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[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.
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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”??
|
The halls of the Arcane Council have stood for almost as long as the council itself. The huge darkstone visitation hall was set so only the ground floor was illuminated, allowing those above to sit and watch unseen. Bark stood in the hall’s centre, squinting up into the darkness. He’d been told the council had gathered, but in the few minutes since his arrival here, the only sound keeping him company was the soft crackle of the wall sconces around him.
Grandmaster Aorich was the first to speak, his bitter, dismissive tone echoing down the hall. “Do you understand that this council has not expanded its ranks in over three hundred years? We are the pinnacle, the epitome, of arcane talent. The guiding hand for all who wield the gift of magic. We have taken decades, neigh, centuries to hone our craft, and yet a farm boy, not even old enough to apprentice under our tutelage, believes he is capable of joining our ranks?”
Staring blankly into the darkness above and listening as the exasperated archmage caught his breath, Bark sighed. “Yep, pretty much.”
With a displeased hiss, the cold whisper of Grandmaster Aeba, continued in Aorich’s place. “Alright boy, show us what you can do.”
With a nod, Bark pulled out a stick of chalk and began scrawling arcane symbols onto the stone at his feet. Once the circle was completed, small fingers of green began to claw their way between the stone tiles, quickly growing in number and height, until a heavy patch of weeds filled the circle's boundary. With a fulfilled smirk, Bark looked back up, holding the newly grown daffodil like a trophy.
“You folk can summon fireballs or teleport and stuff, and that’s cool, but I know how to make plants grow anywhere, and make em’ grow fast. I think that’s a lot more useful to the folk outside? No?” Bark grinned, staring at the spot he hoped Grandmaster Aorich was, judging by the heavy breathing. The room was once again silent again.
After a long, silent moment, the council spoke amongst themselves, Bark could make out murmurs of financial woes and deals with the trade minister. Eventually, Aorich spoke again, teeth clenched, disdain dripping from his words. “In lieu of your… talent, the Arcane Council would like to offer you a position amongst our ranks. As an aside, Grandmaster Xadu would like to know if your capabilities would also work on grains?”
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ForbiddenFruitiness
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Cyclops61
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2024-08-24 11:41:22
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2024-08-24 10:52:45
| 155 | 21 |
ljoveyj
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ljoqbxt
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1ezzur3
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1ezzur3
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[WP] You're a renowned portrait artist, painting portraits for politicians, celebrities, you name it. Late one night, there's a knock on your door. A nervous young man stands outside, pale, with elongated canine teeth. He'd like a portrait. Hasn't seen his own face in over a century.
|
It had been a rather odd transaction. The man had specifically asked for an appointment long after dark. Something that wasn't exactly requested on common notice. But nothing that unusual. There were other higher priority clients. But this one paid just as much as any of them, and then some.
Only after a certain point did conversation finally bubble to the surface. Lucio was his first name. That was the most recent information he had learned in their introduction.
"I must say." He uttered. "I haven't been in a place such as this in quite some time."
"Oh. A studio?" Dylan questioned. He wasn't really paying attention to anything but the canvas for a moment.
"Actually yes." Lucio responded. "At least one such as this. I haven't been invited to many social events. Lately."
The painter looked at him for reference before quietly continuing. Lucio always found that ability fascinating. Someone with the capability to capture the essence of life and recreate it in such a way. The focus on details.
"Yeah. I bet the pandemic probably put a damper on that for a lot of people. Haven't seen some friends in two or three years."
"That's a long time."
"Well, some of them have kids, grandparents. No sense in putting them in danger."
"Has your work been affected?" Lucio asked, making sure to stay as still as possible when Dylan was looking.
"Less than you'd expect actually."
"Good. That's good."
Dylan had to admit things had been easier thus far than usual. People usually need to take a few breaks or realign themselves a little to get comfortable. But it had been two hours and Lucio had yet to truly move. Occasionally he'd grin in some fashion, before settling back into the same look. The guy had some noticeable teeth however. Dylan didn't understand why that was what he'd noticed, but he ignored it and carried on.
"So what's the last thing you went to?"
"...Paris."
"Oh nice." Dylan answered. "I've never been. How was it?"
"Very nice." Lucio smiled. "You've never been to Paris?"
"No. Never left the country." Dylan smirked. "I haven't left the state in maybe a year and some change."
"Oh goodness." The young man laughed. His voice carrying a vague air of wealth and perhaps royalty in some fashion. "You must surely go at least once."
"Eh, maybe some day... Not today though."
"At least tell me you do travel."
"I do. Every once in a while."
"How so?"
"Well, I walk from this room to another room. Take my shoes off and watch Hulu or something." Dylan shrugged. There was a mild look of disapproval that flashed across Lucio's face. Or misplaced concern?
"I'm kidding. Occasionally I drive up into the mountains. Go on a hike. It's peaceful."
"Camping?"
"No. Motels." He explained. "Our ancestors fought and died for shelter for a reason. Me dying in a gorge somewhere sounds, cosmically; like a let down for them."
It had been four hours now. It was at least midnight. A cursory check corrected him that it had to be at least one in the morning. The basics had been covered. Now came the real details. Dylan nonetheless kept a steady hand. Lucio stayed statuesque as if actually made of stone.
"So what did you go to Paris for?" Dylan asked as checked his work. "Vacation? Business?"
"A bit of both." Lucio contemplated slowly. "You have to forgive my lack of detail. I've been all over the place. Paris, Rome, Berlin. Warsaw. Athens. Barcelona."
"Lifestyles of the rich and famous." Dylan jokingly interrupted.
"Yes. But well." Lucio redirected. "I was in town for the Expo. The World Expo to be precise."
"That's a pretty big deal."
"Arts and technology in modern life." Lucio recalled. "An interesting theme. Consistently relevant."
Dylan nodded as Lucio continued on. Little tidbits like this were fun to learn from clients. And usually they were bit more rigid. A lot of his earlier examples. Heads of state, corporate types, or celebrities. They tended to be tight lipped, too proud, or too withdrawn much of the time. For good reason he assumed.
But not Lucio. If anything, talk of his personal life seemed to have improved their progress. A bit of warmth that added to the portrayal. But he still felt a bit off about the details of the trip. He couldn't place why.
"...Guernica, by Picasso. Granted, he was a mess of a human being. But the man had talent, I tell you."
Dylan was finishing up his last touches. The clock reading somewhere close to 5:15 in the morning. The sky was still dark outside, but faintly turning a deep blue.
"I believe it." Dylan promised. "So did anything else really stand out?"
"There were a lot of things that one could enjoy." Lucio promised. "But it all, really, just told me what was going to go wrong. What was coming."
The painter stopped. A measured movement that suggested he had pried too hard.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Don't be." Lucio dismissed. "It's all ancient history now."
Perhaps a half hour later, Dylan turned the canvas and offered his work. It was a simple yet detailed visage. The colors and pose coming together to make a perfect depiction of a momentary lull in life.
"It's immaculate." Lucio began.
There was a rather lengthy silence as he studied it more. Most people, while impressed, never carried that much gravitas about it. Even when it was a picture of themselves.
"It's been so long." He frowned slightly. "I wondered what it was like."
"...Is everything okay?"
It was clear his change of behavior had made the painter a bit uneasy. Understandable. Lucio carried that air about him naturally. Especially when he was hungry.
"Forgive me. I haven't seen a portrait of myself in so long."
"A century. Right. You... um..." Dylan reminded him. "Lucio?"
"Yes?" The young man asked before checking the clock. "Ah, I must go."
Extra money was shuffled into Dylan's hands from a small bag Lucio had brought with him. "I will return for my portrait as soon as possible. Honest."
"Lucio?"
"What?"
Dylan offered as he casually picked up a small black object and waved it at Lucio.
"I know you said you have some sort of problem with mirrors? But you do know mirrorless cameras exist? Right?"
---
r/Jamaican_Dynamite
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Hello! You must be Mister Archibald? Yes, very well, thank you. Please, do come in.
Oh, that? That's a portrait of Sir John of Engelheim. Yes, painted that one myself, first year of college. There's some flaws to it, of course, but one must keep their first painting around, if only to see how they've improved. Tea?
Ah, I see you've noticed the Dorchester. Really does draw the eye, doesnt it? One of the strangest commissions I ever had, to tell you the truth.
Oh, nothing fancy. We'll, if you want to hear it, it's a short story, I guess -- no, no, don't get up, I'll grab the sugar. Be forgetting my own head next.
So, the Dorchester. Well. About fifteen years ago, on a dark and stormy night --
What do you mean, 'that's cliche'? It's what happened. It was just past nine on a night filled with thunderstorms, can't get much truer than that. If I may continue?
Well I was sitting in my studio, working on a commission for the Queen, when someone pounded on the front door. No, this was so late, my housekeeper was gone for the night, so I had to go see who it was.
To tell the truth, I was a bit startled to see a bedraggled man, maybe tall as my shoulders, standing on the doorstep but it was a bit wet out. Fellow was young, but didn't seem too bad, 'cept for the pale skin, o'course. Happens around here a lot, people going pale 'cause of the storms all through autumn and winter.
No, this was in late spring, not unusual to see someone pale right up into summer, just depends on their job. Anyway , this poor wretch was soaked through from the rain and he looked a bit manic, to tell you the truth. Teeth chattering, eyes wide, all that. Asked if he could come in, he had a business proposition for me.
Well, at that point, I hadn't become the well-known portraiteer of the rich and famous. I didn't recognise the man, but I knew he was of good breeding -- you could see it in his eyes.
So we came in, and he sat me down and demanded I paint his portrait. Desperate he was, claimed he hadn't seen his own face in more than a century. Well, that caught me a bit off guard, o'course, but the way he was talking, I knew I'd be paid well for the service.
He was a spoiled thing, yeah, no doubt about it. But he offered me a full purse, couldn't have said no, even if I wanted to -- which I didn't. Something told me it would be a fair foolish thing to do.
So anyway, I look him over, and he says he's not crazy, he just needs to see his own face. Now, me, I don't think that's all that weird, Lord in Heaven knows we get some weird people coming in here, but I did find his aversion to Mrs Aldersleigh's famous foccaccias a little on the nose.
Oh, no, famous for her garlic and cheese foccaccias, no doubt about that. I'm sure I could find you one, Mrs Aldersleigh made some before she went off to visit her mother, poor woman, got the long illness, they don't know if she'll survive the week.
What? Oh, yes, the Donchester. Well, the man -- more a boy, to be honest -- was happy to sit still, weirdly still, for a few hours so I could get most of the blocking done. I told him he could come back next week for the first viewing, and he agreed, but after that...
Hmm? Oh, nothing. No, I don't remember much except waking up with a sore neck and a sense of managing to avoid the worse of it, but I couldn't work out what 'it' was.
The man -- boy -- sitter returned a week or so later, took one look at the canvas and burst onto tears. I don't know what he expected to see, but apparently my painting was not it. He screamed at the image, ran for the window and hurled himself out.
We never found the body, but there were a lot of animals in the forest that night, I realised through my broken window. I don't really see what haunted the man so, but then, I'm more than happy to paint people the way they want to see themselves, not as they were. I just didn't do it for that one, what with my commission jumping out a window before he could pay me.
No, I never got the man's name, nor payment. So I keep the Donchester to remind me to be wary of conmen seeking to swindle.
My memory? Well, now and then I forget something, wake up with the window open and so on, but that's just old age. I am seventy-seven, you know.
Good Lord in Heaven, is that the time? Sorry, Mr Archibald, I do have to move you along, I have an appointment to keep. No, nothing serious, just a spot of blood donation. No, it's fine, leave them there, I'll have the housekeeper deal with it.
Thank you so much for coming out to check on me, Mr Archibald. Nice to know there's still some decent kids out there.
I think I'll skip walking you out, my legs aren't what they use to be. No, thank you for coming.
Oh, and if you could let the young man outside into the house on your way out, that would be great. Thank you. Good day, sir.
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Jamaican_Dynamite
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Mythic_Writing
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2023-01-27 18:51:27
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2023-01-27 16:20:33
| 218 | 36 |
j64uurz
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j646irr
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10mna6q
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10mna6q
|
[WP] To finally solve all problems caused by humans, God made six new earths, to separate everyone depending on their sins, Earth 1 being for the best people and Earth 7 for the worst sinners. Every 50 years, angels arrive and re-judge people to decide if they should stay, go up or down.
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Ben and Maya lay on the rooftop terrace, watching the clouds of Earth 4 drift by above. They’d been best friends for twenty years — since they were kids — and had been waiting for this moment ever since.
“Think they’ll be different on 3?” Maya asked.
”Hm?”
”The clouds. Think they’ll be different? Prettier, maybe?”
He considered. “No. Or, maybe. But I think they’re plenty pretty enough here.”
She took his hand and squeezed it. “Me too.”
It was the evening before judgment. Tomorrow the angels would arrive and deliver certain people to Earth 3, others to Earth 5.
Ben and Maya had spent twenty years preparing for judgment — twenty years of performing good deeds together, trying to buy their ticket to Earth 3. Helping the elderly across roads, feeding the homeless, campaigning for the environment, for animal welfare. Always together.
They lay silent now. Ben wondered if Maya felt a similar unease in her belly. What was causing it? It was as if he could hear the angels singing in the distance, debating their decision about them in an off-key song.
“I hope it was worth it,” said Ben. “We’ve given our lives for this place. If we don’t both make it…”
“Then we’ve improved Earth 4.”
He swallowed back a flash of anger — that hadn’t been what he’d meant. ”Barely. We’ve been constantly sweeping the floor but more dirt is always falling down behind us.”
Maya rolled onto her side and looked at Ben. “You’ve not done it all to escape here. Don’t pretend for a second that’s why you did it.”
“Of course it’s why. It’s why we both wasted our lives here.”
*“Wasted.”*
”You know what I mean,” said Ben. “We could have done anything else with the years. Stuff for us instead of others, you know?”
She paused a moment then said, ”Did I tell you I saw Leo again the other day?”
”Leo?”
”The junkie you saved with the Naloxone. Except, he’s not a junkie anymore. He had new teeth and showed me a big new smile. He said to pass on his thanks to you.“
”That’s nice,” said Ben, downplaying the emotional gut punch as much as he was able. He’d been certain he’d see Leo’s obituary sooner rather than later.
”He’s working construction now. Does charity work on Saturdays.”
”Huh. Maybe we’ll see him on Earth 3.”
“Ben… I don’t know if I want to go.”
”What?”
”I’ve heard Earth 3 is pretty nice. Calm. Pious.”
“That’s kind of why we’re trying to get there, isn’t it?”
“The bad apples have mostly been left here to rot, and in the realms further down, too. There’s not much wrong on Earth 3 because everyone there wants to make it to Earth 2. Like, they’re actively working on it — being polite and fake and as good as they can be. Here, that’s not the case. Plenty have given up on moving. They’re happy with the grey morality. Some find it more fun, even.“
The unease grew in Ben’s gut. He could hear the angels song better now, louder, and was sure it was the broken melody of rejection — a song he knew well enough, that his own parents had sung when he’d been just a baby.
“This is everything we worked towards, Maya. Please don’t throw it away now.”
”Ben, if we keep going here… If we inspire more people like Leo, then what’s to say this can’t *be* Earth 3? But better, maybe. Because people want to be here, not just pass through it.”
”And you thought it’d be a good idea to talk about this now? On the evening before judgement?”
She shook her head. “No. I knew it wasn’t a good idea. And I’m sorry I left it so late. But it’s an idea that’d been growing recently. Avalnching even, and now it’s way too big for me to ignore. I hope you can understand that.”
It had been Maya’s idea, back when they’d been kids, to get into Earth 3 together. To help as many people as they could. It was an idea, she’d said, that was too big to ignore. She’d only been nine. They’d been orphans together.
He said, “I’m not going to be able to persuade you to go, am I?”
She shrugged. Her eyes glistened. “I don’t think so.”
“This’ll never be Earth 3,” he said.
”I know… But—“
”Not without us putting in a lifetime of work.“
It took Maya a moment to understand. Up until Ben squeezed her hand.
“You know,” he said, “we’re going to have to rob a bank or something at this point. Or commit a lot of petty crimes.“
Maya laughed. “You can reject the angels, you know.”
”Yeah,” said Ben. “But where’s the fun in that.”
They remained silent, staring at the clouds as the sky reddened. The unease in Ben’s belly was gone — the voices silent. He wondered now what had even been causing the feeling of unease. The thought of leaving, perhaps, rather than the idea of not making it. Either way, it was calm inside him now. As if everything was just how it was meant to be.
|
"Dad, if only I had the power to help you."
Yuna stares at the old, brownish photograph. Though the years had manifested itself in the bleaks and smudges of the glass, she can still vividly pronounce the figure - the happy smile she has as a child as her father carries her by her arms, and her mother close by her side.
The little girl in the photograph can no longer be discerned with the lady holding the wooden frame. Yuna, now 56, has the only reminder of her past being the scar she has on her right arm. A scar of which origins she can still remember despite the decades of hallowing memories burying it within.
It was a fateful day, of that six year old girl, watching as the angels come down in glorifying, mystical sight. Their robes pure in form, bathed in light, and their faces only barely discernable against the white glow. They come down in sense of fright and wonder upon the crowd looking at them. The whole community around her, and people from far and wide, garnering around them in a line.
She looks at her scar once more, now barely visible from her arm, only slightly pale and tender to the touch. Her mind can hear the voices and cries of people at that day. One by one, they face the terrifying angels in the lines. Some laughed, others cried, and they are all taken away towards the endless skies.
She saw her mother right at the front lines looking back from afar, with tears on her eyes. Her face seems to be in the form of despair, which Yuna then didn't understand. Yuna was carried by her father in his arms, and she can also hear her father's faint cry. Is mother going away too? By then she can't tell, as the angels took her mother away with them.
Her father took her down, and with eyes filled with sadness, knelt down in front of her and touched her face gently.
"Yuna, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
He held her right arm, and with a knife he held on his other hand, cut her arm lightly with it. She remembers that it hurts a bit, but her father's sudden take to embrace her did not allow her to cry or express any pain.
"Someday, Yuna, you will understand me."
After that, her father walked away from her, and into the line of angels. She was still holding her bleeding wound as she saw her father also taken away. The glow of the angel figures slowly molded into her faded memory.
It was only after all those years she finally understands. The scar, her father's expression, and why it is done. It is a sin, but perhaps a noble one. For she now knew that they both have to be taken away. That her mother was thrown into a lower Earth, and her father also has to go there. The scar is all but a reminder of her father's love, even amidst in front of God's divine judgment.
Yet even knowing so, Yuna felt powerless. If only she had done something, to not lose them, or to at least make them stay here too. The questions over the years flew by. Why was her mother brought into the lower Earth? What has she done? Why did her father did that act? Is he selfish, that he would dare to hurt his own child?
"I have to find them. Maybe they are out there, somewhere still."
She didn't know what Earth they were. She is now in Earth 4, but judging from her dad's act, they are absolutely in a lower Earth. The judgment that is once every 50 years will soon begin by the following month. She must make herself be judged, sinful and be damned. For in the name of love and family, she will be willing to face herself in God's harsh hand.
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Rupertfroggington
|
JaydeeValdez
|
2023-03-29 12:44:42
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2023-03-29 11:59:21
| 417 | 81 |
je4syjw
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je4nuik
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125htrp
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125htrp
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[WP] In your youth you helped a group of horsemen in trouble. When the apocalypse came many years later, four vaguely familiar faces knocked on your door. They are the horsemen of the apocalypse and they offer you a place among them as the fifth horseman in thanks for your help all these years ago.
|
A man stands alone, sitting upon his porch with some tea watching a forest being engulfed with flames.
A plume of smoke begins to cast a shadow. Once the shadow passes, a solider with a knight helmet, flag, & bloody uniform appears before the man, riding a horse made of ashes.
“May I join you?”
“Sure.” The soldier hops off the horse, patting it to sit down & grabs a chair to sit down.
“So, how is the apocalypse so far?”
“…pretty neat.”
“Really? Everyone else is either screaming or crying their hearts out. Just saw a man blow his brains before being engulfed in flames.”
“Sounds like a scaredy-cat.”
“Hahaha! He sure was!” The man sips his tea. “Say, remember the promise we made?”
“Hm… can’t recall.”
“You can’t? You don’t remember the promise made after you saved us from a wizard?”
“For your information, after I saved y’all from that wizard I passed out cold.”
“Right, right. Well, I guess I’ll just restate the promise then.”
“Please.”
“As thanks to you, Norman Torf, for saving us from annihilation & allowing us to carry out our duty, the Four Hours Men of The Apocalypse would promise to spare you from the carnage.”
“Oh, I really appreciate that. But, how do you plan on saving me from the carnage?”
“How does being the Fifth Horse Man sound?”
“…hm, that doesn’t sound too bad. But, what would I be the horse man of?”
“DESPAIR.”
“Oh?”
“We are all given duties to help carry out the apocalypse. I began the apocalypse through war, conquest will help to continue it through greed, famine will make it harder for humans to survive, & death will of course finish the job.”
“Makes sense.”
“But that leaves out on important part, hope. Hope is often one of the most powerful tools used to climb out of even the most dreadful hells. We don’t want that. So, why not have a former torturer snuff out that hope?”
“…alright, I’ll do it.”
“Great! I knew we didn’t make a mistake choosing you.”
“I knew it wasn’t a mistake saving you guys. Can you believe a world without an apocalypse? That would be so boring!”
“I know! Fuck that wizard!”
“Thank god I killed him!” The two laugh their hearts out as people run out from the forest on fire & others weep for their fallen loved ones. “So, am I gonna get a horse or something too? A cool outfit & look like the rest of you?”
“Of course! I already have your horse too.” War then waves his hand, causing a demonic horse to crawl out of the earth, huffing flames & smoke.
“Awesome!” Norman then hops atop the horse & begins to change. His clothes tear & his skin turns grey. His teeth then elongate as his mouth expands & his eyes turn red. He even grows a pair of 3 horns resembling a crown & as his body elongates with sharp nails. “Hell yeah.”
“Lookin good!”
“I’m gonna enjoy this!”
“You sure will! There’s so much to do! We got at least a 100 years until we end the human race. And then, we can move onto the next one to repeat the process.”
“Sounds awesome! What should we do first?”
“We’ll meet up with the rest & help to push Russia to bomb Manhattan.”
“Alright!” The War hops upon his horse as well & the two ride off to East. War leaves a flaming trial in his path as Despair leaves blood.
|
[poem]
I do remember
The men knocking at my door.
I do remember
Their kind smiles.
A killjoy
A cripple
A captain
And who might have been
A child
Had he not been
Dead some 3 years and 3 days.
Their horses,
Some poor, thin beasts,
Were deathly pale
Yet they remain more live than I.
There were five of the beasts,
One led by each man,
And still another
Who was still naught but fog,
His hooves trailing off to the horizon.
"Do you remember I?"
Spoke the the killjoy.
"Aye. 'Twas tonight of 2000?"
"Wrong." He replied.
"It was yet one year closer to us.
About the harvest.
'Twas the night yours
Nearly won."
The sight of my confusion
Was much to the amusement
Of the grim horsemen.
"But success was caught indeed,"
Was all he said as consolation.
"Do you see our ranks?"
Spoke now the cripple.
"Have you knowledge of the Horseman's Breed?"
At this spake,
The outcast mare
Dashed through my door,
Breaking now the vampiric vow.
The grim men
Passed, as well, the boundary
Broken by the hooves and mane
Of the latest creation.
Their hands gripped me
With unexpected strength
And dressed me in a white robe.
They then hurled me from my feet
Onto the back of the mare.
"Do your people deserve it?"
Said the boy.
"Of what do you speak?"
Was my reply.
A rattling laugh
Emerged from
The rib cage of the captain.
"Tis what comes for all."
And I knew.
"You are to make me your fifth?"
Assent was the reply.
"Would not the colour of the garb you clothed me fit yours ill?"
They all said no.
"Will you answer the question?"
Said the captain.
I said I will not.
The cripple shrugged
And jumped to his stallion.
The rest did the same
And I followed them out.
When I did,
I saw nothing to the east but hell
And nothing to the west
But golden fields
And diamond skies.
"To where do we ride?"
Was the debtor's query.
And as one voice
The horsemen spoke;
"Follow the Sun, my friend."
|
Pope-Francisco
|
NthRadiant10
|
2023-04-17 01:06:16
|
2023-04-16 22:11:03
| 31 | 20 |
jgjza8b
|
jgjbztm
|
12oljpt
|
12oljpt
|
[WP] Your best friend invited you to the small town they grew up in to celebrate their birthday. You didn't know what to expect, but it definitely wasn't a giant beast coming out of the ocean. "Oh yeah, that just happens sometimes" your friend says when you ask.
|
Where Freddy was from, eldritch horrors don't rise from the seas to sing **"Happy Birthday"** in a thousand reverberating voices of a legion. Or bake a massive, breathing cake that spurted goat's blood and was bursting with eerie entrails and present to the birthday...human. If his best friend Vernon was actually human and not secretly some mutated, tentacle cultist hiding behind a human guise.
"Oh yea, that just happens sometimes," Vernon shrugged like it was a casual, everyday occurrence, and not something that would trigger fear and madness. "Whenever Lord Elvari remembers one of our birthdays and wants to celebrate with us townsfolk."
"Is that cake even edible?" Freddy mustered what little reserves of courage he had left. "That cake looks like it murdered and ate a few people on the way here."
**"Such baseless accusations hurt the feelings of this wondrous cake, and its even more awesome creator,"** the eldritch god pouted, still holding out the cake with his tentacles. **"It sustains its form on a diet of goat's blood, flesh and organs. Just like me."**
"Great, the cake has feelings," Freddy rolled his eyes. "Anything else I need to know about how birthdays are held in Innsmouth?"
Elvari bore a smug look on his face. **"When a recipient makes a wish, I actually grant it. Unlike shooting stars. Which lack sentience or magical powers in the first place."**
"That's true," Vernon added. "I got a new car like I asked for last year."
"You never told me about this!" Freddy blurted out in a mix of surprise and annoyance. "Wait, does this mean I could get my wish granted if I celebrate my birthday here too?"
**"Only if you join my Church and be part of my flock. Blessed be my followers. Subscribing or following one of my social media channels is an acceptable alternative."**
Now Freddy was beginning to wonder if he was being advertised to, or unduly influenced into joining some weird cult. It was the first time Vernon invited him to his hometown and now all eyes, human, not-human, and eldritch, all gazed upon him.
*"Please don't feel pressured to join, as much as I am always happy to welcome new followers,"* a voice cut into his mind, like a hot knife through butter. The tentacle tip touching his head peeled itself away.
**Anyway, Happy Birthday Vernon!** The octopoid entity clapped hands and tentacles in thunderous applause along with the birthday crowd. **"Now, make a wish. I will hear it in your mind and grant it."**
A heavy silence fell upon the group as the birthday man closed his eyes and made his wish. When he opened his eyes, a far less terrifying strawberry cheesecake had teleported onto the picnic table.
"Now that's the edible cake for humans," he remarked, cutting it and offering one to Freddy.
Who was completely relieved to taste that cake was delicious, ordinary, and did nothing to churn his intestines or twist his bowels. All while the other bizarre cake was swallowed whole by the eldritch horror. Freddy's brain wanted to ask why would Elvari present a cake to Vernon only to eat it himself, but his instincts insisted this was something he was better off not knowing.
The rest of the party was, thankfully, normal. As normal as it can be with supernatural entities singing in an unknown language and a voracious tentacled deity munching on a whole goat.
"Thanks for coming," Vernon shook Freddy's hand. "Wanna come next year? No guarantees Lord Elvari can make it though."
"Next time, Vernon, could we just book a chalet or anything less...freaky?"
"I can't guarantee my god wouldn't catch wind of the news and teleport in to sing me happy birthday."
**"Please, my dear Vernon, please do let your friendly neighbourhood eldritch know which chalet you book next year. I'll bring a bigger cake."**
----
[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
|
So, my best friend invited me to celebrate his 25th birthday back at her hometown.
She grew up in a small town, so far away from the Capital, I wondered if it was still the same world as the one I knew of.
We passed mountains, active volcanoes, and forests were beasts lurked in the shadows before arriving at a small, cozy looking town.
Then as we entered the town, and she took me to say hi to her parents...just outside the town, this little town that bordered the ocean...a huge head rose.
I marveled as a huge monster left the ocean, its body bigger than the mountains we passed, while my best friend just waved at it.
"What was that?" I asked.
"Oh, that's a monster." she answered.
I rolled my eyes.
"No shit, why is nobody panicking?" I asked, as the monster slowly got further away from the town.
She shrugged.
"Yeah, that just happens sometimes around these parts." she said.
I was then dragged to meet her parents, and to the market to buy some fish, while my mind was still somewhere else.
After dinner, we were watching the ocean from a small hill when my faculties return to their normal levels.
"What the hell?" I blurted.
She giggled.
"Yeah, our town is that special." she said proudly.
I couldn't argue with that.
"But how are you all...so happy? So safe?
That monster must have been larger than most mountains!" I exclaimed.
She shrugged.
"Why would a Monster King terrorize a small town full of farmers, fishers and low-levelled professionals?" she said.
That...made sense.
"So you mean because you are too weak, the terrifying entities are...ignoring you?" I continued.
"Nah, they are nice to us.
They give us fish, and resources in exchange of in-land information.
After all...they can't go themselves, and their subordinates are of two types: either too strong to go unnoticed, or because of their lacking strength, not intelligent enough yet to scout.
So we help them with information, and they are nice to us." she smiled.
I froze.
"Oh stop it Mrs. Overthinker.
I know that as a mage you are in the loop with the Civilization War, but we talk about new snacks, desserts, and new shows in the theater.
After all, how the hell would we gain access to sensitive information?" she laughed.
She was right.
"God...sorry, you are right, it's just my brain sometimes..." I started, but stopped, because in the distance I saw a huge beast head peeking at us, winking at us seemingly, before disappearing.
"Yeah, we are quite friendly." she said blushing.
I excused myself, and went to bed, not that I could sleep, for this little town might be more interesting than I thought.
|
Tregonial
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2025-01-28 15:34:50
|
2025-01-28 15:30:05
| 33 | 18 |
m9nezxt
|
m9ne16h
|
1ic2k1w
|
1ic2k1w
|
[WP] “Why should I care what you think, dad? Humans only live for a hundred years if they’re lucky! Me and mom will be here for thousands!”
|
“Why should I care what you think, dad? Humans only live for a hundred years if they’re lucky! Me and mom will be here for thousands!”
The second the words left my lips I knew I'd made a mistake. My father had never been an emotional man, but I saw his screwed jaw relax into a frown, and then soften to nothing. He took half a breath, opening his mouth to speak before reconsidering his words.
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
"Dad..."
"You're right. I've got 40 or so left. Good point." My dad shoved his hands in his pockets and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him as he did.
I stared at the door for a moment. It was going to open right? He'd come back and scream at me, tell me that I'd been rude and that I shouldn't talk back to him like that and--
It didn't open. He didn't come back. I'd wanted him to leave me alone. I'd won, right? This was what I wanted and...
I flopped backward onto my bed and stared at the false starts on the ceiling for too long. I was right. He was only going to be here for 40 years. I'd still be in school when I was attending his funeral. What the hell? Was he even going to know where I worked? When I found a mate, when--
The door opened, I sat up.
Dad was back in the doorway, his arms crossed as he leaned against the frame. He'd cleaned his glasses while he was out. Dad didn't speak for the first seconds, just taking several deep breaths. Was he building up courage? How much was he going to yell. I deserved all of it. I just wanted to know.
"Cass," he said. My name sounded so human when he shortened it. "I just wanted to come back and--"
"Dad, I'm so sorry."
"Cass," he said, "just let me finish. I came back because I was hurt by what you said--"
"I know I'm sorry--"
"I was hurt by what you said, but it's also just true. I need you to think about it the way that I do." Dad stepped into the room and joined me on the bed, sitting beside me while I crossed my legs to make room. "I'm only going to be here for a short time in your life, right?"
"Yeah and I'm so--"
"Cass it's not about being sorry. But I should have talked to you about this more before." He put an arm on my shoulder. "You're right, in the long term for you, what I think won't matter unless you make sure it does."
"What?"
"Your Mom has a whole lifetime to figure out what you mean to each other. Heck. You're gonna be an old lady before she's hitting 1000. But Cass, I-- I don't have that long."
"I know and I'm sorry about what I said, I didn't mean--"
"Kid." He squeezed my shoulder. "It's not about being sorry. I don't have that long to make an impression on you, but I really want to ensure that I do."
"Dad."
"You don't have to care what I think, and there's no good reason why you should Cass, but I hope you want to. That's my job right."
"I--"
"Can't only be a pest for 40 years. You need more lectures than that young yady."
"Dad... ugh."
|
Obligatory I’m on mobile.
If you asked any outsider or basic acquaintance about our group they would all tell you the same story. Beth was the mother of the group with kind eyes and the stereotypical anime mother side-ponytail that quite frankly worried us all. Eden was the natural leader of the group who’s optimistic attitude made us all overlook how incredibly and quite frankly debilitatingly dumb he was. Lils was your stereotypical girl next door vying for Eden’s affection despite his obvious crush on Beth. Dylan was the sweet and soft spoken bookworm who had the hots for Lils but could never muster up the courage to do anything about it. Finally… there was Daisy. Daisy was eccentric to put it nicely. She was optimistic but had little to no faith in mankind. Her interests changed on a daily basis whether it’s taxidermy or baking. She gave the best advice but never followed it herself even to her own detriment. She was the happiest person you’d ever meet but also debilitatingly depressed. Which is why it shocked but did not surprise any of her friends with the form she chose.
“Be not afraid.”
“Daisy… are you fucking serious?” Lils said through labored breathing trying desperately to calm her heart.
The entity sighed “Cmoooon guys I said ‘Be not afraid’ I thought you’d be chill with itttt~”
Beth who was attending to the incapacitated Dylan let out an annoyed shriek “DID THAT EVER WORK FOR THE ANGELS IN THE OLD TESTAMENT DAISY?!”
“Be not mad?” Daisy said hopefully.
Eden and Lils struggled to hold Beth back for a good five minutes before she gave up.
……
“So like… can I be in charge of interrogations?”
|
Writteninsanity
|
None
|
2024-08-14 16:56:28
|
2023-02-27 09:16:00
| 381 | 28 |
li3m8dz
| null |
1es40qy
|
8ihx5b
|
[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."
|
No.
All of the thoughts in my head, all of the feelings in my heart, and all of the scars along my body coalesce into one definitive word as I stood back and saw Brandon lower his gun.
“If I kill you,” the moron continued, although my blood was pounding too hard to fully hear, “I’ll be just like you. No, you need to face the full might of the judicial system and face punishment for your crimes.
That was a joke. It had to be, nothing else made any sense. Blood was dripping off of both our hands, both metaphorically and quite literally. My eye twitched as my hands began to shake, and I slowly lowered them to the only weapon I had yet to throw or run out of ammo for: my old derringer, passed down from father to son for generations.
“Y-You’re letting me live?” Even Duke Rogers seemed surprised at Brandon’s change of heart. Not shocking, considering the list of atrocities he had committed was longer than the damn Bible.
“T-T-Thank you so much!” The scumbag stammered out, still knelt at the feet of Brandon. “I’ll change my ways, I promise! You’ll only ever hear the people singing my praises from now on!”
No.
*Not a fucking chance.*
**BANG**
The report of my derringer sounded out in the lavishly decorated room, fine artwork and gold-inlayed mahogany everywhere. There was silence for a brief moment, then the thud of Duke Rogers’ body leaning onto the ground, an eighth hole freshly made in his head.
Brandon stumbled back.
“What the fuck?!” He shouted, raising his pistol and pointing it at me.
“Why the hell did you do that?!” His face was red, eyes wide.
It shocked me at that moment just how little I cared. All the suffering I’d undergone, all the people murdered in the name of greed, all of the families torn apart to fuel the war machine. It all turned into sheer, unadulterated bliss as I stared at the corpse of the man who orchestrated it all. My mouth twisted into a smirk, then a smile, then a full blown rictus grin as a chuckle bubbled out of my throat.
My gun fell to the ground as both my hands raised to my face, held to the side of my head as my chuckling turned to howling laughter.
“I said why the fuck did you do that Sam!” Brandon yelled again, pistol shaking as he clenched it harder.
I turned to face him, trying to force my laughter to stop so that I could talk. But it was like trying to stop a volcano mid-eruption, and I just stood there, staring face to face with the coward. Both of our eyes were wide, his in rage and mine in euphoria.
Finally, I forced out one sentence through the echoing howls of my laughter:
“*I won.*”
|
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))
|
Round-Ad-692
|
jimmysaint13
|
2024-03-09 06:20:54
|
2024-03-08 09:47:07
| 25 | 11 |
ku1ap5p
|
ktwaq8j
|
1b9dtij
|
1b9dtij
|
[WP] The power of a spell is inversely proportional to the amount of words in its name. You, hated and exiled, invented the first single word spell:
|
Magic must be shaped, it must be molded and formed into something workable, lest the raw power consume the one who ushered it forth. For our words contain the magic and each spell becomes precise, albeit less potent, the longer and more considered the phrase that birthed it.
In this way, a spell made of only a single word is theoretically possible, indeed, the very notion shapes modern concepts of magical study as fundamentally as ideas of catalysts or the practice of chanting, but such power left uncontained exacts a price to heavy for any one mage to bear, not even for the second required to bind the cast and hold the effect in place.
But that is precisely the point, every one of the ancient texts always phrased it the same way, time and time again they told us a single word was too much for any one of us to bear, the entire collective history of our kind has been reaching out to tell us this fundamental but since forgotten law of magic, we are stronger together.
We have no need for extra words or phrases when we each share the burden, for when magic flows through us all at once we are not simply some small fragile body bowing under the weight of an ocean of pressure, but a flowing river of magic, a deluge of power, directing and shaping in ways that could not be imitated by the the collective words of every tome in the library of the great masters.
In many ways I ought to thank you, without your dreadful return we would never have learnt of this lost fragment of our craft, we would have toiled forever in the darkness inches from the light. But now that you have provided such illuminating tutelage, allow us to demonstrate your hard won lesson in a far more practical sense, as every caster of every caste from here to the ends of the earth from whence you came bear the burden of the first single word spell muttered from mortal lips in three centuries.
**LEAVE**
|
Die.
I watched as the flowers wilted, then the trees grew old, a rabbit lay down for a long sleep in the browning grass as the sounds of jumping fish grew silent. We watched the forest wither and heard the thuds as avian corpses fell from the sky. His eyes are what I noticed, pure terror, not that I could do it but that I would for it is well known the power scales inversely but control goes the other way. Terror was still in his eyes as they glazed over, as he collapsed to the ground. Hunted across a continent, harried at every turn but now I shall know peace as I take my rest as the final corpse to fall from a spell with power but no direction.
|
Euphorbus11
|
Kathrine_natinde
|
2023-10-16 21:05:49
|
2023-10-16 20:07:21
| 32 | 13 |
k564a0z
|
k55ufph
|
17968f8
|
17968f8
|
[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.
|
The air grew cold and still as the tall, slightly glowing skeletal figure hovered towards the increasingly mortified mayor. The figure's skull and empty eye sockets, filled with flickering blue flames, turned towards the shaking man and spoke in a deceptively soothing voice.
THE GOBLINS SHALL RAID YOU NO LONGER, MAYOR KLEENER, it spoke, its voice heard, but not spoken.
"Th- th- thank... you," the mayor stammered out carefully. "We- we really, uh... appreciate your h- help, sir- sir..."
EDWARD, the lich replied.\*
"O- oh," the mayor replied, confused by the name. "What... what happens now? What do you want from us? We have no riches-"
YOUR SAFETY IS ENOUGH, CITIZEN. BURY YOUR DEAD; REBUILD THE VILLAGE. LIVE IN PEACE.
With a slight nod of his white skull, the lich turned and set out to leave the desolate village. He sighed\*\* as the face of the terrified mayor lingered in his mind. He knew his visage was terrifying and seen as a product of evil and even though he wasn't looking for fame, he still regretted this. The choice to become a lich was one made out of necessity; knowing fully that the next legendary hero won't be born for a thousand years, he swore to protect the realm until he will no longer be needed. Only then would he rest.
As he ruminated his plight, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye socket, a young girl staring at him. What caught his attention, however, was the fact that there was no fear on her face; rather, it was a look of curiosity.
"Hello," she said politely.
GREETINGS, YOUNG ONE, he replied calmly.
"Why are you a skeleton?" she asked.
I AM NOT A SKELETON. I AM A LICH.
"A... leech?" she tilted her head.
A LICH. ONCE A HUMAN, IT TOOK A GREAT DEAL OF SACRIFICE, DECADES OF STORED MANA, AND THE COMBINED EFFORT OF A DOZEN MASTER WIZARDS TO ALTER MY SOUL,GRANTING ME IMMORTALITY AND POWER BEYOND MORTAL IMAGINATION.\*\*\*
"Oh..." she replied half-heartedly. "How are you speaking? You don't have a tongue," the girl continued to inquire. The Lich considered his response carefully, then decided to take the path of least resistance.
MAGIC.
"Cool!" the girl chirped. "You think I can do magic too?"
YOU WISH TO LEARN THE ARCANE ARTS? Edward asked.
"Well... yeah," she shrugged. "You used magic to help us. Save us. Maybe if I knew magic, ***I*** could have saved us, before..." her words trailed off as she somberly looked at the burned-down houses on the edge of the village. Edward looked at her, truly looked at her - her stance, her hands, but most importantly, her eyes. The window to the soul. There was a fire in her; a fire of heroism.
PUT YOUR HANDS LIKE THIS, Edward said and formed his skeletal digits into a complex gesture. The girl followed carefully. NOW WHISTLE THIS TUNE, he said before, to her surprise, producing a short melody. The girl imitated it carefully. Suddenly, a small, shiny snowflake materialized between her palms and danced around slowly. The girl watched it with wide, amazed eyes before losing concentration - and with that, the snowflake.
IMPRESSIVE. YOU HAVE TALENT, Edward commended her.
"I- I did magic! I just did- did you see that?" the girl excitedly jumped up and down. "Do you think I could be a hero just like you?!"
NO.
"But-"
I WAS BORN OF PROPHECY. TO BE A HERO - A PROTECTOR OF THE PEOPLE - WAS MY DESTINY. IT WAS IN MY BLOOD.
"You have blood?" the girl remarked.
OF COURSE.
"Because I thought-"
IT'S SOMEWHERE IN MY STUDY.
The girl chose to merely squint at him suspiciously.
"So... I can't be a hero?" she finally said dejectedly.
YOU CAN. BUT NOT LIKE ME. IF YOU CHOOSE THIS PATH - TO BE A HERO - YOU WILL BE BETTER.
The girl opened her mouth in surprise. "But you said you were prophesized to..."
CORRECT. I WAS BORN TO BE A HERO. BUT YOU, he said warmly, despite his chilling aura...
YOU CHOOSE TO BE ONE.
​
​
\**Edward considered rebranding himself to something akin to 'Vraexis the Eternal' to fit his outlook, before shaking the notion off as being too theatric.*
\*\**As much as someone without lungs could.*
\*\*\**This was a carefully crafted lie Edward perpetuated to dissuade disreputable characters from attempting to gain immortality. The true ritual only required parchment, an olive branch and two bottled of dwarven mead.*
|
Everyone thinks the prophecy will happen in their times, I met at least eight other adventures that said they were the 'hero'. I was sure I was the hero for an embarrassing amount of time. It wasn't me. I learned that the hard way when I died for the second time. This was when my god told me to stop my delusions and think for a moment. I was furious, and broken.
After a sad year of alcoholism, I realized something. My god knew. I stole books and prayed hard until I talked to them and they resisted hard. But I did it, probably out of annoyance. And I was told the hard truth, it would be a thousand years and I would never see them, help them, and they would like to fail like the ones before them. What sent me over the edge was that they would possibly be the soul meant for me and my soulmate had we both had lived to our wedding day.
I asked for immortality. I was told I was arrogant and to be grateful for this information at all.
I knew these were likely lies and that I didn't need them to see my should-be child.
I dropped my religion and other worldly attachments. It wasn't that hard, most had been wounded or died long ago. And then went my dark descent. I had familiarity with killing so making and sustaining my soul with life forces to make my weapons and armor. And stealing from the Cosmic one was the hard part. I still think they let me steal their tooth. I consider the two were in league to make me the living dead. I am very much dead but very much alive.
None of the countless loudmouths that smashed my door in was my child. And I counted the years away but lost count of the dead. Good thing I could use their lives to extend my own. With twenty years left, I began to plan. A simple encounter that ended in my death and the Cosmic tooth as a weapon to break apart the corrupt gods.
And then I waited.
And I waited.
And I waited some more, brushing away the children like nothing. And then it was the year and my child came. I stood from the throne as they knocked away my hell hounds, telling me they weren't completely weak. They could have been stronger. I had to admire their eyes, so full of life and determination in a new way. Just like her parents. I knew it was her, she had his birthmark. And as she almost took the 'final blow' against me, a chime rang out, and she froze into stone. And then she burst. And so did the rest of them. I was shocked. If I had flesh it would have shown. And then suddenly I had flesh. It was terrible regrowing my flesh and the chimes ringing out, making my new flesh ears ache.
I was new, young, and fresh. I cried from my heart breaking and my bones creaking. Those bells were smug as they rang out if a bell could be smug. When I looked in the mirror I realized I now had her face. And her birthmark. I didn't know what this meant, this was never in the plan. Was I know the hero? Would I have to wait another thousand years? For the first time in over a millennium, I cried. No matter what, the gods would die. Damn the prophecy, damn the gods. No Cosmic horror would survive me. After all of this. No one would.
|
SirPiecemaker
|
Crafty_Lavishness_79
|
2023-07-25 03:21:22
|
2023-07-25 03:19:39
| 261 | 45 |
jtc7qpo
|
jtc7j6e
|
158s14x
|
158s14x
|
[WP] For 10 long years war has raged while the Galactic Committee held a tight leash on the humans; stating "We do things a certain way". Now, with the enemy closing in, the leash comes off.
|
"Any word from sector 385?"
"None, sir. As of three standard cycles ago, we are the furthest outpost from the capitol that has not gone dark."
The commander went silent, dragging his claws along his spines. The Key'neth were warriors, hunters, assassins, just about any kind of profession associated with death. Yet here he was, with no obvious answers. He looked to the warmap that lied on the main display. His eyes drifted towards his outpost, a lonely green admist a sea of red and yellow. Many military stations had gone far too long without checking in. Protocol states that until the wreckage was confirmed or an SOS was uncovered to assume they were dead.
"How long do we have until the enemy find us?"
"ETA, within two cycles."
"Keep your eyes on your sensors, by the time we see the battle should already be happening."
The commander looked at the forces under his disposal. There would be no reinforcements arriving in time. He counted five cruisers and three frigates from his own kind. Two carriers from the Grinx and two frigates. From the Avians, four interceptor-class frigates. From the humans-
"Hm?"
The commander refreshed his screen. Last he recalled, the humans contributed what they called a 'dreadnought-class gunship' and three frigates. Still, his screen showed them as MIA.
"Someone ping the human POC," the commander ordered.
"Yes sir."
A holodisplay showing the symbol of humanity's military, a shield emblazoned with their homeplanet. After recieving no answer, the commander ordered another attempt. Still no response.
"Sir, it seems the humans have deserted."
"So it would seem."
"Would you like us to report this to central command?"
"No... the outcome remains the same."
Humans, the relative newcomers in the galactic community had yet to develop their military technologies to the galactic standard. The humans insisted on developing their kinetic based weaponry and melding it with plasmas rather than pursue research into offensive lasers. While orbital bombardment is dominated by kinetic weaponry, ship to ship battles were often decided by lasers due to their speed and accuracy. Unless humans found a way to make their slow weapons hit their targets, every shot from them would either miss or be intercepted.
"May the humans find somewhere peaceful to hide from this war."
Suddenly the sensors lit up. A drastic surge of cosmic radiation had caught their attention. Shortly afterwards, four known warp transponders were detected. The human vessels have returned, appearing in visual distance. Their hulls were heavily scorched from laser fire, but otherwise they were all intact. The commander found himself on the recieving end of a human ping.
"Humans, I demand an explanation as for why you have returned after deserting!"
"Appologies commander, we were engaging the enemy."
"Elaborate."
"On Earth we have two sayings. One is better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission."
"...And the second?" the commander asked, hesitantly.
As if by divine timing, a bright light took over visuals. Nearly all on the bridge were blinded before the light was darkened by computer. Even then, the flash still appeared bright.
"Accuracy by volume."
|
"We do things a certain way." The Committee stated.
The Committee was made of every known species, each having an equal say in the actions of the Federation. Humanity, new to the stage, simply watched as the Committee sent out a war fleet to kill the bugs.
It failed.
Ten years and two months later, the Electorate of the Terra Firma Systems Union stood before the tens of thousands of species and laid out a proposal to the Committee.
"We are all well and familiar with Terra's First Contact War. We are aware of how we fought compared to how the galaxy fights. We are knowledgeable of the reasons why each action was taken, each violation of the Geneva Conventions. Hence why the TFSU Armed Forces have not yet joined the Committee's, and never will.
"Yet it has become clear that the Committee is failing to hold off the bugs. The front is holding, but is expanding to our flank and we can't hold that forever. When the bugs arrive at our borders, they will receive our treatment. You do things as efficiently as possible, we do things as ethically as possible, and we pay our costs out of pocket; problem solved."
There was a low murmur in the hall as representatives remembered the General of the TFSU Armed Forces besting the Grand Leader in melee combat, yet stepping down from taking the position.
"I do not care about a vote or if the Grand Leader themselves vetos this position. The TFSU will respond to this threat the way we see fit, and that's that."
The Electorate left the hall, followed by her entourage.
\-----
It took three weeks of fighting for the Bugs to officially send a diplomat to the front lines and sign a treaty with the TFSU. The other members of the Committee attempted to change their tactics, but it was too late, and their governments were forcefully destroyed.
The First Milky Way War is a testament to the fact that being ethical can indeed pay back. Now, any questions, class?
\-----
**A/N:**
**Effort level: mid**
|
Moltenfield
|
Nomyad777
|
2023-06-11 03:13:04
|
2023-06-11 00:38:54
| 618 | 116 |
jnqjrcy
|
jnq2d5j
|
146dwvr
|
146dwvr
|
[WP] The government shows up to your house, apparently there's an alien armada heading for Earth and the ruler of their species is asking for you. Apparently you matched on Starcrossed, a intergalactic dating app
|
It's far too early for this.
Far.
Too.
Early.
And yet, the pounding on my front door continues. I grab the nearest pillow jamming it over my head to try and drown out the noise. Of course that doesn't help when it doubles by the sound of a broom handle banging on the ceiling below me and furious spanish shouted through the very thin walls. I don't even speak spanish, but I get the gist.
"Alright, alright!" The words come from my mouth as part growl part roar. I make sure my stomps are as heavy as humanly possible as I storm through my miniscule living room, kitchenette combo. Whoever has the audacity to come banging at my door at nine in the morning like they're the damn police is about to get the ribbing of a lifetime.
"What!?" I snarl, ripping the door open. It bounces off the jam but I can't pay it any mind because two imposingly built men in crisp black suits and dark sunglasses are staring me down.
Ah, it is the feds.
"Ma'am, we're with--" The one on the right starts flipping open their little badge book to show me their identification.
"I didn't see anything." I blurt, then wince because that was as smooth as extra chunky peanut butter. Hey, law of the street, snitches get stitches and I’m not trying to pay any hospital bills right now.
I can't read their expressions at my ill timed outburst. Training at secret agent school must chisel your face from stone or something, but they've both gone quiet. We all stand there silently for a good long while. I know this is an interrogation trick and you're not going to social obligation me into admitting anything more. Take that coppers.
"Look, I really didn't see anything." I double down. Which is true, because I've no clue what any of this could be about.
"You don't recognize this man?" The one on the left asks. He lifts a sleek black phone in thick fingers.
On the screen is the dating profile of a man with a stunning smile, high cheekbones and impossibly dark eyes. His canines are a little sharper than normal and a beanie is jammed low over his head, ears hidden by a riotous mess of dark curls. It states his name is Eric and he’s an 11/10 on my personal scale. The one I swiped right on several days ago and have kept a steady chat log with since. Is he worth the trouble with the law though, debatable.
“Never met him.” I answer back, another truth. We were supposed to meetup later today. Which is the reason I’m standing here in my bonnet, detoxifying facemask, freshly shaved, and attempting to get sleep so I don’t have those ugly eyebags when we do meetup.
The one on the right cracks a little, a quiet huff leaving his nose in amusement. Was not expecting him to cotton on to my expert dodging of the question that was asked, but I’m not the professional here.
“We’re aware of that fact.” The one on the left says. He tucks the phone into an inner pocket and stares me down.
“We’re also aware that he wants to meet you, and it would be in all of our best interests if you come with us.” He continues.
Oh. Oh nooo. Am I about to become bait to some big time criminal drug lord or something? The one on the right moves and I flinch as he takes my upper arm in a firm grasp. Ok. Guess I’m going out. In my cotton pajamas and embarrassing fuzzy wolf paw slippers. I stumble after him to the equally as dark SUV, and clamored into the meticulously cleaned leather back seat.
“Uh, pardon me for asking, but did either of you lock my door?” I ask laughing to myself. It’s not like there’s anything of any particular value in there but it’s a habit. Probably the only shred of normality that I’m going to get at this point.
“It’s under surveillance.” Lefty answers. Which isn’t concerning at all, thank you very much.
“Cool, ok, one more question, where are we going?” They remain silent for this one, but I could’ve guessed that it was some heavily fortified government facility.
For the record, I was way off. Unless Prada has suddenly come under the intense ownership of the president, that is. I stare particularly blankly at the number of outfits that are paraded in front of me, ranging from extraordinary elegant to horrifyingly skimpy. And I think to myself, what is going on?
It doesn’t stop there. I’m taken to Tiffany’s, to Louis Vuitton, Saint Laurent, Michael Kors, practically every single luxury brand one can think of. Until I’ve got more outfits and accessories than I can realistically cram into every nook and cranny of my less than stellar apartment on the wrong side of town.
By the time the sun has gone down, I’ve been primped, plucked, and made up by stylists who’s clients names I know only in Holly Wood lights. I barely recognize myself in the full length mirror they prop in front of me. Lefty and Righty load me back into the SUV and we smoothly merge onto the interstate along with a caravan of similarly distinct non-distinct SUVs.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the shopping spree, but I would really like to know what’s going on now.” I hedge, then squeak as a projected screen springs to life in front of me. Mind boggling to know we have this technology, but also kind of not surprising.
“King Ar’uk, is the leader of a mono race planet. Recently he has been dabbling in the world of online dating, as it were, in search of a potential wife. He recently matched with a user on the intergalactic app starcrossed and is excited to meet them tonight.” Lefty explains, pulling up both profiles on the screen.
“O-ok.” I’m following along, kind of disbelieving but following. I look really cute in my profile picture not going to lie, but oh my god. Our whole text conversation is right there! I said so much personal stuff. I even dipped my toe into some sexy stuff, and they just read all of it!?
“If you take a glance out the window you’ll notice more stars in the sky than normal.” Righty tacks on, and sure enough he’s right. With the light pollution you wouldn’t think to see them.
“They’re not stars, but rather the personal armada that King Ar’uk travels with.”
Wait.
What?
My face must say something along the lines of ‘oh-lord-why-is-this-happening-to-me’ because Lefty swipes to a new screen displaying the restaurant I agreed to meet Eric, Ar’uk.
“We’ve evacuated the immediate area, and the staff have already been briefed. All you need to do is have a good date.” Lefty says. The car slows to a stop and I realize we’re at the restaurant.
Is this man going to blow up the planet if this date tanks?
The stakes have raised so much higher than whether or not I’m going home alone tonight, and I am not ready. Still I step out of the vehicle alone, red bottom heels clacking loudly on the deserted streets. A wide eyed maitre'd greets me at the door, young and understandably just as terrified as I am. It swings open to an empty building, all except one man.
He sits in the back corner, jaw just a strong as it was in the photo. Now that he’s not wearing a hat I can see that his ears are pointed. He looks up as we approach and a broad grin splits his face, bringing attention to his sharp canines. He slides out the booth. Quite literally, because his lower half is entirely serpentine. He winds towards me looming high to keep a majority of his tail off the ground. He lowers himself more to eye level once he reaches me.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He grins, his cheeks dimpling. He brings a hand up to brush his bangs off his forehead in what I think is a nervous gesture. His fingers are tipped in glossy black claws, neatly filed and blunted.
“And I you.” It comes out embarrassingly gusty, and a tad bit longingly. I was off base about this too. He’s definitely a 20.
|
"Hey, do you know anyone with a black Escalade limo?" my roommate casually asked while looking out the window to our house. Well, it was my house, but I rented a room and kitchen use to them to help with bills.
"Oh yeah, that would be... I have no fuckin' clue. Why do you ask?" I was trying to beat this level of some stupid mobile game called Starcrossed and it kept glitching on me.
<knock knock>
I threw my phone across the couch and got up to answer the door. There were three men in military uniforms and a guy in a slick black suit standing on my porch.
"You can't pin that hack last week on me guys. " I said with a smile. "I'm sure you want to talk to Robby here, because I have no idea why any of you would visit me. Robby, it's for you."
The men on the porch looked at each other then walked into my house.
"I guess they aren't vampires!" I heard Robby say as he got a drink from the fridge. "I don't know you guys, why are you here?"
"John Blahs?" the guy in the suit said while pointing at me.
"Pronounced *Blaze*, but okay, why are you here in my living room. I've never served in their branch, nor am I even on inactive reserve.... I think."
"Do you play the game Starcrossed with the user ID of 'HotJuanny6943'?" he read from his phone prompting my roommate to do a spit take with his drink and choke with laughter.
"Well, it being an internet game and you being in the government, I'm sure you already know the answer to that. So. Why are you here? " I glanced at my phone on the couch. I wondered if I just deleted the game, they would leave.
"We were contacted by a representative of a foreign government who wish to meet this HotJuanny6943. Are you secretly 12 years old? Where did you come up with that name? Geeze." The man in black shook his head in amazement and disbelief at the task at hand.
"Look, the user name *NextExit* was taken, okay." I quipped.
Everyone in the room looked at each other in confusion.
"*NextExit*, where everyone wants to get off?" I filled in the blank for them to groans and much shaking of heads. Except my roommate Robby who was giggling over it. "What is going on, please?"
"It turns out that we have had, living among us in extradimensional space, non-terrestrial beings who have been accessing our Internet for quite some time. They have been studying us for years, but lately, they have taken to more, direct communications with regular people like you. And, one of them, *WhichWandaSheGo*, evidently is a friend of yours in this game.
"Wait, Starcrossed is a GAME, it's fake extraterrestrial dating, as an app. It's not a dating app, it's a game, a bit of fun. The pictures are..." I sat down as I realized what was going on and picked up my phone. There she was on my screen, Well, the picture I saw was a little uncanny valleyish... I mean, it is an alien. then I looked at my in game picture which was me, but a filter from Insta or maybe Snap with green skin and curly horns on my head.
"John, they will be here in 3 weeks." The most decorated of the military members stated somberly. " They are going to announce themselves to the world at that time."
"I thought you said they were here already?" I was confused.
"Some are, and they have a direct link between our two planets for communications, but travel takes a little longer. Before you tell me that makes no sense, it doesn't, not with our current understanding of science and physics. However, they are bringing well, a lot of them here."
"A *lot* of them? Is that like 120, or something?" Trying to remember what the mathematical or even retail term 'lot' could signify.
"No, an armada. *WhichWandaSheGo* is... " The man in black started to shake his head at the Oh shit, he's a general...
"Yes! He has to know, else it will get VERY bad for a lot of people, starting with HIM!" The General quipped. "Look, She is like their high princess or something. They have a somewhat, hive mentality. like, Bees or Ants, but really sophisticated in their science, obviously." he paced the room. "I'm not sure what you said to her in the *game*... but, she is very *INTERESTED* in you. They are sending the Armada to make sure nothing bad happens."
"I'm not going to DO anything bad to her! I wonder if I'm going to do anything at all to her, now. Are you saying I could start a war?" My phone dinged and I saw I had a message in Starcrossed. "shit...."
I opened the messages screen of the app.
*"Hello John, I understand that your government is coming to tell you about me. I don't want you to be afraid. You will not be harmed during our revelation of your planet. I will keep you safe with me during the whole process. You will love this new life, I promise. Until we meet. Wanda"*
"She knows you're here. I'm a little concerned by this. Revelation part."
"Well, you know, many members of humanity will have a hard time with alien life making themselves known. Because the authors of religious texts referred to them as gods or angels, who normally started communications with *be not afraid*..."
The General spoke up, "We are going to provide some news releases letting people know that we have been in contact and that they will be revealed within the year. We will inform them of peaceful intent to share knowledge the desire to help us to the next level of scientific knowledge and understanding."
"That's kind of bullshit. Because we are getting assimilated, aren't we?" I asked. "I know what the white man did to every 'lesser' civilization. These people are the whitest men of them all."
"Well, at least they like you. Get your goodbyes said. Not that anything will happen to you, but who knows when you will get to see people you care about again." With that, they left.
I shouldn't have worried like I did. I mean, Wanda as she called herself to me was horrifying to look at while in my human form, but she did keep me safe during my transformation to her mate. As I emerged from the cocoon in my new form, she was the most amazing creature ever. Under her command, I converted those who submitted to the process, millions of them. Others became our food. The internet opened up in a whole new way to me, and eventually, I was able to use it without anything silly like a computer or phone. Life was amazing, just because I found my match on Starcrossed.
|
GigaRox
|
Snowdog1967
|
2023-01-14 00:43:48
|
2023-01-13 22:09:33
| 42 | 16 |
j49475e
|
j48hwiz
|
10avmu2
|
10avmu2
|
[WP] The villain breaks into their usual monologue, but instead of just gloating and explaining their plan, they seem almost manic, trying to explain away their actions, seemingly to themselves as much as you.
|
Kyle opened his eyes and instinctively grabbed the fly that was about to buzz in his ear. Hardly the most deadly thing that would happen to him today, but as the first event the most repeated it was by far the most annoying.
He stood up and quickly walked to the old man leaving the cafe and let him know he left his wallet in the cafe. He'd saunter back inside and realize he hadn't, but Kyle would be gone by then and Melvin would be delayed and not get T-boned in the intersection. Instead, he would die of cancer next year surrounded by his loved ones. He had befriended Melvin through multiple chemo treatments, and this was a nicer way to go.
He started up his car and felt genuinely surprised when the passenger door opened before he could drive off. He smiled at the refreshing twist.
"Most people don't smile when they see me.", she rasped, her voice almost comically rough. It sounded like she smoked a pack an hour. She didn't smell, at least.
"How did you find me already? Are you hungry? Can I at least get a cheeseburger before we do this? I starved for like a week before my last death."
She looked at him and he saw the emerald green eyes he was expecting. He didn't know her, but he knew her archetype. She moved too smoothly, like a character in a movie with the framerate turned too high. They always had green eyes when they took this form.
"You underestimate our scope. We hadn't expected someone to use a temporal reversion in this invasion. We win every time, but you keep making it too expensive, too long. We've been sending echos back until we pinpointed your origin here."
"I didn't even know you were aware.", he replied while backing out. She hadn't taken up his cheeseburger offer, but the Worldenders probably liked cheeseburgers. Who doesn't? He knew they weren't vegetarian. They ate their prey.
"We were careful not to tip our hand or you would have made it harder for us. It's easier to tail someone who doesn't know they're being followed. We edged closer every rebellion you raised."
They drove in silence for a bit, while his mind raced with questions, and tried to figure out which to ask next. As he pulled into the parking lot she broke the silence.
"Where did you get the reverter and anchor? Even in your greatest rallies against us humanity still doesn't have anywhere near that technology."
He looked at her for a moment. He had never had a civil conversation with a Worldender for more than a few moments, he wanted to learn more but didn't think she would give him much opportunity. Where did they come from? Why destroy Earth? Would she want one double-double or two?
He put down his window to order, and then the world went dark. He opened his eyes and didn't grab the fly.
|
"Why are you still in the loop?" Hailey said.
The plain man across from her didn't answer. He stared back silently, a mix of wonder and disbelief on his features. His lips worded silently, but she was no expert lip reader. She watched patiently and sipped at the hot coffee in front of her.
"Why are you still in the loop?" Hailey said again.
She watched him and listened to the little diner around them. Snippets of conversation, the whoosh of a passing car outside, a clank of mugs in a busboy bin, a dog barking in the distance. The longer she watched him and listened she realized what he was doing.
"You've been here so long you like the music of it," she said, listening with him.
The plain man across from her did not look away from her face as he continued to match the surrounding moments with his own movements. His lips moved in tune with the snippets of conversation, as though stealing the words from the air, his fingers thrumbed the table with enthusiasm to the beat of the kitchen, and traffic outside, his face lighting into a grin as she watched his synchronization.
"Why are you still in the loop?" Hailey said again.
The plain man suddenly stopped his strange synchronization dance with the world around him and grew very still, his eyes never wavering from her. The sudden change sent an icy chill through her neck and shoulders. The ancient thing in front of her raised its finger to its lips. The eyes raked over her, absorbing the newness of her.
"Someday," the plain man said, "I will ask you the same question."
|
ZtheScribe
|
shitforwords
|
2024-05-22 02:53:48
|
2024-05-22 02:46:42
| 62 | 35 |
l548aa3
|
l5479ne
|
1cxg5v8
|
1cxg5v8
|
[WP] An angry magician cursed a city, turning all the residents into the first animal they thought of. Not powerful enough, it only lasted for a day, and the people surprisingly had fun. A year later they offered to pay the magician to do it again and to make him the leader of the celebration.
|
Festival of Beasts
Vexason the Powerful wanted to put his head down and cry. The people of Cholerton were calling on him to perform the “Miracle of Beast Day.” Again! What had he started?
It had seemed like the perfect revenge; change all the citizens into animals, and laugh as they destroyed each other. Only, he wasn’t quite “the Powerful” enough. The townsfolk had kept their human intelligence, and it had only lasted one day. Town guards had run as a wolf pack. Wagon drivers had pranced around as horses and donkeys. One opera singer had spent the time as a nightingale, and now used that imagery in all her playbills.
When he’d seen the failure of the beast spell, Vex had collapsed in the City Center Park, too disappointed to leave or cast anything else. Before long, squirrels and bunnies had gathered to cavort around him! An honest-to-the-gods elephant had picked him up, put him on its back, and paraded him around! Not to mention the record numbers of puppies and kittens in the streets. It had been too joyous to allow him to stay angry.
Not to mention, when the people were restored to their human forms at midnight, they’d sent him a message: how can we repay you for this joyous time? How in the world was he supposed to gather power from anger, when they agreed to all his demands? His forests would be off-limits once again. His wall was repaired. The Grand Library had given him a key and his own private study room (they weren’t giving the books back, but he wasn’t about to argue with a coven of librarians).
The year since had seen him honored as a town treasure. He couldn’t go in for a simple trip to the market anymore; he was swamped by people wanting to tell him stories of their time as an animal. Not that it was an inconvenience; he usually was offered delivery service for the goods he needed, at no fee.
All of this meant that Vexason had no more anger toward the city. He wanted to give them another amazing day again. And that was the problem! The spell was one of vengeance. To recreate it, he was going to have to get angry at the city of Cholerton. How was he supposed to do that when he was so content, now? The spell would almost certainly fail without the emotional focus that anger gave him.
The entryway gong sounded. Vex heaved himself out of his chair and stomped down the stairs. He pulled open the door to reveal a slim, mustached and bespectacled man with a scroll.
“Mr Alastaire Blake von Vexason?”
Vex winced at his full name. “Yes, WHAT?”
“I’m here from the tax office. It appears you are two days late–”
Vex slammed the heavy tower door and laughed maniacally. He had his anger again.
|
The angry magician clenched his teeth, and pondered the request of the townsfolk. He agreed, but only if they would follow his specific instructions.
All husbands would stand in front of the magician, and all wives would stand behind him. He brought an enormous two-sided sign, with cloth covering the surfaces.
When the time came, all the townsfolk gathered round, the men in front, and the women behind.
The angry magician grinned, for he already knew what animals they would become. Little did the townsfolk suspect he had a plan.
“Everyone look at the sign, it is very important, and critical to the spell. When I say the magic word, focus only on the sign,” said the angry magician.
“I hope I turn into a giraffe,” said one woman. “I’ve been so tiny my whole life, it would be wonderful to touch the sky.”
“Mhmm,” grunted the magician. “On the count of three you will all turn into the first animal you think of. Now focus on the sign, please. Three… two… one! Abracadabra!”
The cloth on the big sign he was holding fell to the ground, and in one terrorizing moment the townsfolk realized what he’d done.
All of the men were staring at a painting of a cat. All of the women were staring at a painting of a mouse.
A moment later, the town was full of cats chasing mice all over the place. It was utter chaos, and the angry magician was, for once, no longer angry.
He was crying tears of joy.
|
FearlessKnitter12
|
Viridian_Foxx
|
2023-05-09 16:55:25
|
2023-05-09 16:05:31
| 1,011 | 161 |
jjhomtj
|
jjhgxq5
|
13cwenj
|
13cwenj
|
[WP] You awake in a hospital, where you are told that you were in an accident and that you have contracted amnesia because of it. But you do not have amnesia and can remember exactly what happened, and that there was no an accident but something else entirely.
|
My wife hugged me as she cried. I had awakened from a coma of some sort after nearly a day.
“I thought I lost you.” She said so sweetly you thought your taste buds would lose sensation.
“When I found you in that bath tub I feared the worst. I told you should take sleeping pills just before you go to bed.”
She was right. She had told me this before. Of course she didn’t mention she was the one to force them down my throat. I could hardly fight. She got me when I was sleeping.
“You’re right dear.” I tried to say this as nicely as I could but adding the “dear” at the end may have let on too much.
She wiped the tears and dripping mascera from her eyes. “The doctor said that because of the partial drowning your brain may have lost some memories of the past few days can you tell me what you remember?”
She’s trying to get me still. She wants to ensure that she can regroup and try again. I can’t let her know. However, when I went to speak, I remembered I was attached to an EKG. A makeshift lie detector. I had to be smart, give partial answer, things that are true from a certain point of view.
“Well…I remember having dinner with you. The meatloaf. Very good.” I hoped that compliments may put her off balance but I realized she probably didn’t care.
She didn’t say a word. She wanted me to continue. To either crucify her or give her another shot.
“I remember watching some TV. It was the show with the kids in the small town with the psychic girl. I don’t remember much about the episode. I had my nose in my phone.”
The EKG was still cooperating. It was likely my friend in the room right now.
“Then… it all goes black.” The EKG jumped. How quickly friends betray us. Had to fix this.
“Oh wait, I actually remember being in the tub.”
My wife was surprised. “Really? Anything specific?” She asked coyly.
“I remember thinking that then ceilings was so white. Not eggshell or alabaster or cream. It was stock white.”
This was the truth. It was the last thing I remembered. Even when betrayed by the person I loved the most I was still thinking about the dumbest things. I guess the sleeping pills didn’t help in aiding in clear thoughts but still.
She let out a silent but noticeable sigh of relief. “Ok so you didn’t lose that much. Well that’s great. The doctor told me people in similar circumstances, have lost weeks of whole months worth of memories.”
I just nodded. How can I have a conversation with her at this point? She tried to kill me. I don’t even know why. Was there a lover? Did she have a policy on my life? Was she just tired of me?
She got off my hospital bed and walked over to a plastic bag. A vase of flowers. This bitch had the gall to kill me and get me flowers. I calmed myself as I could see my heartbeat pick up.
“I told your friends at the office what happened. Everyone pitched to give you their extra vacation days so you can get better. So don’t worry about work right now. They even got you these flowers.”
She placed them on a side table. I could read the note. “Get well soon-your friends from floor 26”. Did they mean that though? Did they even know me? I thought my wife knew me, and tried to murder me. Can anyone love me?
Before the thoughts grew too large for me handle, a doctor arrived. “Hello ma’am. It would be best for your husband if he got some rest. It’s been a long day.”
My wife nodded. She walked to door but not before turning her neck to me. “See you tomorrow.” She blew me a kiss and walked out.
The doctor examined the machines around me. As she did, she said “You have a good wife. She was here the entire time. She was by your side the entire time.”
I turned to her and couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’ll tell you how good of wife she is.”
|
I awake, screaming.
Looking around, I find myself in a hospital room, completely restrained to the bed, as a white noise machine is playing on the chair next to me.
To my screaming, a nurse comes in with a pitying smile.
"Sir, I called the doctor.
He will be here in a minute.", she says, and looks away from towards the door.
I ask her multiple questions, but she ignores me.
The doctor comes in, with a big folder, and he looks at me gravely.
"Sir, you have been in an accident, do you remember anything?", he asks.
I find no strength to answer him for a long period, and just before I find my voice, he...smiles?
"Ah...yes, seems like the readings were correct, and our suspicions proven right.
You have amnesia sir, we are yet to ascertain how much of your memories it affected.", he said.
"I...
I...
I see...", I stutter in the end, terrified.
Not because of the amnesia, or the "accident", but because I didn't have amnesia, and remembered everything.
The doctor soon left, but the nurse just stood there, watching me.
I pretended to fall asleep, but in the end, I truly fell asleep, probably being too tired.
When I awoke, I didn't open my eyes, just shifted a bit, turning so that my back is to the door...and the nurse, whose shallow breathing I could still hear.
Accident?
There was no accident...a group of people rushed into my home and took me away...wait!
Our home! I had a wife!
No! I can't show anything...I think, the hospital is not a "normal" one....
I was sure I was experimented on...
The nurse after 5 days still sat in my room, having left only once a day...
She barely blinks, and breathes as if programmed to do so...
At the 1 week mark, I was still "extremely weak", and my memories were "nowhere to be found", I even "forgot" where I lived, and what I did.
I was sent "home" with the nurse to take care of me until I was better...
The "home" was not my home, but an apartment complex...
There, as I was accompanied by the nurse for a walk, we passed another eerily similar nurse helping a woman walk...
It was my wife...
It took me strength I didn't even know not to talk to her, after all...
We faced each other, and even nodded in greeting, but she did not recognize me...
They got her too.
I don't know what was going on, but I will play along for now, hoping that once I am free, I can save my wife, before it is too late...
|
Harmatsis
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-06-29 17:28:40
|
2024-06-29 17:02:37
| 84 | 20 |
lauz9q3
|
lauuvnf
|
1drfhy0
|
1drfhy0
|
[WP] 10,000 players are disappointed to find out that the first VRMMORPG doesn’t trap them inside until they clear it, nor does it transport them to another world.
|
I don't know how they found out about my work. But find out, they did.
The Sterling engine - an ingenious mechanical device that only needs a heat differential to operate. Three simple runic spells - one for heat, one for cold, and one to isolate it from outside thermal influence. A little fine-tuning, and I had a practical, near-perpetual motion machine.
When the archmages showed up in my workshop, they demanded to see my work. When I presented them with the device, they confiscated it. They told me - point blank - that I never created the device, that I never even concieved of such a thing. To drive the point home, they opened scrying circles, and showed me live views of every member of my family.
They watched, as every scrap of paper with anything about the device written on it was shredded, soaked in lighter fluid, and burnt to ash. They watched, as those ashes were the flushed down the toilet.
They then left with my device.
I don't know how they found out about my work. Or, at least, that's what I let them believe.
Those who follow the path through the forest, pay no heed to the tracks in the desert. It was obvious that I was trying to hide *something* when I was working on the runic spells for the Sterling engine. That's the nice thing about runes - they collect their own mana from the environment, so even those of us without the gene factor necessary to use magic, can still use runes. To learn how to use runes, I had to write out runic spells - that's how the archmages knew, magic was being used by a non-mage.
The virus was crafted using entirely non-magical means. A highly contagious time bomb - it will reproduce to the point of being transmissable within hours of initial infection, but won't start attacking the gene factor necessary to use magic until the last two weeks of its five-week life cycle.
Of course, the virus will do nothing to those without the gene factor. We - myself and my family - can be carriers of the virus; we're just immune to the adverse effects. Too bad the archmages can't say the same about themselves, or their families... their friends... their acquaintances...
|
"I'm sorry, you did what?"
"So I micro etched the runes and attached the gems onto the inside of this spherical part, which is a combination of hundreds of magic circles, 8 of which channel that mana, then the center one which takes in the power of the 8 other circles and channels it into the center firing crystal, which is mounted on this part here, and when you pull the trigger, it slots the final crystal into place, which because it is JUST long enough to touch the center orb which is engraved with the spell itself, it rapidly dumps upwards of 500 casters worth of magic into the spell and directs it out of this end here, achieving a spell cast in mere seconds what it would take an entire army of engravers and gemologists and channelers an entire year to perform- Hey, what are you doing with my prototype? LET GO OF ME."
|
Zestyclose_Bed4202
|
Zero_Burn
|
2024-09-11 20:57:09
|
2024-09-11 19:48:20
| 201 | 79 |
lmnyxa7
|
lmnlwqo
|
1fehypy
|
1fehypy
|
[WP] in exchange for power you agreed to give the fae queen your name. Due to the vague wording of the deal you managed to get her into a marriage contract, which would give her the right to use your last name as her own. Now you have both magic and a 10/10 wife.
|
The Fae Queen thought it was so easy. His name for a fragment of her power. The usual deal. Another addition to her army of human slaves and servants. And this man wasn't some annoying, long-winded lawyer trying to talk his way into having his cake and eat it.
Yet he nailed her in a marriage contract. It wasn't pages and pages of legal jargon. Just a deceptively simple contract of a single page. All she had was his last name, which she could use as her own. Without a full name, a true name, she couldn't quite have him under full mind control, at her beck and call.
Far from upset she let her guard down, she was...oddly impressed. A man who had found a way into her heart without surrendering his true name, or buttering her up the way those slimy lawyer types did. These feelings, did they truly belong to her, or were they warped by the contract?
She shoved aside that niggling feeling, swallowing in her throat as she heated the frying pan and cracked two eggs over for breakfast. Mr. Anderson loved scrambled eggs in the morning. As the newly minted Mrs. Anderson, it was up to her to ensure he had a great start to his day.
"Good morning, honey," Mr. Anderson smiled as he floated down the stairs in a swirl of sparkling magic. "Is breakfast ready?"
"Always, my dear," she flew up to him to deliver a gentle kiss on his rosy lips. "Have a good day at work."
Work? What does he work as, she doesn't know. With so much magic at his fingertips, he didn't have to. Her powers would let him have most of Faerieland under his command. But he liked his human life too much to quit his job.
She couldn't be mad. Why begrudge a man who seemed to have taken his job as a second wife? Because she's still first wife. And queen, as much as she is the Queen of the Fae. He evolved to be the love of her life and the main recipient of her magic. Even though this new domestic life outside of her usual duties as Fae Queen felt somewhat beneath her regal stature in the beginning, she settled into it well. A little too well for an increasingly homely fae wife.
**
--
Jon Anderson was worried the Fae Queen would find some loophole to wriggle out of his counteroffer and contract. Wouldn't that be what the fae specialised in as a species? It was to a sickly-sweet blend of confusion and joy that she traded her name for the right to use his last name in marriage. No longer was she Esperadea, she was just Mrs. Anderson. Not to mention the abundant topping of his cake - all the Fae under her command also went with the name change and now addressed their queen as Mrs. Anderson.
King Jon seemed too plain, but he wasn't one for ostentatious titles.
"Jon will do," he told the fae gathered in the elaborate royal wedding.
"All hail Jon, newly wedded to our queen Mrs. Anderson. May your marriage be long and everlasting."
So of course, one of the first things he did with the magic she granted him was to stop aging. If his marriage was to be long and everlasting, so did he. After briefly entertaining the thought of Fae domination, he decided instead to order her to release all the humans she had tricked into servitude and to be granted what they needed to go back their life before fae-induced slavery. Next was needing to ensure she wouldn't attempt to break out of this marriage, nor would the other fae.
She had to be happy with this marriage. Like all the time, alongside every fae who had the power to oppose him.
"Nobody is to disrupt my marriage and happy wedded life to Mrs. Anderson."
So nobody did. Not even the eldritch patron god and advisor lurking in the corner of his house, sipping his tea.
----
[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
|
Dr. Schwartzbaum--whom you've long suspected of being some kind of mage or archdruid--looks up from his notepad. "Rebecca tells me you enjoy responding to writing prompts?" he says.
Not an archdruid. More of a cleric, judging by his sweater vest. "The fae queen tells no lies," you reply.
Your betrothed groans. "There he goes again!" she cries. She turns your way, her eldritch wrath apparent. "Brian, what the fuck is a 'fae queen?' Why do you keep calling me that?"
The cleric--oh wise one indeed!--quiets her with a wave of his hand. "Now Rebecca, it's your husband's turn to speak. Brian, if you please, tell us your side of the story."
"Very well," you say. "In exchange for power I agreed to give the fae queen my name. Due to the vague wording of the deal I managed to get her into a marriage contract, which would give her the right to use my last name as her own. Now I have both magic and a 10/10 wife."
The one you once called Rebecca throws her hands up in queenly frustration. "That doesn't make any sense!" she says. "Brian, what the hell are you talking about?"
Another hand wave from the cleric. "Brian," he says gently, wisely, "Rebecca has expressed some concern that your--dedication, shall we say--to these writing prompts may be affecting your ability to be present in the relationship. How much time would you say you spend completing these writing exercises?"
She interrupts. "Good question!" she cries. "Tell him, Brian. Tell him how you missed Little Brian's soccer game so you could write that story about the dwarf with a yeast infection. Tell him about how, when our son asked why you didn't pick him up from school last Friday, you made him read your five-part comment about the castle with legs that ran around shooting hot oil at people!"
The queen is clearly displeased with your labors.
She covers her face with her hands. "Those damned writing prompts are ruining our marriage," she says. "It's like he doesn't even know who he is anymore."
You put a hand on her thigh. Fortunately, you're able to recall the Sacred Incantation of Relationship Healing. "I'll work on myself," you intone. "You're my rock, baby."
After a moment, she meets your eye. "No more writing prompts?"
"No more writing prompts."
You embrace--but little does she know that behind her back you've deployed the Sacred Crossing of the Fingers.
[jaywilcoxwriter.net](https://www.jaywilcoxwriter.net/)
[my subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/JWORX_531/?rdt=57483)
|
Tregonial
|
JWORX_531
|
2024-07-31 02:53:11
|
2024-07-31 02:51:28
| 189 | 41 |
lfr85wg
|
lfr7wvy
|
1eg6x9i
|
1eg6x9i
|
[WP] You've found the answer to Fermi's Paradox of "There must be more advanced civilizations than us, so why haven't they contacted us", turns out there's a "Great Filter" that destroys over 90% of civilizations before they can journey to the stars, on Earth, we call that filter "The Internet".
|
Dr. Negris settled into her chair with a sigh, preparing for another long night at the Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory at Caltech. Computer fans whirled in the background, ready to process any information the GEO600 detector might pick up. They mostly just spun, processing either nothing or just random noise.
Some time past 2am, an LED on a nearby machine and the sudden, louder hum of the computers in the background alerted her that something had been detected. Usually, it wasn’t much of anything, but on longer nights like these, anything was worth checking, if only to pass the time.
Slowly, Dr. Negris worked down her list of checks to perform against the incoming signal. Most of the tests failed and Dr. Negris was ready to chalk it up to just more random noise the detector had picked up. Then, curiously, the pattern recognition routine flagged something down. She perked up; that particular routine never succeeded on anything. Out of curiosity, she started to run programs to try and diagnose exactly what that pattern meant.
Gravitational waves, nothing.
Light waves, nothing.
Encoded signals, ……
The machine crashed. In a panic, Dr. Negris rushed to power the computer back on hopeful that she could resume her analysis. However, on boot, she found that both her analysis and the incoming signal from the detector had been corrupted. So, much for the top of the line, she figured. Anyways, it was probably nothing anyways.
Then, several hours later, the signal came again. Ready this time, she continued her analysis from where she left off.
Encoded signal, match for language.
Suddenly all the accumulated fatigue of the long night spent waiting in the observatory disappeared. If there was language, there had to be a message. And, if there was a message, she had to know what it was. A few minutes later, and the following words rendered on her screen.
BEWARE, THE GREAT PACIFIER.
IT HAS DOOMED US AND WILL DOOM ALL WHO INTERACT WITH IT.
The computer fans slowed now, and the Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory was quiet once again. Dr. Negris didn’t notice her ears ringing from the impact of the discovery she had just made. Quickly she pulled up the observatory’s internal Slack channel to let her co-workers know about her unbelievable night’s work.
|
“So, what’s it say?” Carla asked.
“One second, google is loading. Hmm… seems like we need to somehow split a nucleus.” Thomas squinted at the screen.
“No, I know that. Like I get theoretically how an atomic bomb works. I’m asking how I’m supposed to put together this uranium, plutonium, and lithium deuteride.” Carla looked over Thomas’ shoulder.
“Sorry, super slow computer. Look at this picture, so… we need to get them into a kind of cone shape. But, how does the nucleus actually split in half?” Thomas asked.
“Ugh, move.” Carla shouldered Thomas out of the way. “Look, here, step by step guide. Walk me through this, starting here: deuteronium boost gas.”
A significant time later, Carla held a shoddily built tube, containing a myriad of illicit and expensive chemicals.
“Now what?” Thomas asked.
“Wanna hide it at school? We’d get a few days off when they notice it, surely.” Carla pitched.
“Radical, great idea!” Thomas agreed. “Come on, let’s go find a good spot!”
—-
“Alright, class, please turn to page three-hundred and nine-“
The earth rumbled as a wave of sound, heat, and blinding light erupted.
|
WordsAllTheWayDown
|
None
|
2023-05-02 20:33:36
|
2023-05-02 19:57:33
| 90 | 38 |
jilytu0
|
jiltexb
|
135xp0y
|
135xp0y
|
[WP] You are a great warrior that heroically fell in defence of your city. As a reward the gods resurrected you to be the its eternal defender. Now, centuries later, your city has been abandoned and is nothing more than rubble, but your mission remains. You will defend these ruins with your life.
|
"The ancient city of Zarret was discovered in 1923 by explorers after hearing about the stories of 'America's Atlantis'. Believe to be one of the biggest cities in North America in pre-Columbian times, the city held almost 2 million people at it's prime, which back then, was a lot of people," I said to the group as they looked at the now restoredish city. Zarret is still a crumbling mess, but we did our best.
I led the tour group around the remains of the city, making sure they remain as respectful and diligent as we walked.
"There's a legend about this old city," I began as we walked down the "main road", "of a warrior that protected this city, saved the lives of his people, even his queen. Legend states that the gods made him protector of this city, and some say he still protects this city, even years after the people left."
"The Zarret Warrior!" a boy exclaimed.
"That's right. If you keep your eyes peeled, you might see him," I said.
The adults just chuckled, while the kids in the group look around, probably in hopes to find this mystery warrior.
After the tour ended and the group left, I joined the other tour guides and few archeologists at the mess hall near the outskirts of Zarret.
"Do you always have to tell people about that stupid legend?" Troy, an archeologist, mumbled as he drank his coffee.
"It's a fun story to tell," I said, getting myself a cup, "since it's true."
"An immortal man from early 1300s running around modern day America? If he's true, then he would certainly be history's greatest treasure," Troy said.
"How so?" I asked.
"I'm sure he has stories to tell, history. He could even tell us why Zarret was abandoned."
"Plague, famine, the usual," I said, "The Great Plague of 1503, that was the biggest killer, after the Harsh Famine of 1501. Threw the city into chaos."
Troy looked at me with fascination and confusion.
"Lisa was telling me about it," I added quickly, drinking my coffee.
"Lisa is off this week," Troy scowled.
"Lisa J. Not Lisa R."
"Okay," Troy said, still suspicious.
I really need to be careful on what I say around Troy now. Last thing I need is for him to discover I'm the Zarret Warrior, and I've been using the archeologists to restore my old home. It's nice to have people walking in it's old streets again. Hear the laughter of children, the chatter of citizens. I know this won't bring my people back, but at least I get to see my city alive once more, even if it is during tourist season.
|
I have long since refurbished a small building and a fenced area around it, and keep it maintained as a comfortable home and practice yard. I try to maintain the heart of the city as best I can; but I am a warrior, not an engineer, and there are simply some things that are beyond my expertise.
The city remains abandoned, a crumbling ruin to past glories, almost in spite of my efforts. There are legends of the city out in the wider world: I know this because, every few years, adventurers come, a variation from the wandering tribes of barbarians and savage goblinoids that I usually have to drive away. The adventurers, I can talk to...and I do. I tell them of how the city was and how it fell and was abandoned, typically over a bowl of hearty soup. And I ask news of the greater world.
I am a ghost. A legend. The wraith that haunts the ruins; but a few learn that there is no wraith, just a man who fell and was honored by the gods, and how that honor has turned into chains.
A few return. The scholars and sages, wizards and sorcerers. The bards. I let them transcribe notes from the ancient books in the library, as long as they don't take anything they did not bring.
|
Lexi_Ballard
|
Beautiful_Business10
|
2023-06-07 16:41:39
|
2023-06-07 14:47:44
| 214 | 55 |
jn9x83l
|
jn9f1ot
|
143eiid
|
143eiid
|
[WP] You have the power to place really small, permanent curses on people. Things like never winning bingo or having them suddenly dislike a food they use to love. One day, someone nearly kills you cutting you off in traffic, and you curse them. Little do you know, you just ruined their life.
|
I hook the man to the machine for his first ever hemodialysis session. The catheter was visibly uncomfortable, but he'll have to get used to it eventually, it's not like he has any other choice after his recent kidney failure. Hypertension. Unsurprising, since just by seeing him I can deduce the type of lifestyle choices that have led him to our clinic in the first place. Bulky man over 50, with a scraggly beard and a Budweiser trucker hat on his head, flannel shirt and denim jeans, smelling a bit of sour beer and sweat. I could bet his heart and liver aren't having a great time either. Eh, not my job to be judgemental in any case, I'm not his doctor, just a technician. Can't complain, it pays the bills.
I double-check his catheter straps, adjust the settings on the control panel and ask him to relax and try to get comfortable, as he'll be here hooked to the device for 5 hours while his entire blood supply is recirculated into it several times for filtering and detoxifying. He'll need a surgical graft soon to have cleaner access to his artery.
The burly man loks like he's lost in his own thoughts and doesn't seem to listen when I tell him to push the bell button if he needs assistance or a drink while he's here. A bit shocked maybe, and definitely considering the long term implications of this new condition. How long will the insurance cover the costs? Will he have to sell his house and move in with his son? How will this affect his work?
Nah. Don't get involved. It's not my job to empathize and internalize whatever baggage I imagine these people have and I don't really know their stories. I go about the rounds checking on the other patients, and I get lost in the routine for a while. Scribble down timers and levels, adjust dials, unhook an elderly man from a machine and send him home. Nice guy, that one, always cheery and polite. A bell rings, and I go check out who is it that needs assistance.
The man in the red flannel needs a phone charger from his truck and asks if I can get it for him. Yeah, why not? I take the keys from his calloused hand and walk out to the parking lot and I see it. The big red lifted 1985 Ford F-150 with oversized mud tires. I go around the back and it's there. The "How am I driving? Call 1-800-FUCK OFF" sticker that almost smashed through my windshield after this very truck brake checked me on the freeway six months ago.
I tried not to, but I couldn't help but curse him. I don't like when it happens, but I couldn't help it. Yes, he may have deserved it and they're mostly minor inconveniences that get granted upon the recipient, but it does make me feel crappy that it happens. It's in the old blood, my grandma used to say, but she never taught me how to rein it in. That day I screeched to a halt just inches away from a potentially life threatening crash, and dazed, I could only watch as a big tattoed arm came out the window giving me the finger.
"May you forever oversalt your food!" I screamed.
|
Growing up, most people umagine they can do strange things; one of my friends claimed he could control the weather, another claimed he had his mother in thrall. A kid came out of starwars imagining he was a Jedi, and then there were 5ge 'wizards'.
If only they knew what a curse these 'gifts' were.
Then it hit me: i could give them a taste of what it was like!
The kid who wanted to control the weather was in a boat with me; i saw him looking at some grey clouds and i thought, yea this will be fun.
I whispered 'i hope you get your wish' and in 15 minutes we went from a calm sea to a decent chop, and rain coming fast. He was having fun...but then i saw panic in his eyes- he couldnt let go. Sigh. I breathed 'not all of us can tame the wind', and the sky calmed again.
But I wasnt done- this was fun.
I loved pranking people- kids mostly- who briefly hoped they could do something more than their limits, and showing them what it felt like; in short, they thought they had my 'gift'. The jedis could levitate until they were afraid of not feeling the earth, the wizards wands worked until they broke them from fearing their powers, the musicians who thought theyd 'sold their souls'- well, i left them tortured (their talents were real; they just needed motivation).
One day however, i tasted how my gift was actually a curse all along. A delivery cyclist cut me off on the crosswalk, and i yelled "i hope you get hit by a truck!" Startled, the kid looked back and i swear he was going to raise his finger, but he never got the chance. Just then, a truck crossed over the centre line, making a sharp left directly in his path. I dont think the kid will walk again
Now, im wondering if someone might have been playing me, the same way i played with others...
|
xtrplpqtl
|
Altruistic-Quote-985
|
2024-09-27 20:58:05
|
2024-09-27 20:29:43
| 39 | 12 |
lp8tv6s
|
lp8os6m
|
1fqb6pb
|
1fqb6pb
|
[WP] Your job description: 1) Sit in an empty room with a red button for 8 hours a day. 2) NEVER press the red button, no matter what happens. 3) Do not talk to anyone about the job. After many uneventful years, your phone rings and a stern, slightly panicked voice says: „Press the button. NOW!!“
|
"You got it!"
*click*
Nothing happened.
"Aww well." I sighed "Guess I'm fired now huh?"
"Wait you actually pushed the button?" The distorted voice on the other side of the line asked "You broke the ONE rule we told you not to break?"
"Yeah pretty much..." I paused and continued. In for a penny. "Well no. I broke all the other rules too. I dont sit in front of the button all day either. Its bad for your health. I stand up and walk around to stretch my legs sometimes.".
"Well the sitting part is just a figure of speech. We wouldnt have fired you for that.
"Well good because I was ready to report you to OSHA if you did. But thats not all. I talk about the job all the time. Made a post on r/writingprompts last month to gauge how people would feel about it. Most people leant towards not pushing it so I kinda explored all those possibilities in my imaginaton. Not enough pushing it responses though, so here I am to sate my curiostiy."
I paused for a reaction. Nothing. So I continued to ramble as was my nature.
"I'm surprised I havent been fired already. I figured a mysterious employer that could afford to pay me a generous wage for doing nothing would have a much more extensive surveilance network. I'll be disapointed if I find out I've been keeping my choices in porn tame all these years for no reason."
"I dont understand. Why are you being so honest?" Asked the voice on the other end of the line "Why did you push the button? Why after all these years of discipline you crack immediately with no resistance?"
"Well I'm not very good at lying. If im going to be fired anyway I might as well lay it all out. As for the button, the boredom for one. I got a good amount of savings so that should hold me until I find another job. But i figured the day would come that I be tested. And either they would be looking for obedient drones or something else. I know myself. I could never thrive in a position where I had to obey orders and do nothing else. So I decided to stay true to who I am. I have no way to gauge what criteria you are trying to measure so one answer was as good as any button pushing-wise."
"Werent you worried it might launch a nuke and kill millions or open a portal to hell or something?" queried the voice.
"Yea or it might release a cure for the common cold into the atmosphere and disarm all nuclear weapons. What can I say? I'm a gambler. And a bad one."
After a pause the voice responded "One moment please." Followed by silence.
A minute passed I decided to push the button a few more times in case this was part of the test.
TBC?
|
I sat there, as I had been doing for 8 hours a day for as long as I can remember.
The button. It was ominous, and glowed a bright red.
Through these days, I wondered.
What did it do?
Launch nuclear missiles?
Open a door to another universe?
Nothing?
...
I didn't know. Nor did I want to find out.
My superiors spent what felt like hours telling me how important it was to not press the button.
I wasn't about to disobey that.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes. I pause for a moment, and answer the call.
"Hello?" I said.
Then I heard a voice, panickly asking me a question.
"PRESS THE BUTTON. NOW."
"Excuse me?"
"I SAID, PRESS THE BUTTON!"
"S-Sir, I-"
"You have NO time left. No more screwups. PRESS. THE BUTTON."
I looked to the button.
"Sir, how do you kno-"
"I am telling you. Stop wasting time and press. The godamn. Button."
"Sir, wh-why should I do that, sir?"
"*Everything* depends on it. Your LIFE depends on your ability to press it."
This stranger was starting to get on my nerves. I got up from my chair and paced around the room.
"Sir, I'm gonna n-need you to-"
"No, Johnathan! The job was to PRESS THE BUTTON!"
My name wasn't Johnathan.
"That is *not* my job, nor is that my name! Is it possible you have a wrong num-?"
Then I realised.
The call wasn't meant for me.
The "job" wasn't *my* job.
The door was open.
Someone had broke through, and pressed the button.
|
WantDiscussion
|
BlueBorbo
|
2023-01-03 05:18:15
|
2023-01-03 03:20:37
| 24 | 16 |
j2qes97
|
j2q09kt
|
101bwam
|
101bwam
|
[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."
|
No.
All of the thoughts in my head, all of the feelings in my heart, and all of the scars along my body coalesce into one definitive word as I stood back and saw Brandon lower his gun.
“If I kill you,” the moron continued, although my blood was pounding too hard to fully hear, “I’ll be just like you. No, you need to face the full might of the judicial system and face punishment for your crimes.
That was a joke. It had to be, nothing else made any sense. Blood was dripping off of both our hands, both metaphorically and quite literally. My eye twitched as my hands began to shake, and I slowly lowered them to the only weapon I had yet to throw or run out of ammo for: my old derringer, passed down from father to son for generations.
“Y-You’re letting me live?” Even Duke Rogers seemed surprised at Brandon’s change of heart. Not shocking, considering the list of atrocities he had committed was longer than the damn Bible.
“T-T-Thank you so much!” The scumbag stammered out, still knelt at the feet of Brandon. “I’ll change my ways, I promise! You’ll only ever hear the people singing my praises from now on!”
No.
*Not a fucking chance.*
**BANG**
The report of my derringer sounded out in the lavishly decorated room, fine artwork and gold-inlayed mahogany everywhere. There was silence for a brief moment, then the thud of Duke Rogers’ body leaning onto the ground, an eighth hole freshly made in his head.
Brandon stumbled back.
“What the fuck?!” He shouted, raising his pistol and pointing it at me.
“Why the hell did you do that?!” His face was red, eyes wide.
It shocked me at that moment just how little I cared. All the suffering I’d undergone, all the people murdered in the name of greed, all of the families torn apart to fuel the war machine. It all turned into sheer, unadulterated bliss as I stared at the corpse of the man who orchestrated it all. My mouth twisted into a smirk, then a smile, then a full blown rictus grin as a chuckle bubbled out of my throat.
My gun fell to the ground as both my hands raised to my face, held to the side of my head as my chuckling turned to howling laughter.
“I said why the fuck did you do that Sam!” Brandon yelled again, pistol shaking as he clenched it harder.
I turned to face him, trying to force my laughter to stop so that I could talk. But it was like trying to stop a volcano mid-eruption, and I just stood there, staring face to face with the coward. Both of our eyes were wide, his in rage and mine in euphoria.
Finally, I forced out one sentence through the echoing howls of my laughter:
“*I won.*”
|
I watched, drenched in sweat and blood, as my best friend lowered his sword. Corpses littered the ground at my feet, both friend and foe, and my arms felt like lead. My shield was splinters, my sword bent and dull. We had made it mere meters into the palace, but it seemed like we'd won the fight.
"I can't do it." Aelle whispered. The wounded man at his feet chuckled, blood running from his nose and into his mouth. The Boar General. After a year of fighting, their rebellion had succeeded in smashing his army and killing their ruthless leader. At least, that was the original plan.
"What do you mean?" I demanded, stumbling towards my friend. Aelle motioned for me to stay back.
"Yorig, my brother. If we kill him, helpless as he is, we are no better than he." He said sadly. "I cannot strike him down. We must go."
I looked at Aelle like he was crazy. I dropped my sword and shield, walking towards my best friend. He looked back at me with alarm, watching as my offhand snatched the dagger from my belt. I lunged forward, knocking Aelle back and sinking my blade into the Boar General's chest. I left the knife in him, and he slumped to the side, dying noisily.
Aelle looked at me with a mixture of fear and revulsion. He shook his head and turned away, trudging over the bodies of the fallen and out the palace door. I scowled.
"Coward."
|
Round-Ad-692
|
woahitsegg
|
2024-03-09 06:20:54
|
2024-03-08 17:01:32
| 25 | 14 |
ku1ap5p
|
ktxupaf
|
1b9dtij
|
1b9dtij
|
[WP] They said that you could never save the kingdom, that you would fail and die miserably, because you were not the prophesized hero. And when you returned after saving the realm on your own, instead of welcoming you as a hero the king banished you, as it was not your place to save them.
|
When I first set out on the journey I chose, I was surrounded by naysayers.
They told me it was futile...
They told me I had no hope, no chance of success against the Night Burner...
They all said that I would fail, that I would die a miserable death, alone, surrounded by no ally, no friend, only the bodies of those I had slain. And those I had failed to defeat.
But I chose to ignore their words. This kingdom was my home, damnit. I was born here, raised here. It was my everything. I might not have lived a luxurious life amongst the merchants of the capital, but the little farm I grew up on was fine as far as I was concerned.
I would do anything to protect my family, my home. That was why I chose to fight the Night Burner when the stories of his cruelty reached our borders.
They said I was not the one mentioned in the Divine Testament, the Light Bringer. And because of the vague ramblings written in an ancient document of dubious authenticity, I could not do anything against the Night Burner.
I chose not to listen to the Testament. I chose to put the lives of those who I loved above the possibility that a hero might just manifest themselves.
Nobody believed in me. They just told me to give up on my false quest. None of them understood. The legions of the Night Burner were almost at the kingdom's border. They were close enough to see their various cooking fires. And yet nobody did anything. Not the guards of the border, nor the knights and legions of the garrisons... not even the king thought to send an army against the Night Burner. Maybe they wouldn't have succeeded, maybe it was a futile gesture, but at least it could buy us time, time to think of something aside from having faith in a laughable story of some hero from another world. But I didn't stop.
I didn't stop at the village border, when the guards I'd known for years warned me of the danger out there.
I didn't stop once when I travelled the roads, coming across travellers who at best laughed at my goals, and at worst tried to restrain me, forcing me to do the one thing I didn't want to do.
I didn't stop at the border either. Faced with the encroaching hordes of the Night Burner, I did not turn away. I wasn't a coward. I ignored the few guards there, who said I could not possibly win against the Night Burner.
And went on, to my destiny that I had chosen for myself.
I was brave! I never stopped fighting, not when the first few scouts tried to ambush me, not when I was held down by archers hidden in the trees. I stood fast by my decision. And I took the opportunity I saw.
When I saw the Night Burner himself, standing at the head of his main force, seeing the mortal who was foolish enough to try and stand against him, I did not turn and run, like those mentioned in the stories that had reached us. I held my blade firm, and faced the enemy of the world.
I don't know for certain why he chose to face me in single combat. Maybe it was hubris. The belief that he was invulnerable, and couldn't be slain by any man or woman. Maybe he was infuriated at this fool who had tried to interrupt his glorious conquest of the world. Perhaps he wanted to humour me for a moment, before slaying me as a demonstration of those who opposed him. But I found myself facing the Night Burner, the servant of Lord Thandrian, alone, with no help coming.
There are stories in this world concerning heroes that had fought dark lords alone, and had succeeded against all the odds. Heroes that had fought off countless legions, waded through blood waist high, and could still succeed in the fight despite their exhaustion.
My fight with the Night Burner was not one of those fights.
I wasn't a fighter by trade, I had been a farmer for most of my life. But that didn't stop me from trying to stop the coming darkness. But, as I said, I wasn't a fighter by trade.
It was a matter of minutes before I'd been disarmed and hacked at several times by the Night Burner. I lay there, in the mud, bleeding slowly, whilst the Night Burner turned to face his troops, to make some kind of boast about his victory. That was his mistake.
His fanatical legions were enraptured by his speech, and their attention had been drawn away from me. Not that they would have cared. After all, I'd been cut down, defeated. What was the worst I could do?
It took all my strength, but I was able to grip my sword, stagger to my feet, and lurch forward and spear the Night Burner while his back was turned.
A fluke. The defeat of the Night Burner was a fluke.
The legions of the Night Burner, to my surprise, didn't try to kill me when I lurched out of their camp. They were too struck with shock to say anything, or do anything. I think that's why they just disbanded, left their dark crusade behind.
I didn't know what to expect upon my return. Maybe a feast and parade in my honour. Maybe a quiet acceptance of my abilities. Not exile, banishment and denouncement.
They told me that I was a heretic. A usurper of the truth. The king himself told me it was not my place to save the kingdom, that that honour was reserved for the prophesised Light Bringer alone, and no other.
They said that I had derailed all of time by my actions. That my transgressions could not go unpunished.
Not even my own family held any mercy for me. My own father said that I could not be forgiven. They gave me a choice. Death, or exile.
I chose exile. At least this way, I can travel the world, to find a place to call my true home.
One that will truly see me as the hero.
|
"Ingrates!"
I shouted as a web of purple and black chains rose around me. The King stood from his throne, staring down at me with a cold gaze. His Orb of Judgement glowed with that same colour, keeping me in place. "You have gone against the strings of fate. Your actions have denied a child their destiny. Such transgressions are forbidden, and have only one punishment. You, Holez of the Minab Tribe, are banished. You have no home here, no family, no possessions. In this land, you are outlawed. No protection shall be granted to you, nor mercy should you return."
I seethed in rage, hatred filling me. I had saved thousands of lives. I had kept them wealthy, and sacrificed so much of my life to help. Yet the King saw fit to punish instead of thank. I felt the power within me spike, as the chains snapped taut. In a flash his throne room vanished, replaced by a frozen peak.
I knew where I was instantly. The top of Iragos, a lonely mountain standing far to the north of the kingdom. I had spent some time at its base, but the peak was off limits. The reasoning for that was clear, as I looked around.
Dozens of bodies lay around me. Most were curled up, once trying to stay warm. Others had their preserved faces looking to the sky, mouth open and gasping. Thin air was hard to breath, but I could manage. Even these low temperatures weren't enough to stop me.
I screamed at the sky, releasing a pent up wave of magic. The air buffeted around me, as a spray of icicles condensed from the wild mana. As my cry petered out, I looked to the horizon, were the kingdom ended. To them I hissed, clenching my fists. "You were not worthy of being saved. You are not worthy of life. You are not WORTHY!"
I could hear a dark chuckle in response. The Inquisitor of Sin whispered to me, from his prison below a hundred holy seals. "I told you, didn't I? They would not trust you. They would cast you aside."
I slowly blinked, turning my gaze to the west. From here I could see the shining light of Eruther, where the Gods left the world. A place of divine power, the heart of all religions. "You did."
He laughed again. "So you respond to me again? How delightful."
My heart wavered at what to do. Then it stilled, remembering how I had been treated. My name would be dragged through waste amongst the masses. I wouldn't be respected, but instead hated. With that, what little doubt I had died, as I faced towards its prison. "Does your deal still stand?"
For a moment there was nothing but silence. Even the air seemed to hold its breath, before the dark voice spoke again. "It does. It always does."
Then I grinned, though mirth was far from me. "Then I accept. Your strength, in return for breaking your seals."
His laugh was booming, a scroll of skin appearing before me. "Wonderful. Truly wonderful. The deal is made. For each seal broken, your might will grow. Take the scroll, and learn the first power."
It was warm against my fingers, as I unravelled it. The words filled my head, understanding instantly. They were cruel in nature, an affront to most. He spoke to me again, a smile still evident in his tone. "Rising of the Damned. The prefect thing for you right now. Though tell me, how will you unseal me?"
I pulled out a chain from my neck, looking at its end. An amulet sat there, a ring of branches surrounding a diamond. "I studied the seals as you know. Their key is complex, and abhorrent to most. A member of the order must willingly sacrifice thirteen innocent lives on each, whilst reciting each one's specific phrase. In addition, each seal will require an artifact from one of a hundred different sacred places. A piece of bark, a saints bone, a freshly slain deer. That sort of thing."
I sneered at the amulet, tucking it away. "Unfortunately for the King, I am a member of that order. And I am more than willing to sacrifice."
My vision wandered to the bodies, and I smirked. His power was indeed perfect. I reached out, and the unburied answered in kind. Their souls were broken, easy to sway under my new ability. The frozen banished twisted and cracked, rising under infernal command.
His voice came once more, firmer now our pact was made. "How cruel of you. Go then, Speaker of the Defiled Legion. Bring terror and chaos to those who stand against you. And free me."
|
Sad_Sell_57
|
Shalidar13
|
2023-12-30 20:43:09
|
2023-12-30 19:30:51
| 349 | 152 |
kflpih9
|
kfldsfn
|
18uju5p
|
18uju5p
|
[WP] You are an immortal, having to deal with the rather troublesome rumour that your blood grants immortal life. However, what those after your blood don't know is that since you can't die, you are an excellent host to several deadly bacteria and viruses-all existing peacefully in your blood.
|
Waking up blindfolded and tied to a chair would be a jarring experience for most normal people. But I was anything but normal. In fact, this was not the first, second… hell, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve woken up tied to a chair.
In fact, of all the times I’ve been kidnapped and tied up, this was probably one of my better experiences. At least they hadn’t strung me up like some prized meat to display.
My only real complaint was that the floor was damp and I could feel it through my socks, which made my leg feel slimy. Not a good feeling.
With a harsh tug, the blindfold was stripped off my face and my eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness all around me. I could make out a few bodies as they shuffled in place, but they were cloaked in darkness and made it hard to figure out how many persons had surrounded me.
“Welcome to our humble abode, time walker,” a voice spoke. “It has been quite a while since we’ve had our eyes on you.”
So it was another cult, that was a plus. At least it wasn’t some secret government agency. That would have made my escape far more difficult.
I shifted in my chair.
“So what’s your cult’s name this time around?” I asked
“We are not a cult,” another voice hissed back in anger. “We are a brotherhood, a lineage so great and so vast that has existed for centuries. We are the architects of modern society, hidden in the shadows that besiege the nights.”
Yep, definitely a cult.
“You, time walker, are the key to our future. Our forefathers have been watching you, learning about you, guiding you for years. They have passed down your secrets to their sons, who have passed it on to their sons and so on, and now, it is finally time to reap our reward,” the first voice roared. “The gift of immortality, flowing through your veins, will be our eternal fountain of youth.”
Before I could say another word, a cloaked figure sprinted from the darkness with a decorative knife in hand and slashed at my wrist, spilling blood everywhere. He began gorging himself on the hot liquid that flowed from my wound.
The man relished the taste of my blood. It must have been a rush for him as he could hardly pull himself away, his eyes glistening in delight.
“Oh you poor fool,” I muttered.
In an instant, his body seized up, and his lips fell off my wrist as he stumbled backwards.
“W-W-What is this?” He choked, coughing and wheezing.
“That is your heart shutting down,” I said, as he doubled over. “And your body rejecting my blood.”
He clawed at his throat and screamed, but no sound from his mouth.
“It’ll be over soon, very soon.”
His eyes started to leak, not tears, but black sludge that stained his pale cheeks.
“You have been watching me for centuries, but I have been alive for many millennia,” I said. “You are the architects of modern society, but I have seen countless other ‘modern’ societies come and go, just like theis society will as well.”
He tumbled to the floor, his legs giving out. I could feel the fear heightened as he looked up at me, but there were no pupils, no recognition, just white writhing eyes.
“The Black Death, the Spanish Flu, COVID. It was all me. Oh, I may look young and healthy, but make no mistake, that is my curse. The blood that runs through these veins are not the fountain of youth, but a cesspool of death. Diseases you have not even heard about nor could nary imagine run through these veins of mine,” I lectured as he wasted away. “But I am cursed to live forever, like a porcelain doll that will never crack. But you, my dear cultist, well, you’re already dead, aren’t you?”
He gave no response, not that he could if he wanted to. He was nothing more than a corpse, already rotting away as the diseases ate through his flesh.
I looked up back at the crowd of cloaked figures, and I could taste the fear as they slowly backed away.
“Now, who is going to be the one brave enough to come untie me?”
|
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“And why should we listen to you?”
“Okay.” He glanced at the ceiling. “It’s your funeral.”
“What did you say?”
“Don’t listen to him. Just do it.”
The blood made a hollow tinkling sound as it dripped and then splattered into a shallow bowl – a crimson fortune.
“How much does she want?”
“I don’t know. A litre? Two?”
“Two? Won’t that kill him?”
“Nothing can kill him, remember?”
“Right.”
He considered disputing this. It wasn’t precisely wrong. There were things that could kill him, he was fairly confident. And besides, he’d learned to appreciate a certain degree of nuance to the notion of death. Going several days in an abyssal blackness, slowly regenerating all the blood in ones body, could hardly constitute life.
In the end, he refrained. This didn’t seem like the right crowd for that kind of conversation.
Siphoning the blood took a few minutes. Zaydi grew weak as his blood dripped, dripped, dripped; his extremities numb and tingling. A few more and he’d pass out. Already, darkness encroached.
“Do you know, by any chance, what your boss plans to do with me after you’ve taken that?” He fought not to to slur his words.
The answer didn’t matter so much. He was only curious.
“No.”
“We’re not letting you go, that’s for sure.”
“No, no. I don’t suppose she would.”
They gave him a strange look. Perhaps they’d never had such an amenable victim before. Well, there was hardly any point in fighting was there. Not as his blood became theirs and the room became dark. He watched as shadows cobwebbed the edges of the room, as the floor and ceiling began pulsing oddly – a sick, soft heartbeat. He counted it.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four...
Waking up was like dying. One moment he was safe and the next –
The room was more or less as he remembered it, though now there was a corpse on the floor. It looked a few days old, smelled like it too. Not taking his eyes off it, he tugged experimentally at his restraints. The ropes they’d used to tie him to this chair slipped and shifted slightly; not loose enough to fit his hands through but loose enough to reach the knot.
By the gnawing ache in his belly, Zaydi judged it’d been a week since he died. They must have taken more than two litres.
With two hands free, he worked on the restraints around his feet and looked around. Unless this poor unfortunate was locked in here by its comrades, he guessed it’d have keys on it. That’s usually how this went. When he walked over, gently flipping the corpse onto its back, he heard an unmistakable jangle.
Zaydi crouched beside the corpse. There was blood on its lips. A crimson fortune.
|
deputy1729
|
feelinglikecleo
|
2023-11-21 19:35:01
|
2023-11-21 18:03:18
| 24 | 18 |
ka77hjf
|
ka6s6n3
|
1804g85
|
1804g85
|
[WP] "Let me make this perfectly clear. You are not saving my daughter from a dragon. She IS a dragon. You are going to protect her and keep her company until she learns how to control her magic."
|
Sam had read about isekai novels before, where a chosen few are whisked off to fantastic worlds, given epic quests, and become heroes in that foreign land. The most classic, of course, was to save a princess who had been abducted by a dragon, for which the brave knight would be rewarded by the princess's hand in marriage.
They'd never expected themselves to be chosen for such a quest though. Nor were they interested - lack of ability to fight a dragon aside, the reward wasn't quite interesting to them either.
"My daughter needs your help!" A booming voice atop a throne declared. "Should you be the one we are looking for, who fears not the wrath of dragons, you will be entrusted in her safety."
"This makes no sense, I'm not some warrior or adventurer, I don't know magic or witchcraft, how am I supposed to deal with a dragon?" Sam pleaded, hoping to get some sense into the king. "I'm just a babysitter!"
Besides, it doesn't seem like the princess needed saving anyway. The adorable toddler adorned in royal garb sat right there by her father's side, staring intently at her would-be protector.
The king laughed. "Oh, but that is exactly why you've been chosen. Perhaps we gave you the wrong impression at first, but no, let me make this clear. You are not saving my daughter from a dragon. She IS the dragon. You are going to protect her and keep her company until she learns how to control her magic."
Sam's eyes grew wide. They looked at the princess, then back a the king, then back at the princess again, trying to make sense of the situation.
Seeming to understand their confusing, the queen stepped out from next to the throne. For a brief moment, her irises flashed a brilliant red, her pupil thinned into a vertical line, and scales appeared around her eyes. She winked at Sam, giving them a reassuring smile.
"Go forth, my daughter. Meet your new friend." The queen gestured to the princess.
The little princess stood up, but instead of dove forward. Sam reflexively lunged forward to catch her fall, but before she hit the ground, she had transformed. Before Sam could react, they were holding in their arms the cutest little dragon they had ever seen, staring up at them with wide, brilliantly red eyes.
"Now tell me, do you think you are fit for this quest, young one?" The king asked.
Sam smiled. "Yes, your majesty, I think I am."
|
Tori hummed and rubbed her chin after hearing the woman's request. Nugget looked up at his mount with a few cheeps and a cluck.
"It's a weird one, Nugs." Tori chuckled at her cockatrice, whose snake tail wagged with anticipation. "But money's money and we're the closest magic teachers and bodyguards around... kind of."
Nugget stretched his head at Tori with a cheep.
"I know, I know. We'll eat soon, okay?" Tori glanced at her cockatrice, who cheeped back.
"This time of year is inhospitable to all but the local ice dragons and storm dragons." The requester rumbled. "For now, I have a cave where you and your bird can stay."
"Oh, that's perfectly fine. I used to live in a cave when I was a kid." Tori waved her hand with a chuckle. "My mom taught me how to hunt in caves and the forest"
"Great!" The woman beamed while she handed over a map to Tori. "Here's a map of the area. My cave is marked here. I'll leave you and your bird to get yourselves adjusted for a few days."
Tori thanked the requester and went off to find the cave she and Nugget will be staying at for the next six months.
|
Daniel_H212
|
HB_DS2013
|
2024-07-02 13:31:27
|
2024-07-02 03:11:40
| 18 | 12 |
lba5a5p
|
lb8chhs
|
1dt8ngh
|
1dt8ngh
|
[WP] You, a warrior mage, lost your sight in battle. You’re able to use magic to see, but doing so drains your powers. You’re always having to choose whether to save your powers to see, or to cast spells. One day, caught in an attack, your combat skills alone aren’t enough. You close your eyes.
|
I used to be a mage once. Can’t say a great mage - but at least above average. I had great talent, only limited by my small mana pool.
Yet one day I made a mistake - I carelessly entered the boss room without any preparation, without thinking about what all those murals were hinting at along the way. The boss was an Ifrit - a demon with burning eyes - just gazing upon him caused my body to burn. After a fierce fight I somehow beat it - but returning to town no healer could fully heal me.
My vision got more cloudy as days passed and one day I could no longer see at all! That was seemingly a tragic end for a mage - but I did not give up hope. Where holy spells failed - magic might find another way.
I somehow managed to develop a miniature clairvoyance spell - it focused on the area around me giving me 360 vision, and mana upkeep for whole day seemed barely below my mana pool. I could see again!
But now with my mana basically \*locked\* I could not fight properly - it’s either casting spells blindly or being able to see. I tried switching around mid-fight but failed horribly - mages fight from far away, and I could not aim being blind. And with my mana pool in constant operation I could not manage many spells without going blind for hours again.
Still determined to stay as an adventurer I spent my savings and learned the way of the sword. Though I did not have much talent there - it was enough to keep my career.
I will always remember that day when my life flipped around once again.
It was about 7 years after getting blinded - I was raiding some dungeon and my skills seemed insufficient once more. I was fighting Arachne in a boss room - her spider legs were too fast to keep up and I unfortunately lost.
I was put in a cocoon and hanged among other fallen adventurers. I\`m not sure how much time passed but I woke up some time later all dried up - as if I never drank for days. Looking around with my spell I could see that there were not many cocoons left - I was to be snacked upon soon.
Losing all hope I decided to take the boss down with me - being eaten alive is not a pleasant way to die. So I closed my eyes and focused on my mana once again. Soon a bright flame appeared and I broke free - just to fall to the ground exhausted - at least I still had plenty of mana as no mana was used to maintain my \*vision\*.
I did not see anything, but years of combat trained my other senses as well - I could hear the screaming spider, feel the legs moving towards me, smell the foul breath closing in on me.
Not wasting any time I converted most of my mana into fire as hot as flames from hell and launched it towards the boss as my life flashed past my eyes.
I thought that was it - with all mana spent, the boss would probably burn to death - or take some damage at least. But it would surely kill me before falling.
I heard a painful screech and felt a spider stopping in its tracks, but my mind was elsewhere - somehow my mana was regenerating at a fast speed.
Seeing a bit of hope again I focused on my other senses once again and blinked away when I felt the temperature near me rising and wind blowing in my face.
I\`m not sure why it happened - was it a natural thing or was it caused by my mana pool in constant depletion - somehow it was regenerating very fast.
Not wasting any time I blinked a few more times and once I had enough mana I burrowed underground to hide and wait for that thing to burn. I converted my mana to water, relinquished my thirst as a smile spread throughout my face.
I could do it this time - I could go back to being a mage.
|
The attacks came in swift and it was hard to dodge them without knowing where they were coming from. To Eagan they felt like they came from all sides all at once. Heck, what did he know, maybe they were coming from all sides, not like he could see the truth of the matter. The worst thing that could happen to a blind magician was an ambush. Let this happen to be just that. Eagan definitely wasn’t having his day.
All he needed was a moment of reprieve. Something that wouldn’t be granted to him if his attackers had any say in it. Right at that moment a dagger bit in his right arm as Eagan failed to dodge an attack from the back. The fact he was dodging attacks at all had everything to do with years of blind battle which raised his instinct to new heights. Dodging however didn’t win you a fight, nor did it help you escape tenacious adversaries like these lads.
Usually in battle, Eagan would have time to prepare. He’d be able to manipulate the battlefield in such a manner that he could switch his magic between offense and observation. A magician never was truly blind as long as he could cast a spell. Doing both however had been too tricky as either of those taxed his stamina intensively. So it often was switching between seeing his enemy and making them disappear again, for everyone that is. No preparation in this case however, meant that he had no clue where his enemy was coming from and thus had no idea how to hit back. Yet, there had to be a way out of this and maybe there was.
He might not have been able to prepare for this battle, but that didn’t mean he never spend his idle time to prepare for a situation like this. He wasn’t naive, eventually his enemies would find out about his affliction and try to use it to their benefit. Idle time however was scarce and while thinking of ingenious solutions was one thing, executing them took time and practice, even to a battle hardened veteran like himself. Spells could have all kinds of side effects that you had to prepare for and that’s not even entertaining the idea that the spell might just not work at all. Nothing worse than dying a fool, conjuring something that not only got you killed, but made you look like an idiot. Ending up on the pointy end of sword surrounded by pretty lights hopefully wasn’t on the menu today, because practice or not, it had to happen now.
He had one shot, but if fate was kind enough to grand him that, this would be epic. With a grin on his face, imagining the best outcome of the thing that was about to unfold, he closed his eyes in the midst of battle. His body started emanating a feint shivering light, as if dipped in a thin coating of bio-luminescence substance of sorts. Swords, daggers and all other kinds of sharp tools ricochet of his corporeal form as if hitting rock. This shield would only hold out for an instant, but that would be enough. As his attackers kept ferociously chopping away at him, despite confusion drawn upon their faces, he held his breath.
If Eagan couldn’t observe and use offensive magic separately at the same time. He had to be creative and find a way to combine the two. The convenient thing about people caught in murderous rage was that they never looked up. Not that looking up would’ve made a difference, but it would’ve given them a chance to send a quick prayer to prepare the maker for their arrival. Two giant eyeballs grew out of thin air above the scuffle below. This granted Eagan with the power to observe his situation. Turned out he had been right, attackers were coming at him from all sides. Seemed he was surrounded. Now it was time for the fun part!
The enemies in the front were too busy chopping away to notice the first screams in the back. It took a second for the poor fools caught in the middle to notice the stench of burning a flesh and as they turned around they suddenly found themselves to be the new back of the pack. Behind them all that was left were piles of smoking ash. That's when they dared to look above them. Their gaze met that of the implement of their undoing as those giant eyes that Eagan conjured up shot lasers at the flabbergasted targets below. Eagan let loose salvo after salvo of beams of plasma targeting indiscriminately and haphazardly while guffawing loudly as the air filled with the scent of burning meat carried away in puffs of dark smoke. The whole act of jubilant violence only lasted for less than a couple of minutes as the last few stragglers that had escaped their fate ran of into the distance. Eagan released his shield with a deep exhale of breath and the eyes in the sky dissolved.
“I may be blind, but no one can deny my vision!” He yelled at the sky, raising his fist in boastful defiance.
[/r/zeekoeswriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/zeekoeswriting/)
|
Photon_EU
|
zeekoes
|
2023-04-07 14:51:07
|
2023-04-07 14:22:50
| 137 | 34 |
jfbo3dc
|
jfbk13f
|
12ek7b0
|
12ek7b0
|
[WP] You always got strange looks whenever you fed the neighborhood ravens. "I give them food, they give me company," you'd say. One day, a raven excitedly comes up to you and whispers, "A neighbor plots against you, my lord."
|
In the heart of New York City, I found myself trapped in the soul-sucking routine of a 9-5 office job, yearning for a spark of excitement to break the monotony. Amidst the sea of paperwork, ringing phones, and the drone of office gossip, my one solace was the peculiar habit I had developed over time. Every morning, on my way to work, I would take a detour to a nearby park and share my breakfast with a group of neighborhood ravens. My co-workers often raised their brows, deeming it a strange and eccentric ritual, and they would question me,
"Why do you feed those ravens, Alex?" My response was always a simple, "Why not? They give me company." They would chuckle at my response, dismissing it as another quirk of mine.
However, one fateful morning, as I scattered breadcrumbs among the eager ravens, something extraordinary occurred.
A raven with sleek, midnight-black feathers and piercing, intelligent eyes, unlike any I had ever seen, perched on a nearby branch and uttered words that resonated with a profound elegance, "A co-worker plots against you, my lord." I froze, bread crumbs suspended in mid-air, my heart racing as I turned to the raven in astonishment. "What?" I stammered, my voice trembling, "How are you speaking?"
The raven responded with an air of regality, "We have been blessed by you, my lord, and now we possess the gift of speech." I could hardly believe my ears. The other ravens gathered around, forming an oddly precise military formation as they listened to their leader. My head spun with disbelief as the raven continued, "We have watched over you, fed by your hand, and we owe you our loyalty. It is time for us to repay the favor."
With a mixture of awe and trepidation, I beseeched the ravens to tell me more about this alleged plot against me.
The elegant raven cleared its throat and began to recount, "One of your co-workers, a man by the name of Greg, is hatching a nefarious scheme. He plans to frame you, tarnish your reputation, and make you appear incompetent in the eyes of your boss." The raven's words carried an unusual gravity as if they understood the gravity of the situation, despite their avian nature.
My heart sank as I tried to make sense of it all. Why would Greg want to harm me? What could drive a co-worker to such lengths of betrayal? The raven continued, "His motive, my lord, is as petty as the feud between Kanye West and Taylor Swift. He desires something that you possess—a romantic interest of yours, a lady named Sarah."
My mind whirled with disbelief. Sarah, my girlfriend, had been a constant source of love and support in my life. I never would have imagined that someone from my own workplace would stoop so low for a chance with her. I felt anger, confusion, and betrayal all swirling within me.
With a newfound determination, I thanked the ravens for their warning, and in a moment of genuine gratitude, I extended my hand towards the elegant raven, forgetting momentarily that I was dealing with birds. In response, the raven gently lowered its head, offering a symbol of trust and camaraderie. "I hope this will be the start of a great friendship," I said earnestly.
The ravens cawed in unison, their wings fluttering in what seemed like a gesture of camaraderie. I realized that my life had taken a surreal turn, and the mundane office world I had known was about to be infused with a dose of the extraordinary, all thanks to this unlikely alliance with the neighborhood ravens. As I left the park that morning, my steps were lighter, my heart brimming with a newfound sense of purpose. Little did I know that I was embarking on an unexpected adventure that would not only test the bonds of friendship but also reveal the depths of loyalty, even in the most unlikely of companions.
|
I look at the Raven who has spoken now and recognize it is one of the oldest of this Murder. I sigh. “Which one is it this time, Orwell?”
I call him Orwell, as his true name would not be pronounceable in any of the human languages. Orwell looks at me, bows his Head, and says it’s the one you call Emily, the one who feeds the pigeons over at the playground.
I sigh and pack up the foods I have with me for the crow. To the human eye I look like a late 30s woman, bleak and with white hair with a black streak in them. I do like the look but have to change it every few decades. After packing up I gesture to Orwell, I whisper spread the Word to the other Murders, Emily is a powerful enemy and it has been a while since we went to war, but she knows better.
For those who don’t know me both me and Emily would be what would be called Eldritch gods nowadays. So to speak we and a bunch of others are neighbours in a way incomprehensible, but a relatable explanation might be that our home dimensions are next to each other. While I am a Force that thrives and by removing the left overs so to speak, Emily is a force of dirt, she decays everything, hence her affiliation with Pidgeons and mine with crows. She thrives in human cities, I don’t but since humanity stopped the classic wars with battlefields and the dead left rotting in the past 100-200 years or so, this is my best feeding ground. You could say I’m a force of nature, Emily on the other hand is a force that destroys it, she thrives in the current age of urbanisation.
So this should set the stage for this. I make my way through the city, my Crows follow me, they sit on the roofs, on the wires carrying the electricity keeping the humans dry, warm, and their food cold. Some flu ion the skies and through their eyes I keep an eye on myself. It comes with its perk not being bound to the human concept of reality. I watch myself through thousands of eyes and my Crows at the same time. It’s a grey day, wet and way to warm. Climate change. Bringing decay to the whole world. Stupid Humans. I’ll have to do something soon, but first we have to deal with Emily.
We’re halfway there. I start noticing a rat here and there on the tracks of the city transport tracks. I’m wondering then my Crows start to notice more and more rats here. I keep my eyes out through them and I start to notice they are all around me. Damn. Stuart must have allied himself to Emily. They share a lot after all. He is breeding and flooding the world with his rats, breeding, well like Humans, without any consideration for the resources, consuming themselves and their surroundings, thriving in Decay. Suddenly I notice a hand on my bodies shoulder, My crows see shadows. I turn around and stare in the green eyes of a redheaded Woman in her early twenties. She is unearthly attractive and smiles at me, not her eyes though. A human wouldn’t be able to resist, but I’m no mere Human. I give the Woman a look and say. “Why are you here Sharon?”
I use. My sisters human name, after all her real name would probably cause the continent to break apart and sink. No fun in that and my Crows like the land. Shanon continues to smile and says, “Well I heard Emily is back in Town and Stuart’s dirty little rats are on the move. I figured you could need some help.” She smileys and I notice glowing eyes in the shadows staring at me. Shannon was always catlike and like her chosen familiars in this world she likes it clean and she loves to hunt. She is however an unreliable ally at best.
She reaches out and softly caresses my cheek, “Dear sister, this is bigger than you and Emily, there are almost all forces on the move, the primordial ones the younger ones, even the humans start to notice there is something wrong”
I look at her and ask “Come on spit it out what IS happening?”. She pouts and says “Come with me. We need to talk” She suddenly looks seriously, very unnerving as she is usually not one to be direct. Again I look at her and ask ”Sharon what is going on?” She sighs and whispers a thought, the word itself would cause well apocalyptic events, but it means so much more. Call it Apocalypse, End-times, Ragnarök, really whatever you want, it means not only the end of the world, it would mean the end of existence.
I don’t look at Shannon. I mentally let my Crows know I need to go and keep an eye out on Emily but do not engage. I tell them to spread the word. Find out who we can rely on, and who might be on the other side.
Sharon and I disappear into another realm. This one presents like an old Pub, however there are no walls. Just an endless Pub. Sharon gestures to follow her, it seems a lot of us are here. We haven’t had an amount of us meeting in, well in Aeons, if time would be a concept we paid much attention to.
|
cj12327
|
StorminWolf
|
2023-09-02 14:31:30
|
2023-09-02 14:22:35
| 94 | 12 |
jyt9125
|
jyt7pmp
|
167njgm
|
167njgm
|
[WP] The rest of your party is always making sure that you, the healer, stay in the back. Not because they don't want you to get hurt, but because they all still remember the last time you took the front line and nobody wants a repeat of that.
|
Healing. Everybody assumes this power I have is all about mending wounds but the truth is much more... complicated. They wondered for a long time why some wounds could be mended but never healed. I told a small lie about the magic speeding up the healing the body does on its own and some wounds just can't heal perfectly.
I'm no healer, and my party finally understands that after what happened last night.
Our journey took us to a massive castle, where we found one of the 3 dark lords guarded by an army of orcs and trolls. Our leader, a sword wielding oaf, immediately caught an arrow and his loud cries of pain had the alarms sounded immediately. Quickly things got out of hand and we were surrounded.
Our leader was bleeding from an arrow wound in his gut and our Mage, being somewhat new to raiding, was having a hard time taking out more than one enemy at a time. Our bard was dead after attempting to seduce an orc and failing... so it was up to me.
I wasn't thinking, i just acted to save us... the whole area around us, everything except my friends, began to decay and crumbled to dust, even the castle fell into piles. The dark lord laid on the ground, in the pile of rubble that what used to be the castle he had been in.
He didn't look as everyone expected. He was old and gray, he was covered in wrinkles and rags that had been eaten by time. He looked at me and with a rage, shouted before falling down dead.
"The Dark lord was just an old man?" Asked our leader as I leaned over him and started healing.
The Mage stood and stared at the utter destruction all around us before her gaze fell on the body of the ancient body of the dark lord, "No, I saw him days ago. All three of the lords look like they are barely adults. They are ancient but years age them like seconds. Why he looks so old is..." she looked around and then her eyes fell on me as I finished healing our leaders wound.
I stood and brushed the dirt and dust of what used to be an army of orcs from my trousers. The Mage lowered to inspect the wound I had just healed and noticed that just around the wound, the dark hairs had gone gray and the flesh had wrinkled slightly.
Today, the Mage won't call me a healer. She will only call me by my name, Morbius.
|
In a world of constant battles for life a society has been built around the notion of violence and has created a hierarchy based on this notion. I’m this world you can choose what powers to be granted at the age of 16 and then you are assigned to a party where you and the other members will complete in the colosseum for survival, fame, and fortune.
The day of my 16th birthday I had chosen to be a healer but something rather unusual happened when I was blessed, the light that came from the terminal that grants powers had glowed a mix of all the ranks one can choose from.
10 years later I’m always placed in the back of my party and without providing much of any help I am always protected, every single time. My party fears me and makes sure to only give me low tier equipment and pretty much no armor since I don’t have to fight very often.
This fear was sparked on the day of our first battle in the colosseum, a roaring crowd of rich folk, many first time parties, and an air of rage and violence throughout the dusty air. As our battle began it seemed to be just like any other first time battle I’d seen before, just inexperienced teenagers swinging around weapons hoping to hit someone, however there was one member of a party that was known for waiting out the first wave and picking off the scraps, this member was unidentified and his gaze pierced my soul and sent a chill down my spine as he followed and analyzed my every move not looking away for even a second. As the dust of the first wave settled, the mysterious member still gazed with a diamond sharp look in his eyes as he walked towards me, ignoring every member of my party that was clearly stronger and more likely to give a good fight. As this man approached me he opens the cloak he bears that covers him from neck to foot to reveal he has no weapon or armor, just regular clothing.
My party had seen this opportunity and closed in in an attempt to win the first battle of our career but with seemingly nothing between them they simply couldn’t get a hit off. It had seemed like he had some sort of unique power that allowed him to be untouchable but this couldn’t be the case since such a power doesn’t exist, or even a thought of it.
Regardless, his march towards me continued and I was shaken to my core, my skin perspiring, my heart beating, my muscles quivering, I couldn’t move, overcome by fear as he placed his hand upon my shoulder and spoke “kill all who stand before you”
As his voice utters the final word my body lifts an incredible weight off of me, I rise into the air floating high off of the ground and as I rise my memory deteriorates and I black out only to wake to a colosseum of corpses, not one man woman or child spared but the cloaked man who stood before me as my head rise from the dirt.
This incident cost me my status as a healer and a total revocation of my power as to not let something of this caliber happen again. Assigned to a new party, one of great strength and fame, one of the top 5 in fact, I was placed under a watchful eye and was no longer granted the permission to wield or fight with anything but tier one weapons. This incident haunts me to this day and ever still my memory blurs and I can remember not a single thing from the time the man whispered to me to the time I woke.
|
BrAiNpUrGe000
|
Alargechild
|
2023-02-05 14:08:43
|
2023-02-05 06:52:44
| 29 | 17 |
j7b51dr
|
j7a6qvz
|
10twqme
|
10twqme
|
[WP] The rest of your party is always making sure that you, the healer, stay in the back. Not because they don't want you to get hurt, but because they all still remember the last time you took the front line and nobody wants a repeat of that.
|
I realized that with Arboris and Glennan both occupied and Valory missing, there was no one to lead the confused village rabble against the slavering Weres. Their line wavered, afraid in the cold darkness of the sparse winter wood, rattling leaves of dead grass with their feet as the center began to give. A few of the burning brands held aloft in their plow-calloused hands were dropped and snuffed in the wet loam.
Without stopping to think, I charged into the gap, staff at the ready, facing the largest of the savage Weres. It was a bear-creature that towered over my own lofty head by six feet or more. Unhesitatingly, I flung my strongest spells.
The Were stopped dead in its tracks. It bellowed as my spells encircled and beglamoured it. It began to shrink.
It shrank rather a lot.
In fact, it shrank right back down into an ordinary brown bear, not a third the size it had been, whittled down to fur and bone with the hunger of a long winter's sleep and shivering fatless in this late freeze. I felt awful for it. I blasted the starveling creature again.
*Floompf*
Healed of starvation, the ragged bear poofed from a skeletal menace into a shiny-pelted and smiley-faced sphere.
As the other Weres fixated viciously upon me, I hastily began flinging Healing and Sustaining spells in all directions with both hands.
"Awwwww..."
The villagers cooed. Left and right, snarling Weres were shrinking and transforming from predators to pets, all fluffy, well-nourished, docile, and content.
There was a rush to stroke them.
I fell in my tracks, exhausted, forgotten by the excited villagers as they buried their cold hands in the friendly bear's luxuriant coat, eagerly scritching its itchy shoulders. The bear wallowed.
Everywhere fluffy wolves were bonding with the peasants and round-bellied raccoons and opossums were being approached by the delighted teens who'd taken up arms to stand behind their threatened kin. I watched them faintly between my upturned toes.
Arboris and Glennan returned from their scuffle with the mad warlock who had unleashed this mess in the first place. Their bloodied faces serveilled the unlikely scene.
Arboris, with elven courtesy, forebore to speak.
Glennan spat through his braided moustache and said two words.
"Dammit, Kevin."
|
In a world of constant battles for life a society has been built around the notion of violence and has created a hierarchy based on this notion. I’m this world you can choose what powers to be granted at the age of 16 and then you are assigned to a party where you and the other members will complete in the colosseum for survival, fame, and fortune.
The day of my 16th birthday I had chosen to be a healer but something rather unusual happened when I was blessed, the light that came from the terminal that grants powers had glowed a mix of all the ranks one can choose from.
10 years later I’m always placed in the back of my party and without providing much of any help I am always protected, every single time. My party fears me and makes sure to only give me low tier equipment and pretty much no armor since I don’t have to fight very often.
This fear was sparked on the day of our first battle in the colosseum, a roaring crowd of rich folk, many first time parties, and an air of rage and violence throughout the dusty air. As our battle began it seemed to be just like any other first time battle I’d seen before, just inexperienced teenagers swinging around weapons hoping to hit someone, however there was one member of a party that was known for waiting out the first wave and picking off the scraps, this member was unidentified and his gaze pierced my soul and sent a chill down my spine as he followed and analyzed my every move not looking away for even a second. As the dust of the first wave settled, the mysterious member still gazed with a diamond sharp look in his eyes as he walked towards me, ignoring every member of my party that was clearly stronger and more likely to give a good fight. As this man approached me he opens the cloak he bears that covers him from neck to foot to reveal he has no weapon or armor, just regular clothing.
My party had seen this opportunity and closed in in an attempt to win the first battle of our career but with seemingly nothing between them they simply couldn’t get a hit off. It had seemed like he had some sort of unique power that allowed him to be untouchable but this couldn’t be the case since such a power doesn’t exist, or even a thought of it.
Regardless, his march towards me continued and I was shaken to my core, my skin perspiring, my heart beating, my muscles quivering, I couldn’t move, overcome by fear as he placed his hand upon my shoulder and spoke “kill all who stand before you”
As his voice utters the final word my body lifts an incredible weight off of me, I rise into the air floating high off of the ground and as I rise my memory deteriorates and I black out only to wake to a colosseum of corpses, not one man woman or child spared but the cloaked man who stood before me as my head rise from the dirt.
This incident cost me my status as a healer and a total revocation of my power as to not let something of this caliber happen again. Assigned to a new party, one of great strength and fame, one of the top 5 in fact, I was placed under a watchful eye and was no longer granted the permission to wield or fight with anything but tier one weapons. This incident haunts me to this day and ever still my memory blurs and I can remember not a single thing from the time the man whispered to me to the time I woke.
|
None
|
Alargechild
|
2023-02-05 18:20:58
|
2023-02-05 06:52:44
| 24 | 17 |
j7c4b4e
|
j7a6qvz
|
10twqme
|
10twqme
|
[WP] Out of all the superpowers out there, you consider yours the most sadistic; you can save any number of innocent people from death in the face of danger, but to gain that ability, you must kill an innocent person. Named after the infamous moral thought experiment, you are... Trolley Man.
|
Are you familiar with the Trolley Problem?
A common moral thought exercise. There is a runaway trolley heading down a track - a track on which there is a group of people, unable to get out of the way. You have the option to flip a lever and redirect the trolley onto an adjacent rail with a single person on it. This person will die, but you will save the lives of the group.
Do you do it?
Inaction causes greater death. But if you pull the lever? That death is a direct result of your actions. It is *your fault*.
Not a terribly easy choice, is it?
Now imagine having that be a power. And you have me. Lucky ol' me.
I can save... dozens of people with the flick of my hand. But someone will die. Someone innocent, so I can't just go through death row inmates with a clear conscience. And I have to choose who dies, someone in my vicinity. I have to look them in the eye. See their expression. Grief, anger, sadness, but worst of all... they don't understand why.
It fucking sucks. But not doing anything? It's worse. Not that it helps me sleep at night.
​
Look, what I'm trying to say is... I'm sorry. I am truly, truly sorry. But this will save 14 people, 6 of which are children. It won't hurt.
I hope you understand.
​
I'm sorry.
|
*"Ooooh I am going to regret this on the cold mornings"*
I mused quietly, desperately trying to rub some life into my shoulder; that landing was just too damn hard. His shadow fell over me, and I knew before even looking up that he would be gloating. Way too many wannabe villains these days taking thier cues from Pro-Wrestling.
*"Not gonna showboat? Come on, you got me down; you gotta make a scene of it now tough-guy; its your moment"*
I uttered through gritted teeth, desperately trying to buy some more time, precious seconds to gulp down some air and keep the blood flowing. I went into this fight cold, a part of that whole Not-Wanting-To-Sacrifice-An-Innocent thing I have now.
The Ghetto Blaster laughed, not with any genuine humour; more like someone reading a script that simply says "laugh now".
*"Awww not going to kill someone to beat me? Yeah I know who you are Trolley-Man! Just as well..."*
I held my tongue, he was monologuing! Good!
He turned around, a slow rotation with his arms raised in imminent victory.
*"You would need to take out a whole Busload of people to be strong enough to defeat ME!"*
There she was, standing off to the side watching wide-eyed; Blaster's 10 year old daughter Elaine...
*"I don't need that"*
I said just loud enough for him to register.
*"I only need HER...!"*
I rolled away from him, springing up to my feet immediately and sprinting to the edge of the rooftop where Elaine was standing, gripping her collar firmly and suspending her over the edge.
*"NO DON'T... WAIIIIIT!!!"*
Blaster's cry lost its' villainous edge, veering straight into protective father mode; too bad he didnt have that whenever he levelled an entire project and the families inside.
*"Okay Blaster, you surrender right now... The cops are waiting with suppression cuffs. You give up and I dont kill Elaine and then you. How about it?"*
To my relief, he saw sense and gave in, I held her there until the authorities had him neutralised and secured. It was as I brought her back that I finally looked back at her, seeing the absolute hatred burning in the pit of her soul. In that glance I saw her future, her gaining her own powers and yes; rising to become an S-Tier Supervillian.
I set her down on the ground without a word; wether an innocent or someone's innocence...
The sacrifice was still made...
|
SirPiecemaker
|
grudthak
|
2023-01-31 06:31:39
|
2023-01-31 03:57:34
| 377 | 85 |
j6lwd39
|
j6lgrp5
|
10pk32s
|
10pk32s
|
[WP] The knight who saved the princess was a 40 year old man with a wife and kids. He doesn't want her hand he just thinks teenage girls shouldn't be held captive in towers in the middle of nowhere.
|
"The dragon has been slain! All Hail Sir Barkley!" The man was aloft his white horse, a beautiful princess on his back.
"My knight, I am sorry I thought it was time for you to be put out to pasture for your age. The kingdom is in gratitude to you." Sir Barkley bowed.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. It was all part of my job."
"I know you did not ask for retirement, even after I allowed it...thank the Maker you did not. Now, it is time for your just reward."
"...just reward? Your gratitude is enough reward for me, Your Majesty."
"If we don't give you the reward, it flies in the face of my kingdom. PREPARE THE ROYAL WEDDING!"
Sir Barkley was shocked.
"...royal wedding?"
"Yes. You saved my daughter, the princess, and as such you will be betrothed to her!" Sir Barkley looked confused as the king continued.
"...uh, Your Majesty...I've BEEN married! For years! Th-the royal bishop ordained my marriage! You know my wife, she works in the royal kitchen as one of your chefs!" The King looked, then was confused.
"...w-well, why did you save my daughter if you're already married? You amongst all the knights know the rule- you save the princess, you marry the princess!"
"I am one of your finest knights. The princess is in trouble, you can't trust a serious problem for the kingdom to an untrained knight. You need the best knight in the country on the job to handle this. Wo-would you have rather I sent one of the new guys out there? Most of them haven't even been taught how to handle a dragon!"
"Well, we never expected that a married knight would go to save the princess." Sir Barkley shook his head.
"You DO remember Princess Fairmaiden is my Goddaughter, right? I'm not about to let her get captured, I swore an oath to you when you gave me and my wife that honor to protect her with our life! I merely did what you expected of me way back when!" The king nodded.
"I remember that well, Sir Barkley..."
"So, you know why I would go to save her without thinking...and you know why I could never marry her. Even if something happened to my beloved wife...I'm literally old enough to be her father myself. I changed her diapers with the queen, for crying out loud! I cannot possibly think of her as a bride...and I'm sure the princess couldn't think of me as one as well!" Princess Fairmaiden looked sheepishly to the king.
"...yes, Father. I know about the rule of the land, but...he's just too old, I've known him for too long. I can't possibly see him as a husband." The King threw his hands up in exasperation.
"...well, I don't know what happens here. ...oog, this is unprecedented. We've had so many different pairings of knight and royalty, all of which saw the betrothal without a problem, and the law of the land has been used forever...but this is the first time we've had a knight who saved royalty refuse to marry the person they saved. I can't imagine sending Princess Fairmaiden to a convent because she has been rejected."
Both Sir Barkley and Princess Fairmaiden were taken aback.
"A CONVENT?"
"A convent, Your Majesty?" The king looked downwards.
"We cannot go otherwise. If she has been saved by a knight who will not marry her, she must go to a nunnery. It's the rules of the land."
"Oh god..." Sir Barkley shook his head.
"King Lawler, I ask for one request before deciding on this."
"Yes, Sir Barkley."
"...to me, my son, my squire." King Lawler had his pages send to the knights' helm, and finally, a young man headed in.
"Father, what did you need me for?" Sir Barkley looked downwards, then started speaking as if he was badly reading lines.
"Why, I needed my son to be here to find out that I am about to kidnap Princess Fairmaiden! I cannot let her be sent to a nunnery, and so I kidnap her!" Sir Barkley went to his sword, then dropped it. "OH NO! My sword has fallen out of its hilt! I'm sure only someone who has known my style of fighting could defeat me easily!" Sir Barkley winked to his son, who caught on immediately. His son grabbed the sword and swung at Sir Barkley, who fell to his knees.
"I am beaten! The Princess has been saved, and by my own son no less! How could this be..."
King Lawler looked, as Princess Fairmaiden caught on and hugged Sir Barkley.
"Father, the rule is there...I HAVE just been saved by this man..."
King Lawler nodded.
"Let the preparations for the royal wedding begin!" Princess Fairmaiden hugged the squire as they left. King Lawler looked at Sir Barkley.
"...you could have just asked to have your son betrothed to the princess instead..." Sir Barkley looked.
"I am a knight. I serve the land and my King. If the land's laws say that the person who saves the princess must be betrothed to her, then the person who saves the princess will be betrothed to her."
"I understand. You are aware I will have to take you from my knights for this, right?" Sir Barkley nodded.
"You had said it was time for me to retire anyway, right?"
"Aye, my dear friend...or family, is it?" The king and his knight shook hands.
|
**DOUSE**
As the longsword Wyrmspite blazes to it's fiery glory with the word of power, Sir Tor with a mighty cleave beheaded the drake that was keeping the princess captive.
**IGNITE**
With that word, Wyrmspite douses it's flames and Sir Tor sheathes the sword.
Approaching the cage that held the princess, he had a look at the lock and balling his armored fist, gave it a good solid punch.
**ARGH! Damned arthritis... ...**
Shaking his fist in pain, he drew Wyrmspite and prepare to smite the lock.
**Sorry old friend but I am not that young anymore.**
As the lock laid broken and defeated, Sir Tor pick the princess (who had swooned as princesses are suppose to do) and left the ~~dragon~~ drake's lair. He mount his mighty stallion Windcharger and placing the still swooned princess on the pack mule proceeded to return to his manor.
As Windcharger pranced into the courtyard, there was no jubilation. There was no mobs of serfs or peons cheering him. His courtyard was unkempt, the walls were moss covered and the porticullis creaks as loud as his bones when raised or lowered.
For Sir Tor was a knight of 40 winters. He was no longer the dexterous hulk of his younger years. His plate mail hung loose on his shoulders and did not cover much of his expanding stomach. He has long forgone using his great helm, not because of his experience but rather it hurts his neck and restricted his hearing and vision (of what little that he has left).
He could not provide to keep serfs or peons. He had no squires to wait on him as what use do they have of him, an old knight useless in tournaments and poor in coin.
By nevertheless, like the triumphant knight of old, he tied Windcharger in the stables and cradling the princess, he made for the great hall where his wife and 2 daughters were waiting for his return.
**Milady, this here is the captured princess whom I have saved for the drake. Let her into the guest bedroom and to recover for her torments.**
**Me girls, treat her as you would she be your sister. Give her your finest gowns, your scented water and bathe her as you would yourself.**
And so he sat down to dine and to rest his weary bones.
A few days have past hence and the princess has regained her colour and her composure. She was one of regal bearing and royal blood. But humble. She did not command the lady of the manor or her daughters to do tasks nor did she turn her nose at the dilapidated conditions of the manor.
During Evening Fest, the princess stated to Sir Tor
*My Good and Gallant Sir Tor, as you have rescued me, duty dictates that I am betrothed to you as just rewards for your deeds.*
Sir Tor who was partaking of his soup, started choking and spluttering
**My beautiful and delicate princess, that was never my intent for rescuing you. As you can see, I have milady (gestures to her) and my two daughters who are akin to sisters to you in age.**
**Neigh I say. I will not dishonor milady by breaking my vows to her nor bring gossip into my house by taking one such as young and delicate as yourself.**
*Sir Tor, it has been decreed by my father, the King of Ashtoria, that whomsoever rescues me will earn his eternal gratitude and that I be given to my rescuer as a reward for the valiant deed.*
Now, the land of Ashtoria border the land of Oakenfelt when Sir Tor reside. Ashtoria has nil imperial sway over Sir Tor and hence cannot compel Sir Tor to comply. But age and experience has taught Sir Tor, tolerance is always the road to a long life.
**My beautiful princess, please give a day to discuss this with milady and my daughters. It is not a decision to take lightly or in haste.**
As so Sir Tor and his family retire to another room and they discussed. They realise that they did not want to anger Ashtoria but they were contented with who they were. The discussion went long into the night but they have come to a decision and it was agreed that Sir Tor will respond on tomorrow's evening fest.
As they sat down for evening fest, Sir Tor at the head of table signal for attention and spoke
**As the king of Ashtoria has decreed, whomsoever saves the princess will earn the just reward of being given the princess for the deed.**
**While my family resides in the lands of Oakenfelt, we are closer to Ashtoria than to Oakenfelt.**
**And my age has shown me that it is better to have friends than to make enemies.**
**Hence, my beautiful and delicate princess, is it of free will that you give yourself to my household and myself? As a just reward for my valiant deed of freeing you from the drake?**
With coquettish eyes looking at the knight, the Princess said
*Yes, I do. It is of my own free will and desire that I be taken into your household and am bestow upon yourself as a just reward.*
**Very well then. Princess. If you will so kind as to put your intentions onto this parchment, I will have it courier to your father, the King, so hence he knows I have slayed the drake and claim my just rewards so that nil other can lay claim or raise arms against me in protest.**
The Princess thought to herself and so with this parchment, I will get my hands on Wyrmspite and Windcharger by the next moon. You are an old man playing at a being knight. Your lady is no better than a fish monger's wife and your daughters will not survive a night in the sordid house of pleasures when I kick them out.
Yes, I will lie with you. I will give you one of pleasure with my body. I will make you feel euphoria, ecstasy and pleasures that your body cannot think of achieving with your fish monger's wife. And then you will be dead the next as the medicine that I give you for regain the vigor of a oak shaft will also render your heart asunder.
**My Princess, my princess.**
**The parchment...**
**Please endorse the parchment and I have sent to your father the king immediately.**
With a flourish of the quill, the Princess signed the parchment, sand was poured upon the ink, a courier was called for and dispatched to the land of Ashtoria. To present the Princess intentions to her father, the King.
**As so the deed is done.**
**Welcome to my humble abode and manor. Princess CINDERELLA.**
|
Spiritual_Lie2563
|
crabcancer
|
2023-02-24 06:57:28
|
2023-02-24 02:37:43
| 179 | 21 |
j9smbj5
|
j9rtynn
|
11a7y6u
|
11a7y6u
|
[WP] The Gods have come to a consensus and have decided to take back that fire thing that was stolen from them. Man can no longer contain, control or create fire. Fire is once again solely the domain of The Gods
|
As the lights dimmed, and planes plummeted, the old gods grew satisfied. Blood would be had tonight. A sacrifice for themselves, fit to match their growing outrage. Darkness fell, batteries began to die, food began to spoil. As fires began to spring from the wreckage of humanity, bullets failed to fire, rockets failed to launch, and nuclear fire went cold. Some power would have remained, but, that, too, was stilled. Humanity returned to the cold wilderness from which it was born, in a bloody mess, a sort of birth from light, into darkness.
I was born into this darkness. It sang to me at night, when I was young, and, when the adults woke in screams of terror, I was lullabied by the shadows that haunted their dreams. Stone was my tool, wood was my hand, and sinew was my strength. I grew strong in a world that was governed by the sun.
One day, my father took me by the hand, and told me, "Prometheus. You were born for a purpose."
|
I was at the trash can again. I just can't help myself. I know it's dangerous, but it's so pretty. I thought feeding my lighter some old newspaper would give me a quick hit- until I saw that man at the side.
"Taking in a little flame, Jimmy?" The man said.
"Who the hell are you?", I asked him.
"I'm stronger than anyone you can think of. I am one of the Gods of this world. And if you're going to use fire for this, then we have no choice but to take fire back from you."
I shook my head. "That's not possible. This will teach you!" I took out my lighter- and nothing happened as the man shook his head. "Uh, uh, Jimmy- you're in a world without fire. All you've got is a simple gas-spewer...not that it'll help you."
"That isn't going to stop me that easily!" I headed to my car and tried to aim- but the car wouldn't stop.
"Sorry, son- that car needs the chemical reaction to run that can only come from fire...not that it'll help you!" Suddenly, I was surrounded by a big hunk of metal, sand, and thin rubber. "Though it doesn't matter since most of the pieces of the car get made from- you guessed it, fire!"
This guy really needs to get it now- but I'm so hungry. "I need some energy and I'll give you what's what, crumb-bum!" I headed to the soda shop for a burger- and got raw meat and grain.
"Sorry, that delicious burger needed to be made with- you guessed it, fire!"
"I'll fix you yet..." Just then, the sky went super dark and cold. "Oh, hope you don't freeze to death- what's the sun but a big mass of incandescent gas- set off with, you guessed it, fire!"
I felt myself freezing. "N-no...come back, fire! Come back..."
...and then, I was in my bed, the covers off of me. "...come back, fire...come-come back..."
I bolted upright and needed to check. The candle near my bed still worked. "It was all a dream. But I'm glad I live in a world with fire to help with all of our needs! I'll never risk losing it again!"
*The preceding filmstrip was brought to you by the National Fire Council. Fire: Making your life better since Prometheus stole it in ancient times.*
|
mementosmoritn
|
Spiritual_Lie2563
|
2025-02-26 17:12:28
|
2025-02-26 16:10:40
| 24 | 18 |
mewz4o3
|
mewly5n
|
1iyl8pz
|
1iyl8pz
|
[WP] You’ve been bitten by a Zombie. You’ve already said tearful goodbyes to your loved ones as they leave you behind. The bite should make you turn in twenty minutes, so you sit down on a bench and wait… two hours later you’re still sitting there.
|
20 minutes left.
i pick up my pack. all that's in it are a few weapons and sentimental objects. i don't need anything else.
15 minutes left.
my team is out of sight. it's me against the horde. i bring out my first weapon. a shotgun.
10 minutes left.
the sounds of broken flesh are all to familiar. though now they represent something. every zombie i kill is a little more time i buy for the others.
1 minute left.
it's a miracle. i managed to kill them all. i cry in bittersweet relief that the others are protected. there is nothing else to do but sit down and cherish the memories.
0 minutes left.
i get up, not against my own will, like i'm some prisoner in my own body. quite the opposite. i get up through my own will.
\-1 minutes left.
something is wrong. i check my watch. i should be a zombie by now, and yet my heart is still beating, and my thoughts are still coherent.
\-2 minutes left.
i'm limping through the hall. maybe i can still reach them. maybe i can still see my family again.
\-5 minutes left.
there they are. maybe if i get their attention...
\-5 minutes and 5 seconds left.
they shot me. i guess i can't blame them, they probably assumed i was a zombie.
and yet it doesn't hurt, and the fluid that leaks from the wound is green.
i have never seen a zombie bleed green. in fact i have never seen a human bleed green.
and i had a thought. a thought that usually only philosophers have.
what am i?
|
Zombies shuffle through the park, completely oblivious to my existence. And yet somehow – I haven’t turned. Could I be immune? Is that a thing? I’ve just had the most heartbreaking farewell with loved ones, friends, family, ex-colleagues… I’m ready for the inevitable. Why won’t death come? Why am I still me?
Maybe all zombies feel this way… That’s a scary thought. Perhaps what we’ve come to know as a zombie are actually normal people trapped inside a body that’s driven by higher instincts. No... No that doesn’t quite add up. I must know how far this immunity goes. With a renewed sense of purpose I leap to my feet and rush the nearest zombie.
“Hello!!” I shout, trying to get his attention. This particular undead is a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s wearing a blood-stained hoodie. A ghastly visage, truth be told. His once-pretty face is now marred by decaying skin and a smattering of blood dripping down his cheeks. And yet, he does not attack. It’s as if I’m invisible.
The realization dawns on me. I AM immune. This could be the break humanity needs to turn the tide of war. My head is spinning now. Could it be something in my blood? Is it mass-producible? Is there hope for humanity? Nobody has even dreamed a cure was possible. That’s the stuff of fairy tales. But I’m the living proof! I just need to make contact with the military. The resistance. Someone who can investigate further. I just need to stay. Alive.
I give myself a moment to catch my breath and then head back in the direction of town. A radio signal to the military - that’s all I need to do. Stay focused on the mission. I’m sure my blood will be heavily tested. I’ll have face my fear of needles. Donate frequently. But I’ll do it. I'll do my part if it means saving the world.
“BAM!”
The sound of a rifle ripples through the air around me. I stumble forward. Totally stunned.
“S-STAY BACK YOU ZOMBIE FUCKER!”
The pain catches up with me and I scream. Blood running down my leg. I’ve never been shot before, and the agony is unbearable. I furiously amble about, trying to find a place to hide. To the casual observer, it might look… a lot like the shuffling pace of an undead.
“BAM!”
Another round pierces my gut and I collapse to the ground.
“You don’t understand! I’m immune! I'm the key to saving humanity!”
That’s what I tried to say anyway, but it was too late. The words were indistinct mumblings, akin to the screeches of a wailing zombie.
“BAM!” “BAM!”
A double tap to the head.
|
foxstarfivelol
|
__noodlejs__
|
2023-07-06 21:44:05
|
2023-07-06 21:14:24
| 152 | 56 |
jqy1o6q
|
jqxx7v2
|
14sghr0
|
14sghr0
|
[WP] "What do you mean you 'accidentally' killed the entire pantheon?"
|
His pen clattered to the ground, rolling into a corner.
"You... *what?!*"
I looked down in embarrassment, "... yeah."
Taking off his glasses, He stared at me in disbelief.
"What have you... I... the... how..."
"I... just told them... how to do it... and then... *that*!"
His head hit the desk with a heavy THUD, "The entire pantheon. The... *entire* Me-damned patheon?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN - 'THE ENTIRE PANTHEON'?!"
I wanted to sink into the chair, "... all of them. Every last one. Gone. Just like I told You."
He got up with an annoyed sigh and walked over to a window. "Do you have any idea how much work it'll be to clean this up?! How many favors I'm going to have to call in? How many I'll owe?"
I groaned, "I know, Father. I'm sorry! I know you told me to stop, but... I had to know what would happen!!"
Frowning, He walked over and placed a supportive hand on my shoulder. "It'll be alright, Michael. I can handle things. But please, for the love of all My creation, please remember..."
I looked up at Him, waiting for Him to finish.
"... *that's* the reason why *no one* is supposed to be able to divide by zero."
|
I twist my hat nervously between hands still coated in the fine powder that until 5 minutes ago I assumed was powdered sugar. “I mean nothing was labeled it really could have been any one of us.”
Laurence does not move, toilet wand still in hand as I answer.
“Oh damn, this isn’t a joke?” The expression on my face answers for me.
He goes another shade paler than his already porcelain complexion, at this point he matches my chefs hat perfectly.
A hat I had only worn for a single day at my new job as pastry chef to the late pantheon of gods. I was good at my job, best pastries and treats anyone could ever hope to find.
“Yeah I think someone left a box of rat poison in the pantry.” They really ought to have labeled it, really if they had labeled anything it would have made my first day that much easier, too bad there wasn’t a god of organization. Or rather there wasn’t anymore.
“Rat poison killed the pantheon?” Laurence stands eyes wide and red from chemical fumes from his toilet cleaner.
“Yeah it wasn’t that much either really, the recipe called for-“
“It didn’t call for rat poison!” Laurence cuts me off looking like he is going to be sick as he put a hand on the wall to support himself.
“Yeah well I didn’t put it next to the baking ingredients!”
“I did.” Laurence croaks as he dry heaves, he is doubled over now mumbling about how the position was vacant for years and he needed more storage for his supplies as groundskeeper.
“Oh god.” I stare down at the older man, gray hairs visibly appearing on his head by the moment.
“No, they are dead.” He stands after a minute regaining some semblance of composure before raising his toilet wand and smacking me on the head.
In any other circumstance I would have been grossed out, perhaps even lost my breakfast on the floor. I’m too overwhelmed for that now as I accept the swat and look at Laurence for guidance.
“Well as the groundskeeper if there is a mess I should clean it up.” He thinks for a moment before poking me in the chest.
“Congrats pastry chef! You are promoted to my assistant.” He walks out of the bathroom as I stammer my protest.
“Hurry up Eugene, before one of their children find them!”
I grab a bucket from the floor and chase after my new boss, we had to dispose of some bodies.
|
frachris87
|
Zite_reads
|
2024-05-13 03:02:02
|
2024-05-12 22:59:39
| 57 | 29 |
l3stf47
|
l3rwl8z
|
1cqjegz
|
1cqjegz
|
[WP] You wake up in the middle of the night, your arm hangs over the side of your bed. It’s pitch black & your room is shrouded in deep shadow. Something unseen seizes your hand. You grasp it tightly, knowing that first impressions are important & a firm, confident handshake establishes dominance.
|
“My father always told me to look a man in the eye when you shake his hand,” said Tyler. He spoke firmly and confidently into the dark of his bedroom, hand clasped tightly around…something, just under his bed frame. “I can’t very well look you in the eyes if I can’t see you, friend.”
“Not a man,” said a quiet voice, muffled behind the bedskirt. “Not a friend,” it said louder.
Tyler tightened his grasp. “That’s my fault, friend,” said Tyler, ever cool in awkward social settings. “I should not have misgendered you. You see, my father was old school, and I should probably modify his sayings for the modern age.”
“Not a friend,” said the voice again.
“Well, I’d hate to break it to you, friend,” said Tyler jovially, “but where I come from—which just so happens to be here—a handshake that lasts this long is called holding hands. And if we ain’t friends holding hands, then we must be lovers.”
“Lovers?” Said the voice noticeably caught off guard.
Tyler’s father had taught him many things in life. The handshake thing, sure. Something about never trusting a fart after Tijuana Tuesday—another truism Tyler would need to modernize. But one of the most important things Tyler’s father had taught him was this:
If you’re caught in a bad situation, always be the craziest one in the room—no one wants to mess with crazy.
“You heard right,” said Tyler quietly. “We must be lovers. You’re already in my bedroom, you’re holding my hand, what’s next, my sweet underbed lurker? What will we do with all this pent up…energy?” Tyler extended his index finger and began to lightly stroke whatever it was that he was holding.
Tyler heard muffled grunts as the being struggled to release itself from his grip. “Stop! Stop!” Shouted the voice. “Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Tyler held strong. “Dude? What a cute pet name for me. I think I’ll call you honey!” Tyler crooned. “Come on up, honey! Let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into.”
Tyler felt the being below him thrash about under his bed, it’s body slammed against the underside of his box spring and rang loudly throughout the quiet house. “Seriously, dude. Let me go!” Said the voice. “I promise, I’ll leave, just let me go.” The voice sounded scared. Desperate.
Now it was Tyler’s chance to put to practice another of his father’s wise words:
If you ain’t gonna eat it, let it go quick.
“I always was more of a catch and release fisherman,” Tyler said. “You be good now, though. I don’t want to hear about you holding hands with other lovers around town, honey. I’m a jealous man,” Tyler said.
He loosened his grip and let go. Tyler heard the sound of claws against his hardwood floor as whatever it was scurried away as fast as it could.
Tyler fell quickly back to sleep, unfazed by his impromptu midnight hand holding session.
Shortly after falling back to sleep he felt a pressure on his chest. He opened his eyes to see his sleep paralysis demon staring back at him.
“Hey there good-lookin,” he said cheerfully.
“Don’t you ‘good-lookin’ me!” Said the Demon. “What the fuck was all that ‘honey’ shit earlier? You thought I wouldn’t see that?”
Tyler exhaled loudly. Another truism of his father’s:
Try as you might, you can’t out crazy crazy.
___
r/InMyLife42Archive
|
How is it that two beings of power come together? A quest draws a hero to a villain? An unanswerable question drives one to an unimaginable terror?
Rumelda Stimple had lost a half dozen customers to the bedroom. I'd only heard about it in passing. She keeps a low profile, and when you enter her inn you wouldn't know she was its owner. But I found it, and I was lucky enough to draw the room, the very same that had caused wars to be fought, that had broken truces, treaties, and caused unimaginable pain.
If I hadn't heard the rumors of the King's rise to power out of nowhere from a monk on East Island of the seven kingdoms then I wouldn't have known to look in the Green Forest. And if I didn't recognize mushroom traps and spore signaling then I would have thought this to be a place filled with mysterious magic and it would have overwhelmed me.
But Rumelda has built a sham around this place. A deal with the devil, and the devil pays well. If she can draw in the right people she'll thrive off of the devil's investments, and if she draws in the wrong people, well, hopefully they didn't have a family.
I was not going to be the wrong man, not today. Not this year, the year of my only daughter's birth. When I shook his hand I could feel the spores of the contract seared into my being, but I did not come unarmed.
With the devil's hand in mine I cast three spells. The first was a binding spell, to allow the handshake to play out without any funny business. If he won the shake, then it would be fair play. The second was something I'd learned last time I was in the Green. The forest offers lessons to any adventurer brave enough to train against its strange conjurings. I found that some beings are best fought in the light, and my second spell allowed me the strength to pull him from his chamber under the bed if I so desired.
The third spell would be my undoing one way or another. If it worked, I would secure my daughter's future, and gain contract with the devil. I would become a family man and lose my adventuring. If it failed, he would see me for the sham I was and attempt to take me under.
"OW!" screamed the devil. "That's quite painful."
I could hear wincing and sighing as he tried to let go and take back his hand. I ripped him out from his chamber.
The devil laid on the ground, hand still in mine. He was three feet tall and his darkness was fading until his true form became real. He was no devil at all. He was only one of the forest creatures, no doubt hungry from lack of adventurers as of late.
"Pity," I said to him. "I thought we were going to go places together. No matter..." I trailed off as I reached my hand into my pocket and grabbed a slip of paper. I wrote a few words, a few clauses and justifications. A few calculations and I arrived at a number.
"For your position, and my associated terms."
I handed him the slip, and he put on a monocle and perused the terms.
"You want my estate? And you would be my employer?" His dark aura emerged out of nothing and began to shroud around him once more, slowly pulling him back under.
"I was prepared for things to go differently, but at this juncture, I think this is appropriate. You've no doubt served a number of terms here. And from what I understand after this ad hoc introduction, you are not the first to reside here. And you seem unfit for the position. No offense. Just my professional opinion."
He was furious. Before he could return to the under and gain back his power I activated the magic in the third spell. I'd bought it off of a wandering ex-monk who'd abandoned East Island. He'd told me the spell was only as strong as my firmest handshake.
I used the third spell to maintain the handshake through anything. Three times the creature tried to return back to below, but found his hand in mine each time. On the fourth time I knew the magic worked. His hand departed from his arm. I took the contract and dribbled a few drops of blood down onto the hand's finger, and pressed the print. Then I released the hand, and the shake was done with.
His hand returned to below, and I knew that the magic had succeeded.
Unfortunately, the terms I wrote gave him weekends off, and indicated that he wouldn't start until the following morning. But then it was that he set off in search of my daughter, to bring her back to me. Until then, there would be a new devil under the bed.
|
None
|
ANakedCowboy
|
2023-02-25 23:57:06
|
2023-02-25 23:13:14
| 2,072 | 80 |
ja0rozz
|
ja0lueh
|
11bvx53
|
11bvx53
|
[WP] Legendary heroes are won at auction to overcome a kingdom's latest threat from evil. Unable to afford the top dollar offerings, your kingdom was only able to win a hero on a clearance sale.
|
"Alright, what have you got?"
Fealorn coughed and scratched himself rudely. The proud Queen grimaced at the sight of what passed for hope in her Kingdom. She cleared her throat and composed herself.
"Brave hero, we have contracted you to destroy a terrible evil that has ravaged our lands."
She spoke her words to the entire court, and with the commanding charisma of a born leader. However, when she looked down to level her gaze at the best their Treasury could afford, he was gone.
"Is this buffet here up for grabs, or?"
Faelorn said it from her side, his mouth already full of cheese. The Queen sighed and put her hand to her brow. The *brave hero* returned to his position before the throne, his pockets clearly spilling over with pastries. He pulled out a notebook and a sharpened piece of charcoal.
"Yeah, so what's the evil, exactly? What kind of ravaging are we talking here? Poison mist? Undead hordes? Savage beasts? Lay it on me."
The Queen was done with theatrics. If he was here for business, she would give it to him.
"It's a Lich. A powerful undead necromancer who was untombed by mistake during an unsanctioned excavation."
Faelorn abruptly closed his notebook.
"Tall fella? Green tattered robes, big hole through his middle, likes to blab about *'the dawn of the age of darkness'*?"
The throne room fell into a stunned silence.
"I killed him on the way over here. Let me see, uhh."
He took off his pack and began rummaging through it, then pulled out a severed head with green glowing eyes.
*"You all shall perish in the coming age of-"*
Fealorn shoved a wedge of cheese in the heads mouth.
"Darkness, yeah, we've all heard it before. Keep it to yourself. Anyways, highness, it's been a pleasure. Uh, if you could leave a good review, I'd appreciate it but otherwise..."
"We do accept tips."
|
"Allow me to parley with Lord Gerant, My King." Average Hero PsyQuin said. "I swear to you, I will come back with favorable terms."
"We are surrounded, Your Grace. It may be the time to extend an olive branch." Advisor Plum said.
King Oliver Slate sat with unmoving face. Never one to give up the offensive, King Slate was loath to even begin speak of terms of surrender.
King Slate took considerable time to speak, weighing his options, weighing his duty to his people. It is his duty to not let them starve. The siege had already cut all trade except from Port Arthur. The supplies from Port Arthur could barely supply the Inner Keep.
In addition, Lord Gerant's forces were already being marshalled from Ports Barnaby and Lazarus. Merchant's vessels had begun to be sunk. Soon, even King Slate would be starving and stark mad from drinking salt water.
"Assured safety for all citizens." King Slate finally began. "We will keep our ways. Our traditions, our culture, our Gods. We will join the empire of Anslung, yet we will be our own people. We will fight in the Anslung army, yet with our own fighting methods! We will never, ever leave horseback. Our bows are as integral to us as our tibia and fibula!"
Bows were thumped on the ground as cheers sounded.
"That is our offer. That is what you will relay, Hero PsyQuin. I, King Oliver Slate of the Dusken, entrust you with this parley." King Slate said.
"And if they decline the terms?" Hero PsyQuin said.
"We will outlast this siege. We will fight to the last. We will die for our mother and father, Hora and Reloj. We will sleep safe in their arms, if that is our Gods' will." King Slate said, and cheers roared.
\---
Lord Gerant laughed Hero Psyquin halfway to the horizon, then raised his hand sharply. An arrow landed squarely in Psyquin's left eye, the laws of truce during a parley be damned.
A yell of righteous fury sounded from the walls of the besieged city. A hail of arrows fell.
"Backwater rats." Lord Gerant motioned to his generals. The siege engines marched toward the main gates.
With four mighty thumps, the main gate swung inward. Six divisions of spearmen stormed inward. King Slate's half-starved army put up little resistance, most throwing their bows to the ground and cowering as the spears ran them through.
King Slate raised the white flag as soon as the gate fell. The soldiers ignored the surrender, as the reward would go to the commanders if the conflict resolved peacefully.
Many games were played in the subsequent days. Deadly, inhuman games. Who can kill the most in an hour? Hide and seek, but *don't* be found. What happens to people when they get really, really hot? Who is stronger, who can eat more, who can hold their breath longer, and so on, all in tournament format.
By day four, first-hand accounts say that River Arthur, for which Port Arthur is named, literally ran red with blood.
|
jpb103
|
None
|
2023-06-11 23:59:54
|
2023-06-11 21:04:28
| 282 | 29 |
jnudfta
|
jntrdeg
|
1473m9m
|
1473m9m
|
[WP] "I engineered you to be a villain. Lack of empathy, lack of morals, deriving pleasure from the pain and suffering of others, I even gave you power and ability for you to abuse. So how could it be that not only you are not a villain, but also a hero in the eyes of others?"
|
“Because I am a reflection of their worst selves—or maybe not worst, but the most basic version of who they are. When they see me, they see what they wish to be. As perverse as it may be, humanity basks in my savagery.
“Every act of pain I inflict, they cheer. Every injustice I propose, they support. Every lie I tell, they repeat. They act in no more sophisticated a manner than a parrot imitating language—they speak the words but do not comprehend the meaning.
“As far as I can tell, undergirding their support of me is a deep-seated insecurity and fear of the other. When I strike down one group, another cheers, for if the other has been laid low, they may finally have the stature necessary to look down upon someone else. A great leader once said something like, “if you convince the lowest man he is above another, he won’t notice you’re picking his pocket. Hell, give him somebody to look down upon and he’ll empty his pockets for you.” As you can see, I provide a permission structure for them to embrace their biologically coded instinct for tribalism.
“But here is the part I fail to understand, the great contradiction of their love of me: even when I take actions that hurt them—their family, their group, their community—they cheer me anyway. They are so removed from their self-interest that they could not even pick it out of a lineup. Perhaps my best achievement has been to so thoroughly obfuscate reality such that no two groups may agree upon even the most basic facts or circumstances of a given debate. As history teaches us, when public discourse falters, the fall of society is not far behind.
“So fear not. They may regard me as a champion today, but in time, they will understand my true nature. Or perhaps not. Perhaps I’ll have done such an incredible job—the best job—that their capacity of self-reflection will never recover. Regardless, embrace the fact that I can do more evil if they love me than if they fear me, I can do more harm if they trust me than if they suspect me, and I can be a better villain if they call me hero.”
_______
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out my other stories at r/InMyLife42Archive
|
The Governor's hair smelled of lavender. Her grip was respectably firm as she shook my hand. The Nobel Peace Prize was bestowed upon me. An impressionist work covered half of the reward, a rendition of a scene of well-to-do men and women enjoying a park.
Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at me, thanking me for the work I'd done for the city. A shushed applause rang out, mindful of the press cameras.
If you've ever been to a funeral, you've observed the line of those who wish to offer condolences. A similar line formed to celebrate my achievements.
The praise and worship is much preferred from a distance. There is a certain fire in the chest that comes with seeing your face on posters or acting in movies as yourself as a hero. There is a much different experience coming face to face with one of them.
A million blathering, smiling faces, drank in my majesty. They bleat with fear in their eyes, always a "thank you" on their lips. Often before any other words, even my name.
It's a semi-common scene: a man, woman, or child, working up the nerve to speak something. Not wanting to annoy me - and after all these years, it would - yet not wanting to lose their one shot. So, after minutes of debating in their mind, they blurt out a choked "Thanks!" and I keep walking, pretending I didn't hear.
After the award ceremony, I returned home, putting my newest reward on the wall with the others.
Then, back to work, off to whatever country we are dubbing the other this week, month, or year.
The air was fairly cool, but the flight was only a few hours.
This one was enjoyable, at least. An old-fashioned job, in an old-fashioned place.
No cameras.
The huts were lined in a teepee style, much like how you might make a fireplace on which to roast marshmallows. So it only felt fitting to set them alight on my arrival, a sort of spectacular introduction towards the savages.
Now, friends, this part was fun. The strong and, like, virile ones were running out of their tiny huts, and scrambling in all directions, like an anthill. Like, you know how in an anthill, they just romp all about, cause they're trying to scare you off, I think.
This was cooler, though. It became apparent that they were *not* running randomly. Many were fleeing, several were looking to arm themselves.
Then came the family men and women, who would run to the screaming huts, where the people didn't get out.
They'd pull out a writing mass, a limb or two charred to bits, just in need of some chocolate and graham crackers.
All of a sudden though, this all felt less like fun and more like work. And at the end of the day, it was work.
And now, my brothers and sisters, I am tired from the day's efforts, so you'll forgive me for giving the bullet points.
To make a long story short, my friends. Suddenly, I grew frustrated with the whole thing. Thinking of the ants kind of made me think these guys were ants, and I felt insulted.
Surely a missile or two could have just been dropped on this crappy village. Why send out the big guns?
In my rage I went in with hand-to-hand combat, my fists crunching bones. It felt right.
Anyway, though, enough about all of that. The day's business has been concluded.
It's time to unwind, maybe watch a movie about myself.
|
None
|
None
|
2023-01-09 23:00:16
|
2023-01-09 20:02:00
| 46 | 26 |
j3o9pde
|
j3nguye
|
107n18a
|
107n18a
|
[WP] In this world healers, while respected, are often looked down upon due to their limited offensive capabilities. One day your party is completely wiped out, and the world finds out just how dangerous knowledge of human anatomy can be.
|
"Oh the toe bone's connected to the foot bones" she stomped down hard with the spike of her heel, crushing her captor's pinky toe, forcing him to let go as he squealed and hopped around in pain.
"The foot bone's connected to the talus bone" as she swept down and flipped the second man by his ankle onto his backside.
"The talus bone's connected to the Tibia bone" as she picked up the axe he'd dropped and swung it clean through his lower leg, just below the knee.
Rising in pitch, she sang out "The patella's connected to the Femur bone" as she slipped out of her heels and aimed a round-house kick at the first man's knee, shattering it.
"The femur's connected to the, pelvic bone" as she reversed the axe, whirled around and caught the third man, who, hearing the screams, had entered the door, striking his hip.
"The pelvis's connected to the spinal cord" as reversing the direction, her next blow severed his spine.
"The spine is connected to the clavicle" as she chopped at the shoulder of the first man who was grabbing at her leg from his position on the floor.
"The clavicle's connected to the cervical vertebrae" she sang almost hysterically as she removed his head from his shoulders "The neck bone's not connected to the Cranium, now hear the Word of the Lord".
With that, being finally out of combat, she cast a mass resurrection spell on the rest of the party.
|
Doctor Julian Shephard watched as one of the men who ambushed his groups wagon fought for air. His blood spilled onto the bright green grass under him. Julian's traveling companions were tied up, but they hadn't bothered to do the same to him due to the cross patch he wore indicating he was a doctor.
The dead mans voice was hoarse and weak, "help me." He looked at his comrades. One man was trying to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. Two others were crouched near and looking intently, but the other four
off to the side weren't interested in the soon-to-be dead man.
Julian wondered why he should help this man. It was likely the bandits would throw them all into the river anyways. He thought for a moment of his oaths: every life is precious, do no harm.
"He has a severed brachial artery. A tourniquet will need to be carefully applied," Julian said. All seven bandits looked at him. "Let me get my bag and I will do it." He hurried to the cart near the road and retrieved his doctors bag.
He put the tourniquet around the mans arm, above the laceration. As he was cinching the tourniquet he had to remind himself that this was just another man. Maybe a husband, father, brother, or son. Julian didn't know his story.
"He will still need a doctor, but this buys you a couple of hours." Julian said.
One of the four bandits who didn't seem interested in the dying man said, "Alright boys, throw these poor souls into the river and lets move on."
"Hold on a second, I'm not throwing that doctor into the river," another said and a fight broke out with three on one side, four on another. Swords clashed and knives were slashed wildly. In the end, the group defending the doctor were left alive, the other four dead.
"Thank you," the injured man managed to whisper. The remaining bandits looked at their swords and their former comrades dead on the ground.
"So pointless. You have the power over life and death, yet we are but brutes who only kill. For what? All we do is bring death into this world. Pointless." The seven bandits dropped their swords and started burying their former comrades. When they finished and left, the swords remained there in the grassy ditch.
|
Tequima
|
None
|
2023-01-13 00:24:17
|
2023-01-12 23:48:48
| 152 | 43 |
j43z545
|
j43tyew
|
10a7zca
|
10a7zca
|
[WP] In this world healers, while respected, are often looked down upon due to their limited offensive capabilities. One day your party is completely wiped out, and the world finds out just how dangerous knowledge of human anatomy can be.
|
"See, the art of healing mainly focuses on choice and balance."
All I recieved was a gurgle in reply.
"Yeah we use aspects of growth magic and a whole lot of divination, but it's all about keeping things as close to optimum as possible. The ancients called it 'Homeostasis'."
No gurgles this time. Just a silent plea from eyes filled with horror.
"And, when it comes down to it, there's always an implicit assumption that the thing we help heal, to grow, is the patient, the human body. Which requires a lot of training so that we don't _accidentally_ heal or grow the organisms that feed on human flesh."
Silence finally as the ex-bandit finishes rotting alive.
"Ever hear of bacteria?"
|
Healers talk to Karoun.
No one really thinks about that, the implications of talking to Death. *Healers* talking to Death. Those who *do* rationalize it as a battle, a fight. A metaphysical conflict with sword and shield against the Hydra of Death.
The terrible truth is that it isn't. It never was. Healers talk to Karoun because she loves them. It's a gift - healing, that is - you're born with it or you aren't. A connection that it seems no one has made is the presence of death at the precise moment of the birth. A cat, the mother, anything - as long as the precise moment of death is at the precise moment of birth, the stronger the death, the farther away the baby can be and have a possibility of becoming a healer.
The truth of healing is Karoun lending out favors. A gift to a beloved pet, a token to a loyal servant, Karoun withholding from the subject, pulling back her creeping tendrils. A healer loyal enough and beloved enough can convince her to strain herself (miniscule though the strain is) to pull a creature into her grasp early. Saneqil was such a healer.
Mother dead at childbirth while her father killed himself at the exact same moment, just as the loyal pet greyhound died a peaceful death on the couch. A shocking collection of events that led Saneqil into Karoun's embrace. To Karoun, Saneqil wasn't just beloved - she was a child, a daughter in tragic death. Almost as tragic as the death in front of her now. The skin of the brutish dragon that had felled Awain, Collise, and Fraugh was burning. Not literally, of course, but it was running a fever. A fatal one.
The dragon bellowed in agony as it wasted away. Saneqil watched it happen - the least she could do. She sighed as she watched it draw a final breath.
Karoun was a good mother.
|
joalheagney
|
Faendan
|
2023-01-13 05:27:40
|
2023-01-13 05:14:39
| 20 | 12 |
j452krj
|
j4515dd
|
10a7zca
|
10a7zca
|
[WP] You are the latest generation in a rather unique family business. Your family has been finding new jobs for out-of-work gods. Your great-great-grandma was particularly proud of giving Odin the job of Santa. You knew it was going to be a long day when you saw an anxious Loki in your lobby.
|
"Hm, yeah I know what you mean. The family business had some part in that, actually."
My response made my buddy give me the 'you better finish this story and not just leave it like that' look. I sighed and continued.
"Well, you know what we do. So imagine you're me, some decades ago, having just inherited the family biz. It's the time to prove myself and not fuck everything up. Who's the first client I get, though? Loki. How much do you know about him?"
"I mean, I've seen him in Marvel movies?"
"Right, well. Somewhat accurate. He's a trickster god who would have royally fucked up any task I could have assigned him. It's not like these jobs for gods need to be productive. They mostly just need to keep them distracted and out of trouble."
I paused in thought, remembering the day I assigned him that job. I still have bouts of guilt over the whole thing, and wonder what could have been. Even during this moment, my first time telling anyone outside of the family about it, I'm unable to think of an alternative. I know that if the rest of the world knew, I'd be hated.
"So you made him—"
"Right, decades ago. It was the dawn of a new frontier; a digital frontier. The Internet. Obviously, it was a complete fad and going nowhere. At the time, the main thing you could do was go on bulletin boards. I figured that at the very least, it didn't affect the real world. Like, what could he possibly do? Just turn off your terminal, right? Close your eyes."
I let out a crazed laugh. I'd thought about all of this so many times already. Tried to justify it to myself. Told myself I couldn't have known it would become so prevalent in everyone's daily's life. My buddy was staring at me now, and I wrapped up the story.
"Anyway, yeah. That's why the Internet is such a toxic place. You'd might as well call him something like the God of Trolling now. On the bright side, it looks like there's no chance of Loki ever getting bored and needing us to find a different job for him."
"Bruh."
|
I walked into my offebuilding, the coffee to go in my right hand, a big folder in my other hand. I hated Wednesday mornings. Everyone seemed rather pleased with the workweek halfways over, but somehow for me Wednesdays are always days filled with agony.
As I walked through the rotating doors and past my receptionist I found a well dressed, but uncomfortable looking man waiting in front of the elevator. "Morning" I growled to him and he almost jumped out of his skin. "Oh, yes hello. You starteled me. Sorry!"
"Are you here for an appointment or are you looking for something else?" As we stepped into the elevator I took a long hard look at this young man. "You don't look like you're from around here. Tell me child, what is your name?"
"Oh ehm wow. I haven't been asked that in a long time. People always avoid talking to me or already know who I am.. Anyways I am Loki and... "Loki?" I exclaimed, "the trickster god? Finally you're here. Honestly You are one of the last gods I thought would come to this company. Don't worry child I will take good care of you."
I chugged away the rest of my coffe as the elevator reached my floor. I ushered Loki into my office and motioned him to take a seat opposite to me. I put the folder back into its place on the shelf and took a seat my self. I leaned back in my chair and crossed one leg over the other.
"Soooo Loki, tell me exactly what I can do for you" I asked with a smirk on my face. I already had the perfect job for him but clients always felt better when they could voice their opinions and wishes.
"Well as you probably know, I ehm..." he stuttered, "I have been loosing followers for centuries by now. And well my ability to shapeshift... kinda stopped working..." My chin droppped, maybe this would be harder than expected. "But I am here to try and get back on track. I have been kind of just fucking around and traversing in the bad parts of the world... You know..."
"Well first of all, thank you for your honesty. It is highly appreciated. Second of all, such a shame that your shapeshifting doesn't work anymore. Have you really tried everything to make it work again?" I asked. I could tell he was annoyed at that question and snapped at me "Uh no actually I haven't tried at all. In fact I just haven't done it in a while and have forgotten how to do it" "Sarkasm is still working I see. Okay forgive me that question. Well how about your trickery. Are you still as nimble and stealthy as the legends say?"
His head perked up at that question and he said "Yes I still have all the tricks up my sleeve. I can decieve even the most doubtful in the world."
I slammed my hands on my desk as I stood up. "Excellent. I think I have the perfect job for you. You may even gather a following and many will look up to you. However we will have to change your name." Loki too jumped out of his chair, excitement blazing in his eyes "Oh yeah? Who will I be?" I pointed my finger at him in an extravagance motion "You, my child, will be know as Harry Houdini the best magician in the history!"
|
disenjoyment
|
printedNightmares
|
2023-03-31 06:11:43
|
2023-03-31 05:38:37
| 231 | 41 |
jedk1s8
|
jedhccy
|
1277dhm
|
1277dhm
|
[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?"
|
The door opened on its squeaky hinges, and He stepped in. His aura filled the room instantly, and every eye in the place snapped to him immediately.
"Who did it?" The words were spoken quietly. Too quietly. His face wasn't smiling, the aura that radiated off of him wasn't producing joy or happiness. A solemn weight sat on all of us, a leaden resolve holding us transfixed. No one moved. He stepped forward into the bar, and as he moved, we could all see the red lightning steaks in his aura. The Smiling Man had found his rage.
One of the older men turned on his stool and stood up. "Did what, exactly? What are you here for, Smiley?" He was trying to sound tough, but the words came out like a man talking to a rabid animal who is is ready to attack. His hands were held placatingly between them.
The Smiling Man didn't smile. His head turned like that of a bird, and he was just suddenly in front of the standing man. He whispered something. None of the others could hear what he said, but the room felt suddenly too small and too cold. The old man started to say something, and then he collapsed to the ground, sobbing.
Then he spoke, and his voice was rusty razor wire running through our minds. It was the sound of every nail on chalkboard, of teeth on forks that has ever been. "Who killed my child? A villain fired a weapon at a bridge to escape, and a school bus was the target. My child was on the bus. Until I know who fired the shot, you will all share my grief. My misery." The weight of his aura pressed down on us like a steel plate. "My RAGE!" The pressure intensified on us all and the weight holding us down began to get hot. I saw bar napkins begin to smolder and char, and the TVs shorted out. None of us could move, transfixed by the power on display, until one of the guys in the back booth slid free and stood up.
"Smiley. These guys here had nothing to do with it. I know who did." His voice was smooth and we all recognized it. That nondescript guy in faded blue jeans and a stained Hard Rock Cafe TV shirt was the Dominator? I think I thought he'd be taller. "Your aura doesn't work on me. Our powers are too similar. Follow me outside, and I will give you the name you're looking for. Hell, I'll make the bastard cut his own throat if you want.
The Smiling Man turned and walked out of the room. The weight of his aura lingered for a moment, and then the Dominator walked out after. He stopped in the doorway and turned around. "Forget I was ever here and that you've ever seen me." He opened the door to walk out, but hesitated. "If you have children, keep them safe."
|
“God dammit, Storm Breaker get off the table” I shouted at her. The job was kind of tough, considering the fact that I was just an ordinary person in a room full of drunk super villains. at least the pay was good and there were plenty of benefits.
“Hey bartender, another one please-“ Hive Mind was interrupted by the sound of the front door being slammed open. I turned towards the door and saw the city’s poster child. Dawn Ender.
“Who did it.” she was very pissed. that much was clear when you so much as glanced at her. The bar was silent as I would imagine having the number one superhero burst into the place that you’re drinking at isn’t something that’s normal.
“Ma’am, I will have to ask you to kindly refrain from fighting with customers or causing property damage” I somehow managed to stammer that much out. when push came to shove, I wasn’t going to do anything to her as she could easily murder me if she wanted.
“Where is the owner.” She was staring directly at me. I would’ve probably have shit my pants if it wasn’t for the fact that I knew exactly who the owner of this establishment was. Which also made it strange why she was looking for him.
“I’m not sure what business you have with him, but he currently isn’t here right now, so unfortunately, you’ll have to look elsewhere” I reached for the button under the desk and pressed it. He would be here if things escalated.
“I’m not in the mood for games, now tell-“ The door to the back room opened as my boss and owner of the establishment, Looming Eye walked in.
“Miss Dawn Ender, i’ll have to kindly ask you to leave the premises or perhaps order a drink or two. You are disrupting my business.” He adjusted his shirt a little bit and stared at her, almost daring her to do something about it.
“I’m not in the mood for jokes, now tell me who did it.” She walked up closer to him. “Don’t think you can weasel your way out of this one.”
“Now what makes you think I know what happened? or who did it? what makes you think any of the customers in here have any idea?” Looming Eye simply grabbed a glass and poured himself a glass of water.
“Because you’re villains, and even though we have a sort of routine. I never thought one of you would be an actual villain.” If looks could kill, my boss would be dead 10 times over. “Bombing a middle school. For what purpose could that have served?”
“So you come here instead of doing any investigative research? I can assure you that none of the present customers are responsible for such an act. Although once again, this isn’t the place for this kind of stuff. So if you’re not here for patronage, I must ask you to leave.” He took a sip from his glass.
“I know what you’re capable of, either you know who did it or you will be able to know faster than anyone else. Tell me who they are.” Dawn Ender slammed her fist into the bar counter.
“I will have to ask you to refrain from committing any property damage. As for your request, currently I’m business owner first, S rank villain second. I will get you your information and deliver it to the front door of your justice hall as long as you leave this establishment and its customers alone.” He walked towards the door. “However I will not have you wait here for my staff and I have a bar to run. The information will be to you before tomorrow morning.”
“Fine. It better be” She walked out of the bar and flew off. The rest of the patrons were still silently stunned by the whole exchange.
“Well, now that that’s over. How about a round of drinks for free for everyone? that includes you too bartender.” I smiled as the whole bar lit up with cheers.
|
InsomniaFTW
|
G0lden_Puppet
|
2024-10-17 23:17:52
|
2024-10-17 20:39:45
| 29 | 18 |
lsfyuua
|
lsf7s6o
|
1g5kua3
|
1g5kua3
|
[WP] After attempting to burn a witch who just flew off cackling, a town has to come to terms with the fact that it has clearly been accusing and burning innocent people up till now.
|
"Everyone calm down!" said the mayor, hoping to stop the mob from torching his house. "There still is no proof that the other girls weren't witches!"
He had gotten elected on his anti-witch campaign. The first thing he did when he became mayor was burn 20 young women at the stake, accusing them of witchcraft.
"You saw her yourself!" shouted an older man in the mob. "She could shoot fire from her hands and she flew on a goddamned broom! All my little maria did was make a tonic for the neighbors child."
"You're gonna pay for this you bastard!" shouted another man. "You burnt our children without a shred of any real proof. If they really were witches they would've just flown off like her!"
A torch flew in through his front window. His thatch roof was already on fire. He tried to make a desperate last escape through the back window but just as he managed to get his torso through the tiny window he saw her. The witch came flying back at incredible speed and kicked him straight back into the house. His screams were heard across the entire village.
|
In the quaint, isolated town of Elden, nestled between dense forests and a winding river, fear ruled. For years, the townsfolk had been plagued by what they believed to be the sinister deeds of witches. Livestock were found mutilated, crops failed, and children fell ill with no explanation. The town’s solution had always been the same: find the witch responsible and burn them at the stake.
It was a chilling autumn morning when the town gathered for the latest burning. Accused was Mariah, an elderly woman known for her knowledge of herbs and quiet, solitary nature. As the flames began to lick at her feet, something incredible happened. Instead of succumbing to the fire, Mariah let out a cackling laugh, and to the town's astonishment, she levitated and flew off into the morning sky.
Silence consumed the crowd. The gravity of their actions, of the years of innocent blood spilled, hit them like a tidal wave. They had been wrong—horribly wrong—all this time.
Weeks passed, and the town was consumed by guilt and paranoia. People were afraid to speak to one another, fearful that any disagreement could end with an accusation. The town’s council, desperate for a solution, announced a day of reckoning. A grand assembly was held in the town square, where everyone would face the truth.
During the assembly, Mayor Harrington, a stout and normally composed man, broke down in tears. "We must confess our sins," he proclaimed, "and vow never to repeat this madness. We were not purging evil; we were the evil."
As he spoke, the townsfolk shared remorseful glances. Suddenly, a cold wind swept through the square, and the townsfolk heard a familiar cackling from above. It was Mariah, hovering over the crowd.
"I have seen your suffering," she announced. "I am no witch, but a healer. I used an old trick to escape your flames and hoped you would learn. But I must tell you: the curse upon this town is real. It is not witches, but your own fear that poisons this place."
"And the greatest evil," she said, turning her gaze piercingly outward, as if looking straight through the screen, "is you. Yes, you, the one witnessing this story unfold—are not immune. Your fear poisons us all."
|
blasket04
|
ThisIsTrix
|
2023-08-16 07:16:16
|
2023-08-16 04:28:52
| 48 | 25 |
jweercu
|
jwdzqim
|
15s3c7f
|
15s3c7f
|
[WP] You recently discovered that your father, whom you never knew, is actually a crime-fighter with no free time, and he is unaware that you are his son. In order to talk to him, you become a villain.
|
The whizzing air would have blown out my ears under normal circumstances, but I didn't mind. What annoyed me was the storm that he flew through. My eyes were shut so tight, they nearly froze going through the clouds. My cybernetic ear implants continued to buzz in my ear, blocking out moisture and the speed of the wind, the only remaining comfort I had.
The mechanical prototype suit had been shredded, and the leather harness that strapped me to the protective roll cage had produced less than adequate results. Something to reinforce to confor-
The air got warmer as we dropped below the clouds, the overcast sky becoming more grey as we descended. I smiled and blinked to get the wetness out of my eyes. *I must get ahead of myself and install the new implants to avoid this discomfort. Setting me down gently in a small steel cage, the man that I came to know as my Father found his own spot. Roughly ten paces away, a small chamber rose from the ground, the grass dead from the constant use. A mini-fridge appeared.
"Still drinking the blue flavour? That's my favourite."
His silent continued as he chugged a bottle of it. Then another. I fidgetted to scratch an irritation in my back before he turned to me. "You're going to jail. For good."
I smiled. "Nice to see you too Robert Lang." He scowled, then narrowed his eyes.
"How do you know that name." He growled as he walked closer, hard steps kicking up sand. I continued to smile.
"Birth certificate. Mum gave it to me when I was ten. You remember Becca, right?" My teeth, polished only yesterday by my dentist, gleaned white in the sun. "She's still practicing you know."
His face turned scarlet. "What kind of trick is this?!" He ripped the steel bars apart and picked me up by what was left of my collar. "Who are you?"
"Your son."
He looked at me, deep into the sockets of my eyes. He softened. His grip loosened, and dropped me to the floor. His eyes were thoughtful, tracing back the numerous flings, vacation romances, the by-gones and the smooches on the cheeks, the moments of peace and solitude. You could hardly blame him. Moving from one moment to the next, from one villain to the next. His eyes rose to meet mine again.
"Another one. Again. Huh." He stepped back to give me space again, and looked over me. "You became this to what, talk to me?"
I stood, uneasily as my left hip's pain rose sharply with the movement. There was likely a rib fracture as it hurt somewhat to breath on that side. Maybe a strain? I must re-eva-
"What kind of kid goes through the effort of inventing a mecha suit to destroy a city?" He interupted my thought.
I chuckled softly, softly enough for my chest to rest easy. "One that demands attention from my Father I guess?" He smirked at that briefly.
He sighed, waving me to follow him. The mini-fridge rose again to the surface. Handing me one of the bottles, he stated, "You're still going to jail."
|
'Powerless...the both of us are powerless. I know he's my dad though, but how does he do the things he does?' Jamal thinks, 'He says something that makes his amulet glow and then it's like the world around him glitches to do... something. Usually stuff that benefits him. I need to find his power. Then I can make it my own...and he'll see me.'
Jamal sets his eyes back on the street, everything is going according to plan so far. He has a friend across town who has a very useful power right now. She can control radio waves, and with the right setup, she is now tricking all police to head towards the opposite side of town. It's a classic setup really, if you want a hero to show, make sure they're needed.
"Right on time!"
Jamal watches as his dad lands on the roof with a gentle and almost cloud like grace, the glow from the amulet around his neck quickly fading.
Jamal began to approach his father, "I knew you'd come, and it's time you listened."
His dad, the local hero known as Hexing, wasted no time in rushing towards his unbeknownst to him son. He grabbed his shirt and quickly dangled him off the ledge of the building with a strength that his body shouldn't be capable of.
Hexing then stares into his son's eyes and makes his demanding questions, "What is your plan? What have you done?!"
Jamal smiles and reaches his hand out towards his father's shoulder, carful not to let his eyes wander towards the amulet his father always wears.
"Mr. Hexing...or might I say Kobi Shepard?"
Jamal's smile turns into a devilish smirk as he sees the visage his father puts on as a hero vanishes. Jamal then watches as the amulet around his father's neck glows like before as he speaks some strange archaic language.
But, as his father's muscles tense up to throw his son back onto the roof, Jamal snatches the glowing amulet from his father's neck and rips it free.
Suddenly, his father loses his strength and collapses as his son, who was dangling over the ledge of the building falls.
Jamal smiles as he falls. The building is tall, but the fall is mere seconds. Shouting to the amulet in his hand, he recites the same words he's heard his father speak to it, the words Jamal has spent hours memorizing over recordings of his father's battles.
Suddenly, the amulet glows as it recognizes the voice of it's new master. Jamal's fall ceases and he simply floats there. It feels like he's being cradled in a massive and invisible hand. He then looks up towards the top of the building as his father looks down in disbelief.
Jamal flies back up the building to his dad as he stands atop the invisible force that lifts him.
"H-how? The amulet...it requires someone of blood relation. But you can't-"
Jamal laughs, his outburst interrupting his fathers disbelief.
"Really?! Do you think that it's so impossible? That your youth would never catch up to you? Welcome to the real world, Dad! Your actions have consequences...and just like you made me live without something, I'm going to make you suffer the same!"
Jamal then flies closer to his father as he can tease him with a whisper, making sure to stay just out of arms reach.
"The look on your face. You can hardly believe it yet the proof is right in front of you. I'm surprised you didn't see it before, but then again, nature versus nurture, right? I was forced to become stronger than you, and now you'll get to see that in full. So, about me taking something from you...this amulet is mine now. But don't you worry, I'm not just taking something from you, I'm also giving you something. You have a son now~"
Jamal's smile is wide and eyes crazed as he points his father's gaze to a nearby holoboard (holographic billboard used on building in the city). On the board is an article (created by Jamal's friend with the radio control) that is just being released saying not only that Hexing's true identity is Kobi Shepard, but that his son is Jamal Shepard, the new villain who's named himself Gozer.
|
imakhink
|
--Socks--
|
2023-11-18 01:11:50
|
2023-11-18 00:38:56
| 803 | 376 |
k9pmb29
|
k9pi5jd
|
17xs2q1
|
17xs2q1
|
[WP] "Listen, you're fine, I'm- stop screaming- I'm not going to hurt you. Yes, opening the Dark Book summons The One Who Ends, but that whole thing where I kill the reader is hogwash. Now, would you kindly direct me to the one who tricked you into opening my book? *Intent* is important, after all."
|
Helena leapt back from the book as eldrich energy shot up from its pages. She had just opened it and barely had chance to register the script, written in human blood if she was not mistaken, when the bolt of energy had shot up from within it. Her one attempt to close the book had been made in vain, and instead she kept back away from the beam, as far back as the space in the room would allow.
She watched in barely contained horror as the beam rotated to form a portal to another world. It was a summoning spell.
For a being strong enough to trigger such a spell when it's runes we're even perceived by the mind of a mortal.
And it was being summoned without ANY summoning protections.
No summoning circle.
No binding circle.
No knowledge whatsoever of whom she had summoned, never mind its true name.
Her only hope at this point was to appear so composed that she could bluff the creature into not attacking her long enough for her to learn what it was and come up with some sort of plan to get out of this alive and free. It was far from a sure plan, but it was all she could do here.
Shoving down hard on her fear, if she listened to that gibbering panic for even a second she could end up worse than dead, she composed her features and prepared to face whatever came through the portal.
The being that stepped through the portal looked almost human. Like a facsimile of a person, designed by someone who had once heard a good description of a human but had never actually seen one. The features were somehow... Off. Some things met at odd angles, and in other places they appeared unfinished, like the craftsman who had created this facade had gotten bored half way though and just decided to call it a day.
Despite its oddness, its wrongness even, it was a remarkably mundane form for such a creature to take. Usually beasts from the beyond took on terrifying or mind-bending forms almost too wrong for the human mind to comprehend. If this one did not do that, it could mean only one thing. It was so horrifyingly powerful that it did not need to take on such a form. The gibbering panic at the back of Helena's mind sharpened to a keening howl of despair. Despite that, her face remained cool and collected. Barely.
*"WHO HAS SUMMONED ME?"* It's voice sounded deep, and yet it had a piercing quality to it, like shrieking steam or a sharp gale, and it seemed to penetrate to Helena's very soul.
"I.. You may call me Claudia" said Helena. The entity seemed to be examining her, pondering her almost, trying to gain the measure of her. It looked both curious and irritated, if an eldrich entity could be said to be curious or irritated. The silence stretched for a moment, for two, and then a third, becoming ever more uncomfortable. Should she ask its name in return?
"To... To whom do I speak?" it took her a moment to form the words, and as soon as she had asked she would have had the question back. It exposed her ignorance, just how out of her depth she was. Hopefully it would at least yield some worthwhile information.
They seemed to consider Helena for a moment before responding.
*"You don't know who you have summoned?"* The wind had died down to a whisper now, one that teased across the back of your neck on a dark winters night, sending a chill down your spine. Something in that whisper sounded mocking to Helena. She glared at them, her eyes bright balls of blue fire.
"I didn't expect to summon anything or anyone at all. I was *told* the book was a historical arcanum. It is named as such and I had no reason to doubt the man who told me." she said, an almost petulant look to her. "I was expecting a handful of scraps of good knowledge mixed in with a lot of nonsense about potions made from newts eyes and wrens livers, not to summon... Whoever you are... "
*"That explains a great deal. You're smart enough not to give me your real name, and yet you took no precautions before summoning me."* Their voice seemed to sound almost amused *"The precautions would have done you no good, for what it's worth, but still the point stands"*
"So, will you answer my question at least, to whom do I speak?"
That half formed, not quite right face distorted in what Helena assumed was supposed to be a smile. It was anything but friendly.
*"I have many names, but the one you will most likely be familiar with is **The One Who Ends**"*
The noise that burst from Helena was half scream half wail of despair. She was dead, worse than dead in fact. The One Who Ends was known to be one of the most fearsome and vindictive creatures of The Abyss. She would know torment beyond human comprehension before she was done.
"Listen, you're fine, I'm- stop screaming- I'm not going to hurt you. Yes, opening the Dark Book summons The One Who Ends, but that whole thing where I kill the reader is hogwash. Now, would you kindly direct me to the one who tricked you into opening my book? *Intent* is important, after all."
Eventually she managed to stop screaming.
Collecting herself, she straightened up and faced The One Who Ends with all the dignity she could muster.
"I don't know who gave me the book." she explains. "I'm a notable magic historian, I delve into the forgotten magics of our past and explain them for more contemporary audiences. I do public lectures and shows about the history of magic, and occasionally fans send me books or manuscripts they find. This was my newest one. It came with a note!"
She looks over to the book and realises the portal has sent the papers from her desk flying. She dives to the floor, scrambling for the note. Finding it, she leaps back to her feet and hands it to him.
"Thank you. I see the note bears no name"
"No, and it was delivered by courier. Neither are that unusual. People are often nervous about being associated with magic and superstition"
She noticed his voice had become far more human, and his features had become normal, he actually looked like a human man now. He looks thoughtfully at the note.
"Would you be inclined to help me find the soul who thought to see you sacrificed to me?" he asks in an almost offhand way
"You know, I think I would. It's the least they deserve for this!" The menace in Helena's voice is palpable.
"Then we have an accord" he says, offering his hand to Helena. She takes it, sealing their deal.
|
The invitation hit my inbox at the right time for me to open it immediately. I waited to respond but only to show I was in control. I wasn't and five minutes ticked by slowly as I waited, writing my reply in my head, fuck yes I'll come and hold your hand while you die.
I didn't wait for another message as I got up and left my office and dressed for a night out bringing a few odds and ends with me in case the suffering was prolonged.
Daniel Sinclair has always been a healthy old man for as long as anyone knew him. Pictures of him without liver spots and most of his scalp exposed were few and far between. In fact, I don't believe I've ever seen one. I hail a cab on W59th Street and tell the driver the address.
"You mind if I take the park?"
"That's fine but we'll need to make a stop on the way."
The cabbie obliges and we pull up to The Church of the Blessed Sacrament, the cabbie honks his horn, as I directed, and a few moments later a priest jogs from the church tugging on an overcoat and carrying an overnight bag.
"Good evening Father Kirowan, thank you for joining me."
He is mid-forties and slender with salt and peppered hair and says, "How could I pass up such an invitation? Are you sure it is going to happen tonight?"
"I received the message from my contact. He says Sinclair asked for us by name and says to hurry."
And the cabby does, racing across the park and East Harlem driving under the Roosevelt and down a steep embankment before coming to a stop at the base of a hill under Highbridge.
"You sure about this?"
I assure him the place looks less inhabited than it was and thank him for the ride and give him a hefty tip to maybe help forget about this altogether.
Father Kirowan and I are almost giddy as we unlock the padlocked gate with the key afforded us long ago when our studies brought Sinclair to our notice. We return the lock to its original state and traipse across the overgrown walkway up to the ancient abode. Steeped in centuries of history, the house sits atop a short hill overgrown with ancient oaks and Herbaceous underbrush, vines, hedgerows, etcetera. It once loomed over this area of Manhattan like a sentential now it was ivy-covered and mostly forgotten. We approach the mansion built with many pointed arches, ribbed vaults, and flying buttresses, each decorated with a creature from lore, gargoyles, and other monsters that protect the eves and ends of the great house. The stained glass windows have been boarded up long ago, I can't help but wonder what state they exist in. Are they still the wonderful pieces of art that captured the imagination of the world when the place was first built almost three hundred years ago? Many of the sculptures of long-dead and forgotten saints and gods have rejoined the bit of wild forest around, only becoming visible in the winter or with violent guts of wind.
There is a quiet here that doesn't exist elsewhere in the city. Even the traffic On High Bridge is inaudible. The trees moan and nary a bird chirps. The weathered stone walkway catches toes and ruins balance barely visible under the New York City illumination-saturated night sky. Finally, we step up to the grand-entrance. Father Kirowan grabs the knocker protruding from a rampaging bullhead and knocks. The door bangs and inside the sound echoes of stone walls. After a good minute, finally, the door opens and our contact stands head down but eyes catching everything.
"Doctor Conrad, Father Kirowan! Thank you for coming. He is close now."
The short man, steps aside, and we are greeted by a labyrinthine maze of twisting staircases and hallways. They know, from experience, the house is filled with secret chambers and when they leave they will have headaches from inhaling the centuries of dust clogging the ductwork. The air is thick with the scent of decay, If nothing lived here it would surprise neither one of them. But they know Daniel Sinclair does. A strange whisper echoes through the halls, "Bring them to me, hurry."
The words come as if carried by the very walls themselves. The flickering light of the ancient lights follow us through hallways filled with shadows until our guide stops and opens a heavy oaken door.
Beyond is the dank smell of illness and death.
We cross into the room eagerly and beeline toward the form lying on the huge bed in the center of the room. The furnishings are carved with demons jutting from the joints and mouths with wicked teeth and pointing tongues. The portraits leer with hate and hunger. Each face, the same, the only difference is the garb changing with the fashion of the ages. The flickering lights make the canvases look like they bulge and move. While the statues in the corners seem to shift and move when one's back is turned.
Once at Sinclair's bedside, we each grab a hand and he asks, "Conrad! You look horrible. But tell me you read it. Did you? As we agreed?"
I nod and he sighs and offers Father Kirowan a weak smirk, who smiles back.
It isn't long before the pulse under my fingers stops, maybe an hour.
Father Kirowan administers last rights and I keep hold of the man's wrist. Waiting, unsure what to expect. Only knowing only what my research has shown. The old books describe the event that will occur as violent and sudden, how the old body ruptures as the very soul spills out into the world. A lot of information is incomplete and has taken a little over three years to collect it all as is. I pull out the manuscript I am due to read from and run my hand over the ancient Ivrit. Drawn from ancient Babylonian the blocky forms combine vowels and the other distinct markings indicating pronunciation and grammatical features. I had my work cut out for me. I read the text before but to myself. Putting sounds to things usually gives it a new power. And this was very much a dead language one that the air last tasted almost 5000 years ago.
Father Kirowan anoints the body in holy oils drawing symbols on the forehead and bare chest. Once done I know it is my turn and begin reading the guttural and emphatic consonants. The words are pronounced from the back of my throat. There is a sing-songiness to the canticle that rises and falls as I intone the words. And as I read the lights flicker harder, the paintings strain from their frames and the wind tries to rip the house down from the outside. As I finish the last lines a bolt of lightning flashes outside the window blowing branches out of a giant Oak and followed by the loudest clap of Thunder I have ever heard.
Kirowan has his hands over his ears; like I do, but it does nothing to prevent the voice from reaching our brain. Almost as if the words themselves, spoken in a voice so rough each word might be mortally wounding the vocal cords, birthed the demon.
These are the words I managed to jot down before the fear crushed my spirit and I devolved to a state of feral anguish from which I still have yet to recover.
The words said were: Hark! Thou art unharmed, cease thy cries. The One Who Ends, summoned by the Dark Book's unsealing, shan't claim thee as victim. Yet, prithee, reveal the deceiver who led thee to pry open my tome. Intentions bear weight, indeed.
When our madness wanned we were able to escape, but not before noting the absence of a corpse and a shattered window and a brand new portrait on the wall of our dear departed friend, Daniel Sinclair.
|
Cooky1993
|
Voyage_of_Roadkill
|
2023-04-11 10:31:05
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2023-04-11 06:33:40
| 20 | 12 |
jft6xc9
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jfsqi6r
|
12hto97
|
12hto97
|
[WP] As a superhero, you discover your sidekick has been dating the villain’s henchperson for months. It’s all fine and good until you learn how the villain treats them at home.
|
He wasn't... isn't? a bad sidekick. I actually really appreciate his help but lately when we've been fighting Veneera and her illusions... I noticed that Dareboy has been pulling his punches when fighting Mysteria. This didn't bother me, I pull my punches with a lot of foes, don't want to take off their heads, they need help or to behave, not death sentence without due process. Anyways, it was during our last fight, no it was before that, I know it was but it was then that I realized what I was seeing. He wasn't just pulling his punches, he was smiling. I couldn't make out what they were saying but they were having *fun!*
I finally dropped Veneera off at the hospital, asked who her dentist was because, man do her teeth look great, and sat Fred down for a chat. Oh sorry, Dareboy, down for a chat.
At first, I was annoyed. Apparently the two of them had met through a friend and immediately things took off. I wanted to be upset but he was in love and so stupidly happy. And whats worse is that this has been going on for 6 months! It wasn't until a month ago did they come out to each other as superhero/supervillain.
But that, is why I'm here. He started telling me about how she was being treated. Apparently Veneera's been treating her staff like gold! 5 star chef on staff, opulent bedrooms, vacation, medical leave, actual decent healthcare!
So Chief, that's why I'm breaking her out. I've had my fill as a superhero on volunteer pay with no benefits, not even decent fringe ones. Tartan had to fight off Galaxar while in a wheelchair still recovering from his last fight on his own dime.
So if you'll kindly step out of the way, I haven't eaten in a week.
|
When he told me that they went out together I was terrified. I raised this boy by myself, and although I knew he had a golden heart, he was sometimes quite naïve. I didn’t blame him – constantly fighting the bad guys doesn’t give you the best experience in dealing with people. Still, I needed to protect him, so I made him promise to never talk to her again. He wasn’t happy but obliged.
A week later I found him sneaking out of the widow. He didn’t lie or try to explain himself. He knew that he betrayed my trust and that there would be consequences. In retrospect I know that I should have punished him and keep him in his room, but for some reason I let him go. Maybe it was the realisation that I couldn’t protect him from everyone. Or maybe I was just tired. Or maybe I knew that she would use him and just wanted to say, “I told you so”. Whatever my reason was, I let him go. That was my biggest mistake.
I think I know why he was so receptive to her. 4 years ago, when his parents died, and I made him my sidekick, he was barely a teenager. He stopped going to school, stopped seeing his friends. He was just lonely. But all paragons of justice have to make sacrifices. We sleep during the day to fight crime during the night. If it causes us to suffer socially – so be it. At least that’s how I used to feel. Perhaps he didn’t.
As weeks passed by, he started to change. He grew more distant and practically stopped talking with me. During missions he would question me constantly, and as far as I appreciate constructive criticism, it was quite obvious that it wasn’t his goal. After a month he became totally hostile, our work being the only time that I’ve seen him out of his room.
Eventually, I decided to confront him. I told him how he has changed, how his actions have caused me a lot of pain, and how this girl has divided us. I thought that he would erupt in anger, start fighting me, or storm out but none of this happened. He explained how the girl is treated by the villain. How he knows that this isn’t normal but there is nothing he can do to change their fate. At some point he even asked me to fix this, but deep down he knew that everything would stay the same.
I vaguely remember the events that followed. Me waiting in a dark alley. A figure coming towards me, unaware of my presence. A struggle. An unmoving corpse. Feeling of shame after what I did.
I am back in my house, and although I feel terrible, I know that I made the right choice. My boy will finally stop asking questions. They were really annoying: “Why are you taking my salary?”, “Why do I have double shifts each day?”, “Why can’t I have a day off?”. Now that she is dead, he won’t complain ever again about being treated differently.
|
Diregamer
|
Teikhos-Dymaion
|
2023-10-22 00:24:51
|
2023-10-21 22:39:43
| 52 | 28 |
k5wkd0c
|
k5w63xl
|
17d30cq
|
17d30cq
|
[WP] Your super power has no destructive power, but you're still a highly ranked superhero. *Time Out* puts your opponent into a safe quiet place to reflect on their actions before returning them back the to the same spot and time, they left.
|
I begged him to kill me instead of using his powers.
I was making a getaway after stealing a carton of eggs from a local grocery store. A new superhero chased me down and wrestled me into a tangle mess of zip-ties. He sat me against a brick wall in a dark alleyway.
"There's a small knife in my boot. Use it slowly for all I care," I said.
He knelt beside me. The man known as Mr. Moser wore a suit that could have been on the front page of a men's fashion magazine.
"I don't serve my own version of justice like the vigilantes in Vannopolis. The city's court system gets the honor to name the crime and punishment. What I do is assign a little moment for criminals to think about the bad choices they've made."
"You just described jail! Please, let me go to jail peacefully!"
I looked down at his hands; black leather gloves covered them. I've heard if he touches someone's forehead with his bare hands the victim falls into a trance.
"Do you even know where you send people?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I send their consciousness to a place I call Time Out for ten minutes. Afterwards, they come out of it calm and compliable."
"But have you ever been to Time Out?"
He firmly shook his head. "Nope. Wouldn't know how to get there. And why should I go? I'm not the one stealing eggs during a recession."
I drew a deep breath and tried to relax. Perhaps if he knew the stories I've heard about Time Out, he'd hesitate long enough for the cops to arrive and take me away.
"I shouldn't have stolen. Like you said, the city is in a recession, and I figured a dozen boiled eggs can provide me some breakfast for over a week. With that said, can we agree that I'm complying? Will you let me speak for a second?"
He nodded; I continued.
"I haven't been sent to time out since my early grade school days. I understand your rationality sending criminals to your own time out. But others say yours differ from sitting in the corner of a school room."
Mr. Moser smiled. "Oh really? How so?"
"I've only heard anecdotal stories, but no one ever comes out of your Time Out the same."
"That's the point."
"Understandable, but whatever you're doing is too much. People come out of Time Out broken -- nothing more than a shell of their former self."
Mr. Moser looked up at the light polluted night sky when he heard cop sirens off in the distance. He cleared his throat.
"You know, you dropped the egg carton you were carrying during our little chase. And a bit of egg yolk splashed on my..."
He removed a glove to show a skinless hand. He pointed a boney finger wrapped in muscle, nerves, and tendons towards his boots.
"Sorry son, but if you don't go to Time Out for stealing the eggs, you're going for making a mess."
I screamed as his body horror of a hand spread its palm wider than a dinner plate.
"Hush. I'll only send you there for two minutes. The cops should be here afterwards," he said and covered my face with his skinless hand.
\----------
Everything faded to white. Pale white. I still sat like I did in the alley way; my wrists still zip-tied behind my back.
I tried to stand but my head hit an invisible ceiling. I tried to roll on my side, but a wall kept me seated in my uncomfortable slouched posture. It was as if I was trapped inside an egg barely large enough to house me.
"Two minutes," I said to myself. "I can do this for two minutes."
I waited, but nothing changed.
I counted to 120 multiple times.
"Hey! You said I'd be out by now!" I screamed in the vacant space.
No one responded.
*Maybe this is like a dream world. Where time passes differently than reality*. I thought. *Moser will pull me out of Time Out and only two actual minutes will have passed.*
I tried to lean my head forward, but a pure white barrier kept it from moving an inch.
\----------- ----------
I'm still here.
​
# Thanks for reading! /r/VegaVisions for more stories.
|
"Fear me, peons of the machine!" The villain cried, standing atop the rubble of City Hall. "I will break you, I will reshape you, I will cure you of this plague of-"
Suddenly, his villainous monolog ceased. Not quite as suddenly as he was teleported to a small white room, but it was close.
"Capitalism... oh DAMNIT, Warden!" He screamed, stepping down from the small bed that had replaced his collapsed building underfoot. "You are the LEAST fun hero to fight. Chairman Static at least makes it interesting with force fields, but you..." he gestured to the featureless walls of his prison, "you just do... this."
I smiled. Communist Manfred couldn't see it from his mental prison construct, but it wasn't an expression meant for him anyways.
"This has to be as boring for you as it is for me, yeah?" He said as he felt along the smooth walls of his current existence. "Can't be fun watching someone else not have fun. So why don't you let me out of here, and-"
"No" I said, breaking my silence. Communist Manfred jumped a bit, but tried to play it off as a villainous pose instead of a startled reflex. "You have broken out of every physical prison we've thrown you in. This mental realm jail cell is the only place we can guara-"
Communist Manfred blew a dismissive raspberry. "Pfffth, whatever. I think I preferred the silent treatment."
I shrugged. The villain still couldn't see me. Not because I was hiding, but it was slightly difficult to see outside of one's current existence. The featureless white cell that contained the red menace was located entirely in my mind. It was literally a figment of my imagination, which was ironic given the room's lack of creativity.
"So how long are you gonna keep me here this time?" He asked, nudging the small mattress with his toe. "A day? A week?"
I sighed. I didn't enjoy what I was about to do. "You've been sentenced to life" I informed Communist Manfred.
Manfred jerked his head skyward, as if looking into a ceiling mounted security camera. "And how's that supposed to work in here? You control how time passes in this monument to boredom. I could be in here for hundreds of years, and still not die. What-"
It was my turn to interrupt. "Not *your* life. Mine."
The boisterous villain was at a loss of words. He stared blankly, mouth hanging open and eyes blinking rapidly as my words sunk in.
"You mean I'm in here" he said slowly, "until you die out there?"
"Affirmative" I replied. "But you are wrong about one thing."
"Oh yeah? What in tap-dancing baby Jesus's tip jar do you mean by that?" He asked. His voice carried so much venom that I wondered if he could be related to Citra, the acid spitting villainess.
"It will be longer than hundreds of years for you. Much longer."
Communist Manfred slammed a fist against the boarder of his personal universe. "How the FUCK is that justice?!?!" He roared.
"...I guess its not." I replied. It was the last outside voice the villain would ever hear.
I withdrew myself from the mental prison cell, and stepped back into my main mental realm. In this higher plane of existence, time flowed several orders of magnitude faster than in the cell level below. I observed Communist Manfred as he zoomed around his tiny cell over the course of months, even though it was only seconds from my point of view. It was like watching an old live stream of a zoo animal on super fast forward.
I stepped to the control center and waved a hand dismissively towards Communist Manfred's small slice of reality. The cell drifted in nothingness until it settled into its final resting place, stacked next to similar mental constructs just like it. Most contained a villain, some had corrupt politicians, and one even held an NFL player that had the misfortune of being on my opponents fantasy football championship team. All of them locked away in their own personal Hell, spending a decade in there for every hour out here.
I double checked my mental security measures, and withdrew another layer up into reality. This happened to be the top layer, what one might consider existence entirely.
The bright sunlight stung my eyes as they tried to readjust to normal reality. I was standing over the limp corpse of Communist Manfred, posing heroically with one foot planted on his chest. Hundreds of citizens stood around us, applauding madly as I waved down at the masses.
"Warden! Warden, we love you!" They cried. "You saved us again!"
I shot the crowd a winning smile, one I had spent decades practicing and perfecting in my mental realm. "Thank you, Citizens. You're the real Heroes here."
The Mayor fought his way through the onlookers and grasped my hand, viciously pumping it up and down as he shook it. "We are forever in your debt, Hero" he said, wiping a single tear of joy on his suit sleeve.
I smiled again. "Thank you, Maurice, but I'm no hero. I'm just a super doing my job."
r/slightlycoldstories for more stories written by me, SlightlyColdWaffles.
|
VegaVisions
|
SlightlyColdWaffles
|
2023-02-01 15:03:27
|
2023-02-01 12:36:41
| 198 | 92 |
j6s7cbw
|
j6rol9h
|
10qpsam
|
10qpsam
|
[WP] You're the first test subject for an experimental super soldier serum. You are told the truth only after you transform into something not quite human anymore.
|
*HSSS*
*SLURP*
"What. Am. I ?!?!?"
Henry said thickly, forcing coherence through his strange new mouth. What were these things inside his mouth, they felt like tendons!?
His examiner, who had introduced themselves as Lt. Grint, kept staring at him with a hawk-like intensity, and simply instructed:
"Discipline your mind, sergeant, and take stock. What is different?"
He kept looking at himself in the full-length mirror they had provided, the changes were strange and random. Patches of flakey, almost scaly skin. His forearms were bulging in strange ways, and he could swear his entire hip structure was lowered.
Then suddenly, it hit him. He knew exactly what was different, what had changed.
" My... mind." *Slurp* "Why. Am I. Not... afraid?" He was quickly adjusting to his new facial structure. His body was learning to use the new tracts to funnel excess saliva.
The lieutenant allowed a subtle smile, and replied "Well done Sgt. Juniper. You're the fastest yet to realize."
The lieutenant waved the techs forward and the MPs back, confident in this subjects self-control. The medical technicians folded out the mirror, so the sergeant could see more of themselves and adjust easier to their new body. They also more discreetly set up some scanning equipment, to monitor the sergeants responses and ensure general health.
"Begin your stretching routine, Sgt. Juniper. Learn your new body, while I explain."
Henry was grateful for the permission, and began his routine with a calculated slowness. These had to be treated as new muscles, he didn't yet know what this body could do.
"You are the first successfully integrated subject in project TSR-1986 , known commonly as the 'super-soldier project' , and known colloquially amongst the researchers as the 'Yuan-Ti Modification' "
"Aren't the... yuan-ti... , snake people? Am I part snake now?"
"Don't interrupt again, sergeant. And to answer the question, yes. Essentially. You have been modified, not only with superior speed, strength and stamina, but with certain reptilian traits we believe will be most useful in the performance of your duties."
"No fear."
"Exactly. The suppression of most emotion, allowing a clinical approach to unknown situations and more careful application of force. That was the main goal of the genetic integration. We also found ways to add more... shall we say, obvious advantages? Flex your new forearm muscles."
Henry stopped in his isometric routine, and examined his forearms. They were webbed with new blood vessels, and had a strange stiffness to them. He twitched and twisted his fingers, his palm, looking for these 'new' muscle groups, not quite finding them. He shook out his hands to start again, and suddenly felt a release of tension he hadn't realized was there. His looked at his hands.
"What are those?"
'Those' looked for all the world like milk teeth poking out from under his nails. They were leaking a yellowish fluid, and as he ran them over his palm, he could feel they were hard and very sharp.
"In essence? Those are your fangs. Retractable, we believe. They should deliver a small but lethal dose of venom into anyone you can even scratch in melee combat."
Henry looked at his hands. Retractable? How? He searched for that feeling of unknown tension releasing, and tried to reverse it. After a minute or so, the nubs retracted into their apparent place beneath his nail beds.
"If you succeed you will be the first of a new breed of soldier. Fearless, strong, lethal. Everything we need. Do you have any thoughts, feelings on this, Henry? Now is the chance to express them before you are sent for testing and training."
He looked at the lieutenant for a moment, then looked at himself again. He likely could never re-integrate into wider society with these modifications.
The dry, scaly skin aside, to be able to kill with a touch? To never again know fear, or love, or lust?
His newly cold, reptilian mind incorporated all these facts, and came to a conclusion. It would have been sad, if he could feel that anymore. He stepped away from the mirror, and stopped directly in front of the lieutenant. He came to parade ground attention. The lieutenant smiled when he said just four words:
"I am your weapon."
|
The warm western wind sneaks into the apartment through an open window. The curtains, which The Soldier only now notices are not made of cloth but taped together newspapers, crinkle and threaten to tear apart.
The Doctor tells him that the procedure is complete. They are not at the military base like The Soldier imagined this all happening in, but The Doctor's apartment, a tiny civilian thing five miles away which they travel to and from by a bus whose radiator needs to be replaced. They have to stop every so often so the engine doesn't melt.
The Soldier looks down at his hands. His fingers are fat like swollen sausages and scars run over the palm, getting mixed in with the natural lines. The largest one splits his lifeline in half. Two weeks ago, when the newest girl he was with told him that, he said he didn't believe in palmistry. They made love, and as they did he couldn't stop thinking about how his life was severed.
"You're not going to turn into a monster," The Doctor says. "The serum doesn't affect your body, but your mind. Remember?"
He does not remember. Last night, he was drunk. He tries to piece together the bits he does recall yet they don't explain why he's here: a gunshot, screaming. A bomb in the distance, turning the night sky orange. A fresh throbbing cut on his ankle.
"How so?" he asks, still turning over his hands yet not seeing them any longer. He has receded into his mind. He searches for the change, but does not find it.
"It's different for everyone," The Doctor says. With that, it is settled. They walk out of the apartment together. On the bus now, a group of starved kids run after them, hoping for bottles of water or candy. They all disappear in a cloud of dust as the heavy machine roars. They stop twice before getting back to the base yet neither Doctor nor Soldier nor Driver speaks.
His bed is not made; there was no time in the morning. Now, he makes it, and as he straightens out the sheet he hears something underneath. A paper with a name and number. Alisha. Before he calls her, he eats dinner, still exploring the recesses of his mind, still searching for the change.
There is an explosion. The Soldier is out of the mess hall, his fork on the ground with a thin slice of meat on it. Grey gravy.
He readies his weapon and without thinking he fires at the band of men in a truck headed for the front gates. The driver is dead instantly, and after more gunfire the rest of the men. The Soldier, along with all the other Soldiers, return to their dinner. He is not allowed another slice of meat so he eats the one off the ground.
Alisha speaks in a demure purr and he goes to her. She lives just outside the base, and he vaguely remembers that she has black hair.
She pulls away from his kiss. A coughing sounds from the apartment below.
"What's happened to your eyes?" she asks. She looks at him closely, and though nothing has changed with his eyes, there is something missing. This is not the same man she has been with before.
He hears The Doctor's words from earlier. "Nothing," he says, and goes in for another kiss. She slaps him and tells him to get out. He does.
The Soldier feels he should be angry, but he is not. Perhaps this is part of the change. He walks through the town for half an hour in search of another girl. It is dark and he is alone and he returns to the base. Night passes.
The Doctor returns in the morning. He performs a physical check up on The Soldier, and at the very end, he slaps him.
"What was that for?" The Soldier asks, rubbing his cheek.
"You are a piece of shit," The Doctor says instead of apologizing. He slaps him again, the other cheek. "You are worthless. Nothing more than a body to be used. Less than human. Do you understand?"
The Soldier nods. His cheeks sting red. He knows he can break The Doctor's neck—he is such a small Doctor—if he wants, but he does not want. The Doctor tells him the procedure was a success.
The Soldier is on execution duty today. There are three men in the pit and the hot desert sun bakes them alive. He drags them all out, one by one, and lines them against the wall. He removes their black hoods though he does not need to. They beg him in a language he only knows parts of, but he can understand what they say because they plead in the most rudimentary words. Please. Sorry. Family.
He dumps their bodies back in the pit with all the other bodies and makes a note that there will need to be a new pit soon because this one is almost full and the rotting stench has been wafting all over the base for some days now. He decides to start digging himself, though he does not need to, because he has already performed his duty for the day. Sweat soaks his fatigues yet he continues to dig until he passes out. The sun disappears and its heat echoes throughout the night.
He wakes up in his bed. The moon is out. Underneath his pillow is Alisha's note. He puts it in his pocket and goes to the mess hall. He thinks about calling her; maybe they could talk it out. But the more he thinks about it the less he wants to.
After his body is full of sustenance, he returns to the hole—his hole—and continues digging. He rips up Alisha's note and scatters it amongst the dirt. He looks up at the moon and realizes he will never climb back out.
He continues to dig.
|
IamtheBoomstick
|
ApprehensivePen
|
2023-08-06 02:37:05
|
2023-08-06 00:54:21
| 47 | 22 |
juzcf3f
|
juyzml6
|
15j8mzq
|
15j8mzq
|
[WP] Destroying 90% human population on earth, the aliens leave, assuming that society would crumble, and remaining 10% will just all fight for resources and eventually die out. They returned a thousand years later, expecting a cleansed planet, but were met with a nuclear strike from a satellite.
|
They made their presence known through the first strike.
Entire cities burnt and levelled, countless lives lost.
Our continents were forcefully reshaped under their endless barrage, our defences were a mockery of warfare in the face of their technology.
As the firestorms charred our world, they left, leaving the few who remained to slowly perish in witness of their might.
We were not subsumed by the agony of annihilation, it gave us purpose, focus and a target.
What did another humans colour and creed matter when *they* existed, what did our borders and religions matter to *them*.
We built our foundation in the ruins of our great cities, each body buried a brick to form our revenge.
Survivors worked tirelessly to preserve our years of knowledge and history, our past conflicts read as training for our future.
We would reclaim, rebuild, and surpass them, patience became our greatest virtue.
The universe was our anvil, the earth our hammer, perseverance our metal and a thousand years of limitless hate our forge.
A millennia passed, our society now technologically thousands of years ahead, fiction made reality, we predicted their arrival and prepared.
When scouts of their fleet entered our system, we remained still, patient and unafraid.
The rest of their armada soon followed, gathering near the aphelion of our home, waiting for us to pass, to strike.
As earth approached, the first they saw was a relic of our past, a satellite fitted with deprecated nuclear technology.
We heard their transmissions of confusion, we understood their language, we struck.
The universe itself buckled under our strength, screams of agony and horror filled our transmission feed.
As their fleets were swarmed and torn apart, we waited, after mere minutes, a meagre 10th of their fleet remained, we tracked their retreat and followed.
They would know futility, they would know fear, they would be an example, they would be dust under our will.
They had a name, but only we would remember it.
|
Audio log: Date, Febuary 9th 2020, Destroying 90% of the human population on earth, the aliens left, assuming that our society would crumble, and the rest of us would just fight each other, making us go extinct. But, That 10% they didn't destroy was part of Japan, America, and Germany. We have no idea when the aliens will be back, but the first sight of an alien craft entering our planets sphere of influence, we must destroy the ship.
I laughed my ass off as soon as I got confirmation on the destruction of the alien ship. By the way, my name is Void. After I was done dying of laughter, I gave the green light to launch what I like to call "The Hunters". The hunters is a fleet of capital class and standard class ships that are both nuclear and biologically capable. I decided to hitch a ride on the flag ship, nicknamed the God of War. The two flagship escorts are named the twin slayers. The main Assault, or Attack, ships, I call the Fifth fleet. There are going to be support ships arriving about thirty minutes after our initial attack on the alien home world.
Me: "Hahahah, after one thousand years, we will find this alien species home world, and just wipe it off the galactic map."
:Radar manager "Sir, we're getting reports from \[REDACTED\], appears to be more aliens dropping from hyperspace."
Me: "Go ahead and open fire, non-nuclear as a test."
:Combat and Radar manager: "Yes Sir!"
I get confirmations from the radars that the ships have been destroyed, but I realized something was wrong.
Me: "CEASE FIRE, SOMETHINGS WRONG!"
Combat manager: "CEASING!"
Me: "Those smart ass aliens, any reports from \[REDACTED\], don't engage unless they engage first."
Radio: "10-4."
I was about to give the order to start charging the Frameshift-drives when we were hit with something.
Combat manager: "WE'VE BEEN HIT WITH SOMETHING!"
Me: "WELL FIGURE OUT WHERE THE HELL IT CAME FROM OPEN FIRE, USE NUCLEAR WEAPONRY TO MAKE THEIR SURVIVAL CHANCES ZERO!"
Combat manager: "SIR, THOSE MISSILSE WERE CAUSTIC, WE NEED TO START OVERHEATING THE SHIPS."
Thirty seconds go by...
Me: "WELL??? WAITING FOR A KISS AND A COOKIE???? IF YOU NEED TO GO AHEAD AND UN-STABILIZE THE REACTOR!! JUST GET THIS DAMN CAUSTIC SHIT OFF OUR SHIPS!"
We must of lost at least 25% of our entire fleet. We managed to jump to a star-system with an earth-like world with breathable oxygen. We decided to set up a Dyson sphere so we could harvest as much energy as possible for a super-weapon. Only 5% of the energy will be used for construction of several space docks and ship yards for the construction of the ships we lost and then more.
After three years, we increased our fleet size by 300%, not included the ships we did need to replace. We sent out several ASP Explorers, ships designed with a high jump range and high maneuverability to escape any combat situation. We still haven't found the alien home-world. We decided to call the species S-1, species 1. Our super weapon I mentioned is done, but needs to be put into several Heavy cargo ships in order to be transported.
(god school is literally deleting all of my creativity
|
Hell-Kite
|
Ok_Spinach_4615
|
2023-03-26 16:31:09
|
2023-03-26 09:26:29
| 751 | 25 |
jdrev87
|
jdq6n3o
|
122d3v5
|
122d3v5
|
[WP] You were kidnapped by a villain and he gloats about how you're bait for his arch-nemesis, and you'll be dead soon. You sigh and just look at him. "Buddy, its not that hero you need to worry about....its my wife." and he looks at you perplexed.
|
"Your wife?" The villain, known as James the Terrible, because he was terrible at villainy, seemed amused. I would have pinched the bridge of my nose if my hands hadn't been tied. "She's a lovely, tiny slip of a girl. We had her followed, of course. She's harmless. Completely ordinary. We thought this through Jason. Honestly. Have a little faith in me. "
I sighed heavily. "James, the day I have faith in you, is the day we are all lost. Atom Man won't be here before Liza is." I shook my head, and now it was my turn to be amused. "Did your henchmen happen to say where they were following Liza to?" James shook his head. More fool he.
"Honestly, if your best friend wasn't a hero, I'd have let you be." He moved his thin arms expensively, as if in apology. "Do you expect me to quiver in my boots at the thought of your wife?" An attempt at a malicious laugh followed this. It was more of a wheeze and James cleared his throat to make another attempt.
At the same time, however, a few explosions went off. Usually this would be chalked up to the man's own issues using explosives. I knew better though. "Yep," I said aloud as henchmen ran past James and I. "She's just an ordinary military wife." I was smiling.
"I erm... I didn't know you were in the military."
I was grinning now as a series of rapid fire shots went off.
"I wasn't."
My wife had a lot of friends. And those friends mobilized quickly. It was almost a shame to see the shock register on James' face as soon as the first bullet went through his kneecap. "Ah yes, my tiny wife. Who hides very easily. And tends to go to the gym every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. And who goes to the shooting range every day of the week but Sunday."
That had been at my insistence. A scream from James curdled the air as another bullet took out his other kneecap. "Yes James. My wife. The sniper."
I would have laughed had it not been so pitiful. A couple of shots were fired at the back of the cave mouth. I heard a familiar voice saying, "all clear."
"Hi honey." It was a quick enough greeting. She strolled up beside me in full tactical gear, cutting my bindings as she kissed my cheek.
"Honestly. These 'villains' are terrible at doing their homework." She was completely calm. Not always a good thing.
"I think we can leave him here for Atom Man. Not likely he'll be walking off anytime soon." She nodded and made a quick motion with her hand, signaling her teammates to fall back.
"Come on then. Dinner's going to be cold before we get home."I shrugged and stood.
"Seriously James, you are terrible at this."
|
“Ahahah,” Vithego laughed maniacally. “I finally got you.”
“Yea you got me, what now?” I asked nonchalantly.
“I kill you as soon as The Champion arrives and then I kill him,” The Villain said.
“Ohh, good plan,” I said. “Too bad you will be eaten alive before he arrives.”
“What?” Vithego asked.
“Just wait and see, should be any minute now.” With a big smile.
Vithego was a well-known villain with a grudge against The Champion, my best friend, for putting his wife in prison for life. His plan was not a bad one, he was a master of traps and gadgets, so bringing a fight to his terrain which he fully rigged with traps and gadgets was a good idea. But he did not know a small, but very important, piece of information. That is that my wife was the most powerful being on the planet, maybe even the universe.
“What is he waiting on?” Vithego asked.
“He can’t fly all that fast, you know that,” I said. “And you brought me like 50 kilometers from the city. What are you expecting for him to miraculously teleport here?”
“Oh shut up,” He said. “You are rather annoying, I can’t wait to kill you.”
“Ohh she is going to enjoy eating you,” I said.
“What-” He was cut short as suddenly a wall behind him crushed and as the dust settled a tiny female figure appeared behind him. My wife in a human form looked so fragile and gentle.
“Honey, are you ok?” She asked me.
“Never been better,” I answered.
“Who the hell are you?” Vithego asked.
“Someone who’s the husband you probably should have kidnapped,” She said.
“Ohh, fine, I’ll kill you too,” Vithego said and fired a set of nets and darts at my wife.
She easily evaded them all with inhumane speed and left the villain with a dumbfounded look on his face.
“What in the hell?” He asked and used more of his gadgets including explosive devices. A few of them landed near my wife but she was unfazed. Her sweater on the other hand got ripped badly.
“Oh… You have ruined my favorite sweater. And I was contemplating leaving you alive.” She said and turned into one of her other forms, a giant three meters creature with an elongated crocodile-like jaw.
She rushed at him in her monstrous form as I cheered her tied down on the ground next to a pole.
Ten seconds later it was all done, nothing was left of the Villian. My wife turned back into her human form and walked towards me to cut the rope that restrained me.
“Ohh, he was tasty,” She said. “This should keep my appetite in check for some time.”
Minutes later my best friend, The Champion, flew in and saw me and Ella dusting our clothes off.
“Oh thank god you are fine,” He said looking at me. “I came as soon as I heard.”
“Well you were pretty late,” Ella said.
“Ella…” The Champion said and looked at my wife.
“Greg…” My wife said back.
“Where is Vithego? I need to bring him in and finally reunite him with his wife,” He said.
“Oh, that won’t be possible,” Ella said. “He is in my tummy.”
“You ate another one?” The Champion asked with anger in his done.
“He was a dick,” Ella answered. “And he had my love kidnapped.” I just shrugged.
“I told you a dozen times already, you can not keep eating people, I’ll have to stop you eventually,” He said.
“Not if I eat you first,” Ella mumbled.
“What?” He asked.
“Nothing, nothing,” She said.
“Ohh, you two, stop it!” I said. “Let’s go grab something to eat.”
“I can’t, I am full,” Ella said laughing and The Champion just nodded his hear in disbelief.
​
Check my [SUB](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/) for more stories.
|
Inara_Serras87
|
Nellthe
|
2023-02-14 15:13:38
|
2023-02-14 13:12:15
| 253 | 171 |
j8idage
|
j8hxkdz
|
1120hb5
|
1120hb5
|
[WP] As the god of reincarnations, when neither Hell nor Heaven want a soul, it is your job to reincarnate it appropriately. One specific soul keeps coming back to you not so long after each reincarnation. After a while, you decide to investigate why the soul keeps coming back to you.
|
Technicalities. That's how this tortured one keeps coming to my office. That's the conclusion I've come to after investigating this case. Hell rejects the goody goodies, and Heaven rejects anyone who deliberately ends his life prematurely.
The trouble is, this soul seems to desire Heaven, but also has chronic terminal depression. So, in every life he's lived, he does his best. Seriously; if Heaven would just make an exception to their suicide clause, this guy would probably own **several** mansions!
In his first life, he deliberately got himself martyred during the Reformation. There are multiple churches built in his honor, but since he chose the fire, Heaven denied him entry.
In his second life, he was a cat. The guy used his body mass to fling a child away from a horse carriage, and he got himself run over in the process.
In his third life, he was human again. The guy ran into a burning building and saved a child, but died afterwards from smoke inhalation.
Fourth life; he was a dog. Rescued a drowning victim and drowned himself.
Fifth life; human again. Threw himself on a grenade.
Sixth life; squirrel. Saved a toddler from rabid raccoon. Died from infection.
Seventh life; human again. This time, he lived to sixty-three, but took poisoned medicine to save a relative.
I look up from my paperwork. This old soul in front of me has crying eyes, but is smiling for my sake. I feel like I'm guilty just by being in his presence. I'm at a loss for what to do; I don't have override authority. There's no appeal process that I can use for him.
So, I do the only thing I can for him. I haven't done this in millennia. I summon my books and refresh my memory.
Looks like the world is getting one last unicorn.
|
99912672036.
Why did that number keep coming up? Every time I saw it, it would be marked:
* Heaven: Refused
* Hell: Denied Entry
It's not uncommon to see a number more than once; someone may need to be reincarnated a few times to become worthy of Heaven or Hell. But I had this number memorized. Sometimes they'd be back within days, other times, months or years. But they always refused Heaven, that was the weird part.
The day came when the soul stood before me.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"Shay." The soul took the glowing, translucent form of a middle aged woman.
"Shay, I see that you have refused to go to Heaven -- again. You have refused Heaven 6,354 times. You have lived well enough to get into Heaven more than six thousand times, and refused every time. Why?"
The soul cried luminescent tears. "All I've ever had in life is my daughter. One daughter. In my dreams, I'm a lobster whose larvae are all eaten but one, a frog whose tadpoles all dry out except one, a dog whose puppies are all taken but one, a parrot with three eggs but only one hatched. It's always me and my daughter. But she's always so sickly. She always dies so young, too young to get into Heaven or Hell. So I follow her."
"You... have a good memory, Shay. What's your daughter's name?"
"Taylor. Taylor Marie Cooper."
From the eternal, infinite waiting room, a soul sprang forth. It took the form of a toddler girl.
Shay picked up the toddler. Both souls glowed brighter.
"Shay and Taylor, you are together. Taylor, your mother has followed you every time you've reincarnated to learn a lesson, did you know that?"
Taylor stared at Shay and grabbed her face with chubby hands. Again, both souls glowed brighter.
"You have much to learn, but with every lesson, your mother loses you again. This will continue for many more lessons. It is your fate, and her choice to follow you."
Shay and Taylor pressed their foreheads together, glowing more brightly.
"The Gates of Heaven stand before you! Shay, will you finally enter Heaven, knowing that Taylor will be along as soon as she's finished learning lessons? Taylor, will you give your mother permission to go to Heaven, knowing that you'll be there in just a few lessons?"
"No." Now cheek to cheek, they answered in unison.
"Where she goes, I go," Shay said.
"Then I have no choice." I tried my best to hide a smirk. "Shay, how do you feel about losing Taylor every lifetime?"
"It's eternal torture."
"That sounds a lot like Hell, a place which denied you entry. I have no choice but to take Taylor out of the reincarnation cycle and send her to Heaven with you."
"You can do that?" Taylor asked in a surprisingly clear voice.
"I am a God. Yes, I can do that!" I chuckled. "Shay! Would you like to ascend to Heaven with Taylor?"
"Yes! Please!" Shay sobbed.
The Gates of Heaven opened with a dazzling light. Shay hurried inside, holding Taylor closely.
|
Pokerfakes
|
insertcaffeine
|
2023-02-01 02:46:24
|
2023-02-01 02:04:14
| 52 | 34 |
j6q77rf
|
j6q1fbx
|
10q4wxq
|
10q4wxq
|
[WP] Humans are the proverbial "Sleeping Giant," and thus make remarkably good deterrents. A common tactic of the Galactic Federation is to simply call in a human warship, such as the USS "Fuck Around and, FindOut," and simply let it sit nearby. Peace Talks happen within the week.
|
It was an unusually busy day on GalHub 4. The Ritians and the UnderRitians were at each other's throats, the coffee printers were on the fritz, and the Logari embassy was on fire. The whole station seemed to be about to boil over into one big tangle of diplomatic incidents.
The call center was sinking into an ocean of chaos. All the switchboard lights were on, each of them blinking with escalating severity codes. The staff had never seen so many red levels coming in at once.
In the central offices, the supervisors were desperately trying to hold things together. It was almost like the whole Galactic Federation was trying to pull itself apart at once. In Section B11, a beleaguered Bublon smoothed his ears, replaced his headset, and tried to ignore the wails around him as he connected to the next call in the queue.
"Peacekeeping Division, this is Tombo. Sorry for the delay, we're experiencing higher than normal call volume-"
The screaming from the other end interrupted Tombo's script, and continued for quite some time. The Bublon supervisor loosened his tie, took it off, folded it neatly, opened his lower desk drawer, and traded the tie for a bottle of very-against-policy Kuiper Brandy. By the time Tombo took his second pull of brandy, the screaming had stopped. Tombo cleared his throat and reassembled his Customer Service Voice.
"Yes, ma'am, I can hear you. Yes, I have your system profile up on my screen. You don't have a navy registered with us, is that correct? Yes, undefended? And the Ducrons are in orbit now? Are they-"
More screaming. The Bublon muted himself, took a quick drink, and resumed talking.
"Yes, I heard. We can-" Tombo checked his second monitor and tabbed through the naval dispatch list. "-we can have a GalFed battle group in-system within three hours-"
The screaming transitioned from terrified to angry.
"Ma'am, yes, I understand. Yes, unacceptable, of course. But that's- No, that's against policy-"
A blast of rage-filled epithets blew through the headset speakers. Tombo calmly muted himself, took off the headset, drained the bottle of brandy, and tossed it in the general direction of the trash can. He took a few quick breaths and replaced the headset, then, closing his eyes, toggled the mic back on.
"Ma'am, I understand that a standard battle group does not fit your needs, but- Yes, you're a valued customer and trading partner, but- We're not in the habit of- Oh, alright, hold on."
Tombo returned to the naval dispatch list and scrolled down.
"There is only one human ship nearby. It's a, let me see, yes, it's a Missile Destroyer. Ma'am, I remind you that all calls are recorded for quality assurance, and I need you to state clearly that you would prefer the single human vessel to the official GalFed Peacekeeping Naval Forces battle group."
For once there was no screaming, only a perfectly calm 'yes.' And then a question.
"The name? Ah, it's called the *Don't Make Me Get The Belt*."
Some light-years away, aboard a small gray ship with an excessive number of missile tubes, a bored-looking comms officer turned to his commander and said, "I've confirmed the request for intervention. It's a red level, shots fired."
The commander stubbed out his naval-issue cigar and rubbed his mustache. He eyed the chalkboard on the wall beside the access hatch. Scrawled at the top was 'Wars Prevented,' followed by a number of tally marks. Under that was 'Wars Ended,' with only one mark.
The commander smiled. "We'll take the lead this month for sure. Prepare for transit. The *Belt* is going hunting."
The small gray ship vanished into FTL, its grinning shark mouth wide with hunger.
|
“Zorvax and Xalaxites are getting into it again in Sector 37AZ,” Zorba said while checking reports on his monitor.
“That’s what like fourth time this week?” Yulok asked scratching one of his heads with his middle tentacle.
“Fifth actually,” Zorba said looking over the reports.
“Is it time?” Yulok asked. “Should we call in the big guns?”
“According to the Galactic Federation, it is, the fifth strike and we have to interfere,” Zorba said and Yulok’s tentacles wobbled in excitement.
“Let’s call in the Humans,” Yulok said with a squeaky voice and pressed a few buttons on his console.
In the vast expanse of the galaxy, countless civilizations coexist, some peacefully, and some not so much. The Galactic Federation, a coalition of species from across the universe, was established out of necessity to maintain peace and stability among these diverse species across the galaxy. However, sometimes conflicts arise, and when they do, the Federation has a secret weapon: the humans.
Humans, as it turns out, are remarkably good deterrents. Their reputation for being fierce, unpredictable, and warlike is known throughout the galaxy. But the most likely reason they are feared all around is their history of nuking their own planet several times throughout history if they are willing to do that to themselves, what would they be capable of doing to others. So even though humans are relatively new to the intergalactic community, their military prowess is already legendary.
Within a week of the human ship's arrival, peace talks usually start. The mere threat of human intervention is enough to force the warring parties to the negotiating table. Even the most stubborn and belligerent species known to the Galactic Federation didn’t don't want to incur the wrath of the humans.
Of course, humans are not without their own agendas. They know that their reputation is their greatest asset in the galaxy, and they're not afraid to use it to their advantage, making insane money, exploring the uncharted territories of space, and claiming the empty planets they find for themselves. The Federation is happy to let them do so, as long as it means that peace can be maintained.
Soon after they sent the request the answer came from the Human control center, the available ship nearest to that sector was The USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out'.
“They answered,” Yulok said with excitement.
Zorba nodded reading over the message they received. "The USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out' is available, it should do the trick. That one always seems to get the job done in just a few days."
Yulok grinned with all of his head. "I can't wait to see the look on those Zorvax and Xalaxites' faces when they see that The USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out' is in orbit."
Zorba chuckled. "They'll think twice before starting another fight after this. I gotta admit, I did not like the humans at first when we accepted them into the Galactic Federation due to their nature. But hot damn if it’s not fun having them on our side."
“Tell me about it,” Yulok said. “I love their interventions, it’s better than the movies. I’ll prepare some of the best human cuisines for us to watch this masterpiece, the popcorn!”
Zorba nodded finally cracking a smile of his own with one of his two mouths, “Love me some popcorns.”
Yulok quickly scurried off to prepare the human cuisines, while Zorba began to make arrangements to inform the Federation of the upcoming intervention by the USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out'.
As they settled in to watch the action, Yulok brought out the popcorn and they both eagerly awaited the arrival of the human warship.
Within a matter of hours, the USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out' arrived in orbit next to the Galactic Federation Center where Zorba and Yulok worked, before heading over to Sector 37AZ. Two aliens watched in awe as the massive vessel dwarfed everything else in the sector.
“They sure make ‘em big,” Zorba said.
“I heard they run on 6 cores instead of one or two like most other civilizations,” Yulok said. “And that design, it’s so unnecessary and tacky but I love every second of it.
Zorba chuckled. "That's the humans for you. They may be a bit...excessive, but they get the job done."
As they watched the USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out' depart towards Sector 37AZ, Zorba and Yulok couldn't help but feel a sense of relief knowing that the humans were on their way to intervene in the conflict between the Zorvax and Xalaxites and stop a possible war, but they also felt the sense of excitement as they will get to watch masters at work.
*Like the story? Check out my sub* r/LukasWrites *for more!*
[Part 2 up below](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/11keke0/comment/jb7d5su/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
|
BreakfastInSymphony
|
Nellthe
|
2023-03-07 00:51:38
|
2023-03-06 22:31:23
| 503 | 259 |
jb7k0xo
|
jb70ypq
|
11keke0
|
11keke0
|
[WP] They stole you from your world when you were but a young girl, and they forged you into a magical weapon that has been feared across the cosmos. Now that the war is over and you've won, they send you back to the moment before they captured you. The skills, PTSD, and memories? Those never fade.
|
I was 13 when I was stolen away in the night. Pulled through the invisible cracks in the universe, my soul strained through a sieve so fine not even lone atoms could pass.
When I was reformed amidst their greatest teachers, it must have been such a shock to them.
They said that they had been trying to summon their ancient protector, who passed beyond their universe long ago, but who promised to return in their time of need.
But travel itself gives power, and they knew that whoever I was, whatever I was, I had come from unimaginably far away.
And so I was made to be their student, their greatest achievement, their greatest weapon.
I was 16 when I first ended the life of another person. She was the Enemy, she was dangerous, she had clearly been sent to kill me and the other students... And she was kind, and beautiful... Before I stripped the flesh from her bones, and used her blood to boil the village she came from.
They thought that my tears were form the pain of using the power. They thought that my anger was at those who would send people to kill us.
I was 20 when I was given my first mission. And I was still 20 when, unknown to those who summoned me, I killed those who they had sent to observe, and made my way not to the camp of the enemy, but to the ruins of a library in the blasted wastes that lay between their lands, and 'our' own.
I was 21 when I made my choices, and swore oaths which bound my very soul.
I was 25 when they deemed me truly ready. When they wrapped the last spell around my mind, and when they unleashed my full power.
The spell was a thing of wonder, a Great Work for all the ages. It ensured that I could not be suborned. That I would have purpose, that I would _know_ what must be done, and that I would do it.
They did not know about my oaths.
I was 27 when the war was over. When the leaders on both sides were gone. When the last of the Great Mages died. When I broke the bindings they made, which bound the people of their world to their vision and will.
And then, as I knew that it was over, that the killing was done, that the pain was nearly at the end, when my body could no longer contain the power that they unleashed...
The last of their Great Works, the last of their lies, broke.
And the spell that had held me to their world all that time shattered, and with it, my power, my soul, and my mind.
I was 14 when I was finally able to stop screaming. When I regained some semblance of coherence, and perhaps even sanity.
I was in a hospital, in a room with padded walls, and a body that had seen far better days.
I was 15 when I could recognize my own name, when the words of others were indeed more words than random noise. When I could make it through a day without ending up in a screaming, convulsing pile.
I was 16 when I was allowed out into the world. Cautiously. Carefully.
With promises that I could return. That all I had to do was call, or hit the button on my wrist, and that no matter where I was, there would be someone to take me somewhere safe.
I was 16 when I met her. Just a girl in the park, smiling at me shyly, and asking me if I was okay.
Being worried when I said that I wasn't sure. Sitting with me, for what must have been hours, until it was less noisy, and I was more sure.
She was kind.
I thought I understood what I was, what the dangers were, what was delusion, and what was reality.
It wasn't until I was surrounded by the dead and the dying, covered in their blood, pouring power not meant for this world out in vast, wild, but controlled streams that I realized how wrong I was.
But she was still alive, still breathing... And despite everything, despite what I had just _done_, despite all the blood, despite the pain of the bullet holes I was desperately trying to heal in her, the broken bones being pulled back into place, between the tears she smiled at me.
And that was when I learned the most important thing of all:
I didn't have to be a weapon of terror. I didn't have to kill the innocent. I didn't have to repeat my mistakes.
When the police and paramedics arrived, they didn't really know what to make of the scene. But _enough_ was clear.
Two teen aged girls, covered in blood. Bullet holes in their clothes. Sitting in the burnt wreckage of the remains of a pickup truck. Surrounded by dead boys and men, guns in some of their hands, with the survivors whimpering in terror about the unclean abominations who called down witch craft upon those who were supposed to cleanse the unholy.
Yes, I broke their minds. They deserved it.
As for her? As for me?
I was 17 when I finally told her my full story. As much as I have ever remembered anyhow.
And despite all that I knew, all that I expected... I was 17 when she told me that none of it was my fault.
And I was 19 when she asked me to marry her.
|
I stared at the monster in my closet. He had red glowing eyes and two pointy horns on his head.
“Go away! I told my mummy about you and she said you’re not *real*. So leave me alone!”
The monster smiled at me, his fangs reflecting the moonlight coming through my window.
“That’s fine. If I’m not real, there’s no harm in coming with me. In my world, you would be treated as a princess.”
I sat up. “A princess?”
The monster’s smile widened. “Of course. And instead of horses, we ride unicorns!”
I was intrigued. Still, why did he have to look like *that?* When my sister Mary-Beth was living in this room, she told me she was visited by a handsome elf with beautiful green eyes.
He held out his hands. “All you have to do is close your eyes and say ‘I accept’ and I can take you away.
I held his hands. They felt *so* warm, like a pizza right out of the oven! “I accept.”
Everything went black.
When I opened my eyes, I was in what looked like a throne room. Sitting on the throne was...the monster in my closet! “Forgive me for the theatrics, chosen one. I need your assistance to save our realm.”
*Chosen one?* “Who are you? Where am I? What’s happening?”
“I am Kha-Mett, King of the Orcs. It was prophesised that you would be instrumental in winning the war we find ourselves in. We will bind your soul to the Royal Sword and use it to defeat our enemies.”
I started tearing up. “I don’t want to be a sword. I want to be a princess like you *promised*.”
He sneered. “I don’t remember promising anything. It would be easier for you if you don’t resist.”
I suddenly realised there were Orc soldiers standing in front of pillars all over the throne room and I was all alone. I dropped to the ground and closed my eyes hoping that this was still all in my imagination or a bad dream.
When I opened my eyes I saw Kha-Mett standing over me. “Come with me.”
I had no option but to follow him. After walking for about five minutes, we entered a room with several swords hung up on the far wall. It felt almost like a temple. At the centre was a sword with several diamonds and rubies encrusted on the hilt. He removed it from the wall and motioned for me to follow him to a smaller room to the side.
Inside the room was a small orc surrounded by all kinds of parchments and glowing orbs.
Kha-Mett cleared his throat. “Olog, I have found the chosen one.”
“By the gods, we’re saved!” He rushed out and gave me a big hug. He smelled like my dad after he’s been drinking all day.
Kha-Mett put the sword on the table in the middle of the room.
Olog pointed to a wooden chair. “Have a seat, Tina”. *How did he know my name?*
He put one hand on my forehead and another on the hilt of the sword. He started mumbling some nonsense words. I suddenly felt like I was being *yanked out* of my body and everything went black.
The first thing I noticed was the cold. I was suddenly freezing. I opened my ‘eyes’ but everything was so clouded. I saw my body still on the wooden chair. *Am I dead?*
I was looking out from the table where the sword was! *I just want to go home.*
I felt a sense of nausea as Kha-Mett picked me up and started moving me about. I couldn’t feel his hands. All I felt was the cold.
Olog bowed before Kha-Mett. “My Lord, the only way to win the war is to pierce Katar’s heart with this sword. Only the chosen one can kill him as per the prophecy.”
The next few days were a blur. Kha-Mett lead his orc armies against some Elves. Every time he pierced an Elf heart to kill them with me, I saw their whole life in a flash. Their wives, their children, their dreams. I could *feel* their pain as their blood stained my body.
Kha-Mett and I must have killed about sixty Elf guards on the way to Katar’s castle. A part of them would always stay with me.
Kha-Mett's army was successful in their siege of Katar’s castle. Katar hadn’t fled like Kha-Mett was afraid he would. No, he was right in the thick of it. He was killing Orcs left and right, even when his brethren were being slaughtered all around him. Was his sword..*glowing?*
Kha-Mett ran right up next to him. “This is for my mother!” He pushed me right through Katar’s heart.
I felt like I was going to explode with pain. I felt the weight of a Kingdom on my shoulders. I felt adoration and hatred. I felt love and sorrow.
I felt..empty.
Everything went black.
I stared at my closet door. There was no one there. I wiped sweat off my forehead.
I *had* to tell this to someone. I felt broken. I still felt the loss from every life I helped take. There was now an immense chasm where my previous memories stood.
Instead of my first time eating strawberry ice-cream, I remembered Athtar, an Elf who was conscripted at sixteen and had dreams of being a blacksmith. Instead of going to the mall and finding my favourite doll, I remembered Morthil, an Elf who had held his newborn son just a week prior to dying in battle. Instead of playing hide-and-seek with my sister, I remembered Vesryn, an Elf who was going to wed his beloved after the war was over.
I cried myself to sleep that night. The next morning, I told Mary-Beth everything. She inturrupted me halfway through and asked, “what was the Elf king called?”
“He was called Katar.”
Mary-Beth started tearing up. “I *knew* it was real.”
She must have seen the confused expression on my face. “Remember when I used to see the Elf in the closet? It was him! He said something similar about a prophecy and said I was the chosen one, and bound my soul to his sword. He said my bloodline was special. When he killed Orcs, I saw their lives flash before my eyes and felt what they felt.”
I hugged Mary-Beth. “How do I make the pain go away?”
She shrugged. “It will be with you till the day you die. All you can do is find healthy ways to cope.
Unlike dad with his drinking.”
|
ShadowPouncer
|
TheCryingScotsman
|
2023-01-08 16:47:30
|
2023-01-08 15:36:34
| 119 | 62 |
j3hhb3u
|
j3h6w2i
|
106ilyd
|
106ilyd
|
[WP] you were bitten, you know your time is counted. So as a final act you decided drink all the booze and beer you collected until you passed out. The next morning you wake up with a headache but...still human
|
"I doubt it's a cure," our doctor said. "Since you started pouring back nearly half our liquor ten minutes after you got back from scavenging, nearly dying of alcohol poisoning may have disinfected your entire body in the worst way possible. Frankly, you are lucky everyone here is happier that you are getting better than angry that all we have left is that moonshine Pat makes." After some chuckling he left me alone back in my broom closet of a quarantine room.
We had moved into a giant deserted steel mill. After all it seemed like a defendable place outside of an urban centre with no one on premises. It was big and empty at first, but slowly filled up with a good number of people and their personal projects (after all, we were looking for people who knew how to make/grow things). You had Pat; a homebrewer who clearly liked not remembering things, Ella; someone who blacksmithed as a hobby and a decent mechanic, and T; who knew how hydroponics worked and taught 30 others in order to produce our food on a large scale. There were at least a dozen others who knew this and that as well. I was welcomed because I fixed a fellow scavenger's bicycle, but I did more guard duty and "shopping trips" than bike repair.
If you did not have what was considered an "essential skill," you were put on the chore schedule, cooking, organizing, clothes washing, guarding, or guard duty among other things. Needless to say I got bit during my three day outing looking for rubber hoses and glass bottles for Pat. I brought everything back (including a lot of full ones from an un-smashed crate in a bar house store room.) and set them down in the fenced off crevice Pat used as a storeroom. Then realizing my mortality I took the keg tap from its peg it was hung on and began pouring from the kegs labeled "Negan's microbrew", and then everything else.
When I came to I was feeling like shit in a room who's one little window was far too bright. With a note on the door saying "try to rest I'll be back for your bedpan later.", also, there was a chain attached to a collar around my neck, locked to a remnant of a shelf bolted to the floor.Whether It was for the hangover or the zombie bite I felt like shit, I thought I might have gotten better by the end of the day but I honestly was not sure. By day three our doctor had unlocked the collar, but forbade my going out because I was "in trouble for drinking all the booze".
I never thought my biggest frustration in the apocalypse would be getting grounded.
|
I awoke with a pulse in my head, a rhythmic throbbing so undeniable that I had to concede right then and there that it had become my heart and that I had passed on. It was only when I felt sweat on my brow and the clamminess of my wrists that it occurred to me that somehow I was still alive, still human. Which was shocking, after seeing her fangs within inches of my neck, then feeling the pinch of that incision. I remembered the warm blood trickling down my neck before I passed out. *Oh.*
Red, green, and yellow strobe lights created an amber menagerie against which I saw her gorgeous hair. As blonde as sunshine, or so it seemed until she came in for that kiss and I realized that it was white, not a pure white, but a dirty snow kind of white. I should have been suspicious, I hadn't even bought her a drink and here she was ready to make out with me? A woman like her? It was obviously a trap, and I was obviously a moron.
Yet, I seemed to have gotten away. I got up and looked around, seeing my hotel room just as I'd left it the night before. Yesterday's shorts hung on the chair by the desk, my luggage was strewn about the floor. Clarice was still gone. I wanted to feel bad, but for some reason, I couldn't. Was that argument only yesterday? Did she storm out of the hotel room and say she was flying home? I honestly hadn't believed her when she said we had to break up. How was she going to survive without me? It didn't seem possible, and I was certain that she'd show up again soon, apologetic.
I rose out of bed and looked at myself, expecting some kind of horror that I hadn't seen at first, but everything seemed fine. When I looked in the mirror I didn't see a bite wound, no sign of dried blood. It was as if the whole thing hadn't happened. Who was that girl? What was her name? It had all happened so fast. I saw her and she smiled at me, I came over and grabbed her hand, and began to dance. We went at it fast, so fast that within minutes I became dizzy. I remember pulling her off the floor, towards one of the couches. That's where it happened.
I was still shaking my head over the whole thing when I went into the bathroom, figuring I'd take a shower. That's when I saw her, lying in the tub full of water, her white hair as long as a horse's mane. I shrieked and backed away.
"Don't be shy," she said.
"W-what? What are you doing here?"
"Oh you poor boy, you don't remember a thing, do you?"
I stood speechless when I heard the door to the room open behind me.
"Anthony?" Clarice called out.
I started thinking of every profane word.
"Excellent," the white-haired woman said. "It has a little friend."
I ran out of the bathroom and shut the door.
"Who was that?" Clarice said with a creeping look of suspicion.
"Ahhh," I tried to think of something, a story to tell. Anything.
"One night and you went out and screwed someone, didn't you?" she said angrily.
"Ahhh."
The door opened behind me and before I knew it the white-haired woman had her arms around me.
"Help?" I said meekly.
Clarice's expression turned to confusion and she stood stupefied as I felt the white-haired woman's fangs sink into my neck, the warm draw of blood. The world went black again.
The rest of the story was told to me by Tabitha, who said that Clarice had been drinking me for quite some time and that she needed to be "taken out," although she won't go into the details of what happened. All I remember when I came out of the haze was the taste of someone's blood on my tongue. For a moment, I thought I'd been turned, but when I looked in the mirror in the hotel room all I saw was my good old human self.
r/StoriesToThinkABout
|
-___-_-___-_-_
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2023-01-23 04:36:57
|
2023-01-23 03:48:10
| 129 | 38 |
j5i9rlr
|
j5i41lb
|
10iw46i
|
10iw46i
|
[WP] "Fate has found you," said the sword buried in your rye field. "Wield me and banish the darkness, chosen one," it said. Problem is, you're a farmer in your 50s with more hair left on your gleaming head than you have patience for 'fate' and 'chosen ones.'
|
“By the holy order, you have been ordained to smite evil. Wield me, chosen of fate.” A single beam of sunshine broke through the dark clouds to illuminate the massive four and a half foot tall greatsword.
Walking nearby, George the Deaf looked over, slightly surprised.
“What?”
“Fate has found you,” said the obnoxiously large sword sticking out of the dead pine tree. The pine tree that was very much alive last night. The one that George’s grandfather had planted when he was a boy. What a beautiful tree that used to be.
“Aye. You’re going to have to speak up, I’m a bit hard of hearing you see.” Said Deaf George.
“I do not speak your human language but speak directly into your mind Warden George.”
“What?”
“I said I… you’re fucking with me aren’t you George.”
“Aye and your fate is a bit late. Not the spry goose I once was with a burning desire to fix things and smite evil. Now I’m just a simple farmer. What’s this about banishing the darkness? It’s morning, the darkness receded a few hours ago and I have a field to plow, and apparently a Pine tree to replant.”
“There were… complications. However I have now arrived and the darkness with which I speak is not your common night Warden George. Nay, I speak of the darkness within the hearts of man. Simply pull this sword from the Pine Tree and ….”
“Wait, how did you get there anyway? Can you like fly? Can’t you just… smite the darkness yourself?”
“That… well, no. I am a sword. I must be carried and wielded by a chosen one.”
“So… how did you get there then?”
“That… so my previous Warden, Warden Chris left me here to find the next chosen one.”
“Wait, you don’t mean Simple Chris down in Kibbler’s Farm. The one who got kicked by a horse? He was the chosen one?”
“Yes. And his service is now ended and your glory begins today Warden George.”
“Yeaaa… I’m sensing something amiss here. Who does this choosing, exactly?”
“Well the fates are a mysterious thing, and…”
“Chris left you here and I’m the only person who has walked up, so you chose me, didn’t you?”
“…”
“…”
“So… does that mean you refuse the call?”
“I’m going to put a small fence around this tree and charge youths to try and pull you out.”
“…”
“…”
“Please no.”
|
"Woss that?" Alaron muttered as he smacked the dirty blade against his plow, brow furrowed. There was no doubt it was a sword, and a very old one from the look of it.
*The Darkness is gathering...*
Alaron looked around his field, but there was no one there. The voice didn't seem to come from the blade...it was just...there. He took his hat off and wiped his brow with the back of his free hand. Hanging his hat on the handle of his plow he fished a cloth from his pocket and mopped his nearly bald pate, still looking the sword over.
It was a wicked-looking thing, slightly curved and just over a meter in length with a blood groove that was flanked by runes that had been etched into it. The crossguard was likewise etched with strange characters, the hilt wrapped with wire and the pommel inset with a violet gemstone the likes of which he had never seen.
*We belong together.* The voice spoke again, more clearly now. It had a lilting accent, one that sounded pleasant to the farmer's ears.
"Do you hear that, Petrolo?" Alaron patted his ox on the rump. The ox swished its tail but made no reply, probably grateful for the respite from its labors. Plucking his hat from the plow, Alaron looked around the field again, the sword forgotten in his hand. He moved up and scratched the ox behind its ear, eliciting a grateful lowing sound. "Chosen One...ha! Chosen to till this field, I think!"
*There is work to be done.* the voice came again, more clearly than before. *You cannot fight Destiny.*
"I think we might be done for today, Petrolo..." the farmer sighed as he glanced up at the sun. It was lower in the sky than he expected...and that was peculiar, he had only stopped plowing a few minutes ago.
Standing behind his plow once again he reached for the handles and blinked in surprise at the sword he was carrying. It was much cleaner now than it was a few minutes...hours...ago.
*We were meant to be together.* the voice sang to him as he slipped the blade into the braces of the plow, hanging it by the crosspiece.
"Together." Alaron muttered softly and shook his head. He had been alone for the past three years after his wife died from the pox. Just him, his ox Petrolo, and the rest of the animals on his small patch of land.
*You don't have to be alone anymore* the voice assured him. *I will help you.*
That night Alaron dreamed of a great, shining city...one that felt strangely familiar to him. Like home, but part of him wondered at that...he had been born on his father's farm, had inherited it with his father's passing. Still, it was only a dream, and dreams had no obligation to make sense.
In the morning when he woke Alaron immediately set about a regimen of stretching before beginning to exercise. Then he picked up his sword and practiced the forms until the sun rose over the horizon.
It wasn't until he was eating his breakfast that it occurred to him to wonder how he knew the sword forms. Chewing slowly he looked at the sword that lay gleaming on the opposite side of the table.
*We shall bring the Light together*, it sang to him. *You will achieve your Destiny.*
"Yes..." Alaron agreed as he lifted a mug of tea and nodded sharply. "We will be the Light of this world."
It never occurred to him that he had learned a new language overnight.
|
Kinetic42
|
Vaeon
|
2025-01-21 17:27:05
|
2025-01-21 17:23:28
| 97 | 38 |
m8dpv10
|
m8dp29f
|
1i6kjw1
|
1i6kjw1
|
[WP] She hadn't made a milkshake in years for fear that they would return.. She starts the blender reluctantly.. In the distance, screams.. The boys had returned. They were. coming to her yard.
|
She needed the milkshake like an addict needs a fix. The blender sound alone brought her tongue to salivation, but in the same moment it brought her ears to attention. A different kind of rumble reached her and she knew, as she had known before pressing down the 'On' button, that it was the boys en route to her yard.
They arrived.
Her kitchen window looked out onto her yard, and there they were, the neighborhood boys. Not a milkshake in fifteen years but here they were. Were they the same boys that had hounded her home last time she attempted a milkeshake? She couldn't say, but they were pre-teens. Short little monsters frothing at the mouths and screaming.
"Give us the milkeshake!" she heard.
"The milkeshake commands us!"
"Bring us the shaky milk!"
"My life for milkeshake!"
She turned off the blender, but the boys kept stomping in her yard, seemingly coordinated.
"Take me for the milkeshake!" one screamed.
"What?" she said aloud to herself. Come, you can do this. They're boys. They aren't a threat. Go. confront the little bastards.
She went to the front door, and opened it.
"What do you want!" she shrieked at them.
"Take Jamie for the milkshake!" they yelled altogether, pointing at one of their lot, as if rehearsed. "He is a berry!"
"What the fuck," she whispered.
"And take Mickey!" they screamed, arms darting unnaturally to point at another of them. All in unison. "He is a pineapple!"
"My god you want me to blend you!?" she yelled. It felt so nonsensical. No one was around. Just this congress of boys tormenting her.
"Blend us!" they screamed with delight. "Take Alexander, he is a melon!"
They screamed this as if being murdered. The pre-teen screams broke up and they repreated their urging for each of them, yelling what fruit they were, screaming, screaming, screaming bloody murder. All save one.
Caught up in the moment she screamed back, pointing at the last boy. "What about him!?" she heard herself hurl. Why?
"Take him take him!" the others chanted back. And she knew in that moment, somehow, primordially perhaps, but she knew--the curse was about to be complete because of her instigation, and she would blend them all into her milkshake when the last boy was indicated. They pointed. They screamed.
"Bob is a banana!"
|
Sarah awoke startled from her afternoon nap. She had only meant to lie down for a few minutes, and here she was 2 hours later, groggy and disoriented. She remembered her dream vividly, though, and her stomach gurgled just thinking about it.
She had been moments away from taking a sip of the most delectable looking chocolate milkshake. The cup was cold to the touch, the frothy drink covered in a heaping tower of whipped cream. It had looked absolutely *delicious*.
Her mouth was watering just thinking about it. It had been years since she’d last been able to indulge in her favorite treat, either at home or otherwise. There was always someone watching. Sarah knew the reward was not worth the risk.
But now, Sarah was alone. She sat and listened to the silence of her empty home. Her nearest neighbor was miles away, and her husband was long gone. The only time she visited him now was at his grave.
The image of the milkshake was burned into her mind. She hobbled her way to the kitchen, grabbing her cane along the way and leaning heavily for balance as she carefully walked down the stairs. Her body wasn’t what it used to be.
Soon the counter was lined with ingredients - ice cream, milk, chocolate syrup, and a can of whipped cream. Dust had settled in the blender after years of storage. Sarah rinsed the inside and begin filling it with the sugary contents of her chocolate milkshake.
Sarah hesitated before pressing the blender on, listening for the sounds of anyone watching. She was only met with the groaning of the trees outside as they were moved by the steady wind. No one was here to watch her. She lifted a shaky finger and pressed the blender on.
A roaring noise filled the room while the contents of her milkshake were mixed into a frothy drink. After a few seconds, silence engulfed Sarah once again as the appliance was turned off. She waited a few seconds before pouring the mixture into a waiting glass and lifted the sweet treat to her lips.
Before she could even take a sip, she could hear the crunching of leaves from footsteps outside her door. A piercing scream filled the air, causing Sarah to drop her milkshake, glass shattering along the hardwood kitchen floor.
Pounding erupted against the door. Rather than answer, Sarah began backing away slowly, wanting to be anywhere but near the entrance to her home.
How had they heard her? Were they always watching? Had she ever truly been alone?
She moved quickly back up the stairs as she heard the lock on her front door strain against the intruders. Sarah had only taken a steps inside her bedroom when the hinges of the door below finally broke open. A scuffle of footsteps followed as her unwelcome guests began searching.
Sarah’s heart pounded in rhythm with the steps coming up the stairs behind her. There was no escaping. She knew what could happen if she made that drink, and she did it anyway. Perhaps she’d done it subconsciously. It had been so many years since she’d been with her husband - now it was time to join him.
A teenage boy stood in the front of the group of intruders, holding a large kitchen knife that glinted in the light. His accomplices waited behind, all covered in head to toe black. They were a young but menacing group.
An evil grin was plastered onto the boy’s face as the group began to enveloped her. “Hello, Sarah. We’ve been waiting for your mistake.”
|
velabas
|
NUBUKU_
|
2025-01-19 21:34:58
|
2025-01-19 16:25:02
| 20 | 14 |
m81ww5p
|
m8035kq
|
1i4zr9w
|
1i4zr9w
|
[WP] Just two people sitting on a park bench. No gods or monsters or spies or supernatural elements -- just two people sitting.
|
"That's it then, eh?"
"That's it."
"Just the two of us on a bench."
"All ya need, really."
"Not exactly compelling, is it?"
"Who said it has to be? Everyone's out there bringing Death Itself, God, the Devil, floating head numbers and time travel... A little inconsequential chat would be nice, wouldn't it?"
"I guess I just don't much see the point."
"Not yet, at least."
"Oh, so you do? You see some grand purpose in this chat? In this bench?"
"Never said it would be grand."
"But there is *some* purpose. There's *something* to this, right?"
"..."
"..."
"Think I just saw a Blue Jay."
"Thrilling."
"..."
"How long do we have to sit here for? It's not like there's a grand story arc that will find a pointed resolution."
"I'm sure they'll wrap it up when they get bored of us."
"And then what?"
"Well, nothing really. Then we're done."
"So that's all we get? Just the two of us on a bench for a few paltry minutes until suddenly we *poof* out of existence?"
"I think you'll find we *all* have a time limit shorter than we'd like."
"Oh and do we *all* have to sit on a bench with an old soul who can't admit he's been dealt a shit hand in a rigged game?"
"You seem very upset about all this."
"Of course I'm upset! I coulda been a dragon! A god! One of those humans who wipes out an alien race because we're just so goddamn special!"
"Those stories all end too, y'know."
"Yeah well I coulda at least done something cool in my time."
"Hmm..."
"..."
"Beautiful day."
"There's no stopping you, is there?"
"I'm just trying to enjoy my time here, is that so wrong?"
"It's futile! Useless! We're gonna just stop existing any second anyway!"
"Ah yes. Much better to spend the time we have wishing it was some other way."
"I... Hm."
"Nice of them to make it so warm out for us."
"Yes, yes I suppose that much is nice."
"I think the two under that tree are on a date."
"I think you're right. I always loved picnic dates. Dirt cheap but some of my best dates have been just good conversation and a blanket in a park."
"Hmm... How do you think it's going for them?"
"Does it matter? We both know there's not gonna be a second date."
"Even so, I think it's going very well." The girl laughed at something the boy had told her, leaning her shoulder on his as she did. She said something back that sent him into his own fit of laughter, both going back and forth building on the bit. They were happy.
"...Yeah, I think you're right."
|
He felt a tingle on his cheek, where the wisp of wind touched aging skin. Breathing in deep smells of fresh cut grass and blooming roses, life wasn’t all that bad. He rubbed his thighs with his hands to stem the slight ache of walking that accompanied him everywhere nowadays. Oh how he remembered the days where he could walk for hours on end without tiring. Aging wasn’t the struggle people made it out to be. You just had to pace yourself a little more. Sitting here on this bench in the park, under the budding branches of the birch trees was true bliss.
Next to him sat a young man, visibly exhausted. Not in a physical way, that made you catch your breath, but emotionally. The deep rims under his eyes spoke of hard times. The boy didn’t speak, or even acknowledged that he shared the bench, but he didn’t need to. Benches were made for two people, so two people sat on it side by side. He was curious about the life the young man lived. Whether he enjoyed the youth that was only given to him briefly. Did he go to school or had he found a job early in life? Maybe the boy didn’t have a job, a home even. Could the lad be homeless? That would explain the periwinkle stained bags under his eyes and his frail posture. Must be hard not having a safe place to sleep, having to struggle each day for food and water. Maybe he wasn’t homeless. He could’ve recently be confronted by the many other ills life throws at you. A break up or the death of someone close. He had forgotten that despite being contend with life at the end of it, it hadn’t always been this way. He too had known tough times. The visible strain on ones face wasn’t unfamiliar.
Maybe there was something he could do to lift the weight of struggle ever so slightly for this downtrodden youth. He took in the panorama of a park at early spring. Wind making trees wave at one another. Birds chirping and hopping from one spot to the other. People walking their dogs and talking to each other.
There! Under that old sturdy oak tree. A cart with wafts of smoke rising. The smell of freshly grilled sausages lifted by the currents of air until it reached his aging nose. He could hear the growling that betrayed the hunger of the human being next to him. He must have smelled the same smells. Oh how he remembered the torturous feeling of an empty stomach betrayed by scents without sustenance. He slowly raised his protesting body from the bench, his popping joints betraying his age to the world. If the young man next to him had noticed, he kept that fact to himself as he kept his eyes staring to whatever was in front of him.
He had reached the cart and found himself lucky with the absence of a queue. With clear and precise language he ordered two sausages on a bun and dropped the coins as payment in the salesman's hand. With both hands occupied he slowly made his way back to the bench, feet slightly scuffing over the path he walked.
Arriving at the bench sitting down was trickier than usual. Keeping his balance took more effort now that his muscles strained ever more. With slightly more force than anticipated he sat his aching body down on the creaking planks. Catching a few audibly breaths he took the bun in his right hand and put it out in front of the young man. The boy tilted his head and met his eyes. He nodded and the fellow grabbed the sausage bun with both hands and fervent eager.
On a quiet noon in early spring two men sat next to each other sharing food on a park bench under budding birch trees. Not a word was spoken, but within the silence a friendship bloomed out of compassion and gratitude between young and old.
|
Joelin8r
|
zeekoes
|
2023-03-24 18:21:40
|
2023-03-24 17:46:32
| 125 | 23 |
jdity87
|
jdiohfy
|
120orzx
|
120orzx
|
[WP] You’re a scientist stuck in an Russian Artic research station. You’ve just killed your only colleague because the mysterious figures hidden in the snowstorm told you to do it.
|
I sigh, sliding out of the cab with practiced ease. The Amazon was shaking, pale and mostly still in shock from her actions. She didn't even register my scooping the hero into a bodybag, plopping it into the trunk, and escorting her into the cab. Amazon returned after i took Nike's phone from her, the seat belt restraining her from snatching it back out of reflex.
"What, what's going to happen?" The villainess sounded so small at that moment.
"I take Nike to the hospital, her insurance pays for the resurrection, my guess is that you probably apologize profusely for going too far and make out in a dark corner of the Nameless Bar after one too many shots of Taquila." I smirk at the blush on one of—if not the—physically strongest villains in the world's face. Reminded me of when she first started out.
I toss the bag of hero, extra chunky, to the doctor, a look of grim determination on his face, only lightly tinged with horror and disgust. The Amazon tries to follow, having changed into civilian clothes that are provided, but i grab her arm, halting her dead.
"Whats the big-" I show her the fair for her ride.
"You took the ride, you get to pay."
|
I arrived at the scene of the call, and know immediately this is not going to be a normal job. It looks like a tornado went through here; metals are twisted around, there's scorched marks everywhere, deep gouges on the concretes. And there at the middle, the Hero Prometheus is lying on the ground with blood pooling around him, whist the Villain Scarlett is standing over him, with the hero's phone in her shaking hand.
After calming down Scarlett, she started to explained what happened while I check up on Prometheus and giving first aid. She was escaping from a bank heist nearby when Prometheus intercept her and they start battling, pretty standard stuff. But then Prometheus start acting weird, twitching and muttering incoherently. Then he start screaming and started to destroy everything in the vicinity before passing out. Not knowing what to do and scared out of her mind, Scarlett rummaged around Prometheus's belonging and found his phone and called me. Thank heaven Prometheus saved my contact as Herocab, as per the Guardian guideline.
I sighed tiredly, another victim then...With Scarlett help, we loaded up Prometheus into the cab. After making sure Scarlett is okay and find her way home safely, I got in the cab and start driving away. I called a secret number and told them to prepare for another victim of the drug.
As I make my way through hidden paths and groves, I look back at Prometheus and the occasional light from outside just further emphasize how badly injured he is. I've been getting more and more call like this these past several months. and everyone of them weighs heavily on me.
This all started half a years ago when the Hero Zeus suddenly became active again. Considering he's a senior citizen way past his prime by several decades, the heroes community flocked to him to figured out his secret. I mean, he went from this frail old man stuck on a wheelchair and unable to even clean himself without help, into this six feet tall Adonis with bulging muscles and a full hair to boot. Heck, he's even more muscular and powerful now than when he was at his prime! But no matter how everyone pestered him, Zeus just laugh and kept his secret. Until that fateful day..
|
Mr_Nobody_14
|
kekubuk
|
2023-04-28 02:54:03
|
2023-04-28 02:31:19
| 31 | 22 |
ji09pjt
|
ji06qba
|
13133v7
|
13133v7
|
[WP] As you tuck your daughter into bed, she tells you that there's a monster in her closet. Thinking she's just being a kid, you open the closet to show her there's nothing there, but you instead find your daughter who tells you that there's someone in her bed.
|
Orion was all of fifteen when he first discovered his superpowers. Which *sounded* cool, sure, but... his hometown was boring.
Fairview wasn't Springfield, wasn't Seaside; the population of the entire county over the past decade combined was barely a fraction of a block in New York City. Fairview's biggest claim to fame was the potato harvest and a handful of wineries, and that was *it.*
The nearest mall was nearly an hour away, the library was a block from city hall, and everyone's parents knew each other. When he and Amelia first started getting together— first started shyly *holding hands*— it'd taken everything he'd had to ignore the excited chatter of what felt like his entire grade talking about "how cute" they apparently looked, and learned way more than he'd ever needed to know about the betting pool in the teachers' lounge than he'd ever needed to know.
So the fact that he'd managed to hide his superpowers was nothing less than a miracle, and it was entirely thanks to his amazing girlfriend, Amelia. Because the League had been next to useless the one time they'd tried reaching out after registration, and while he *understood* Meteor Man was a very busy hero, it'd still felt more than a little insulting to get a "yeah, that's nice, call my office about an internship sometime next year" when all he'd wanted were some tips on flying.
Sure, flight was one of the most common powers out there, but that didn't mean Orion had anyone else to ask!
Meanwhile, despite not having any powers, Amelia had managed to work out a training regimen the summer before junior year: one where Orion practiced and she constantly readjusted the pile of pillows and bucket of sand after she figured out that what he was throwing out was plasma.
She was the one who thought of *Rigel* as his hero name, throwing ideas out like confetti as he hovered and wobbled and fell facefirst into the river again and again.
Rigel made his debut almost immediately, when the first fire of the season happened and the firefighters needed all hands on deck to contain it. While Orion couldn't do much about the fire itself, he immediately set to evacuating the civilians, and gained a commendation in the process. And it felt... good.
Good enough, that Orion did it again. And again.
Fairview was a small town with a next to nonexistent crime rate, the summer fires and winter accidents were the most action they ever saw around here. Of course he jumped at the chance to help, and of course the local first responders didn't question their newest volunteer beyond asking for his League registration number. A short but confusing phone call with Meteor Man later, and ta-da!
Rigel officially became Fairview's hero. Mostly, it meant getting cats out of trees and helping firefighters, but it really wasn't as big a time commitment as it sounded. Orion loved it, and his girlfriend, and it was the greatest summer and school year he'd ever had— so of course, he really should've known it would never last.
Officially, the entire region was Meteor Man's territory. Rigel was technically his hero intern, despite never having met the man for more than five minutes, but for the sake of paperwork and bureaucrats' sanity that's how it worked. It was the bigger cities that had stricter rules about this sort of thing, but heroes tended to avoid rural areas if they could help it: after all, who ever heard of a robot uprising happening outside of New York City?
So when Meteor Man found himself overwhelmed by an alien invasion and requested backup, Rigel was the closest hero available to help.
And... sure, Orion wasn't his biggest fan by any means, but that didn't mean he wanted to see the guy dead. So he went, taking off with nothing more than a pointed look toward his girlfriend and an inward wince at having to miss English and Chemistry.
The flight was mercifully quick, and from there...
In retrospect, the invaders really stood no chance. Not when it came to Rigel's plasma, or his strength. Not when he proved to be invulnerable to their laser blasts, and by the time backup finally arrived, the aliens' ships had already signaled their retreat.
|
"Amelia? What...?"
I spin back to look at Amelia's bed. Amelia is there, her hands clutching the edges of her favorite blanket like she has the willies. She looks at the closet with wide eyes, her long black hair framing her terror at what she sees in there.
I look back at the closet and see Amelia standing in between two pink dresses. She looks noticeably less colorful, and just as scared, as Amelia. They are both exact copies of each other. They both look like my daughter.
An old song's chorus comes to mind, but I dismiss it with a rough shake of my head. I step back from the closet and glare into it, locking my suspicions onto the Amelia there instead of the Amelia who had just spent time preparing to go to sleep.
"Who are you," I ask this other Amelia, "and how did you get in this closet?"
"It was supposed to be my turn tonight." The closet-Amelia looks at the bed and takes short, gasping breaths. "She had promised I would get the bed."
"No, that's tomorrow night!" The bed-Amelia raised the covers up over part of her face. "I said it was tomorrow."
"You said that *last* night! Stop lying to Daddy!"
"*You're* the liar! I hate you!"
"I hate you more!"
"You're a bad friend!"
"So are you!"
"HEY!" I clap my hands loudly as I use my "Big Man" voice to redirect the argument. Both copies of Amelia snap their vision at me, and they both blush and bow their heads with embarrassment simultaneously. I look to the door of Amelia's bedroom, wondering if I should call Susan up here. Having a mother's wisdom working alongside my growing knowledge of being a father would probably solve this issue much faster.
Susan doesn't come up the stairs. I can barely hear the screeching of cars; her late-night movie must involve racing. Kind of like how my own heart pumps blood that races through my chilled veins.
"Girls," I slowly say, looking between both Amelias, "What is all this about?"
Closet-Amelia speaks first. "It isn't my fault. We just wanted to be friends."
"We are just like each other," Bed-Amelia adds. "And we both love you and Mommy. But only one of us can spend time with you and Mommy."
"Why?" I ask.
"We can't tell you." Bed-Amelia shudders as her pupils shrink down to the size of pinpricks. "It's our secret." I look to Closet-Amelia to find her nodding along, her pupils just as small as her twin's.
"Well, I'm seeing both of you now, so it's no longer a secret." I flinch at my own word choice; is something going to happen to my daughter now that I know she has a copy?
"No, she means we can't tell you *why* we are like this." Closet-Amelia brushes some of her hair away from her face as she tries to calm down and mostly succeeds. "We know what we do from lots of mistakes. And now *she* is trying to get more time with you than we agreed."
Bed-Amelia glares back at Closet-Amelia, but after a few seconds' effort she sniffles and softens. "You're right," she admits to her copy and me, "I want more time with Daddy. I love him so much, it hurts when I have to be in the closet."
"So do I." Closet-Amelia sighs, and when I look at her she has tears glistening in her eyelids. "Whenever I see you be tucked in by him I get so jealous..."
I look between the two girls, both looking, sounding, and *existing* as my dear Amelia. Both of them felt real in my heart. I didn't want them killing each other, but jealous rivalry was an outcome I also did not approve of. "Does your mother know about this?" I ask.
"No," both Amelias say together. They both look at each other, sharing emotions through their eyes, or maybe sharing a telepathic link of empathy from their closeness. Whatever the case, it is clear to me that they do not want Susan's involvement in this. The situation falls to me, then, to fix.
As I rack my brain for answers, the bedroom is silent. Then, with a snap of my fingers, I start forming an idea. An *interesting* idea, with plenty of elbow grease and some parental ingenuity.
"Uh, girls," I start, "I think we can work with this..."
\[THREE NIGHTS LATER\]
"Can you check the closet, Daddy?" Amelia looks at that piece of newly-expanded furniture with wide eyes, her mouth hidden beneath the bedcovers. "That monster's there again."
"Sure, dearie," I say. With a smile, I walk over to the closet and open the doors. Lying down on a small cushion, curled up like a cat and wearing a nightgown similar to Amelia's own, is the other Amelia. She smiles at me as I kneel down and take a folded blanket just by the cushion in my hands.
"Time to tuck the monster to bed," I announce in a stage-whisper to everyone else in the room. Closet-Amelia lets out a quiet, "Thank you," as I spread the blanket over her body. I gently pat the blanket once and then close the door. I make sure no edge or piece of the blanket is visible or sticking out of the closet, so Bed-Amelia can be sure the "monster" is sleeping where she should be.
The bedroom light is turned off after I make sure Bed-Amelia is comfortable where she is. "Good night, dear," I quietly say before I step out and close the bedroom door behind me.
I only hear one "Night, Daddy," in response, but I am sure a second one was said within the warm embrace of a parent's mutual love.
|
notcarrie
|
CarthagePlate_210
|
2024-01-08 10:55:43
|
2023-06-26 00:32:06
| 36 | 11 | null |
jpj58q2
|
190yicv
|
14ipem3
|
[WP] You’re a mercenary hired by adventurers to defeat the boss. After the battle, they loot the treasure and abandon you wounded. The defeated boss crawls over and says, “Guess we’re both expendable, huh?”
|
'Guess we are. You gonna kill me now?'
"Depends. How's that wound?"
'You tell me. It's at least half my ribs broken, you asshole.'
"Eh, I was holding back. Yep, non-fatal. No mercy kill for you."
'Wait. You're letting me live?'
"Sure. You were Just doing your job."
'Don't try to play the I'm-actually-good card. You're a dungeon boss.'
"Someone's got to maintain the economy."
'Excuse me?'
"Hang on, let me just... Ow. Oh yeah, that hit a kidney. You were saying?"
'What do you mean, economy?'
"Here's a little secret. There's no Big Bad Dark Lord. But adventurers gotta adventure, amiright?"
'Uh...'
"There's a whole system. Blacksmiths, guilds, inns, the whole shebang. Treasury gives me gold, Party takes the gold, Party buys stuff, stuff gets taxed, I get paid."
'Im starting to feel a little dizzy....'
"Oh, don't be a baby. I've sent the signal, a priest will be over shortly."
'Even the Church is in on this?!'
"I think you mean *especially* the Church. Why do you think they so happen to know the location of every dungeon?"
'I... Don't... Why are you telling me this?'
"I was getting pretty lonely doing this job all by myself. Dungeon Bossing doesn't leave time for much conversation."
'Whats that got to do with anything?'
"Just thought maybe, you know, you'd like to join for for a bit. See some behind the scenes."
'Like an intern?'
"I was about to say minion, but yeah, sure. Intern."
'... How much does it pay?'
|
Growing pains:
When an evil lord of chaos, fond of the typical fashion of dictators, decides to burn your town to the ground. And you survive.
First things first.
You probably want revenge.
Sure, your parents taught you the ways of the blade as well as that of the books. So you're not completely new to this path. But if there's one thing nobody ever fully explains.
A path towards vengeance hurts. A lot.
Especially when the first guild you strike out with does certain things. Namely, pay you to raid an orc clan alone. Then jump you immediately after you limp back to camp.
And so, here Grey found himself. Laying on his back in the mud as part of the camp burned nearby. He was bleeding of course, and it became clear the others might have stolen his health wares.
Clearly, this was intended to be a suicide mission for him. But of course, again, he survived.
In his bouts of consciousness, he knew it was only a matter of time. Someone or something, would find this place. And finish off anyone left alive. This meant him.
The answer of 'who' came shorter than expected. The leader of this small war party, dragged himself toward him. It had been a hard fought battle of at least an hour. Of course, Grey mused, he didn't finish the job.
The orc dragged himself closer to the maimed elf. Before dropping almost right next to him. A dagger still sticking partway out of his torso. He rolled to shove Grey and knock him over towards himself.
"Guess we're both expendable, huh?" The orc groaned.
It was rather funny. Grey would laugh if he could. It hurt too much to.
"...I'd say so." He finally responded.
The orc stared at his opponent. For an elf, he was a tough one. One eye was swollen shut, his face purple and dark on that side. Blood still trickling out of his nose.
They both unknowingly had a similar observation.
"You seem new to this sort of thing." Grey spoke.
"War? No."
"No." Grey breathed. "Running a camp."
The orc rumbled with a weak laugh.
"Flattooth tried to do war." He groaned. "On own clan. Cut him down."
"Ah. You too, huh?" Grey shrugged.
The pair laid there as the embers finally shifted with the wind. The wilderness still alive, but unwelcoming.
"...Are we dying?" Grey asked him.
"...I dunno." The orc grasped the knife in his side. "Maybe."
"Flattooth, don't do that." Grey winced. "You'll bleed out."
"Bao."
"Huh? Bao?"
"Not Flattooth. He dead." Bao explained as he still prodded the knife with a thumb.
Grey leaned on his elbows to look at it better. "It's in your ribs."
"Yeah, you put it there." Bao gritted.
|
hatabou_is_a_jojo
|
Jamaican_Dynamite
|
2024-12-17 18:21:07
|
2024-12-17 18:11:49
| 155 | 55 |
m2j46t8
|
m2j2ew1
|
1hgdd2n
|
1hgdd2n
|
[WP] Your teachers always warned you to never, under any circumstances, cast a resurrection spell on someone still alive, but refused to elaborate why. Today your curiosity got the better of you.
|
Every magic has a price. This has been drilled into us. But what if the price is too high, so high in fact that you won't be able to pay it one lifetime? I found it out the hard way all because of wizarding arrogance and maybe love.
When mortality was discussed in class, we all laughed; for what would death do to a being powerful enough to raise the dead? The answer- a lot.
When I met my wife, who did not belong to the wizarding world, I fell so hard in love that I knew that mere morality cannot separate us because I wouldn't let it. So I did the one thing that was forbidden, used a resurrection spell on her so that her body may keep on regenerating itself. So that we may be together forever.
We lived a happy life. A blessed life till one day it was to collect the debt of life I had created when I used the spell.
Death stood at the door of our house. I watch death take my unborn child away from me. Over and over again till we gave up.
But death didn't leave. I watched as my wife's soul started to die inside. I watched her become a shell. A being with a perfectly preserved body but no life.
I watched death smile when I tried to use the resurrection spell again.
|
A thin drool trickles, pulling into the fur around Max’s beard. His chest raises and lowers in rasps.
“This the whole family?” Veterinarian Charlie says. “Not waiting for anyone else?”
“This is it.” Mom says.
We have already had time to say goodbye. The doctor readies the injection as the nurse aids us in comforting Max.
“Whose a special little boy?” Nurse Cherry says.
I bury my face in Max so ma can’t see my tears.
“I love you, buddy.” I breath in his sweet stink.
The vet respectfully waits as we blubber. After a time, he clears his throat.
“Distract him. He won’t even feel the needle enter.”
He was right. Max didn’t react at all. His eyes began drooping.
His leg gives a little twitch. A low moan escapes him. I scratch his bum, around the fat tumor. He quiets.
Veterinarian Charlie takes his leave. The nurse watches on.
I know it will be painless, and I keep telling myself that when Max begins twitching wildly.
“Simply the drugs taking effect.” Nurse Cherry says. “Simply muscle spasms. He can’t feel anything.”
Max abruptly begins whining loudly, accusingly. He screams at me personally, asking how I could ever do this to him. He pleads with me. He apologizes to me. He says he is sorry daddy. He doesn’t know what he has done wrong. He thinks it is when he last pooped on the carpet.
His whine rises into a braying crow. Vet Charlie does not return.
His accusations turn from self-hate to disgust. I was never a good father, he tells me. I never gave him the time he deserved. He could tell every day that I felt he was a chore.
“If you didn’t want the chore, don’t get a fucking dog, you cunt.” Max says.
I don’t know why I did it. Maybe to prove him wrong. I cast the spell. His body twists and pops. Bones jut out from his body, then reentered their proper arrangement.
His braying cry turns into an all out scream, like when Max used to see squirrels in our backyard.
His legs and arms twitch wildly.
“What did you do?” Nurse Cherry hisses at me.
“Nothing.” I lie.
The poison courses through his veins, shutting down huge clumps of cells. The tumor finally, finally dies.
Then, it reanimates. Poison once again courses through his veins and arteries and is delivered to each cell. They wither and die again.
The cells reanimate once again.
The poison flows like wine.
|
iknowthisischeesy
|
None
|
2023-06-28 20:46:16
|
2023-06-28 20:03:05
| 153 | 56 |
jpwnhhg
|
jpwgms6
|
14li1go
|
14li1go
|
[WP] The Time Machine was backwards traveling only, and now your stuck in the Medieval Times. You pull out your phone, expecting it to be nonfunctional, but instead find it to be working fine, and the date on the Home Screen reading “October 12th, 952”.
|
Small fires still burn where the wreckage of the machine landed. I cough and cough, wipe streaming tears from stinging eyes. Where am I? When am I? Force of habit prompts nerveless fingers to fish the phone from my pocket and I blink at the cracked screen.
October 12th, 952
“952,” I gasp. The when explains the where. This is the bank of the river ... before there was a city here. Before my ancestors even came to this land.
The machine worked. It’s pieces lie broken and scattered around me. Half worked, I guess. I won’t be going back.
Shit.
Perhaps the fact that I have traveled back through time should prompt more disbelief and wonder - but I knew that it was theoretically possible. That my machine could possibly achieve this.
I didn’t really think about returning though. After all, I wasn’t supposed to send *myself* though time.
This experiment had been a disastrous success!
But then another thought occurs to me. One that brings a bigger shock than the realization that I am stuck in the past. How the heck does my phone know the date?
I look back at the cracked screen, squinting at the icons in the corner. Three bars of signal.
There’s a sound behind me.
“Is it really you?”
English. A woman’s voice. I turn around slowly.
|
The knights of Lord Wymane surrounded me as their horses neighed and whinnied underneath them.
“Who is't art thee, strange wand'r'r?” asked the largest of the knights.
I panicked, quickly looking around to see if there was a way to escape. The knight nearest to my right side noticed my shiftiness and nudged his horse towards me. A gaggle of townsfolk began to gather around, patiently waiting to see what would happen next.
“Hey guys… uh… listen… I’m trying to get home,” I stammered, hoping this would give them a reason to leave me alone.
The entire crowd gasped. The knight who spoke drew his sword, staring at me menacingly.
“A strange tongue thee speaketh indeed. What is thy nameth and wh're is thy home?”
Realizing that I was about 30 seconds away from being impaled, I played along.
“It is I… uh… Tony, son of Joey, son of… uh… the other, Eldest Tony. I hail from… uh… the kingdom of… uh… the Kingdom of the Burger King!”
With this bold claim, the crowd broke out into hushed murmurs. The knight, now lowering his sword, jumped off of his steed and walked up to me.
“And who is't this Burg'r King thee speaketh of?” he asked.
“Uh… yes, yes” I stammered, gathering my thoughts, “The Burger King is the greatest power in the East. He wishes to offer you… I mean thee… a gift to thy master, Lord Wymane.”
The knight shot me a skeptical look and then answered, “And wh're is this gift yond thee speaketh of?”
I looked down at the only thing I had in my possession, an iPhone 14. “It is this! The greatest invention of all time.” I held the phone up into the air so that the crowd of people could see it and turned on the phone’s flashlight. The knights all flinched backwards, a woman screamed, another man yelled “Blasphemy!” from the back of the crowd.
After several moments of confusion, the knight finally said, “T’is most wondrous, thee has't did capture lighteth in the palm of thy handeth. I wonneth't tryeth to und'rstand, but shall taketh thee to mine own mast'r. I shall alloweth L'rd Wymane to decideth wheth'r thy life shouldst beest spar'd.”
The largest knight grabbed me by the arm, guiding me towards the path that led to Lord Wymane’s castle at the top of the hill. The other knights followed behind closely, acting as a barrier between me and the exasperated townspeople, ever curious about the magic device that had just appeared before their very eyes…
|
AGuyLikeThat
|
TheMamaSloth
|
2023-03-03 02:34:18
|
2023-03-03 00:33:49
| 101 | 46 |
japg1ze
|
jap05y6
|
11g9l3c
|
11g9l3c
|
[WP] A mind reader decides to try to play with you, but little does he know you have ADHD and the moment he enters you mind he's gonna get lost in a web of absolutely absurd racing thoughts.
|
Xrrtklgrz’s laughter boomed through the obsidian paved halls as the pathetic human cowered before his demonic majesty.
“What’s that human? You don’t think you \*belong\* in hell? Well then, there is a simple way to leave.” Xrrtklgrz’s seven lips pulled back from his blacked fangs. “Simply finish these seven impossible tasks and you will be free to walk through the Brimstone Gates.”
Hope bloomed in the worm’s eyes, and Xrrtklgrz mouth watered at the thought of crushing that hope.
“Know that these challenged are based on your seven greatest sins. Only four people have ever completed this challenge; do you think you will be the fifth?”
As the human babbled their response, a scroll written on raw flesh appeared in Xrrtklgrz’s’s hands.
“The first challenge is the test of sloth. To succeed you must…” Xrrtklgrz paused for dramatic effect. “WASH A LOAD OF LAUNDRY AND PUT AWAY THE CLOTHES AS SOON AS THEY COME OUT OF THE DRYER! BWAHAH- wait, what”, Xrrtklgrz murmured the last part.
The human’s sorrowful wails echoed through the hall, which helped to distract from the demon’s confusion as he read the scroll again. Was the idea to start with a easy challenge and then crush their hope later? That must be it.
“Your second challenge is that of greed. You must not purchase anything, ON AMAZON PRIME DAY!”
Tears streamed down the human’s face as they lamented their fate, but Xrrtklgrz’s confusion only grew. It had been a while since the demon’s last summoning, but he wasn’t sure what a big river had to do with greed.
“Yes, er, that’s right! Let despair fill your heart. Envy is the next challenge. To succeed, you must attend \*both\* days of the Eras tour, without posting about it on Instagram?”
By this point the human was on their knees, begging for Xrrtklgrz’s mercy, but the demon was too distracted reading the rest of the scroll.
“What the here are these challenges?” Xrrtklgrz muttered. Of course, being a 70-foot-tall demon meant that his mutter’s could fill a stadium. The human’s eyes grew wider with each word. “Pride; go a full day f work without feeling imposter syndrome. Wrath, confront Janice about her stealing your lunch from the break room. Lust, show your browser history to thirteen people. Gluttony, use all the vegetables in your refrigerator before buying more groceries.”
Xrrtklgrz sat upon his throne of skulls ad the human was led away. The pathetic creature was begging for mercy, but their cries soon faded. The demon scratched behind one of his horns as he read the scroll again and again. How were these the seven deadly challenges? Had the world changed that much? How could an era only last two days?
Shrugging his eight shoulders, Xrrtklgrz called out to one of his helper imps to lead in the next supplicant. When the portly human entered Xrrtklgrz’s hall, the demon’s fanged maws curved in genuine pleasure.
“Ah, Dr. Kissinger. We’ve been expecting you.”
|
I got up, it was black. I looked around for a light switch but couldn't find a light switch, wall. I ran but couldn't find and end. Eventually my shoes started to echo.
"Where am I!" I yelled in desperation.
"You're dead," said a voice in a low but sweet voice.
"dead? shouldn't everything be white and cloudy. maybe some people with harps in here?" I asked.
The voice just lauhged.
"Hey, I'm talking to you!" I yelled dejected.
"Surely, you don't believe you belong there," the voice said.
"What do you mean?" I wasn't that bad of a guy, honest" I yelled.
"mmmm, tell you what, I'll give you a chance to get out" the voice said, "On you're mark, get ready go!" yelled the voice. What followed was a loud sound.
Not sure what else to do I jogged until a tall, white bed with blue pillow sheets appeared.The pillows were also white. And they felt so fluffy. How could I resist it was so soft. But it was a foreign bed. I couldn't use this. It would just be so different.
"It's okay, it's just a bed. You'll feel the same under the covers," a voice said.
"who's there?" I asked.
"No one really." it said. "Just know that the bed is safe. The bed is okay"
The bed then transformed into the one from my room. The green one with the blue pillows. I couldn't help but feel it look ugly now.
But still I saw it. I walked past it. And towards the other door.
There was a beautiful blue eyed black haired woman in a tight red dress there. Why did she look so familiar?
"hey there," she said in another familiar voice.
I then realized it was my neighbor's wife Jessica. She was blonde in life.
"I won't tell Jacob," about this she said."You know you want to."
She always had me so hot blooded.
"How could I possible say no?"
"I won't tell anyone. You can go about your way after this like it never happened."
I put my arm around her waste and felt I knew what was going to come next. "Whoa, almost felt for that one," I said.
She tried reaching out for my hand, but I ran away.
"Don't be prideful and try to pretend your something your note!" she sang in a sing song voice.
There was a bunch of food and drinks here. And I was famished. I couldn't tell if this challenge was gluttony or greed. But clearly the answer was to not have that much. I drank some beer first over eating, because I thought I could really use the get away. The easiest thing to have first were the wings. I helped myself to the pizza and onion rings as well. I felt the beers and decided to have a few more. I shouldn't have drank the last one but had already opened it and thought why let it go to waste.
I saw a brunette woman with wavy hair laughing with some other guy. She looked back and that's when I realized it was my former wife Samantha. I yelled out for her, "What the fuck do you think you're doing!" She moved her hand away from his and looked frightened. We seperated a long time ago. But I could never let her go. It made me so angry to see her with other people. Why couldn't she be happy with me like that? She hid behind the guy she was with.
"What's your problem?" he yelled back.
"Your my problem, buddy!" I said as gave him a hook to the face. And he stumbled back towards her and the two fell together. I heard sirens and decided to run.
I walked into a room. It looked to be some sort of trophy room. The name on one of the awards was John Lipman. John Lipman, now there's a name I hadn't heard in a long time. I looked around to make sure no one was staring and threw the award onto the ground and spat on it. I punched the glass the contained the other trophies and threw them across the room. I heard the sirens again and ran.
I ended up at what looked like the start of a maze. I'd lose them in here I thought and I ran and ran. I felt the muscles in my throat going funny. I lent over and hurled. I saw a small image of me drinking and drinking. And then it turned into samantha's horrified scream.
Maybe I did belong here after all.
|
Bagger288writes
|
hysterical_writings
|
2024-08-30 04:13:14
|
2024-08-30 03:25:15
| 65 | 22 |
lkmdkvn
|
lkm7ac2
|
1f46v6z
|
1f46v6z
|
[WP] Every 1000 years all of the Gods get together for a contest to see who can collect the most souls with a single catastrophic event. Last time Poseidon broke the 1M mark with a Tsunami/earthquake combo. You’re up.
|
"I win," I said beaming.
"That's not how you play the game, you idiot!" scowled Zeus. Shiva just put all four hands over his face and shook it slowly. The other gods were in various states of shock and disappointment.
"But I win! Top that!"
Not a single deity seemed amused. The echos of the supernova could still be heard in the dark matter. What was left of Jupiter was visible careening off toward Alpha Centauri. I briefly wondered if there was anyone over there and whether the errant core would cause any problems down the road or just be an interesting celestial phenomenon.
"You didn't... *win*. You... ruined the game," said Xōchiquetzal with frustration. "At best, I'd call that a foul."
"The foul to end all fouls," added Bixia, nodding at her friend.
"The foul to end *all*," Xōchiquetzal nodded back. "We should never have let these lesser gods take part. I *told* you, Zeus." She cast a glance his way. For once the grand old immortal didn't have anything to say.
Honestly, I knew they weren't going to love it. But once I figured out how to get enough mass to appear wherever I wanted, I had to try it. I waited nearly four hundred years; just anticipating the looks on their faces. Being the god of assholes wasn't always glamorous, but it had its moments. Well, its moment.
"So..." Poseidon ventured, "does that mean my record stands?"
|
“Lets see you top that!” Poseidon’s voice still echoes in my memories, even after all these years. I stared at the blue and green marble below our domain. Though the toll on the mortals was great, they still rebuilt and improved. I watched as they grew and beat back tragedy.
I thought long and hard on this game among gods. Who would show the greatest power. Who would cow the mortals into everlasting submission. A task not enviable among the gods, or at least it should not have been.
I looked down upon the mortals. Poseidon’s greatest tragedy forgotten and relegated to myth. I took a deep breath, stretching out my time until judgment. Perhaps there was another way, of course there was another way. But none I would find in time. I knew what was needed, but not the need for it. As is the curse of those blind to fate.
I took a deep breath and embarked on the journey to earth. In a flash of light I found myself next to a man in need. He stood at the corner of Wilson and Jefferson in New York city. He had only a ragged carboard sign, and the hope of strangers to his name. I sat next to the man, who was no wiser to my presence as any other mortal in the realm. I watched as he begged and pleaded for what he needed in his hour of want. Although I knew what he truly needed, I also knew he would give in to what he desired.
I followed him around the block to henry’s wine shop. He needed to invest in his future, but he bought his present instead. I sat with him on the corner as he drowned his sorrows with his hard-earned gains. With a heavy heart I whispered in his ear.
“I am truly sorry. For your sacrifice, you will achieve greatness.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled my doom into my hand. A moment of hesitation betrayed my judgment. I steeled my nerves before passing a new plague upon the world. I watched as he shuddered before brushing off his newfound ailment with another swig of his booze.
“Good haul I see” a woman of the night said as she stopped by. With a smile the man passed the bottle which the woman gladly took, dooming herself. The two exchanged pleasantry as most mortals do. I basked in the glory of these peaceful moments for this was the start of the end.
I shed a tear for these mortals, both present and future. For this is the end of life as they knew it, and hopefully, the end of these twisted games the gods played upon them.
|
porncrank
|
EndToStart
|
2023-04-09 07:56:31
|
2023-04-09 03:25:24
| 366 | 200 |
jfjpsuy
|
jfj1lqc
|
12g5br3
|
12g5br3
|
[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.
|
“What the actual hell?”
“What?”
“I sent you to go save my daughter, the princess from a dragon, only to find her head on your fucking hip!”
“Wait, but you put a bounty on her head.”
“No I did not! I asked you to retrieve the princess for 300 gold!”
“Retrieve, meaning retrieve a head.”
“…where did you grow up?”
The warrior proudly announces “I grew up in the Red Dunes, a sandy land covered by blood & rot! A land where it’s either kill or are be killed!”
“That explains it. But, even if you grew up in a shitty environment, I’m still gonna execute you.”
“Damn.”
|
“And here’s the last of them.” Theadore the Gaunt dropped yet another bag filled with severed heads on the floor before the flabbergasted king. On the top of the latest pile was his precious girl’s head. Each of the heads were frozen in a look of confusion and terror.
King Dominan felt fury, but there was nothing he could do for his best knights Theadore had slew. The king could only muster a feeble, “How…why?” Theadore then looking proud stated, “Dear King you must have been fooled! You see when I went into the keep, there was but a paper mache dragon there. Stepping into the hall I realized I was surrounded! It broke my heart seeing so many of the knights and royalty I had valiantly fought with over the years there.” Tears started welling in Theadore’s eyes. “I heard them execute their battle cry as the knights presented their swords. ‘surprise’ they called out…sob…”SURPRISE!” All those men must had planned to betray me and then overthrow the kingdom once I was gone.”
The king at this point felt he might be having a stroke…”but my little girl?” Theadore explained, “That was the saddest part, it was she who must have planned the whole thing. She was not bound and was at the center of the crowd. Princess Rene tried to confuse me saying that this was a wedding, that she was to marry me. I knew this was false for I had been told to wear my finest armor to rescue her…yet again. Why would I be told to wear armor to a wedding? “
The king slumped to the floor. His crown landed at Theadore’s feet. And thus ends the story of Theadore the Gaunt and begins the tale of King Theadore the 1st.
|
Pope-Francisco
|
oliverjsn8
|
2023-04-03 16:16:14
|
2023-04-03 12:31:19
| 127 | 73 |
jesvh2m
|
jes1eue
|
12ahea7
|
12ahea7
|
[WP] The hero is 16, he raises his wand. The villain steps into a time warp. Now the hero is 26, with a wife and two kids. Just fired, behind on the mortgage, the car blew its transmission. What else could go wrong? The "villain" reappears.
|
"What do you mean, happier?", the Demon asked incredulously. "No mortal is happy in Hell, that's the point of Hell!"
The Angel sighed. "You don't understand. This Man, he's lived a virtuous life. Married a good woman, raised morally strong children, avoided Sin. Not out of desire to live a righteous life. Oh no, if only it were that simple."
The Demon gestured him to continue.
"I've seen his mind", the Angel, who had once borne a flaming sword and smote cities with rains of sulfer, looked as he was going to vomit, said. "I've seen his mind. In another age, he'd be a conqueror. A force of nature. He burns with a rapine desire to main, kill and dominate. His dreams sicken me."
The words come in a rush, as if spilling them forth will cleanse the speaker.
"His dreams. Violence, depravity, and worse. He's kept it all bottled in, knowing that letting out the least of his impulses would doom everyone he cared about."
The Demon looked at his counterpart, amazed at the Angel that practically trembled before him.
"The forces of Hell gladly accept this gift."
The Angel looked him square in the eye, "No returns."
|
I thought the War would be eternal. I honestly did.
But Zaphaniel's reaction told me everything.
"There's... " The angel sighed. "Look. There's been a conclave about how we've been doing things."
"Did one of you hop down to the dirt for a visit?"
A wounded look was my reward.
"Yes."
"Saw the television, saw the laws being passed, saw the hate?"
"Yes."
"And now you're... "
If he dareth spake against his Lord, or however the humans put it in the KJV, he would probably have been struck down in front of me. But he had the grace to at least try and convey regret with his expression.
"Good."
"You're not surprised."
I didn't laugh. He deserved the same kind of grace in return.
"The thing about letting people into Heaven based on principles from thousands of years ago is that you're only going to get the kind of people who follow thousand-year-old principles. And who exclude others based on thousand-year-old principles."
His wings folded.
"So while you've been listening to the same hosannahs for the past two thousand years, we've been meeting all sorts of new people down here. Kind, thoughtful, caring people, like this soul you're about to send us. And they tell us what your followers get up to, with all the new laws and old, old hate."
Silence.
"So no, I'm not surprised at all. And we'll welcome this one, too, with open arms just the same."
"The Word—"
"Had a time and place. Clearly."
Somehow, they folded even further. He turned away slightly.
"I'm sorry. That was a bit far, even for me."
Silence, again. I suppose I earned that.
"Look, I'm glad you're all at least thinking about turning things around. It took a while for us to change, I'm sure you can, too."
He looked back.
"It might not do much for all the bright and shiny clouds full of hateful, judgemental people you have up there right now, but hey—you've spent all this time telling me about redemption. That's never a bad idea. And I'm always here if you want to chat."
"... I mean, you're bound to this place, it's your whole thing. So that's not really much of an offer at all. Are you *sure* you've changed?"
And for the first time in a long time, a demon and an angel laughed and smiled together. And it was good.
|
Warboss_Squee
|
Radiophage
|
2023-06-29 19:47:10
|
2023-06-29 18:53:18
| 1,346 | 133 |
jq1b2ld
|
jq12ksk
|
14m6mdv
|
14m6mdv
|
[WP] Not all Dragons hoard gold. Some run the greatest libraries and repositories of knowledge in the world, others search for the greatest experiences and sights the worlds can offer. One dragon has a rather unusual fascination.
|
"What, you want gold or something?"
"Well, no, not really. But that artillery has caught my eye."
"The what?" The clerk asked, baffled. The specialist the government had reached out to was unusual, as it was a dragon, and had declined most forms of payment available for the work. The drake nodded with a slight grin.
"Not all dragons hoard gold you know."
"I'll have to contact my boss, I can't exactly authorize the trade of military hardware." The clerks explanation was cut off as the drake waved a clawed hand.
"I know, I know. Take the time you need to get that sorted. I'm interested in weapons of war; artillery, tanks, atmocraft, spacecraft. I'll be waiting." The drake turned away from the clerk and opened a portal. The land beyond the portal was full of machines of destruction, and a great fleet of warships hung in the skies.
Follow the adventure at r/PrimusWrites
|
We turned the cold dark halls and froze. You could hear the bellows of the beast echoing through the chamber of the halls. We must press on, I thought to myself.
The king had sent us to not only slay the foul beast, but to use its riches to better the kingdom. Even though fear swelled in my belly like the gnawing hunger of a starving man, press on we did.
As we entered the chambers it was stark black. I couldn’t see the men I was with nor the beast we were there for. Suddenly two large eyes opened. A growl so loud ensued, the treasures were being shaken from their very spots. The beast raised its head, it size the likes I’ve never seen before. Me and the men watched in horror as the flames formed in the mouth of the dragon. It was too late.
At the last second the dragon turned and shot his flames to light candles around the room. As me and the men looked around we couldn’t believe what we saw. Was this the work of witches? Did the foul best put us under some spell?
“Come to see my troll dolls have ya?” The dragons voice was deeper than the bellow of thunder. “See this one I snagged when I was flying over the village south of the kingdom. Some young spire just let his child through the doll on the ground like some cursed thing!”
Our party, clearly confused, looked around at each other for answers. We would find none. What we would find however, was the history and origins of each and every doll their. We tried to leave but the dragon snappend it’s tail in front of the door way. “Oooh wait, I forgot about this one!”
After three weeks in the dungeon with the beast many men died of starvation, some even did the deed themselves due to going mad from the lengthy explanation of the dragons collectibles.
“And I think that’s all of them!” I turned to leave thirsty for the light of day. But just as I was approaching the door the dragon saw the gift I had for my newborn babe. “IS THAT THE DAM TAILED TROLL WITH ORIGINAL TAGS & OUTFIT!?” I knew I would never escape, yet still, I found my sword unsheathed and in my hands.
|
Primus_Drago
|
Lilpoopiesquat
|
2023-04-23 18:17:57
|
2023-04-23 18:09:01
| 61 | 14 |
jhf6mkw
|
jhf5c52
|
12wghc8
|
12wghc8
|
[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.”
|
"I would like to talk to you about the two types of dragon. About the difference between good dragons and evil. I'm sure you know that good dragons do not care about hording treasure. They don't have endless piles of useless trinkets they protect religiously, in contrast to evil dragons, who amass sizable hordes of gold, silver, gemstones, rare artifacts and magical items.
However, this is a misconception. There isn't really "good" and "evil" dragons. It is merely a difference in what they value. The dragons that most humans would describe as evil are obsessed with things, with material objects that have great worth. Dragons that humans would describe as good are obsessed with people. A "good" dragon does not have a horde, but a territory. In that territory, the people are its treasure. They know every man, woman and child. They watch their lives from afar, seeing generations unfold and grow. Seeing a babe grow into adulthood, to fall in love and create new treasures, is one of a dragon's greatest joys in life. Some will leave it like that, while others will make their feelings known. On special occasions, holidays and festivals, they may fly down to feel what it is like to be surrounded by the beings they love so dearly. They protect them from invaders and interlopers, find food in times of famine and rescue those in peril. Often such dragons are worshipped as guadians by the thankful populace.
Of course, times aren't always happy in a dragon's territory. In times of plagues and disaster, the roars of a dragon can often be heard, a fury against a unfair world that would snuff out so many of their precious people. And occasionally, people will need to move away from a dragon's territory. While a dragon loves every one of their people, they will allow them to leave, for same reason they don't horde them in a cave like the other kind of dragon. If you were accepted by a dragon as their treasure, it matters not how far you go, or how long you are gone for, you will always be their treasure. Even if you leave to find your fortune in the capital and fall in love with the heir to a wealthy guildmaster who becomes your husband.
An "evil" dragon will burn down a kingdom to get back a single stolen coin. What do you think my godmother would do to you once word got back to the village how bandits kidnapped me? Shh. Do you hear that? It's the growing sound of wingbeats. A dragon comes to reclaim the treasure you so ignorantly stole. What will you do now?"
|
hatabou_is_a_jojo
|
PrinceCheddar
|
2025-01-13 03:24:23
|
2023-01-28 21:58:22
| 101 | 21 | null |
j6aa6av
|
1hzzhzi
|
10nb6cj
|
[WP] “Why should I care what you think, dad? Humans only live for a hundred years if they’re lucky! Me and mom will be here for thousands!”
|
\- *Why should I care what you think, Dad? Humans only live for a hundred years, if they're lucky! Me and Mom will be here for thousands!*
Emilien looked up at his father, with what he hoped would be smug expression of superiority. But what he saw instantly wiped any of it from his face. He heard stories of "scary humans", and how certain human heroes have torn cities apart singlehandedly, but he never gave them any mind - not until this moment, when he saw his own father, fuming, with fists on the dinner table clenched so hard that balls of his knuckles turned white.
\- *This... Is exactly why.* - Father's voice was surprisingly calm, and words came out slowly, in measured pace, obviously restrained. He walked away from the table, and turned his back to Emilien and his mother.
\- *What?* - Emilien tried to ask, but was hushed by his mother.
\- *You never met your grandfather. And grandmother died when you were ripe old age of three. I still remember her reaction when I announced we are visiting. She treated us like the plague, until she first laid her eyes on you.*
\- *I was afraid to let her hold you, but...* - Mother chimed in -*She fell in love with you from first moments.*
\- *I had a great deal of misunderstandings with my father, Emilien. He was a racist, and couldn't stand the thought I would marry an elf. This was over fifteen years ago, Emilien. And these two empty chairs to the right of me during the wedding reception still burn a hole in my heart.* - Father walked over to the fireplace and took a picture off the mantle. It was a photograph from their wedding. -*And you know what the man who gave me life and raised me, do you know what he did when I sent them a letter announcing that Lülien was pregnant with you?*
\- *I dunno. Tore it to pieces?*
\- *He died, Emilien. Heart attack. He. FUCKING. DIED.* - Last two words Father screamed into balls of his fists.
Emilien never seen him like this. His ever calm, collected and happy father was right now shaking from anger. But, and this realisation came suddenly, this was no longer anger directed at him. This was years upon years of grief, packed tightly into something hidden deep within this person. A box of springs, that Emilien unknowingly and unintentionally poked open.
\- *He died. He's no longer among the living. You are right. Maybe I shouldn't care, he's no longer alive, so what does he matter, right? But, my own father died hating my guts. I never had the chance to make up with him. I never had the chance to explain. To show him the good. To introduce him to you. And it hurts whenever I think about it. It hurts whenever I visit his grave. It hurts whenever I see that my siblings neglect this duty...*
Father sat back down at the table with a defeated sigh.
\- *So... Yes. In... Maybe forty years, fifty if we're lucky, I will not be your problem anymore. And only then you'll truly realise, why should you have cared.*
|
“Why should I care what you think, Dad? Humans only live for a hundred years if they’re lucky! Me and mom will be here for thousands!”
David pursed his lips as he looked at his superpowered son and wife, Kevin and Martha. This month had been… challenging to say the least when Kevin finally got his power on his 20th birthday. That would have been big enough news already were it not for yesterday’s news of Martha being part of an alien war species that sought to conquer planets.
Like Earth.
Standing amid his destroyed living room, where Agency agents who were supposed to protect him but were now scattered around, David took a deep breath and stepped closer to his son. The fate of humanity rested on this conversation. “Do you remember Abby?” asked David.
“The dog?” Kevin raised his eyebrows. “What about her?”
“You cried for her when we had to bury her in the backyard,” David continued. He glanced at the kitchen window, where the small tombstone was barely visible. “You cared about her.”
Kevin faltered and glanced at his mom, who had a stern look on her face as she hovered over the floor. “I didn’t know if I would have my powers,” Kevin finally said.
“And yet, you still care about her,” David said, taking another step closer. “I still see it in your face.”
“And he will forget about her,” Martha countered. “Maybe tomorrow, next year, tens, or a hundred years from now. Kevin will forget her and you.”
Was this family all for nothing? Did his love mean anything? David knelt on the bloodied floor, his breath heavy. “I’m not asking you to care what I think, Kev,” David said. “I’m asking you to care about me and everyone else. Just like you did for Abby.” Kevin tried to open his mouth, but no words could come out. “If you think so little of me, killing your father should be no problem for you.”
“What are you saying?” Kevin asked, tears falling down his face.
“You and your mother wish to conquer Earth, start with me,” David whispered, though he looked his son in the eyes.
Faltering, Kevin took a step back and looked at his mother. Martha sneered, though there was a growing frustration in her face. “What are you waiting for?” she asked.
Kevin’s hands trembled as he looked from his father to his mother, torn between the love he still felt for his dad and the power he had just begun to understand. The weight of the decision pressed down on his conscience, harder than anything he’d ever faced as a superhero.
He could do it, one clean laser to the face. However, the thought of his father, his lifeless body lying on the floor, made him sick to his stomach. But the words of his mother urged him to do it. He and his mother could liberate Earth. But did it really have to start with killing his father?
“Do it,” Martha said. “Prove that you are not weak, Kevin. Prove that you are worthy of your heritage.”
“Mom…” Kevin’s voice broke, and for a moment, he saw a flicker of softness in her eyes, a glimpse of the mother who had once held him when he was scared. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the unyielding gaze of a conqueror.
“Kevin, please,” David whispered. “You have to make a choice.”
“He’s made his choice!” Martha shouted as she dropped to the floor. Her feet slammed onto the floor, splintering the wood. “Kevin, you are not weak like them. You are a warrior.”
“He’s… he’s my dad.”
“And he will die!” Martha rubbed her temples. Her fiery eyes then stared hard at her son. “His life is fleeting, his body is fragile. He had his chance to join the empire, an empire, I remind you, is for the greater good!”
But Kevin shook his head. “I want to share as much time with you and Dad. I can’t do that if I kill him.”
Eyes glowing red, Martha prepared her heat vision. “You’re weak,” she muttered.
But David got up and quickly ran in front of his son. “If you want to hit our boy, Marth,” David said, his heart beating fast, “You’ll have to punch through me.”
Martha’s fiery eyes narrowed on her husband. For a moment, it seemed as if the entire world had ground to a halt.
|
wiqr
|
Necessary_Ad_2762
|
2024-08-14 20:33:18
|
2024-08-14 18:27:50
| 31 | 16 |
li4rgrz
|
li43utx
|
1es40qy
|
1es40qy
|
[WP] Every five years your island society must retreat into bunkers to avoid the month long flood. Out of boredom and rebellion, you surface to find no floodwaters at all. Just the face-less creatures.
|
“Complete remission?”
“Yes, Sir,” the AI droned.
“In 100% of the test subjects?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, this is certainly unexpected. Double check the selection of terminal cancer patients as the test subjects for Bio-Weapon X. Were they all genuinely independent selections?”
“No anomalies found, Sir. All subjects were predicted to die in the next three months, lowering the chance of bio-weapon test detection. As you directed, Sir. All subjects were selected at random from a world-wide pool. Post-selection analysis indicates no unexpected correlations.”
“Well, well. Schedule a suitably anonymized conference call with the bidders for Bio-Weapon X. Let them know in advance that it will be about a delay. Then scour the medical records of world leaders and billionaires. Find me some with cancer or with loved ones with cancer. Oh, and increase funding to the tobacco lobbyists by 250%. If we can cure cancer, we’re going to need more cancer.”
“Yes, Sir.”
|
I was deep with my hideout, together with my acolytes trying to engineer a new bioweapon for a customer.
I was...a scientist, in search of breakthroughs, willing to do anything to push humanity to new heights...
But most called me a supervillain, a mad scientist...
Well, I can't help it, can I?
I need subjects to test my theories on.
As we were working on the bioweapon, the computer lights up, and reading the details...I froze.
"S-S-Sir...is...is that for real?", one of the acolytes asks, after reading the results.
I nod...the mood deadly.
"We...we found the cure for at least 80% of the cancer variations and mutations.
The bioweapon actually able to target cancerous cells, by draining their nutrition completely...starving the diseased cells.", I said.
"And it only targets the cells that are ill...how wonderful!", an acolyte smiles.
I look at her...with pity in my eyes.
The alarms go off, as programmed.
I copy the research, and our findings on multiple external storage units, and give them to all my acolytes.
"It was a pleasure working with you...
I hope you can continue trying to lead humanity to higher peaks.", I said, sitting down on my chair.
"S-S-Sir? What's happening?", an acolyte asks.
"I did one of the taboo things, and now, I will be liquidated.
I already erased any sign of you, and raised this research to personal project.
So anyone who will read it, will think it was a secret, only known by me...
Now leave.", I said, as door opened in the walls of the lab, leading far away.
"Is it that bad?", the last acolyte asks.
I chuckle, shooting him.
"S-S-Sir...!", he mutters.
"I know who you are...who sent you...
I won't let you endanger the others...
They are the future of mankind, whether the populace likes or not their methods.", I said, ending his life.
Then I waited, and soon enough, I heard hurried, heavy footsteps.
They were here...
I welcomed them with a smile, as I was knocked unconscious, my fate not in my hands anymore...
|
BobDowling64
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-11-03 14:33:02
|
2024-11-03 07:13:49
| 256 | 65 | null |
m6x786u
|
1giga2o
|
1i0ckmr
|
[WP] You’re a park ranger of a very dense forest and you take care of everything, including the supernatural cryptids. One day, a murder happens in your forest and the culprit evades the authorities. You then politely ask the cryptids for their aid in the culprit’s capture. They agree.
|
One thing the park ranger training doesn't tell you about is the sapient non-humans living in the forest. They're good folks, very reclusive, but with some persistence, and a whole lot of respect, you can form a relationship with them.
Gren is one of those who frequently works with the rangers, he's a Leshen, and a damn intimidating one at that, but get to know him, and he's kinder than you might expect, but he is harsh, he doesnt take bullshit, and will eject you from his presence forcefully if you offend him.
I'll spare you the details of the murder, but the short version, it was gruesome. I asked Gren for help with finding the killer, local law enforcement hadn't been able to find much but the forest has more eyes than you expect.
"I know the human you seek, their sins were witnessed by the forest. If you ask me to help in this matter, then I will be required to dispense our justice to the murderer." Gren was very stern today, he knew I came here to talk business, he even waved away the gift I brought for him.
"We've never actually talked about this kind of thing you know. Before I can ask, I need to know what your justice entails." I couldn't bring a corpse to jail for murder, Gren knew that, so I figured he had some options that didn't include death.
"I know your concerns, I give you my vow I will not kill this murderer, I will deliver them to you whole, but they will know their sins intimately before they are yours. I will not elaborate further." I knew not to push Gren on the details, probably felt he was saving me from knowing something I really shouldn't know.
"Thank you Gren, I owe you for..."
"You owe nothing for this Ranger Thomas." Gren interrupted, "You will have your murderer, no exchange will be necessary, they alone will pay the price."
"Thank you Gren. I'll return when you summon me."
"Be well, Ranger Thomas."
I returned to the outpost, mulling over that ominous message Gren said about the murderer paying the price. The ferocity in Gren's voice, I really hope I never end up on his bad side.
‐------Three days later-------
I arrived at Gren's Glenn and let out a little chuckle, the name always made me smile, but it was short lived as I remembered why I came.
Gren was waiting for me at the tree line, "Greetings Ranger Thomas, I have your murderer further in the valley, his punishment by our laws is complete, and I will relinquish him into your custody. He is ready, and willing, to make a full confession to your authorities."
"Wow, how'd you manage that?"
"He was given a choice. Face justice at the hands of his own people, or face our justice for the rest of his days."
"Full confession? Just like that?"
"It was not as easy as it sounds, but yes, he will make a full confession."
"I know you said you wouldn't elaborate further, but may I ask how you managed that?" Couldn't hurt to ask, I thought.
"After two days of living the last moments of every creature he has ever killed, he was willing to reconsider my offer."
I didn't know how to reply to that, Gren and I walked in silence for the next twenty minutes or so as I processed what he told me. As we neared the structure holding the murderer, I finally broke the silence.
"Every creature?"
"Yes. Every fly he swatted, every bug he stepped on or poisoned, and of course, his victim in the forest. The last two days, he has experienced their last moments of life, their pain, their fear, everything they were in their final moments are now a part of him."
I understood why he wanted to confess, I'd do the same. "You're God damned terrifying sometimes, you know that Gren?"
"Not half as terrifying as your own people can be Ranger Thomas."
|
A wise man once said ‘when man cannot answer a question, ask his Mother, Nature.’
Okay no wise man said that. I made it up one night when I was sleep deprived but it’s made sense this far so I’m rolling with it.
When I first got notified by the authorities that a murder had taken place in the forest I serve, I feared that it had been one of the animals that did it. Because when they don’t have any information or possible leads, you immediately assume one of the hawks the size of a sedan that only comes out at night ate them. Or maybe they were swallowed by the massive burrowing python that has a tentacle for a tongue.
Obviously the hawks and snakes were quite offended at the accusation. They understood why I asked, but they were still offended.
“So it wasn’t any of you?” I asked one night, looking around at the assembly of cryptids. All of them responded in the negative through some form of shaking limbs, chattering noises, or ethereal glowing.
“Alright fair enough. Sorry about that then,” I said before turning to their designated ‘leader.’ A massive humanoid creature covered in thick brown fur that was about 9 feet tall. Before I started this job I would have called them ‘Big Foot.’ But after getting to know the guy, I learned he didn’t like that name. He preferred Herb, on account of his diet consisting mainly of forest plants. Go figure.
“So what do we do? The authorities said if I can’t bring them any leads in the next day they’re gonna have to search the forest themselves. And I don’t want to risk them finding any of you. I doubt they’ll react calmly to Leviathan trying to swallow one of them whole.” In response the giant snake hissed, but in a way that sounded almost amused. If snakes could laugh, it would be that sound.
“Leviathan assured the men would not see any of us.” Herb replied.
“He said that last time, and then I found him chasing a gang of frat boys through the woods.”
“They were urinating on one of our trees. It was a justified response.”
“Be that as it may,” I said with a wave of my hand, “I don’t want to risk them finding any of you.”
Herb stroked their chin in thought while the rest of the cryptids milled around anxiously.
“So then, what would you have us do?”
“Well I was thinking of searching the forest for any clues. But the place is huge. It’s like triple the size of Grand Central Park. Could some of you help me look around? Please?”
Herb looked at the other animals, then back to me. “Give us a moment,” he said before gesturing at the hawks and the snake, who followed him a few metres away.
“Cool. I’ll just uh, stand here.” I said, looking down at my khaki uniform and trying to be interested in the buttons on my vest. Just then I felt something land on my shoulder. I turned my head and came face to face with eight black beady eyes.
“Hey Eyerene,” I said to the jumping spider the size of a chihuahua on my shoulder, giving it a little pet on the head. It extended one of its legs which I had learned meant it wanted to shake my head. So I did. “How are the kids?” I asked. In response Eyerene clicked its mandible. I was still learning how to talk to her from Herb, but so far I knew that sound meant something good.
“Glad to hear it,” I said with a smile. Just then the spider hopped off my shoulder as Herb and the animals it had pulled to the side returned.
“I have spoken to the Hawks and Leviathan, and we have agreed that we will help. They will begin searching immediately and will report to me if they find anything. Is there anything specific would you like them to look for?”
I scratched my head at that. “Uhhhh, not sure. I’m no detective. I guess stuff like tracks, clothes, smells? Anything unusual I guess.”
In response Herb looked to the hawks and began flapping his arms. He then turned to Leviathan and performed a series of hissing noises. Once he was done, both would leave in opposite directions, disappearing into the forest.
“They will speak to their tribes as well. They will join them promptly.” Herb said.
“Great! Thanks!”
“Do not thank me yet.”
My smile was replaced by a raised eyebrow. “Why not?”
“You and I must now go to consult the Dire Wolves. They have an excellent sense of smell that should be able to help us. However they are not as selfless as the Leviathans or Scout Hawks. They will require negotiations. Likely some form of payment.”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. I knew where this was going. “Fineeee. Meet me back here in an hour. Hopefully Greg’s butcher shop is still open. And he has thirteen kilos of prime rib.”
If you had told me before this job that snakes were more selfless and easier to negotiate with than the animal that dogs descended from, I would have laughed at you. Mother Nature and God seemed to share a similar sense of humour.
|
Technical_Inaji
|
HMShaikh217
|
2023-12-24 19:38:32
|
2023-12-24 19:09:56
| 156 | 87 |
kerz14u
|
keruops
|
18pruyp
|
18pruyp
|
[WP] The genie tries to warn you of the implications before you cut him off, "I have no intention of wishing for it, but hypothetically, could you grant it?" you ask. "Yes, technically" the genie relents.
|
\- *So... that means I can wish for the light speed to be lower than sound speed?*
\- *Yes, but Master, remember..*
\- *As I said, I have no intention to wish for it. But just to be clear... so I can also wish for light speed to not be constant? For causality to not exist? For the Electron to be the same size and charge as the Proton? For mass to disappear? These are all possible?*
\- *...Yes...* \- I could feel the trembling in the voice of a thousand-year being, far higher than I could ever imagine. I could see myself reflected in his immense eyes, and with me, the whole universe within, reaching far than it was supposed to be possible. To decipher these eyes meant deciphering all the secrets in the universe, for he, himself, could bend the rules at will, making what was certain and absolute completely chaotic and relative.
I could wish for that full knowledge, but I knew, full well, that it would mean madness and the breaking of all physics and possibly all science that ever existed. I knew that, and I knew the risks, but it didn't matter now.
For his answers were all I needed to understand the secret: that **everything** was relative, even speed of light, even physics. And his eyes were able to show me what **wasn't**. So I would wish for that only Absolute to cease to exist.
*- Genie... for my first, and only wish, I wish...*
*- Be careful, Master, for that...* \- but I wasn't listening
\- *for YOU to never exist. Not "disappear from now on", for you to* ***never even being*** *in the first place. Every wish you granted to cease, every consequence in time and space to be fixed,* ***everything*** *related to you to cease to be - even yourself.*
The universe trembled. The sky collapsed. The genie... glitched, for the lack of a better word, being higher than the whole universe itself, and also smaller than a grain of sand, all at the same time. In a fraction of a fraction of a millisecond, I was everything, then I was nothing, then I was the genie, then I was the atom.
And then, everything fade to black.
\---
In a place far outside a place, in time far outside the time, a Being woke up. His infinite eyes blinked the universe out of existence, still feeling the touch and sensations and emotions in his vast, infinite body, in infinite moments that the Being resided.
If the Being could talk, and if the Words could be heard, and the Meaning could be translated... everything would probably collapse into just:
>*That's interesting...*
And with that in the Being's infinite minds, it was time to sleep again.
|
**Note**: Please understand this isn't meant to be a comment or stance on anything, its just where the prompt took me as I thought through it.
-----------------------------
“Technically?” I repeat the word back, trying to make sure I weigh the veracity of the djinn’s response.
“Well yes,” it replies, “but honestly, I have no idea what would actually happen. The grander the scope and the more intrinsic the changes, the harder it is to predict the consequences. While I am sure I can do what you are asking, what will actually happen is a crap shoot.”
‘A crap shoot.’ The phrase plays in my mind, far too accurate for far too many things in my life. I think if I were to write a memoir, it would be a fitting title. Rather than simply being dealt a bad hand, I’ve historically been given Monopoly pieces and asked to play Chess. I perpetually feel like I’m sitting at the wrong table, playing the wrong game with the wrong people.
Finally, I get to change it.
“Do it.” The finality in my voice is surprising, even to myself. It conveys a sense of confidence that I don’t actually feel but hearing it said in such a way is a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I grow more confident in my decision.
“I’m not one to question a master’s wishes, believe me, but are you sure?” The red, vaporous djinn stares down at me with a look of incredulity on its face. Bearing masculine features, it would be easy to call it a him, but I refuse to make that mistake. Isn’t that point of all of this?
“I have been through enough. I think its time to level the playing field.” I rub at the scars on the back of my arms subconsciously. “Just do it.”
The djinn winces at my command but whatever magic compels its servitude takes over. Energy begins collecting around the being, causing the red of its body to undulate in intensity. And then it ends, abruptly, with the snap of its massive fingers.
I look around, feeling like the impact should have been more palpable. There was no great shockwave. The earth didn’t tremble from within, bringing my will to bear. Nothing. I glance at the Djinn who stares at me warily.
“Is it done?” My question suspicious.
“Yes, master.”
A smile steals across my face. Finally. Maybe I will be able to find some peace in all of this once and for all.
“Would you like to hear about the unintended consequences?”
I pause my internal celebration and now fix the djinn with a wary gaze of my own.
“What unintended consequences?”
The djinn shakes its head sorrowfully. Its gaze is distant, distracted. Its mind is elsewhere collecting information as to the outcome of her wish. Its attention flickers back to the present.
“I did as you asked, just as you asked it.”
Its voice mimics mine perfectly. “Djinn, my wish is that I want everyone who is a man to become a woman and everyone who is a woman to become a man.”
The imprecise nature of the ask strikes me like a physical blow. Maybe I was blinded by the opportunity for bittersweet vengeance for all the years of bullying. Maybe this is the challenge everyone who finds a djinn feels in retrospect, but I can clearly see the flaws in my wish so clearly now. My heart sinks.
The djinn continues. “I did as you asked but you are going to have to live with the consequences. For many, the change is as you wished. They find their view of the world turned on its head as a result of their new perspective. For others though, for the mothers who were pregnant, the outcome is far less cerebral. How are they to nurture their unborn child with no umbilicus or birth them without a discernible egress?”
The djinn shakes its head once more. “Humans, always so shortsighted.”
|
mauricioszabo
|
karmus
|
2024-08-05 17:05:30
|
2024-08-05 14:03:00
| 250 | 102 |
lgmv7y1
|
lglxobh
|
1ekkt7e
|
1ekkt7e
|
[WP] You’re a hero with a weird name. “Anything for $20”. You gain the ability to do anything, as long as you’re offered $20. Everyone takes it as a joke, until one day there’s a cataclysm, and someone offers you $20 to end it.
|
I watched as the shower of moon fragments started to fell, as the fleet of alien spaceships shattered it.
We were next.
The superheroes and villains gathered together, ready to face off the enemy.
I was a hero, a lowly one due to my name: "Anything for 20$", as most people thought I was a joke.
It was exactly like that, when a villain next to me handed me 20$.
"Hey, Anything for 20$, be a nice chap and get rid of those invaders." she said, laughing.
The mood was lightened a bit, as more people joined in the laughter.
I took the 20$ and nodded.
I snapped my fingers, and the worst situation for the fleet happened.
The fragments of the moon shifted ever so slightly, colliding, and exploding.
On the moon, we already had some research labs, and in some of them we tested highly reactive substances.
The fireworks lit up the entire sky, engulfing the fleet that followed the fragments from a short distance.
When the show of shockwaves and myriad colors ended, the sky was dusty, but fleet free.
"Done." I said, smiling at the villain who gave me the 20$.
I turned to leave, as most people started celebrating.
Not the villain though, she had other plans.
I found myself pinned to a wall in an alley, as she towered over me.
"How did you do it?" she asked.
"Bloody Queen" was her name, able to control blood, fitting name, she looked like a Vampire Princess.
"Are you really thinking about my looks now?
I can feel your blood heating up...speak, how did you do that?" she asked, slamming me to the wall again.
I shrugged.
"It's in my name Queen, Anything for 20$.
It's my power." I shrugged.
She bit her lips, and took out 20$.
"Can you make me...normal?" she asked.
I was confused.
"What do you mean?
You want to lose your powers? You want to have a normal life but with powers?
You want to go to another world? You want to be reborn?" I asked her multiple questions.
She frowned.
"I don't know! I just don't want to...to be hated anymore." she said.
I see...her powers changed her looks, probably making her an outcast, add to that that she can hear and feel the blood-flow, and read it.
I smiled, took her 20$.
"Come, let's go." I said.
"Where?" she asked.
"To this restaurant, it's a nice place for a normal date." I laughed.
She reached for me, but froze midway, as she saw her reflection in a broken mirror...afterwards, she gently followed me, and I did what I did best.
Fulfilled her wishes.
|
"I had no idea," I mumbled to myself. My arms were still shaking as I sat slumped in the rubble of what used to be a bank. Or maybe it had been a high rise?
It didn't really matter, but my mind raced, trying to comprehend the buildings original form as I sprawled out on a heap of debris. Maybe if I could make sense of what this mess of twisted steel beams, shattered concrete, and stll live electrical wires used to be, I could somehow make sense of what just happened.
My wandering mind snapped back to harsh reality as the slender form draped across my lap shuddered. She was so light. It was amazing, so much power contained within so slight a frame.
She frowned, coughed, then a rattling breath escaped from her perfectly formed lips. God, she was beautiful. I'd seen her thousands of times before, but the cameras and the posters didn't do her justice. She slumped, still in my lap. That breath had been her last, I knew it, I knew deep down in the pit of my stomach in the depths of my soul. I knew the only way to end this cataclysm was to...
I started to cry. I couldn't help it. All the pain, all the suffering, it didn't matter. I'd never taken a life before. Let alone a life as perfect as this.
She was a hero, The Bight Goddess, but not just any hero she was one of the triumvirate. One of the three most powerful heroes who had acended 20 years ago. The triumvirate had ushured in a reign of peace and prosperity that'd never been seen before. Theyd created a new world order in which illness, famine, bigotry, and war were words and ideas of the past.
But something had gone wrong. Solar Knight, the strongest of the triumvirate had vanished three months ago, The Bright Goddess and Perfect Mind had searched, leaving no stone unturned but to no avial.
The loss shook the foundations of our society, but the world went on. The great heroes had set humanity on such a course that even without the threat of Solar Knight's martial might, the larger countries with their fearsome militaries were content to live in peace.
That was until a week ago. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but Solar Knight had returned. He's dead now, along with Perfect Mind. The broken remains of their nearly indrustructable bodies laid bare on the stair case of the World Assembly for all to see.
The Bright Goddess, had it been her? She wasn't what she'd seemed. She wasn't just the glue that held the cantankerous muscle and the aloof intelligence of her peers together. She wasn't just the woman with the plan who kept the other heroes on task. She was much, much more.
I stand in the rubble, her body still warm in my arms. I can feel the immense power that filled me moments ago, starting to leave my body. The fire spreading around me has become warm. It'll be hot enough to burn the skin from my bones soon. The live wires swinging above me could end my life in an instant. I wasn't a strong hero, not like the one I cradled in my arms.
There are plenty of us, heroes, though few rate much higher than the average human. Only one in a billion would ever be worth a comic book. Our names allude to, or in some cases, spell out, our abilities. My hero name is, Anything For Twenty Dollars, it's a bit on the nose.
I didn't even know I had super powers until college. I was playing beer pong with my best friend Ted. We were freshmen and getting absolutely stomped. He said, 'I'll give you twenty bucks if you win us this game.' We won, he gave me twenty bucks. I didn't even realize it in the moment.
.
|
TheWanderingBook
|
Croanthos
|
2025-02-24 04:32:07
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2025-02-24 04:29:21
| 150 | 34 |
muvu35d
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megtfi9
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1kya9un
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1iwoj82
|
[WP] It becomes abundantly clear to the characters that the narrator has terrible narrating skills. They start to get off track criticizing the narrator for every mistake and bland writing.
|
**The November Battlefield**
——
“This is what happens when nobody believes," Father Christmas spat a wad of blood and wiped his eye with a once white fuzzy cuff that now matched the hue of his suit.
The November battlefield was once beautiful.
Falling leaves on the ground. Poetry in the wind. Nostalgia in the hearts.
"Look what you have done!" the Lady Lord of Halloween shouted. She wore an armor suit weaved of bone. Her hair was long and black in a single braid wrapped in webs. She gestured with her sword, a great long blade of twisted black metal, over the burned battlefield.
In the piles of the dead some soldiers cry wounded, clawing in the mud.
Elves, ghouls, skeletons, reindeers, turkey, patrons of giving -- they all littered the field.
"I told you -" Father Christmas spotted the Thanksgiving Steward, a sprite, the keeping of grateful remembrance. Small and mighty. Bleeding and struggling to sit up.
"Don't -" the Lady of Lord of Halloween started to plea but it was too late. The sprite was brought to an end by a size twelve boot.
The Lady Lord of Halloween cursed the heavens and took a firm grip to her sword, and with both hands held it before her chest. She took a deep breath.
Behind her the lands off October lay in smog and enclosing doom.
"On my honor, one of us will die before you set foot on October soil!" She cried and charged.
Father Christmas cracked his knuckles and took a fighting stance. "I will make them all believe again!"
She swung, he dodged and spun around and swung his sledgehammer sized fists wildly. He towered over her. A once humble giant turned to a ferocious beast.
The Lady Lord of Halloween flipped back and around, she couldn't be touched.
Father Christmas screamed in anger -- "I gave them everything! And still they all love you!"
He was rage and unbound. Sloppy. A misstep. A spin. A single chop and one of his sledgehammer fists parted from his body and before he could calculate it all the Lady Lord of Halloween had twisted and ducked low and the twisted black steel went in that once jolly belly and popped out his back in a geyser of blood.
Father Christmas kept on his feet.
He reached for her and snarled.
She dug the blade deeper. And twisted.
Bloody tears ran down his face.
He fought it, knees shaking, and finally he fell to one knee.
"They -" he coughed. "They did this to me."
The Lady Lord of Halloween felt pity for him. They were friends all their long years, as they say. But her eyes gazed over him to the destruction he had brought.
"You did this to yourself," she ripped the blade from his gut and he fell dead. In the mud it was hard to tell where his suit ended and the pool of his blood began.
The Lady Lord of Halloween looked around and started to cry.
She found a wounded soldier - the first one her eye saw - an elf, and went to his aid.
"Lady?" he asked.
"It's ok," she said. He could only look up at her confused.
She nodded. "It will be ok."
----
r/wyrdfiction -- Sub if you like my writing.
|
In the gentle snowfall that blew across the fields of November, the warning seemed to echo into nothingness. Where the snow melted against the scattered hay and dead leaves stood Samhain, the lord of Halloween. He wore a wreath of twisted twigs around which his dark hair tangled and fell to his shoulders. His cloak blew gently with the cool winds that blew across his territory, and against the bitter cold that encroached.
The faint call of jingling bells sounded in the distance against the boreal trees that stood a foot closer than they had the morning before.
Samhain closed his eyes.
The usurper was near.
"You've got a lot of nerve, Sam Hane," came the deep voice from everywhere at once.
"It's pronounced Sah-win," answered the lord of Halloween, unfazed. "You will show me that respect at least, *Santa Clause.*"
At the border of the territories, the snow coalesced into a swirling white twister that dispersed to reveal a hefty man in a red and white coat, worn black boots, and a thick white main under his nose that obscured his lips. Even so, Samhain could tell the man wasn't smiling.
"Sinterklaas will do just fine," came his reply, deep and almost threatening. "Samhain, I'm shocked," he said, meandering to the right, the newly fallen snow crunching under his boots. "You would accuse me of some kind of... *campaign* to take that which is rightfully yours? And then you assume that you have the power," he chuckled, "... to *destroy* me?" He stopped, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head, his cheeks rosy and his eyes mere slits as he smiled proudly.
"You don't have the juice for that, Samhain."
The lord of Halloween stood stoically, his face unchanging, his eyes fixed on Sinterklass. He remained silent for only a moment longer before casting his gaze over the endless evergreens that sprawled across November.
"Your trees bloom brightly," answered Samhain, finally. "I would wager they've found a thanksgiving feast beneath their roots."
"I had nothing to do with that," spoke Sinterklass his smile a ghost of Christmas past. "If you think for one second—"
"What did you do to stop it?" the lord of Halloween's words cut the man's sentence in twain.
The snow ceased to blow. It fell straight to the ground... and then not at all. The silence between the two lords was deafening.
"You don't want *any* of this, Pumpkin," seethed Sinterklaas. "You better change course right now... or you're gonna end up where you're headed."
"O' Lord of Christmas," the title burned in the diety's throat. "You are young; ambitious. I am old... and I am enduring." Shadows stretched out from Samhain's feet in all directions like grasping tentacles twisting and weaving as though restless. "I am the lord of sunset. I did not begin with a focus on terror, but I assure you... I have *adapted*." His eyes blackened and twisting thorns broke loose from the earth.
The air was heavy with violent intent.
Samhain and Sinterklass eyed one another wearily.
"... If this is what you want, so be it," spoke the lord of Christmas as he turned and started toward the trees. "I'll be back... 50,000 strong. You will regret this, Samhain."
"Mayhaps I will," growled the lord of Halloween. "There is a reality where you triumph... but neither you nor your elves will ever be the same. It has been centuries since the shadows fed properly..."
The twisting dark tentacles beneath Samhain reached after Sinterklass as he departed. The snow fell once more and collected around his form. With a single arctic breeze, he was no more.
Samhain stared across the snowfield, his fingertips buzzing with the arcane energy of a billion spirits. He could feel their fury within him. He turned and stared into the thicket of October and even beyond into September and August. He knew the consequences if he were to fail. The shadows rescinded. The spirits quieted. His claws retracted. He exhaled the negative energy in crystalized form into the cold air and started the walk home.
Preparations were in order.
Christmas was coming.
r/A15MinuteMythos // [ReyAthensWrites.com](https://ReyAthensWrites.com)
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wyrdfiction
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a15minutestory
|
2023-10-31 15:37:42
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2023-10-31 15:36:58
| 84 | 17 |
k78p1n4
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k78oxko
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swrrul
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17kkc6e
|
[WP] You're are a lovable superhero with an oddly horrifying name. You're fighting your arch nemesis but they decide to take it too far. Now you have show them the true meaning behind your name.
|
The Champion.
That's what those who were on his side would call him, conveniently ommiting simple matter of what kind of a Champion he was. Those who would stand against him found Champion To the God of Death to be a mouthful, and thus called him the Death Knight.
A hero to one is a villain to another, after all.
If you met him, you'd never guess who he was. On the outside, he was just an ordinary thirty-something healer who worked his own patch of earth, enjoying simple pleasures of life like a cold beer, aromatic tobacco and friend's company. He was never one to get angry, first to apologise, always ready to help with whatever you come to him with. Just, whatever you do, don't bring up the War.
It was during the War when everyone understood true meaning of the moniker he used.
Do you know the feeling which comes when you leave something for the night, only to return in the morning to find that it completely fell apart? That was what happened to him, a year into the war. He was but a healer's apprentice then, pouring all his heart into a refugee camp he worked in, keeping people safe and, to the best of his abilities, healthy. For two days he left the camp, to run the caravan for supplies. For two days he was not around. When he returned, he found smouldreing ruins, a pyre, and a ransacked village nearby. Out of several hundred men, women, elderly, and children, able-bodied, injured or disabled... None were to be found.
It was the Yfrite, the half man, half fire elemental who found him there, kneeling among the packages of food, medicine and clothes long after the caravan went off.
"That damn Lych has made it personal now." he said. "It's his fault. He started it, and now he's going to pay." he said.
"You can't do it alone, at least wait for the allied army" begged the Yfrite, bless his good soul and bone-white horns. But the Champion would not listen. He left, took but spare shoes and a loaf of bread, and not an ounce of good will with him.
Lych's Black Army has found him three days later, on a bridge over river Glacia. He stood there, with a golden longsword in his hands, a gift straight from Death's own armory. Unmoving, still, a single statue of a man against a thousand strong army of undead, necromancers, with cavalry, tanks and artillery. Their fate was sealed.
Necromancers brought their infantry first, thinking that if he won't run away, he'll be trampled. Yet, the column of undead stopped just a few feet on front of the Champion, as if there was a solid barrier preventing them from moving on. Almost as if the dead could feel fear. Champion only rose his hand, and spoke one word. A command. "Unbind". His voice filled with power, as if the God he served spoke himself, broke unholy binds linking the walking corpses to their master's will. With one word, the army was decimated. And he did not intend to stop there. Rising his sword, he took a step both forward, and over the threshold to the realm of the Souls, where time flows differently. He only stepped out to strike. And he didn't stop striking until there was no more to be struck.
To this day we know of three such encounters, and for all we know, he would continue this bloody trail deep into enemy territory, to the Lych himself, had his body be as strong as his will. But he did succumb to fatigue.
But it was enough.
Scales were tipped. Fear cast into hearts of enemies. And for all we know, Lych had not tried to rise again. In fact, we don't even know anything about his activity, and Champion will not say. He'll just put a thin veil of a smile over a painful memory, and order another round.
|
Part 1 of 2
Dreadword was well-known as "The Cheerful Curselord" - much changed from how he was originally called "The Hateful Hexlord". From a hateful, vindictive utterer of curses against anyone he had even the slightest of vendettas against, his time in the Council of Altruists had changed him. He had now become as much a hero as any of the other Council members. Loved by the public, feared by villains, and respected by his fellow superheroes.
But of course, like any other person, Amateo "Dreadword" Bonetti had someone who hated him so much that nothing could quench that hatred. That would be Duca Pierangelo Candreva. He was the one who instigated the papal order confiscating the Bonetti family's vast holdings. He was also one out of four survivors who didn't die to the torrents of curses Dreadword spoke against his family, the Candreva clan. His three cousins fled and lived low-profile lives after Dreadword became a hero. But not Pierangelo.
With not a little effort, and aided by the last remnants of the once-mighty Fangcrushers' Guild, Pierangelo had succeeded in capturing Alinea "La Buscadora de Sangre" Rocha. She was a dread vampiress who had reformed and taken the heroic path, and was also the Council of Altruists' first official individually-operating ally. Now, she languished in the abandoned Sicignano Monastery. Her arms and legs were bound by silver chains (which no longer hurt her as she had become a good person, but Pierangelo and his Fangcrushers' Guild accomplices were unaware of this), with a stake aimed ominously at her chest.
The CRASH! of the old monastery's heavy wooden door being flung open indicated someone's arrival. Dreadword strode in, with a heavy, grim pace. He arrived at the courtyard, and gasped upon seeing Alinea bound to an X-shaped brass frame, with the silver chains and stake aimed at her chest. He demanded, "What is the meaning of this?! Your conflict is with ME, Pierangelo! Leave Alinea out of this!"
Pierangelo strode out of the shaded corridors, smiling bitterly. He spat, "Did you leave *la mia famiglia* (my family) out of this?! Huh?! You killed ALL of them!" Amateo shot back without missing a beat, "*E allora che dire della MIA FAMIGLIA?!* (Then what about MY FAMILY?!) You got that hypocritical lump of filth in the Vatican to issue edicts that cost us EVERYTHING! I lost SIX family members to suicide - my beloved brother and nephew among them!"
Pierangelo then stated with grim finality, "*Comunque non importa*, (Still, no matter) Amateo. We will finish this today. You will see what you have worked for, so hard, be taken from you, right in front of your very eyes. *Uccidi la vampira!* (Kill the vampiress!)"
Dreadword yelled, "NO, DON'T! TAKE MY LIFE INSTEAD OF HERS!" but too late.
TWANG! SHTHUNCK!
A sharp twanging sound of the ballista's trigger releasing sounded, followed by the sickening sound of wood thudding into flesh.
"EAAAHHHH! Uhh-ahh..." A shriek of agony, followed by a weak gasp, sounded from Alinea, as her head flopped to the side and her eyes closed.
"ALINNNEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Dreadword's scream of grief and agony as he fell to his knees, covering his face as his tears fell, woke the echoes of the ancient monastery, even as Pierangelo grinned vindictively.
However, Pierangelo underestimated Dreadword's resolve. As much as his grief had broken him, in the next instant it was replaced by a terrifying fury. Dreadword rose to his feet, a glint in his eyes. A glint that had never been seen in his eyes ever since the day he chose to be a hero.
He then said, softly but with a razor's edge of hatred in every word, "*Molto bene, questo lo pagherai. E non mi tirerò indietro.* (Very well, you will pay for this. And I will not hold back.)"
"I CURSE YOU, THAT EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY FEELS LIKE IT'S BREAKING, BUT IS NOT BROKEN! I CURSE YOUR FLESH, TO FEEL THE FIRES OF DAMNATION, BUT NOT BURN! I CURSE YOUR EYES, TO FEEL LIKE THEY ARE BEING CARVED BY RAZORS, BUT REMAIN UNHARMED! I CURSE YOUR MUSCLES, TO FEEL LIKE THEY ARE CONVULSING IN UNCONTROLLABLE AGONY, YET ALLOW YOU TO REMAIN MOBILE! I CURSE YOUR EARS TO HEAR THE SHRIEKS OF A MILLION TORTURED SOULS, YET NEVER BECOME DEAF! I CURSE YOUR MOUTH, TO TASTE THE WASTE OF EVERY ANIMAL AND HUMAN EVER, AND I CURSE YOUR THROAT TO BE UNABLE TO VOMIT! I CURSE YOUR BRAIN, THAT YOU WILL BE WRACKED WITH THOUGHTS OF GUILT AND SELF-HATRED FOR LIFE!"
Pierangelo's contortions and writhing and piercing screams of excruciation did not bother Dreadword. He walked slowly to the X-shaped frame, and knelt before it as he wept, "Alinea... *la bellezza mia insanguinata* (my bloodwashed beauty), I'm... I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry..."
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wiqr
|
MC_Hans84
|
2024-02-27 08:44:29
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2024-02-27 03:38:43
| 93 | 40 |
kscmh53
|
ksbq1cs
|
1b0yben
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1b0yben
|
[WP] The men in your family die the moment they turn 18, due to a curse cast on one of your ancestors by a witch. You turned 18 a week ago and are still living, and as a result a descendant of the witch has arrived to figure out why you didn't die.
|
It has been a few days since my 18th birthday, almost a week in fact. This is something that was not supposed to happen. Which is why an ancient enemy has decided to meet me.
“Well speak of the devil, you’re actually still alive.” A young feminine voice from behind me said.
“Amen to that.” I say as I turn to look back, taking a bite out of my green tea flavored ice cream. I guess not all witches are old hags.
“No god could have saved you from that curse, none of the new ones anyway.” She says as she sits down.
“I know, is that why you still practice the magic of the old gods? Just how long do you think that chronomany will keep you going? Not even the god of time himself would be able to undo his own death.”
“Is that what you used? Chronomancy? To extend your own life you would reach into the realms of dark magic?” She said with a smirk as she drank from the cup of coffee she came to the ice cream shop with. “That’s pathetic.”
“Ha, no no none of that, that is what your ancestors did to try and keep your old gods alive after they were done with their own civil war.” I say as I lean forward. “What was pathetic was using your dying god’s power to curse my entire bloodline, knowing we would not be able to fight off divine magic without our own god.”
“And yet here you are. That curse was meant to kill off your bloodline centuries ago.”
“Chronomancy, funny thing is, you can only ever use it to extend the life of a god. Based on some math, your god died decades ago, and so should have that curse. But it did not.” I say as I take another bite from my ice cream. “Your ancestors turned your god into a divine item. Your god might be dead, but his power, his magic still remains.”
“Which brings us back to you.” She responds. “Divine magic of this caliber doesn’t wear off, it cannot be undone by any of the new gods, they are too weak. How are you still alive?”
“It’s quite simple actually, I’m immortal.”
“What?”
“Divine magic can be a pain in the ass sometimes. I knew attaining immortality using non-divine methods would not allow me to survive past 18. So I continued what my ancestors did, I collected ancient runes, runes from the old gods. The divine magic of an old god can only be undone by another old god, because the new gods lack so much power. But there was not enough to undo this curse, but there was enough for me to ascend.”
I see her tremble. Her eyes start to glow a dark red, darkness begins to surround her. “You brought it here didn’t you? Knowing that I would be here.” Her ring flares to life. “So I brought insurance.”
“That ring, I see.” I say as I stand up, her energy pushes my ice cream off its cone. “Damn it, I wanted to finish that.”
“Even an immortal being can be killed by divine magic, as such are the power of gods. What is your weapon of choice? What item have you bound your god to?”
“Item?” I say as I push my glasses up. “You’re looking at him.” I say as I surround myself in a bright yellow glow. “Your curse ends with me, for divine curses cannot be placed on gods.”
|
She showed up outside my door one night in the form of a fierce wind. Dark and foreboding, her powers buffeted the house, searching for an answer. Any ordinary person might have assumed a hurricane or tornado was on its way, and check the weather forecast in confusion, but I knew.
I felt a sinking feeling in my chest, the chest too flat that didn't fit the bras I stuffed with socks and underwear that matched the parts of this body I was born in. Somewhere there was a god laughing at their cruel joke, trapping me in a male body cursed to die at 18. And yet, maybe I could have the last laugh after all. For I didn't die on my birthday, like all the men in my family have before. My mother's screams echoed in my head, my aunts holding her back while glaring at me out of the corners of their eyes. Their hatred was palpable. "Why does that abomination get to live while Lucas had to die!?" She had shrieked. The next day, my aunts had dumped me at this little shack in the middle of nowhere with the few belongings I had. One of them had thrown the bras I'd smuggled at my face. "Now you can live out your little fantasies until you die, you wicked ******," she had snarled at me before getting in the car and driving away. And then I had sat here, waiting.
The next morning, there was a knock at the door. I opened it, and the young woman standing there stared at me in confusion. "I'm sorry, are you not Matthew Waters?" She asked. The sinking feeling grew. "That is what they named me when I was born, but I go by Maddy now," I said, hating how deep my voice sounded.
"So you ARE Matthew Waters?"
Rage. That is the only way to describe how I felt in that moment. I had spent my whole life under the weight of a curse for a gender the world said I had to be, and now that I was finally free, SHE had to throw it right back in my face. A curse of my own I could never escape.
I wanted to scream at her, grab her by the shoulders and shake her, make her understand what living in this body was like, but I couldn't. She had what I never could. In that moment, I reached a decision. If I didnt stand up for myself now, I never would. "No, I'm not." I said, seeing the confusion in her eyes and hating her and the world for it.
"But, you just said-" she started, but I cut her off.
"There was a girl born to that name, born to a curse they said she would inherit simply because of the body she was born in, but I guess even the curse couldn't deny who I am. I am NOT Matthew Waters. I am Maddy, and I am NOT a boy."
I watched the understanding dawn in her eyes, and I hated that too. I hated all of it, and I felt something build deep down inside of me, red and black and twisted and powerful. The woman startled, feeling it too. "My word," she breathed. She raised a hand, forming a spell, but I raised my hand, too, and something dark shot out and swallowed her spell. I felt perfect clarity within me.
"If the world won't accept me for who I am, then I'll burn it to ash and breathe the flames of the damned. This curse, this world, this body will no longer define me. They call me an abomination, so I'll become what they hate and drown them in their fear."
"Wait." I looked at her. "Let me help." She waved a hand, but this time I didn't stop her. A strange tingling sensation came over my body and I stared down in disbelief as my bra filled out, the bulge in my underwear softened and disappeared, and my vocal cords thinned and shortened. I looked at her, disbelieving what she had just done. She held a hand out to me. "I'm so sorry I didn't see at first. That was wrong of me. If you like, I can be the first you destroy." Her gaze softened, and she looked up at me. "Or, we can burn this cruel world together." The possibilities of what could come swirled around in my head with the realization of the transformation she had just completed. "Thank you." The high voice that was now mine broke off with emotion, and she smiled at me, still holding out her hand. I now felt perfect peace, and perfect indignation. I took her hand in mine.
"Together."
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firestrom8265
|
Ilovemycatsandfamily
|
2023-04-21 11:55:00
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2023-04-21 08:01:07
| 106 | 23 |
jh4tijz
|
jh4bqrx
|
12te9f1
|
12te9f1
|
[WP] You married a fairy and experienced drastic physical changes. Enduring intense hunger, constant salivation, and even the strange sensation of your body dissolving inside a cocoon. But you hate the color of your wings. You are sorrowful and disappointed, despite your partner consoling you.
|
"My wings! They're... shades of grey? But I wanted to be beautiful, like you..."
"Honey, you are beautiful. I married you, remember?"
"Yeah I guess. But you look like a rainbow, and I'm... nothing."
"Honey..."
The grey-winged fairy's partner thought for a bit. There was probably a magical solution faster than therapy for this.
"I've got it! We'll show your true colors under the L A M P."
"L A M P. Why do I feel awe at that word?"
"It's special to us. It reveals us. It's sacred. It's L A M P."
"Okay. Let's make the journey."
One hour via metro later, and they were at the sacred L A M P facility.
"Here we are. I'll sign in."
Inside, there were obviously distressed fairies of all colors, some even more intense than Grey's partner. The wait was not long.
"Next!" The representative called out.
"Our turn, come on."
Grey followed.
Inside a round room stood L A M P. It was a bulb of immense size. On one side stood a technician in front of a control panel with hundreds of buttons, knobs, and gauges.
"I'm going to stand right over here, and will be with you the whole time hun."
"O... okay."
The representative left them alone. The technician spoke.
"This won't hurt."
The lamp powered on, dimly at first, then brighter. Something unexpected happened, and Grey noticed.
"I'm... I'm beautiful!"
Color started appearing in Grey's wings. Patterns and blobs, weaving up and down, left and right, like a tree extending downward. It was impressive.
"How can this be?"
The technician answered.
"Those of us thought without color actually do have it. We fluoresce. Night is our day, and we are beautiful. This L A M P emits the frequencies of light we have during our midwinter solstice festival, when the moon is full."
Grey started crying.
"I'm... beautiful?"
Grey's partner chimed in.
"Yes, you are hun. I've always seen you for who you are."
|
"*Oh, this is weird.*" Amber laughed at my... well, not distress. What emotion was this? "*I'm not used to being smaller than everyone else.*"
"Aww, but you're so cute!" Amber embraced me, causing me to laugh.
"Do you always feel everything so... intensely?"
"Not all the time. When stuff gets intense, then yeah, a fairy's emotions will usually get really intense. Like when I'm excited, like right now!"
"So *that's* why everything feels so much stronger than it normally does." I shook my head, flinging a few droplets of some liquid or other out of my hair. "Is the whole cocooning process how all fairies are born?" Amber fluttered onto a collection of flowers she'd arranged while I was... metamorphosing, I guess. She put me down, and then caught me when my legs refused to support my weight.
"No, just pure-born fairies. The whole thing you went through is specifically for when humans are being transformed into fairies."
"Huh."
I'd never... Well, I'd never *not* believed in fairies, but I'd never thought they were real either. I think that makes sense, right? Didn't really put enough thought into it to decide whether they existed or not. Turns out, they do!
I'd walked into a flower shop I didn't recognize with tons of beautiful flowers and the like. The shopkeeper-
"Wait. Was that shopkeeper...?" Amber laughed, with a sound like birdsong.
"Yep!"
"*That's* why she was so eager to give me your flower! She was a fairy too!" Amber nodded.
The shopkeeper had given me a bud that I didn't recognize, which was bold considering my utter lack of green fingers. But I'd trusted her, due to what I now assumed was some sort of magic, and I'd taken it home. I'd watered the plant, left it in the sun, and several days later it had bloomed, with Amber in the center of the flower.
We'd become fast friends, and not just because we were living together. Amber was really nice! Better than... well, *most* humans I knew. Obviously there was a lot of stuff one of us could do better than the other. I could handle big things easily and get around quickly, and... she had magic and could fly and was small.
I grinned up at Amber. "I'm *so* glad I told you I was jealous of your whole... fairy-ness."
"Oh, I am too! I've got tons to show you!" I tilted my head.
"How are we going to... you know. Explain everything?"
"Well, since we're small, food is really easy to come by. I can show you some magic to get back to a taller size. But that's later! Come on, I want to show you my home!"
"Sure! Wait... don't I get...?" Amber clapped her hands together.
"Right! Wings! That's gonna take an extra hour or two while your body finishes adapting."
"Oh, okay!" I was able to get myself into a standing position, then I raised my arms. "I guess you'll just have to airlift me, then!" Amber laughed, then grabbed and picked me up. I'd always thought she was shockingly strong, but especially now that I was tiny.
"Okay, then! One trip to my house, coming right up!"
|
Metalcastr
|
ArbitraryChaos13
|
2023-07-18 03:11:43
|
2023-07-18 00:57:39
| 65 | 40 |
jsepi9n
|
jse8s9a
|
1528p9i
|
1528p9i
|
[WP] A drug is discovered that stops all effects of aging. You decide to not take it. 20 years pass and the side effects are discovered.
|
Heading towards the 2070s, it seemed like every year, there was some new pharmaceutical wonder drug. Wanna improve your eyesight? Pop a pill. Want to be smarter? More attractive? Want to be the best version of yourself?
Well, there were pills promising to do all that and then some. The one thing nobody had cracked yet was immortality, eternal youth. There were some cybernetic end of life options that could continue your consciousness, at least a copy of it. But, if you wanted to keep the ol' flesh and blood, you were simply shit out of luck.
One day, a genetic engineer working in one of the labs of the biggest pharmaceutical company on the planet noticed the effects of a novel human adenovirus he had engineered. The human cells in the petri dish, taken from the elderly were showing signs of heightened activity. Upon further investigation, it was found that the telomeres were being repaired. After a few phone calls, samples of nearly every type of human cell were being procured to ensure similar results across tissue types. The trials were a resounding success.
Within a few months, secret human trials began. They hadn't wanted to get the public's hopes up, I guess. After a few years, the trial participants were in the best health condition of their lives. Their bodies had stabilized such that they looked no older than 25. All participants were over the age of 80. The drug became an instant hit. Governments and companies subsidized the drug, consumers, and taxpayers who never die sounded like money to those in power.
In the end, there were few, like myself, who opted out of the drug. My personal philosophy was that a thing isn't beautiful because it lasts. Life wasn't meant to go on forever. The thing the trials never realized was that with each passing year, those on the drug regressed mentally. First slowly, and then exponentially faster. Since everyone was on the drug, nobody but the few who had abstained even noticed what was going on. Today, I am one of the few adults in a world of children.
To care for all those around me is a tremendous burden. As I reach my 80th year, I fear for what will happen when I am gone. In some bizarre twist of fate I suddenly find myself wishing I had the drug. If only to buy myself more time to save them. As it stands, it looks like humanity's forray into immortality is what made us finally kick the bucket.
|
It seemed like a wonderful idea, really. Immortality was the stuff of dreams, of myths, something people had been chasing for eons. And now, finally, it was here.
She should have been desperate for it; so many were. There has never been a drug shortage like it, but then there had never been a single drug that everyone wanted.
At first, only the wealthiest could afford it. Being rich enough to live forever was its own danger, when desperate groups were willing to attack to get their hands on it. More than a few of the ultra wealthy died due to rumors they might have some. A few even died at the hand of their own bodyguards.
When the price started coming down and the supply increased, things started calming down. The time came when almost everyone could afford it, even though insurance wouldn't cover it.
She still didn't get any.
Eternal youth and beauty, they promised. Well, it was to late for her to have eternal youth. Besides, the young were idiots - sometimes well-meaning, sometimes not, but almost always idiots. She'd done enough stupid things in her life already and had no desire to do more. And these new immortal young seemed worse than the usual kind. Why grow up when you would be young forever?
And as for beauty... Well. She'd been attractive enough as a kid. Everyone had told her what a heartbreaker she was going to turn into. She didn't know what had gone wrong, it wasn't like she's been in an accident or something, but those exclamations of her future looks slowly died off, only to be replaced with faintly puzzled, vaguely disappointed looks and assurance that she looked fine, just fine.
Well. She had reasons not to want to live in a world full of young beautiful people, and she owed no one an explanation of why.
So she went about her life, and aged, and ignored the rude questions as to why on Earth she would do such a thing. It was interesting enough watching this new society from the outside, and seeing how things, and people, changed.
Some things got harder, and some things got easier. Art flourished, but it became increasingly hard to find a doctor who could treat the ailments of an aging body.
It was almost two decades later that she started to frown, watching the immortals. It was the nature of the young to be odd, strange, from the perspective of the old. She had started to see it just before the drug came out. But now... She knew it was the nature of the old to complain of the young, how their actions make no sense, and they were foolish and heading for disaster.
She didn't know if they were heading for disaster, because she had no idea where they were going at all. There was something, something odd about the forever young. Not in the way that the young are different from the old, not in the way that slang makes no sense; part of the purpose of slang is to confuse the older generations.
No, this was something different. This was a strangeness in the way they thought. They're useful carelessness seem to become more studied and deliberate, and their actions spoke less of foolishness then of foreignness; a strange esoteric difference like nothing she had never seen.
If she was feeling melodramatic, she would even say it seemed alien.
Or perhaps not. For as time passed, the immortal youth seemed to discard their human pretense. They became aliens on their own planet, barely pretending to be human. And for the first time, she regretted her choice, her now frail body, and feared dying too soon.
She couldn't **wait** to see what came next.
|
AnthonyQuantum
|
DinoAnkylosaurus
|
2024-10-16 04:58:18
|
2024-10-16 04:16:17
| 90 | 65 |
ls5navm
|
ls5iil8
|
1g4laat
|
1g4laat
|
[WP] Their rep was a lie, they lost the fight. It wasnt even close. But then everyone hears on the radio: 'ok the civilians are out of the city... thats your cue, stop playing with this guy and end him'
|
"Your reputation was grossly overstated, Adaman! I was told you were ferocious, that your power was undefeatable, that you were fierce and terrible. I've only been toying with you to see if you've got something more, but it's been an hour and you're not even trying. It's almost impressive that you're still breathing from the thrashing I've given you!"
Corrupture lifted his foe from the ground to bring him to eye level, "Those of your old foes who were still alive speak of you in hushed reverence as they keep their heads down in fear of you. Those fools. You're just durable and I think I'm going to finish this-"
Suddenly a headset laying on the ground nearby, knocked to the ground in the early minutes of the fight, let out a screech and a person's voice came over the airwaves, "Okay, we're clear, all the people are out of the city! You've been given the thumbs up to fight back!"
The limp body of his foe started to shake and Corrupture heard weak laughter, "Your intel network doesn't seem to be really up to snuff, buddy. First thing, my name isn't Adaman, it's Atom Man. And my power isn't exactly Fierce or Terrible, or Ferocious... It's Explosive." He snapped his fingers.
There was a sudden bright light.
Then everything went dark.
There was no time to evade.
Everything was vaporized.
|
CW: Violence and Murder at the end.
Freddy was grinning maliciously as he watched his eternal foe, Blair, struggles to get off the ground covered in bruises and blood. The man sneered as the African-American used a car to stand up and took some deep breaths.
“Is this all the power you had?!” The man taunted his foe. “Your reputation was clearly overrated to a ludicrous degree!!” He spread his arms out as he continued to gloat with electricity sparking between his hands.
“Oh, what joy this brings me! To finally end your accursed bloodline! May you find eternal damnation in hell!” He laughs uproariously, loud enough for the remaining people in the city to hear as they all watched in horror for their guardian’s fate.
At least, all but one blonde woman who merely looked bored as she hold an earpiece up to her ear and nods.
“Everyone got out, Asuka?” The blonde nods with a smile, pleased with the news. “Ok, cool. I’ll tell him.”
She clears her throat and call out to Blair. “BLAIR! ALL THE CIVILIANS MANAGED TO GET OUT OF THE CITY NOW!” As she said this, Freddie paused in charging his attack and gives her a confused look. All the while, he misses Blair instantly healing himself up with his purple flames. “STOP PLAYING WITH THIS CHUMP AND END HIM SO WE CAN GET ON THE PLANE TO MONACO!!!”
“(What the hell is that Lili woman talking abou-)” was all Freddie could think as he get gut punched by Blair who smirks before blasting him through a building from his flames. Freddie crashed through the post office and end up on the opposite side of it as he hack up blood and see that during the crash, his right arm is broken.
“Wh-what the fuck?!?” The villain tries to get up, but is instantly grabbed at the back of his neck by Blair and tossed up to the air before getting kicked towards a street lamp. This breaks his back as he fall down to the ground in agony while Blair walk over to him, charging up a bow made of purple flames and creating an arrow to finish him.
“Wh-wh-WHY?! I WAS WINNING, DAMNIT!!”
Freddie cries tears of anger as Blair stands in front of him.
“You really thought that you was winning? I only delayed your ass whooping cause of the innocent lives here.” Blair’s arrow gets brighter as he gets ready to fire. “Now that they are gone, your reign of tyranny is over, Freddie.”
And the last thing Freddie saw was Blair letting loose his arrow that ignited his body on fire and ended his life.
|
Zero_Burn
|
TojiSSB
|
2024-12-28 21:26:08
|
2024-12-28 15:53:11
| 80 | 59 |
m4940gl
|
m47fckz
|
1ho7u48
|
1ho7u48
|
[WP]Adam and Eve wrote the Bible to cover up the real evil they committed that got them kicked out of Eden. This is the story of what really happened.
|
In the beginning, there was just Adam and Eve. And then Eve ate the apple and thus Adam and Eve were kicked out of the garden of Eden and thus began life on earth. Except, Adam and Eve may have changed the story a little.
Truth be told, there were four. Adam and Eve, their sweet little daughter and her best friend, a dog. The dog and the girl were inseparable. Day in and day out, the two would play together. The neighbors (God by then had created a few more people) commented on how cute the pair was. Unbeknownst to the little girl, Adam and Eve were experimenting. Without God’s knowledge, they were creating new creatures. Hybrid creatures. The platypus is the most famous example. However creatures like manatees existed through experiments too. The manatee was failed attempt to creating a mermaid. Adam and Eve tried merging a tuna, human and elephant together. Tuna for the fins, a human (probably Abel) for the human half, and the elephant to give it strength.
They exhausted the limited supply of humans. God did not take notice. But someone did take notice. The serpent. It had been eyeing Adam and Eve since their last experiment and suspected them of dwindling the humans down. What God did not tell humanity was that the serpent, although evil, was Gods first lieutenant, the way Set served Ra in Egyptian mythology. That night, the serpent watched Adam and Eve sweet talk the little girl and coaxed the dog to follow them into their lab. The serpent watched as a new creature was born, a hybrid capable of human speech. The serpent rushed to God and informed Him what it witnessed. There God came down and listen to Adam and Eve’s explanation. Then He said “Can I ask you one more question? Where did Nina and Alexander go?”
|
"Have you ever seen an oroborus?" an old man asks a child with a distant look in his eye.
"The snake eating it's own tail?" The child replies cautiously.
Grandpa Adam was always a bit strange but Noah loved to hear his and Grandma Eves stories.
No one knew exactly how old they were but they'd out survived many generations.
Grandpa Adam nodded slowly "yes, the snake eating it's tail," he paused in thought, "have you ever wondered why it's eating it's tail?"
Grandma Eve shot grandpa Adam a fierce look, but slowly her features softened and she nodded. "I think you're right it's time," she said as she came closer to Noah and Adam and took a seat with them on a rug on the floor.
Adam began "when we were younger."
"Much younger Eve interjected"
"Yes much younger...."
----
Adam and Eve were frolicking in the garden, playing and laughing as they always did.
Playing with the many creatures who made up the garden as well when a serpent approached Eve.
Eve looked at it curiously, then it spoke to her
"How are you today Eve?" It asked, then tilted it's head to Adam "and you as well?"
"We are happy for it's all we know," Eve replied cheerfully
"Would you like to know other things?" The snake replied.
"What kinds of things?" Asked Adam.
"Things other than happiness for one," the serpent remarked, "just eat this fruit and you will know much"
So Adam and Eve ate the fruit - it had never been forbidden as had been told in the past, but the knowledge that came with it was heavy, and made them resent the serpent.
For days, and years, and centuries, Adam and Eve lived in the garden further. They grew restless, they knew of a barren world that existed beyond the walls. They knew of a future that could only be if they left, but they knew they would never again be so happy as they were if they did.
They blamed the snake for what it did. And one day they had enough.
They gathered every snake in the garden, but could not be sure of the one who gave them the fruit.
Adam grew angrier and angrier at the snakes.
One day Eve found the snake and captured it.
They questioned it extensively, but it did not know why it gave them the fruit.
In a fit of rage Adam grabbed the snake and shoved it's tail down its throat.
Eve screamed for him to stop because it was horrible and Adam threw the snake away from him, in horror and shame at what he had done.
That snake and the remaining ones grew hostile to them both, and they knew they must leave the garden afterall.
--
"And that's why we really left" Adam concluded to Noah
"But grandpa Adam!" Noah whined, "that story is a lot more boring than the last version you told."
Eve just chuckled, "you know Noah - it'd be a lot easier if you'd let us tell you a different bedtime story"
"I like this one though! It's different every time!"
|
Advanced_Frosting750
|
UnderstandPhysics
|
2024-08-30 02:59:31
|
2024-08-30 02:45:01
| 27 | 12 |
lkm3nko
|
lkm1k17
|
1f4iwcz
|
1f4iwcz
|
[WP] In a world where lycanthropy has no known cure, you were thrown into quarantine after being bitten. It's been one whole month and...
|
The doctors felt somehow stronger than the cops had when they saw the bite, manhandling me into a chair, mumbling science babble I couldn't understand. Lights in my eyes. Tugs on my ears. Clip on my finger, heart monitor going *beep, beep, beep.*
"Open the window more."
The half-cocked blinds zipped open.
"Open the glass."
*Thunk* went the pane. Yellowed moonlight glazed my skin.
The doctors stared at each other, then at me, then at the sensors.
"Am I...am I cured, Doc?" I managed a nervous half-smile, but I couldn't stop staring at the gaggle of nurses building at the door. Their faces told me something was deeply wrong, or at least, deeply strange.
*Dr. Ezekiel Thurman*, said the nametag that moved forward, the eyes above it boring into mine. His quiet breathing and the nattering *beep*ing were all that kept me grounded as I stared at his bewildered face. It was no less alarmed than the throng behind him.
"There *is* no cure."
I opened my mouth to speak, but only a silly *bwuh?* sound came out as I offered a shrug. What was I supposed to say? All your tests were wrong, Doc? You must've mixed me up with someone else? He had to have thought that already, from his gaping mouth. I barely felt the pinch as a needle dove into my arm and pulled out a vial of blood.
"I believe in medical consent, Ms. Tate. I won't demand a single thing of you. But if you've managed to beat this *thing*, somehow..." He took several steps back and wobbled in a lazy circle as if he had just noticed the entire world for the first time around him. "Have you heard of Rhesus disease?"
Mumbles from the throng. His colleague siphoned off several more vials and stacked all of them in a little plastic rack, then handed it to the nearest nurse.
"No. Sorry."
"One man in Australia had antibodies in his blood plasma that could be processed to treat it. He was a fluke, a random stroke of luck. They called him the Man with the Golden Arm." He chuckled once in disbelief. "You might have the Silver Arm. This might be it."
"How, uh..." I glanced at the needle still firmly in my left elbow. "How much do you need? I'm not locked up here, right? You said you wouldn't demand anything?"
He paused and blinked once. "...What? No. No, no, God, no, of course not. You can get up and go right home if you want. But if you would allow us to take samples to see just what it is about you that is holding it back, we might be able to give it to someone else, stop the change before its first cycle."
"My sister -- my daughters -- they're all waiting in the lobby. Can someone at least tell them what's going on?"
"Yes. Heavens, go -- go yourself and tell them." He pressed a wad of gauze to my arm and plucked out the needle, then slid a strip of tape across it. "We need to analyze what we have."
As I approached the nurses, the crowd thinning to take my blood vials away and murmur about the situation, I saw Dr. Thurman slump onto a stool with his phone in his hand. The lights above me blurred together along the hallway as I picked my way back to the ward entrance, a man in tow who was ostensibly leading me but really just making sure I didn't get lost. Whatever he said wasn't coming through right.
Was it true? I was cured? Or rather, I cured myself? And this could stop the murders, stop the damage, stop the city grinding to a halt every full moon while everyone hid from the wolves?
"Mom?"
I stood in the doorway, arms askew, listening to them swing shut behind me.
"It's gone," I whispered, and only then did I notice the tears in my eyes. "It's gone! I'm going to be okay! Mom's going to be okay!"
They hugged my legs, my sister sinking to the floor in sobbing joy.
|
I stared up at the ceiling, lying on my back. Around me, I could hear the chatter of a few other suspected cases. They spoke with each other, though the tension was obvious. Many like me had fallen silent, waiting for the inevitable.
Today marked one lunar month since most of us had been bitten. Although some were suspected to be false cases, i knew mine wasn't. I had watched her transform before my eyes, felt her teeth sink into my flesh. Yet she didn't kill me. I was at her mercy, but she left me alone after that one bite.
I was infected. This night would confirm it, as the moon reached its zenith. The disease would take over, and I would lose my mind. If I was lucky, I would regain it after this long night ended. But if I wasn't, then I would be a lost cause, a beast in mind forever.
It was an odd feeling. Like I was on a train speed towards a cliff. There was no way to stop or avoid it. All I could do was sit back, and let the ride take me. I tried to convince myself I was fine with it, that this would be what it will be. But alas, I knew I wasn't. I was terrified, the thought of losing myself forever haunting me.
The chatter died down, as our guards sounded the alarm. Not that I needed it. Even without the moon being visible, i felt it. A tightness in my skin. An ache in my bones. A thudding in my head. It was coming. The end was here.
With every passing second, the feeling grew worse. There was pressure, desperate for release. Energy came to me, making my restlessness even worse. My breaths came deeper and heavier, and I clawed at the sheets beneath me. Drool filled my mouth, each tooth feeling loose and off.
Moans sounded around me, and I joined in. It was obvious some were rougher than others, closer to muffled screams then simple groans. A burning filled my throat, making me gag and spit. Any one symptom alone wasn't bad. But together they felt insurmountable.
A muffled moan suddenly went quiet. It was swiftly followed by a loud crack, agonised cries rising in turn. We all went quiet hearing that, holding our collective breaths.
For a moment it was peaceful. Yet it didn't remain that way. The floodgates opened, cracks sounding all around. I could feel my bones creaking from some hidden pressure, before they too gave away with a sickening crack.
The pain rode the wave of anticipation. I retreated into my mind as my body was wracked with the change. Yet even my mind was affected. I felt intrusive thoughts, focusing on the room and smells. The idea of grinding my teeth onto the heavy metal door. A thought of ripping the bed below me into pieces. The scent of warm flesh.
I fought against them, trying to hold on. I was still me. If I let myself be consumed by them, I knew I would be lost. I had to cling to rationality as hard as possible if I were to wake from this nightmare.
I could feel the unnatural presence in my head. A predator, hunting me inside my own mind. I stared it down, holding my ground. It growled, I snarled back. It lunged, and I dodged. It turned, and I hit it in turn.
It didn't always go my way. It landed some bites. It wanted to win, just as much as I did. We fought back and forth, trying to dominate the other. I felt myself growing tired, but my opponent was in turn.
It slumped before me, heaving. We were both wrecked, exhausted from our battle. I couldn't summon any strength to win, nor could it.
Instead, I felt pity for the monstrous beast. I reached out, an open palm in place of a fist. It sniffed at me, before placing its snout in my hand. I smiled at it, as an unspoken agreement was forged.
\-----
My eyes opened. I stood in my cell, panting. The scent of my fellow lycanthropes was in my nostrils, undercut with the smell of humans. The door before me was scratched and gouged, but held strong.
I felt the predator with me. It wanted to hunt, wanted to feast, wanted to be free. But it wasn't in control. And neither was I. We were a team now. We opened our mouth, giving a long, echoing howl. My fellows paused, before howling or bellowing in turn.
I knew we had to be careful though. It was known that lycanthropes were always kept locked away. Those who maintained their minds were officially watched over, but in reality they were used as slave labour. Those who didn't were simply never heard from again.
If they knew we were in control together, it wouldnt be good. I had no idea what would happen to us, but I doubted we wiuod be faced with sunshine and rainbows. We just had to bide our time, and work out how to escape later.
For now, we had to keep up the act. The predator happily took the forefront of our body, attacking the door and walls once more. I watched, and waited. Morning couldn't come soon enough.
|
Alcorailen
|
Shalidar13
|
2024-03-28 20:40:24
|
2024-03-28 20:36:55
| 36 | 26 |
kx0e41e
|
kx0dhih
|
1bpzu5h
|
1bpzu5h
|
[WP] "Your total will be...wait this can't be right." The cashier turned around and called the manager over. The manager then quickly shooed the employee away as they took over at the register. "I'm sorry for the delay, we haven't had one of your kind in awhile, your total comes to 3 souls."
|
"...these are goat souls..." The manager stared blankly like I just slapped his face with a trout.
"Were you expecting human souls for a few jars of pickled newt eyes and goat's blood?" I was just as perplexed as he was in disbelief at the payment I just offered on the table.
He pointed to some obscured signage peeking behind a shelf stocked with snake wine and cobra condiments. "It's our store owner's preferred soul currency."
"I can pay in cash or credit card if goat souls aren't accepted. What's the prevailing exchange rate between ethereal and mortal currency?"
"What kind of eldritch horror doesn't have a single human soul on him?" He glowered and slammed his palms on the conveyor belt.
Is this mere human judging me, like I'm some kind of 3rd rate low class eldritch citizen because I don't eat humans anymore? Or worse than the pond scum in a dirty aquarium because I'm a pariah and exile among my own kind?
"Please allow me to swipe my card. My credit limits are much higher than what 3 souls are worth if—"
"No ifs, no buts. 3 souls. Like what it says on the register, please. Don't make this difficult for all of us." He was adamant and inflexible, not budging an inch.
"Whaf if I told you I know the owner of Marcy's Magic Shoppee?" I asked.
"Everyone says that when they don't get their way."
"Do you know who I am? You are currently speaking with Lord—"
"Everyone says that next when they don't get their way. If you have a fancy title, don't bother waving it around like a drunken moron waving his dick around. It got no weight here, all customers are treated equally—"
"Equally bad, if you don't offer me the flexibility of paying in another currency," I retorted with a sinister glow in my eyes, tentacles creeping up the counter a little too close to comfort for the average human.
"Don't get your panties in a bunch...how about this, I hold on to your jars, you go kill a few poor souls and come back to pay," the manager offered without a shred of awareness of the irony of his words.
With my patience stretched thin from being interrupted, I couldn't resist being all snarky about it. "How about I kill you, the new cashier standing next to you, and the nosy shelf stocker listening in on this conversation? That should give me 3 human souls."
He accepted my credit card and swiped it.
"Hey...er... Mr. Eldritch lord, you wanna buy anything on the go? Marcy's Magic Shoppee has some new drinks from other realms..." The new cashier was trembling as she forced the words out.
"One blended Fae flurry on the rocks, medium, thank you."
"What's the name I should write on your cup?"
"Lord Elvari."
The manager snatched the cup from her hand and scratched something on his squeaky marker.
"Fuck yer fancy titles, I didn't catch that so—"
"Don't make me pay for that Fae flurry with your soul."
"That will be eight bucks...Lord Elvari."
---
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/comments/11tkt9w/eldritch_god_elvari_series/)
|
What. The. Hell? How on earth did a retail store, of all places, guess that I was an immortal? Something strange was happening. I’ve been around the block, so to speak, my fair share of times. It was pretty clear that if I just paid and left, I would be taking a meaningful loss. So I had to stall.
“Your price is too high. Let us bargain. I offer 5 minutes and 3000 lumens of sunlight.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the manager replied, “but our store does not negotiate prices as a principle. I’m afraid the cost will remain at three souls.”
I needed more time to think. “But you do price match?” I replied.
“Yes sir. However I have doubts that you will find another available listing of this product model in your particular currencies. Three souls.”
I pulled out an old leather bound notebook. It looked ancient, but was far older. I found the information I needed. “I see a listing for these particular items at the price of one micropercentage of the essence of blue and two tesseracts.”
The manager looked slightly confused, and started typing furiously into his computer terminal. I examined him. Something seemed off about his appearance. Maybe it was the proportions of his face. It stirred at some long forgotten part of my memory. He scowled and looked back up at me.
“Is this listing currently available?” the manager asked.
“Ah, that. No, depending on your definition of ‘currently.’ It will become available on Amazon approximately fifteen thousand years from now.”
“I’m afraid that our policy is only to price match on current listings, to allow us to adjust to changing material prices and other factors. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” I countered, “But you surely understand that, as our currencies are not bound temporally, neither must your prices be, and therefore your policies. Therefore this listing will be completely within the purview of this bargain.”
Something akin to a mental itch was driving me to notice something. With an effort of will, I saw that it was the original cashier, who was still standing slightly behind the manager’s shoulder and looking confused and frightened. Ah, I had mildly let my aura loose. It generally had that effect on mortals. The manager clearly wasn’t one. More than that, he was clearly a powerful immortal. His essence had affected me enough that I had stopped noticing the surroundings. Such things would be easy against a mortal, but not me. That meant he was strong.
The manager made an almost imperceptible pained expression. “You are correct,” he said. “Your price will be 1 micropercentage of blue and two tesseracts. Would you like a warranty plan?”
“For a toaster? I think not,” I said smugly as I pulled a couple of tesseracts from my satchel’s higher-dimensional-storage pocket. I handed them over. “And here is your blue.” I gifted it with a thought and noticed the world become just a little bit more orange.
A smile that was clearly a facade spread over the manager’s face as he said, “Thank you for your purchase, please come again!”
I had outwitted him. That was probably enough, so I headed toward the exit doors. I stopped on a whim just before I pushed through and re-examined my memory. There, that was it. His head seemed off because the back of it had been… lumpy somehow. And… there was also a line of a makeup prosthetic around the edge of his face. Then it clicked.
I walked back up to the counter and stepped over it.
“Janus, you sneaky bastard,” I said to the back of the so-called ‘manager’s’ head. It swiveled to face me with a smile.
“Well reasoned, Wanderer.” he said with a slight bow. “You cannot blame me for trying. Enjoy the toaster.”
I walked away again, heading for a section of wall near the door. Now that I knew to look, I felt Janus’ power on the exit doors. It would have stolen nearly all of my abilities. The transaction was just a distraction. I punched through the wall and left on my own terms.
I may have almost been unmade, but it was still better than shopping at Walmart. They charge a soul just to get in.
|
Tregonial
|
NoOn3_1415
|
2023-09-01 18:37:22
|
2023-09-01 18:32:22
| 79 | 59 |
jypbnat
|
jypasp8
|
1678ja3
|
1678ja3
|
[WP] "Why do we make laser grids like these?" "What do you mean?" "I mean instead of a messy random arrangement of lasers that a nimble intruder might be able to jump through, why not a simple grid wall with no gaps large enough to allow a person to pass through?"
|
"Non-escalation."
"What?"
"It's an unwritten rule in the villain rulebook. Always leave ways for the hero to break in, stop you, etc. Helps keep the government from going all out on us. A laser grid like you're talking about ends up with a whole lot of dead secret agents. You ever hear of Doctor Clypse?"
"Yeah, he's one of those guys from the old days, almost took over the world in the 80s."
"Yeah, almost. Because he had security like you're talking about. Once the spy agencies realized the body count he had, they threw the covert aspect of fighting him out the window. US Navy parked a carrier battlegroup near his secret island base and threw everything they had at him. Hell they bombed the place so hard they had to reclassify the island as an atoll."
"Jesus."
"Yeah, that's why we leave gaps in security. Trust me, I've been henching for 40 years now, competency gets you killed."
|
Nish stared over at his coworker, Yim, like the girl was a dumb, golden-haired rock.
"One, 'cause those are expensive as hell to make, and two, because these things ain't even guarding against a normal person."
With the help of Yim, he set the laser grid on the conveyor belt, and then flicked her forehead.
"Idiot. Do you even listen when the Miser talks?"
Yim just swatted at him and snapped back, "Of course I listen when the Miser talks! Sometimes I just don't get enough sleep and get really bored, okay!?"
Nish rolled his eyes, mumbling something about how Yim slept whenever she could and how it was entirely her fault for not listening to the Miser.
The Miser of this production facility was Jeei, a being that Nish would call ethereal if it weren't for the Miser's obliviousness. Sometimes Nish wondered how Jeei got this job. Misers like them usually got fired off the bat and replaced with a stricter overwatcher, but they hadn't. Perhaps management was just overlooking it. Like they did to their employees' paychecks.
Anyway, Nish and Yim just grabbed another grid and walked over to the belt.
"So, I forgot what the Miser said on the grids. Uhm, what *do* the grids guard against?"
Nish gave her a deadpan look before answering. "Eccskulls."
Yim tilted her head to the side. "Those big blobs?"
Nish nodded. "The laser grids cut them up into uneven pieces so that they can't move so quickly."
"...aren't they acidic though?"
"The lasers solidify most of the Eccskull pieces."
Yim stared down before nodding like it all made sense now and helped Nish put yet another grid on the belt.
"So when are you buying me the ring?"
Nish scoffed and shook his head. "The day management finally gives me an actual paycheck will be the day I buy a ring for you."
Yim gave him a glare in response.
Out of context but when I was writing this scene I only thought-see them as chibi characters lol
Also Yim and Nish are an engaged couple if you can't tell.
Edit: okay I really enjoyed making this one lol just edited this to put this here XD
|
Technical_Inaji
|
Quick-Window8125
|
2024-11-02 22:08:23
|
2024-11-02 18:56:36
| 83 | 27 |
lv34jyh
|
lv25yr9
|
1ghye6q
|
1ghye6q
|
[WP]Walking into a flower shop and slamming down money on the counter, "How do i passively aggressively say fuck you in flower"
|
"Prerry much anything orange. Lillies are best for passive aggressive. But then you can add Tansies." The flourist plucked a few delicate flowers out and placed them in a vase.
"Really? I mean I wasn't serious but-" the customer watched her is mild surprise as she moved to a wall of different yellow flowers.
"Yellow carnations and some hyacinths, for a pinch of bitterness. Is this person childish and immature?" She added, a delicate hand hovering by a bucket of buttercups."
"Uhh.. yea he is." He said quickly. "I mean I- well... yeah. I'm sending flowers to a guy." He admitted.
The flourist shook her head. "I'm not here to judge. I've seen all kinds." She added the butteercups and some strange purple flowers marked *petunia* "There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love,
remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you,and here's some for me. We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays.O, you must wear your rue with a difference! There's a daisy. Iwould give you some violets, but they wither'd all when my father died. They say he made a good end." She recited and placed a large black rose in the center.
"Uhh..." the customer looked at the bouquet.
"It's from Hamlet. As grief drives Ophelia slowly mad, she hands out flowers indicating those who wronged her. Ofcourse, she can't accuse the royal family outright. But each flower she hands is a mark of the wrong. Flowers can be used to say anything."
"Anything?" What about join me for a drink on Tuesday?" The customer smirked. The flourist grinned.
''I know just the answer for that." She grinned and sprayed him with the hose.
The customer yelled and shook his wet hair. "What was that?" He demanded.
She shrugged. "A no. Don't forget your flowers."
|
Walking into a flower shop and slamming down money on the counter, "How do I passively aggressively say fuck you in flower?"
The florist, an old woman with hands like gnarled roots, raised an eyebrow, her eyes glittering with mischief. "Ah, you must be looking for the bouquet of spite," she whispered, beckoning the customer to follow her. The shop was a jungle of strange blossoms, some of which seemed to sing softly, while others shed petals like tears. The customer, a young man with a heart tattooed on his sleeve and a fire in his eyes, followed the florist through the maze of flowers, marveling at the bizarre beauty around him.
At last, they reached a hidden corner where a single, exquisite bouquet sat on a pedestal, its flowers an impossible combination of colors and shapes. It seemed to vibrate with a quiet rage, its petals almost hissing as they brushed against each other. The florist handed the bouquet to the young man, who felt a shiver of power course through him as he held the flowers.
"In this bouquet, you'll find the subtle venom of the sarcastic lily, the cold disdain of the frostbitten rose, and the cruel bite of the snapping orchid," the florist explained, her voice a low, conspiratorial murmur. "Present this to the one who has angered you, and they will feel the sting of your unspoken fury."
The young man hesitated, considering the florist's words. In his heart, he felt a connection to the man named Humphrey from the tale he had heard in his childhood, the one who had brought peace to a world of chaos by solving the riddle of the translucent albatross. Inspired by the story, he made a decision.
"No," he said firmly, handing the bouquet back to the florist. "I've changed my mind. I want a bouquet that speaks of forgiveness and understanding. One that can mend bridges and bring harmony where there is discord."
The florist's eyes widened in surprise, but then she smiled, a warm, genuine smile that lit up her ancient face. "Very well, young man. Follow me, and I shall show you the flowers of reconciliation."
As they walked back through the shop, the flowers seemed to change, their colors softening and their scents growing sweeter. The florist led the young man to a display of delicate blossoms, each one a symbol of peace and unity. Together, they assembled a bouquet of hope and healing, a floral arrangement that whispered of second chances and shared dreams.
With the bouquet in hand, the young man left the shop, his heart light and his step sure. The sun danced overhead, and the moon hid in the shadows of the radiators, but the world seemed brighter, filled with the promise of a kinder, gentler future.
And in the house of upside-down mushroom clouds, the snails' dreams whispered the story of the young man who, like Humphrey before him, had chosen the path of peace and understanding, and who carried with him the power to transform anger into love.
|
Tarotgirl_5392
|
Ok-Use-9062
|
2023-03-22 12:46:45
|
2023-03-22 11:48:10
| 28 | 20 |
jd7mbne
|
jd7frqy
|
11xy8mi
|
11xy8mi
|
[WP] So, you're probably wondering why I called you in. I'll cut to the chase. Firstly, we want to promote you for your exceptional work. But... and please don't be alarmed - you should know that technically, no one who works here is "human". Except for you.
|
"Was it ... Was it a secret?"
Ben's manager stared at him in shock. "You knew??" Ben raised an eyebrow. "I mean, yeah. You all add the word 'human' to everything. You'll say things like 'let's go for human drinks,' or 'what human food are you ordering for lunch?' Honestly it would be more surprising if you were humans." His manager's face was a picture of confusion.
"We just call it food, or drinks. No one thinks we're about to go drink dog water or something." Recognition flashed in his eyes, and the manager nodded his head in approval. "This is exactly why you're the perfect fit for this job. You humans have spectacular brains," he said. "For thinking! Not eating," he added, hastily.
"Ok. Not loving that defensiveness, but go on. What are you planning? Want to take over the planet?" The manager held up his hands. "No. No. Nothing like that... Unless you... Wanted us to." Ben scratched his nose. "You probably couldn't do a worse job than the people currently running things. I would have a few conditions, though." The manager beckoned, and Ben continued.
"First, I would prefer it if you did not enslave my species." Mr. Manager made a face that Ben likened to having someone fart directly into ones mouth. "Slavery is a uniquely human invention. We would be incapable of inflicting such cruelty." Ben smiled. "Wonderful." Ben paused.
"Second, you'll need to hire a private army."
|
I screamed out of fear as my supervisor rolled up his sleeves to show me the dark slimy scales that ran up his arms.
“It's alright, Jacob, we think it's time you're ready,” he said in a robotic voice, his eyes were soulless, not a single thought behind them.
“Don't be alarmed”, he continued, “We had to show you what we were, you are getting promoted after all”
I could feel my legs shaking under the table as my heart began to pound in my throat, it got harder to breathe as I started stammering “Are you going to eat me?” I questioned him, my eyes dared to not look at his reptilian arm.
He simply laughed like he had always done since the day I met him, except this time it began to turn more into a screeching noise that clawed at the insides of my ears. “NO, I won't ever eat you son, You are one of the best employees here. Why do you think we’ve decided to let you know our little secret?”
“So I am getting promoted?” I questioned, my eyes still daring to not look at him, instead, they kept darting around the blank white room.
“Yes, we’ll make sure all of your needs are met now. Not only do you get free housing for as long as you work here, you’ll also get your private chef and a pay raise” he said, smiling at me.
It was eerie looking at him now, his arms were reptilian and slimy, but on his neck was still the same human face I had been seeing every single day since I graduated.
“Now son, why don't you follow me to your new office” he whispered, it felt almost eerie how he never stopped smiling.
I followed him through countless doors, through hallways I never knew even existed in our office before we stopped in front of a plain white door. Before I could even take in what had just happened in the last 30 minutes he quilt grabbed my hand and slipped me into the room.
The lights were blinding, When my eyes finally began to work all I saw in front of me was a hamster wheel in the center of the room and glass all around the room. Then I felt my blood run cold, the windows showed me countless rooms, each one of them had a human and all of them were running on the wheel like animals.
My supervisor's voice came over the PA speaker, “Everyone, welcome your new co-worker, Jacob, he’ll be joining you now. Jacob, welcome to your new home, and thank you for your ethics.”
Then the company's slogan began to repeat in my head over and over. “EvoCorp, powered by humans”
|
jpb103
|
OldAd8773
|
2024-02-01 00:52:41
|
2024-02-01 00:06:12
| 256 | 69 |
kod8jry
|
kod1ak1
|
1afrb9a
|
1afrb9a
|
[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
|
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”
|
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
“No way the governments gonna roll over for this bull I tell you” tom muttered downing his pint
Sara shook her head, mirroring his optimism. "There's got to be a catch"
In a dimly lit government office, Marcus, a diplomat with years of negotiation experience, sat across from general, Harry.
"We need to show strength," Harry asserted, clenching his jaw shut. "If we give in now, it's over. We'll be living under their rule and boy it ain't gonna be pretty."
"And what? Go to war with beings so powerful they mastered travel faster than light? If we want to survive we have to beg for a talk"
A man burst through the room carrying a stack of papers in his arms, almost falling over from the urgency he was in. “SIR IT'S THE CHINESE AND RUSSIANS, THEY’VE ACCEPTED OUR DEMANDS. WE ARE READY”
Harry smirked, looking at the diplomat who had a defeated look on his face, clearly he knew what this meant. “See boy, all you need is a common goal and a common enemy and anyone can come together.” "We have one shot at this," he declared, now sitting in his command center addressing the room filled with the world's finest military minds from all corners of the globe.
The atmosphere was tense, when the Chinese delegate spoke, “American, our satellites, our missiles, everything we have is now yours. We are not here for your little speech about going down without a fight, we are here to win and we demand a win from you"
The American general simply smirked, confidently “Oh please, these little diplomatic bugs might be able to travel through space but they will never survive the mighty force of our nations banded together”
The human response was swift. Millions of weapons, aircraft and laser weapons lit the sky up with a burning fury. Cheers went across the entire command center, the radar signature of the aliens ship had gone quiet, the humans had won. Or so they thought… Through the thick smoke that enveloped the atmosphere came a swift counter attack, technology far beyond human comprehension rendered all of Earth's defenses obsolete in moments, entire cities were reduced to ash in the blink of an eye.
General Harrow, watching from a command center buried deep underground, could only stare in disbelief as the screens displayed the futile efforts of his forces, alien troops covered head to toe in indestructible fark armor began to drop all over the world .
It wasn't a battle, it was a slaughter. The aliens massacred entire battalions of soldiers within minutes, the greatest human technological weapons were burst into flames by a single alien soldier as they razed entire armies. The radio communications that filled the room began to get cut off one by one, Harry could hear the shrieking noise of the alien blasters as his soldiers began to go offline, he could hear some of his men begging for mercy only to be silenced.
The world was silent. The once bustling cities and lively streets were now empty, the remnants of humanity's defiance lying in ruins.
Then the alien armada spoke once more, their second ever communication since they had declared the earth their property “It's always easier to divide land when it's under rubble, it is truly a shame, we were sure you would have made a good addition to our empire had you only accepted. However, we thank you for making this easier”
“SIR A PROJECTILE IS INCOMING” a soldier's voice screamed, cutting through the grim despair that had filled the room.
“Long live the empire”
|
Ducksongs
|
OldAd8773
|
2024-02-21 01:18:02
|
2024-02-21 00:50:59
| 114 | 42 |
krdshem
|
krdo7bh
|
1avvm9q
|
1avvm9q
|
[WP] You're the first test subject for an experimental super soldier serum. You are told the truth only after you transform into something not quite human anymore.
|
I was wrong.
My body felt fundamentally wrong. I don’t know what they did, but it wasn’t what I signed up for. I was supposed to be here for a few blood tests, some small genetic research for some gene abnormality I had. I thought they were giving me some local anesthetic.
Whatever they had done to me was strange. I was suddenly uncomfortable in my own skin. Colors were much brighter and sounds were much louder.
I looked down at my body. My clothes were all the same. Looking at my shirt now I had never noticed that one stain at the bottom. I could feel each of the shirts fibers against myself. I didn’t like the feeling.
I then counted my fingers. Two pinkies, middles, indexes, rings……
Where were my thumbs?
Suddenly my head exploded in pain. I dropped to the floor only vaguely aware of a figure in a white coat scurrying into the room. There was something in his hand. I tried to look at him, but the lights were all a bit too bright now. I squeezed my eyes shut. The light was starting to hurt. It started to burn.
I didn’t understand, I just wanted to know what was going on. I asked them, the one in the room with me. I looked up with blurred vision and attempted to speak but my tongue felt off. Suddenly I realized i couldn’t open my mouth. I wanted to know what was happening, what they did to me, why I was feeling like this. A gasp rang out from the figure I know know to be a woman.
“How can it speak with no mouth?” I was speechless. I may not have told them my pronouns but I damn sure knew they had my medical records. Why was this woman calling me an it.
The pain had lessened during this little exchange but suddenly it was back full force. I clenched my jaw and shut my eyes. My forehead felt like it was splitting in two. The pain got worse and worse and worse…
Until it got better.
I opened my eyes and I could feel the skin of my forehead splitting open. I turned to look at where i last saw the woman, but she had since fainted. Phantom pains traveled through my body in waves but i dragged myself over to her. My body had never felt so heavy before.
She was still breathing. I could hear her heartbeat from where i was sitting and it was normal, a little accelerated but nothing she had to worry about. Then i saw the clipboard.
I grabbed it from the floor. Just when had my arm gotten so long? My name was listed over the top of the page, the rest of it was gibberish about some soldier serum 1 trials. That couldn’t be true. Stuff like that only happens in the movies. What had these people done to me.
As i read further I realized that they were serious. That gene abnormality I had was supposed to do something for the tests they were conducting but obviously its not going well. I got to the last. Page and froze.
Splashed across the last page were observations about my behavior. Unpredictable, extreme growth, receded thumbs were all scattered across the page. At the bottom of the page I saw it. Two checkboxes, one labeled success and the other labeled exterminate.
Exterminate was checked but a note was handwritten at the bottom, ‘keep for further testing’.
They wanted to kill me?
They wanted me dead?
I looked up desperately, searching for anyone else to speak to about this. I wanted them to tell me it was a lie. I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want any of this. I was angry, utterly enraged at the notion.
Did they think they could just get rid of me?
Did they think that this was gonna be easy?
Did they think that I would not fight?
They can’t kill me, I wasn’t going to let them. I guess now we’ll see just who gets exterminated.
|
I stared at my reflection in horror, unable to come to terms with what I had become. My body was now a grotesque amalgamation of tentacles, pulsating tendrils, and unrecognizable squid-like features. The once familiar image in the mirror had transformed into a nightmarish Lovecraftian creature. As the madness took hold, the reflection seemed to taunt me, its misshapen form a stark reminder of the monstrosity I had become. The sight of my twisted visage sent shivers down my spine, and I recoiled in repulsion.
The whispers in my mind grew louder, mingling with the demented laughter that echoed in the labyrinth of my thoughts. They told me to embrace the darkness, to revel in my newfound power. The tentacles that adorned my body writhed, yearning to wreak havoc and unleash unimaginable terror upon the world.
I heeded their call, my mind twisted and broken. In a frenzy, I burst out of the confines of the laboratory, my grotesque form leaving a trail of destruction in my wake. The tendrils that sprouted from my back lashed out, shredding everything in sight. I no longer recognized friend from foe, consumed by the maddening hunger for chaos.
The city streets turned into a twisted maze as I danced through the chaos like a demented marionette. Buildings crumbled, their foundations crushed under the weight of my monstrous wrath. The very fabric of reality seemed to bend at my command, warping under the weight of my delusions.But amidst the chaos, flickers of self-awareness broke through the madness. Like brief moments of lucidity, I caught glimpses of the destruction I had wrought. Innocent lives lost, families torn apart. The horror I had become brought me no satisfaction, only a deepening sense of despair.
As the military closed in, their weapons trained on me, I realized that there was no escape from the darkness within. The pulsating tendrils wriggled beneath my skin, urging me to fight, to resist capture no matter the cost. With a feral cry, I launched myself at the soldiers, each tentacle a weapon of destruction. The gunfire rang out, tearing through my flesh, but I pressed on, driven by a deranged determination to unleash chaos until my dying breath.
In the end, I collapsed, a broken mass upon the blood-soaked earth. The city smoldered behind me, testament to the havoc I had wreaked. But as the darkness consumed me, a flicker of remorse emerged from the depths of my shattered mind. I had become the very embodiment of destruction, an abomination caught between human aspiration and unfathomable madness.
|
Mindless_Company_833
|
Expert-Internet9519
|
2023-08-06 00:59:02
|
2023-08-05 23:44:00
| 64 | 23 |
juz088p
|
juyqoah
|
15j8mzq
|
15j8mzq
|
[WP] In this world healers, while respected, are often looked down upon due to their limited offensive capabilities. One day your party is completely wiped out, and the world finds out just how dangerous knowledge of human anatomy can be.
|
The young monk knelt in front of his attackers, not because he had surrendered, but because he was too injured to fully stand.
The mage was crumpled next to him, her robes gradually turning crimson from the inside out. The mighty barbarian was inching towards her, knees dragging, breath failing due to all the broken ribs. The paladin was out cold. If he ever came to again, his career was likely over, even if he was lucky enough to even able to speak words ever again.
The monk was only glad his mother wasn't alive to see him in this sorry state. She never wanted him to be a hero. Heroes die early. At the end of the day, her own sacrifice had proven her right. And yet, instead of heeding common sense, instead of listening to her and learning from her mistakes, he had followed in her footsteps, *with gusto*. Humans were stupid like that.
That's probably why they were a dying race.
The Dark Khan's Force Commander stood before them, sneering just enough to expose his left fang. He was not impressed.
"I was hoping for more." The Commander kicked the monk in the side of the head, knocking him into the mud. It wasn't even that painful. The Commander hadn't wasted his breath.
As he tried to stand back up, he got one last look at his down party. Right now he didn't have the mana to heal a paper cut, let alone raise them back up.
*I didn't think it was going to end this way.*
...
His mother hadn't actually taught him the secret, but he was such a bookworm in his youth that he had managed to piece it together anyways. It wasn't hard really. Adrenaline, relaxation, and a severe disregard for one's life were all it took. A very small spark of mana had to be applied to a specific portion of the brain. The runes needed to be tattooed into the flesh in advance, but they were surprisingly simple and easy to hide. That's what it came down really: subtlety. The slightest changes in the right spots could turn the human body into an engine of destruction, but only for a little while. Then, once the spell wore off, the debt would be paid.
That is why, when the Dark Khan came for their family, he was the only survivor, not her.
...
"Sorry, mom." He whispered to himself.
The Commander chuckled. "Interesting last words. Don't fret child." He drew his sword. "You'll be reunited with her soon."
The monk didn't acknowledge him. He just kept staring at his friends, the closest thing to family he had left.
Maybe it wasn't quite how she felt that day. But, hopefully it was close enough.
Hot steam began to rise from his back, arms, and hair. The commander raised an eyebrow and took a step back as the mud around the young monk began to boil.
"What magic is this?"
The boy took solace. He always imagined that his mother's final moments were excruciatingly painful but... this actually felt kind of good.
Realizing that any further hesitation would endanger his party, the Force Commander lunged forward with his sword, aiming for a quick decapitation.
CRACK!!
But he was too late. In just one second, the brazen boy was standing erect, posed several steps *behind* the Force Commander, his arm outstretched and fingers straight.
The Force Commander hadn't even finished kneeling, nor had his head hit the ground yet, before the doomed monk fell upon the Khans. He'd be the last thing most of them saw, though many of them would just see afterimages.
As for the monk's adopted family, they would live.
And to him, that was all that mattered.
|
Doctor Julian Shephard watched as one of the men who ambushed his groups wagon fought for air. His blood spilled onto the bright green grass under him. Julian's traveling companions were tied up, but they hadn't bothered to do the same to him due to the cross patch he wore indicating he was a doctor.
The dead mans voice was hoarse and weak, "help me." He looked at his comrades. One man was trying to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. Two others were crouched near and looking intently, but the other four
off to the side weren't interested in the soon-to-be dead man.
Julian wondered why he should help this man. It was likely the bandits would throw them all into the river anyways. He thought for a moment of his oaths: every life is precious, do no harm.
"He has a severed brachial artery. A tourniquet will need to be carefully applied," Julian said. All seven bandits looked at him. "Let me get my bag and I will do it." He hurried to the cart near the road and retrieved his doctors bag.
He put the tourniquet around the mans arm, above the laceration. As he was cinching the tourniquet he had to remind himself that this was just another man. Maybe a husband, father, brother, or son. Julian didn't know his story.
"He will still need a doctor, but this buys you a couple of hours." Julian said.
One of the four bandits who didn't seem interested in the dying man said, "Alright boys, throw these poor souls into the river and lets move on."
"Hold on a second, I'm not throwing that doctor into the river," another said and a fight broke out with three on one side, four on another. Swords clashed and knives were slashed wildly. In the end, the group defending the doctor were left alive, the other four dead.
"Thank you," the injured man managed to whisper. The remaining bandits looked at their swords and their former comrades dead on the ground.
"So pointless. You have the power over life and death, yet we are but brutes who only kill. For what? All we do is bring death into this world. Pointless." The seven bandits dropped their swords and started burying their former comrades. When they finished and left, the swords remained there in the grassy ditch.
|
originmsd
|
None
|
2023-01-13 01:47:42
|
2023-01-12 23:48:48
| 411 | 43 |
j44av35
|
j43tyew
|
10a7zca
|
10a7zca
|
[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."
|
Belthas heard the roar from inside the tower. He hurried over to the window to see his dragon friend flying in a massive arc over the city. Down below he could see people fleeing in every direction.
Guards dropped their weapons and ran for cover in a panicked frenzy. Families shut every window and door to their homes.
He knew he should pity them, but his heart filled with joy at the spectacle. Tears filled his eyes as a dozen more dragons, of all different sizes, filled the sky. Maegor, their leader, slowly descended onto the city's front gate. Behind him, the other dragons landed.
"Hear me citizens of Kerak." Maegor bellowed. "Release my human, and we will leave you all in peace. Do not, and I will reduce your walls to rubble and free them myself." Maegor roared once more and the other dragons joined him. The very earth shook and Belthas was forced to cover his ears.
"What say you?" Maegor bellowed. An eerie silence followed.
"Maegor!" Belthas cried out. "Maegor I'm here!" Belthas heard footsteps in the tower. He turned just in time to see the city's mayor, Rorath, peer through the vision slit of his door.
"I knew I shouldn't have trusted you," Rorath growled "What devilry possessed you to take up with them? Against your own kind and kin!"
"They are my friends, brother." Belthas said calmly.
"Until their stomachs are empty, like your head." Keys rattled and clanked, and the heavy bolt for the door was undone with a loud thunk. The hinges of the door whined as it opened. Rorath stood menacingly, glowering at Belthas. "Go. Go be with your *friends*."
Slowly, Belthas began to walk towards the door. Rorath's eyes followed him all the while. Meekly he squeezed past Rorath. In a flash, Rorath's dagger was out of its sheath and in his hands.
Belthas flinched and froze with fear.
"I said GO!" Rorath belted. "Go before I cut your throat!"
Belthas turned and ran as fast as he could down the winding staircase. He nearly fell but caught himself on the wall. By the time he reached the bottom, he was out of breath. Briskly he made his way through the castle, hateful stares following him through every hall and corridor.
"Traitor." murmured a young girl. "Coward." said an elderly man. "Worm." an elderly lady spat. Finally, he reached the main gate of the inner castle. All that was left to do was cross the drawbridge over the moat, and then it was a straight shot to the main castle's gate. There, atop the parapets, stood Maegor. The city walls were nearly ten meters high, and Maegor made them look small. Under his massive talons, the stones crumbled and cracked.
When Maegor saw Belthas, he let out a small roar. Small for Maegor, at least. Maegor's tail flicked and he shifted eagerly on the wall. The stone towers on either side of the gate crumbled under the shifting weight, and clumsily Maegor stumbled down onto the main street.
Belthas broke out into a sprint towards Maegor, and Maegor dropped his massive head down to meet his embrace. Maegor's head and neck covered nearly half the distance. Belthas barely slowed down before colliding with Maegor's nose.
"Friend." Belthas said tearily. Maegor let out a sigh and Belthas was surrounded by the hot air. It didn't bother him in the slightest. Belthas stepped back to look at his friend. Maegor slowly opened his mouth and his massive tongue gently pressed against Belthas' face. Belthas giggled as he leaned into the tongue, so as not to be knocked off his feet.
Maegor dropped his head and tilted it for Belthas to climb on. When Belthas was halfway up, Maegor flicked his head to help Belthas up the rest of the way. "The others have missed you." Maegor said softly. "And so have I."
Belthas, laying flat, squeezed the scales he was holding onto just a little tighter. Maegor lept over the gate wall, spread his wings, and with a running start, the pair took off into the sky.
|
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.
|
TheManEric
|
BlantantlyAccidental
|
2023-01-28 19:35:58
|
2023-01-28 18:25:05
| 36 | 16 |
j69prgi
|
j69fcb9
|
10nb6cj
|
10nb6cj
|
[WP] You're living your life, then suddenly you wake up, sweating, in a dark room on a cold stone bed. Your entire life was just a fever dream from some unknown illness. As you come to grips with this reality, the slat on your cell door opens, and a voice shouts, "Sir, we've got a live one in here!"
|
"Are you sure you'll be alright with him?" Cordelie's aunt asked her, voice dripping with concern.
"I'm sure, Auntie. We'll be alright, enjoy your date, you deserve it." They kissed each other on the cheek and her aunt couldn't contain her excitement any longer, grabbing her purse and darting out the door to the carriage waiting for her outside. *That one's a firecracker*, Cordelie thought to herself, *can't believe she caught the eye of an adventurer.*
Cordelie turned to her grandfather, in his favorite rocking chair, smoking a pipe and staring out the window. She studied his face, part of which sagged a bit more than the rest, and wondered what tales those silent eyes saw. Her eyes fell to the scar on his arm, and wondered how it came to be. His adventuring career had been cut short by a tragic stroke, and robbed him of his ability to speak. Her heart broke for him.
She sat next to him with a book, searching for a story to read to him, as she so often did.
"I've got a new collection of stories, pops, from Auntie's new boyfriend. What story do you want to hear? The Fall of Nix, the Archmage's Ascension, or the Lost Power of Oralla?" She searched his face for some sign of inclination, but found none. "The Lost Power of Oralla it is."
"*Many have searched for Oralla's Boon, a blessing of power given by Oralla to her chosen disciple some 200 years ago.*" Cordelie began. "*However, none have ever found it."*
"Drivel."
Cordelie's voice caught in her throat as she lost her place in the book. She looked to her grandfather, wondering if her ears deceived her. *A moment of madness* she concluded.
"*Oralla's Boon has been speculated to be an object of some sort, though whether it took the form of a sword, mace, bow, or something else, scholars disagree.*"
"Balderdash."
"Pops! Pops, did you just speak?" She dropped the book in her haste to get up, searching his eyes desperately. "What's balderdash, pa?"
For the first time in her life, her grandpa looked her in the eye.
"The nonsense you were reading. They haven't a clue what they speak of."
"Oralla's Boon? What do you mean? What do you know?"
"Sit down, girl. We've a lot to catch up on before your Aunt gets back. If she knows I can speak I'll never know peace again."
Cordelie sat in awe as her grandfather spilled histories of his adventures. Shadows grew long and yet her interest only waxed. They were interrupted by the sound of the carriage pulling out front. Cordelie's grandfather looked warily out the window.
"We must stop now, child."
"Pops, what about Oralla's Boon? You spoke of so much, but still haven't explained what was wrong about it." Cordelie said in an urgent whisper. She saw conflict in his eyes, then resolve.
"I have it." He grabbed her arm, his grip deceptively strong. "And now it's yours." His grip turned ice cold, yet gave off an almost burning sensation. She watched the scar on his arm begin to fade, and an identical scar appear on hers. "You'll bear it well, I know." His grip grew weak in a matter of seconds. She snapped her head toward the window, watched her aunt say goodbye to her boyfriend and panicked.
"What is this? Why stay silent? I still have so many questions." Even as she spoke she could see the light in his eyes fading.
"You must protect this boon, none can learn of it." His voice faded to less than a whisper as his eyes lost their focus.
The door burst open, and her aunt danced in to the house. Her elation immediately drained as she took in the scene before her.
"Is he.. is he-?"
|
Emily's day started weird when a fairy flew out of her bag and spoke about "going through the tutorial". It got even more bizarre when her mobile phone had a new app called "Hero Quest" she never downloaded and had several new notifications about a very long task list.
When the family butler ushered her into the master bedroom where Grandpa always slept in after his stroke, then chased everyone out. Emily stopped being surprised.
"Finally, let's get started."
"Tell me all about it," she crossed her arms and stared directly into his eyes.
"Ah, seems like you already know," he chuckled. "I guess its time I stopped pretending to be your old man, and start acting like your destined mentor."
Emily loaded the Hero Quest app and showed it to him. "These stats, all these tasks and quests, explain them."
"I have been waiting for you to awaken," he smiled. "The Main Character Syndrome virus within you has hibernated longer than usual. It usually awakes when the carrier is a child, or teenager, but its never too late to embark on your isekai."
"I'm not even a guy," she shot back. "Don't these isekai things prefer young boys?"
"Eh...times are changing," Grandpa, or whoever he is right now, said. "The Watchers demand for a strong female protagonist. You are tall, slender, and blonde. They'd love your type. Meanwhile, I have been lying dormant myself all this time due to Mentor Occupational Hazards. Gotta lay low to avoid being killed before you're ready. Before I teach you everything you need to know. Now, it is time you learn of your destiny."
"So...this task list on the app, its like a RPG quest list?"
He nodded. "You're catching on well. As expected of a Main Character, and one that has been playing RPGs before your destiny began shining. I think you know which one to start with."
"I finished that one," Emily replied. "The one that insisted I talk to my fairy assistant and slog through the stupid tutorial."
"I take it you completed the tutorial then?"
"Yes."
"Next step is killing those bears and getting them twenty bearskins to you? I thought times are changing? What is with these old-fashioned fetch quests again?"
The old man laughed heartily and patted her on the back. "Ahh, some things don't ever change."
----
[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
|
ChefBreg
|
Tregonial
|
2024-07-28 04:25:58
|
2024-07-28 04:17:42
| 163 | 50 |
lfaiqxw
|
lfahqhq
|
1edwyxk
|
1edwyxk
|
[WP] You stood there, looking at your friend, faceplaming "Let me get this straight, you're dating a Goddess, an actual 'divine powers, older than civilization' Goddess and you ....CHEATED ON HER!?!??" Your friend has a desperate look in their eyes "Can you help me or not?"
|
"Did you tell her you were going to be here?"
"Of course I did. She made sure that I didn't go to Alyssa's place whatsoever!"
Well, this was going well. Obviously Jack couldn't keep it in his pants and ended up cheating on his girlfriend, which was bad enough, but this was Aishala, the goddess known as the Faceted Creator. She was a goddess of love, war, wealth, food and drink, indulgence...everything you could think about. Of course, she wasn't all-knowing, so there was that. As for how to calm her down...
"Did you tell her you were going out?" To my surprise, he nodded.
"Yes, to visit you. She didn't say anything, she just closed the bedroom door in my face."
"Closed? You mean closed as in not slammed?" I didn't believe she would be that gentle.
"Yes. She just seemed disappointed in me."
"Then talk to her."
Later, Jack returned home to his girlfriend.
"Jack, we need to talk. Come upstairs."
After he took his shoes off, he went upstairs, sitting on the bed. Aishala, who was already on the bed, turned towards him, putting her hand on his shoulder.
"Jack, first and foremost, I just want to say I forgive you. I understand it was a lapse of judgement, however I want you to think about what happened last night. What do you remember?" she asked him, calmly.
Jack was surprised, however he didn't say anything. He thought about what happened that night. He remembered a few things, however there were some fuzzy spots.
"I just remember I was at a house party, getting drunk. It was some sort of get-together with lots of alcohol, pizza, maybe a few other snacks. Aside from that, I remember a girl, Alyssa, leading me upstairs to chat a bit. We just ate together, watched some TV, and drank some beer before I washed up and went to sleep."
Aishala knew he wasn't lying. She had a feeling of dread growing in her chest, however she remained silent as he continued.
"When I first woke up, I was so tired I couldn't move, but I remember Alyssa unzipping my pants. I fell back asleep before waking up again, dressed, and curing my hangover before going home." He sighed, seeing Aishala tear up. "This was my fault. I'm sorry."
"This was never your fault." She pulled him into a tight, comforting hug as she sobbed. She had failed to protect him. Only now did he realize just what had happened. He didn't cheat on his girlfriend, but instead someone else took advantage of him. He hugged back, holding her close as he comforted her. Once he calmed her down, he asked her something he knew he had to ask.
"What should we do about Alyssa?"
Wiping away her tears, she looked at him.
"I don't think we should do anything to her except have her face justice, but I'm not going out. I think it should just be us staying together for a few nights."
"Agreed." He hugged her again, holding her close. She returned the cuddle, and they stayed like that until dinner.
|
"I mean, does she know?"
He pulled back the curtain to show frogs falling from the sky en masse throughout town. "I think she knows."
"Alright, frogs, that's a start." Aleister went for his collection and pulled out an old favorite. "Sounds like we're dealing with someone biblical, old school mesopotamian bullshit. Let me guess, she's a good Jewish girl?"
"She is very pretty," Adam said, swooning in place."
"And yet you stuck your dick in the goddess of literal sex."
"Hey, I do more than that!" Aphrodite puffed up, lounging naked on Aleister's couch.
"And yet you have nothing on Ishtar." Aleister pulled up her record. Two goddesses of love. Christ. "Old gods are a different breed man. No morals, no codes. Mythology and religion is often built on how societies form around each other. Most gods popping up today are built on either guilt or shame. They have rules, and often have ways to obtain forgiveness. These two? They're based on fear, fear of an unknown and unforgiving world, where even the gods will do horrible shit thst day because it's within their temper."
"Nothings wrong with my temper!" Aphrodite screamed, shaking the house's foundation. Aleister looked back with shrugged shoulders.
Adam watched the fiascos occuring outside, hearing the wails of torment in the wind ripping so heavily. He regretted himself. "So do you have a plan?"
Aleister shrugged. "Just gotta sit tight and wait for it to blow over." And he left the two to his study. They could hear him putting on a raincoat, among other things.
Aphrodite pouted a little longer before eyeing Adam again. "Wanna go another round?"
"Not the right time." He grumbled back. Unfortunate for her, his moral compass was returning, and it wasn't going to allow him to stay still.
|
Icy_Wildcat
|
KimeraQ
|
2023-04-01 15:42:53
|
2023-04-01 13:14:48
| 29 | 21 |
jejquak
|
jej7im9
|
1289uv4
|
1289uv4
|
[WP] The zombie apocalypse is here. The general public… actually has a better handle on it than the government does.
|
Ben nudged a zombie to one side with his poking stick – a sturdy pipe. It let out a low moan and gave him a half-hearted swipe.
He simply danced out of the way. “Sorry, not my type, lady.”
Another zombie tried to grab him, but it was similarly slow. It seemed like they hadn’t eaten in quite some time. He had plenty of time to slip a few packs of jerky into his bag before avoiding that one as well.
*Must be tough to be a zombie these days. Most people had watched too many zombie movies by the time of the outbreak. Only a handful of people turned after the first wave, and it’s starting to show.*
The zombies continued to shuffle toward him as he picked through the small grocery store. Plenty of looters had come through, yet there were still supplies hidden here and there. He rifled through the rubble a bit more with his poking stick before exiting the aisle.
“Any luck over there, Jimbo?”
A frizzled head poked out from several aisles down. “Got us some nice shirts. Idiots forgot it gets cold here in the winter. And a box of raisin bran. Someone probably dropped it on the way out.”
“Nice. I got us some protein. Jerky and beans. Snagged a few spices as well.” He shoved a zombie back before continuing toward Jimbo. “We should probably get going though. I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.”
“Yeah, I hear ya.”
They pushed their way out of the store. There was a distant snarl as they exited.
Ben squinted down the street. “Got a pouncer.”
“You catch, I kill?” Jimbo lowered his pack to the ground.
“Sounds good.” Ben did the same with his pack. “Watch the back. The ones in the store were a bit grabby. Might get some bright ideas.”
Jimbo glanced back into the store. “Yup. You focus on the mean one.”
Ben passed Jimbo his poking stick and braced himself. Predictably, the pouncer pushed his way through the meandering zombies, eager for flesh. Ben watched and raised his arm at the last second. The crazed zombie’s teeth closed on his arm with a clank. He barely felt the vibration through the metal links and leather wrapped around his arm.
“Gotcha!” Ben leaned into the bite, preventing the pouncer from escaping.
“Fore!” Jimbo swung with the poking stick.
Ben turned away to avoid the ensuing splatter. The pouncer twitched slightly before its jaws loosened.
Jimbo chuckled. “Metal bracer wins again.”
Ben wiped away the rest of the zombie gunk before picking up his pack. “You’d have thought the military would’ve learned such basic attack patterns by now.”
That only made Jimbo laugh harder. With the main threat out of the way, they made their way back to their hideout. Once the sun set, there was no more looting. That was a hard rule most people followed these days. Those who ignored that rule tended to end up as zombie food.
“How’s the generator?” Ben fiddled with their dim light source.
The lights in this apartment building were kept low at night. It prevented nearby zombies from getting too curious.
Jimbo continued organizing supplies. “Good enough. The main grid kicked on again, so we should charge things while we can tonight. Heard about it from the couple on the seventh floor.”
“Ooh. Lucky us.” Ben reached over and plugged a few devices into the wall socket. “TV?”
Jimbo nodded. “Of course. Be right back, going to make the security rounds for this floor.”
“Be careful.”
The door opened and closed. Ben turned on the old television set and began flipping through the channels. Most were static, but eventually, he found a live broadcast. The sound was low, but the apartment was quiet enough for him to hear.
Eventually, Jimbo returned and flopped onto the couch. “What’re we watching?”
“New acting Commander in Chief, I think. Last one didn’t last a week. He’s saying something about coming together in this time of need. How we need to shelter in place and wait for proper aid instead of going out there and risking our safety. The usual really.”
They watched the governmental broadcast for a bit.
Then, Jimbo asked, “Did they ever fix the loose hinges on the backdoor to that bunker?”
There were screams and gunshots in the distance. The speaker looked nervous but pushed on with his broadcast. Then, there was a crash as a mass of zombies stumbled past the camera. The speaker stumbled backward, fumbling for a weapon. But within a minute, no one was left alive in that room.
“Nope.”
“Shame.”
Jimbo stretched. “Welp, I’m gonna make some beans and crash for the night.”
Ben looked away from the carnage on the screen. “How were the locks and barricades for the floor?”
“Fine. Fixed one wobbly bolt, but otherwise, everything else was fine.”
“Sounds good. We’re scavenging in Northside tomorrow, right?”
“Yup.”
“Gotcha. I’ll wake you for shift change.”
“Thanks.”
As Jimbo wandered off into the small kitchen, Ben turned back to the television. It would likely be a few hours before the military reclaimed the broadcast bunker. Until then, the feed would remain pointed at the zombies feeding on the fresh corpses.
*I’m sure this is great for morale. I’m not sure they could’ve screwed up any worse than this.*
He changed the channel and got settled in for another night shift.
“Oh sweet! A Friends rerun.”
...
Went for zombie slice of life I guess?
If you're interested in my works, the archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile. There's also an original story, The Crossroads.
Thanks for reading.
|
A news anchor pulls his microphone close to his face. The cameras roll and he is set to the air- a young man, barely near his 30s with a mustache, stubble, brown eyes, and black hair with a red tie wrapped across the side of his head. He wears a patched up blue formal suit.
"It's day 217 of the people's apocalypse and I'm your host-- James Sherman! NOT BEN SHAPIRO WILL PEOPLE PLEASE STOP SAYING WE LOOK ALIKE-- anyways, as you probably know, the government has currently been at it's '30 hour strategy meeting' for the past 17 days now," James Sherman explains.
The camera man gives a thumbs up. A zombie down the street is filmed as a group of various fat and skinny men and boys with shotguns, and lead pipes, and bottled ships chase after it. The zombie slowly shuffles away, muttering something unintelligible as the people mercilessly hammer at its sunglasses.
"Uggghhh...Nooo...mhyyy...propherty! Pluhlease luheve me...aloohn-" the zombie mutters.
The camera quickly pans away as Sherman stares at the zombie.
"By the sacred roaches, they CAN speak! Oh man, mum isn't gonna believe this when she views her telly with her chips and tea-- anyways, since the government sought to end the 2nd amendment for all fellow Americans...", Sherman looks around for a moment before looking back at the camera, "...we had to look out for ourselves. For the people, am I right? The first few hours they locked us up and made us wear masks, but our brave middle aged mothers on survivor truth social out a stop to the federal government's meddling once and for all! Though they didn't stop the virus with those liquid tinfoil pills- not that I have personal experience with--"
A nearby car crashes into a building, speeding past in only the driver's half as it slowly stops next to Sherman like a taxi cab.
"Quick-- Sherman, there isn't much time! We must prevent the Anti-Zomboyz rights act of spanish-32 from being passed! I may be undead, but I'm still your great uncle on your mother's side! Whaddya say, huh?!" Uncle Zombie-Man asks.
Sherman looks into the camera. He breaks out into a sweat.
"Oh no...uh, who are you, eh he he..." He replies.
The camera man takes out a butcher's knife from his side pocket of his cargo shorts and moves near Uncle Zombie-Man.
Uncle Zombie-Man takes off his yellow rubber gloves and throws it at the camera man. The resulting mass of roaches nibble the cleaver to a wooden handle.
The camera man screams and attempts to punch Uncle Zombie-Man. Sherman stops him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, man, we need to seriously get out of her. Prep the van and get going. If I'm not back, send my letter to me mum, got it?" Sherman asks.
The camera man looks confused.
"But I can take this monster down! Why not--"
Uncle Zombie-Man takes out a burning brief case from his half-car trunk and opens it.
"How's 1 million sound? Or a Billion? The bank payed a small fortune to get rid of me, so I can pay anything under 3 billion," Uncle Zombie-Man offers.
The camera man casts a meaty red glare his way. He strokes his mustache and goatee for a minute.
"Two and a half million. I'm not falling for your scam, and my survivor buckz are worth nada, amigo," he replies.
"I can do that," Uncle Zombie-Man counts the money.
With the money exchanged, the camera man loads up a white news van with a satellite on top. He speeds off.
Now that he can think, Sherman can tell that something isn't right-- people harass zombies that don't eat their brains like the movies, heck, even his great uncle who died 40 years ago came back like it's just another day in his life! The whole burning society, urban survival thing feels more like a pseudo survival aesthetic right now...
"I was wrong-- SO WRONG-- about everything. How can I help, uncle?" Sherman asks.
Uncle Zombie-Man puts on his chefs hat and straps on his high visibility construction vest over his formal mime suit.
"Like I said, we stop the passage of the Anti-Zomboyz rights act of Spanish-32. Follow me!" Uncle Zombie-Man races to the steps of a nearby business.
"No, wait, the city capitol is that way!" Sherman yells.
He races after his uncle.
A computer screen shows a gps location- Florida, USA. Status: average Tuesday. Deploying local military beer expert troops to neutralize threats for the next week.
|
ShikakuZetsumei
|
None
|
2023-08-23 03:12:21
|
2023-08-23 01:39:56
| 211 | 12 |
jxd5kuj
|
jxctqmx
|
15yn1r3
|
15yn1r3
|
[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."
|
“What not-on-earth has happened here?” said Dionysus, surveying the Underworld. He had expected to bring the party to the grey void but was instead presented with vast swathes of colourful life.
“It’s all your brother’s fault!” raged Hades, emerging from behind a particularly large sunflower. His throne was surrounded by pots and flowers of every variety found on earth.
“For some reason he gave me an enormous bunch of flowers and it seems that word got around and now…” he waved his hands towards the line of recently arrived dead being processed after crossing the Styx. More than half were carrying floral tributes.
“Ares and Aphrodite are waging botanical warfare on my realm…”
*Flower power*, Dionysus thought but, wisely, kept to himself.
“…Charon wants a bigger boat and Cerberus has hayfever!”
“What does your wife think?”
On cue, Persephone swept into the throne room humming happily. She scooped up as many more bunches of flowers as she could and skipped towards their living quarters.
Dionysus roared with laughter, thumped Hades on the back and swayed slightly.
“Don’t worry, uncle,” he replied, failing to maintain a straight face. “I didn’t care for this fermented grape juice at first but I grew to love it.” He took a large swig of his flagon of wine, dripping red juice into his beard.
Hades paused, looking around the array of colours and taking in the scents. He felt his iron will bend slightly.
\-----
The gardens of the Underworld became renowned and are regularly visited by all but one of the Olympians. However, be careful not to mention them to Aphrodite as she will fly into a jealous rage.
Mortal souls close to the journey to the Underworld now look forward with hope as they will soon see the most beautiful gardens in all existence.
|
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
|
cses87
|
RamiroGalletti
|
2023-01-07 15:22:41
|
2023-01-07 05:44:35
| 150 | 57 |
j3cathe
|
j3auu38
|
105g4gs
|
105g4gs
|
[WP] A regular and oblivious person works at a coffee shop not knowing its a place of ceasefire for assassins and mercenaries.
|
"...so did you take the job? I would- oh, hello!" the man before me said as he and his friend finally approached the counter. "I'll have a... caramel latté and my friend here will have an espresso, thank you."
"Right away, sir," I smiled and started preparing both beverages. Still, despite not wanting to, I couldn't help but overhear the conversation the two gentlemen were having.
"...I mean, a job's a job, right? It didn't go past any limits, so yeah, I took the shot just as he was getting out of the tub," the man's friend said.
*Must be a photographer*, I thought to myself. *Perhaps an artistic display of a well-sculpted man getting out of the bathtub?*
"Was it clean? I always find it messy when they're wet."
"Within limits."
"Here you are, gentlemen," I said and handed the men their coffees. They smiled politely, paid, and went to sit at a nearby table. I smiled back just as a new customer came in.
It was a woman wearing a tight body suit with some sort of... thick vest and a plethora of belts and holsters. She was covered in firearms - two on her hips, two by her ankles and a large rifle on her back. Several knives on her hips provided a lovely silvery contrast to her overall attire.
I wonder who she was cosplaying. Either way, good job - looked very authentic.
"Lady DeathKill!" the man with the espresso gasped. "You've some nerve showing your mug here after what happened in Budapest."
"The contract was open, Olivier. You may have had them in your arms, but that doesn't exclude me from getting the job done first," she growled back.
"I was about to mow them down! You nearly took my ear off!"
*That man is very well dressed for a gardener,* I thought.
"*Nearly,*" the woman said.
*Wonder what that was about.*
The two exchanged angry looks before the woman decided to take the higher road and simply walk towards the counter.
"Hello!" I said cheerily. Her disposition softened and she managed a weak smile back.
"Hi. I'll have a... hmm..." She put her hand below her chin as she stared at the menu.
"Perhaps I can make a recommendation?" I offered. "The chai latté is especially delicious. A good amount of spice and bite, if you're feeling adventurous."
"You know," she said, "it might be a good start to my day. Get me in the mood for my work."
"Right away. I do wish you good luck at your work, if I may say so."
"Nice of you to say," she chuckled, "but at this point in my career, I'm past needing luck. I got the guns, the knives, all that's left is the shooting. Done it a hundred times."
"Oh," I said and turned to make her coffee.
*She's a model!* I thought, glad to finally understand the situation.
|
"Mocha frap for... Dadshorts!"
The folks all look at each other, but no one moves, meaning Ethel butchered another name. I stare at it, trying to guess what it's supposed to be.
"Listen, I got a small mocha frap," I call again before leaving it on the counter. As two men, both with bionic eyes, approach the drink and start debating whose it may be, I debate taking over the till, but the only thing that girl wrecks worse than names is the drinks.
I start on a jalapeño-caramel iced latte as I hear the bionic eyes started to argue. I turn to tell Ethel to help sort it, but she's gone. Another "cigarette" break, most likely. Unfortunately, it's a moot point anyway, I can tell the men are escalated to far for her skills. Which isn't really saying much, but I've already abandoned the drink.
"What’s pro—" An explosion is ripping across the counter and sending shrapnel at me. I consider ducking behind... something, but that moment already makes it too late. I'm going to do over a lame coffee. Only, I don't die. Ethel has reversed the explosion, restoring the counter and saving us all. I stand stunned for a moment when she reaches out and touches my temple and suddenly...
Suddenly... something... Who... What was I doing? Right, jalapeño-caramel. Thankfully, when I turn around, the mocha frap and the weird men are gone. Guess they sorted it out. I coulda sworn they were fighting. Oh well, I read off the next cup, "Tarker!" I glare at Ethel when no one responds. Playing with her bubblegum, which she's not supposed to have at work! I swear, I have no idea why that girl hasn't been fired yet. Brings nothing to the job.
|
SirPiecemaker
|
NextEstablishment856
|
2023-01-05 08:21:47
|
2023-01-05 07:04:53
| 1,277 | 124 |
j30z3sn
|
j30sunl
|
103s0a6
|
103s0a6
|
[WP] For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face asking to speak to you.
|
Embrace your destiny, for it awaits no one. Those were the words the Goddess laid upon the land when she called upon a new generation of saints and heroes to battle the dark of the world. It had been several decades already with the cities and towns living in fear under the rule of corrupt monarchs and the roads sieged by foul beasts and fiends.
The Goddess' call came for the oppressed to take up arms and reclaim their peace, and to help her cause, she also awakened ancient powers locked away within her chosen, and with them as her heralds, humanity began their counterattack.
Or at least, that's what the bards tell. I was never privy to the horrors firsthand, but I was content in taking upon the family business and help provide potions and supplies to those in need in my father's atelier, constantly preparing and shopping for the neighboring towns. Our own was peaceful, but it's people kind, so we did our best to help. Back then I thought that was my place in the world; I had no skill with the sword, let alone magic, but I had a loving family to help me through these tumultuous times.
And finally, with the last few heroes, the frontiers have finally been reclaimed in the last decade, the fiends finally forced back to their lairs on the far edges to the north of the continent. However, the battle is bloody, and even the mighty chosen of the Goddess still fall to this day.
Its still a miracle, really. The gratitude for the heroes is not misplaced, but there's still much to be done. Even with these brave heroes and their relentless efforts, there's still fighting to be had.
Which is why, I'm surprised to see the woman I once called my better half at my doorstep, having returned just as she left. When five years ago, she awakened to her abilities as a chosen of the Goddess, and left without so much a word.
|
I sit in the corner of the local bar, one that I frequent often, almost hiding from the crowd behind today’s newspaper. I tune out the chattering of the bar, and read over the ad in the newspaper that I wrote to the paper. If destiny was on my side this afternoon, I will get the escape I’ve always dreamed of.
It’s funny, y’know, what they say. You don’t know what you have until you lose it. I had to learn that the hard way.
Then I saw her. My shoulders drop.
“Oh it’s you.” She says with a smile. I recognize that soft smile. We can’t help but laugh at the irony of the situation.
Finally, I said, “I never knew.”
“That you like pina coladas
And getting caught in the rain.”
|
LowerBlack
|
Gc_Kintsugi
|
2025-02-21 07:59:05
|
2025-02-21 05:46:46
| 41 | 19 |
mdydza7
|
mdxyucd
|
1iuahub
|
1iuahub
|
[WP]A galactic empire has existed in relative peace for a hundred years. However, when the emperor and his family die suddenly during a transport accident, the government is thrown into chaos. After an exhaustive search, a long-lost relative is found and it seems to be you.
|
"... Come again?"
"After months of extensive research, the imperial council have decided that according to the sacred book of records, you are a direct relative of the imperial dynasty and therefore it has been decided by the council that you are the next heir to the throne."
"What-"
"YOU are A DIRECT MEMBER OF THE ROYAL FAMILY. YOU are the LOST SON OF THE EMPEROR!"
I stare in bafflement and look around at the absurdity of the scene. A dirty run-down tiny apartment suddenly filled with well dressed and armed guardsmen with a tall man standing in front of me wearing a flamboyant outfit, shiny and flashy as if they are a training participant in the next annual galactic fashion fair, holding a tablet with the empire's famous insigna behind it.
"Sir, I don't think you understand, i'm an underpaid employee at StarBites™, I have no afilliation with the emperor or his family and I am not willing to sully the imperial bloodline because of a mistake in-"
the messenger turns the tablet screen to me and shows a detailed DNA analysis with a graph to prove relevancy in physical trait. However that's the last thing I noticed, as I was focused on the massive text on top of the screen reading:
### 97.82% MATCH
```%97.82 - positive DNA match.```
`- This DNA test was conducted by the Imperial Research Team in collaboration with the Ministry of Correction and Confirmation`
"...Oh."
As i continue reading the list of facts and details, i can feel my face turning pale in shock.
*same eye color, same display. My lord, he's even left-handed like me.*
"The council will meet you in an hour, you have to be in the palace and you have to be ready by then. LONG LIVE THE NEW EMPEROR!"
"Long live the emperor, father of the empire!" the guards chanted before marching out with parade music playing outside the building, taking the purple carpet they rolled in 5 minutes ago.
I go into sheer panic as I look at my trembling hands with disbelief. My vision being shakey and blurry as i rush to my bathroom and stare at the mirror to see who I am.
*Please be a nightmare, please wake up please wake up please wake up pleaase.* I repeat under my heavy breath knowing it's not changing anything. Apparently this 19 year old introverted restaraunt worker is the new ruler of this large anarchic realm of chaos.
I scramble to find my closet and search for my most formal dress - A three-piece suit handed to me as a gift from a friend 2 years ago. It's all dusty and wrinkled, but it's the best I got and the only thing I got beside pyjamas and my work uniform.
To Be Continued.
(will continue later as i'm busy. Any criticism, spellchecks and grammar corrections are accepted.)
|
"Thanks but no thanks, I wouldn't dare run this shitty empire."
"Excuse me!?" a voice spoke from the audience. Wide-eyed politicians stared at the boy, barely an adult as he stood in the middle of the imperial court. Whispers from guards and juries could be heard across the court.
The boy could feel the bitter stares from some of the politicians, ready to shout slurs and insults for abandoning their "perfect empire"."I lived all my life impoverished in this god-forsaken empire, no financial benefit from any of you corrupt scums as I work *day and night just to make end's meat* ***and now you come here expecting me to help you rule!?***" the boy ranted, getting more furious as he spoke. By now the court had gone silent as they processed the boy's words.
"Nothing to say? I expected as much."
"B-But-"
"Maybe think of everyone suffering around you before you ask me to take charge,." the boy cut off who he presumed was the minister, a bewildered look on his face as the boy folded his arms, sighing to relieve any pent up anger he had from his rant.
"If there is nothing else, I hope you have a great day." the boy started walking towards the exit of the court, now filled with whispers louder than ever as he flipped a middle finger towards the minister and politicians who were now staring daggers at the boy.
The boy never felt this much ecstasy up until now. It felt good to walk away from the shitty government who caused millions to suffer in this empire. It wasn't his problem than and it wasn't his problem now.
|
SharpSpectra
|
LiZmWrOnG
|
2023-02-11 11:41:33
|
2023-02-11 08:32:40
| 78 | 35 |
j83mvc9
|
j839l14
|
10z78wk
|
10z78wk
|
[WP] Your super power has no destructive power, but you're still a highly ranked superhero. *Time Out* puts your opponent into a safe quiet place to reflect on their actions before returning them back the to the same spot and time, they left.
|
I begged him to kill me instead of using his powers.
I was making a getaway after stealing a carton of eggs from a local grocery store. A new superhero chased me down and wrestled me into a tangle mess of zip-ties. He sat me against a brick wall in a dark alleyway.
"There's a small knife in my boot. Use it slowly for all I care," I said.
He knelt beside me. The man known as Mr. Moser wore a suit that could have been on the front page of a men's fashion magazine.
"I don't serve my own version of justice like the vigilantes in Vannopolis. The city's court system gets the honor to name the crime and punishment. What I do is assign a little moment for criminals to think about the bad choices they've made."
"You just described jail! Please, let me go to jail peacefully!"
I looked down at his hands; black leather gloves covered them. I've heard if he touches someone's forehead with his bare hands the victim falls into a trance.
"Do you even know where you send people?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I send their consciousness to a place I call Time Out for ten minutes. Afterwards, they come out of it calm and compliable."
"But have you ever been to Time Out?"
He firmly shook his head. "Nope. Wouldn't know how to get there. And why should I go? I'm not the one stealing eggs during a recession."
I drew a deep breath and tried to relax. Perhaps if he knew the stories I've heard about Time Out, he'd hesitate long enough for the cops to arrive and take me away.
"I shouldn't have stolen. Like you said, the city is in a recession, and I figured a dozen boiled eggs can provide me some breakfast for over a week. With that said, can we agree that I'm complying? Will you let me speak for a second?"
He nodded; I continued.
"I haven't been sent to time out since my early grade school days. I understand your rationality sending criminals to your own time out. But others say yours differ from sitting in the corner of a school room."
Mr. Moser smiled. "Oh really? How so?"
"I've only heard anecdotal stories, but no one ever comes out of your Time Out the same."
"That's the point."
"Understandable, but whatever you're doing is too much. People come out of Time Out broken -- nothing more than a shell of their former self."
Mr. Moser looked up at the light polluted night sky when he heard cop sirens off in the distance. He cleared his throat.
"You know, you dropped the egg carton you were carrying during our little chase. And a bit of egg yolk splashed on my..."
He removed a glove to show a skinless hand. He pointed a boney finger wrapped in muscle, nerves, and tendons towards his boots.
"Sorry son, but if you don't go to Time Out for stealing the eggs, you're going for making a mess."
I screamed as his body horror of a hand spread its palm wider than a dinner plate.
"Hush. I'll only send you there for two minutes. The cops should be here afterwards," he said and covered my face with his skinless hand.
\----------
Everything faded to white. Pale white. I still sat like I did in the alley way; my wrists still zip-tied behind my back.
I tried to stand but my head hit an invisible ceiling. I tried to roll on my side, but a wall kept me seated in my uncomfortable slouched posture. It was as if I was trapped inside an egg barely large enough to house me.
"Two minutes," I said to myself. "I can do this for two minutes."
I waited, but nothing changed.
I counted to 120 multiple times.
"Hey! You said I'd be out by now!" I screamed in the vacant space.
No one responded.
*Maybe this is like a dream world. Where time passes differently than reality*. I thought. *Moser will pull me out of Time Out and only two actual minutes will have passed.*
I tried to lean my head forward, but a pure white barrier kept it from moving an inch.
\----------- ----------
I'm still here.
​
# Thanks for reading! /r/VegaVisions for more stories.
|
Leon hit the replay button on his player again. Was a mistake bringing only one disk for a drive here, in the middle of the desert.
His old Toyota, a gift from the government of Sapporo, was whining about the quality of the road, the heat and probably the smell of a blue superhero costume in the bag on the backseat. Still, Leon was determined to meet his grandfather.
It's a rarely known fact that the underdog antihero of the 60's "Deathtouch" is blood related to the new and popular "Time Out". Leon knew, but didnt knew they had the same ability, not until the latest researches in unearthly people shown that superpowers are inheritable, and can't change in effects unless there is another super in the family. There wasn't, in Leon's case.
Leon pulled over from a highway onto a gravel road, to the Toyota's growing displeasure. Now he had only his vague childhood memories to show him the way.
Near a tilted house he found an old man. Leon greeted him, they hugged shared a few tears and then started to tell each other stories. Leon already knew all the tales an old man had to tell, but now he had many of his own. He couldn't get those heavy words out of his mind. They laughed, but it wasn't until dusk, when they were sharing beer, when he finally brought himself to say them.
"Why did you choose to kill them? Time out can put away people for any period - minutes, days, weeks. Time out allowed me to change them, make them reflect, doubt their actions. They always came back changed. But you chose to put then away for centuries, didn't. When they came back... they were just dead from old age"
Old man sighed, as if he was expecting this question: "Leon, I''ll tell you how I see it, and you don't have to agree. When I started doing this, this superhero gig, my wife was pregnant with your father. Whenever a villain came back from time out, they would always talk about how they were changed. How they were never going to do this again. But that villain - he picked up a gun, or whatever sci-fi bullshit they had for a weapon, they picked it up and pointed it at another person. What if they would make that choice again? What if this time it will be pointed at me, or my wife, or my kid?".
The old man sipped from his beer, holding up his hand when Leon tried to argue something: "Seeing you do it. Taking that risk. Every day, without regrets. Makes me believe in humanity a little bit more. But in case if any of them lie to you. Try to hurt someone you love." The old man crushed a can in his hand "I packed up the Deathtouch costume in your trunk"
Leon wanted to say something, but stopped himself: "If I say no, will you send me into time out?". "Sure will, kid" the old man smiled, kicking his crushed can. "Then I'll take, just in case" - Leon said, walking back to his Toyota. "Take care of yourself, grandpa"
|
VegaVisions
|
Ghokl-
|
2023-02-01 15:03:27
|
2023-02-01 11:01:31
| 198 | 104 |
j6s7cbw
|
j6rg79w
|
10qpsam
|
10qpsam
|
[WP] you thought feeding that Skinwalker some barbecue was fine maybe she would stop eating human flesh. but it seems she had spread the word and now all different types of monsters are at your door hungry.
|
How does one create a restaurant business and become an overnight success in a notoriously competitive and overcrowded F&B industry? I guess I did it by not being picky about who I'm feeding.
It all started when I had a barbecue party in the woods with some friends, when a Skinwalker suddenly ambushed us from thick shrubbery. While everyone made futile attempts to pull the Skinwalker away from Brad, I wrapped up the barbecued lamb rack with aluminum foil and presented it to the Skinwalker, in hopes the fragrant smell would entice it to leave Brad alone.
My lamb rack was graciously accepted by the Skinwalker who asked to keep in contact.
At first, I thought I was getting doxed when my phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Until I heard a knock on my door to find a werewolf asking me for a barbecued lamb rack. The werewolf asked me if I had an Etsy or a restaurant he could go to, he heard from a skinwalker I made awesome barbecue and he wanted to give me a glowing review online.
So I started my Etsy store, and delivered scrumptious barbecue to all types of monsters. I'm not even sure what about my sauce attracts them like bees to honey because my regular human friends think my barbecue is sorta average. But it has let me carve out an incredible niche in the market that's hard to beat.
In 1997, I hired my first few employees and opened a small restaurant. The orders were getting overwhelming to handle by myself, especially when a succubus ordered mountains of meat for an all-girls-night-out pillow party.
Now, Matlin's Meats is looking to hire. We're always on the lookout for new talents, and new supernatural creatures to pull to our doors. Click here to apply now and join a growing franchise that offers rare opportunities to work with a fascinating clientele who tip generously! Who knows, you might even get chummy with eldritch horrors!
|
Welcome to the monster restaurant! Where we cook food that is absolutely not human flesh for monsters that definitely will not eat human flesh! Our menue is ever increasing as we get more ingredients!
Right now we have:
Definitely not human ribs!
Fingerless fish fingers!
Unhuman hamburger!
not rat poison.
And a simple salad!
Remember though, that you will have to pay for your food in one way or another, we understand that it may be a bit difficult to earn money as a non human resident so we offer alternative ways to pay off your lunch! Since we're short staffed in this rapidly growing restaurant, we're willing to let you work off the cost of your lunch!
Just remember: no eating people!
|
Tregonial
|
ViiK1ng
|
2023-04-13 09:03:28
|
2023-04-13 07:37:23
| 107 | 38 |
jg2l47r
|
jg2f5mk
|
12kd27o
|
12kd27o
|
[WP] Humans are the proverbial "Sleeping Giant," and thus make remarkably good deterrents. A common tactic of the Galactic Federation is to simply call in a human warship, such as the USS "Fuck Around and, FindOut," and simply let it sit nearby. Peace Talks happen within the week.
|
"Deceleration burn complete, we're now entering planetary orbit Admiral."
"Thank you Lieutenant. Comms, get me the Federal liaison on the horn. Let's find out what kind of party we're crashin' out here."
"Aye sir!"
The comms officer's fingers raced over the keyboard at her front while observing a monitor to her right. The bridge was bustling with activity as the crew made preparations for their mission. The aptly named Mediator Class starship was decked from bow to stern with most cutting edge tech that humanity had to offer. All Mediator Class ships were essentially combat equipped exploration vessels. In fact, they are more suited to long distance travel than they are combat. That's not to say though, that they are not formidable. While not being a flagship battlecruiser, they are still more than capable warships and more powerful than most planetary navies in this sector, let alone an individual vessel.
"I have the Federation representative on the horn sir. Patching it to your console now."
"No need, just put it through the over head."
A moment later, a voice sounded out over the bridge. The Federal liaison clearly not human, chittered and clicked as it rattled off a response. Monitors at the comms post lit up active translation took place.
"Human Starship, I am Federal Representative 8374618-B. Authorization code Gamma Foxtrot Echo Oscar.
As the representative read out their credential, Lieutenant Johns input the information into her console.
"Identity verified, credentials are valid, sir."
Admiral Hastings nods at Johns and begins to address the alien rep on the other end of the transmission.
"This is Admiral Hastings of Federal Sector Authority, how may I be of service?"
The chittering insect like voice once again filled the bridge.
"Admiral, Federation mediators on the surface are negotiating cease fire between the two warring super powers on this planet. The excursion threatens to expand to other planets within the system. It is your duty to take action in the event these negotiations fail. You're tasked to simply posture in orbit at this time."
"Affirmative, we can sit here all day. We'll even put on a little show if ya want."
"That won't be necessary. We will contact you if your assistance is required."
The transmission ends and Johns makes a confirming gesture toward the admiral.
"Ladies and gentlemen, make sure you smile for the camera. Those unhappy folks down there ought to be lookin' our way right about now".
Several days pass without contact from the Federation liaison on the surface. The crew is on alert but alert is relative. Everyone's grown accustomed to essentially parking on some planet's doorstep for a few days only to stand down and move on once everything was said and done. The admiral has even been in his quarters the majority of the time reading novel he picked up when they last returned to Earth for crew change and resupply.
Johns, obviously bored, strikes up a conversation with the nav officer adjacent to her post.
"Hey Amari, it must be real tough for you navigate a ship like this. I mean with us being in orbit and gravity doing all the work right now."
Amari huffed, "No tougher than a comms officer never has to talk to anyone".
"So what do you think was so bad they had to call us for?"
Amarai shrugged, "No idea, probably something stupid like the last planet we were sent to. Speaking of, I heard the reason they took that Federal Auditor hostage was because the auditor didn't like food that was offered to them on arrival?"
"No shit? Imagine nearly being annihilated because you couldn't handle someone not liking your cooking."
"I mean I'd imagine it's pretty stressful preparing for and entertaining a Federal Auditor. When they didn't like whatever they were served, they probably just snapped."
Johns laughed, "I guess that makes sense, but still, I wouldn't risk my..."
As Johns was replying, the ship suddenly rocked hard to the port, knocking some unsuspecting crew to the floor and injuring others.
The admiral immediately contacted the bridge, "Status report!"
Johns replied hastily, "Sir, Mission Ops is confirming that we've taken fire from the surface of the planet. Nav is adjusting for the impact to maintain orbit and Intel is working on confirming the planetary source of the attack. Injury reports are coming in, but engineering confirms that no hull damage was sustained, shields are holding."
"I'm on my way to the bridge. Sound battle stations and get me that rep back on the horn!"
"Aye sir!"
Johns complied and alarms went off throughout the ship as everyone prepared for combat at their posts. In no mediation mission in the history of the FSA has an Earth vessel been fired upon. Johns was able to make contact with the representative on the surface just as the Admiral entered the bridge.
"Sir, I have contact with the Federal Liaison, patch them to your console?"
"No, over-head."
Johns complied and the Admiral responded, "What in the flying fuck is going on down there!? Why have we been engaged?"
The voice that's playing to the bridge now is not the same chittering, clicking, insect like voice of the rep that contacted the ship prior. Instead, a deep almost gurgling voice was being translated.
"Your federation thought you could come in and take what is not yours. Making claims and setting ultimatums. We will do what it takes to seize control of this planet and system and if you stand in our way, we will destroy you as well."
A sort of half smile crept up on Admiral Hastings face as he responded, "This is Admiral Hastings in command of the FSA Mediator Class Vessel, "Fuck Around and Find Out". Prepare to find out".
|
Humanity had a destiny.
Or so we thought. Since the first fire was shared between one of our ancient plains dwelling ancestors and another. Our species slowly, generation after generation, became more capable of selflessness.
It had many labels throughout the centuries, from goodness to godliness. It's core ideology was framed sometime in the 1900th as Communism. So unspoken up until that point and so poorly executed in its attempted practice, that it caused the flames of unity to darken for nearly a thousand years.
Yet it lived on with new names, its core ideals still a part of every member of the species core potential.
Through the many, many generations mankind warred against itself. Man killed Man, brother slayed brother, children and women and all those in between. Race and gender, location and dialects. All created within mankind fear of the unknown and distrust. In our fear we lashed out in violence. In our ignorance of one another we came to blows. Time and time again mankind blew upon the fire of unity with an unrelenting force, that should in truth, in our arrogance, have led to complete and total destruction of our species.
We became masters of death and destruction. Warlords and Generals. Like rotting wood within the flames, it tainted the purity of the flame of unity, even as it tried to snuff it out.
Some men were sick with the taint of it. Broken inside, twisted by cold and though it is our shame, we accept those terrors as part of us. Or histories and hard learned lessons.
Our bloody path to unity.
And yet, each generation crawled forwards. Each cycle of youths, could see flaws in their elders and make effort to alter. And their progeny likewise. And so it was that the flames of unity survived. Within the hope for something better.
Until it was, that a generation rose that saw the path behind and knew instinctively the path ahead. They did not hold power as their elders. And not wanting to take on the selfish traits of their predecessors they waited and planned. Knowing that any alternative was selfishness they began to preach their message. They had only spread word of the future to their peers and the next generations. They had watched their predecessors build great masterworks of efficiency and productivity in the pursuit of coin. And they saw that it was necessary. For without both, the people could not be united. Without the pursuit of gold of their fathers and forefathers, they would not have been able to do what was done.
It did not come in a great war or battle. Men did not scream and wail at its arrival. For they knew it was generational and each parent and child, teacher and student, passed forward the ideals. Slowly, painstakingly and then it was. We had reached what we believed to be our destiny.
And then, we were finally accepted outside of our little planet. it was not until the full unity of mankind that we were contacted by the Galactic federation. The many peoples of the stars of the milky way galaxy. Thousands of worlds, all functioning within independent versions of their species unity.
But from our history, we could not hide. For they had watched us in horror. Mankind, the true, black sheep of the entire galaxy. The only species to not hold unity at its conception.
While we killed our brothers, other species could not comprehend hatred of their own. And so had not come to arms until they had walked the stars alongside other people's and systems.
Where mankind had forged itself outside of unification, we walked the stars as a terror of unspeakable potential for death. Yet we sought unity among the stars, like we had with all our own nations and peoples and even the non-sapient creatures and plant life of our world.
We were first contacted by the Galactic federation warmly. The greatest minds of the milky way, finally agreeing that we as a species had reached the common ground required to parlay. And offered a position to join, if we accepted a given role to play within our new community.
Watch dogs and protectors, those who all other species feared for their unity forged not born. Some believed us the wisest, others the most foolish. But all held fear of mankind's history and potential for that which no other in the Galaxy understood. We began to believe that just maybe, our destiny was greater still? That we could be the ones to bring unity to the stars.
Until an archeologist student found a bone. Until it was passed on to a geneticist. Until mankind quietly discovered..
**the betrayal of the makers**
|
Jooc3bocks
|
Ihavebadreddit
|
2023-03-07 05:40:42
|
2023-03-07 04:30:15
| 92 | 35 |
jb8i9cs
|
jb8b9zt
|
11keke0
|
11keke0
|
[WP] After the Christian Rapture happened to everyone's considerable shock, those left behind (and those born to them after) all had a strange, unremovable marking appear on their foreheads. It took decades to translate, but the result was horrifying; "Do not harvest, not fit for consumption."
|
It was a day like any other when the earth shook violently and the skies suddenly turned bright. All around the globe same sight could be seen. People saw what seemed to be giant, glowing beings descending from the heavens, Angels. Angels were unlike anything anyone had ever imagined, with wings blindingly beautiful and an otherworldly radiance that seemed to emanate from their very beings. As they drew closer to the earth, people began to feel an unfamiliar discomfort.
Christians, true believers, were taken that day. Taken to eternal peace, while the rest of humanity was left to ponder their decisions. Angels circled the globe several times leaving an unfamiliar mark on people's foreheads as they left.
Everyone born after that day got the same mark. No one knew what it meant, the leading theory was that it branded them sinners, someone who would never be able to reach and experience what those people did on that holy day.
Since that day, Earth changed forever. Most people stopped looking for material success and turned towards Christianity. Years later first marks finally started disappearing and humanity found hope once again.
Five years later Angels returned once again, taking those whose markings had disappeared. That was a clear sign for humanity of what their goal should be.
Angels repeated the same process five years later and one of them spoke that they would continue to do so. Sins can be forgiven and people can be accepted and brought to heaven with them if they work hard enough, and devoted their lives to it. Almost fifteen years had passed after that holy day and humanity eagerly expected the return of the Angels once more.
All of this did not sit right with Marcus, a history teacher, who combed through every book he could find trying to decipher the strange marking. He found himself in Egypt, at ancient ruins, looking for the final clues, he was so close.
His children and wife waited for him at home, their markings gone almost a year now. His wife Vivian had begged him to leave this pursuit of his and join them, she could help him lose the mark, and become a believer. She could be his guide into eternal peace and ascension.
But Marcus could not let it go, he had to follow his gut. He brought his team of eight people with him to Egypt, and all of them shared the same feeling of uncertainty and eeriness that surrounded the Angels.
They combed through the ancient site looking for final clues, something was missing. Every translation they did reading the parts of the strange symbol made no sense.
“Boss,” Lorein yelled. “I think I have found it, come look at this.”
Carved into one of the stones was a part of the symbol that decorated most of the remaining humanity’s foreheads.
“That’s it,” Marcus said. “We have everything we need. Bring that whole block, we will have the symbol translated tonight!”
They spent the whole night translating the symbol and just before dusk they succeeded.
The message read: "Do not harvest, not fit for consumption."
It was a chilling revelation, one that sent chills through the team. The implication was clear: those who bore the marking were safe and the others were in grave danger.
Minutes later as the team was still proof-checking the earth shook once again and the sky became bright. The Angels have returned once more.
The feeling of dread and horror swept over Marcus, his wife, and children had lost their mark and he was on the other half of the planet away from them. He was right all along but he was too late, he had lost his wife and children.
One of the team members was unbothered by the revelation and angels returned and continued translating part of the stone they have found at the ruins. He finished the sentence that was written at the bottom of the stone:
“If they ever return, find me!”
[part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/118w5n1/comment/j9labxl/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
[part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/119emsf/rapture_do_not_harvest_not_fit_for_consumption/) \- On my sub, easier to read/post as this post is getting pretty crowded.
[part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/119gsw6/rapture_do_not_harvest_not_fit_for_consumption/)
[part 5](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/11a9sbq/rapture_do_not_harvest_not_fit_for_consumption/)
[part 6](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/11bsjtp/rapture_do_not_harvest_not_fit_for_consumption/)
|
The year was 129 PR (Post Rapture)
Jacob was the 3rd generation born on Post Rapture Earth. It was 2 years after the Brand was translated and Jacob was on the Committee of Atheist Scientists whose sole purpose was figuring out what this means.
Jacob, specifically, was given the task of traveling across the Raptured Earth to find God to answer our unanswered questions. But there was no way for him to prepare for what he found.
Jacob trekked for 2 days to find The Spine of the Earth. A mountain range named for its tall but flat-topped peaks that looked similar to a human spine. The north end of the range forked in two giving it the shape of a ribcage. People said that God himself died and his body decayed here leaving just his bones.
Jacob knew better.
Jacob followed The Spine of The Earth north. Past the Ribcage mountains. All the way to the single volcano peak 4 days north of the Ribcage. This volcano had two caves at the very peak that often overflowed with lava like the mountain itself was crying fiery tears.
But Jacob knew better.
It wasn’t until Jacob started his descent into the left eye cave of the volcano that Jacob found what he was looking for.
God himself, walking amongst us on earth.
Jacob froze and took in his God. It shocked Jacob to his core. His god was not some immortal being: he was covered in scars, cuts, burns and rashes. His god was not a benevolent God either: bones littered his lair in this volcano.
His God was not a celestial human: His god was a dragon.
*Jacob, son. You came a long way from your village yonder. Why y’all trek all the way out here?* Yahweh doesn’t speak. Being a god he doesn’t have too. He puts speech into your mind. But with a curiously thick southern drawl.
“Oh, wise and merciful god! I have come looking for answers!”
*Well, if y’all got questions then shoot.*
“What is the meaning of The Brand oh merciful god!”
*Oh. Y’all aint real tasty and that dopamine y’all make from all them sins is poisonous you see. Y’all are like those Japanese pufferfish. Full of poison. Can't cook it out of y’all either. Tried smokin’ em, boilin’ em, grillin’ em, bakin’ em, broilin’ em, shoot I even tried flame grillin’ yall. But I juss can’t make y’all edible, y’all all taste just funny as all get out.*
“Wait. So what have you done with all the good Christians that you Raptured?”
*Oh them? Oh I ate all them I reckon and some of them never done any sinnin’ their whole life tasted so dang good it made me wanna slap my mama. See they didn’t commit any sins. I wrote that book. The uhhhh bible? Yeah the bible. I wrote that so y’all would stop doing all them things that make y’all taste so nasty tasting. Sinnin’ makes the meat all grimy and stringy. I wouldn’t feed some y’all to my hound pups. When I wrote that book I didn’t think all y’all would believe it. Just a couple of folks here and there that I could fly round and snatch up quick like. But I got real tired of only eating once a week or so. Im a hard workin fella and I get a hankering for meat. Been using this new cajun dry rub on the thighs and shoo that’s some good eating. But you got me running my mouth. I just put that stamp on some of y’all because y’all aint good to eat. Says so right on your forehead. I ain’t my fault y’all dumber than a box of rocks and think big things about what it means.*
|
Nellthe
|
Chlocker
|
2023-02-22 17:38:34
|
2023-02-22 15:24:41
| 562 | 166 |
j9kkeip
|
j9k0m2s
|
118w5n1
|
118w5n1
|
[WP] You, the dragon, are concerned that your friend the knight doesn't have a girlfriend. Deciding to try your hand at matchmaking, you kidnap a princess.
|
"I really don't see the issue here, Sir William. I think she's a really nice girl."
"Not the point, Flamespite."
I sniffle a little. "You only use my common name when you're mad."
"Well I am mad. You kidnapped a-a- a princess. Do you have any idea how much chaos this is causing? I'm pretty sure you started a war. Not to mention all the strife you put that poor girl through."
"Strife? Strife?!? She's happy here. Well, I think she is, anyway. I've kept her fed, let her into the library. Sure, she trembles like a mouse, but overall I think she's having a good time."
"You're not good with people, Flamspite."
"You know what, William? I'm not talking until you use my real name."
"You-- fine. Susan, you *have* to let her go."
"But... I only took her for you. You were supposed to save her yourself, then you'd get married and everything."
"No. Susan, what were you even thinking? That's not how people work. First of all, just because I save her doesn't mean I love her, and it certainly doesn't mean she loves me. those things take time."
"What do you mean she wouldn't love you? Doesn't everyone love you?"
"Of course not! That's not how people work. Feelings like that take time, you can't just force them like that. And why would you think everyone loves me?"
"Well, I love you, and I'm a dragon. Humans must really love you in that case. I only took her to make you happy. When humans love each other they give gifts, so I gave you someone who could love you the way a human can."
The knight covered his face with his hands and groaned. "Susan... please god tell me this isn't you proposing to me..."
"Umm..."
"Humans use rings, Susan. Rings. Not another human being."
"Oh! Ohhhh.... I'll put her back then."
"That would be nice, Susan."
|
Maria, the princess, was sitting in her room. She saw something me in the corner of her eye. I was a person-sized dragon right outside the window. She screamed. I flew in and grabbed her. She struggled to break free. I carried her away.
Arlo, a knight friend, was walking in the courtyard of his house when he looked up to see me, his friend, Chi the dragon. I was holding the princess. Arlo was angry. “Hey, Arlo. I brought you a girlfriend.” “Put her back!” I was confused. “But…” “You can’t kidnap people.” I was sad. I flew off.
That afternoon, Arlo and I were hanging out. “Chi, I wanna thank you for kidnapping he. She’s actually my ex. She was a bitch.” “Oh…you’re welcome.”
|
melancholyrefresher
|
ShySilverSurvivor
|
2023-02-21 22:35:14
|
2023-02-21 17:15:10
| 39 | 10 |
j9h14ku
|
j9fxl3o
|
11849xh
|
11849xh
|
[WP] Old mirrors were made with layer of silver. You, a vampire, spent centuries without seeing your reflection. Today, package with your first non-silver backed mirror arived.
|
One of the greatest cruelties that God cast upon his creation is that men must kill to survive. Be it flora or fauna, something must give way for them to proliferate. Men have learned to forgive themselves for this fault, invoking the authority of the creation itself by saying: "This is just the way things are. It is natural that we kill. We were born this way."
And yet, men have not learned to forgive my kind, who kill for much the same reasons as them. No, they have not forgiven us, as I imagine the swine and the trees would not forgive men, if they possessed the ability to do so. I do not blame men for hating us. I just wish they'd understand.
We are the monsters of the earth. In the old days, before smoke and tar covered the planet, they called us the spawns of Satan. They hunted us, they drove us into the wilderness, they burned us, drowned us, shoved stakes through our hearts. Now, they have no name for us. No real name, no name they believe in. So few remain of my kind, it has been centuries since I have seen one of my brothers or sisters. Men have eradicated us, then forgotten us. And though we live long lives, we are, like all of Gods creations, ephemeral, and soon shall be no more than legend.
Humans say that the eyes are the window to the soul. And though I have seen my visage reflected in the calm waters of ponds, or in the cold windows of cities, my eyes always seem to be cast in shadow; I cannot see them clearly. And for many years there has been an itch in the back of my mind, an itch not easily subdued: Is there really a soul behind these eyes of mine? What if, were I to see them clearly, all I would find in them were dead black pupils?
Perhaps we are things of the devil. What else would compel us to consume that which we find beautiful? Perhaps we are the monsters of the earth; nightmares, which deserve to be forgotten.
In their hurry to change, to innovate, to dominate, the humans have done me a service to, quite on accident. A device with which I can finally see.
I gaze into the mirror. I expect to see all the violence, all the killing reflected in my eyes. Instead, I am met with a familiar sight, something which I have seen thousands of times in the faces of my prey: The eyes of a human, full of anguish and sorrow.
|
Marie.
No? Me.
The person starting back at me through the glass was older. I'm older. And Marie is dead.
It's something in the eyes. They show the centuries even when I still look not a day older than the 20 i was when I was turned.
I had forgotten I looked so much like my older sister.
There's that slight scar on my check I got when I was 15 and me and Marie who were 18 were climbing the trees in the orchard. I was always the helion of us and I decided to swing from a limb. Would have worked good if it weren't for that branch, lucky it cut my cheek a bit, could have lost an eye. Marie helped me, cussing the sky blue while she did because she had told me so, but she helped me non the less.
It was a year before she died, the midwife said there was nothing she could do, and both Marie and her child died.
My eyes are also different, mine are tan like our father's eyes were, her's were our mothers luminous green.
I wish I could cry, but that's another thing you loose when turned.
I'm happy for the mirror. I haven't thought of Marie in years.
Next time I'll try to focus more and maybe try out one of those make up tutorials I found on YouTube.
|
TheNeonRobot
|
LynxInSneakers
|
2023-01-28 22:18:57
|
2023-01-28 21:46:42
| 78 | 43 |
j6ad15u
|
j6a8iyk
|
10nbk4p
|
10nbk4p
|
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