open your books to chapter 3 "Reputation and honour, how to weaponize public perception."
|
jardanovic
|
Dusk_Flame_11th
|
2024-09-02 03:19:38
|
2024-09-02 01:11:37
| 122 | 65 |
ll3cl3e
|
ll2u2dj
|
1f6m22e
|
1f6m22e
|
[WP] Peter Pan is no child, for he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, an unknowable horror from the stars masquerading as a boy.
|
Peter stands on the edge of the clocktower, toes curling over the ledge, wind raking his hair like a lover tired of waiting. The Lost Boys are a feral knot beneath him, all sharp elbows and skinned knees, grinning with the crooked sincerity of the doomed. He tilts his head, considering the moon—white, swollen, and lovely like the inside of a wound.
Wendy asks him, not for the first time, *"What are you?"* She thinks it’s love that makes her ask, but it isn’t. It’s the kind of fear you can’t name when it creeps into your bed at night, wearing someone else’s face. Peter grins, all milk teeth and meat hooks.
"Don’t you know?" he says, almost sweetly, like he’s telling her a secret that’s been hers all along.
There’s something about the way he talks that feels like biting into tinfoil. Wendy clenches her fists to stop her hands from shaking. She’s starting to see the gaps, the slivers where Peter’s skin doesn’t sit right—like it was borrowed in a hurry and not stitched up tight enough to hold the *something else* writhing beneath it. His shadow flickers, just for a second, too many limbs folding inward like a predator coiling in on itself. She blinks, and it’s gone. Just a boy again. Just Peter.
"Take me back home," she whispers. It’s not a plea—it’s an incantation. She thinks if she says it enough times, she’ll believe it’s possible.
Peter crouches, balancing like a crow on a wire, all angles and edges. "There’s no going back, Wendy." His voice drips, thick and sticky, like tree sap that catches bugs and keeps them alive just long enough to feel themselves stuck.
The boys chant below, rowdy and restless. "Fly, fly, fly!" They sound hungry, but not for food. Never for food.
Wendy steps back, but Peter steps with her, lazy as a shadow. "You could stay, you know." He licks his lips, though there’s nothing on them. "It’s not so bad, being lost."
She knows what he really means: *It’s not so bad, being mine.*
She remembers the others—those who stayed too long, their eyes gone flat and glassy, their bodies moving like wind-up toys with broken gears. She used to think it was the island that did that to them, the magic, the wildness. But now she knows better. Now she sees the trap for what it is: not an island, but *Peter.*
He leans in, close enough for her to smell the night on his breath. "Second star to the right," he whispers, brushing her cheek like a promise. "And straight on till—"
She shoves him. Hard. Harder than she thought she could. His grin falters, and for one perfect, terrifying moment, Peter falls.
And as he falls, he isn’t Peter anymore. He isn’t anything that has a name. His form splits and shudders, unraveling midair—tentacles unfurling like ribbons of night, fanged mouths blooming in places that shouldn’t exist. A slick, cosmic laughter bubbles up from deep in the marrow of his being, and Wendy feels it crawl into her ears, squirm behind her eyes, twist itself into the center of her mind.
But the wind catches him just before the rocks do. He rights himself mid-plummet, laughing like the stars are in on the joke. He drifts back up to the ledge, boy-shaped once more, a little more cracked around the edges but no less *Peter.*
"You really are fun," he says, wiping blood from the corner of his grin. "I knew I picked the right one."
Wendy takes another step back, but the tower is only so wide. Peter tilts his head, watching her with the patience of something that’s waited a thousand lifetimes for this very moment.
"You’ll see," he murmurs. "They all do, in the end."
And somewhere far off, in a place that smells of salt and dreams, a clock chimes, counting down hours that never really belonged to anyone at all.
|
Children had so much faith. Their poor little pre-frontal cortexes could barely think five minutes into the future, let alone realize the lies fed to them. It was easy, then, to slip into the dreams of the unwanted, the unloved, the abused, and the unfulfilled and fill their minds to bursting with dreams of adventure and friendship. Adults question. Adults wonder, and ponder, and are cynical to the bone.
You see, it’s that childish faith that feeds me. Sustains me. Earth called to me from beyond the void, her children’s wants and needs echoing so loudly across the cosmos. For a species that evolved to spend so much time and energy into so few offspring, there was an appalling (appealing) number that left them lost and alone. You would almost think that they were left as little offerings to me.
I whisper in their ears of all that they’ve missed out on. Gently, oh so gently, I pull their minds from reality. Their minds slip into my realm, lured by the image of a young boy and a pretty, petty faerie pulled from their myths. The more they see me and my shadow, my little faerie light, and listen to the wonders of “Neverland”, the more they become mine. The living world loses its grip. They see less and less of the possibilities of their world, and instead become a part of mine.
When they finally sit, their mind inured against their world, their eyes empty and their soul firmly in Neverland, then I can slip their little bodies across the veil to me. The sheer trust and hope in their souls is like the sweetest of ambrosias. I let them play their little games, leading them in a merry dance… until that day comes. When they do not do as I say, do not look at me with endless trust, do not follow where I lead with no question. They begin to damage my crop. When one questions, another will follow. I’m merciful- they get one chance. But every time, every child- asks more. Then I devour them, body and soul absorbed into the “world” of Neverland that is my body, and begin to seek out another to take their place.
Only once did one escape me, ripping himself away but losing a hand in the process. It worked out well though. Children so love to stand against a villain. And if “I” act the hero, then the faith in me multiplies. One day I’ll devour the so-called “Captain Hook”. There’s no way for them back to their reality, and I have endless patience. And humanity has an endless crop of unwanted children.
|
StoneBurner143
|
SecretlyHistoric
|
2024-10-27 19:43:31
|
2024-10-27 18:29:38
| 62 | 17 |
lu25zrb
|
lu1r3ql
|
1gdetq1
|
1gdetq1
|
[WP]When a soldier loses a limb, it is a tragedy. Soldiers are needed at peak efficiency, so they must undergoes the unthinkable - grafting metal to flesh. A horrific abomination, the mere process is often enough to shatter what is left of their mind. Then, there are the humans.
|
Command Pod, Alliance cruiser Herdthinner
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”
Healer R’rssath didn’t flinch as Squadron Lord D’ra screamed at him. The crew in the command pod looked on with a combination of revulsion and horror as R’rssath stood there, only the slight flaring of his tail spines showing his mood.
“I saved their lives, AND made sure that they can go back into battle-”
D’ra hissed anxiously, “Saving their lives, that you had authorization to do. The hu’mens volunteered to aid us. They left their nests, their clans to fight with us against the Priath.”
“Who are a threat to their own system” one of the Battle Guards added, only to be silenced by a glare from the Squadron Lord
“Yes they are fighting for themselves as well. But they are not of the Kin! To meld machines to our kind is a blasphemy enough, only to be done if there is no alternative to save the lives of hatchlings.” D’ra looked again at the report projected on the viewer. “To fuse metal and ceramic to the hu’men, our allies, our GUESTS…is beyond blasphemy.”
R’rssath simply held position stoically, as the hu’mens would say. “I disagree-for the hu’men, it is different. They will not fall to madness like our kind when similar situations occur.”
The Squadron Lord looked dubious. “They are living beings, same as we. to be grafted to machines..”
“You can ask them yourself if you like,” R’Rssath replied.
‘Ask them? More like prostrate myself and beg their forgiveness for what you have done. Healer, you may have doomed our entire war and shattered this alliance by what you have done.”
Healing pods, ten minutes later.
Staff Sergeant Irine Kanahoe, Royal Hawai’ian Marine Corps loved the Kin’tash’s bio monitor tech when she first deployed. So easy to monitor her platoon, make sure everyone was fed, hydrated, and good to go. The downside, when the Priath began bombing their positions from orbit..was knowing just how f’d up everyone was, including herself. So waking up back on the Herdthinner with the right number of working arms and legs, AND being able to see on her left side? She looked confused at the Kin’tash officer, the six legged reptile laying prostrate on the deck apologizing profusely for something “Did we do something wrong Sir?”
That brought the stream of apologies to a halt. D’ra looked up at the hu’man warrior. “But..we have replaced your flesh with machinery.”
Kaneohe nodded, flexing her shiny, probably not chrome but sure looked like chrome left arm. “You did, and did a better job than our docs could, Sir.”
Corporal Kamali nodded , one silver hand grabbing his crotch “Hell Sir, I can even feel my-” At the Ssgt’s sudden glare he wisely changed subjects “these cybernetics work great Sir,” Kamali continued.
“...yo…you are not upset?” the Squadron Lord asked hesitantly.
“Upset? Sir. We’re alive..and we’re , to use a human colorful metaphor,now we're ‘Fuckin Cyborgs.” She grinned, without teeth, as that was the Kin’tash’s version of a smile. “The Priath messed up when they didn’t kill us the first time.”
|
“I’m telling you, my lord, this process is not at all what you think it is!”
“And I am telling you, we are at war, Chief Magister, if it is ordered that this procedure be done to get these men back on the field, then it shall be done!” Lord Tytos, Commander of the Northern Force responded forcefully.
The Chief Magister stood his ground, though, “I understand that we are currently in a conflict where we need manpower, however, I can hardly say that this is acceptable manpower, my lord.” He gestured to the many operating studios behind him, “The men undergoing the fusion operation are irrevocably changed by the process. Their minds cannot withstand the intrusion of the augments on their bodies.”
“But they are able to fight, and that is what is necessary.”
“I am appalled at your lack of understanding, my lord. After this war is over, what shall be left of our valiant men who serve this nation? Shall they be able to return to their families? To their fields? To their occupations?”
“They can fight, that is what we need them for.” Lord Tytos reinforced evenly.
The Chief Magister lost his temper at that moment, “You are a fool and shall bring about the downfall of this nation, a downfall much more insidious than what our foes wish for us! You are damning untold numbers of men to a fate worse than death, a fate where they are but machines for this war and little else. Will you be able to stand before their wives, their mothers, their children and explain why they will no longer be the man they once knew? Can you?!”
Lord Tytos took his eyes away from watching a man being led away by two other Magisters who were having to almost physically lead the man off. “It is a necessary evil.”
“Necess… necessary evil? My lord, this has gone too far.” The Chief Magister said in shock.
“Mayhaps… but we may have to go farther.”
|
Chainsawferret
|
DKSpocky
|
2023-06-14 18:35:54
|
2023-06-14 16:16:02
| 337 | 95 |
jo4tmh1
|
jo49fby
|
1492ya7
|
1492ya7
|
[WP] You've been summoned as a hero of legend to save a medieval fantasy world from evil. Same old, same old. However, it very quickly dawns on you that a medieval world's idea of "evil" is quite incompatible with what you, a modern person, would consider evil.
|
I gripped my sword tightly and walked towards the stone mansion hidden deep in the woods. For a den of evil and debauchery, it looked surprisingly... mundane. Yet the quest I was given upon my summoning was clear; the pleas of the distraught king apparent. Whoever - or whatever - was hiding inside this house was committing crimes most heinous, an affront to nature itself.
And *just in case* the sword wasn't going to cut it, I checked the magazine in the Glock I brought with me. A perk of being summoned from the 21st century to fulfil an epic quest. 17 bullets. Holster opened. Round chambered.
Good to go.
I approached the door and opened it with utmost care. I was almost disappointed when it didn't theatrically creak, instead just swinging open smoothly. What was beyond the door shook me down to my core.
Fountains of blood! Skulls of the innocent stacked into a chair! Green flames from hell itself!
A... green rug.
I mean I expected to see rivers of blood and stuff, real Hellraiser material, not... a cushy rug and a sofa. My pondering was cut short when I heard footsteps approaching.
"You!" a voice sounded from down the hallway. "What the blazes are you doing here?!"
Seconds later, the source of the voice walked in; a young woman with red hair tied into a bun and freckled cheeks. She wore a fairly loose white sundress, yet no shoes. The only remotely threatening thing about her was an eyepatch across her left eye. That and the fire poker she was brandishing.
"Meolda? Meolda the-" I started.
"If you finish that sentence with 'The Dark' I'll show you a piece of my mind!" she hissed.
This wasn't what I was expecting.
"It's over, Meolda," I calmly continued. "Your evil deeds will not go unpunished."
"Did *those morons* send you?" she asked. This, too, took me aback.
"...beg your pardon?"
"The King. The townsfolk. Did they send you to kill me?"
"Well... yes," I nodded.
"Oh of course they did. They-"
"Meolda, is everything all right?" a new voice said, soon revealed to be an equally young man with frazzled brown hair and thick spectacles that joined Meolda's side.
"Another '*adventurer*' Viktor. Here to kill us, apparently," she introduced me.
"That's what you get for your evil-"
"Is this about the reverse seeing glass?" Viktor asked. I frowned.
"The what?"
"My latest project. I assure you, there is no dark magic at play! It is merely a series of polished lenses that allows me to inspect things most minute-"
"Wait, are you talking about a *microscope*?" I asked. The two looked at each other.
"Micro... scope. Micro... small... oh, that is a *marvellous* name for it, good sir!" Viktor said excitedly. "I'll be sure to credit you in my memoirs."
"Things they don't understand, stranger," Meolda said carefully. "Things that scare them. That's why they want you to kill us. Will you?"
"Look, the testimonies were pretty clear," I said. "People saw a mutilated human body not too far from here; caught you red-handed moving it. Are you denying you did that?"
"Oh..." Viktor sighed. "Yes, well... that *was* us, yes."
I gripped my sword tighter with one hand, the other reaching behind my back for my gun.
"Have you ever heard of the term 'dissection' ?" he asked.
"I... yes."
"Impressive, good sir," Viktor nodded. "You see, a plague has recently gripped the nearby village. The poor man whose body we... dissected was struck down by it - we wished to inspect it further to perhaps uncover the secret of the disease. Maybe even find a way to reverse it."
"Then why were you dragging the body about?"
"We were trying to bury him, damn you!" Meolda snapped. "Then some idiot lumberjacks saw us and chased us away before we could! Not like we could bury him in our garden. He'd attract scavengers."
I loosened the grip on my sword and let its tip rest on the ground.
"Are you two just... scientists?" I asked.
"Yes!" Meolda cried out. "That's all we want! To progress knowledge in peace, but-"
"But," Viktor continued solemnly, "they do not... understand or approve. We go against the 'Will of the Gods' in their eyes."
"And the thing about you two being of no moral stuff is..."
Viktor and Meolda grab each other's hands.
"We've not married yet, yes," Meolda explained, "but we see this as no reason not to enjoy-"
"Oh for FUCK'S SAKE!" I yelled loudly and threw my sword to the side. "Waste of my GODDAMN TIME!"
The two scientists looked at each other curiously.
"Are... are you alright?"
"I- yes!" I scoffed. "I mean, no, not really. This is a... I could've been catching the latest movie but noo, instead, I have to spend 6 hours crawling through a thick forest to go and 'Kill the Evil Warlock and his Harlot Witch' only to find..." I said and pointed towards them, "you two. *Harmless*."
"So you... mean us no harm?" Viktor asked.
"No," I pouted.
"Good," Meolda said and put her fire poker down. Then, she released her grip on the lever behind her back I was yet to see. "We are not *harmless*, sir. We are *peaceful*," she said and pointed to the ceiling above me. I squinted my eyes and saw a trapdoor, ready to open and drop... something on top of me. I presumed something *heavy*.
I chuckled. "Well played. Also... what is this about you wielding lightning?"
"Oh, yes!" Viktor said excitedly and, seemingly trusting me already, ran past me towards the door and showed me a paper kite. "You see, I attached a simple metal wire right below the kite and when the next storm happened, it-"
I laughed. "It conducted the lightning to the ground," I finished for him.
Their eyes went wide. "Are you a man of science?"
"Just... not from around here."
"We're trying to find a way to harness this power. If we could find a way to do so, the implications-"
"We'll need copper, zinc, a bit of silver, cloth and brine. Do you have those?"
They exchanged confused looks.
"Yes, why?"
I grinned. "I'm going to show you something... *shocking*."
|
<Fantasy>
**"Fein weyir Korth es,"** the man with the staff proclaimed. In hindsight, it had been somewhat silly of me to assume that the inhabitants of another universe would happen to speak modern English—but over my involuntary stay here, I'd managed to pick out a few words. I still wasn't sure what *Korth* was, but judging by the subtle emphasis they put on the word, I could tell it was important.
And by how they brought it up around me, I knew it was what I was here to fight.
"Yes, uh, Korth," I muttered. "Let's get our Korth-ing on."
The man with the staff—I was pretty sure he was some kind of wise man or wizard—stared at me as if I was a toddler who'd just pissed on his carefully-manicured lawn. "...Yanna alrei sha vest," he finally said, shaking his head. "Alia merr," he added, gesturing for me to follow.
I didn't particularly want to make an enemy of the interdimensional wizard, so I walked down the smooth silvery hall after him. I hadn't really explored much of the... castle? Hotel? Something in-between? It was hard enough trying to communicate to the inhabitants of this world that—despite my otherworldly origin—I needed to eat and drink like the rest of them. I hadn't really done much tourism.
I got a bit of a glimpse at the rest of the compound I'd been summoned into, though. Those weird individual rooms that I'd never actually seen anyone enter or leave lined the walls; my wizard guide stopped in front of one, pressing his gnarled staff to the center of the door.
There was the sound of grinding stone, and the door.. rotated inwards on itself. Like it was a cardboard cutout all along, and it was turning around to show me its infinitely thin edge. The room behind it was dark and smelled... more or less like the rooms I'd been shown when I'd managed to explain that I also needed to deal with the *byproducts* of eating and drinking. I hesitantly glanced at the wizard.
"Korth?" I asked.
The wizard's expression was grim. "*Korth,*" he spat. He tapped his staff on the floor, and the room lit up.
There was a man inside. Maybe in his fifties? I wasn't sure if age even mapped the same way in this world. He hadn't looked up at the opening of the door, but when the room glowed, he raised his dirt-streaked face to us and locked eyes with me.
There wasn't much room for him to move, what with him being chained to the wall, but he tried to shy away from me regardless.
The wizard handed me a knife.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, holding out my hands. "I'm not going to fucking *stab* some random dude you have locked up in your basement."
The wizard looked at me, uncomprehending. He proffered the knife again, more aggressively this time, making an almost-comical *stabby stabby* motion towards the man.
For fuck's sake. "I'm not... look." I put on my most incredulous and disbelieving expression, pointing towards the man. "Korth??" I asked.
The wizard seemed to understand. He nodded solemnly, reaching into his robes and withdrawing... a chalkboard? Some equivalent, it seemed, because the chalk he produced was a shade of pink I'd only seen in crayon boxes. He handed both to the man, who shuddered.
The prisoner wrote something—a symbol—that even I could tell was horrifically poorly drawn, despite being illiterate in this world. Then he shifted the chalk to his other hand and repeated the process, drawing the symbol... not flawlessly, but far better.
The wizard smirked, withdrawing the chalkboard, and pointed at the man. "Hereni al manra Korth *se*," he proclaimed.
It took me a moment for my brain to click. "You want me to murder him because he's *left-handed*?"
The wizard held out the knife.
I stared at him.
Then I picked up the chalk—the prisoner didn't resist—and walked over to the wall.
I was no artist, but I could replicate a symbol when I saw one. My right hand went first, and it was as shitty and shaky as it had been ever since I'd first picked up a marker in first grade.
Then I produced the symbol flawlessly with my left, making sure to scowl at the wizard as I did.
He stared at the writing on the wall, then at his hero of legend, and in a heartbeat I saw his smug superiority collapse into frantic calculation.
He took one step backwards. Then two.
I realized what he was headed for too late, and leapt at him, trying to knock the damn staff out of his hands.
But he swiped it through thin air, and that damn door rotated back into existence again, slamming shut and locking me into the darkness.
A.N.
If you liked this, check out more stories r/bubblewriters, where I write [Soulmage](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/), a serial written in response to writing prompts/
|
SirPiecemaker
|
meowcats734
|
2023-04-24 14:22:29
|
2023-04-24 14:00:31
| 2,304 | 362 |
jhitcln
|
jhiqb3r
|
12xda29
|
12xda29
|
[WP] Guy lives alone in a world full of people, no one can see or hear him, he lives his days alone until one day he find another person, another person alone in this world with him. They fall in love but then he phases back into the world, everyone can see him again, but he can’t see her.
|
It wasn’t much of a shrine, really. More like a mistake someone forgot to clean up—a toppled stone, a clump of moss, a flower that bloomed too early and just stayed. The others had gold. Marble. Columns so tall they made you feel small before you even got inside, which was probably the point. Me? I had… well, dirt. Dirt and one loyal visitor.
She was small when she first stumbled in, hair wild and clothes half-tucked like she’d wrestled a tornado and lost. She looked at the stone—*my* stone—and said, "Huh. That’s weird." Then she sat down, right there in the mud, and started talking.
Talking! To me! The god of—well, that’s complicated. Not something grand like thunder or love or, I don’t know, cheese. (Cheese is big. People love cheese.) No, I was the god of Small Forgotten Things. Buttons in gutters. The last sip of tea. Shrines no one visits.
Except her.
Every year, she came back. Not with gold or incense or whatever the fancy gods demanded. Just her. Sitting. Talking. Telling me about school, her parents fighting, how her brother put a frog in her shoe, how she put the frog in his bed, how she didn’t even feel bad about it. (I liked that one. Feisty.) She didn’t ask for anything. Never prayed. Never begged. Just talked, like we were old friends. And I—I listened.
Years passed. She grew up. The wild hair got tamer, the clothes more put-together. But she always came back. Always sat in the mud, even when she was wearing something too nice for mud. "You’re the only one who gets it," she said once, leaning back against my stone. "You don’t try to fix me. You just… listen."
And oh, did I listen. To everything. Her first love (some guy named Marco—didn’t like him, too smug), her first heartbreak (Marco again, predictable), her first job (terrible boss, good coffee). I listened as her visits grew longer apart, but she always came back. Always.
Then, one day, she showed up different. Older. Frailer. A cane tapping against the stone as she lowered herself down. She sat there, breathing heavy, and said, "Well, old friend. This might be it."
*It?* I felt the panic before I could stop it. Gods aren’t supposed to panic. We’re supposed to be all-knowing, all-powerful. But all I knew was that my only believer was leaving, and I was powerless to stop it.
"I wish I could stay longer," she said, smiling at the stone. "But I’m tired. And you—you’ve been enough. More than enough."
No. No, no, no. *Not enough.* Never enough. Not for her. Not for my only visitor, my only friend.
So I did the one thing gods aren’t supposed to do. I meddled.
She closed her eyes, leaning against the stone, and when she opened them again—well. She wasn’t old anymore. Or frail. Or tired. She looked down at her hands, smooth and strong, and then at me—*really* at me, for the first time.
"You—" she started, but I didn’t let her finish.
"Go," I said, the words rumbling through the stone. "Live. Love. Be. And don’t forget me."
She laughed. Loud, full, free. "Forget you? Never."
And then she ran, young again, back into the world. My little shrine, my small forgotten place, felt quiet. But not empty.
Never empty.
|
It's already 2100. 2100... And My faith has already been so swiftly forgotten.
Crosses, they used to adorn My houses, everywhere across the world. Well now, they don't. My faith has been so forsaken and despised, that they don't even use "+" for addition in Mathematics anymore. They just use the word "plus" or the phrase "added to".
The last Bible was printed in 2073. The last hymn was sung in 2076, and the last praise song sung in 2079. Earth's last church officially ceased to exist in the same year, 2079.
Since then all worship of Me has ceased. No one remembers Jehovah. The Trinity. Yahweh. Jesus Christ the Saviour.
Except you, dear child. My dear dear daughter in spirit, Deborah Mary Samynathan.
I thank you for remembering Me. For still coming to this small alcove that has a small stone cross in it, to pray to Me and beg Me to have mercy on this increasingly depraved world. You give Me hope. Hope that among mankind, My beloved creations, good may still silently exist. Hope that this good may yet rise again one day.
And now this year, you have come to visit Me again. It is Easter. And I remember that now you are 21. You are grown now. You are an adult, and I think you are ready for My gift to you.
Take now, the strength of Samson, the power of Elijah, the insight of Paul, the righteousness of Moses, the integrity of Joseph and the triumphancy of Joshua. Receive, now, SPIRIT.
Now, go forth My faithful daughter. Declare My faith and lend voice to that which has been silent. I will go and wage war against Lucifer, who will seek to stop you. I know, this means that you may stop feeling My presence near you for awhile.
But do not fear, dear daughter. We will be separated only for a little while. Once the victory is won by the power of My blood, I will reveal myself to this fallen world. And you will be vindicated for your faith in Me.
Be blessed now, dear daughter, and go forth to victory.
|
StoneBurner143
|
MC_Hans84
|
2025-01-14 04:24:12
|
2025-01-14 03:02:22
| 968 | 28 |
m71q4eo
|
m71clyg
|
1i0uoqt
|
9xzsws
|
[WP] “Whatever you do, do NOT eat the apples from that tree!” “Why not?!” “You know the story of Snow White?” “Yes, of course.” “And the poisoned apple?” “Yes, I know about the poisoned apple. Where are you going with this?!” “That tree grew from that apple, so its fruit is most likely poisoned.”
|
I stared at the tree, and it looked like a normal apple tree.
"Seriously?" I asked.
The man nodded.
"Yes, that tree grew from the apple that fall from Snow White's hand, after she got poisoned.
It was a long time ago, but people around these parts still remember." he said.
I nodded, and watched as bugs, and birds were happily living on that tree.
"Are you sure though?
The tree looks healthy, and there is no sign of poisoning on the animals on it." I asked.
He rolled his eyes.
"A tree grown from an apple poisoned by a witch.
You think that would be a normal apple tree?
Also, quite rude to assume a poisonous tree should be ugly or ill." he said.
Well, he wasn't wrong.
"I apologize, that wasn't what I meant but why would the apple tree be poisonous?
The apple from the event was poisoned after it was grown, and it wasn't grown to be poisonous.
It shouldn't be able to give birth to poisonous trees." I continued.
He nodded.
"Yes, genetically it's an implausible story, but we are talking about magic that still exists today, even if it has been a century or so.
Also, don't you think that being perfectly healthy is a sign that something is weird with the tree?
No chips, no maggots, nothing?" the man said.
I stopped in place, and stared at the tree.
He was right.
"I get it, I can see your insignia, and as someone attending the Academy, you would know a thing or two about magic, but I am a ranger.
I grew up in these forests, and protect these forests, and let me tell you, that tree is bad news." he said.
I wanted to retort.
"I know you would want to solve the issue, or determine whether the tree is truly poisonous or not, but why bother?
This is a remote spot, where the 7's house was, and by law it's protected and hidden from news outlets.
It's rare that people come here, and those that do, usually meet me, or my colleagues, and we always warn them." he continued.
I sighed.
"Thank you for your hard work." I smiled, and left.
As I left all I could think of is my family's inheritance...and how badly it scarred the people of this country...
|
"Whatever you do, do NOT eat the apples from that tree!"
"Why not?"
"You know the story of Snow White?"
"Yes, of course."
"And the poisoned apple?"
"Yes, I know about the poisoned apple. Where are you going with this?!"
"That tree grew from that apple, so its fruit is most likely poisoned."
“But the birds are eating the apples and *they’re* not getting sick.”
“Yeah, but they’ve adapted to eating toxic fruit. So the old advice to eat what the birds are eating is misleading.”
“Is it just this one tree? Or the entire orchard?”
“All of them are tainted, unfortunately.”
“That’s a shame. I was really hungry.”
“Well, there’s a Domino’s down the street. And pizza’s your favorite junk food, right? So why don’t we just go there instead of taking a chance on getting poisoned?”
“Yeah. You’re right. Let’s go.”
|
TheWanderingBook
|
JiVe-TaLkIn-
|
2025-01-22 04:40:09
|
2025-01-21 23:09:00
| 15 | 10 |
m8hgm9o
|
m8fsgkp
|
1i6mf8s
|
1i6mf8s
|
[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
|
There was a beeping sound, it slowly woke me.
I ignored the beep as my eyes fluttered open to bright lights and an unfamiliar ceiling. There were screens every where. I couldn't quite make out what they were saying. I also noted there was a mask around my mouth. I closed my eyes and the world left me.
"Hey, Gusset, wake up," A voice said as i felt a hand on my shoulder jolt me awake. I was back in that room but the breathing mask wasn't on me anymore. Pain was still there, just mild, oh and I was surrounded by five heroes.
"The photon five," I let out weakly. The roster changes, but they're a pretty well known family that engages in heroics. Celebrities basically, don't bother with cape names. Problem is, they don't operate in the area.
"Least we know he's doesn't have a loose noodle," a woman in labcoat with purple decal said, Phoebe if I recall, she doesn't have powers, but tinkers around with stuff. She was short with dark hair that had pink and purple shades for a little rebellion.
"Obviously, sis, with the two of us, we'd know he'd pull through," another woman said, she looked like Phoebe-twins, but her lab coat was padded like armor and instead of purple she had neon green on her clothes and Hair. Penny, she heals.
I try to sit up, but I couldn't muster the strength and pain flared in my abdomen.
"Gusset, I can guess what a low level villain like you is thinking, but you can relax," the man who jolted me a wake said as he hovered over me from my right. Duncan, a new comer to the family, dating one of the twins. He was tall and wide guy, well built, he collects energy into his gun that Phoebe maintains that fires out as lasers or something. He was clean shaven and rocked Elvis's hairstyle.
"It's you're lucky day, bud," a jolly sounding voice said from my left. Dinesh, a tall thin guy, small goatee with his hair slicked back, his thing was being covered in some sort of energy armor that made him look bigger and gave him extra strength, been on the team for a while, dating Penny if I recall correctly, "you can avoid jailtime by helping us out."
"Huh?" I let out numbly, still trying to piece my situation out.
"The vigilante that attacked you, we need you to tell us whatever you can," Duncan said sternly.
"If you do, we can cut you some slack," Dinesh said with a smile.
I was looking at all them as I tried to figure out what was going on.
"Boys, enough, he just woke up," the last person in the room said. Peyton, the eldest of the three sisters. Word is that she has a body count, the grim kind. Started when her brother got iced in school-the news wouldn't stop talking about it at the time. She was a tall young woman, her dark hair had red stripes, and her eyes held a red glow. She wore a padded body suit with a red \[**5**\] on it along with a brown jacket. She was by far the strongest of the bunch, able to generate shield and launch them like projectiles and even use it to fly somewhat.
With a single motion she had the two guys back away from me, for which I was grateful for.
"Gusset," Peyton began, "I'm sure you got a lot going on up there, but let me be clear. We're not after you, yes we know who you are, and yes the police are here, and yes we can cut you a deal. Cooperate with us to catch the vigilante that nearly killed you, and we'll see what strings we can pull. Do you understand?" She asked as the other four members of her team looked at him with some intensity.
Being in the same room with anyone from the Photon Five wasn't something I ever wanted to experience. But I'm guessing they're the reason I'm not six feet under. I'm not sure what the best move is, but if all i got to do was help them with the bitch that nearly iced me, it's a no brainer.
"Wha...whadoya wanna know?"
|
"Hello Mr. Finch," says an older woman as she forces herself through my doorway. "It is so nice to finally meet you, I've been imagining this moment for so many years." She closes the door behind her and gives me the kindest, most motherly smile.
"Excuse me, ma'am. Do I know you?" I question her and she just smiles. "I will call the authorities, ma'am. This is private property." She laughs like I didn't just threaten her and hands me a battered roll of paper. Paper might be the wrong word, it was more like a pile of fused leaves.
"I just wanted to thank you, Mr. Finch. After the accident, I had so much time on my hands before I woke up. You gave me an entire lifetime, a lifetime full of happiness and love," she rambles, wiping a tear from her wrinkled, green eye. "You gave me so much hope and opportunity, the kind I wouldn't have gotten from dropping out of high school to take care of my mother." I'm now intrigued. Who is this old woman? I keep emergency services on speed dial, just in case she really has lost it.
"But you never answered my question: who are you, ma'am?"
"Why, I'm Sandy Butler, Mr. Finch. I'm sure you remember me."
It hits me. The years of long nights full of guilt and crying, long days visiting the children's hospital, the hours ticking by until she either woke up...or didn't. I had given up on her a year ago. "There's no way, you're just trying to mess with me!" I yelled at her. "Why are you playing with me like this? How do you even know that name?" I started sobbing.
Instead of responding, Sandy Butler just placed her battered book on my coffee table and collapsed. "Thank you so much Mr. Finch," she said, smiling at me before the life left her aged body.
Years later, after slowly forgetting about how I had to call the authorities on the dead woman in my living room, I returned to the book on my coffee table. I had never touched it, not once, since that day. I opened the book to a random page. It read like a diary, charting the romantic events on a particular day between a fairy and his human wife. I turned to another page, which dictated the proper preparation of magical mushrooms. I flipped through a couple more pages, most filled to the brim with poems, letters, stories, and the most peculiar of recipes.
I finally flipped to the first page.
My Life in Wonderland by Sandy Butler
Dedicated to Cooper Finch for casting me upon this wonderful world after my accident all of those years ago.
|
dgj212
|
None
|
2025-01-12 08:47:00
|
2023-03-13 06:36:15
| 24 | 12 |
m6puzuf
| null |
1hz0cf3
|
11pue97
|
[WP] when the zombie apocalypse came, everyone raided gun stores. Except you. You raided a medieval armory and now, armed with full plate armor and a long sword, you will take back your home
|
I have to weigh about half a ton, I'm hot, I can't scratch anywhere, and I am just about certain there's a chipmunk in my greaves, but there are few things more satisfying than a raving, staggering undead chomping down on tempered steel.
You hungry, buddy? Munch on some chainmail, deadbrain. Then I swing old Chrysamere around and lop their head off. That's what I call my huge sword. I'm a big nerd, but I am also a *big* nerd.
Every gun store I've seen has been a horror show. Well, everything is a horror show now, but I mean there are piles of bodies, and most of them killed each other from what I can tell. They're all cleared out of guns, not that I care. I'll tell you one thing: this whole time, I ain't had to reload Chrysamere once.
This shit started in Atlanta, near as anyone could tell. I knew before most it was coming here to Massachusetts, coming everywhere. Hopped in the van and headed for the art museum in Worcester. Broke in at three in the morning, hauled out everything I could find that might fit. They called the cops, can you believe it? I mean, nobody came, but they called. I could hear the security guard on the phone. Idiots.
They took my home. Not the zombies, the gun nuts. We had a decent little spread outside of Bolton. It was my father-in-law Jerry's place, before he passed. I married into it, but it sure felt like home. Or it did till the prepper maniacs showed up, throwing bullets around like they were trying to set a world record for stupid. We had a big iron fence, mainly to discourage bears, according to Jerry, and that drew them like flies.
All we had was Jerry's old hunting rifle, which didn't do much against three pickup trucks full of doomers. We lit out for the territories, Maisie and me, and took to living in a tiny cabin out south of Douglas State Park. I made raids, we started planting, hunting, and trapping. We get by.
But they took my goddamn home. Till today, that is. I've spent some time watching, and there's only two of them left. The iron fences are bent under the weight of the dead, held up with sticks and baling wire. Dipshit One and Dipshit Two are about to get a surprise today.
They never put a chain on the gate. Five months, and they just left it with the regular gate lock. I have a key, you dimwit assholes.
I just stroll up, bold as brass but stronger. Well, now, stroll is not accurate. Lumber up, I guess. Clanking and sweating, I cleave my way through a small army of the dead, and unlock the gate. A few of them nibble on me for a minute, then shamble off toward the main house.
A gunshot rings out. I am leaning on the big stone pillar to the right of the driveway, trying to scratch my forearm with a dagger without stabbing myself. Another shot. They don't seem to be rattling off semi-auto fire now. Wonder why that is?
Part two is about to swing into action, I hope. And there it is. Maisie, bless her adventurous heart, has launched a string of firecrackers into the back yard. Both Dipshits are yelling like crazy in there, and shot after shot rings out. She's not quite so heavily armored as I am, but goddamn she can fight, so I'm not too worried.
I wait a while. Maisie comes trotting up eventually, and we share a drink out of her canteen. Half an hour since we heard a shot, and the moaning of the putrid dead still goes on.
"Well, Mark, they're either dead or out of ammo in there," she says, tucking stray hairs into her helmet.
"Yup." I lumber off, through the gates and up to the door. It seems so weirdly ordinary, but I fuddle around in a bag for the house key and let myself in. I don't want to enter through the boarded-up windows like the dead. There's a fresh cannibal buffet staining the area rug Aunt Marge gave us, and it looks like the Dipshit Twins are the main course.
I check every room anyhow, Chrysamering a few deadbrains along the way.
Just for the hell of it, I go out back and ring the dinner bell. Maisie comes, and we clear the back yard together.
"Gonna be a job of work, getting this place fixed up again, Maisie."
"Ayup. Tomorrow. Let's get some sleep."
|
As the old saying goes, learn from your mistakes. Well, I feel it's a good idea to take notes from the blunders of others as well. Which is why I've decided to get cozy on this here tree branch. Not too far up, no. However, most definitely out of reach of those God damned zombies. It's a simple fact I've never been able to understand how people forget. Zombies. Do. Not. Experience. Fatigue. But you will. Oh, you will. You'll die both dead and out of breath, and the lack of oxygen flowing to your brain will do nothing to stem the pain as their gnarled teeth rip your skin from bone, while your final thoughts trail along the lines of wishing you could've rested before your final sleep.
But of course, there's usually not enough time to explain that to someone who's about to seal their fate.
*POP!* *POP!*
The sound came from below, and a few feet towards my 10 O' clock, and was then followed shortly afterwards by the undead removing the first two letters of said title, dropping into the autumn leaves.
A beat.
And then a roar, and then a cacophony of tortured screams, soon followed by breaking branches and a low rumble as they tore from the deepest parts of the forest. Directly towards the sound of the gunshots.
Maybe I could've stopped him. Maybe if I hadn't been so focused on my journal, I could've noticed him while he was still dialing in his aim. Maybe, I could've explained that movies make silencers out to be an automatic mute button, when in reality, he should've considered raiding that shop for their sub-sonic rounds as well.
...Or maybe he should've considered a different weapon altogether. Something that *can't* jam, *can't* stovepipe, *can't* double feed. A simple tool with simple maintenance that won't leave you on the very back of your heels at the worst of times. At that thought, I pulled my longsword closer to myself by its sturdy handle, it too doubling as a weapon if need be. I had yet to see anyone pistol whip a zombie to death. Not successfully, at least.
In the meantime, the armed man was able to put down a few of them, but of course, the question of the ammo count arose. And there was no hope for him to answer before the buzzer.
He had been absolutely swarmed. So much so, that the only way to parse the details of his demise between the tidal wave of undead were the screams that would soon fade into cries. And then, to a whimper. And then, into silence. An unarmored beacon of noise snuffed out in an instant.
With the surprising amount of mobility offered by full plate armor, I hopped down from my perch after waiting for the zombies to begin wandering aimlessly towards the next unfortunate soul.
Some things are written in blood rather than ink or graphite. Sometimes, it takes the blood of someone else to teach you how to make sure yours still runs warm.
So, I'll continue to learn. Taking it all back. Protected. Simply. Quietly.
I hope you'll find it within yourself to do the same.
|
Divayth--Fyr
|
ActualRiot
|
2024-09-13 18:41:40
|
2024-09-13 17:52:27
| 102 | 73 |
lmyx0qz
|
lmyo092
|
1ffyw4y
|
1ffyw4y
|
[WP] A dragon mistakenly kidnaped a maid instead of a princes. Expecting the princess to be rescued after going out hunting, instead comes back to all their treasure meticulasly sorted by origin, color, and value.
|
He arrived in the fashion she'd expect. A massive gust of heated wind that seemed to shake the rock itself. Of course this time he stumbled in having reduced himself to a human form on the way.
"Hello sir." She greeted. "Is all well?"
Contrary to his usual gruff demeanor, he rolled a little on the rug she'd laid out. Turning himself over he ran a hand over a few large bruises on his ribs.
"Are you okay?" She asked as she walked over to look.
"Got us a pair of cows." He gritted as the bruises continued to heal. "One of your men."
"The guard."
"Right. Not your men." He reminded himself. "They shot one of those, what are they called? Shoot big burning balls of coal?"
"...Tribok. I think? The men talked of them all the time when they weren't being used."
He had stopped talking. She looked to see him sweeping the rug he sat on with his hands.
"Sir?" She asked.
"This is nice." He complimented. "Where'd you get such a thing?"
"Erm, it's your tapestry, my lord."
"Mine?" He grunted in confusion. "When did I get something like this?"
"You had several of these in a corner of the cave."
"I did?" He asked in a surprised tone?
"Yes?" The maid shifted on her feet.
She was still wary of his true nature. He was very much still the monster that ruled the mountains here. One that would descend from the sky to attack and conquer. But as his bruises finished healing, he stood to walk around. Testing the textures on his feet.
"I...." He paused to look around. "What happened to my coins?"
"Oh!" The maid smiled in a rather panicked way. "I stacked them, and cleaned what I could up."
He took a quick pace into the next chamber and promptly carried her with him. True to her word, she had in fact moved much of the treasure around. It was a little intimidating that one woman of her stature could do such.
"Where did you learn to do such!?" He asked. "How did you get so far!?"
She winced a little. Even though he reined it in for her when he was around, little embers still shot out of his mouth at this.
He promptly brushed them off her, realizing what he'd done. She didn't get on his nerves like many others. The least he could do is be nice.
"I arranged some things? You're always out getting us food. Fighting. Flying. I had to do something."
One door broke open, and treasure that had been stashed away to tidy the room broke free. Bars of silver, gold, and countless jewels scattering across the rear of a hall. The pair wincing together at the sounds of it.
"...I still have a lot of work to do." The maid answered.
"That's, that's okay." The dragon apologized. He wasn't the best at having a normal reaction, so this garnered an odd look from her now.
"What?" He asked. "What's with that face?"
"Nothing." She blushed after a moment.
"Look, go ahead and go to the spring." He offered. "I can... Try to fix whatever that is."
"No, I do this for a living." She reacted. "It's fine."
More items crashed out the same storage nook. The fact there was a grandfather clock in there gave them both pause.
"Do you need me to help?" The dragon reacted to that explosion of noise.
"If you wish to, Sir?" The maid's eyes widened at that.
"Just, help me figure out where to put it all."
"Very well."
As they began shuffling items around, she finally got the courage to ask. "So which hamlet did you attack this time?"
He stopped between stacks of gold he held. "Do you know anyone in the one besides the sea?"
"I can't say I do." The maid shrugged.
"Well, now I feel *a lot* better about what happened." He hinted at.
|
I managed to hunt down an ogre, and manticore today.
Quite the haul.
Bringing them back to my lair, I was quite expecting to see some knights, mages coming for the princess I kidnapped.
Unfortunately, there was nobody but the princess there, and she was...cleaning?
Oh my...my hoard!
Why is it even shinier? And why does it seem so much...smaller? Less?
"What have you done?!" I ask her.
"Master, I have cleaned the house, and organized your items.
Gold, jewelry, rare stones, and currency is in the northern part of the cave.
Tomes, scrolls, books, articles, diaries and knowledge objects are in the west.
Artefacts, weapons, and large objects are in the south.
Herbs, elixirs, pills, and living beings are in the east." she said, slightly bowing.
I squinted my eyes, taking a closer look at her.
She wore a rather stuffy dress, black and white with frills.
Oh my...
"You aren't a princess, are you?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"As I told Master as we were flying away, I am just a maid." she politely said.
"As if I could hear you with all that wind!
And why are you calling me Master?!" I shouted.
"I see, makes sense you didn't hear me.
And I call you Master, because you feed me, house me, and basically the same as before.
I called the Princess, "Your Majesty", but I thought "master" would suit Sir better." she said.
I sighed.
I took on my human form, and stared down at her.
Her eyes shone as she stared back at me.
"Fine.
Do you want to go back?
I wanted to kidnap the princess to extort something from the royal family, but I guess that ain't going to happen." I said.
"Oh no, I am quite happy here." she smiled, looking me up and down.
I shivered.
"Listen..." I started, but before I could a loud noise echoed through my lair.
"Where is little bon-bon!!" a woman's voice boomed.
I stared at the entrance of my lair, seeing a small army approaching, then back at the maid.
"The Princess, may or may not like me a bit too much.
But I like here better, so I will go to explain." she said, smiling, bowing and going towards the army.
I sighed, massaging my temple.
"Who...Who is the owner of this place?
Whatever...too much hassle, but I have to admit, this place looks much nicer than before." I muttered, watching my hoard, before going after the woman, lest more problems happen.
|
Jamaican_Dynamite
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2025-03-04 16:10:34
|
2025-03-04 14:56:44
| 160 | 104 |
mfzbd48
|
mfyvyvo
|
1j3bi1b
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1j3bi1b
|
[WP] A mark on your forehead identifies the god you must worship to stay alive, usually by joining its local church or temple. Your mark is unknown, meaning an old, forgotten god sponsored you. To survive, you must either find an old temple to worship at, or do the arduous task of building a new one
|
I bear the mark of a traitor.
His name was not forgotten, fading into obscurity by means of time and distance. No, his name seems to have been rent from the very cloth of history itself. Eras are needed for a god to truly die. He was mentioned naught but a century ago.
The people saw his mark on my wrist and said I should be ostracized. That any of his followers were a lost cause, and should stay that way. There was a reason he was not talked about anymore, after all, though no one quite knew what it was. My parents would hear none of it. They had a solemn, resigned look in their eyes as they cradled my pudgy infant form, as if they had just seen me die right there in their arms. I grew up with that mark as a tormentor, a constant reminder that I would be doomed to mortality. Or, rather, as I later found out, could be doomed to mortality.
See, I never gave up on the mission to find a temple. The fact that I could find mentions of his name at all were testament to the fact that such places of worship might still exist. His record was purged, but not stripped clean. There was one text, very old, that described a love forever unrequited, sealed by death and defiance against the gods. It mentioned an older name of his, but it also mentioned all the other gods. And how they were the ones who banished him.
There was supposedly a Magryean seal on the shrine, so I spent my youth exploring and charting the forests, as that was the sealing god's domain. As the sands of my hourglass began to run low, I wandered into a town, not on any map, with marks of all kinds on the wrists of its denizens. And though my brain said it was a trick of the light at first, I eventually confirmed that there were about six who bore his mark here. A few looked young, some looked older than I did. But as I looked for a temple, I came up empty-handed. That was, until I wandered into the surrounding forest.
The petrified woman that stood before me was hauntingly beautiful. Vines wrapped up her legs and bloomed into bright yellow flowers, and there seemed to be a calm in the surrounding area. Birds and deer made not a sound, and the otherwise silent grove was only serenaded by a babbling brook.
All of a sudden, I was wracked with intense grief. I began sobbing, but I wasn't sobbing for my doomed fate. Nor was I sobbing for my ostracization by my peers, and having no friends to speak of. Nor was I sobbing for my wasted youth and life chasing a horizon I could never reach, and would now die alone. Though I felt all that sorrow, that was not the reason I was sobbing. This was someone else's grief I was feeling.
A man in a dusty old cloak seemed to appear out of nowhere in front of me. He had the look of a drifter, someone who had no home and wasn't about to look for one now. His hair was a silvery white, and a beard and an eyepatch were his only defining features. He spoke with an authority that was hard to place, but all too familiar...
"Her story broke your heart too? Yeah, it's a real downer. I wish I had been there to keep such a beautiful woman from getting torn apart like that. Y'know, petrification like that only happens when a soul is ripped from a body. Not many people can seem to remember that nowadays..."
I could not mask my confusion. "Who... Are you, exactly? Have we met?" He smirked, a gesture lacking in malice but betraying knowledge. "Well, who do *you* think I am? After all, you've been looking for me all this time." I paused. This couldn't be him, could it? Was this his shrine? Then, in a flash, it began to make sense. He was the one who couldn't save this woman. He was blamed for his faults and exiled. He was torn from the pages of history.
The god once again smirked, seeming proud of himself. "So, I take it you figured it out? This is not a shrine to greatness. I'm not allowed those anymore. This is a shrine to my greatest failure, one I regret to this day. But, I'm sure you already knew that. That sorrow you felt? That was but a fraction of mine."
I immediately bowed, a sense of purpose coming over me from years of training for this moment. He quickly straightened me out and gave a faux stern look. "Now, now, we don't do that here. I don't believe in it anymore. We are less different than you think. Think of us less of a god and a mortal and more of a broker and a client. I help you, you help me. And believe me, I can help you..."
I felt weightless for but an instant. Then, I woke up somewhere new.
I was young again, and aware for the first time. I looked to my wrist, and saw his mark there, as it had always been. But, I found no wrinkles on my skin. It was young and supple, as was the rest of me. My mind drifted back to the conversation I had with my god before our deal truly began.
"Now, I'm going to switch your soul with a version of yourself who is younger. He will live out here with me, and you will go on with your life. You will learn as much as you can about the other gods, and you will report back to me with any developments." I nodded. Then a question cropped up. "But how will I find a temple to you? They were nearly all destroyed." The god smirked again, seeming to revel in this fact. "That's the neat part about this. The only reason the other gods needed temples is because they were so far away. I, obviously am not very far away. All you need to do is say my name in prayer to extend your life."
His name! I can't believe I never got his name! "What is your name, exactly? It was weirdly absent from all records, and all that was left was pseudonyms and epithets." The god smirked again. "Another trick they play. I can't connect with you without a name can I? But, I'm much older than the others. Much more powerful. My original name could end the world in an instant..."
"But you, you may call me Gorias."
|
Dagon watched from the cliffs, deep in thought, as the priest-ships came into port and began disgorging their cargo; barrels of leviathan oil, slabs of sea-serpent meat, and bloody Oceanides with the harpoons that killed them still stuck fast in their flesh.
It had been days since he'd last eaten anything - since the Sign appeared on his forehead - and even the sharp, iron scent of the butchering wafting up from below made his stomach growl in protest.
Even so, he remained where he was. It was bad luck for a Prester to eat anything from the priest-ships before he'd reaped something from his god's harvest, and bad luck was as real a god as any other out at sea. He'd heard stories of hunting ketches cracking apart without a storm or serpent in sight because someone on board had broken that rule - or one of the countless others.
Another ship slowed to a stop by the docks - this one hauling an entire leviathan's bloodied bulk behind it - to the cheers of a crowd of assembled laymen, and Dagon turned away as they began to carve into its hide.
Dagon could be thankful for one thing his cursed Sign afforded him - it meant he slept in the shipyards with the other Presters. Unlike his old home with his fisherfolk parents, the lodges at the shipyard were sturdy and caulked well enough to keep the sea breeze out. Thick, woven blankets and a fire-pit kept him warm while a thatched roof kept him dry.
He missed his family and their ramshackle little hut regardless. At least there, he wasn't alone, shunted off into a dark corner while others reveled and feasted. At least he wouldn't have to pretend he was asleep while the smell of roasting god-flesh drowned his senses and made him delirious with hunger. Urged him to fight the rest of his brothers for his place at their table. For *his* god.
It was bad luck to hurt a Prester. The kind of bad luck that saw hunters fall overboard.
Dagon wished he could speak to his god, ask it what he was supposed to be hunting - what the sign on his face was supposed to be. Even just give him a hint to start him down the right path. Even if it was a new god - one without a Temple-Fleet he could join - it would be enough to get him started. He'd beg one of the others to take him on until he could find other Presters with the same fate; one of the Whalers' ketches maybe? They needed every hand they could get with the size of their prey. Or one of the Devilfish! There were so few of them, Dagon was sure they'd welcome another hand, even if he'd be after a different catch!
He just needed something to eat. He'd gotten so desperate he had piled stones inland as a makeshift butcher's table and slaughtered a rabbit on it, but it turned rancid the moment he put it in his stew pot. It was bad luck, following him like a dog at his heels.
If Dagon was going to stay alive, his god needed him to feel the salt wind on his face and the water lapping at his skin.
None of the boats wanted him. Even the ones willing to take on a pariah like him turned him down after taking one look at him, a hide-bag of bone and sinew.
With every rejection, Dagon's empty belly snarled louder and louder until it was all he could hear, and when the last captain - a grizzled old Kraken-slayer, by the twisted, curling sigil on his brow - said no, Dagon killed him.
Dagon fought his crew like a starving dog, every blow cracking bone and bruising flesh, but desperation kept him on his feet while the Kraken-slayer's men, one by one, fell away.
When he was finally alone on the sand, Dagon pushed his new boat out into the water. He ignored the holy waters and passed by Sirens as they sunned themselves on the rocks.
His eyes were on the men bobbing in a raft straight ahead, hauling their own thrashing prize aboard.
In the village center, a new god's standing stone was being erected, between the Kraken's Knot and the Whale-Tail, facing the Mermaid and standing behind the Thornback. Prester and layman alike murmured among themselves, perturbed by the ill-boding appearance of the stone bearing the new sigil.
The Flenser-Thief. Where the Whale-Tail was polished with Leviathan oil, the Kraken's Knot festooned in dried tentacles, the Mermaid shrouded with Oceanid scales, and the Thornback crowned with Devilfish tails-
The Flenser-Thief was daubed in Presters' blood.
It would be a priesthood that hunted men.
It would be bad luck to meet a Flenser-Thief.
|
evinick_the_wise
|
ArseneArsenic
|
2023-03-22 23:41:43
|
2023-03-22 21:34:06
| 99 | 65 |
jdadnnb
|
jd9v61h
|
11ylcm8
|
11ylcm8
|
[WP] The isekai'd Hero has completed their task. The Demon Lord is dead/Dragons vanquished/ Unspeakable Evil banished or sealed forever. The rewards were bestowed, the feasts feasted, and the celebrations celebrated. And they still can't be sent home. So, whaddafuk are they supposed to do *NOW*????
|
The goddess said I died before my time. Feels like I've lived too long.
I had a purpose. It was hard work, dangerous work. By wit and will, steel and sorcery I pushed through. I didn't have time to think then, now all I do is roam. Like exploreing an RPG map long after the game is over.
I was traveling, on a snowy road I had trodden long before. East I saw the serpent sea, and west the mountains without passage. Behind me was all of Magiheim and before me was a long road.
I visited a sunken temple. It had once been filled with powerful gorgons. Now there was just shatterd mirrors and broken stones. Why was I given these powers if not to fight? What Else was I for?
I sat upon the shatterd head of a stone beast. I sat and wonderd. I missed my family, I would never see them again, not even a picture. They were dead to me, somehow that hadn't occured to me in all the while I fought. Now It was all I could think of. To grieve my own lost life. I died, and yet here I am.
\-
The goddess was there, sitting back to back with me. "Sulk!" she sniped. It was a fair comment. "I'm not sulking" I lied "Why am I still here?" I demanded. But I didn't turn around to see her, I felt as if the moment I did I would be alone. That's just how this kind of thing works.
"Why? There is no why. You're just here. Your soul isn't ready to die." she repeated word I had heard before, when it all began. "There was no why on earth either. You spent all your time on RPG games and manga." she rebuffed.
"But I'm not that person anymore!" I cried.
She rolled her eyes, don't ask me how I know without looking, she just did. "You're exactly the same! You're entitled, you want the whole world to be an adventure deliverd to you on a silver plate. You want to be so close to death that one wrong slip could send you over. You want to be powerful. Well you had it! Everything your soul cried for." she said, with finality.
"No! It's not enough, it can't be over." I begged "I was happy." I croaked, patheticly.
"Happy? You have friends forged in the struggles of life and death, your soulmate awaits you in Carabar city, where you abandoned her to retrace your adventure. To relive old glories" she pointed out. From the fire in my chest, a coal of guilt fell into my gut.
"I'm... I can't just sit around in some palace. Watching parades, waiting to... to die?" I protested.
"No. Not to die. You're not ready. You don't desurve to die." she said, and I didn't understand.
"What it's a privilidge!? I'm not good enough to die?" I said.
her head shook, i felt it in her back pressed to mind "Not bad enough" she said. I still didn't understand. "Orin, you're going to hell." she said coldly. everything felt cold, frozen.
"What?" I turned, she was gone.
\-
I leaned against a merlon, they were the teeth pf the castle wall. There was no army on the horison now. It would be lifetimes before another war broke out. Far below in the woods my children played with fairies, watched over by the large wolf who had been my most stalwart party member. His own son had been taken form him by the world eater. He lived for my children.
I saw them, I love them. But I felt like nothing around me should exist. They were seven and five now. Why did it all seem unreal?
The goddess was there again, it had veen a long while. I resumed out conversation, it had never left my mind "What do you mean hell? Is this hell?" I asked.
"Of course not! This is Magiheim, not even you can whine about this being hell! It's practicly paradise now." she said, sitting stop the wall. Her feet dandled over the side.
"Why would I go to hell? I'm a good person!" I said, unsure if I was, is anyone?
"You surely are. That's the Problem Orin. You're supposed to be. You're supposed to be a monster." she stated. I shook my head, it was nonsense.
"I'm the hero, or at least I'm... I don't know. I help people!" how couldn't she see it?
"You're supposed to kill them" she said "enslave them, murder, rape, manipulate, eat. Pick your poison. You have the soul of an unapologetic mass murderer" she looked right at me. Her eyes were like judicial stars! Burning me.
"I don't... why?". I blusterd.
"You died before you had the chance to commit your crimes. Too young I suppose. So I gave you power and sent you to a wold where you would be unchallenged. One that was doomed anyway. You could do anything here, It was supposed to vanish into the Wyrm's may so what does it matter?" she shruged. "But you didn't, you saved it." she said.
"So I'm redeemed?" I asked?
"No! You don't get it. You're going to go bad, the worst. And we'll do this again. Throw yourself off the wall. I'll put you in another world, more power, less checks to you. Again and again across eternity. Till absolute power corrupts you." she said, it sounded almost sarcastic. The chill in my skin wold me it was true.
"Why?" I... didn't even whisper, I don't think I could make me lips move. I wasn't breathing.
"Just how it is. You're evil. You were made to be evil. Something went wrong, and now I have to fix it. Your sentence has passed, now we just wait till you do the crime-" the goddess vanished as the last word rang out.
\-
Worlds. Lifetimes. Heroisim.
I was worn down life a stone. After sixty-thousant years I stopped counting. It was pointless to know, there was no limit. She would never stop. I rolled downhill, gathering the moss of power, always enough to abuse.
Will it even end? Is hell worse than this? Can I bring myself to be the monster she wishes me to be?
|
Callie’s eyes zoned out as she listened to the Court Magician’s explanation. The Magician was a wizened old man, well-traveled in ways of the world, but even he seemed to stumble over this explanation. “And that…my dear hero, is why the return spell does not work. There simply is not enough power to generate a suitable portal. I am so deeply sorry.” Her focus was not on the Magician, but instead, on the King, sitting atop his gilded throne, offering her a rich bounty for her deeds.
Callie glared at the Magician for a moment before turning to the King. “I did everything you asked. EVERYTHING. I stopped the bandit raids on Moonshrine Village. I rooted out the noble conspiracy to traffic drugs into the capital. I led the battle against the Demon King and brought back his head!” She roared in frustration. “I have spent years here. I never asked to come here. I left behind my two children, my husband, my family, my friends. My whole life, gone in the blink of an eye!” She smashed her staff into the ground, with enough force to crack the stone tiles below.
The King grew nervous as Callie’s frustrations grew. “My dear Hero, please, calm yourself! This need not be the end of your life. For your services to the Kingdom, I will grant you whatever is in my power to give you. Do you wish for a noble title? A spacious plot of land to call your home? Concubines to enjoy?” He seemed earnest in offering her gifts and prizes, but there was a certain cadence to his words that Callie picked up on.
“You knew…didn’t you?” Her eyes shot to the King with a murderous stare. “All this time…you never had a plan to send me home. You thought you could just lead me around with that promise, until I did all your dirty work. Is that it?” She bellowed with rage. A pair of guards flanked the King and held aloft their weapons. “You really think you could stop me if I wanted to kill him?” She looked at the knights with an amused grin. “You were no match for the Demon King’s Army without me. Do you really think the math would change if you tried to fight me here?”
The King gestured to his guards. “Men, please, enough of this. Hero…no…Callie, please, understand this. You are an honored guest of the Kingdom. A hero beyond all measure. I would not think to harm you. Nor would my men. I know this must be quite painful for you…but I beg of you…understand our plight. You know as well as I do. My own children were at risk of being slaughtered by the Demon King’s forces the day you arrived. I know a mother’s love for her children. It is not so different from a father’s love.”
The King knelt on one knee. “I beg your forgiveness for this travesty. You did not earn this fate. I know it is a small comfort, to be stuck here, but I will give you everything you could desire. Perhaps the Court Magician could find an alternative solution? Or perhaps I could assign the Magical Academy this task? Day and night, for years, I’m sure there’s some way they could find a way to send you back home.”
Perhaps it was the desperate tone in the King’s voice, or perhaps it was the kneeling, but something struck a chord in Callie’s heart. She rested her staff back onto her back and looked to the ground. “My oldest would be about nine now. My little girl, five. Where I come from, that’s old enough to start schooling. She was probably too young to even remember me.” A tear streamed down Callie’s cheek, and she wiped it clean. “Send the academy after this task. Find some way to send me home. Make this right, King Alexander.”
Callie walked away without another word. Her frustration was boiling up inside her, but she was willing to give them a chance. What else could she do? Destroying the Kingdom wouldn’t help anything. Nor would killing the King. He deserved a punishment for this lie, but for now, it was just as her mother used to say. Two wrongs don’t make a right. She left the King’s Court and went home to the little shelter she had called home for these past four years.
When Callie was clearly out of earshot, the King summoned one of his most trusted advisors. The Master of Spies. His words were whispers, incomprehensible to the rest of the King’s assembled Court, but the meaning was clear. The Master left the hallway with a little smirk on his face, and the rest of the Court soon followed. They knew what would come next….
|
Scarvexx
|
Random_eyes
|
2023-02-02 07:26:13
|
2023-02-02 06:34:31
| 51 | 19 |
j6w045o
|
j6vvy1s
|
10r6j77
|
10r6j77
|
[WP] Not only did your best friend find out you're a vampire, but he/she wants you to turn them. You try your best to explain the less obvious downsides to this curse.
|
I pinched the brow of my nose, letting out the loudest sigh I had in a good twenty years. "Jane, I- I can't even begin to explain what's wrong with being a vampire."
"Because there's nothing wrong with being a vampire! It's awesome!" Jane shouted like a child.
"No, it's not 'awesome' it's torture. Do you know the last time I saw myself? Hm? 400 fucking years ago! I have had to guess how to shave, cut my hair and style without a mirror for 400 fucking years!"
"And? I can get someone else to cut my hair and you can help me dress, right?"
I sucked in a deep breath. Perhaps she had read some vampire book and gotten her hopes up. I had let people down hard before but Jane was a good friend, a dear friend and I didn't want to be screaming at her. "Point out a 24 hour hairdresser please. Oh, there's none? Well, looks like you'll have to do that on your own. And then there's food! Jane, you're a vegetarian."
"I can change. It's human blood, not animal blood."
"Directly from the source. You can't walk into a blood bank, because they're not open past 9pm, and request A positive! You have to find people, at night, and drink their blood. You know how many times I've been pepper sprayed, shot and stabbed?"
"But you're immortal!"
"Doesn't mean it doesn't fucking hurt!"
"I'll get used to it, it's fine."
"What about Caitlyn?" I asked, "What, are you gonna have only night dates. Not dawn or dusk dates, no pitch fucking dark. Oh, and that brings me to the lack of orgasms, pleasure and really, anything fun!"
"Wait, what?" She asked with a stunned look on her face. "You can't orgasm? I thought you dated before?"
"I'm DEAD Jane. Blood doesn't flow through me. And if a woman can fake, so can I."
"Okay, but you can still live in a castle and-"
"Where is my castle? I don't own one. I'd certainly like one, do you have one? With all that money you have?"
Jane looked at me with utter confusion. "400 years is a long time. How do you not own a castle?"
"Because, Jane, I own other properties. A castle needs at least 20 people cleaning every day. Do you know how much a servant costs? A lot of money that I do not have." I lied. I did own a castle but it was in Romania next to a church. "and what about church? Can't wear a cross or even go near one. I've had to change my route 5 times since I moved here. I nearly die every week because of crosses, holy water and god knows what. It's not fun, it's hell."
"But-"
"No ands, ifs or buts. If you really want to be immortal, go date a kelpie."
Jane huffed at me, her mermaid tale swishing in the water below her. "You can be a real asshole sometimes."
"Yeah, yeah. I gotta go, the sun is coming up."
|
With a long, very justified sigh, Jacob ploped down into the bean bag. Honestly, he loved being a demon of the night. But, he knew that Ashley would hate all the drawbacks. Forever. He might be a mass murderer but he isn't selfish.
Jacob said, "Ash, you and I both know you shouldn't turn. Just think about it."
Ashley got to her knees next to him. Making some of the beads shift in the chair. "Please? I don't want to grow old without you.."
"Girl, you are in love with garlic bread. You said, 'I would rather die than be without garlic bread' once." Jacob looked deep into her eyes. They shone as bright as the moon bathing them in the window. "No more sunlight. There would be no more sunny beaches. No more folicing in daisy fields. Plus, it is incredibly difficult to go shopping when everywhere is practically closed when the sun goes down."
She took a deep breath, it is reckless to get angry at someone who is looking out for you. Let alone someone who cares so deeply. She said, "Jacob, I'd give everything up for this. Whats the chance I get to be friends with another bloodsucker? God forbid I meet one of this wolf-bros."
Jacob suttered at the thought of an alternative universe where he was a wolf-bro that has no personality except toxic masculinity. "You really think you could kill someone for blood?"
"You know how many horrible people are out there? I'd be like Batman. Oh! Do vampires get to turn into bats or some shit!?"
"Of course not, this isn't some movie."
|
Capital_Fix5011
|
SufficientlyAdequate
|
2023-08-22 16:44:27
|
2023-08-22 16:22:39
| 75 | 49 |
jxajlfy
|
jxag1ue
|
15y435t
|
15y435t
|
[WP] You are a knight traveling through many kingdoms rescuing princesses from towers. Not for marriage or anything... you're just sick of royals imprisoning their daughters.
|
"And to who do I owe my eternal love and gratitude, may I ask?"
"They call me the White Knight"
I'm actually black, but I can't afford to have my armor colored so in certain lights it looks blindingly white and I am just hoping the name sticks.
"And you owe me nothing. I exist purely for the detriment of overreaching fathers and ne'er do well mothers. I travel the lands giving power back to the adolescent and taking it from those who improperly use it."
"I see...But surely you want to offer your blood in sacrament, so we may form a new union and rule these lands, carving our marks with the suffering of our enemies. You did not free me just to walk away from the gifts our dark lord has offered?"
Now this was strange. Back home, offerings after freeing a princess were customary. Usually beginning with an explanation from the princess that upon her return to her kingdom I am to be wed with her, enjoying a life of great wealth and privilege. When denied, there is usually some pleading. Offerings of land, or in some special cases, sexual gratitude. I have yet to accept though for if I had claimed these offers, that would be the last princess I help. I would no longer get to travel and free those from the oppression of royalty. It was my calling.
But after crossing into this land they call "Transylvania", things began to change. This was the 4th princess now to want my blood, and they are all obsessed with power. I have not deduced why the culture is so much different here.
"No my fair maiden, I claim no such prize. Your freedom is all I desire, and I have more to pull from the clutches of parental abuse!"
And just like the others, she let out a terrifying hiss and took off faster than my horse could run.
'The women in these parts sure are fit, temperamental too', I thought to myself, shaking my head in amazement as I packed my steed.
​
​
\----I haven't decided if I will continue the story. It's supposed to have somewhat of a monty python feel to it though. Does that come across when you read it?
|
It’s honest work. It just sickens me that kings would just place their own daughters in isolated towers only for people like me to save them. They also expect me to marry them? You can’t just marry off your daughter to a stranger who saved her. You have to insure that this marriage will last. You don’t know if the knight that saved her is connected to any kingdom. He could just be banished for disobeying their orders. I still wear my king’s sigil over my heart with pride. A golden eagle in flight to symbolize the strength of one’s self. He gave me permission to become a wondering sell-sword.
I sense that the bards in my home kingdom are singing songs of my many adventures and dragon slaying. I’ve taken some of their scales since I know that many alchemists see dragon scales as valuable resources
|
None
|
RagnarokBringer
|
2023-06-22 20:31:28
|
2023-06-22 16:24:29
| 90 | 22 |
jp4z4i7
|
jp3y9jm
|
14g5prr
|
14g5prr
|
[WP] A grandma that you helped across the road turned out to be a genie who grants you a wish, you wish for a perfect 2023, but she misunderstood and now every day at 20:23 everything goes your way.
|
A little short story:
Amanda walked home in the warm mid-afternoon sun in a daze. She couldn’t quite believe what had happened. One minute she was helping an old lady cross the road. The next she was being granted what she knew was her deepest and only wish by the pedantic but nonetheless mystical elderly genie.
As she walked on she ran through the strange events of the last fifteen minutes. Her mind kept returning back to the genie’s words. She repeated the spell in her head over and over,
“No good deed goes unpunished my dear. I know you think you wish for a different year but that isn’t what I hear…”
“Don’t you fret. You’ve made your bed. What a great wish you’ll come to see…”
“Your wish from me only affects 20:23. So for you from now it will forever be. A perfect 20:23…”
And then with a wave of her walking stick there was a small explosion of light and the genie disappeared in a puff of smoke that smelled of burnt paper and parma violets. She was gone.
Amanda had only one frustrated and disappointed thought,
“Why didn’t I think before I spoke?”
She walked on chewing herself out inside getting more and more frustrated. The pedantic genie’s words were making her angrier and angrier.
“I knew what I meant. It’s not fair. She even knew what I meant. I just couldn’t go through another year like last year again. How was I supposed to know genies use European time? I said 2023 not 20:23”.
A sinking feeling in her stomach grew as she walked and she started to think that she had wasted this once in a lifetime chance.
“European time? What rubbish!” She thought. But her anger was now turning to amusement. She even audibly laughed at the thought of a European and metropolitan geriatric genie. She caught the attention of some people waiting at a nearby bus stop. They sat silently eying her with suspicion.
Being put to shame she was embarrassed under their gaze so she pulled herself together and picked up the pace. She had plenty to do so she went to busy herself with her remaining errands.
She was so busy she had almost forgotten about the old genie and her useless waste of a wish but then as night fell she began to feel sleepy.
She was suddenly incredibly tired and had to go straight to bed or she would have dropped at the dinner table. As early as it was it was not long after 20:23 and lying in her bed she fell into the deepest most magical sleep. The kind of pure and effortless sleep she could only ever remember having as a very young child. She was out like a light and didn’t stir until morning.
She woke the following morning and to her surprise she felt like a new person. It was the perfect nights sleep. She had wished for the perfect nights sleep.
Suddenly she thought of the genie and her words. It wasn’t what I wanted but what I needed. A perfects nights sleep every night forever… And she lived happily ever after.
The End.
|
At 8:21, I approached them.
“Evening, ladies.” I said. “Another round?”
Three of the young ladies were engaged in rapid conversation. The fourth sat glued to her phone.
“What are you ladies drinking?” I tried again.
“Dude, take a hint.” One of the trio said without looking my way.
The other two of the trio giggled. They continued chatting.
I flagged down a bartender, anyway.
“Round of shots.” I said. “Doubles.”
The trio exchanged glances. One motioned to my Rolex, perhaps thinking I’d fund their evening.
“Well? Come on.” One of the trio said. “I’m Megan.”
Megan had been the one to originally shirk me. I hoped she would not fall for me.
“Megan,” I said. “I’m Chris.”
The other two exchanged hellos. The last girl remained on her phone.
My questioning look got an explanation.
“That’s Maggie.” Halley said. “Probably on Tinder.”
Maggie made no reply, her thumbs moving with rapidity.
“What’re y’all celebrating?” I asked.
“Ha!” Halley laughed. “This looks like a party?”
She motioned to the dingy bar. My face grew red, which I realized, became ashamed about, and grew even redder. Within a few seconds I was a deep crimson hue, though, less visible in the light, I imagined.
“Oh my god,” Maggie said, looking up from her phone. “Look how red he is.” She tried to speak quietly.
Well, fuck you, too, bitch.
At that moment, the clock struck twelve. A chorus of angels sounded in my ear. A massive scale tipped in my favor, dictated by God or Satan himself.
“Hey!” Halley said, putting her arm around me. “Ignore her.”
Halley whispered in my ear. “I live just down the block.”
She leaned back, biting her lip, looking intently into my eyes.
I went with her.
|
Groffulon
|
None
|
2023-03-22 13:40:10
|
2023-03-22 12:59:15
| 384 | 11 |
jd7t7af
|
jd7nvfu
|
11yd4tb
|
11yd4tb
|
[WP] “So my mom is half-Fae, and my dad is half-dragon; that’s where my powers come from. How about you?” “I’m half-mermaid on my mom’s side, hence the wheelchair.” Your new magic school roommates suddenly turn to you. “What about you?”
|
I thought for a moment, how to explain myself.
Finally I choose to be honest.
"I am a so called "Explorita Drone" of a machine Gestalt mind that right now started incursions into this branch of the Universe Tree. I am basically a automaton of another world and time ... and even further than that."
Their faces were puzzled when the Fea-Dragon Man asked me: "So if you are a machine. How can you use magic? We were thought you need a soul for it and then also be lucky to get gifted with it."
"Excellent question" I jumped up and started walking around "Basically what you call magic seems to be, at least with our basic understanding, an ability to warp sub- and hyper-space. Which bith are partly other dimensions very close to our own here."
I let them ingest that info for a moment
"We, as in our civilization, has mastered this warping and controlling to a ridiculous degree. Like hiding some part of the mass of an object in these sub-dimensions and shit. Truly mind boggling."
The girl in the wheelchair then asked: "And you are here to better understand how we use it as we have a natural connection to that and you want to use it for something?"
"Again excellent question. I am proud you seems to grasp this so easily. But yes our main goal is to better understand the sub-dimensions and more importantly understand why magic is only possible in this branch." As I said tye last part I vaguely gesture into a hologram depicting a part of the Universe Tree. "We are not sure why magic is not possible in the rest we explored for now"
A combined "Oh weird" only lead to more questions.
In the end we all were in our beds.
"So how old are you then? We are barely 20 by now, but you seem to be way older?"
"My current body is around 2500 years old. It is mostly mechanical with some organic-metal allow or living metal. That's why I look so ... mostly normal. My mind is over 2 Million years easily. We reset and more every few thousand years. It is to not make me go insane. Also to avoid mental stagnation that shit is scary."
More silence.
"Over 2 million years. Holy shit. That is unimaginable. But how old is your current reset?"
"472 years and 21 days"
"Yea I am an old hag basically" I laughed at myself. "But you should go to sleep, tomorrow there will be more questions. I am pretty sure."
"Wait you need to sleep?" The Mermaid Woman asked.
"Yes and no. I need to barely sleep, I just really enjoy it still."
"Based"
So we went to sleep. Good first day, I will be interested in our first lesson soon. So much data to gather.
|
I sipped my hot cocoa to get a moment to think before answering. I thought I'd have a few days at least to prepare for this question, but no such luck!
"Well, my mom is human." I said, still looking down into the swirling brown depths of the sweet drink.
"Of course! A lot of kids here have a full human parent! But what about your dad, what cool thing is he?" asked the quarter-dragon.
"Ummm, he's... human."
The silence dragged on for a little too long.
"No way!" said the mermaid from her chair. "Your mom had to have been messing around with your house Brownie or something!"
"She didn't. She and dad prayed. A lot. And I arrived on her 88th birthday!" I smiled brightly, hoping that would be enough to jolt them out of their reaction.
"So you're... not a witch?" "Nope." "Or a sorcerer?" "Kind of impossible."
The silence returned for a little while. Then, our almost silent half-bookwyrm roommate piped up.
"So you've got to be a cleric or a paladin, then. And since you're at this school and not a convent, you must be..."
I took a deep breath. "Yep. Paladin-in-training! No dating or skipping class or smoking in the boy's room for me!"
And there it was! That look of pity that they all tried to hide. I hated it! But I'd learned how to spin my fate as best I could.
"Just think about this, the school will probably win the rugby title every year I'm here!"
|
xdTechniker25
|
FearlessKnitter12
|
2024-08-28 19:51:36
|
2024-08-28 19:18:17
| 38 | 24 |
lke78gm
|
lke0yfp
|
1f3fqm4
|
1f3fqm4
|
[WP] "I wish for immortality until the last human dies. And I want to stay young and healthy," you tell the genie, proud of your clever wording. Seventeen quintillian years later, drifting along through the dead, silent void, you spot your old co-worker Kyle. He's still alive. And hes still talking.
|
The Last Two
I spot him from a million kilometers away - a speck of movement against the void. After seventeen quintillion years of nothing but black emptiness and dead stars, any change in the visual field is enough to jolt your consciousness fully awake.
I adjust my trajectory, the gentle push of thought enough to alter my course. Space has been dead for eons. The stars burned out long ago. The last galaxy collapsed in on itself before I could even count to a trillion. Time has no meaning when you've outlived the cosmic background radiation.
Yet there he is. Unmistakable even at this distance.
Kyle.
My old co-worker from accounting. The one who never shut up about his weekend plans, his fantasy football league, his theories about our manager's hairpiece.
As I drift closer, I can hear him. Somehow, across the vacuum of space, his voice reaches me. Perhaps it's a property of our immortality. Perhaps it's just the universe's final, cruel joke.
"—and I said to her, if you're not going to respect the playlist I made for the road trip, why even bother, you know? Oh hey! Hey! Holy shit, is that you? HEY!"
Kyle's face lights up with recognition. His appearance hasn't changed since I last saw him—at the company holiday party, just before I found the lamp. Young, healthy, exactly as I had specified in my wish. His business casual attire is still pristine, despite the eons.
"It's been forever!" Kyle exclaims, drifting toward me with enthusiastic arm movements. "I thought I was the only one left! This is INCREDIBLE!"
I try to speak, but my voice is rusty from disuse. How long has it been since I spoke aloud? Ten trillion years? More?
"Kyle," I finally manage. "How... how are you still alive?"
He grins, the same insufferable grin I remember from meetings where he'd volunteer us both for extra work. "Found this lamp at the party, right? Made a wish for immortality until the last sentient being in the universe dies. Pretty clever, huh? Figure I'd get to see everything! Though I gotta say, it got pretty boring after the heat death thing."
My stomach sinks. "You said sentient being? Not... human?"
"Yeah, why limit myself? Anyway, what have you been up to? Me, I've been composing this epic mental poem. It's about thirteen quintillion verses long now. Want to hear it? I'll start from the beginning..."
I stare at Kyle, understanding dawning with cold, terrible clarity. My wish had been so specific: immortality until the last human dies. I cannot die while Kyle is alive. And Kyle cannot die until the last sentient being perishes.
Then I see them—the subtle, almost imperceptible movements beneath Kyle's skin. The occasional bulges that ripple across his forehead. The momentary flicker in his eyes, revealing something else looking out.
"Kyle," I whisper, "what happened to you?"
He pauses his monologue, his smile widening unnaturally far. "Oh, that's the best part! Around year four trillion, I got so bored I started experimenting. Found out our immortality doesn't just preserve us—it adapts."
His chest splits open, revealing writhing, glistening organisms nested within his ribcage. "I've become an ecosystem," he says, his voice now harmonizing with thousands of tiny, chittering sounds. "These little fellows evolved inside me. They're sentient now. Each one thinks, dreams, communicates."
I back away in horror as the creatures peek out from his eyes, mouth, and the pores of his skin—billions of them, all watching me with microscopic awareness.
"Every time one species dies out," Kyle continues, his voice disturbingly cheerful, "another evolves to take its place. I'm an eternal incubator of consciousness. And as long as even one of my little friends remains sentient..."
"...I can never die," I finish, the full weight of eternity crashing down upon me.
"And neither can you!" Kyle says brightly. "Isn't that wonderful? Now, about my poem—"
As his endless chatter resumes, I scream into the void of space where no one will ever hear me. Not for seventeen quintillion more years. Not for seventeen quintillion after that. Not ever.
The universe itself will die and be reborn countless times before the last of Kyle's inner civilizations fades away.
And all the while, he will never, ever stop talking.
|
I used to love counting stars. Back on Earth, I’d lie down on the grass with my arms behind my head, and some wet grass was itching the back of my neck. I would just stare up at the sky for hours. It felt infinite back then. Magical, even. Romantic in a way (if you are with someone, but if you're like me...\*cries\*).
But this? This is too fucking much.
You ever try counting stars one by one while drifting through the vacuum of space? Like... hypothetically? It’s not the same. Not when you’ve seen ALL of them. Not when they start dying. Not when they’re GONE. I don’t even think I remember how sound works anymore. Or how long it’s been. Time stopped meaning anything after the last sun flickered out. Days, years, centuries… who the hell knows? All I had left were thoughts. Then I saw something. A shape in the void. Humming. Moving. Dancing? Wait is that the fucking macarena?
At first I thought I was hallucinating. Maybe my immortality glitched. Maybe I’d finally snapped and went crazy after floating around here for this long. But no. That ridiculous floating figure was real. “KYLE?!” I shouted. He turned around mid-spin like a ballerina and shouted right back. “JASON?! What are YOU doing here?!” I blinked. “Uh. What?”He flailed dramatically. “ARE YOU DEAF NOW TOO?! WHY are you here? HOW are you here?!”
“I—what do you mean? I made a wish. With a genie. Immortality until the last human dies. I figured I was clever because, I dont know, global warming and the housing prices are enough to drive people to wanting to die than suffer in poverty?” Kyle squinted at me. “You made that wish? With a genie?” “Yeah?” “Oh man.” He started cackling. “What’s so funny?”
He drifted closer, still giggling like he just heard the dumbest joke in the universe. “I can't believe you don’t remember,” he said. “You made that wish… to ME. I’m THE genie.” I stared at him. “That’s not funny.” “I’m not joking Jason.” “You're lying.”
Kyle raised a brow. “You seriously don’t remember me from the break room? The one on the fourth floor? You asked if we had oat milk, because you said "animal products like dairy promotes cruelty"?” I stared at him harder. Memories swirled—paperwork, coffee machines, office birthdays. And yeah… Kyle. I think he was the newly hired intern.
“You… you were the genie?” “Yup. Been a long time, huh? I guess drifting through space does a number on your memory. But I remember everything.*”* My stomach dropped, which was impressive since I hadn’t felt a stomach in eons. “But… I thought...” “Thought what? I'm human? Ohhh nooooo. You asked for immortality until the last human dies. I granted it. And I am not human. Well, I never said I was.” My jaw hung open. “That’s not fair.” “Hey, you begged for it. I just granted it.”
“So... we’re stuck here.”
“Yup!”
“And you’re not gonna die.”
“Nope!”
“…Ever?”
“Nope again.”
"Like we're here forever?" I asked him again waiting for him to just say he was just messing with me.
“Forever-ever.”
(FUCK ME) “…Kill me.”
He laughed. "Welcome to forever, bestie. At least you've got me now.”
|
kosmicskeptic
|
Competitive_Gap8975
|
2025-04-07 21:27:41
|
2025-04-07 14:28:56
| 296 | 89 |
mlxj9uh
|
mlv9o9g
|
1jtkkv4
|
1jtkkv4
|
[WP]You reincarnated in a fantasy world, but when you go check your stats, everything seems to be really average, until you put your eyes on charisma, that is on 200 points
|
As I wake, I hear moaning. Not the usual moans of agony I’ve become used to, punctuated with screams and gunfire. Soft, constant moaning. From all around me.
It’s pitch dark. My head is pounding. I lever myself up onto an elbow, and realise that I am no longer lying on blood-infused sand and volcanic ash of the Iwo Jima beach. Beneath me is stone.
Had the mortar blast that knocked me out collapsed me into a cave? Had one of my fellow marines dragged me to safety?
I feel for the lighter in my combat pants pocket, and realise that I’m not wearing them anymore. Instead of the familiar heavy layer of cargo trouser, I am wearing something soft, skin-tight.
Tights?
I run my hand over my shirt. I feel ruffles, under a velvet-pile jerkin.
A jerkin?
“Command: Simulation pause”, I say. Nothing happens. I squeeze my fingers together, then let them explode outward into a spread hand. The menu comes up, but all the options that would take me out of the game are disabled.
The moans float towards me, from all directions. I begin to feel a seed of panic.
“Ok,” I say to myself. “Ok. Command Info Panel”.
This time my command works as expected. A ball of light floats into existence in front of me, and then expands into a round, semi-transparent screen.
*Name: Sir Roger Dragonthrust*
*Ok*, I think to myself. I must have somehow switched to a different simulation. *Fuck*.
It had taken me months to get to Iwo Jima. No shortcuts for me, I’d played the whole WW2 Pacific campaign, being bitten by bugs day after day as I’d suffered the nightly surprise attacks on Guadalcanal, feeling my feet rot in the constant rain on Peleliu during the goddamn Operation Stalemate saga. And now, just as I get to Iwo Jima, some glitch has taken me out of the campaign, and landed me in some goddamn Hobbit game.
The moans are louder now. No, not louder. Just, more. A lot more.
I check my bio settings. Pain is still set to *full* - Getting shot on a beach at full pain stung like a wasp sting. It’s a hardcore way to play but a great incentive to take it seriously. I like realism, and if pain is anything, it’s real.
I glance at my stats. *Average strength*, I see. *8 Dex, 9 Intelligence, 7 Wisdom, 200-*
I do a double take. *200 Charisma*?
Now I know the game is broken. Charisma scores didn’t go to 200. Charisma 9 meant you would occasionally get invited to a party. Charisma 18 meant that you could charm pretty much anyone, raise and lead an army. Charisma 19 meant that you were destined for President or supreme dictator.
Charisma 200? What would that even do?
It would be beyond charm. Beyond hero worship. People would have their personalities wiped away under the blaze of your personality.
They would mindlessly follow you. Heck, at 200 they would probably try to physically devour you out of a titanic primal desire to be close to you.
A glitch like this would probably turn the entire world into a mass of seething zombies, everyone of them consumed by no thought except the thought of you.
The moans are very loud now. Somewhere nearby, I hear a window break.
|
As soon as you open your eyes, you know that something is different. The air is fresher, the colors more vibrant. You sit up and look around, taking in your surroundings. You seem to be in some sort of bedroom, but it's not like any bedroom you've ever seen before. The furniture is ornate and the walls are adorned with intricate tapestries.
"Where am I?" you mutter to yourself.
"You're in the castle of the King of Xandar," a voice replies.
You turn to see a young woman standing in the doorway. She has long, flowing hair and piercing green eyes.
"Who are you?" you ask.
"I'm the castle healer," she says with a smile. "My name is Aelani. And you are?"
"I'm not sure," you admit. "I feel like I've been reincarnated into some sort of fantasy world."
"Well, that would explain the weird clothes," Aelani says, gesturing to the strange garments you're wearing. "But don't worry, we'll figure it out. First things first, let's check your stats."
She leads you over to a table where a crystal ball is glowing. As you approach, a holographic screen appears in the air, displaying rows of numbers and statistics.
"Hmm, everything looks pretty average," Aelani says, scrolling through the list. "Strength, agility, intelligence... all pretty standard. But wait, what's this?"
She points to a stat labeled "charisma," which is off the charts at 200 points.
"That's insane!" you exclaim. "I've never been particularly charismatic in my previous life."
"Well, it looks like you've been given a gift in this one," Aelani says with a grin. "With charisma like that, the sky's the limit. You could become a leader, a diplomat, a hero... the possibilities are endless."
You can't wait to see what adventures await you in this new, fantastical world. With your newfound charisma, you feel like you can take on anything.
|
HolIerer
|
BornTroller
|
2023-01-06 19:29:11
|
2023-01-06 18:55:56
| 388 | 13 |
j38g3kk
|
j38anh5
|
104txuo
|
104txuo
|
[WP] You have a completely useless superpower in a world full of amazing superpowers. You have been a laughing-stock for years, until you started using your powers for evil... nobody is laughing now.
|
They call it "tactile telekinesis", and it sounds freaking awesome. Until you realize just how big a difference range can make. My power has a range of literally inches - maybe a foot, if I concentrate, but then only for a moment. Within that range, I can lift several times my bodyweight. Still sounds useful, right?
Wrong. The mass has to be located in my effective range. So you got a refrigerator to move? Sorry, unless it's a foot cubed, I've got the same lifting capability of any other normal guy. I've tried everything to make my power useful, working out to bulk up (technically works, my weight limit increased), practicing daily to extend my range (worked a little - that's why I can push out to 11-12 inches), I even talked to a couple of brainy types to see if they could fix my problems. One of them had the nerve to tell me I should focus on "precise control" instead of helping me turn this into a hero-worthy power! The nerve!
Well maybe he wasn't wrong, though. I did add some new exercises to my daily training. And it turns out I can focus on a smaller area with interesting results. My control actually gets better on small areas, I can feel the structure of what I'm touching. And I mean really feel it down to very fine detail. I tried to focus on my phone, figured I could maybe use it "hands-free", manipulate the screen through my power. And I could! But more than that, I could feel the tiny flow of electricity below that.
And I can manipulate that even more easily than I'd have thought possible. It took awhile to get a feel for it. I might have fried a couple of phones before I got it figured out. Still not a hero-worthy power, though. They laughed me right out of the building when I tried to show them what I could do.
So I'm going into business for myself. Started small, ATMs and the like. As long as the mechanism is near the surface, I can trigger it with little trouble. My trial run took place while I was doing my regular weekly deposit, just made the machine spit out money while it was reading my card. No need to make a special trip and look all shifty with a hoodie and shades.
Sure, "bank robbing" is a little low-brow and cliché, but we've all got to start somewhere. And really, I'm not a *bad* bad guy. I'm pretty sure I could use this to literally rearrange someone's nervous system signals if I got into touching distance, but I wouldn't do that! I'm learning more about computers, though, because you know - that's where the future's heading. Everything is electronic these days. Security systems, locks, practically anything you can think of has delicate inner workings just out of sight.
I think things are finally looking up.
|
They laughed at first. They didn’t understand the scope of this power. They still wanted the outdated super soldiers and heroes and even villains, those who turned invisible, shot bolts of lightning from their finger tips, that kind of stuff.
Now though, now there was a new generation. A generation of heroes, villains and anti-heroes who wielded powers that were often overlooked.
When he introduced himself to the world there was a whole lot of confusion, and understandably so. The ability to control calcium sounds laughable to the average person. “So, he can’t fly?”, “He can’t punch a tank?”
So they mocked Cal. They made him an outsider. They made him feel unwanted and unloved. It didn’t matter how many times he was the hero because he was not the hero they wanted. He didn’t have a flashy power. It was not a cool power. You couldn’t convince a kid to buy a Cal action figure over a Superman or a Hulk or even freaking Ant Man.
The mockery, the tired Saturday night sketches, the lack of a new suit, it all built up. It all made a man trying to fit in, stand out.
They pushed him into the darkness.
As a villain he finally had that level of respect he commanded. People tend to stop making jokes at your expense when you can solidify calcium inside them, when you can carve them apart with the contents of their own body. Suddenly, you’re a somebody. Suddenly, the jokes dry up.
If only they had shown him some love, or merely tolerated him. If only they had understood him.
Thousands of lives could have been spared.
|
TolmanP
|
Doctor_Derpless
|
2024-07-29 13:44:10
|
2024-07-29 12:57:00
| 554 | 165 |
lfhix3m
|
lfhbsc0
|
1eewvkg
|
1eewvkg
|
[WP] Your sibling, your parents' favorite child, died prematurely. They are inconsolable. They've barely even paid attention to you. Now, during the funeral, they forgot your name - again. It's your turn to 'say a few words', so you do.
|
It had seemed like the best idea ever. Say a few words. Say them where everyone HAD to listen. FINALLY! It was so tempting, it nearly made up for the occasion.
But now I stood at the little podium. Looked into all the devastated faces in front of me. Most of them didn't really see me. They had that thousand yard stare people just get when they are overwhelmed with pain.
Others either looked around, bored, or held a very quiet whispered private conversation with their seat neighbour. I wondered if they even knew who I was, when even my own family so often forgot I still existed. Maybe that's what you get when you are just the spare, the step-in, the child that got to be because the other child might not make it... but then, surprisingly, did. In spite of all odds.
I turned to look at the casket. Tears welled up in my eyes. I mean, it was my sister in there. It was not her fault things had went that way. Not her fault she always was frail, fragile, her days numbered. Of course she needed more attention, with her health and all, and of course I understood all this, even as a small child -
It just hurt so bad. To always be the afterthought. If at all. And no, it didn't help that she was a kind person, that she knew how I suffered, that she knew I was there, acknowledged me, tried to make up for the lack of love and attention towards me while she was always at the center of everything...
Because now she was dead.
I wiped the tears from my eyes and turned back to the people, now slowly getting uneasy. I must have been up there for a full minute without saying a word. Time for me to finally get going, to tell them everything they never wanted to hear, now that they couldn't brush me off anymore.
I opened my mouth - and closed it again, as a sudden, surprising thought crossed my mind. Behind me lay dead the only person that had ever seen me, noticed me. In front of me were all the people that had, over and over, pushed me to the side. People to whom I didn't matter. Why should they matter to me, now?
I leaned a little forward to better reach the microphone.
"She's gone now", I said.
And then I was gone, too.
|
I walked up the rows, past the pews. Nervous, I couldn't even remember his name. What was I going to do. "I know! I should just use pronouns!" I thought to myself as I took my place at the front.
"Hello, he was a good man-"
"But it's His funeral" someone yelled from the croud.
"Yes I know it's his funeral, and he was a good man" I yelled back.
"He was a bastard, respect His will"
"He scammed me into buying Crypto" someone else chimmed in.
"Why are we here if nobody liked him?"
"Don't you dare bring Him into this!" somebody exclaimed.
"But it's his funeral !" I said.
"Yes it's His funeral"
"So, I'm trying to talk about him"
"But we all hate Him"
"I thought you said he was a good person?"
"No He was awful!"
"So you all hated him?"
"Once again, don't bring Him into this!"
"mom dad" I said turning to my parents.
"Why heck did you name your son His?"
|
OKVoice1
|
Vegetable-Account419
|
2024-05-10 16:29:30
|
2024-05-10 14:11:52
| 75 | 48 |
l3gajqc
|
l3fn3va
|
1coi8d4
|
1coi8d4
|
[WP] You are an above-average villain. You have it all, power, fame, enough comfort and even a nemesis. Of course, he is almost like your best friend. And if that wasn't enough, you also have a beautiful family, kids and all. One day, your find out that your nemesis has been abusing his sidekick.
|
*The TV stream is interrupted.*"Hello, I'm pretty sure that ya'll call me Nemesis. If you don't know me, I'm a villain, not an asshole. Yes, I rob megacorps. Yes, I'm a pain in the ass for cops. Yes, I know I kill fashies, I consider that a public service. But I'm not evil. Villains have standards. There are certain things that I cannot abide by. Abusing someone in your care is one of them. Now, I'm a villain so let me continue my monologue, it's not like anyone's going to stop me. Captin excessive force here"*The camera pans over to a beaten and bloody superhero*"Was sexually abusing their sidekicks. I've already sent the evidence packets to every news station, every police station, every superhero league. I sent it way too many times and nothing happened. I will not air the graphic evidence, if you want to see it in redacted form, please email me at [*[email protected]*](mailto:[email protected]) , but be advised that it is very gruesome and I haven't slept in a week. I'm tired of trusting the system. I tried playing nice. So now you all will get out of my way and let me do what I need to."
*She injects herself with another combat stim before she pulls out a collar.*
Now, I'm aware that this so called hero-- more like supercop if you ask me-- provides important services to the city. So I'll give everyone a deal"
*The steel collar is closed around the tied up supercop*
"I'll let you keep this pathetic excuse for a super. But now we are playing by my rules. They are my responsibility now. I'll still let them protect the city, but I'm keeping them on a leash. You may wonder what the collar is: It's an explosive collar, filled with a shaped charge made out of K-hepta 6 and doped with the exotic element they are weak too. Tamper with it, and police brutality here will at best have their powers permanently disabled. But more realistically, they become chunky salsa. And for all the other supers out there: Keep your house in order or I will take care of it for you. Nemesis out."
|
I knew I wasn't the best person but even I have standards, when I heard of it I knew I had to prepare project phoenix sooner than I expected. I notified my employees and I geared up, I knew what to do to make him come. I destroyed his precious statue and shouted commands to see me and how I found out I knew what he did and I told the people and didn't care if they believed me.
when he finally came I didn't wait for his speech of how I was evil and just threw the punches. I had caught him by surprise from what I noticed because he hadn't moved yet. "please stop, I'll do whatever you say." he said through broken teeth and a bloody mouth. for years to come he was humiliated and called names while cleaning the mess between me and other heros, the others seemed to have a higher respect for me from that day onward.
|
I_burn_stuff
|
roxx-writting
|
2023-12-19 22:31:47
|
2023-12-19 18:48:25
| 41 | 10 |
ke3m24k
|
ke2kxna
|
18m44yw
|
18m44yw
|
[WP] A hero's work never ends. You became a litch out of necessity. The next hero would not be summoned for another thousand years and you were old. You planned to stay around long enough to pass the safety of the world on to the next.
|
Every one, at least once, has considered life to be tiring. A never ending crusade against a force you know nothing about. Some days you are so tired that breathing becomes hard and you think, wouldn't it be better if you went to sleep and never woke up.
Those people who choose the never-ending sleep have a choice. To be, to exist, to live, to fight.
He never had a choice. He was chosen to fight. A fight he knew will never end. He could only stem the tide. Maybe the next one could be more than he ever was.
Maybe the next one would turn the tides instead.
But the wait was long.
But he would persist. He always has.
*
He heard the screams. He always heard them. Someone was hurting. Someone was always hurting. But he had to stop those who hurt them.
He stood on his legs that were more bones than flesh. His flesh had started dying out a century ago.
But he had to do this.
Who would save humanity if he gave up.
*
His body broke even more every time he used his powers. But he didn't care. He couldn't afford to care.
He only had to hold down the fort till the next one came.
He just hoped his decomposing body held out till then.
*
He lay on the floor of the villain's lair. He wanted to say he was tired but he wasn't. He was defeated. Not by some meager villain but by his body.
"It doesn't take much to defeat you, shadow." The villain laughed.
Indignation swept through him. He wasn't defeated by him. His body has started to finally give up.
His decomposed flesh was melting. His bones left the faint trace of bone dust when he walked. But he didn't give up.
He will not start now. Only a few days remained till the next one came.
Only a few days.
With that thought in his mind, he gathered all the strength he had and pushed up to his feet.
"What would an old corpse like you could do?" The villain sneered.
He felt the power flow through him. He smiled at the villain watching his face fall.
"Enough." He said and let the power take over him.
*
He lay on the floor. There was nothing left of him. Just his consciousness hovered around. Waiting for *the one* to free him.
"I have some huge shoes to fill." A soft voice reached him.
Relief flooded him. He wanted to say so many things but words never came.
"You can rest now." She said gently.
Thank you.
*
[You can find more of my stories at r/iknowthisischeesy]
|
"It's so fucking tiring" *i said as ended another enemy* "at this rate it seems that its just a pipe dream to relax"
*i looked at the cloudy sky, remembering the first few years i was here, rhe laughter of me and my companions and how strange it was to be here*
*i sighed, as i remembered the miserable deaths of my best friends, that happened a long time agoj
*Sometimes i just wondered if i could just stop doing this, i was tired, tired of this endless fighting, this eternal loneliness that i felt in a familiar world with strange people*
*i sat down in a stone, lost in my memories*
"How long do i have to fight? How long do i have to struggle more before i can rest with my loved ones" *i muttered to myself, as i looked into the sky once again, hopefully that God would send someone to replace me*
*i looked at my hands, there was still skin, because i felt attached to it, since it reminds me of myself... my humanity, and all of the bonds that i made it here*
"Please god, send someone soon, so i can finally rest and meet them again" *i said towards the sky, before i stood up to protect those who were victims from the destiny off this world*
|
iknowthisischeesy
|
zWol42
|
2023-07-25 03:54:55
|
2023-07-25 02:13:36
| 63 | 13 |
jtcbktc
|
jtbziqz
|
158s14x
|
158s14x
|
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