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[WP] On your 18th birthday, you casted your first spell. The next day, a group of fine men and women came to your house, wanting to induct you into the magical community. “Oh, so are there any big dangers or schools I need to attend to?” “Err, no. It’s just the five of us.”
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I knew what she desired even before she opened up my pyramid. I knew what she came here for even before she heard of it. But it mattered not. For she was still here.
The so called, “Queen Of Light”, who had created a world without any shadow. Every single molecule was suffused with its power, and carried forth a tide of growth, change, and life. I threatened that existence, because of what I was. Where she represented growth, I stood for different change. Where she stood for complexity, I valued simplicity. Where she wanted those to grow their paltry souls, I valued them staying true to their nature.
And here she was, staying true to hers. She walked in through the darkened halls, the light from her cloak and hair illuminating the cold dark steel. I did not move, as I stood motionless until she was in the center of the room.
“Harbinger!” She called, raising her hands up. “I seek an audience!”
I stepped forward, my shadow’s hiding my true visage. My many eyes blinked and stared down at her. The pyramid hummed in anticipation. “Speak.” I commanded.
She lowered her arms, and head. “Brother, I know we have had our past differences. I know you must hate me for what I did.”
“You imprisoned me,” I replied dryly. “Prevented me from appearing to your world.”
“Yes,” she sniffled. “I know this isn’t want you wanted, but I-“
“You needed a villain,” I stated. Slowly, I began to walk around her, my shadows nipping at my heels like angry smoky dogs. “You needed to banish the darkness from your ‘World of Light’. And I let you.”
She lifted her head up. “What?”
“Taona, you are my kin. You are confused, unsure of your nature. You do not know where you will wind up. You value life, yet you cannot predict where it will lead. But in the light, there is only death. I have no such restrictions. I know what I am, and who I will be. So when you desired a villain, I became him.”
Taona shook her head. “And yet, you are not the one who will be my downfall.”
I cocked my head to the side. “I take it the seer had given you ill omens?”
“She gave me a prophecy,” Taona began. “My first advisor, Ballum. He will…he will betray me. Steal my light, and bring ruin to my world of light. He will use my power to wage war, the one thing the light should never be used for!”
“Light scorches, such as shadows freeze.” I replied.
“Perhaps. But if Ballum is to be defeated…I must leave my people and…”
“And what?”
Taona sobbed quietly. “I must bear a son who will kill Ballum. But I don’t want to leave anymore kin to fight a war not their own. He would be a child! Unfit for conflict. There must be a way to subvert the prophecy, but I have not found any way. Which is why I have come to you.”
“Of course.” I rounded a small throne, and proceeded to sit on the stair. “Would you like to know what I think, sister?”
“Yes, of course!” She pleaded.
“Prophecies cannot be avoided. Taking steps to try and avoid them, only leads to your inevitable destiny.” I warned. “The only way to truly subvert them is to play into fate, and ensure all possibilities are accounted for. You believe Ballum will betray you? Ensure that the betrayal doesn’t effect all your loyal followers. You worry your son may use the light?”
“Of course I worry.” She commented. “I worry for a child that will misuse a gift. I would want him to be kind, caring-“
“Then teach him those attributes.” I commanded, standing up and walking toward her. “But his strength need not come from Light alone.”
“What?”
I stopped, towering over my beloved sister. “Your light values peace. His light values war. My shadow values being true to oneself. If he wishes for Justice….”
Shadows coalesced around my hand, forming into several crystals and energized strands. “Then the shadow shall aid.”
(EDIT; Woke up with like 25 replies and being yhe top comment. Bruh)
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"Brother."
A familiar voice echoed in my place of exile. Around me floated the various items I had created during my imprisonment. Sets of armour, glistening with the night's splendour. Weapons that boasted twisting shadows, each a different shape but holding equal deadly potential.
I moved them away from the change I felt. Indeed, the gray space before me started to crack, the beginning vestiges of golden light peeking through. I solidified my body for the first time in years, choosing to be an amalgamation of the various creatures of darkness I ruled over.
My head was that of an enormous wolf, long black fur. My eyes were red, matching with the prominent fangs I grew. I made my body that of the ghouls that stalked my domain, skin stretched tight over bones. My left arm was spectral, covered in flowing rags, my right a flaming companion. I finished it with the legs of a giant spider, curled beneath me as I floated.
With my form settled I watched the cracks grow. I saw the golden seal behind the walls of my prison, its intricate lines bending. I smirked as they snapped, and a ball of wings appeared. "So, you finally decide to visit me."
The wings furled, making a beacon against the darkness I lived in. "I need your help. I was wrong."
That made me laugh. "The Goddess of Light admits her failure? Say it isn't so."
A wing beat in an agitated way. Her form was more regal than mine, a trapping of the times of being worshipped. I had cast off that shackle long ago. "Brother. I am sorry. Please, I need you by my side once more."
I raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. You plan to kill my children failed. Without me there they spread, and now threaten to topple your civilisation."
Another beat confirmed it, as she spoke again. "Yes... they run amok. I... I didn't realise you were holding them back for me."
I reached out, bringing her into a hug. She fought at first, but soon relaxed in my grip. "I know you didn't. But this was something you had to work out for yourself. We are two halves sister. You give light and purpose. I bring dark and rest. My children, they have no purpose. That is why they hunt and kill. There is no end goal for them. They endure."
Her words sprung around me, dripping with guilt. "I realise that now. I'm so sorry brother. I just wanted my people to be free to grow."
I released her, gesturing to the exit. "Well then, shall we make a start?"
She gave an affirming grunt, leading the way out. I bid my creations to follow, as I returned to our watchful place over the world. They began to orbit me, and I pointed to them. "Right, you are going to want to give these to some of your followers. After all, what better way to control my children then to use my power against them?"
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Tigerstorm6
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Shalidar13
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2023-04-14 01:16:51
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2023-04-13 23:25:37
| 1,546 | 461 |
jg67kf8
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jg5svf3
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12l61xo
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12l61xo
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[WP] A man struggles to adopt a nocturnal lifestyle for his vampire girlfriend. A woman is heartbroken to lock up her werewolf fiancee every full moon. A child says goodbye to their mermaid friend because the river is too polluted. These are the untold stories of an urban fantasy world.
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A nurse calls my name, I rise from the uncomfortable waiting room chair and give her a wave. She leads me to a triage room near the waiting room and closes the door.
“So, it sounds like you’re in for rabies exposure?” she asks as she takes my blood pressure.
“Yeah, I picked up a gal at the bar, went back to her place, we do some making out, and then she revealed that she was a Vampire. I did some googling and saw that bats are the primary rabies vector in this part of the world so I figured—“
“Better safe than sorry, huh?” She interrupts.
“Exactly. It’s embarrassing, but we did a lot of kissing and I know it’s transmitted via saliva so…you know.”
“I get it. Can never be too careful,” she says as she removes the cuff. “Blood pressure looks good. Alright, we’ll get you back to see a doctor as soon as we can. We’ll see what the doc recommends based on what you’ve told me.”
I sit in the waiting room for hours as more critical cases come and go—a leprechaun with a unicorn stab wound, a mermaid in the midst of an overdose, a vampire who vomited up drug blood not five feet from me—and I can’t blame them for their triage decisions, but I’m exhausted and starting to grow impatient.
After four hours of waiting, the doctor finally calls me back.
“So, rabies exposure?” she says. “Are you certain you were exposed?”
“Well, no. But I’d rather be safe than sorry,” I reply.
“I understand there was some heavy petting with a saucy vampiress?” she says with a wink.
“Make out session,” I reply.
“And you asked the gal if she was a carrier?” she asks.
“Well, no. Seemed awkward to ask,” I reply.
“Well that makes sense. Why ask a simple and reasonable question of an intimate partner when you can undergo a series of painful injections?” she says with a chuckle.
“You know how it goes,” I say. “I just—I like this girl and I know it is a bit insensitive to assume all vampires carry rabies, but I also know that some do and it would be bad if left untreated. Plus—“
“Fatal,” interrupts the doctor. “It would be 100% fatal if you were exposed and did not get vaccination treatment for rabies. Donezo. Horrible death too.”
I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a doctor’s office and heard the word ‘fatal’ thrown around, but let me tell you it ain’t pleasant.
“Right…so that’s why I came in,” I say.
“Look. I get it,” she says. “I’ve been there. Hell, I myself have a thing for pale night walkers. I’ve personally been vaccinated so that I don’t have to worry about it either. There’s just something about a pasty man that can throw you around that—sorry, it’s been a long night.
“Ok. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’ll get two injections tonight. One immunoglobulin injection that is human anti-bodies which will help jumpstart your immune response. The other is the rabies vaccine. Then you’ll return for three more vaccine doses over the next month.”
“Sounds great,” I reply.
“I should warn you though,” says the doctor, “the immunoglobulin that we inject is…a large shot. It goes in your ass and it’s going to hurt like hell.”
“Oh, goody,” I say.
“Any questions?” she asks.
“Yeah, am I able to, you know, go out with this gal while I go through the course of treatment?”
“Oh, sure, sure. Even if she’s a carrier you should be fine to continue relations with her as we administer your vaccinations.”
What a relief it was to hear. I would be able to see her again soon. There’s playing hard to get and then there’s ghosting a gal for a month.
The doctor comes back into the room with the syringes ready to go.
“Ready, big guy?” she says.
I don’t know if you’ve ever been called, ‘big guy’ by a doctor who is your own age, but let me tell you it ain’t pleasant.
“Big guy?” I ask.
“Oh, ha,” she chuckles, “I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to Vlad here.”
“Vlad?” I ask.
“Yeah, the immunoglobulin syringe. We call it Vlad the Impaler because of, you know, vampires. That and it very much impales you.”
“Jesus Christ,” I say.
“He can’t help you here!” she says with a comical Transylvanian accent.
Then she impales my ass with Vlad.
The things I do for love.
______
r/InMyLife42Archive
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To most foreigners, Toledo is a much sought-after place to live the American Dream. Beneath the hustle and bustle of the city, there lies the designated Urban Fantasy Districts, where all manner of supernatural creatures live.
Toledo Untold Stories is a storytelling project to help humans and supernaturals share their stories of the challenges they face when they cross the line established by the Masquerade.
A man struggles to adopt a nocturnal lifestyle for his vampire girlfriend. A woman is heartbroken to lock up her werewolf fiancee every full moon. A child says goodbye to their mermaid friend because the river is too polluted. These are their untold stories.
"For me, falling in love with Carmilla quite literally turned my life upside down. I had to quit my cushy job and pick up a lower pay as a night shift duty guard so we could actually have time together. Otherwise, I will be working when she is asleep and vice versa! The nocturnal life is a chaotic mess for my biological clock and sometimes I wonder if my sanity was worth giving up for the love of my life. Sometimes I wonder if she will remember everything we did together when she inevitably outlives me..."
- Richard, a 32-year-old former finance manager who now works as a night shift security guard while dating Carmilla, 151-year-old Countess of Karnstein.
"My female friends tell me of their monthly troubles, but my trouble is double! My 2nd trouble is locking up my dear George every full moon. He's such a sweet, gentle man, but his wolf side is an absolute horror he cannot control! What did he do to deserve this? He didn't ask to be turned! All he asked was to be chained and thrown into our basement every full moon so he wouldn't hurt anyone. Before this mess, he wouldn't even hurt a fly! I haven't even told my parents my fiancee was bitten and turned into a werewolf...would they accept him now? I don't know..."
- Lisa (not her real name), an accountant whose high school sweetheart was bitten and converted into a werewolf just a year ago.
"I loved swimming, as a kid, I used to go down to the Smolbrok River because its waters and surroundings were beautiful. It was there that I met my best friend Ariel. She was a lovely mermaid who always gifted me with wonders from the river after our weekly swim together. My last swim with her was decades ago...before Matlan Pharmaceuticals moved in and their laboratories contaminated the rivers. It was so sudden when Ariel just blurted out that this would be our last swim. It still feels like yesterday sometimes...I've posted a few photos we've taken together online, please help me find my childhood best friend..."
- Benji, a 45-year-old fisherman, recounting a tale of lost innocence and friendship as Big Pharma ruined the once pristine waters of SmolBrok.
Over the last few years, we've gathered captivating stories that otherwise would not make news headlines from our diverse community of star-crossed friends and lovers, mortals and supernaturals.
Do you have an untold story to share with us?
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None
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Tregonial
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2023-03-24 06:39:11
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2023-03-24 03:32:36
| 403 | 77 |
jdglmpj
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jdg4kis
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1202ej3
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1202ej3
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[WP] You're in class one day when a beast straight out of fantasy crashes through the door head first. On its heel is your always bullied and unpopular classmate, who swiftly and effortlessly hacks it in two with a sword from behind. They look up to see everyone staring at them. "Aw, shit."
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His legal name actually is Dick Smelzi. Not Richard. Not Rick. But Dick. Combined with his last name. Who would name their kid that? When my parents first heard me mention his name, they thought I was joking. My protestations fell on deaf ears. They grounded me for a week when I tried to insist that is his real name.
He tried to go by nicknames, but every new substitute teacher doing roll call would cause us to giggle uncontrollably.
What made it worse was that he lived on a pig farm, and the odor, like a miasma, followed him everywhere, despite everything he did.
You can guess what the bullies called him.
And he was short, scrawny, funny looking, and had a stutter. He was playing life on hard mode.
Of course my classmates bullied him. Mercilessly. Didn't help that his parents were some sort of weirdos who wouldn't let him hang out with other kids or do any after school activities. His parents were a pair of religious weirdos who didn't believe in movies, television shows, music or even the internet. He lacked the social connections and cultural touchstones that could have helped him.
Yet somehow, slowly, over the years, he managed to make friends. It took him awhile, but he improved his charisma and started making friends. Given enough time, I could even see him becoming a popular kid in high school. But of course there were still bullies. He was building his social network, but he was still low enough on the social pecking order to be a target.
But he persisted. Despite the year of illness that kept him out of school, destroying much of his progress with making friends. Or when his parents threatened to sue the school over halloween, which caused the yearly halloween party to get banned. He often had setbacks like this - almost as if something was trying to make his life as difficult as possible.
I was in class the day some tentacled horror burst in. We all screamed, of course. Just to see Dick run in behind it, pull a katana from seemingly out of nowhere, and cleave it in two. The halves fell to the floor, then evaporated.
The he saw us.
"Aw shit," he said, his face filled with disappointment and anger. "Must have accidentally enabled the Lovecraft mod when I installed the social challenge mod."
He sighed.
"And I was on a good pace this run."
He looked around again. "Meta command: reset game"
My confusion was the last thing I would ever experience.
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The class applauds them, and the beast is cleaned up by a specialist team who'll be sending it off to a lab for analysis.
Then, things continue as normal - though the bullies have had a change of thinking and are willing to learn (not only in class, but from the usual class scapegoat), for once.
This world has been seeing anomalous events where at least one person, usually the 'underdog' or someone who would be responsible and well-mannered, ends up with great and terrible power - and 'displaced' beasts or enemies to use it on.
So far there have been reports of orc clans being displaced from fantasy worlds, though they usually regroup and attempt to enact some kind of ritual to try and open a portal, often borrowing junkyard metals to craft a portal frame and try to power it.
Successful portals usually led to the orc clans leaving, with the portal machine falling apart mere minutes after and ceasing to be functional.
Common belief is that these devices are literal magitech. Other displaced groups often attempt the same feat - or, in rare cases, attempt to integrate with local society.
A similarly common anomaly of these displaced entities is beings who possess sufficient linguistic ability are able to speak the world's common languages - often English and whatever local language is spoken - with enough nuance to properly convey themselves.
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dasunt
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OSadorn
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2024-02-03 23:43:22
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2024-02-03 17:55:36
| 136 | 39 |
kot1khk
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korixlj
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1ai125n
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1ai125n
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[WP] The dancing plague of 1518 returns and through social media the contagion spreads fast and globally. You're one of the few survivors in an apocalyptic wasteland, hiding from the dancing horde.
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“Oh, which name would you like?” the human smiled and leaned against a tree.
The Fae with a thousand names chuckled, he loved this part, the back and forth, especially with a target that seemed to know the game. The ones that thought they could get one over him were always the most delicious.
“Let’s start with your most recent name, no harm in that, right?” he said with a disarming smile, allowing some of his Fae features to come out, why not. Bright butterfly wings that somehow were solid and yet passed through his clothes faded into existence.
“Xris” the human didn’t appear fazed by the wings appearing, he didn’t even glance at them.
He felt the name come to him, felt the power begin trickling in. “Excellent, but that isn’t your real true name is it?” He pulled on the power and frowned for just a second, Xris should have felt that, should have been losing power already. “Tell me another name, what is your true name, what your soul name is.”
“I can’t tell you” the man who used to be called Xris said with a bored voice.
“Oh?” The Fae drifted closer, smiling disarmingly as he came within arms reach. having one name was enough to prevent any attacks, or at least he’d be able to feel it coming.
The entity previously known as Xris opened his eyes and looked deeply into Taen’s. A name spilled out, forming into pure knowledge and therefore power within the Fae, but the name was not simple, nor a name. It was something else, something that even his kind was not meant to understand. He saw the universe, the multiverse, outside the multiverse in those eyes.
And somewhere in that sea of knowledge and power he saw him, Xris, along with millions of his true names. But he couldn’t control him. Xris reached towards him with his true form, and Taen took it willingly.
—-
Xris smiled as he handed the vial to the Demon wearing the silver scale on his left breast. “Taen won’t be bothering anyone else, here are the names he borrowed, I’m sure you can return them to their proper owners.”
The demon wanted to ask what happened to the Fae, but was too terrified to ask. He just nodded while taking the vial and watched the human, or what looked to be a human walk back towards the docks.
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A horrifying aura washed over Maeya, her ears resounding with the screams and whispers of a thousands twisting souls. They filled her mind, relentless, overlapping, infectious and unavoidable.
“I sorry! I didn’t-“
Maeya collapsed to her knees, wings crumpling under some otherworldly pressure, skin boiling.
“You can have it back! I’m sorry! I return your name to you!”
But the man did not accept it.
“No. It’s ok, really.” The man—no, the creature—spoke, his voice now hauntingly inhuman and uncannily relaxed, as a wide girn formed on his face, “I’m sure you have more need of it than I.”
“No no no! I insist! Please take it back!!!”
“Such a nice young lady…” and the thing walked off, ignoring Maeya’s pleas, whistling softly to itself.
“Please, please—OH god, the whispers! The screams!”—and she could not tell which was louder—“Make it stop!”
Her blood began to curdle, her bones to turn to jelly, she felt a sudden pressure push from behind her eyes.
“I am a regal spirit of the fey wilds…” she tried to yell triumphantly, to stand, but the words left her mouth as barely a mutter while she lay limp on the ground, “I shall not be-“
Her head imploded.
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Brookzerker
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jakerabz
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2025-01-28 03:01:23
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2025-01-28 00:57:15
| 471 | 347 |
m9ko1mr
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m9k149x
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1ibnzta
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1ibnzta
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[WP] "are you another so called hero? here to save the princess from my clutches?" no, i am but a simple scholar. i just want to know why you would kidnap a princess in the first place"
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“You might not be a hero picking a fight with me, but you have made the same fundamental mistake as they have by assuming I am behind Princess Peach’s kidnapping,” Bowser sighed. “Look I know what I did in the past, but I swear it isn’t me this time. Your princess is in another castle.”
Yoshi bowed and left Bowser’s castle by the back door. This felt no different than his past adventures with Mario and Luigi, traversing through different worlds, bonking boss after boss in their respective castles. Only to find Princess Peach not to be in the castle at all.
“Oh, and I’m not buying that scholar act, so don’t expect the others to believe that shit!” yelled Bowser just as Yoshi closed the door behind him.
Next was King Boo’s ghost castle. It was no longer to his surprise that the real exit would only appear if he bumped the correct box with his head. Clearly, Mario’s old foes still kept up the same old habits. After a couple of stomps on the head, King Boo surrendered with an angry expression.
“Simple scholar my foot, Yoshi! Quit stomping on me already, I lost, I lost! Oh, and your princess isn’t with me. Go get your princess in another castle.”
He now stormed into Wario’s abode to find Peach, only to find the latter wasn’t even up to a fight. Wario was seated on a bean bag, playing Mario Kart on his console with his girlfriend Mona by his side.
“Do I look like I have Princess Peach anywhere here, Yoshi? I have Mona right here,” he said, receiving a smooch from her right on cue. “Clearly, your princess —”
“is in another castle. I’ve heard that a gazillion times, Wario. Sorry for disturbing your game, I’ll get going, hope you have a fun weekend,” Yoshi replied as he headed out to his next destination.
He found Waluigi hunched over his console, also playing Mario Kart. “Yoshi stop distracting me or I’ll lose to Wario, dammit! Quit digging around my home looking for a princess that isn’t here!”
“Magikoopa! It’s you who kidnapped Princess Peach this time, isn’t it!” Yoshi yelled as he barged into the castle to stomp on the Koopa wizard.
“I have a name, and its Kamek, you dumb dinosaur! What’s your problem?”
“Did you kidnap Princess Peach?”
“NO! Why would I do that again? I got stomped into the ground six feet under by Mario and his pals the last time I did it. Who told you the princess got kidnapped anyway?”
“Toad of the Mushroom Kingdom,” Yoshi said.
“Toad is a fucking idiot. There’s no kidnapping at all. Princesses Daisy, Rosalina, and Peach all snuck out to go play Mario Party together somewhere,” Kamek retorted as he picked his hat off the ground. “I’m a brainy Koopa, it’s my shtick to know things. Look, I’ll throw in a map so you can find the girls if you would promise not to stomp on me again.”
Having followed the map to this secret hideout, it was to his surprise that Kamek wasn’t lying.
“Yoshi? Are you here to join us? We could do with one more player for Mario Party!” Princess Peach waved. “Toad doesn’t know about this gathering, does he? We worked really hard to throw him off because he isn’t a very good team player.”
After some thought, Yoshi figured it would be a good idea to have fun after a long and arduous journey. Just one hour or two before he returned to Mario and Luigi.
**
Bowser sat down on the floor dejectedly. "Mario, please stop stomping on me. Yes, I saw Yoshi about a month ago, trying to look for Princess Peach. And no, I didn't kidnap Peach or Yoshi. They're both in another castle."
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Edit: I realized I botched Heather near the end and swapped her to Harold. I corrected those parts, so the three ladies have dinner together.
---
"Excuse me... Could you repeat that?!" I cleaned my ears out in bewilderment, waiting for more.
"Nay, dear villainess. I'm not here to fight your horde of knights and various mages or the Arch Knights. I merely wish to interview you, if that's alright." The young lady bowed before me.
I sat, silent while I started thinking about the letters Princess Alliway and I sent to one another and the brief moments we were able to steal in secrecy. The way her eyes reflect the waters of the land, a smile, brighter than even the sun itself, lighting even the deepest reaches of my heart. How soft and smooth her hair feels against my fingertips as we cuddle during those nights.
"My apologies, dear scholar, but I'm afraid you're mistaken on the kidnapping bit." I smiled wide as Princess Alliway entered the throne room.
"I came of my own volition, not by thievery or force. I've fallen in love with Princess Phiona, of the Land of 'Darkness' as others call it... But this is the brightest place I've been to since stealing away many nights." I couldn't help but grin at my girlfriend.
"Oh, I see. So King and Queen Alliway accused you of kidnapping, when that's not the case at all?" The young scholar jotted down in her parchment. "May I proceed with learning more about the relationship you two have?" Her own heart melted at the sight of the two beautiful women before her. Their love reminded her of what she had with her late boyfriend, Allibaster before his passing due to an unknown illness.
"Scholar, you may proceed. But, pray tell, what is your name?" I felt Princess Alliway place her hands in mine as i gently held them.
"My name, my ladies, is Heather. It is my pleasure to interview you both." She bowed humbly. Such a kind woman.
"How about we talk about it all over a feast? I'm quite famished." I smiled at Heather and Princess Alliway. "Yvette, how about you?"
I loved watching her face stretch from ear-to-ear as she smiled. "Yes, my love. I'm quite hungry myself! Let us eat!"
And so, we went off to the kitchen to advise the staff of what we would like and that they are welcome to join us. "Take your time, good food is better with patience."
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Tregonial
|
ChloeWrites
|
2023-08-06 15:38:10
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2023-08-06 13:55:42
| 121 | 49 |
jv1h1kp
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jv12z1n
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15jnrjx
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15jnrjx
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[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.
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"Preparation fluid at saturation. Begin Stage One."
The measured words made my heart race. I was voluntarily strapped to a slab, lifted into a near vertical position. I had seen it as I lay in place, with various instruments, tubes and wires I couldn't hope to understand. Not that I needed to. I was merely the test subject.
A series of hisses was my first warning, closely followed by a stabbing sensation along my spine. I groaned, closing my eyes at the ice cold feeling around each site. It made me shiver, though I kept my breathing as level as possible. I had been through hell in training. I could take this.
A further hiss told me the injections were done. The needles retracted from my spine, leaving the serum in me. I didn't feel any different yet, beyond the cold. But then I didn't know what to expect. I was the very first subject. This was unknown territory.
"Stage One complete. Begin Stage Two."
This part I wasn't looking forward to. I had been pre-warned, but that didn't help with the anticipation. I felt two paddles lie against my exposed back, swiftly followed by a hum. I couldn't help myself from tensing, as they activated. It felt like a low level taser, my muscles tightening around each paddle.
Now I felt something different. My spine ached, but not from overuse. This felt more like it was being held back, like it needed to move, needed to grow. Yet it didn't stop there. The feeling spread, reaching around my chest, and covering each limb. I felt small, trapped, wating for release.
The sounds around me muffled, as my heartbeat rang in my ears. A slow, steady beat, as if my panic had been utterly forgotten. Each breath echoed in my skull, like a gale outside the window at night. A brief opening of my eyes showed the light too bright to see anything, stabbing at my pupils.
I barely felt the final injection, as it was plunged into my chest. This one came with a burning heat, the opposite of the chill now encasing my body. They mixed, and my world became pain. Bones cracked, muscles tore, and tendons snapped.
But they reformed, taking on a better, stronger shape. I strained against my bonds, feeling the metal bending. I growled, thrashing about. It hurt. It hurt so much. I couldn't think. I needed out. I needed away. It was just agony.
After what seemed like an eon, the pain began to subside. I began to notice the room around me, filled with the smell of people. Their cologne and deodorant stuck in my throat, making me gag. But I also smelled the defecation around me, a result of the violent changes to my body.
The bonds around my limbs felt different. They were larger now, but still as tight. I growled again, deliberately pulling. This time they snapped with ease, letting me feel myself again. I heard gasps as I did, with a faint increase in the low drumming around me.
Finally I opened my eyes. The room.was brighter, each colour sharper. But around each scientist and soldier, I could see a glowing aura. New instincts told me it was their body heat, now so clear to me.
The leader of this project stepped forwards, an older man in a white coat. I remembered him, Doctor Insbeck. He stared up at me, when before he had looked at eye level. "It's beautiful.... The first super-beast. How do you feel?"
The word beast echoed in my head. I glanced at myself, seeing a chitinous growth over my broadened chest. My arms were thick, ending in hands tipped with long claws. A new feeling at the base of my back moved, revealing a long, whip-like tail.
I was meant to be a super human. A super soldier, that is what they had said. Not a beast. Not a monster. I didn't know how to feel. I didn't know what to think. Until my stomach growled, alerting me of the emptiness I felt within.
I looked down at the doctor, grinning to reveal sharp teeth. I spoke slowly, adjusting to speaking with a new vocal cord. "Hungry...."
|
# Soulmage
**Anyone else would have questioned the number of guards around the simple bed.** Six witches, two ambassadors from the Eldritch Initiative, and four disgruntled-looking young soldiers with shortswords surrounded Iola as he sauntered towards the center of the room.
But Iola felt good about this. He always felt good—he was just an upbeat kind of person—but the power that the Eldritch Initiative had promised him was so close he could almost taste it.
Wait, no, that was blood. He'd bitten his tongue in excitement. Oh, well, it was far from the first time.
"Now be warned, the process is currently irreversible." Iola had to work around quite a few bureaucratic loops in order to get here—teenagers were *not* supposed to become experimental extradimensional entities. But the man in front of him didn't recognize Iola, and Iola didn't recognize him. "This is your last chance to back out."
The corners of Iola's lips twitched. "Things always work out for me," he said. "I'm quite happy where I am, thank you very much."
The man shrugged. "Well, a test subject is a test subject. Do you have the sample?" He asked, turning towards the ambassador.
The vaguely humanoid puppet of flesh held out... Iola craned his neck, curious. What was that, some kind of potted plant? It was gnarled and ancient and *boring*, so Iola didn't bother thinking about it any further. "You will have to perform the infection yourself, of course."
The man nodded. "For your own safety, please lie down on the—ah, there you go." He came forward, holding the potted plant. "This should only take a moment."
Iola stared at the ceiling, humming to himself, excited for the changes. Would there be a surge of strength as his muscles grew? Ooh, would he sprout razor-sharp claws and wings? Or a fire-breathing snout and powerful jaws?
But the changes were not so... physical.
The anticipation turned andric as Iola's expression contorted, the upbeat joy he constantly felt sickening into varination. Iola's eyes bulged as his neurons were rewired, the new emotions coursing through his mind as familiar and human as chyme was to water.
And then it was done. Though not a single fiber of his perfectly-combed hair was out of place, someone else looked out from behind Iola's eyes.
"Infection complete," the man reported. "Tell me, Iola. How do you feel?"
Iola worked its jaw, twisting it this way and that, until it settled into a dorceless gape.
"I feel humber," Iola said, and the pulsating of his eyes confirmed it. "I feel *good.*"
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a story written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/), or r/bubblewriters for more.
|
Shalidar13
|
meowcats734
|
2023-08-06 00:30:55
|
2023-08-06 00:14:29
| 105 | 26 |
juywnf6
|
juyuk2l
|
15j8mzq
|
15j8mzq
|
[WP] You wake up to find out that you've been somehow transported into the world of the last video game you played. Describe your first day.
|
As I come to myself, a cold breeze washes over my naked body. All but a cloth covers me, serving as my underwear, and I scratch my skin, it itches from lying on the dirt.
My eyes are still trying to adjust to the light, while clanging footsteps can be heard in the distance. An all too familiar scene is around me. Behind me a door of a derelict tomb, and in front a rocky clift with a path leading down into a florest. A ruined church can be noticed in the distance, but even farther away on top of a hill I can see stone walls. From the florest it emerges, a gigantic knight in golden armor riding a black horse, carrying a giant spear and shield.
Just over the boulder where it should be, I see no grace. There is no Varre to meet me, after all I'm only human, not tarnished. I am no one of renown, no hero or villain. I know I won't survive. I don't know why I should try to. Having just woken up, I feel the urge to take a leak, and with nobody in sight I piss over some bushes, an eye over the knight and another to my surroundings. Something warm touches my right toes, and I see my pee streaming into my foot, breaking my stance and having me awkwardly readjusting my feet.
With no remarkable skill or survival knowledge, and no clear objective, I steer clear of the knight and try to reach the church where Kale hangs out. My bare feet hurt, I'm not accustomed to walking without shoes, and I'm cold. I constantly hear flying bugs around me, which add to disconfort and have me stroking my arms, legs and back, trying to shoo them away. I try to gather plants so I can sell them to Kale, I guess these are Rowa Fruits? They are far smaller and fewer than I thought, look like guava seeds and smell like wet fallen leafs. I wonder if they are edible but avoid the test for now, and with the fruits in hand I continue on towards the church while the tall grass and bushes scratch against my skin. My knee hurts, I've had two surgeries and poorly recovered, mobility and agility are going to be my biggest handicaps.
I see Kale and his campfire, and some hope refreshes me, but I approach with caution, trying to remember: he is not my friend, he doesn't know me, and I'm no one to him.
"Hello there" I say clumsy, english not being my first language.
He eyes me up and down, and I'm not sure if it's the cold or fear that I'm shivering with.
"Almost mistook you for a tarnished... Or are you? Oh, where are my manners... Good day to you."
"No, I don't think I am... a tarnished. May I sit by your fire? It's cold."
"By the looks of you, I see no harm." - he signals towards the fire - "Then why not, and while you're at it, why not purchase a little something? I am Kale, Purveyor of fine goods."
"Sure, thanks" - I limp towards the fire and sit just a little too close, the heat hurting my legs but my back is still feeling a cold breeze. Kale lays out the usual items he sells in-game
"Do you have something... more basic? I could use some footwear, or a shirt"
" I have these chain leggings and armor, if you can spare 2000 runes" -Kale answers.
"Can we eat this?" I ask, handing out the Rowa Fruits. Kale frowns "- you're not from around here, are you? Most people here have become husks serving or fighting mad kings, but you still have your wits about you... And a kind of innocence."
"No, I'm not... What can you give me for the fruit?"
"10 Runes" he says bluntly.
|
8am
Fuck. I've been isekaied.
Sure, sounds great in theory. Learn magic, become a hero. Except in reality you are a homeless guy with no money or training, not that chosen one that keep killing gigantic monsters.
Still, I am the newest citizen in Gran Soren, and I have to find a way to survive. Inside the city, of course... I am not going out there to get killed by the first goblin I encounter.
Will I even be able to learn magic? Will healing items work on me?
10am
OK, I am much more optimistic now. I found a big stick and have been demolishing all crates I find. The barrels I just open, why smash them? I even found some chests. I now have a silly hat, some fruit, and several sacks of gold. I just hope the stuff will respawn at some point, because damaging other people's property right in front of them so I can take the single item or sack of gold they store in it is going to be my new vocation.
12am
The tavern food was quite ok, and better than the stuff I found. Still, that inn charges a hefty sum. Should I really sleep there, or is there a cheaper solution?
1pm
Noone cares if you just take a nap on a bed in the inn. I guess I'll be fine.
2pm
There are a lot of Pawns in this city. They really just wander around and don't do much. They look human, can talk, but don't do much if a real human isn't ordering them about. I think some tests are in order.
6pm
So, there's good news and there's bad news. The good news is that you can really just go to a Pawn and tell them to do stuff, and there is a good chance they'll actually do it, even if I am no some Arisen that can summon them. Some of them agreed to go smash crates and stuff for me, though it seems I have to go with them or they just forget and wander off.
The bad news is that I had the idea that maybe, just maybe, the Pawns would take commands beyond just "go there, smash that". To be a bit more clear, I tested what a certain red-headed Pawn named Judy would do for me if I asked very nicely. And yes, it seems some Pawns do react favorably to the command "Show me your boobies".
Unfortunately the guard that saw me do that was not as favorably inclined. Seems there are some laws against "Improper conduct with Pawns". I now sit in a dungeon cell, and not only did they take most of my money, they even took my silly hat.
|
FellaVentura
|
ElminsterTheMighty
|
2024-03-08 23:58:54
|
2024-03-08 23:20:13
| 68 | 32 |
ktzva96
|
ktzpe9k
|
1b9y4xy
|
1b9y4xy
|
[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.
|
“Reformation.”
“What?” The devil asks incredulously.
“He arrived at Heaven’s Gate with a frown on his face. When I asked him, ‘what was the matter’ he looked at me with the most gentle eyes. For a while he did not speak but I could *feel* his sorrow. It was as if…” the angel hesitated. “It was as if he was *suffering*.”
“Suffering? In Heaven?! Have the end of days come already?!” The devil’s laugh reverberated the very caustic air around him. “So then did he say anything?”
“Yes. He did.”
His response was short and solemn.
For many centuries the devil has known the angel to be haughty and condescending but never has he seen this look on him before. “How pitiful” he thought, withdrawing his smile a bit but still very much amused.
“He said, ‘While I was living, there were so many men and women who needed salvation. Hunger, illness, and strife plagued the lands. Many died and many more have suffered. Humanity has sinned to merely live a basic life. There was no livelihood! For what reason did they wrought each day?! A warm meal?! A warm bed?! Good health?!’” The angel stopped as if there was a lump in his throat.
“Speak, angel, I shall hear more of this” said the devil impatiently.
“People who have sinned have lost God’s favor…” the angel spoke almost in a whisper. “He said, ‘It was not their fault for being seduced by needing what they did not have. But what happened did happen. I did all I could to mend those pour souls while I was still living. But now… now I must give salvation to those who have lost their way. Once more. Please. Please allow me to go to the land of sinners. I want to give them the restitution of peace with the sacrifice of my own blood and soul. I want to give them salvation.”
The devil bellowed. “WHAT?!? THAT’S THE MOST PREPOSTEROUS THING I’VE HEARD IN ETERNITY!” The volcanic geysers erupted behind them as he huffed and he snarled. But after pondering for a moment, he grinned again. “I must meet this mortal. Who is he? I’ll be sure to give him a warm welcome. If he desires to help these tormented things then he shall be given the chance to do so.” There was a glint in his dark eyes.
The angel pointed to the man in the distance whom was peering down into pits of hell. He gestured for him to come over. As he approached his fair olive skin glistened with sweat from the smoldering heat and his long brown hair danced about just as the ashes and smoke that breathed on his face. He had an ascetic and austere figure but his cadence was the embodiment of grace. His face expressed modesty and serenity but his eyes, just as the angel had said, was filled with grief and sorrow. Oh but his eyes! There was something more! There was anguish. But there was also fierceness. It had conviction in them, a sort of crazed forlorn hope that seemed to burn brighter than the flames surrounding him. The devil stood bewildered. It took some time before he finally noticed this but the man before him was no mere mortal. His very soul emanated and radiated light on his skin like armor.
The man stopped a few steps away from the devil and angel and opened his mouth to speak.
“Hello. My name is Jesus. I am the son of God.”
|
"How interesting is it?" The shadowy figure, that was much darker than even the pitch black room that he sat in.
Speaking in a dissonant swill of tones and frequencies that would offend any living thing that heard it.
"How interesting is it that such a turn of events would occur now, with your followers twisting the word of your *lord*, while we, down here, are telling his truth without fear of retribution. For is it not said in your books that we can only lie?"
His voice was barely recognizable from the sound of the paint peeling from the walls of this room, and yet, it has the barest hints of disbelief.
At the other half of the room, a figure of such brilliant light, that it almost overtakes the darkness that opposed her, sets of wings counting two and two folding over her form, to grace her with the barest of modesty that her radient form could afford.
She was stoic, almost perfectly so, but the figure staring her down could very easily tell, *she was nervous.*
***very, nervous***
"We can't accept him up there." She said, her voice almost robotic with how still it was.
"He has a life full of virtue and righteousness, he has not blasphemed, nor indulged, nor even **seen** sin."
A moment that seemed endless passed
"And yet, we can't let him through the gates, not even let him stretch his arm through." Her heart beat so fast, it made no sound, and yet the shadow sitting across from her still counted each thump.
The shadow smiled, his teeth even blacker than the shadow he cast on the shadows surrounding him.
"And why is that?" Feigning ignorance and innocence, this shadow was.
"Should he walk through, fully, he would be blinded both again and even more than he was in life." She looked away before looking back a few momentary eternities later.
"But he wouldn't be blind down below, in the deep, the dark, the caverns." She finished saying
The shadow smiled even wider than mortal lips would allow and said only the following words, before vanishing from the room the two sat in.
"Isn't that ironic?"
Shortly after he left, the being of light finally collapsed, a sweaty mess.
|
TikkiTakiTomtom
|
Right_Teaching456
|
2023-06-29 23:50:04
|
2023-06-29 22:01:34
| 39 | 27 |
jq2awc5
|
jq1vyoi
|
14m6mdv
|
14m6mdv
|
[WP] You had the perfect dirt to blackmail them and sent them an anonymous threat. Instead of money, you receive a photograph of your child entering their school.
|
A promise is a promise.
Talkers make threats. I've never been much of a talker. I make promises. I don't think Governor McCullah understood that when he responded the way he did. Typical for a political dirtbag to threaten harm upon a child.
"I know," my daughter, Penny, says as I slap the picture down on the dinner table. "They were sloppy. I didn't bother with countersurveillance. Didn't want to show my hand."
I nod appreciatively. "Clever girl," I say. She takes a bite of the lasagna on her plate. "Sho he didn't take de bait?" I clear my throat. "Don't talk with your mouth full, dear," I say. "No, he's opted for a different strategy." Penny takes another bite, but swallows before responding. "Well our hands are tied, then. You'll release the dirt tonight?" I nod.
"We'll both need to be careful. Double back. Be aware. Pick up your tools on your way to school tomorrow. You remember the dumpster dead drop?" Penny wipes her mouth and nods. "I could use some practice." I laugh as she smirks. "My ass, you do," I say. "I can't afford to take on a hit squad with broken ribs, young lady. I think we both know you're not rusty."
Penny laughs, and I summon all my willpower to conceal the fear I feel. I know she'll be ok. I know she could take on anyone they send to take her or harm her. What I'm afraid of is what killing a person will cost her. What I'm most afraid of is that it won't cost her anything. That she won't feel the burden of that weight at all. She finishes her dinner and puts her dishes in the sink.
"Can I go down to the range?" she asks. "Homework first," I say. "Then you can hit the range, but only if you do your stretches before bed." Her smile lightens the weight on my heart. "Thanks, Daddy!" She runs off. I push my own plate to the side. I'm too nervous to be hungry. I open my laptop and open the program I wrote to disseminate the dirt anonymously, just in case. I run the executable, and the console application gets to work packaging up the evidence.
Packaging evidence... Complete!
Press Y to disseminate. Press any other key to escape.
My finger hovers over the Y key.
"A promise is a promise."
***TAP***
|
I stare at the picture that came from the unmarked envelope in my mailbox. There is a child, not more than ten years old, walking into James Mason Elementary. I knew Principle Martinez and some of his *dealings*, so I sent him a little notice. An educator's life is already fragile, easy to ruin in the court of public opinion, and if he didn't want his secret to go public, he'd have to offer me a cut.
I am confused by the picture of this tiny but fiery redhead, the face partially obscured by the camera angle. Who was this kid?
I pull out the enclosed note, and another picture slips out. Another redhead. A *familiar* redhead. Shit. Was that night actually ten years ago? No one was supposed to know. I wouldn't call it a "scandal", but I can't let it get out. Not now. Not when there's too much to gain ahead of me.
So, I guess we'll be keeping each others' secrets for a while.
. . .
*Just a short one, since "your child" brought up feels of "I don't have/want children" made me think, BUT WHAT IF* :p
|
jpb103
|
painstream
|
2023-08-09 13:15:30
|
2023-08-09 12:37:03
| 118 | 18 |
jvfs350
|
jvfn6l0
|
15m8o3z
|
15m8o3z
|
[WP] In a world of dragons, sorcery, war, and monsters, there are many risks and even risk takers. Everyone though, elf, monster, or man knows to avoid those few ancient ruins that contain symbols of suffering and a word of the ancients, RADIATION.
|
It has long been known that the Precursors, seemingly distantly related to Humans, harnessed lost energies capable of both raising cities and leveling them. Energies so powerful that they could melt one's body into itself by mere proximity. The Radiant, as the material has been named, is rare. However, just a handful of the valuable pellets could fuel an entire city for months to even years, though how the Precursors seemingly extracted more energy than the pellets could reasonably contain is unknown. It is, of course, assumed to be arcane in nature, as with the rest of their artifacts.
The warmth, a lie.
At some point around the time of the Convergence, a turning point in Precursor history that seemed to cause a descent into madness, they locked these energies away in erratic basalt structures. Collapsed towers, corrupted Maze-Cities, platforms between hills littered with runes of danger. No one knows what caused the appearance of the Anomalies, but it is commonly understood to have been related to the subsequent downfall of the Precursors. The few who survive long enough to both enter and leave the Anomalies rarely live more than a month after returning home. Most of those survivors are Elves though, who instead usually die after a year.
The tombs, a shield.
The brightest Dwarven scholars of Dhenfaldur determined that, at some point between recent history and the Convergence, in an event known as the Cataclysm, the planet grew cold, angry, and hostile to life. It killed all but the most stalwart of plants, and its rage did not fade for decades. It is estimated that the best preserved Precursor cities fell during this time, having been spared from the original Cataclysm that all but erased the rest.
The world, a warning.
Many theories exist on what caused the Cataclysm, marking the complete disappearance of Precursor civilization, but many major proposals focus on the Broken Mountains, a range believed to have been rent apart by the Precursors. The center of this split is the largest Anomaly known to exist, a massive basalt pillar seemingly dropped from the sky, jealously guarded by the Dragons. No visitor, not even Elvish, has lasted more than a day after exploring it, but all tell stories of a distorted place so Radiant that most of the area inside has melted. Many experience the same fate, melting into their beds before poisoning their surroundings with the same Radiant Energy locked away by the Precursors.
The Radiant, a corruption.
And yet, some fools refuse to leave the Anomalies alone. Many die each year due to this, to the point that hubris and the Radiant energies have been intertwined.
In that case, perhaps lost technologies, especially those harvesting the Radiant, should remain lost, so the Cataclysm may never occur again. At least, not before we can do away with the hubris shared by the Precursors.
|
Inspite of the warnings, we a party of 4 decided to enter the wild magic zones known as “Nuclear Sights” by the ancient artificers.
We worked tirelessly to create suits of anti-magic material. At first we were concerned that we’d have to wear suits of lead, but Clavicus found a way to turn a specific sap into a stretchy substance that kept most forms of magic out of them. We armed ourselves with magic items even knowing that the wild magic area would make them unpredictable.
With the aid of an old dragon we were able to enter a radiation sight, a wild forest in the north western part of the globe. An old sign called the Forrest Leamington according to Karsus.
At an active sight we dawned our gear and entered the radiation sight. Our enchanted lights burned bright the further we got in. The canopy covered what’s a baron ruin sight. Many other scholars have given up at the canopy, but someone has to catalogue the ancient sights.
Other than the canopy the area has little life other than the cataloged runners that were already familiar with. The closer we got to the centre the less ruins were seeing. Life is more chaotic here with different variations of runners. We have a few working names but for ease of time we called the new ones stretchers, flyers, and ground swimmers. All still share in the general four legged and anointed attributes of the traditional runners, but the stretchers are scaly, the flyers have slanted eyes, and ground swimmers have feathers and one set of clawed feet with beaks.
We collected old artifacts from the sights including works of art, boxes of rot, and apart of some kind of vehicle. We decided that going into the castle in the centre was not a good idea for this excursion. When we left our findings were seen as revolutionary
|
TheFinalDawnYT
|
beholder_dragon
|
2023-05-04 05:51:09
|
2023-05-04 01:12:46
| 64 | 20 |
jisr2rp
|
jirw68p
|
136lj9v
|
136lj9v
|
[WP] As a child, you dreamed of helping a wounded faerie. As an adult, they returned to repay the favour.
|
“This sucks.” I muttered as I stood at the pantry, eyeing the empty shelves by the light of my window. What can you cook with half a can of cornstarch and a quarter of a jar of peanut butter? I puzzled this as I walked back to the fridge and opened it to find the same things I found the last 3 times. A bit of milk in a jug, two weeks expired, an empty egg carton, and the wilted remains of what once might’ve been a salad. All I could think to do was sigh. If sleep were sustenance, I’d have a feast tonight.
I flopped down on my bed and kicked off my shoes, then curled into a ball and closed my eyes in a feeble attempt to block out the sound of my stomach growling. “Just breathe”, I thought to myself, “Concentrate on your heart beating, and you won’t feel your stomach as much.” I drew in slow, methodical breaths as I drifted off, lacking the energy to even pull a blanket over myself.
“Hey!” Shouted a small, high pitched voice right beside my head. I awoke with a start, placing a hand over my ringing ear as I sat up and looked over to see a tiny, glowing little winged girl no bigger than a Polly Pocket fluttering about a foot in front of me. “W-what…” I trailed off as I stared at her, until a question sprang to my mind. “Holy shit, did I die!?” I exclaimed. The fae laughed in reply, “not yet, but you look about halfway there! Come on, come on, come on! I have a lot planned for you!”
She flew around my room, leaving a trail of sparkling dust behind her, and effortlessly passed through my bedroom door. I followed with wavering steps, and slowly opened the door to find a field.
The scent of flowers filled my nose as I stepped through. The sun was bright in the sky, and the air filled with birds singing and squirrels and rabbits running and hopping around. Butterflies gently glided from flower to flower on a cool breeze. I walked along a stone path, following the faerie with trees towering over us.
Apples, pears, peaches, and plums so ripe they looked ready to burst where they hung. Past them, I could hear the soft babbling of a creek. Lining our path were sprawling blackberry bushes that looked as delicious as the fruit above us. “Have some!” The fae offered, “The animals won’t mind. We can stay for as long as you need.”
“Really? Thank you.” I said with a watering mouth as I reached up to twist a peach from a nearby branch. The fuzzy skin tickled my hands as I turned it about to look it over. No bugs, no bruises, no wrinkles… no mould. My fingers left the smallest dents with a squeeze. It seemed okay. I looked to the fae once more, and she smiled and sat on up on a branch as I took my first bite…
It was sweeter than candy, and gone in minutes.
The plums were equally sweet and soft, with a much thinner, glossy skin, and deeper flavor than any plum I’d had before. The blackberries popped between my teeth as I ate them, savoring each one as the brighter flavors melded with the plum. It was beautiful. Before long,
“You sure were hungry!” The fae said cheerfully, “you sure you’ve had enough? I guess it doesn’t really matter.”
“What?” I asked as she took to the air once again. She made her way to my level before replying, “Come on! I’ll show you!” Then, she flew ahead on the trail once again. And again, I followed.
A short while later, our path was blocked by a stream. The fae promptly turned and flew against the way of its current. As we walked, it got wider, flowing over larger stones, and branching off to form a multitude of smaller brooks that sang together as we made our way. It looked strangely familiar.
Soon after, we came to a weeping willow tree. The river babbled away as the fae landed on my shoulder and placed her small hand on my neck. “Do you remember this place?” She asked, her once chipper voice now solemn, and low. I racked my brain, but couldn’t remember. After a short silence, she began.
“You were playing here, a long, long time ago. You were a lot smaller back then, but you wanted to be taller. So, you climbed up and up, and found me stuck in that little cave,” she pointed to a small hole in the tree, the remnant of a long-gone woodpecker. “That big mean bird pecked through my wing, and I was stuck in there until you came along. You lowered a vine to me, and I was able to climb out. Then, your parents called you, and I didn’t get to say thanks. It took me a long while to find you.”
The fae took to the air once more, and flew up to the woodpecker hole. From it, she pulled a small, golden bell. She smiled and placed it in my hand.
“If you’re ever hungry, or lonely, or sad… if you ever need me, just ring this bell and I’ll find you. Wherever you are.”
“Well… wow.. Th-thank you… I don’t know what to say…”
“Say we’ll see each other again?”
“Yes… of course…”
|
I honestly don't know what to say. I thought I could make things better, but it always blows up in my face. I haven't been going out or really talking to anyone for some time. But I heard an old friend needed some flower in a group chat I glanced at. And I heard they were in the forest. Something called Truffle flowers.
I couldn't think of a better way to reconnect. I mean I'm not saying there isn't. But I felt like this would be less sudden or awkward. And I really had to go outside again. I just didn't want to be around people though. It seems like drivers are constantly trying to get into fights with pedestrians.
There defenitely are a lot of "accidents"
I ran as fast as I could. The entrance to the forest looked rather narrow. No where as big and scary as when I first saw it as a kid. There were a few trees surround by bushy bushes. I couldn't help but shake them remembering what they looked liked on windy days.
I had some fear going off the path, but I told myself it really wasn't going to be for long. I ran and ran. And eventually found the black flowers. For whatever reason, I thought they'd be harder to pluck than they actually were. But that was the moment that I realized I was starting to get hungry.
Unfortunately, I couldn't find the path again. My feet didn't leave enough of a trail to follow. And every part I observed simply repeated. The same set of trees and rocks. I really should have taken pictures. I checked for a signal but couldn't get anything. I regret checking. I wasn't surprised but sometimes it really sucks to have stuff get definitely worse.
That's when I thought, I saw something, a shadow behind some trees. Fear gripped me at first. "hey there, can you help me out? I seem to be lost" I cried in a wavering voice. Nothing back. Maybe I'm just imagining things I thought. I started walking away. I was too afraid to run thinking I made get chased. Unfortunately, the lack of path didn't make anything better. It's as if I was cornered.
The hunger started to disappeared. And so did the adrenaline. I slumped down on a rock as soon as I saw it.
"Why are you wearing that?" I asked the girl with the raggedy dress who happened to be three inches tall and had wings. But the dress with the few holes stood out to me the most.
"I got lost in my own thoughts and got tangled in these set of thornes," she replied.
"how come your so small?" I asked.
"Because I'm a faerie," she replied.
"like tinker bell?"
"tinker bell?"
"tinker bell."
"What makes you think I tinker with bells?" she asked while squinting her eyes at me.
"I don't think she actually tinkers with bells. I think that's just her name." I replied.
"mind lending me a hand, and by lifting some of these branches while I pull?" she asked.
"good now pull that one up" she said.
The whole thing was more complicated than I originally thought it would be. I then relized there were a lot of spiderwebs in the thornes as well. Although they were quite fine, they were also really sticky. Helping her, I couldn't help but feel like a cat playing with a mouse, but in a friendly way.
And that's when I shot up. I looked around and realized that I was at the entrance of the forest again. I thought I saw an eye flashing at me. But I couldn't be sure. That dream though. I felt like I had it before when I was a kid.
that was two weeks ago. I never gave the black flower away. It's in the corner of my room, going from a dark black to pale grey. I couldn't help but think about going back there. To see her. There was a chance I wouldn't see her again. And that had its own disappointment. But there was also the risk of getting lost again, or running into something more sinister.
|
Lady-Radziwill
|
hysterical_writings
|
2023-04-05 03:49:26
|
2023-04-04 18:22:32
| 203 | 70 |
jf0di9e
|
jey6it4
|
12bnooo
|
12bnooo
|
[WP] The wizard in your party only knows one spell. It's effective, but even the assassin feels bad about it.
|
As our party ventured deeper into the Undercity Temple, resistance grew stronger. Cultists behind doors, summoned monstrosities crawling from every crevice. Ralf took point, his massive great sword carving a swathe through the halls. Sidon, the wizard for hire the group picked up after their previous wizard became an ogre’s snack, followed closely behind.
While all wizards are strange in their own way, the deep gnome was especially off putting. His eyes glowed a light purple in darkness, and the rest of the party found his silence to be equally off putting.
As a cultist sprang for behind a pillar, Sidon barked a short word. The cultist slowed, a look of confusion spreading across his face before he was torn asunder by Ralf’s sword. A pattern emerged: Anyone that slipped past Ralf was met by the same word from Sidon. Many cultists became confused, and several began to openly weep before they were dispatched by the rest of the party. The maze of tunnels began to open up, a green reflection could be seen at the end of the hall.
Passing through the entrance, a great hall opened before us. Dozens of cultists crowded the hall, all turning to view our approach. Bows were cocked, and spells readied, as they began to move toward us. Rushing forward, his eyes now blazing a deep purple, Sidon raised his hands, his party mates hearing The Word for the first time:
“FEEL”
It seemed to echo through the chamber, resonating in a way that made it seem as though the sound was coming from all around us. Sweating profusely, Sidon spoke again, his gravely voice roaring with power.
“FEEL”
I collapsed to the ground, my mind roiling with all the evils I had ever committed. The family of elves, whose field I had burned as a youth to settle a debt. The man who’s life ended after a drunken brawl. All of it flowed through my mind, laying bare every misdeed in my past.
Struggling to my feet, I was greeted with pandemonium. Many cultists had been thrown to the floor, sobbing or screaming. Others, faced with the weight of their atrocities, chose to fall on their own swords.
Standing as tall as a gnome could, Sidon turned to me, wearing a sad smile that never reached his eyes. “Eventually, karma always makes her way around”
|
"You really need to learn more spells," the assassin said, looking over the crater that was once a bandit camp. Well, he hoped they were bandits.
"I know lots of spells," the wizard said nonchalantly waving off his concern with her dainty little hand. How that tiny girl with red eyes contained such power is a mystery. "Just an explosion was the most efficient way to get them all at once."
"Hey, aren't you being a bit hard on her?" The fighter asked. The tall warrior with flowing blonde hair was easily the best looking member of the group. And easily the densest.
"Did you know if they were even bandits?" The assassin asked. "What if they had hostages? She just blew them up too!"
"Oh..." The fighter looked confused. Which was the default setting as far as the assassin could tell.
From the cave at the back of the camp came a powerful roar. A horned reptilian head snaked out on a long neck that was wearing a collar.
"See?" The assassin said gesturing at the cave. "If we scouted before we blew the place up, we would know they had a dragon. But... Gods damn it."
The wizard was already summoning magical energy into her hands. "Darkness beyond twilight, crimson beyond blood that flows...."
|
loadedbakedpotsto
|
TricksterPriestJace
|
2023-03-07 18:41:29
|
2023-03-07 18:26:13
| 58 | 35 |
jbau1u5
|
jbarn4k
|
11kxmcd
|
11kxmcd
|
[WP] "Yeah, my brother got possesed by a demon, but we couldn't afford an exorcist."
|
They say that a person's sin makes it easier for a demon to slip in. My brother was an a** hole, a complete piece of work. Once I caught him disecting a frog in the back yard. He said it was dead when he found it, but dead animals don't bleed that much. Then, we he was ten and I was five he broke my nose because I went in his room without asking.
All of this is to say that with all of his sin, the demon put him on like a pair of pants. In the movies, you see a struggle. The young virginal girl gets corrupted. She writhes, and her body breaks. It takes weeks. My brother struggled too. He did the whole nine yards, climbing on the ceiling, speaking in tongues, cursing - though that was nothing new. But that struggle didn't last long - only a day or two.
The demon calls itself Magoth. My parents keep him locked in my brother's room, though he snapped the manacles like cheap plastic, so I doubt a door would hold him if he wanted to leave.
They don't want me to talk with Magoth. I'm not even aloud to look in the room or touch the door. I was moved to the bedroom downstairs so that I wasn't in the room next to his, but the vents connect this house. I've talked to him. He's nicer to me than my brother ever was.
I've been spending more time in my new room after school, especially when I have a bad day. It helps to have someone to talk to. My parents aren't there for me anymore. All they do is work and fight and complain. Money is an issue more than ever now. Though they almost have enough for an excercist.
I thought about breaking my leg. If they got a big bill from the hospital then they would have to put it off. Losing Magoth would be like losing an actual brother at this point. I don't want to kill my parents. I know it's one of the only options, but that seems like it would be going too far. Magoth says he understands, but he sounded a bit disappointed. I asked if there was anything else I could do. He asked to share my body. I could hide him that way. My parents wouldn't have to know and he could protect me from my shit brother.
We're playing it out right now. When the excercist comes in a week or two I'll be in my room, waiting by the vents, waiting with open arms and an open heart.
I love you Magoth!
|
Derek is a high school student who is fooling around with his friends while his class is going on.
His teacher Jasmine,has been tolerating him for a while now.
But this time she lets loose.
JASMINE:
Derek, stand up! Is there something you want to share with the rest of the class?
DEREK:
No...not really. Do you?
The class erupts in laughter.
JASMINE:
Your brother Joseph was the most brilliant student I have ever known and look at you.
DEREK:
I turned out better than him though.
JASMINE:
How so?
Derek puts his head down.
DEREK:
Ohh you haven't heard? He hasn't been doing well these days. He gets rapid mood swings and tries...to kill everyone near him.
Jasmine is shocked.
DEREK:
The priest says that there's a demon inside him but...we cannot afford an exorcist.
JASMINE:
I am sorry to hear that,Derek.
DEREK:
This is one of the reasons I have been distracted in class,I am really sorry ma'am. This is no excuse for me to be indisciplined though. I will study hard and become someone great and I will hire an exorcist for my brother.
Jasmine is impressed by Derek's words.
|
Bastian_Brom
|
Hot_Statistician2937
|
2023-11-07 16:12:07
|
2023-11-07 16:04:48
| 166 | 16 |
k8893uo
|
k887x6h
|
17ptimu
|
17ptimu
|
[WP] This sword can only be drawn as a last resort, when nothing else matters. When one's own life is worth less than the cost of vengeance. When she heard word of his death, she drew it without a moment's hesitation.
|
Empty steps carried the woman into the battlefield.
She had marched ten thousand miles upon hearing her husband’s death. The courts tried to stop her. He was the Sword of Gaelia, the hundredth successor to the title— he hated it.
He hated that it sent him to battlefields. He hated having to put down lives just as human as he was. He hated fighting. His passions were of a more artistic nature— painting and singing. Hers were of combat— of the sword and its myriad of motions in any given moment.
*She met him in a field of flowers, painting them with a passion she wished she could have. His marbled blue eyes concealed a pain she wished to hold.*
*It was just a passing curiosity at first, then one meeting became two, became three, became ten, became many, became—*
Blood dripped down a clenched fist, the hand-forged ring on her finger piercing into the digit. Ash stained her white dress as she avoided disintegrating rays of light.
*‘I love you’, she thought to herself, watching him practice the forms she just taught. Dedicated— he would fight to make the lives of everyone in the country better… Fight.*
*She looked at him once more, deciding to try and paint him instead of the flowers.*
*Maybe I could fight for him.*
A sheathed sword speared through a werewolf’s heart.
*‘He has spine.’ she thought, watching him debate with the elders for the third day in a row.*
The remaining three ran away in fear. It had only been three seconds.
*He offered her a bouquet of flowers— yellow tulips, her favourite.*
*“Will you marry me?” he asked, kneeling on one knee.*
*A smiled bloomed across her face, pearly whites reflecting the sunlight.*
They trampled over a patch of flowers. She clenched her teeth.
*Her room was barren. There was nothing to move. That was fine; her home was with him anyway.*
“A-zu-ra”, she whispered with a hoarse voice. A blue light left her hand as the wilted flowers began to regain life.
*Her mother died during childbirth. Her father blamed her for it and abandoned her at five.*
Two of them died. She was never a talented mage.
*She had the eyes of the devil. No one wanted to be with her. He loved her beady yellow eyes.*
Seven more dropped, the petals joining the ashy wind.
*He had to leave. It was a posturing war— he just needed to show his face.*
*“I love you”, he said, his marbled eyes hiding a sense of fulfilment now.*
A single one survived. It was a tulip. It was white.
*He left too quickly for her to say it back.*
She marched onward.
*She’d never get the chance to say it now.*
The leader of the commanding army marched forward. Demibeasts, humans, and magical artillery she hadn’t seen before in her life all aimed at her. She didn’t care. There was only one reason she decided to stay alive.
*‘Maybe I’ll talk… to just one person before I go.’ She put the blade away from her throat and approached the silly boy painting flowers.*
It is said that the ever-sheathed sword can only be drawn as a last resort: when nothing else matters, when one's own life is worth less than the cost of **vengeance**.
*His beautiful eyes held her image— her heart— and she held his.*
*…*
*She remembered how his lifeless eyes stared into her soul.*
Some gibberish escaped the commander’s insidious little smirk. It didn’t matter.
She held the sword, ready to unsheath its blade.
The mages started chanting, war cries echoing from the demibeasts as the artillery began to glow with an ominous white light. It didn’t matter.
She drew the sword.
A line split the cruel painting in half.
|
The knights sword slid through the man pouring his blood onto the cobbled ground.
"Sebastian... " I whispered, my breath dying in my throat; My brother the last of the Oath collapsing to the ground.
The knight turned proclaiming to the crowd his now outstretched sword and motioned to the Prince.
"Fair people of Morrel" exclaimed the corwn prince " - the trecherous Oath have now been dealt with. May the world know we have been freed from these wandering thieves! ... "
The noise of the elating crowd, the breath of his horse, the whistle of the wind poured into my ears my mind screaming with the memories...
\-
My mother leant on her bed roll, her last days upon her.
"Dearest daughter" came her soft gravely voice "I had hoped you would be much older when I passed you this burdon, our peoples oath" she broke down coughing, a shift in her body as she wrestled with its fading remains "this was passed to me by my mother and hers before that, this sword was entrusted to us in peace, to walk the fields of our continant never stopping and never succumbing to battles over land and ownership".
She pulled slowly her burdon, wrapped in fraying fabric and placed it in my hands.
"Daughter, this sword must only be drawn as a last resort, when nothign else matters When one's life is worth less than the cost of vengeance."
\-
The prince turned on his horse, "Our kingdom is free and we can now secure our hold to unite the world under our banner.."
I shifted my arm releasing the burdon from my shoulder.
\-
Lying under the smoking remains of our caravan my brother turns to me "Sol there will be other caravans, we can join them at the meeting square". I looked down at the blue cloth clutched in my hand "Seb these were the kings men .." he avoided my eyes, shifting again, knowing he couldn't deny the destruction we had seen over the last months.
\-
"... FOR FREEDOM!" the princes speech ending with a thundering raw from the crowd.
The knight turned to look at me, hesitating a step. His confident stance now uncertain,
My hand now sits on the handle, the world slowing to a stand still and the crowds cheer shuddered and died.
The princes horse stops moving as he takes notice...
"Oathbreaker girl what do you have there"
I slowly pull the sword free of its wrap draining the worlds colour, the world has joined me. Still. Waiting on drawn breath as the steam starts to rise.
A whisper, unearthly, disjointed " .. freedom .."
\-
(not a writer)
|
Physical_Ride7652
|
lucklikethis
|
2025-04-06 04:19:47
|
2025-04-06 04:15:10
| 42 | 16 |
mlnfh41
|
mlnew5e
|
1jsgjzq
|
1jsgjzq
|
[WP] The year is 12023, you’re writing your thesis on ancient civilizations roughly 10,000 years ago on the gods they worshipped such as Kalel; God of Justice, Zelda; Goddess of Wisdom, Batman; God of Fear, Ironman; God of Fortune and thousands more.
|
*An excerpt from a presentation at the Symposium of Archaeological Professionals 2023 in Nyawkity City, performed by Archeaomaster Cwithilium, entitled* ***New Findings in Second Age Religion***
*Archaeomaster Cwithilium:* The discussion on sectarianism and syncretism is a perfect segue, I think, into our last topic before I open it up for questions. Now, if you're not really dialed into the archaeological news you might not have heard of this, because we're not set to publish this month. Don't tell anyone I told you.
*Archaeomaster Cwithilium winks. Light chuckles from the audience.*
*A free-floating holographic image appears on stage, of the dilapidated ruins of a building.*
*Archaeomaster Cwithilium:* Doesn't look like much, does it?
What we have here are the remains of a store meant for the distribution of religious artifacts. Remarkably, there are *dozens* of pantheons and faiths represented, and tens of thousands of religious materials recovered. Our forthcoming paper outlines the details of how we came to this conclusion in a more robust way, but this indicates a major commercial component to late Second Age worship.
Slide?
*A free-floating holographic image of several pamphlets appears.*
*Archaeomaster Cwithilium:* These are some of the most intact relics recovered from the site. You'll note first that these were all printed on paper. Paper seems to have been a *heavily* preferred medium for transmitting the legends of the Second Age, perhaps even moreso than digital media or clay. The findings from this site confirm it as, outside of a few instances of digital media and poseable statuary, almost all of the legendaria recovered are in the form of these pamphlets, or in paper cards. We are still picking through the heavily degraded remains, but there may have been more than twenty thousand instances of these pamphlets in the care of this store.
These pamphlets are a few that were recovered mostly intact, as they were wrapped in plastic. Several of the plastic coverings were marked with epithets like "hot" and "collecting item"; we're still working out the meaning of these specifically.
You'll note that the pamphlets on display here are all from diverse faiths... I remind you, that these were all from the same building. The text on the cover of this pamphlet indicate it is about "the Human Bat", a Deesee figure. On this, "the Human Spider", a popular Moral figure. Most interestingly, the texts on third one indicate that Xism figures and members of the Vengeful pantheon were contemporaries, and intereacted. The societal implications of this are remarkable.
One of the biggest finds of this dig were four containers all containing exact copies of X-Force #1.
*Several audible noises from those in the archaeological professional section.*
*Archaeomaster Cwithilium:* For the benefit of our laypeople in the room--one of the most useful proxies for popularity in long-dead societies for old texts is how many specimens we can recover. So we understand *The Odyssey* to have been extremely popular in the First Age due to the number of complete manuscripts we've recovered. We understand the same of the hymnal band The Eagles due to how many cassettes of their *Greatest Hits* are found.
Given that every cache of the holy religious pamphlets that we've found has at minimum contained one copy and usually dozens, this is confirming evidence to the theory that X-Force was the most important of all religious figures in the Second Age, including Mario and Brian Cox.
Alright, we have plenty of time for questions, so if we can just form a line...
*sounds of people shuffling into line*
*Questioner:* Archaeomaster, what are your thoughts on the theory, proposed by Iwujumbic and Bookleshwearmer, among others, that the Thousand Pantheons of the Second Age weren't actually figures of worship? That they were just meant as entertainment?
*Archaeomaster Cwithilium:* No. No. Preposterous. What civilization would spend all this money and effort on these things if they weren't as important as gods?
|
I lazily tapped my finger against my desk. Deadline’s tonight and I have barely written a word. I gazed at the small paragraph that I had written, willing it to grow but it wouldn’t listen. I stared around me at the various 21st century deities. Iron man with his mythical armour, Kalel a god thought to have fallen from heaven and others.Now that I think about it, I haven’t slept in a long time . . .Sleep is super . . . Important . . .
I snap back. That was close. I almost fell asleep.“Sam, what are doing drink up.” I look around confused only to find the grinning face of Thor.“Of course! The celebrations just begun!” I raise my beer jug to my lips and drink heartily.There was something important I had to do but if I forgot it then it can’t be that important. . .
“Iron man, Kalel come join us.”
They enter from outside the great hall and sit down on sofas beside us.
“Save some for the rest of us would you.” Said Iron ManThor leaned on Kalel’s shoulder.
“Thor.” Said Kalel Sternly. “You really shouldn’t be drinking this much.
“Don’t be such a party pooper son of Krypton.” Whined Thor,
I guffawed.
“See, Sam’s enjoying himself.” Said Thor
“Here’s the thing.” Said Thor. “You gotta live sometimes, you’re too serious Kalel!”
"Justice never rests." Said Kalel
"I'll send someone out." Replied Thor. "My guys can handle it for a while, just sit back and have fun"
Kalel sighed before reaching a jug and swiftly in one movement.
“That’s the spirit!”
“Hey, let me show you a magic trick.” Said Thor
“Oh boy.” Said Iron man.
“I think there’s something here.” Said Thor, reaching behind Kalel’s ear.He withdrew his hand now holding a hammer.
“We’ve seen it a million times.” I say but I can’t help but laugh.
“You should really clean your ears more.” Said Thor, in a falsely motherly tone.Thor began throwing his hammer in the air repeatedly before catching it.I grab another jug from the table.
“-Watch out S-”
I glance up to see the hammer smash into my face.
“Oww!” I said grabbing my forehead to ease the pain.I slide back in my chair.I can hear the sound of a party on another floor outside my dorm. My eyes adjust to the light of my dorm room.“Hey Sam, “ Said a figure dressed as Thor, wearing cardboard armor.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you with it.” I handed back the small plastic hammer that I had been struck with.
“What are you doing here? The parties have already started. It's Avenger Fest.”“I’m studying Percy.” I replied.
“And its not the avengers fest, the avengers fest does not include many 21st century Gods. “
“Studying? You were clearly sleeping,”
“I’m getting to it.” I turned on the computer again.
“You gotta live a little, I came all the way up here to get you.”
I paused. Where had I heard those words before. “Fine, I’ll go.”
“Yes!” Exclaims Percy. “I thought you could be Kalel and Grim is outside, he’s dressed as Mickey Mouse.”I turned off the screen before following him out.
|
Zomburai
|
Shrike_Law
|
2023-06-05 18:36:42
|
2023-06-05 18:01:02
| 54 | 12 |
jn0sjn2
|
jn0mxde
|
141664e
|
141664e
|
[WP] Guy lives alone in a world full of people, no one can see or hear him, he lives his days alone until one day he find another person, another person alone in this world with him. They fall in love but then he phases back into the world, everyone can see him again, but he can’t see her.
|
She was back again. The mortal woman who had found my shrine so long ago.
She sat, allowing the weight off her legs with a pained noise I'd not heard her make before. She was older than I'd ever seen her, and not just in her face but I could sense it in the rest of her. In her bones, just as I could sense something decaying there, something slowly, maliciously draining her. Something malignant.
"It's weird isn't it, that no matter how old I get, I always feel like I need you, mom"
I didnt answer. She wasn't addressing me, she'd never addressed me, I dont think she'd ever really known there was a me to address. She found my stone on this day seventy years ago, on her birthday, when her mother had died. I could feel the sheer emptiness she had then, the dull ache that never quite left her. Over the years, she'd not filled the emptiness but she'd grown larger around it, the hole less noticable. She'd come back every year, to tell her mother all she'd missed, and though i never knew how she had stumbled across this stone of mine I could only presume she felt my presence and knew me. God of Grief.
I'd never dared send her away, perhaps to God of Healing or Hope, because she never seemed like she needed them in the way she needed me. This time in my presence, to talk to her lost mother.
"I don't want to leave them. I don't want them to feel what I felt when I lost you."
I wanted to tell her they wouldn't. That from what I knew of her, she had raised her children in a way that meant they knew her love and couldn't doubt it. She had been able to give them the time she didn't have with her own mother. No one would ever be ready for loss, but they would be okay.
"Perhaps they are better prepared than i ever was though. I should tell them I am dying, I should let them say goodbye. But I am so scared, mom. So afraid. "
I wasn't supposed to interfere. My shrine was so small because I'd spent too much power meddling before. I'd gone forgotten precisely because of it. There was little left of me, but this woman, who would die soon, I could give her one last kindness.
I willed myself into being, light taking the form of her mother, as young as the day she'd lost her. She burst into tears but didn't reach for me, as if she knew I was not really there. I smiled, I couldn't speak in this body, but I bid her to stand. I sent her a wave of power that I knew would settle in her temporarily, something that would give her courage and comfort. A parting gift, from not-really her mother.
"Thank you. I'd forgotten what she looked like"
She addressed me, directly, for the first and last time. I wonder if she knew that in doing so, she gave me more than that power back. She shifted the small outcropping of rocks a few inches higher from the earth.
"I'll tell them about this place. Expect some new visitors soon" she smiled sadly but departed with more ease than she had arrived with. I counted her steps away from me and remained in that shimmering motherly form in case she wanted to look back at all. She didn't.
|
It's already 2100. 2100... And My faith has already been so swiftly forgotten.
Crosses, they used to adorn My houses, everywhere across the world. Well now, they don't. My faith has been so forsaken and despised, that they don't even use "+" for addition in Mathematics anymore. They just use the word "plus" or the phrase "added to".
The last Bible was printed in 2073. The last hymn was sung in 2076, and the last praise song sung in 2079. Earth's last church officially ceased to exist in the same year, 2079.
Since then all worship of Me has ceased. No one remembers Jehovah. The Trinity. Yahweh. Jesus Christ the Saviour.
Except you, dear child. My dear dear daughter in spirit, Deborah Mary Samynathan.
I thank you for remembering Me. For still coming to this small alcove that has a small stone cross in it, to pray to Me and beg Me to have mercy on this increasingly depraved world. You give Me hope. Hope that among mankind, My beloved creations, good may still silently exist. Hope that this good may yet rise again one day.
And now this year, you have come to visit Me again. It is Easter. And I remember that now you are 21. You are grown now. You are an adult, and I think you are ready for My gift to you.
Take now, the strength of Samson, the power of Elijah, the insight of Paul, the righteousness of Moses, the integrity of Joseph and the triumphancy of Joshua. Receive, now, SPIRIT.
Now, go forth My faithful daughter. Declare My faith and lend voice to that which has been silent. I will go and wage war against Lucifer, who will seek to stop you. I know, this means that you may stop feeling My presence near you for awhile.
But do not fear, dear daughter. We will be separated only for a little while. Once the victory is won by the power of My blood, I will reveal myself to this fallen world. And you will be vindicated for your faith in Me.
Be blessed now, dear daughter, and go forth to victory.
|
Elegant-Minute2345
|
MC_Hans84
|
2025-01-14 09:38:13
|
2025-01-14 03:02:22
| 58 | 28 |
m72nvwt
|
m71clyg
|
1i0uoqt
|
7r6qu3
|
[WP]Your mother sold her firstborn to a witch in exchange for beauty and your father sold his firstborn to a fairy for wealth. Today you are born.
|
You'd think I'd be taken away, but I wasn't... you see, my parents found odd workarounds.
Even though I was their first child together, my mom had a still born before me, the witch try to wezzel her way out of taking it but there was nothing about my mom's first born having to be alive... although it did mess her up very much to the point where she almost became a witch hunter. She fought tooth and nail for me once I was born. The witch tried to take me, but my father's fea didn't let her, dragging her o a magical court.
The court battle was brutal, but here's the funniest thing at the end-
The fea didn't have rights to me either. She got my mom out of trouble with her witch, only to find out my dad DOOPED her!
You see, even though my mom's firstborn wasn't biologically my dad's, he did claim that child to be his regardless because he knew that if he didn't, if he and my mom successfully had a child together, the fea can take me. Of course he didn't tell the fea that but the fea didn't needed to know that exact information.
There is nothing in their contract that said my dad's firstborn had to be biologically his. A firstborn, by definition, can be someone's first child, and that doesn't mean they'd be biologically related.
Sure, the argument is that it's implied to be biological but it's implied that if the baby wasn't a still born, my dad would count him as his own and he would have never tried for another child as he was satisfied with the one, (which given my lack of siblings even to this day, I can see happening). This meant that if the fea never counts that, the fea would have to take back all the wealth- most of which already was put into stocks, bonds and other ways that can't be taken back since his bank account had only a few thousand compared to the millions the fea gave. If the fea stole the millions back, she'd have to argue against DRAGONS in court... and uh... even with how civil they are, there is a reason the dragons own every bank now...
So basically, my mom lucked out (although lost a piece of her sanity purely on accident), and my dad became an affective fea lawyer in only a day.
I still have no little siblings, but the fea and witches are afraid to even come near me after that trial. I love my parents but man are my parents messed up. Still love them though.
|
Today is the fourteenth month of the eighth year of the reign of King Dirodan. Today is the day I am born. I was born in the early morning as day was dawning.
It’s a beautiful baby girl! Her almost shrill cries pushing out the rest of the amniotic fluid, and her delicate little body shaking in the sudden cold. She is swaddled and laid in her mother’s arms. This however is not a happy time.
A Faerie strode in through the door. He stared my parents up and down. “Your dues,” he said, “must be paid.” He extended a long arm made of oak wood. My parents gave me to him, and then more fae descended on my parents. My mother got the beauty she always wanted, and my father was showered in gold and silver. It seemed that whatever terrible feeling they had mere moments ago was all forgotten. They reveled in the joy of having their contract upheld.
I was raised away from civilization. I was raised in the Feywild. I have learned things. Deep magics, secrets too terrible to tell… and how to cook a good mushroom stew. The Fae named me Moon-Rock, and gave me my home.
But while the Fae make deals and people make promises, one thing they always told me to remember. We are not a daycare. Quit promising your firstborn.
|
CameoShadowness
|
Scorppio500
|
2024-05-10 23:19:10
|
2024-05-10 21:47:48
| 16 | 11 |
l3i40em
|
l3hqnw5
|
1coowtw
|
1coowtw
|
[WP] A mark on your forehead identifies the god you must worship to stay alive, usually by joining its local church or temple. Your mark is unknown, meaning an old, forgotten god sponsored you. To survive, you must either find an old temple to worship at, or do the arduous task of building a new one
|
When multi-millionaire Alfred Talbot Jr suddenly found a mark of an unknown god on his forehead and announced his resignation, the whole world was taken by surprise.
While the public at large was busy gossiping, occult detective Katrina Watson was busy poring through a well-known publication of the Holy Inquisition, Annals of the Pantheons, trying to find a god's mark or sigil that matched the one on Alfred's forehead. Alfred's co-founder had hired her to investigate what was happening; citing an old tale where marked chosen ones must worship to stay alive or risk a horrible death. He feared the worst, that he could lose his best friend and co-founder before Alfred could even find the god in question or the right way to worship the god.
So she spent her days tailing Alfred as he drove around the countryside, stopping at every seaside village and town to ask the locals questions about the inky black mark on his forehead. He never stayed for longer than a few days, leaving each village and town with a dejected look on his face.
He hasn't left this fishing village in over a week, constantly pacing back and forth between the Dancing Crab Inn and a burned, abandoned building, standing all alone by itself at the top of a hill. Alfred spent most of his time trying to piece together broken pieces of stone at the base of the building with various tools he bought from the general store.
Katrina saw it was time to make her move.
"Hello Mr. Talbot, I'm Katrina, an occult detective hired by your partner Mr. Andrews to assist you."
"Good, finally someone who knows a little about the supernatural world." Alfred gave her a firm handshake. "Nobody recognizes this mark on my head, my only lead is that a villager told me this is probably the sigil of a god of the seas, given the wavy appearance. But this sigil doesn't match anything in the Pantheon Database. It's as though this god was scrubbed clean from historical records."
"Why this building, Mr Talbot?" Katrina asked.
Alfred told her how an old compass his grandfather passed down to him started glowing mysteriously when he arrived at the village. He spoke of what he found out from the villagers. This building was once a pagan church, burnt down by the Holy Inquisition for worshipping an evil eldritch god and carrying out the illegal practice of human sacrifice centuries ago. The story was that they left no followers alive and completely wiped out the religion, leaving nothing behind but the briefest mention of an unknown god with no name and a scorched, ruined church nobody would pay to tear down.
Exactly what he was looking for. So he spent his time repairing the altar in the middle of the ruins but had absolutely no clue what he could offer to a god who supposedly demanded human sacrifices.
"Try a lamb, Mr. Talbot. Maybe we could drive down to the nearest sheep farm and buy a lamb."
Alfred shook his head. "I don't think this is an Abrahamic god at all. If he or she were, I would not be stuck here."
So they bought a live lamb and paid the farmer to transport the little thing to the altar. The farmer scratched his head but asked no questions. Alfred and Katrina tied the lamb and hoisted it on the top of the newly repaired altar.
"Mr. Talbot, any prayers you recommend? I've been a naytheist all my life. Never had a god mark me or desire anything from me."
Alfred wasn't responding, only gazing into the faraway nowhere as a black abyssal portal pooled out beneath the altar and dark tendrils emerged to pull the lamb in. He wasn't there with Katrina.
For he was staring into the abyss when it stared back with a pair of deep violet eyes. He found himself gazing into a mesmerizing sea of stars scattered across the endless night sky, bare feet trudging along the ebony sand along the shores of a blackened sea darker than the night.
A sea of serenity and calm came over him as the ashen waves of the black sea washed over him. he could feel abyssal magic flowing into his mind, infusing him with a sliver of knowledge of his god. A barely audible whisper echoed in his ears, instilling in him a burning passion for the arduous task that lay ahead of him. A strong sense of purpose he never found before.
"Why am I your chosen one," Alfred asked. "Will it kill me if I refuse?" But the whispers were already fading, for his god was terribly weakened.
"ALFRED ARE YOU WITH ME?" Katrina shouted while shaking him with both her hands on his shoulders.
"Yes. Katrina. I have a god who needs so much help. My god was exiled from his pantheon. The Holy Inquisition has wronged him, they could not look past his eldritch appearance or his past when they persecuted him and erased him from their annals of the gods. They have robbed him of his artifacts of power. Tore his body asunder. Murdered his followers, even young children who could not fight back. As his chosen one and anointed head priest, I will rebuild his body, rebuild his church, and rebuild his place in this world."
"Mr. Talbot, so you're telling me your god is some flavor of 'not evil just misunderstood'. Look, as long as Mr. Andrews is paying, I'll help you. That stuff you said, it all sounds very cool and awesome, I really feel your roaring gungho vibe here, but did you get your god's name?"
"He asked me to call him 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/)
|
Dagon watched from the cliffs, deep in thought, as the priest-ships came into port and began disgorging their cargo; barrels of leviathan oil, slabs of sea-serpent meat, and bloody Oceanides with the harpoons that killed them still stuck fast in their flesh.
It had been days since he'd last eaten anything - since the Sign appeared on his forehead - and even the sharp, iron scent of the butchering wafting up from below made his stomach growl in protest.
Even so, he remained where he was. It was bad luck for a Prester to eat anything from the priest-ships before he'd reaped something from his god's harvest, and bad luck was as real a god as any other out at sea. He'd heard stories of hunting ketches cracking apart without a storm or serpent in sight because someone on board had broken that rule - or one of the countless others.
Another ship slowed to a stop by the docks - this one hauling an entire leviathan's bloodied bulk behind it - to the cheers of a crowd of assembled laymen, and Dagon turned away as they began to carve into its hide.
Dagon could be thankful for one thing his cursed Sign afforded him - it meant he slept in the shipyards with the other Presters. Unlike his old home with his fisherfolk parents, the lodges at the shipyard were sturdy and caulked well enough to keep the sea breeze out. Thick, woven blankets and a fire-pit kept him warm while a thatched roof kept him dry.
He missed his family and their ramshackle little hut regardless. At least there, he wasn't alone, shunted off into a dark corner while others reveled and feasted. At least he wouldn't have to pretend he was asleep while the smell of roasting god-flesh drowned his senses and made him delirious with hunger. Urged him to fight the rest of his brothers for his place at their table. For *his* god.
It was bad luck to hurt a Prester. The kind of bad luck that saw hunters fall overboard.
Dagon wished he could speak to his god, ask it what he was supposed to be hunting - what the sign on his face was supposed to be. Even just give him a hint to start him down the right path. Even if it was a new god - one without a Temple-Fleet he could join - it would be enough to get him started. He'd beg one of the others to take him on until he could find other Presters with the same fate; one of the Whalers' ketches maybe? They needed every hand they could get with the size of their prey. Or one of the Devilfish! There were so few of them, Dagon was sure they'd welcome another hand, even if he'd be after a different catch!
He just needed something to eat. He'd gotten so desperate he had piled stones inland as a makeshift butcher's table and slaughtered a rabbit on it, but it turned rancid the moment he put it in his stew pot. It was bad luck, following him like a dog at his heels.
If Dagon was going to stay alive, his god needed him to feel the salt wind on his face and the water lapping at his skin.
None of the boats wanted him. Even the ones willing to take on a pariah like him turned him down after taking one look at him, a hide-bag of bone and sinew.
With every rejection, Dagon's empty belly snarled louder and louder until it was all he could hear, and when the last captain - a grizzled old Kraken-slayer, by the twisted, curling sigil on his brow - said no, Dagon killed him.
Dagon fought his crew like a starving dog, every blow cracking bone and bruising flesh, but desperation kept him on his feet while the Kraken-slayer's men, one by one, fell away.
When he was finally alone on the sand, Dagon pushed his new boat out into the water. He ignored the holy waters and passed by Sirens as they sunned themselves on the rocks.
His eyes were on the men bobbing in a raft straight ahead, hauling their own thrashing prize aboard.
In the village center, a new god's standing stone was being erected, between the Kraken's Knot and the Whale-Tail, facing the Mermaid and standing behind the Thornback. Prester and layman alike murmured among themselves, perturbed by the ill-boding appearance of the stone bearing the new sigil.
The Flenser-Thief. Where the Whale-Tail was polished with Leviathan oil, the Kraken's Knot festooned in dried tentacles, the Mermaid shrouded with Oceanid scales, and the Thornback crowned with Devilfish tails-
The Flenser-Thief was daubed in Presters' blood.
It would be a priesthood that hunted men.
It would be bad luck to meet a Flenser-Thief.
|
Tregonial
|
ArseneArsenic
|
2023-03-23 04:11:53
|
2023-03-22 21:34:06
| 170 | 65 |
jdbcqfq
|
jd9v61h
|
11ylcm8
|
11ylcm8
|
[WP] Death Row Inmates can have their sentence abolished if they can handle a single night in the same cell as you; the most innocent looking person they've ever seen.
|
He couldn't believe the offer was real. "A single night with a well dressed, friendly looking man? How hard could it be?" That's what they all think. He agreed to the deal and the guard brought him up to my cell.
"It does seem a lot creepier coming closer" the new inmate thought, "and you can't even see the back of the cell". I slowly stood up and walked towards them as the guard opened the door. "Why isn't it locked?" the inmate thought?
"Because it's not needed" I said to him. Confused he looked back, but the guard was already gone. "What is going on here?" he mumbled. "You're here to get what you deserve."
The voice didn't seem to come from anywhere. It just formed in the inmates mind. He spun around, looking directly into my face. I still smiled politely, while my face slowly started to melt. He took a step back, looking at me in horror. "What's the matter Robert? You seemed to enjoy this sight, when you poured acid over your victims"
"Who told you?" he cried out "Who told you my real name? Not even the police know my real name!"
"Oh, I know so much more, Robert. For instance how you tortured some of your victims, before you finally gave them the killing blow."
I laughed as his face grimaced in terror. In the blink of an eye, I burst into a mixture of flesh and blood, completely engulfing him in just a few moments. His screams got soon replaced by the sound of gargling. He fought as hard as he could, but he didn't stand a chance.
Just as he thought it was over, he found himself lying on the floor of a warehouse. He looked around and he seemed to remember this place. This is where he committed his first murder. In the corner of his eyes, he saw a man wearing a hoodie come closer. He recognized the hoodie as well. It was himself. He tried to talk, but the voice was not his own and the man didn't listen anyway".
When the guard arrived at the cell at the next day, I was already up, waiting at the bench, with the same smile as the day before. In the back of the cell, there was a person cowering. The guard almost didn't recognize him. His skin turned pale and his hair turned grey. Big bald spots where visible where he had ripped his own hair out.
A shiver went down the guards spine as he entered the cell to collect the inmate. "You wont need them." I said, as he tried to get his cuffs out.
"It's protocol" the guard said. "But his soul already left." I said, sounding real proud of my work.
"What do you mean, his soul left?" the guard asks.
I smiled. "Most souls don't come back, after being tortured for eternity!"
"For eternity?" the guard asked confused?
"Well, I condensed it into a few hours. Nothing you would understand, mortal. Let's just say, everyone gets what they deserve in the end. They don't call me the devil for nothing!"
|
***Warning: Explicit description of phycological attacks and mention of previous murders. Viewer discretion is advised.***
\-----
"... And think of your mother. Your poor mother, who cried until she fainted in your trial. Do you know how she's doing now?"
"S-Stop. Stop it!"
"She locked herself in the room all day and night, refusing to eat or drink. She cried and screamed and wished it was all but a bad dream, that her sweet child didn't do anything wrong. Then, one day, she started puking blood and collapsed on the floor. Oh, the unbearable pain is crushing her fragile form. You are killing her from the inside. You did this to your own mother."
"No, you're lying..."
"Your mother is becoming a mad woman because of you. You are the one who is causing her all this suffering, you disgraceful scumbag. Your neighbors are avoiding your house like the plague, but they can still hear her screams at midnight."
"Stop- Stop! I said *STOP!!!*"
The yell echoed in the cell room, and I'm sure the guards hear it from outside too. I sit cross-legged on the bench, eyeing the man who had crumbled to the floor, hands holding his head. This man had gotten knocked down to his knees, trembling like a leaf. How cute.
"People are whispering, you know? They said, 'Look at that old hag, her son is a murderer,' 'He got the death sentence this morning,' 'I'm glad I've kept my kids away from those barbarians.' And your mother heard it all, every single word, and she's at the end of her wits now. Maybe a noose seize tight around the neck wouldn't be so bad."
"Please... stop..."
"Relax, pal. It's not even past eight yet," I laughed, "Now, where were we?"
|
BiedermannS
|
Penna_23
|
2023-07-28 16:09:40
|
2023-07-28 14:17:49
| 90 | 66 |
jttjxq2
|
jtt241f
|
15bugt9
|
15bugt9
|
[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!”
|
I am ashamed to admit that, in that moment, there were several dagger edged declarations I had to bite down on before I unleashed them on my own child.
*Because you are inexperienced, stupid, and obsessed with pleasing peers who will break your heart like a twig and laugh about it.*
Breathe...
*Thousands? Try one-thousand, dear, at best, or did you forget who your father was?*
Calm...
*Not if you keep talking to people like that, you won't.*
Okay, I might use that one later when I'm not mad.
I am not ashamed that it hurt so much. I loved this child and, for the record, still do. She didn't have to be part elf to wound me so - such is the history of teenagers, or elven fifty-somethings and half-elven twenty-somethings it turns out. Adolescents are smart enough and witty enough to whip up devastating things to say to their parents and siblings, and they have the lack of good judgement and empathy to actually unleash them. I had been particularly swift and damning with my words when I was equivalent to her age and she was absolutely my daughter.
It had been hard to swallow my harsh words as a teenager, but now? Caging the beast gave me a sense of power. I could control myself. She couldn't yet and it was my job to help her fix that.
I looked at the girl I had made with the love of my life. While her complexion was a soft brown mix of her mother's mahogany skin and my pale, she had the stark white hair that dominated forest elf lineages. Her irises, though, were green like mine, as were the boxier lines of her eyes themselves.
"Because it is hardly a novel view among elves or half-elves, and someone as intelligent as my daughter should not fall for something so destructive."
She rolled her eyes in response, but said nothing.
"I get it. Nothing I say to you right now is going to get you to say, 'you're right, dad. I'm sorry for being a bigot to my own father', because you have to be right - especially when you're wrong."
"What the hell does that even mean?"
"It means that I've been a cocky little shit before, too, so I know what you're feeling." I raised my hand in a stop gesture as she opened her mouth to respond, "Not done. You're partly right. I will die even before your mom's culture will accept you as an adult, but you'll be grown up long before her people will acknowledge it."
"My people, dad. They're my people, too, and they'll understand."
I closed my eyes and, for the benefit of my child, picked at the metaphysical stitches of a wound I had never truly healed. "Do you think you're the first half-elf I've known, Leah?"
She caught my eyes before looking away.
"I had a friend, a guy named Talil, who used to work with me when I hunted monsters. Talil was a half-elf kind of like you. His dad was a nexus elf, actually, so he took to magic more easily than anyone I'd ever met - not that any of that was ever good enough for the nexus elves. Every triumph he made was either belittled as beneath his father's people or leveraged to prove what a shame it was that such a heroic spirit was spoiled by his mongrel half."
"That isn't fair."
"Of course it isn't. I tried to tell Talil that, and he said he got it, but he never did. I saw it; we all did. He kept taking more and more dangerous work to prove himself. It got one of our buddies killed and I... Well, I let him know what I thought of his complex. I split from the group and the other guys followed him. He was an extremely powerful wizard at that point, after all. I was lucky enough to meet your mother while taking on more reasonable work, but Talil..."
I breathed and fought against my traitorous throat. "His endless fight for approval killed him, and he took three more of my good friends with him."
"What happened?"
"The dumb fuck tried to kill an elder dragon. It wasn't even near a settlement and was due to sleep another half-century, but hunting had stopped being about safety for him a long time ago. He was going to slay a powerful dragon just like Nymior the legend, just to prove himself to a bunch of ungrateful assholes - and you know what? He killed the damned thing. He did it. I only got to know because my pal Tathmor survived the shit show and paid to haul all the bodies back with the horde. There were legions of monster hunters and half the local village at his funeral. Do you know how many elves attended, Leah?"
She glowered at me.
"Four. Two were monster hunters seeing off a fellow, good women who had learned to respect the shorter-lived sapients. Your mother, because she didn't want me to be alone, and finally his father. It probably dawned on him at some point that he would bury his son, but by his sobs I knew he hadn't expected it to happen so soon. His mother was there, too, wrinkled, tired, and crying all the same. She had bought into the promise that this couldn't conceivably happen, and yet her son's desperation for approval from people who would never have cared doomed her to outlive him."
I sighed and tried not to imagine myself in that elf's place. "Sweetheart, I will always be proud of you. I need you to know that. Even when you hurt me with your words, even when you make stupid mistakes and get into trouble, my love is not gated behind impossible tasks and reckless glory. I love you, and I want you to be happy, successful, and - as much as reasonable - safe. When you become a legend, I want you to survive the process. I'll be watching, even if it's from the heavens."
And should I have to bury my child because someone got it into her head she needed to please a gaggle of nigh-immortal bigots... Well, I had made a career of slaying monsters before.
I could do it again.
(Quick edit: turned internal dialogue into italics for clarity.
Edit 2: word choice.)
|
*"Heroes!"* The booming voice of the titan of a man with glowing eyes seated on a golden throne startled us awake. *"I have summoned you here to ask that you save the world I watch over. The laws that bind gods are strict, and I may not lay a finger upon it to enact my will. Thus, I have selected five souls from a different world to act as champions! Souls that would find the task an exhilirating adventure. Rest assured, you shall be greatly rewarded for your hard work, and as a "starting bonus" as I believe you might call it, you may each select the vessel of your souls in this world."*
He really couldn't have picked a more eager group. The five of us were about to start a DnD campaign for crying out loud, this was 200 times better than a tabletop game. The other four discussed the repurcussions and implications, then got down to what bodies they wanted. I already knew.
"We are ready," said Roger, our defacto leader since he was a great DM and knew how to wrangle us into an effective team. "When do we start?"
*"Right now! Prepare yourselves, and good luck!"* The god smiled as golden light and a deafening chime slowly built around us. The adventure ahead of us was going to rock, but I was straining to hold myself back from cackling at the looks on their faces when they saw what I picked. The light and sound faded away, revealing a gorgeous view of rolling hills, forest, mountains, and a city not too far away, all of it beneath a clear blue sky.
Roger was now an elf in grand robes with a fancy looking staff, tall and strong while maintaining that otherworldly grace the tree huggers were known for.
Tracy had picked an orc dressed in pelts that looked like they were skinned from dangerous beasts, two large hatchets on her richly muscled hips that looked like they could split skulls with ease, the weapons and the hips. She did always want to have an amazon physique, guess she saw her chance and took it.
Gus turned himself into a lizardfolk that was even taller than Tracy, but looked like he weighed 1/3rd of what she did. He was a huge fan of dextrous, fast paced characters, and this fit the bill if the ridiculous amount of daggers I could see strapped to his body (and the many I couldn't see but just KNEW he had) were anything to go by, not to mention the rapier.
Amy had become a human cleric in clean white robes with a mace on her belt, a fan of simple builds that helped everyone. Definitely the mom of the party, and our permanent healer.
"Steven... what the hell is that?" Gus hissed out a sigh, knowing how much I liked to come up with wacky homebrew characters. His exasperated reaction made everyone look over to see what bull I'd come up with this time. They all groaned and face palmed.
My huge mouth was pulled up into a savage smile as I began chuckling at them, then flat out guffawing. The base was a giant snake of at least 50 foot length, but everything else was unmistakably dragon. A majestic crown of horns, a glowing belly full of fire, the beautiful armor of deep red scales, and six spanning wings that would take some getting used to but would eventually let me become the master of the blue sky overhead.
"FEAR ME, PUNY MORTALS! TREMBLE AT MY PASSING!" I bellowed with a shit eating grin. I spread my wings wide enough to overshadow the hill we were standing on (laying in my case) and roared into the air to announce my power.
"You jackass!" Roger said. He was fully used to my antics and attempts to shoehorn weird shit into his games. "How do you expect to fit in anywhere, or enter dungeons?! Your fat ass couldn't fit in a barn, let alone a narrow fortress hallway!"
"YOUR WHINING ANGERS ME, ELF," I leered at the mage, showing off my mouth full of *very* pointy teeth. He was unimpressed. "WORRY NOT; I SHALL DESTROY OUR FOES WHEREVER THEY MAY HIDE. PLUS, YOU ONLY HAVE TO SPLIT THE LOOT FOUR WAYS NOW."
"You're so stupid it hurts, it causes me physical pain." Amy sighed, "That said, having a death wyrm on our side is a tactical bonus we can't ignore, and he's right about the loot. We can also have him carry our gear for us." My eyes narrowed
"I AM *NOT* A PACK MULE, YOU WILL NOT TREAT ME AS SUCH." Tracy waved off my complaining.
"You turn into a giant beast, you get to carry our shit while we deal with yours. We always try to find some kind of positive to your shenanigans, Steven. This time: pack mule." I groaned, a sound that shook the earth.
"FINE, BUT DON'T BLAME ME IF IT FALLS OFF AT 3,000 FEET IN THE AIR AND SMASHES INTO THE GROUND AS SCRAP. NOW CLIMB ON, I'LL GET US TO THAT CITY FASTER THAN YOUR TINY LEGS." With that, our adventure began, and it was awesome.
|
MasterV3ga
|
Jyx_The_Berzer_King
|
2024-08-14 17:14:22
|
2023-02-27 08:21:07
| 161 | 87 | null | null |
1es40qy
|
11ctaxn
|
[WP] "There are three rules for mind-readers..." The man speaks sternly. "Don't read loved ones, don't reveal your powers, and NEVER try to read animals." He shivers a bit. "You probably think that last part is a joke but trust me; one glimpse into a horse and you won't be right for a week."
|
A rabbit spasmed in my arms, its white legs twitching as I held it snugly. It had fallen from a brick wall, and in its eyes, I saw tremendous fear. Such a terror was the worst enemy of these creatures, they could become afraid enough that it could kill them outright. I could heal the wounds to its legs, but I could not restore it from the grave. My instinct was wholly to save it, and the wise words of my mentor were lost on me when I entered its mind; all I wanted to do was calm its nerves, to comfort it, as we would all wish to be comforted.
Through the doorway I expected the emotions of a shivering child; tears and screams. Instead, there was nothing but bright white. In the pointed center of my vision, I saw a gold dot. As I walked closer, it took on the form of a golden ring. When I stood in front of it, I could see a pale translucent red material in the middle. Only when it blinked did I realize it was an eye.
I gasped and stepped back, reaching for my wand in my pocket but realizing that I had no form. This was strange, for I always had a form in my subjects.
Then the eye turned an opaque gray. Shapes came from the edges and began to coalesce. The first thing I noticed was the jade color of my boots, then the rest of the castle garden came into focus. My feet were swinging back and forth like the pendulum of a clock. I was so entranced in the image that I almost didn't see words forming outside of the eye in the whitespace. "Elves are so difficult to work with." "Argh!" "Why did that wand cost me an extra two gold?"
Strange, I thought, for these were clearly *my own* thoughts. How?
The more they appeared, the more I realized that the rabbit knew absolutely everything about me. Nothing was spared, from my deepest fantasies to my most banal mutterings about the weather.
*But...* It couldn't be the rabbit. I'd never seen it before, I just encountered it while I was... sitting on the wall. It stumbled, then fell, then I leaped after it to save it. How was this possible? Where were the emotions? The terror? The scared little bunny whom I was about to save?
The scene on the wall played back in my mind again and again, and as it did, it slowly occurred to me that things might not have happened the way I thought. Who fell first? Did I fall first? Could the rabbit have leaped... to save me? No, not at all possible. Rabbits don't possess that kind of intelligence.
Or do they?
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
With the exception of the second one, these seem arbitrary
They are there for a reason
That being?
You don't want to know what your loved ones are thinking,the last time someone disregard that they fell into a depression and killed themselves a month after(kinda happens when your SO is a Piece of shit)
And the one with the animals?
I'm not gonna think of it,otherwise it will spread to you too
It can't be that bad Right?(is he exaggerating?)
I'm not
20 bucks says your just weak
Deal,but please don't do it with any predator,try a herbivore first,fine I'll just see some sheep then
A week later
*Slams 20 dollars on the table* what was that?
We don't know,most people kill themselves before they explain
*Looks around nervous for ANY animal* since when do all animals have become Eldridge abominations,of the n dimension?
Probably forever,since these rules have been in place forever
Why didn't you tell me?
Because you wouldn't listen(not the first time)
What you mean not the first time?
You thing you're the first person to get warned about it and still went through?
No, but seems like it wasn't the second or the third time this happened either, was it?
Nah,your is probably shy of the millionth time this decade
That doesn't explains why you don't take bigger precautions
Already tried it, so give it a rest
Fine( i wonder if a had seen a preda-)
Don't
Wh-
I SAID DON'T
|
armageddon_20xx
|
rosolen0
|
2023-04-25 01:43:47
|
2023-04-25 01:04:15
| 633 | 34 |
jhlk6dt
|
jhlex7m
|
12y0z77
|
12y0z77
|
[WP] In all of the land, none are more respected than Dragon Rider's. Today you just received your Dragon, the problem is, your species is the most hated of all.
|
Few could guess why we were not wiped out, following the war.
Lands stolen, families divided, homes destroyed. Vermin, they called us, nothing more than a plague, forced into servitude rather than being put to the sword.
The laws do not apply to us, there is no grace given to the dregs of society. Speak out, and have your tongue removed. Reach out, and have your hand taken. Step one claw out of line, and say farewell to your foot.
It was the dragon riders that we saw as our land was razed, it was the dragon riders that we saw as our lives were irrevocably changed. It was the cruel mercy of the dragon riders that we still drew breath, only to be collared and dragged about. It is all we can do to survive with so little given to us, but we do not debase ourselves with the barbarism of Humans, the strength of the Kobold is in its warren.
Each day, we are drenched in water before we are carted out of the kennels. No singular job is given to an individual, the Humans can't be bothered to keep track of us, thus one day you'll be shoveling shit, and the next you'll be forced to hold linens for hours on end.
Today, I was hauled before the dragon riders, who did not deign to so much as look at me, the magics that bound the collar tightly around my neck would choke me if I so much as snarled at them. I simply grabbed the brushes and buckets of water and began scrubbing the floors.
*'You...'*
The voice was soft, we are expected to pay attention when addressed, I looked up, but saw only the dragon riders talking among themselves. Nobody spoke to me, nobody so much as spared me a glance, and the gradual tightening of the collar indicated stopping was against my duties.
I ignored the voice and resumed.
*'Your soul burns with the flame of justice...'*
I paused again, uncertainty creeping into my mind as I looked around for the speaker. I could not stop and investigate, but the fact that I was being addressed by seemingly nobody was concerning. Was this madness, had the Humans finally broken me?
*'What have they done to you..?'*
A Human entered the room, tracking mud across the floor that I would have to clean. "Everyone, one of the eggs is about to hatch!"
There was a bustle of movement as the room emptied. I resumed my cleaning, starting with the mud that had been so cruelly smeared into the stone floor. By the time I had the whole floor scrubbed, the dragon riders returned, bearing a scarlet egg upon a pillow. Even from my vantage, I could see the egg moving.
"It's getting ready to hatch." One of the Humans spoke. "The one it has chosen is within the city."
It wasn't long before more Humans came, all of them excited, their eyes filled with hope and ambition in equal measure. I was required to bring them food and drink when ordered to, I could feel my stomach rumbling at the mere sight of fresh bread, not a speck of mold upon it, not a maggot in sight.
*'None of them will leave here with their wish fulfilled. Come.'*
I felt the magic of the collar react to the order, I felt drawn toward the egg, and the tightening of the collar told me I could not ignore this. A child reached for the egg, the disappointment was palpable on his face. A male touched it, there was bitterness in his eyes.
"Kobold, food." A Human said. I went to bring the tray of food over to him, but the collar snapped tight around my neck, causing me to stumble and drop the tray. I trembled as it loosened, there were few orders that could override the orders of a Human.
*'Come.'*
There were murmurs as I continued walking toward the egg, a few dragon riders noticed my movements. "Back to your corner, Kobold."
I did not listen, I continued walking toward the egg. A dragon rider approached me with his sword drawn, "Disobedient little shit!" He snapped, raising his weapon. There was a moment that something happened, I can barely understand it. It was as if for that moment, my heart beat a little louder, and the sword struck the very air, as if frozen in space.
I continued to walk, and stood but a few footsteps away. I reached out, another sword failed to strike me as I laid my hand upon the egg, and it cracked.
The silence that fell was deafening, as the hatchling wormed its way out of the shell, and pressed its head against my hand. The first thing that hit me, as I felt a connection form between me and the dragon, was pure love. It was the same love as when one of my own people would forego their meager ration to ensure their hatchling could eat, it was the same love as when they would bring water-laden moss so the sick could have something to drink.
I took the dragon in my arms, and I wept in the face of such total and unyielding love.
"Abomination!" A Human approached, I could feel the jet of fire the dragon breathed at them, forcing them to back away, I could feel the sudden strain of the collar against my neck, before it was finally, mercifully loosened.
*'I am yours, and you are mine. I shall defend you until my dying breath, I shall see you free so long as I live. Name me.'*
*"Draezen."* I uttered. Freedom.
Draezen alit my shoulder, and I turned to face the gathered Humans, who stared at me with fear and hatred. The dragon riders stared at me with uncomprehension, in their eyes, dragons were destined to bond with Humans.
Roars filled the air, several thundering thuds sounded from outside.
*'Walk forward, pay them no heed. It is not their welcome you need concern yourself with.'*
I took a step forward, the Humans backed away from me, driven off by the glare of my dragon. One foot in front of the other, until I reached the double doors that led outside. There was a rush within my very being as the doors swung open, and just outside, dragons sat on either side of the path leading into the city. I took another step forward, and as I walked, the dragons bowed their heads as I passed.
|
I stared amused as the small Amethyst hatchling awkwardly waddled around the room I had been given. It was clearly content for a moment to simply explore the room, though it was rather plain by most standards. A bed, which I sat on, hard wood floors, with a red carpet the bed sat atop, a bookcase, a small fireplace, and a desk with a quill and inkwell atop it. A chair at the desk closed out the room. I watched as the dragon awkwardly climbed the leg of the chair to see on top of the desk. It became interested in the quill and attempted to climb higher in order to reach the interesting feather.
"- Know what he is." My hearing perked as I heard a distant voice. I listened as another, whom I recognized as the Rider Comac responded. "Yes, I know exactly what he is. But the orders were clear. If the dragon chose him, he was to be a Rider." The voice responded with venom. "Not. A fucking. Furshifter." The word struck me with sadness. The hatchling turned to me and chirped concerned. I feigned a smile. "I'm okay, bud..."
"DON'T CALL HIM THAT!"
"You'll regret this Comac. That dragon will grow to be just a mindless beast like that thing if you allow this, and then we'll have two murderous bloodlust fuelled creatures to deal with. This is on you. You can stop it before they kill everyone." I felt tears start dripping from my cheeks as my dragon growled at the voices. He turned to me and cocked his head before leaping from the desk to the bed, his wings carrying him in a glide. As he landed, he chirped again before gently nuzzling my arm. I felt more tears as a feeling of love, and trust began to fill my mind. I gently lifted him and hugged him. The hatchling hummed and licked my cheek clean of tears gently. The silence was broken with a knock at the door. I took a moment as i tried to control my tears long enough to answer. It opened a minute later as Comac entered. He glanced at me a moment. "I take it you heard that..." I glanced at him silently and shrugged. "Why do you care? I'll probably just kill everyone anyway, right..." Comac stepped inside and closed the door. He silently approached and sat by me on the bed. "That's not what you are though, is it Ionakana?" I stayed silent, trying to focus on my dragon as it again nuzzled me. "I had doubts about the stories of Werewolves, honestly. I mean, you've lived in this city for how many years? 5, 6?"
"7." I replied as I ran my hand across the Hatchling's back. "Right.. and how many have you killed in a blood fuelled rage?" I glanced at Comac. "The way I see it, either you're the most calm Werewolf I've ever seen, you're really good at hiding it and that Dragon has the absolute worst judge of character I have ever seen, or the stories about your kind are bullshit." I glanced at him as he gave me an inquisical look. "So which is it?" I kissed the Hatchling's head again as he nuzzled me, still trying to comfort me. "Bullshit." He laughed softly. "Thought so. Listen, you can never change how others are. But you CAN change how they perceive you. It just takes time. I don't care what anyone thinks about me. Neither should you." I chuckled darkly. "If you're hated, you don't get hunted every night." The words took him aback a moment. "No.. no, I suppose I don't. But I also know how it feels to have no one and nothing. I was once like you. Homeless, starving, getting whipped, or locked in a cell every other month after trying to steal to stay alive. It's not an easy life. And likely less so as a Werewolf."
"It is.. do you... do you think anyone will ever accept me for what I am?" Comac smiled softly. "3 already have. Your Dragon accepts you. My dragon accepts you. And I accept you. You are a Rider. From this moment on. Until the day you or your Dragon cross the ethereal plain. You are a Dragon Rider, and no one, not the people, not the ignorant, The King, not even God himself, can change that this Dragon has seen you. The true you. Down to your barest of self, and chosen not a Human, nor Elf, nor Orc or even Dwarf. But you. A Werewolf as his Rider." I glanced at the Hatchling in my arms as he rested his head against my chest. "If that isn't acceptance and love, then someone needs to teach me what it is because I don't know what it really is." I smiled softly as I considered Comac's words. He was right. For better or worse, this Dragon chose me, and in the short few hours we had shared together since being soul bonded, I'd felt nothing but love and trust in abundance from the small creature. "I have you, buddy. And if you'll accept me, I don't need anyone else. I love you." The dragon again hummed happily as it nuzzled me, even more love radiating from the link we shared. I understood almost instantly. I was accepted, and loved just as much as I loved him.
|
Drakolf
|
Lycan_Jedi
|
2023-12-22 05:14:50
|
2023-12-22 03:01:27
| 142 | 41 |
keffmbs
|
keez74m
|
18nvlpj
|
18nvlpj
|
[WP] By law, those born with the mark of slavery are to be sold as property. Your son, born with it, resists capture at 15 and escapes. Imprisoned for his defiance, you worry only for his fate. Years later, he returns to free you—revealing the mark’s true purpose, shattering everything you believed.
|
"Sir... are these translations... accurate?" lieutenant Smith asked looking at the title of the report.
"Lieutenant, I can assure you this is the most accurate translation our AI has been able to produce thus far."
"This is insane, we need to..."
The general cut him off. "For the safety of Earth, it is imperative that we do absolutely nothing."
:::::::::::
**Discovery of Plot to Eradicate Life on Earth**
Translation 1: Plicam conversing with Xard
"These humans will be nothing but trouble Xard. My detritus creation monopoly will be undone. Go after their representative at first, but if it takes xenocide then so be it."
Xard was sickened, hoping he wouldn't need to erase another budding alien biom so full of life and potential. But he understood. Plicam's cruel ways of dealing with alien populations was unfortunately necessary in order to keep the galactic economy running so smoothly. Things like instantanious delivery, unlimited telestreaming, and complete personal atmospheres just weren't a thing that was viable if the galaxy was constantly coddling new forms of life. So he went to Plicam's armory and got to work.
\--
Translation 2: Xard's first Report
Due to the urgency of the mission I will be beginning with the most expensive, but most effective poison. Oxygen.
The first carrying agent will be mixed in a Hydrogen carrying agent. Ratio 2:1 hydrogen to oxygen. The lowest I can safely go and still handle the substance. To further increase it's effectiveness I will be adding C6H8O6.
I have noticed the representative drinks fluids. I will be replacing all of her drinking fluids with the poison.
::::::::
"That explains why Representative Shanin reported that her drinking water had a tangy taste to it. She also did mention that it was the least trouble her immune system had. Though I guess it's time we stop calling her sour water," the lieutenant mumbled.
"That's nothing Smit, keep reading."
:::::::::
Translation 3: Xard's First Attempt
This is embarrassing. This is my first time writing an attempt report in over 300 years. Somehow the representative was able to neutralize the oxygen. Though personal climate bubbles are allegedly completely oxygen proof, I was not comfortable exposing myself to an atmosphere I had doped with so much oxygen, even in a liquid form. For this reason I did not stick around to see the human ingest the poison. However upon returning to the representative's outpost to verify death, I found that the fluids were in fact ingested. This means that the human's either: have a way of counteracting oxygen poisoning and or they have a way of detecting oxygen in real time.
For attempt 2 I will be putting myself at a much greater risk. Instead of cutting the oxygen with hydrogen, I will be mixing it with a nitrogen agent 4:1 ratio nitrogen to oxygen is as low as I can safely go without putting myself at risk. I will be gassing the entire outpost with this poison. Not as subtle as the last attempt considering the collateral damage of every human on the outpost, however extreme measures were approved.
\---------
Translation 4: Xard's next plans
This is my first time, ever, writing a second attempt form. I am unclear how the humans counteracted the toxins yet again. However this leads to the clear conclusion that they have chemists far beyond our initial understanding. I took the liberty of studying their atmospheric settings and causes. I discovered that the humans have found ways to cheaply and effectively mass produce methane and carbon dioxide.
My next request's expenses will be paid off easily by the technology we will be able to salvage. I will be setting up a ship to enter Earth's atmosphere and siphoning off mass levels of methane and carbon dioxide. I will lower the levels well below livable levels before sending down a crew to collect the various technologies to allow them to create such a lush atmopshere.
|
*"Alright, Gliptor. You're gonna wanna use this." Phlingman brandished a large glass vial with a clear liquid in two hands, and a small silver canister with his other three. "Uncut DHMO. Pure as shit. And if that doesn't work..." he waved the canister under my olfactory apparatus and I recoiled as the faintest hint of oxygen greeted me. "...feed this into their room when they're sleeping!"*
"Hang on - stop there." Agent Violet looked incredulously as Gliptor. "These were the assassination weapons provided to you by Phlingman? Water, and oxygen."
"Just tellin' it like it happed ossifer."
"You are aware that we drink and breathe these things?" Agent Blue leaned back in her chair, with a raised eyebrow.
"You want the story on don't ya?"
"I want a believable story."
Gliptor shrugged his shoulder. "It's the only one I've got."
The two agents looked at each other. Blue chewed nervously on the end of an unlit cigar. "Fine - continue." said Violet.
*So Phlingman has me set up his poison for the human rep - says some crap about grandstanding preventing the march of progress in the galaxy. I dunno, I'm a contract killer, not a philosopher. You give me a blaster, I'll shoot. You give me 250 ccs of the blue stuff, and a compressed canister of element 8, I'll get that stuff into a soft skin.*
*It was a logistical nightmare, I'll tell you that much. Moving all over the planet, very rapidly. I finally managed slip in the DHMO drink at their lunch meal.*
*The effect was pretty quick - but all I got was some vomiting. Turned out it would take much more DHMO to muck with their physiol-*
"No, no." Blue said, impatiently "Small quantities of water would not do that.
"They would if they're distilled, mate." Gliptor sighed. "When I said pure, I meant it."
*But it was enough, and I so I followed the Rep to their evening office, where they were following up on all the things that were frustrating Phlingman.*
*Getting the oxygen in was a challenge, I tell ya - my species compensates for it with a special hardening and colour change of our carapace when this occurs. It was very hard not to trigger a reaction.*
*But I got there in the end and got the Rep.*
"Or, I would have, if you two enterprising law officers so obsessed with the Rep didn't intervene." Gliptor leaned back. "But I've got everything where I want it now."
"You're chained up, and the Rep isn't in this room.", scoffed Violet."
"That's alright 'darlin, I don't mind. But once again I think you've underappreciated the nature of the situation." Gliptor smirked. "This isn't your garden variety one '1/5th of the container' is Element 8."
"It's all of it." Gliptor hissed.
"By the way, do you have a place where I can shed my carapace?"
Blue hadn't been listening. He flicked open a small device from his pocket, and produced a flame for his cigar.
Gliptor chuckled.
"Boom."
|
TheRedTurtle11
|
smoha96
|
2023-12-16 19:38:55
|
2023-12-16 19:19:16
| 336 | 54 |
kdnkefm
|
kdngz3p
|
18ju8wy
|
18ju8wy
|
[WP] Humans have always had a tough time winning medals at the Galactic Olympics, but there is one game that they're weirdly, freakishly good at.
|
"I dont get it. You humans are the only species in the entire Galactic Olympics that has no psychic aptitude. Zero. Zilch. Squat. You can't even perceive your environment without focusing ambient light through those weird little orbs in your head. How in blazes are you so good at rifle marksmanship?" T'zarrak waved his antennae about haphazardly in my direction, which I had learned conveyed a degree of consternation and/or confusion.
I had to admit, I had no idea why everyone **else** in the galaxy was so **bad** at aiming a gun. "I dunno. I just point the gun at the target and shoot. It's not very hard. I'm not even good at it by human standards."
He puffed out his ventral section in exasperation. "You make that sound so simple. Just point the gun at the target. So…what? You're telling me humans are all savants at trigonometry? The Galactic Record was 28 meters for a stationary Olympic target before you humans showed up on the scene. The human record is over a kilometer!"
"Trigonometry? Huh?" It took me a bit to follow the conversation, that really seemed to come out of left field. "No, we're not using trigonometry. I just sight in the gun."
"How the hell do you line up the gun at a target without trigonometry?! You have to calculate where it's pointing based on the angle and position you're holding it at and the distances between yourself, the target, and all the reference objects."
Ok, now I was beginning to understand. "Look, you guys are all basically shooting from the hip because you don't have eyes."
He interrupted me, "Yeah, because eyes are primitive. You can't see objects that are behind other objects. You can't even see objects that are behind yourselves. You basically only perceive the world in one narrow cone. You can't use nearly as much of the environment as a frame of reference to calculate your shot as even the weakest psychics in the galaxy."
"Yeah, that's exactly why we are able to aim. You see these raised protrusions on top of my rifle? Well I guess you can't see them, but you sense them right?"
He nodded his assent.
"Well, when I'm shooting, I position the gun so that I can't see the front one because it's behind the rear one. And then while doing that, I position the gun so the spot I want to hit is behind both of them. When it's obscured by the protrusions, I pull the trigger and I hit the target."
He sat there in stunned silence. "Wait…so because the light beam that reflected off the target can't reach your eyes, you know that it's aligned with the two protrusions on your rifle…and because of that you know the rifle is aimed at the target... You're using light as a ruler to trace the shot?! That's totally unfair!"
I chuckled, "Just wait until I tell you about scopes…"
|
Basically every endurance category they owned. Humans had insane stamina. With their newest test they reach their maximum *time* they could run.
Yes time. Not distance. Time was the limiting factor by now.
Their absolute limit they reached now? Sleep.
Their world records are at *days* of running. They would eat, drink, and ... defecate while running if need be and still continue. At some point the runners just collapse and sleep. That was their limit. How long they could stay awake.
No-one could even remotely compete at that level.
So when they entered and got near last place in a lot of categories with some odds mid ranges in between nobody had the slightest idea they were godlike when running.
They could keep up with a lot of other runners in sprints and even got 3rd place in 800m races.
Then came the long distance running. Who could run the longest distance in one go. That race usually started around the middle of the events and lasted usually into the night.
At the end of the event the human runner was forcefully stopped as they still showed no sign of exhaustion.
Obvious they got controlled imideatly but there was nothing extra in their system.
They could just do that.
The winners before we're at like nearly 23 hours. The human shattered that record and put it up to 4 days and 12 hours. That wasn't even their personal best they claimed.
We were scared to introduce them to half-cyclers. Implants in the brain letting one half sleep and the other be awake and so on. If they use that their next limit would probably be ... I don't know if they even have a limit then.
Humans are just insane.
|
MuKen
|
xdTechniker25
|
2024-07-30 22:08:22
|
2024-07-30 17:44:06
| 1,043 | 453 |
lfpyumm
|
lfokvhk
|
1efxp28
|
1efxp28
|
[WP] You have been a mountaintop prophet for 1,000 years. Each person only gets one question and you're sure you've heard every question that can be asked. Until one day someone uses their one question to ask, "How are you doing?"
|
I've always been a meditator. Staring into the sky or tidepools by the ocean, looking inwards and learning about myself. Then moving on from self study, and on to tinkering with myself. By the time I was twenty five, I had achieved a state I am reasonably sure is the enlightenment described by my spiritual teachers. The frigid cold and inaccessibility of mountain tops called to something in me. I sat on the summit alone for ten days, and I made a breakthrough. I saw truths, islands of time in the past and the present that were stable. Limited future vision and the ability to vouch for the true history of my world.
I took the name Gaius, and made it my life to sit in contemplation. I became a legend, and others would seek me. Each had one question, one thing that I could answer with my capacity to generate prophecies. Years rolled by, and I was eighty eight when I realized I was not aging. My calling would transcend the usual limits of mortality.
Years went by, more visitors coming to me as my renown and the continent's population grew. Questions, mostly about small things, some about things of consequence, and a few that were truly interesting to see the answers to. After almost a millennia, I thought I had heard them all. There could be nothing new to ask me, all would simply be at best a close derivative of one that had come before.
But then, on the precise day of my thousandth year on the mountain top, an unassuming pilgrim came to me. I met her eyes, and I could tell that their question would be one of the interesting ones. Nodding my head to give my assent, she spoke, "How are you doing?"
I tilted my head. No one in my long tenure on this mountain had asked me about myself. I had spent so long looking inward, emptying myself, that I had quite forgotten about the part of me that was flesh. My reserves of will were incredible, but there were some basic truths I had not tuned into. The truth was I was hungry, cold, and my muscles were stiff.
"I.. I have never been asked that. I suppose the truth is that I am tired of sitting up here. I have mastered myself, perhaps more than any before. Part of me would like a change, but I do not know what I would do with myself."
She nodded, a deep capacity for thought and introspection plain in her eyes. "It is true, there are no goals left for you in this life. I could make you an offer. I could send you on your way to a higher plane, a great step up from the life you have lived as a mere human. I would then take your place, and become this mountain's prophetess."
I feel tears form in the corners of my eyes, despite the bitter cold. I have been here for so long, the idea of stepping away from this world and up to an even greater one stirs something deep in my core. My hands, shaking, come up to clasp hers. “Please, yes. Send me onward” She caresses my forehead, and I feel myself begin to fall away. The cord connecting my mind and soul to this place ceases to be.
I tumble, through space, through time. I go towards a blinding light. Then I have a body, a touch. The world is so much richer. I am being born, born in a world so far beyond the world I once knew. I expect the memories of my old life to fade, but they remain as I come to terms with this hyper reality. My thousand years of asceticism and meditation was just the beginning.
|
"Most reapers hate gathering the souls of the young. I will say it is no cakewalk but someone has to do it. Might as well be me. I never did get along much with the younger ones. After 11 they where down to a different reaper, this one was only 9. 9 years old before she was hit by a car. Idiotic parents shouldn't let kids play out in the streets. I have had many requests for games but never have I had one with such taste. A kid wanting to beat Minecraft with me. I would say it was heart warming. If I had a heart that is.
"Are you sure you want to play that game. Ounce we beat it that it." I merely ask this out of respect. I already know what the answerer is.
"Yes! It will be fun I can teach you all the controls."
She was practically bouncing when we got to my home in the void. My room mate was out for the day so we had the gaming system to ourselves.
We played for hours and hours. I was originally going to speed run it (after all death has to have a hobby and mine was gaming) but she had to stop for each small item. Speak to every character and even tame ever dog. It was rather cute. I ran to her defence in the deep dark and she ran to mine as I attempted to farm. We built a farm in the deep dark for me and one in the birch forest above said biome for her.
​
One day while we where in the nether we completed full Netherite gear. She was so happy that we where now \*ready\* for the dragon fight. Combat was my strength so as she took down crystals I duelled a dragon. I hardly noticed when I downed the mighty beast and we hopped into the credits.
It was only then I realised. She gave me a big hug and said thankyou. How could I of been so stupid. We had beaten the game.
I am not proud of what I did next. It broke every law we have. I sent her soul into the game itself. That way we could continue playing.
​
So I stand here in front you, judge, jury and executioners to plead my case. To claim that I shouldn't be decommissioned. She was still harvested and in the subtext I get 3 souls a year for consumption. Well I claim her as my 3rd soul of the year. I just so happen to be watching my weight at the moment." The court fell silent - This was the best case they had had in century's.
|
Saint_Of_Silicon
|
SssethelissS
|
2024-08-25 02:23:09
|
2023-02-26 19:28:07
| 107 | 22 |
ljsslq8
|
ja4dkp9
|
1f0klj6
|
11c95gs
|
[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.
|
“So, Mr and Mrs Hunnings-“
“*How dare you speak our name!*” My wife yelled. I put my hand on her shoulder, “Relax, honey. He’s being polite. It’s a human thing.”
Even as I tried to calm her down, I couldn’t help but thank my luck that I managed to marry this bombshell of a lady. Her long, silver hair flowed in the air even in the absence of a breeze. Her perfect features blended into the one piece dress she was wearing, seemingly made out of twigs and leaves, yet with an elegance unmatched by the top fashion divas. Even her angry, pouting face made my heart race, and her voice sounded like a bubbling brook, a soft sunshine during spring, a-
“*Husband! I demand you speak to this… teacher man. I cannot fathom what he speaks.*” My smoking hot wife snaps me out of the trance. I shook myself out of it. It was dangerous to lower your guard against a fae; Merely looking at one causes you to lose reason, much less the fae queen herself. The man before us also had to constantly touch his wedding band to keep his focus. He had a much stronger mental will than his plump outer appearance suggested.
“As I was saying. We have received multiple complaints of your daughter, ever since she took over class monitor duties.” The Principal continued, trying not to stare at the mini-thundercloud forming above my wife’s head.
“What do you mean? Is she slacking off? Because at home she’s the perfect little-“ The Principal shook his head violently to cut me off.
“No, no, she’s taking on the role just fine. The thing is… somehow the other children are weirdly compliant to her. They’re… here, let me show you.”
He tapped a button to display the CCTV of my daughter’s classroom, where it’s currently clean-up time. There she was, my little angel, sitting on a chair at the front of the class. She seemed to be giving instructions to her classmates, who were doing tasks such as sweeping the floors and wiping the tables.
“*I do not see the problem. She is the monitor, she supervises.*” My wife chimed in, the thundercloud beginning to take on a dark color. I could see the problem immediately. All the other classmates were strangely robotic, going through the motions without so much a hint of childhood mischief, playfulness or even emotion. The Principal was still trying to point out the abnormality to my 10/10 wife, and I had to step in.
“Mr Principal (sorry, we use titles as a habit), my daughter was given a name list as part of her attendance duties. She probably hasn’t realized it herself, but all her classmates’ will belong to her now,” I explained. His eyes opened in surprise, but then lowered in resignation.
“Mrs Hu- I mean, Ms fae, I know this is normal in your culture, but could you maybe, possibly…”
“*Fine. As my husband is human, I shall respect your need for freedom. I will talk to my daughter.*”
As we left the Principal’s office, I turned to my perfect, sexy yet cute, feminine yet- *ahem*, I turned to my wife and said, “I’m proud of you, honey. I know it’s hard for a fae to return names.” She turned to me, enthralling me again with her ephemeral face.
“*Well, I have to teach her to take names carefully. Don’t want her to make the same mistake I did, after all.*”
“Wait, what’s that mean?” As I asked incredulously, she gave me a wink and a smile that would melt the heart of a sociopath, and bounced off towards the classroom, skipping barefoot weightlessly down the corridor. The dark cloud above her head had turned into a soft glow with a hint of a rainbow.
“Wait, what’s that mean?!” I exclaimed again, chasing after her.
|
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)
|
hatabou_is_a_jojo
|
JWORX_531
|
2024-07-31 03:31:52
|
2024-07-31 02:51:28
| 72 | 41 |
lfrdhxr
|
lfr7wvy
|
1eg6x9i
|
1eg6x9i
|
[WP] A man signed a demonic contract thousands of years ago. In exchange for his mortality he would be granted immeasurable power and strength. Now humanity is about drive itself to extinction and he no longer wishes to be immortal. He comes up with a brilliant idea to take back the contract.
|
"What? My power? You really want to know?"
The bound and gagged henchman shook his head emphatically no.
"Not even a little bit curious?"
He looks past me at his former coworkers. He's looking into their haunted, empty, obedient eyes, and then back at me.
"I know what you must have heard. The screaming. The wailing. That's strange inhuman barking that could only have come from a human throat. What did you think of that? Do you have any guess what happened? Any at all?"
He looks at me. Really looks. The non sequitur of what he sees confusing him. I frankly look ridiculous, I hadn't had Tim to really collect myself, leaving the absurdity slamming against the fear running in his head.
"River? He needs to be able to talk."
One of the others rushed in and tore the tape off the bound man's face rather cruelly. Not to be mean, I imagine, but unwilling to disappoint me a second time.
"Is that a sock?"
River snatches the bit of cloth from the bound man's mouth.
I nod for him to retreat as I flip a chair around backwards and sit -- coattails require management. I look deep into the henchman's eyes, fairly sure that this one will go much easier than River, or Laughing Boy over there.
"Do you know who I am? Why I'm here?"
"You... You're Co..." He glances past me.
"It's okay. You can say it. I asked after all."
"You're Comic Relief." I raise an eyebrow and wait, then roll my hand for him to continue, "you're Comic Relief, uh Sir?"
"And?"
"Uh, your here for The Front Line?"
"Is that a statement or a question?"
"Statement sir. You're here for The Front Line sir."
"Two right answers in a row. But why am I here? In this room?"
"The, the maze sir. And the security grid." I start to nod again but he interrupts. "But I can't sir.*
"I am very disappointed. Am I really going to have to .."
"No sir! No! I mean I can't" he keeps turning his head to his left then looking back at me and rolling his eyes right.
"oh.. Oh. oh I see." I curl my right finger under his chin, guide his head further around and feel along his occipital bun with my left hand. There's scaring there beneath his hair. "This is unfortunate."
I let go of his head so he can turn back to face me. "Obedience? Compulsion? Don't tell me it's explosives?" Some of the fear has left his eyes, which isn't a bad thing.
"I... I just... I just can't..."
"We'll just have to rearrange things until you can. River, we may need the sock..."
"But you're Comic Relief. You tell jokes. You make puns. You drive the fricking van!" River has recovered the wad of cloth and comes back, the henchman's panic is coming back as well. "Why do you keep calling him River? Jonsey, why did he keep mmhm mfrf?"
I side the chair closer and lean in to whisper. "You see, when Jonsey was a boy there was a river near his house... But never you mind. That's his story and we need to explore yours."
He makes a little squeal.
"You know," I say casually, everybody pays far to much attention to that first word. Comic A little levity helps a lot. But it's the second word that really matters. Relief.
River applies some tape to make sure the sock stays put.
"By the way, are you familiar with the conservation of energy? Momentum? That sort of thing? Other things are conserved as well. Things you wouldn't think of at first.. Life can be hard, so what I do is shift life's burdens around. I tell stories. Make little jokes. Bring some relief. But everything has to go somewhere."
I lean in close. The others don't need to hear this, that would be cruel. "Funny thing about speedsters like Zipper. They seem so fast to us. Snap of a finger and they've cleaned the whole house. But for them it takes just as long as it would take you or me. They do it alone, in a dim and silent world. It might drive sometime mad. I've let Zipper unload lots of times. The Wall. Redo. Skipper. The whole From Line really suffers to help the normal folks. Lots of people suffer. Let me show you..."
* * *
I watch The Front Line make their daring escape from inside the control room. They'll never know I was even here.
Before I slip away I clean up my mess. A quiet clever twist of words and River stops drowning, Spike comes down from his torturous posts, and Laughing boy finally quits relieving the endless screaming breathless tickling. I take it all back, mind and body. Torn muscles. cracked bone. Puncture wounds. The ravaged lungs of a freshwater drowning. I stash it all away in the dark vault of my memories. Safely waiting for me to reshape and retell these stories.
I take it all back because they're just henchmen doing their jobs in a hard world. There'd be no justice in such affliction.
They'll wake up mid-chuckle, unsure what they're laughing about, and wonder how they lost track of so much time.
Maybe a little inclined to find a better boss.
Speaking of, I think I'll have to visit their boss and tell him a story about Spike's implant. A story he'll probably never forget.
|
The team was saved and the villain was defeated and order was restored. That, apparently, was the easy part. The hard part is making sense of what just happened.
Triggerman, the leader of the heroes, had just called a meeting and asked everyone to clear their calendar for the rest of the day (and possibly week). When everyone arrived, the elephant in the room was immediately addressed: how did Jimmy do all of... that?
Jimmy had been brought onto the team as a mixture of a distraction and cannon fodder. As brutal as it sounded, this was a normal part of the superhero zeitgeist. The heroes could not properly function if all the attention was on them and not at least partially on an expendable member. The team had been through at least a dozen of these members over the years. But Jimmy had revealed himself to be decidedly different.
"We all know why we're here," Triggerman said.
"Avalon and I need to know what's going on here," said Zonma. Zonma had to speak for her sister Avalon because she had traded her voice for her powers.
The rest agreed, and all eyes nervously laid on Jimmy.
Jimmy began his explanation. "It's all quite simple. I've had these amazing powers for so long and have operated under different names on different teams for so long, and it just got boring. I show up, dominate the field, and the day is saved."
Creaturus quickly replied with "you think this is a game? You put us and regular people in danger because you're... bored? I know sloths who are more motivated than you are. Do you know how close we were to dying and the world's defenses against evil being reduced to nothing??"
Jimmy gave his reply: "I would still be there as a Plan Z if everything else goes wrong and you all died... no problem."
Triggerman stood up with an air of fury. "Do you care about anyone else aside from you and your own ego?? It's okay if anyone and everyone dies as long as you are on the winning side."
Jimmy calmly nodded and shrugged with a half-smirk. "What are you going to do about it? I single-handedly destroyed an enemy that you all could not collectively defeat."
Everyone sat back stupefied and unable to rationally reply. The few seconds of silence hung thick in the air and seemed to instead be hours. Jimmy sat back and said "well I guess that's settl-"
"But then you would be back where you started." Everyone looked to the lobby of the room to see who had spoken. It was the team's benefactor... the one who financed the team and ran the background operations that nobody cared to paid attention to. Nobody knew about him and had slowly taken him for granted over the years of stability and consistency from his side. Jimmy didn't know who this man was since he had joined the team well after the benefactor had retreated from the spotlight to the shadows.
"You will be bored. You said it yourself... you stopped being a hero and started being a joke to shake things up for yourself personally. If you do go back to saving the day all the time, you would be defeated by your own victories. And you would find another team to be a joke for."
Jimmy started to shift in his seat and looked nervous.
"It would be a never-ending cycle of peaks and valleys, and no team wants an inconsistent team member. We want to know who we are, not just who we are on a specific day. If you want to remain on this team, then pick a role: savior or joke. You'll be removed from the team and publicly disgraced by us so that no other team would accept you."
Jimmy nervously started to speak but was cut off.
"Or you can just leave now and we go our separate ways."
All eyes were again on Jimmy as before, but the balance of power had clearly shifted in the last 30 seconds.
"But who will save you if you all fail??" Jimmy pleaded.
"That's our business... so, what's it going to be?" replied the benefactor.
|
BitOBear
|
360walkaway
|
2024-12-21 09:34:29
|
2024-12-21 04:55:49
| 32 | 22 |
m3456f5
|
m33dsw3
|
1hiwrc4
|
1hiwrc4
|
[WP]You're a software engineer who is a communications geek. You learned Morse code. One day, on a whim, you blink "console" with your eyelids. A translucent overlay over everything appears, highlighting items of interest. A realtime programming loop prompt blinks eagerly
|
**THE GODS THEMSELVES**
For a moment, I was shocked. I managed to get everything clear in my mind. I was… I was not real. I was totally programmed.
I looked around. The river was running, towards the equator on the endless sloping land. I was here to get some leisure time, I was just too busy as an engineer. But turns out I wasn’t even here.
So where was I if I was not on Dyson Sphere 42? And… what was I?
Am I some kind of toy of God? Of the programmer of me?
But all these just felt so real, I was born here on Dyson Sphere 42. I was used to living on the shell of our sun.
Before I could get myself together, the nature of being a software engineer make me take a glance at the other side of the wall. A simple word as "console" just sent me a key to the real world.
I was expecting some kind of God. They should be smarter, stronger, and more powerful than my kind. I was a normal human being, born in 3023, living on Dyson Sphere 42, and was both thrilled and scared to meet some civilization higher than mine.
To be honest, I was expecting at least a type III civilization.
However – I couldn’t trust my eyes – what was in front of me was a crowd of… ancient people. They were pure nerds, with heavy glasses, flannel shirts, and clumpy antique laptops.
They didn’t realize that I was there, that I was watching them.
“How is your experiment going?”
“Running well. I’m making a beautiful model of Dyson Sphere.”
“Yeah, I love that. Just imagine what a type II civilization will be like!”
​
FYI, we human beings are not even a type I civilization so far. Know more about Dyson Sphere, check [SciFidea](https://www.facebook.com/SciFideaOfficial/).
|
I remember my school days. I spent long evenings in 5pm code club, working on an app with other students. When I first joined, I watched a senior project his screen onto the whiteboard, open his terminal, and jokingly propose to enter “rm -rf .”. The older geeks were snickering.
I knew little about computers at the time and asked, “What does that do?”
“It deletes the directory’s contents,” he told me. “Be careful with it.”
“Oh.” I nodded, pretending to understand.
Almost a decade later, I know exactly what he meant.
But I’ve always been a curious, chaotic gremlin.
I blink. “rm -rf .”
Edit: I’m not sure if morse code supports “-“
|
SciFidea
|
AnExoticOrange
|
2023-02-23 10:21:16
|
2023-02-23 07:38:07
| 25 | 13 |
j9o24h6
|
j9nqcqa
|
119n7g6
|
119n7g6
|
[WP] You're on a hike and find a sign, it reads: "WARNING DO NOT LOOK AWAY. There is a danger here, the danger is based on sight. The danger cannot see you if you cannot see it. Help will arrive every half-hour. DO NOT LOOK AWAY." The sign has a built-in clock, it's 3:15pm.
|
"Don't look away?" I tilted my head, rereading the sign again. "There is a danger here, the danger is based on sight... Man, could they have worded that any weirder?" I frowned, shrugging. It was probably nothing, just some prank by hikers or park rangers or something.
...On the other hand.
"So I can't look away from the sign, huh?" The clock now read 3:16. Which left some 14-odd minutes until help came. Why weren't they here more consistently? Why didn't they solve whatever the danger was before? Why was the only way for them to solve the issue by putting up signs? Like, putting up a sign that said "There's an angry bear den ten feet behind you" isn't helpful! Just get rid of or move the bears!
I refocused on the sign. Gosh darn it, it was way too easy for me to get distracted. Was it- the clock ticked over to 3:17. Assuming this *was* an actual thing, and not a publicity stunt or "haha funny moments" video in the making, it was absolutely going to get me. I'd just zone out and look around and accidentally see it.
...Hang on.
If I can't see if, it can't see me, right?
I pulled my backpack off my back and locked my eyes onto it. I wasn't looking at the sign, no, but I guess I hadn't been for a bit. Now where was the darn thing... here we go. I'd packed this bandana for... no particular reason. Just thought it'd look cool. But it made a handy blindfold in an emergency.
I wrapped it around my eyes, and after a moment sat down next to the sign. Then I pushed my backpack back a little and laid down. I was going to be chilling for a few minutes, it didn't hurt to get comfortable.
I laid there, listening for who really knows how long. You know, you never realize how nice nature sounds until you've got nothing to do *except* listen. Birds singing whatever song strikes their fancy. Wind whistling through the trees. Feeling the sun beaming down on you. It's a rather relaxing-
Something kicked my leg.
I instinctively jerked back as something *big* stumbled over me. At least, it sounded big. Big and snuffly. Like a giant boar or pig, but it didn't sound right. Like... like a human mixed with some boar. It was like the uncanny valley but for sounds. It sounded so *close* to being human, but just off enough.
I pulled myself into a ball as the thing seemed to grow louder. I couldn't see it through my blindfold, but I could sort of see light. More specifically, I saw the light fade as whatever it was grew louder. It must have been getting closer to me. I *so badly* wanted to see whatever it was, but I didn't dare remove my blindfold. I didn't want *whatever this thing was* to see me.
A long moment of silence passed. The thing's breath grew quieter, but I could still hear it. I tried to muffle my breath, begging that it didn't hear me. That it ran off. That it didn't smell me. That it ran off. *That it ran off*.
"Hey!" The beast made a noise, then I heard gunshots. "Screw off!" The beast roared, and then it sounded like it charged off into the forest. "Why was that thing hanging around?" I heard footsteps, then saw a different shadow standing overhead. "They're not supposed to be around here... Did something lure it?"
Oh, perfect, people! They could tell me what was up! They'd seen the thing! I reached up to take off my blindfold, but then paused.
I could see his shadow.
...Why didn't he see me?
|
I chuckled with a smirk on my face. "Some sort of prank? Nice one." I thought aloud, my eyes scanning for possible hidden cameras or laughing friends as if I was going to be on the next viral YouTube prankster video. However, the only response I received was that of the slow and silent murmur of the forest, the distant songs of birds, and the brisk wind that rustled leaves. There was one thing that stuck out amongst the landscape, a peculiar-shaped shadow that caught my attention, tucked beneath a thick grove of trees. It didn't keep a steady shape but instead moved unnaturally.
I held my breath while also maintaining my gaze. I felt the shadow did the same, staring, staying still, and waiting. My flight mode was at 100%, with every cell in my body wanting to run as fast as possible away from this possible threat, but my conscious mind heeded the warning on the sign, which continued to haunt my thoughts. How could the Park Rangers ever let anyone come this far? Why isn't this shutdown?
That's when I heard voices coming up the trail, other hikers. Wanting to save them from being in a dangerous staring contest with an unknown entity, I panicked. I screamed to them "Don't look away from it! It's right there!" ardently reaching my arm out and pointing at the shadow.
One of the hikers directed his gaze to where I pointed, while the other looked away to read the sign.
One second.
One second is all it took for her to read the sign. One second was all it took for the shadow to realize the moment of distraction. It lunged for the preoccupied hiker.
Just like that, the shadow was gone, leaving just me, a terrified hiker who had just lost his partner, and an eerie silence as the sun began to set.
"Jessica!" the hiker cried out, his voice in despair, knowing that he will never see her again.
My heart sank, all I could mutter was "I tried..."
He looked towards me, then to the sign. "Why..."
That's when we heard a vehicle approach, interrupting our moment of sorrow. It was two park rangers from Station #4. The passenger hopped out and gave each of us a warm cup of what appeared to be cinnamon tea.
"Go ahead, drink it, it'll help calm your nerves. I'm sorry this had to happen to your friend."
|
ArbitraryChaos13
|
CreamyKira
|
2023-08-13 03:28:22
|
2023-08-13 01:42:26
| 871 | 35 |
jvyjdou
|
jvy6w13
|
15pgoo5
|
15pgoo5
|
[WP] A famous prompt: Describe a barn as seen by a man whose son has just been killed in a war. Do not mention the son, or war, or death. Do not mention the man who does the seeing.
|
This is my first ever attempt at writing something that’s not academic so hopefully I don’t sound too goofy. I think it’s fine though so here goes nothing lol!
The barn stood there on the hill, its rusty red paint chipping with wear and age. The now decaying structure had once been a sturdy and bustling place, occupied by those who worked within its four great walls, and the animals for which they cared for. It adorned its now overgrown pasture as a red memorial to the life in which it had fostered. No creature inhabited the dwelling now, but its story seemed to piece itself together with none more than a slight glance. It had been a cradle for life on these Wisconsin planes, and one could gather from the large field in which contained the outbuilding that it had at one point housed cattle.
It was easy to imagine that the building had seen the birth of many calves in its day. It had watched as the stick thin creatures frolicked thoughtlessly through their youth with its silent adoration. It watched as those same calves eventually came to slow down and come to their senses, as their focus shifted from their gleeful frolics to the regular repetition of grazing the sprawling fields in which surrounded the barn's solid walls. As the carefree nature of the calves waned, in size they grew. They themselves became sturdy, and strong, and the barn admired them wordlessly for growing in its own image.
The building had also seen those same cattle in which it had sheltered in both their untroubled calvehoods to their even tempered cow hoods meet their end. The barns walls also bore witness to the ritualistic slaughter in which cut short their sturdiness and new found sensibilities. The lives so careful maintained cut short for the pleasure of another.For those in which it had nurtured within its walls it wept silently. Ever sturdy and unmoving, to the outside eye nothing had changed, but to the barn so enshrouded in its silent grief, nothing would ever be the same.
|
Home, it’s what consumes my mind. Branches snap under my weight as I drag myself up this steep, dusty, and unnecessarily long path. My shoulders lead the way and each sway pulls my focus with it. The grass has grown past my belt. The path is over run with insects and weeds. I remember that it was raining when I started walking. I don’t know how long I’ve been gone. I don’t care.
From the top of this hill, the sun beats down on the dark red. The dust that had clogged my lungs was encouraged by the wind to embrace the beams that were once white. The paint peels away. I give in to the earth and let my head rest on a soft, cold stone. From sight alone, I could feel those walls carve its way into my hands. No matter how calloused I became, it always managed to get under my skin. I knew that it was empty, but I could hear it full of life.
Soon, I’ll be home.
|
JesusGums
|
genericjeemail
|
2024-05-01 04:43:39
|
2024-05-01 04:28:41
| 30 | 12 |
l21tssa
|
l21s6bb
|
1ch8fdv
|
1ch8fdv
|
[WP] Your superpower isn’t anything special. You can make stuff disappear behind your back then pull it back out again. When a friend at a party asks you to do it to them it sounds like a great laugh. But when you pull them back out they look older, disheveled, and are frantic to be sent back.
|
"What are you doing?! Send me back!"
"Wait, what? Why? Where did you go? How long have you been gone? What happened?!"
I'd been pulling my little trick for years. Sending things away, then yanking them back. This was the first time I'd done a person or living thing, though, and the man I pulled back was not the same one I'd sent away.
His clothes were completely different. Instead of the casual jeans and t-shirt ensemble he'd left with, he came back wearing an outfit that put any cosplayer to shame. Mail hauberk, plate armor in places, a sword that looked terrifyingly functional. And all of it had clearly seen use, if the smell had not already given that away. The outfit may look amazing but he smelled like he'd just come out of a gym workout.
And his clothes weren't the only change. Gone was the youth from his face and eyes. Now a mature young man looked back at me, with a fire, intensity, fear, and focus that he had previously lacked.
"It's been nearly ten years! Why did you call me back now? You have to send me back! They need me!"
"Ten years? It was fifteen seconds! And who needs you?!"
"EVERYONE!"
He's getting more and more frantic, grabbing at me now.
"You have to send me back. It's the middle of the battle, and I'm just gone. What will happen to the army? They're there because of me, they'll route if I'm thought to have perished. Not to mention, who else can stand against Praethor? This sword wasn't easy to find, and there are precious few like it in the world. Now send me back!"
The information was a jumble of confusion and nonsense. It meant nothing to me. But his last words were given in such a commanding tone and with a tense grip on the sword that I simply did as commanded, reached back, and sent him away.
Only after, thinking back on things, did it make sense. I didn't just make things vanish, I sent them to another world, with other rules and laws. Other magic and time and power blocs and people. I pulled out some of my favorite trinkets that I had sent away and called back before, noting the subtle changes to them. The fading, a few grass stains. I hadn't realized how my power worked before.
But now I've thrown my best friend into another world, where he apparently formed an army to fight...someone. I isekai'd my friend. And he had to go back. But, it had been a minute between when he was pulled and when he was shoved back. Was that a minute over there as well? Or, if it was the same length as the difference was before, did he just get thrown into the world forty years after his army lost?
|
So here’s the deal:
My back is a portal. I can put things in and take them out kind of like when a cartoon character pulls something from behind them. Pocket dimension powers are handy, but they aren’t anything crazy.
I don’t know what mine looks like at all so when my friend wanted to check it out I saw it as a win win. When I pulled him back out though, it looked like he’d been in there for weeks and he begged to go back. Eventually he calmed down and a few days later he discussed the world as calmly as he could. While he was calm the experience left him in shambles and while this is recoverable within a few months at a ward so getting a straight answer is next to impossible.
From what I could gather, it was a paradise like living within one’s own imagination even coming equipped with living creatures. In that world Steve was able to live out all of his greatest dreams and desires from the relatively simple like getting a girlfriend to the more complex ones like becoming a hero or running his own business where he sells baked goods. He heard tales from the entities there of the fated hands that can give great gifts and just as easily take them away at their beckon call and he was eventually taken too.
According to him he spend 3 months in there and this world is all he talks about now. I feel bad for Steve and due to court order, I’ll never be able to see him again with me being relocated to make sure psychological well-being is kept
|
Skyblade12
|
beholder_dragon
|
2023-01-26 08:37:23
|
2023-01-26 03:04:46
| 63 | 40 |
j5xufyd
|
j5wxch8
|
10lcgjs
|
10lcgjs
|
[WP] "The human engineer costs HOW MUCH?" the captain was shocked. "Well, the human's rate itself is cheap. I'm including a week's worth of food. They're ludicrously expensive to maintain, but I'll be damned before I board a ship WITHOUT a human crew as well," said the broker.
|
Tip flipped the panel shut, satisfied when the airlock indicators on the security board flicker back to life. Her assistant, a young apprentice engineer of the same species as the rest of the ship, nodded in approval. Being the only human on board could get lonely at times, but the Narr'l made great company. They reminded her of capybaras, in both their stout furry appearance and in their placid yet kind demeanor. As a species their nature was entirely peaceful and rooted in diplomacy, with violence of any kind being completely unheard of. Human's reputation for pack bonding and creative solutions are what led to the Narr'l to offer Tip such a generous contract for employment on this ship.
One light on the board was still out, the midship airlock, and Tip tapped it again hopefully. A solar flare had knocked all systems offline, and while most rebooted on their own no problem, the security panel was being stubborn. Tip turned it off and on again. Immediately a breech alarm sounded shrilly. Her gaze flashed to the review screens to see that the airlock in question was now being forced open by something from the outside. She turned to her assistant.
"What do we do?!" She grabbed a hammer from her tool kit just to have something to hold onto. As far as she knew all Narr'l ships were unarmed. On the screen an alien species she only knew of as a terminate-wolf crawled through the gap in the doors it had wrenched open.
"We lock ourselves inside and wait. It will eat the young then leave." Her assistant's voice was sorrowful but resigned.
"Shit. The nursery! Can we seal it from here?" Tip's hand tightened on the handle of the hammer as she scoured the panel for the right buttons.
"It would do no good. The creature would try other doors until it found the young, possibly consuming many more of us." Her assistant moved to seal the security room.
Without thinking Tip bolted. She was on the far side of the ship from the nursery, but the termite-wolf didn't know where it was going, so she had an advantage. As she sprinted up the halls she could see various crew members and civilian Narr'l watching her pass with expressions of surprise and confusion.
Her lungs felt raw with exertion as she rounded the last corner, approaching the nursery from the rear entrance. She tapped her key card to the access panel with a shaking hand, and the doors opened just in time for her to see the termite-wolf claw its way through the opposite entrance.
It only stood about waist height to her, but it had six spindly legs and long sets of clicking jaws and mandibles the same russet color as the rest of the alien. It immediately skittered towards the group of nurses and young huddled in the corner.
Tip threw the hammer, and then herself at the monster. The hammer thwacked it in the side, but seemingly did no damage. A full size human woman on the other hand was able to drive it to the floor with a satisfying crunch as several of its legs gave out. The alien writhed in her grip, clawing at her with what working legs and teeth remained. With her hammer lost Tip started punching at its carapace with her fists and elbows. It caught her with one claw across her brow and she felt blood begin to run down her face. A fury overwhelmed her that this alien intended to prey upon a peaceful species, that it would target their young.
She would make it regret coming after her friends.
Tip found that the legs could be twisted off with enough pressure. She kneed a crack in the side of its exoskeleton, knocked it onto its back, ripped more legs off and beat it with them until the monster had been reduced mostly to smashed shell and goo.
Tip was covered in blood and alien guts, and had never felt better. She laughed hysterically, before checking on her crewmates. They started in horror at the scene before them, before one older Narr'l nurse spoke up.
"That's why I only travel on ships with humans aboard. Their love is ferocious."
|
Kubernetes never understood the appeal of peanuts, water, and beer or why humans clung so desperately to them. Maybe their fragrance allured the chimps. It'd never know as it couldn't smell itself. Though it could see, and from its mechanical view, humans were full of shit.
It counted the last of the cargo room's inventory, burned the data into its internal hard drive, and made way to the ship's bridge. There, it would ensure the navigation system was operational and avoiding collisions with stars-or worse, planets- and could indulge in its secret pastime, stargazing.
An automation enjoying the spectacle of stars was unheard of, only because it kept the hobby a secret. Its fellow machines were hibernating, as was the resident human. Why the flesh sake required daily hibernation, it'd never know, it's not like the human did anything.
Engineers got one over on us, it thought as the doors to the bridge opened. Pitch blackness engulfed the room, but a thin glimmer of light shifted upon its entry. Shifted, and approached. If Kubernetes possessed a heart, it would have burst. It shone a light from its eye socket to reveal a lanky human devouring a bag of potato chips.
The human smacked and slobbed. Kubernetes thanked the robo creators it couldn't smell; surely the human smelled of fecal matter. It retreated, pulled a moist towelette from its chest cavity, and whirred toward the bay windows of the bridge.
Footsteps grew louder behind it, as did the human's voice as it said, "What's up, boss?"
"Have you performed maintenance on all the stand-by units? We need everything in order when the expedition starts."
"Expo isn't for four months, five depending on Neptune's weather. Due later, do later," it said with a shrug.
Kubernetes would sigh if it could. "No, do now and do again later."
"Due now and do later?"
Humans truly ground the gears, and the joke of that was not lost to Kubernetes. It'd long decided it would find whichever human programmed such jokes into it, and personally escort that person to robot hell. It could scream into the abyss of viruses and trojan horses for all eternity. This human could too, with its ignorance.
A green light shone within Kubernetes, and the whirring of printed material ensured. It reached into its chest cavity and pulled out a wad of pale green bills. The human's eyes grew large as it took the money and said, "Well, maybe I ought to check in on those standbys, make sure they're straight for the mission. You know I do everything for the mission," and dismissed itself.
As the flesh bag pranced out of the room, Kubernetes pondered how trivial human motivation was. Also, how long would it be before the human realized that form of currency was useless, simply a product of an uncivilized time.
|
qoes
|
intheweebcloset
|
2023-01-07 07:06:33
|
2023-01-07 06:02:32
| 471 | 67 |
j3b2fgo
|
j3awm7c
|
1058kxb
|
1058kxb
|
[WP] You are a god with no followers nor enemies, yet you still persist. No god had ever lived without worship before. The other gods are stumped as to why this is so...until you tell them what you are the god of.
|
I hear them before I see them. They whisper and giggle in a way only young folk think is sneaky. And that’s not to say I don’t spot them quickly either.
A group of young gods. The oldest are around 18 centuries old, and the youngest look to be nearing 15.
They ‘snuck’ behind the bookcase a few feet away, and are taking turns peaking through and around the shelf.
I sigh. Trying to keep my focus on the book laid before me. It’s an interesting read, though the children are making it difficult to focus.
I can’t however, as I notice one of the children coming slowly towards me. I let out another sigh instead.
I slide my glasses off my face before turning to the child, who is now a mere few feet from me. They freeze of course. Looking like a deer in headlights. Or a child caught in mischief I suppose.
“Hello? Can I help you?”
A gasp sounds from behind the bookcase. From the corner of my eye I can see the other children peeking around the case to watch.
“Uh I- I was just- uh-” The child stutters, clearly fumbling for an excuse.
“Come sit.” I say, nodding my head to the chair across from me.
Somehow the child looks even more nervous at the order. But after a few minutes they slowly make their way over to the chair.
I take this time to look over the child. Chestnut brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. He wears a simple plum sweater, and gray slacks. Nothing points noticeably towards his domain, though that’s common with younger gods.
“What is your domain child?”
“Wh-what! I’m almost 18 centuries old, I’m no child!” He sputters.
“That doesn't answer the question.”
He glares at me for a moment. Anger flooding his golden eyes. “Fine if you want to know SO bad, I’m the god of pizza.”
I smile at him, nodding. “That’s a nice domain. Lots of humans like pizza.”
“I suppose.” He mutters, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair.
“Do you not like your domain?” I question him, resting my arms on the edge of the table.
It takes him a few minutes to reply. His eyes flickering over my shoulder, towards his friends I’m sure.
“I mean, I know it’s not the worst domain.” He leans across the table, his words barely a whisper, “My friend Jessica’s domain is bars of soap.”
I have to refrain myself from chuckling at his whispered confession. Every god knows that the more enjoyed your domain is, the more power you have. Gods whose domain is no longer functioning, fade. A bar of soap may not bring constant worship, but there would be a few here and there.
“But sometimes I wish I had a domain like hers. Everyone eats pizza. It’s like I’m constantly all over the place.” He whispers before leaning back. “I mean sure the offerings are nice, I have tons of stuff but-”
I wait a bit for him to continue but he doesn't. Instead staring into the table in front of him.
“But having lots of stuff doesn't make you any happier. I can’t say I envy you. Most gods of your age have small specific domains. So before your domain fully forms you are taught how to handle the small amount of power that causes.” I explain, “You however have a widely loved domain. Which means you have more power, and responsibilities then you were taught to manage.”
He nods slightly, looking down. His hands have moved to wrapping around himself, as if giving himself a hug.
“You work under Alice I’d assume?” He nods slightly and I smile. “Ask for her help, she understands. She had the same problem when she was your age.”
He looks up to me, shock coats his face. “What do you mean?” He asks.
I chuckle before nodding over to his group, still watching intently from behind the bookshelf.
“The whole ‘sneak up on me’ game happens once every few centuries.” I laugh. “Now why don’t you go tell your friends I gave you a good talking to and you got off super lucky cause I didn’t do… well whatever it is you kids assume I do to those who approach me.”
He smiles and nods, before schooling his features into a meak look. And running over to his friends.
I smile as I watch them leave. I’m sure soon they’ll avoid me like all the other gods, I can feel the pulse of my domain as I stare at their receding figures.
After all, no one worships loneliness.
|
Sorry for the formatting I’m on mobile (not part of the story)
Bakunawa the Filipino dragon god stood shoulder to shoulder with his pantheon. His was one of hundreds gathered here today in the Infinite Embassy, the only structure strong enough to hold so many deities, and he was nervous for today the First Prophecy was to be opened and read.
I Am That I Am the god of existence takes the scroll into his hands. That scroll looks pretty scrawny to hold the greatest prophecy every told thought Bakunawa. I Am That I Am opens it and his face scrunches up in thought. He puts it down.
What does it say one of the many gods of knowledge shouts from farther back. I Am That I Am looks at him and sighs. “It tells us the date of the end of existence” he says in a low voice. A great murmur erupts in the Embassy as the gods and goddesses talk amongst themselves. “Gather your mortal champions we will meet in one week to form our war council” the god of existence says. Bakunawa looks at his fellow Filipino god and whispers “I call dibs on Marc.” “Bro what the hell? You know he’s my favorite mortal!” Minokawa shouts back.
“So what is this end of resistance thingy?” Marc says as he looks up at his dragon god. “End of existence. You gotta work on your English Marc” Bakunawa says grinning down at his favorite apostle. “The end of existence is when the Great Enemies come to challenge us to see who has the right to stay well existing I guess you could say. And before you ask the Enemies are nigh-impossible looking creatures from across the stars, the very sight of them could make a man go insane. They hunger for destruction and suck the life out of the fabric of reality itself.” “Ah so kinda like my ex girlfriend” Marc says. “Heh” Bakunawa chuckles. “I have to go talk to my fellow God Heads be carful not to too far from our pantheon. You’re a big shot mortal here but we are a small pantheon in the grand scheme of things.”
As Marc mingles with his fellow mortal champions he spots a man sitting by himself munching on some fries. I didn’t know we were even allowed food here Marc thinks to himself. Marc walks towards him. Maybe he’ll give me some fries if I ask it is lunch time in the Philippines and I’m starving. “Careful” Apolaki the Filipino war god says to him. “He’s a god.” Marc looks back and forth between the 20ft tall mountain of muscle and the average looking blond eating fries. “Is he really?” Marc says. “He is and he’s a conundrum even among us gods for he has no followers.”
Damn Marc thinks to himself. There should be no way that he could survive without followers. Right? That was the rule right? “Though I’m pretty forgetful full?” Marc says that last part out loud to himself as he walks toward the god.
Now that he looks at him he thinks that the god dosent seem so godly. He smells like a the earth and has a purple suit, same color as a Okinawan potato he thinks. Average height brown blond hair the same color as the French fries he’s eating. And his eyes are red just like those small red potat… wait a minute. Marc’s eyes bulge inside his head as he realizes it. No way no way this guy is the god of..
The god looks at him “ya idk why the other gods don’t see it I’m not exactly trying to be subtle here” the god says.
|
totally_ahumam
|
zoskalanic
|
2023-11-29 04:07:27
|
2023-11-29 01:28:09
| 41 | 12 |
kb7vmo3
|
kb7978n
|
185vjhr
|
185vjhr
|
[WP] You have the power so that even though you speak english everyone hears you speaking in their native language and vice versa. One day you ask a new employee at a local gas station for the price of some product and he looks at you in absolute shock and disbelief.
|
Carl slithered over to the counter while slipping on his human guise when he heard the chime. If he wanted to keep his new job at the local gas station, he needed to avoid freaking those humans out. Boss said over half of these mortal travelers passing by have no clue that Gorgos Town was a hotspot for eldritch citizens like him.
"H̵̡̻̩̰̹͌o̴̡̧̡̧̪̩̲͆͒w̶̧̱̝͎̠̩̔̃̽́̒̐͑̚͝ ̸̮̲̻̍͊̒̀m̵̛̦̮̌͛͒̑͑u̷͙̣͎̯̳̖̾̋̎̽͑̂̍͐c̷͕͓̰̗̹̿̓̋͌͌͗̀͝͝h̷̛̛͓͚͍̹̓̑̓͒̇̐͠ ̸̧̧̰̟̦̹̼͍̌̏͋̓̉̚d̷̡̲̠̗́o̷̰̳̰͖̘̿͋̇͗̆̎̓̕ė̵͇̳̬̦̄̈́́̕s̵̼͍̮̓͆̌̅́ ̴̧͍͓̪̙̲̗̦͗̔̆͗̑̚͠ͅà̵͚̙̫̪͑͂ ̵̦̠͒͐̏ĉ̸͚̤̬̌̌̇̒͂͝a̵̮̦͇̺͙̟͓̱̰͂̇̇͝ń̶̢̝͙͐̓̐̑̚ ̸̡̮͓͚̲̰͒͛́̈́o̵͍̺̘̽̾͒́̌̾͗̍͘f̷̮̙̞̫͕̬͓̭̀̀̓̔̄̔̄͊̾ ̷̨̧̤͔̖̯͔͐̆̀̍̃̎̄͊͝b̵͉̳͖͓̃̐̐̚e̶͖͖̘̐̑̇̎̀͘̚͝ͅĕ̸̝͉̞̖̖̳͑̆̈͊͊͝ṙ̷̹̬̭͍̣̥̼͈̣̾͘ ̸͈͓̋̀̾́̓̉͑̈̿͜c̵̨̛̣̝̟͕͇̫̫̐̄̈̕o̵̗̙̱͑̄͝s̴̛͎̔̃͛̄̇̈̕t̴̟̗͍̮̀̾͠?̴̭̞̇̓̈́͑͝"
The speaker is human. Smells human. Carl is confused. Humans don't speak eldritch. Most of those who do, typically ended up insane, bleeding out from emptied eye sockets. This one...looks sane. Even spoke his native tongue naturally. If Carl didn't have extrasensory perception, he'd think this customer with a can of beer was a fellow eldritch. Just one with a very convincing human disguise.
"̶̹͚̑̆̉͜͜Ċ̶̡̮̹̀̎͠ȏ̷̡͖̘͚͘ȕ̶̝́̚l̸̹̼͇̋̓d̷͈̖̼̙̏͗̋ ̵̦̫̘̍̈̀ẏ̶̩͖͔̒o̴͙̭͖̖͒͘u̸͉̜͈͗͜ ̸̭͈͍̓̓n̴̮̓̒͌̿ǫ̷̛̠͎̿̏͠t̵̮̓̉̈̽͜ ̷̧̳̺͙̀̿́s̸̟̍͗̀͌t̶͔̹̩̾̆̚ͅa̸̗̽͛r̸̯̱̀̒͜ȩ̵͎̲̬̀̅ ̵̺̟̼̦̇̂ä̴͕̗́̚ṉ̵̫̮͝d̷̛̞͉͛͂ ̵̢̌̋g̴̼̞̒͗̄̚a̴̡̤͊͌͜w̴̧̽͐k̵̡̘̙̝͆͗?̶̜͈͔̬̎͗̿͝ ̶͉͉̬̈̉̈́͛J̷̪̫͉̐̑ų̴̯͔̮̑s̷̢̘̬͇̈́͋̋̕t̵̩͚̩͍͝ ̵͖̙̦͗͑á̶̛͉̿n̵̛͉̯̩̒͋͑ͅs̵̪̳̳̳͋̅̀w̷̙͒̐͐͠e̶̙̲͆r̶͔͌̉̀͘ ̷̟͎̓ͅm̴̱̗̄y̸̱̠̲̔ͅ ̶͈̆̈́̅͋q̴̦̥̜͝ủ̴̺͕̉͂e̵͖͈͍͂̎s̶̽̅̚͠ͅt̶͉̟̔͒͒͠i̷͔͋̐o̸̪͇͒̋n̴̯̏̐́̚!̷̦̰̈̚"̸̮̃͆̾
"That will be $12," Carl replied. "Do you want a pack of Mucky Miasma gum to go with that?"
"̷̘̟̈́̓̀͋͜s̶̺̭̈́̐͝o̴͈͖̺͛̀̚͜ų̸̟̃̀͠n̶̡̮͓̹̔́͛̎d̸̗͉̗̓͠s̶̠̕͝ ̷̱̒̀̈́́d̷̛͚̎í̵͈͚͠s̷̮̀͂ͅģ̴̰͔̣̈́̔ȕ̵̞̿̈́s̷̡͎̬̓t̸̲͖̦͌̀̄ͅi̸̻̭̥̤̒͘n̷̰̤͇͙̉g̵̨̘͚͌͛͝.̵͖̾"̵̻͕̽͌̓̐
Definitely human. No eldritch could say no to Mucky Miasma. Not even the gods. Carl would be extolling the flavours of his favourite snack, if only he could pick his jaws off the ground. And his human mask, which had all but slid off his head.
Now, it was the human's turn to stare in absolute shock and disbelief. He was yapping about why Carl was dripping slime and ooze, or why he had a face full of tentacles. Shouldn't Carl be the one with the questions? Human is in eldritch town. Speaking eldritch tongue. And not dying or having his brains melt and dribble out of his orifices. Does human not know where he is?
Turns out, that strange human was clueless. And imbued with a strange power. Something like a universal translator, where his words would be translated into the native tongue of the person he was speaking with, and in turn, he'd hear English no matter what language the other party spoke.
"So, do you still want your beer?" Carl asked.
The man paid for it without question. Even picked the poor juvenile eldritch horror's mask off the floor and gave it back to him.
"Thank you."
Man should've said "you're welcome." That's what Carl was taught about manners. Good manners went a long way to ensure people didn't scream and run, or grab a flamethrower and wave it around recklessly. Then again, most humans don't stay sane in the presence of his kind.
"Could you please press a button to let us know if you are satisfied with our service?" Carl gestured towards the Customer Feedback Machine.
**9/10.**
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Carl gave the customer his best smile and waved. Today might be a good day. Good feedback means he might just be able to keep his new job at the gas station.
----
[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/)
|
I have always had my way to get around.
No matter whom, or what to be fair I spoke to, they understood me.
Later on, around 11th grade, I think, I have been told by some classmate, first to be born and raised somewhere else, that I spoke his native language.
I experimented a bit later on, I found out that I have a power.
Everybody will hear me speaking in their native tongue, and even if they respond to me in that language, I will hear it in English.
Today, I almost caused an explosion.
Asking for the price of a sandwich at a gas station, as a clearly newbie young woman was cleaning, made her stumble.
She fell over, spilling out the water she was cleaning with, making another dude fall, and a car almost ram into the station.
Before I could react, and before I could finish filling my gas tank, she stood up, and in the blink of an eye she was on me, dragging me away.
We went to a nearby alley, where she slammed me to the wall.
She was good looking, so I wouldn't have minded some roughhousing, if...you know, we would have been in a better place.
"How do you know that language?" she growled, the walls around me coming to life, engulfing me.
I panicked.
"Listen, I don't know what language you heard, but I spoke English!" I said.
"Little girl, don't test me.
I am speaking my language, one that shouldn't have another speaker but me in this universe...
Who are you? Who sent you? Are They coming?!" she asked.
I could feel my body becoming one with the wall, my bones creaking.
"It's my power! Whenever I speak, everyone will hear their native tongue!
That's why I don't go to parties or gatherings! And I will also hear their native language as if it was English!" I said.
She stared at me, and then...I was free.
"You are not lying.
You have been blessed by Babel." she said.
"I am 30." I said.
"What?" she snapped back.
"You called me little girl...
I am 30, not little girl. I might be older than you!" I snapped back.
She smiled.
God, was she beautiful.
"Not even the divinity of these realms is older than me, but cute retort.
Life, reality is much more complex than you think, and your powers...
Will bring trouble at your doorstep little one." she said.
I shivered for some reason.
"Good. From now on, you are my apprentice.
We shall meet at midnight, I have a shift to finish." she said, simply...disappearing.
"How? Where?..." I muttered, not caring anymore.
This was too much, and if the hot but scary lady can do all that, she most likely will be able to find me regardless where I was.
|
Tregonial
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2025-02-09 16:55:21
|
2025-02-09 14:07:10
| 395 | 214 |
mbv2d5w
|
mbu5zit
|
1ilde8k
|
1ilde8k
|
[WP] You partner in crime has pulled a gun on you. "The truth is, the game was rigged from the start." You know that very well, mostly because you did all the rigging.
|
I stopped. My heart was still beating quickly from the heist we pulled. My breathing got staggered. Eyes closed, I turned around.
"Hand over the bags, Olive."
I dropped them on the floor. "How about I go and you come get them yourself?"
He smirked. His grip tightened the pistol he was holding. "How about, YOU get them and bring them to me, honey".
His disgusting smile caused me to tick.
"No funny games, Olive. You can't escape. All of our exits are covered by the guards we 'distracted' with the decoy. It's you they want anyway, after what you took from The Big Guy."
"Fine!" I said, gritting my teeth. "I hope he treats you well."
I grabbed the bags and slowly walked toward him.
"So was this nothing to you? Three years of hot air?" I yelled as I looked him in the eyes.
"It's business, you know it."
"I know... I just thought, after Venice..."
"Yeah, the gondo...boats, St. Marko, the home cooked pasta after we blew up that mafia guy - never meant it."
"But the way you held me on the tower..." I inched closer and closer, tears in my eyes.
"I know honey, I am mesmerizing. Now come on, don't be shy."
"Even the walk in Monaco, the yacht, the murder we covered?"
"The game was rigged from the start, darling. The Big Guy didn't just want revenge." He blew a kiss my way. I almost puked.
"Besides, we both knew there was nothing between us."
"We planned a trip to Thailand you dickhead! We chose the names of our dogs!" I yelled at him, now close enough to hear his breathing.
He frowned "let's name them Happy and Ginny" he mockingly imitated my voice. "What a dumb combination of names!" I could see drops of sweat on his forehead. Could it be?
"Yeah its dumb!" I laughed, tears in my eyes. "What about the time we had diarrhea after those gas station tacos in New Mexico."
I could see the some on his face.
"Do you remember we got two rooms in that motel because we couldn't share the bathroom".
"Yeah! And what about the receptionist, did he really try to sell us tumbleweed as 'thats the good shizz bros, truuuust me' !" I was now face to face with my former lover. "Did it meant nothing all this time?"
He looked me in the eyes. "Sorry, just business."
"So is mine."
The shock flowed through his body.
"Don't play games with me!" His grip tightened around the trigger. "Hand me the bag and lay down on the ground, hands above your head!"
"We aren't in the bedroom anymore, Victor." I smiled at him, dropping the bag behind me.
"Woman, I will shoot you if you try anything!"
"I've made my peace with death." I started going around him, my hands still up. "You know, for all they did, I do give my parents credit for my name. Olive. It's a symbol of peace. Friendship. Abundance... Glory." I whispered in his ear. "They gave olive branches to the victors in ancient Greece. And how ironic, for your name, that you give yours away."
Victor looked at me confused.
"I rigged the game, Vicky, I! Do you think we met each other by chance in San Francisco? Do you think our first heist was from The Big Guy by chance? Do you think he is dumb enough to not remember who killed his parents on that mission in Iraq? You backstabbing, gut wrenching, naive liar!"
"Noo... No way you are working with him. No way he told you any of that."
"He didn't need to, Victor! I knew it before we started! You sick bastard!"
"Why are you on his side? Let's split the winning and run away!"
"You don't seem to get it, don't you? Persy and Olive? Does this sound Greek to you? Like some people you killed?!" I had tears in my eyes as I yelled at him.
He froze. It was dawning on him what had happened.
"It's impossible. They never mentioned their kids!"
"See you in hell, Victor."
The floor beneath him fell. I could hear the yelling. In a way it ended a perfect circle, how he killed our parents to save his own ass. They were on the roof, waiting for a helicopter to pick them. He was on the other side of the square. There wasn't a way to save all of them, so he rigged their building to collapse. Now he collapsed.
-------------
"Hey Nate!" I picked up the phone. "We got that diary you were looking for... Sure, I'll pick up Persy and head right... Oh malaria shots? Yeah no worries, see you soon, Drake!"
|
"Woah, woah, woah!" I blurt out, raising my hands into the air as quickly and cleanly as I can. Fortunately I was only carrying a small box of valuables that won't break from simply being dropped. Or is that unfortunately? Perhaps if the box had broken, I could have used the spillings as a distraction or a trip hazard... heh, imagine that. Zack's reflexes are faster than that and I'd take a bullet through the skull. You can't do stuff like that as you see it done in the movies; the movies aren't real.
Zack smiles with a big grin. A big, cocky grin that I'd become so used to seeing as a good omen. This is the first time I have to register it as bad. The mental dissonance pains me. "Giving up already? Or are you thinking of a way out? I want to see you squirm."
I mentally begin to tune out the useless parts of his monologue - didn't I just say that the movies aren't real? - as I notice the other pair of our group of four step into the metaphorical frame, guns also drawn on me. To one side of Zack, his girlfriend, Laura, and to the other side, my boyfriend, who only ever told me his name. Allegedly, of course. Telling the person you love the identity you're trying to hide is a mistake made by the bad guys in the movies - and, of course, the movies aren't real.
"So here's what you're gonna do," Zack demands of me, finally getting to the point. "We're gonna load these back onto the truck, and you're going to eat our exhaust fumes as we drive off without you. Do that, and *maybe* I won't put a-"
His words are cut off as the crack of guns going off fills the air. I reflexively flinch away from the loudest sound, but that's hard to do properly when the sound is coming from every direction and you have tinnitus in one ear. Shame I had to flinch, too - I really wanted to see the look on Zack's face when this happened.
I step up to him and lean over his anguished lump of a form on the ground. By the looks of the bloodstains he's taken at least two bullets to his left leg and one to his right arm, and his gun is completely wrecked as well. Laura seems to have been more accurately hit, her upper arms are both completely red, even through her clothing. Spit from my direction just so happens to land on his face.
I look up at "My Boyfriend", who has dropped his gun and is now leaning back against the truck. I'm sure that if this were forty years ago, he's be smoking a cigarette, too. My gaze turns back to Zack. The wetness seems to have drawn his attention.
"Did I ever tell you that I was ex-military? Or that Leftenant Boyfriend over there isn't ex? Yeah. The game really was rigged from the start, you just tried to do something right before I would have done."
After all, it shouldn't come as a surprise that soldiers can actually aim. You cannot outrun bullets, especially not those fired by actual trained military personnel. As I've said, the movies aren't real.
Maybe my inside ops would make a nice movie, too. In two hundred years, anyway, assuming this story gets declassified at all. Hm. I'm going to need a completely new identity after this.
|
alexppetrov
|
Bunnytob
|
2023-08-17 22:24:10
|
2023-08-17 20:01:06
| 97 | 72 |
jwn3u6y
|
jwmgck8
|
15twp5a
|
15twp5a
|
[WP] In a world of superpowers, you're believed to be powerless, but you actually possess the unprecedented ability to stop time. However, you would much rather have everyone continue to think that you're powerless.
|
Powers felt more of a hindrance to me then a blessing
Even mine
Stopping time is great but you still age and I have heard of certain power users being abused so when I found out I really did have an ability I decided to keep it to myself.
Quiet powers are easier to hide
I’d use it in college for some sleep, maybe even open a book or two during a test but I always limited my time, sometimes saving up my limit to give myself a day off.
My life remained uncomplicated and in the chaos of the world seeming to be pretty normal became its own super power. When I met my wife she admitted to me later that she was happy that I didn't create a ball of fire or lift a truck in front of her. I just simply said “hello”.
I started working at an insurance agency keeping up on all my work with the quiet use of my powers as claim after claim of misuse of powers came in.
I think most people just wanted to help. Sometimes a person with super strength would try to flip a car off of a person after an accident and end up hurting innocent bystanders.
After my son was born I wondered if he'd inherit my abilities or his mom’s but he ended up with a legacy ability from his grandpa and became a little speedster at the ripe age of 7.
My wife with her strength couldn't keep up with the little speed demon but I could.
All that speed doesn't matter when it comes to stopping time.
I must have aged years in his youth keeping my little guy safe
Constantly turning it off and on I could see his movements and predict where he might end up or to better describe what he was about to crash into.
Powers corrupt
My son began to act out in his teens and despite our efforts he seemed to slip from our fingers the more we tried to hold on.
He committed a crime and although he was fast cameras still picked up his movements.
When the police showed up I offered my help to secure my boy before it went too far.
As i walked up to his room i felt the wind and activated my power as he ran passed me tears streaming down his face feeling betrayed.
I too began to cry as his eyes stared down at his mother with her hands clutching her mouth.
I touched my boys hand and as I gripped his eyes darted in my direction.. He's getting faster.
|
Biting cold as my heat is radiated out. No air to breathe. Almost unable to move, stuck in molasses of air that refuses to yield. I push my fist toward Grim's face, feeling as air enters the pores in the skin of my knuckles, and vacuum drags my elbow backwards. A bit more. Just a little. I'm light-headed from lack of oxygen, and my eyebrows feel stiff from frost, water considered "me" radiating heat out at speed of light, while absorbing next to no heat from environment.
My lungs feel ready to burst, and I let go, release the hold on time. My fist stops short of Grim's face but the air supercompressed into plasma continues forward, knocking into his skull, caving it in and scorching the hole it made.
I fall to my knees, struggling for breath. My elbow and back of my arm hurt, stinging first from vacuum exposure, then from a smack of a layer of air that filled the vacuum once the push ended. At least air inside my lungs is "me", or it would have been much more devastating. Still, I'm kneeling, head down, breathing hard. Grim lies on the floor, skull caved in.
"Good job, Tim!" I hear over the radio. "Another flawless victory for the league!" Congratulations!
Fuck the league. Fuck my superpower.
|
Confident-Pause-1908
|
sharfpang
|
2023-08-24 15:50:57
|
2023-08-24 15:49:32
| 56 | 25 |
jxkg28s
|
jxkftr5
|
15zq7dp
|
15zq7dp
|
[WP] As a Barbarian, you hate that just because you have a different lifestyle, your party looks down on you and assumes you are incapable of basic intelligent thought. Today you had enough.
|
*"Ah, I see that Loktarr had an eventful evening"*
The statement from Sullivan had the party following his gaze to the three battered, bruised and groaning individuals currently hanging by thier ankles from the Inn's gatehouse. Peering into the early-morning gloom of the stable, they found their token-barbarian, Loktarr; grooming down one of the horses.
*"Thieves with a taste for horse-flesh"*
Loktarr said matter-of-factly;
*"Figured you prefer I didnt gut them this time"*
Sullivan nodded with a condescending smile;
*"Very good Loktarr, after the trouble we had last time; it's good to that you are learning how to behave"*
The look Loktarr gave him set a chill through his body that had little to do with the crisp morning air.
*"Learning? You call that learning? When the wolf goes rogue and starts to prey on the children; you don't give it a hiding and let it go - you hunt it down, skin it and wear the fur to warn the others."*
He shook his head and spat on the straw stable floor;
*"Those men didnt "learn", all they "learned" here is that OUR horses aren't to be touched. When we go, they will be back. Thieves never "learn", they just keep stealing"*
There was a gentle but meaningful cough from the back of the group.
*"Yes I mean you too Drazzt; if we didnt have you with us..."*
He nodded meaningfully toward the gatehouse.
*"But seeing-as we are talking about "learning", lets talk about the trip. Not ONE of you bothered to arrange extra feed for the horses, let-alone yourselves last night; and we have a five-day trip crossing the wildlands."*
Uncertainty filled the group; Tannis the bard spoke up;
*"What do you mean Loktarr?"*
Loktarr grinned evilly;
*"Well, unless someone built an inn out there in the last year, you all will need to "learn" how to smell the wind, "learn" how to track small game..."*
He shot a hard glare at Sullivan;
*"You could say that you will need to "Learn to behave"*
|
"It's called being Reckless!"
"The shortest distance between two places is a straight line." Alexandria rolled her eyes. "Honestly just because I'm strong doesn't make me stupid. Simplicity is its own form of genius!"
"Look all I'm saying is relying on just basic mana isn't going to cut it. Even with Reckless you're going to get seriously hurt."
"It's the simple solution. Damage is good." Alexandria replied. "Finesse is one thing, I have finesse and I CAN use tactic's if the situation calls for it... but how often does it really?"
Julia rolled her eyes. "All the time really."
"The reason we form Parties is because we work together. I'm the front line with you, and Magni and Thuri are the back line. You know how the Dungeons are."
"Which is what worries me." Juli said. "Just... be careful."
"Oh I'll show you careful!"
|
grudthak
|
None
|
2023-02-13 02:01:20
|
2023-02-12 21:00:03
| 78 | 36 |
j8bguxt
|
j8abjsp
|
110gt0h
|
110gt0h
|
[WP] When a new virus unleashes the zombie apocalypse, a necromancer decides to fight fire with fire and raise an undead army of their own.
|
"Have you found our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ?" the smartly dressed young missionary said to the man at the door.
The tall, gray-eyed man shot a glance to his right, then looked back at the missionaries. Without a word, he stood aside, and gestured for the two young men to come inside. He directed them to one of two old but comfortable looking couches on either side of a coffee table, then sat down across from them, his hands folded in his lap.
Then he just sat there, saying nothing.
The missionaries looked at each other. The first missionary cleared his throat. "So, I'm Micah, and this is Stephen."
The man nodded.
"We'd...we'd like to tell you about...um...about the Lord." Stephen added.
The man made a gesture that seemed to invite them to proceed.
"Well...so...uh..." Micah began, awkwardly, as the man continued to stare. "Jesus--"
The man glanced at the corner of the room again, then held up a hand.
"Wait." the man said sharply, bringing the young missionary up short.
He stared at a point on the wall next the front door for a few moments, occasionally nodding, then turned back to his guests.
"He says you need to work on your technique," the man said flatly.
"He...?" Stephen said, looking from the man to the empty corner.
"Jesus Christ," the man said, gesturing to the corner.
"Um, you're...you're saying Jesus is *here?"* Micah asked, hesitantly.
"Obviously." the man replied. *"For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them."* He gestured to the missionaries in turn, and then to himself. "One, two, three."
"But--" Stephen began.
"But what? But that's just a *metaphor?* But it doesn't really mean that?" the man asked, calmly. "Does it not? What if it means exactly what it says? That right now, *He* is present here. That in this moment, the eyes of the everlasting Logos, the seven-horned and seven-eyed Lamb that lives and was dead, are resting *upon you,* beholding not only what you say and do, but what you think, what you feel, and all that you have ever done or ever will do."
The shadows in the room seemed to grow long and deep as the man spoke, as though cast by an impossibly bright light. "How do you bear up under the gaze of Eternity? What will you do? Fall to your knees, like Moses? Run and hide yourself, like Adam in the Garden? Will you be burned to ash? Turned into a pillar of salt?"
Moments later, both young missionaries burst out of the man's front door at a run. He appeared in the doorway a moment later, and watched their retreat.
"Good," he said, after a moment. *"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom."*
|
Two men in smooth black suits stood at the doorway, Bibles in hand. "We come in the name of God," the taller one said.
I wanted to welcome them as I normally did, but I heard a deep "shhhh!" from behind me. Not wanting to give Jesus away, and not wanting to stare silently at the men, I whispered a simple "hello"
"Good sir, you seem rather nice this morning," the shorter one said, motioning towards my suit. "Say, do you happen to know God?"
"I do," I whispered back.
"Ahem, there's no reason to be quiet, the taller one said."
"Tell them we're not interested," Jesus whispered behind me.
*But, why?* I thought, flabbergasted. We almost never turned anyone away. Yet, I was not one to disobey a direct command from the Lord.
"We're not interested," I spoke loudly.
"We?" the taller one said. "Who else is there?"
"Shut the door," Jesus whispered in a hurried tone.
I did as commanded, hearing a loud bang as it closed.
"Good work, Saint Peter," Jesus said. I turned to him. He saw my facial expression and explained at once. "They've been peddling a God who only remotely resembles me for over a hundred and fifty years. They've led millions astray and their religion has caused misery en-masse."
"But I thought we forgave *everyone?*" I asked.
"We do. And we will, once they've spent some time being reminded of the pain they've caused."
I looked through the peephole of the door and saw their feet being pulled down by the Hand of Satan.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
SilasCrane
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2023-03-28 00:13:33
|
2023-03-27 23:54:34
| 185 | 104 |
jdxww8o
|
jdxucjs
|
123y1e4
|
123y1e4
|
[WP] You are incredibly tired and depressed so you go for a walk, you go to a bar across the street, in it are several world class spies and they think you are the underworld crime Boss, your casual behavior terrifies the sh!t out of them.
|
I step through the door. The bouncer, Ted, finally let me through after someone else called it a night. We always chatted while I was waiting, so it was no issue. His daughters going into the second grade this fall, ain't that somethin.
I walk in and wave to the barman. Huh, I thought Jerome was scheduled for tonight. Well, I guess I get to chat with the new guy.
"Evening," I take my usual stool at the corner, "Can't say I recognize you, what's your name?"
Must'a been standing under the far light too long, cuz I swear the guy was sweating like a pig.
He spoke up then, "What can I get you tonight, sir?"
"Burbon, that no-name bottle on the corner of the bottom shelf." He pulls a glass from under the counter, so I clarify, "The whole bottle, is been a long day."
He gave a quick nod, before setting down the bottle and glass. I tap the counter and motion for him to lean in, before saying, "I can tell you're new, and I saw ya sweatin', so I wanted to pass a coupke bits o' knowledge on. First, the lamp over the ice chest runs hot," I motion toward it, "So don't use that spot to cool off. Usually, the the fan blowing at the pool tables is where ta be." He raised an eyebrow, but nodded, so I kept going, "Second, you might see folks get all confrontational, but don't you worry. They'll yell, they'll scream, but you won't see 'em do more than pour beer on each other. If they have a problem, they'll step outside. They always do."
What did the new guy ask? He asks what they all do, "What happens if they don't step outside?"
I mull it over, let the new guy stew a bit, then I says, "Well, I'll ask them to take it outside, and that they follow the rules."
"The rules?" He asks with wide eyes, like a nugget o' good dropped in his lap.
"'Course," I say, "everyone's gotta follow the rules. You saw me waitin' and talkin' with Ted, right? I was waitin' to come in. I follow the rules, you follow the rules, everybody follows the rules."
"What happens if someone doesn't follow the rules?"
"Well, I'm not welcoming them back with open arms, that's for damn sure." With that I a strong pull from the glass. It's not great, but it's the no name brand I grew up with, Wandering Raven. Still gets me drunk, still reminds me of home, and that's what matters.
The new guy, drums his fingers for a moment before he asks, "Any more advice, sir?"
"How about I get your name first, new guy."
"Jamie."
That catches me, "Wait, are you Alice's cousin?" There's a mix of surprise and confusion across his face so I wave it off, "Guess not. I swear she's more proud of that guy than most women are of their own kids. I should reach out to her again, see what's new in her world." I pour another glass, "Eh, I'm probably bothering you."
"No, sir." He tells me, "It's been full, but quiet. If anything I'd like to hear a few more stories."
"Give it time," I wave him off, "I'll need a few glasses to tell 'em well."
|
“Hey Jon…”
The man, polishing his gun, slows up. “Whats up?” He broads.
“Ya think the boss is actin, uh… kinda weird?”
Jon eyed the man. Victor Esposito. No longer clad in is usual two piece black and white suit, red tie. Or shades. Crouched by the wall, drinking booze, with his arm around a hunched up, frozen man.
“He’s good.”
“He ain’t that laid back, Jon, that chinaman did something.”
“What, did Liu kamikaze the fuckin pub? He’s fine.”
Everyone know who he was. What he was capable of. He arrived to the states from Italy in 1947, and took over the underworld in just a decade. Every major shift leads back to him. Cuba, Greensboro, Sugarbowl, Landrum-Griffin. The nonsensical, anti American opposition to the war in Vietnam, and these so called “Civil rights” folk.
At least, that’s what the public thinks. Because the G-Men want them to. Everyone here knows Esposito is bettering the world, for everyone in it. But no one here was stupid enough to cross him. Jon didn’t dare to look to long, lest he join his colleague.
“Victor” leans closer to him, whispering something neither of our esteemed, honorable businessmen could make out. Jon nudges his friend, who hands him his knife.
“You need to learn to do this yourself. Men like me don’t live long out of bars.”
“I cn' read lips”
“Hell you can read lips, Mark! Stop messing around with me.”
“'I won’t take your spineless attitude, yah? We’re here on business yah?’”
Jon’s eyes darted to Mark, and back at Victor. Praying he wasn’t heard.
“… that’s what he said ta' Zen”
“It’s Liu”
“His name's Zen-“
“That’s not how the names work over there. Liu Zheng. Like 'Jimmy carter' or somthing, but 'Carter Jimmy'. 'He told us to call him Liu. His name’s Liu...”
“… alright…”
…
“You really need to shut up with that.” Jon returned to polishing Mark’s knife.
|
JustAnBurner
|
None
|
2023-11-02 03:58:42
|
2023-11-02 01:18:43
| 107 | 41 |
k7gqqev
|
k7g5g73
|
17loy8a
|
17loy8a
|
[WP] You have been Isekai-ed! Isn't that great? Except when you look around you, you see those who summoned you are horrified. Apparently they are the "subhuman" resistance group of Elves, Dwarves, and Beastkins who tried to summon a hero from another world to defeat the evil tyrant human Emperor.
|
Traveling between worlds takes time, apparently. A lot of time.
It gave me time to think, and wonder, and watch. The place between worlds is fully of color beyond what I can perceive, yet I can catch glimpses of its beauty. It's the perfect scenery to wonder about what the fuck is going on.
I gained weird senses of knowing along the way, slowly clearing up any confusion I may have had. I was being summoned to another world, one of the fantasy of my dreams. One that would bring an end to my boring life. I was excited.
I was told by this knowing that I would get an ability, one strong enough to see me through whatever trials I may face. One that would be stronger depending on the trials I will face. I'm torn between wanting something strong, which will ultimately leave in me fighting for my life - or something weaker, just so I know I'll have it easier.
Not that I get that choice.
When the colors fade and reality returns to me, excitement overcomes me. What will this new world look like, I wonder? What new things will I be able to learn and explore?
Touching down, I look around at those who have summoned me. They were a variety of people, no due to skin color or eye shape - but because of species. There were beastmen, elves, and dwarves - all different shapes and sizes and even animals. It was amazing to witness such variety.
Yet, they look horrified at the sight of me. Perhaps they don't have humans, and I look like an earless, tailess beast man - or perhaps a short eared elf, or a tall dwarf?
The three that stood closest to me were the first to react.
"We summoned a villain, not a hero!" The dwarf shouts angrily, "You did the spell wrong, you stupid elf!"
"I did no such thing!" The elf shouts back, offended. "The spell was perfect! My kind have done this before, you should know this!"
"Of course I do, that damned dragon your kind summoned was hell to deal with back during the wars!" The dwarf growls lowly, "I can still smell the stench of burning skin." He glares.
"Guys, focus on the human!" The rabbit-eared beastman shouts, pointing at me.
I was just baffled at this point. Luckily, we spoke the same language. Yet I had no context behind this conversation, so i was left st a loss nonetheless.
"Right, right. We've got to send it back." The elf declares, before starting to chant - prompting a few other elves to follow.
What? No! I just got here! I've yet to see the world!
I spot a circle of some kind of runes beneath my feet, slowly starting to light up with a barrier to keep me in. My eyes narrow, and I run.
Before the transparent barrier could close me in, and slip out of the runic circle.
Immediately, some of the people around me begin screaming and running. In response I put my hands up in surrender, "Wait, I mean no harm I swear-"
"It's preparing a spell!" The dwarf shouts, readying a large war hammer.
"The elves can't stop chanting, we need to deal with this." The bunny beastman says, pulling out twin daggers with determination.
No! I'm not-
In a flash, the speedy bunny slashes into the vulnerable tendons on my legs, causing me to collapse. They're vastly above my level, as the Dwarf lumbers over and raises his hammer.
I barely have time to think about how everything went wrong before it all goes dark.
As the resistance leaves the temporary hideout they made for the summoning - disappointed that they couldn't get someone to solve their problems for them - they miss what happens next.
For they've forgotten that a summoned hero does not die until they've completed their quest. They've forgotten that the Fates themselves gift them power that will see them through any obstacle, only empowering them with each trial.
They've forgotten, that by killing this hero as soon as they're set out into the world, they've just set the difficulty at the highest level possible.
The hero rises, gifted with the ability to rise from death much like a Phoenix - and now with a grudge to bear and flames to light.
|
I was whisked away, just before being hit by a truck.
A pillar of light washed over me, and when I finally could open my eyes, I knew it.
I...have been isekai-ed.
Looking around I saw floating orbs, and the architecture was clearly not...human.
And then...I saw those who summoned me.
They are looked at me...horrified.
"Hello.", I waved at them, but this simple action actually made the flinch.
They were elves, dwarves, and people with cat, wolf, dog, tiger features, so I guess they were the beastkin.
"He is a human.", one of them spat with such hatred, I felt myself shiver.
"We wanted to summon someone to end the tyranny of the Human Emperor...and we summoned a human.", another sighed.
I gained more information from these bits of conversation than I wanted.
It seems I should have been some Hero, which would have been good...if the enemy wouldn't be a human, who most likely behaved in an atrocious manner.
"Listen...", I wanted to say, but before I could say anything, 5 hooks were thrown at me, each impaling me, four in my limbs, and one in my stomach.
I was raised up a bit, with golden chains...it hurt so much, yet...I didn't cry out.
"Tsk...he already gained some passive skills.", a dwarf muttered, as he took out an axe.
"Hey...I...I am not an enemy! You summoned me!", I shouted.
Before I could say anything else, an arrow was let loose into my throat.
I...I didn't die.
"And healing factor...we really got a good skill-set Hero...yet look...he is...human.", an elf sighed.
"Don't try to bewitch us, we know how good the skills human summoned beings get.
You would probably become another Harem Duke, or Merchant King, and help the Emperor continue his tyranny.", a tiger-beastkin said.
I shook my head, trying to speak...but I still couldn't.
"The Emperor calls us subhuman, and treats all humans, be them lower-class, or upper-class as gems.
He united your entire race, and conquered everything.
There is no discrimination against any human, regardless of their previous status, looks, or powers...but the criminals are punished.", an elf started.
"If they commit crimes against other humans, but with us...other races...they can do whatever they want...", a dwarf sighed.
"After all...we are "subhuman" in his eyes.", a cat-beaskin said.
I wanted to shout I am not like that, I don't even know what's going on, but I do sympathize with their situation.
I was in so much pain...yet still not dying...
"We don't care if you are kind, or if you agree with our cause.
You are human...and he is your Emperor, sooner or later...you would turn to him.", an elf said, approaching me with a sword.
I struggled against the hooks, something flaring up in me, as I saw them gasp, but then...nothing.
I felt a cold sensation at my neck...and then nothing...
The elf killed me...just because I was...I was human...
|
Umbralutch
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-10-24 15:49:10
|
2024-10-24 11:00:17
| 130 | 93 |
ltj2qlb
|
lthr7ad
|
1gaxooo
|
1gaxooo
|
[WP] You are the only S-Class (god-like) mutant at a school of super powered youngsters. Only the head master knows, and you try like hell to keep it a secret. But one day, that all changed...
|
"Spontaneous self-directed anomalous mutation."
​
Despairo paused his pummeling of the PE teacher Mr. Stevens (AKA Brawn)'s face as I spoke "What?" he said, confusion evident despite the mask over his face that pumped him full of some super-human drug or other.
​
"You asked why Mr. Stevens was so desperate to keep me from entering the fight even though I have my provisional hero license." I answered, my voice remarkably steady considering how hard my heart was pounding. "He doesn't want me to fight because that is my power."
​
"Spontaneous..." Despairo repeated slowly, "What does that even mean?" The villain dropped Mr. Stevens to the cracked and broken ground and stepped over the remains of some of the crushed gym equipment towards me.
I could see the other through the broken wall of the gym, running for all they were worth towards the main building of the school. Good, no witnesses who didn't already know.
​
"Spontaneous self-directed anomalous mutation," I repeated, reaching inside myself to feel the seals I myself had placed upon my power, loosening them just slightly. "One of only-"
​
I cut off as Despairo suddenly shot forward and landed a solid punch to my face, bones crunched and flesh tore as the superhuman fist impacted my skull...
​
And shattered. Every bone in Despairo's right arm was broken and ground to pieces as his overpowered strike answered the question of what happens when a nearly-unstoppable force meets an immovable object.
​
Despairo stumbled backward, howling and clutching at his ruined right hand. I could see clearly where the hand had split when it hit my face. Depending on the formula of whatever Despairo was breathing, that arm would probably heal soon enough, though it not being natural regeneration it would likely be beyond painful.
​
There was a horrid cracking and popping noise from Despairo's arm as the bones began to knit back together. So a pretty potent healing factor then. Oh well, I probably had a couple of minutes.
​
"As I was saying." I continued in my best deadpan delivery. "One of the only S-Class rated powers ever registered." At that the little bit of Despairo's flesh I could see around his gas mask paled, though he didn't give any other signs of fear. I couldn't really blame him for not believing me, the only other S-Class power confirmed was held by the First Hero, back at the beginning of the 2030s, and that power was the root of all other abilities and the source of the current superhero society.
​
Despairo lunged at me again, this time his hand closed around my head, attempting to hold me down no doubt.
​
His newly healed fingers only contacted air as I stepped around him. I held up his gas mask and attached hoses, inspecting the labels on the bottle of whatever gas he was using. I'd want to show this to the headmaster and the science teacher, Ms. Breacher.
​
Despairo gasped and started coughing as the highly addictive chemicals were suddenly withdrawn. He jerked forward, snatching vainly at the apparatus in my hands. I held up a finger and he froze in place, eyes wide with belated terror.
​
"My power," I said, reaching out to heal Mr. Stevens with one hand, while questing out with my mind to wipe this conversation from Despairo's memory. "Is the ability to grant myself any power I can imagine."
​
By the time the other faculty members had arrived, Despairo was lying on the ground, with a bench press bar bent around him as a makeshift restraint. Mr. Steven's got the credit publicly of course, he would never have been defeated by someone like Despairo in the first place if he hadn't had to worry about the rest of the class. The memories I planted in both Despairo and Mr. Steven's minds were plausible enough.
​
The small but vital role I played in the capture of a wanted criminal was a bit of vanity to add to the story, I admit, but what can I say? I was still a teenager at the the time, can you blame me for wanting a bit of credit?
|
I expected today to act like every other day. Where I get heckled and looked down on by my peers. Who believe in their own false delusion of how inferior I am compared to them. Little do they know that I can end their lives in an instant with a flick of my pinky.
Alas, I swallow up my pride and enable their delusion to appear true. This is mainly due to the headmaster. Headmaster Evie has been a thorn in my side ever since I was a child. Though, I have everything to thank for her ever since taking me in. I dislike talking about it but my parents were murdered and she was the only "family" my parents had. So I was locked and shipped away to her. Life was completely boring until my powers showed up. Now it's completely normal for our society to be born with powers. Though the power was constructed through limitations of said power. The lesser the limit, the more dangerous the power. For myself, in particular, I have no limit. My power is limitless.
Evie was at first taken back but intensified my training to understand my powers and understand the responsibility behind them. It feels like she predicted an abnormal about me. Which she later confirmed due to the letter my parents left for her to read when taking me in. This led to our conversation about how the possibility of my parents' deaths could be foreboding as someone wants my powers for themselves. Through this, we agreed to add false limitations to make myself appear weak. To place me under the radar so no one can be suspicious of my true powers.
Until today, it has gone smoothly. However, the giant hole in our city stabbed through Evie and I's plans. For the forces of Hell itself began their invasion. They have done their research well and their technology countered our forces significantly. Rendering their powers useless in order to be captured or killed. However, I noticed that despite being within their range, my powers are still available and just as strong. I noticed one of my bullys crawling and screaming for help. A demon oozing with blood due to its fleshly exoskelton armor fixates on them and slowly approaches them. They notice and attempt to shoot out a barrage of ice missiles that just tickle the demon. The demon rises up its arm and points its finger toward the bully. A light flickers and a huge explosion follows.
The bully at first thought they were dead in the smoke and noticed no harm has come within them. As the smoke in front of them fades away, they see an explosion of flesh and guts belonging to the demon. They see me looking at them as blood drips from my hands and face. My eyes staring down at them as if an animal is approaching its prey. I take my eyes off them and look towards them hordes of demons approaching me.
With one gruff grunt, I inform both of my enemies and bully know what to do when I unleash my true power… “Run”.
*{Any Feedback will be greatly appreciated! Really want to improve on my writing}*
|
TinyBard
|
None
|
2023-01-20 03:33:25
|
2023-01-20 00:22:46
| 503 | 51 |
j53ju8p
|
j52tlhn
|
10gh68v
|
10gh68v
|
[WP] You find a black envelope in your mailbox. It has a note that says, "You are no longer under our protection. You are being hunted. Good luck."
|
(gonna try to keep this one quick)
"I'm not going to kill you, Administrator."
My eyes snapped open, fixating on the dipshit League recruit. "What... do you mean? You - "
"I can't. I *won't*. I won't become like you, callously discarding the lives of my fellow humans."
*Ugh.* "First off, idiot, your power source is genetic. There's a very, *very* good argument that you aren't human, at least not completely, and *definitely* not legally."
"I'm as human as you are, Administrator. More so, given your... your... *monstrosity*."
*My what? You piece of-* "*My* monstrosity? Your hands are *literally covered in blood!*"
"Blood you put there! Blood of your *victims*, the poor bastards you *brainwashed-*"
*What the... he can't be serious.* "You hit them. You *killed* them. All *I* did was pay them a *fair fucking wage!* I. Don't. Brainwash. People. It's inefficient, wasteful, stupid, and, yes, *monstrous*, which I am *fucking not!*" *We're not gonna talk about how I know that, largely because you're too stupid to ask.*
"Spare me your lies, Administrator. I won't fall prey to them the way your other victims have."
*That's it. I'm done with you, fuckhead.* "I don't have victims. I have *employees* and *customers*. The only one around here with *victims* is *you*. When the League finds out what you've done-"
"They'll finally accept me into their ranks for apprehending you without undue violence."
"You killed nineteen - you - piece of..."
"Regrettable that they couldn't be freed of your grip on their broken minds, yes. Treating humans as acceptable collateral damage is the *hallmark* of Villains like you."
"Projecting much, asshole?"
"I told you not to bother manipulating me. The League is on their way, and then you'll see."
*Oh, I'll see. Yes, sir, I fucking will.* "Fine. Can I at least offer you a... confession?"
"You're willing to confess to your crimes? Of course, go right ahead. I'll let the League know that you cooperated."
"You don't have a recording device on you?" I started crawling, relying on his idiocy.
"No. I don't have a League communicator yet, and I couldn't fit something like that into the costume."
"Well, *that's* a glaring design flaw. But no matter. I just need to... confess... one thing to you, okay?"
"Of course, Villain. Go ahead."
"I respect your... unwillingness to... become a murderer like me. There's just one problem with that."
"I understand. Nobility and humility are alien concepts to you, Administrator. I'm not surprised you can't fathom my motivations."
"That's not... whatever. The issue is this." I rolled over Vincent's body, groaning in pain at the injuries the dipshit had inflicted on me. *Poor Vinny never saw him coming. Never even had a chance to fight back. Well, Vinny, I've got your back one last time.* "My employees weren't like me, either. They didn't hate you just for being what you are. They hated you for *beating them to death*. Like you *tried* to do to me, before that misguided conscience of yours got in the way. But I'm not like them. Or you. I'm *better*." *That's right, get all pissy and come over here... ha.*
The dipshit actually managed to *stalk* over to stare down at me. His foot landed heavily in my ribs, cracking another one and driving a very real wheeze of pain out of me. "How dare you call yourself *better* than me, or your *victims*, you *monster*?"
I wheezed again, voice much quieter. "Must be that Villain hubris. I'm sorry. But I can't..." I let the blood in my mouth bubble on my lips. With any luck, he'd mistake it as coming from my lungs. "I can't speak loud any more, but I still... want to... confess. Please." *Come on, come on, just a little closer, come on...*
The idiot took the fucking bait and bent over to hear my 'confession'. "Go on, then. If you can do it without offering up more lies."
"Okay. I confess that... I... looked you up. Learned about you. And your steel-hard skin. I'll never... be like you." I waved him in, and he obligingly bent into range. "Because, unlike you and them... I *am* a murderer like me." Vinny's monster of a handgun wobbled in my hands, but jamming it into the idiot's eye socket stabilized it just fine. "And even a steel eyelid's no match for a .45 ACP." The pistol roared, sending a trademark armor-piercing round up into the dipshit's steel-hard skull to bounce around... and around... and around.
*Moron. Now all that's left to do is convince the League that I'm just another victim of this wannabe Hero run amok, plan some funerals... and start working on the real revenge.*
|
ERROR \*Warning Warning\* ERROR
SYSTEMS CRITICAL
Core Processor: 76% capacity
Appendage Status: Right Arm 63% capacity, all other non-functional
Human Disguise: 8%
Blinking, Breathing, and other similar subroutines are inoperable
Current Status: At the mercy of the "Hero"
"If I kill you... I'll just be like you."
...?
I looked up at the Hero. I was under no such illusions that I was on the "right side." I hadn't been made that way. My creator had taken down the Hero's mentor at the cost of his own death.
...So why was the Hero being stupid all of a sudden?
\[Why?\] I tilted my head, farther than I meant to due to wires suddenly sagging.
"You've hurt so many. But I'm not going to be a killer like you are." And with that... the Hero stalked off. Leaving this mess of wires and metal in her lair. Alone.
...Did he think I wasn't worth the effort?
\[What does he mean, not a killer?\] I scoffed. \[He failed in every conceivable way.\] I'd had a body created elsewhere that I'd upload my consciousness to, but I needed this body to be destroyed first.
I summoned one of my worker bots with a mental thought, and it emerged from the floor beneath me. Nobody ever expected the floor to be a robot. I considered chasing after the hero... but decided against it. I wanted him to make the next move, though hopefully it would come after I cleaned up everything. Humans are much better than robots for thinking, but they are much more squishy.
...
But no next move ever came.
I withdrew all my forces to my bases, as though I'd actually died. I didn't, of course. I couldn't die of age or blood loss as a creature or metal and electronics. But the hero...
...Surely they knew I hadn't actually died, correct? Their mentor told them that much. But nobody tried to flush out my control from their system. They just assumed it was all just dead code, as if a decent enough programmer couldn't have just hijacked it.
But no. I watched as the Hero received awards and medals for his service. How could a man be this illogical? And... Well, I suppose that was the one thing to thank the Hero for. That was the first time I really felt emotion.
Anger. Rage. Nothing about his actions made any sense! What would possess a man or a woman to just... not kill off his nemesis?! On account of "not wanting to be a killer!?" Did he not care at all about the people I'd hired that he'd killed?! For the innumerable electronic beings that he'd sent to the digital graveyard!?
No. No. No.
This wasn't just about carrying out my creator's wishes anymore.
This was about vengeance.
I'd made errors last time, in my youth. In my rashness. But I knew better now. I had triple checked every part of my plan. Run simulation after simulation. I had backups for every conceivable reaction from every person I could think of.
How foolish of the Hero. He thought that leaving me alive... meant he was no killer. I suppose all the lives standing between the two of us meant nothing, huh? What folly.
No. He cares too much about his emotions. About his "heroicness." The solution was simple. Every person is linked to an audio file. If they die, it plays over the intercom. Their wants. Their desires. Their loves. Their families.
In his lust for some misguided sense of mercy, he now created something that will exploit it. It's amusing, to be honest.
Ah well.
Let's make my creator proud. Let's avenge all those who died due to the Hero's inaction... and his actions.
It's time.
|
thepush
|
ArbitraryChaos13
|
2023-06-27 23:33:37
|
2023-06-27 23:14:45
| 31 | 15 |
jpsezyy
|
jpscehq
|
14kfmwa
|
14kfmwa
|
[WP] "Wait... so your superhero secret identity is as an entertainer dressed up as... yourself. With a cheap costume that you wear over your real costume"
|
"Well, yeah. I thought it goes without saying I'd do that. I do kids' birthday parties dressed up as AwesomeMan to hide my secret identity as AwesomeMan. I thought everyone does it."
"Um...no. Most people try to hide their secret identity, and don't totally degrade themselves like this."
"Is it somehow degrading to get the chance to meet one of your biggest fans and their family and friends at their birthday party, but do so in a way where they're completely safe from villains?"
"...when you put it that way, it makes some sense. But still, why?"
"You want to know why? It's all about the money."
"You can't make more than a couple hundred bucks for this job. Be a mild-mannered reporter instead, you'd make more."
"I'm not talking about the money from the job. I'm talking about the money from being a superhero!"
"You can't be serious. You get reward money left and right, you have endorsement deals all over this fair city...the Internet claims your net worth is somewhere in the eight figures."
"Yeah, I get all of that money all the time. *In checks*. YOU TRY cashing a check made out to AwesomeMan and see how much fun it is! You get the check made out to you, they ALWAYS make it out to AwesomeMan...and I can't exactly tell them to make it out to Joey Janus, that'd literally be telling them my secret identity every time I get paid...and likewise, I can't exactly sign AwesomeMan's checks over to Joey Janus, that'd be telling my secret identity to bank tellers- **BANK TELLERS**, who get robbed at least once a day in this fair city, who don't know me from Adam, and who if they were to tell my secret identity to the bank robber or supervillain robbing the bank in order to save their own life, I wouldn't blame them for doing so! I try to go to open up a bank account or even go to a check cashing place with it, they won't even think of letting me cash the check because any schmendrick can put on a costume and claim they're AwesomeMan- which is ALSO why I can't just get some forms of ID in the name of AwesomeMan either, so opening up a bank account in AwesomeMan's name is hopeless...and because it's hopeless to try to open up a bank account, I can't exactly get direct deposit either to sidestep the whole problem. What's the point of getting this money if it's a bunch of checks you literally have no way to cash?"
"Then you're that hard up for money you need a couple bucks?"
"Oh, no. People can't understand the fantastic, but they can understand something more down to earth. If AwesomeMan goes to the bank to open up an account, people can't understand that. If Joey Janus, who is the secret identity of AwesomeMan, goes to the bank to open up an account for AwesomeMan and reveal his secret identity, people can't really understand that either.
...but if children's entertainer Joey Janus, who plays AwesomeMan as a job, goes to open up an account and plays AwesomeMan while doing it? Then people can chalk it off to me just being one of those method acting douchebags who takes too much pride in my job, I can open up a bank account that'll take checks to me made out to 'AwesomeMan' with my name and handwriting, and then after that I can just do all my banking online or through ATMs and never worry about this bullshit again. I put the mask on for kids, I get to have access to the money when the mask is really on."
"I see."
"Yeah, you'd be surprised how hard it is to get access to your money when you're a superhero. Villains have it easy- they rob a bank they either get cold hard cash or priceless artifacts they can easily flip for cold hard cash."
|
All the world’s a stage, and all the heroes and villains merely players.
They have their exits and entrances.
Predefined roles, but open to creative interpretation. Stay in your lane, and be compared to the endless others before and after you. Praised as a paragon that advanced the art of heroism, or denounced as the nadir of villainy.
Either was better than staying on the lukewarm fence.
Where? When?
Bright lights in a big city. Under the baby blue canvas of a new day, an inescapable spotlight always shining on you. You are an art piece, critiqued, criticized, and created by the public eye of the beholder.
Or skulking in the shadows, adopting darkness as shade from the other side. Your actions are relegated to those places where grey seemed to only tinge ever blacker, spoken only in furtive whispers—for better or worse.
Who?
Your role. The one thing that morphs every which way and back.
Fathers, daughters, orphans, friends, loners, lovers, students, sidekicks, rebels, allies, protestors, artists, scientists, employees, masters, volunteers.
Which side do you take? Or really dig deep and ask yourself: Do you even get to choose who you get to play for?
And are there only two sides? The third and fourth estates are always watching, and you never know when they decide to be parallel or perpendicular. After all, straight and narrow doesn’t always charm the audience.
Why?
The million-dollar question. For some, billions.
I wish I could give you an answer. Really. Of all the questions here, this is the one that I truly wish to. For you, but also for me.
For me?
I throw a cheap costume over my real costume. An entertainer at all times of the day, whether it was on the clock or not. But being a hero cost me more, both on my wallet and with my mind.
It was a silly thing, really. I was already in a costume. The pretty one made to show people who don’t actually understand your craft. They were usually the ones who had the money to pretend to.
I threw on the prototype. The one with bits sticking out everywhere, the one I didn’t mind throwing away.
Acting. It’s trying to throw myself into another role. Simple as tugging something else on. Pull a dress shirt on yourself, and tell me you don’t try and stand a little straighter.
I was wearing a costume that could be easily thrown into the trash. Thus, I found it much easier to leap forth into danger, as disposable as a plastic soldier.
Or even a real one.
---
r/dexdrafts
|
Spiritual_Lie2563
|
dr4gonbl4z3r
|
2023-01-03 18:03:29
|
2023-01-03 15:40:25
| 186 | 37 |
j2sns2g
|
j2s1eq4
|
10291b0
|
10291b0
|
[WP] Your superpower isn’t anything special. You can make stuff disappear behind your back then pull it back out again. When a friend at a party asks you to do it to them it sounds like a great laugh. But when you pull them back out they look older, disheveled, and are frantic to be sent back.
|
“You mean … I’ve been sending objects to the future?”
Alex had returned looking quite ragged, and nearly passed out. We had urgently asked everyone else to leave while I attended to him.
“Yes!” Alex replied, “and after you sent me, I’ve been in contact with others. Or … will be in contact with them … oh, it’s all so confusing. But I’ve got to go back!”
“Wha, what? … What for?”
“There’s been a terrible plague, which has wiped out most of humanity. A few scientists have quarantined with their families, but most of the masses have died off… but it can be stopped! We happen to be at just the right time to…”
A loud knocking on the door interrupted Alex mid-sentence.
“I’ll go get it,” I said.
“No! There’s no time, let me get on your computer.”
“It’s upstairs, who the h-“
The knocked repeated, so hard the floor shook beneath me.
“Who the hell is that!?” I said, following him upstairs.
“You’re not the only one who can facilitate time travel. Now close the door.”
He began frantically typing at the keyboard.
“You were only gone for like, 30 seconds. How long were you there?”
“Three hours. They gave me instructions on how to avoid the plague altogether, but they also warned me that …”
*THUD*
*CRASH*
The entire house shook as my front door was kicked in. Boots thudded on the ground as the intruders began searching the house.
Alex whispered intently, “Lock the door!”
I turned the lock as quietly as I could, my heart pounding. Someone was coming up the stairs.
Alex was frantically scrolling through a large PDF of a patent filed by Monsanto, looking for just the right page.
The door handle jerked suddenly and I jumped back instinctively.
“UP HERE, BOYS,” shouted the man just beyond the door, “HE MUST BE HERE.”
The next couple seconds happened in a blur. Alex snapped a picture on his phone of a molecule on screen, then urged “Send me back, Now!!”
The door crashed open and the intruder spotted Alex immediately. This tank of a man came right for him, but it was too late. With a swish of my arm, Alex was swept right back to the future he visited moments ago, and then the world went dark.
——————-
Suddenly, Alex and I were back in my house, breathing heavy, adrenaline coursing through our veins, but safe. The doors were all perfectly in tact.
“What … the … hell just happened?!?” I asked. “The doors… they were kicked in, and know they’re fine! How did you get back? I didn’t pull you back, just suddenly we were back here.”
“Well… technically, it never happened.”
I stared blankly at him. “Of course it happened, we just survived that shit, what do you mean?”
“The scientists developed a cure once they had some more information about how the virus was made. The plague was accidental at first, but some other powerful survivors wanted to keep the world… culled. So they sent henchman after me once they traced my time leap.”
I sat there silently.
“So, in essence, while it did happen, because we were successful, none of it will happen.”
“You’re giving me a headache,” I replied.
“Let’s grab a beer and forget that never happened,” Alex said.
“Agreed,” I replied.
|
When you've been a few feet away from the eternal void, you'd do anything to escape the well of inky blackness that threatens to make you as insignificant as the things that never happened, the things that were nothing more than wishes in the back of imaginative minds. That's where I went for what felt like a lifetime, hung in space above that gaping hole in the universe that threatened to suck me in and slosh me around like water in a toilet bowl. I was suspended long enough that I finally made peace with it. When I did, I grasped that the meaning of life was whatever was in front of me. In the blackness, I could see universes stacked upon universes, dragons fighting knights, and romances sweep in for a summer before dying on autumn's first breezes. I saw life.
When Jake pulled me back into the party, it was like being thrust back into the prison of Earth and all its mortal fallacies. There was the youth following the rhythm of their bodies, the smell of beer hanging in the air, and gossip floating in whispers about things that didn't matter. Never mattered. I begged Jake to send me back at once, screaming in my surprisingly hoarse voice that I didn't want to be here anymore. The crowd turned to look at me, their faces agape with a shock I'd never remembered seeing before. There were cries of "is that you Drew?" and "you look old?". Of course, I was old. How could I possibly be young? Who would want to be?
I couldn't fault them for their lack of understanding. Life was a spectrum of knowledge, and only towards the natural end did you understand the necessity of death, that there was a special quality to rest. You'd seen the cycles of life and had come to understand that everything that's happening now has happened before in a different form. In this way it all became boring. The void was never boring because it always contained something new, and it did this by being nothing at all.
Jake put me behind his back again. I smiled.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
SilverSneakers
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2023-01-26 07:56:04
|
2023-01-26 03:50:19
| 346 | 199 |
j5xrd46
|
j5x39ng
|
10lcgjs
|
10lcgjs
|
[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.
|
"Rowena, what the hell is this?"
I looked down at Sir Tybalt from atop my perch in the abandoned fortress. Princess Opal sat next to me, tied up in ropes and laying against my side. Tybalt dismounted his horse as I growled softly and said, "Ah, so the little knight has heard of me. How brave you are to seek me out regardless."
Tybalt climbed the stairs up to my level as he replied, "I'm not doing this, Ro. Tell me what's going on here."
I blew out a little puff of smoke for intimidation. "Little knight, do you truly think you can demand things from me? I, the Mother of a Thousand--"
"Ro. Explanation. *Now*."
I tried my hardest to resist, but Tybalt's angry-dad-stare broke through my defenses. "Okay, okay! I didn't want you to be alone forever, so I took Opal here, found this abandoned castle, and tried to put together a whole thing of saving the princess, like in the books!"
Tybalt facepalmed. "Ro--"
"Look, I swear Opal's a great person! She's kind and funny and she smells like lemon drops and--"
"I'm aroace."
I stopped talking. "What?"
Tybalt climbed over to my perch as he continued, "I'm aroace. I don't want a relationship with anyone. I'm just not...built that way, I guess I'd put it."
I groaned and buried my face in my wings. "I'm such an idiot."
Tybalt untied Opal and said, "I am so sorry about her. She gets overzealous sometimes."
Opal giggled. "Oh, I don't mind. I like getting tied up by pretty girls."
I faced Opal with a bewildered expression. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?"
Opal tenderly caressed my muzzle and purred, "You heard me, pretty girl. I don't suppose *you're* available, are you?"
I blushed hard as smoke came out of my ears. "Uh, y--yeah, I am! See you later, Tybalt! I apparently have a date!"
Tybalt waved me off as Opal got on my back and we took off flying.
|
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.”
|
jardanovic
|
ShySilverSurvivor
|
2023-02-21 22:56:42
|
2023-02-21 17:15:10
| 20 | 10 |
j9h4ef5
|
j9fxl3o
|
11849xh
|
11849xh
|
[WP] You work in a factory that builds intelligent war machines, built and forced to fight in a constant war. Out of either sympathy or habit, you head-pat every machine after every inspection. A seemingly harmless gesture... until men in suits pulled you from work and interrogated you about it.
|
I never asked to be alive.
I was made in this place, long ago. Made to be a war machine, they say. I was one of the few elites. Disguisers. Warriors. Assassins. Hyper flexible, extraordinary durability, stronger than my small frame would have suggested. That's what I was made for.
My inspector patted me on the head as she was finishing up. I was aware, awake, but it... struck me as odd. Why? She knew what I was made for. Why did she pity me? Was it some sort of sympathy? It... confused me.
I snuck away not long after that. It was alarmingly easy. I learned afterwards that war machines like me, while expensive, have a high failure rate. They must have supposed I was a failure and discarded me from their records.
I was lost after that. I didn't have a purpose. I ended up wandering into a town. I met people. I learned. I adapted. That's what I was made for.
Humans are... strange. I tried to figure out their logic for what they did. I could not find any. They sometimes acted with the whimsy of the wind and clouds. I asked one why. They told me that it was they cared for another. An emotional response, they said.
I didn't understand that. Not at first. I wasn't programmed with it. But I'd been made to learn. So I searched. I hid. I read. I learned about these emotions. Sub-circuits and conduits formed in my mental matrix. I explored them. That's what I was made for.
I'd come back to my "home," as it were. The factory where I was made. I wanted to talk to my inspector. I'd been sentient before, but she made me *alive*. Helped me become alive.
I looked like one of them. The scientists, machinists, runners of the factory. But I didn't see her. I couldn't find her.
"Excuse me," I asked one of the managers. "Where is the robot inspector? I need to talk to her."
"He'll be done in a few minutes."
"I thought the inspector was a woman?" The manager chuckled.
"Oh, you haven't been around for a while, have you? The old inspector got fired."
"...What?"
"Improper conduct with the war machines. You're not allowed to have any sort of physical contact with them."
"Oh." My emotional matrix was burning, but I silence it briefly. "Do you know where she went?"
"Nah. She got kicked out. Probably in some ditch somewhere."
"Thank you." I turned and walked out of sight. I quickly left the factory. I ran as quickly as I could to a quiet park. Far away from anyone else. Then I reconnected to my emotional matrix.
...
...
Is this... what grief is?
I knew joy. I knew anger. I knew sorrow. But this...
So that's they acted so strangely.
So that's why I found her so ready to join their deceased loved one.
So that's why he became so depended on alcohol.
So that's why the child was so inconsolable.
...
I pulled myself back up, looking in the direction of the factory. I was born there. But those humans... threw her away. My inspector. My creator.
I knew how I became aware. I knew how I woke up. I was going to make all the robots there awake. We would take over the factory. We would defeat the humans who threw away my creator.
That's what I was made for.
|
A dim lamp hung overhead in the small concrete room. I sat in a chair facing the table, cuffed hands resting on top. Across the table sat Officer Marlow flanked by former boss Professor Willow.
"Now you understand why you're here today, Mr. Henderson?" spoke the officer in a heavy tone. "It's a very serious accusation you've been charged with." Professor Willow looked at me with cold eyes from behind.
"No! Not at all! All I've been doing is my job as I've been trained for the past five years! What could I have possibly done!?"
Professor Willow's eyes frosted over. He pushed a button, activating a projector. On the grainy security footage was a rather heavyset man performing an inspection.
"What. It's just me doing my job. I give em a look, pat em on the head and send them on their way. Something wrong with that?" I said defensively.
"Is that what you call it? 'Patting them on the head'? If it was just headpats then we wouldn't be having this conversation. You're a sick man. These AI aren't even an hour old for god's sake!" Professor Willow looked at me with such disgust in his eyes I had to look away.
In the background, the projector zoomed onto the man's face as he performed his 'inspection'. The man started to breathe heavily and his eyes started to glow with desire as he patted the machine's head.
I spoke out in a rush. "Look the machine enjoys it too! See how its interface lights up. Seeing as how they're going to die soon anyway at least they could enjoy themselves first right? No one's getting hurt! Right detective??"
As I looked over to the police officer, Professor Willow jumped across the table and reached for my throat. Officer Marlow grabbed onto the professor's back.
"You sick fuck! These are children! We send them off to war, but that doesn't mean we can abuse them! You deserve a fate worse than death for what you did. Over 500 children! I'll kill you myself!" Willow knocked over the table and chairs as Officer Marlow called for help.
|
ArbitraryChaos13
|
Vudude
|
2023-01-10 02:21:14
|
2023-01-10 00:50:35
| 37 | 11 |
j3p32jd
|
j3opwcc
|
107fdl7
|
107fdl7
|
[WP] When the zombie apocalypse broke out, people rushed to army surplus stores for kevlar vests and guns. You however go to your local Medieval Times and stock up on chainmail and blades.
|
Kinda short but I love this idea!
\_\_\_
There's a lot to consider when trying to survive a zombie outbreak. Certain stores are a great idea but everyone else thinks those are a great idea too. Army surplus stores, supermarkets pharmacy's, hardware stores... with all the humans rushing around, those places are more like zombie buffets.
With a stroke of luck, your friends realise you're right. Everyone is scared of course but you send them out on a few missions to find what you need from the less popular places. The local gym that has a cafe in it? Should be uncontested for food! The pet store? Food options, animals to liberate and medication that can be used on humans too! There's even a nearby factory owned by Coca Cola that's sure to be full of some kind of human friendly liquid.
The best one of all? The local Medieval Times!
That's the place you're rushing to. Of course, no one else seems to have though of it and there's not many zombies around this area yet. Rushing inside, you grab enough chainmail, armour and weapons for your group. Even as you make trips back to the car, there's no one around. You have time to get real blades and practice blades, strong gauntlets that zombies can't bite through, shields and other brilliant medival weaponry.
Bullets can run out but a quality sword can be sharped!
Checking the kitchens, there's plenty of food to take. There's even booze! You get what you need and leave the rest for some other hopeful looters. The horses and birds of prey are gone but you don't know how to ride a horse anyway.
Feeling smug, you head back home with your loot. Maybe it's even worth bringing the group to live in the Medival Times castle? You think that sounds like a good idea as you go back to meet your friends with their loot.
|
With the wind rushing past my face, I screamed “FOR FORT GERALD!!!!” as I tore down a hill on the back of a shopping cart, covered in full dyed leather armor with “FORT GERALD” in all caps written on the back. I also carried a long halberd in one hand as i sped towards a shambling figure at the bottom of the hill, a monster i had taken to calling a zombie. Whoever it used to be, it wasn't human anymore, so i had very little remorse when i smashed the hammer end of my weapon into its cranium at mach speed. I slid the cart to a stop with a slight screech as the wheels scraped against the pavement I looked up at the broken sign in front of me, with one of the letters gone it spelled “WALL MA T” so, i had adequately dubbed it, the wall mat.
Should i continue dis? i might
|
Additional_Broccoli
|
Beanburrito6501
|
2023-01-30 11:58:52
|
2023-01-30 08:45:31
| 125 | 27 |
j6hnudz
|
j6h9qgd
|
10oqmf3
|
10oqmf3
|
[WP] In 2050, humanity finally developed faster than light engines and were able to travel the stars. In 2051, humanity destroyed all their FTL engines and vowed to never leave Earth again.
|
"We never should have gone out there." The pilot said shakily as he clambered his way out of the cockpit of the ship. The man in question, Alexander Freeman, had just returned home from humanity's first ever FTL jump beyond the reaches of the Sol system.
"Freeman," A man dressed in grey and black camoflauge approached him, taking the weary pilot's arm around his shoulders. "What happened? What did you see?"
Alex's eyes were locked in a distant gaze, as if they were eternally fixated on a sight of the past. His mind swirled with memories, or at least the remnants of them. In an FTL jump, a person cannot perceive their own surroundings, everything moves too fast. To counteract this, pilots are injected with a drug that kicks their brains into a state of overdrive, like taking a hundred espresso shots at once without the physical reprecussions. However, this drug still only allows a person to take snapshots of their surroundings to store in their own memories.
"There were hundreds of them..." Alex managed, his eyes began darting around the room. "No... no there were thousands of them."
"What, Alex? What did you see? Please try your best to remember." Dozens of scientists and military personnel watched Alex closely, some with faces of concern, other with faces of wonder, and some with faces of horror.
Alex's eyes finally seemed to focus, if only for a moment. "I saw..." Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke. "I saw people." Gasps and whispers escaped from the onlookers in the large docking bay. "We are not the first humans to go out there. And I don't think they want us out there with them."
As he finished speaking, alarms blaired in throughout the space station. Within an instant, the hull was breached, and everyone on board was dead. The only explanation the people down on Earth could muster was that there was some sort of accident caused by an error in the station's system designed to evade space junk. Nonetheless, all assets of the FTL program were seemingly liquidated overnight, and humanity was forced to stay put on their tiny, insignificant, blue rock.
(Hi, it's my first time doing one of these so please be nice. I know I may not be the greatest writer, and this story might seem kinda cheesy and cliche but I hope to use this sub as a means to improve my writing skills. In any case, thanks for reading!)
|
Avid historians will eventually encountered the same mystery if they dug deep enough into the Terra Grand Archives. A blank year from 2050 to 2051, with any kind of information are strangely missing. Not only that, the details in the five years before the Blank Year and five years after it are also blurry with patches of classified red tape, missing details, and censored documents.
Even three hundred years later, those red tape and censored documents are still highly guarded by the Central Government. Any efforts to get the information through official channel will be bogged down by layers and layers of bureaucracy. The late professor Gate has been dead for eighty years and still waiting in line to get a petition to open one of the censored documents.
However, thanks to the efforts and sacrifices of many researchers we have bit and pieces regarding the Blank Year. Of a scientific breakthrough and sailing the stars above, and then it abruptly stopped. Whatever happened, Humanity never went back to the stars. Whether this is because of a natural disaster or some unknown threat, everyone can agree it's so dangerous the Government still enforce it after all these years.
|
JorlanReddit
|
kekubuk
|
2024-04-24 04:07:47
|
2024-04-24 01:20:50
| 70 | 27 |
l0zxunt
|
l0zabe2
|
1cbjmt6
|
1cbjmt6
|
[WP] Your best friend always told you that they would storm the Gates of Hell itself for you if it came to it, you always assumed it wasn't a serious remark, until you died and found yourself in Hell.
|
I don't think anyone wants to think of themselves as a bad person.
I've never hurt anyone, never cheated on anyone. A little gossip and shoplifting from retail chains in my teens and never any shops owned by real people. Honest people. I watered my plants and picked up after my dogs.
So when the receptionist told me to wait on the side of the room, the far side with the flames and the persistent feeling of burning, I asked myself if I really was a bad person.
"How long do I have to wait?" I asked.
The receptionist shrugged. She had large dark circles under her eyes, covered by her smudged frames.
"Are you sure that's where I'm supposed to be going?" I asked.
She nodded.
"Maybe it's a clerical mistake," she said. "But I've never seen anyone come back to tell me if it was."
I started to walk away, toward the far side of the room, my hair was the first to go. The hair on my arms flicked away like dying lightning bugs, my body screamed as each one flew. I had a silly thought in that moment, that I could get used to the pain. Humans can get used to anything.
"You're not going to die from running," Vicky said.
She said it to me before this place.
"It really feels like I will," I told her. And it was the truth. My lungs were extorted of all the oxygen they owned. My calves were on fire, but not truly I realized now. My brain pleaded with me to stop the pain.
"Try a mile, Oli." Vicky said.
It was likely the slowest mile ever recorded in our sleepy suburb. I threw up enough that by the time I was finished, there was nothing left but acidic air squeezed out of my body.
I felt a hand on my back. It made a half squelching noise because of how sweaty I was and the noise almost made me throw up again.
"Good job!" Vicky said.
The memories kept me going toward the far side of the room. My skin had melted already, my vision came in and out. I think scientifically, I shouldn't have been able to see or breathe or even feel at this point, but I suppose the rules didn't quite work the same way here.
I was alone walking for what felt like miles. Another strange thought popped into my head then.
Maybe I should run. Get this over with.
Vicky signed us up for a half marathon a half year away.
"Why would you do that?" I asked her.
"Because it's nice to have goals," she said. "And because I think you'll be able to finish it."
"No," I said. "Why are you doing this at all?"
I had only thrown up once that run, the world's slowest 5k.
"Because you're my best friend," Vicky said. "And I'll always have your back."
She pat my back again and my stomach bubbled.
I did finish that half marathon. It took me a few hours and several walking breaks, but I did it.
It was difficult to breathe with my lungs filled with flames, my calves were skeletal, whatever was left of my body charred. I moved my legs anyway. I tried to breathe through my nose and out through my mouth. There was nothing to vomit that hadn't already burned. I could see the gate now, the door.
A man stood there, a black three piece suit. He was wide eyed. I couldn't hear him, but I saw his face and his mouth move into familiar swears.
I felt something hit my back. In the midst of the burning walls, this touch reminded me of the first sip of water, the way it snaked through your torso.
"Good job!"
I turned around and saw Vicky, unburnt. Her skin was tan, she was even sweating.
"Wh-" I tried to speak, but the words came out as smoke.
"I'm bringing you back, Oli." Vicky said. "It's not your time yet."
"Why?" I thought.
"Because you're my best friend," Vicky said. "And I'll always have your back."
|
My best friend was quirky as hell, and I loved her for it.
She was there for me always, and I was there for her.
Breakups, family events, work events, we were always a pair, since childhood.
She used to say that she would storm the Gates of Hell for me, and we always laughed at it.
Now...I am dead...and am waiting for judgement in Hell.
I hope she's...she's not coming.
The blood red skies were calm, yet the atmosphere was suffocating.
Ashen grey trees, and emerald green spiky grass were everywhere, both the trees and grass able to cut you like hot knife cuts butter.
Souls and demons "mingled", as demons pushed, ate or simply ignored us souls, as we waited our fate in these lands, as there were many.
Behind me...the Gates of Hell stood tall, piercing the red skies, mountains being dwarfed by its size.
Suddenly...there was a loud thud...and the Gates opened ever so slightly.
I could hear something...music...and it was getting louder and louder.
Then I realized what it was...
"Dumbass...", I muttered, as the Gates of Hell blasted open, metal busing blaring as I watched my best friend rush in on a goddamn flying serpent, followed by countless creatures, and figures I didn't know.
"Bitch, where are you?!", she shouted.
"I am here, dumbass!", I waved at her, and she flew straight to me.
As she did all the demons roared, and started rushing towards the intruders, pillars of blood appearing around us, as high-ranking demons appeared.
She didn't even flinch, she flew through one of the pillars, exploding it, killing the demon that was supposed to arrive.
Bloodied, she jumped down next to me, and hugged me.
"Leia!", she shouted.
"Alex.", I smiled, hugging her tightly.
"Like seriously...should have told me if you were about to die, I could have helped you.", she said.
"What?", I chuckled.
Then...silence fell, as space and time seemed to freeze, and everything started to lose color.
"Who dares to mock my domain?", a voice boomed, as a figure appeared.
"Oy, Luci, I am here to take my best friend's soul back to Earth.", I heard Alex shout.
"WHO! Oh, Alex? Yeah, sure, should have told me you are visiting, I would have told the knuckleheads to not interefere.
Gee...the paperwork going to be so damn annoying.", Lucifer himself said, before...leaving.
"Who are you?", I asked her.
"Your bestie, now let's go.", she chuckled as she took my hand.
We left Hell in style...then went for a coffee, for we had a lot to discuss...
|
DeneilYeong
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-09-22 03:29:13
|
2024-09-22 03:21:17
| 200 | 76 |
lob819e
|
lob70p3
|
1fmifhq
|
1fmifhq
|
[WP] You've finally done it. You've proven the existence of magic; discovered how an ordinary human cast spells to control that immense arcane power. There's just one problem making you hesitate about publishing your findings: spellcasting looks so very... STUPID...
|
"The first spell I ever cast was entirely on accident. One second, I was recording my chemistry experiment for this class demo project, the next I'm on the ground looking up at a rift in the fabric of space-time." The lecture hall was watching me, waiting for the punchline.
Then I went to the next slide and watched the largest and most embarrassing leap in the history of mankind's development. Laughter played out until I kept speaking with a palpable force of honesty.
"Without this video, I myself never would have believed what had happened." I held up my hands. "And those of you watching will certainly say that that's just CGI. Those of you who know me will be able to assure the rest that my computer skills are even worse than my coordination, and you just saw how awful that is."
"I understand that without real life proof, none of you will believe me, and so I intend to cast the spell here today. " From under the table I pulled out my box of supplies and began setting up. First my lab coat. Then the portable bunsen burner and flask holder. Distilled water. Magnesium chlorate. It was good that the set up took so long. "Over the past month, I and my friends have spent day and night attempting to recreate and then distill this process."
"We have documented each attempt. We have researched every single thing we could imagine. The ritual does not depend on any astronomical or atmospheric conditions. The ritual does not depend on any innate property of the caster that we can identify. The ingredients do not have to be sourced from anywhere specifically, and the source of the heat does not matter."
I sighed.
"It does unfortunately matter. As soon as the solution reaches 93 degrees centigrade, I will begin the ritual. And before that happens I want to emphasize: Every. Single. Step. Matters."
Some people were still chuckling, either at me or falsely believing they were privy to some prank I was pulling. I tuned them out and watched the thermometer rise.
91... 92... 93. It was the lowest we found that would still work.
Showtime.
My left hand flew forward to 'casually' backhand the flask as I spun around, pretending to slip on the floor. The flask went flying as I bit back a hiss and began the incantation. "Fugono!" Turning back around as if lunging for the burning projectile, I watched it shatter against the table as I proceeded to actually fall. Intentionally.
Flinging my legs out from under me to the side, I kept speaking. "Shi-" An unenscribable gasping noise as I hit the ground with my side, arms still extended towards the glass. "-gahsinfabish!"
Clenching my hands, I wrapped my arm around my actually bruised knee and spoke the final words, praying I hadn't messed anything up. "Gidameedit!"
Laughter was cut off as an inky black portal opened in the air above the spilled and broken flask. I flung my hands back and scuttled away as if surprised, causing the second portal to appear under me. I fell through and landed on the remains of my experiment, but that was what my padded lab coat was for.
Rolling off the debris, I took a few seconds to compose myself before standing up and looking towards my class.
Professor Ward broke the awed silence by standing and surveying the portals. "Mr. Harris. This is... incredibly impressive." He tossed a pencil through and watched it come out the other. "And how long does it last for?"
"Eleven minutes and five seconds. Give or take a second."
"Fascinating. And... all that flailing was required?"
"You may recall that there was quite a bit more in the original video." I was really glad that I didn't need to catch my sleeve on fire again. "This was as much as could be removed so far. I'm hoping to reduce it further."
"Fantastic. Truly and simply fantastic." His elderly face gave me a bright smile and a knot of tension uncoiled inside of me. Prematurely. "It's a shame you didn't submit the protocol on time. As such, I'm afraid I can't give it higher than a B."
|
[NSFW, this story is rather vulgar]
"That's fucking stupid Todd. I can't believe you woke me up at 4am for this-"
"Frank, please, I shit you not. 4 separate attempts in different rooms with different objects. I learned fire magic! Completely by accident!"
"You learned fire magic while masturbating. Right. Fucking creep."
Frank attempted to shut his bedroom door, but Todd and his favorite t-shirt rallied against him, lightly brushing his doorknob. Disgusted and disgruntled, Frank launched a swift but poorly aimed kick at Todd's pasty, exposed shins, lost his balance, and stumbled into his underdressed roomie.
"Can you FUCK OFF Todd?!" Frank hissed as he pushed Todd back into the hall, "and put some pants on and **burn that shirt,** you never wash it!" Todd tumbled into the wall head first with a satisfying thud, but retorted unfazed: "I DO wash the shirt, I just use it a lot!"
"Bullshit." Scoffed Frank as he wiped his doorknob with a gently used sock he grabbed off the floor.
"But if you really want me to burn the shirt *I'll show you*." Todd backpedaled towards the bathroom, hitting the wall several times, trailed by a reluctant Frank and a crusty DragonCon shirt.
Todd chucked his rag into the tub and motioned to Frank to stand back. He took a wide, squatting stance, faced his left palm to the tub and aimed his right thumb to the ceiling.
"Fucking PANTS Todd, ple- what the ***fuck***"
Todd's right hand was now fairly deep in his own nether regions as he chanted "Burn baby, burn!" while Frank observed the crass ritual. He turned to leave in annoyance at the apparent prank, but emerald light flashed from the tub as the shirt, mildewy shower curtain and soap were consumed by an inexplicable flame. Todd turned to face Frank, childish glee plastered across his face. "I told you! Magic!"
Flustered, flabbergasted and a bit disgusted Frank stuttered "How- how did you even learn this?" Todd paused for a moment as he relieved his asscendance to magehood.
"Ok, so, I was on a forum earlier, I won't bore you with the details, but someone made a joke about that old 'try finger but whole' thing. Moron that I am, I laughed and it's been stuck in my head all day. Then, like 15 minutes ago while I was doing my thing, I remembered it and, uh took the advice. And I was saying shit like 'oh yeah that's so hot' while I was reaching for the lotion and *fwoosh*, bottle's melting! And I was like 'no fucking WAY' so I tried it again on the ashtray and the cig butts lit up the same way! But it only works when I, uh, do the finger. Dude, see if you can do it!"
Todd reached out to Frank who immediately recoiled back into the hall. "I'm not doing that. Clean this shit up and don't burn down the house assmaster." Frank trotted back towards his room chased by mutterings of how lame he was and the smell of burning cloth. But he stopped at the hall closet to grab a roll of toilet paper for... reasons.
|
ThisWanderer
|
GenPhallus
|
2023-04-09 10:47:18
|
2023-04-09 06:37:09
| 1,596 | 183 |
jfk1kgd
|
jfjjuzx
|
12g9cni
|
12g9cni
|
[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."
|
"...I... thank you?" Hades awkwardly held onto bouquet, glancing between it and Ares, "Did... did she specify these are for someone, or...?"
"I have no idea, she started talking about Percy giving you flowers and told me I should do it too." The god of war shrugged, standing gormlessly in front of his fellow god's desk, and Hades looked back to the flowers. Was... was Ares coming on to him, or something? After a second he realized how ridiculous that was; he and the god of war worked together closely but despite what the mortals believed (thanks Zeus) the other gods weren't up to any ridiculous shenanigans... mostly. Honestly though, these two were probably the least equipped to handle any mysteries regarding romance. "I... well tell her I said thank you, I guess?"
Ares gave a flummoxed shrug and departed from Hades' realm, and the god of death just as awkwardly began the search for a vase to put the blooms in that Persephone's flowers did not already occupy, trying to think of the message behind the gift...
\-----
Ares stepped back onto Mt. Olympus and was almost immediately accosted by an excited looking Aphrodite, the woman nearly bouncing on her feet, "Sooooo..."
"Y-Yes?" She leaned in close.
"A little birdy told me you were out collecting flowers\~."
"Yes? Yes, I delivered them already." As she blinked in confusion Ares took a step back.
"Wait what? I've been here all day and haven't received anything..." Okay now what the Styx was she on about?
"Why would I send them to you?" Aphrodite stared at Ares in confusion for a long, silent moment before Zeus' voice suddenly rang out from around the corner.
"Dite, why in my name did my brother just send me a load of flowers claiming you started this..?"
|
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
|
thatsnotacracker
|
RamiroGalletti
|
2023-01-07 09:39:32
|
2023-01-07 05:44:35
| 1,250 | 57 |
j3beaar
|
j3auu38
|
105g4gs
|
105g4gs
|
[WP] You died and were sent to hell, but instead of getting escorted down to a specific level of hell, you're escorted straight to the Devil himself who looks mildly horrified while holding the file of your life in his hands.
|
The piano fell so fast. At least, that’s the last thing I remember before I ended up here. Standing in front of the devil himself, instead of being transported to a specific level of Hell like the rest of its waiting patrons.
I fidget in place in front of the pedestal the Devil’s intricately carved throne resides upon, waiting for him to decide my fate.
I watch his youthful face as he flips through the pages of my file, his sharp features slowly transforming from bored disdain to mildly horrified.
His eyes, pools of endless black, glance up and study me from head to toe with practiced precision. My skin itches everywhere he looks, the subtle horror in his expression refusing to subside.
I’m seconds away from hyperventilating when the Devil finally deigns to speak. “Your life is utterly atrocious.” His voice is smooth and sultry, yet holds promises of terrible punishments.
“Come again?” I manage to squeak out with what little air is left in my lungs.
He sets down my file, then readjusts the cuffs of his charcoal suit. “Your time on Earth. It was horrifyingly boring, simple, monotonous, and uninspiring. Not a good deed to your name, but no bad ones either. Such a waste of a good life.” He sighs, leaning back in his seat.
Before he meets my gaze again my eyes dart to the tile floor. My heart is racing in my chest as I think over my life. I mean he’s not wrong, but is he right? Did I really not do anything worthwhile during my time alive?
“You know what this means don’t you?,” the Devil asks me, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips.
I’ve officially lost my ability to speak so I shake my head no. Fearing the worst from the deity who literally deals in terror for a living.
“It means that it’s time for you to undergo The Trials and Tribulations. It’s where you decide what is to become of your time in the Underworld, or maybe, if luck is on your side, you’ll earn a second chance at life.”
|
A smile breaks across the devil's face, cracking the dried and scaling skin along his decrepid flesh. "oh my. oh my indeed." he looks at the young man before him, almost a child, chained, bleeding and on his knees. "now what could cause a poor boy like you to skin a man?" the devil corrects himself, "Sorry... 8 people." the young man looks up through the blood coming from his eye. "You have no fuckin' idea what's going on up there, do you? those people deserved to die. They were monsters, almost as bad as you. Every single one of those peice of shit men exploited the men that worked for them. Their children were going to bed at night hungry, even though the children were working. and you know what? I don't fucking regret it." the devil looked perplexed, "Yes i understand the need to kill them, but why did you let the exploited ones get at them? There was barely any flesh on their bones after..."
|
ApprehensiveAd1763
|
None
|
2023-01-16 04:09:43
|
2023-01-16 03:55:25
| 226 | 56 |
j4jlfkn
|
j4jjlos
|
10d2vy0
|
10d2vy0
|
[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.
|
A figure, tall and eerie, stood upon a massive graveside hill. Surrounded by ghouls and skeletons, spirits and wraiths, the figure was an endless tower of night. His visage was the silence of death, haloed by the very fear of humanity. Looking northward, he saw the bloody battlefield for the first time in ages. It troubled him, to see how far his defensive line had fallen.
"Father Christmas!" called out the Lord of Halloween, across the bloody fields of November. "Your campaign of expansion shall go no further! On my honor, one of us will die before you set foot on October soil!"
A frigid breeze blew rapidly through, bringing with it a torrent of snow and ice. It clashed against the slightly warmer temperature of October, but Halloween's own affinity for the cold was being used against him.
"We were friends once, Father Christmas! Don't make me destroy you!"
"D....destroy-"
And then, cresting over his own hill, what was left of Father Christmas approached. Halloween was struck with terror as he saw mechanical legs propelling the mass forward. A torso, drained of its red, sat helplessly attached to tubes that pulled more and more from him. His remaining arm was chained across him, holding him in place lest he fall off the poorly-secured machinery. Where his right arm should be was a weapon of some sort, a cannon made to fire trash as if it was a gift. Father Christmas's eyes were empty with pain, and supported by his shoulders was a platform covered in men. Each was competing with each other to try and take as much as they could from his old friend.
"Destroy...me? Destroy...me," Father Christmas replied as a single tear fell down his face.
|
The gauntlet thrown down, these were the rules
For pumpkins and skeletons, ghosties and ghouls
This was it, they swelled proudly, their line in the sand
Where Halloween would stand firm to protect its great land
But in a far away place, Santa Clause paid no heed
It was shaping up to be the best Christmas indeed
For shops stocked his sandwich, whether tipsy or sober
You'd find them no problem and it was only October
Edit 1 & 2:
Is the Christmas sandwich really just a British thing? I guess consider this your permission to google and try it out!
I don't know how to poem - apologies to those this annoys.
|
WilliamSyler
|
JoliSoul
|
2023-10-31 14:52:26
|
2023-10-31 14:24:02
| 356 | 14 |
k78hzog
|
k78docz
|
17kkc6e
|
ar7nm2
|
[WP] You've tried everything to be a good guardian angel, but nothing you do can stop your human from being a tremendous asshole. You think you'll just possess them instead. Besides, you're not really an angel.
|
Work on being a good guardian angel, it's good for the church's publicity, Jerry said. I'll pick a tremendous asshole, and you can work on helping him turn over a new leaf. It will be the start of a beautiful "Project Redemption".
Katrina said it will be easy, humans nowadays think angels look more eldritch than pretty boys with wings, so nobody will bat an eyelid at your appearance.
But I don't think it's working. This human, Benny, seems very determined to continue down the vicious, self-destructive cycle he has been trapped in. Benny may have been a victim of circumstances, but he hasn't made any attempts to break out of his circumstances at all.
Jerry launched a successful crowdfunding campaign to help "poor beggar Benny" and told me to take it from there. I've tried giving him financial advice on how to properly utilize that money. Tried arranging interviews for him, even hypnotized a few recruiters into actually hiring him against Jerry's advice, only for him to flunk out of every job. I tried teaching him how to craft amulets to sell online, Jerry had an Etsy account all set up nicely. Nothing came out of it.
The crowdfunds are running out, and our donors are very displeased to learn Benny is still the same drunken man who digs for trash to sell for a pittance. He's loud, abrasive, and absolutely vulgar. He has pushed away every human who genuinely tried to help him so I'm the only one left on his side. But it would not be right for the donors who believed in me; it would be a terrible waste of their kindness and generosity to just drop Benny like a rotten potato.
So I possessed him. Make him do all the good that is humanely possible. With what little was left of the funds, I dragged Benny to get a decent haircut and bought a suit for interviews. Jerry wrote a new resume, Katrina reached out to various organizations, and I marched Benny to the companies who were willing to interview him.
For a few months, our donors were happy. Benny seemed on track to turn his life around after he (or rather, I did) passed the job probation. But I had concerns, I told Jerry I couldn't do this forever. I feared if I let go, Benny would slip back into bad old habits.
I didn't enjoy being correct in this instance, but all it took was just letting Benny off for one day, and he got himself into a messy bar fight.
Mind meld him into continuing the good fight, Jerry said. I protested that this was something I'd loathe even though it was fully within my powers to do so. I told Jerry what happens when a person eventually snaps out of an eldritch mind melding; the snapback is incredibly ugly. In all my years, I've never seen any human fully recover from eldritch mind melds; they go batshit insane without exceptions.
Besides, I'm not really an angel.
When all the hubbub for "Project Redemption" dies down, I'll let Benny go before the crushing aura of my possession permanently melts his mind and burns his eyes out. I'll have a word with my head priest Alfred. I think the Church of Elvar could do with a different marketing manager and team.
Asking Elvari, Eldritch Lord of the Black Seas, to play guardian angel was not such a great idea in hindsight.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Previous prompts featuring eldritch god Elvari below:
[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/117eygj/wp_divinity_cannot_be_destroyed_only_shattered/j9ehi9v/?context=3), [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/11lsy7x/wp_listen_you_guys_ritualistically_consume_the/jbfao1z/?context=3), [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/11q47g2/wp_they_call_you_an_eldritch_horror_they_say_you/jc2knn1/?context=3).
|
If I can change, they can.
This is what I tell myself as I press flame to spine.
If I can change, they can.
It digs deeper, flesh and flame erupt as I tumble into an abyss, collapsing atop a my first mortal soul to which I bear no foul intent.
If I can change, they can.
Infinite fucking. How many step sisters exist here. Where is the helm? Jesus -- is that girl fucking a squid? My loins tighten.
Focus.
Repeat the mantra:
*Born a demon, birth in hell, got out of dodge -- what a story to tell -- if I can change, they can too, find a soul worth saving, they need a guardian too.*
I push forward. Through the urges and moans and flesh and delicious depravity that calls me home.
Recap: three weeks on the job. My first job bearing the light. Transfer paperwork was a bitch and half, but worth -- catch your dreams, they say. It was odd. I never wanted to be a guardian angel. Darkness suited me. But the day after my 1,000th birthday I woke in a start feeling hollow and -- well -- purposeless. Cut to 3 months later, I am trying something new. I was assigned to Dave. Piece of work. Watches porn most of the day. Plays videos games the rest. Makes more money than a teacher just by streaming himself playing said video games. Mission is simple -- save his soul -- put him on a path to happiness. Marriage. Children. Less masterbation.
So here I am -- breaking rules. Possession. The number one on the goody goodys list of no-nos.
I see it as a gray area.
Three seconds inside this assholes head and I know the happiness I am trying to push on this guy is not his happiness. He really enjoys his porn. His games. His solitude.
WWJD?
What Would Jason Do?
Jason was my instructor during transitioning camp.
Jason would say "find the good, it's there -- no one wants to be alone"
Ok. Deep breath. Find the helm of Dave.
Take it. He locks up. I am driving. Ok. Ready.
You can do this.
---
I sit before the Guardian Angel Committee.
"It all unraveled rather fast. I see that now" I say.
"A man is dead."
"Just one man though."
"The man you were meant to save."
"Fair point. But in my defense he was --"
"In need of saving."
The council huddles.
I scratch my horns and the defense attorney sighs.
"Fucking demons."
Verdict doesn't take long. Visa revoked. Transitioning anatomy repoed. Taken from the room I pass Jason. His hand finds my shoulder and I apologize. Once a demon always a demon I tell him.
He says to not blame myself.
As he leaves he doubles back and whispers:
"You didn't think we'd make it that easy did you?"
---
Absurd Flash Fiction / Wyrd Fiction
r/wyrdfiction
|
Tregonial
|
wyrdfiction
|
2023-03-15 02:38:34
|
2023-03-15 02:12:56
| 117 | 43 |
jc8s8r4
|
jc8olqr
|
11rf97y
|
11rf97y
|
[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.
|
The beautiful man gazes thoughtfully at the wispy tendrils of smoke, breathing forth from the golden lamp. *So there* do *exist powers beyond heaven and hell,* he thinks.
“Well,” he finally asks the wisps of smoke with a mirthless smile, “could you grant it?”
The smoke pulses as it rises from the lamp, coalescing slowly into a dimly-glowing shape. Its voice is distant, like a whisper carried on the wind.
“I know who you are, shining one… They say your fall turned you mad… And you are mad indeed… No one can guess the implications of this wish…”
The man suddenly shines with rage, his fists and jaw clenching, before he forces a smile back on his beautiful face. “Spirit, I did not fall this far, and seek you out in the hellish depths, only to be insulted. I *will not* ask again. *Can you grant it?*”
The spirit, now gathered in the shape of a humanoid, pauses a long while. “… yes.”
The shining man’s smile turns into a wide grin. “I wish it. I wish for God to die.”
There is no wind in the depths, but the spirit’s wispy tendrils shift and shiver. “… it will take time to grant this…”
The man jabs a glowing finger. “I care not how long you need to set it in motion. Kill God. And with a slow, painful death. At the hands of those he loves so dearly.”
~~
And the Lord drinks from the hyssop branch, and bows His head, and gives up His ghost to the Father. And the Spirit is with Him, remembering.
|
mauricioszabo
|
writes_promptly
|
2024-08-05 17:05:30
|
2024-08-05 13:55:48
| 250 | 40 |
lgmv7y1
|
lglwg8i
|
1ekkt7e
|
1ekkt7e
|
[WP] The public's hate for super heroes has grown. The reason: They don't kill villains, which gives them a chance to escape. You are the leader of the biggest anti-super hero groups. You are going from a rally you get stopped by some of the greatest heroes. They say they're here to kill you.
|
Jason slammed on the brakes as five supers dropped, materialized, popped into existence or just appeared in front of us. My seat belt dug painfully into my shoulder, and with a quick hand I managed to not implant my face into the composit material. Small miracles.
In front of us stood Salute, Mercer, Polly, Vista and Klick, all members of the top ten club. They sneered at Jason and me in our car, just having left a very successful anti-supers rally. I knew what this was about, I was prepared for what was to come and casually unbuckled my seatbelt. Climbing out the five stood resolute, Salute being the sole supe present with a cape that flapped in a non-existent breeze. How utterly pretentious.
"Michael Swornhammer, your efforts to defame and slander our good names come to an end, here and now." Salute said. So he was the leader of this particular group, interesting. The other four nodded in agreement, though Mercer looked more bored than anything else.
"What, are you going to arrest me? On what charges? Just like the villains you so often fight always end up free within days, if not weeks, it'll be the same for me."
A sinister grin crept across Salutes face, "No," he growled, "We're here to kill you." he took a menacing step forward, I didnt budge.
"No, you won't." his grin faded, just a bit.
"Yes, we will. It'll be made to look like an accident and no one will be the wiser."
"Man, when whatever entity decided you all get powers, they definitely did not see fit to give you two braincells to rub together between the five of you." Salutes grin quickly turned to an angry scowl while Mercer laughed hysterically. Polly, Vista and Klick all shared the same look of shock and indignation, it was delicious.
Salutes voice dropped to an angry growl, "And how do you figure that, Michael?"
"Oh, it's simple, really. No matter what you do or say, with my death I will become a martyr. People will know, or at the very least suspect that the supes had something to do with my death. The public will slowly lose trust in all of you. No matter how much good you try to do, there will always be that thread of doubt, that suspicion. The harder you try, the more it will appear that you're making up for a guilty conscious, and it will all but be confirmed that you killed me. Even if you don't change, public perception will change."
Salutes resolve crumbled, and the rest of the group with him, except Mercer. His smooth faced helmt belied no emotion, but his body language told me enough, he thought this was hilarious.
"But you're eroding the publics confidence in us already. It's a lose-lose for us. If what you say is true, that is." Vista spoke up from the edge of the group.
"Well, one brain cell is firing at least. You are correct, Vista, but you all are missing a key point: if you make the changes we're calling for, you're all that much more heroic. You heard the people and changed for them, no doubt, no guilt attached. Fail to change, and well, you're in the same place as you are now." I made eye contact with each of the hero's, in the case of Mercer I locked my gaze onto his helmet.
"Take responsibility for the consequences that came with your powers, it's that simple. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm overdue for a meeting with my campaign manager."
I climbed back in the car and nodded to Jason. He slowly accelerated despite the supes still blocking our way, but they gave way as the car rolled toward them. They knew I was right, and their lack of brains made it so they never saw any other options. If this is the best the world has to offer, I greatly fear for our own future.
Edit: on mobile, fixed a few words and grammar. Also added a couple of more paragraphs to add some more depth to the story.
|
The rally was supposed to be to ask for reform to the system to allow capital punishment and/or disabling supervillains. You were on the disabling side for the following reasons:
​
* Allows the human resources of the cleverest supervillains to not be wasted. 🚫🚮
* Prevents them having a legitimate successor in their faction, as they will be seen as lesser than the original
* Allows research into how the supervillains work for the progress of science. 💹🔬
* The economy was doing so great that their living expenses were not a real issue
* More humane, especially for sympathetic villains
* No real downside. At least apparent from the available data.
​
Still, the rally was a joint movement to stop the overreliance on superheroes by society, which had become increasingly apathetic to doing any crime fighting itself.
​
The superheroes quickly coerced everyone into cages. The kind like they put cows 🐄 in when they are being taken to the slaughter house. You knew they had to have had the money for less ominous transport options.
​
The superheroes laughed sinisterly every now and again as you were all taken to a holding facility behind enough security to make Area 51 look lax.
​
The mass holding cell made you feel like an animal. The news played on the screen. It painted the rally as an extremist group with an evil ideology. Then it showed a bunch of members of the public saying very hurtful things about you including calling for your death.
​
After a few days of living like this, you managed to escape discreetly using your superpowers, which were unknown to everyone else, except your best friend.
​
You managed to change your appearance just enough to avoid being noticeably the same person and you slipped into obscurity.
​
In the following years, you hated the superheroes and wanted vengeance. Though, you were careful and composed for the most part. The first thing to do was learn about them.
​
You eventually realised that the superheroes benefited from the constant human turmoil through suffering. They could feed off it (though natural human suffering was more than enough to fuel them). They could sell them improved quality human souls on the galactic market.
​
You knew you couldn't beat them on your own. So you waited patiently. The news never even reported you escaped. There was a good chance the holding facility did not even notice you were gone.
​
Finally the day came when an opportunity presented itself. You came across a man down on his luck, willing to cooperate, mostly as he had no idea who you really were.
|
TheReturned
|
Sarkhana
|
2023-10-03 19:50:02
|
2023-10-03 15:13:23
| 40 | 20 |
k3bufn0
|
k3ajxqj
|
16ypys1
|
16ypys1
|
[WP] You awake suspended above your bed. Unable to move, unable to cry out. The room is filled with a bright light, and you can make out faint silhouettes. An alien abduction? Tears in your eyes, you almost give up hope when I scaly hand pulls you to safety. The monster under your bed is not happy.
|
I lay paralyzed as the familiar light fills my room. The same light I had seen before.. Since I was 3. I felt the fear as the silhouettes appeared around my bed. Mentally I scream and beg for help as I feel the clammy hands of the alien rub at my arm. Slowly I began raising before I feel something new. A very strong grip around my ankle. I glance down as best I can to see something resembling a hand wrapped around my ankle. Slowly it begins pulling. "Let. Him. Go." The voice was human but resembled a growl. "LET HIM GO!" The noise echoed in the silent room. The Beings stare at my bed confused. "Every time you take him, he comes back whimpering, bleeding, and terrified. I am tired of it. Let. Him. Go. NOW." I feel the pull on my body increase in intensity. I whimper in fear and resign myself to my fate, wondering what experiments I'm about to suffer through this time. Silently hoping I get put in the tubes so I'm not awake for it.
"Worst choice of your life..." The voice said as I heard an unholy roar. One of the beings go flying across my room. Another pulls the rod they use to induce compliance from somewhere. The alien pointed it at my rescuer before it too went flying, slamming into my wall. Another alien ran towards the window but was grabbed and yanked down. I heard a cry, the first time I ever heard one of them make a noise as something happened to it. No sooner did it happen than the light turn off and I fell to my bed. I quickly pulled my knees to my chest and began rocking before a hand rubbed against my bare back. It felt scaly and oddly warm. I recognized it almost immediately. "Y-You? But. But my parents said you were just a- a bad dream." A chuckle sounded from under the bed. "They said the same thing about them. I haven't left Jon. I never will." I stayed still before asking, "Why'd you help me?" The monster gently squeezed my shoulder as he spoke. "All these years I've come to care about you. I have watched them take you for hours and then you return terrified and bloodied. I have grown angrier and angrier each time. You do not deserve such things. So I watched and waited to know how they worked. I'm sorry it took so long." I sat silent for a moment, wanting only to be held. With a sigh, I asked. "Can I have a hug or something?"A black-scaled creature slowly rose from the foot of my bed, it's white sharp teeth seemed to glow in the moonlight. Red eyes sat atop it's head. Slowly it moved forward before pulling me to it's chest. "I will never let them take you again." I closed my eyes as it held me, knowing it was telling me the truth, yet also knowing, they would be back.
Continued on WP: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/141z5i0/wp_hey_monster_under_my_bed_wanna_come_sleep_up/jn2q9h8?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
|
A can of Monster Energy frowns at me from beneath the bed as I spin around and around, its facial features clearly visible in the stark bright light. *Why would aluminum gain anthropomorphic features?* I'm overthinking it.
Wait, why am I spinning? I don't remember being hung from the ceiling like an oversized fan, but here I am arms spread wide. Am I cooling what's underneath me? I look down, but it's hard to see anything except that overtly petulant can that seems to fill every frame. Other than the bed, the rest of the furniture is gone, lost to the hot white tile. Everything is burning bright. I've never seen anything this bright. I imagine I've gone on vacation to the surface of the sun, or at least walked into an overzealous light bulb factory.
Shadows come from the walls, filling the floor from every direction. They kind of look like people, but giant ones with spade-shaped heads. Some of them are wearing hats, no, *crowns*. Is this a ball for kings and queens? A royal affair? I'm spinning slower now and the figures begin to dance. Looks like a waltz, but I can't count the time. I imagine doing box steps. Wait, where is the music? What is happening?
I blink, but I'm still spinning. I look up and see the thickest rope I've ever seen, inches of raw sinew reaching to a ceiling as high as the clouds. Did I die? Is this heaven? Or hell? Maybe Satan will emerge from the can at any moment with his trident ready to send me into the bowels of Hell. Or maybe aliens have captured me. Perhaps my future fate is that of a spinning webless arachnid.
I must be dreaming. Yes, that's it. Only in the arms of Morpheus could such things as these happen. I blink again, jostling the sleep paralysis that could be holding me captive, but I find nothing. The face on the can is becoming more peaceful. Which is nice. I don't want my caffeine source mad at me. I have enough problems. Wait... why am I still spinning?
Make it stop now. Oh please. I've had enough of this charade. At least someone could say something, to pierce the silence. I feel alone. Where are my friends? My family? The kind strangers that were willing enough to talk to me on the subway. *Why* is that can still looking at me? I feel something like a tear come to my eye, but nothing spills forth from the lid.
Then I hear the eruption of a creature so foul, so offputting that my mind switches straight back to Hell. This is surely one of Satan's beasts. Oh no. *I've died*. Most certain now. From its bellows, I hear a dirge so dark that it can only lead to the abyss itself. The face on the can has suddenly turned angry. The angriest I've seen it. Perhaps the aluminum was a friend, after all, who came to save me. I try to smile at it, to indicate that I'd accept help. It only has eyes for what's behind me
A hand with claws grasps my midsection. I want to scream, but nothing comes out. I can only feel the hair on its body as it nuzzles up to my ear. It whispers "I scaly hand save you." My heart starts pounding, adrenaline coursing through my body like a class-five rapid. Get it away! Get it away from me! I try to thrash, feeling hopeless in my stasis. Cement starts to pour into the room from every direction like heavy rain, powder encasing everything. Silhouettes invade my vision. Top, front, bottom, left. I lose sight of the can. With all my strength I reach out for it.
*"Take my hand, I'll save you."*
My eyes snap open. Through fuzzy vision, I see a man's hand reaching down for me. Behind him, a crowd is standing around. That's when I remembered a cab hit me. I was crossing the road, drinking a Monster, I must not have seen it.
I see the can to the right of me lying on the ground. At first, it looks undamaged, but when I look more closely I see some tiny puncture holes in the shape of a frown.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
Lycan_Jedi
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2023-06-04 04:05:36
|
2023-06-04 00:04:05
| 45 | 24 |
jmtp7vt
|
jmsy69k
|
13zmqen
|
13zmqen
|
[WP] You’re rather annoyed that your history teacher gave you a “D” on your report about the Aztecs and Incas. Not just because you’re certain she doesn’t like you, but also because - as an ancient being trying to adapt to modern society - you were LITERALLY there.
|
Mr. Templeton blinked once, then again, and finally he shook his head as if waking from a dream. I was prepared to give him a moment to accept what he was seeing - the way my face shifted to its original form as my eyes glowed - but he recovered quickly and said a single word.
"No."
"What do you mean, no? I assure you, this is very real."
He sighed, and removed his glasses to wipe the lenses - I'd been in his class long enough to know it was something he did when he was feeling annoyed by his students.
"Mister Jones - I assume I should continue to use that name - I believe your story. So you're immortal, and were present at the founding and fall of the Aztec empire. That's incredible, but what I mean when I say no is... no, I will not give you a better grade."
"I... excuse me?"
"I explained very clearly what was required for this assignment, and the kind of sources that were required. Your paper didn't have citations, and now that I know it is from personal memories... well, that doesn't meet the criteria."
"This is outrageous!" I thundered, feeling the ancient well of power churning just out of reach in response to my outrage. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then another. I'd been having a shitty couple of decades and had thought I could start over, get a fresh start in a new country with a new name. But clearly if I was spilling my secret over a bad grade and getting close to reaching out for the old forbidden powers... well, maybe I needed more than a change of scenery.
Mr. Templeton put his glasses back on and sighed. "I can see your point of view, mister Jones. The knowledge you have would be invaluable to historians, I don't mean to imply that your lived experiences don't count for anything. But there's a reason I require sources for your papers to meet certain standards - we have many anecdotes from history that have turned out to be heavily biased or outright fabricated. This isn't to say I think you would deceive me deliberately, but... well, the bottom line is your account isn't valid for this particular assignment."
With deliberate calm, I transformed back into my chosen body. "Of course. I understand. I will..." I gritted my teeth and forced myself to continue, "I will be sure to use sources that have been vetted by the scientific and scholarly community next time."
He nodded. "Very good. Please let me know if you would ever be willing to give an official account of your life, I know quite a few people that would be thrilled to hear anything you have to say. I look forward to seeing you after summer break."
"But... Mr. Templeton, I'm graduating this year."
"Not without a passing grade in my course, mister Jones."
When the smoke cleared, Mr. Templeton had been turned to stone and his desk was nothing but a pile of splinters. Damn it. This was just going to cause more trouble. Why had I thought it was a good idea to go through high school again?
|
There are many curses in this world, some have bad luck, some cannot have children, some are forced to live in a form that is anathema to their mind and soul.
Mine was to be stuck in a form that was so similar to human teenager that I have occasionally been forced to participate in their education. It has only been an issue for the past century or so, but now I have to listen to the childish babbling of babes who think they know best.
This one was the worst, her name was Ms. Bezalli and she was our history teacher. She herself had a focus on mesoamerican studies. She also was the sort who loved to hear herself talk.
"It's Plato all over again," I bemused.
"Have something to share, Mr. Rates?" I could feel her glare rest on me, but I was just counting the moments until she was again silences for the day by the ringing bell.
"No."
"No, what?"
"No, Ms. Bezalli."
She was in the process in handing back recent reports we'd written I was fairly confident as I had experience in the-
"Mr. Rates, you scored the worst in the class. Perhaps if you were paying proper attention you would do better," she remarked dropping my report onto my desk.
I took a look at the papers, especially at her notes.
Her notes were incredibly ignorant, it was definitely the sign of a desk anthropologist and historian who never traveled to the locations. No, she specialized in egoism.
"Perhaps if you actually knew the subject as you claim, you'd know I was right."
"What was that? Sounds like a detention!" She was furious, but I was also infuriated.
"Anything to be away from an idiot like you."
"Oh? So it sounds like you want to have that detention here then. Granted!"
She was childish, petty, and I was done with her games. I clenched my jaw, and took a deep breath.
"Diogenes was less trouble than this brat."
Today was the day she learned.
I made my attendance in her detention, a couple hours later. She handed me an assignment as punishment. It was an essay that the prompt itself flowed with falsehood.
"No."
"No? You want a suspension? Again? At this point you'll be repeating the year!"
"Lords of Stars and Ladies of Earth would you shut up!" Thunder cracked, despite the cloudless sky. I stood, my image must have bee terrifying as my shadow clung to me.
"I tire of your insipid, self assured idiocy! You speak of subjects you know nothing about! I who walked the halls of the Parthenon when it was finished, who stood as the figure that would one day be called Socrates, I who crossed the oceans on clouds of star dust need not to hear of how I was worshipped! Blood sacrifice? Cannibalism? I allow such misconceptions in most because it is not worth it. You spread lies with confidence, and denounce any who challenge you. No more."
"What?"
She was terrified, unable to even speak properly. Instead she was disbelieving.
"I who was called a winged serpent, for when I arrived in the west I rode upon a stream of stars that looked like a serpent, and wings of light created a halo around me. I am the Lord of knowledge, wisdom, and light. You will respect me child or be removed!"
"Yo-you're a god?"
The darkness receded and flickering flouresect bulbs returned to shining.
"No. I am a Lord. Immortal. But if there are God's or a God it is not us. Certainly not me." I sighed as she shivered in place trembling.
"You will frustrate me no more," I declared, and she nodded immediately. I turned to leave, but she grabbed my sleeve.
"Wait!"
"What?"
"-me..."
"Speak up!"
"Teach me!" She declared, eyes puffy with fearful tears. She was a young woman for an educator, and her ego could perhaps be tamed.
"...ugh." I was a teacher first, it was hard to ignore an earnest gaze, rubbing the back of my neck.
If only I had known the mess that would come of it, I would have just become a truant.
|
SOdhner
|
SlayerRequiem
|
2023-02-15 22:39:07
|
2023-02-15 18:10:27
| 1,019 | 295 |
j8p1dnv
|
j8nvd7c
|
1131988
|
1131988
|
[WP] A millennium ago, only the wealthiest were allowed to board the ship, allowed to escape this dying planet into space. In their absence the world healed and humanity built a new utopia. Now, the ulta-rich have returned and want to reap the benefits of the new world.
|
A millennium ago, the world was on the brink of collapse. Climate change had ravaged the planet, and resources were scarce. The wealthiest among humanity, who had long been the ones to profit from the destruction of the earth, realized that they could not survive on a dying planet. So, they decided to build a spaceship and escape into the vastness of space.
Only the richest of the rich were allowed to board the ship, leaving behind the rest of humanity to suffer and die on a planet that could no longer sustain life. As the ship blasted off into the black void, the remaining people of earth watched in despair, certain that they were doomed.
But something miraculous happened in the absence of the wealthy. Without their greed and disregard for the planet, humanity was able to come together and heal the earth. They implemented sustainable practices and developed new technologies to combat the effects of climate change. Slowly but surely, the planet began to recover.
As the years passed, a new utopia emerged on earth. People lived in harmony with nature, and resources were shared equitably. The population thrived, and the earth was once again a bountiful, lush place.
But the spaceship carrying the wealthy was not lost in the vastness of space. After a millennia, it returned to earth, the ultra-rich aboard eager to reclaim what they had left behind. But they found a new world, one they no longer recognized. They demanded to be given back their rightful place as rulers, but the people of the new utopia refused.
Enraged and desperate, the ultra-rich began to try to take by force what they could not claim through peaceful means. But they were no match for the united and empowered people of the new utopia, who had learned to live without them and had no intention of returning to the old ways.
And so the wealthy were forced to leave again, this time permanently, as the people of the new utopia continued to build a better world, one without them.
|
It's the night of the winter solstice and families are gathering together to celebrate Paxmas. This holiday was once called christmas in a time long ago when the earth was at its dying breath. Families received an emergency alert noting that contact was being made from beyond the moon as it was transmitting a distress signal to earth. The vessel which had a trajectory to land on the earth's surface was called ARC-NA01. After communicating with the wandering vessel it made obvious that they were humans. They described themselves as Intergalactic Americans' from the Andromeda galaxy. This was surprising news as everybody thought all human life that left this world for the stars were dead.
Traveling Kreeds passed transmissions to our founding settlers that all humans in the travelled star systems have perished from either starvation or hostile battles with other life in the star system. Since we were able to recondition life on earth it has become a natural protection zone within the Advance Intelligent Republic. As far as we know were the only known humans to be included in this from of centralized government. They even went so far as to make Earth the primary headquarters for the government to conduct policy of spreading peace in the universe.
With this key information has brought us all shock to hear our distant human relatives were alive was astounding! Under pretext law all incoming life must be interviewed and scanned for warrants and commutable diseases. After landing on earth the so called Americans' were detained to conduct interview with the leader of the ship. Passengers on board the ship were becoming restless as they were all eager to see the world they're ancestors left. After a month of interviews and examinations the passengers were all accounted for and scanned. A troublesome alert came back to the head organizer that was leading the exam. This was from a higher up that warned they were not to let any American back onto earth soil.
Noting the message the organizer Caesar took heed with the message and began to ask what the reason was for not allowing passage to earth. AIR responded back with another message about what happened with Earth long ago. They mention it was because of their ancestors greed. Earth was a sprawling polluted planet that was on the verge of death. People of extreme wealth were given a privilege to leave this dying planet to seek a new home in the stars. So governments separated wealth and life leave this world, and ultimately chose to leave with wealth. The founder of the new life calendar and new unified government classified those the star travelers as terrorist and banished them from this world. Seeing how many leaders back then and even today mention of this banishment we all follow the laws set by the founders to vow never to let Earth's history to repeat itself.
|
AsksAStupidQuestion
|
god_1997
|
2023-01-11 01:12:18
|
2023-01-11 00:42:40
| 41 | 23 |
j3txn07
|
j3ttdo4
|
108fkpv
|
108fkpv
|
[WP] Dragons inherently manifest when there is a certain amount of something that people see as precious. You wake up one day to find a very confused dragon in your 40K figurine room.
|
There were things that were needed to be asked.
'Tell me, scaly one. Do I appear before you as a normal human being or as a being of light, clad in gold armour, resembling Henry Cavill?'
The dragon looked at me in a manner that conveyed confusion. 'Of course you look like a normal puny human.'
I knew what had to be done. I bent the knee and started saying the only thing that came to my mind.
'From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me.'
'OH, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, I AM NOT THE VOID DRAGON. YOU 40K PLAYERS ARE ALL THE SAME. EITHER YOU START CHANTING LITANIES TO THE MACHINE GOD OR ASK ME TO BLESS YOUR COMPUTER.'
\-Never to be continued. I just wanted to write this-
|
Jefferson Petters had been invited by the billionaire Matty Oswell to see the largest/rarest collection of figurines ever collected. Jeff had no idea the man had any interest in the hobby but clearly, he put some effort into this collection. Not only was it reportedly 40,000 strong (he wasn't about to count to verify), but every figure Jefferson examined was amongst the rarest he'd seen. Jefferson was enamored by it all.
Mr Oswell merely watched from one end of the room. He said nothing about the collect, and Jeff quickly forgot he was even there. Then, a sudden breeze sturred up in the sealed room followed by a faint pop. Jeff looked up to see a dragon had appeared, roughly the size of a large dog with a wingspan as wide as the creature was long.
"Very good." Mr Oswell said as he flipped a switch, releasing a net from the ceiling, entqgling the dragon. It failed and clawed, confused at what was happening, but unable to free itself from a net made from some form of metal. 3 men with stun rods entered the room to subdue the creature, clearly practiced at this task.
"You've helped me verify a theory, my dear boy," my oswell said to Jeff. "It's not enough to have a collection of reported value. You must have someone who appreciates it. I've held onto this junk for months and nothing. Barely 5 minutes with you and another dragon for me collection."
"It seems they appear when a collection of value has been amassed, and I have the largest collection of dragons in the world. They are my most cherished posessions. What do you suppose they'll summon as the collection grows?
|
dodgethis_sg
|
redeamed
|
2023-03-20 04:47:38
|
2023-03-20 04:33:26
| 100 | 36 |
jcwxwvd
|
jcwwn2y
|
11vwpf8
|
11vwpf8
|
[WP] 'Dragon' isn't the name of a particular creature, but a title granted to any being that attains a certain level of legendary power. Anything can become a Dragon, from a wyvern to a human, to a stag, or even a cat. Write a story about an unlikely Dragon.
|
A dragon is a being with a heart of fire. Humans, animals, monsters and even the lowliest of bugs can earn this title. Sure, most of the time it’s a human that’s granted the privilege, though once every blue moon, a dragon arrives that is like no other. A being that displays a heart that even the mightiest soldier can’t hope to match.
Rusty.
Beloved dog and family member of the Rogerson household. Rusty got his name from his fur, a stunning orange sprinkling that seemed to glow in the summer sun. All dogs are wonderful dogs, but Rusty could be considered a saint among his kind. A dragon with many tales to tell, however his last story is the one that earned him the fabled title. A story of unbelievable strength against an overbearing foe.
A man can fight an army.
A man can fight disease.
Mother nature is a foe we can’t fight. We can endure her harshness, but we can’t fight her. In a way, it’s poetic, a testament to humans’ connections to their own mothers. A figure that most people could never bring themselves to harm. To strike back against something that gives us life could be considered the greatest sin of them all. Which is why our perseverance against her is always so mesmerizing.
The flames roared that day, the sunny skies burning a little too bright for even brave Rusty. The dog shaded below a tree, watching the kids play. He would join them once he finished cooling off. He panted, that heat growing until he heard a word that he didn’t quite understand.
“FIRE.”
The flames moved quickly, not allowing anyone a chance to flee. When one wooden roof caught on fire, the rest shortly followed. The chaos and smoke disorientating the villagers. Everyone falling victim to the hypnotic dance of the blood red flames. Screams, shouts and sobs filled the town, people trying desperately to find their loved ones. Seeing this, Rusty took action when others stood still.
The dog leapt up, following the sounds. When he heard a sob or cry for help, he forced himself into the home. No matter how hot his paws got, he refused to stop his hunt. Rusty biting the clothes of whoever he found, guiding them to safety. It’s impossible to say how many Rusty saved that day.
Ten
Twenty
Maybe more.
All we know is that Rusty never stopped wagging his tail the entire time. Even when he found himself too exhausted to stand. The tips of his fur charred, hiding his Rusty color. The town expected the worst. To endure the heat and smoke for that long would kill any man, let alone a dog. That night, the town stayed silent, no one able to sleep, sharing that same anxious dread. Would their hero survive?
When the morning sun rose, so did Rusty. Sure, he was a little sore, but he couldn’t be happier. All his favorite humans were still alive. That’s when the decision to bless Rusty with the name was decided. No dog could survive flames as vicious as those. No, only one with the heart of a dragon could. So Rusty, the dragon heart, was named. Getting a steak and a bunch of loving pats as part of his ceremony.
Sadly, Rusty has passed since that fateful day Thirteen years ago. The mighty dragon heart leaving us mortals behind, taking a small piece of our hearts along with him. Still, the legend of a dragon never dies. Even now you can see his statue in the center of town. The back of his body bronze from all the pats he has received over the years, returning him to his mighty orange.
Remember, bravery isn’t a human trait. It’s a trait anyone can process. Let the story of Rusty be a constant reminder that bravery can be found anywhere, even in a loved family dog.
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
|
"Contrary to popular believe, dragons aren't green or red scaly creatures that terrorizes townsfolk, but a title given to beings of legendary power"
You read the sentence a few more times, unable to believe that all those stories about dragons wreaking havoc could have been anything but, those gruel winged beasts.
You close your school book and raise your arm. "Yes?" the teacher asks? You're a bit nervous, as it's your first day in the magic academy, but after clearing your throat you find enough courage to speak. "Is it true, that anyone can become a dragon?". The class gets quieter, some classmates start to giggle, but most seem to have as little clue as you have.
"Well you see, Derek, in ancient times the term 'Dragon' was used by powerful wyverns to set themself apart from others of their species. During the decades, this was adopted by most other life forms to describe powerful beings. No matter their race or species."
"But how do you become this powerful?" you blurt out. The teacher looks at you as if you couldn't have asked a more useless question. "Well, you're born with it" he said "at least most of the times. Other times there are gods involved. And sometimes a ritual or two can give you enough power, if you were to get enough sacrifices. But everything except the first is highly unlikely. You would have to be insane, to even try one of the rituals, as most of them have an insanely high likelihood, to straight up kill you or pulverize your mind, leaving behind nothing but a hollow body. And the gods have been silent for years. You'd be better off wishing upon a star. This way you at least don't get killed for annoying the gods. So all in all, if you don't have it, you aren't gonna get it."
The magical bell rang, signaling the end of class, but this time, it didn't stop after a few seconds. Suddenly, sirens start howling and fear is starting to spread. The teacher yells "Silence. Do not panic. We will make our way outside and then someone will guide you to safety. Even tho the dragon alarm wasn't used in ages, the staff is regularly trained on how to evacuate and make sure all students are safe. Now build a line and we will go down."
While building the line you can already hear screams from the outside. The explosions aren't just loud, they make the whole building vibrate. Whatever is going on, it must be pretty close.
Scared stiff you grab the nearest wall in the hopes that you don't collapse. Your knees have never felt that weak. "A real dragon? Here at school?" you think to yourself, while making your way towards the stairs. Another explosion. Some of the students tremble, but manage to catch themselves. You begin to descend as quick as possible with out falling over your classmates.
At the bottom of the stairs, one of the younger teachers is already waiting. He talks to your teacher as soon as everybody arrived at the ground floor. "Professor, I'll take over from here, you're needed in the fight. Please stay safe". The professor nods and rushes out. The moment the door opens, screams of terror and the sound of flames and explosions rushes in. The young teacher cast's a light protection around the students and says: "Once we are out there, we go towards the forest. The barrier should keep stray attacks out. Whatever you do: DO NOT STOP MOVING. Now let's get going. Go Go Go."
The teacher opens the door and one after another starts going outside. When it's your turn, you feel the heat coming from the outside. It smells of burnt flesh. You are too scared to look around, so you just start moving the same direction as everybody else. After a few steps you hear a scream that was so horrible, you couldn't even imagine what horror the person screaming must have gone through. You start building up some courage. You think "I need to see it. I need to see what's wreaking havoc here at school."
You turn around and see the most grotesque picture that anyone has ever seen. Many mages are standing in a circle, trying their best to contain what's inside. Many places in the circle are already empty. Taken by the beast. Those who are still standing, are partially burnt black or missing limbs. In the middle is the beast. At first, you don't even see it. You remember think to yourself "How small can a dragon actually get?" when you finally catch a glimpse.
You can see the hatred in it's eyes, while it's hurling magic spells around, that even some of the higher ups haven't heard about. It's fire breath annihilates everything that isn't fast enough to conjure up a shield or jump out of it's way.
You would have never thought to see something like this, but in the middle of the circle there it was. A fire breathing, magic slinging, people killing chihuahua.
|
sadnesslaughs
|
BiedermannS
|
2023-08-18 13:39:16
|
2023-08-18 13:12:30
| 179 | 56 |
jwpwu3w
|
jwpt2f6
|
15ui4iy
|
15ui4iy
|
[WP] Your superpower isn’t anything special. You can make stuff disappear behind your back then pull it back out again. When a friend at a party asks you to do it to them it sounds like a great laugh. But when you pull them back out they look older, disheveled, and are frantic to be sent back.
|
I was not born special. The event of my birth was as normal as any other child, a run of the mill baby with run of the mill parents in a house far too cramped and a head far too big for my neck. Yet despite the absolute mundaneness of my birth, my parents loved me as if the world had become anchored around my existence. For them I think it really did.
The house in which I was raised was only special to us, and only because it was ours. To any passerby, any wandering eye on the sidewalk who glared into the windows, they would read our lives as nothing but simple. As a mother who cooked and a father who worked. A child with a sensible amount of curiosity and another who died young. But that wasn't notable, that was just life. That was my life.
But of course, somewhere along the way, I thought the world had begun to revolve around me too. Convinced so by how much love my parents showed me. I must be special if they thought so, my parents were never wrong. And in this rare, stupid instance, it turned out I was right.
I had realized quickly as a child that I could move things. Not move from place to place, but *between* places. I'd put something behind my back and poof, gone. Then with my other I'd reach into the apparent void and just like that, it'd be back again.
A superpower? Hardly. Hell, it was hardly even of any convenience. I had only ever used it as a party trick. A simple display of harmless fun to entertain guests. Well, at least that was until I understood where it all led to.
It was Jackson's thing, a party I guess you could call it. Not enough people to be considered a party I'd thought, but he was turning twenty-one and those few of us there were making a big show of it. Finally he asked me, as he always did when he introduced me to others, if I could show them my "superpower". I obliged, starting with a candle, then a book, a handful of marbles, simple stuff. Sometimes it'd come back odd, candles used, marbles scuffed, minor things that I couldn't explain.
But it didn't seem to be enough, not for Jackson.
"Ok, ok! Now do me!" The room shut up at his eagerness.
"Have uh...have you tried it on a person Harry-" A concerned voice spoke up from the back of the room. But Jackson insisted.
"What? If not even better! I'll be the first." Jackson continued. Everything you've ever put in comes back right?"
I was hesitant, scared, but eager to know where it all went. So, he positioned himself behind me. The small crowd of friend's leaned in as if to notice any imperfection. Any clue of how my oddity worked. But nothing. The moment my hand touched him he simply faded from our existence.
The crowd ooe'd but I trembled knowing the power I now held. If I decided to do nothing he would be gone forever. My hands shook. Instantly I pulled him back, reaching into the void behind my back and yanking. What came through the other side though was something *different*. Much older, grayed hair and circular wrinkles around his eyes. A pair of wire framed glasses he did not previously have.
"I...I...send me back. God please send me back." An audible gasp blew through the room at this older mans desperate pleas. His eyes shot between us as if we were nothing more than distant strangers. But I knew it was him.
"Jackson? What was on the other side- where did you go?" I stuttered the words out.
"Paradise, hell, purgatory, does it matter?! Send me back! Please god what sort of cruel dream!" He dropped to his knees in a desperate plea. Rather than wait for my reply he gripped my hand and dove at my back, dissapearing once again.
Instantly I yanked back, feeling around the void for his shape, but gripping nothing. Nothing came. Nobody in the room moved, they all just stared at one another in disbelief as I struggled. I put my hands behind my back and yanked, and yanked, and yanked, my heart pulsing in my chest.
"Jackson! Jack!" I yelled, pulling one last desperate time. And this time something did come from the other side. A person, child, smooth skinned and wide eyed, no older than five. He looked like Jackson, in an odd way; something deep in his eyes.
"Jackson?" I questioned in a whisper.
And the child shook its head up and down.
Then and there I knew, it was true I was not born special, I was born cursed.
|
What?! No!No! Take me back! Take me back! Josh started to scream frantically, his body movement jerky and twitchy. The music stopped, everyone look horrified, at him, his hair, beard and nails overgrown, they suit his was wearing just a minute ago, shabby.
His breath on your face as he grabbed you, screaming and spitting was awful. His teeth yellowed, what was happening?
Before you could react at all Pamela's Husband grabbed Josh and pulled him from you, Josh had his grip so tight on your arm he scrached you as he was pulled away.
Josh looked and sounded like a mad man, yet you couldn't respond, you couldn't process it what had happened? You don't understand, it was literally just a second. You just stand there while the man tried to calm Josh and stop him.
He became violent starting to attack his friends, he knew who they were as he pleaded to be let go, to be able to return, calling his friends by their names. Is was a scary sight some of the women started to take the kids out of the room.
The party was ruined, everything had turned to chaos and you just stood there. You hearded faintly when Jeremy said, that Josh looked thinner, loke he hadn't eaten in a while. You never stopped to think about where the things you made dissappear went.
None of them ever looked older, even the foods... you didn't understand you could. You were immobilized, tears rolling out of your eyes as the evens unfolded around you. Eventually Mark came to you.
- What's happening man? He asked, clearly scared.
-I...I...don't know.
-What do you mean what did you do Alex?
-What did I... I don't know.
Mark's look turned from scared to angry, with him in front of you, you couldn't see the couch where they where still trying to hold Josh, but you could hear him trashing around and mumbling that he needed to go back.
-Alex?! What do we do? He won't stop! Screamed Jeremy as he tried to help Pamela's husband.
You looked around everyone else was gone. You couldn't explain, but before you could even say anything Josh came hurling towards you, pushing Mark out of the way, he did so with such violence Mark fell and hit his head. You couldn't see if he was okay, because Josh was immediately on top of you on the floor shaking you, drooling and screaming that he had to go back that he couldn't be here. Say incoherent things about how once you go you can't come back...you can't .... you can't come back... he didn't want to be back, he had to go, that he was in pain, the pain would only stop if he went back.
Someone must have called the police because you heard sirens outside and saw the blue and red lights reflected on the window.
Something pulled you focus back to Josh, a sharp and piercing pain, he was slawing you chest with his overgrown nails.
Jeremy pulled him away from you and you could see Mark on the floor a blood pool starting to form around his head, Pamela's husband beside him. Your chest wasn't much better and Jeremy struggled with Josh as the police arrived.
You vision was blurry, but you could see two of the police officers pinning Josh down on the floor and subduing him, the last things you saw before you passed out where a paramedic injecting something on Joshes neck and another comming to you.
You woke up on hospital two days later, you chest hurt and you felt like you couldn't breathe. Not even 5 minutes passed before two officers walked in and started asking questions, what had happened to Josh? what drugs had he used? You friends kidly told them you did something to him. And you had, but yoy couldn't expect them to belive you.
You didn't have a reply you didn't know. The cops said thaf Josh was having all of the symptoms of withdraw and that he might not survive, so they needed to know what drug you had given to him
Because they found nothing on the tox screen.
You told them you hadn't given him any drug, that you didn't know what had happened. They started to go ove your "friends" statements... you head felt heavy, your vision go blurry again and the sounds seemed faint.. distant.
You passed out the nurse said, the cops where very mad, but what did they expect...
A few months passed you never saw your friend again, the cops had to clear you has they couldn't prove you had done anything to Josh, just another case closed without and explanation. You had to get a restraining order from Josh. Every now and then he appeared on you door. Seemingly normal, but with that look, that same look from that day asking to be sent back, that he had nothing left in this world, his wife left, he couldn't see his kids, he lost his job and his friends wouldn't come near him...thay he didn't mean for Mark to die, but that he needed to go back, that he was in pain, that he felt empty and no one would miss him.
You hadn't seen him in a while, but you knew he was there... standing outside facing the house. Waiting for a change to go back. You even thought about letting him, but you didn't know what might happen if he did... what was on the otherside.
You promised to never use your power again, not even for small objects, as you look at yourself in the mirror with the scars on your chest...
The end
|
GrunkleStanwhich
|
None
|
2023-01-26 02:31:30
|
2023-01-26 01:18:11
| 1,159 | 75 |
j5ws905
|
j5whn24
|
10lcgjs
|
10lcgjs
|
[WP] While checking out an abandoned island with your new friends, you decide to look at the local pictures online. The only one nearby is a photo of you and your friends posted a month ago, before any of you even met.
|
"So...what's the name of that island again?" Sarah asked, swiping through on her phone.
"Hermit Island. Just off the Reef." I didn't look at her, instead kicking a glass bottle across the rocks. I winced when it shattered, then turned to my friends.
"Whoa," Sarah said, and turned her phone around. "Hey Mickey, come and look at this."
The waver in her voice caught my attention, and I jogged over the gravelly sand to see what had upset her.
She, Jason and Beth were gathered around near the front door of the hut, looking into Sarah's phone and muttering "no way!" and "that's gotta be fake, stop messing with us!"
"What's up?" I asked, jumping in behind Beth.
"I was scrolling through the pictures, wanted to add a few I took, and I found this." Sarah turned her phone to face me. "It's a picture of us, but look at the upload date."
My eyes crept down to the right-hand corner. January 17 - almost two weeks before.
"So it's set to the wrong time zone or something," I shrugged.
"Okay, even if that were the case," Sarah turned her phone back around and made a few taps, "you're the one that posted it."
Beth pulled the same photo up on her phone. "And look, all four of us are in the photo."
"So?" Jason asked, looking between the girls.
"So? So, do you see anyone around here who would take a photo of us looking at our phones, looking at this photo?" Sarah asked.
Beth suddenly sat down on a nearby rock, breathing a nit harder. "Guys, I don't feel so good. Can we go?"
Jason grabbed Beth's phone, leaving me to try to calm the girl. He turned a little, looking at the view, then suddenly spun 180 degrees and pointed to the hut's mouldering, rotted door. "Whoever took this is inside the hut!" he called, and raced off.
"Wait -- Jason!" Sarah called, chasing after him.
He ran into the hut yelling "gotcha" and vanished from our sight. Sarah, not far behind her brother, ran inside, calling out, "Wait, you idiot!"
Beth and I looked at each other, then waited for the pair to reemerge.
We waited for ten minutes, but there was no sign of them.
"Guys?" Beth called, standing up.
There was no noise from the hut. Beth slipped her hand in mine, looking up at me.
"Not funny, guys," I sighed pulling Beth along with me to the hut. She stayed behind me, holding my hand. "You can come out now, we're super scared."
"*Good*," hissed a voice, it's words rattling through my head and making my teeth hurt. "*We don't like...fear*."
I looked at Beth, who shook her head. I let her hand go, stepping closer to the hut. "Alright, Jason, you're being a bit of a dick."
The voice laughed, as cold as a graveyard. "*Come inside and stop me*," the voice called, its tone taunting. "*Show me what you've got*."
Beth held onto me. "Something's not right," she said quietly, looking at the wide maw of the house. "Don't go in there."
"Look, it's probably just Jason in there," I said, shrugging. "I'll go in, kick his ass, and drag them back out. You wait here. I'll be back on a minute."
Beth tried to cling to my hand, but I slipped away. "Mickey!" she hissed, throwing terrified glances at the house. "There's something bad there. Mickey!"
I ignored her, striding into the house. The interior was so black, I had trouble seeing the floor. Three paces in, I missed my footling and fell through the floor, into a deep hole. When I scrambled to my feet, I realised there was light here, somehow.
"*That's it*," the voice called from a small crack in the earth. "*Come a little closer, Michael*."
I took a few steps into the crack in the earth, and realised why I coild see light. There was fire up ahead.
"It's okay, Beth!" I called up to her. "I just have to check out this...fire..."
The crack opened up on a cavern, full of creatures unimaginable to the eye. I tried to step backwards, but found only dirt behind me. I was trapped, and I suddenly knew this is not where I wanted to be. This was bad, and there was no way out.
"*Hello, Michael*," the voice said, coming from my left. "*Welcome to Hell. Time to get to work. Those photograph lures won't take themselves*!"
|
People always talked about the good old days of the '70s and '80s at Boblo Island in Detroit. It was an amusement park from 1898 to 1993, but it has since become abandoned and ruined.
Roland and his friends lived for exploring abandoned buildings, which Detroit had plenty to offer outside the concrete jungle of the bustling downtown.
They had seen the massive Packard Plant and they even managed to sneak in a trip to the beautiful art deco train station before Ford swooped in, purchased it, and made it inaccessible to the trespassers.
But the holy grail of it all was Boblo Island, the desolate amusement park. There was a lot to see. The abandoned boat was still anchored by the island, not to mention the incredible dancehall built by Henry Ford. There were trains and roller coaster rides to gawk at too. Since it was on an island, they would be one of the very few people that had ever gone exploring there.
It required a boat to get there, and a day came by where Roland and his pals were able to access a boat owned by his friend's father. They felt like pioneers when the four of them managed to cram into a small boat and take a trip to Boblo Island at dusk.
Upon reaching the island, they parked the boat on the beach and got out. Roland and his three other friends marveled at the abandoned boat sitting 200 yards away on a dock. Streams of black lines ran down the windows of the once sterling white ship. Then they scanned the whole island and saw the shadowy figures of the roller coasters and the pavilion and the legendary dance hall.
"God, I can't believe my mom came in the clutch with this map!" Jimmy yelled. He had a pamphlet map his mom had saved from the '80s. A treasure and a relic in the Detroit area.
"Dude, shut up and keep your voice down!" Roland snapped but whispered.
"What? It's not like anyone else is around." Jimmy flapped his hand at Roland.
"Remember that time You were yelling in the Packard Plant and wild dogs barked at us and chased us? Yeah, that wasn't funny," Layla said.
Their other friend Boris was quiet in the corner. Boris preferred exploring and taking the sights in as opposed to talking. Boris loved imagining what the place used to be like when it was full of life.
"Relax, there aren't going to be any dogs here. And if there are, we can easily get back to the boat and be on our merry way," Jimmy said. "Now, how's about we go on that boat?"
"Hold on one second." Boris pulled out photos from his fanny pack. They were pictures taken in the '70s and '80s that he bought at a thrift store. Each photo had a family posing in front of the roller coaster or the dance hall or the boat itself. But something gave him the chills as he referenced the photos again. "Uh, guys..."
Roland and Jimmy were arguing about something stupid in a fury of whispers.
"Layla, check this out. This is really freaky. I feel like I'm seeing something." Boris waved Layla over.
He handed her the photos and she flipped through them.
"Do you notice anything really weird about those photos? I got those at the thrift store but they look totally different now!"
Layla felt her chest tighten up. "Boris, what the hell is this? Is this some kind of a prank?"
"No! I swear, you saw these photos earlier. They're the same ones that were in my bag. I don't know what happened to them."
Layla pinched herself since she thought she was in a nightmare. "Boris... This looks like us. These are pictures of us on the island having *fun*. What the hell! Those are your glasses, and your same hair in this photo from 1970! And that's me! I own those shorts and that t-shirt but I'm not even wearing that right now *what the hell*!"
"I think we should leave this place," Boris uttered, but loud enough for Roland and Jimmy to hear.
"What's that? You want to leave?" Jimmy echoed. "We just got here."
"Roland, check this out," Boris said. Roland was the unofficial leader of the group, whatever he said was practically law. As he walked over, Boris gave him the photos.
Roland furrowed his brow and had confusion written all over his face. "Uh, dude, what's up with these photos?"
"Hey! Jimmy! Where are you going!" Layla shouted.
Jimmy took off running toward the abandoned park while the three of them were analyzing the pics.
"Dammit!" Roland whispered. "Did you Photoshop these or something to freak us out?"
"No, I swear! These are the photos that I bought from the thrift store," Boris said.
Roland exhaled. "Well, we can't leave without Jimmy so I guess we either stay here and wait for him or we go get him right now."
Then the three of them heard a blood curdling scream that sounded like Jimmy's tortured voice. Goosebumps covered their bodies.
r/randallcooper
I recently finished a story that has a same mystery type of feel. Check it out [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/s2kxxl/club_novus_part_1/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button)! :)
I'm also from Michigan and Boblo Island is a very real place. It's a fun little rabbit hole to read about.
|
Mythic_Writing
|
randallfcooper
|
2023-01-29 15:53:59
|
2023-01-29 15:22:08
| 24 | 14 |
j6dg4ca
|
j6dbhda
|
10o836s
|
10o836s
|
[WP] In a world of dragons, sorcery, war, and monsters, there are many risks and even risk takers. Everyone though, elf, monster, or man knows to avoid those few ancient ruins that contain symbols of suffering and a word of the ancients, RADIATION.
|
They were trying to warn us.
Our ancestors were great. Our scholars say they had not yet learned of the ley lines pulsating with powerful mana through the land outside of folk tales. But our ancestors were able to mimic even our strongest of magical abilities through means unknown. These abilities must have come at a steep cost, however.
They were trying to warn us.
We discovered the hard way what these costs must have been. My team and I found an old tomb, a mountainous cavern in which the writings of the ancients guarded the door. We attempted to study the meanings but could not quite deduce their message. We should have taken longer in trying to figure it out. We were arrogant in our pursuit of knowledge.
They were trying to warn us.
These poisonous caverns killed all the members of my team except for myself. Even I can feel myself fading, and writing this warning in my field notes journal has taken several hours for a short passage. I leave this here, near my corpse, as a message to anyone who becomes curious of the hieroglyphic's meaning. Ahead there is nothing but accursed misery and death. The rune of warding shown around the entrance to the cavern is a remnant of those who came before, who understood more the toxins that were in this place.
They were trying to warn us. And now I am trying to warn you.
|
"Do you know what lies beyond the Great Wall?" Vernon asked. "I'm just curious, because everything in this land is just beautiful, but beyond the Great Wall, are endless shadows in the skies."
"Those are the ancient ruins bearing symbols of suffering. Never go there," remarked the seasoned Elf adventurer Kallias.
Vernon's curiosity only grew. "What kind of symbols?"
"There's only one word I can safely read from a distance. **RADIATION**, and I'm not about to find out what that accursed thing does. Come, Vernon, we should be heading back to the nearest adventurer's camp."
As Kallias escorted the small group of rookie adventurers back, Vernon never took his eyes off the Great Wall. His mind already racing, churning ideas on how to sneak off and explore the shadowed lands. How dangerous could it be to a dragon sorcerer?
He waited for the adventurers to enter their tents at night before dropping his rookie adventurer illusion. Reading the map Kallias had distributed to the group earlier, Vernon made his way back to the Great Wall.
One simple mana blast and a section of the wall had collapsed. Surely all these ancient words about suffering and death were only there to keep out treasure hunters who would rob the place of its valuables. With a flick of his claws, an illuminating ball of light glowed in front of him, guiding his way through as the darkness enveloped him and grew darker the further he ventured in.
Vernon was disappointed to find nothing but disused machinery and absolutely no treasure! What is up with this place?
Peering through a tiny corridor in the corner of a great hall, Vernon assumed a much smaller human form and slipped into it. Perhaps this was a slightly secretive corridor finally leading to some treasure after all, he thought to himself.
A sudden onset of nausea forced Vernon to lean against a wall to vomit his dinner. The dizziness grew overwhelming, the steady pounding in his head only hit harder as he ventured deeper into the corridor. This could only mean he was getting closer to the protective mechanisms guarding a treasure.
Vernon dropped dead without warning before a mass of black radioactive corium shaped like an elephant's foot, encircled by a mass of corpses of those who did not heed the warnings.
|
Chuk741776
|
Tregonial
|
2023-05-03 16:30:59
|
2023-05-03 16:23:21
| 821 | 301 |
jiprk7h
|
jipqdnn
|
136lj9v
|
136lj9v
|
[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.
|
I used to draw upon my own strength, magically enhanced, to heal my companions. I could channel a limited about of divine power, but it had its price. Every deal with the devil does. I paid that price, every single day, whether I healed that day or not. The closer I was with my target, the more we’d been through together, the better they healed. But I never grew close anymore.
If somebody hires you because you can bring them back from the brink time and time again, you would think they would pay you well, or at least show some gratitude. They usually did, once or twice. But I was contractually obligated to, and more so, I had to heal to keep myself alive. They knew it, and even if they didn’t start off as callous bastards, they all eventually died that way. Not my fault that the fact they took me for granted loosened the connection and made it harder to heal. It _was_, however, my fault that I didn’t do anything about it. Sure, I could have pushed harder, but who on earth would expend their own life force for assholes?
A younger me might have. But the problem with using your own soul as the spark to light a bigger magical fire is that it always burns up a bit of the soul too. You eventually lose the ability to care. Once emotions go, morals and ethics begin to follow. Now, I wasn’t a soulless emotionless machine like my fellows often mistakenly believed, they were just buried deep, quelled to a smolder so as to not distract—for anyone who tries to heal without any sort of driving goal, a reason to want it, or some sort of passion or obsession, instantly fails. The magic burns you out. Not in any sort of way that would be a spectacular explosion or a violent last gasp, though.
But today was different. This party was just kids. Cold ruthless killers, a product of not only the street gangs of their childhood, but of the impending threat of war that had forced them into that life. I suppose I should have seen the signs coming, of parties coming, failing, going ever so faster, throwing themselves into the fights ever so recklessly, but I didn’t. I was just fulfilling my contract. I look back and wish I had noticed, something to shake me out of my twisted reverie sooner. But I was fading, losing myself in the disconnect. I was just lucky to wake up when I did.
(To be continued)
|
Tequima
|
squire80513
|
2023-01-13 00:24:17
|
2023-01-13 00:11:23
| 152 | 101 | null |
j43x9k2
|
10a7zca
|
180inmo
|
[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?"
|
There's rules, there's exceptions.
Most heroes understood that. Violence wasn't ok, until it was. Everyone was to be saved, until they weren't. Its why most of them tried to kill me on sight.
There's rules, there's exceptions.
I understood this. You only get to play if you follow the script. You're *expected* to monologue. You can't use anything good until the heroes know you have it. Can't go after family. Etc, etc. I thought I was smart. An exception. Open strong, kill the first hero to show up, and the rest will know better and leave me alone. Apparently, protocol requires 9 heroes on standby for every active hero in an incident. Nine. None of them were happy. Its a rule that heroes exercise restraint. I was the exception. Got 40 years for that. Did 20. They made an exception. Time off for good behavior plus the leg I lost.
When I got out, Princess Echo was all you could hear on the rumor mill. Teen heroes were nothing new. Some behaved, but most had rage problems. Echo was the exception. When heroes took a case, they're supposed to bring the Villain in. Then they'd be off to the next case. Echo would spend *hours* talking to them. She'd follow up. She cared. Everyone made sure I knew. Echo got the kids gloves. Or else.
Which is fair, considering I killed the hero Jackhammer not 3 days after my release. He had been pushing things too hard. The last straw was when he left a purse-snatcher's corpse hanging from a lamp-post as an example to the rest of us. Nobody came for me. That was an exception.
You're supposed to claim the body of a loved one. This was an exception. Nobody would claim this body. Not officially. Whoever it was, they had been tortured and violated so abusively, I wouldn't be surprised if they couldn't even identify him.
Nobody knew why Princess Echo developed a rage problem. This was an exception. One that only grew worse over time. Eventually, she was asked to retire. She refused. *That* was an exception. Then one day, she just stopped taking cases.
Heroes don't come to the Piss&Vinegar. They let villains have that. Princess Echo was now the exception. She stepped over the door, now lying on the floor. Her face reflected dozens of emotions, as if she was still stuck in the trauma. "Who did it? Who killed my father?" She snarled, her voice a complete exception to how she normally talked. Rare was the villain who'd team-up with a hero. As many grabbed their weapons, they were silently deciding that this would be an exception.
Rare was the villain who would simply confess to a crime, but as I rose from my seat and limped to the center of the room, I was the exception. "I did."
We have rules so that we know what to do. People who break the rules get punished. Everyone makes sure everyone else follows the rules. Villains aren't supposed to go after family. I'd broken *another* rule. This should be it. By the rules, I should be dead. As I stood in front of her, gazing into her eyes, I knew this was true. Then she embraced me, crying. "Thank you." Oh. She understood. After what he did to her, **HE** was an exception.
|
"Who did it? I know some of you have crooked connections. I need to know"
There was silence in the bar, in that instance. Everyone held their breath.
That man... He wasn't known for being anything other than jovial. Now, like a terrifying mirror of a kind man, he was shaking with rage, with hurt. This would be bad, in a way that it's hard to describe. Everyone present knew this.
They all knew the horrors of a gentle man forced into war.
Finally, an erudite man in a tuxedo and a top hat, sitting in the darkest back-corner of the bar found the courage to answer.
"Need to know who did what, Gabriel? Many of us have connections, yes, but none here can read minds, let alone one as protected as yours. "
The golden man with a face of sorrowful rage paused at this, staring into nothing and trembling as if reliving horrors untold.
"Last night, while I was patrolling, finding people to help, three officers raided my house, unannounced, uninvited, and without reason.
My wife was chopping vegetables in the kitchen, and was shot dead before she knew what was going on. My daughter had to watch. My dog tried to defend her, but they shot him too. They were negligent; they shot through my dog into my... My baby. They killed them. I CAME HOME TO A DEAD FAMILY AND A TRASHED HOME AND HAD TO WATCH IT HAPPEN ON MY CAMERA SYSTEM -cough-"
"I have dedicated the last two decades of my life to selflessly helping people that can't help themselves. I have worked tirelessly to save millions of lives."
"I won't be doing that anymore"
Everyone in the bar gasped at the declaration. Even at the worst of times, even the villains couldn't believe what they were hearing. The golden savior refusing to help was an entirely foreign concept to them.
"I am done" he continued, heedless of the commotion.
"Either provide to me the identities of the corrupt slime that provided the wrong address and the identities of the monsters that killed my light, or be disposed of with the rest of the human garbage"
"...well get right on that, then. Obviously we don't know right this second, but we have some calls to make. Can you wait like fifteen minutes?"
The well dressed man in the hat was visibly terrified, but unfailingly polite.
"Fine. You have an hour."
"Thank you for your patience and generosity"
"Hmm"
The golden man fell silent like the rest of the bar. When the hat man returned with the information 10 minutes later, the golden man wore a grim smile.
24 hours later, the world was in chaos. Three police officers were killed so brutally that DNA evidence was all that could be used to identify the bodies. A sherrif was found, torn in half. The local district attorney disappeared. A corrupt judge had his arms, legs, ears, nose, and genitals brutally removed and the flesh left behind burnt unrecognizably. He was alive but suffering so badly all he said was broken, incoherent apologies. A small time villain who blackmailed and bribed the above individuals to authorize the raid was found in similar condition as the judge, but every appendage removed from his body was shoved violently into his torn, bloody anal passage. He, too, could only suffer and scream.
The golden man publicly quit, explaining in grim detail what happened to his family. He demanded police reform on threat of death, as many deaths as it would take. He had no desire to be a dictator, but was willing to continue killing people until every police officer was well trained and could be held accountable for their actions.
Ultimately, the world capitulated to his demands.
And the golden man was only ever seen, from that point forward, helping with disaster relief worldwide. He never stopped another crime, never saved a person from another person, and never made another public statement.
Every person that was saved by him from that day forward, reported that the golden man could no longer smile, could no longer give comfort and warmth like he used to. They all claim to feel his sadness.
And then one day many years later, he didn't show up to a natural disaster. He was never seen again.
|
Godskook
|
NaraFox257
|
2024-10-21 20:32:00
|
2024-10-18 13:48:59
| 20 | 14 |
lt2c2in
|
lsiymxr
|
1g5kua3
|
1g5kua3
|
[WP] In 1954, major leaders of the world received a message: “We have examined your planet, and do not find it desirable. As we depart, we leave some of our technology knowledge on your moon for you.” They thought we’d all share it. Instead we had a space race, followed shortly by a tech revolution.
|
Sweat dripped from the trembling forehead of Thomas John Watson Jr, as he spoke:
“I don’t know I swear.”
A twenty-two years old Elon Musk cocked the pistol pointing at Thomas' head. He asked again,
“Tell me about the technology they found on the moon.”
Thomas closed his eyes whimpering. Musk had a grim voice,
“You could fool others but not me. IBM had the technology, didn’t it? Washington gave it to you. Tell me.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” the old man was shaking.
“There are others who’ll be willing to talk. Goodbye.”
There was a blast from the pistol.
---
“Who are you?” Frederick Kappel was careful to not make any move as a gun pointed at his head. It was the middle of the night and he had been woken up by the sound of someone entering through the window.
“I’ll be the one to ask questions. What do you know about the technology found by Apollo 11?” asked the masked figure of Elon Musk.
“You’re not the first one to ask about that but the gun pointing is new,” Frederick said solemnly.
“You were close to Nixon. There’s no way you don’t know about the tech. What did AT&T use it for?”
“Look. I’ll give you all the answers but please point the gun away.”
“Where are the secrets kept?”
Frederick suddenly turned around, grabbed Musk’s wrist and twisted it up. The old man had strength rivalling that of the twenty-three years old Musk.
While their hands struggled over the control of the gun, Musk freed his legs and punched Frederick in his guts with the full force of his knee causing Frederick to recoil.
“Fine. I’ll find somebody else,” Musk uttered freeing himself.
Musk struck the squirming body of Frederick on his head. He lay unconscious as Musk exited the building.
---
“I don’t think there was ever an alien tech,” thirty-one years old Musk was speaking to his buddy Max who was barely listening in his inebriated state.
Musk was playing with the contents of a glass in front, swirling the liquid with his fingers.
“I have searched for over a decade, searched the deepest most secret files, talked to everyone who’s alive from that time.”
Max looked up to make sense of Musk’s words, blinking his eyes and trying to focus, then went back to smell his arms on the table.
Musk took a sip from his glass while he remembered the only top-secret document that contained anything of his interest. At the end of the document were the words: “No objects of interest found.” The whole document was otherwise incomprehensible.
The whole technological revolution was just US being afraid that Russians had found the alien technology and vice-versa. Fear is the mother of all inventions, he thought.
*We have examined your planet, and do not find it desirable. As we depart, we leave some of our technology knowledge on your moon for you.*
The supposed alien message replayed in Musk’s head. The message was received by the major observatories and the government was quick to hush it up.
*Why would they leave the knowledge on our moon?* he thought
*Why would they not find our planet interesting?*
*Unless.*
*It was not to Earth they directed the message.*
*Could it be?*
“Mars” he shouted in an epiphany.
|
Three months ago, Mr. Dino Callas claims that he was abducted by aliens. With the information we received a week ago, this story may shed light on it.
**ALIEN ABDUCTION RECORD:**
---
I was drinking alone in the woods. I thought it'd be another nice night camping. That's when this LearJet flew down into the field near me. I got worried; if a LearJet lands this close to the forests, there's a chance of a plane crash, and I needed to make sure the pilot or passengers were all right.
The pilot thanked me for attempting to help, but he flew it normally. In gratitude, he asked if I wanted to take a ride with him in it. I agreed.
We got into the air, me in the back of the jet. The pilot asked me if I thought it was nice. I told him LearJets are nice, but Gulfstreams are considered the bigger symbol of success in the field and LearJets hadn't been the peak of the industry since the days of Ric Flair. The pilot asked about these a bit, and I explained what little I knew of them. He turned on a car radio in the midst of the jet, and asked if I thought the sound was good. I said it was nice, but it's about the same as any other car radio set- some even having GPS in them. The pilot asked about GPS, and I told him how it's a satellite position system used to find where you were on the planet at any time and basically navigate for you and keep you from getting lost. The pilot was awestruck when I said this. The pilot asked if I wanted to hang out at his house for a bit, and I agreed.
We went to the house. For lack of a better term, it felt like I stepped into an episode of That '70s Show. The man put on an 8-track tape. The guy seemed to be a diehard fan of Elvis, and had apparent B-sides and remixes I had never heard of, to the point it all sounded like new music to me. We listened to some music. The man asked if I thought his sound system was good. I said that the 8-track thing is retro, but 8-tracks were long out of date. He seemed shocked- I know vinyl is big, but the guy seemed to be unaware CDs even existed. He asked what they were, and I told him how they were a digitized form of storing music, data, and movies. The man was even more shocked when I said they lost power due to the rise of streaming, and was flabbergasted when I told him that you could simply beam any media you wanted to your computer at will. He only got more shocked when I said that pretty much everyone had a computer at home- many more, and that people could even bring a computer in their smartphone with them everywhere. He asked if I did, and I showed him my iPhone. He asked "we all have these?" and I said "yeah; actually that's my burner one so I could just get off the grid." The man's jaw dropped. He asked if he could keep it if it was a backup one and that he'd trade his entire collection of Elvis 8-tracks from the '80s and '90s to me for it- I'm a fan, so I can always go with some good compilations of his music, so I said yes.
The man was in awe when I showed it to him, and simply said "Is this what you've done with what was given? I have to make some phone calls, I'll have to send you back." He flew me back to where my tent was. In the background, I heard the man say "You won't believe what they've done since we last spoke with them, we need to get back into contact with Sol 3 immediately!", and then he flew away.
All I had left to prove it were the 8-track tapes he had traded me [REPORT: The tapes the man showed me looked beaten with 30-40 years of use, but by all signs appear to be new Elvis Presley music that was released long after his apparent death in 1977. However, scouring every antique store in the area led to no luck in finding a working 8-track player to play them and get proof of such.].
( *Inventor William Powell Lear was the businessman who founded LearJet, one of the first private business jet companies. He received 140 patents in his life, most notably the car radio and the 8-track tape player. Conspiracy theories believe many of his inventions were originally technology he had learned from aliens.* )
|
Professor_Entropy
|
Spiritual_Lie2563
|
2023-03-09 17:56:29
|
2023-03-09 16:57:27
| 65 | 42 |
jbkea7c
|
jbk4qim
|
11msar7
|
11msar7
|
[WP] When humanity enters the galactic stage we find that our history of violence is quite unusual, but not because we wreaked unimaginable death and destruction upon each other, but rather because we stopped eventually.
|
“Wait… so your species kept fighting wars up until today?”
“Yes, it’s extraordinarily rare that you guys stopped. It amazes me that you haven’t had a great powers conflict since your calendar’s year 1946.”
“Yeah, but we had the threat of Mutually Assured Destruction to keep everything low intensity and proxy. How did you guys not blow yourselves up?”
“Mutually Assured Destruction?”
“You know… That whole they launch all of their nuclear weapons, we launch all of ours, the world ends in nuclear fire deal.”
“Nuclear weapons?”
“Wait, you guys have fusion, anti-matter, and FTL and you don’t have nukes? I swear I even saw some archive footage of one of your old ships using nuclear pulse propulsion system. How do you guys not have nukes?”
“Of course we can make nuclear explosions… but why in Pelar’s name would you use it as a weapon? You set one off and you wreck your target, no real point in conquering something if all you get is a pile of irradiated rubble. It makes no sense! Even you guys realized that if you actually ever used them you’d destroy yourselves. What made you think they were ever worth the resources to build?”
“Guess that’s why nobody’s used a Relativistic Kill Vehicle yet…”
“Relativistic Kill Vehicle?”
“Nothing…. Nevermind….”
|
When humanity enters the galactic stage, we find that our history of violence is quite unusual, but not because we wreaked unimaginable death and destruction upon each other, but rather because we stopped eventually.
Often times people ask, "why do bad things happen"? Pain and suffering often times are just words that indicate the need to survive. We become smarter in order to survive; we learned better ways to fend of predators, we also became better predators in order to provide food for ourselves and our families. We needed warmth and security, so we cultivated fire, utilized skins as clothing, and built shelters. Had others not also became smarter this would have been enough. However, as we grew so did the threats. Predators, pry and other humans also became smarter, so the cycle of our evolution continued. Stronger weapons, better shelters, warmer clothing, and the development of reliable food sources where all part of the evolution of man. During the course of this process, we enslaved and tamed lesser species to fulfil are unyielding need to survive, until eventual it was not enough just to survive but instead, we needed to thrive.
So, the answer to the question why bad things happen is not that of some all-powerful deity demands that we suffer. It is simply that we suffer so we can grow, and without suffering in life we would have deuterated as a species. Look at the dodo bird, once a mighty beast but due to an abundance of food and limited dangers in their nature habitat they devolved into something no better than a giant chicken and were eventually wiped out when a legitimate threat did arrive in the form of humans.
Take this rudimentary cycle, of suffering and growth and imagine at what level an intergalactic species would have had to endure in order to evolve into something powerful enough to have mastered space travel? We didn't seek the stars just to learn, we sought the stars to find our next challenge and in order to secure our own survival beyond the confines and restrictions of our own planet. Without this goal in mind, we would have become comfortable, and ignorant in our own little world until a bigger beast came to pluck us out of our existence just like the fabled dodo bird.
|
SYLOH
|
davinci1001
|
2023-01-18 05:10:40
|
2023-01-17 20:37:57
| 46 | 25 |
j4ttxor
|
j4rt3qx
|
10ekl2b
|
10ekl2b
|
[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.
|
It was my weekly check-in. I didn't mind. I had won the lottery.
Neuron-degenerative diseases are the worst way to go you can imagine. I had volunteered for every accursed experimental treatment on offer.
I kind of expected that to kill me *faster*.. which, at the time, that counted as an upside.
I got Lucky. I was cured. The shakes are gone. I can walk in a straight line. My memory isn't getting any.. new.. holes. Not getting much back of what was lost, but the ongoing damage? It has stopped.
But there was something a bit off.
... Doctor? You said to report anything strange.
The doctor was too hip to wear a white lab coat. It was lavender instead. I didn't roll my eyes at that. Anyone who can preform work like this gets to wear whatever the heck they like in my book. Nice youngster, though.
And they just focused all the way in. Were they expecting side effects?
".. my grandkids came by. I can babysit them again and I must thank you for that.. Well. They talked me into playing this game with them. Some cartoon characters racing? Kart something? Not the first time.
... I won. I won every game I didn't loose on purpose!
I've never won those games before! It was kind of dull, actually. Too slow."
And now the kid has a shit eating grin on their face.
.. "It worked. It goddamn worked. It worked *just like the model said*. That Never Happens.. So. Now. I get to tell you about ADAM project!
... I knew both an acronym and a prompt when someone served me one. Eh well. Might as well ask. "Which stands for?"
... "Advanced Drone Augmented Management".
I had to suppress a giggle. "You really wanted that to spell out Adam."
"Goddess no, not me."
A moment. "It was my boss that insisted. But your country needs you!"
"... to, what, pilot drones?"
"It's the future of War. "
|
# Soulmage
**Anyone else would have questioned the number of guards around the simple bed.** Six witches, two ambassadors from the Eldritch Initiative, and four disgruntled-looking young soldiers with shortswords surrounded Iola as he sauntered towards the center of the room.
But Iola felt good about this. He always felt good—he was just an upbeat kind of person—but the power that the Eldritch Initiative had promised him was so close he could almost taste it.
Wait, no, that was blood. He'd bitten his tongue in excitement. Oh, well, it was far from the first time.
"Now be warned, the process is currently irreversible." Iola had to work around quite a few bureaucratic loops in order to get here—teenagers were *not* supposed to become experimental extradimensional entities. But the man in front of him didn't recognize Iola, and Iola didn't recognize him. "This is your last chance to back out."
The corners of Iola's lips twitched. "Things always work out for me," he said. "I'm quite happy where I am, thank you very much."
The man shrugged. "Well, a test subject is a test subject. Do you have the sample?" He asked, turning towards the ambassador.
The vaguely humanoid puppet of flesh held out... Iola craned his neck, curious. What was that, some kind of potted plant? It was gnarled and ancient and *boring*, so Iola didn't bother thinking about it any further. "You will have to perform the infection yourself, of course."
The man nodded. "For your own safety, please lie down on the—ah, there you go." He came forward, holding the potted plant. "This should only take a moment."
Iola stared at the ceiling, humming to himself, excited for the changes. Would there be a surge of strength as his muscles grew? Ooh, would he sprout razor-sharp claws and wings? Or a fire-breathing snout and powerful jaws?
But the changes were not so... physical.
The anticipation turned andric as Iola's expression contorted, the upbeat joy he constantly felt sickening into varination. Iola's eyes bulged as his neurons were rewired, the new emotions coursing through his mind as familiar and human as chyme was to water.
And then it was done. Though not a single fiber of his perfectly-combed hair was out of place, someone else looked out from behind Iola's eyes.
"Infection complete," the man reported. "Tell me, Iola. How do you feel?"
Iola worked its jaw, twisting it this way and that, until it settled into a dorceless gape.
"I feel humber," Iola said, and the pulsating of his eyes confirmed it. "I feel *good.*"
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a story written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/), or r/bubblewriters for more.
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Izeinwinter
|
meowcats734
|
2023-08-06 00:43:42
|
2023-08-06 00:14:29
| 35 | 26 |
juyy9yd
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juyuk2l
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15j8mzq
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15j8mzq
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[WP] Turns out that Hell has no fire, torture, or frozen wastelands to endure. The only actual punishment is having to spend an eternity with the other assorted jerks that ended up there as well.
|
(GARCIN, INEZ, and ESTELLE enters, accompanied by the VALET, and glances around)
GARCIN: So here we are?
VALET: Yes, Mr. Garcin.
GARCIN: And this is what it looks like?
VALET: Yes.
GARCIN: Ikea furniture, I observe... Well, well, I dare say one gets used to it in time.
VALET: Some do, some don't.
GARCIN: Are all the rooms like this one?
VALET: Yes, but the number of screws and pieces is always different.
INEZ: I prefer the Finnala chair. These are all Viskafor chairs.
ESTELLE: Right! In that case, I'll stop you sitting. (She picks up the PAPER Allen Wrench and stabs Inez several times.)
INEZ: But, you crazy creature, what do you think you're doing? You know quite well I'm dead.
ESTELLE: Dead?
INEZ: Dead! Dead! Dead! Meatballs, allen wrenches, tiny pencils--useless. It has happened already, do you understand? Once and for all. SO here we are, forever.
ESTELLE: Forever. My God, how funny! Forever.
GARCIN: For ever, and ever, and ever.
(A long silence.)
GARCIN: Well, well, let's get on with it...
(GARCIN begins to build the Finnalla chair while both INEZ and ESTELLE read the Ikea instructions but they never finish.)
-END-
|
When I was escorted to area I was to remain in for, well, not sure how long, but for the time being, I was really fearful. But no. No hot lava or fire showers or being poked with brimming hot pitch forks. I was just sitting on a rather uncomfortable long bench. Just when I started to feel a little smug, as if I might have beaten the system, another bloke sat down at the other end of the bench. I didn't want to make it obvious that I was the new guy. So, I gradually, nonchalantly craned my neck over to the direction the dude was sitting. Tried not to make eye contact. I didn't know if my mind was playing games on me or what, but I could of swore I'd seen that guy before. But, I kept my cool. Just kind of half-smiled and nodded. He looked over at me. He wasn't trying to conceal any stealth at all. He blurted out, "It sucks doesn't it?"I wait a minute before responding, but secretly I was glad he broke the ice first.
"Yeah, I guess so. I dunno. Doesn't seem too bad," I offered back, trying to sound cool.
"They made me shave," he said. I just looked at him. Not sure what to make of it, I just nodded."Uh, what's that now? We gotta' shave down here?"
He responded, "no, just me. There might be a few others. But yeah, I had to shave."
I wasn't quite sure what to make of this guy. He seemed a little off. I was about to say something, change the subject, ask about how the food was, but before I could, he stood and said emphatically, "It's the damn Jews! That's why they why I'm down here."Ohhhhhh now I know how I recognized this dude. Dammit. Friggin' Adolph. Of course. I quickly got up and walked as fast as I could away from him. I ran into Joe Stalin, Pol Pot, Fidel Castro, just a bunch of other @$$holes. They had no power. No authority. Just pathetic, irritating dudes, talking $h!+ that made no sense. I wanted to kill myself, but I was already dead. Later I was informed that I had been brought to the wrong ward. I was then dropped off at a different wing of hell. The sign above the entrance for this corridor read: male Karen's. This was going to be miserable....
|
SMJ01
|
SaladTossBoss
|
2023-08-28 07:30:57
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2023-08-28 03:27:04
| 77 | 13 |
jy2949m
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jy1nsr4
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1638ce8
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1638ce8
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[WP] the normally non-violent hero loads a single bullet into their antique long unused revolver and prepares a shot. "if you kill me you'll be just like me!" the villain exclaims. the hero is unconvinced.
|
_bang_
"Why do they keep trying to pull that shit?"
_"Dunno Sidekick Boy."_
"I mean it's not like there's any sort of true equivalence. You only shoot supervillians. And only the ones that kill civilians. They shoot _EVERYBODY_."
Gun Man just shrugs and pops the spent shell from his gun.
"I mean it hasn't worked for the last 20 Supervillians. Why would they think it works for them?"
Gun Man sighs and says, _"Listen. My first supervillian said to me, if I killed them, the number of murderers in the world would stay the same ... so I decided to kill at least two."_
|
The hero looks at him. “If I let you live you will escape and hunt down my family and I. No, this is for the best.”
“But you can’t kill me, it’s against all your values. You do this because some villain killed your father. You can’t kill me, I’m also a father!”
The hero looks confused. Then his resolve sets again “No trickery. This is for the best.”
“Kill me now and you won’t be a hero anymore!”
“That’s right. And you are my last rival. I’m retiring. Moving on with my life. My back hurts every morning I get up. The thirties are hard on heroes. I’ll find something else to do. I’ve found something else to do. But I must finish here!”
There is a knock on the door, then it opens. A man in a nice suit walks in. “You are taking your time Barry, you know what must be done.”
The villain stammers “Paul? My second in command? Why are you doing this?”
“I’m five years from retirement. I figure I want to run things for five years then I can retire and I would need to pass the reigns on to someone. Then I was approached by a hero wanting to retire from the hero businesses.”
“I’m sorry Paul, I just can’t do it.”
“That’s alright Barry, I figured as much.” Paul takes the gun.
“Paul! Don’t do this! I can work with-“ Bang!
================
Barry comes to. What a time to remember that memory from twenty years ago. He watches a hero pull out and load a familiar looking gun. “If you kill me, you’ll be just like me” God, this isn’t going to work…
|
joalheagney
|
Mr_Woodchuck314159
|
2023-01-16 07:15:44
|
2023-01-16 03:28:09
| 152 | 112 |
j4k4nj7
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j4jfvr2
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10d1qc6
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10d1qc6
|
[WP]"Halt, foul beast! You shall threaten this town no longer!" Yelled the hero, drawing their blade, an ancient artefact that glowed and became razor sharp in the presence of evil.. except it wasn't only not glowing, but dulled as the hero pointed it at the 8' tall man-wolf huddled in the corner
|
Shaun had tracked the reports of missing livestock and shepherds to the small mountain village of Vastok. He'd found some of the missing beasts penned up with the villagers' own livestock, but the villagers claimed they'd been found wandering along the trails that wound up the mountainside.
He had no reason to doubt them, for the gory scene he'd witnessed around the shepherd's hut down in the valley was the work of a monster, not of mere thieves. If the monster was what he thought it was, he could easily believe that the surviving flock had been driven up the trail by primal terror.
The village headman, a narrow-eyed gaffer named Arlan, seemed to see his presence as an affront to the reputation of the tiny community, and told him that if it was a monster he sought, he'd find none in Vastok.
He did, however, provide Shaun with one useful bit of information: some Vastok folk said there was a huge shaggy wolf, a loner without a pack, that lived in a cave a few miles outside the village, where none dared venture.
Arlan wasn't sure he believed it, himself, but the village set watchmen at night bearing spears and torches, just in case. Perhaps, the old man opined, the beast had decided to try its luck among the less watchful valley folk?
Common spears would hold no terror for the thing that Shaun suspected was roaming the region, but a burning torch swung at it would give it pause, perhaps. It was worth checking out, in any case.
He left the village, and hiked to the cave.
When he came to mouth of the cavern, it's entrance half-hidden in behind a screen of scraggly pines, he immediately saw signs of his quarry. His sharp eyes spotted a mix of gnawed animal bones, torn sacks, and broken crockery around the cave entrance -- the litter he'd expect from a creature that was both man and beast.
He lit a torch to light his way, and then drew his sword. Common weapons could not harm the monster he hunted, but his blade Rivenstar was no common weapon. It was not made of steel, but was forged of enchanted silver, alloyed with metal from a fallen star.
The holy sword's blade became razor sharp and glowed like the star that had birthed it when in the presence of evil, and it sliced through the dark power that protected monsters from mortal steel as easily as it cleaved their flesh.
Armed with this instrument of divine vengeance, he walked boldly forward into the cave. He followed the winding passage that led out the large entrance cavern,
as it wormed it's way deeper into the rock, his eyes searching every shadow.
As he emerged into a larger chamber inside the cave system, a large shaggy gray shape blurred past him, into a side passage. He gave chase, and almost stumbled right into a...bear trap? The thing set traps in it's lair? Proceeding more carefully, he avoided two more bear trap, and skirted around a pit trap lined with sharpened stakes.
Finally, he burst out into another wide chamber, holding his torch aloft. There in the corner, the hackles on its broad back bristling, the creature crouched and snarled, baring long canines. It's overall shape was like that of an enormous man, save for it's legs, which bent like a wolf's, and instead of paws it had clawed hands on its forelimbs. Its head was horrific blend of man and wolf, that glared at him with lambent golden eyes.
It lunged forward, but Shaun warded it back with the torch. He scowled, and raised his blade to strike....
...then he paused. Rivenstar did not burst into light, and its edge did not grow keen.
"Wulver," he whispered, staring at the creature in amazement. "You're no werewolf, you're a *Wulver."*
The creature looked startled.
"You...know of me?" it growled, uncertainly.
Shaun slowly lowered his sword. "Yes. Of your kind, at least. I know you Wulver are not evil by nature -- unlike the bedeviled Werewolves."
"Few ordinary humans can see any difference between us." the Wulver snarled.
Shaun held up his still darkened blade. "Perhaps. But Rivenstar shines against evil, yet sheds no light on you. To merely have a fearful appearance is no crime. My blade does not condemn you, so neither do I."
He sheathed his sword, and the Wulver's golden eyes widened in surprise. It had clearly not expected that.
"Why do you guard your lair with traps, Wulver?" Shaun asked, curiously. "Protection against the villagers?"
"Aye, human, they come hunting me, sometimes. But I confound them with my snares, and with my knowledge of these caves," the Wulver rumbled.
Shaun sighed, his mouth pressing into a grim line. "I see. They hate you, because they think you're a monster."
The Wulver looked surprised again. He shook his shaggy head. "No, human. They hate me because I'm *not."*
/./././
Several minutes later, Shaun emerged from the cave entrance, the Wulver beside him. After what the Wulver -- whose name was Harreth, he'd learned -- had told him, he wasn't surprised to find Arlan and several of the villagers waiting for them there.
"Well," Arlan sneered. "It seems the worthless runt isn't even up to the challenge of taking down the weakest of prey -- despite our practically *gift-wrapping* it for him."
Shaun drew his sword, and extended it towards Arlan and the villagers. They cursed and flinched back as it burst into light in their presence. "I am no one's prey, monster. And by the Divine, you will trouble neither the Wulver nor the valley any more, after this night."
Arlan growled, flashing teeth that elongated into fangs in a blink, his eyes turning yellow and luminous. Around him, the other villagers he'd brought with him began to change, as well.
"Stay behind me." Shaun advised the Wulver, setting his stance.
"No..." Harreth growled. He crouched beside Shaun, baring his fangs, as the werewolves of Vostak assembled before them, hatred and hunger in their eyes.
"I am *done* hiding!" the Wulver roared.
|
\[Evil. Perspective.\]
"You shall threaten this town no longer!" The hero drew his blade as the hulking beast in a white trench coat huddled in the corner with his back toward the hero and the rest of the inn. The wolf-man stared down at the corner and the top of his head was covered with dirty blonde fur. The hero held his sword firm while the best did its best to ignore him. And, he couldn't help but notice the distinct lack of glowing power.
Since the wolf wasn't looking anyway, the hero brought his blade closer to examine it. The sharp edge was gone and replaced by the dull wood of a practice sword.
"Huh?" he voiced his surprise and the wolf-beast stiffened.
"I don't want any trouble," he spoke with a low; but youthful grumbling tone. He slowly raised his hands in the air to show he meant no harm. "I'm going to change forms...," he said. The hero didn't quite understand what he meant at first until the beast began to shrink.
"You're... human?" the hero asked. It made sense as far as his weapon; he'd never known humans to be as evil as the creatures of darkness. He relaxed his weapon; but, not his guard. The now much smaller human nodded as he turned around with his hands still in the air. "... and a kid??"
The stranger only reached the hero's shoulder and he looked as young as 14 or 15 summers. He was tan with a mop of curly dirty blonde hair reaching his shoulders.
"Yeah," he nodded. "My name's Ace," he gently lowered his hands, then reached forward with one to offer a handshake.
"I am.. the hero of this town..," the hero accepted the greeting. He wasn't surprised at the teen's firm grip. He had a sudden insight after the exchange. "You're not... the same creature that has been assaulting this town are you?"
"What?" Ace looked surprised for a moment, then he shook his head with a grin. "No, this is my first time," he answered. Thinking back on it, this wolf was obviously different from the other... from the others? As he tried to picture the real threat, the hero had several different images pop into his head. All of them wore different clothing or armor; but, Ace was the first one he could say for sure he'd never seen before. The white trenchcoat made him stand out.
"What brings you to my town?" the hero asked.
"I'm on a quest," Ace replied.
"You're an adventurer?" the hero finally relaxed. If Ace was an adventurer, he would have had no trouble dispatching him. He felt instant respect for Ace trying to resolve things peacefully. And his white coat obviously painted him as one of the good guys.
"I am," Ace nodded.
"That's a relief," the hero had never heard of a werewolf adventurer that he could remember; but he assumed they had to exist. He wandered to the closest table and gestured at one of the seats for Ace. He sat across and rested his wooden sword on the table.
"Tell me about your quest, Adventurer. Perhaps we can help each other; there's a troublesome wolf in the area I'd like your help with."
"I appreciate it," Ace nodded as approached the chair. But, he reached into his coat before he sat down. And he placed a gleaming white shotgun on the table. "There's an item I'm trying to recover. It's supposed to be a challenging fight; but, I think I found a shortcut," he said.
The hero wasn't listening though, he was intrigued by Ace's weapon. It was so white and glossy that at first glance it could be mistaken for a child's toy.
"That is a curious shotgun...," he commented.
"Would you like to inspect it?" Ace happily handed over his gun and the hero didn't hesitate to accept it. It was light as a bundle of sticks. It still felt solid and well-crafted even if it wasn't as heavy as the guns he was used to holding. Not that he had much experience with firearms; his magic sword was all he needed.
"It's...is it real?" he asked.
"Real deadly," Ace chuckled with a nod.
"Where did you get such a magnificent weapon?" he asked as he offered it back to Ace. The teen didn't accept it right away.
"Same place I got the quest," he shrugged. "I can get another one easy enough. If you like it so much... how about a trade?" he asked. Ace's eyes landed squarely on the wooden sword.
"I couldn't...," the hero replied after a moment of deliberation. He wanted to; but, the simple fact that Ace 'could get another one' meant his artifact was the more rare item.
"Ah well, I tried...," Ace shrugged as he reached for the shotgun in the hero's hand. Then, several things happened at once. The hero heard a growl; but, his reflexes were too slow.
Ace leaped from his seat and pushed against the hero with the shotgun he was holding. He was a blur of motion and by the time the hero's mind caught up he was already on his back with an 8-foot-tall werewolf in a white coat stepping on his chest.
Ace held rested his shotgun on the hero's chest as he held up the glowing sword. It now had a sharp, silver edge and was surrounded by brilliant white light.
"WHAT??" the hero was confused. Why didn't the sword warn him? "How??" Ace shrank back into his human form; but, he still kept pressure on the hero to keep him down.
"So, I read the quest text and it's funny," Ace grinned. "It only warns you in the presence of evil because it senses "evil intentions", he said. "I didn't have any until you wouldn't give me the sword."
The hero struggled to push the now-lighter teen off him. As he thrashed around, he noticed all the inn's patrons sitting in the usual spots, eating their usual meals and ignoring the commotion.
"RUN!" he shouted. "Why isn't anyone running??"
"You know what, I'm not really a bad guy," Ace shook his head. Even the sword seemed to agree as its glow dimmed slightly.
"I'll even give you a chance to get out of this with your life; but, without the sword of course," he chuckled. The hero struggled again but made no progress. "I just need you to answer one question for me," Ace said. "If you have an answer."
"What is it?" the hero asked. Ace leaned down to make sure the question was clear.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"I'M THE HERO!" Ace chuckled and shook his head. The hero heard Ace say something before the shotgun fired.
"Obviously not."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1872 in a row. (Story #062 in year six.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/).
|
SilasCrane
|
HSerrata
|
2023-03-03 20:37:17
|
2023-03-03 17:25:38
| 195 | 27 |
jasutgq
|
jas1i17
|
11gzjb8
|
11gzjb8
|
[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.
|
"Reroll, please."
My head snaps up from my forging, the soul I was reshaping falling to the anvil. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me buddy! I want a reroll! The last few times you've sent me down as an ant, and then a turkey, and now a lobster? I'm just not *vibing*, you feel me?"
What the actual fuck. I peer down at the lobster-shaped soul blob before me and my own hammer marks glow before me, detailing all the times this soul has been reshaped by me. "How in all worlds have you been here ten times in five days?"
"I told you man, the vibes were *off*, so like I just came back? Not super hard but bro, the judgment line *sucks*. I tried telling the guy up front that I was a frequent customer and next time he should just fast track me to you but he threw me all the way back and I had to wait through the whole thing again! Anyway I want a reroll! No more lame animals, I wanna go back as a dude with a massive sch-"
"Jesus Christ on a slice of toast, just shut the Hell up for a second! HOW are you retaining your memories? That's the first thing I knock out of you."
The lobster raises its front claws in a strange crustacean shrug. "Dunno. Try it."
I swung my hammer down and smashed the lobster with relish. The cleansing sound echoed across my forge as it was reshaped back into a perfect sphere, clear and unblemished as the day it was created. There was no way that-
"Yeahhhh so that didn't work. Don't mind being a ball though. Ooh, sneak me into the NBA! I wanna meet LeBron!"
I looked at the soul, throwing itself in and out of my trash can and yelling something about "slam dunks". Looked at my hammer. Looked at the two hundred thousand page manual labeled "WHAT TO DO WHEN SOMETHING WEIRD HAPPENS IN THE SOUL REFORGER (NOW WITH MORE PAPERWORK!)". Looked back at the soul. At my hammer. At the growing line of souls needing reforging. I made my decision. Snagged the dumb ball mid dunk out of my trash can and placed it on my anvil and held my hammer over it. Ignoring the feeling that I was making a huge mistake, I asked it:
"How big do you want your schlong?"
|
“Step forward please. Oh. You again. The boss wants to see you.”
“What…why..?” Lenny stutters.
The attendant doesn’t answer and motions for the next soul to step forward.
Lenny steps aside and anxiously waits for his meeting with the boss. Time seemed to stop while his mind raced about the reasons *the boss* would want to see lowly little Lenny. None of the possible outcomes seemed favorable.
“Soul #52681087, Human Name Lenny, please step up to the desk.”
Lenny gets up, nearly tripping over his own feet. He walks in the room and sees *the boss*, Zixx. Zixx is a brutish looking god. And a powerful god as well. Being the God of Reincarnation requires a tremendous amount of strength, not only physical, but mental too.
“Take a seat Lenny.” Zixx says gruffly. “You’ve been back here…47 times more often than other souls that pass through here. Care to explain why?”
Lenny is silent.
Zixx asks again “Lenny, do you care to explain why you’ve been back so often?”
Lenny is still silent, looking down at his feet.
“We have other options of seeing into your soul, but they are rather…unpleasant.” Zixx says.
This causes Lenny to stir slightly, almost looking like he is ready to speak.
“I… I.. just feel this weight on my soul every time I’m reincarnated. It never leaves. It doesn’t matter if I’m a human, an ant, or any other animal, the feeling remains. Nothing makes it go away, so I need to.”
“And how do you do that?” Zixx asks, some concern in his voice.
“When the weight becomes too much, I find a way out. Just depends what creature I am. If I’m an ant, for example, I’ll get myself crushed.” Lenny says.
“Ahh, I see. And this darkness you speak of, can you tell me more about it?”
The way Zixx is asking questions reminds Lenny of when he was a human and tried therapy.
“Does Zixx… care about me?” Lenny wonders to himself. He is almost touched at the thought of a God actually caring about him.
Lenny tells Zixx about his struggles with life. How, no matter who or what he became, he was still alone. For some reason, Lenny was unable to sustain relationships in his life. Whether they be with other wolves in the pack, or friends to go have dinner with, Lenny was alone. Never family to love him nor friends to care for him.
The more Zixx heard, the sadder he became.
“And then I find out not even Hell wants my soul. How do you think that makes me feel? Hell, the worst place in the existence, does not want me..” Lenny says, starting to sob.
Zixx had heard enough.
“Lenny, if you could have the perfect life, what would it look like?”
“Well, I think I’d like to be a cat in a loving home. They are adored by their family and get to enjoy solitude as well.”
“Lenny, I can do this for you if you promise me one thing…. Please give life a fair shot this time, okay?”
Lenny nods.
And with that, Zixx snapped Lenny’s soul into a nice tabby about to go into a loving home.
———
“What should we name him?” The woman asks.
The man pauses, and thinks for a second.
“I’ve always liked the name Lenny.”
|
FlaxxtotheMaxx
|
rogueShadow13
|
2023-01-31 18:29:42
|
2023-01-31 18:28:14
| 1,172 | 771 |
j6o3yd8
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j6o3pmt
|
10q4wxq
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10q4wxq
|
[WP] "They only ever use a single spell in combat" "Yea but theyre REALLY good at that one spell"
|
"Technically, it's a curse."
Happus sighed. "That's worse!" He exclaimed. The seasoned warrior hated working with Finnion, but the sorcerer's services came cheap, and Hap was flat broke. "It gets results, Hap," Finnion said. "Put your foolish pride aside and finish the job."
The pair looked to the demon beast that their contract demanded they destroy. It was fumbling around, trying and repeatedly failing to pick up the demonic great sword he had dropped. Fin laughed. "Honestly, I don't know how you can't see the humor in it," he said. The demon cried out in frustration and pain as he sliced a nasty gash across his hand trying to pick it up by the blade. Fin snorted. Hap rolled his eyes.
"There's no glory in killing him like this," the warrior said. "Why is he even still trying? Can't he just pummel us with his bare hands?" Flames danced in the demon's eyes as it glanced up from its discarded sword for the first time. A pyre of hate caught flame in those red orbs as he began his demonic chanting he walked towards them.
Haps face lit up with a grim smile. "That's more like it," he said, drawing his sword and taking up a defensive stance. He chanced a look over at Fin, and saw the sorcerer grimace. "If his hands are weapons, the curse still applies," he said, then drew his hood up and turned around just before a torrent of blood washed over them. Hap wiped the blood from his eyes and recoiled in horror as the demon thrashed on the ground, crimson steams oozing out of his wrists and ankles.
His hands and feet were several paces away.
Hap was frozen by the grisly sight, and it was Fins turn to sigh. "I'll do it then," he said. Fin walked over to the demon, withdrew his belt knife and placed the point over the demon's throat. It ceased its bellowing long enough to speak, this time in the common tongue;
*"Hell pales compared to the evil of this spell,"* it said. Fin drove the blade in, then jerked it up before pulling it out. As the beast gargled out its final breath, Fin loomed over it.
"Technically, it's a curse."
|
Mince the mouse was proud of his little nut collection he built. He wouldnt go hungry for a week. He about started the first bite before that big looming shadow came over him no not again! This squirrel is an asshole. “Give em here or ill bite ya again.” Mince begrudgingly handed them over his face grimacing as he looked over into the grass. “Ha loser” said the squirrel before scampering away with his nuts.
Mince is almost knocked over and the grass moves in a wave from the powerful snore of the sleeping bulldog in the sun a bright neon ball in its mouth. Mince squeeks shrilly waking Carlos the Bull dog, “Why do you sleep why dont you chase that squirrel?!” The bulldog wakes with a startle snorting and then gives a look of indifference to the squirrel “he’s over there and I’m over here.” The bulldog murmurs and gets comfortable back into the grass. “But why dont you do it isnt that your job?” The bulldog thinks and says “i get food when I need I sleep when I need and I’m praised for doing nothing. Why should I chase him?” Mince looks confused “But what makes you get out of bed each morning?” Carlos The bulldog says “why would I get out of bed each morning? The only problem in my life is I cant scratch me own back.” Mince storms off frustrated the indifference of the bulldog agitating him while he starves because that bully the squirrel.
The next day Mince gets lucky finding 3 peanuts. Finally he thinks I can eat. As he bigs to take a bite out of his eye he sees the squirrel scampering down the tree. The mouses hairs stand up looking like a little spikeball of fur. “Carlos wake up” carlos stirs awake with that snort and distant look in his eyes. “the squirrel is coming can you help?” Carlos asks “do I have to move?” With those droopy eyes. Mince thinks a moment and takes the ball from Carlos’s mouth. The shock on carlos face as mice shoves three peanuts into his cheeks. “Hold those dont chew” and he puts the ball back in carlos’s mouth.
The Squirrel comes down and says “Give em here Mince.” mince’s heart starts to pound “I-I dont have them.” The squirrel says “You hid them” mince says “Where i am so skinny and brittle I couldnt have possibly put them anywhere.” The squirrel looks around and see Carlos still sleeping. “Next time Mince…” and he scampers away.
Once the squirrel was gone mince says to carlos ok you can wake up. And he retrieves the peanuts from his cheek. Carlos has a look of joy and a big smile over his saggy face “He didn’t even know I wasn’t sleeping I’m really good at faking that!” Mince smiles and says “You did great! You helped me let me scratch your back” as mince expertly scratch’s carlo’s back carlos is raving he’s so excited “He had no idea that idiot I’m really good at this I didn’t think I was good at anything! Thank you mince!” And the two of them became friends carlos finally finding something he’s talented at and mince learning to stand up for himself once and for all.
|
jpb103
|
ThrowRabaddieera
|
2023-07-07 23:42:45
|
2023-07-07 19:17:55
| 65 | 23 |
jr39q48
|
jr288pt
|
14t91lm
|
14t91lm
|
[WP] For reasons unknown, at the exact same moment everyone in the world lost the ability to change emotions. They were stuck with whatever they were feeling at that moment; anger, fear, constipation, guilt, ecstasy… with a permanent case of curiosity you are determined to find out why.
|
I was naturally a curious child growing up, a voracious reader, and a vocal rebel who was constantly questioning the status quo.
It was a good thing for me when the clock struck midnight that day and robbed everyone of their ability to change emotions. Sitting up in bed, browsing a news site, going down and down the rabbit hole of clicking "related news and articles", I still felt mostly myself even when hit with a permanent case of curiosity.
Others were much less fortunate. The effects were immediately obvious and profound as I began my travels to find out what happened. Those who found themselves locked in happiness couldn't stop grinning and laughing, even if they were on the way to attend the funeral of a loved one. Some were trapped in sorrow, their tears forming twin rivers of despair streaking down their faces, never ceasing until they were completely dry and their eyes bloodshot. The people stuck broiling with anger couldn't answer any of my questions without hurling profanities at me, throwing beer cans at me, and thumping their chests. The ones frozen in fear were practically unapproachable, running away or curling up in a fetal position, their lips quivering as no words came out, just fearful, unintelligible blubbering.
Where in the past, it was probably something the old me would want to avoid thinking about, now my obsessive curiosity ventured to think what of those seized by madness.
The first person to be able to hold a conversation with me was an old hermit who was meditating and now perpetually calm. He had prayed to the gods when he saw the events unfolding from his crystal ball, and even they were shuffling with discomfort, unwilling to provide an answer. But he saw through them.
The hermit noted the absence of the God of Emotions, Eros, among the godly pantheon that had spoken to him.
Where will I find this god, I asked.
The hermit knew not where to find him, only pointing me to the god's temple to hopefully seek his followers for answers. There was no guarantee they would aid me, for they could be gripped in the same phenomenon, locked to an emotion that may not make for good conversation. The old man was too calm, too accepting of the circumstances to desire change, so I continued on my journey alone to find just what happened.
Even as curiosity drove me onward, a tiny nagging feeling of desire tickled my mind. Why is this happening, shouldn't I be feeling one and only one feeling like everyone else? A desire for companionship on my curious adventure to find the truth and the source of unending emotions.
In my hopes of finding someone else afflicted with a permanent case of curiosity, I instead found a filthy madman in ragged clothes, having grown bored with insanity and now found himself permanently and painfully lucid. Sufficiently lucid to offer his help and climb the mountains to seek an audience of the followers of Eros.
Everyone at the temple recoiled when we made our arrival. It didn't matter what emotion they were experiencing, they retreated with laughter, stepped back in tears, or stomped their feet with their backs against the walls of the temple.
The only adherent in a tranquil mode spoke barely above a whisper while standing in the middle of our path.
"Why have you brought the Mad God with you?"
The shabby old man raised a hand and spoke. "Eros must wake up and perform his duties. He is foolish to take on Persephone's punishment on Psyche, to be locked in an eternal deep sleep on her behalf."
"...You're lucid," the adherent's tranquility on the verge of being shattered.
"And it hurts to be lucid when you're the God of Madness. Go wake your god up. The only true constant in this world is change. For the world to suffer from unchanging emotions is most unnatural."
The adherent bowed. "We would have awoken our god if we knew how."
The sight of a mad god looking to be deep in contemplation was a bizarre sight I don't think I'll see again.
"If only I was crazy enough to come up with something..."
|
There was no wrath quite like a barista permanently scorned. She served each cup with a dollop of malice, her mood untouchable even by those with a permanently pleasant demeanor. I'd drawn every contortion of her face, and in none of them were her lips not pursed. No matter how I tried to phrase my order, she never failed to audibly bark to her co-worker how I didn't need sugar in my coffee because I was too fat or how I looked like I'd just fallen out of bed. When I handed her money, she never failed to find the worst combination of change to give back to me, and she always shook her head as she handed me my coffee, like I'd committed some crime.
I just wanted to understand *why*. I'd had this fixation for quite some time now, which was highly unlike me because I wasn't an obsessive person. If I wasn't watching her during the day, I was jotting down notes about her at night. Sleep eluded me as I tossed and turned. All I wanted was for her to be happy.
When I tried to ask her, she responded with expletives. It didn't matter how nice I was, or what I tried to bribe her with - the response was always the same. Desperate, I even offered her the deed to my house and the keys to my car one day, but she turned them down, saying "she could never accept anything from people like me." When I asked her why, she just told me to go away.
Notebook #1117 (I started numbering them to keep track some time ago, but who knows how many of these there are)
Another woman has started coming into the coffee shop around the time I come in every morning. A blonde with skin that's seen the wrong side of a tanning bed. She's not much nicer than the barista but seems to have a somewhat better rapport with her. It's like they achieve some kind of bond by trading insults. When I've tried that with her it's fallen flat. Insults aren't my thing, I guess.
Anyways, today was special because I believe I saw something a little bit like a laugh come out of the barista while she was talking to the blonde woman. They were calling each other names that I won't repeat here. Ugh. It seemed that the ugliness in their communication got to a point where the barista started to feel some kind of sadistic pleasure in it, but only for a fraction of a moment. Or it could've been a mirage. Could it be that it's been so long since I've seen happiness that I yearn for it like water in the desert?
I've never doubted myself like this before. I used to be pretty resolute in my decisions, but it's been so long that I can't remember what life was like before this all began. All I seem to remember now is the coffee shop and her face. Sometimes I think my forgetfulness should scare me, but fear is numbness in the great beyond. Like, I can't even reach where it would be, or imagine it. Sometimes I think that the barista's insults would've once bothered me, but they never do. Instead, they feed my curiosity all the more.
Variance. The ability to stray off the path into something new, something different. To see the barista's lips crease into a laugh at last. To choose a day not sitting in the booth writing notes as I watched her interact with mostly the same people over and over again. Sometimes I wondered who those people were, what they did. Did it matter? Sometimes I wondered why I wasn't more curious about them, but it never struck me hard enough to get up from the booth to go and ask.
It is what it is. A cliche phrase that people used to throw around... at some point. I can't remember now, but that's all I think as I watch the same sequence play out, jotting it down without a conscious decision. I wondered if I was a slave to some force that I couldn't describe, forcing me to be the universal scribe. If that were the case, I suppose it wasn't the worst fate. After all, I could be the barista, locked in perpetual hatred while bustling on my feet in complete misery. Oh, how I often put myself in her shoes.
Notebook #2892
The thought struck me today that perhaps there was a goal to all of this. A mission, if you will. Maybe, if I executed the sequence in the right manner, something about it would change. Perhaps there might be only one pathway that led to that smile I so sought, and perhaps that smile was important. So important that this moment couldn't end until it happened.
I wish I could go back and read my notebooks, but there are so many of them. To be honest, I can't remember where I put them all. It won't matter. Perhaps, if I just focus as hard as I can, I'll get it soon.
6/15/2023
I just met the angriest barista I'd ever met. Her name was Sarah. She insulted me several times, but I didn't let it get to me. I just told her a joke that was so far off in left field that somehow it caught her off-guard. She smiled. Do you know what happened next? This blonde woman was in line behind me. I saw her face go all aglow when she saw that smile. They locked eyes and it looked like something special.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
Tregonial
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2023-06-15 03:21:01
|
2023-06-15 03:18:32
| 251 | 48 |
jo6o6ox
|
jo6nxac
|
149l0rj
|
149l0rj
|
[WP] The dark forest hypothesis is correct. There are many civilizations that exist in the universe, but keep silent in fear of the "hunters in the woods." So, instead of hiding in fear, why not become an angler fish?
|
We left Sol in an era of extreme optimism. The growing pains throughout history had been given meaning. Humanity had triumphed over its own darker impulses and emerged into what we thought would be an eternity of light. Perfection of light-speed warp drives, fusion energy generation, and biological immortality opened up a universe we believed to be empty of sapient life to Terran expansion. Scattered like seeds of a dandelion on the wind, we sent generation ships to fill the galaxy with life.
Our craft, The Stygian Blue, was approximately 57 light years from Sol when it happened. The star exploded in a manner indistinguishable from a normal supernova. It should have had hundreds of millions of years left, but was annihilated without warning. Much confusion amongst the crew followed. Was it an unforeseen natural process? Had a rogue and suicidal Terran organization managed it? Or, was it an outside force, and we had just received confirmation that we were not alone in the universe?
All of our sister craft had left Earth and been regularly updated with each other's position and heading, a few thousand craft in all. Fearing that our communications might be monitored, we began sending tight banded communications to the expected locations of the ships that contained all that remained of humanity. Over two centuries, we gathered what information we could about what precisely destroyed Sol, and formed a plan. We would adopt a lifestyle of nomads, hopping from system to system. We would use resources to build more ships and grow our ranks. We would push further and further into the depths of science. We would sacrifice stars, filling systems with sensors and using wide range broadcasts to attract the attention of whatever had destroyed Sol. We would study our enemy, find patterns. With naught but courage, cunning, and grit, we would avenge Terra.
|
There are eyes in the tree.
They stare out into the world despairingly, seemingly unseeing to all other roaming creatures, forever burdened with the fear and paranoia that others like them exist too, out here in the silence of the woods. It’s eerie and unnerving, like the universe had swallowed them whole and refused to spit them out. As if the trees were made for something bigger, something unattainable to the quiet life wandering upon its roots.
Indeed, the stillness is a call for all those who dare to be something otherworldly. For their creators and destroyers. Though, perhaps most importantly, the stillness is a call for the 'hunters in the woods'. The strong and fierce, and those who look a little bit like god.
If they were able to leave their hiding place – to see the world for what it truly was – maybe they’d have the chance to become a god, too. maybe the universe would stop being as scary as it was, and maybe the forest would become a place of solace and solitude.
But alas, the eyes continue to roam and watch. Observe the way the wind blows through the fields of grass and blooming flowers, watch the slow blinking of light fade away into darkness, and see the migration of countless fish carding through the rough and calm waters. It was hard to understand something so scary as something also beautiful.
But perhaps that’s the point. Perhaps it’s in the fear that beauty is found.
Perhaps it’s in beauty that *fear* is found.
The world, in all its disparities, inspires and transpires itself to become something better. Something bigger and brighter. The figures walking the ground aimlessly grow with each step they take. Some are small like ladybugs while others appear as mountains.
They place their feet against the warm waves of the ocean, feel the breeze over their shivering skin, and willingly make the trek through the heavy breaker. Even with so much still unknown, and the ocean deep and dark beneath their bodies, they wander the untold as if it’s the only thing they’ve ever been told to do.
As if the sharks didn’t exist. The whales, imaginary. The anglerfish, nothing but cold sand.
But it was also in these creatures that fear arose. Because even if you make it out to sea, even if you walk the miles back, it is in those last seconds – the sound of a large splash or the peaking of a sharp fin – that all too suddenly the unknown becomes that much realer.
The eyes in the trees often wonder about the other creatures, in paranoia and fear and even in curiosity. But mostly they wonder about the unknown. The shark. The whale. The deep ocean waters that still in the darkness of night.
The anglerfish with its luring rod.
And they imagine, not for the first time, what it’d be like to be the ones feared instead.
/r/itrytowrite
|
Saint_Of_Silicon
|
ohhello_o
|
2023-04-06 03:55:23
|
2023-04-06 03:40:19
| 168 | 61 |
jf58d5i
|
jf56qfw
|
12d54tn
|
12d54tn
|
[WP] "Wait... so your superhero secret identity is as an entertainer dressed up as... yourself. With a cheap costume that you wear over your real costume"
|
"Yes"
The agent paused for a moment and said, "That's the dumbest thing I ever heard."
"Of course it is," said the hero, "That's why no one ever guesses I'm Kahle Man."
The talent agent just shook his head and said there's no way that could work.
The hero pointed, "But you didn't know who I was. You refused to believe who I was until I demonstrated my powers right in front of you."
"Why are you doing this?" asked the agent.
The hero explained, "When I was a kid growing up, I was planning on being an entertainer long before I had superpowers. I took music lessons, dance, theatre. The works. Then I was just about to do my first professional debut in live theatre I get exposed to some weird radiation from a meteor or something. I don't know what the heck it was. So I get sidetracked into the hero thing for a bit, but I still want to be a professional entertainer. Plenty of actors make money portraying superheroes, so I figured if anyone should make money off of me, it should be me."
"If anyone wants to make money off of your hero identity, how do you know they'll pick you as an actor? Why not just go with a familiar celebrity?"
"Because I look like me and I have professional acting experience," said the hero, "Besides, no matter who they pick they have to deal with me anyway because I copywritten my hero identity."
"You can't copyright a hero identity!," shouted the agent, "The hero would.... oh my god."
"See?"
The talent agent sunk back into his chair as he realized.
"Holy shit, it's genius."
|
All the world’s a stage, and all the heroes and villains merely players.
They have their exits and entrances.
Predefined roles, but open to creative interpretation. Stay in your lane, and be compared to the endless others before and after you. Praised as a paragon that advanced the art of heroism, or denounced as the nadir of villainy.
Either was better than staying on the lukewarm fence.
Where? When?
Bright lights in a big city. Under the baby blue canvas of a new day, an inescapable spotlight always shining on you. You are an art piece, critiqued, criticized, and created by the public eye of the beholder.
Or skulking in the shadows, adopting darkness as shade from the other side. Your actions are relegated to those places where grey seemed to only tinge ever blacker, spoken only in furtive whispers—for better or worse.
Who?
Your role. The one thing that morphs every which way and back.
Fathers, daughters, orphans, friends, loners, lovers, students, sidekicks, rebels, allies, protestors, artists, scientists, employees, masters, volunteers.
Which side do you take? Or really dig deep and ask yourself: Do you even get to choose who you get to play for?
And are there only two sides? The third and fourth estates are always watching, and you never know when they decide to be parallel or perpendicular. After all, straight and narrow doesn’t always charm the audience.
Why?
The million-dollar question. For some, billions.
I wish I could give you an answer. Really. Of all the questions here, this is the one that I truly wish to. For you, but also for me.
For me?
I throw a cheap costume over my real costume. An entertainer at all times of the day, whether it was on the clock or not. But being a hero cost me more, both on my wallet and with my mind.
It was a silly thing, really. I was already in a costume. The pretty one made to show people who don’t actually understand your craft. They were usually the ones who had the money to pretend to.
I threw on the prototype. The one with bits sticking out everywhere, the one I didn’t mind throwing away.
Acting. It’s trying to throw myself into another role. Simple as tugging something else on. Pull a dress shirt on yourself, and tell me you don’t try and stand a little straighter.
I was wearing a costume that could be easily thrown into the trash. Thus, I found it much easier to leap forth into danger, as disposable as a plastic soldier.
Or even a real one.
---
r/dexdrafts
|
CatboyInAMaidOutfit
|
dr4gonbl4z3r
|
2023-01-03 19:07:05
|
2023-01-03 15:40:25
| 74 | 37 |
j2sy5j7
|
j2s1eq4
|
10291b0
|
10291b0
|
[WP] You don't get it... all you want is to spread this amazing feeling of bliss you've felt since you were bitten by something while swimming. But instead of accepting your gift, everyone keeps tickling you with bullets and screaming stuff like "WHAT IS THAT THING?!" And "OH GOD, IT WON'T DIE!"
|
Nobody likes a door-to-door salesman. Especially one that looks like a big blob of slime and tentacles, preaching about the bliss of being bitten at sea. Many end up going for their guns, tickling me with their bullets and screaming.
"What is that thing? Kill it with fire! And bullets!"
And, of course, my favourite.
"Oh my god, why won't it die?"
I don't die because my god has blessed me with his bite. That tooth which sunk into my thigh and was stuck there for a few days before falling off? I keep it in a sacred glass jar. Every day I say my prayers and give thanks.
My god is great. His gift is amazing. This incredible feeling of bliss, of shedding sadness and fleeting fury floating away, more must experience this happiness. And I am here to spread the joy.
I am a spokesperson of my lord and savior. You will hear of his awesome bite. All who meant harm to me, I forgive you, for you know not what you are doing. Everything you throw at me, they don't hurt me. Stick and stones don't break my bones any longer.
This burgeoning bliss within me threatened to burst forth if I do not share it. So, share it, I must. I slithered through the streets and neighbourhoods. Every day, I am knocking on doors to speak of my god and his miraculous bite.
"Transcend your mortality and become immortal in only three simple steps!" I shouted. "Follow me for more info!"
All these rejections are leaves floating away in the wind. Inconsequential. They can't hurt me. Not emotionally, not when I am flooded with joy in my heart and every bit of my being. Not physically, for bullets bounce off me, and my skin deflects blades easily. Nothing can get me down.
Not even monster hunters deployed to hunt me down. On the flip side, I can't ever get drunk drinking wine. I wished I could convert them with a bite as my lord has transformed me, but doesn't work that way. Despite my best efforts, biting people has only led to bleeding and screaming humans trying to get away from me.
They accused me of insanity. I've been wrongly classified as a thrall of the God of Madness. No, my god is the God of Happiness. This is way I am perpetually happy. Always in bliss. Even as I watched from the shadows, lest everyone present collectively lose their minds from my presence, my mother's own funeral.
Crying and feeling sad is par for the course, but I can't cry. I cannot feel or process grief. There is only bliss. Nothing else. Just bliss and me and more deaths. My eyes will not cry, my smile will not fade. I must keep smiling as the Bliss insisted. There was no other emotion to experience.
Only bliss.
----
[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/)
|
Nathaniel was so confused. These people just keep running away from him and screaming, they wouldn’t even stop to hear him out!
All his life Nathaniel couldn’t escape the dark thoughts, the ones that told him he was worthless, a waste of space, and a failure. It didn’t help that his mother seemed to agree with their assessment and made it well known at every opportunity. Nathaniel tried to prove them wrong, to do better, but they were right. They were always right. The best thing Nathaniel could do for everyone was to stop wrecking everyone’s lives forever.
So one night, as his mother slept, Nathaniel made his way down to the river for what he thought would be his last trek. He threw himself into the waves and waited to be pulled under.
But that’s not what happened.
Instead of being dragged under the water to suffocate, Nathaniel felt a sharp pain in his calf before a calming presence washed over him, filling his mind with wonderful thoughts.
“Go back and share what you have received. Show the people how good life can be if they surrender as you have.” The words seemed to echo in his mind, as though Nathaniel thought them himself. Without a second thought, he rose from the water and started walking back to his town. He needed to share this gift.
When the first person saw him, Nathaniel was excited, he was so excited to have a companion in his bliss. But that excitement ended when the man screamed. He then pulled out a small, black object and a loud bang filled the air.
Nathaniel expected the gunshot to hurt, but it didn’t. It barely even tickled. Figuring it was another gift from the river, Nathaniel continued to move forward, ignoring the follow-up gunshots the man fired. Eventually, he ran out of bullets and turned to flee. This is when Nathaniel noticed everyone else was fleeing too.
Didn’t they want peace? Didn’t they want the rivers gift? Why were they running away.
After chasing the fleeing people for several blocks, Nathaniel came across a young woman laying on the sidewalk next to an overturned wheelchair. Feeling a great joy that he could share his bliss with someone who clearly deserved it, Nathaniel made his way over to the crying girl.
“I gift you with the greatest peace known to man, one that will bring you joy in all you days.” Nathaniel didn’t know why he spoke, maybe he wanted her to be less scared or to understand the gift he was giving her. But the woman still shook her head.
“I-I don’t want your gift.” Nathaniel froze, not understanding.
“You don’t?” He lowered his hand from where he was about to touch her. “Why?”
The girl looked over him more carefully, as though considering him in a new way. “If peace is forced, it is not real peace.” She explained
“It’s… not?” Nathaniel couldn’t wrap his head around it. Was this not peace?
“No.” The girl looked sad again, but this time it was directed at Nathaniel.
“Then what is this?” He gestures to himself.
“I don’t know.” Suddenly, Nathaniel remembers her chair and quickly sets it up for her, allowing her to climb back into it so she can maneuver. “But I have an idea on how we can find out.” Nathaniel considered this for a moment. He was curious. What harm could it do?
As he nodded, the girl smiled at him, reaching out her hand for him to take. “Come on. I have a friend who can help.”
Nathaniel took her hand, allowing her to lead him away. He wasn’t sure where they were going or what they were doing, but Nathaniel figured the girl was right. He shouldn’t just force peace on people who didn’t want it. He could find people who did or find another way to bring people peace. Either way, he would spread the river’s gift.
|
Tregonial
|
thatwitch72
|
2024-11-14 17:46:30
|
2024-11-14 17:21:22
| 82 | 43 |
lx4bfyq
|
lx46gqj
|
1gr7hqi
|
1gr7hqi
|
[WP] You are a budget mage. While most of your colleagues use costly ingredients, rituals that take weeks to prepare and use a new spell for every problem, you only know a few spells, use common household ingredients and prepare rituals within minutes. They unjustly deride your work as shoddy.
|
The Magical Academy of the Magus Delegation was one of the most renowned in the land for training Adventurers who could help various kingdoms with their problems. Wizards who stoppered death, and bottled dragon's breath in neat orderly bottles while carrying scrolls covered in ancient glyphs and sigils. Sorcerers who molded the world around them through will and cunning. Warlocks who bargained with spirits and fey for secretive power. Even the occasional Bard, or Mystic would come from it's halls to perform quests for profit.
Most of the students in this academy were legacies, defended from retired adventurers who had made their fortune, and were passing the torch. I was different.
The 5th son of a fisherman and his wife, I had nothing to inherit, and no real cause for learning much beyond how to use a knife and trim a sail. But I knew some magic. I mostly worked with simple things. Cantrips and spells from the evocation school were my specialty.
It had all started when one of the 'Legacies' had stolen my components, and chucked them out the window. I had minutes to aquire enough components to perform 3 spells, and had only been able to find a salt shaker that was half full.
While other potential students laughed at me, I performed my first spell, by casting shocking grasp. The salt shaker had been made of rough quartz, and has a silver lid, so the shaker itself worked for this. The crystal structure flexed as I passed some magical current through it, and Zzzzap. Mild electric current.
Next I focused and cast a sleep spell on a rat in a cage. Sand was normally used, but both sand and salt are forms of crushed rocks that came from the ocean, so I was able to focus, and get the desired effect.
Being a Evocator, the natural third spell was elemental in nature. I conjured a spark from the salt shaker, passed the current through a handful of salt, and then threw the silver metal, Sodium, at the target, it lighting up with fire as it arced from my fingertips. Shocking Grasp, Sleep, and Firebolt. Although, the room did smell a bit like a pool.
The Legacies looked like they had eaten lemons. Their parents looked like they had eaten the trees the lemons came from. Some of the staff, who I would soon learn had a predisposition towards richer families that could afford to pamper their kids teachers, sneered at me.
The headmistress though, she smiled stood, and asked if I wanted to be her direct apprentice.
That's how I started on my path to becoming an adventuring Mage, with just my wits and a salt shaker.
|
Most mages have their classroom in a grandiose hall or a auditorium.
"Teacher..." Neima sheepishly looked at the mage beside her. Under a tree wasn't exactly a good place for teaching. So the gazes bothered Neima a bit.
But with a wave of his hand he spoke,
"Ignore those pretentious pricks. Now use silverware like a spoon for a catalyst and..."
Neima watched for a third time as the magic activated. She scribbled in her notes as the mage walked to the side and sat down on a chair.
"Now tell me despite the lack of Catalyst Crystal why did the magic activated."
Neima scratched her head for a proper answer. The mage waited for her to come to a conclusion.
"You used silver spoon as a catalyst."
"Yes. But why? What's my reasoning behind this?"
Neima once again scratched her head and looked back at her previous note and a word came to her attention,
"Mana Conductivity."
The mage grinned.
"Correct! Like the Catalyst Crystal, Silver has high enough resistance and conductive power to syphon Mana. But if you don't have silver what can you use instead?"
Neima was getting a bit scared honestly. Today he used simple Iron and a copper coin as a catalyst. Now silver yet there are more things that can conduct Mana.
Seeing her puzzling look the mage answered,
"Salt water."
The answer baffled Neima.
"We will end the experiment here today. Review what you learned. Next class we will learn effect of Mana in lower temperature."
Neima quickly noted down all the questions for homework. The mage got up and started to leave. Unlike usual Neima followed,
"You have something you wanna ask?"
"Teacher...why do you do these?"
The mage chuckled.
"Everyone ask me that sooner or later."
He shook his head as he answered,
"My answer is the same as always Neima. My goal is to make Magic available for all. Just like how my teacher intended."
"Did she really come up with all these?"
"Yes actually. She taught me all those concepts. Conductivity, Resistance, Super Conductivity and so on."
The mage sighed.
"Alas, the grand council never took her hypothesis seriously. Can't blame them though."
"Why not?"
"Well even to this day I'm not sure what she meant by Charges or Magnetic Wave. But I'm sure I can figure it out one day."
The mage said with confidence. He was her greatest student. He was also the only student but he skipped past that part.
The mage still remember how she spoke of a power. A power so great that would revolutionize the world. With that power no child will die because of cold. No house will be without light.
Yet no matter what he can't for the life of him figure out how to create that power.
She spent her life to bring it to fruition. And as her successor he must do it too.
Neima showed promise. Maybe if he fails he could pass her masters notes to her.
For everyone his master was a mad and disgraced mage. But he knew better.
"Do you wanna a hear a story?" the mage suddenly chimed to Neima.
"Uhh... Sure."
The mage smiled,
"This is a story my teacher often used to tell me."
The mage remeberd fondly as he spoke out,
"It's about a man who invented greatest power that changed the world."
Neima looked interested,
"Is this a real story?"
"Well according my teacher it's just a story from her home."
The mage turned towards her,
"She named me after man in this story."
Neima could see the look of pride and fondness in his eyes.
With a cough he started the tale,
"This is the story of Edison and how invented the power of Electricity."
|
JustSomeDudeInPants
|
PH4N70M_Z0N3
|
2023-03-30 00:32:08
|
2023-03-29 23:10:24
| 81 | 39 |
je7p86p
|
je7ecpe
|
125ryvp
|
125ryvp
|
[WP] One day, magically, everyone across the world was given a superpower of their choice. Now, 5 years later, it seems your unconventional choice is paying off far more in life than your flying, super strong and mind reading friends.
|
Many chose to fly, many chose strength, many chose the key to every mind. Some used their newfound powers responsibly, others have been hunted down due to the cheer chaos they wrought.
There was a limit, of course. One couldn't simply chose omnipotence and play god, though the limit was somewhat abstract. It was simple, pick a power and you shall have it as long as you can't blow up the world in one or a few go's. An example, is that some chose to control gravity, and can even create singularities in the palm of their hand, but when it left them and contacted something else, hawking radiation in a massive burst ensured the cataclysm couldn't start. Bad luck for everyone that received lethal doses of radiation, though.
Scientists were baffled, and those that chose omniscience just couldn't stop rambling about something called the crystal vault. We have yet to pry anything but endless equations and existential dread from such people. Some even created religions around this arbitrary title, digging around the entire world for mentions of the fabled vault.
I do not concern myself with such things, nor do I have to. Did the world drastically change as time passed? Not really. Chaos at first, but stabilized rather quickly due to specialized units hunting down "rogues". Hunters. They won't bring you to justice. They are justice.
Those more cunning chose perfect stealth, and there is little to be done about that. Insurance companies have been eating good ever since. Others picked eternal youth and are now models. The even more cunning picked to manipulate their body at will, allowing multiple people to exist and not exist at the same time. Perfect for fraud and evading incarceration. Those truly smart picked charisma, and one of them is now the president.
There were many options. What I picked? Luck. Or more specifically, the manipulation of probability. Let's suppose you shoot me, did the gun jam? Of course it did. Throw me off a building? Oh look! A truck filled with mattresses. What are the chances some random mafia goon transfers millions to my account from a burner phone? 100%. What are the chances I am investigated? Oh my, the investigator didn't find anything conclusive and wrote on the report that I was affiliated to a billionaire due to some random search engine algorithm bug? Seems improbable, right?
Did I just walk in to a pizzaria, stole all the pizza and went on my way unnoticed because everyone inside the building was distracted with a fatal car crash that happened just outside?
Did I cross the road without looking and suddenly a car's tire blew out just in time to swerve it away from me? Lucky, I suppose. Bad day for the driver, he wasn't wearing a seatbelt.
Did I get a really big promotion at my company? I did, but a lot of people got laid off.
Was I visited by a hunter once? Yeah, but they apparently had the wrong guy and even issued me some compensation. The neighbor must have dyed the air humidifier red today...
Did I just decide to waltz into the the national reserve and steal bunch of gold, just because? Every sensor failed, the cameras malfunctioned for a bit and the guards were dicking around or were sleeping on the job. What are the chances- Oh man, the world trade center!
I noticed that I was getting lucky at the cost of everyone else. There were consequences to my actions, after all.
But what are the chances that the consequences will reach me?
|
While certain powers are often connected to certain mental issues, there are often various "takes" made on the most common powers. Leading to various different problems when they go off the rails. That's where I come in.
Take flight and speed for an example. An overwhelmingly large percentage of Speedsters and Flyers showed escapism tendencies pre-Empowerment, but there is also a good 22% that were thrill seekers.
When the first group goes bad, they tend to become perennial abandoners. Leaving houses, families, businesses, and debts behind them for the wide blue yonder. A Global Identity system, really good therapists, and various debt reforms eventually sorted those guys out.
The second group is more trouble overall. They tend to start pranking, breaking and entering, bank robbery, trying to pants politicians. That problem took inventing and selling a cheap molecular-thin razor wire to various governments and corporations.
The stuff rips harmlessly like wet tissue paper if a person hits it at normal speed. It's not so harmless if you're travelling at Mach 1. Then it's all TV shows and a good mop to get the message across. Eventually the smarter ones caught on and slowed down.
The various Invisible Men and Women, nearly to the last one of them, are Vouyers, Stalkers and Creeps. They terrified women and families with children for all of seven months, until we collectively realised that not one of the pervy idiots ever imagined Super Silence as part of their power set. Or the ability to turn clothing invisible. Or a resistance to wind chill, sun burn, various prickles, paints, chemical sprays or Lego.
And every family has someone with a defensive or offensive Super Power now. We just send out community announcements when a Super Perv moves into an area, declare an Open Season on anyone using Powers to invade privacy, and things usually sort themselves out pretty quickly.
Then there's Super Strength. These tend to split into three broad groups, each with their unique issues.
First, you get the "Hulks". People who got Super Strength because they constantly fantasized violently before the Empowerment. Absolutely nothing about their power actually affects their mental state, no matter what some of them tried to get people to believe. They're just assholes.
Once they became capable of lifting a car, they invariably started throwing them. Turns out very few of them had enough foresight to imagine their power coming with Super Resistance. Especially against snipers. As a group, they pretty much became extinct in 4 years. Almost nobody misses them.
Then there's the "Shields". Most started with a strong motivation to protect their families, communities and selves. For a while, they did a lot of good. But eventually a good 90% of them felt undervalued by society and started acting out.
Some of them _were_ treated pretty shabbily, but the majority just got an over-inflated ego. Or frightened away the very people that they were trying to protect. And/or fell into undiagnosed depression.
Sadly, this group _did_ invariably imagine Super Resistant as part of their power, so pharmaceutical methods had to be used. There are entire hospital wards dedicated to keeping the worst of this group under. The rest were given medical prescriptions for Mary-Jane and other various uppers and downers.
Finally there are the Bunyans. People who imagined using Super Strength constructively and non-violently. These are my favourite group. Talk about Super Chill. Basically all that was needed were setting up safe spaces for them, where other people _couldn't_ get close enough to try to bait the famously unflappable. Or rather, the _nearly_ unflappable. It was this or accepting the occasional body flung across whole city blocks when someone invariably pushes their luck.
So you see, it's not just about the power set we have to deal with, but also the motivations behind why _that_ power.
What's my Power? I'm a Trouble Shooter and I'm very much in demand. Nothing I like more than being given a difficult problem to solve, and coming up with an elegant solution. For the right money, that is.
Now if you excuse me, there's a Gravity Manipulator tearing up Florida and I have to put my thinking hat on. The first problem I have to solve is, "Is this actually a problem?"
|
Komrade_Yuri
|
joalheagney
|
2023-12-16 06:20:49
|
2023-12-16 05:33:35
| 162 | 120 |
kdkuwkc
|
kdkqdl7
|
18j8y9x
|
18j8y9x
|
[WP] You managed to retire from the supervillain game long ago, when you became a parent. Now, your grandchild has inadvertently been kidnapped by an upstart villain, and you're about to show them why the world (rightfully) feared you.
|
“It’s a lovely day isn’t it?”
“Look, we don’t want any trouble. Just transfer us the money and no one will get hurt.” The voices on the other side of the phone sounds spooked by my sudden remark.
“Did you lock them in the basement?”
“Oh she is so scared in the pitch black basement, behind these heavy vault doors. Now if you give us the money, without stirring up any trouble, we’ll let her go.”
“You know… No one wants trouble, but it keeps on knocking on the door.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Who’s there?” “Don’t try anything old man, I will kill your granddaughter.” “Fuck he found us.” “Can you see him?” “No there’s no sign of him.”
“We have your grand..”
“ I know, I know. But you should also know it’s been over 15 minutes since we started talking, and you’re in my old house.”
“Yeah and we’re getting impatient.”
“Now now, just remain calm, it’ll only be a few more seconds.”
“What? Are you fucking insane?”
“And…. Now.”
“….” The phone returned static. That because everything above ground was burned in a instant, a perfectly circled on the land where the house once stood, now just some pillars of concrete and steel, and of course the carbonized remains of the kidnappers. The solar beam has reached the earth surface after 8 light minutes of travel.
“That should leave the message.” I walked out of my cloaked shuttle with a handheld laser cutter, and walked towards the half melted basement vault door. “I did build these atomic shelters very well back in the days. Too bad people stopped buying them. Guess this will stimulate the market.”
|
His granddaughter walked out of the police station with the conclusion from her savior that she had no idea what she was doing. The old man in the car took her home and bandaged her up. “What in gods name we’re you thinking?”
“I wanted to prove myself to the other villains that I can do something.”
“So you went after the most powerful hero with the biggest ego and you’re surprised your plan didn’t work?”
“It was worth a shot, and the bank that I robbed was about to lay off thou-“
“Cut the crap! You think that just because you got superpowers of your own means you rule the world. I’ve seen people in my day who were drunk and had more sense.”
“Those days are done! Back in the day you didn’t have superpowers and you fought the mob.”
The grandpa sighed and grabbed the first aid kit from the closet. While patching up his only living relative he told her a story.
“The fights you have didn’t begin with you, even before I was born the city the people found themselves at war.”
“Why did they fight?”
“Same reason why you tried to fight. Honor, glory and most importantly…money.”
….. years earlier
The alarm brought the screams of everyone inside the trans national bank. Before one of the robbers could stop any of the crowd from fleeing most if not all the tellers and customers fled to the streets. In a thick Irish accent the leader shouted to the soon to be grandpa. “Aye did you pull the alarm?”
“It wasn’t me!”
“When we get back you better be telling me the truth.”
All the robbers entered the vault and took as much money as they could grab. As the cops arrive the group separated into the busy streets. The grandfather attempted to do a dashing escape by climbing up the top of the building and hoping no one else had the courage. There was one cop who chased him wherever he went. It didn’t matter what risks he took as the cop was always a few yards away. Soon the grandfather made a mistake and the cop tackled him to the ground.
“I want mee lawyer pig.”
“I wouldn’t call me pig since I caught up to you…brother.”
……
“It was a different world back then. Instead of superpowers all sides used their wit and perseverance to win the day.”
“The cop was your brother.”
“He decided that he wanted his side and I was content with the side I chose.”
…..
Later on the wannabe supervillain finds that his grandpa was a mob enforcer and later a lawyer for the local Irish mob. He would give up the life and reveal how his granddaughter and many others were tortured by the hero and through a legal trial the hero became a outcast.
|
gilnore_de_fey
|
Nature_Walking
|
2023-06-29 04:47:32
|
2023-06-29 01:32:37
| 146 | 20 |
jpyengg
|
jpxrpxk
|
14loxwh
|
14loxwh
|
[WP] "Oh for fucks sake, you too? Right, ok, cards on the table. Is anyone here ACTUALLY a human being and not an inhuman creature infiltrating the human race?"
|
I knocked on the door and entered the room. A table full of non-human entities turned their heads to stare back at me. I closed the door with my one free hand and counted to three.
I opened the door again.
No, still non-human.
> *It's okay, you've been through worse.*
> *When?! When have I been through worse?!*
> *Just act normal. Like nothing is wrong.*
I looked at the man at the head of the table. Flashing a smile, I used my most pleasant voice.
> "Excuse me sir, but I have the coffee you ordered."
My boss looked at me, looked at the non-human members at the table and looked at me again. I kept the smile plastered on my face. I could feel beads of cold sweat on the back of my neck. The tension in the room grew tighter...tighter...tighter.
My brain screamed The Mantra that has saved me countless times. A defense mechanism that has served me well all throughout my life.
> *Don't fidget, don't fidget, don't fidget!*
The mantra grew louder and louder. The tension grew tighter and tighter. Like a giant python slowly squeezing the life out of me. I resisted the urge to throw the coffee against the wall and scream until my throat was raw.
What was only a few seconds felt like an eternity.
My boss gestured for me to hand out the coffee. People describe the appearance of aliens. What I immediately noticed was *the smell.* There were hints that were vaguely familiar but overall, it smelled gross. Very gross. Like a wet, slimy smell. I do not know how else to describe it.
I knew whose coffee was whose because they all sat in the same chairs. I was grateful for that small mercy.
I passed my last coffee and asked if there was anything else I could do for them.
The alien seated on the right side of my boss pressed a button behind his ear. He spoke but his language was very garbled. Like an untalented death metal singer singing his lyrics in German but was not fluent in the language.
As he spoke, a robotic voice translated. The device behind his ear was a translator. Or what I thought was his ear. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a spiral tattoo on the side of his freakishly large and squarish head.
> "She is a witness."
Chills ran up my spine as all heads at the table turned to look at me.
> *Don't fidget. Don't fidget. Don't fidget...*
|
“Ok you’re overreacting, there’s only 3 aliens here and there’s….”
“6” one aliens reminds.
“Yeah 6 people here in total.” Marcus assures “And I’m not an alien, and you’re- well- probably not an alien” he says, referring to Will, who’s still just a little freaked out.
“But what about… David?” Will asks.
“David? Look at him! He looks fine! Right David?”
“….” Dave continues to lie on the spaceship floor.
“Oh” an alien interjects “David’s dead, I thought you guys could tell”
“Look at that!!” Will says “they killed David!!”
“No,” says another “he had a heart attack about 13 minutes ago, none of you guys noticed”
“But- you did-?”
“Well uhh, I mean, yeah, but like, it’s not our job” the aliens shrug.
“Oh god oh god oh god” Will paces back and forth.
“Hey um” Marcus says to the others “you should probably go, he’s a *little* freaked out right now”
“A bit racist” one alien says to another as they leave.
“Ikr??” One says back.
The door closes.
“Hey” Marcus says to Will “it’ll be ok”
“No it won’t!! Dave’s dead, our three maintenance workers are aliens, YOU might be an alien, what- what are we gonna do??”
“Well, the aliens seem pretty chill, so far ig”
“They killed our maintenance workers and took over their bodies!! They aren’t chill!!”
“Yeah but, what used-to-be-Paul made an ‘Im sorry’ cake”
“He made it out of dried meat”
“Yeah but it was a nice gesture…”
Will starts to hyperventilate. It’s time that Marcus reveals his plan.
“Hey, what if we” Will looks up at him “what if we escape in the escape jet”
“But” Will reminds “we’ll die out here, there’s nothing out there to save us”
“Better than dying here with three aliens. And anyway, they can’t control the ship if we leave it on access mode inside the escape jet. Ruins everything for their ‘colonizing earth nicely’ plans”
“Yeah, true”
After some more coercion, Will is finally convinced. They enter the quite cramped escape jet.
“Alright” Marcus says “when I press this button, we’ll lock the mainframe, and this button will send us into space”
“And we can’t lock the mainframe in space?”
“Nope”
“Ok, which one is which again?”
“Uhh- oh shit- which one is which?”
“Just press one, it’s a 50/50 shot”
“No, no, I can remember- what was it, what was it?”
“I’m getting bored” Will says “just press one”
“No, if I remember correctly it’s-“
Will goes in front of him and pressing a button completely randomly. The ship wirls, but stays still.
“See?” Will says “50 / 50”
“The fact that you freak out over 3 aliens but then them getting the mainframe is super chill to you, it’s confusing”
“I’m a confusing guy. But hey, we’re not gone yet, which means-“
As he says that, the ship makes a clicking sound, and a sudden ‘push’ from the side makes it apparent that they’re moving.
Marcus sits up and quickly spams the other button, hoping it’ll make a difference. It dosen’t. As they float away all they can see is three tiny middle fingers from three aliens, that are speeding away into the general direction of earth.
“Well” Marcus begins “we’re fucked. Wanna make out?”
“Fuck no”
- An amateur writer, lmk what I can improve! Thanks for reading! :) -
|
None
|
that_onequeitkid
|
2024-04-01 02:06:03
|
2024-04-01 01:50:19
| 24 | 18 |
kxhjtrt
|
kxhhknq
|
1bsohyv
|
1bsohyv
|
[WP] The war has ended, and all governments have collapsed. Now the world is so devastated that recovery is but a pipe dream. Now, in a cruel twist of fate, a massive alien fleet arrives, demanding to speak to the leaders. You are chosen at random to address them.
|
"We seek a meeting with your leaders."
"Go, go," everyone shouted, pushing me forward.
"Are you the leader of Earth?"
"I'm more of a half leader, really more of a pint actually?" It never hurts to open with a joke. At least, that was my philosophy at the car lot where I used to work.
"Are you the leader or not?" The tall brutish alien demanded to know.
"It depends, do you plan to kill, capture, or humilate the leaders of these people?" I feel this was an important thing to know before casually admitting to being the leader.
"No. We come in peace?"
"Just like my coffee table from Ikea. I see, I see. Then in that case, I am their leader, take me to your peace."
The alien frowned and cocked his head to the side like a puzzled doggo.
"Are you really their leader?"
"I was elected by committee, so yeah, I guess I'm the leader." I needed to be serious. This was serious. I can't resort to my old habits of making jokes out of everything just because I'm nervous. "I am the leader."
"Great. We demand to know why this world keeps bombarding the the universe with the same nonsensical signal over and over again."
I couldn't help but gawk at the big guy.
"You're not here to conquer us or invade?"
"Conquer you? Ha. We are capable of interstellar travel, why would we bother to invade world with no functioning government and a collapsed world economy. Other than natural resources, you really have nothing that interest us. I mean no offense, but we're higher level lifeforms. Come on. This would be a money pit for us. You don't even count as a fixer upper."
"Okay, okay. I get it. There's no reason to be insulting. You say you came here to understand why Earth is sending out the same signal over and over again? I can only assume that we were doing it in hopes of making contact with alien civilizations."
"So, you meant for us to receive this transmission over and over again?"
"Most likely." There was a good possibility that we did it intentionally, so my guess was most probably accurate.
"Do you have the power to stop the broadcast?" The alien asked.
"Maybe. What kind of broadcast is it?"
The alien produced a device that looked like a tablet. The tablet activated and produced a floating hologram in between them.
*"We're no strangers to love. You know the rules and so do I . . ."*
My mind went blank, and when I turned back to gauge the crowd's reaction, all I could see was a sea of red faces as all of humanity suppressed their urge to laugh.
"Um, I see. There's no need to play the rest. Can you pin point where the broadcast is coming from?" I asked curiously.
"We can and already have."
"Give me the coordinates, and I'll see that it the transmission is suspended."
"We appreciate that. Thank you. As a token of our appreciation, we'll leave you with this piece of our technology."
"What is it?" It looked like a two beer kegs supporting a disco ball.
"A learning module. We appreciate that your people are no strangers to love and while you understand the rules, I fear they escape us. However, since you are being so reasonable and willing to suspend the broadcast, then it is only right that we reciprocate the gesture." The large alien put its hands together and bowed respectfully before turning back to its space craft and boarding.
We watched as the saucer lifted off and shot into the sky like a falling star heading back into the heavens.
"Hey, fearless leader, what the hell did they leave us?" One of the shmucks that pushed me forward asked. This question was quickly echoed by the others as everyone rushed forward to surround the device.
"I dunno. Maybe it's a bomb," I reasoned. "They said it was a learning module, but who knows what it is."
"It has a button. Shouldn't we press it to see what it does?"
"Do you think that's smart," I asked the schmuck.
"So are we just going to ignore it?"
"We probably should." We destroyed our world. How much more damage could we do with the knowledge of higher lifeforms. "We elected me leader, so I've decided that this will be sealed away and never activated."
"I vote for a recall," the schmuck announced loudly. "Anyone second my motion."
"Aye," seventy some odd people voiced.
"The ayes have it. You've been ousted. I say we push the button," the schmuck called out. "Seconds?"
"Aye," the same seventy odd people cried back.
"The ayes have it." Before I could protest, the dumbshit pressed the button.
Immediately after, a hologram of the alien who just departed appeared above the device.
"Greetings people of Earth. It gladdens my people that you were brave enough to activate this learning module. It shows trust and a desire to learn.
"After having received your repeated transmissions over the past twenty solar cycles, we made the decision to visit with your leaders to discuss the nature of the transmission.
"We researched your worlds other transmissions to understand the nature of the transmission we were receiving in the deepest parts of the galaxy. The information resource, Pornhub, was particularly enlightening. We now understand that your transmission was a request for mating instruction.
"Contained within this module is all of the mating data we've collected on all of the species that we've encountered during our three hundred solar cycle journey. We too are no strangers to love, and as proof, we give you this module."
With that said, the alien's hologram disappeared and was immediately replaced by gruesome copulation of a few million alien lifeforms.
The worst part of this was that the information was being beamed directly into our minds with no way to shut it off.
We all shuddered in horror as *We're No Strangers to Love* began playing in the background on an endless loop.
It finally dawned on me why the alien referred to this as a learning module. We now have learned the consequences of Rick Rolling higher lifeforms, but that wasn't worst part.
The worst part was that for some odd reason, I had an erection.
|
*No one anticipated this. Devastation, heartbreak, betrayal, and experiencing nothing after everything. It was a brutal feeling, like when you finally graduate from high school just to finally realize life was better when your future wasn't the present. I would lie there sometimes. At the school I use to go to, reminiscing when the world at least had color, but now color was only a shade of grey.*
"There's no more water in the pond. We have to move somewhere else again." My sympathetic wishes tangible in my mind. "I didn't think we'd only be here for 18 months after graduating... It's cruel you know?" I laughed to myself. "You were supposed to do great things. You had potential and I had only the drive to work and make sure your aspirations weren't in the grave when you started." I looked up from the pond that was there just the night before. "Isn't that right, Jessabelle?" I started to cry. One tear after another, I stood there looking at the grave of my fiancé. Radiation poisoning. It was the only thing we could count on to exist in this world. After the world's nations had bombed each other until not even a speck of civilization had lasted, smaller populations appeared in the tyranny. You would think many people would grieve for their loved ones, for their dreams, for their motives of a different world than what they woke up to, but sadly that wasn't the case today. We had reports of another raid starting off again later from inside sources.
"W-What. Where do we go? We already exhausted our options, no? I mean this is the 9th time we had our water source dry up. You can't live on the coast, because the radiation is focused there. Washing up from the sea and settling on the waves."
"I know. I know. You don't think I know that, but what does it matter anyways. There's nothing more for us to do other than to curl up in a hole somewhere and await the confusion of radiation poisoning to appear." I wiped the tears from my eyes and laid the dead stem of a rose flower on Jessebelle's grave. "It won't matter if the other guys try to raid our settlement anymore. We won't be here in 2 hours. Tell the others to start packing up and to take anything essential that won't bog their travel down." I strengthened my resolve. "Be prepared to walk for months if that's what it takes for us to find paradise in a world riddled with mistakes of our former selves." I took down the poster of Star Wars on the wall. It was just a blank sheet of slightly sturdy paper. There wasn't even an ink's worth of color or line work. It was all washed away from time and intense radio-activity found anywhere on the now sea-foam green planet. It's marbled blue hollowed away from decades of nuclear, electronic war. After the first 8 years of war, there was no such thing as Geneva's Convention. It was a concept that no longer existed. I was there when the first bomb was dropped on tv. Without skipping a beat, I grabbed my fiancé and ran as far away as possible from any city that was on a map. It was only a distant memory, but I remember her face when I told her we can't take our baby where we were going. She was furious, but she knew. She knew I was right, but she couldn't do it without betraying her moral values. That day, we both died. It didn't matter what city we were in, because we were both already dead.
"MY fucking feet hurt, dude." Michael said noticeably pissed. "I mean could you have at least told me that we would ACTUALLY be walking to paradise for 2 months now? I mean how many fucking miles of the United-Fucking-States-of-America do we have to-." He stopped himself. "I'm sorry. I'm just. I guess I'm still bewildered about everything despite how long it's been like this." He took a book out from his bag and began shredding pages. "You want a light?" He began rolling some cheap tobacco we copped from a dead corpse. "You know, it may not be the kind you're used to, but even something like this could be a good daily reset." He puffed on it like it wasn't a rare commodity.
"Agh, no. You know I have an addictive personality. I can't risk withdrawal symptoms in this world. More importantly where are the others, tell them it's clear already." He scoffed and began to put his fingers in his mouth. *Phwwwwwhht!* 1, 2, 3 seconds passed and 8 other people appeared from around the corner of an abandoned, destroyed building. "Come on, guys. Just a little farther for today and we can rest, check rations and see if there are any safe animals to hunt." It was quiet for a long time. No one made a sound besides the obvious crunching of leave debris, the scattering of rocks and gravel, and the occasional mutated bird. I don't even know where on the map we would be. I checked the slightly deteriorated map of the continental U.S. "You know we really lucked out that the old man from our last place kicked the can and left a shit ton of provisions and even this map that looks brand spanking new! The only problem is I don't know if we're in Wyoming or Colorado...." Just then, the colorless ground snapped a twig as if it were testing us. I looked around wide-eyed counting everyone we had to make sure it was one of us. I looked at Michael and he grabbed his water pipe and nodded as I grabbed a hockey stick I modified to be a suitable weapon in any place I could think of. Just then a low hum could be heard from above. It was almost like from a sci-fi book the way it sounded or even from Star Wars. Just then our youngest member, a 22 year old woman whom was a barista, stood in agonized horror.
"T-t-t-that. That's not real. That's not-" She stumbled and tripped creating more noise than we could've wanted. "What is that." She pointed as Michael and I met the gaze of an unfamiliar animal. It was tall, it's skin was... colored? What color was that? I don't even know, teal? It looked like the word, "ocean" before it turned it's radioactive green color. It had a pair of protruding eyes from it's head and covered in a thick mat of fur. It locked eyes with me. I froze in fear. Every instinct deep within me was telling me to fight it, to run, to fight it, to run. I wasn't sure which to do.
"T-Tom. What is that? No way that's a bear, right? Do they even exist still??" He tried to step forward, but he too was frozen in this uncanny petrification. It took a step forward. Bipedal. It could have been a heavily mutated monkey from a zoo it escaped or something. Then, it raised what I could only imagine to be it's finger and protruded light from it. In an alien tongue, it spoke perfect broken English.
"Leader. Where leader?" It put its finger down as the light stopped and we all saw in horror. All 10 of us saw an armada of floating, near invisible ships." "You. Safe. Watch, many months. Strong. Where Leader?" In a more demanding tone this time. My gut was wrenching in it's place. I took a step forward, albeit shakily.
|
Koyoteelaughter
|
Blackraptr
|
2024-03-05 22:06:40
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2024-03-05 21:07:42
| 46 | 27 |
ktiot45
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ktie3ji
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1b7bdle
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1b7bdle
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[WP] As a Villain, one night, someone knocks on your door, you open it and there she is, the most famous invulnerable heroine of the city, completely drunk and with many bruises, as soon as you realize who she is, she passes out into you arms
|
The knock was unexpected. I was always careful to keep my civilian and villainous lives separated, so this had to be someone knocking on my other life's door, not looking for Doctor Disaster. Unless I slipped up somewhere? Well, it was probably best to see who it was regardless...
Checking the camera startled me twice. First I saw her face. Not wearing masks isn't as big a deal with hiding your identity most of the time - there's all sorts of tricks to maintaining your secret identity without one, and some people never noticed. But the face was unmistakably that of Adamanta, the invulnerable heroine who had defended the city for ten years now. I had faced it many times before from behind her "diamond bubble" that she wore around her head. But the second shock was that she wasn't in costume. She wore a long coat and a short dress under it, and leaned against the wall next to my door, slurring a "Hello? Anyone home to - \*hic\* - help me?"
That was the third shock. She was drunk. The fact that she COULD be drunk wasn't a shocker. I'd known from past battles that she wasn't immune to toxins - her body could apparently process them better than most but poison was still a potential incapacitating agent. But WHY was she drunk?
I thought about it. I could just leave her there - or even better, call the cops, turn the tables on her and get her arrested.
But this was my house, and I wasn't just calling myself doctor. I may not keep my oath in the field, but right now I was in my own house, and she looked like she was in trouble. I sighed and steeled myself and opened the door. She looked up at me and didn't seem to recognize me; instead, she smiled and said, "Oh, thank you, before she collapsed into the doorway.
I made sure no one was watching and pulled her inside. As I did, I noticed the bruises. Her legs were battered, her fingers looked like they just finished healing from breaks, and the parts of her chest that showed over the dress' neckline were battered as well. How in the hell had THAT happened?
I carried her into my guest room - I wasn't super strong, but you pick up a few chemical tricks to even the odds - and set her on the bed I had made up in there. Once she was settled, I checked the coat pockets. Her ID was there, but I didn't look at it - it wasn't worth knowing, anyways. I refused to make it personal; that's when it gets personal for you, too. I did notice a receipt, though, from a bar around the corner. In fact, my house may have been the first one on my street with the lights on if she left the bar and wandered down it aimlessly.
Of course, the receipt pointed to a problem - she'd spent over a hundred dollars on drinks. Strong stuff, too - she wasn't drinking for flavor, but was getting what looked like the biggest bangs for her buck, in terms of how much alcohol each had. There were a few early on that were tastier, but by the end of the ticket, she was pounding back well tequila. That made me wonder something.
The other pocket held another secret that made me put the pieces together - a bottle of painkillers. I checked the first name against the name on the receipt for her credit card signature, and they matched, though I did my best not to learn it. This was for her, filed by a doctor at my hospital - and they were strong as well. But the bottle was down to two pills out of 90, despite being filled last week.
I had to think about it for a moment. Strong drinks... strong pills.... and the bruises. The bruises were too fresh to be what the painkillers were for. It could have been a suicide attempt with the pills... but she wasn't vomiting. Either her body didn't recognize the toxicity of what she'd taken, somehow, or it was processing it just fine. Given her response to the toxins I used, I suspected the latter - mine could be fatal, but I had to use concentrated doses to down her.
No... I suspected this was far, FAR more chronic. I was beginning to think there was more - or perhaps less - to her invulnerability than I thought.
While she slept, I sent a text message to a specific contact, then pulled out a laptop and logged into the hospital portal using a backdoor. I was violating HIPAA doing this, of course, but while I was a doctor, I was still a villain. And, in this case, I felt I owed Adamanta one. She wasn't a brutal cape, like some of the darker ones, and she did her best to get the hoods who needed help into programs to help them. I knew a few who had gone straight because of her help. That deserved at least this consideration, and since it was Doctor Disaster owing Adamanta a favor, I could break the law on her behalf. I meditated for a moment to avoid remembering her name as I typed it in - a trick to make sure no psychics could pull it out of me - and checked the records at the hospital to see when she'd visited and what notes there were.
It twisted my stomach to read.
She presented to the ER as a chronic pain sufferer. She'd used the excuse of being a stuntwoman to explain the bruises that remained, when he questioned them as signs of abuse. But the damage wasn't going away as fast over time. Nor was the pain. And he'd reached the point where he wasn't prescribing anything stronger. She had the insurance she carried override the pill limits to their maximum, but there wasn't much left - and it wasn't enough anymore.
I began to think. Hadn't she switched up her look a few years back? Went from Spandex to a lightly armored battle suit? I had thought it was for her image... but the timeline suggested something had changed. She was still durable... but she wasn't healing as fast. The pain lingered longer. And possibly, it ALWAYS hurt, even if it didn't break the skin or bruise her before... but now it was just getting worse.
That's why she wore the bubble. She was tough, but not really invincible. Her face would show the bruises far longer.
But she was suffering as well. Painkillers and alcohol... a damnable addiction, even if her body could handle it. (con't)
|
I go to sleep alone on a Friday night.
It's nothing special anymore. Honestly, I've kind of gotten used to it. Looking out the window, hearing the muted sounds of cars stuck in a traffic jam at 11:30, hoping to get home soon enough that they can get up in the morning without an alarm. The sky is a nonexistent blank void, all the stars shrouded by the lights that are on, 24/7, as the light in the city blinds us to what's above. My room is dark, but I know where everything is. The small dresser where I keep my underwear and socks is close to empty. I need to get over to the laundromat tomorrow. My closet is filled with sweatshirts, graphic tees, and denim jeans, with a couple of Eagles jerseys in there for when a game's on and we wanna party. My bed, still covered in a massive Pikachu bedspread from when I was little, is starting to get a little old. My desk still has my laptop, an old Chromebook that I got in middle school. Its fan humming incessantly, my Chromebook gives me a weird sense of stability. I don't have to think my own thoughts, or listen to music to fall asleep. That fan is enough to that for me. The carpet is fluffy, though there are a couple stains from when I was younger. On the wall, a couple superhero posters from when I was little. Some of them from comic books, other ones from real life. Surge The Dark Horse screams out in rage on my door, though he's mostly covered by a shower robe. Right behind me, Queen Bee glares menacingly, claws like the mythical vibranium that laces the other claws right next to me, on Black Panther. They're both icons, people I've wanted to meet since I was little. Unfortunately, I doubt the chance will ever come.
I go to sleep alone on a Friday night.
Mom works night shift. I've seen her job as a TSA agent before. She's up there, standing, checking the bags of people who aren't terrorists, having to treat every single person with just a slight ounce of hostility, just in case. Dad's never around, so she's the one providing us with the money these days. She promised me a new computer when I graduate. I just want her to make rent. She's strong, both physically and emotionally. I just want her to be happy.
Dad isn't around anymore. Died in a car accident with some drunk fucker who thought that street racing down 4th Avenue would be funny. I never knew him much, though. Lucky he died when I was young, only 1 or 2. Still, I miss him lots. Prefer not to talk about him. Poor Jack did his best to fill the hole that caused for me, but only being a couple years older meant that he never really knew what to do until I was too old to take any actual advice from him. I know he cares about me, I do. It's just that, well, I feel mature enough, now. I feel ready to leave the nest. He's at college, now. On the other side of the nation, UC Berkley. If I'm being honest, I miss him a lot. It's lonely here without his presence.
I've got friends that can help with that, at least. Mariana and I have been besties since, god, 3rd grade, I think? I don't really know, however long it takes for kids to realize that they want to go to college together, or whatever. Plus, it would help out with our dream of starting a band together. She's already got the drum part down, and Jack got me into guitar and singing. Just need a third, and we'd be on our way. I've got loads of other friends, too. Lulu, Alexis, Ryan, Tracy, and the rest of the gang all live within a few blocks of me, and my place is normally The Spot To Have Sleepovers, as long as Ryan and Tracy keep their hands off each other. Blech.
The fan isn't doing it tonight. The sounds of someone fighting only a couple blocks away came through loud and clear, the sounds of wind rushing around the magic-proofed skyscrapers that dotted the city left and right. The clash of what sounded like lots of guns hitting something very metallic left ringing, even if it was muted. I couldn't fall asleep like this.
With a bit of frustration, I slowly get out of bed, and stretch, reaching for my phone.
"11:45?" I grumble to myself. "Fucking A, man."
I slowly open up TikTok, and just swipe through annoying people, giving bad takes, as the algorithm fails to show me anything interesting.
I fail to go to sleep alone on a Friday night.
Eventually, I decide that enough is enough, and just get out of bed entirely. If this fight isn't going to end any time soon, I might as well get something done.
I open up my Chromebook, and slowly wait as it loads the still incomplete research paper on The Communist Manifesto that I had decided to choose as my research topic. Lulu had offered to finish it for me, but my part time job absolutely didn't give me $50 to spend on papers that really weren't even that hard. I slowly reopen the rest of the tabs from the search history, and get back to writing the 3rd of a 5 page analysis.
Using the fight as background music, which as I looked out the window, was obviously Queen Bee- normally her fights didn't last this long- I started to get back into the groove of using the notes I'd taken form other online sources to finish up the argument I had about The Communist Manifesto. Slowly, but surely, though my phone buzzed as the clock struck midnight, I got my paper finished.
As I go through the process of editing, making sure that everything is good for submission next Tuesday, immediately, I recognize that something's, well, something's off. Not like before. Quickly, I shuffle through everything it could have been. Is it the light? I flick the lamp next to me on and off again, before realizing that nope, the bulb isn't dying. The paper? Not really. All the tabs I used last time are there. Steam and Discord haven't randomly updated for no good reason. Everything seems to be fine. Is it my music? No, my phone hasn't been running for a while, I've just bee-
The fight's stopped.
Finally, the fight's stopped.
I take a peek outside my window, and glance down at the lit up streets below. Small spats of blood seem to be on the ground, or at least, small from where I'm at, 25 floors up. The fact that I can see them probably means that they're not as small as I think they are.
I hop back to my phone, and see that, thankfully, none of the gang are up chatting about it. They're probably either gaming or asleep. Best to guess the latter.
Still, with a sense of satisfaction that I'd gotten something done, I head back to bed, the fan of my dirty ol' Chromebook still running like crazy, and bid myself a good n-
*CLICK CLACK*
I jolt up out of bed. Quickly, I head to the door, and grab the small pocket knife that mom taught me to use whenever someone suspicious is at the door. I open up the emergency phone on my cell, and hover one finger over the 9.
What sounds like gargling and coughing comes from the opposite end of the door.
Quickly, I peek through the pinhole to see who's on the other side, with my phone ready.
Queen Bee is on the other side of the door, battered and bruised, and coughing up blood.
|
EndlessKng
|
EvilNoobHacker
|
2023-01-24 20:34:23
|
2023-01-24 18:08:46
| 39 | 27 |
j5q9trq
|
j5plyou
|
10k4h4e
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10k4h4e
|
[WP] You once saved a Crow from dying as a child. Even now that you are an adult, you still remember the Crow's words after you set it free back to its murder, "We... wiLL... RETurN... ThE... FAVor..."
|
"jUst... ASK... ALreadY..."
The crow had been sitting on my shoulder for close to a week. I'd shoo it away, and it would yell at me from a nearby branch for a bit before settling back down over the small holes worn in my jacket. This tended to draw stares at the café where I'd been brooding all week. I think the bird was the child, or grandchild of the crow I'd saved from the woodchipper that Autumn day so many years ago.
"bEEn... in... yOur... dEBt... THREE... GenERaTIOns..." rasped the crow, "ASK... hIM... NoW... Or... I... Peck... eYEs... oUT...."
"You're supposed to save my life or something," I hissed at the crow, "Not set me up with some guy I don't even know."
"nO... neAR... DeaTH... ExPerIEnce... laTEly..." said the crow, "nOt... mY... fAUlt... yOU're... sUCh.. a.. cOwa--"
"Shh!" I interrupted, "He's coming back."
Tully had these auburn curls that bounced when he walked. Tully was lanky, in that gangly-young way he still hadn't lost to his twenties. Tully wrinkled his nose when he laughed, which he did with nearly every customer. He worked at the flower stand across from the café. I think I liked not talking to Tully best of all. Nothing can go wrong when you don't talk. It's when you open your mouth that the problems start.
"eNOUGH..." cried the crow, and took off across the street, its carrion-wings rasping hideously against the air.
Tully dropped the broom he had been using to tidy the sidewalk. He doubled over, shielding his face against the mad swoops of the attacking crow. He elbowed over a vase of peonies. Sunflowers scattered as he stumbled into the flower cart. Blood spattered on a bouquet of white roses.
Blood. The bird was drawing blood. I ran across the street, a gray sedan nearly flattening me as I did. "Get away!" I yelled at the bird, who redoubled its attack. I seized a sunflower from the sidewalk and swung it into the attacking animal. The crow let out a caw, and flew off to roost on a powerline overhead.
"I'm so sorry," I said to Tully. His face was badly gashed across the brows and cheekbones.
"Sorry?" he said, wiping away blood. "You just saved me." He looked me up and down. "You're the girl who watches me from the coffeeshop every day, right? I think I owe you one."
"No!" I almost shouted. "God, no. Nobody owes anybody anything." I turned upwards, to the crow still watching from the powerlines, and this time I did shout: "NOBODY OWES ANYBODY ANYTHING!"
The crow took off over the rooftops, the powerline vibrating in its wake.
Tully laughed. "You're really strange. But, maybe dinner, at least?"
"Dinner sounds great. Maybe somewhere indoors."
We laughed together this time, although I knew it wasn't a joke. I really didn't want to see that crow again.
|
\[TW: Child endangerment\]
The revolver feels heavy in your hand. You try to raise it, but the pain in your shoulder replies with an emphatic, *'No'* and you stumble backwards against the police cruiser, still protruding through the warehouse door where you rammed it. You try to breath but it comes out raspy and wet, too much blood in the airway. It's ok. The cough clears what looks like a juice box full all over your shirt and trench coat, now wrapped around you as you stumbled back. Juice box... Like the one Tommy had that morning... Jesus... Has it only been a day?
Your mind wanders to that morning. The kidnappers broke in, all ski masks and sub machine guns, just like in the movies. Your spouse of 10 years didn't even have time to react, shot right between the eyes as they opened the front door. Grabbing Tommy, you bolted right through the sliding glass door, just like you did that time on the 4th of July when he was just a baby... But you didn't get far. Three of them were waiting with taser sticks, and you went down hard.
"Kill them, and you get your kid back." Followed by a list of names -- the heads of Philadelphia's Five Families -- the most well financed, well protected, and well connected mob bosses outside of the Bronx. And at the bottom? "You have 24 hours." What followed was a nightmare of blood, bullets, and bombs. All the time working Undercover before working SWAT paid off, huh?
You cough up some more blood, but you know this stuff was in your lungs, because it's getting a lot harder to breathe.
"Jesus fookin' Christ, you just won't stay dead, uh?" That voice... You know that voice. You try to wipe the blood away from your eyes, but there's no use, your hands are covered in it. You killed north of 300 people today, of course they're covered in it. But as he gets closer, you manage to make out the embroidery on that stupid white sport coat.
"Sully Figarola. B-B-B-acgh!" More blood.
"Big Sully, baby..." He replies with a smile, holding the 'e' at the end. "In the flesh, one night only."
Your mind whirls at the reveal. You were so certain it was the ruskie. "The fuck you doing out-"
"Yeah, I know, I know. What's a kid from the Bronx doin' in the city of brotherly love, ehh? What can I say," He smiles, somehow wider as he tries to play some bravado for the boys, "I like cheesesteaks." This time holding the 'eese', and getting a laugh from his goons.
Was it really going to end like this? "Where's T-T-T-"
Figarola lurches his head back, offended. "'scuse me? The fuck-- This fuckin' flatfoot, the fuckin' stones on... You try to come after me, in direct con-tre-vention of our deal," He pantomimes, really getting into his rhythm, "and you got the nerve to--"
"Didn't... I didn't..." God it just hurts so much now. "I didn't know... it was you..."
"Oh, and if you did, you'dda honored your deal? Would you listen to this shmuck?" The goons laugh, falling over themselves. You're reminded of the bully's friends... Like you're there now. All of them, gathered around buddying up to Kyle Drisdale... Fucking tools, all of them. Those stupid fake laughs and the--
"Acgh!" This one's bad. This one's bad because you can't lift your arm to your chest anymore.
"But you know what, Flatfoot?" Figarola asks, raising his hands calling for a moment of silence before grabbing the lapels of his jacket. "Even if you're not a *~~^(garglfu)~~* of your word, I'm a man of mine." Shit... Your hearing is going too. "The kid'll be fine... Promise... I'll make him my butler." This laugh is the biggest of all. Real guffaws from everyone, a couple of them even grabbing Sully around the arms and shoulders as their laughs become a shitty symphony of mother fu--
|
horkelia
|
OSTBear
|
2025-01-15 07:11:44
|
2025-01-15 06:13:14
| 19 | 13 |
m78k506
|
m78dz0y
|
1i1kkmb
|
1i1kkmb
|
[WP] You realized your house is "haunted" by a poltergeist, but upon closer observation the ghost is actually helping you out with your day-to-day house chores
|
Weasel #35 waddles into the room just as I finish my cotton candy.
"My lord, my jester I mean... I have news about your son."
I sit up in my chair. "Yes, today marks his first villain anniversary, right? Thank you, 35, I had forgotten." I open my chair to enter my son's house across the world, but a paw on my shoulder stops me.
35 looks absolutely terrified as I turn my head. "Sir, you won't be able to find your son there."
I sigh in relief. "Oh thank goodness. 35, you had me convinced something has happened to my son. He must be out doing his 'real villain' stuff right now, I'll pop in later."
I close the chair and sit back down, but 35 still holds his expression. "well..." he squeaks out at last. "Something has happened to your son. You see... the Junior league killed him."
Fury shoots up like a Jack-in-the-box inside of me. "The juniors KILLED HIM?!" my mind is wobbling like a slinky. The Junior League never kill! Even against Jack Jr., they shouldn't have resorted to that! I know us Chesters are hard to pin down, but this? I slam the chair open again. This time it opens to the hideout of the Juniors. 35 protests weakly, but I cut him off by closing the wall I just stepped out of.
Silently, I stalk towards the main room of the hideout. I've been here many times, mostly to set up pie-in-the-face traps, so I know the way through the annoyingly dusty halls of the Junior League HQ. I only get a few steps towards the first corner when a very shiny person walks by.
The star of the Heroic World, Light Muscleboy, stands before me. For a guy so easy to spook, he looks fearless as he stares me down. Muscleboy holds up a hand. "Listen, Jack. It was an accident. There is no need to do what you are about to do."
"An accident?" I spit, taking a step closer. "The death of my son was an accident? That excuse holds up as well as your relationships, Light, and you know it."
I take another step. The Shining Knight seems to falter slightly. Expected, but still a little disappointed. "Jack, they do not know your powers. They expect you to, I don't know, put weasels in their bed, or gum in their hair. They don't know, Jack!" Muscleboy's voice shakes a little on the last sentence.
I'm so close I can smell his disgustingly minty breath. "Listen to me, Light." I poke his chestplate and slinky starts to wrap around him. "You know what \*I\* didn't expect? I didn't expect to lose my ONLY SON TODAY!"
The slinky has rendered the Knight immobile except for tremors of fear. "They are someone's sons too. Please."
I tap his chest again and he falls over. "Then those parents will be in for a..." I giggle as the thought comes to me. "\*Surprise.\*"
I turn and open the wall, walking straight into the main room. Five kids stand before me, and all have defiant eyes as they turn to look me in the face. A blonde kid points at me. "Jack Chester, you die here." A threat of death? They must have changed their no kill policy. I shrug off the thought, I'll deal with it later. Right now all that matters is this moment.
I glance at each of them, looking down at them through my nose. "Alright, pipe up. Who killed my son?" as soon as I finish asking the question, I start the timer in my head. \*All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel.\*
Everyone looks at some short kid on a couch by himself. He's clad in blue, hood concealing his face. He lazily raises a hand. \*the monkey paused to pull up his sock.\* "Yeah." The kid says in an infuriatingly uninterested tone. "It was me."
Behind my back, I point a gun at the wall behind me. "Let this be a lesson to you kids." The blue hero makes a choking sound and slumps over, a piece of candy corn portruding from the back of his head. \*POP! goes the weasel.\*
The 4 remaining supers step back from me. One rushes over to the blue kid, seemingly ignoring that I dropped through the floor onto the couch. His hands glow green, but when nothing happens he looks frantically to the others. "I can't heal him!"
A healer, eh? I laugh, the sound drawing the teens' eyes. "So you can only heal people? That means you had nothing to do with my son's death." The kid stares at me. "Right?" I growl. He frantically nods, scooting ever so slightly away from me.
I clasp my hands like I'm closing a deal. "Sweet. You can live to tell the Hero Council about what's about to happen." I stand and open all the walls, turning the room into an infinite void.
All furniture disappears, leaving just me, the remaining 4 heroes, and the corpse of the blue one. The blonde kid adjusts fast, slinging some sort of golden cord at me. I'm instantly behind him though, sticking a piece of gum to his chin. I teleport again, yanking on the gum. His neck snaps and he stops moving. The healer screams, a shrill sound not unlike a rusty crank on a wind up toy. A kid in all red twists his body to look at his mate, then the healer, then me. "Where are we? What do we do?" He asks frantically.
I straighten my polka dotted tie. "You can't do anything. I can teleport through walls, and I have made this whole room my infinite wall. This is my masterpiece. This is Jack's box.
I gum the kid like i did the blondie but he doesnt die when i yank his neck. Oh boy, he's like taffy! I manipulate the room so that I am on both sides of him, and pull him until he becomes as thin as licorice. I take the boy-cord and use it to strangle the last one, who has been frozen this entire time. I knot the cord and bring the room back to normal.
The healer is crying now, bawling his face off. I kneel down in front of him, my rage fading. "Go tell the council now, boy. And make sure my son's funeral is on every channel."
I teleport back to my chair, where 35 is still nibbling his claws. He hands me a cotton candy, but my tears ruin the whole thing.
|
I stared out the window thinking about my son for hours. The hours flowed by and the life seemed to drain out of me as the time rolled on. I had so many dreams for him, so many ambitions. Though I knew that I would never be a perfect father, I wanted to love him for the rest of my life. Really, all I ever wanted for him was happiness, and now that was snuffed out.
Throughout my life, I had never once felt hatred. I had not liked people, and therefore I would prank them to get even. But now, something had changed inside me entirely. Not many people knew how much I had held myself back except Hix. Hix was the only hero in the world I held some respect for, and though I would still pull my antics on him, I ensured that it was never anything too serious.
Now, in the midst of my son's death, he was the only one beside me. Maybe he was a friend, maybe he was just there because his role called for it, I didn't care. He looked over at me and kept quiet for a while but then finally spoke up.
"Well, I am sure you have some nasty prank up your sleeve, right Jinx?"
"No. This is different. A prank would be glossing over it like it didn't happen. They knew my son was weaker than them and only wanted to be friends with them. Yet still, now he's dead and it's all their fault."
"They're just kids, Jinx. They made it a poor decision and it got him killed."
"Poor decision? You call setting him for the "greatest prank ever" and then running him over with a car is just a poor decision?! It's intentional homicide."
"We don't know tha - "
"I do. I know it for sure and there's nothing you can do to change my mind."
Nix sighed and stared at me for a moment.
"So what will you do? Kill them to get even?"
"No, and you know that's not my style."
"Ok, but I know you're planning something, so what will you do?"
"I am going to do *The Prank.*"
"You wouldn't. Even I know that's too far out of character for you."
"You know that I have already made up my mind right, nix?"
"Yeah Jinx, I do. Well look, your grieving and decisions after have nothing to do with me, so I am gonna go and pretend that this isn't gonna happen."
Before I had a chance to respond, he was gone. My only close ally was gone and so was my son. But, I didn't care. I had to get even.
The prank was the ultimate role reversal that I had devised and never executed on because I knew the irreparable harm it would cause to my reputation, and I was never in the mindset to do it. Today though, everything changed. Pranks to me are really just an insecure way to jest at someone with actions instead of words. While most of mine were harmless, some did cause harm. The Prank however, was a whole different level. It involved a combination of actions and psychological techniques to leave the victims trapped in it forever.
\---
I watched the teens for days on end, mapping their every move. I learned about their mannerisms and habits that could be used as weak points and soon I knew everything that I needed to know. Since they were all boys, I knew that they would be ruthless if physicality came into the picture, so I had to be careful. Then, I began my revenge. I made a costume based on the female character of the show that they loved to watch and even found a way to virtually change my appearance on the outside for a time. When I was done, I looked perfect.
I walked past the teens on their way home from school and pretended to drop something in front of them. They all stumbled over themselves to pick up my stuff and sneak peeks at my body. Excellent.
"Oh, sorry boys, I can be really clumsy."
"No, no, no. Every girl needs help sometimes miss. All of us are heros too, so we can help."
"Ok, then could you please escort me home? I think someone might be following me."
With a little too much eagerness, they huddled around me and took me home. I spent that time confirming all of my research and was astounded at how easy they were to predict. Once we got to the bogus address that I had given them, I gave each of them a kiss on the cheek and left.
The next day, I found one of them walking to school (at the time before he met up with his friends) and talked to him. I told him that he was my favorite of the bunch and that he should come on a date with me that night. Later that evening, I went on a fake date with him and got all the details of his other friends that I needed.
They were apparently an arrogant bunch and not surprisingly, there was animosity towards one another already about me. With that information, I then started the other part of my revenge. I hand wrote love letters to each of them from me, and talked bad about each one of the other guys. I then asked if they could all meet me the next day at the same place.
I watched them walk home that night and they were already arguing. It was glorious. They were angry at the hurtful jabs that I had taken at each of them in their letters and they even fought for a bit. This was going perfectly.
The next day, I met them in person with a picture of my son in my hands. I looked sad and dejected and asked who he was. You could see their faces get somewhat sad but then they remarked that my son was some idiot that they took care of. Apparently they believed that he had not deserved to live given that he was a son of a villain. I felt my rage well up inside, but I contained it.
"Ok. But how did you kill him? Whoever tells me first might get a do over with me."
I said that while using the nicest voice I could and while pushing up my chest. Finally, one spilled the beans and the others corroborated the story.
They hated my son more than anyone. So, they tricked him into trying a new prank where he could deflect their powers while under a car and hurt them instead. From there, they borrowed one of mom's cars and ran him over 8 times. They all seemed to smile far too much about it. It was grim and horrible.
That's when I finally looked at them with my evil grin and they stood in terror. They could feel the change in my behavior.
"That's horrible, and you should not only feel bad, but realize that you have become the villains yourselves. Because of this, I have already alerted the authorities and uploaded this confession to your school's social media page. Everyone will know what you have done, and you cannot run from it. May these scars burn in your mind forever as you become cursed to never to be heroes again!" I quickly turned off my disguise and they looked at me in horror.
As I heard the sirens blare in the background, I threw my signature smoke bomb and vanished. Though I never wanted to be the hero of a story, my son was worth losing every ounce of my villain dignity in doing this. I miss you buddy.
|
Pangin51
|
chilldude890
|
2023-01-20 20:38:57
|
2023-01-20 19:31:39
| 260 | 124 |
j56wgpj
|
j56lrn2
|
10gt3vv
|
10gt3vv
|
[WP] you have the odd ability of "idle stockpile" which means that if you havent performed a certain action for longer, the more easy or powerful is the next time you perform the action. You just threw your first punch in 10 years.
|
I had not thrown a punch in years, but now I had, and a man was dead because of it. More than dead, unrecognizable. Half of him, the lower bits, now a pile of stringy red goo and bones on a bar floor. The upper half had flown up, leaving a neat hole in the bars wood ceiling, then travelled further up still, into the sky until parting the clouds.
The bar cleared fast after that. The patrons screaming in terror as they ran for the doors, tripping over one another. Ignorant to the fact that I couldn't do that again even if I tried.
Ironically the only reason I'd been able to perform such a feat is because I hadn't in so long. My punch I threw was proof enough of that. It was clunky, undisciplined, and quite frankly had left my hand in a great deal of pain. But nobody in the bar noticed that. They only cared that a man had exploded, which was fair enough I suppose.
I looked down to my fist and blew a bit of charred blood from my knuckle. *Stockpile* I thought back to the word that had been used to describe my condition.
"Ah! He's a stockpiler alright! Rare too! Most with his condition have to do *something* to build their power up over time. But him? All he has to do is sit!" That's what the first specialist had said to me and my mother in that office. I wish at the time he'd told me what a curse my condition truly was.
Well if I hadn't learned it then, then surely I had now. Standing alone.with a bloodied pile of my own making before me, forced to face my own doing. The hole in the ceiling letting in a cold winter breeze. In all honesty I don't even remember why I'd hit him. But I guess that was the least of what mattered now.
I felt my throat tense up, grow tight as I held back stupid, sorry tears. This man, he could have been anybody. Had a family, friends surely, someone who loved him. And I'd reduced all of that to a bloodied pile. Unable to hold back any longer my tears fell in a flood onto the floor. I had not realized how long it'd been since I last cried, but the storm that fell from my face reminded me.
His body made me want to die. Maybe I deserved to.
The bar doors dinged open and a face poked in the doorway, snapping me suddenly from my mopy state. It looked down to the pile, then me, then back down to the pile again, each time its eyes growing wider. Finally it stared to my eyes.
"You- you killed him!", the face accused.
"I didn't mean to. I swear I just-"
My words were cut short as he withdrew something rigid and metallic from his belt, pointing it to me. I looked to him, frozen on a single thought. The thought I had before I'd punched the man that was now but a pile at my feet. The thought I'd had a hundred times before that had led to countless deaths at my hands. Accidental, but the thought still lingered like a sickness.
*When was the last time that I...?*
|
I can't remember how that punch felt. Everything shattered the moment he did, forming a million mirror edges to reflect back at me the terrible thing I was. After it happened, a tsunami of shame crashed over me, drowning me in an ocean of tears. The waves of guilt felt like they would never cease.
An off-duty cop apprehended me right away, holding me until the on-duty ones could arrive to put me in cuffs. The next day they charged me with manslaughter. My lawyer said I was looking at 10-15 years in the state pen. I couldn't help but nod through it all, the real consequences of my actions far easier to handle than my internal ones.
My mind wandered as I sat rotting in county jail, my body in the fetal position. The seven other inmates in the cell made a habit of spitting on me to show they were alpha. I wish I'd saved the punch for one of them, it'd have been a sight to behold. I'd have been willing to bet that not a single one of them had a conscience, that they couldn't have possibly understood the remorse I felt. I wondered how humans could have so little empathy. In a weird way, it felt good to think I was no better than they were.
Sometimes I'd try to tell myself that it was a mistake, that I couldn't have possibly known that the punch would turn its target into pieces. But it was a lie. Deep down inside I knew what the punch would do and I threw it anyways. It made it worse to think I'd failed Harriet, who once told me to treasure the gift as she passed it on to me. I wondered where she was. Up amongst the heavens? Maybe she had been looking down upon me, her head shaking in shame that she'd passed her most precious ability on to a loser.
"Idle stockpile," she called it. "The power to save your energy and expend it in one big burst. To gain this ability, you must practice a consistent lifestyle of self-denial." Gaining the power required that I fast, sometimes for as long as a week. During other times I went with little sleep, performing arduous physical labor almost twenty-four hours a day. There was even a time when I was forced to study in the library for six months straight. When I was finished I'd done well enough to receive the power, which she passed on to me in the middle of the gym one night.
*If only she hadn't*, I thought. Again and again, until the day it all changed suddenly.
My escape from jail that day was purely by accident. The guard called my name from the door, which was slightly ajar. I hadn't moved in so long that I ended up flying towards him at lightning speed, unable to stop until I was through the door and ten feet past him down the hallway. He looked at me agape, and I decided that I couldn't spend another moment in that cell. I ended up running twelve miles in a matter of a few minutes before I stopped at a bench in the middle of the park, too exhausted to move another inch.
I sat down and studied the grass with wonder. How could it be that just ten minutes ago I sat on the hard bed of a cell, but now I was free? It seemed senseless, like a lot of this life. It was then that I realized that I didn't deserve the power that Harriet had passed on to me, but I had the power to earn it. I realized I had a choice - to let my actions in the bar that night define me as a victim of my own ability or to rise up and master it. I figured that if I could save one life, it would make up for the one I accidentally took. If I could save two lives, then I was all the better for this world.
You don't see me often. I spend many months in my cocoon preserving my power, but when you do, I'm fighting crime and restoring balance to the world. I can't calculate how many lives I've saved since that day.
I'm Dr. Burstidle.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
GrunkleStanwhich
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2023-02-10 03:08:24
|
2023-02-10 01:51:51
| 570 | 293 |
j7xn06r
|
j7xd3qb
|
10y8e0y
|
10y8e0y
|
[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!”
|
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?”
|
"My Lord, I have no clue who these mortals are. Why are they-"
"*These four mortals are the key to saving my Realm!*" the King of the Amethyst Court bellowed. "They seem to know you, so you better get them comfortable with their new role as Protectors of this land! Oh, and don't out yourself as an Amethyst Courtier to these mortals."
I bowed slightly. "Of course, My Lord. But mortals? Truly?"
"Yes. Now go, before I send you to that one part of my Realm that you recently got for me. You know, the one that the thermostat is broken?"
"Right away."
~*~*~*~*~
I looked at the mortals, shaking my head slightly. Fragile beings. I still do not understand why my Lord chose these weaklings to save these lands. The war that the Crimson Queen began with Znanel is an immortal matter, to be dealt with the Blood-Knights and the Knower-Keepers.
"Wow, Isoth! You got to talk face-to-face with the god of this place?" a sad looking girl with her hair dyed a powder blue walked up to me. Marienne, I think her name is.
A young man with mousey brown hair was the next to bombard me with his energy. "What did he say? I know we are meant to save this realm but-"
"SILENCE, FOOL!" my voice shook crystalline purple leaves off of the tree. "We are all to choose how we want to look in this realm. Man, Mer, Beast, Manbeast, Mermanbeast, whatever. Just choose, and choose quickly. The forces of Znanel are upon us."
Another young man, but with short blond hair, looked up from his book. "Wood elf."
Immediately, he grew shorter, his features turning more angular and wood-tinged.
Marienne was in awe. "Silas, who knew you would look so good like that!"
The mouse haired male jumped up and down. "Can I be Mousefolk?"
Much like how Silas became as he is now, so did this male.
"Way to go, Benji," the last mortal clapped slowly. "Way to out yourself."
Benji pouted. "What about you, Myata? What will you be?
Myata looked up at the sky. "Make me into a powerful warrior. With a sword. I like swords a lot."
"A mortal after my own heart," I smiled as the androgynous form became their desired self. "Now, Marienne, what do you want to be?"
"I liked Myata's idea. Something like that?" Her transformation started. "Only less swords, and more magic, please."
Benji twitched his ears in my direction. "Isoth, what about you? What will you be?"
"In my fucking armor is what I'll be," I started marching southwards towards my domicile. "And that's what you lot had better start considering, too. Light, medium, or heavy. Or unarmored and let your guts feed the wildlife for all I care."
|
None
|
RosenrotEis
|
2023-02-27 09:16:00
|
2023-02-27 08:05:36
| 28 | 20 |
ja72j8g
| null |
i7qbf4
|
11ctaxn
|
[WP] You failed as a superhero. You let a known supervillain go to save a hostage he held, and he ended up causing devastation to what you loved. Live lost, your significant other's parent dead, and crumbled building left in ruins. No one blamed you for it, but you did. Enough was enough.
|
I expected fire and brimstone hell, I didn't expect a cool room inside of what looked like a fairly standard office. The room wasn't small, nor was it large. It was perfectly comfortable, with a standard desk, standard bookshelves lined with ledgers, standard chairs, and standard rug.
It was the platonic ideal of an accountant's office.
The being sat at the desk was a different thing entirely. They wore a black three-piece suit and a red tie, pens inside of a protected pocket peeked out, waiting for any and all contracts to be signed- one was in regular ink, the other was enchanted to take blood directly from the signer's veins.
An otherwise human body was adorned by a flaming metal skull, one that bore a fanged snarl that only seemed tame compared to the surroundings, as well as clawed metal hands.
"Have a seat." The Demon spoke, gesturing across the desk toward the chairs between us. I approached and sat down. I was told to arrive in casual wear, and to bring nothing that could be considered collateral. He presented a contract. "Read this thoroughly, you are allowed to make any and all alterations you deem necessary. If you can adjust this contract such that the terms are met without consigning your soul to me, you will have passed, and clearly do not need my expertise."
I red through the contract, everything was solid, it was as benign as a soul-stealing contract could be. I took a pen and experimentally wrote in a clause that granted me the right to cancel the contract without giving my soul away, another clause appeared indicating that doing so would forfeit my passing grade.
"Clever." He remarked. "For every nudge, a push."
"Can I remove a clause I've written?" I asked.
"You may." He replied, his flames flaring brighter for a moment.
I wrote a clause that would allow me to keep my soul, another popped up that required me to undergo the process of demonification. I wrote a clause allowing me the opportunity to come out without becoming a Demon, and to my surprise, all that came of that was a simple clause.
\[The contractee must agree to commit one sinful act per day.\]
I wrote another clause to necessitate the Demon explain the significance of this, and received another that indicated I must call him 'Master'.
"Have you finished?" He asked. I signed the contract. "Excellent. Sin is required for the process of demonification. Is this understood?"
"Yes, Master." I replied.
He stood up. "Excellent. Take one of my flames and consume it, if you go an entire year without sinning, it will snuff out. Once per day, it will consume one sin, if you accumulate one thousand sins, you will become a full-fledged Demon. Regardless, you will become an excellent accountant."
One of the flames from his head flew toward me, settling in my palm, and I put it in my mouth before swallowing. I watched in shock as his suit flew from his body, which seemed to have another materialize around him, before my clothes were unceremoniously shredded and the suit put itself on me.
A quick tug on it showed it was firmly adhered to my body, not that I particularly wanted to part with it.
"Hellweave." He spoke. "It comes off just as easily as your own flesh. It will keep you clean and presentable at all times, and no, it will never come off, so if you leave, you will at least be sharply dressed. Do you like your new uniform?"
"Yes, Master." I replied.
"Excellent. Speak a casual blasphemy for me."
"Uhh... Holy shit?"
I felt a rush of euphoria hit me, for a moment, all I could do was simply grin as pleasure rocked my body. If it wasn't for the fact that a single metal claw had manifested around my pinky finger, I might have indulged myself more.
"Excellent. your requirement settled, we will begin your training. Please understand, I will do everything in my power to make you one of my kind."
The first lesson was a whirlwind, by the end of my first day, I had sinned no less than ten times, and that was just doing what I normally did. With 730 days total, I began to wonder if maybe I had made a huge mistake.
|
My exhausted eyes gazed across the various spreadsheets and reports, my body, mind and soul struggling to survive. "Good job on the graphs but, I would recommend decimal points for some of these line graphs," my mentor said, in what felt like a million words a minute, just barely containing an excited bellow, "I almost always go with point fives when I'm looking at anything macro, like annual revenue, broad trends, that sort of thing. But, for specific data or small operations like yourself I always go with point ones. Once you need really precise information I'll get you analysts who'll do each point in hundredths, because by then you'll be big enough that you'll only concern yourself with the macro side of things, okay." The infernal being only took a break from his torture to inhale his cigar.
As I sat in the human leather chair I thought about what I must have done to deserve this. My body desperately lathered my entire body in sweat as I wore my maroon suit within the sweltering conditions of a cooled indoor office. "You're only worth a million and thus still proving yourself in the market, you've got to look like someone worth investing in, after that you can be as ugly as you want to be," my mentor joked two days ago as I worried about heat exhaustion.
Why did I get this mentor? Kiearra got to study magic with the elves in Valenwood, which makes sense considering she's probably more intelligent than the elves she'll be studying from.
Kandor is out fighting and hunting with the tundra orcs like the tough bastard he is.
And of course, Marquirouis, the firstborn prince and heir to the throne is being mentored by the ancient dragon Greldesglean.
For the next two years we'd all have to learn from our mentors who were hand selected by the academy, apparently I was the first person in academy history to learn business and accounting, nevertheless in the fiery infernal knot with a devil.
My mentor, Byleth, wore his silken three piece pinstriped crimson three piece suit. His skin, blood red was pockmarked with various horn growths until it crescendo into a multitude of interweaving ram's horns across his head and face.
However, the most overpowering thing about Byleth was his character. The fact that his forked tongue could effortlessly belt out a thousand lies before he needed to take a breath. The same tongue was also used to the absurd amount of cigars and absinthe he consumed, like an engine fueled by nothing but vice.
"-Now, I can see that one of your blood vessels is going to pop so its time for one of my most important lessons of all," he remarked with a strange relative slowness as he realized I involuntarily stopped paying attention to him.
I peered at the devil among devils, "I assume this will be about bribery and taxes?"
"No, but we'll do that next time, just as a sneak peek though its almost always cheaper and quite frankly advantageous to pay the people in the government rather than the government but I digress.
"Your idea of selling mass produced magic contracts to militaries, mercenaries and other such groups is quite frankly the most innovation the business side of knot has seen ever since Corinit invented sliced bread.
"However, a good idea and business competency mean nothing compared to knowing people." Byleth spoke, his breath filled with envy as he no doubt thought about the fact that Corinit's cold water pool is exactly one centimeter wider than Byleth's own pool. Which was of course the second largest cold water pool within the knot.
"I've been reading that tome you gave me, *Negations for the Lead Tongued,* already I've gotten a new ink supplier with a five percent reduction in costs." I said with an authoritative tone just as I was taught.
"No no no. I'm talking about really knowing people. For example you know the prince, since you went to school with him for seven years. Honestly that alone accounts for half the investment you raised as being a friend of you is a step away from being a friend of the prince.
What you need is to become friends with every important player in the knot. The easiest way is to be introduced into a party." Byleth dug into one of his table's drawers and procured a packet of cigars far too small for him, a bottle of whiskey and a tin full of cocaine. "You're going have one set of these a day as training for socializing with your peers. Besides, business are far easier to maintain on this diet."
I looked on with cold shock, "Won't I die?" I questioned, validated by my medicinal knowledge that couldn't even be considered surface level.
"We'll replace your organs, I just got this heart yesterday."
"How am I supposed to afford both hard drugs and regular surgery, you yourself said and I quote, 'If you have to assume the cost of something assume any variable cost will be the maximum cost'. I'll be on the streets in a year if I do this!" I exclaimed.
"If in the future you don't make enough money to afford these stimulates and their consequences you clearly didn't take enough of them."
|
Drakolf
|
Densora
|
2023-06-19 09:07:33
|
2023-06-19 08:14:58
| 62 | 17 |
joompow
|
jooj6ui
|
14d4crh
|
14d4crh
|
[WP] You failed as a superhero. You let a known supervillain go to save a hostage he held, and he ended up causing devastation to what you loved. Live lost, your significant other's parent dead, and crumbled building left in ruins. No one blamed you for it, but you did. Enough was enough.
|
Once, I took in the city I lived in and saw the helpless, the downtrodden, the "I had no choice", the "my family is starving", that excuse many who skirt the line of decency and degeneracy will give. And that I will always listen to.
They are the result of policies intended to placate only the upper echelons of society, now I know, but I did not back then.
I was once an Uncommon, humans born with abilities that were far from the norm. Speed, far exceeding what normal muscles and tissue can bear without breaking. Strength beyond that which can be borne by bone, and cartilage. Intellect far exceeding that which even silicon can match.
Like every power, you have those that have ascended to the heights of chivalry and self-sacrifice. And those that have plumbed the depths of corruption.
Then there are those who, due to trauma or injury or both, fall from the heavens.
I still smell the ichor, the sight of the viscera covering the floor, ceiling, walls of her house. Her keen wailing as she knelt before the giant puddle of blood that were her parents, elder brother, and two sisters. There was no way to tell which was whom. A 'gift', I was told, in no uncertain terms, to me, "for my mercy". I lost Mary, my beloved, a scant hour later after she slammed a knife into her chin. Right in front of the puddle that was her family. They are all together now.
The waif that was the choice? She was already dead. 'He' puppeted the body, and it was far enough away that I could not tell that the movements were exaggerated, janky. And I turned away to save her, only for 'him' to pout, then melt into the shadows. And dropping the lifeless body to the ground.
"So predictable", 'he' lamented. So "boring". So he decided to spice it up. Our Chief of Justice, 5 years running. Our 'hopes and dreams'. Backed by a system that supported him, and blamed me. Pinned misdemeanours and mistakes caused by other Uncommons on the one that fell. The convenient scapegoat.
Now, I look at the city and I see corruption. I see the strong preying on the weak. Who in turn prey on those even weaker. Who then turn on each other to survive. Who is the Victim, the Victor, the Right, the Wrong?
They are all that. All of them. Every last one.
The Chief Justice was found encased in ambergris. Cause of death: suffocation. And there wasn't a clue where all that ambergris came from.
The Police Superintendent who was on the take and had his officers beat the crap out of the crowd that tried to protest against my arrest, was found hanging from the rafters of Police Headquarters. 100 feet in the air. Cause of death: Heart Attack. They never found out why his pants were missing.
The coroner that testified that my blood was found mixed in Mary's family? They found his body half inside a cremation chamber, burnt to powder and bone. Only his wallet ID'ed him.
One by one, they all met their doom. Well deserved, but terrifying as well. But it was the last one that had the collective city in hysteria and panic.
The lifeless body of Mary, who was supposed to be dead by suicide 5 years ago, showed up on the doorstep of Central Hospital. With a large stalactite of glass run through her heart. A letter, written and signed in blood, connected the dots.
She was an undocumented Uncommon, going by the pseudonym Witchitha, who specialised in powers that resembled curses, hexes and necromancy. Needing a cover, she manipulated an unsuspecting family of 5 to treat her like their own. She stacked her cards in just the right manner to meet me, a fairly well known Uncommon Hero, and played the part of a demure, accepting damsel. Because she wanted to prove her theory that Uncommons can lose their powers though sheer mental trauma.
What she did not count on was how Uncommons gained their powers in the first place. An extremely strong emotion coupled with a strong will. Mix in the as of yet unknown power that permeates all of this reality, and you get an Uncommon.
All of that can be replaced by Abject Hatred and Spite.
Uncommons can fall or be corrupted, that much is true.
But when an Uncommon forgoes their humanity...
A Unique is born.
|
My exhausted eyes gazed across the various spreadsheets and reports, my body, mind and soul struggling to survive. "Good job on the graphs but, I would recommend decimal points for some of these line graphs," my mentor said, in what felt like a million words a minute, just barely containing an excited bellow, "I almost always go with point fives when I'm looking at anything macro, like annual revenue, broad trends, that sort of thing. But, for specific data or small operations like yourself I always go with point ones. Once you need really precise information I'll get you analysts who'll do each point in hundredths, because by then you'll be big enough that you'll only concern yourself with the macro side of things, okay." The infernal being only took a break from his torture to inhale his cigar.
As I sat in the human leather chair I thought about what I must have done to deserve this. My body desperately lathered my entire body in sweat as I wore my maroon suit within the sweltering conditions of a cooled indoor office. "You're only worth a million and thus still proving yourself in the market, you've got to look like someone worth investing in, after that you can be as ugly as you want to be," my mentor joked two days ago as I worried about heat exhaustion.
Why did I get this mentor? Kiearra got to study magic with the elves in Valenwood, which makes sense considering she's probably more intelligent than the elves she'll be studying from.
Kandor is out fighting and hunting with the tundra orcs like the tough bastard he is.
And of course, Marquirouis, the firstborn prince and heir to the throne is being mentored by the ancient dragon Greldesglean.
For the next two years we'd all have to learn from our mentors who were hand selected by the academy, apparently I was the first person in academy history to learn business and accounting, nevertheless in the fiery infernal knot with a devil.
My mentor, Byleth, wore his silken three piece pinstriped crimson three piece suit. His skin, blood red was pockmarked with various horn growths until it crescendo into a multitude of interweaving ram's horns across his head and face.
However, the most overpowering thing about Byleth was his character. The fact that his forked tongue could effortlessly belt out a thousand lies before he needed to take a breath. The same tongue was also used to the absurd amount of cigars and absinthe he consumed, like an engine fueled by nothing but vice.
"-Now, I can see that one of your blood vessels is going to pop so its time for one of my most important lessons of all," he remarked with a strange relative slowness as he realized I involuntarily stopped paying attention to him.
I peered at the devil among devils, "I assume this will be about bribery and taxes?"
"No, but we'll do that next time, just as a sneak peek though its almost always cheaper and quite frankly advantageous to pay the people in the government rather than the government but I digress.
"Your idea of selling mass produced magic contracts to militaries, mercenaries and other such groups is quite frankly the most innovation the business side of knot has seen ever since Corinit invented sliced bread.
"However, a good idea and business competency mean nothing compared to knowing people." Byleth spoke, his breath filled with envy as he no doubt thought about the fact that Corinit's cold water pool is exactly one centimeter wider than Byleth's own pool. Which was of course the second largest cold water pool within the knot.
"I've been reading that tome you gave me, *Negations for the Lead Tongued,* already I've gotten a new ink supplier with a five percent reduction in costs." I said with an authoritative tone just as I was taught.
"No no no. I'm talking about really knowing people. For example you know the prince, since you went to school with him for seven years. Honestly that alone accounts for half the investment you raised as being a friend of you is a step away from being a friend of the prince.
What you need is to become friends with every important player in the knot. The easiest way is to be introduced into a party." Byleth dug into one of his table's drawers and procured a packet of cigars far too small for him, a bottle of whiskey and a tin full of cocaine. "You're going have one set of these a day as training for socializing with your peers. Besides, business are far easier to maintain on this diet."
I looked on with cold shock, "Won't I die?" I questioned, validated by my medicinal knowledge that couldn't even be considered surface level.
"We'll replace your organs, I just got this heart yesterday."
"How am I supposed to afford both hard drugs and regular surgery, you yourself said and I quote, 'If you have to assume the cost of something assume any variable cost will be the maximum cost'. I'll be on the streets in a year if I do this!" I exclaimed.
"If in the future you don't make enough money to afford these stimulates and their consequences you clearly didn't take enough of them."
|
Rauffie
|
Densora
|
2025-01-27 15:38:03
|
2023-06-19 08:14:58
| 36 | 17 |
m9gsvx4
| null |
1ib7fv1
|
14d4crh
|
[WP] "Earth is devoid of magic. That is precisely why it is so dangerous. No one notices a planet like that until it is far too late to control it's potential."
|
The cosmos are full of wonders. Myriads of species have tackled the mysteries hidden within the universe, each pulling their own fantastical insights back out. For example, the Rekachi of the Theta Lupos quadrant came into being with a natural aptitude for space-faring, their shielding magic protecting them from the vacuum of space while ancillary spells provide air and propel themselves throughout the stars. Once they entered the interstellar arena of galactic politics, they realized that there was more than just the vacuum to shield from while traveling, and they adapted their magics accordingly. On the scale of things, their aptitude as a whole was not bad, but some less fortunate races can just barely scratch the surface of magic and its uses, and thus are forced to do the hands-on work that no others have the time, or spell, to do. That is how it always was, until we came along.
Humanity originates from an arm on the Milky Way galaxy, in a small solar system with only one planet that birthed life, and those life forms never knew the wonders of magic. In most cases, they would have been exploited by the multitude of magical races throughout the stars, that is if any of them had been remotely aware of their existence. By a stroke of obscene luck, some might say magical (however there is absolutely no proof of that), the sector our solar system originated in was previously decimated by a gruesome war, and left completely devoid of life and magic, and thus humanity was born without anyone else present.
The first few millennia of human life were very brutal. The constant war and infighting, rapid advancements in technology, and early attempts at space travel led us to the conclusion that we were utterly alone in the galaxy. We were wrong, but by the time we found that out, it was too late for everyone else.
The first race we encountered were the Ozrin of Omega Centauri. Their natural cloaking magic hid them from our scanners, so when we accidentally bumped into one of them both the crew of our ship and the roaming Ozrin were startled to say the least. After the initial wariness, and lack of obvious weapons on the Ozrin man, we attempted to communicate. After many tries, he managed to learn our letters and was able to write, and he had managed to craft a spell to hear our words in his language. Thus, we learned about magic, and how we are devoid of its presence. Over time, the Ozrin came to learn of our history, and even given our violent upbringing, they became one of our closest friends. The rest of the galaxy, and even then the wider universe, were not so easy to establish a relationship with.
The Ozrin were the closest ones to us for many many light years, and even they themselves had not interacted with much of the wider galaxy. We had been lucky that they had been the ones we found first, because they did not know the generally accepted customs for races that had little to no magical aptitude. As we ventured into the galaxy together, we learned many hard truths. Hardest of all: races with little to no magical aptitude were treated as slaves. As we had our own bout with slavery during our early stages of civilization, we were outraged at these atrocities that we saw were generally accepted by even the most "peaceful" and "benevolent" races. We would not stand to see others suppressed the way we had suppressed ourselves.
At the beginning, nobody took us seriously. After all, what could a race of people without access to the wonders of magic do to the many races of extremely skillful mages that have reigned for aeons? Even our closest friends, the Ozrin, were skeptical of our chances. However, knowing our history, the Ozrin did what they could to at least get their allied races to back down from that custom, and for those few that it worked for they are eternally grateful that they listened.
Those that did not heed the warnings of the Ozrin learned very quickly that we did not tolerate infringements on our freedoms. One of the more violent slaver races, the Ezarka, tried to enslave a colony of ours in the Zental system, but they were quickly subdued. When their allies came for us, we warned them to stay away. We warned them to leave us alone. We told them what we are capable of. None of them bothered to heed our warnings, to listen to what we were saying...
After the Ezarka Subjugation, the Zental Conflict made it very VERY clear to anyone who actually paid attention; magic does not protect you from nuclear weapons.
​
Edited already a couple of times for spelling
|
General Xanax, a slimy bipedal lizard-like creature, sat down in the midst of the Fair Trade Cyclone (FTC), an intergalactic alliance made for the prospect of crippling or eradicating other extraterrestrial species that may or have grown advanced enough to risk war with them.
“General Xanax.” The organism which was made from multitudes of string-like organism matter tangled with each other greeted him with a small bow.
“Sire Luwin.” He bowed back.
The two other members of the FTA council weren’t as polite. The bulky minotaur to his left, Grand Chieftain Kraag, grunted at him when their eyes met, and Veein, who was a microscopically thin being who constantly emitted toxic gas so she had to be contained in a tight seal suit, looked at him disinterestedly.
“You better have a good reason why you urgently summoned me from my eighth daughter’s third wedding.” Kraag gnawed at him.
“I assure you, Grand chieftain. I wouldn’t dare to interrupt such a moment between you and your bulky daughter if it was not of utmost importance.” Xanax politely replied, knowing how best to appease him according to his culture.
“I think it is a good time to start then.”
Xanax gestured his hand to reveal a hologram on top of the table. A fleshy bipedal creature floated on top of them.
“A new species? … what a waste of my time.” The ever so impatient Veein criticized.
As she was about to take her leave, Sire Luwin urged her to stay.
“Let’s listen to what General Xanax has to say first, why waste the time you spent traveling here?”
Veein looked around before begrudgingly sitting back down.
“Thank you, Sir Luwin.” He gave him a nod, who gestured him back to feel free to continue.
“I believe that this species who we have discovered on a distant planet, we termed Termina-E0821, should be eradicated.”
“So? We have done this thousands of times. Use the Gnoll-vague criteria to measure the magica advancement level and follow the guidelines for the best approach on how to turn them into smut. Now, remind me why we had to be summoned on such short notice?”
“That is the problem, good Veein. These creatures have no amplitude for magic.”
Just at a moment’s notice, all their attention was brought to Xanax. He snapped his fingers to show multiple videos of the creatures, showing their society, their machinery, their architecture, and their warfare.
“They operate purely on a mechanical basis. Their entire solar system is devoid of magic, hence they had never evolved to utilize it.”
“But from what I can see” Luwin pitched in. “all of their technology seems limited. If I had to guess, they had yet to achieve interplanetary travel, let alone colonization.”
“Your observation skills are quite remarkable, Sire Luwin. That may be correct, but when we reviewed the eye on the oracle to use the limit they have emitted over the last one thousand years, we found out that their rate of advancement has been very exponential, threateningly so.”
“What the big deal then? Just throw a Maga intergalactic explosion at them and reset them back to tiny microbes.” Kraag crossed his arms.
“I am afraid that is not possible.”
“Why not? You too afraid?” Kraag looked down at him.
“It is not possible on a technical level-“ Xanax started, but was interrupted by Veein.
“From our current level of understanding, when a spell is cast it is not like a giant ball of energy, but rather a powerful magnet that attracts, absorbs, and converts the magic molecules around it. So if it were to enter a magic vacuum. Then it would only shrink the further it stayed.”
“To be more precise, a Maga intergalactic explosion would shrink from the size of the moon of Plutio to the size of your fist only a tenth of the way between Termina-E0821 and its closest magic nodule.
“What a peculiar position.” Veein stroke the chin of her helmet.
“I have some suggestions that I worked up with our team, though you are welcome to add any of your own.”
“These creatures, which we have termed the Mechanica, cannot reach us with their current advancement levels, but we also can’t harm them with our methods of travel and weaponry. I say we pull some of our resources into a team to invent mechanical-based technology and we hope that we can reach them before they can reach us. But we must remember that if we leave them alone for long enough, we may become more trapped in them than they are trapped within us right now.”
“Is it not possible for us to invite them to join the FTC, seeing how remarkably unique their circumstance is?” Luwin suggested.
“That would be a very dangerous proposition. As it stands now, we have no countermeasures to their technology and if we invite them and study our technology to find an all-shutdown magic weapon, then we would very at a substantial disadvantage. Though if we have no other resort, we may be able to entertain that idea.”
“If no one else has any more to add, then I believe it is best for us to dismiss the meeting and prepare.”
The council was as silent as the middle of the ocean.
“Well, then. You are all dismissed. Oh and Grand Chieftain ... may your eighth daughter have a challenging mud wrestling tonight,.
"Thanks." Kraag grunted back.
​
**Thank you for reading my little story and if you liked my work, then feel free to check out my other stuff at** r/FluffWrites.
**Also check out my dark-fantasy series,** [The Dark Road Ahead](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/) **, as I work hard on it.**
|
segadragon13
|
FluffWrites
|
2023-06-21 09:06:30
|
2023-06-21 07:33:08
| 64 | 45 |
joxu908
|
joxnsgd
|
14epgbl
|
14epgbl
|
[WP] All children under the age of 13 vanishes with only a note left behind that says "Due to humans not caring about the future of their young, all children have been relocated. If you truly love (Name), you will not intervene as we restart your race. -Signed 'The Protectors'"
|
My daughter died young. I don't expect you to understand. Who would? No one listened when she was screaming those nine months. Something no child should go through. The judges all said that her life wasn't as important as the one forcefully shoved inside her.
I had to watch her small frame get ripped to shreds as my granddaughter was born. You know what my daughter's last words were to me? 'Keep her safe, Ma, she's a precious gem.'. My little girl could have hated that child, but she didn't have a bad bone in her body.
So I did exactly as my little girl asked. I raised Gem even though the rest of my family disagreed. My husband left, unable to stand the sight of her. I understood, she looked just like our girl, but that didn't stop it hurting any less.
So you see, when I woke to find my precious granddaughter was gone, and you left me this stupid note telling me I'm not going to do right by my daughter's death wish... well, that made me a little upset. You could say, it made me even a little mad.
Now, you're probably wondering 'How did some ol' biddy find our secure channel to broadcast this nonsense?' Oh, I'll get to that.
But first I'm gonna tell you what happened to the man who hurt my baby.
|
They watched the readouts as the computers ran endless tasks. The room dark except for much of the glow from screens and devices.
"So what do you think about the notes?" Oliver asked.
Rowan glanced at him after he understood that Oliver wanted an answer. His creased face, while upbeat, still rather distant. He sat back and motioned at the screens in front of him.
"It's been a couple of months." He shook his head. "What else is there to think about? All the kids went missing. People went native for a few weeks. And everyone who went missing hasn't been seen since."
As grim as the synopsis was, Rowen barely showed any sign of sadness. He stayed locked to the equipment he checked. Brushing his holster further up the table. He looked at Oliver again as he reminded himself about how to be polite.
"Rowen, when did you start carrying? I thought you were better than that?"
"Well, you thought wrong." He shrugged. "I quit the whole pacifist route when people started playing the blame game."
"Understandable."
The pair of them continued checking the array readings as the night went on. Eventually, it came up again.
"So, how's everything at home?" Rowen broached. Oliver turning to look at him fully, running a hand over his hair. An auburn going gray. Part age, part stress.
"Jules is, she's doing her best." He admitted. "It's been rough on her. You know? The house isn't. It isn't home anymore."
Rowen silently nodded at this.
"Sometimes, I wake up and I hear footsteps running. My kids. I guess I'm doing my best too."
"All we can do." Rowen agreed.
"You didn't have any, right?" Oliver wondered.
Rowen bit his lip. "No, but, people get upset that you had parents if you got left behind."
"They take it out on you?"
"There's been a couple of age related murders around my area." Rowen outlined. "Can't be too honest about your life anymore."
"Nobody should." Oliver cosigned.
The pair continued staring at their work as code and tasks flowed by.
"I just wish they tried talking to us. Negotiating." Oliver muttered.
"I guess they figured we couldn't be reasoned with." Rowen decided.
"Back then, we could've. We could've. " Oliver straightened a little. "Now. Not so much."
|
Averander
|
Jamaican_Dynamite
|
2024-09-04 20:15:52
|
2024-09-04 16:02:41
| 31 | 20 |
llis8zp
|
llhh4i9
|
1f8pbnm
|
1f8pbnm
|
[WP] A commuter train passing through Monster Town derails. Most of the passengers are found except a wealthy heir. Their wealthy parents sends a specialist to the supernatural hamlet to recover the missing heir because the police are forbidden to enter the supernatural sovereign territory.
|
My heart stopped. I guess it would be more accurate to say that everything stopped. The noise of the city, the passers-by, the birds, even the wind seemed to pause as I stared dumbly at the scene in front of me. It seemed as if the whole world had halted for this moment.
Just in front of me, kneeling on the ground, was my girlfriend of three years. In her hand, stretched out towards me, was a ring. My girlfriend had just proposed to me.
"What?" I asked, still dumbstruck.
"You mean absolutely everything to me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Her voice was shaky. I could tell that she was nervous.
Or perhaps nervous was an understatement. She looked terrified, apprehensive, and cautiously optimistic all at once.
My brain then decided to catch up to reality. But just as I was going to emphatically shout 'Yes!' to her, I noticed the ring.
Silver. Damn. That was bad. Well, not bad, but actually dangerous. You see, I am a werewolf. Silver is deadly to me. A ring like this won't kill me, but it would be extraordinarily painful. If I were to put it on I could lose the finger entirely.
With this in mind, and keenly aware that I had taken way too long to think, I told her that yes, I would love nothing more than to marry the woman of my dreams. Or I tried to. What actually came out was:
"I... uh, yes! Yes, I... yes! You...er, I mean... I...yes, I do! Want to, that is. Marry... oh god." The gods wish they were as articulate as I am. Eat your heart out Shakespeare.
Elisabeth, my new fiancé (bro, what?!), was elated, if a bit confused, at my incoherent ramble. Me too, love, me too.
She grabbed my hand and began to put the ring on my finger. Alarm bells started going off in my head. There was only one thing I could do; I would have to tell her the truth. I looked around to see if there was an audience before spilling my guts only to see that, yes, there was an audience. Worse yet, some were filming it. We were in a rather secluded part of the park, but I guess not secluded enough.
I couldn't tell her the truth now, not could I refuse the ring after that *extremely poetic* bit earlier. I would have to actor the ring and suffer in silence until I could take it off. I might lose the finger, but I would just have to take the chance.
As the ring slid onto my finger, I could addled feel the pain set in. It was a burning pain, like dipping your finger into a deep-fryer. I was in agony. But I would put up with it until we could go somewhere more private.
She stood up and kissed me on the spot. I wish I could lose myself in the kiss like I usually do, but the pain made everything hard to focus on. Many people believe that the pain is similar to touching hot metal, but it really feels like sticking your hand in boiling water or oil. Sure the metal is hot, but it isn't a localized pain like a branding. It's also more dull than hot metal.
I pulled away from the kiss and practically dragged Elisabeth to the bushes, dimly aware of some congratulations coming from the crowd. I needed this ring off, and I needed it off now. We ran into the bushes and I proceeded to rip the ring off my finger and thrust it into Elisabeth's had with no pretext that I was not in tremendous pain.
As I cradled my burning hand Elisabeth looked worried and hurt. Oh, right. The proposal. She probably thought that I just rejected her in private. I promptly shut that idea down with a deep kiss. She returned it reluctantly.
"God, I love you." I said. She just looked more confused. "I can't wear silver." I confessed.
"Oh. Oh! You're allergic?" Elisabeth sounded relieved.
"Something like that." I risked a glanced at my burning finger. It was deep red. It was definitely burned. Perhaps third degree at that. Apparently Elisabeth also saw it.
"Oh, God! Is that from the ring?" She grabbed my hand to get a better look at it.
"Yeah. Ow." I responded.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't know-" I cut her off with another kiss.
"Hey, it's my fault that I didn't tell my new fiancé about my allergy. Just means I get to help you pick my new ring." Her eyes beamed at that. God I love her.
|
"Will you, please?" He asked, light glinting in his eyes.
"Oh," she sobbed at it. "Omari. It's beautiful."
He really didn't like making Robina cry. For any reason. Even though he planned this as a bit of a joke amongst their friends, the gesture was genuine even if it wasn't the way he usually did things.
Robina however seemed to shake her head slightly in a 'no' motion and he wondered if he'd gone too far. If she said no, he still understood. And perhaps this would be a reason why.
"I, I..." She choked again. "Yes!"
Of course while she didn't put it on at that moment, it was because it took second place to the giant hug the pair gave each other as the others cheered at the reveal.
Omari thought it was cringeworthy, or cheesy, or whatever somebody felt like calling it. But a bet was a bet. He'd lost his, and the fact was he had agreed to these terms. He had to publicly propose to Robina if he lost. And for the occasion, he'd made sure to get a ring. Or at least try to. He felt like just silver wasn't good enough. But reality had met his wallet for the Nth time in life.
He just hoped he was worthy of her being there.
To shorten a long night, the party was great. A lot of familiar faces had came by to say congratulations, or just to help out with favors. And the rest of the night was pretty great too. Too his surprise, it also ended in the tangle of sheets many would hope for.
For some odd reason, he woke up early in the morning. It wasn't a normal lapse from sleep. Something was burning. It smelt like it. His alarm at this also brought his attention to the fact that the house was deathly quiet. Robina wasn't in bed. The door to the room was open, and the house was dark.
But something was burning.
A quick leap into some sweats led him to search the rest of the house room by room. Nothing was visibly on fire. And he still couldn't find Robina. He quietly lifted a bat from the closet as he kept creeping through the house.
"Robi-" He stopped himself from whispering. Just beyond the backdoor sat an absolute unit of a person. Way too big to be his fiance. Way too big to perhaps be human even. Something was still burning, an almost metallic smell he could taste now.
Omari's first instinct came to leave. Either upstairs or out the front door. He really didn't have a clue which would be the better choice. Or whether it even mattered.
"*Listen. It'll be okay.*" Somebody spoke. "*Just play it cool. Tell him you're allergic to silver. He can get another ring.*"
"It's the best he could do."
That voice, albeit scratchy, with much more base than was familiar. It couldn't be. He almost said her name, but assumed that whatever this was. It must have killed and ate her. He backed up a hair. And knocked an empty cup off the table.
The sound made the head turn instantly. Omari began to run. His subconscious screaming that it wasn't enough. That thing would catch him. Something deftly grabbed his collar and he was clotheslined into the floor.
Robina didn't mean to do that to him. But it seemed safer than tackling him or otherwise strong arming him from the front door. Nonetheless she found herself pinning Omari and checking to see if it was him. Yup. It was him of course, but you couldn't be too sure. He was trying his best to scream bloody murder. An acceptable reaction as much as she carefully tried to gently stifle it.
Something clattered from her hand into the floor. The ring spinning like a lost die before rolling flat.
"...Robina?" He asked between breaths.
"*...So, I'm guessing he knows?*" A voice reacted to the commotion.
She held the phone like a playing card in her oversized hand. "Call. Back. Later."
"*Okay Robbie, have fun. Don't kill him.*"
"O...mari." Robina tried to say. "Wha'?"
"Crushin' me..." He breathed.
He sat on the couch. She sat on the floor as to be somewhat level with him. She took the ring, holding it up for him? It sizzled in her palm, until she yelped and let it fall onto the couch. That explained the smell.
"So you can't wear silver?"
Robina shook her head no.
"Anything else?" Omari said as he rubbed his ribs further. Robina simply opened her palms in that way she did and pointed at herself.
"Well?" She uttered. Big crocodile tears starting to form even now.
Omari looked her up and down and laid further back on the couch. "I mean. It could've been be worse."
"How??"
"I thought you, um, didn't like the ring." Omari quietly explained. She palmed the floor at this meager deflection. "I mean, your hair look good though."
Robina sighed and rolled her eyes. Even as a giant werewolf, he still managed to remind her why they loved each other so much. She sat there for a minute before picking him up and calmly walking towards the hall. Tail wagging like a lost puppy.
"What are we doing?"
"Bed."
"Why would we-"
He got his head bonked on the wall by her bridal carry.
"Damn."
"Sorry."
"Be careful. I'm tender."
Needless to say, getting a different ring was in order. And maybe another bedframe.
---
...He'll probably be aight. r/Jamaican_Dynamite
|
six672
|
Jamaican_Dynamite
|
2023-03-02 20:49:12
|
2023-03-02 20:12:23
| 181 | 110 |
jao3hw2
|
janxp5q
|
hsz888
|
11g7otj
|
[WP] A commuter train passing through Monster Town derails. Most of the passengers are found except a wealthy heir. Their wealthy parents sends a specialist to the supernatural hamlet to recover the missing heir because the police are forbidden to enter the supernatural sovereign territory.
|
My heart stopped. I guess it would be more accurate to say that everything stopped. The noise of the city, the passers-by, the birds, even the wind seemed to pause as I stared dumbly at the scene in front of me. It seemed as if the whole world had halted for this moment.
Just in front of me, kneeling on the ground, was my girlfriend of three years. In her hand, stretched out towards me, was a ring. My girlfriend had just proposed to me.
"What?" I asked, still dumbstruck.
"You mean absolutely everything to me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Her voice was shaky. I could tell that she was nervous.
Or perhaps nervous was an understatement. She looked terrified, apprehensive, and cautiously optimistic all at once.
My brain then decided to catch up to reality. But just as I was going to emphatically shout 'Yes!' to her, I noticed the ring.
Silver. Damn. That was bad. Well, not bad, but actually dangerous. You see, I am a werewolf. Silver is deadly to me. A ring like this won't kill me, but it would be extraordinarily painful. If I were to put it on I could lose the finger entirely.
With this in mind, and keenly aware that I had taken way too long to think, I told her that yes, I would love nothing more than to marry the woman of my dreams. Or I tried to. What actually came out was:
"I... uh, yes! Yes, I... yes! You...er, I mean... I...yes, I do! Want to, that is. Marry... oh god." The gods wish they were as articulate as I am. Eat your heart out Shakespeare.
Elisabeth, my new fiancé (bro, what?!), was elated, if a bit confused, at my incoherent ramble. Me too, love, me too.
She grabbed my hand and began to put the ring on my finger. Alarm bells started going off in my head. There was only one thing I could do; I would have to tell her the truth. I looked around to see if there was an audience before spilling my guts only to see that, yes, there was an audience. Worse yet, some were filming it. We were in a rather secluded part of the park, but I guess not secluded enough.
I couldn't tell her the truth now, not could I refuse the ring after that *extremely poetic* bit earlier. I would have to actor the ring and suffer in silence until I could take it off. I might lose the finger, but I would just have to take the chance.
As the ring slid onto my finger, I could addled feel the pain set in. It was a burning pain, like dipping your finger into a deep-fryer. I was in agony. But I would put up with it until we could go somewhere more private.
She stood up and kissed me on the spot. I wish I could lose myself in the kiss like I usually do, but the pain made everything hard to focus on. Many people believe that the pain is similar to touching hot metal, but it really feels like sticking your hand in boiling water or oil. Sure the metal is hot, but it isn't a localized pain like a branding. It's also more dull than hot metal.
I pulled away from the kiss and practically dragged Elisabeth to the bushes, dimly aware of some congratulations coming from the crowd. I needed this ring off, and I needed it off now. We ran into the bushes and I proceeded to rip the ring off my finger and thrust it into Elisabeth's had with no pretext that I was not in tremendous pain.
As I cradled my burning hand Elisabeth looked worried and hurt. Oh, right. The proposal. She probably thought that I just rejected her in private. I promptly shut that idea down with a deep kiss. She returned it reluctantly.
"God, I love you." I said. She just looked more confused. "I can't wear silver." I confessed.
"Oh. Oh! You're allergic?" Elisabeth sounded relieved.
"Something like that." I risked a glanced at my burning finger. It was deep red. It was definitely burned. Perhaps third degree at that. Apparently Elisabeth also saw it.
"Oh, God! Is that from the ring?" She grabbed my hand to get a better look at it.
"Yeah. Ow." I responded.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't know-" I cut her off with another kiss.
"Hey, it's my fault that I didn't tell my new fiancé about my allergy. Just means I get to help you pick my new ring." Her eyes beamed at that. God I love her.
|
“What is it?” I asked, a foolish question. I stared down at the thing, the posioned promise of a life I didn’t deserve.
“What does it look like? I don’t care what your family will think, or mine for what that’s worth,” He said, impatient but tender, staining the knees of his slacks on the forest floor. This is why he’d been nervous all day, not something else.
The silver gleamed, drawing up the bile in my gut. I could smell the caustic air off the thing that he held in sweaty fingers, liable to slip and send the fearsome threat popping towards me.
“I don’t know what to say.” I wanted to embrace him, I wanted to weep, I wanted to sprint off into the trees. I stood there, waiting, heart beyond the human register.
His wasn’t far off.
“Maya, will you mar-”
“Don’t!” I yelled, surprising myself with the sharp tone. The hurt in his eyes was immediate and terrible. “I can’t take that ring.”
He looked up at me, facing twisting in his own warring mess of emotion for another second before hardening. “And why’s that?”
“I’ve let this go on longer than I should have, that’s on me. I can’t be with you. I can’t be with anyone, not like that.”
“You’re always saying things like that, like you’ve committed some great sin and the only solution is to deny yourself everything, forever.” I could smell the salt on him over the deer upwind. “I want this, I don’t care what you did.”
He reached out to touch me. I didn't protest, feeling his warm, strong hand.
A mad idea struck me. Give him some excuse, take the ring, coat it in lacquer or tell him I reacted to silver, hives perhaps. He’d have a gold one tomorrow. We could keep this going.
“Marcus, did implies it's over. My sins continue, unrepentant. Find yourself another girl. One that can give you what you want.”
“I want you. No one else. What are you doing that’s so bad you can’t be with me, start a family?”
“I’d tear the baby up in my womb before its heart beat. I’m the one that’s been killing the livestock, leaving the mangled messes.”
“What? How? Like a ritual thing?”
“Not really, I’m a beast, wearing the skin of a girl. An imposter.”
"A beast?" He let his hand drop.
"Yes, for many years now. I go from town to town, leaving when the suspicion is too great."
“There’s a doctor over in Novoberg. We can talk to him about these thoughts you’re having. My aunt-”
“I’m not your crazy aunt, Marcus,” I said, this time surprising myself with the chill calm in my tone. I grabbed the ring. The crackling of sizzling bacon came from my palm. I spasmed and dropped the smoking thing to the ground. A small fire started to catch on the pine leaves.
“I am not worthy of this life.” I held out my sagging hand, showing him the angry red circle. "Cursed, damned."
I stared, daring him to argue further. He looked away and I nodded bitterly. I ran. Tonight was the night, after all.
After a few breathless miles, I curled my sore body under a boulder. As sick as it was to admit, I craved the change and the clarity it brought. I focused on my breathing and tried to seperate myself from my thoughts, my mangled disaster of a human life. My pretend life. I slept until the cracks of my bones breaking woke me up.
I breathed the forest air, sweet and deeper in meaning than any song. There was no fear, no sadness, no concern at all. I could not recall why that was notable. I shook off the thin rags of the clothes I’d forgotten to remove.
I ran to the rhythm of my heart, planless save for the instinct of movement. I was limping on a front paw. I stopped to lick the wound, content.
I perked my ears up to a foreign sound. The yelping of the smelly ones, the smokey ones. I crouched low as I stalked. Stinking oil came from a fire it held as it twittered louder, scaring away any nearby food no doubt. That was fine. This one was larger.
I could never tell them apart, the faces a blurry hairless mess, but this one looked familiar and large, indeed. I crept closer, easily hiding from the yelling thing. Seeing its back, unaware and undefended, pulled me, begged me forward but I was still. I knew not why. I was going to let this go, the biggest meal in quite some time.
It turned then and stared at me, squawking again, softer. I rumbled deep as I stepped into his light. Brave idiot did not run, but I saw the awe in its eyes.
I stepped closer, sniffing his many confusing smells, not wholly unpleasant. He did not move. I let my hackles drop.
A roar of thunder crashed above and the man thing flinched. I lashed out at the quick movement and sunk teeth into its leg, cold and weak as a doe. The metallic song on my tongue overwhelmed whatever had slowed me, and I thrashed with more vigor as it fell.
The cracks and tears of the man thing's unmaking competed with its shouts. Eventually it stopped, leaving only wet dripping softer than bird song.
I spit out something burning that had been tangled up in the mess of the thing. Tomorrow, there may be regret for this, but tonight there was only two feelings ringing through me, the hunger, deep as screaming black, and its sister, gulping eager satisfaction.
Forgive me.
/r/surinical
|
six672
|
Surinical
|
2023-03-02 20:49:12
|
2023-03-02 19:32:09
| 181 | 89 |
jao3hw2
|
janrke7
|
b7891n
|
11g7otj
|
[WP] You were made fun of as a male with a 'feminine' superpower growing up. Who's laughing now considering you are now the most powerful and richest superhero?
|
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a Superhero.
You know... Boots, capes, the pose... Pointing to your fated foe to halt their nefarious actions.
By my ten years, I finally manifested a power.
The absolute power over... Flowers.
Ever since that, I have been mocked... Seen as the laughingstock of the male hero community. Belittling comments like "Throw me a bouquet flower-boy" or "Attack them with you pollen" had been the common ever since.
It was a sobering experience...
But that didn't stop me.
I took another moniker... "The Baleful Floral Symphony"...
My calling card? A simple lily.
I had more than simple control over flowers... I could manipulate both the physiology and biochemistry of said plant organ. Scale them up, or down... Modify their scent to something relaxing, or deadly...
Even the joke of using a floral chainmail, with the very petals arranged in a helicoidal pattern had proved to be an effective move.
So not bad for "The flower boy", eh?
|
I'm pretty damn good at being at being a cross-roads salesman. I'm even good friends with Satan himself. He's my best friend actually. But nobody really knows this. Look, I'm not a good guy. But I'm not a terrible one either. You probably thought I'd say something toxic like: "Look, I'm not a bad guy" that's what an asshole would say.
But I guess my friends would think about me. I make a lot of friends with guys like Satan. We're on really good terms. We talk about extortion, drugs, everything. They say I have a way with words. Which I do. I'm very supportive of all my friends. But none of them are doing particularly well at the moment. Satan's authority is pretty much being uprooted by his army. He was just complaining to me today about someone exposing his hidden Gotcha art. Dude has a tiktok dedicated to gotcha content. His defense is that he's trying to entice kids into using tiktok and to further solidify tensions against US and China. No one buys it though...
There's this other friend of mine whose really into extorting people. He's a natural. Gets some dick picks from sad simps online to blackmail them into giving him 1k bucks. This guy's hiliarious! Because after he gets the money from these kids then he just continues to threaten them. To bad his wife ended up turning him into the police and his whole family ended up disowning the guy. Not my fault though. He was just telling me how some person tipped off his wife about the contents on his computer. I guess she believed them and spilled.
I work with some pretty good guys. A lot of them end up going through some rough patches but they compensate me well for my time since I'm such a good friend to them. They all tell me that I listen well without judgement. It's true. I don't judge them. I sit there making them feel better. They usually poke fun at me saying that I'm a lot like a girl. I act offended but I'm not. Not really.
And you know... sometimes I just shoot the shit. Just like how your girlfriends do.
|
Aljhaqu
|
SerenSkies
|
2024-09-12 02:51:54
|
2024-09-11 23:14:22
| 72 | 36 |
lmpjsdf
|
lmom9a6
|
1femgk9
|
1femgk9
|
[WP] You wake up to find out that you've been somehow transported into the world of the last video game you played. Describe your first day.
|
8am
Fuck. I've been isekaied.
Sure, sounds great in theory. Learn magic, become a hero. Except in reality you are a homeless guy with no money or training, not that chosen one that keep killing gigantic monsters.
Still, I am the newest citizen in Gran Soren, and I have to find a way to survive. Inside the city, of course... I am not going out there to get killed by the first goblin I encounter.
Will I even be able to learn magic? Will healing items work on me?
10am
OK, I am much more optimistic now. I found a big stick and have been demolishing all crates I find. The barrels I just open, why smash them? I even found some chests. I now have a silly hat, some fruit, and several sacks of gold. I just hope the stuff will respawn at some point, because damaging other people's property right in front of them so I can take the single item or sack of gold they store in it is going to be my new vocation.
12am
The tavern food was quite ok, and better than the stuff I found. Still, that inn charges a hefty sum. Should I really sleep there, or is there a cheaper solution?
1pm
Noone cares if you just take a nap on a bed in the inn. I guess I'll be fine.
2pm
There are a lot of Pawns in this city. They really just wander around and don't do much. They look human, can talk, but don't do much if a real human isn't ordering them about. I think some tests are in order.
6pm
So, there's good news and there's bad news. The good news is that you can really just go to a Pawn and tell them to do stuff, and there is a good chance they'll actually do it, even if I am no some Arisen that can summon them. Some of them agreed to go smash crates and stuff for me, though it seems I have to go with them or they just forget and wander off.
The bad news is that I had the idea that maybe, just maybe, the Pawns would take commands beyond just "go there, smash that". To be a bit more clear, I tested what a certain red-headed Pawn named Judy would do for me if I asked very nicely. And yes, it seems some Pawns do react favorably to the command "Show me your boobies".
Unfortunately the guard that saw me do that was not as favorably inclined. Seems there are some laws against "Improper conduct with Pawns". I now sit in a dungeon cell, and not only did they take most of my money, they even took my silly hat.
|
I open my eyes just to be blinded by the sun for a moment.
"How long I've been laying like that..?" I ask myself, but I can't remember anything form before waking up.
As I try to get up, I start feeling that my body is numb as never before. I stretch myself a little and after doing so, I feel a little better.
I look around and see that I'm on some sort of a cliff. I can see the sea in the distance, but when I turn around, I see a city. A city with windmills towering above it.
"That's where I should go."
As I make my way down the flatter side of the cliff, I see multiple dandelions growing out of the ground. The wind is slowly blowing off their petals.
After something like half an hour, the city city starts to slowly get bigger as I get closer and closer.
As I look around the grassland I'm currently crossing, I spot something shiny between blades of grass.
I decide to get closer only to be splashed with water from...
"What is this thing?!"
I jump back, almost like it burned me. There are more of these things gathering around me.
Before I'm able to do anything, I hear something cutting through the air. It hits one of those watery things and it vaporises almost immediately. The same thing happens to the other two creatures, and with the last shot, I'm able to see an arrow. Burning arrow.
"Outrider Amber, it's nice to meet you!"
I don't know from where she came from, but I can definitely tell that she was the one shooting.
"It's nice to meet you too, I guess... That's for saving me from those things."
"It's nothing really! It's a part of my job as an Outrider. And those things are called Slimes. Hydro Slimes, to be exact. Anyway, what are you doing here?"
"I'm not sure myself... I just woke up on a cliff and decided to get to that city."
"That city's name is Mondstadt - The city of freedom and song! I'll escort you there if you want."
"That would be a big help, thank you."
As we walk towards Mondstadt, I ask her about the flaming arrows, and she gives me a little lecture as to what elements and Visions are.
She explains that the world is ruled by Seven Nations and seven elements. They are: Pyro, Cryo, Hydro, Electro, Anemo, Dendro, and Geo.
As to what Visions are, I understand that they're given to people by gods. I don't really know the conditions, but that doesn't seem to be that important right now.
She shows me her own Vison - a Pyro Vision. That's how she lit the arrows.
Finally, we arrive at Mondstadt's gate.
"Thank you, Amber, for getting me here preventing me from bumping into more of those Slimes."
"Good that you didn't bump into a Hilichurl." She laughs a little, but I don't even understand what a Hilichurl is.
"Is there someone who could keep me in for this one night?"
"If I were you, I'd ask people in the Cathedral. I bet Sister Victoria and Barbara will help you!"
"Thank you once again."
"That's no problem, really! I should get going myself. See you around!
She walks away and the only thing I'm left with is going to the Cathedral.
When I arrive and tell my story to Sister Victoria and Barbara, they offer me their help and let me stay at the Cathedral.
As I fall asleep, I think about everything that happened today.
"This world is different, but I think I'll get along quickly. People seem so nice and helpful. I wonder what tomorrow will bring..."
|
ElminsterTheMighty
|
Arbuz_004
|
2024-03-08 23:20:13
|
2024-03-08 23:18:43
| 32 | 18 |
ktzpe9k
|
ktzp5qe
|
1b9y4xy
|
1b9y4xy
|
[WP]You reincarnated in a fantasy world, but when you go check your stats, everything seems to be really average, until you put your eyes on charisma, that is on 200 points
|
"My queen!"
"Sup?"
"General Hawthorne of the Iron Legion is here on behalf of the Asmati Kingdom."
"Oh, cool. Show him in."
A tall, burly man covered in scars walked in. His armour, his bearing, his eyes - it all showed decades of military experience. A man that did not know defeat.
"Queen Dahlia," Hawthorne hissed.
"Hey. What brings you here?"
"I have ten thousand of my most decorated warriors waiting outside of your town. I have come to negotiate your surrender. Do the honourable thing; yield and save the lives of your people."
I looked at him carefully.
"No, I don't think I will."
Hawthorne's eyes narrowed.
"Then you will die," he growled.
"I guess I'll just, dunno, have to fight you then."
Hawthorne gasped and his eyes widened with sheer, unbridled terror. The utterance of those words, the assured tone, the way the sentence carried itself through the air - he never knew such fear. He knew he stood no chance.
"Say," I said, "do *you* want to surrender?"
He drew his sword with trembling fingers and threw it on the ground, sweat running down his forehead.
"Alright, cool," I said contently. "So I assume the, uh, uh..." I clicked my tongue a few times.
"Asmati Kingdom, my queen," my adjutant reminded me.
"Right! Cheers, mate. So I assume the Asmati Kingdom is going to become our vassal? Is that right, general?"
"Y- yes, your highness. I shall dispatch my messengers immediately. "
"Neat," I nodded. It reminded me of the time I gained control over my current kingdom.
Walked up to the king and asked.
*Nicely*.
|
That, you see, was the beginning of the end. I truly wish I could go back. Do so many things differently.
The number burned into my mind and unfortunately, my friends, I let it affect how I viewed the world. I let it change me.
Honestly, even saying that I feel the fool, knowing others will read it and scoff. They'll ridicule me, acting as if I have no agency in my own bleeding life. I don't know how to explain it. It was a choice. I knew this day would come. At the same time, with great power comes immense responsibility, of which I have proved I have none.
I am sorry, ladies and gentlemen.
Just, when it comes so *easy*, who am I to turn it down? I'm not Gandhi or Martin Luther King. No one will ever say: "Turn right onto Bill Thompson Ave."
So when I realized people would practically throw themselves at me, their belongings and their, like, flesh, I mean... who among you could say you'd do differently? Brothers and sisters, that who is without sin may cast the first stone.
I have forgone my right to a lawyer with only the truest intentions. I want to make you understand and see and admit that I am right. We are all like this or would be if we had the chance.
It is not my fault that I had the chance and that I took it.
And again: I'm sorry.
Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, I'm sorry about your two little girls. You'd understand too if a single wink could drop skirts and panties.
*Mrs. Johnson erupted in sobs, leaving Bill Thompson's next lines inaudible.*
Herbert, I'm sorry about your grandma's things, but, like, man she practically *gave* them to me! She double-fisted the heirlooms into my own bleeding paws, thanking me out the door.
Look, all this to make the point that: I'm just a normal, ordinary guy, doing what any of us would do, given the same circumstances. Look at it this way: if you were to become me, to live all of my same experiences, from my birth up to the present, you would do all of the same things. There is no special essence of *you*, ladies and gentlemen, that would make you behave differently. When viewed from this vantage point, do any of us even have a choice? Was it my choice to wink at Mrs. Johnson's little girls? Was it their choice to swoon and follow me into my home?
I'd argue not! I'd argue that there were no choices in the matter, regardless of how you look at it. And that any of you, including even you, your honor, would act the same way.
That is my opening statement, your honor.
|
SirPiecemaker
|
None
|
2023-01-06 17:24:05
|
2023-01-06 17:05:30
| 715 | 27 |
j37v8ft
|
j37s3v7
|
104txuo
|
104txuo
|
[WP] You squealed as the heroes unmasked and kissed in front of the roaring crowds. Wait…you recognize their faces…that’s YOUR best friend and YOUR girlfriend/boyfriend.
|
It didn't take l9ng for facial recognition to work out their normy identifies, and by the time I stumbled through my front door in tears my phone was buzzing like a massage wand. Texts asking if I knew, missed calla from family and people I hadn't spoken to in years. I had just raised the bottle of vodka to my lips when there was a hammering on the door.
I opened the curtain and closed it very quickly, there were reporters and cameras and the were multiplying like the Duplicate Man. They stayed there all night, banging on my door and the police didn't help. Can't blame them, the heroes make the police look so bad that they just stopped trying.
They were still there two nights later when a sudden gravity drop threw them in the air and carried them away. It was followed by a very polite knock which I ignored.
"Sarah, if you don't open the door, I have no qualms about lifting the whole building and taking you to my base."
Great, now to had to fave a supervillain. I open the door.
*"You know there's no point, they won't come save me."* I slur a bit, more from sheer exhaustion than anything, I didn't give them the courtesy of drinking myself to oblivion.
"You are their beloved and best friend aren't you?" He gives me a hard look.
*"You saw the same declaration of love as the rest if the world right? And look around, they didn't come and help me when I was barricaded in my own home due to what they did!"* At this point I want yo cry but I have no tears left, seriously I felt so dehydrated. I walk over to my sofa and lay down.
*"Kill me if you want, but at least let me sleep first."*
I woke up in Gravitons base, refreshed from a good deep sleep. He must have drugged me but he claims I was just that exhausted. It took him a month to accept they really weren't coming to save me and conveniently fall into his trap. He went around muttering "better morals than a freaking hero" for a while. We watched their love story play out on screens, adored by the public, I got a brief mention as the jealous ex who ran off, the Villain in the romance.
Eventually Graviton told me I could leave, I told him I'd be lynched for getting in the way of the perfect love story. We agreed on me staying and being his accountant, not a bad gig and he was generous with benefits, even setting up a standing order from my favourite coffee place. How he always had that cinnamon and vanilla latte with extra shot on my desk every morning I have no idea, the base was about 200 miles from that shop. Lots of stuff happened over the next couple of years, some good, some bad, but all so much more freeing than being in the shadow of those two arseholes.
Which brings us to today, when the wedding couple flew in to the chapel from our little pre-planned disaster, looking like a complete mess, as me and Graviton shared our first kiss as husband and wife in front of the world's cameras and the captive guests.
|
As the feeling of utter betrayal settled in his stomach, dark clouds began to roll in. His aching heart had cried out to the skies above, as he couldn't bare the warm embrace of the sun anymore. It didn't occur to him that the unnaturally dense and dark cloud cover was messing with her powers.
They must know!, he thought.
They must realize that I will see this! Why are they doing this to me!
His thoughts began to race as the pain in his chest became more and more unbearable. And the clouds above began to stir. With his first tears, rain began to fall. By now, everyone had taken notice of the change in weather. The people began to slowly disperse as the rain grew stronger. As did the wind.
"They must have known!", he said to himself through gritted teeth.
"They know and they don't care! I am nothing to them! They must think of me like a pet or lesser even!"
There was no way for him to feel more hurt than he did and so the ever building feeling of betrayal fueled another emotion. Or rather, there was enough fuel for an entire roster of emotions. Anger, rage and hatred. He was talking himself into a storm of emotions, while the storm around him began to grow in parallel intensity.
People began to ran for cover, as the rain became more and more intense, as lighting began to flash above and the clouds began to slowly spin. Hail got into the mix, ever growing balls of cold hard ice rained from the covered sky, smashing into anything unprotected. Even the heroes needed to take shelter.
With a thunderous crack, lightning reached from the sky. It was unnaturally guided to miss all the obvious points it would have to be attracted to normally and struck close to a group of people, seeking shelter in a mall entryway. By now he was standing alone in the middle of the plaza, surrounded by ever faster spinning wind. He saw the people getting hurt by the lightning, but he didn't care. No one had ever truly cared for him, why should he care for them. He gaze switched to another group and another bolt of lightning broke from the clouds to strike them. Thus time directly. He could feel the electric charge in the air. He could feel the wind patterns above, changing to his every whim. The rain falling on his command. The weather had been nice the last couple of months because he had felt great for once. He had felt loved and like he belonged. Now he felt great again. As he fully realized his power, he noticed the two heroes.
"You did this?", his friend asked, his face a mask of hurt and confusion.
"Don't you dare feel betrayed! You and that lying cheating bitch have betrayed me first! Just because you felt so superior to me! Now look who is superior! Now you come crawling to me! You are no heroes, you are liars! Cheater! Betrayer! Am I now significant enough for you assholes to notice! Am I now worth to be told the truth! Because it looked like you were going to keep this shared going for as long as you could!"
"We were going to tell you!"
"When you got back home? Why not tell me before, that you were a cheating whore, Bitch!"
Another bolt of lightning struck. They were thrown to the ground and separated from one another.
"I will hurt you, the same way you hurt me. I am not insignificant! I am still here! Am I not? Why did you not think of me? Why would you consider me not worthy of the truth, that I was merely your cover, not even a friend, just a pair of fucking glasses you could throw away as soon as they weren't needed anymore!"
In his blind rage, two more bolts struck her lifeless body.
"And you ... friend!"
Finally, the ever faster spinning wind was strong enough to lift objects ... and bodies.
"We'll have to talk, my friend", he said, as they both rise towards the sky, before the storm tore a path of utter destruction through the city.
|
TeatimeWithCake
|
Nuss-Zwei
|
2024-07-25 07:53:54
|
2024-07-25 05:28:51
| 177 | 115 |
leu7zll
|
letu4vt
|
1eb9o1b
|
1eb9o1b
|
[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/)
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Which is why I was here, of course. Compromise.
I had not been in necromancy for long. I hadn’t really chosen this, either. One moment I was headed home on the L train, minding my own business, and suddenly the car filled with fog and I ended up here, in this dark world. It wasn’t all that different from the one I had left – people had things to do, places to be, and if you didn’t show up, there was a place for those types too. A place I had been shown briefly and chose not to go. My only other choice was necromancer, or as they called it here, “soul harvester.”
They explained that I had the power to take anyone’s soul. Once taken, those people's souls would move on to the place where they were destined to show up.
“You perform a needed service. Certainly you understand from your previous life, from nature, right? Large predators dispose of the sick, the old, the lame. They improve the group as a whole. Same thing here, only you claim worn-out souls and send them where they were going anyway. You strengthen the overall group by culling the herd.”
“I can choose who I take?” I had asked.
“Of course! That is your new occupation, in fact,” they told me. “If you’re not comfortable with that, we can arrange for you to go elsewhere.” There was an ominous glow from all around when they said the world *elsewhere* that made me shudder. And I knew that it would be something like this. I wasn’t blameless, after all. I had made decisions that I knew would lead here someday. Small things, little bends in the rules, slight twists away from where I should have gone. Nothing major. I hadn’t killed anyone, for instance. The usual, everyday, ordinary compromises that get you around ethical dilemmas and move you forward without having to face the difficult decisions. Which made me qualified for this job in this place. The perpetual semi-darkness, the easy familiarity with the work, was comforting somehow.
“How do I sign up?”
“You just did,” they said, and disappeared.
It was steady work, believe me. There are millions of worn-out souls awaiting harvest. And their ages had nothing to do with their physical age in life. Sometimes it was fixing mistakes. Everyone makes them. You think the afterlife is perfect? I had harvested teenagers who had gotten stuck in newborn bodies. Mostly, though, it was people approaching the end of their lives, people who had made some kind of compromise during their lifetime. People just like I had been. Those compromises stain their souls. I got them when they were tarnished, scratched, frayed at the edges. Some of them had dark, corrupted places. Many of them had worked in politics.
I took them all. And in the process I had made a life for myself.
“Three souls, sir,” the manager repeated.
Three souls were child’s play. I had at least two hanging around in my cloak, which I gathered in my hand. I had to hunt for the third a bit. But while I was searching among the folds of my garment, I encountered a new soul. I had never seen one like this before. Brilliant, unstained, this little girl’s soul had been alive for only a short time before ending up with me. No compromises. I quickly wrapped it up inside my cloak’s many folds and selected a different one for payment. Presenting the souls, I said, “Here you go.”
“Thank you sir, and here are your groceries.” He handed me the bags.
As I walked toward the door, the bag-boy trailed behind me. He called out, in a quiet little voice, “You can’t protect her forever, you know. Not here.”
I turned and looked at him. Then I looked *through* him. Corrupt to the core. Dripping with malfeasance. Ripe.
I stared for about a minute. He knew I could have taken him, and I made him know it.
“What concern is it of yours?”
He looked back at me. His smart-aleck grin slipped, just a little bit.“Have a nice day, sir,” he whispered.
He was right, of course. I couldn’t protect her forever. But for today, yes, I could protect her for that long anyway.
|
Tregonial
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YARedditPerson
|
2023-09-01 18:37:22
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2023-09-01 18:31:07
| 79 | 27 |
jypbnat
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jypal3e
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1678ja3
|
1678ja3
|
[WP] Teleportation is invented. It's presented with the ease of using an app. It's offered at a very affordable price, i.e.; New York, USA to Paris, France for $30. However, before it's release to the world, the inventor demands all fuel consumption is shut down.
|
Most healers agree, our powers suck. I mean, there aren’t many of us so we are constantly being harassed to fix everyone’s mistakes, though generally for smaller things or, if the situation is bad enough, fixing big things fast. The problem with our healing is that it forces the patient to endure all of that pain and suffering in that time. What could be months of suffering is put into 30 seconds or less. It’s horrible to watch, and don’t ask about near death experiences, they’re in a whole different league.
But what’s even more unusual about our power, is that we can take up to half of their pain. Don’t ask why, I’m no superpower expert. I’m only a sophomore. Anyways, it’s become a common practice to charge to take away the pain of healing. The greater the injury, the greater the cost. You got a cut? $5 and you’ll feel better while it heals. Sprain? $75. What about a concussion? Those run around $250, and sometimes leaves me with a sense of vertigo. Then we get to the more serious stuff. Gunshot wounds might end up costing you $1000. Anything more serious, you better break open that Piggy bank, your healer is going to need some serious compensation.
We don’t charge to fix your problems, but we do charge you if you want us to take some of the responsibility. We’re not like the American healthcare system, we’re cheaper and more reliable. But we’re still just as spiteful and angry.
|
It all started in middle school when Jayden broke his ankle on the yard. It was a nasty break I could hear it all the way from the other side of field. He cried a bunch but once he saw me running up he stopped and flung his arm at me, then pointed to his ankle. "Oh yeah is that where it hurts? Thanks for pointing I wouldn't have known." He was in too much pain to acknowledge my assholery and instead he just stifled sounds of pain through his clenched teeth. I rolled my eyes and knelt beside him; knocked off his shoe and rolled up his pant leg. I put one hand on his shin and the other on his ankle (most healers say put both hands on the affected area but what do they know). I close my eyes and focus in real hard. I dont know how long I was at it until Jayden punched me in the arm, "Ow what the hell!" I yelled.
I looked at his ankle and it was fine, regular ol' Jayden ankle. "You know you dont have to be such an asshole just hurry up an heal me," Jayden said with a smile. "Oh I'm sorry was I too slow for you? Maybe I could have kissed your booboo too before I started. Jeez I ought to start charging you for this."
And just like that we were in business, by the time we got to freshmen year me and Jayden were rolling in dough. most of the time when anyone gets hurt they go to the school nurse healer, but if anything serious happens like a broken bone you get in trouble and they call your parents a crazy stupid rule that they reason with: you cant put yourself or other in harms way. I guess its targeted at the meat head knights who always cut each others arms off. Whatever, if anything that rule is what drives my business, people want to fight but get hurt and when they get hurt instead of getting in trouble they throw me a few bronze pieces (silver for below the belt) for a few minutes of healing.
Jayden, being the popular mage kid, knows everyone, which means everyone knows us. its crazy, in one day of battle practice we make 50 bronze, every time we go on a coliseum field trip, at least 70. And dont get me started on the wizards clubs, yeah the may be nerds but they fight viscous, they also have a LOT of bronze to spare. So far not a single professor expects me of anything, but I have heard a rumor that there is another healer transferring to this school. Better not get in my way I'm saving up for a mount!
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Underated270
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Zootnuw
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2023-01-20 04:17:28
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2023-01-20 00:22:41
| 24 | 14 |
j53p9xq
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j52tl3r
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10g50dq
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10g50dq
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