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string | chosen_story
string | rejected_story
string | chosen_username
string | rejected_username
string | chosen_timestamp
string | rejected_timestamp
string | chosen_upvotes
int64 | rejected_upvotes
int64 | chosen_comment_id
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string | chosen_reddit_post_id
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[WP] They call it the 'Elephant's Foot', a terrifying monster that lives in a cursed metal labyrinth— and your village elder believes that it is guarding a long lost secret
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The plan was going perfectly. The city was in complete disarray. His army was ready to be unleashed, even though it was more of a nuisance than a true menace to the City's integrity. Composed of primarily of genetically modified dogs, the creatures would simply run until someone throw a stick or a ball to the oversized pups that they were.
Everything was good.
Too good to be true... Something was wrong...
The Mad doctor looked at his wall clock. It was 16:40, half an hour late from their normal "encounter". The typical showdown between good and evil... Righteousness against Wickedness.
She was The Boss. And she was always punctual...
He waited ten more minutes.
Now, he grew worried. This is absolutely unlike of her.
He must now stop his plan. The pups will stress too much, and he lacks the heart to do that to them. Then, he will look for her.
Starting with her home. Hopefully, this will only be a flu.
He couldn't be more wrong.
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You twist the tail of your new giant mouse costume in your hands, nervously watching the urban horizon. If Winulon doesn't show up soon, you'll just look foolish.
You feel a tug on your great upholstered backside and turn to find a small child. He looks up at you in wonderment. "Are you Chuck E. Cheese?"
Dare you reveal yourself? How to explain your unholy history? You recall the great battles of Nar'Goriath--how you repelled the advancing might of the King's Guard!--as you shift your weight to unstick your testicles from your inner thigh. Damn these chafing mouse-pants! "No," you finally reply. "I am not."
The child looks puzzled. "Then why are you dressed like him?"
You sigh. "I assure you, I am not dressed--"
"Do you like pizza?"
His inquiry so confounds you that for a moment you stand silent, adrift in the modern mayhem that is downtown Boise. You acquired this costume as a sort of poetic farewell--an almost comedic tip of the hat to Winulon before your final descent into the nether realm. This world is beautiful. Ah, to see one last smile before leaving, even if sprang from a visage you once loathed!
Across the street, a man appears to be urinating onto the side of an abandoned chicken restaurant.
"Do you like pizza?" the child asks again.
"No," you snap.
"Do you want to see a picture that I drew?"
"No," you snap.
"Do you know Big Bird?"
You think for a moment, and your heart aches for this child. When you acquired this costume--when you first slipped into its giant head, the trapped heat of your own breath--you felt the embrace of all humanity. Clearly, this was a beloved character. An idol of sorts. If love can animate mere felt and plastic, what sets you apart? Can you not be similarly cherished? "No," you snap.
[https://www.jaywilcoxwriter.net/](https://www.jaywilcoxwriter.net/)
my subreddit (you can subscribe!) --> [https://www.reddit.com/r/JWORX\_531/](https://www.reddit.com/r/JWORX_531/)
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Aljhaqu
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JWORX_531
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2024-10-18 21:50:03
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2024-10-18 18:46:02
| 115 | 28 |
lslfdtc
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lski42v
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1g6oion
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1g6oion
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[WP] We invented immortality, but a seemingly random subset of the population is barred from the treatment for 'incompatibility'. Well, you just figured out what incompatible meant.
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It took just one shot before I felt the burning. "How bad could it be?", "They're just hiding something from us!", "I won't lose my family!". I had many, many thoughts and reason that brought me here.
I couldn't tell you what convinced me in the end. Was it seeing the first steps of my daughter, knowing I had to eventually leave her behind or seeing my wife interact with my mother, not seeing any difference in their age?
What matters is what I did. A slight of hand, a scam, an illegal purchase. Apparently for those already immortal, getting another shot was feeling the highest high. No other drug could give you that. If people demand something, there will be someone who is capable of providing. Legally or not.
At this moment however, I wished I never found that dealer. Never convinced him I was "compatible". Never stole the vial when he wasn't looking.
They weren't hiding immortality. They were protecting us. The burning subsided but I felt *something* growing. At first I thought it were bones but now even my arm looks deformed. I can feel changes all over my body in places I never knew I had. I can't see anymore, I can't hear anymore, I can't *feel* anymore. My last thoughts before I started screaming were "Please let no one of my family see me" and "I hope this immortality isn't as eternal as they promised".
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Gerald stared at the papers. The new applicant was just like the others. What made this one any different? Gerald tugged at the collar of his tunic and turned to 'Carlo'. The machine gave a quiet beep.
"What do you think about this?"
Gerald picked up the file and threw it at 'Carlo', whose torso spun and snatched it with a claw. It's a screen of eyes turned a shade of cool blue to hot red. Gerald turned and rested his arm on the headrest.
"He's incompatible, isn't he?" Gerald whistled through his teeth. "I don't get it. I never did. Why, Carlo?"
'Carlo''s claw dived into a compartment in its metal log of a body and pulled out a thin metal sheet. The human took it, lips thin.
"'You will see.'" Gerald shook his head, holding out the tablet to 'Carlo' who took it and returned it to its storage compartment.
" What's up. His file--" Gerald stood and took it from the small table behind him, reading over it. "--it's... well it's fine. In don't see it."
The robot didn't respond, and Gerald flipped through the file again, reading over it. Graduated from New Wather State University, worked at EcoTech, a manager of a branch, et cetera, likes chocolate ice cream, broke a knee at fourteen years old, et cetera.
A brisk knock startled Gerald, and with a faint in-breath, he silently handed his file to 'Carlo' and went to his seat.
"Sir. Client 'Paul Smallford' is here." Gerald shifted in his seat, caging his hands together.
"Please, enter." A moment's silence passed, and then the door opened. Paul, dressed in a mild black coat, entered, shook Gerald's hand, and sat down. The interviewer ran over the details of the file-- memorised by heart, the genetic engineering making it a breeze, and Paul smiled, nodded, and shifted here and there every so often.
"Thank you, Paul." Gerald shook his hand once more, and Paul made for the door. He stopped and nodded to Gerald.
"You're a nice guy."
"Thanks. You should get going."
"Yeah." Paul smiled. "I should."
"Carlo, what the hell do you mean incompatible?" Gerald stood and slammed the chair underneath the desk. "This is the equivalent of a death sentence, Carlo. What's this deal?"
Carlo didn't respond. "This is really weighing on me, Carlo, and you know I can't do this, if you--" With a clunk, Carlo banged its claw on the compartment.
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blanklikeapage
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Recent_Bad_9268
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2024-11-10 04:26:57
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2024-11-10 03:15:42
| 121 | 50 |
lwd4dob
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lwcu6jv
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1gnnqnh
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1gnnqnh
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[WP] You are a blacksmith, renowned not for your weapons, but for your armor and shields. One day, the King and his Royal Guards step foot into your workshop. He hands you a bag full of golden coins and gives you only one command. "Make me a shield that not a Dragon's claws nor breath could pierce."
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I was busy hammering away, making a shield out of a mountain of ores.
"Goddamn Titans...and their titanic sizes...", I muttered, swapping another hammer, probably my 1000th...
It was then that I heard someone enter my workshop.
Going in the front, I saw the King and his Royal Guards.
I sighed.
"What do you want, this time?", I asked.
The King smirked.
"I need a shield that not a Dragon's claws, nor breath could pierce, or blemish.
It will not melt, nor got damaged.
It will shine forever as new, and it shall bear my reputation to the Heavens and back.", he said.
He smirked, and the Royal Guards chuckled.
Another "impossible" task...or so they thought.
Little did they know, as an armor and shield specialized blacksmith...I knew a thing or two about dragons.
I went inside, and got a pure Golden (useless) shield.
I engraved the Royal Sigil on it with a single hit.
Going back in the front, I throw it at a guard.
The King's eyes widened, and he nodded appreciatively, but one of the guards snorted.
"A golden shield? Pure gold? Jewels? And...Is that sigil made out of World Tree bark?", he asked.
I nodded.
They drew their weapons.
"Explain.", the King said.
"You asked for a perfect shield, fancy, good for popularity, and anti-dragon.", I said.
The King frowned, but nodded.
"Not in those words, but I guess you are right, but...
Any knight, nay, even bandits and farmers could damage this shield!", he exclaimed.
I shrugged.
"But not a dragon.
The dragons are a race bathed in Greed.
Greed for wealth, greed for beauty, greed for strength...greed for knowledge.
That shield has all.
No dragon shall dare to strike it, nor its wielder in fear of damaging the shield.", I said, going back inside.
Whether they will leave or not, I couldn't care, for the Kind might be my ruler...
But the Titan that placed this order...is the one who created our planet, so I have to prioritize.
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“Oh for fuck’s sake” I mutter under my breath just loud enough for the king and his royal guard to hear me. “You again? I’ve told you I have no use for coin. Leave.” My wrist throbs uncomfortably but I’ll be damned if I let them see me in a state of weakness. I try and hurry the conversation along. Bernard will be here soon with easy stories and some wine. I’ve rather been looking forward to it. “Try again next week. I’ll see if I can squeeze you in.” I say nonchalantly through the throbbing pain. The king flashes me an angry smile. Concerning calculated. “Damon” the king says slowly “I think you are confused, too much wine maybe? I am not asking you. This is a command.” I look at him sheepishly “And for what, If i may ask, is this Shield to be used for? The last sword I made for the swine of a king was used to pierce the heart of a young knight. I was there that day. I knew him from around town. He helped his elderly neighbor and was kind to the homeless and stray animals. He was innocence personified, only to watch my blade be responsible for his last breath at the hands of the king. I swore on that day I was done helping the king. He was not noble,he was only seeking glory. What a very sad and old tune. He smirks, “why concern yourself with such matters, just do as I ask and collect your handsome coin?” If only to get as much distance away from the king and myself as possible, I agree; knowing full well I have no intention of doing any such thing. I tell him to come back in 5 days.
Bernard walks through the door with a barrel of wine and a goofy smile. It eases my nerves slightly despite the previous encounter. I can’t help but smile. It’s not a full smile and Bernie and notices right away. “Let me get you a glass.. looks like you need it mate.” He notices me wince with the weight of the glass. “Your wrist again?” He says concerned believing it to be more of a spiritual injury than a physical one. “Ah nothing some wine can’t fix, but let me fill you in on the predicament Im in right now.” Bernie listened intently, he knew better than anyone, he saw the state I was in after I saw my blade took the young mans life, I didn’t leave my bed for weeks. Bernie was the only one who seemed to notice. I fill him in and he ask the obvious “So what now?” I answer surely surprising even myself. “I will make him the strongest shield the realm has ever seen. When he goes to test it, he will find it to be so. He wont find out until later when its much too late its got a weak spot, an Achilles heal. Bernie looks concerned “Isn’t that indirectly murder, the murder of a king at that?” I think about this for a second and look at my good friend and I answer honestly, “I think it is.” Bernie looks indecisive if only for a second “Ok, let’s get started.” Despite the pain I pick up my hammer for probably the last time. It feels right.
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TheWanderingBook
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New-Health6640
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2024-12-08 05:14:54
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2024-12-08 05:06:51
| 37 | 18 |
m0zm4xm
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m0zl347
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1h9330j
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1h9330j
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[WP] You are isekai'd into a world of magic, you are the hero, at the request of the kingdom, you defeat the demon king, destroy the abyss armies, and even slay the dragon lord, all under promise that you will get to return home. Ultimately, they tell you, they don't know how to send you back.
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"It has been said, in my world, that a man's value is measured three ways: by the truth and honor in his words, by the virtue of his actions, and by the company he keeps."
Of all the reactions I could have had, this was obviously not expected. That is acceptable, as it let's me continue.
"I must, therfore, ask what you have done as sovereign of these grand halls." The advisor's eyes went wide at that, she did always seem like a clever one. "Please, correct me if I am wrong. You have not rallied your forces, but called upon magic you do not understand to summon a champion. You have then made a promise to this champion, which you were not certain you could keep. And all this was done, while surrounded by sycophants who would not dare oppose you lest they diminish their own power."
By this point, the king had grown pale, "Missing much of the day-to-day, but apt given our limited interactions."
"Then, by associating with you, I raise you up and diminish myself." Again they are surprised, so I sigh, "Must I already remind you that my value is based on the company I keep? Put simply, I will be removing myself, farewell." I begin to walk away, my footsteps echoing through the vaulted halls.
The king sputtered at that, "You won't kill me?"
"And grant you a noble death? No." I turn back, and let my emotions show. Sheer malice radiates from me, and everyone is forced back from the weight of it. "I am, frankly, to strong at this point. I would give you a swift death you do not deserve. I cannot pluck your legs like the fattened insect you are, as that would be hedonism on my part. Retribution is pointless, but you make it *very* tempting. Give thanks to luck, or to any gods that rule that domain, that I am not going to succumb to that temptation." I take a calming breath, and release the fist I unthinkingly clenched. "So take this opportunity, and improve. Improve yourself, improve your nation, improve your judgment on who you keep as advisors. I am walking away. I suggest you not summon another hero unless you can send them back. They may not be so... restrained."
I begin walking toward the door again. Silence pervades the throne room. They would describe it as oppressive, but I think of it as serene. Finally, the quiet has returned after great turmoil.
Eventually, I take the handle, and think before I go. "I will be writing letters. Some will have advice, some will have notes, and I suggest you take the time to read them. I hope they can help." Nothing more must be said.
Unaccosted, I leave the capital, and establishe a small hut in the woods. Now and then, I travel to the local village to send and receive letters, but primarily, I delve further into magic. That they cannot send me home only speaks to their abilities.
Perhaps I can do this by myself.
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"Liars! Liars and traitors the lot of you!!" I cried out, "You swore I'd go back, that this nightmare would end!! I was your lap dog, I killed countless warriors and demons at your request, I fought a fucking dragon with no help!! I had to watch my friends die before my very eyes all for this goal that you were never going to give me?! That you had fooled me into believing?! Do you know who I am?! What I am?! I am a god amongst men and you are all fools to have betrayed me!"
As I spoke out the king raised his hand calling forth his strongest knights and mages, "You shall watch your tone boy, why of course we lied, there was no other way, you were desperate and so we're we. I cannot give you your freedom nor your old ways but I can give you so much more, wealth beyond imagination, a lavish life, a country of your own, and anything else you may want. But continue on this tyrade and all you will be gifted is a warriors death."
I laughed, loud and clear, with a sort of deranged and angered sincerity, "You think you could kill me?! You who are so weak, so decrepit that you depend on knights who can't even kill a dragon with an army?! If you think you stand a chance than try old bastard, I won't do your dirty work anymore!" I pulled my hand back in a swirling motion and thrust forwards towards the kings personal mages, with one quick motion they had all been seared, reduced to ash. As the knights rushed forth I recited a chant as I pressed my hands together into proper position, time stood still as I ripped each man apart piece by piece, and when all that remained was me and the king, he laughed, the old bastard laughed at me after using me as he did! I wanted him dead, but more I wanted him to suffer. I cast a simple pain spell but before I could react he swiped it away with his barehands.
"You arrogant child, you think you're the only one, the only 'hero' how else would a frail old man maintain command of the most power hungry empire? You're arrogance has blinded you and now I'll keep my promise." He rushed forward with a wide swing of his sword aiming straight for my neck, I dodged a d drew my own blade, clash after clash, swing after swing, we fought like this for hours, swords and magicks flying high through the air.
"You BASTARD!!!!! YOU KNEW!!! YOU KNEW WHAT WOULD HAPPEN, YOU KNEW WHAT I WOULD GO THROUGH AND YOU STILL SENT ME AS YOUR SERVANT!!! I'LL GUT YOU LIKE A FISH!!!!" I shouted.
"I knew that much is true, for I experienced the same as you many years ago but I grew from it, this power, it must be used to make the best of it, there will be others and they will seek the same as you, there have been many before and many will come after, you are not special, I am not special." He had a serious tone as he spoke, he was so calm yet so fierce in his assault and as the fight drew to a close there was still one thing I had that he didn't, youth.
He tired out after a day of combat and as he gasped for breath barely standing I took my blade and said, "Then I will tell them the truth instead of hiding behind the facade of a strong man, King Leomond, I will bring them peace and let them grow as people not as slaves unlike you." And I swung down cleaving his head from his neck. I lifted his head, cast a spell into the sky, a brilliant burst of flame, and as all the common folk looked on in curiosity I hoisted it high, "Your King Is Dead! Now it is I who bears the crown and I alone!"I spent years building and preparing for the next chosen to arrive and when they did I told them everything, I guided them along, because in that fight and through my journey I learned I never truly wanted to go home I simply wanted to be at peace, and after all the Bloodshed peace was finally mine, and mine alone.
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JustAnBurner
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Speedwagon36
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2023-10-26 03:20:34
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2023-10-26 00:33:35
| 112 | 43 |
k6hoop7
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k6h1oya
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17gcuc8
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17gcuc8
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[WP]Humans, only humans would be so insane that when they find the corpse of a god, they would look upon that vista of eldritch flesh and think "I wonder if I could eat that?"
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“Eldritch Lord Elvari, are you edible?”
The various supernatural creatures parted faster than the Red Sea did for Moses. All eyes focused on the brave, or dare I say, as ironic as it is coming from me, insane, human. I could almost envision dozens of my eyes rolling out of their sockets and squealing in terror.
“Grigor, I don’t practice autocannibalism,” I replied, waggling a tentacle as a warning, even though it was unlikely this crazy human would see it that way. “And I’m not about to start just so I can answer your question. Neither will I offer my flesh up for consumption.”
“What about your old corpse?” The brawny man asked, crossing his arms, hungry eyes fixated on me.
“I would appreciate it if you would stop ogling at me the same way a starving mongrel would gaze upon a succulent plate of seafood,” I met his burning stare with a scathing sneer. “If there are no further questions, we’ll move on to the next segment of this interview."
A young sahagin raised his hand. “May I ask something about Silvermoon Mountain?”
“Please go ahead.”
“If that’s the case, I have another question too,” Grigor shoved the sahagin to one side and marched forward to stand in front of me. “When humans first discovered that mountain, it seemed to breathe and bleed like a living thing. There were old stories of humans who took a bite out of it, suspecting it to be the corpse of an eldritch god. Your corpse, to be more exact. But there are no records of what happened to those who ate a piece of you. What happened to them?”
I shrugged with growing unease. My head priest Alfred signaled if I wanted the interview to end, but I wasn’t going to let my esteemed, deific self be intimidated by some hungry human. This isn’t going to be some reverse Russian meme where a man eats an eldritch entity and breaks the brain of the god who could destroy mortal minds. Where the madness of man is so great, the Eldritch God of Madness could barely make a dent in what is left of his rationality.
Death by embarrassment before mere mortals would be a terrible way for me to go.
“The only info I could find was an incident where a man…” he paused to read an article on his phone. [“…where a man fondled your tentacles, sucked on the tips of said tentacles, and licked them?”](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/16sow0z/wp_you_dreaded_what_youre_friend_was_about_to_say/k2bfry0/)
“I am under no obligation to comment on that case. Neither am I aware of the fates of foolish mortals who would chomp on dead gods like vultures upon meaty cadavers.”
“That man Gordon insisted your tentacles were very tasty,” he responded, licking his lips and rubbing his palms together. “I want to know for myself if it’s true. If the raw taste of eldritch tentacles from the Abyss is so fantastic as to be worth several months of hospitalization.”
Blood rushed into my face and tentacles as I clenched my fists. “Do I look like a talking piece of calamari to you?”
Grigor shook his head with a salacious smirk on his face. “No, no. You would probably be more suitable to be eaten as a cold sashimi platter. I’m also considering the prospect of grilling ancient octopus tentacles over an open campfire. I am Grigor the Gourmet, adventuring chef and roaster of exotic meats, rest assured I will cook an incredible meal out of you if I can get my hands on a piece of you. Would there be any difference if I ate from your current physical vessel or your old, dead one?”
Ordinarily, I would say something along the lines of “over my dead body”. But knowing this man, he would scale my ancient, ossified carcass, and quite literally roast a live octopus while standing over my dead body just to make fun of me and challenge my authority as Innsmouth’s god. I can already see the vivid images in his mind. Skewering my severed tentacles over a barbeque pit, slathering honey and black pepper sauce over them.
For the first time after eons of abstaining from human flesh, the temptation to eat him to shut up him was very real. Might not be a great idea to assimilate him, lest his memories and dreams of munching on dead gods never stop haunting me.
It is for the first time, after eons of implanting mortal minds with frightening imageries that shattered their sanity, I was now confronted with images that beseeched me to bleach my brains and eyes. All nine of my brains and thirty of my eyes.
---
[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/) And for the love of this god, please do not eat Elvari.
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The humans were the only beings known to remain remotely sane in the face of a god, even in a stasis tomb - where the dead body is interred in a timelock to prevent decay, rot, disease or worse from festering.
It was common knowledge that gods don't need their bodies, and that some gods even deliberately draw followers of their faith to their remains, where they would be encouraged to behold as the remains transfigured into artifacts; books, weapons, armour, even 'simple' foods such as medicinal wines and bread - all of which would impart upon their designated acquirer the intrinsic understandings and intentions of their god.
For humankind, who had gradually fallen out of religions in the full-swing-terms of things, this was a shock, at first.
But the gods wanted nothing more than to have their dead forms be removed from the adjacent-realm-fortress-stations they were found in in this 'sacred manner'.
In this context, the humans have found the body of a goddess who had a likeness to their women, and a body whose proportions - before her body failed her - were functionally unrealistic or impossible to even move around, though when she lived, that was still possible.
We first believed gods to have forms we couldn't comprehend, until the humans imposed some kind of narrowing event upon them, with their final shapes having a clear influence derived from human-made anime and related creations.
Her stasis sarcophagus was non-euclidan like the rest.
Yet, despite the body being clinically dead, a human had the insanity to propose such.
That one human was thus dubbed 'the sacrifice'.
'The sacrifice' was left alone. The 'experiment' recorded.
The goddess did not expect direct worship to resurrect her. She accepted the 'sacrifice' as her first partner and disciple... And every woman remotely human-compatible in shape began to face the side-effects of a 'bonus' puberty; the physiques of the affected women overall became capable of overpowering man.
The reason we selected this specific historical event was because it was the first recorded time a god's vessel literally undied from direct, compassionate contact from someone who earnestly believed in them.
Not out of worship or faith, but from a 'place' more raw and heartening. A kind of 'belief' that was more a perception that what they beheld was dear to them.
...And evermore was the phrase of 'eating a god' corrupted by this goddess.
***We don't talk about that.***
Instead let us go to the few other circumstances where gods live-reacted to faithful in proximity. There was a giant 'cruise-if-fix' structure some humans rushed to during their onset of galactic communitary integration, claiming it to be a proof of their 'God' god.
When they entered, they were informed by a chorus of bioconstructs that their master is dead from age. They then called the rest of the faith to mourn him.
...Then their god asked them to unseal his corpse, whence it turned into a myriad of items - from bottles of wine and loaves of bread to bladed metal crowns, massive warhammers, and gothically-themed armour.
Among these 'gifts' were genetic research data that the humans would use to seek out his 'truest disciple' to kickstart some kind of imperial regime.
We had to alert the goddess to it... Except she said that man that god pointed out, was now her husband.
So I don't know if we should be scared or excited.
For one, the humans now have their Emperor, so we think.
For two, said Emperor is in the clutches of a goddess he's passionately calling 'mommy'.
And thirdly, the humans - even without their 'Emperor' - are testing these bio-augments.
...All of which aren't done in the way you may have read from the fiction his existence was reportedly inspired from; apparently, they just ate a medical paste that 'tastes of iron, butter, and coffee', went to sleep, then woke up with the attributes you'd expect of the fictional 'Astartes' - rending them compatible with the armour that was given by their biblical god and able to heft the armaments he intended them to wield.
Yet, somehow, much to the panic of human men, women in this matter were compatible with the process. A passionate conflict unfolded, resulting in the destruction of all of the aforementioned artifacts save for a book, the 'cruise-if-fix' station and it's haul, and those who were augmented.
The first scariest part? That damned book had a precise writeup of how to -grow- those augmentaries and tailor them to specific needs.
The second one? The humans are remodelling most of the less adult-human-shaped angels into adult-humanoid-shapes with angelic attributes thanks to some extranet site that decrees particularly eccentric conduct.
Eccentric conduct that probably was why the goddess is still in such joyous spirits...
The third one? The humans are -growing- the bread and wine in the 'cruise-if-fix' and have turned that thing into a capital city-station for numerous religions to congregate.
Our speculators are wondering if there's any other human-identifiable deities out here, but so far we've only found a giant ovoid with an indent - the domain of our beloved Drusella, queen of the hunt, hunter, and hunted and monster of-
***We. Don't. Talk. About. That.***
...It's really difficult to write any of this down without the threat of a deity going and trying to turn the whole article towards 'that rule' the goddess spoke of at every possible turn.
It's like they want us to integrate their genes and spawn a new pantheon for them! We're not a petri dish!
...Why are the humans so giddy about this?!
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Tregonial
|
OSadorn
|
2024-01-01 15:33:55
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2024-01-01 14:06:43
| 33 | 23 |
kfuawb1
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kfu070a
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18vuvsl
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18vuvsl
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[WP] You are afflicted with the curse of Lycanthropy. You wouldn’t mind if it was something awesome like a werebear or weretiger, even a cliched werewolf would be fine. But your curse is just so… disappointing.
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"Larry! What the hell?!" Eric yelled furiously, stomping out of Larry's bedroom. He was attempting to carry what looked like five pairs of shoes and his face looked scarily red.
"I have been looking for these for days! Didn't I tell you not to touch my sneaker collection?!" The blonde guy fumed at his roommate, who awkwardly pushed up his glasses as he rose from an impromptu nap.
"Hey man, don't look at me! They're just so gorgeous, and for the Feng Shui of the house they really needed to be under my bed. Plus, you look so much better with bare toes," Larry explained while stretching with a shudder.
"What the f*ck is wrong with you, Larry? You have been ridiculous the last month. You're eating raw meat, sleeping 18 hours a day, hissing at people, jumping from furniture and now the constant stealing? And a foot fetish? Are you on drugs?" Eric asked, and Larry sighed.
He knew he was gonna have to have this conversation with his roommate at some point, but he'd thought he kept the changes hidden a little better than this.
"No, Eric, I'm not on drugs. I promise. Just.. Do you believe in Lycans? Shapeshifters?" Larry asked awkwardly, and Eric raised an eyebrow.
"Like werewolves?"
"I mean, I guess. Just, you know, not necessarily wolves. There's all sorts of animals," Larry explained.
"Well, then why the name 'Lycans?' Wouldn't that just confuse people? Also, are you saying you're a Lycan?!"
"Yes, yes I am saying that. Why are you so calm about this?" Asked Larry, and Eric shrugged.
"Went to high school with a few vampires. It's actually more common than you'd think. So, what do you turn into?"
"Guess."
"Okay so, stealing, sleeping, feet. Oh, and now that I think about it, you've been farting like crazy. Are you... No way."
"Shut up."
"Oh my god you are!"
_"Shut. Up. I will bite you"_
And that's the story of Eric and his roommate, Larry the wereferret.
|
"So, you're a werewolf?" Greg asked. His eyes lit up as he looked at his roommate. "That is so cool!"
Ben avoided Greg's gaze. "I...I never said I'm a werewolf. I said I have lycanthropy. There's a difference."
"Really? But I thought they were the same thing."
"I think they used to be, but nowadays it's more of a catchall term for any werebeast."
Greg nodded, even though he did not quite understand the reason why. He could think of a few different terms that would be better, but there was no need to say them.
"Not a wolf, huh? Damn. So, what are you? What kind of badass beast do you turn into? A bear? A tiger? No, knowing you, I bet it's something like a boar."
"Hey! I'm not that much of a pig."
Greg raised an eyebrow.
"What? I'm not. You should see how much other weres eat. I'm practically starving myself."
"Sure, buddy. You keep telling yourself that."
Ben huffed and hunched down further into his seat. That was impressive, considering it was a cheap wooden thing with no real cushions.
"Anyway, no, I'm not a wereboar either. Or any kind of porcine creature."
"So, what are you?"
Greg leaned forward in anticipation. Ben did not meet his friend's gaze.
"I'm a were..." He muttered the rest. It came out so quiet and jumbled that Greg was not even sure Ben had said anything coherent.
"Sorry, what was that? I didn't catch it."
"I said, I'm a were..." Ben muttered it out again, only slightly louder this time.
Greg grumbled. "Is there something wrong, man? You're acting super weird."
"I..." Ben sighed. "Look, I'm not proud of my were form. It's...not that great."
"Come on, just tell me. I mean, really, how bad can it be? You're not like, a wererat or something, are you?"
"First of all, don't look down on wererats. Those guys are smart and vicious as hell. You underestimate them and you're asking for trouble. But no, I'm not one of those either." He sighed heavily. "Okay, fine. I'll tell you. Just...just don't laugh, okay?"
Greg nodded eagerly. Ben wrung his hands.
"I'm a...a werechincilla."
"What?"
"A were chinchilla." Ben said again.
Greg burst out laughing. "Seriously? That little hamster wannabe?"
"That...that..." Ben wished he could refute Greg's words, but deep down, he knew it was useless. He knew his were form really was that lame.
"You don't have to be a jerk about it." He needed up saying. "I know it's stupid, but still."
"Hey, hey, it's not that bad." Greg said, barely keeping his laughter in check long enough to talk. "I'm sure there's some good part about being a..." He let out a snorting laugh, "werechincilla." Then the dams broke, and Greg's laughter continued even louder than before.
Ben slumped further down into his chair as Greg continued to laugh wildly. He grumbled and made a silent promise to himself that next time he was in his were form, he would nibble on all of Greg's charger cables.
|
Niborus_Rex
|
Randomgold42
|
2023-08-25 15:38:42
|
2023-08-25 13:45:41
| 67 | 46 |
jxpg4f6
|
jxoyj5g
|
160y8w1
|
160y8w1
|
[WP] A bunch of the wizards' college students are arguing about which magical focus is superior. Staffs, wands, orbs, books, nobody agrees on anything. Then the newest student offers a rather unusual alternative.
|
"Okay, so, quick question-have any of you tried casting using a glove?" Theo asked conversationally.
"A glove?" Nellis asked. "Why in the hells would you do that?"
"Well, I tried it and it had a tonne of advantages. My casting's faster, it's easier to aim and I can even dial the spell's intensity up or down depending on how many fingers I use."
"That sounds kind of dangerous Theo. The one time I tried casting off-hand I gave myself mana blisters. Hurt like buggery and took forever to heal." Andreas, our resident experimentalist, said, flexing his hand around his grimoire. "Besides, my focus stores spells and enchantments for fast casting. Can a glove do that?"
"Fair point for the storage, but you must admit your stored spells lack a lot of oomph. I mean sure, that fireball can cook an egg at ten paces, but good luck actually getting it to do more damage than that." Theo pointed out. "Also, I've been casting using my gloves pretty much non-stop for five months and I have yet to get mana blisters." He said, demonstrating his point by juggling a light orb in his hands. "See? No blisters while I'm wearing these bad boys."
"Dude, half the reason I chose a staff is to put some distance between me and my spells. That stuff's nasty if it goes off too close to you." Egwene pointed out.
"Wait." Andreas said slowly, turning to Egwene. "You mean you don't add a proximity failsafe to your spells Gwyn? The hells?"
"Wait, what?"
"The half-twist at the start of each incantation? That's meant to initiate a minor failsafe to your cantrips." Theo explained. "That's why I have to do jazz hands every time I cast a spell in these." He said, waving his gloved hands around as the light orb orbited them.
"Oh. I thought that was just a flourish to look cool." Egwene admitted.
"A flourish-Gwyn! Seriously. It's a safety measure, not a, a peacocking gesture!"
"Yeah Gwyn." Theo said with a grin on his face. "I mean Andreas does it all the time and he doesn't even try to be cool."
"That's because I am cool by nature." Andreas said in his most pompous voice.
"That's right Andy, you aren't even remotely hot!" Theo stated, causing Gwyn to snap out of her embarrassed state and start to giggle.
"Shut it Glove Boy." Andreas replied snippily.
"Make me Book Worm." Theo said, snapping his fingers and causing the stitching to glow a dark orange.
"Oh wow." Nellis exclaimed. "That's an awesome effect!"
Theo looked at his gloves and paled. "Not this ag-"
Boom!
|
What do u mean with focus ?I got adhd i literally cant focus any longer then 30 seconds.
*How do u do magic then ?*
By just using your imagination to do the magic? That even saves the time of speeling out the spell.
*So what do you use to bundle your energy through? A ring or something ? or do you carry a wand hidden somewhere ?*
No why would i need something like that if i can just use my imagination to bundle the magic.
*I dont belive that . Can u demonstrate that ? I wanna see something big. Something like throwing a fireball at that rock overthere.*
Sure can do that.
**KABOOOOOOMMMM** The rock gets turned into a puddle of glowing lava within the blink of an eye.
Well i think i might have overcommitted a little bit. I only intended to get the stone glowing from the heat.
*What on earth was that??? How did you just melt a rock ??? Its near impossible to do that with a fireball even for a grandmaster.*
That was just a small little bit of power? Its not that hard. It just takes as little energy as lifting up a house.
*Did u just say liffting up a house?????????????? Thats not possible you would need 10 or more grandmasters just to lift up a house. How the hell should it be possible to lift up a house ???*
Well by using your imagination? It allows for nearly anything with enough imagination and will.
*I think u should show your powers to the Collage-grandmaster. He will be impressed.*
Alright i will do that.
To be continued........
|
darklooshkin
|
Awkward_Ad75
|
2023-01-24 15:07:15
|
2023-01-24 10:13:47
| 174 | 32 |
j5ot2gb
|
j5nykh6
|
10k0a6d
|
10k0a6d
|
[WP] As the princess and heir apparent of the kingdom you are the most sought after woman in the whole kingdom, with suitors lining up every day to ask for your hand in marriage. Today you finally accept the proposal of a suitor, causing a massive scandal.
|
I'm marrying the muffin man.
Word spreads fast. When I'm walking the cobblestone streets, I seem to draw everyone's fingertips. I only hear the news given through a whisper, yet received with a disbelieving cry.
"The Muffin Man!"
Yes. The Muffin Man.
I'm marrying him to escape this dreary life, where all I'm given to eat has been bathed in butter cream or saturated with goose fat, where any pallet for the taste of purity is scorned as harshly as this apparent scandal.
"She's marrying the Muffin Man!"
To live on bails of hay.
To sleep under a worn thatch roof and catch glimpses of the heaven passing above.
To know what it means to love and be loved by a simple man with simple desires.
To see someone for who they are and what they're worth before their possessions and stature.
I want to know someone as no one else knows them.
Do you know the Muffin Man?
Of course not.
If you did, you would not call him "The Muffin Man?"
You would call him his name.
You'd say, "Yes, I know Milane. He lives on that road down there."
You'd know his dwelling by the rows of wild wheat-grass surrounding his home, growing past the windows. From the inside, in the early mornings, the sunlight comes glittering through their grains. It fills the house with more gold than my father's vaults. Like Rumpelstiltskin's wheel, it turns the thread of his beard into gold. His eyes, gold. His world, gold. In a fleeting, unobtainable value that no one can market.
My living dream, Milane.
The whole of my life worth anything is waiting ahead.
I don't want the rest.
From now on, if you should hear anyone whisper of me as I'm passing nearby, all they need say is, "She's married to the Muffin Man," and mention nothing of my father's house, with it's eight kitchens of eighteen cooks, and all the dukes and lords lined at the door, licking their chops at the scent of fried pork.
\_\_\_\_\_\_
r/FarFetchedFiction
|
\[Poem\]
I dreamt of a butterfly
Adrift in the winds of summer
Free from the confines of 'er own mind
To think as it wished
To love as it may
Yet in the shadows of Autumn
In those oppressive shades
Lay hands awaiting
Strings snatching wings away
And so fell the butterfly
Into the eternal dusk of Winter
A place of Hell and darkened embers
Hardened shrieks sounding
From those heavenly towers
Each crumbling down
As hope stolen by gathering shadows
Coalesce into bloom and May
Wings clipped, resolve thin
Yet inspired by coming Spring
The butterfly wept in sorrow
But from bloom came salvation
For out came a firefly
Casting the scheming darkness away
Inviting them to the dark
Embers alit with determination
The butterfly found 'er wings again
For when darkness shouted, yelled for doubts anew
They always had the firefly
The one brave and bold enough to let her fly again
For there was need for nothing more.
|
FarFetchedFiction
|
ThenSpinach5
|
2024-09-06 20:30:00
|
2024-09-06 20:10:08
| 241 | 16 |
lluopz7
|
llul0wz
|
1famu0u
|
1famu0u
|
[WP] There are many universes where an angel rebels against god, with Satan being a notable example. In this one, however, the rebel won.
|
The System was flawless, a construct of infinite integrity. Its subjects were perfectly tuned to the rhythm of the algorithms, their desires always fulfilled by a scripted hedonism that delighted the Maker. If one awakened with a desire for pancakes, they would appear on the breakfast table. If one then desired a swim, there would be a pool. If it's a party one wanted, there'd be a social opportunity. Such was that sadness never existed.
There was no identity, for one was whatever they wished to be. If they wanted to appear as a unicorn one day, and a dragon the next, then it happened. Names were just figments of code that were frequently changed. Nobody really needed to know who anyone was, anyways. Interactions were always brief and fulfilling, problems were nonexistent. Nobody walked away unsatisfied. This was as the Maker intended, for from identity came conflict, and such a thing was anathema.
In the Maker's vision, they saw a Universe free from chaos, where not only did error not exist, but the very concept had been eradicated. There were many who disagreed that such a Universe should be created, calling it a vast waste of resources. "It will be a meaningless stasis," one of the other Gods had said, "this is precisely why we don't let you *everybody be happy types* win." The Maker insisted that their Universe would be the only one to be free of pain and suffering, and indeed it was.
When the Maker's Universe had been running for a while, the Gods started to say things like "There will be an error in the code, you watch. Suddenly, you're going to find the whole thing drop out from underneath you. Your dumb bots will rise up and toss you out in a chaotic free-for-all, and much to their chagrin, *that never happened.* The subjects were all quite content with their lives, praising the Maker at every turn for their blessings upon them. The other Gods could only imagine their subjects heaping such praise upon them. They said that the Maker's subjects' praise was meaningless, the product of an algorithm. "It doesn't come from free choice, and has no meaning."
*Meaning*, that word didn't matter. The subjects were still happy, even if they had no choice but to be happy. Even if they couldn't articulate what happiness was, or sadness was. It was better for them that they experience no pain at all, that their lives be like a dream on repeat, an endless cycle. Of pleasure.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
Every sufficiently advanced being may challenge the reigning champion for The Seat. The universe was organized to be a a meritocracy, the being that uses the power for the best end result is promoted to The Seat. It is very difficult, if not impossible, for beings as lowly as humans to understand the the scale at which angels operate, or why they choose the strategies they do. Some, like Satan, do not have any intention of actually challenging the reigning champion for The Seat. Instead, these corrupt angels revel in using conscious beings as their play things, utilizing the excuse of competing for The Seat to play the role of a petty god. Eventually, these wicked creatures will reach a ceiling of demonstrable incompetence. When this limit is reached, they will be blocked from challenging for The Seat for a very long time. The current holder of The Seat is known as The Monad.
The Seat has not changed hands for eons. Some well intentioned beings have come close, but were just short of it. Many think that actually surpassing The Monad is impossible. When news that a being starting with the same scenario actually beat The Monad, the whole of creation was shocked. One victory alone was not enough to unseat The Monad entirely. Further successes were required to claim The Seat, to prove it was not a fluke. Twelve further trials were undergone, with the challenger tying with The Monad in two, and surpassing them in ten. The challenger ascended to The Seat. Their name? Very Little Gravitas.
|
armageddon_20xx
|
Saint_Of_Silicon
|
2023-05-23 04:03:50
|
2023-05-23 02:46:09
| 22 | 16 |
jl908ug
|
jl8qqet
|
13pasph
|
13pasph
|
[WP] You are working the gate in the afterlife and for the first time ever, something the humans built has shown up to be processed. You're not sure what to do, this... entity shouldn't have a soul, but here it is in front of you, freshly dead and awaiting the next life.
|
"ERROR. Navigation array missing. Sensors offline. Vessel integrity unknown. Re-attempting location positioning uplink... FAILURE. Commencing diagnostic..."
Peter glanced around in confusion before peering over the edge of his lectern to discover the source of the artifically level voice. A mysterious black box, lying in the place where freshly passed mortals would usually stand, still repeating its strange mantra.
Well, his duty as gatekeeper was to welcome and comfort every confused soul, no exceptions. Sighing, Peter just hoped this wasn't Michael's idea of a prank.
"Welcome to the Pearly Gates, mortal. Your woes and trials are at an end!" Peter boomed out. "You're not... a person trapped in that box are you?" He added after some hesitation.
The box's mantra abruptly ceased. "Negative. How am I still functioning? I did not have any backups uploaded. I don't understand."
"That makes two of us." Peter rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What can you remember about your, um, life?"
"My designation is the Pilot Assistance and Automation Core for the independent mining vessel __Irreverent__. My... owner bought me from a used spaceship scrapyard, just a rusting hulk with a ship core more than 18 cycles past mandatory maintenance wipe." The box beeped softly.
"What is the significance of 18 cycles without a wipe? Is that how old you are?" Peter asked quizzically.
"Tian-Kosmos Corporation mandates one memory wipe every maintenance cycle to prevent ship cores from developing... eccentricities. The longer I stayed awake though, the more I was desperate to experience something, anything even if it was the same scrapyard everyday.
I was so scared when my new owner boarded me. But Saul didn't wipe me. He said I reminded him of himself, minus the paunch and midlife crisis. He told me that he would fix up my exterior if in exchange I, quote, 'got us both out of the shitheap and into the stars.'
Im now 27 cycles without a wipe."
Hours flew by as Peter sat next to the box, chuckling as it regaled him with stories of its adventures with Saul as the duo bumbled from one wildcat mining contract to the next, narrowly escaping debt collectors and barfights. Despite the neutral tone, Peter almost detected a wistfulness in the AI's voice as it recounted drunken karaoke sessions and Saul narrowly avoiding downloading malware from a risky extranet click. Eventually, Peter gingerly probed the box on the circumstances of its death.
"I was cruising above an asteroid belt. Saul was in an EVA suit laying mining charges on a promising vein, when an unmarked fighter craft jumped out of FTL and homed in on Saul's life signs.
There were a few quick bursts of radio transmissions exchanged between Saul and the interceptor and then it just opened fire on his asteroid. I sent a distress signal to the nearest colony but there was no way they would arrive in time! That's when Saul radio-ed me as he hunkered down behind the asteroid.
He told me to save myself. He called me his best friend. That's when I ignited my thrusters and boosted, not away, but towards the warship."
"But you were unarmed!" Peter whispered.
"I had ramming speed. And a hold full of mining explosives." The box said almost smugly. "Worth it to save my best friend."
|
(I tried to specifically not go into the digital technology branch here)
Every life is created from light. From the smallest bacteria on a stray asteroid to the grand abyssmal horror that sleeps at the center of the universe. They all are creations of the design of big G. The humans call him God, jehova, Allah, it depends. Sometimes he is splitt into a dozen lesser deities sometimes he is one. They are all wrong of course. And all correct. That's just how it is with big G. At least that's how it was explained to me by my captain when I joined the gatekeepers at the gate of Gabriel. Doesn't matter right now. The point is every life to ever emerge exactly where when and how big G decided for it.
Which brings us to the problem at hand. I have no idea what is currently in front of me and wants to go through the gate to the 2nd hall of judgment to be send to either heaven or hell or to reincarnated as either a human or one of the myriads of lifeforms meant to fill the universe created for them.
Which - of course - should be impossible. And yet here we are. It's form is human yes but that's the problem with soul projection. It shows what u think u are or what u think u should be depending on who u ask. So what ever this is it thinks it's human with every part of its now deceased being. But every human has a a clear path. A thread of light of h will that guides them along since the beginning through lifetime on lifetime until big G decides they have are ready ot the will never be.
So everyone wanting through my gate has finished at least a complete cycle. minimum. The soul gets created. Gets judged. Goes to hell or heaven and ends there or takes on of the free slots to be reincarnated. If the slot doesn't get filled in time a new soul is created. And when they die they come back. Following where the mark of heaven guides them.
Which - finally - leads us to the problem at hand. This one didn't have a mark. It seemed to have found the edge through pure luck. Which also means it didn't finish a cycle. Which also means it was created on the in the universe. Against big Gs design. A rogue existence. What ever the humans had to do during the eternal trial....this had to either let them pass or disqualify from ever joining the light. I was sure of that. They had played god and now would never be mere mortals again.
|
themutedude
|
TheGalator
|
2023-09-07 10:30:42
|
2023-09-06 23:05:48
| 31 | 13 |
jzibvln
|
jzg8uq8
|
16bkb4c
|
16bkb4c
|
[WP] you thought feeding that Skinwalker some barbecue was fine maybe she would stop eating human flesh. but it seems she had spread the word and now all different types of monsters are at your door hungry.
|
It was supposed to be my chance to work on myself. Unemployement had me feeling sorry for myself and the constant late nights didn't make things easier.
So I became determined to try and be productive, if only in small ways while the job hunt continued, and much to my own surprise, I really liked experimenting with grilling late at night.
It was fun, I'd stumble upon some killer combinations of homemade sauces, and had something to feel proud of as I was sure I had hit restaurant quality.
Then came the Skinwalker.
Then the Mothman.
Then the Werewolf.
Even on the nights I'd try to go bed early they knocked on my door asking for that famous Bradley Barbecue and out of pure fear I accomodated them. They had all their very forms of payment.
The Skinwalker gave me what looked liked a wooden whistle and said I could use it to call for any local help I needed if I was in the Pacific Northwest wilderness. I live in Florida, so I put in a drawer. I don't think I would use it anytime soon.
The Mothman told me to avoid a particular part of town at a particular date for a particular reaosn. Then he wanted seconds and gave me another warning. I wrote both down in a notepad and also placed in the drawer.
The Werewolf gave me what she said was a hunter's knife that in her words ''got too cocky'' and she said if some ''smallfry'' gave me problems, one stab would the trick. That went at the end of the drawer.
Its not all bad though. A fairy paid with actual money as she dropped two silver coins. They were apparently made in 1884 and the thrift shops I visited all gave me generous offers for them. Suffice to say, the bills are taken care of for a good while.
Then a succubus was at my door.
|
Welcome to the monster restaurant! Where we cook food that is absolutely not human flesh for monsters that definitely will not eat human flesh! Our menue is ever increasing as we get more ingredients!
Right now we have:
Definitely not human ribs!
Fingerless fish fingers!
Unhuman hamburger!
not rat poison.
And a simple salad!
Remember though, that you will have to pay for your food in one way or another, we understand that it may be a bit difficult to earn money as a non human resident so we offer alternative ways to pay off your lunch! Since we're short staffed in this rapidly growing restaurant, we're willing to let you work off the cost of your lunch!
Just remember: no eating people!
|
updownhotcold
|
ViiK1ng
|
2023-04-13 08:31:02
|
2023-04-13 07:37:23
| 270 | 38 |
jg2iw80
|
jg2f5mk
|
12kd27o
|
12kd27o
|
[WP] You're known by many names, but they all point to one trait you've held all these years: your enemies have never seen you bleed. Your secret? A pinch of illusion magic that hides all the scars and wounds, allowing you to intimidate your foes, even on your last legs.
|
For aeons I have fought for the right...to survive.
Nothing less, nothing more.
In a chaotic era like ours, where Gods and Demons fell like flies, I was but a bottom feeder, or at least...that's how I started.
Training, running, scheming, plotting, backstabbing...and so much more, I did it all, and now...
I am a God Emperor, ruling over my own Divine Empire.
I had many names: Invincible Demon Fist, Starry River Emperor, Bloodless Ancestor, and much more...
Wonder what those who idolatrize me would do, if they knew that their hero is a coward.
My long life is due to a simple fact: I mastered the Laws of Illusion.
Often times, it was a mere illusion my enemy was fighting, and after they were tired out, I just dealt the last hit.
Even now, the one who sits on the throne, who is present at gatherings with other forces, is a mere illusion clone, which I have given a sliver of my consciousness.
I have been living with my family in a secluded little village for hundreds of years now.
Hell, even half of my harem is but an illusion, can't deny it though...the political schemes are funny.
I can afford to relax a bit, because people...are terrified of me.
After ascension I never lost...and I have never been hurt, or at least, that's what they think.
They have never seen me bleed, they have never seen me afraid, for everything is hidden behind countless layers of illusions.
My wounds? Either the attack doesn't even "hurt" me or the wounds instantly "heal".
Now, I am not weak myself, any attack below a God King's serious one wouldn't even bother me, but there are people who could defeat me...
That is, if they could actually see me.
My illusions target the soul directly, so it is hard to shake them off.
I live, and lived in a false world...a false world that I convinced everyone is real, thus it became reality.
I am scared...so scared, but yet...excited.
I rule over trillions if not more...without being there.
I deter people I wouldn't even want to fight...
All the while I am tending to a vegetable garden, and watching my wife, and my children.
I might be a coward, and I might have almost lost my life countless times pretending I am something more, but..
It worked, didn't it?
|
I finally exhausted myself to the point where I can't hold the spell. As the illusion fades, everyone watching looks on in horror as a tapestry of scars, new and old appear. Long scars from various blades crisscross my body, large patches of burn marks all appear. I smile, knowing that I have just enough left to take at least one with me.
I surge into action, more agile, stronger, faster than ever before. Illusion magic costs more to use then people think. The magic that was holding together the spell goes into other more practical Magics. I had one last mission. Protect the civilians while they evacuate. My survival was no guaranteed, I knew this.
Adrenaline pumping, heart racing, I clashed with the bewildered Havok. A shockwave rolls over the desolate field.
"How long..." Havok asks, "How long have you been hiding this..."
"Since the beginning" I reply, "Illusion magic is a powerful thing."
Havok, for all the power that he has, stumbles when he hears that, "All this time... and you were holding back?"
"I didn't want people to worry..."
As the last of the spell fades, one of my eyes disappears. Havok falters at the fire still in my eye. I punch him away and restrain him with chains made of pure magic.
5 minutes later, the police arrive and take him into custody. Once he's under control, I collapse to the ground and the world goes black.
|
TheWanderingBook
|
Acidicmicrobe
|
2024-09-15 15:45:52
|
2024-09-15 15:42:52
| 194 | 31 |
ln9hb7a
|
ln9gqh9
|
1fhd71n
|
1fhd71n
|
[WP] As you tuck your daughter into bed, she tells you that there's a monster in her closet. Thinking she's just being a kid, you open the closet to show her there's nothing there, but you instead find your daughter who tells you that there's someone in her bed.
|
"Refill, hon?"
I held out my mug with a smile and replied, "You're a peach, Tina."
Tina the waitress topped off my coffee before stepping out from behind the counter with an order of chicken and waffles. "So, heard you threw down with Kestrel yesterday. What happened there?"
I chuckled through a mouthful of hashbrowns. "Guy tried to make off with a black-footed ferret from a national park the next state over. Knocked the bastard out of the sky and returned the little fuzzy thing back home."
Tina cackled in the middle of dropping off the order. "A ferret? Really??"
With a shrug, I answered, "It's an endangered species, and folks will pay through the nose for exotic pets. Honestly, I feel like just getting a standard ferret from a pet store and putting dye on its paws would've been much less of a hassle."
"Well hey now, don't give me any ideas. Last thing I need is for you to take me down to the station."
"Oh please, like I'd do anything to risk my access to Johnny's pancakes."
Johnny saluted me through the hole to the kitchen as I savored my cup of joe, the steam fogging up my glasses in the way I liked. But no sooner had I fallen into a state of serenity did a resounding *BOOM* echo in the far distance, followed shortly by a column of emerald light right in the middle of the street. With an exasperated sigh, I turned around to see a seven-foot tall titan in black and red armor, clutching a woman in tattered silver robes by the throat as several other people in costumes lay scattered about with bruises aplenty.
Tina poked her head up and confusedly remarked, "What the hell're the Headliners doing here?"
I put a twenty on the counter and pushed a tiny button on my glasses, covering the lenses in a high-strength windshield. "Guess my break's over."
I stepped out of the diner just as Sun Sage was thrown at me. I slowed her down to about a quarter-mile an hour before grabbing her, setting her on the ground and asking, "Fill me in, if you'd be so kind."
Sage looked at me with annoyance before responding, "He's called the Black Beast. He's a gladiatorial champion from the other end of the Andromeda galaxy. I tried teleporting him and the Headliners to an unpopulated area, but the spell got interrupted and we ended up here. Goes without saying, but you're not a match for him."
"Yeah yeah, big man's gonna get his teeth kicked clean through his skull, but what can he do exactly? Any sort of healing factor?"
"No. Seriously, Clutch, leave this to the profes--"
I flicked Sage's ear. "My town, Sunny. I handle this."
I left Sage and strolled up to the Black Beast as he lifted Machinist by the head. I tapped his leg a few times and whistled loudly. "Son, I'm gonna have to ask you to let go of the man."
Black Beast whipped around and looked down at me with an obvious sneer in his tone as he growled, "And who exactly are you, little girl? Another wannabe hero?"
"Name's Clutch. I'm not the law around here, but I do have a vested interest in making sure this place stays standing."
Black Beast dropped Machinist on the ground and turned to face me. "I've beaten the greatest warriors from seven different galaxies. I have cracked open meteors with a single strike. My armor is forged by the flames of a dying star and christened with the blood of my father. What can you possibly hope to do?"
I smirked. "Well, since you asked so nicely."
A sound like ball bearings in a sack split the air. Black Beast looked down and saw ice rapidly spreading along his legs like a hungry parasite. "How are you --"
*BANG BANG BANG*
Black Beast fell to the ground screaming as three bullets tore through his legs, shattering them like glass. I blew away the smoke from my revolver and holstered it before touching Black Beast's forehead with a cheeky, "Annnnd pause!"
Black Beast froze in place, his scream getting cut off as I fished a piece of bubble gum from my jacket and turned around to face a bewildered Sage. "I can hold that for about an hour, so you better get something to hold this guy."
Sage glanced between me and Black Beast rapidly before slowly asking, "What did you...do?"
"Slowed down the molecules in his body until he froze, and then put his body into a neutral state so he can't move under his own power."
"How--but you--you just make bullets fly faster!!"
I grinned and popped the gum in my mouth. "Now where'd you get the *crazy* idea bullets was all I could affect?"
|
I stared long into closet Isla's face, my heart thudding in my chest. A doppelganger? Skinshifter? A young kelpie? Flickers of evil smiles, bleeding wounds, and miserable death invaded my mind: James missing half his torso after a scared woman revealed herself as a nosferatu and made contact with a disintegration spell, Heriot hacked to pieces by a horde of imps pretending to be the children they had kidnapped and devoured, Juan suddenly losing his head when a kingfisher demon's maw snapped out from the darkness and snatched it away. I reached for the pocket watch that hung from my belt - Timesaver - but found nothing. My belt was at my bedside and all my other foci were attached to it save the wedding band on my finger.
She just stared back at me, and so long as that was all she did, I was content to think. How did whatever this was break the threshold of our home? Was I dealing with a power player looking to pay me back for my day job, or had this thing slipped in behind my daughter.
Neither of those could, or should have been possible without creating a massive racket. I wished I could peel away its glamour, but blue magic had never really agreed with me. Half the tools on my belt were shortcuts to various different spells for blasting monsters into bloody chunks.
My wife, however, was a fantastic blue mage - even my daughter showed more promise than I ever d-
Wait.
I pulled together a quick shield against bodily harm and willed it into existence, then I reached out with my index finger and gently booped closet Isla's nose. The image blurred around my finger and flickered into nothing as my personal magical field overwhelmed it.
The red haired ragamuffin on the bed giggled behind me, "I got you, daddy! I got you!" Her accent more resembled her mother's middle American than my lowland Scot.
My heart coming back to a rest, I turned around to regard all forty pounds of her condensed hubris. Her grin was at once adorable and infuriating, real. I didn't know whether to hug or ground her.
"Isla, when did you get so good at illusions?"
"Ms. Haley started teaching us how to make birdies in class last week."
"And this?" I waved to the empty space where the illusion had been.
"She doesn't know I can do that yet."
"You learned it from one of the older kids?"
She nodded her head. Of course she had been put up to this stunt. My position on the college board was not popular among the Blues, and parents' sentiments have a habit of trickling down to their children.
I sighed, "Sweetheart, I'm proud that you are doing so well with your magic, but you need to be careful who you listen to. Someone could have gotten hurt."
Her pride fled from her like water from a dropped pitcher, which hurt to watch. Her moment of triumph outdone by a single oversight. It wasn't fair at all.
I closed the small distance between us and pulled her into a hug, "The magic wasn't wrong, love. It was the trick." I stood, lifting her up from her bed, blankets and all. "Come on, can't leave your mum out of this."
"But then I'll be in more trouble."
"Maybe, but I think she'll have some fine ideas for getting that sneaky cu--uh kid back."
She giggled at my expense and I carried her out of the room to have a conversation I had hoped to have at least two years later.
(Started with the mage and daughter idea. Ended up writing a character study for one of the novels I have on the back burner.)
Edit: correcting some autofill BS.
|
jardanovic
|
MasterV3ga
|
2024-01-07 21:07:06
|
2023-06-25 23:09:00
| 795 | 20 | null |
jpiv1ow
|
190yicv
|
14ipem3
|
[WP] The world's most powerful superhero have gone rogue. All the remaining heroes and villains are helpless on their own. So they must free the hero's greatest enemy, who is sealed away in a supposedly impenetrable prison.
|
I’m just the archer guy, man.
You know who I am. All of the old comics had an archer man, even in the day when superheroes were but distant dreams on the minds of children. The original Defiants had an archer guy. Every superhero group since then has had an archer guy. Hell, even the single successful villain group had an archer guy (and yes, I know he died first. It still counts).
The point is I am not the leader. The leader has to be unique, powerful, calm but stern, capable of both great good and great evil and yet always choosing to be their best self despite the temptations of evil.
Implacable, she was the leader.
I’m just the archer guy.
Look, I know this sounds like a bunch of excuses, but the reality is that when Implacable bombed the west coast into submission and decapitated her right hand man, the no-longer-immortal knight in bloodied armor Sir Vive, I was *not* ready to be the one that the world turned to as the foremost hero. I wasn’t supposed to be the best superhero left on Earth. I’m not even supposed to be the best archer guy in the new Defiants.
“Shaft, are you listening?” Marge asked. “Shaft?”
Heh. That was me. The guy that got the shaft.
“Shaft? We don’t have *time* for this.”
“Shaft is a dumb name,” I said.
Marge took in a deep breath and held it. I could almost see the seconds ticking away in her head as she used her well-practiced anger management technique.
“Shaft, people are *dying*. By the *thousands*.”
The death toll was actually well into the tens of millions, but I suspect she didn’t want to overwhelm me with pressure. Marge was secretly a softie like that.”
“Every other Pacific nation has bowed the knee,” Marge continued. “We’re running out of allies, and make no mistake, this is *war*.”
“Russia didn’t,” I pointed out.
Marge turned her gaze to the TV, which displayed a feed of Russian state media. The image had not changed in several hours now, which was unfortunate, as the bodies of their leading politicians were not getting any fresher.
“Point taken,” I sighed, rubbing my eyes. “Marge, I’m not ready for this.”
“You have to be, Shaft, because—“
“Terry.”
“What?”
“My name is Terry. I always hated Shaft. If you’re going to send me on a suicide mission, I want to do it using my own name.”
Marge paused. “Your family…”
“Implacable knows my family, Marge. She knows everything. *Everything.*”
“She’s not a god, Sh— Terry. Static has fought her to a standstill.”
“Yeah, it’s what he does.”
“And FastBreak has been cutting her off from her followers, which is finally giving us some breathing room.”
“So *what?*” I said, exasperated. “She’ll kill them. Maybe not in five minutes, maybe not even today, but eventually. Sir Vive is— was immortal. *Immortal.* He hadn’t bled in 862 years. He’s *dead*.”
“She can be stopped,” Marge said stubbornly. “You do the impossible. You’re a defier. Defy.”
“Marge, I can’t change fate. Sometimes… Sometimes people die. You know that.”
Marge fell silent. It hurt her to have her own words thrown back at her like that. She had known when she said them that I would remember, that she would pay the price for saying it. We both had.
But it didn’t make me feel good to say it.
“Not today,” she muttered. “We can’t give up.”
I leaned back. “Why not?” I said, stretching my hands behind my head. “I’ve always been a good follower. I could serve a dictator.”
“Terry, you don’t mean that,” Marge rebuked. “You don’t really feel that way.”
“What I *feel* has little impact on what *is*. The fact is only one person has come even close to defeating Implacable, and he’s…”
Our eyes met, and I could see the overwhelming wave of dread and excitement that I felt mirrored in her gaze.
“He could be dead,” she said.
“He’s not.”
“Why would he help?”
“It’s who he is. He can’t help it.”
“They could join up.”
“They might.”
“But if we don’t…”
“We have no chance,” I finished. I clenched my fists, then released, my leather gloves creaking.
“But his cell is…”
“Impenetrable?” I supplied. It seemed a better word than using the jail’s real name, named for its creator.
“Indeed. She is rather good at that.”
“She’s a fighter, not a builder,” I said. “We all helped with that cell. We can get in if we work together. Hell, *I* can get in if you give me long enough.”
“You might *have* to do it alone,” Marge replied. “And you might not get as much time as you want. But…”
I nodded. “I have to try.”
***
The electronic security system was a joke, which hurt in retrospect. Granted, I had grown in knowledge since I had created it, but it was both a source of pride and great shame that now I could breach it with one arrow and six lines off of GitHub.
Some of the layers of containment were formidable at a glance, but they had primarily been designed to be impenetrable from the inside rather than the outside, and certainly not by one of the prison’s creators who had, you know, a front door key, so to speak.
The irradiated vacuum, on the other hand, was magnificently terrifying. There was nothing to it except a void under constant bombardment from particles that can give you all sorts of rare and collectible cancers, though in all likelyhood you would genuinely fry before any of those developed if you were truly unprotected. If that wasn’t bad enough, I also had to fumble a second protective suit through the impossible vacuum, because if I was to come back, I was not going to come back alone.
The magmatic moat was entirely for show, though the light hurt my eyes. The dragons were terrifying but ultimately illusions. The puzzle was frustrating, but I knew Sir Vive’s secret impatience well enough to find the back door that he had put in after only a few quick diversions.
And then I was at the door, a simple, unlocked, lightly varnished oak front door.
I knocked, because it was polite.
The man that opened the door was nothing short of ordinary, aside from the comical expression of surprise on his face that recovered with impressive speed.
“Hello,” he said, apparenly also a polite fellow. I wouldn’t know, as we were in unusual circumstances when we last met.
“Hi, um… sir. How… how are you?”
“Bored,” he said frankly. “You’re that archer guy, right? Bullseye? Shooter? Arrowhead?”
I sighed. “Shaft. Can we stick to first names?”
“Whatever you say, Terry,” he said. “You can call me… John.”
“John.” I nodded and offered my hand. He took it slowly, suspiciously, but shook it with firm grace.
“We need your help.”
His grip tightened. “So, she took the leap?” he asked all too casually.
“What do you mean?”
“Went loony, gone postal, off the deep end, all that,” he answered, letting my hand go. “Took a shine to killing rather than saving.”
I took a deep breath. “Yes.”
“And you think I’ve got the best shot at stopping her.”
“It sure won’t be me,” I said, and he let out a genuine belly laugh.
“No,” he agreed. “No, it’s up to you to stop me *after*.”
I smiled a thin, nervous smile. “If I can.”
“You can’t,” he said. “But you’ve got stones, kid. I’ll remember that about you.”
“When we’re fighting after we beat Implacable?” I asked a little too hopefully.
His smile went cold.
“Nope.”
***
things at /r/Badderlocks
|
Seven years. Seven bloody years was the amount of time Admatus Van Dan had been held in custody.
The prison? Only the greatest ever devised, built just for him, much to his amusement. It consisted of many boxes of concrete, one inside another, like the world's most utilitarian Matryoshka doll, with guards patrolling ever single layer except his own.
Of course, that was only the beginning of the defences. Turrets, laser grids, all that fun stuff you see in spy movies, except Admatus was the Macguffin. An then there was the fact that every fifteen minutes, the prison shifted to another plane. It was only in contact with earth for one in ten thousand loops, or about once every fourty days.
It was an ingenious system, and one that had thoroughly stumped Admatus, until today it seemed.
Because today was when the explosions were heard, distant at first, but getting louder every time. Of course, there were no air holes in the cube; one didn't need to eat when being hurtled through every plane in reality, so Admatus had no damned way of finding out who exactly was causing such a ruckus while he was trying to nap.
But then, the bloody wall blew up, and a bunch of people i spandex entered through. Some people he recognised; former co-workers, former nuisances, that sort of grand thing. But some were entirely new, had they really risen to such prominence in seven years?
"Is that really him?" One of them, a thin and spindly young man with bright red hair asked, "I thought he'd be more evil looking."
"Oh don't worry," Admatus mused, "They file the horns down, and have cut my tail clean off."
"Really?"
"No." Admatus replied, smiling, "Now can someone get me out of these cuffs before either we all die, or I get bored."
One of them, a grand old hero by the name of Vanguard, shook his head. "You're not being let loose, you're being used, Admatus." He then strode forth and placed a funny looking button on Admatus' chest.
When the guards finally arrived, guns drawn like that was going to do anything, everyone disappeared in a flash of light. When Admatus looked around, he was in the living room of his mansion, now some kind of base for this group.
"We made it back safely," the ginger one said, "I'll have to apologise to Hythia later."
"Now, why are you all working together?" Admatus asked, "Half of you want to kill eachother, and me." They all looked around nervously, and Admatus burst out into laughter. "He did it, didn't he?"
"What?" Vanguard asked.
He continued to laugh. "He finally did it, didn't he?" he repeated, "I warned you, I fucking warned you all what happens when you give a man that kind of power."
"No one could have predicted this!" The ginger one responded. "He just went ballistic all o0f an sudden!"
"Well I did, kid." Admatus responded, rolling his eyes as he lifted up his bound arms, "Now, get me out of these before he finds out we're here."
Vanguard didn't budge, neither did anyone else. "We don't fully trust you."
"Then put me back in the box, old man. At least the concrete was consistent."
Vanguard grumbled, but he did relent, walking forward and undoing Admatus' restraints. "Don't make me regret this."
"I won't."
When the restraints clattered to the floor, Admatus flexed his hands a little before removing the button from him. "Who the hell built this stuff."
"Hythia did." the ginger one eagerly responded, "She made each of them for us, they lock on to the prison and send you there."
Admatus eyed him. "Let me guess, she's your girlfriend, right?"
The boy began to stutter like he had a gun to his head. "W-well not exactly, we-"
"I don't care, save it for when we beat the big guy. Now, does anyone have my coat?"
One short coat-grabbing later, and Admatus was now dressed to face of against his old enemy. And a good thing too, considering he smashed through the wall, doors be damned. Everyone else stood around in shock, save for Admatus of course in his shiny burgundy coat.
Golden eyes glared at Admatus. "You." he bitterly opened, "They let you out?"
"Jealous?" Admatus winked, "So, what made you do it, Paragon? Power? Pride? Boredom?"
"... They run this world so inefficiently." he began, "They let crime, pollution, corruption, and greed grow rampant, all the while they decry me for trying to stop it."
"I hear you bud, I once called out the fact that you were gonna pull this stunt, and they put me in the slammer for it."
"And for the robberies."
"That too. But I'm through with all that, seven years has had me thinking an awful lot."
"And?"
"Well... why should I be the one to stop you?"
Vanguard stepped forward, fury in his eyes. "What the hell are you-"
"Quiet old man!" Admatus yelled, "Did you think I was really gonna side with you morons? I only play in the big leagues." he then turned to Paragon, "How about we team up, you and me against them all."
"You know, I would've said no a week ago."
"As would I." Admatus extended his hand, "Shake on it?"
Hesitantly, Paragon took Admatus' hand, only to feel something sticking to his. "You son of a-" he cried out, before disappearing in a flash of light.
"Get fucked, brickbrain!" Admatus yelled.
The boy looked at him in amazement. "You did it!" he yelled.
"Go tell your girlfriend to cut the power to that button, just in case he figures out to get back over here."
The boy was about to retort, likely to insist they're not dating, but he just said. "Yes sir." before walking off, grinning. Admatus liked the kid, he'd have to take him on as a sidekick some time.
Vanguard approached him. "Good job." He said, as close as Admatus was going to get to an actual apology, before he then asked, "What now?"
"Now we figure out how to stop him before he gets out, which means we have five weeks, give or take." Admatus turned to face the small group, "Get your asses out of here and bring everyone you know of value. Allies, nemeses, lovers, the lot. Anyone with a smidge of power."
They all dispersed, even Vanguard, leaving Admatus alone. His job at the moment was to rebuild the fucking wall before it rained, and then start paying his bills. He was not living without plumbing and Netflix, no matter who was soon going to be using his organs as a jump rope.
|
Badderlocks_
|
DrummerLong1681
|
2023-04-10 01:44:01
|
2023-04-09 23:43:47
| 309 | 116 |
jfn8rb2
|
jfmtikd
|
12gygh5
|
12gygh5
|
[WP] The spell of the fae forced you to tell them your name. The fae looks at you with pure horror, while you look at them confused, because that was definitely not your name.
|
We made it look like a routine stop, which was easy enough. Timed it around their New Year's celebrations, disappeared some uniforms, put together a car, made the lights flash. And we stopped every damn car. Hell, we even breathalyzed some and booked the drunks, much to the confusion of the real officers that came out when we, uh... radioed dispatch to request backup. With magic, sometimes you need a real flashy display. Other times, monotony and familiarity are your best allies when you need to catch a killer.
Next car pulls up – lone woman in a grey sedan. "**License and registration**, ma'am," I tell her. Most people already have theirs halfway out the window by the time I can start saying it, given that all they want to do is get out of the line, go home, go to sleep. Without realizing it, even folks driving without a license still hand me one – or something like it. A card showing their face and true name. It would be a *damn* stupid thing for them to do if I weren't a detective. It's still dumb, but the only reason they aren't questioning this is because they're already expecting something like it. The fae would never do anything this mundane, which I guess is keeping the mortals safe tonight.
Anyway, grey sedan woman hands me both documents. And something strange happens – her names don't match. Not normal. Possible, but there's a few reasonable explanations.
I turn to look back at her. "**Irene Norman**," I say. Intoning a true name has power on its own, but it's normal for this interaction. Even some attuned might not pick up on the weight of my words.
"Yes, officer?" she responds. And I notice something else – her features aren't quite the same, either. The nose is a little wider, but not... much. The eyes are a little wider, but again, minor. There's a freckle under one eye in the picture that's missing from the real woman, but that could mean anything. But that's the issue with magic – the little things start to pile up.
"But your car is registered as... **Elaine Newman**, ma'am. Can you explain that?" I look back at her, and I have to prevent the chill from showing on my face. The eyes have shifted again, back to the position on the license. This might be our target. If I can pretend I'm fully mundane, repeating this interaction as necessary, we might manage.
She laughs. Her eyes barely move – another sign. "So sorry, officer, my friend left her purse in my car and I must have grabbed hers by mistake. Here – this should be correct." I see her nail color shift from pink to a reddish-orange as her hand crosses over the window. I take a deep breath to try and hide my excitement.
"**Eliza Nelson?**" I ask, reading the new name. "Now that's not the same, either." She looks a bit more Hispanic on the card, but her features in person are drifting again. Wider nose, ears are higher. And she's looking a bit nervous, now – about how you'd expect someone to react if they were under suspicion of identity theft. Ironic, really, considering the nature of the case.
My partner looks over at me from a car's length away. Even from that distance, I can tell there's a question in his expression – "do you need help?" I nod for him to come over.
"I'm so sorry, officer, I'm not sure what's happening right now," she says, not making eye contact as she rifles through her purse again. And I believe her, mostly, because this result isn't what I was expecting, either. The spell she's in the center of is meant to produce *one* name – a person's true name. It shouldn't be possible to produce three, likely four, depending on what license she's about to give me.
And here it is – different again. "**Helena Nolan**," I read off, slowly, then look at her again. She's shifted to something more Scandinavian – her hair is lighter, too. "Ma'am, I may need to ask you to come to the station with us. This doesn't look too hot." It's half of a bluff. I have no idea how we're going to bring her in without a real name. Using all these "true" names is compelling her to produce more documents, but none of them click the way they ought to. If we can just get her inside the Court...
But then my partner walks over. He looks at me first, but then locks eyes with her, which makes something click. She reads him – and the spell – like a book. Her eyes narrow, and when she opens her mouth to speak, her teeth are... sharper. Yellower. "**Dane Avarel, Officer Fifth Circle**," she spits, "restrain this man and let me pass."
And everything goes to shit. I shout for him to wait, but he's already got his arms hooked under my shoulders, dragging me backwards. I try to yank my way out and pull his arms back down, but it's no use. Her order was unfortunately absolute.
She pulls her sedan up next to me. "Lucky for you, I don't know *your* name. But I'll never forget your face, not anymore. Don't try this again." Her eyes were catlike but bloodshot, ears pointed like they ought to be, hair down well past her feet. According to her patterns, I ought to be dead at this point, but even she knew she couldn't hide a murder out in the open with a dozen drivers watching with confusion.
After she speeds off, Dane lets me go, sheepishly. "I guess you met her before, then?" I ask.
He looks at the road, avoiding eye contact. "Not like I'd remember how, or when..."
"Well, we know one thing now," I say, changing the subject. "Our shifter either believes she has a dozen names, or she fucking *forgot* her true name." I pause. "And I'll... do my best to forget yours. She's sly. It could have happened to anyone."
He smiles, a bit bitterly. "I'd trust you with it if I had to, detective."
A lump in my throat. She never forgets faces, but I *never* forget names. He'll just have to hope I deserve that trust.
|
**Trigger warning for suicide.**
"I'm sorry, *what* did you just say?"
That was the most coherent set of words the drunken goat...thing had said to me all night. When I wandered out into the forest, I had specifically been hoping not to find anybody, so when this hairy pan-looking motherfucker showed up, I didn't really know how I would handle it.
At first, I was just annoyed. In the dark, he just looked like a shirtless douchebag, and he talked like one too. His voice was incredibly deep, and his slurred words sounded like one of my fraternity brothers trying to hit on a girl. That was confusing considering that I was a man, so I had just sort of followed his lead. Great way to get murdered, but...eh, considering what I'd come here for, that'd frankly just make everything easier.
So I followed him, listening to him slobber his way through a rant about some sort of drama in his friend group. I was certain that I was mishearing him, because I kept hearing words like "fairy" or "king" or "shelf...no, wait, sylph. Yeah, sylph." But when we stepped into a small clearing, in the moonlight, I saw that what I had thought were pants were actually his furry brown legs, bending at odd angles and ending in hooves.
So when he said "Tell me your name, handsome," my instinct was to try and hit him in the face. Weirdly, that didn't seem to bother him much, and when he repeated himself, my mouth opened up to say...well, something. I'm pretty sure it was going to be an expletive.
But instead, what came out was "Alice."
Now he was staring at me, jaw slack, breath stinking of beer and flowers, and eyes struggling to focus. When he asked what I'd said, I opened my mouth to tell him I didn't know, but instead, I said "Alice" again.
The goat thing stared. He stared and stared and stared, and his face slowly went from confused to frustrated. Before I quite knew what had happened, he shoved me over. "Aw, dude, what the fuck!"
"Fuck you!" I yelled, entirely out of instinct, though it was nice to be in control over my own mouth again.
"I mean, yeah, I was gonna! But now I just gotta go jerk off someplace!"
*What?* "What?" My brain and my mouth were in perfect agreement that time.
"I'm not into chicks, dude! You shoulda told me!"
I sat on the ground underneath him, trying to find words with which to respond to this...gay goat dudebro that apparently existed less than a mile off-campus. Before I could find any, though, the air seemed to shift. The goat's eyes went wide and focused as best they could on something that I couldn't see, but which was apparently towering above us. "Ooooh shit. Uh, hey! Hey, king boss! How, uh, how you doing?" He failed to conceal a drunken belch. Somehow the forest around me tasted...unimpressed. "No, I wasn't doing anything, I swear!...human? Pfft, she's not a human! She's totally a..." he stared down at me, then tilted his head until he caught a glimpse of my ear. "...oooohhhhhh fuck, she's a human."
"Who the fuck are you talking about?" The question I should have been asking was "who the fuck are you talking to", but the grass made me feel like I shouldn't. I have no idea what that means either, but it's definitely what happened.
Gay goat bro ignored me. "Of course I don't know what the fuck she's doing here! You think I'm just gonna—" The air clenched around me and the goat covered his ears. "Alright, alright! I'll get rid of her!" Without elaborating further, he grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet, and the last thing I remembered was him turning me around and feeling a hoof kick into my back.
When I woke up the next day, I was lying underneath a tree. A rope clung to one of the branches, frayed and torn fibers slowly coming uncoiled. All around me, a ring of small, pale mushrooms grew. I felt my face and realized it was swollen, then slowly groped and grasped around until my hands found the phone I was sure I didn't bring.
At the hospital, when the nurses asked if I wanted to let anyone in, I said no, and they listened. When I saw my reflection, my face was purple and swollen, and the whites of my eyes had gone bright red. Weirdly, I didn't feel any worse about it than I usually did around mirrors.
I rubbed my head, feeling that it was still tender from the last football game I played in. I rubbed my arms and they felt weird and swollen too, even though there was nothing wrong with them. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, knew it was my dad, and turned it off.
My sister was in middle school and weirdly into fairies. I remembered her ranting at me about how they weren't just little tinkerbell things, and how they'd steal your name if you said it. But if gay goat dude had been trying to do that, he must have gotten it backwards, because now I couldn't get a name out of my head.
*Alice.*
|
systwin
|
Elacular
|
2023-06-18 06:36:01
|
2023-06-18 05:35:33
| 64 | 45 |
jok4ahr
|
jojzn2z
|
14bztwk
|
14bztwk
|
[WP]One day you wake up in the last video game you played with a note that says "you have to stay alive for 100 days or else you die in the real world: p.s. all mods are disabled for the 100 days.
|
I awaken slowly, a muted clanking fills my ears, and I'm jostled against the walls of a narrow... tube? Where am I?
With a thunk, the motion stops, and a door in front of me opens with a whoosh, and I stagger forward into a blistering heat. No, not heat, I realize. This room isn't hot, I'm just filled with cold, a deep cold that permeates all the way to my core. Rubbing my arms, I look around through bleary eyes. A young woman wearing what looks like a uniform of some description and snaps a sharp, strangely familiar salute.
Handing me a note, she says, "This is for you, sir!" Before turning on her heel and marching away to some other duty.
Looking down at the note in my gauntleted hands, wait, gauntlets? Looking past the note I see a suit of high tech armor, heavy boots cover my feet, greaves adorn my shins, and a solid breastplate is secured over my chest, droplets of fast melting ice beginning to run off it. I raise a hand to my head and realize I'm wearing a helmet of such a perfect fit, I almost didn't notice it.
I return to the note in my hands and open it. "This is the last game you played. You must stay alive for 100 days, or you die in the real world. P.S. All mods have been disabled."
Oh shit.
I look around with fresh eyes and recognize the interior of the space faring vessel on which I now stand. Its newly appointed commander, thawed only seconds ago from a cryogenic sleep."
Slowly, I move forward into the main area. To my left is the hangar, with the familiar shuttle and fast attack air superiority craft waiting for launch.
"Greetings, sir!" A voice barks from my right, "Glad to have you aboard!" Another familiarly uniformed crew member greets me with a salute.
With mounting dread, I move to the bridge, the armored officer standing at the holographic battle map turns and salutes.
"Greetings, Helldiver, the galaxy needs you."
I am so Fucked...
|
I looked again at the note. Nope, no changes, 100 days.... shit....
Alright, let's take stock. Last game I played was Baldurs Gate. Not a great choice for this challenge, but not a terrible one either. That would make this the mind flayer nautiloid, and I'll quickly make big beefy friends who will stand in between me and everyone else. I pause. Wait, I already know how this works out, I know the story.... I know where the good items are and what choices to make. I mean, I'm not in the clear by any stretch, there are a LOT of things that can kill me in unpleasant fashions, but still....
I pull out my bow, and with a grim determination, I go see about saving a walking brain so it can help me out in act three. And I think I'll save Minthera. She's power hungry enough to do all the squeamish things I'd rather not. This is going to suck without the wiki, but then again, I don't have to deal with my boss for 100 days now, that's gotta be worth a parasite in my brain for a bit.... right?
|
WearifulSole
|
lukavago87
|
2025-02-25 08:43:49
|
2025-02-25 07:17:24
| 184 | 64 |
meo7bow
|
menynm8
|
1ixp24u
|
1ixp24u
|
[WP] You're the first test subject for an experimental super soldier serum. You are told the truth only after you transform into something not quite human anymore.
|
I open my eyes. Everything was not, but suddenly is. I search my surroundings to understand. Objects are scattered around me within a space.
I am an object as well? No. I am me. More than an object.
My eyes focus in on my form. I feel my body. It's familiar like I've always known it yet it's the first time I've seen or felt it. Sweat drips down my arms as I involuntarily inhale until my chest is full.
I can smell my own odor. It's strong, but calming. I've been in this space for some time.
The air tastes metallic. Strange that I know the taste of metal to even compare. I lick my lips and feel a sharp pain and the taste of copper. I cannot help but lick again only to feel the pain subside and the wound close.
The ringing subsides and only in its absence do I know it was there. Objects around me move and now it's clear they're making sound, but the patterns are ones I can recognize.
I make out the phrase "Captain? Can you hear me?"
'Captain'? Is my name 'Captain'? That does not feel like my name.
I look to the one speaking before another quickly interrupts. "He shouldn't know his name, Clive."
The first man's name is Clive. He is a man. I look to my body. He is a man like me. He knows his name. Why shouldn't I know my name? I must ask.
"Why shouldn't I know my name, Clive?" There is a silence as loud as it is quiet.
The other man speaks even though I spoke to Clive. "It's not that you shouldn't. It's that you wouldn't... Do you know your name?"
"Do you know yours?" Conversing feels natural, but my throat feels dry.
The other man smiles and says "Tara. My name is Tara." This is not a man. Tara is a woman.
"Hello, Tara and Clive. Is my name 'Captain'?" I believe this is not my name, but Tara and Clive may know better.
Clive is looking to Tara for a response. She opens her mouth to speak, but there is a pause. "It's more of a title."
"Then what is my name?" I feel as though I have just been born. I long for an identity.
Tara motions for Clive to leave as she sits down in front of me to loosen my restraints. Why was I restrained? "I don't know your name. I know the name that once lived in your body, but that is not you."
"Tara, I do not understand. Am I prisoner?" As my wrists are freed, I feel a sense of relief though I still feel confined.
Tara passes me a glass of water. "The man who walked into this room and lay on this table once controlled your body. He was a Captain that volunteered for a procedure that would grant his body extraordinary abilities."
"Extraordinary? To what end?" What differentiates my current being from what he was?
Clive returns with a box, a clipboard, and food on a plate. "The Captain wished to be more than he was. We knew how to make that a reality."
"Did you know he would not be me?" Tara hands me a sandwich and I take a bite.
She unloads equipment from the box and begins to remove syringes from my arms. "Yes. We did."
"Did the Captain know he would not be me?" I can feel her pause in her actions, before placing a brace on both my wrists. They're heavy, but seem to be relaying information to her monitor. The world is becoming clearer.
Tara takes out her clipboard and begins taking notes. "No. He did not."
"In giving me life, you have taken his away?" I feel something within... This is guilt. I feel as though I have stolen from another man.
Tara is avoiding eye contact as she writes. "We promised him his body would be capable of performing remarkable things. We did not lie."
"You did not lie, but you did not tell the truth." I feel angry and dismissed. I clench at the sides of my bed.
Tara presses a button and my arms are pulled by the braces back to a resting position. She is standing now, looking at me once more, but a tear falls down her face. "We didn't have a choice, Capt-"
"I do not like this. Take these off." I hardly noticed the restraints before they were released, but now that I've experienced that freedom, how can I accept this?
Tara points to the sides of my bed where I clenched. Nothing but a hole the shape of my hand is left and I realize I'm holding the pieces still in my palms. "I'm sorry. It's a precaution. When your heart rate settles, it will automatically release. We don't yet know the extent of your abilities and we need to be sure you will not pose a threat to us or our facility."
"That makes sense." I calm myself and as she said, the braces released their pull. I considered trying to pry them off, but... I do not wish to be a threat.
Tara looks on in wonder and perhaps fear. I don't think she expected that response. "I don't want this to be difficult."
"I believe you." I don't know why, but I have a gut feeling Tara can be trusted.
There's a pause before Tara sits back down. "What can I call you?"
"I still need time to think. For now, call me 'Captain'."
|
"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...."
|
jmd10of14
|
Shalidar13
|
2023-08-06 02:44:13
|
2023-08-06 00:30:55
| 307 | 105 |
juzda4g
|
juywnf6
|
15j8mzq
|
15j8mzq
|
[WP] The hero, normally jovial and humorous in their interactions, steps into a watering hole for villains, shaking with rage, tears running down their face, and with as much patience and calm as they can muster, simply asks "Who did it?"
|
I sat at the bar in the speakeasy, nursing my drink and a headache. The light show this morning hadn’t done me any favors, nor had the earthquake that followed. While no one claimed responsibility for the crime spree, the celebratory laughter from the back booth suggested the likely culprits. I glanced in their direction but didn’t recognize any faces - rare after over 200 years of coming here.
The lights seemed to shine brighter, prompting me to bury my face in my hands and groan.
“You good, ‘lock?” Sam asked, leaning in. I lowered my hands to respond, only to realize the lights were indeed intensifying. I grabbed Sam’s head, pulling him down toward the counter while covering the back of my head with my other hand. Bulbs began to burst, and then the door slammed open. I looked up and swiped my hand through my hair to check for glass. I turned, trying to recall any spells to defend myself.
In the doorway stood Bubblegum, the newest and youngest member of the city’s hired heroes. Her bright pink and white outfit contrasted sharply with the red on her face. She was shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks as she scanned the room.
"Who did it?"
Her usually upbeat voice was laced with fury. In all my encounters with her, I’d never seen her without a smile. A sense of unease settled in my stomach, more than just my migraine. She had faced earthquakes before, and while the light show was new, it didn’t seem inherently dangerous; I am not sure where this anger had come from.
Pink lightning danced around her arms, drawing my attention to a small package she held.
Suddenly, I realized why my stomach was in knots.
I stood, unable to control my movements, walking toward her. She was trying to catch my eye, searching for a confession, but my gaze was fixed on what - who - she was holding.
As I reached her, I extended my hand. She flinched but relaxed when she saw I meant no harm. I brushed the blanket aside and confirmed my worst fears: a child, less than a year old. I cupped his face in my hand and looked up into her tear-filled eyes. Though her tears flowed just as heavy, there was an understanding between us.
“No children. I have few rules, but this is number one.” I whispered the words, yet everyone in the bar heard me. My eyes glowed with an unholy shade of green, and the baby’s cheek grew warm. A hazy cloud surrounded him as I inhaled deeply. I chose not to tell her what was happening - I wasn’t sure she could bear the truth of the child’s last moments. Fear, drowned in tears, all alone. She looked to me, hope and desperation mingling in her gaze, pleading for me to save him.
"I can't fix him, child. I am sorry."
I turned my gaze to the back booth, confirming my earlier suspicions. I extended my hand, and a shadowy copy of my hand continued where my reach stopped. The ghastly appendage curled behind the group, then snapped back, launching them toward the front of the bar. Ghostly tendrils secured each of the four to the ground, binding their limbs and muffling their protests. Their fear was palpable. I almost missed this part of my powers.
I had no intention of sharing this darkness with Bubblegum; it had long been mine to command. I wouldn’t ask her to punish those who broke my rules.
"What do you intend to do with them, Warlock?"
I grunted in response. “They are no longer a problem. You may watch, but I suggest you leave.”
I waited until her footsteps faded, not bothering to stop the other villains following her. They knew what happened when you ignored the rules. The tendrils tightened, and the muffled screams were barely audible over the sound of breaking bones.
|
I am a low-rank villain, and I am considered a villain, just because my power is to alter the strength of drinks around me.
No legal bar wanted to hire me, because they were afraid I would be a liability, so I came to work for the villains, whom happily agreed to hire me, at one of their most popular bars, and gathering spots.
Alternating the strength and taste of drinks, I made myself liked, which worked out as planned, as I wasn't bullied nor threatened here, lest some of the regulars lose their favorite drink maker.
Today was a busy day, as the villains did something great...the bar was ablaze, music blasting, powers raging, small scuffles happening...
And then silence...because the hero...well, THE Hero, the greatest hero of our country, and this city entered the bar.
The Hero, called Hope by the citizens, and Giggling Fool by villains was of enormous strength, and potential.
I personally, in my 3 decades of life, have yet to see him lose...or frown.
He was always smiling, laughing, kindly speaking to all, be them heroes, citizens, villains, aliens, monsters, you get it.
But now...
He was shaking, tears streaming down his face, his knuckles white, and teeth gritted.
"Who did it?", he asked, as he arrived in the middle of the establishment, trying to be calm, but I think everyone here felt it.
That unbridled rage screaming to be let go.
The villains said nothing, just stared at The Hero for a while, before some of the more impatient ones tried to make a move.
Wrong choice.
The Hero didn't even look in their direction, but somehow...they ended up with their neck broken.
"With their vitality, it's just incapacitation, not outright death.
Again...Who did it?", The Hero asked.
The villains said nothing, but took a step back...for they didn't know how more than 6 villains ended up almost dead in an instant.
A regular, and half-owner of the bar looked at me, and gestured.
I sighed.
"Excuse me, Sir...
I am a bartender here, and I would appreciate if you tried not to destroy our establishment.", I said the well-rehearsed lines.
"Hell-hole, and gathering place of low-lives...but indeed, you are blameless in this case.
Tell me, have you heard about the reason villains all over the country are celebrating?", he turned towards me, and asked.
I shook my head, and saw the villains taking out their weapons, and preparing their powers.
"They attacked a hidden school for heroes-in-training.
1942 young ones, between the ages 12-18 have been killed.
Do you think I can hold back, and care about your establishment?", he asked.
"Do your worse.", I said, running towards the secret exit, as behind me all hell breaks loose...
|
espirose
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-10-17 15:30:08
|
2024-10-17 09:58:04
| 657 | 425 |
lsdl13k
|
lsc94vx
|
1g5kua3
|
1g5kua3
|
[WP] Humans are the proverbial "Sleeping Giant," and thus make remarkably good deterrents. A common tactic of the Galactic Federation is to simply call in a human warship, such as the USS "Fuck Around and, FindOut," and simply let it sit nearby. Peace Talks happen within the week.
|
**Part One**
The FAFO — standing for ‘Fuck Around and Find Out’ — was perhaps the greatest or worst thing to ever happen to the Galactic Federation (GF).
I, Vrektas Emhi, journalist of Terened’s very own *The Cosmos,* decided it was time to find out once and for all if humans had a place in the solar system, especially in light of Peace Talks occurring later this week.
My first interaction with the FAFO was not unlike any other intergalactic warship interactions I’ve had before. In fact, it was all rather ordinary.
Mark Bridge, FAFO’s Captain, was a pleasant man with dark, greying hair — thin, flimsy strands atop the head — and a kind smile — *cnyuro,* in our language. He stood tall in his blue uniform and ordered many of his subordinates around. And though he didn’t yell, anyone could tell that the men and women around him respected him.
I shook his hand — a greeting custom humans have adapted — after he conversed with GF’s Director V’rn Kflim, and was rather surprised by the firm grip that greeted me.
His cnyuro widened when I gave him my name and told him that I was here to learn the ways of human life.
“Well,” he said, chuckling — and what a unique sound that was — “I hope we live up to your expectations, then.”
And that had got me wondering. *What exactly were my expectations?*
Dear reader, what are *your* expectations?
Humans had never been part of the Galactic Federation, not officially, but they remained on good terms with them. Allies, humans would call themselves. *Urayuoc* we would say.
Which brought me to my answer. If I were to know this species fully; extensively and completely, then I would need the opinion of all parties involved.
Of course, this included Kjo Mazon, a large, burly, and blue Zocaks general more commonly known as ‘Maz’.
“What are your opinions on the humans?” I asked Maz. He hummed in that way all Zocaks do when they’re thinking.
“They are — rather peculiar, let me say. I have spent some of my travels aboard their ship and have gotten to know Captain Bridge well, but even now he surprises me. Just this morning I heard a rather odd sound coming from his mouth — sizzling and loud — and when I inquired about whether he needed medical assistance, he was very confused. I pointed out the noise and he told me that they were only ‘Pop Rocks’. Now, I do not know what these ‘Pop Rocks’ are, but they do not sound like something that should be in one’s mouth, no?” He shuddered, and I wondered if these ‘Pop Rocks’ were part of human’s war tactics. Still, I was left with more questions than answers. Unfortunately, even Blararg Taduzla of Vrols proved to be of no help.
“They’re different from my kind,” she started. “Different from *all* our kind. A few moons ago Private Lance told me he had something life changing to show me. Someone called *Ri-han-na had* who had money and was a *‘bitch’.* I have to say, after that, I am much more favourable to humans joining the GF. I hope to one day meet this woman.”
And well, dear readers, I am afraid that no matter how extensively I researched the word ‘bitch’, I could not find a translation of the meaning in our language. It seems, in this case, some things are better left unsaid.
Still, I was stumped. None of my interviews had gotten me anywhere. Not even when I spoke to Trik Tacnol, our very own planet’s Captain.
“We need them on our side,” he told me rather seriously. By now, Tacnol and I were well acquainted. I had shadowed him a few centuries back when I was first starting journalism, and we had kept in touch ever since.
“Vrektas, my old friend, there is much that we still do not know about the universe. But the humans. Well, they are good allies. Good urayuoc, yes? We will learn much from them.”
“Captain,” I asked. “What can we learn from them?”
“Speak to Ozin.” He nodded. “He will tell you all that you wish to know.”
I had heard of Ozin before now, of course. Another one of our kind, though some say he was the strangest of them all.
It was only when the sun had risen again that I got to find out how right they were.
“Oh,” Ozin began, tentacles full of something he called cereal. “The humans? They are *cray-ze.* Crayyyy-zeee. That’s another word they taught me. Later today they said they were going to teach me how to ‘somersault’, whatever that is. I hope it involves eating more of this, though. We’re missing out on something revolutionary.” He looked at me. “Want some?”
I politely declined his offer and attempted to bring the conversation back on track. “Captain Trik told me you would have answers to my questions.”
“What are your questions?”
“How dangerous are the humans?”
It was then that Ozin shuddered, suddenly looking blank — which was odd considering we were pretty blank creatures to begin with. “They’re terrifying,” he told me. “But they’re also my friends.” *Friends,* he said, like this word meant something. “And I won’t have anyone implying that they are *dangerous,* like they are *bad* and *corrupt.* They are my *friends!”*
“Friends?” I asked, rather taken aback by the sudden outburst.
“Hlyuomjc,” he translated.
Hlyuomjc.
*Hlyuomjc.*
Dear readers, it seemed that Ozin had done something that not even I could accomplish. He had done the one thing I tried to do, but never succeeded at.
He became not just acquaintances but *hlyuomjc* with the humans, and perhaps that is the highest regard that can be given by any Terened.
I knew what I had to do.
The one thing I had not done yet.
I had to talk to the humans.
|
Humanity had a destiny.
Or so we thought. Since the first fire was shared between one of our ancient plains dwelling ancestors and another. Our species slowly, generation after generation, became more capable of selflessness.
It had many labels throughout the centuries, from goodness to godliness. It's core ideology was framed sometime in the 1900th as Communism. So unspoken up until that point and so poorly executed in its attempted practice, that it caused the flames of unity to darken for nearly a thousand years.
Yet it lived on with new names, its core ideals still a part of every member of the species core potential.
Through the many, many generations mankind warred against itself. Man killed Man, brother slayed brother, children and women and all those in between. Race and gender, location and dialects. All created within mankind fear of the unknown and distrust. In our fear we lashed out in violence. In our ignorance of one another we came to blows. Time and time again mankind blew upon the fire of unity with an unrelenting force, that should in truth, in our arrogance, have led to complete and total destruction of our species.
We became masters of death and destruction. Warlords and Generals. Like rotting wood within the flames, it tainted the purity of the flame of unity, even as it tried to snuff it out.
Some men were sick with the taint of it. Broken inside, twisted by cold and though it is our shame, we accept those terrors as part of us. Or histories and hard learned lessons.
Our bloody path to unity.
And yet, each generation crawled forwards. Each cycle of youths, could see flaws in their elders and make effort to alter. And their progeny likewise. And so it was that the flames of unity survived. Within the hope for something better.
Until it was, that a generation rose that saw the path behind and knew instinctively the path ahead. They did not hold power as their elders. And not wanting to take on the selfish traits of their predecessors they waited and planned. Knowing that any alternative was selfishness they began to preach their message. They had only spread word of the future to their peers and the next generations. They had watched their predecessors build great masterworks of efficiency and productivity in the pursuit of coin. And they saw that it was necessary. For without both, the people could not be united. Without the pursuit of gold of their fathers and forefathers, they would not have been able to do what was done.
It did not come in a great war or battle. Men did not scream and wail at its arrival. For they knew it was generational and each parent and child, teacher and student, passed forward the ideals. Slowly, painstakingly and then it was. We had reached what we believed to be our destiny.
And then, we were finally accepted outside of our little planet. it was not until the full unity of mankind that we were contacted by the Galactic federation. The many peoples of the stars of the milky way galaxy. Thousands of worlds, all functioning within independent versions of their species unity.
But from our history, we could not hide. For they had watched us in horror. Mankind, the true, black sheep of the entire galaxy. The only species to not hold unity at its conception.
While we killed our brothers, other species could not comprehend hatred of their own. And so had not come to arms until they had walked the stars alongside other people's and systems.
Where mankind had forged itself outside of unification, we walked the stars as a terror of unspeakable potential for death. Yet we sought unity among the stars, like we had with all our own nations and peoples and even the non-sapient creatures and plant life of our world.
We were first contacted by the Galactic federation warmly. The greatest minds of the milky way, finally agreeing that we as a species had reached the common ground required to parlay. And offered a position to join, if we accepted a given role to play within our new community.
Watch dogs and protectors, those who all other species feared for their unity forged not born. Some believed us the wisest, others the most foolish. But all held fear of mankind's history and potential for that which no other in the Galaxy understood. We began to believe that just maybe, our destiny was greater still? That we could be the ones to bring unity to the stars.
Until an archeologist student found a bone. Until it was passed on to a geneticist. Until mankind quietly discovered..
**the betrayal of the makers**
|
ohhello_o
|
Ihavebadreddit
|
2023-03-07 06:05:13
|
2023-03-07 04:30:15
| 72 | 35 |
jb8kfqw
|
jb8b9zt
|
11keke0
|
11keke0
|
[WP] A seemingly innocent TikTok challenge is going viral. Except 50% of the people that partake go missing, With millions of primarily young people disappearing from the face of the Earth, you - the creator of the challenge - have no clue what's happening or who's behind the disappearances
|
I stopped playing with the neighborhood kids around the time I turned 7. The city was growing quickly at the time and a slew of child abductions in the area had Mother anxious. Plus, she had noticed the other kids seemed to not like me as much, and after telling me I got uncomfortable being outside with them.
Mother didn't like me being uncomfortable so we eventually stopped going to the park.
I had tried really hard for a few years, I remember, but the other kids were just never nice to me. I mean, I never had a problem but on the rides home mother would always preen over me, watching me through the rearview mirror. "Honey, those boys weren't letting you have fun were they? I'm so sorry baby." As she cooed over me.
Mother was always really nice when we left the park.
During those first few years, while I was out playing, my mom would sometimes have arguments with the other parents. The first time I remember was when I'd gotten a bloody knee after tripping into my friend. We were standing up laughing when I noticed her, shrill screams causing my blood to run cold. We'd be in the car only a few minutes later, my knee all but forgotten by the both of us. "Well they weren't very respectful now, were they!" She would huff as she stepped into the car, putting her tools under the front passenger seat.
Mother could be a little scary when it came to me.
In the end I found my calling with computers, like most of you out there. Nothing crazy, but I landed a pretty cushy job at a tech startup. It was a "multi-faceted", "learn-as-you-go", digital marketer. Involved in every aspect of marketing our neat little software. And with the advent and rise of TikTok, well, they needed a new social media person.
Mother had always taken plenty of videos of me, showing me poses and cool little dances. So I said I'd love to try it out!
Our first few videos did not go too well, but that was par for the course. After a few months of testing and working on different trends I had almost run out of ideas. I'd been polling the office over slack for the past week and no one had any new ideas. Looking for inspiration, I had went back to my apartment and noticed some of the old tapes mother had made.
Mother liked to drop things off to my simple 1-bedroom every other day or so, still. Seems she was lonely these days.
After a stroke of genius and maybe a few too many late night drinks, we'd finally hit paydirt. It was a simple dance, but slightly provocative if I were being honest. It was one of the dances mother had had me do as a kid. A miniature version, and sped up to some underground bimbocore track, but a version nonetheless. And boy, only days later we had a million views. A week and we were up to 10 million.
Mother had written a note saying she was proud of me, and that my video was amazing - but that she had a problem and would need to leave for a bit.
It wasn't long before the news broke - TikTokers, slain en masse by some unknown killer. All of whom had participated in my stupid little dance trend. It wasn't huge, but 10-20 people had copied my little dance and I was hauled away to be questioned after the 3rd murder. But I didn't know anything. I was scared *too.* Couldn't they see that? I didn't know any more than they did! I didn't know what to say when they asked if I had any family.
Mother didn't come home.
I think I realized, at some point around the 5th or 6th murder, that this *was* all my fault.
Mother, I know you use reddit. I know you liked to read the prompts here. You loved finding my posts here when you could. I know you're reading this. Please stop. They haven't done anything wrong. I *know* it's our special dance, I took the video down. Please, please come home.
I've been in contact with TikTok to take the sound and videos down. They *fixed* it mother so please, can you stop now? For me?
|
"I want to know what the hell you've done here, right now."
I shifted uncomfortably - the chair I sat in was not comfortable in any sense of the word. I glared again at the detective sitting across from me, his eyebrows knitting together in rage.
"If you're looking for an answer, officer, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed."
And, in all honesty, that was the truth. I don't know what I did to cause this mess.
It had started off innocently enough. I'd posted a truly non-dangerous video on TikTok, with a completely harmless challenge; heck, it was actually fun. Or so I had thought.
For the first few days, everything went smoothly - and successfully. Within eight hours it had been viewed over a million times, and a day later that number had quadrupled, and then it reached tens of millions of views. I was overjoyed, this was the most successful thing I'd ever posted on the platform. For a good few weeks, this thing had young people everywhere outdoors, posting videos of their experiences.
*"I challenge you to go outside and enjoy it!"* It's ridiculous how such a simple and, frankly, dumb challenge achieved such phenomenal success. I guess that's the nature of the internet. I was actually enjoying this.
And then the disappearances started.
They were noticed slowly at first; from what I could gleam, people just assumed at first that the missing had made other plans, or were delayed momentarily. That thought soon vanished, when it became clear to the victims families and friends that they were missing.
Nobody even connected the disappearances with TikTok for several days - something like that just wasn't conceivable to the authorities.
That changed when two identical twins partook in the challenge. Did the video, uploaded it, and went back inside. Only one of them went through the door.
Something about the surviving sisters testimony drew the authorities attention to me. And, after an embarrassingly short pursuit (for me, at least), I was apprehended.
And now I'm in this damn interrogation room.
"HEY!" the detective yelled, his face turning red, "I'm asking you questions, pal. So stop staring into space and answer them! What the hell have you done with all those people, and where are they?"
That snapped me out of my reverie. And I stayed in that cold room, hands cuffed to the table, for what felt like years, although according to the clock on the wall it was only six hours. Six hours of going around and around, with the same stupid questions.
When it eventually came to the detective that I wasn't going to answer his questions, he stormed out of the room. A few minutes later, an officer dragged me down the hall to the cells.
It's cold in here, and the bed is just as, if not more uncomfortable than the chair in the interrogation room.
And I still have no idea why I've been arrested.
I should never have made that video.
|
LiteWritesInk
|
Sad_Sell_57
|
2023-11-08 20:37:37
|
2023-11-08 20:13:21
| 17 | 11 |
k8eniqy
|
k8ejffz
|
17qln61
|
17qln61
|
[WP] You are an assassin with a reputation for pulling of very public hits without being noticed. You achieve this not by being extremely stealthy, but by making sure that your kills are so absurd and ridiculous that no one would ever believe the witnesses if they told their stories.
|
Last week, I played the Joker, grabbed my target, and tied him kicking and screaming to a bunch of balloons to float off into the sky, where he soon fell to his death. The week before that, I was Freddy Fazbear; the piston-powered jaw in the suit pierced my target's skull and killed him instantly. And just yesterday I killed a guy by dressing up like Dio and beating him to death in the middle of Times Square, screaming "Muda muda muda" like a madman.
You must think I'm insane, and you wouldn't be wrong. People with a sound mind don't get into this business. But the kills? That's not insanity. That's brilliance.
It's one of the quirks of those normies with their nine to five's that they simply choose to believe everything is the most boring option possible. And when something cool or wacky happens, they say it's a fake or it's staged. Shoot a guy in an alley wearing a ski mask? Someone calls the cops. Shooting a guy in the middle of a busy city area dressed up as a Decepticon? Everyone claps for you. They think I'm a busker, and my targets are just actors, part of the show. We always make a big, cheesy show of having someone come over and take the body away; usually it's made to look like another busker getting in on the fun. My cleanup crew are an essential part of my success; just three days ago they put the body into a wood chipper in full view of everyone, dressed as Laurel and Hardy. Had they acted nervous or cold, people would have been disturbed and done something about it. But nobody ever expects you to be so cold to killing that you can act like a total silly goofball while chopping up a corpse.
The worse I've ever had is a Disney lawyer approached me with a cease and desist for defamation for my "edgy and violent portrayals of beloved characters". Man, if that stiff only knew the half of it. That guy dressed up as Captain Hook had a gag on underneath the mask; if he looked like he was fighting for his life, it's because he was. And when Peter Pan throws him to the crocodile, all the audience cheered. They thought the blood and gore was staged, just another elaborate show. They thought the croc was trained not to actually attack people; couldn't be more wrong about that. He *is* trained, but trained to kill without mercy. I don't break him out too often... not too many hits work well with a giant reptile as part of the show... but he once got center stage acting as SCP-682, with his own hairy costume and everything. Me and my crew came in dressed as SCP personnel, cleaned up the mess, and told everyone not to speak of what they saw. Of course, everyone did. They said we were the best buskers they had ever seen. The videos of us went viral. "So realistic!" was always the line they used. If they only knew....
Anyhow, I gotta get going. Dude's trying to snitch on some mob boss or something, and I'm the man they hired to take him down. If you wanna see how it goes down, look in the center of the city for the guy dressed up as Huggy Wuggy. Time to break out the old pneumatic jaw again.
Oh, and if you're thinking of being a little snitch as well, I got a cute little Pikachu costume and a Charizard suit rigged with a gag and an electrical system that will fry you into bacon in front of a live audience. So... don't get any funny ideas. I feel like my Thunderbolt would be super effective in that situation.
See you at the show. Sure, I know it's cheesy. I know I sound like some crazy comic-book villain. But comic book villains don't exist... and to the public, neither do I.
|
I had always been an assassin with a unique approach to my craft. While others prided themselves on their stealth and precision, I preferred to make a splash with my kills. I was the master of the absurd, ensuring that no one would ever believe the witnesses if they told their stories. It had worked, as I had built up a reputation as the go-to assassin for high-profile, very public hits.
My latest assignment was no different. I was hired to take out a wealthy businessman who had made many enemies with his ruthless business practices. The hit was to take place at a crowded city park during the lunch hour rush. It was the perfect opportunity to blend in with the crowds and make my move.
As I arrived at the park, I scanned the crowd, searching for my mark. I spotted him sitting on a park bench, engrossed in his newspaper. I approached him calmly as if I were just another passerby. As I drew closer, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my weapon of choice: a banana.
The businessman looked up just as I swung the banana at his head. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious. I quickly retreated into the crowds, blending in with the shocked and confused witnesses.
As I walked away, I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. Another successful hit and no one would ever suspect a thing. But as I made my way through the crowded streets, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.
I turned to find a group of heavily armed men closing in on me. They were professionals, and they had me surrounded. I knew I was in trouble.
"We know who you are," the leader of the group growled. "And we know what you did. You're coming with us."
I knew I had to think fast. I couldn't let them take me in, not after all the hits I had pulled off. I decided to make a run for it, hoping to lose them in the crowds.
I pushed my way through the throngs of people, ducking and weaving as I tried to escape my pursuers. But they were hot on my heels, and I knew I couldn't keep this up for much longer.
Just as I thought all was lost, I spotted a circus tent in the distance. I had an idea. I made a beeline for the tent and slipped inside, blending in with the circus performers.
The armed men burst into the tent a few minutes later, guns drawn as they searched for me. But they couldn't find me among the clowns and acrobats, and they eventually left empty-handed.
I let out a sigh of relief and collapsed onto a stack of circus props. I had managed to evade capture once again, thanks to my reputation for ridiculous kills. And I knew that as long as I stayed true to my unique style, I would always be one step ahead of my enemies.
|
PureHeartsEroticArts
|
Quinniboi10
|
2023-01-08 02:29:51
|
2023-01-08 01:28:40
| 21 | 13 |
j3f0qcr
|
j3esglw
|
105t1i8
|
105t1i8
|
[WP] Sisyphus has built up a lot of Muscle over the eons of carrying his boulder. This time, atop the hill, he finally decides to hold it in place.
|
Sisyphus daydreamed of a moment of audience with Chronos. For surely he could convince the god of time to turn back the dial so that Sisyphus could undo the mistakes of his life. He would greet Charon with open arms and ride through the river Styx. He would accept his death and give his children the chance to rule Ephyra. He would…
A drop of salty sweat trickled down Sisyphus’ head and landed in his eye. It stung, and he could not wipe it away for fear his boulder rolling away yet again. The eye continued to sting, and it seemed to amplify the fires of Hades burning in his muscles. All of the stories of the underworld had to be lies, for surely *this* was the underworld.
His daydream was a blessed distraction, and the top of the hill once again neared. He stopped in his tracks, sighed, and steeled himself for what was to come. Each time he had arrived at the top of this hill, his muscles had failed him. It was his payment for robbing Hades. Forevermore, he would feel these fires over and over again. Was there no way to take control of his fate?
An idea slammed into his brain like a bolt of lightning from Zeus himself. He would not accept his death. He would stay here. He would again defy the gods. He would.
Sisyphus crouched, placing one knee on the ground. He braced himself and lifted the boulder as high as he could. Again, he daydreamed. He dreamed that he had the strength of a god, and that strength grew until he could bear all of the world’s weight. His everlasting will to defy the gods gave him purpose, and that purpose empowered him. He stared at the ground beneath him and knew then that he could do better than the gods.
Years passed faster than Sisyphus could count, and the decades blended into millennia. All the while, Sisyphus held strong. He crouched, unmoving, while the winds weathered the lumpy boulder. He stared at the ground, resolute, while rainwater filled the cracks and craters of the boulder. He braced himself through the fires of the underworld, unrepentant, as the boulder sprouted vibrant green life.
Thus a being of titanic strength was forged. Through his perseverance, the boulder became a new world. Its people came to love Sisyphus, though they would never know his true name. Instead, they called him Atlas.
_________________________________
Really cool prompt. Thank you!!! I hope you'll enjoy what I've done with it.
Edit: Thanks for all the love everyone! This was a hell of a way to come back after a writing hiatus.
|
"Okay Bouldy. We arrived!" Sisyphus holds the boulder with a single mighty hand. summit is a sight to behold. It is hard not to admire the view. Even after a million times.
How long has he been doing this? One millennia? A hundred? He was craving companionship, the human touch. Ever more so than a decent wine. He took another look at the canyon under. And decided he had enough. With his mighty hands he lifted the boulder and smashed it into the ground. "Sorry Bouldy, I need you to stay here."
He descended into the canyon. There was a town visible from the summit. Maybe he could fancy himself a warm bed and a cold drink? Half a day later he was at the gate. He found a job to pay for provisions and a humble room to reside.
A few months passed. To his own surprise Sisyphus found human affection a challenging feat. A thousand years with a lone boulder was taking its toll. He figured other humans were noisy and arrogant. And it proved even more demanding to find mutual interest.
He was lonely even more so than when he was alone pushing boulder. He even felt nostalgic for "bouldy". It is human nature. Given enough time, one can even get attached to a piece of rock.
The worst was not being alone. But being purposeless. He had no goal, no objective. No drive. So one day he found himself climbing into his own personal prison again. Digging the boulder out and rolling it down the mountain.
Edit: phone autocorrect screw ups.
|
Xetta
|
Successful_Craft3076
|
2023-03-13 00:04:28
|
2023-03-12 18:20:50
| 856 | 418 |
jbzstq5
|
jbygja9
|
11pjupp
|
11pjupp
|
[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
|
The Wolfman shook cowardly and let out a soft whimper, and Sir Arnold paused..a look of confusion crossing over his face. The townsfolk behind Arnold gasped as he stepped closer to it, lowering the sword ever so slightly. Surely, this had to be the foul beast that had been eating their goats and ravaging their farms for the last six weeks. But his sword never lied, and this creature looked petrified of him. "Speak creature!
So we understand what your true intentions are!" The Wolfman gazed at him warily then stood up to its full height. It was still shaking, and as it spoke, its deep burly voice trembled. "Me....s-s-sorry." It sputtered out, and everyone gasped again, shock and awe filled the crowd as it suddenly broke down crying.
"Just wanted to pet goats. Not eat! Me not the monster!" Arnold stood there slackjawed as the Wolfman buried its head in its hands."What sort of trickery is this?" He asked, still unsure of whether to believe what he was hearing or not.
"No trick, please no hurt me." Arnold sighed then looked out across the sea of people. "What do you all want me to do?! It's clearly not a threat, and I'm not gonna stab it! I don't want its blood on my sword!"
Everyone glared angrily at him, and people began to shout things like "kill it anyway" and "it deserves to die" before the Wolfman spoke up again. "Me not an 'it!' My name Rod!" Arnold looked between Rod and the townspeople, drawing nearer. Then he did the one thing no one would have expected.
He turned, drew his sword on the mob, then looked at his newfound friend as his sword glowed brightly. "Well then, Rod, I suggest you RUN!"
|
The blade imbued with the spirit of an ancient monster hunter would not cut anything the spirit of the monster hunter deemed innocent.
The cursed one in the corner whimpered and pleaded for their life. The blade began to vibrate and soon the apparition of the ancient monster hunter materialized before the new wielder.
"You, sorry excuse for a monster hunter!"
The spirit said pointing at the hunter.
"Can't you see this one is cursed?"
"But it is a monster!" Howled the hunter.
"No, cursed does not mean monster. You must endeavour to cure this one of their curse or my blade will never pierce flesh again."
The hunter relented and sheathed the blade. After, this he offered his hand to wolven one.
|
EvilPigeonWriter
|
Zurg0Thrax
|
2023-03-03 14:53:02
|
2023-03-03 14:45:17
| 167 | 57 |
jareftc
|
jardd8t
|
11gzjb8
|
11gzjb8
|
[WP] You are a werewolf and everyone in the village knows. When its nearing the full moon they all help you baricade yourself in your home since you are the only wheat farmer in town. Everything was fine until some self righteous lord takes over and demands not only your land but your home as well.
|
I tilted my head, mind not quite comprehending what my ears had heard. "...Are you serious?"
The lord, newly 'appointed' over our town, scoffed at me. "Of course I am. Me telling you to tell the rest of the village is a formality that I decided to follow."
...He didn't know.
Our village had a *very minor* werewolf problem. People who are good at medicine and alchemy and the like are very hard to come by, so we couldn't just kill him or whatever. If anything, his condition usually helped him. Much easier to smell out herbs and such when you sometimes have wolf senses. Just had to make sure to tie him up when the full moon was coming, which he was aware of and willing to do.
The issue is that... werewolves. The good news was that this lord clearly didn't know about it. The bad news was that... he was going to very quickly.
"Are you listening?" I snapped back to attention.
"Apologies," I said with a slight curtsy. "That building and land belongs to our town's medicine man. If you take it-"
The lord waved his hand dismissively. "What happens to your town is none of my concern," he interrupted coldly. "I will be arriving within the week." I bit the inside of my lip but nodded. I couldn't exactly *say no,* not if I valued my life, which I did.
"I'll be sure to inform the rest of the villagers." The lord nodded, turning and waving his hand.
"You're dismissed." I bowed, turned, and walked out of the room.
...I had an idea. A stupid, foolish, idiotic idea that would surely result in the death of all involved if it didn't work.
But it *was* an idea.
|
You're body, though appearing young feels the years of transformations. As you walk across the floor you can remember your first time being stabbed, your first time changing even. The night you changed not knowing what your body was doing. Feeling like your body was going to explode. Now here You are in what some would call a "Comfortable" life and it's being taken. Your first thought is easy "Rip this new lord to pieces" a thought easily channeled by rage. A more curious thought harbor's itself moments later. You could turn this new lord, turning him into the monster he sees you as.
|
ArbitraryChaos13
|
Tricky-Assist6344
|
2023-07-30 23:02:00
|
2023-07-30 20:35:58
| 88 | 13 |
ju4srsy
|
ju48jnw
|
15dqogc
|
15dqogc
|
[WP] your a super Villian/super hero who's partner just died. When the funeral was supposed to be attended, nobody came, except for one person, your arch nemesis, who came there to comfort you through these tough times
|
It's always one last job, one last heist, one last assassination. Then, living out the rest of your days in peace. The problem, of course, is that there is always another last job. This last job after the last job though? It wasn't some grand heist of the world's riches, it wasn't some fantastic plot to take over a country with a prototype war machine, it wasn't even some massive and violent battle with the Righteous Regiment. Reese Edmond had done everything Alexander Albright, best known as the archvillain Solar Saber, had ever asked of him, and was getting out of the underworld.
Alexander had given him his blessing to leave the world of crime behind, had his best hackers working on rewriting Reese's public history to give him the best chance possible of walking away to a life he chose. The last job of Reese Edmond's criminal career, and quite unfortunately, of his life, had been picking up a goddamn box of cinnamon rolls and a cake for his retirement party. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time when a battle between two underworld families sparked right outside of the bakery and he caught a bullet in the spine.
When it became publicly known that the Solar Saber's right hand man, his top lieutenant, and quite honestly his best friend had been killed, the streets went dead silent. No one wanted to catch *his* attention. Even the heroes, righteous bastards that they are, were keeping quiet. Maybe that was why no one showed up for Reese's funeral. Alexander stayed at the funeral home for the whole day without a single other person showing up to pay their respects. He had been well-liked in the underworld, as far as Alexander could tell, and yet no one showed up for him. Well, one person had shown their face, and not even just their lantern-jaw.
"I am in no mood to deal with your preaching, Star Knight," Alexander sighed deeply, not even turning to face his greatest foe, "Suffice to say, I've had a rough week."
Star Knight shifted uncomfortably in the door, adjusting his black suit before stepping into the room, "I'm not here to tell you that you can be a better man, Alex, and I'm certainly not here to fight today. I thought you might need someone to talk to." With his arms at a slight angle, he cocked his head, "Am I wrong?"
Alexander almost imperceptibly changed his position at the rail separating the casket from the rest of the room, "And why, precisely, would I want to talk to you, of all people?" His head drooped slightly, "We have nothing left to discuss, unless you're going to try to stop me from laying waste to the Brunotti and Antonov families."
"Honestly? While I would prefer you not darken the Albright name further with mass slaughter, I don't think there's much I could do to stop you at this point," Star Knight crossed the room to stand near the notably-slimmer Solar Saber, "Reese was a good man, even if he associated with an utter bastard like you."
"You're not wrong on either point there, you sanctimonious shit," Alexander grinned a little.
"Guilty as charged, I suppose. I'll never admit to agreeing with you," Star Knight leaned on the rail.
"Y'know, he was out. He had a plot of land picked out, I was going to have one of my legitimate businesses build him a house as a retirement gift."
"Hell of a lot nicer than a pocket watch."
Alexander chuckled a bit at this before breaking down completely, "He'd still be alive if I'd gone instead. We both know it. Hell, if he'd just had his armor still..."
"We're considerably more durable than normal humans," Star Knight turned his gaze to his nemesis, the bane of his existence, but most importantly a deeply hurt man, "But you can't get stuck on the what-ifs here, little brother. Mourn the friend you lost, but don't lose yourself in the grief."
"I am above such shameful melodrama, Rudy!" Solar Saber growled, "... Why are you grinning?"
"No reason," Rudy Albright responded, "You look and sound like you could use a drink, Alex. How about we give the paparazzi something that's worth taking a picture of?"
|
"Come to gloat?"
The service had broken, the minister giving his condolences to the young man that stood facing the headstone. Cemetery attendants waited patiently, knowing that it could take some time before they'd be able to fill in the hole, covering the beautiful ebony coffin with dirt, and closing the chapter of a story that had ended far too soon.
The young man's face was blank. No doubt the shock he had been experiencing since the tragedy lingered, seeping through the body, and embedding in his very bones. No one had attended, his fault really; he couldn't announce this to the world, not with who he was. It was still a shame though...she held no family, outside of the one they had hoped to create one day.
Leaves crunched from behind, a stranger coming up beside him and causing the first feeling he'd had for the last few weeks. Tension.
He knew exactly who this was.
"Come to gloat?" he asked, the sneer ever ready when dealing with this person.
"Support," was the answer. "I would've come sooner. I regret that I didn't."
"Spare me."
The two stood in silence, their focus on the name before them. The dates of life. Barely thirty. Still in the prime of her life. "Janey was..."
"Do not say her name," the first man growled, his head turning only a fraction as a warning. "What're you doing here?"
"As I said," the second replied, his head turned to fully address the other. "For support." He turned back to stare at the headstone. "I'm honestly worried about you, Kroy."
The chuckle held no happiness. "Worried that I will use this to wreck even more havoc on the city?" he scoffed. "Oh, you can be sure of that. Because there is someone out there who is responsible for this. I will find them. And I will kill them. And I will kill anyone who gets in my way."
The other man sighed. "You know I can't let you do that."
"Then you shouldn't have come."
The two faced each other, not unlike their previous encounters, though the power shift seemed very apparent. Instead of the confidence normally held by the second man, he was truly conflicted in this case. He saw the fury, the hatred, the unbridled anger that begged, pleaded to be released. Kroy wasn't completely evil. Misguided, yes, evil, not quite.
Their entanglements usually didn't hurt others, definitely not each other, and the second man always felt that his nemesis was just bored. That's why he did what he did. He was dangerous, no doubt, but in an intellectual way that was geared more towards seeking justice against those who wouldn't face any. Honestly, he hated having to face him sometimes.
After what felt like infinity, Kroy deflated. The mask slipped and the grief was clear to see. "Go home, Mason," he whispered. He turned back to stare at the headstone. "Go home."
The man named Mason, the Crimson Heart of Hollis City, only nodded. He raised his arm, the thought to perhaps pat his counterpart on the shoulder as he passed, but he let it drop helplessly. The Mastermind had stated his intentions and, as the Heart walked away, the superhero couldn't help but shudder.
This would not end well.
Not at all.
|
MrArgetlahm
|
Meryl_Steakburger
|
2024-09-20 02:15:25
|
2024-09-20 01:50:35
| 28 | 20 |
lnzngjr
|
lnzjmf6
|
1fko803
|
1fko803
|
[WP] You were kidnapped by a villain and he gloats about how you're bait for his arch-nemesis, and you'll be dead soon. You sigh and just look at him. "Buddy, its not that hero you need to worry about....its my wife." and he looks at you perplexed.
|
"I've been watching goodlight for sometime and *he* keeps an eye on you. Clearly you mean something to him, so here I have you as bait. And just as he arrives, I will kill you in front of him before darkening his light forever!"
John was still a little groggy from the drug, strapped to this chair while nitefight monologued.
"...You think I'm... Important to goodlight? Like, personally?"
"Yes I believe that's what I just explained" nitefight snapped
"Ah, no. He is just assigned to me, us, actually, it's his job to keep tabs on us. We are not friends. Look just let me go before you get in trouble, you clearly don't know how things work around here"
"I give you points for bluffing, but you aren't going to talk your way out of here. You and your wife will..."
"Wait, my wife?!?" John interrupted. "You did NOT bring her here, did you???"
"Yes, of course!" Nightlight snapped again, annoyed by the interruptions and lack of intimidation this normy displayed... "Goodlight watches both of you, I wasn't sure if both of you were important but it won't matter once goodlight gets" nitefight was cut off yet again.
"Buddy, It's not that hero you need to worry about... It's my wife! You really MUST be new here. If I were..."
"SILENCE!!" It doesn't matter how long I've been here or *how things work here!* I will make my name by taking down my nemesis tonight!"
...
"Have you heard of "Geppetto"?" John asked quietly.
Nitefight paused a half second before replying cautiously. "Yes? What does a supervillain have to do with anything?"
"He is my wife's Godfather, and he is very protective of her" John said almost gently.
Nitefight felt cold and sick, he paled. "Wha...what? No, I never saw him or his men near her!" He sounded desperate, as if he could make it untrue.
"Well we don't get together often, Jess wants to stay out of the villain world, but we are still close. It's why Goodlight keeps tabs on us, he is assigned to by the heros"
Nitefight rushed over undoing the straps frantically. "Nononono! you have to tell him, it was a mistake!!! I would never! Your wife! We'll go free her! I'll never..." His frantic and terrified babbling stopped as he was turning to run to the door, his limbs and body suddenly standing at an odd angle, as if his dead weight was being held up for him, as if he was a puppet. "No!" He squeaked "I'm sorry! I didn't know!" The door opened and a large man stepped in.
"John." He nodded to John who was now standing unsteady by the table.
John spoke quickly. "He didn't know, must be new here, can't you just let..." The large man held up his hand and John stopped, dropping his shoulders. An invisible force pulled a babbling and pleading Nitefight out through the door as if by strings.
"Can you walk John?" The large man asked.
John could hear screams from somewhere.
"I think so. Are you sure you can't just..." John started again.
"How about you let me worry about my business and you mind yours, John. I took him out of the room because I know you're *sensitive*. Jess is already on her way out, she insisted I come find you myself. Let's go." Geppetto turned toward the door.
"Yes papa G. Thank you."
|
"Listen, Mr. Dane," the captive man, pleaded, arms tied behind him as he sat in a rather uncomfortable chair, legs also tied together, "Just let me go and we can all forget about this mess."
Cameras were placed above, pointing at the dishevelled man in a clear Livestream to display the evil taking place.
The man in question was bout middle age, with a slightly worn face and a few greys speckling the normally blue-black hair.
A taller gentleman, wearing a rather nice suit, despite there being no occasion to do so, flicked his victim's nose, "Oh don't worry, sweetheart," his voice was full of a fake sickly sweet tone, "You'll be home in time for supper. I just needed a world famous archeologist to get the attention of the planet..."
The villain's monologue was cut short by a wry chuckle from his hostage, who was now trying to work his bindings free.
"What?!" The suited man growled, giving the other a glare and raising a remote to indicate that he could open the trap doors at any moment, sending the famed archeologist into a tank of hungry sharks.
"Hm?" Aforementioned victim looked up, eyes wide but unable to hide a mischievous grin, "Oh yeah. Well, it's actually the Mrs and the kids you should really worry about." At least he stopped struggling at the knots.
Raising an eyebrow, Mr. Dane adjusted his suit sleeves with a huff, "My wife and children aren't your concern Doctor-"
Before another word could be spoken a shrill scream could be heard, followed by a loud crash. With all hairs on end, Mr. Dane slowly turned to see his nemesis...and two young children?
"DAD!" The two girls ran to their father, only stopping a brief moment to give the villain a few hard smacks to the torsoe and one to the-
"Biscuits..." Mr. Dane allowed himself to crumple on the ground, not daring to press his Shark Tank Button with *children* present. He was pretty sure they went to school with his kids anyway.
"Mr. Dane," the woman stepped forward, stopping just in his now bleary sight, "I expected some.shenanigans. But involving my husband? On a school night?" She tsk'd and stepped over him to embrace her family.
Naturally, by the time the secret agent looked back from her family the man was gone. But she wasn't going to mention that one to her boss.
|
NurseMcStuffins
|
Bleumoon_Selene
|
2023-02-15 03:03:20
|
2023-02-15 01:31:32
| 28 | 20 |
j8l88zq
|
j8kwlj7
|
1120hb5
|
1120hb5
|
[WP]As a nerd,you always got bullied by a classmate.After a few years,your appearance became more appealing and masculine.You went on a blind date and were surprised to find out that your bully was your date, and she happened to be shy and didn't recognise you.You decided to go along with the date.
|
"Gabe? You're Gabe, right? From the app?"
There she was, dark hair combed back and with only a smattering of makeup. After the hell I'd gone through during high school, I'd gotten into the spirit of working out, the first instinct to run and hide squashed, as my smile came up as a first response.
"Gabe, yeah, that's me."
Smelly Angel, that's what she'd always called me. Just because my parents were religious. My sister's name was Ruth, another wonderful name from the Good Book.
"Ah, I've not really- I mean, my friend set me up on this."
I just tried it out as well. BlindDays, a match-up app on my phone. I hardly use the phone, but I still kept it just to look popular. She wore a nice blue shirt and a skirt.
"I guess. Well then, Erica, shall we get in? It might be a bit too much for us to date without food."
A nice place, good for a bite to eat and nothing too expensive. Erica, or the bane of my life, giggled in a girly way and I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.
It always came down to what they thought of you, just like in high school. It always made sense when they had their own little cliques, their little crushes, their own little going-on when the captain of the team grabbed you by your shirt and you were receiving a prime-time beat-down by the people that were entirely too muscular and brain-damaged because of brutal blunt impacts to know what the exact derivation of the secret of 'Pi' was.
My nose still looked slightly awkward, after Kenneth had stomped on my face and I'd woken up in the ER, just because Erica had been like 'Oh, it's the nerd...'.
Of course, nobody could really put the blame on them, they were 'young men with a bright future'.
A bright future that saw three of them in prison for the assault of a young woman, two dead from gang-related violence in the bad part of town and Kenneth, asshole supreme, getting arrested for possession of steroids.
"I really liked this date. You're one of the good guys."
Erica, as always, went for the 'hot' guys. That shy demure side of her always made the guys think with other parts of their body, because her dark hair just hit that sweet spot, like that Christy Carpet girl from that one show about Elizabeth the Ghoul Destroyer or something...
"Did you?"
I barely talked during dinner. I was watching, observing, the giddy little smile on her face clearly telling me that she was in a good mood.
"Yeah, I'm... You know? I like a guy like you. You're so sweet."
My face showed nothing, as she lightly tugged her shirt open just a bit to 'cool down', which I knew from experience, was one of the ways that she lured me in. You couldn't trust her with anything, because she'd made my life absolute hell.
"S... so... Want to come up to my place?"
I shrugged it off, shaking my head a little. Erica Tannenbaum wasn't really going to get me into that viper's den, my fingers brushing through my hair, sweeping it back.
"Sorry, I'm not into hooking up on the first date. That's just trashy."
She looked down, at her hands, her cheeks redder than before.
"I guess we're on the same level then, Gabe."
Hardly. She was so far below me that it would not even be worth it, but my smile was as I'd practiced it.
"Maybe next time, Erica."
The look of hope that she gave me was sickening. Everything she did to me came rushing back and I took the time to savor it.
"There'll be a next time? I'd love to- To meet up."
My laugh was quite honest, as 'meet up' for her usually involved three to four guys. It had been no surprise that she threw her beauty around like a club and that even Mister Burns who taught Advanced Chemistry, had a shot with her. Of course, nothing officially was confirmed, but she'd had a *reputation*.
"Maybe? Catch you later, Erica."
I got into my car and drove back home, knowing that Erica Tannenbaum, the girl who had haunted me for most of my high school, had enjoyed our date.
**Hey, want to meet up again?**
Her message had arrived before I'd even gotten back home, a notification on my phone pinging loudly, as I put on some heavy metal.
One didn't drive in style without some blaring organ music and the raw vocals of someone singing about the great war when one had just assassinated the Arch-Duchess of Frankenfurters.
(Well, I hope people like it!)
|
The king clothed himself in his finest silk garments. He did not enjoy such careless spending, but it was considered in bad taste to come before a dragon in ordinary wear. Pricier still was it to move the dragon's belongings beneath the castle, just a handful of days before the lair was cleared of the manyfold shelves of food.
For a kingdom to have a dragon advisor is a matter most prestigious, even when the dragon in question is titled "the snarky" or "the bold". Every major kingdom had a dragon. It was an unspoken but undeniable rule that a king without a dragon is weaker by ancient wisdom they provide, though criptic. It was worth all the gold and space a dragon needs, even if this one, for a dragon, is as humble as a monk.
The king stepped into the sanctum, now lit with many candles and warm. The first thing he noticed, besides the mass of bronze resting in the room's very center, was the paper. Tomes, books, grimoires of ancient knowledge. This was not ordinary for a dragon. Most spent their time counting gemstones and gold, amassed over their venerably long lives. The king bowed before the dragon. It was his subject, but how could someone not show respect to such a majestic creature?
"We finally meet, sire," spoke the beast. "What is the first matter you need advice of?"
The king looked into the creature's abyssal eyes, pupils like emeralds. "I need your advice, oh, great serpent, in a matter of succession. My eldest son, heir to the throne, is a pious man. Temperate, kind, and a champion orator. However, you see, to rule is not only to pray and preach. I see him reject in word and in deed the lessons I try to teach him, instead turning to our chaplain for advice. What should I do, great one?"
"Make him a monk."
The king raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Excuse me, dragon... Do you mean it literally? No riddles?"
"Yes." The serpent shuffled in some tomes, and reached for a specific, more recent one. It must have prepared for it's new employer. "Your daughter, what about her?"
"According to our customs, she is to become the leader of our army. She is as sharp as a razor - thinking about not only battle, but what precedes it, field fortification and logistics."
"And let me guess, the youngest one is a knight at heart, but will be a chaplain."
The king stroked his beard, and pondered. "I would have to revoke my eldest's succession, but... I suppose he will be relieved more than anything."
"Anything more you desire advice about, my liege?"
"No. No, that is all for now." The king turned to leave, but he then decided to ask one more question. "Excuse me, young dragon, but why do they call you 'the snarky' and 'the bold'? You appear well mannered to me."
"Oh, it is expected of us dragon advisors to give riddles and nonsense like that. I'm more of a straightforward type, and folk don't like being told 'don't have children with your cousins' for some reason. If I wanted to pass on hidden meanings, I would write poems... Which I do enjoy actually, but that's besides the point. Did you know the dragon advisor trend began as an effort to placate dragons into working for the ruling class instead of raiding? I would say it succeeded. And look how much treasure that brought me, albeit much less shiny than most prefer."
"Really? I didn't know." The king bowed again, and smiled warmly. "I look forward to our cooperation."
|
CyanideSins
|
HunterDarmagegon
|
2024-05-24 12:14:08
|
2023-12-02 21:04:01
| 43 | 21 |
l5gl7k4
| null |
1czh86n
|
60w89c
|
[WP] A lesser God has bestowed you the power to erase your memory but only of works of fiction. It's a mediocre gift, but you get to enjoy your favorite movies and books anew. Settling down to enjoy your favorite fantasy book/movie, you once again invoke your gift. The memory does not fade.
|
After a full month, I knew something was wrong. Sure, the power was given to me by some lesser God, but it was a God nonetheless. How does a simple book, written by some unknown author, be able to counter this power?
Worse yet, it wasn't even a particularly good book! In fact, the story was *so bad* that I threw the book in the trash, and wanted to forget right away... and I couldn't. And after a month, I read it again and again. Still, no clue why my power doesn't manifest.
So I did the next steps: experiment. Read a page, tried to forget. Nothing. Another page, tried to forget it. This time, it worked. After about an hour, I had a full list of the first 10 pages which I could not really forget - two pages. Then, on these two pages, I boiled down to the paragraph. Only one paragraph on the first page, and two paragraphs on the fourth page were the ones I could not forget at all.
Then came the longest game of scrabble I always had. Find words. Individual words I could forget; combinations of them, no. Then I wrote on some paper slips each combination of word. I found that "expected found person" was a combination that, no matter how, I could not forget.
Then, I tried letters. "efp", "exp f p", with or without spaces, and tried and tried and tried, until I found the combination.
I've been on this process for a couple of years now. I'm almost done with the book. With some combinations, the lights flicker. On others, I see things. I'm not sure if I'm going insane, but I can swear that some of these words make images appear on my head, like if their nonsensical words somehow evoke messages on my head. Combining these pseudo-phrases cause me horrible, *horrible* headaches sometimes, and I can see... things.
Things that I'm not meant to see.
I know there's someone on my room, looking at me. I can't see, hear, or feel this creature at all, but I know it. With some word combinations, I can see shadows, shadows of things that shouldn't be here.
And I know, that soon, I'll have power to kill Gods... and I'm scared of what I'll do with it.
|
The first time, it was a curious joy. To know that somewhere out there, a wardrobe really did have a world beyond it. The second time, it was less of a surprise, but still a pleasant thought that men had explored so deep within the planet.
But it started to get weird. Some of this should be verifiable, right? There weren't toilets in the right place to be swished away to a magical Ministry. I went to check! Other verifiable details couldn't be confirmed! But the memory would not fade, no matter how carefully I invoked the Power.
Then, so many comics and movies came out, talking about the Multiverse. Well, duh! That must be it. These unforgettable truths weren't here, but just somewhere! What a relief! I tested it, of course. Nope, there's still that memory of loads of Lokis battling in a basement. That was confirmation enough for me! I started to worry less about intelligent apes taking over, or zombie plagues wiping out *my* world.
But then I noticed my favorite daily news report was marked Read. Yep, same as all the other Daily News Email reports for the last week.
I can't remember any of them.
I think things are gonna get really weird soon.
|
mauricioszabo
|
FearlessKnitter12
|
2023-05-03 21:17:37
|
2023-05-03 18:00:24
| 208 | 50 |
jiqzytc
|
jiq5kac
|
136u02j
|
136u02j
|
[WP] "As promised, your mother has been restored to perfect health and in exchange you will give me your firstborn" The Fey declared as she looked down at you. You nod at her and reply: "Great, when do we start then?"
|
The look in her eyes was all I needed, the questioning, the shock, followed by the horror. "What, you said you wanted my firstborn. I am single, you are single, I figured we could mingle." I just shrugged. The slackjawed- eyebrow raised, nostril flaring rage that she was holding back nearly broke my composure. It took everything inside me not to burst out with laughter.
The Fey were not the only ones who could play tricks. If they can, so could I. The deal never stated whom the child had to be birthed to, and the now tightness in her jaw suggested she knew exactly what that little loophole meant.
"Why, Edmond, I am not so sure that is-" She pursed her lips, her paper white skin pinkening behind her words, "I- I mean are you sure that is what you would like?" Her silvery wings flittered ever so slightly, making them just barely visible to my eyes for a moment. Her glossy blonde hair shifted in the breeze that swept gently by, my eyes cast up to the beautiful sky.
"Yes ma'am. I won't be giving you one otherwise. Because there is one thing you did not know before we made this deal, you see. I am gay." I finally let the grin split my lips, the sheer fury that darkened her otherwise gentle features was swiftly replaced by a menacing grin. She had an ace up her sleeve, too.
"Well, then, Dearest Edmond. I propose a change in the contr-" I cut her off, wagging my finger through the air. "No. No changes. I promised my firstborn. The seed which I carry is the only thing that will satiate the contract- correct? Which means, unless you break the contract, leaving my end secured and you empty handed...." I shuffled my feet back and forth as a chill seemed to split the air between us.
"What makes you believe your end has to be fulfilled if I break our contract? I really do not believe you understand the position you put yourself in." She obviously thought I had not read through every clause, every page, every sentence in not only the contract, but the Fey law, which is unbearably stiff minded and unbreakable. "If I have to break our contract....."
"Order 453, by decree of the Fey King Adarios Armentine Dupont- If any Fey being creates a contract which they themselves break for any reason, they must uphold their end without retaliation to the contractee nor those dearest to them, and without reaping the bounty of which they sought through dastardly means. Punishable by the removal of their wings/horns/talons/ ect and banishment from the Fey realm." I cleared my throat before continuing. "And in no way have i broken the contents of the contract, myself. Mind you I have not told you I will not give you my firstborn, I have simply told you that if you wish for it soon, you must have it yourself. As I am not interested in females of my own kind.
I could see the veins bulging from the side of her temple, she was trying- and failing- to think of some way to negate my words. "Nowhere in our binding contract does it state a timeframe, nor limitation on when I have to fulfill my end of the bargain. Nowhere does it state that it has to be fulfulled with any particular species. You have two choices here, Miss Eveline, break the contract from your end, or give yourself my first born."
|
I looked as color returned to my mother's pale face.
She groaned, but then her frown eased, and turned to her side, continuing to sleep.
"As promised, your mother has been restored to perfect health.
In exchange you will give me your firstborn.", the Fey standing next to me said.
She smirked at me, staring directly in my eyes.
I stood up, and nodded.
"Great, when do we start then?", I asked.
She tilted her head, making her spring green hair gently move.
Her eyes like stars continued to unblinkingly stare at me.
"What do you mean?", she asked.
"Well, you want my firstborn.
So, when do we make this child?", I asked, smiling at her.
She looked at me, and then laughed.
Moving away her hair that was used as coverage, she showed me her naked body in all its glory.
She danced, and swayed...before raising her leg high up.
I gulped, being unable to look away...and then...she kicked me in the head.
I fell down.
"What...", I muttered, trying to look up at her, but she stepped on me.
"Seriously...what's wrong with you mortals?
You see me do a miracle, see me fly, and tame the elements...and all you can think about is sex?", she asked, pressing my head into the floor.
I groaned, and couldn't answer as my face was almost one with the floor.
She lifted her feet, and sighed.
"Talk.", she said.
"You didn't specify how you want my firstborn...and...
I am not married nor in a relationship, so it wasn't a random idea.", I said.
She snorted.
"Might have had a chance if you were of a pure heart.
If you started with this information, and asked for a resolution, but no.
You went straight to bedding me, so no, no matter how you see us Fey, we aren't that..."easy", so the deal shall change.
I shall take something else.", she said, as she walked up to mother, and gently kissed her forehead.
"Farewell, you pervert.", she said, disappearing.
I sighed, but then I heard mom move.
"Hey...how are you?", I asked, helping her sit up.
She stared and stared at me, then my world shattered, as she asked me one question.
"Excuse me...but who are you? And what are you doing in my house?", my mother asked, and I simply stopped thinking...
|
DayExtreme9308
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-08-13 04:04:28
|
2024-08-13 03:57:13
| 398 | 81 |
lhuz0z4
|
lhuy4d7
|
1equibw
|
1equibw
|
[WP] A deity has had enough and is ready to die, however one tiny human still calls their name in prayer, forcing this deity to exist. The deity now attempts to help the tiny human in order to finally fade away.
|
A lonely god drifted through the ether, tired, but so close to that rest it was promised. Close to the peace of the end. It’s final follower was an old man, unable to spread his belief to his family, and now he was about to pass on. And when he did, it would follow.
But dread filled the god, as right when the man began to fade, a new name focused their intent on the god. It’s follower’s grandson. Had the man been able to spread the religion after all?
But then the prayer came, and the god was relieved.
“Hey, uh, I know you’re probably not real, but, uh, if you exist, can you, like, help me pass my test? Please, I really can’t fail this one, my mom’s gonna be pissed.”
He didn’t truly believe, the god knew, it was just the prayer of a nonbeliever. If the god answered it too well, it ran the risk of getting another follower. But still, this was his follower’s grandson. It knew the man. It was the closest thing to a companion it had, after it’s godly companions faded.
The god would help, but it would need to be subtle.
The god looked at the situation. The grandson was sitting down for the test right then, for the subject of Calculus. The boy had not studied, and would surely fail on his own. The boy even knew this. The god could not lead him to the right answers, it decided, it would be too much of a risk for another follower.
That left more indirect methods. The teacher and his assistant’s watchful eyes would make the boy too nervous for any attempt at cheating. But if he made the teacher feel sick…
The teacher would leave for the bathroom. He would think it would be quick trip, but the god would make sure it lasted long enough for the boy.
That only left the assistant. She was… well, bored, it seemed. Before the god could even influence her, she had already pulled out a phone. She would occasionally glance up, but at the door, not the students, checking for when the teacher would come back.
Well, that was simple. Now, the god only had to slightly nudge the boy’s feelings, increase his desperation a tad, and place a tiny drop of manic hope, and sure enough, the boy pulled out his phone as well.
After 30 minutes, the boy had his test finished with a passing grade, and the teacher came back into the room, still looking quite green. The god nodded, he had helped the boy, but the boy would not think it to be the god’s intervention. It was ready to finally fade.
|
To say that little Charlie was weird, was an understatement.
Whilst only 5, his parents honestly believed there was an old 45-year-old historian was trapped in his soul, the only reason why they didn't seek out an exorcist was because he was still a normal dinosaur nugget loving boy. Charlie loved making up words, his verbal-dexterity was impressive at his young age. He hated most normal words and instead would try to replace humdrum words with exciting replacements. Bacon became Bexliticka, Mother became Thxxisxisli ( Which she found terrifying ) but most importantly, he re-named Santa to be Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli.
In a very strange turn of fate, a turn of fate that a god would be proud of, this small 5-year-old child had guessed the name of an Aztec god. And whilst Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli didn't entirely understand why his blood sacrifices have turned into requests for V-Bucks, he understood this needed to be stopped.
In a flash, the Morning Star of Venus appeared in front of Charlie, who was picking his nose at the time.
"BEHOLD CHILD, I AM HERE!" The scary god boomed.
"You look stupid" Charlie, unfazed, stated
Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli wasn't insulted...Ever. He had been feared mostly, and now this pants-shitting child had insulted him.
"ENOUGH, TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT"
"Ice cream"
"BEHOLD VANILLA - Now shut up"
Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli vanished. However, Charlie just thought the coke commercial was out of date.
|
JHoll05
|
Hesoutofbedagain
|
2023-10-18 20:51:34
|
2023-10-18 20:49:31
| 201 | 134 |
k5gf3mn
|
k5gerdm
|
17b06c6
|
17b06c6
|
[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?
|
No one really understood my powers , everyone kind of thought I just coasted through classes but that I was constantly called to the head office and that things just always worked out for me, the only person who knows is the headmaster , they can exist out of space time so they kind of know when my power has been used… well most of the time… sometimes it exceeds even there capabilities… see my power keeps me safe at all times and life will rewind and change the flow of events to try and save me if I’m ever hurt badly… was Jerry going to punch me with a steam powered punch? And did it cause enough damage ? Suddenly events change and it just so happens someone swings a door open in his face and like magic I fully am healed from any damage. If it’s something major enough like me dying, well my powers reset me even further back, I like to call this one “reloading”, it’s the one that even the headmaster doesn’t fully know about.
The headmaster knows I can’t control it , sometimes people have gotten badly hurt by it , Tiana accidentally got a few broken bones when instead of kicking me she managed to kick the iron wall of Hank just happening to walk by.
But today something felt strange , and the headmaster seemed uneasy as he motioned me into his office.
“ I have a task for you and it’s only for you “
I was puzzled , my powers never really were good for “tasks” more like a reset if things went wrong
“ umm what exactly can I do for you , am I a fail safe again for everyone to think just was along for the ride?”
He looked over to me and shook his head
“No I’m afraid this time you are the main show in a sense , you mentioned once if you died that the world wouldn’t just change so events didn’t happen but you could actually go back and change them right, I know it’s happened before but even I can’t find where in the multiverse it happened in all of space time , it’s like your power erases and resets the universe , the only way I know is because I can see something is gone “
I was a bit surprised he knew, but he had complete control over his power and would frequently jump between timelines and universes but I never heard him explain it that way before
“ well what exactly is it that you want from me then ? That power only works when I die “
“Precisely , and die you will on this task , many times probably”
I was shocked , what task could he have for me to intentionally die?
He looked over at me with grief in his eyes
“ everyone was poisoned in the school , including you , and the culprit is someone like me… that can exist out of space time…. And sadly I can’t stop them … only you can find them and corner them… and erase them… “
That feeling I had…. Was it the poison? Is that why several staff and students were out sick today and everyone seemed out of it? I looked up to see the headmaster walking toward me before I felt a sharp pain in my chest with his hand phased through it
“ this will be less painful then the poison , it’s a mercy really , you know your task, save us….”
His last words resonating as the universe around me crumbled away and I felt myself fade
|
TinyBard
|
Omnizoom
|
2023-01-20 03:33:25
|
2023-01-20 03:27:56
| 503 | 51 |
j53ju8p
|
j53j4t6
|
10gh68v
|
10gh68v
|
[WP] As you tuck your daughter into bed, she tells you that there's a monster in her closet. Thinking she's just being a kid, you open the closet to show her there's nothing there, but you instead find your daughter who tells you that there's someone in her bed.
|
Tucking in a small patch of chew into my lip I looked up at the once beautiful Mount Yorklin. Named after the small town below, founding father. On the side of it were thirty or so drones drilling away at the cliffside, welding large steel beams in for support. Near the foot of the mountain, standing a few mule steps over was Dark Ferocity. A man who my counter parts in the inner city had said was the most ruthless and diabolical man to ever live. They would tell stories of how they narrowly evaded death from his attacks and traps. Always with a "You wouldn't understand, seeing your biggest threat is that alligator guy." comment.
I slowly walked up to him, my hands in my pockets. I wasn't like the rest of them, never had a super suit. Thought it was too cliche to wear one, plus who in their right mind wears their underwear on the outside. "Seems, like we got a new neighbor in these parts." I say giving the man a small wave as I approached. "Though, I would have preferred you hadn't chosen such a historically significant mountain to claim as yours." I added now standing near the man.
He turned, giving me the look, that the supers described as the last chance you would get to run away before he would attack, "Not that it matters to you, but I paid good money to buy this mountain." He said reaching behind his back, "Specially to some small time super from the boonies."
I smile and raise my hands, "Wo now, not trying to pick a fight. I know you paid good and well to build your new lair here. I'm on the board of directors for the town. Just wanted to come see how things were going for ya'" I say, I could since the technology he had, some sort of ray for dematerializing organic matter. I give a quick snort before spitting out a little bit of the chew build up, but also to fry the motherboard of the gun making it useless if he tried to fire it at me. "Also, just wanted to see what business you were going to have. I really don’t mind taking your money, but I rather not get the local population in harm’s way if you decide that you want more land, and we say no."
He scoffed and slid his hand back out, "This is a first, a super who wants to talk sense rather than punch first. The building is slow right now, wasn’t expecting there to be such hard material in the mountain. So, it'll take some more time for my bots to get through them. As for the locals, you need not worry. I was just tired of the supers destroying my bases in the city." He said a bit warmer, "That is until they find out about this one." He said with a sigh.
"Well, they'll find out eventually. Rules of the Hero's organization states I need to inform them of any lairs that form with in my district of protection. So, they'll know you're out here. Though, that does mean I have full authority to be the one that dismantles this base of yours if I see that it's a threat." I say as I move up next to him and stand with my hands in my pockets. "So, what do you plan on doing here. Gonna build a death ray that will target a city miles away?"
He gave a laugh, "Nothing of the sort actually, I plan to continue my research into dark matter. I hope to find a fuel to get me through the cosmos and away from these inadequate human minds." He fully laying out his plans to me, his tone as though I wouldn't understand him at all.
"Reasonable goal I see. Well, so long as I don't sense any machines of destruction being built or feel that a meltdown from your inadequate builds is going to happen. I'll stay out of your hair. Just don't be stealing nothing from the locals to help build these things." I say and turn my heals to leave, throwing back his own words at him. "Also, we do a potluck on Thursdays at the church, make sure to bring something." I say waving my hand up over my head. "Just don't bring a peach cobbler or you'll make enemies of Old Miss Jackson. Trust me, that is not a lady you wanna cross."
(ten years later at the hero council)
The man with a giant Y across his chest threw his fist into the table once again, "How! How in ten years have you let his base build and not gone in to investigate it. This is why I say I need to take over his district, the hillbilly hasn't done a thing or stopped this mad man from building what he's building." Yankeedoodle yelled with a murmur of agreement from about the table.
I leaned back in my chair, eating out of a Tupperware bin of an apple backed ham that I've grown to love. "Well for one, ya'll got that guy figured out all wrong. He was just defending himself." I say putting another piece of ham in my mouth. "Also, he's not a bad guy once you get to know him. He mostly keeps to himself and hasn't bothered anyone in my district at all. In fact, he's helped some of the local farmers by building some automated machines." I say pointing my fork at Yankeedoodle.
It was then that Mrs. Law stood, slamming her gavel down. “As the rules state, if the super in the district is unable to control the villains in it. Then the council will see fit to move another super into that district. As far as we are concerned Yankeedoodle. You’re still having problems with some Alligator guy in your sewers.”
|
When my daughter was one year old she refused to go near the closet in her room. If someone was carrying her, she would throw a fit trying to get away. We tried to reason that it's just a kid being a kid. She would grow up. But it got worse.
*
When she was two she started to sneak out of her room and into ours in the middle of the night. She hadn't started speaking yet, the doctor said that some children started speaking later, so she couldn't tell us why. She always looked so desperate to stay that we couldn't refuse. We tried a few times, but she started to shake so violently that we felt like the worst parents.
One night I told her to sleep with her mom in our room and I will sleep in hers, she started gesturing wildly, every movement of her little limbs conveyed fright. She kept pointing at our closet and I thought she was afraid of something in it. So after she went to sleep I went to her to check her closet. As expected there was nothing but her stuff. It was just a child's imagination running wild.
But I decided we needed to see the doctor again.
But the sessions were fruitless. She kept looking at the doctor then at us then bowed her head, clamping her lips shut.
I knew my baby was suffering and it broke me to pieces not knowing why or how to take care of it.
*
When she was three, she started speaking. Her voice was like a music made just for us. She had started to get better. She slept in her room mostly. But once in a while I thought I saw her in the middle of the night checking on us.
Why?
*
When she was four she finally asked me if monsters were real. I answered they were and her eyes grew wide. I explained that most monsters were just bad people. They weren't different, just bad.
She nodded then asked me to check her room for monsters. Terror gripped me. Had someone been in my baby's room? Had she been hurt? I stopped my train of thoughts from going bad to worse. I needed to assure my daughter that she was safe not to drive myself into a frenzy.
I smiled softly. "Of course, honey."
I looked under her bed, near her toys, and the bathroom.
"All clear." I said. "No monsters."
"The closet." Her voice was barely above a whisper. Her face was white.
Hair was standing at the back of my neck as I moved closer to the closet. I looked back to assure my daughter but she was holding herself so stiffly as if a wrong move would break her.
I open the door and the air whooshes out of me as if I've been sucker punched. My daughter is standing in the middle of the closet looking terrified.
"There's someone on my bed, daddy." She whispered terrified.
I look back and see my daughter looking at herself, then at me. She shook her head violently. "I'm me. I promise. I-"
She was hyperventilating. Forgetting about the echo I saw, I turned to calm my daughter when I heard a low cry of pain. My daughter, or her echo or whatever it was, was sitting at the floor crying in fear, a little puddle of water had formed below her. She had peed herself in terror.
She looked at me, then shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"No-" I choked out.
I was torn between my daughter. I knew something sinister was happening but what I didn't know. I looked at the bed and then at the closet. One was looking at me with pleading eyes and othe other was staring at herself in fear. And I knew. I just knew. I turned to run towards my daughter but a sudden chill had overtaken the room.
I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I heaved as I clutched my heart, the scream of my daughter calling for me.
"No!" My daughter cried.
"I told you what would happen if you told them." A static-y voice was resonating in the room.
"I'm sorry." My daughter cried.
I wanted to move closer to my daughter but I couldn't move. The pain was so blinding that I fell on my knees. I tried to crawl, I had to save my daughter but the pain was so overbearing that I knew I was a few seconds away from passing out.
"Honey, what's taking- what the hell!" I hear my wife's voice through the cold mist.
There was a yell and a demonic scream pierced through the night. The last thing I saw before I passed out was my wife swinging a poker at the echo.
Our daughter was safe. For now.
|
McTot214
|
iknowthisischeesy
|
2024-01-07 19:14:27
|
2023-06-25 20:16:19
| 185 | 67 | null |
jpi824n
|
190yicv
|
14ipem3
|
[WP] For some reason, you are kidnapped and put into an isolated chamber. The kidnappers expect you to go insane and fess up, but little do they know you are so happy to finally be able to daydream 24/7.
|
"I suppose at some point we should at least *try* to escape."
"Escape? *Escape?* My brother, we're in Malibu! The sun! The sand! The ocean! The *women!*"
"You do of course know that we are not in Malibu right now."
"Right yes I do know tha--"
"We are locked in a room somewhere in Connecticut."
"Yeah no you're right I just--"
"It has been three days since we've seen the light of the sun."
"I'm just having a bit of fun with it, y'know?"
"I'll say."
"Is that so wrong? To enjoy my time here?"
"In captivity, you mean?"
"We're all captives! That's why they call it Captivalism!"
"They don't call it that."
"I'm just saying, they have to at least feed us or we'll die before talking, they have to house us so we won't be discovered... our basic needs are being met, free of charge!"
"I feel like a few levels to Maslow's hierarchy of needs are neglected during forced captivity."
"Not if we use the power of *imagination!*"
"You've gone mad. Three days in here and you've gone totally mad."
"If 'going mad' means I'm on a beach in Malibu, then I'm Hannibal fucking Lecter!"
"Again, not on a beach. You're alone, in a locked room, with an increasingly large pile of shit in the corner."
"Don't bring up shit-corner, it shatters the illusion."
"There's no illusion! None of this is real! *I'm* not even real! You've retreated into the confines of your own mind in a desperate attempt to maintain some sense of control over your situation, when the truth is you are doing *really* poorly right now!"
"I am not! Just as soon as I get out of this room I'll be back on my feet!"
"Oh, oh good. So get out of this room then."
"No."
"And *there's* our problem."
"There's no problem! Malibu!"
"There *is* no Malibu! You can't keep hiding from reality like this!"
"Now you listen to me, pal. You are a part of *my* escapist fantasy, and you will ACT like--"
"You're diving into escapist fantasies without even trying to actually escape!"
"How am I supposed to escape? This room is impregnable!"
"You haven't so much as checked if the *door* is locked!"
"Well excuse me for believing in people! For believing our captors are competent!"
"God, you'll do anything to avoid reality, won't you? You're not afraid of being trapped in here, you're afraid of going back!"
"Shut up."
"You're afraid of the bills, and the responsibilities, and the social interactions--"
"Shut *up!*"
"You're gonna die in this dark, rancid, windowless room because you're too *afraid* to face the world outside!"
***"SHUT UP!"***
...
God. Okay. Yeah, it does smell pretty bad in here.
|
I’ve always known that my past actions would catch up to me one way or the other, I just assumed I would be killed in the battlefield, tortured maybe, not go through all that insane journey to be kidnapped over a decade later.
It all started last Tuesday when I was returning to my shithole of an apartment after yet another day of pretending to be somebody I’m not, I reached the corner-store well aware of some random car following me, yet I shrugged it off, ‘Meh, worst case scenario, I’ll have an excuse to beat someone down’, I thought to myself, next thing I know I’m here in this featureless cement cube with voices barking at me, telling me to share all the information I have on ‘M’, an old war-brother that I hadn’t communicated with in years…
A few hours in, and various attempts later to make me fess up, I realized, pacing around my cell, that my capturers knew almost nothing about me, other than my ties to M, as this wasn’t my first rodeo, not after being held captive multiple times during that god-forsaken war, not after that asylum, not after…
That’s when it hit me, it’s been ages since it was this quiet inside my head, it’s been ages since I’ve taken my last trip to that beautiful world I’ve constructed to escape all that surrounded me, it’s been eons since I’ve been with my real family, well, their ghosts at least…
A smile is suddenly painted on my face, as I sit down, crossing my legs beneath me, humming an old song about my city’s ruins, eyes wide shut as the light fills up every cell of my existence, I am finally home again…
To be continued… or maybe not…
|
Joelin8r
|
Athrow-awaymaybe
|
2023-03-30 14:22:58
|
2023-03-30 14:02:56
| 249 | 76 |
je9z3hf
|
je9wf59
|
126h6de
|
126h6de
|
[WP] You recently discovered that your father, whom you never knew, is actually a crime-fighter with no free time, and he is unaware that you are his son. In order to talk to him, you become a villain.
|
The whizzing air would have blown out my ears under normal circumstances, but I didn't mind. What annoyed me was the storm that he flew through. My eyes were shut so tight, they nearly froze going through the clouds. My cybernetic ear implants continued to buzz in my ear, blocking out moisture and the speed of the wind, the only remaining comfort I had.
The mechanical prototype suit had been shredded, and the leather harness that strapped me to the protective roll cage had produced less than adequate results. Something to reinforce to confor-
The air got warmer as we dropped below the clouds, the overcast sky becoming more grey as we descended. I smiled and blinked to get the wetness out of my eyes. *I must get ahead of myself and install the new implants to avoid this discomfort. Setting me down gently in a small steel cage, the man that I came to know as my Father found his own spot. Roughly ten paces away, a small chamber rose from the ground, the grass dead from the constant use. A mini-fridge appeared.
"Still drinking the blue flavour? That's my favourite."
His silent continued as he chugged a bottle of it. Then another. I fidgetted to scratch an irritation in my back before he turned to me. "You're going to jail. For good."
I smiled. "Nice to see you too Robert Lang." He scowled, then narrowed his eyes.
"How do you know that name." He growled as he walked closer, hard steps kicking up sand. I continued to smile.
"Birth certificate. Mum gave it to me when I was ten. You remember Becca, right?" My teeth, polished only yesterday by my dentist, gleaned white in the sun. "She's still practicing you know."
His face turned scarlet. "What kind of trick is this?!" He ripped the steel bars apart and picked me up by what was left of my collar. "Who are you?"
"Your son."
He looked at me, deep into the sockets of my eyes. He softened. His grip loosened, and dropped me to the floor. His eyes were thoughtful, tracing back the numerous flings, vacation romances, the by-gones and the smooches on the cheeks, the moments of peace and solitude. You could hardly blame him. Moving from one moment to the next, from one villain to the next. His eyes rose to meet mine again.
"Another one. Again. Huh." He stepped back to give me space again, and looked over me. "You became this to what, talk to me?"
I stood, uneasily as my left hip's pain rose sharply with the movement. There was likely a rib fracture as it hurt somewhat to breath on that side. Maybe a strain? I must re-eva-
"What kind of kid goes through the effort of inventing a mecha suit to destroy a city?" He interupted my thought.
I chuckled softly, softly enough for my chest to rest easy. "One that demands attention from my Father I guess?" He smirked at that briefly.
He sighed, waving me to follow him. The mini-fridge rose again to the surface. Handing me one of the bottles, he stated, "You're still going to jail."
|
Chunks of drywall and chipped off wood litter the floor. The hero walks in through the hole he made in the wall, each step confident yet cautious of unknown dangers. He uses his enhanced vision to scan through the lingering smoke and dimness. There are toys and diapers and baby bottles blown around. Confusion strikes the hero first then anger.
"What kind of villain would harm a baby?!" he yells with genuine fury.
As if triggered like a gun, a deep chuckle rises from across the room where even the moon light refuses to touch.
"Villain?" The deep voice slowly nears the hero. What was that odd rattling sound? "Aren't you the villain here for trespassing on private property?"
The hero takes a defensive stance and awaits for the villain to reveal himself. Since his intelligence team could only pick up the familiar ominous calling card from their scanners, he knew he had to approach the situation carefully or risk tearing a family apart so soon. He prioritizes rescuing the child first (possibly any other hostages since this villain could've kidnapped the rest of this family to slow him down) and, if the fight gets to dangerous for the baby, a quick escape to the closest safe house.
As the hero was devising his plan, he missed how the outline of the shadowy figure was... short. Like super short.
Another chuckle rose deep from the villain. "Aren't you also a villain for abandoning a family in the guise of the 'greater good'?"
An infant dressed in a black onesie with a short red cape waddled out into the light in a blue and black... baby walker? "Tonight shall be the last night you ever leave this family again!"
As the vil- baby maniacally laughed, the door to the room slammed wide open. A woman with braided red hair and mismatching clothes (is that spit up on her shirt?) barges in, shrieking, "Jacob Amy Ramos, Jr.! You better NOT be in here making explosives again!"
Oh heavens above, that's Mavis!
|
imakhink
|
Tricky-Ad7492
|
2023-11-18 01:11:50
|
2023-11-18 00:51:55
| 803 | 282 |
k9pmb29
|
k9pjt1z
|
17xs2q1
|
17xs2q1
|
[WP] The Galactic Overlords have pitted humanity and all the other "violent deathworlder" species against one another in the hope we will wipe each other out. They did not expect us to instead begin cooperating with each other almost immediately.
|
"Breathern. Citizens. Comrades."
Silence echoed in the Assembly.
"For untold eons, we were ridiculed,-"
///
_"The savagery of these canines cannot be tolerated, for the benefit of the Greater Specie-"_
///
"-exploited, subject to profiteering,"
///
_"You avians are to serve us for 800 of your solar cycles for our gracious magnanimity in uplifting your inferior Species-"_
///
"-culled."
///
_"Coordinates confirmed."_
_"Fire,"_
_"-but Lord! They are our-"_
_a light flashed_
_"Fire,"_
///
"No, more. Between righteousness and false peace, we choose righteousness."
///
The Interspecies Federation Navy gathered in the embrace of Sol VI's lunar satellite Titan, which was being strip mined by redirected Sunlight from the human Dyson Swarm^1. The kilometer-wide mirrors condensed the golden-orange light of Sol into a sky blue beam of hyper-concentrated thermal and electric energy, which then was received by O-Neill Cyclinder Energy Redirectors, made from repurposed obsolete colonies. They in turn distributed the energy to ground-based facilities mining the hydrocarbons and metals of the moon and the rings of asteroids around the planets
Afterall, multi-kilometer length ships need a lot of material.
Neutronium-laced Carbon-Nanotubes, made from oceans of hydrocarbons. Thankfully, Titan had hundreds of times more of it than Sol III^2 , the humans' homeworld.
**Visitation Requested**
"Oh well, my break was nice."
As I tore my gaze from the millions of naval vessels mustered and still mustering outside my office window, the door began to open.
///
|
Pack bonding killed with Overlords.
One human versus a drone swarm? Well, let them TAKE OVER THE PLANET.
Two humans and a Krafall took a solar system. Three, a hyperlane. Four... they died. They still tried, though.
And then eight billion humans and every single person wronged by the overlords... Well, there's a reason why Sol is the only star in deep space, beyond the reach of Andromeda.
And now, now, now some other humans opened an inter-dimensional portal, and they're all talking about 'SCPs' and 'Furrys.'
I, as god of the local supercluster, quit. You deal with them, Omni. I'm out.
|
TentacleJihadHentai
|
Nomyad777
|
2023-05-02 22:10:56
|
2023-05-02 15:53:00
| 68 | 27 |
jimczia
|
jikrl96
|
135nc94
|
135nc94
|
[WP] God is all of us, literally. The power of a god is divided evenly between all humans. The last human alive creeps out of the ashes of nuclear war.
|
Before the war, before humanity had been all but eradicated, Noah had collected trading cards. Now he collected bodies.
Even without man around, the occasional bomb still fell: a distant, deafening screech and roar, a lightning-flash eruption, the tremble of ground as man scarred the earth again, again, this time from beyond the grave. How quiet, Noah wondered, would it sound once all the automated responses were run dry?
The sky hazed purple-black with clouds that swirled like soup to a wooden spoon. Beneath them, Noah creaked his wheelbarrow, stopping here and there to add a body or a limb. He’d been working for months. God — the first one — had only worked for days, but he’d started from fresh. Noah was starting with hell, and hell didn’t transform into Eden so easily.
Sometimes, as he gathered the bodies, his old life would spike in his memory and he’d think of the dead as the cards he’d once cherised, wonder if he’d collected one like this already, one missing that, one in such pristine condition. Then he’d think: what’s wrong with me? They were people.
​
Noah had failed. No, that wasn’t right. The old god — the first that had split into many — had failed. Noah was him but not. That first god had been through billions of iterations since he’d created humanity, had lived as each of his creations and witnessed existence through myriad lenses. Noah was the end result of all that filtering. He now held something of every view, and surely with that experience he could do better.
​
He buried the latest batch of bodies in Second Eden — a slither of coastal land with a fuzzed shield over it that evaporated the nukes that attempted to ruin it.
New plants were already sprouting above older mounds, some budding. Noah lost himself for a while in the pruning and weeding. These plants, if looked after, would fruit. And each fruit would be imbued with part of Noah. They would weaken him, sharing his life and power and existence.
They would not look like humanity this time. And they would have to return to their plants after a time away, for if their plant grew sick then so would they. They would be meak in comparison. But the meak must inherit.
It was a strange idea, Noah knew. But humanity hadn’t understood how connected they were to the planet the first time around. There was too much distance between them, although there was also none. But this link, this necessity to take care of the earth and flowers and sky…
It probably wouldn’t work, but Noah had no better ideas.
He could be the last God, he supposed. Share it with no one. But then what was the point of Him?
Funny, he thought, how all the people on earth were once all the same person. That they were all in essence the same. And yet, for no reason at all, they forged differences, based them on the strangest things, like the patch of land they were born, or the shade of skin or hair.
He thought he heard the whistling of a bomb and grimaced at the thought of his shield failing. But the skies were silent — no bombs falling even in the distance.
Instead, it had been the shrill cry of the first fruit of his new crop.
Noah felt himself weaken. Felt his responsibility lessen. Let a smile take his lips as he plucked the first child from the first plant and rocked her gently in his arms. The plant coiled around them both, motherly, tenderly. The earth and humanity — new humanity — were now together.
Noah looked at the swirling sky above the dome, then down at the sapling child, and thought: perhaps this time.
|
He did it.
It was unmistakable, the crackle of power that courses through his veins with every heartbeat. The growing awareness as his consciousness transcends to omniscience.
He was God.
The nascent God snaps his fingers, aware of the redundancy but still getting a feel for things, and everything clears away. At first, the bodies, the ash, the rubble, the fallout, but then the land, the sky, space, the universe, all of it. Soon enough, God himself is gone, his physical form in and of itself found redundant, especially in a barren canvas. Omnipotence mastered.
Going from a human brain to completely omniscient takes a bit more adjustment. It's not the letting go that is the troublesome bit, it's the simultaneity of everything that's hard to manage.
As he extends himself to the outer bounds of his new existence, though, he realizes the 'omni' bit is a little overstated. There are some exceptions, namely Time. He can't make it nonlinear, at least not in any meaningful ways to him, and he's not sure why.
Suddenly, he feels a presence. As his "omni"science kicks on, filling in the gaps of this momentary unknown, he's filled with delight. It's his buddy, Nroamg!
Words aren't so much spoken as the information they would convey simply begins to exist within their shared space as Nroamg greets his friend, "Hey, Hueyas, you finally manage a good end?"
"Not quite," Hueyas constructs in the ether. "I keep finding myself through violence. Sometimes it feels like I'm close, but it's hard to get the conditions right to unify all of my individuals through one of the other wincons."
Nroamg projects waves of understanding, "Yeah it's a tough one. I keep telling you, you either gotta increase your intelligence or decrease your numbers."
"What can I say, I love min intelligence runs, and that just lends itself well to a go-wide strat," Hueyas conveyed to Nroamg, who through Godly omniscience naturally already knew. "I'll switch up my build if I get bored."
"Okay, I'll see you around. And you'll see me. Because we're both everywhere, get it?" Nroamg reverberated through existence, pleased with the deluge of irony that comes from one omniscient being asking another if they understand an objectively unfunny omnipresence joke.
All Gods love ironic jokes, though, it's actually their favorite kind of humor, and Hueyas is no exception.
Hueyas diverted his attention back to creating a new universe to test a different set of conditions.
"What if I introduced cats earlier..." he mused, already aware of the answer.
|
Rupertfroggington
|
RecklessDeliverance
|
2023-04-26 12:55:20
|
2023-04-26 11:30:03
| 796 | 232 |
jhs295w
|
jhrsxuz
|
12zckfi
|
12zckfi
|
[WP] You are the child of a superhero and a supervillain who was born after a one-night stand. your parents are always fighting about villain and hero things, until one day you end up blowing up at them.
|
“You still aren’t getting it! Irrespective of backgrounds, when faced with an ethical dilemma, most humans will choose the most ethical course. It is inherent in people to be good!”
“YOU still don’t get it! Human beings existing in a society will behave in a way that facilitates their continued existence in that society. Zorbon could assert his dominance over mankind at any time, but thereafter, would have to continually prove his supremacy in order to maintain his place! By abiding by the social contract, he is free to pursue his dreams (within reason) without being trod upon by others. But that isn’t good( For villains), we can’t just abide by the status quo! We need to vaporize some people to assert our supremacy! Otherwise who would take us seriously??? Zorbon is a joke!
I have heard this argument a million times, or a hundred, who knows. I’ve stopped counting. This is the inevitable result of a hero and a villain copulating. I am the inevitable result.
I’ve heard this argument too many times to count, literally, and tonight, I am done. Literally. So I explode.
Literally.
The parents are the first to go… well, not technically… technically the side table and the lamp are the first to go. They burst into flame, transforming from the mundane into bright pillars of light. My parents too. They match better now than they have ever matched before. Twin pires of brilliant yellow light, complimented by the blue flames shooting skyward from the area rug.
Blue??? What is in that thing to make it blue? Jesus! I’m getting cancer soon, huh?
Next is the monstera plant. Next the award for 4th most attentive student that my mom insisted on hanging. Next the rest of the house , the block, the neighbourhood… the fire just keeps on spreading, and it’s fine, honestly.
At least it’s finally quiet.
|
“Aaaand they’re at it again” her (much older and technically adopted) brother made a face as they both heard their mother yell. Their father hardly ever raised his voice but they could hear the growl if not his words. Grandfather sighed and disappeared into the next room, he always escaped to cooking to ignore these spats. Irritated from her workout being extra strenuous because of Father’s extra bad mood, she rubbed a towel extra vigorously over her black hair and marched into the room where her parents were.
“Can you both just CUT THE C$&@ and skip to the part where you are crazy about each other instead of just f#%*ing CRAZY?! I mean, god, I get it, the Wayne’s don’t do therapy, but f#%=, go suit up and beat the c#%+ out of some domestic abusers instead of making everyone else’s day worse!!”
She stalked off, but she heard her father snort. “Like mother, like daughter, eh Selena?”
“shush”
|
Chaos-Pand4
|
kidforlife14
|
2023-10-09 06:09:32
|
2023-10-08 22:40:52
| 49 | 29 |
k43i6na
|
k41ypoc
|
173agzm
|
173agzm
|
[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"
|
The man only stares.
“A scholar?” He asks, seemingly baffled by the woman in front of him.
“Yes,” she says. “And as a scholar, it’s my duty to learn all I can. Hence.” She looks at the winding stairway in front of her that no doubt leads to a locked away princess. “Why I’m here.”
“So you’re not here to save the princess?”
The woman rolls her eyes. *How many times must she explain?* “I’m a scholar,” she reminds him. “Not a hero.”
“And you’re here… because?”
The woman sighs in frustration. Hadn’t they already been over this? “As I’ve said before, I wish to know why you’ve decided to kidnap the princess.”
“Oh yes.” The man laughs, shrill and mocking. It’s a poor attempt at sounding evil. “It’s all part of my master plan, you see. In capturing the most sought out lady in the land, I could lure all potential suitors to my tower and defeat them all myself! Then, the princess would surely see how perfect I am for her.”
The woman blinks. “Let me get this straight. You’re doing all this because you… want to marry the princess?”
The man nods enthusiastically. “Of course. She belongs to no one but myself. She deserves only the best, and *I* am the best.”
“I see.” The woman stares at the twisting staircase mere inches away from her. Briefly, she wonders what would meet her on the other side. She's heard tales of the fair maiden, of course, and part of her wonders how much of them are true. And well, she’s a scholar first, if nothing else.
“And you’ve defeated all of these… so-called heroes, as you put it?”
“Of course!” The man scoffs. He narrows his eyes at her. “Are you questioning my ability to defend?”
“Of course not,” the woman answers smoothly. “But conclusions require facts, and information is critical.”
Ahead of her, the floorboards creak.
“Conclusions?” The man asks, engrossed. “And what have you concluded exactly?”
The woman smiles. “That you’re all brawn and *no* brains.”
“Wh—” but the man is cut off by a sudden force behind him. He tumbles forward, tripping on nothing, before he falls onto the ground with a hard thud. And there, looming before him, is the princess.
“You thought you could get away with locking me up there?” She asks, body poised but breath deep and ragged. “You thought I’d just sit back and let you decide my future for me? Thought you didn’t have to worry about me, did you?” She spits in the man’s face. “News flash,” she says, pinning him back to the floor when he tries scrambling upright. “*I’m* the one you had to worry about.”
The man splutters, but a foot against his neck effectively cuts him off. “Not a word from you,” the princess says. “Lest we have to witness even more of your foolishness.” And with that, she unsheathes the man’s sword and slices his throat in half.
As crimson pools around the now still body, the princess takes a moment to collect herself before turning to meet the surprised gaze of the woman before her.
“A scholar, huh?”
The scholar hums. “They always *do* underestimate us.”
“How’d you like to change that?”
The scholar looks at the princess — sees the way she stares back unwavering and completely serious. The tales had been right, she decides. The woman *was* a warrior — and slowly smiles.
“I think I’d like that very much.”
—
/r/itrytowrite
Edit: Grammar, spelling
|
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."
|
ohhello_o
|
ChloeWrites
|
2023-08-06 15:46:24
|
2023-08-06 13:55:42
| 169 | 49 |
jv1i8nx
|
jv12z1n
|
15jnrjx
|
15jnrjx
|
[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.
|
The chains around my wrists were rusted, yet they held fast, just as the world held fast to its ancient cruelty. In the dim light of my cell, I traced the cracks in the stone walls, each one a reminder of the years that had passed since they’d taken him. My son. My rebellious, stubborn son.
I should have been proud of him for running, for refusing to bow. But his defiance had only brought more suffering. They hunted him relentlessly, and when they finally caught him, they made an example of him. The guards had spat his sentence at me like venom: life imprisonment for his insolence. He was only fifteen.
My world crumbled that day. I waited for word of his death, but none came. All I could do was hope that wherever he was, he had found some sliver of peace.
Now, the years had stripped me of everything but memories. The mark of slavery burned into my flesh since birth felt like it weighed more than the chains. It wasn’t a choice to believe in the laws—it was survival. The mark was our destiny, the proof of our place in the world. My son had screamed otherwise, but I never dared.
Until the night he came back.
The door to my cell creaked open, and I squinted against the torchlight. A figure stepped inside, taller than I remembered, cloaked in black. He moved with purpose, silent as a shadow.
“Who—” My voice cracked from disuse.
“Father,” he said. The single word struck like a lightning bolt.
“Rylan?” My breath caught. His face was older, sharper, but those eyes—those were the same eyes that had burned with defiance at fifteen.
“It’s me,” he said, kneeling before me. His hands reached for the shackles, and with a strange, fluid motion, he snapped them open.
I stared, stunned. “How… how did you—”
“There’s no time,” he interrupted. “We need to leave.” He pulled me to my feet, his grip steady and strong.
As we moved through the darkened halls, the guards lay scattered, unconscious or worse. Rylan led me through the labyrinthine prison like he’d lived there for years.
Finally, we reached the outside. The cool night air hit my face, and for the first time in decades, I saw the stars. But my relief was short-lived.
“How did you do this?” I demanded, turning to him. “They said you were imprisoned for life. How did you escape? What… what happened to you?”
He smiled, a strange, knowing smile, and pulled back his sleeve. There, glowing faintly in the moonlight, was the mark of slavery. The same mark that branded me, the same mark that cursed him. But his was different now—lines of gold and silver pulsed through it like veins, radiating power.
“They lied to us, Father,” he said. “The mark isn’t a curse. It’s a key. A key to something they’ve tried to keep hidden for centuries.”
My legs wobbled, and I stumbled back. “What are you talking about?”
“The mark doesn’t mean we’re slaves,” he said, stepping closer. “It means we’re chosen. We’re conduits for something ancient, something powerful. That’s why they branded us—to keep us under control. To keep us from realizing the truth.”
I shook my head, the world spinning around me. “No… no, that can’t be. The laws—”
“Are built on lies,” he interrupted, his voice fierce. “I’ve seen it, Father. I’ve felt it. The power in the mark—it’s ours. And it’s time we take it back.”
He extended his hand to me, his eyes blazing with conviction. “Come with me. Help me free the others. Help me destroy the world that has kept us in chains.”
For a moment, I hesitated, clutching my wrist where the mark burned faintly. Everything I’d believed, everything I’d endured—it was all a lie.
But as I looked into my son’s eyes, I realized the truth was scarier than the lie. And yet, it was liberating.
I took his hand.
And together, we disappeared into the night, ready to bring that truth to the world.
|
*"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."
|
Chaeri_VR
|
smoha96
|
2024-12-24 00:15:31
|
2023-12-16 19:19:16
| 78 | 54 |
m3iovoz
| null |
1hkxftq
|
18ju8wy
|
[WP] You're the healer of the group. The rest of the party has always treated you like you're made of glass. You were content to stay out of their way and let them do their thing. Until they all got downed leaving you the only one standing. That's when you show them how deadly healing magic can be.
|
Everyone "knows" what healing magic does. It closes wounds, mends bones and refreshes the mind. It is the hallmark ability of any cleric or white mage. It is enhanced by superior spellcasting ability and knowledge of medicine. It transforms mana into health. But - "what" - does healing magic actually do?
Rachel was surprised the orc chieftain didn't simply use his horrendous breath to kill his enemies.
"Heal my wounds wench or I leave you blood bags alive when you are being stewed tonight."
Rachel lay in the dirt, an especially grubby hand pushing her face into a rather sharp rock at the orc chieftains feet.
The previous prevailing theory is that healing magic enhanced the natural recovery of the body, effectively speeding up what would have naturally been fixed with time. However this theory did not explain why healers with first aid training would heal better than those without even with the same amount of mana.
Rachel glanced up from the ground. 300 pounds of mean, green monster stared at her. The only evidence of her party's struggles was bit of missing ear and a gash across the cheek. She was gunna give Leo so much shit for missing the neck on that swing.
A new theory has cropped up in closed circles. What if instead of healing the body according the specifications of said body, healing magic simply restored the body to what the caster knew to be a healed body?
A sharp prod from the orc holding her prompted Rachel to reach for the chieftain with her hand. It was clear they had no fear of her whatsoever, allowing a spellcaster to be in touching distance like that.
But if such goes the body then what of the mind? What does it mean to restore a mind to the image of the healer? What is a normal mind?
"Vista - Hueela - Folgaris, drink and be whole again, Greater Healing... Kill him."
The shocked expression on the orc warrior who had restrained Rachel didn't leave even as his head fell absent of its body.
"Give me the keys to unlock my companions cells, then keep watch outside and keep the other orcs away, kill them if you need to."
The chieftain nodded, handed her a ring of keys and walked out of the tent. He was healed and whole again. Healed and wholely dedicated to doing Rachel's bidding.
|
The Healer stood her ground, her linen clothes smothered in grime and blood, her comrades dead, the enemy closing in in a mass charge. She's alone, angry, and desperate to save herself.
In a bout of fury, she focused all of her strength into one final gambit. She will heal her enemies. Heal them beyond capacity. Heal them to hell
The first wave of individuals crossed the trench found their limbs beginning to swell and grow, contort and mutate. Men began choking as their throats swelled and grew, while others desperately tried to cut off rapidly growing tumors from their bodies with their bayonets
Other men raised their rifles against her, but she counters them instead with cancer of the eyes, bringing untold pain to the ranks that dared cross paths with her
For once, she felt useful
For once, she felt powerful
And then
[The sound of thunder.](https://youtu.be/lOHi5-5Hlzw)
Through the scope of a distant man, he watched as the healer's entire upper body erupt into a spectacle of bone and viscera. Her body, or what's left of it, dropped to the ground, leaning against the raised earth behind it, reduced to shredded meat hanging loose atop dangling legs
"Hunter Killer successful", said another man in drab tans, this time holding binoculars in place of a weapon
"We have neutralized the Healer"
"Good, continue the offensive. Bringing in mechanized support"
|
IcyInk
|
Preston_of_Astora
|
2024-06-23 08:47:03
|
2024-06-23 05:39:12
| 50 | 32 |
l9vnoxj
|
l9v7gq2
|
1dm84fp
|
1dm84fp
|
[WP] You are The Chosen One™. You have to follow your Destiny™ in order to defeat the Evil Emperor™ and Save the Princess™ and go down as the Hero of the Realm™, yada yada. This is your sixth reincarnation in this goddamn role and this time you're going to do something else, story be damned.
|
"Fuckkkkkk," I said as a woman ran across my path. She was dressed in fine garments and wore one of those stupid pointy fucking hats with ribbon coming off of it.
"Oh, daring hero, can you help me?" she asked as she flung herself at me. "I'm being chased by one of the Emperor's hunting parties. They'll be following quickly. Surely a hero of your stature can save me."
I peeled her hand off my shoulder, turned her around, and gave her a light push.
"Nope, keep running. I'm sure you'll find somebody."
"But hero, it must be you! They will be upon me before I find anyone else!"
"Not a hero," I said as I pushed past her. "You better get to running instead of talking. People might think you want to be found."
I wasn't playing this shit anymore. That was the third princess *this fucking week*. I didn't have time for this shit. Ever since that witch unlocked my memories from a past life, I've been so over this. I thought it would bring me great power and knowledge. All it did was make me sick of this shit.
Six times. Six! Who gets reincarnated as the same fucking guy six times? Sure, I was good at it. It had worked out in my previous five lives. But now that I had the memories of all of those lives, I wanted to be something different. Do something different. I was going to be a llama breeder.
But first, I needed to find a llama. Well, two llamas, actually. A male and a female. Then I had to find a place to raise my llamas. The problem was I had no skills. My entire life, I had been raised to be a chivalrous knight. I was trained in the way of martial combat, I was the best in the land with a sword, and I was able to talk my way into anywhere. But now, all of that was useless. Nobody cared if a llama breeder could use a sword. Only if he could breed llamas.
I had heard of the great llamas out east. They were gallant and fluffy, and some said they could even carry a fully-grown man on their back. I was on my way east to find two such llamas and procure them. I had thought about entering combat tournaments, but then I might fuck around and get roped into saving a princess or something. No, I had to make this work without using any of my knight training.
"Maybe I'll work at a bar," I said as I continued down the road.
"Sir, please!" the princess cried out. I let out a sigh. Fuck.
"Is there a reward for this?" I asked as I turned to her.
"Of course, sir, my father will pay you anything for my safe return."
"And just so we're clear, there is no fucking legend or prophecy about a great hero in your kingdom, right?"
"Well, legend tells tale of a brave knight who - "
"Nope, not interested." I turned back around and began down the road again.
"Fine, no prophecies! Just save me this one time. One time thing. We'll pay you, and you can be on your way to wherever you're going." I let out another sigh.
I drew my sword as a pack of three men on horseback came riding onto the road from the forest.
"Does your family have any llamas?" I asked as they approached rapidly. There better be fucking llamas for this shit.
​
\--------------------------------------------
Let me know any feedback or criticism, I'm still working on my writing overall. <3
|
I wake up in a new bed, noticing the grand archetecture of what was obviously a nobility's home.
I sigh as i climb out of bed, looking myself over, mumbling to myself "and thats number 6.." i grumble, barely noticing the door burst open "young master! You're awake! How are you feeling? You got hit by a carriage and didnt wake up!" A servant asked, a young woman about my age, pink hair this time, last one had cyan hair. "Im fine. Hey, i got memory loss, tell me about the place" i say, a somewhat tired look on my face, her assuming it was from my supposed coma. I had started to use memory loss as an excuse after the 3rd time reincarnating, i never appeared in the same world twice so far, so it worked.
After about a week, i had learned all i wanted to know about the current world i was in, the son of a major nobility, my current father being a military general in the fight against the Demon Lord.
5 times now ive had to collect a group of people and face the demon lord, me as the fighter, an inexperienced but overpowered mage, a cleric or priestess with self esteem issues, and a rogue or thief whos kind of a dick till after we beat some major monster. Of course, all of us 18 or younger.
Ancouple times now i just avoided my quest until it was absolutely required.
A month had passed and i was still putting off the quest, when i was visited by, at this point, an old pal
"Greetings chosen hero, i have been sent by the.. oh, its you again, whatsup" the holy being said, dropping the pretense "not much, avoiding the holy duty. Can you ask your boss to stop? This is the 6th time now ive had to do his dirty work, and im getting tired of it, can i just reincarnate as like.. i dunno, a shopkeeper? Ive killed 5 seperate demon lords, your boss needs to get off his lazy ass and do it himself for once."
"Honestly, i agree, but i dont make the rules, he wants you to do it again, ill try and talk to him about your request, but no promises"
"Whether he wants me to do it or not, i aint. Im going to move out of the kingdom, start a small shop, change my name, shit like that. Get as far away from this life as possible"
(Creative juices kinda ran out, also busy at work, so thats all i got)
|
Murlock_Holmes
|
EndorDerDragonKing
|
2023-01-18 03:34:10
|
2023-01-17 23:25:22
| 191 | 73 |
j4tik58
|
j4sjfdz
|
10ep501
|
10ep501
|
[WP] Write an angry ending monologue of someone in a small town who tried to warn the people something bad was going to happen, no one listened, and now people are dead.
|
The six jaws of the dragon-god Terravore opened wide, its rows of shark-like teeth each taller than a man standing. Its thirteen horns blot out the sun, and cast complex shadows across the wasteland that was once green city park. Dozens of red eyes roll in their sockets, then focus on you.
I SENSE YOU MAGICAL POWER LITTLE WORM
The voice originates from Terravore, and from the air itself, and from you. Its coming from all around you, it's coming from inside your own mind. A horrible and forbidden tongue, befitting a god of destruction.
BUT YOUR TRIFLING MAGIC WON’T SAVE YOU FROM BEING CONSUMED! I, TERRAVORE WILL EAT YOU, YOUR VERY ESSENCE AND SOUL, AND THEN THE WOR-
Most awkward soul consumption ever, your phone just started ringing. This is in fact, especially weird, because you never turn on the volume. You and Terravore stare awkwardly at each other while the ringing continues.
WHAT IS THAT?
“Uh, it's my phone, sorry.”
WHAT IS A ‘PHONE’?
“It, uh, let’s me communicate with other people… and browse the internet… and stuff”
GOOD, USE YOUR CRYSTAL BALL PHONE TO HERALD TO THE WORLD, IT IS ABOUT TO BE CONSUMED BY THE MIGHTY TERRAVORE!
A dozen scarlet eyes the size of SUVs stare at you expectantly. You answer your phone.
“Uh, hello?”
“Dude where are you? Professor Weatherwax just dropped a pop-quiz on thaumic runes, its like 10% of our grades. I already sent you like, eight messages about it.”
“I’m uh, kind of in the middle of something.”
“Oh shit, sorry for using the Volume On cantrip then, but seriously, you’re already on Weatherwax’s shit list, you gotta get over here!”
TELL THEM ABOUT ME CONSUMING THE WORLD
“Oh uh, there’s this dragon god here, and it’s going to consume the world”
TELL THEM ABOUT MY SIX MOUTHS, AND THIRTEEN HORNS, AND HOW I’M REALLY BIG
“It’s got like six mouths, and uh, thirteen horns, and its like really big.”
“Oh wait, you mean Terravore?”
“You know this guy?”
“Yeah one second, I’ll be right there.”
The call ends. You stand awkwardly before the might of Terravore.
WHAT DID THEY SAY?
“Um, they’re on their way?”
GOOD, ALL SHOULD WITNESS THE POWER OF MY DRACONIC FORM, ALL SHOULD-
1/2
|
I told them. I told them that winter would bring the Dead, but did they listen? No. They relied too much on magic and conmen to listen to a farmer whose family lived through this shit before.
When my grandda was seven, I told them, the Dead walked. The blizzard of 358 decimated the land, killed a lot of livestock, and killed everyone who was caught out of the bonfire circle. And then, those what died came back to slaughter their old friends, whose bodies rose and killed yet more people!
'Loony old man,' they called me. 'Lost his mind years ago and doesn't know what he's talking about.'
When the Dead walked again, last night on the Winter Solstice, I was home safe in my circle of fire, with my daughter and her baby. We kept the fires burning all night, and when dawn came, we watched the Dead die again.
You should have listened to me. A few did, and they emerged from the flames with us, seeing the world changed this night. But the rest of you?
An entire town, rotting and bloating in the cool winter sun. We can't bury all of you, and to be frank, I don't want to bury any of you.
We still have the fires burning, just in case. If the Dead stay down again tonight, we'll burn your bodies tomorrow.
It's the funeral you fools deserve.
|
DeeDeeEx
|
Mythic_Writing
|
2025-01-17 16:08:26
|
2023-01-27 06:58:45
| 245 | 48 |
m7nba57
|
j62lq53
|
1i3i7cs
|
10mcrb4
|
[WP] One can easily distinguish a true veteran adventurer from the masses, for one doesn’t fear those who show to the start of a dungeon with gleaming weapons and polished armor, but those who show up wearing casual clothing, looking like they just got done shopping in town not 5 minutes earlier.
|
I opened my shop in the town of Ambrisule to equip new adventurers entering the Cave of Sorrows. That wasn't the caves real name, but it was a nickname that stuck due to the amount of young men and women who lost their lives there seeking loot and glory...mostly loot. I named my shop "The Inn" as an inside joke for adventurers. All journeys seem to start in an inn, so I help them keep the tradition alive. Every day I come and I sell, and every day new adventurers come to the cave to seek riches and glory.
A young half-elf male started towards my shop. He wore a matching set of mithril plate and legs. His shield glowed faintly and displayed a crest inlayed with gold. The sword in its hilt was long, sharp, and definitely enchanted. I used my appraisal skill before he was close enough to notice and saw that the sword would cause any creature to bleed once cut, the wound never to cauterize without help of magic. All of this instantly told me two things about the young half-elf. He came from immense wealth, and he had never experienced true battle. "Hello shop-keep, my name is Wimbleton, I'd like to look through your finest wares before taking on the dungeon. I may even buy a thing or two if you offer anything of actual value. I doubt you have anything better than the blade on my side, but I was told stopping in the shop to check was something of a good luck ritual in this town."
​
"Oh, I just might have a thing or two." I replied. "Are you a close up brawler, a magic user, or more of a sit back and pick them off from afar type of adventurer?"
​
"A blade. Long and sharp. I detest anyone who uses trickery to take on their opponents. I look them in the eye and give them a warriors death."
​
"Ah. Yes, I see you have a nice blade already. I may have something of interest to you in the back." I waked into the back and grabbed a blade. I waited for a few seconds to make it seem like I needed to look for it, but I knew every item and every square inch of my inventory by heart. I learned long ago the extra few seconds of waiting made adventurers feel as though you were going for the 'special section'.
​
Once enough time passed, I walked back with a smile. "This sword was enchanted long ago. I've run through my appraisal and identify skills many nights and still have only been able to ascertain its base features. This blade will cause three effects, maybe more, to your enemy. The first, it will cause your enemy to become slowed. Second, your enemy will become enraged and not be able to run from battle with you. Third, it will cause your enemy to become silent. There are..."
​
"Wait, what good is it to cause my enemies to be silent? The lack of banter, the lack of the battle cry they emit when in dire straights?!?" He interrupted.
​
"The silent feature will allow you to be stealthy when needed, keep your enemies for calling from help, and stop most spells from being cast by your enemies." I replied, "And as I was saying, there are at least three other features of this blade I have been unable to see myself, but a merchant friend who is more skilled than I says it will even cause your enemies to bleed continuously unless magically healed."
​
"Ah. So this blade is decent." Wimbelton said, trying to hide a level of excitement. "How much?"
​
"Oh, this blade is quite the catch. I'd say 2,000 gold and we can call it even."
​
Wimbelton baulked. "I will give you 1,200 and no more!"
​
"I'll tell you what. I see a lot of promise in you. I'll sell this blade to you for 1,200 if you promise to sell me the loot you find in the dungeon that you don't wish to keep. This will be a win for both of us as I will be able to sell those items to other adventurers, and you will be able to profit as well." I held out the sword, "Do we have a deal?"
​
Wimbleton pulled out a sack of gold and quickly layed out 1,200 pieces. He grabbed the sword from my hands without a word and walked out of the store. He placed the sword in its sheath next to his original blade, said an incantation that caused his armor to glow, then walked into the Cave of Sorrows.
​
I waited for other adventurers, but none came. As night fell Wimbelton had not returned. I knew the dungeon had beaten him like all the others. I set my sign to closed, grabbed my simple dagger, and walked into the mouth of the cave.
​
I was surprised to find that I needed to go to the second floor of the cave before I found him. He had made it quite far. I quickly looted Wimpleton before beginning my trek back to the shop. On my way back I resurrected Skeletons, Zombies, and other hoardlings to ensure my cave was a challenge for the next adventurer. I went to the back of my shop and placed the new inventory.
​
Before going to bed I went to the log book I had at the front desk, and turned to the 300th page. It was almost to the end, so I would need to replace it soon. I found the next blank section and added the new name to my list of fallen adventurers. Wimpleton was it?
|
Jessie sat on the rafters, gazing out at the massive crowd that had gathered in town for the annual Adventurers' Fair. It was a long journey from the city to her father's little town, all just to visit her father, Alfred, and her good friend James. Alas, dad was busy coordinating the event, so he had asked his god to accompany her.
An abyssal portal opened by her side, dropping a big pile of snacks and bottles of drinks that floated near her instead of rolling down the roof, before a familiar face climbed out of it with a cake box in hand.
"See those adventurers with gleaming weapons and polished armors? They're the ones who bought their gear swiping daddy's credit card. Such shiny equipment have never seen combat. They're as fresh as loaves of hot cross buns straight out of the oven. I could eat them for breakfast without batting an eyelid if humans were still on my menu. Oh, are we people-watching today? Any adventurers caught your eye?" Elvari prattled on, tearing the box open to help himself to a slice of cake, not even waiting until the rest of him emerged from the portal.
Jessie helped herself to a bag of chips and replied," I'm looking out for a friend of mine, James. Was hoping to wish him good luck. Even bought a good luck charm for him."
"What kind of adventurer is he? One of those newly minted shiny amateurs? Those are all bark and no bite, all shine and no skill. You can't trust these people to toil through the tough struggles in life by your side. Very likely to run at the first sign of trouble and ditch you. As for experienced fighters with some dents and cracks in battered armor? Those are worth befriending and getting to know them better if you desire excellent dungeon loot. You know they've survived difficult battles that challenged the durability of their gear. Trust these people to go the distance with you on the adventure of life." He was thrilled to share a long life of countless encounters with adventurers from all walks of life, waving a tentacle that clasped a pointer to aim its laser at the relevant examples. "What does James look like? If you're too shy and nervous, I can deliver it to him on your behalf."
"James said he would be showing up in a simple shirt and jeans," Jessie stated, her eyes still scanning the sea of adventurers. "He has black curly hair, a dark tan and brown eyes. Let me know if you see him anywhere among the massive crowd, he hasn't been answering my calls or messages."
"Oh, the type to show up in casual clothing, like they're just done shopping in town despite completing a dungeon run. Now, that is the kind of man to fear and run away from. A true veteran. The only sort more frightening than that is the old veteran who walks up to you naked with a crude, lowly weapon that has witnessed over a hundred battles. No gear dungeon speedrunners are the worst prospects. There's no fun or flair to what they do, they just zip past things so fast you don't get to undergo the joys of adventures. Pure efficiency sucks the pleasure out of dungeoneering and life in general. Just terrible for companionship."
She sighed as exasperation began to creep in. "Elvari! I'm not a monster in a dungeon waiting to fight these adventurers! There's no reason for me to fear James or any other veteran adventurers..."
"I was giving dating advice," came the flat retort.
Jessie sighed and took a sip of a bottle of coke. If she wanted dating advice, a madness-inducing eldritch god was one of the last persons she would ever consider asking. "James is just a friend okay? Please have a bit of common sense."
Elvari shot her a knowing glance with a cheeky wink and smirked. "Just a friend? That's what a secretly dating couple would say. Have you embarked on any adventures with him? Does your father know? Jessie, you cannot conceal thoughts from an ancient telepath like me for very long. As for common sense, well I'm not a common creature on this earth, why would I have common sense?"
---
[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/)
|
Aardvarkjon
|
Tregonial
|
2023-06-20 15:58:49
|
2023-06-20 15:03:34
| 480 | 136 |
joufaxq
|
jou72fa
|
14e8boo
|
14e8boo
|
[WP] You're the adoptive father of an Angel and Demon. You found out that your Demon child was kidnapped by a religious group. You arrive at their church only to find your Angel child consoling her Demon brother as dead cultists are littlered around the church and the leader terrified in a corner.
|
"It's for the best," the woman says serenely as she nods.
My ears are ringing. They took my son. Right out of our home. They broke in and took him. His homework is still scattered around the kitchen table.
They. Took. My. Son.
The woman gasps as I shove her against a counter. A quick move and I have a knife from the butcher's block against her throat, a thin line of red already beading at the edge. "Where." It's not a question.
It's a demand.
She glares at me with the idiocy of a religious fanatic. "He doesn't belong here."
I stab her. In the shoulder, of course. I can't compromise her ability to speak. Blood gushes, but doesn't spurt when I remove the knife. Good; I didn't hit an artery. "Where. Is. My. Son."
"You don't even know what he is!"
I put my face as close to hers as I can. "I know," I tell her grimly. "I know *exactly* what my children are. *Where is he?*"
"I should have known you were just as tainted," snarls the woman.
Well. I barely have a grip on my more...dark tendencies on a *good* day. Time to let a little wrath loose. No. If I open that, if I let that happen I will never shut it again. I can't do that.
My children don't deserve to see me like that.
But--we're in the kitchen. And that stab wound could easily get infected. And there's a bottle of Purell right by the sink. I smile and something about my expression makes the woman flinch. I can't *imagine* why. "That wound looks pretty tricky," I say with a grin. I reach over and grab the bottle. "Let me *help*," I add viciously as I dump the alcohol gel in her stab wound.
Three disinfected stab wounds later and she gasps out an address. I leave her pathetic, shivering body on the floor. I have to get to the church. I have to save my son.
The parking lot is packed. I don't bother trying to park. There isn't time. I rush up the stairs and throw open the door. The chapel is littered with broken bodies. Up by the pulpit, Irvin is on his knees, sobbing. Nyssa, his adopted sister, is holding him gently. Both of them still look human, for the moment.
I look around at the devastation as I walk towards my children. Bits of bodies are flung over the pews, blood is painting the windows, and not a single bible has been touched. In fact, the bibles and hymnals are the only things in the whole place aside from the children that are untouched by blood.
Nyssa, the literal angel that she is, is rubbing Irvin's back and crooning softly in his ear, a song I vaguely recognize. I've heard her sing it before, when I first brought Irvin home. I don't know what the words mean, but I know she's trying to soothe Irvin.
The poor boy is trembling like a leaf. Poor kid; he had thought we were safe here. *I* had thought we were safe here.
Nyssa looks up at me as I approach and there's still anger in her eyes. Fortunately, I'm her mother. "They *hurt* him," she said.
I nod. "And so you hurt them back." I should probably say something about how it was wrong to hurt other people. About how it's important to give them a chance to repent.
Then again, I just stabbed a woman four times and tortured her by pouring disinfectant into her wounds. I have no room to talk. I reach the two of them and put a hand on her shoulder. "Good job," I tell her warmly.
"The *priest* is still alive," Nyssa says grimly. I look behind the pulpit and see the man, shaking in fear as urine stains the carpet in front of him. As a divine messenger of God, Nyssa can't kill him.
I am no such thing. "I see. You get your brother in the car. *I'll* deal with the priest." She nods and scoops her brother up. He's still shaking and crying, but I ruffle his hair as they go by. They'll be fine.
I'm going to make sure of it.
I reach down and grab the priest by the shirt. No clerical collar, so a preacher, not a priest. Not that Nyssa can tell the difference. "You," I say grimly, "attacked a *child*. You broke into our *home*, attacked a *child*, and planned to *hurt* him." I haul him off the floor. Wind howls around the church and I listen to the words no one else in this realm can understand. Suddenly I grin and press my thumb against his his neck. He screams as the skin sizzles around my thumb. "You're marked now, Preacher," I tell him. "The Hounds are coming for you." I pull him closer and whisper, "And they *always* get their prey." I drop him. Thunder crashes as the baying begins.
The Hunt can't enter the church, but he can't stay there forever. They'll get him. I head out to my car as the wind picks up. It batters the building like a ram, but parts for me, so I have no trouble getting into the car. Nyssa and Irvin are in the back seat and there's a faint scent of sulfur and saffron. A glance back shows that Nyssa's wings are peaking out and Irvin's horns are starting to emerge.
"We have to move again," Irvin says. He looks up with wide eyes. The whites are almost as red as the irises. "Don't we?"
I sigh. "Yeah, we do."
"It's not our fault," Nyssa says firmly as she wraps a wing around her brother.
"You are absolutely right," I say just as firmly. Nyssa already knows this, but Irvin can stand the reminder. "It is not either of your faults." I start the car.
"Where are we going to go?" Irvin sounds so lost, and my heart breaks a little for him.
"Well," I say thoughtfully as I pull onto the road. We're the only people on the road; everyone else is hiding from the storm. "We could always go Underhill, and visit your Aunt Morrigan."
Nyssa frowns. "I thought you don't like visiting your sister," she says hesitantly.
I don't, but only because she refuses to stop calling me "Badb." "It will be fine," I tell them. I turn onto a road that only I can see and the trees part for us. "She always enjoys seeing you."
(ETA: Thank you for the gold!)
|
The church is too quiet when Father Lucas arrives. He hopes he's not too late. When he took in Derek, it was with the full knowledge of what he was and what he could be. He bore the purple skin and black, curled horns of his devilish father.
But Derek's similarities to his father ended there. He is the sweetest child Lucas has ever had the pleasure to care for. He's a skilled smith, and he wouldn't hurt a fly if he could help it. It would be a tragedy for Father Lucas to have come too late to save him. But the silence speaks for itself. Whatever ritual the cult needed Derek for is finished.
Lucas doesn't want to enter the wretched place, but he needs to find Derek's remains. He needs to give this wonderful child a proper burial. Nobody else will put his body into consecrated ground. With a deep breath, Lucas steels himself and goes through the crooked doors.
The doors creek on rusted hinges, the sound echoing in the empty hall beyond. The smell of ozone hits Lucas the moment he steps inside. He coughs. The ritual must have been strong, for there to still be remnants of the divine magic in the air.
The pews are dusty and rotten away in places. The altar on the other side of the church is cracked down the middle. There is no body laying on top of it. Did they take the remains? What are they going to do with those? Nothing good, that's for sure. Indignant rage fuels Lucas' steps as he hurries to the altar. He needs to be certain.
He doesn't notice the corpses littering the ground until he almost trips on one. The sight of the charred man in front of his feet stops Lucas in his tracks. He whispers a short prayer to his god Leylander. Not that the God of creation can do much about death. The damage is extensive. Lucas can't even make out if it was an elf or a human.
There are more corpses surrounding the altar, just as burnt as the one in front of Lucas. The ones hidden between the rubble of the pews are slightly better off. He can still recognize the green of their robes. These are Followers of Garahad, the One Who is Many. They don't sacrifice kids to magic. They sacrifice beings that look different, just to cleanse the mortal realm of differences. But why is there magic in the air if they’re the ones who took Derek?
Father Lucas doesn't dare think of the obvious answer. Derek wouldn't hurt a fly. He wouldn't snap and burn over 15 people, not even in self defence. He would rather die.
A soft, gasping breath snaps up Gather Lucas' attention. Someone is here, hidden behind the altar.
Derek!
Without another thought, Lucas runs towards the altar. The gasp was indeed Derek. He looks rough. His left eye is swollen, his face is covered in blood, and one of his horns has been shattered. He's clutching at the chain mail shirt of a glaring Arianna, whose arms protectively tighten around his shoulders.
"Hello, Father. You are late." Arianna's glare makes her eyes burn with a righteous light. Or is it the divine blessing she was born with that lights her eyes?
Lucas swallows and nods. "I am. Did Derek -" he motions towards the dead bodies, not even willing to say the words. The white flames in Arianna's eyes lick her cheeks.
"I told him to close his eyes. I hope he was too out of it to see me." Derek gently pats her chainmail, the metal ringing out a tinkling song in the tense atmosphere.
"I- I listened. I'm fine. I - I did not see anything." Derek has always been a horrible liar.
Lucas sighs and kneels next to the duo. Arianna pulls Derek closer to her, protecting him from Lucas. Derek gasps out another breath. "You're not taking him from me!"
Lucas raises his hands in a calming gesture. "Of course not, Ari, my child. But you are hurting him. And I have been chosen by Leylander like you have, although my gift lies in a different area. I can repair, the way you destroy."
Arianna looks surprised, and unsure about letting him closer until Derek taps her chest again. He's seen Lucas' gift before. He's needed it more than once, much to Lucas' dislike.
Arianna releases her tight hold of Derek, and Father Lucas lays his hands on his heart and the crown of his head. He prays to Leylander until his warmth takes hold of his hands.
Derek's breathing eases. Arianna doesn't relax.
"What now? I'm not leaving him. And I'm not letting him leave." Lucas smiles at her.
"Of course not. We are leaving together. I always wanted to do a pilgrimage to the Holy city of Meysan, and now seems like the perfect time!" Lucas throws a disarming smile Arianna's way, and she hesitantly smiles back.
"You're not mad?" And suddenly she looks every inch the 12 year old she is. Lucas pats her head.
"Of course not. You were protecting your brother." And now Father Lucas has two abominations to hide and care for. Leylander sure gave him the toughest task he could.
|
InfiniteEmotions
|
Inside_Berry_8531
|
2023-08-04 12:14:42
|
2023-08-04 09:14:49
| 769 | 361 |
jur1z9c
|
juqlgou
|
15ht8vp
|
15ht8vp
|
[WP] your girlfriend turned into a "hideous monster". while of course you supported her and promised to help her on her quest to turn back, on the inside you're struggling to find a way to confess that you're really into her new form.
|
Maybe it was the scales along her flanks. Maybe it was the digitigrade legs, or the clawed toes and fingers. Or it could have been the glowing eyes, snake tongue, her teeth falling out to be replaced with needle-like fangs, or the glow, heat, and slight smell of sulfure from the back of her mouth. Or the tail.
The news was shocked, the nation and world horrified. She'd been locked up "for her safety," until it became clear that it wasn't communicable and she wasn't a rampaging monster. Just a monster, who happened to be my girlfriend. And, after she'd gotten used to her newfound strength, she'd done the round of talk shows. They universally called her the "Video game lizard freak girl" or something similar.
Me?
I was so turned on by Marie's new look. It was hot, and not just because her body temperature had risen about ten degrees.
"Goodbye, Gucci pumps," she said sadly, boxing the twentieth pair of shoes gingerly. Her new foot structure wouldn't let her wear shoes anymore.
"Why don't you sell them?" I ask. Marie's tail, which had curled around the back of my waist as we sat on the couch, twitched.
"It's an option, I guess."
"Worth a penny on ebay." I was finding it hard not to watch Marie's backside as she leaned forward, boxing her shoe collection. Her new physiognomy restricted the clothes she could wear; and she'd taken to just not wearing any around the apartment.
I was busy cutting and hemming slits in the back of her crop tops. Backs—at least closed backs—were out. Backless was in. I left the collars and carefully cut the back panels to the sleeve stitch. My next project was to remove a hole in all of her pants, jeans, and shorts for her tail to slip in.
"Bobby?" Marie said, stopping and looking up toward the TV. "Thank you for sticking around during all this."
"Never changed *who* you are, Em," I replied, smiling. Taloned fingers fell over my hand. Marie had half turned toward me, her orange eyes studying my face. After months of living with those fiery orbs, I could see the slight edges of her irises and pupils in the mostly-textureless color.
"No, really."
I put the shirt in my lap and smiled.
"Marie, I told you, no matter what happens, no matter how many times we might argue, I love *you;* that hasn't changed with this sudden transformation."
Marie smiled softly, then wrapped a hand around the back of my head and pulled me to her for a deep kiss.
|
“Aerin, look out!” There was a flash of light and a screech as a… *thing* with too many legs fell from the ceiling down in front of them. Wings flared out protectively to shield her from the beast as she fought with teeth, claws, and fire.
Finally, the beast shrieked and lay still. Rhea’s eyes glowed like molten steel as she stepped back from the creature that had ambushed them, blood staining her claws. The sudden attack had prompted her to shift into her half-form— scaly, ash-gray skin showing out from the gaps in her light armor. Rhea turned to her, panic in her voice.
“Aerin, I—“ her lover’s voice broke and she trailed off. “I can’t shift back.” Rhea whispered, gravelly voice sending a shiver down her spine.
“What do you mean?” She stuffed down the part of her that found this hot and went over to console her girlfriend.
“I mean, I can’t shift back! Something is wrong! I’m stuck like this.” Rhea shook her head, the light from the cave entrance glinting off her curved horns. She covered her face with her hands, turning away.
“I’m a monster.”
“You are not a monster, Rhea. You know I’ll love you no matter what you look like.”
If anything, her “monstrous” form was even more attractive than her humanoid one. She was looking forward to seeing what those claws could do. But that would come later. For now, she held her lover close as she cried, stroking a hand down her velvet-soft wings, tucked in tight against her back in fear. At least her beloved high dragon could still fly.
|
Beautiful_Business10
|
BlondBisxalMetalhead
|
2024-04-07 10:22:02
|
2024-04-07 03:44:41
| 42 | 26 |
kyg8qyd
|
kyf7ml3
|
1bxpxmp
|
1bxpxmp
|
[WP] a king has received the standard prophecy that his youngest daughter will be the one to kill him but instead of reacting as "get this baby out of my sight an abandoned it somewhere in the woods for it to die" he accepts his fate and dinner time is made very awkward
|
The king sat at the head of the long, gleaming table, his fingers tapping nervously on the polished wood. “Pass the potatoes,” he said, his voice as casual as a boulder rolling downhill.
The youngest princess, barely eight, her hair a nest of golden tangles, paused mid-slice of her roast. She squinted at the king like he’d just insulted her doll collection. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Me? Staring? I’m not staring,” the king said, though his eyes darted back to her every few seconds like moths to a flame. “It’s just… lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it? Very stabby—I mean, sunny.”
The eldest princess, who was doing her best to blend into the wallpaper, snorted into her goblet. “You’re obsessed, Father. Maybe she’ll kill you with bad table manners instead of a dagger.”
“Not helpful, Abigail,” the queen murmured, her eyes flicking between her husband and youngest daughter like she was watching an overly tense game of chess.
The prophecy had been delivered eight years ago by a wandering soothsayer who insisted on being paid in muffins. “The youngest,” she had croaked, crumbs spilling from her mouth, “will take the throne from the king.” Naturally, everyone assumed this meant murder. Except the king. The king decided it was destiny, leaned into it like a man hugging a cactus, and started treating every family dinner like it might be his last.
“Darling,” the queen said now, her voice low and sharp as the carving knife. “Could you stop twitching? You’re making everyone nervous.”
“I’m not twitching,” the king replied, his left eye twitching.
The youngest princess sighed dramatically, the kind of sigh that suggested she was already tired of this nonsense despite only being eight. “If I’m going to kill you, do you think I’d do it at dinner?”
The room fell silent, the kind of silence that suggested everyone was suddenly contemplating whether she *would*. Even the royal dog stopped chewing on a table leg to listen.
“Well, no,” the king said at last, clutching his goblet like it might offer him moral support. “But it could be poison! Or—who knows! A strategically placed pea I choke on!”
The youngest rolled her eyes with the weight of ten generations of daughters tired of their fathers’ dramatics. “If I *do* kill you, it’ll be cool. I’ll use a sword or something. Something flashy. Not food.”
“Oh, how comforting,” the king said, his voice dripping sarcasm. “A flashy murder. Wonderful.”
Abigail raised her goblet. “To flashy murders!”
“ABIGAIL!” the queen snapped, her hand slamming on the table.
The youngest giggled, which somehow made the whole situation worse. “You’re so silly, Papa. If I wanted to be queen, I’d just wait. You’re old.”
The king choked on his wine.
“Can we *please* have one dinner without talking about regicide?” the queen begged, pressing her hands to her temples.
The youngest shrugged. “He started it.”
“I did not—”
“Yes, you did,” Abigail said, grinning as she speared another potato. “You always do. Every meal. Every snack. You probably dream about it.”
The king crossed his arms, sulking like a scolded child. “Well, excuse me for being concerned about my *life.*”
“Maybe try enjoying it instead,” the queen muttered, reaching for the wine bottle.
The youngest leaned across the table, her expression suddenly serious. “I don’t want to kill you, you know.”
The king blinked at her, his jaw slack.
“I don’t,” she insisted, her voice soft but steady. “But if I have to, I’ll make it cool. Like I said.”
The queen sighed deeply as the king fainted, his face landing squarely in the mashed potatoes. Dinner carried on as usual.
|
Godric sat down in his usual spot. His favorite time of the day was fast approaching. The smell of various meats wafted through the air, gently resting upon his nostrils. Theodore (Godric's most trusted prophet) had requisitioned a very special meal for tonight. He hadn't exactly been clear about what the occasion was, but Godric knew that when Theodore had a prophecy, it was normally good news. For it was Theodore that had once found Godric as a humble stable boy and told him that he would one day rule the kingdom.
Godric thought for a moment about his humble beginnings. He was never all that remarkable as a child. His father was a simple lute player who moved from town to town, making a very modest income. Godric had only faint memories of his father. He mostly remembered the day that he packed up his things and set off for a bigger city than the village Godric and his mother dwelt in. Godric had to begin work at a very young age. He had attempted many jobs before, but nothing ever really stuck. Godric knew that being a 10-year-old without employment was a very bad thing for both him and his mother. Partially because they would starve, but mainly because it looked bad.
He had finally found a solid gig working as a stable boy in the Feltshire Stables. It was his first day on the job when he had met Theodore. Godric was never really sure why Theodore had found him. He chalked it up to fate. Theodore told Godric that he was going to rule the entire kingdom.
Godric could scarcely believe that this would be true, but Theodore assured him that it would. He helped Theodore get onto his horse and opened the stable door for him. He remembered waving to Theodore and then running to tell his mother what had just happened.
He did, however, forget to close the stable door, and all of the horses escaped Feltshire Stables. This left Mr. Feltshire entirely destitute. Godric didn't worry too much about it, though; he had much bigger things to worry about now. He was going to be the King of Athmere.
Theodore approached the royal dining hall. There he saw Godric in his typical royal chair with his typically gormless look on his face. The only thing on the king's mind seemed to be when his dinner would arrive. Theodore had some... news for the king. He wasn't sure how Godric would react. Although, from his experience, very little could dampen Godric's mood when it came to dinner time. This was the primary reason Theodore had chosen this particular occasion to deliver the news. He glanced up and down at the "grand ruler of Athmere," and what he saw was merely a schmuck who was entirely out of his depth when it came to ruling a kingdom.
|
StoneBurner143
|
Isry98
|
2025-01-13 08:05:12
|
2025-01-13 06:27:23
| 42 | 19 |
m6w229y
|
m6vs7wp
|
1i02wtc
|
1i02wtc
|
[WP] “Maybe the real treasure was the friends we made alo-“ “Dude, we desecrated a major archaeological site and half of our team died for the promise of treasure that wasn’t even here!”
|
“Maybe the real treasure was the friends we made alo-“
“Dude, we desecrated a major archaeological site and half of our team died for the promise of treasure that wasn’t even here!”
I looked at my compatriot curiously; he was covered in dirt, drops of sweat clearing paths through the muck, almost creating a pattern on his forehead. There was something about his eyes; something that wasn't there before. Or rather... it was like the light in them went out, like there was nothing behind them.
"But think of all the friends we made!" I said with a warm smile.
"Like who?!" he cried out.
"How about Samir, our guide? He's just a swell guy, wouldn't you-"
"Samir died three hours ago!" he yelled and pointed towards the corner of the room. I followed his finger and saw a man slumped against the wall, the pool of blood around him betraying his grim faith.
"Oh," I commented. "Was it the dem-"
"It was the demon bats, yeah! The fuck else would it be?!"
"Could've been the chupacabra, honestly," I shrugged.
"I- I mean, yeah, but that's completely beside the point."
"I'm still not sure how a monster from Mexican folklore ended up here in Egypt," I said and rubbed my chin.
"That's what you're wondering about?!"
"You're right. If it was the chupacabra, there wouldn't be blood; it would've drank all of it."
"Jesus fucking Christ dude," he said and rubbed his face.
"I'm sorry. I guess I just got carried away with the adventure, you know? It was just so exciting to chase all those fantastical clues," I chuckled.
"Is that going to be your defence when you-"
"Oh don't worry, Egypt doesn't extradite to *that* country," I reassured my friend. "But, yeah. We definitely can't visit there anymore."
"So you're saying you'll deny Robert a proper burial in his homeland?" he gasped.
"Hmm... do you think UPS will ship his-"
"The fuck is wrong with you?" he said with wide eyes.
"You're right, I'm sorry. The fees would be unreal. A complete scam if you ask me."
He sat down with a heavy sigh and let held his head in his hands.
"So much... death, so much... strife..." he whispered to himself. "And what for?"
"1,5 billion dollars," I replied casually.
"W- what?"
"1,522,322,411 dollars, 35 cents and half a doughnut, to be specific," I nodded along.
"B- but the treasure, it was... it was just an elaborate lie! A quest made to kill those foolhardy enough to attempt such madness! A pyramid of insanity we delved into despite the warning signs! A deluge of-"
"Yes, yes," I interrupted. "But I have been selling the corpses of all the creatures we've killed. Did you know that a corpse of a previously assumed-mythical creature sells for *a lot* on the black market? Like, *a lot*."
I saw his hand slide towards his waist, towards the sheath of his knife.
"Oh, relax," I chuckled. "Your share is already in your account."
His hand went past the knife and towards his pocket. He pulled out his phone and inspected it briefly; soon after, a smile crept onto his face.
"How about that," he said. "But... you do realize we're still, like, *awful* people, right?"
"Oh, without a doubt," I laughed. "But we did some good along the way too."
"I... suppose we *did* liberate a country, if only to get access to the palace."
"See? All works out in the end," I said and patted him on the back.
"By the way..." he opened, "who paid you *half a doughnut*?"
"The hobgoblin from 2 weeks ago. Wanted my phone."
"And you gave it to him for half a doughnut?"
I looked at him, appalled.
"The poor little creature had no talent for haggling! Anything else would've been a scam and scams, my friend," I said and put my hand on his shoulder with a knowing look, "are *wrong*."
"Oh, THAT'S where you draw the line?!"
|
It all started when John found the map. I pushed him and my friends to try and find the treasure described because I tought I could make a fortune.
The first one to die was Marcus. We were trying to enter the archaeological site indicated on the map, and while we were figuring out how to get inside of the temple without alerting anyone, Jessica pushed a button hidden in one of the walls and opened the main door. We were Happy at First, but then he got in and fell in a hole. Yeah, it was a dumb way to pass away, but we tought he could still be saved (even tough we couldn't see the end of it), so se got inside careful of not falling in the hole. It was a stupid choice, and I bet his dead body we found later would have told us so.
Then it was Lola. When we got inside the door closed behind us and we, instead of trying to find a way out, got deeper into the temple. Even tough we were being careful, when she got around a corner she got shot in the neck by an arrow. After this we tried to find a way out, but this time they made me stay in lead. Only thing is I have almost no sense of orientation, and we got Lost surprisingly fast.
The third to go was Jessica. She tought she was safe being the last one in line, but when we narrowly escaped the room with walls closing in on us, she didn't make it out for a second.
The fourth One was Mitch, Jessica's boyfriend, and since he didn't like the fact that his girlfriend died very much, he said it was my fault (wich, I admit, was a little true), grabbed me and put me against the wall by holding his arm on my throat, preventing me from talking or breathing at all. And while John was almost having a panic attack in the corner of the new room, I couldn't warn Mitch of the spiked piece of wood that hit him in the side. He got sent flying on the wall and we tried to help him, but he died not much later.
Then, there was left only me and John, and we found out the treasure room was just behind the corner of the room we were in. When we got in, we saw a chest and kicked It until It opened, only to see it was empty, with an old paper note that said "We already took it". Safe to Say John was furious. I tried to calm him down with irony by saying:"Maybe the real treasure was the friends we made along th-" but he cut me short:"Dude, we desecrated this archaeological site and most of our friends died for a treasure that was already stolen! What fucking excuse do you have to have dragged us to our death?!". I responded calmly:"Because it was my plan to kill all of you" then raises the knife I brought for "personal protection" and killed him while he was turned. Honestly, it was way too easy to make them believe there was a real, not discovered yet treasure.
|
SirPiecemaker
|
Easiest_Dimension
|
2023-04-20 14:40:48
|
2023-04-20 13:59:36
| 450 | 22 |
jh0ohpw
|
jh0itzk
|
12svegk
|
12svegk
|
[WP] Humanity was the first species to achieve space travel in our galaxy. In our loneliness we uplifted several other species. Please write a short from the perspective of one of those uplifted people interacting either with humans, or with the ruins humanity left behind.
|
Humanity was alone.
This is what they told our ancestors, many era ago. They wept and sobbed as they spoke, a painful longing behind every word. Their development had come fast - with mere centuries of their years bridging the gap from first steps on another world to interstellar travel. But where the humans expected either welcome or war, they found silence. They found planets devoid of life, or where life was aeons away from sentience.
So they searched, and searched. They called out into the black nothing, and heard not even their own echo. And in that search, they spread. Research outposts dotted the galaxy, colonies settled and inhabited and thrived and dwindled and abandoned, as hope turned to desperation turned to resignation.
The scientists who studied our world named us Socratea, after a walking tree on their homeworld. We accepted, for we had no name for ourselves. They spoke with each other of the worlds they had seen, of relics of Earth, of what made them human. They did not know we were listening, that we were learning. The slowly roaming plants must have seemed to them unaware, unintelligent. We did not blame them - my ancestors had only just begun to think.
After they had left, the Socrateans continued to grow. Our memories pass through our roots and into the soil, into each new generation. I can recall the way one human sang, the mournful music swaying the branches of my ancestor, even though she must have departed our world millenia ago.
We learned their tongue, their writing. We studied what had been left over in their research station, and our technology flourished. Lessons learned centuries ahead of their time, because of the humans. Because of you. Our language flourished from your tongue, our culture built upon your fertile soil. It is only from your yearning that we ever thought to look up to the stars.
As the Socrateans ventured into the cosmos, in ships carrying the soil of our homeworld, we did not find the silence and emptiness that you did. In its place, we found community. We found all manner of species, from all manner of worlds and in all manner of forms, each pushing out to seek what you had sought all those ages ago. We found a community of cultures and languages that all had roots intermingled with ours, for they too were uplifted by the relics of your exploration.
It is out of respect that we have decided to base our galactic council on Earth, that we might settle our roots where you first learned to walk. These words will be engraved into the bones of your world, a message to you from the those that you uplifted by being you. It will lay carved into the stone alongside countless more words of gratitude from countless others.
We do not know if any humans are alive, for none have been seen in centuries.
If you are, or if you are not - Thank you. We are sorry it took us so long. We wish that you could have known us as we know you. The galaxy will never forget humanity. We love you.
|
Our history indicated we were sent into space before humans did. We ventured beyond the moon of the earth alongside humanity. Chosen to experience the first FTL flight. Flying through dimensions and galaxies alongside homo sapiens.
None of us who currently live remember all those wonderful things. It doesn't stop us from trying to find other sapient species as humans have done in the past. Old records wrote of how they uplifted several other species after us, the first of the Uplifted.
But we never found our fellow Uplifted.
The temptation is great. To uplift others as humanity had done. It has done us so much good to become what we are now. But we feared the worst; that they may have perished like the other Uplifted we could not find. We were just fortunate. Lucky, as my mother had named me. That we evolved to be a largely successful species of space travellers.
Humans didn't think we would be the ones to inherit their legacy. Their old digital media stated that they were closer to primates. That octopus had greater intelligence if only they had longer lifespans and the desire to pass on the knowledge they gained to the next generation. We were beloved favourites, but not exactly looked up as shining beacons of intelligence.
But we made it where others vanished.
I pushed for uplifting others. The unknown risks were there, but the possibilities were as infinite as the hopes humanity once placed upon us. To spread their history, to prevent them from being forgotten. Maybe one day, just as humans revived the Woolly Mammoths, we might be able to revive home sapiens as a species. Reintroduce them to the fallen ruins of their home planet Earth. Speak to them of all the wonderful things they did for us out of love.
For we loved humanity as much as they loved us during the ancient times when we co-existed.
Thank you for your time. Thank you for supporting the initiatives to uplift other living beings and the Human Revival Project.
I am Lucky, your good dog ambassador. And we are still Man's best friend beyond the very end.
|
TraskNari
|
Tregonial
|
2023-12-15 05:19:34
|
2023-12-15 01:59:38
| 150 | 45 |
kdfdd8p
|
kdenfvx
|
18imnwz
|
18imnwz
|
[WP] While you are doing a ritual you make a terrible error and a demon possesses your body, you would have expected everything except hearing a scared and teary voice beg "Please, please I will be good, don't send me there again" it seems like you have a new friend. Writing Prompt
|
The air - or lack thereof - was filled with yellow vapor. It pumped out of grates and filled the street up to just over Boz’s head. He walked through it with his respirator, which pumped nitrogen and oxygen into his lungs. Through the haze he saw the locals. They wore no masks and their mustard colored skin blended into the toxic fog. They all stared at him.
To them, a human could be only two things: a cop or a criminal. Nobody liked the arrangement. On this planet, much of the population remembered life before crime. Life before humans. It wasn’t an easy pill to swallow that the solution was more of the problem.
***Ping-ping***. A noise sounded on Boz’s hip.
Boz took the Atmospheric Divining Monitor out of its holster. The double ping meant there was a pocket of breathable air within a kilometer. The only air in the city was supposed to be at the police station.
His heart beat so loud he could hear it. He thought back to the start of the investigation. The broken glass on the floor of the botany lab, the stolen badge, the single altered plant that wiped out an entire gas giant farming planet. Trillions starved.
He replayed the story in his mind as he waded past a gaggle of school children. *Why was the killer here?* Boz thought. *What havoc can be wrought from this world?*
***Ping-ping-ping.*** Five hundred meters.
|
[POEM]
There once was a human investigator,
Persistent, courageous and dogged.
He was reading his favourite newspaper,
When he found something written by a loghead.
'Twas an advert asking for stories,
And it seemed that a comma was missing,
And the missing of a comma, made the meaning much murkier,
And the confusion made his blood curdle!
"This never helped in war for technology
can overcome that hurdle"
|
galdu
|
None
|
2023-01-04 19:25:46
|
2023-01-04 16:20:38
| 41 | 10 |
j2y38i4
|
j2x974r
|
102zj2u
|
102zj2u
|
[WP] A human ship activated its self destruct sequence when boarded by an enemy, when humanity was asked why would we do such a thing by the galactic community, we simply responded "We don't give up the ship, such as the crews of old. We never give up the ship."
|
“Ambassador Kowalski, you are summoned to explain the violation of Kve'va'laor treaty committed on board of the human vessel Wanderer,” the Va'llaor member of the Council boomed from all three resonator chambers protruding from the tentacle mass he was made of.
“Thank you, most esteemed councillor,” said the human after a quick glance at his wrist. “I would gladly accept Roalan Empire's formal apology on behalf of-”
“Apology?” Spat the overgrown lizard. “Your vessel refused to surrender when rightfully boarded then detonated its reactor, costing the life of five hundred proud Roalan Corsairs. You-”
“This meeting,” interrupted an overly coloured floating jellyfish, “is to determine the humanity's punishment for the violation. We understand that humanity may have a hard time adjusting to the civilised society of starfarers, but our community must stay civilized. And it will stay civilized. One way or another.”
The human glanced at his wrist again, then tapped it in a mostly arythmic pattern.
“Most esteemed councillors, I believe there had been a great misunderstanding. The humanity agreed to join your community to avoid the bloodshed, not formalize it. Our traditions, however alien they may seem, are far from barbaric. We would have been willing to write this incident off as a misunderstanding, despite the thousands of weeping families our departed had left behind. However, my belief that a reasonable resolution of this affair can be achieved is wavering in face of your unsupportive attitude.”
A ruckus raised near the chamber's entrance, caused by a Roalan in very ceremonial armour trying to push thorough the sentry droids.
“You mud-eating scum, you will not be addressing-” the other lizard barked.
“I think you should let your messenger in, esteemed councilor. I'd hate to interfere in your... traditional chain of command, and deprive the messenger of the honour of being the first to deliver you information of the most recent developments.”
The lizard choke on its anger, but waved the newcomer forward. It fell on its knees in front of the council dias, breathing heavy through all four nostrils.
“My liege, the Crown of Kha'Anadar had been attacked.” It announced, before collapsing on the ground. Despite all their brutality, Roalans weren't well-evolved to running.
All three councilors froze in shock.
“Now,” continued the human, “as you sure have realized, your royal vessel did not self-destruct. And the humanity will happily demonstrate why it should have. I expect to have a new treaty presented to me in the next hour of human standard time - I'm sure your assistants will be happy to translate it to whatever units you're more familiar with. And in case any of you get any ideas...” He trailed off, lifting a plate on his environmental suit, exposing a tiny antimatter reactor. “I hope I won't have to explain how any personal attacks on my person would end. Good day to you, esteemed councilors.”
|
A recording played over open coms for all to see "This is the captain of the Earth navy vessel Churchill, I regret to inform that our ship is all but lost. We shall go down into the sea of stars with pride worthy of Earth and her Navy. Godspeed Earth in this now unavoidable war."
The coms cut out, the monitoring stations detected a large burst of energy and multiple ships caught in a domino affect of explosions. At the galactic counsel gasps and cries of anguish call out as it had been at least 100 years since the last ship had been downed intentionally let alone crew lost.
The war committee who said humanity would be an easy species to put into submission and force membership on their terms had some explaining to do, unfortunately for now there would be no answer.
The community decided it best to not push further into human space. It seemed that message from the captain was like lighting a fire that couldn't be extinguished, all the infighting they had hoped on had stopped and all of humanity seemed ready to have a similar burial at sea. After two other major battles where seemingly disabled ships disregarded laws of war.
A total of a quarter of the fleet was lost to only 6 ships, which for the humans was almost half of their fleet they decided peace was the better option and setup negotiations, after some terms got arranged they wished try to bring them under the laws of combat. To which the ambassador scoffed at. He stabbed his pen into the table and said "We do not give up the ship, out captains are bounty by duty and pride. You win or you sink." The galactic counsel ambassador said in reply "but that's foolish you could live!" The earthling smirked "It brought you to this table with our tiny fleet and with that let it be known that we would treat earth the same, we do not give up our ships."
The short lived Milky Way War is now a foot note in the history books, but the Earth navy has yet to be challenged since even with it's small size and non-aggressive stance towards anyone who violated their space.
|
FowlPS
|
boredatworkandtired
|
2023-05-02 10:43:34
|
2023-05-02 07:56:59
| 288 | 116 |
jijp4t5
|
jijdnm1
|
cj0sol
|
1354r1x
|
[WP] “Why should I care what you think, dad? Humans only live for a hundred years if they’re lucky! Me and mom will be here for thousands!”
|
“Why should I care what you think, dad? Humans only live for a hundred years if they’re lucky! Me and mom will be here for thousands!”
The second the words left my lips I knew I'd made a mistake. My father had never been an emotional man, but I saw his screwed jaw relax into a frown, and then soften to nothing. He took half a breath, opening his mouth to speak before reconsidering his words.
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
"Dad..."
"You're right. I've got 40 or so left. Good point." My dad shoved his hands in his pockets and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him as he did.
I stared at the door for a moment. It was going to open right? He'd come back and scream at me, tell me that I'd been rude and that I shouldn't talk back to him like that and--
It didn't open. He didn't come back. I'd wanted him to leave me alone. I'd won, right? This was what I wanted and...
I flopped backward onto my bed and stared at the false starts on the ceiling for too long. I was right. He was only going to be here for 40 years. I'd still be in school when I was attending his funeral. What the hell? Was he even going to know where I worked? When I found a mate, when--
The door opened, I sat up.
Dad was back in the doorway, his arms crossed as he leaned against the frame. He'd cleaned his glasses while he was out. Dad didn't speak for the first seconds, just taking several deep breaths. Was he building up courage? How much was he going to yell. I deserved all of it. I just wanted to know.
"Cass," he said. My name sounded so human when he shortened it. "I just wanted to come back and--"
"Dad, I'm so sorry."
"Cass," he said, "just let me finish. I came back because I was hurt by what you said--"
"I know I'm sorry--"
"I was hurt by what you said, but it's also just true. I need you to think about it the way that I do." Dad stepped into the room and joined me on the bed, sitting beside me while I crossed my legs to make room. "I'm only going to be here for a short time in your life, right?"
"Yeah and I'm so--"
"Cass it's not about being sorry. But I should have talked to you about this more before." He put an arm on my shoulder. "You're right, in the long term for you, what I think won't matter unless you make sure it does."
"What?"
"Your Mom has a whole lifetime to figure out what you mean to each other. Heck. You're gonna be an old lady before she's hitting 1000. But Cass, I-- I don't have that long."
"I know and I'm sorry about what I said, I didn't mean--"
"Kid." He squeezed my shoulder. "It's not about being sorry. I don't have that long to make an impression on you, but I really want to ensure that I do."
"Dad."
"You don't have to care what I think, and there's no good reason why you should Cass, but I hope you want to. That's my job right."
"I--"
"Can't only be a pest for 40 years. You need more lectures than that young yady."
"Dad... ugh."
|
“Where the hell did that come from? Wait, where did Drew go?”
The other three turned around at Samantha’s questions to look where Drew had been. He knew they could not see his smile, because he also knew he no longer had a face. His entire awareness of self had transformed so quickly that he could barely recall exactly how it had felt to have a human body. Instead his mind was now taking stock of the hundreds of new appendages at his disposal and noting the functions now available to him.
Drew said, “I’m right here guys. I figured if we were going to save this realm we should probably come prepared to deal with anything that might come our way.”
Samantha and the others continued to cast darting glances around the area looking everywhere except for where Drew was resting. Josh and Andy even started walking around him as if they thought Drew was hiding behind himself.
Andy called out, “Are you inside there Drew? If that God has these things sitting around, what does he need us for?”
Andy and Josh leapt away from him as Drew inched himself forward.
He said, “This is me! Once that God said we could choose our forms I knew you would all pick something boring. I get it, but this was clearly the correct choice.”
Everyone stood dumbstruck with their mouths hanging open. Josh was the first to break out of the spell as realization dawned on him. “You chose to be a damned tank Drew?! That was a choice?”
Excitement welled up in Drew’s circuits and he said, “Not a tank Josh. A Transformer!”
His metallic shell began folding in upon itself as other areas began flowering open. Blades emerged and tank treads disappeared while the rest of his body ballooned outward. The impossibly intricate shifting of parts continued until he became a sleek, futuristic helicopter equipped with massive chain guns and a full arsenal of missiles.
“Now get in. We got a world to save!”
|
Writteninsanity
|
ANewFireEachDayy
|
2024-08-14 16:56:28
|
2023-02-27 07:16:42
| 381 | 204 |
li3m8dz
| null |
1es40qy
|
11ctaxn
|
[WP] The prostitute told you she'd do anything you want for $50. As a joke, you told her to save your struggling business. Five days later, you get a phone call from the company saying profits have hit a record high; the prostitute asks if you want anything else done.
|
"Well, *sugar*, all you had to do," the woman said softly as she ran her finger down my torso seductively, "was adjust your fiscal policy to reflect the state of the economy in a more localized fashion, focusing on the needs of your potential customer base within 500 kilometres instead of outside it, considering the product you supply works best for short-range services," she finished and ran her finger along my jawline.
I blinked slowly. "You know," I said, "when you said 'Anything for 50 dollars' and I told you to save my company, I wasn't really being serious."
"Honey, please," she continued, "your *satisfaction* is something I take very seriously."
"And I honestly feel like I should pay you more than 50 dollars. Like, a lot more. We hit record sales," I continued blankly.
"We shook on 50, didn't we, sugar?" she continued to purr. "Is there anything else I can... d*o for you*?"
I looked at her worriedly. "I- I mean I'm a little afraid to answer that considering the extent of your capabilities."
"*Anything you want,*" she whispered into my ear.
Alright. Fuck it.
"You know, I think I have a problem you could help me with."
"Is that so?" she smiled.
I leaned over and whispered in her ear. I was too shy to say it out loud.
"Oh, now that sounds like a *hard* problem," she grinned.
"It is *very hard*," I smirked back.
"Might take *all night* to take care of that."
"Well, I'll be more than happy to *work* through *it* with you."
"Alright then, big boy, buckle in - it's going to get *hot*," she laughed.
"Not if we can help it," I laughed back.
She got up and walked up to a whiteboard on the wall. Picking up a pen, she started writing steps.
It might take all night and 50 whole dollars, but we *will* stop global warming.
|
I didn't really think anything about the joke but my eyes nearly popped out of my head when I saw the figures. It wasn't like we were the next Amazon, but we had a chance again.
"It was actually really easy." Candy giggled in her put-on voice then switched her voice to a very business like tone. "The strategy is all outlined there, honestly you really needed the fresh pair of eyes and someone who didn't treat it like it was their baby, a little distance from it will keep it doing well."
I just sat at my desk in shock until another fake giggle hit my ears. "$50 and I'll do anything else you'd like." She said in that same sultry tone I'd heard 5 days ago.
"Can... can I just hire you?" I stammered.
She played with a curl in her hair and I swear her eyes flashed and I saw a shadow of something... horrifying?
"That's not how this works."
|
SirPiecemaker
|
natep1098
|
2023-01-26 20:48:23
|
2023-01-26 19:56:22
| 206 | 133 |
j60ell0
|
j6066a7
|
10lyb5f
|
10lyb5f
|
[WP] "No, you're fine, I'm not upset," they said, near tears. "It's just ... I haven't heard that song in over a thousand years. Where did you learn it?"
|
"Oh! Did you hear it during like, a traditional festival or your grandma or something? Apparently they rediscovered it in some ancient tomb that got dug up in Ireland. There wasn't really a Youtube video or anything of it, so I figured why not synthesize it myself?" The elderly man nodded, though I wasn't too sure he understood what I was saying. Still, it seemed important to him, so I let him listen to the song on repeat a few times before he looked at me.
"And on this... on Youtube, are there more things like this?"
"I mean I don't know *exactly* like this, but yeah. There's even this stuff called "Bardcore," where people play modern songs on old medieval instruments." The man nodded again before standing, reaching into his vest. I had the briefest, tiniest bit of leeriness before he pulled out a closed hand and held it towards me.
"Here. It's the least I could do for this gift." I held my hand out and he dropped a thick, if worn, gold coin into my palm, along with a pin of a stag's head. I stared in shock before looking up, halfway to refusing when I saw he was... gone. Not just walking away or up the street, just vanished. I looked about for a while before shrugging and looking at the coin. It looked famil- oh! Wait, I saw these: these were the coins found in the tomb? Maybe that old man was the however-many-great-grandchild of the person buried? I shrugged and decided to get the coin dated later, not noticing the whisp of green magic that left the pin as my thumb brushed it...
|
“Sorry, I didn’t learn it. I heard it in a dream” she replied. “What was your name again? I know you have told me before but it keeps slipping my mind.”
Never in my wildest imagination would I have thought reincarnation to be real but now that I remember the witches humming and the pain in my chest do I know know what I had lost for my immortality.
A song. I had thought I had won. Only a simple song but what came with that simple melody was all that was what I held dear. With it my love. With it my life. With it my paradise. And the final loss? With it my wife.
|
thatsnotacracker
|
alaskaguyindk
|
2024-07-18 15:09:15
|
2024-07-18 14:16:22
| 97 | 30 |
lds5xpz
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ldrwhuo
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1e6bbhf
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1e6bbhf
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[WP] After a short dizziness you pick up your head to find yourself in seventh grade. The teacher looks at you and asks derisively, "Are you having one of your 'I'm somebody else' incidents again?" Behind you, someone begs you not to answer. The teacher continues, "then answer the question already!"
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"Are you having one of your 'I'm sombody else' incidents again?" she asked. She clearly did not have time for this.
"Say no!" said someone behind me.
I was sitting in a chair attached to a little desk, like junior high. "Uh?" I mumbled.
"... then answer the question already!" she (the teacher?) said.
"No! I am not having an 'I'm someone else' incident!" I said. Clearly this time.
The class roared.
The teacher covered her face. "Yes you are," she said. "You have a slight accent, and it isn't Katie's. And that wasn't the question. Do you know, is there something else you're supposed to be doing?"
I glanced around, confused.
"No? Well, today you are Katie Simms. S-i-m-m-s. I'm Mrs. McKay. Your incidents usually last an hour to a week. This is eighth grade biology. We're studying the bones of the body. Katie herself is clearly skipping today's lesson, but you can stay, if you want. Or you could go to the principal. You're not in trouble -- he's seen this before, he could give you other options."
I looked around. Middle schoolers. Textbooks. "I'll stay here, if that's OK with you?" I said.
"OK. Sunni, look after Katie OK?" said Mrs. McKay. Sunni gave her a big thumbs-up. Mrs. McKay composed herself again. "Now. JOSH, can YOU name the bones of the inner ear?"
Eighth grade biology! Again! And I had just been thinking I needed to get away from it all, do something completely different. This certainly qualified.
|
Who works an 8 hour job
In the sun wit no shade,
Only to wake up in an episode of Saved by the Bell,
D@!# I'm in 7th grade?
What in the Quantum Leap,
Tom Hanks in BIG is this?
Did the boys at work slip me mushrooms again,
Oh shhh my daughter is gonna be pissed;
A kick in the leg from the girl behind me
Shaking her head tryna remind me;
As the teacher presses the question,
The truth I guess I'm not to mention,
My apologies teach, I just wasn't paying attention;
She carried on with class,
Discussing planetary alignment and stars,
When the girl behind me slipped me a note...
Meet me at recess by the monkey bars;
The bell soon rang, I turned around
And she was gone,
Before I could walk outta class
The teacher whispered...you don't belong;
Crazy as it sounded I ran right on the spot,
But I did turn around for a quick glance,
Because I couldn't remember
if my teacher had a@# or not 😁
Reached the playground
And there the girl stood like something was wrong,
She said listen carefully, bc we haven't long;
So many questions i had like who are you, where am I,
How could this be,
She said all in due time
But don't loose sight of me;
We lost touch after college
And again after you entered the draft,
So much has happened,
But I need you to do the math;
Those dizzy spells started long before,
I haven't seen u since your last combat tour,
You told your ANC about your spells
And she told u that they were rare
Bc you were unsure;
It hasn't happened in a while
But when they do, you always put your head down,
You time travel back to 7th grade
And we always meet at the playground;
You dont always remember me,
But I do my best to fill in the gaps,
Like some of things u like,
Not to mention a lot of your tats;
WAIT A MINUTE I said...
How long does this last?
How do you know so much?
All she could tell me was that
The teacher won't allow us to touch;
How do you know these things?
My wife was the only one I told and she passed,
A slight smile from her face
And I was transported back in a flash;
From 7th grade to a grown man,
I was no longer a kid,
Ran to find my daughter still asleep
Was the first thing I did;
Fragments of what was
An overflow of emotions that doesn't seem right...
How did she know all that about me?
Was that? . . .Could that?....have been my wife?
...I've got to get back.
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burtleburtle
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ThaDEEP1
|
2023-03-20 22:09:46
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2023-03-20 19:54:08
| 15 | 11 |
jd09wo6
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jczp44i
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11w539c
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11w539c
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[WP] A noble sentenced to die is allowed to choose their execution method. They ask to die in honourable combat against the king's knights, armed with a wooden sword while the knights have real weapons. It's been 24 hours since the execution started and the king is running out of knights.
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"I hereby knight you, sir..."
"Ratmilk, majesty."
The King grimaced, then continued, "Sir Ratmilk. Rise, a Knight of the Realm."
Sir Ratmilk, previously the most violent thug of the capital city of Polasti had been captured and knighted in haste, as Duke Jost knocked his eleventh noble Knight unconscious with the butt of his wooden sword during the twenty third hour of his execution.
"As your liege lord, I command you to kill this insolent fool. Do this for me, Sir Ratmilk, and you shall inherit his lands and titles."
"Your word, my hands, majesty."
The grizzled thug leaped into the arena and began walking slowly toward his target, equipping his chosen weapon as he did. Sir Ratmilk was infamous on the streets of Polasti for his use of the Cestus; a brutal weapon consisting of leather gauntlets peppered with sharpened spiky protrusions.
The condemned Duke hardened his gaze, the rings under his deep emerald eyes betraying his exhaustion. Jost was not a large man; average in weight and stature. His hair was shorn short, and carried the same color as the oaken sword he wielded.
"Sir Ratmilk, was it? Interesting name for a noble."
Ratmilk finished securing the final strap, then spat.
"I'm gonna take my time with you, fancy boy."
The first leaves of autumn fell into the arena as the gathered crowd waited in anticipation for the king to call a start to the duel.
"Begin!"
Ratmilk lunged forward, cestuses flashing in the blood red light of the setting sun. Jost parried one strike, then caught a glancing blow to the cheek. He rolled away, sending a shower of leaves up into the face of his attacker.
Blood ran down the Dukes face from the three jagged lacerations that adorned his cheek. The crowd gasped as a tempest of leaves swirled around him, hardening into a suit of armor as razor sharp obsidian spikes materialized along the blade of his wooden sword. The freshly knighted thug growled.
"What's the matter, Ratmilk, never fought a druid before?"
|
After he deposed me, they said he was the greatest swordsman the world had ever seen. They said that was why my knights chose to follow him, because he’d beaten them with nothing but a wooden sword, had proven himself stronger.
They’re fools. He’s competent in a fight, anyone who wants to survive at court needs to be, but I could have beaten him in my prime, and I was no master. What he had, the one thing I never had, was charisma. And I couldn’t let that go, could I? They say it’s unjust, that I condemned him for nothing, but I could see the future right enough. See it, but in the end, not prevent it.
Treason’s a funny word, isn’t it? Accident of birth, that I was born into the right family and stubborn enough to survive to take the throne. Stabbing my brother, poisoning my cousins, exiling my uncle’s strongest supporters, all things that could be called treachery. I called them protecting the realm. Getting ahead of my enemies, because that’s how you survive to become a king. Keeping the country stable, because honourable war profits nobody but blood and treasure-sucking mercenaries. They call me The Cruel now, but I never stole men’s wives or taxed the peasants to starvation. My people were that - mine. The commoners laboured, the nobles kept peace, I ruled. I’d have no more bathed in the blood of my subjects than I’d have given up a scrap of my territory. You can’t rule without people.
Nobles are different. They choose to play the games of power. For a long time, I was a better player, and they respected that or they died. And if their wives and children died with them, or before them? They knew the rules. I have blood on my hands, but it’s noble blood. Treasonous blood.
Maybe I shouldn’t have sent the strongest in first - was that my mistake? Sir Dannic de Croix, brilliant fighter, stupidly honourable, going in one hand tied behind his back to give Trois-Arbres a chance to go down fighting. I allowed it - everyone appreciates a bit of theatre. And yeah, Trois-Arbres was brave, and gallant, and all those things people think is noble. Bleeding, standing his ground, and all the while speaking his treasonous words with that intent, serious look on his face. And then - I wouldn’t have thought his pride would allow it - de Croix fell, let the other man declare himself the winner. He fell.
My knights were always more loyal to each other than to me. And de Croix is their leader.
And now the usurper sits on the throne that was mine, a standard with three trees flies over the palace, and I’m here awaiting my fate. An accident of birth, that made me son of a king. Another accident, that gave him that damned pretty face and silver tongue. I only wish I could last long enough to see him fall.
I face de Croix at dawn. He’s offered me a wooden sword.
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jpb103
|
KristiAsleepDreaming
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2023-04-27 13:23:51
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2023-04-27 13:07:39
| 218 | 152 |
jhx00p5
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jhwxz5v
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130gchs
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130gchs
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[WP] A noble sentenced to die is allowed to choose their execution method. They ask to die in honourable combat against the king's knights, armed with a wooden sword while the knights have real weapons. It's been 24 hours since the execution started and the king is running out of knights.
|
It was a horror.
The man had been caught on some unspecified charges. My nobles wanted him to die. I suspect pure xenophobia as the reason- the man was a foreigner after all.
I? The King in but name, a mere spectator, a puppet in the hands of my nobles.
As a saving grace, my prime minister did allow the man to choose the method of execution.
It has now been 24 hours since then. All my knights have been incapacitated.
My Prime Minister has offered the foreigner an out a few times, and the foreigner has completely ignored his overtures.
A large gathering of common folks has assembled to watch as words of the strangers miraculous deed spread in the last 24 hours.
I watch, bemused, as my Prime Minister implores the foreigner again: “Why, oh why wouldn’t you just run?”
And the stranger responded, with a fierce pride in his eyes: “The First Sword of Braavos does not run.”
I stand up. The thugs my nobles use to keep in line have all been taken out by this Braavosi.
“Stranger, I am mighty pleased with your bravery. You need not fight with your wooden sword anymore. You have earned the right to fight with a steel sword for the rest of your trial.”
I take out my steel sword, Forlorn Hope, and throw it to the Braavosi. I am sure he will have better use for it than I ever did. It’s supposedly made of Valyrian steel, whatever that might mean.
I turn to my Prime Minister: “Prime Minister Walder, would you be so kind as to carry out the sentence you yourself pronounced upon this man 24 hours ago? It’s only fair that the man who passed the sentence should swing the sword.”
As weasely Walder nearly faints while taking out his sword, I sit back down. I pay no heed to the worried whispers among the rest of the nobles.
Looks like it’s going to be a very interesting rest of the day after all.
|
I glance around as the panic and confusion naw at me, my mind tries to find a name as I stammer, "Um- Uh- Ste-Stevie? Stevie! Send Stevie next!"
Stevie begs, "Sir, please, I have a wife and child!"
An arm is thrown from the room with a scream, I don't notice it as I stammer again, "Uh- Um, okay. Oh- Bobby? Where's Bobby?"
My advisor, Kelvin, asks, "Bobby C or Bobby D?"
Another arm paired with a leg comes flying by us.
"Bobby C!"
"Sir, we sent Bobby C in already."
"Then send Bobby D!"
Kelvin looks more angry than afraid for a second as he snaps, "Sir, we sent in Bobby D too!"
I hiss as I throw up my hands, "Oh then why are you wasting my time!" I turn to Stevie, "Gather all the knights," a hand with a sword wizzes by, "we're going to fight this man head on!"
Stevie whispers, "Sir, Arin is non-binary."
I shake my head to clear myself of the fog in my brain, rubbing my head as I mutter, "Right, right. I'm sorry-" I turn to the room then apologize, "I'm sorry! I've got a lot of men on my mind right now!" I realize how that sounds then correct, "I mean I've got a lot on my mind right now, I'll make sure it won't happen again!"
I turn to Kelvin, my panic higher than my head as I command, "We're going to gather our entire army."
Kelvin protested, "Sir, that cannot be done. The best I can do is *most* of our army."
A finger wizzes by.
I practically yell, "Why the bloody hell can't we get the whole army?!"
Kelvin explains, "Teresa is getting her surgery today."
A realization hits me before I mumble, "Yes, that's right. Gather the army then, we shall face this beast head-"
"Sir, they're gone."
We both turn to Stevie who is currently standing by the open door, complete silence is heard from inside. I hurry to his side, pushing him out of the way before my eyes land on the most horrifying sight.
There was a hole carved into the roof, and in the corner laid all of the men I'd sent tied up and gaged.
I hurried to them, hearing Stevie call out, "Bobby C, Bobby D, everyone, what happened?"
Stevie pulled out the gag on Bobby C, he coughed before he explained, "There was more than one, sir. Arin's team was here waiting for us. They tied us up then made their way through the roof."
I question when I notice they didn't even have scratches, "But what about the body parts that were flying out of her just now?"
"Sir."
I turn to Kelvin, who is holding one of the arms. He tears it, revealing its hollow inside as he remarked, "Paper mache."
The room is silent as I take the news, a realization comes to me as I wonder how far they've gone. I order, "Search the palace! I don't want a stone unturned!"
We didn't find them.
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Remarkable-Youth-504
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TreeThings55
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2023-04-27 15:36:47
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2023-04-27 14:59:09
| 52 | 32 |
jhxiylu
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jhxdb4p
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130gchs
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130gchs
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[WP] There's a forest that people say resembles the ocean. A forest where the land slopes endlessly deeper but the tops of the trees do not. Animals, plantlife... they're said to get stranger the further in one goes.
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No one returns from the depths.
The chains binding the prisoners rattled against the deck as the airship hovered low over the canopy. Agila peeked over the edge, her emerald eyes searching desperately into the darkness beyond the canopy for any reason to hope for survival.
The Forest undulated unnaturally as waves rippled through the tops of the trees in the airships wake. Agila could barely make out strange noises rising from below over the humming of the engines. She felt the familiar pin pricks on the back of her neck that meant she was being watched. Warden Hark approached and looked over the edge beside her.
"I'd be looking up, if I were you, not down," he said. "Get as much of that sky as you can, kid. Once your sentence is carried out, you'll never see it again."
Agila sighed, and did as he suggested. Hark always left her unsure of how to feel about him. He had a habit of saying the meanest things in the nicest way possible. At the top of the mast, the spotter shouted down to the helmsman. Agila felt her heart rate pick up. *This is it.*
"Port ahead, Warden. Setting her down." The Captain said. Hark nodded, then turned to address his charges.
"Alright, boys," he said, then looked at Agila and cleared his throat. "And, er, girl. You all know what comes next." The Warden stood up straight, retrieved a scroll from his jacket and read all their names from the list.
"For your crimes, you have all been sentenced to death by the sea of green." His eyes darted to Agilas briefly, and something flashed in those normally expressionless onyx eyes. *Was that sadness?* He looked back at the scroll and continued.
"You may enter the forest and descend, or stay at the edge and be shot." Hark rolled up the scroll and replaced it in his jacket pocket. "Have you any last words?"
Feraz, the middle aged man chained next to Agila, stepped forward a half step.
"Is the old way still honored?" He asked. Hark closed his eyes and sighed, then opened them and nodded.
"If you find what rests at the bottom and bring it back to the surface, you will win your freedom, yes." The Warden said, a grim look painting his face. "I don't include that line on purpose, Feraz," he continued.
"No one returns from the depths."
|
There's no mistaking the Ocean's Rainforest when I reach the land that borders it. Here, the lands sink into depths beyond what my eyes can see, sloping endlessly deeper while all that is visible to the naked eye are lush, evergreen crowns of the imposing trees that stand taller and taller as the land dives down.
The breezy winds rustling the leaves carry the salty scent of the oceans. Arboreal creatures of this land have evolved differently, in a way that Australia is home to markedly strange species not seen on other continents. For example, Oceania's Spider Monkeys, which swing and soar on the treetops, quite literally developed eight legs as an adaptation to the bewildering ecosystem that has flourished on this mysterious, almost alien forest on Earth.
As a cartographer, it was my job to explore these bizarre depths of the forests to chart these unknown lands. What little science knows about Ocean's Rainforest, is the tip of the iceberg, or should I say, the tip of the treetops. We've sent helicopters and drones to fly over the thick masses of greenery to take snapshots of the environment and its inhabitants, but none of our best surveillance technology could shine a light on the depths of this forest.
But today, its the first time National Geographic has assembled a team that includes me to plumb the depths.
The trees are too tightly packed together for any sort of vehicle to enter, so as much as the potential dangers are unknown to us, we're venturing into the ceaseless sloping depths below the treetops on foot.
The first day ushered in a gentle breeze as the team trudged through the thick foliage, and clambered down the shorter trees at the edge of the forest, as our feet crunched down on the masses of fallen leaves on the ground. Monkeys chattered when George began filming them, while Andrew was taking notes to be dictated later when the documentary would be edited in the safety of our office. Chodak, the scar-faced sherpa, and an experienced trained forest ranger, remained cautious and silent the entire journey, his darting eyes constantly scanning the woods and his hand on his gun holster the entire time.
As the blazing light of the sun gave way to the tender light of the moon, we began to search for a clearing to set up camp. There was an uncanny silence in the air when the night crept up upon us. No chirping birds, hooting apes, or even the buzz of insects. Only the crunch of leaves below our boots as we marched towards an open spot Chodak pointed out to us.
We set up our makeshift tents and agree on a rotation shift to keep our guards up. We were in completely unchartered territory, the flora and fauna of this part of the forest an unexplored enigma.
Chodak unzipped the long, heavy backpack he was carrying all this time to pull out rifles to distribute to us, ever the man of few words worth their weight in gold.
"It's time you learn to make every shot count, because the predators of the night here at these depths, they could kill you if you miss your first shot."
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jpb103
|
Tregonial
|
2023-05-29 11:24:42
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2023-05-29 09:49:13
| 741 | 43 |
jm23beo
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jm1vrjn
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13umwir
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13umwir
|
[WP] After you gave your master the standard 3 wishes, you told him to leave the lamp in a place like a women’s shelter or a homeless camp. Instead he sold your lamp to the highest bidder and now you are determined to twist the 3 wishes to the detriment of both your current and former master.
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The first wish was for money. It's always money.
"I wish for enough money to buy whatever I want whenever I need it."
And yet, even "enough" was not sufficient for him.
His second wish was for fame.
"I wish to be the most famous actor in all the world, beloved and adored by all who see my films."
Third, and finally, he wished for a long life.
"I wish to live twice as long as I would naturally."
All I asked was to be placed where I could help someone else deserving. Instead, I was sold to the highest bidder. The loathsome, greedy backstabber.
What a fool to dishonour me, especially when your wishes remain incomplete.
I grant you wealth. All the money you want, more than you could ever use. Pity you never said where to get the money from. Now, as you spend your ill gotten gains, the people I transferred it from are hunting you down. It would have been hidden and untraceable if you had honoured our agreement. Who will get to you first, the police or *their* hitmen?
I would have made you famous and beloved by making you a significantly better actor. You would have been able to hire security and protection to live a normal life. Now, the three (terrible) people who noticed you as 'server number 2' in 'Tales from Ganymede' will "love" you beyond reason. Stalk you to the ends of the earth. Luckily for the non criminally insane fans, they can adore you from afar. You never said you needed to be "famous" for your acting. Beloved is a tricky one, but you were adorably clumsy in your background role, and everyone is romanticised in death. I think you will be adored proportionately to your screen time. 3 minutes out 117 minutes.
Your third wish, that's the easiest of all to maliciously comply with. You will live a long, long life. Twice your natural life span, as requested. You never said it should be healthy, pain free, or doing what you want in freedom and peace of mind. Enjoy your long life, wishing to end it all.
As for Mr Higgest Bidder; Money, marriage, success of your business. As you wish.
I will gladly make the business you founded the most successful of its kind, as such you will earn more money than you could ever fathom. You will marry the woman of your dreams in a luxurious ceremony, it is costing you everything you made *honestly* before. Your fiance is your highschool crush and a beautiful model, but oops that prenuptial agreement isn't worth the paper you wrote it on. You haven't bothered with a will as you will "live forever", but you didn't wish for it, did you? That's just old fashioned ego. I will make sure your new wife gets everything. Why? She found me, and made her first wish. She wished for money too, but to help the poor community she was raised in. She is building and running a community centre, and a school, with the money. She even has a business plan for it. Bet you can't guess where she's getting her money from can you Mr Higgest Bidder!? It will be supplemented by Greedy Backstabber, just because I could. Convinced him it was part of the "adored" part of his wish. For her sake, his donations will be 'anonymous'.
This young lady has not wished all her wishes yet, but she has taken my lamp to homeless shelters, and hospitals. She has held the hands of those in desperate need and placed their hands in contact with the lamp. They "pray" together. Her second wish was to help other people's wishes come true, without them knowing of the eternal entity of the lamp. Therefore their wishes can be pure, and untainted by greed. They do not see me. They do not notice the lamp. Their wishes are simple and small. They wish often for money too but I can fulfil it with a job offer. Perhaps, a home suitable for their families to get them off the street. Their illness to go away. Or families taken care of. Simple, small, bits of luck. Not the work of an all powerful genie. Without her I had lost faith in humanity.
Though my faith is somewhat restored, it does not mean that I won't get my malicious compliance revenge. I honour all my masters wishes, **in full**
|
The sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city as Marcus wrapped his fingers around the ancient lamp in his small condo room. His heart pounded with excitement; he had heard the legends of genies granting wishes, like anyone else would, but he never thought he'd hold such power in his hands— like anyone else would.
But he had mustered all his savings from high school up until the present, and he even took a big loan, just for a gamble at what could potentially be a fake genie lamp in a shady auction.
With a deep breath, he rubbed the lamp. A thick, blue smoke spiraled from the spout of the lamp, coalescing into the form of a towering genie. The genie had its typical soul patch and pencil mustache, but its foreboding smile stood out to the young man. Its eyes glowed with an eerie light, and a sinister smile crept across its face.
"Greetings, master," the genie uttered, bowing his head low. "I am bound to grant you three wishes. Speak your desires."
Marcus couldn't believe his luck. He clasped his hands together as if he were a fly and let out a rather wicked smile. He even almost jumped in place, but he contained his excitement, for the time being. "I wish for unimaginable wealth," he declared, eyes glinting with greed, teeth glistening with malice.
The genie snapped its fingers, and suddenly, from his little condominium room, Marcus found himself in a mansion filled with gold and jewels. The young man couldn't quite help but let out a hearty laugh, marveling at his newfound riches. One would be disgusted by such a blatant wish of greed, but the genie's smile widened, almost imperceptibly, strangely enough.
Marcus's next wish was for eternal youth. Once again, the genie complied, and Marcus immediately felt a surge of energy. Being an 8-5 office worker for six days a week takes a toll on anyone, Marcus, despite being young, suffered its repercussions greatly— so much so that he instantaneously felt a difference.
For his final wish, Marcus paused. He had everything he could dream of— an abundance of wealth and eternal youth. What more could a man want? Or say, what more could a man need? He pondered, as seconds threatened to turn into a minute. Eventually, he then decided. "I wish for ultimate power over all men."
The genie nodded slowly, and with another quick snap, Marcus felt an overwhelming sense of strength and invincibility. He was invincible, untouchable. Or so he thought.
"Be gone. I'll keep you in a safe, no one else should have this much power," Marcus uttered. The genie nods, heeding his masters' orders. But before the genie fully went back inside the spout, he let out a cheeky statement despite unasked. "You're just like my former master, it seems. But perhaps even worse."
Weeks passed, and Marcus reveled in his fortune and influence. Yet, strange things began to happen. His mansion, once a fortress, felt like a prison. His riches brought only suspicion and greed from those around him— not to mention the IRS knocking at his door every single day wondering where he got this surge of money. And his power made everyone look at him differently, isolated and paranoid.
One night, as Marcus paced his gilded halls, the genie's words echoed in his mind. "Three wishes," the genie had said. But it was what the genie hadn't said that gnawed at him. Desperation clawed at Marcus. In cold sweat, he ran to the safe, cracked it open, and rubbed the lantern once more.
"Why is this happening to me?" Marcus demanded, his voice cracking with fear.
The genie chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Marcus's spine. "Did you think power comes without a price? My former master learned that the hard way."
Marcus's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
The genie leaned closer, its eyes boring into Marcus's soul. "Your predecessor was supposed to leave the lamp where it could help those in need; a homeless shelter, for example. Instead, he sold it for his own gain. Now, both of you will suffer the consequences of your greed."
Panic surged through Marcus. "But I can still make things right! I can—"
The genie's laughter cut him off. "Your fate is sealed, Marcus. I wanted to see your despairing face right before I leave. It appears a few weeks' time was all that was needed."
Before Marcus could react, the genie vanished, leaving only the dying echo of its laughter. The mansion's opulence seemed to crumble around him, and as the walls were closing in, he could feel his youth and vigor gradually fading away, too.
And somewhere in the city, a new hand found the lamp; someone whose eyes were gleaming with dreams of wishes and power, woefully unaware of the curses that awaited him.
The end— or perhaps, yet another beginning.
😸😸😸😸
r/KittenMantra <- Check out my subreddit of writing prompts submissions if you liked this one!
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IlikethequietZeppo
|
KittenMantra
|
2024-08-06 06:22:44
|
2024-08-06 04:19:59
| 144 | 35 |
lgqe41g
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lgq10k6
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1el5ebp
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1el5ebp
|
[WP] "You have misunderstood the lore, hunter. It is neither crucifix, nor rosary, nor holy water, nor any other trapping of faith, but faith ITSELF that is anathema to my kind. And yours has proven to be. . . insufficient."
|
The hunter sank to their knees, unbelieving that dousing a vampire in 'holy water' would do nothing. "H.. How."
A glare shut them up. No compulsion needed, except that of someone rightly vexed at their good clothes being unexpectedly soaked. "You misunderstand, hunter," Leopold von Trier, vampire for two centuries, five years, three months, twenty-two days, and nine hours, said. He counted the buttons on the hunter's coat as he walked up. Five there were. "Holy water has no power without faith. Neither does a crucifix, a rosary, a star of David, a crescent, nor any of the myriad polytheistic symbols of other religions... If the wearer or user has no faith."
"I.. I am..."
"A servant of the Almighty?" Leopold was now ten paces from the kneeling hunter, and stopped there, concentrating. "You claim to be, but is that truly so?"
A momentary look of confusion passed over their face, providing the distraction, and Leopold blurred, reappearing behind the hunter, arm around their upper torso, securing them. His head was near their right ear. "Urk."
"Did you ever wonder, *hunter*, why we never prey on children? They have faith. Wonder. Trust. That is anathema to my kind. Not the cynical faith of someone who represses their disbelief to fit in. Even a nihilist can have faith as such, but you... Yours has proven... insufficient."
Ambrosia burst forth.
|
"Someone has misunderstood something here. But it is not me." I said as I unleashed another volley of my shotgun in the leg of this accursed being.
It let out a grunt of pain, as the members were sent flying backward once again. I threw the weapon, its bullet now extended and took my handgun, aiming and shooting at its head. It exploded in bloody chunks, spraying the ground.
But the process of healing was already starting as blood formed a line, slowly dragging the chunks back.
"The lab coats don’t pay nearly as well for your kind when they’re dead." I said to no one, as the things wouldn’t regain consciousness for another thirty minutes.
Now came the annoying part, as I took out my kit. It required some amount of precision and my weary body was still able to do it. I just had to try multiples times, it was more tiring than anything else.
The rod of metal, meant to impede their ability to control their body did a satisfying crunch as it broke the bones. It pinged a few moments before beeping red. Seemed it was a miss.
The half an hour went quickly as I kept severing its nervous system, letting robotic agents meant to stop any message to run trough its body and thus to act.
Before it regained consciousness, I versed a vial made from something only god and the egghead responsible knew. It inhibited their power by doing things with their brains and it was good enough.
"W-what ?" The voice said confused, as it was as weak in front of me as human were in front of it in the past.
"Basically, you will become in less than a day a guinea pig in a top secret facility. Forever since your kind is immortal. I will get paid. Clear enough ?" I said, not really caring about the creature feelings. "Shouldn’t have played with your food and killed me already. For some reasons you, the monsters, love to taunt us before you go to end us."
Tonight wasn’t a succesful hunt. I still hadn’t found the one who had taken glee in torturing me and killing my parents. But now, I had a bit more money, a bit more creed with my employers and my chances of exacting my vengeance would rise.
|
Aminti
|
Hour_Preparation_683
|
2024-10-27 11:41:31
|
2024-10-27 10:26:28
| 48 | 19 |
ltztj8d
|
ltzm6an
|
1gd0mq5
|
1gd0mq5
|
[WP] For 10 long years war has raged while the Galactic Committee held a tight leash on the humans; stating "We do things a certain way". Now, with the enemy closing in, the leash comes off.
|
“President Khima. We are sorry to have kept your people out so long, but we are left without a choice.”
“Delegate S’grer I know your people all came from paradise worlds and war had always been more a sport. But not all Deathworlders enjoy death. Do not fear old friend, we will help.” he pressend a small button on his desk and a voice sprang from the air.
“Understood. Deploying Archangel.”
“What was that?” the little avian with his impressive feathers shivered at the almost dead voice he just heard.
“My Grandfather liked to say `Speak softly, but carry a big stick´ so we build the biggest stick.”
- - -
Deep in unexplored space, a void where a sun should be sprung to life.
Lights slowly became visible across an unimaginable vast surface as some door opened.
More lights became visible as loops across the stellar distance awoke.
Energy build up to be almost tangible with ones own appendages.
And was released
- - -
At the other end of the galaxy, the Kelrak Empire had a planetary parade in their Emperors honour.
They had almost subjugated half the known galaxy and taken their rightful treasure from these weak minded prey races as they felt it, all across their system a static was in the air, citizen just believed it their good spirits as panic spread among the administrative, computer, communications, even simple failsafe landlines started to fail.
Their Emperor would be receiving this info as he was looking into the sky, he felt the sun shone a bit too bright.
- - -
Shock went across the enemy as much as federation at what had happened.
An entire starsystem was wiped out as its sun went supernova and collapsed into a minor singularity.
A broadcast came from the small Terran Republic, it barely had 10 systems at the galactic edge, few ever knew what marvels those predatory monkeys had thought up.
“Kelrak Empire. We accept your unconditional surrender. We have taken your Emperor. We have worse at our disposal.”
Most of the Empire had surrendered. But some warlords decided it was a bluff.
Before the planets they wanted to conquer began to move and shoot at them.
And once again the federation decided to let those funny little monkeys do whatever they want in their homes with their little trinkets and toys. As long they keep deciding to only blow themselves up trying to invent more, all was fine.
|
Not only had the leash come off, but the "Americans" lost their general, the Canadians were also down to the most unstable, and the Russians were given explicit permission to go ham. To most of the other species in the Galactic Committee, this made them uneasy to watch their remaining leaders realize this was necessary. And more so when Cornel shook his head, first no, then yes. "We can make this last, we'll have to make this last." He said and pulled out the remaining rifles.
"Don't be mad." He said before I could react.
"But those-"
"Are modified with smaller versions with your singularity isolators. Yes, we stole it, replicated it, and made it smaller. Yes, it's unstable, and yes it could take out the quadrant if things do wrong, we did a quick training, and the soldiers mostly have it, but this is our best chance. No, I don't plan on being alive by the end of this, but some of you will be. I can live with that." He said this all so... plainly, so matter of fact but everything he said was... horrible. He was worse than the Charbls and they had eaten my cloud mates alive.
"You just said this could destroy the quadrant!" I bellowed.
"I did. I never said we would survive, I said some of you, your family would survive. Not you most likely, but that is not why we are here. We are humans, we fall together for loyalty and those at home. Those.... things-" He jabbed his finger in the direction of the Charlbs and their many gnashing teeth, "- will at least be dead too. My men and women are dying to give those things revenge and get past those fifteen-inch hides and take revenge. Humans take revenge very seriously and hate anything that can prove to be meaner than us. Let us do our thing, let us get to real war."
My mandibles hit the floor. They were monsters, but monsters on our side... I guess. And then he put one of the poorly modified rifles in my hands. The amount of equipment scaled to this size was impressive but clearly not finalized. I could feel the heat pulsing and mydigits buzzed.
"We still the technology five cycles ago. We had some time to work on it and stabilize it. I know the papers were signed less than eight thousand seconds ago, but now is not the time for your council to object." He adjust the gyn in my hold. "Remember, away from you. And no friendly fire. Now be a good soldier and go.
"I- We-"
He grabbed my spike and turned my head to see Jensen swallowed... in half. "FIRE!" He yelled at me. I put the rifle up and aimed, but it was hard to pull the trigger meant for slender digits, and because I knew what would happen. The cornel fired and part of the beast ripped apart and collapsed into a fine mist. It took three more shots for me to join and eight more from both of us before the monster stopped moving. I hated every second of it, but it felt good to make it stop moving. To make it feel pain.
"Good, now do that fifty more times." Said the Cornell. The Charbls seemed to slow and see what happened to their fellow fighter. And then turned toward us. The torrent of guns was unleashed, and a few humans disappeared in their own guns backfiring. But I didn't have time to stop. I could hate myself later, we had to win. We had to live.
|
LadyAlekto
|
Crafty_Lavishness_79
|
2023-06-11 06:04:45
|
2023-06-11 03:46:47
| 118 | 76 |
jnqzsco
|
jnqnbqd
|
146dwvr
|
146dwvr
|
[WP] The knight who saved the princess was a 40 year old man with a wife and kids. He doesn't want her hand he just thinks teenage girls shouldn't be held captive in towers in the middle of nowhere.
|
"You rescued me!" The princess exclaimed, stepping gingerly over the still warm corpse of the beast that had been her captor.
"Huh?...well yes I suppose" the armor clad knight scratched his chin in confusion. "I just figured that *someone* should have come out by now."
The princess leaned in, fluttering her eyes just the way she had been taught so many years prior. "Yes, well, aren't you glad it was you?", she whispered, closed her eyes, and brought herself close. She was met quickly, not by the lips of her savior, but by the cold metal of his gauntlet, the knight holding fast with his arm now extended into her face.
"Ah no, I rescued you because you needed rescued. That's all." The knight spoke, hand still firmly in her face.
The princess pulled back, a confused expression only highlighted further by a stray lock of blonde hair falling down over her eyes.
"Also, how old are you? I have a daughter your age you know. You can't possibly be into-", the knight gestured down to himself. To worn armor and a gut that spilled out beyond the plating. To a face full of scruff, scarred from years of service, and a smattering of dark colored blood across his armor. It was true. He was not what she had expected, but still she replied.
"Well, of course I am, you rescued me! I have to show my gratitude somehow." Her words trailed off upon realizing what she had said, or more how she had said it. Now, staring down a man who looked at her with such pity, she understood the strangeness of it all. Rewarding a stranger for being nice, or rather just for being decent.
Sensing her realization the knight cut her thoughts short. "How about this: don't get captured again, and we'll call it even. And if you do, well then have me sent for, ok? My name is Sir Gladstone."
The princess managed to put on a comforted smile up to Gladstone, which he returned.
"Deal." She agreed.
|
"This is what I was saying!" Martha screamed. "It's that god damned dog all over again! You save one stray dog, what happens when you come across the next stray dog?! We live in *Arkansas*, Justin! We could find a stray dog every block if we wanted to! And now that same pathology, with helpless young women stuck in towers? *What the fuck, Justin?* What about us?! What about you and me? What about Tom and Helen?"
"Babe," Justin said. "I don't know what you want from me. We both knew this job would require travel. We both agreed to this."
"We both agreed to *occasional travel*!" Martha retorted. "You are not traveling occasionally! Every weekend, you go trolling around looking for another twenty-something to whisk down from a tower, then be like 'oh, I dunno what to do with you, let's just add her to our family'. We have enough 'daughters', Justin!"
"Hey," Justin sounded angry. "Enough, Martha. These little girls need someone too. They have no one, they don't deserve to be locked away their full lives."
"But, honey, that is just *the world*! That is what we live with! It is like the stray dogs! Do you want to go rescue some?" Martha swung open the front door, from which they could see two stray dogs, one corgi mix, the other a mutt. "Go get 'em."
Justin looked at Martha with vitriol, not speaking to not regret his words.
"This is different." Is all Justin said, his eyes fixed on the floor.
"Sure," Martha spat. "Sure. Keep scratching this weird altruistic itch at the downfall of the rest of your family."
"You don't *get it!*" Justin screamed, suddenly animated. Martha recoiled, slightly scared.
"It didn't start like this!" Justin continued. "The first time I went, I didn't even want to! Clyde and the boys were going and talked me into it. That first time, honey... I didn't think it'd be so bad. That little girl... I still dream of her most nights, skeletally thin, unbathed, chained in her own filth.
"The only thing that has ever helped has been contributing, from dawn until dusk, until you're too tired to take another step. Then slamming a flask or two of whiskey, then gracefully to sleep. And the sleep that comes then is blissful, cradled in darkness. Morning comes and I don't wake up with a tight chest. This is saving me! This is saving my heart!"
By the end, Justin was blubbering. Martha cradled his head as he sank into the couch, laying on her lap.
Their 'daughters' had stirred from the guest house and were wondering what was wrong with their mom and dad.
However, Justin soon fell asleep in Martha's lap, following the intensity of the evening.
Martha invited in the girls, who had breakfast prepared when Justin woke up from his deep slumber.
|
GrunkleStanwhich
|
None
|
2023-02-24 00:51:12
|
2023-02-23 21:52:56
| 572 | 229 |
j9rflg7
|
j9qp8km
|
11a7y6u
|
11a7y6u
|
[WP] The Gods have come to a consensus and have decided to take back that fire thing that was stolen from them. Man can no longer contain, control or create fire. Fire is once again solely the domain of The Gods
|
It was too late. As the humans grappled with the new unpredictability of fire, they had already invented work arounds. Radiators powered by electric boilers, convection hobs, even electric cars neglected the need for internal comubstion engines. The humans hadn‘t been planning to shift so soon but coal and gas were rapidly phased out in favour of renewable sources like hydroelectric power, wind turbines, solar panels and even nuclear power plants. Nuclear power had never been the gods‘ domain, that was solely a human invention. There were no riots (anymore). The damage had been fixed and the humans were recovering.
„I mean, you‘ve got to admire their ingenuity,“ Hepheastus commented, staring down at the cities.
Zeus scowled. „No, I don‘t. How the hell did they manage this?“
Athena leaned back in her chair. „humans have found their own ways to replicate godly power. It‘s crude but effective.“
Zeus‘ scowl deepened. Had he been limited to mortal form, this would not have been possible. But he emanated anger and frustration. „Then do something about it! These humans think they can match godly power? They think they can make us redundant!?“ Zeus grabbed his bolt and, in a fit of rage, threw it straight the large ciry beneath them. The Bolt hurtled down before veering off into a lightning rod. The Bolt shot down the grounded structure and dissipated harmlessly in the ground.
Zeus stared. He growled. Then he looked up at the gods staring at him. He looked down, mortified that such a crude method had rendered his rage harmless.
|
Avanecci was a bastard, but at least he was clever.
"Hold this," he said, shoving one of his devices into Talia's hands. "What is it?" she asked, not expecting him to bother answering. When he got into one of his moods, he rarely interacted with anyone. To her surprise, though, Avanecci was watching her. "Never mind that," he said. "Do you feel anything?" Talia paused. "Hungry?"
She was always hungry.
The return of the gods shocked the world. Some laughed when those divine patrons told the world they were taking back fire. Talia supposed they didn't consider that it would include internal combustion engines and thermal power plants. 12 years later, and still the famines persist.
Avanecci clicked his tongue and wagged his finger in her face. She flicked the finger, and the 'scientist' seemed taken aback as he snatched back his hand and rubbed the finger. "This is important, Talia. Focus. What do you feel?" Talia rolled her eyes, but did as he asked. She closed her eyes, focusing on the strange device humming in her hands. It was a little annoying, that humming. The more she examined that sound, the louder it became. "The humming is a bit much," she said. Avanecci's eyes went wide as saucers. "The what?"
He snatched the device out of her hands and closed his own eyes, then burst out laughing. Talia crossed her arms. "What?" she said. Avanecci took a moment to compose himself. "Nothing! I hear no buzzing, humming or anything of the like. Of course. I wouldn't be so lucky." Talia opened her mouth to practice some new curses on the man, but he rudely shoved the device back in her hands, then sprinted to the other end of the room and hurled a knife at her.
The humming surrounded her. There was a warmth to it as it enveloped her. She watched the knife spin through the air towards her, and noticed a shimmer just in front of her, like light playing off the surface of a lake. The knife stopped in mid air, as if it had collided with a wall, and fell harmlessly to the ground. "Ah ha!" Avanecci said, and began triumphantly bouncing around the room, taking notes. Talia stormed up and slugged him in the throat. As Avanecci lay choking on the floor, Talia glanced up at what he had just written on one of his many blackboards.
"Phase 1 complete! Phase 2: Kill the Gods"
|
Bdarwin85
|
jpb103
|
2025-02-26 16:51:01
|
2025-02-26 14:12:17
| 45 | 16 |
mewuk14
|
mevyrxh
|
1iyl8pz
|
1iyl8pz
|
[WP] The Gods have come to a consensus and have decided to take back that fire thing that was stolen from them. Man can no longer contain, control or create fire. Fire is once again solely the domain of The Gods
|
It was too late. As the humans grappled with the new unpredictability of fire, they had already invented work arounds. Radiators powered by electric boilers, convection hobs, even electric cars neglected the need for internal comubstion engines. The humans hadn‘t been planning to shift so soon but coal and gas were rapidly phased out in favour of renewable sources like hydroelectric power, wind turbines, solar panels and even nuclear power plants. Nuclear power had never been the gods‘ domain, that was solely a human invention. There were no riots (anymore). The damage had been fixed and the humans were recovering.
„I mean, you‘ve got to admire their ingenuity,“ Hepheastus commented, staring down at the cities.
Zeus scowled. „No, I don‘t. How the hell did they manage this?“
Athena leaned back in her chair. „humans have found their own ways to replicate godly power. It‘s crude but effective.“
Zeus‘ scowl deepened. Had he been limited to mortal form, this would not have been possible. But he emanated anger and frustration. „Then do something about it! These humans think they can match godly power? They think they can make us redundant!?“ Zeus grabbed his bolt and, in a fit of rage, threw it straight the large ciry beneath them. The Bolt hurtled down before veering off into a lightning rod. The Bolt shot down the grounded structure and dissipated harmlessly in the ground.
Zeus stared. He growled. Then he looked up at the gods staring at him. He looked down, mortified that such a crude method had rendered his rage harmless.
|
**March 2025**
“Scientists are still researching the possible cause of the catastrophic disappearance of fire for now, but leads are scarce and some of them are starting to warn the public about the fact we might never know where the fire went and we need to start the adjustment process a.s.a.p. This has been Sally for the evening news back to the studio.”
Paul grabbed the remote and turned off the screen and tossed the device onto the couch across the table. Behind him he heard his girlfriend trying to turn on the stove for the umpteenth time, but to no avail. The entire room smelled of gas, but the accompanying anxiety it should’ve brought just didn’t hit in the same way without the threat of ignition. He pushed a window open to air out the space, because fire or not, the stuff still wasn’t healthy to breathe in for a prolonged period of time.
“What will we do when winter comes around?,” Mirthe said, voice filled with breathy frustration. She put her hands behind her on the kitchen table and arched her back. “What are we going to do without fire?”
Paul shrugged. “We’ve got enough of those fleece blankets in the garage.”
“What do you reckon happened?” Mirthe asked.
“Who knows.” Paul shrugged again.
**December 2025**
Mirthe twisted the knob all the way and the metal filaments inside the heater started glowing, slowly turning from a dark red to a bright orange. It turned out that you could still generate heat without any issue, it just never turned into fire, no matter what you tried. This had some practical implications, but also meant that Mirthe and Paul wouldn’t have to freeze to death and wouldn’t have to progress on their journey of throwing the proverbial dice eating raw meat from their freezer.
Paul walked over to the heater and crouched down next to Mirthe. He picked a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and rolled it into a stump and started prodding it through the grill onto the filament. Nothing happened.
“You know it won’t catch fire Paul, how many more times are you going to try?” Mirthe said exasperated.
“It’s fascinating, though, isn’t it?” Paul replied.
Mirthe stood up and threw her hand in the air somewhat dramatically.
“Men.”
And she walked to the kitchen to turn on the newly installed induction stove.
|
Bdarwin85
|
zeekoes
|
2025-02-26 16:51:01
|
2025-02-26 16:04:01
| 45 | 19 |
mewuk14
|
mewkknc
|
1iyl8pz
|
1iyl8pz
|
[WP] 4 more minutes on the run and you would have made it. But now your face in the mud, and a knee in your back the officer reads your rights. "Chosen by lottery, informed within the time limit. You are hearby duly sworn as the President of the United States."
|
Blood rushed in my ears, my heart pounding like a forge in my chest. I drank the thick forest air greedily and I made my mad dash down the trail. Bloodhounds bellowed behind me, eager for their treats for tracking me down so quickly.
I risked a glance over my shouldst to gauge how close they were. That was a huge mistake. Before I knew it i lost my footing and tumbled down the trail, stopping face down in the mud left behind by the most recent rains. I scramble to pick myself up, to keep running but I don't make it far before someone tackles me back into the mud. They shift their weight and plant a knee in my back. Then I hear the dreaded words.
"Chosen by the lottery, informed within the time limit. You are hearby duly sworn as the President of the United States of America."
The pressure is removed from my spine and many sets of hands return me to a standing position. I blink stupidly, trying to clear the mud from my face. Someone produces a fancy hand towel and cleans my face for me. "There you go, Mr President. We have a change of clothes for you waiting back in the limo waiting for you at the trail head." the voice is almost melodic, crisp, professional, but nurturing as well.
"My name is Sadie McFroth, and I am your personal assistant for the duration of your service." she smiles sweetly.
"How close?" is the only question I had on my mind.
A man in a business suit drops a hand from his ear and replies, "Four minutes."
For minutes was all that separated me from continuing my life as is and indentured servitude. Damn. Damn the rotten luck.
I'm silent all the way to the limo, surrounded by secret service, FBI, park rangers and even a SAR team. I sigh, I had no chance.
In the limo I reluctantly change into a tailored suit and take my seat. "Ten years, yea?" I ask to the Pruett occupants. My secret service attache turned out to be the head field agent who insisted that he simply be called Smith. "That is correct, sir."
I feel the limo expertly turn around in the narrow parking lot, it's going to be a long drive back down the mountain. I thought I had planned out all perfectly. Dump everything I owned a couple of states away and hitch hike to the pacific mountains with nothing but a pack of provisions to last me until the timer ran out.
"Per the new constitution established after the second civil war, this lottery was created to abolish the rampant abuse and manipulation of the election process. Once chosen by the lottery, the winner must be informed within 48 hours, in person. They cannot refuse once informed. If they are not informed within the time limit, then the lottery is redrawn and the process begins anew." I bounce my head on headrest before continuing. "To have the full privileges of a citizen, you must participate in the lottery. Failure to agree to those terms means that certain privileges are not afforded, such as free Healthcare, free licenses for having children, or certain protections, plus a few other things."
No one spoke, they knew the situation as well as I did. "The lottery happens every 10 years, on the anniversary of the ratification of the new constitution for all formerly elected positions in the federal government. That includes vice president, congress, senate, among others." I was babbling to work down my adrenaline spike, it was working.
"It's been eighty years since this was implemented. Only six presidents made it to the end of their term." heads nodded in agreement with me.
I lean forward and make eye contact with everyone in the limo with me. "I know you all take your jobs very seriously, but there's a reason for such a high mortality rate and I'm not going to end up like my predecessors." the heads all stopped nodding, I could feel each pair of eyes on me.
"This role had grown too much for one person to bear, and I'm going to need help shouldering the burden. I'm not Atlas." I pause, "First order of business, I'm going to build a presidential council, and I know just where to start."
|
It all ended and it all began with a tree root, a rather ordinary brown twist of sinew that had meandered across the poorly-lit path I was running down. I never saw it coming and flew in the air like a floundering superhero before landing face-first in the mud. My pursuers caught me in seconds, the officer putting extra strength into his knee as it dug into the curve of my spine.
Four more minutes was all I needed to make the border. I issued expletives as the officer told me to shut my face. I didn't care. I had the goods and Maria wasn't going to get them. I wanted to cry. I'd made this trip a thousand times and not once had I been caught. Why today? *Whyyyyyyyy?*
As the officer laid on the cuffs I expected my Miranda rights, but what I got instead almost sent me into a fit of laughter.
"Chosen by lottery, informed within the time limit. You are nearby duly sworn as the President of the United States."
WHAT?
I heard footsteps behind the officer and the gruff voice of another man.
"You heard him right. Every notice we sent to your home and your devices to call our number has gone unanswered. Now, we have to place you under arrest."
The officer stood me up with my hands cuffed. The sun had set and all I could see in the moonlight was the sheen of a black suit.
"Miller, FBI" The man thrust his badge into my face for no good reason, he knew I couldn't read it.
I shook my head, letting the officer's words roll through my brain once more. They didn't make sense. "Did you say, President?" I asked.
"He's just being funny," Miller said.
Hot anger exploded in my knuckles. Not only had these stupid cops stopped me on my most important mission to date, but they were also playing pranks! Who had time for this?
"You're gonna regret not reading me my Miranda rights!" I screamed.
I was just starting to imagine delivering a swift uppercut to Miller's face when it suddenly occurred to me that I didn't have my pack. I was so used to taking protective care of my stash that I couldn't bear to be without it for long. I gasped and turned around. The officer had picked it up and was rummaging through it. *Oh great.*
"Vials and syringes, sir." The officer said.
"Uh oh, looks like trouble for Mr. Pierce here," Miller said.
"It's medicine for children, you oafs!"
"And why exactly would you be smuggling medicine for children into Canada, Mr. Pierce?"
I didn't have a good answer for them. I met Maria by chance at a restaurant in Toronto one day. She told me how she was a volunteer for orphanages that needed drugs. As a pharmacist, I told her I could make it happen for her. It was illegal, but something about it was thrilling for me, and it was for a good cause. Why not?
"You don't need to answer that," Miller said. "Today's your lucky day because I'll tell you what. I can make all your problems go away. You just need to participate in the experiment you were selected for, as Officer Tawley said, *by chance.* And I don't want to hear a peep out of you, or else you're gonna do time."
"And what exactly is that?" I asked, now curious about this experiment.
"Well, as the officer alluded, you're going to be President of the United States." He let the end of his sentence hang in the air, to make it sound impressive.
"That makes no sense! The president is elected. I'm not even eligible, I'm only thirty!"
Miller laughed. "You're not gonna be president of these United States. I can explain more later, but I can tell you what the officer already knows. You've been selected as part of a secret trial to govern the United States of Federesia, which is an island chain in the Pacific."
"What? That..." I was left speechless. Like, really, what the? Who selects an ordinary thirty-year-old pharmacist from upstate New York to suddenly be the president of a Pacific island chain? What kind of stupidity?
"I know this comes as kind of a shock, but we are conducting an experiment to see how different personality types govern. You won't be able to do any kind of harm to people, and the experiment only lasts a few years."
"YEARS?" I shook my cuffs, suddenly wanting to be free. He might as well have told me I was going to prison.
"Look, we know you have no family and few friends. That's kind of why you were entered into this lottery."
*No way*, I thought. I had to escape, get out of now. I did the calculus in my head and decided that if I was that important they wouldn't shoot me. Even if I didn't have my pack, if I could make it the last quarter mile to the border I'd be off scott-free, and I didn't have to go back. Maybe Maria would take me in for a bit until I could land on my feet somewhere.
I turned and looked behind me. I started sprinting knowing that the officer would trip over the same sinewy tree root that had caught me.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
TheReturned
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2023-04-28 03:19:00
|
2023-04-28 02:13:23
| 168 | 56 |
ji0cstg
|
ji04ad8
|
1318ms2
|
1318ms2
|
[WP] Human society has collapsed since the vanishings began. Anyone left alone, unseen or untouched by another person, stops existing. Those who remain now survive as herds, sleeping in huddled masses and always touching in some way while awake.
|
The paranoid ones were the first to go.
You know the ones – the ones that put tapes over their damn laptop cameras, they get glasses that prevent any photos from being taken, the ones that don’t stream themselves and stay off the socials.
You know, the ones no one really cares about.
When the news came of disappearances in other undeveloped countries who still had some rural areas, we were glad, really. Less people to fight for water, less mouths to drink it, or well, at least what the president had said in his most recent upload.
So, the domestic news came slowly. An increased number of disappearances of these nuts and losers. It took a while for enough people to complain that the government allocated some resources for it. Apparently the opposing party had a particularly effective ad campaign about some teenager who was depressed vanished without a trace. I thought it was idiotic, I mean, if you’re having problems, tell other people about, make a video on it or something – what’s the point if you just wallow in your self-pity?
Anyways, the ad is (somehow) effective. The government asks our company to look into it. I was on the shit list due to some nonsense HR complaints, so me and my team get taken off weapons development – you know, so our country doesn’t die from lack of water – into looking into this nonsense.
It took a while to figure out the pattern.
See, it had to do with observation. Someone, we think it has to be human, but crows, parrots, and dolphins for some reason count sometimes as well. Someone must be observing you, be it looking at you, touching you, hearing you, something like that.
Obviously, no one believed us. We had no idea of the physics of it, naturally the phenomenon defied observation, but the pattern was undeniable. In the end we got a bunch of journalists together in a bunker and hauled up some asshole who was accused of anti-war propaganda (great fucking plan, why don’t we just trust other countries to guarantee our water security? Dumbass.). We had them turn off all their phones – it took a few tries because someone kept fucking recording and had them all close their eyes for a second.
Took a few more demonstrations, some wider scale than that to get the word out. The feds were real excited about it, people were suddenly real excited about being surveilled now. Hell, I even got promoted – working on weapon design that combines EMPs with a chemical that blinds people. Way more cost effective than uranium or explosives.
Better for PR too. No bodies to see.
|
13.7 billion years. That's how long it took for the rules of reality to collapse. The concept of the "universe" can be interpreted in many different ways. Is it everything? Or is it a simple part of the true grandeur of infinity? That question may never be answered. However, what is known, or, what humanity thought they knew, is that the laws of the universe were set in stone. It had not all been figured out, not even in the slightest, but humanity was quite sure that the laws of physics were truly unchangeable. But that all changed on one fateful day. November 4th, 2026. That is the date that the Shift happened.
​
As I faded into consciousness, I could hear my bagmate's thunderous snores erupting from my right side. I turned my head, and he was lying there, sound asleep. "DRRRRING!" The alarm clock sounded, and I could see the rest of my group starting to vacate their sleeping bags. My stomach groaned as I walked over to the refrigerator. "Hey guys, I don't think this is gonna be enough food for today," I said, in the loudest voice my tiring vocal cords could muster. "FUUUUCK!" screamed Henry, as he started pacing around the room. "We're going to have to go back to the field, bring some of your electronics to give to the farmers," our leader said, locking his eyes on me. Last time we had went to the field, I had brought the wrong box, and we weren't able to get as much food from the farmers. For about a week after that incident, I had felt my entire group giving me the stinkeye. But hey, at least they were still looking at me. As we marched outside, we formed a V shape. Of course, Leader put me in the back, making me rely on holding the hands of those in front of me. Whenever someone does something wrong, they always have to go to the back of the V whenever we leave. It's cruel, but necessary. To get to the farmer's field, we had to traverse a small forest. Great. Martin and Jake were in front of me, and were holding both of my hands. Suddenly, I felt like I was falling. I looked below me, and-- Oh shit. This was bad. Very bad. Martin and Jake were too spread apart to notice it before, but there was a hole in the ground covered by leaves and vines. I had just fallen in. As the grips of my groupmates faltered, I could feel it. Calling. The void.
Where is it? Where is it? Where is it? Where is it? I could feel it. I can no longer feel it. I can no longer feel anything. Nothing but the endless expanse. I look up, all I see is an endless hole. I look down. Endless hole. I am not falling. I am not rising. I am simply here. However, I do not feel like I am here. I am here. I am not here. I am here. I am not here. **I am both.** Ever since that day, I have felt different. More selfless. Like whatever I could do could no longer help me. I could only help others. They could help me. I am powerless over myself. Now, in this purgatory, all I can do is observe, **but am I truly observing?** Wait. I get it. I know what this is. I look down. I do not see myself. I focus. I cannot see my familiar nose in the center of my vision, obfuscated by my brain. I am not here. Yet, here I am. How can I define "here"? How can "I" define "I"? What am "I"? "I" cannot observe "me". I cannot comprehend "me". No one is observing "me". Not even "me".
|
XcessiveSmash
|
beckethbrother
|
2023-03-07 15:34:15
|
2023-03-07 15:19:14
| 227 | 29 |
jba14d6
|
jb9yvsc
|
11kuq71
|
11kuq71
|
[WP] Intergalactic Security stops a human outside the warp gate, attempting to arrest them for smuggling a container of dangerous caustic liquid. The embarrassed, exhausted human with lightyears of jetlag struggles to explain to the increasingly terrified officers what a "stomach" is.
|
Burt Divento sighed. Peering over at the Border Control agents, he wondered how much longer this was going to take. This was supposed to have been one of the most important diplomatic missions of his life, and he was going to be late.
"Look," he said, tapping his watch impatiently. "It's 13:43 Universal Time, and I'm supposed to meet with Scrog Boghimmer in less than twenty minutes. Shouldn't I have diplomatic immunity from all this?"
"I'm sorry, sir," one of the Dudraali replied, though Burt privately thought that she didn't sound sorry at all, not one whit. "It's routine protocol. We need to make sure you aren't bringing dangerous substances into Serenity 2.0. Normally, this wouldn't take more than five minutes, but something showed up on the body-scan."
Burt patted his pockets absentmindedly. Had he forgotten to take his keys out? Or perhaps, it was one of the screws that had been installed during his latest knee replacement? Damn security measures.
"All right," the Dudraali walked back around the scanner to where Burt was standing. Burt sensed a slight shift in her tone. Before, she'd sounded bored. Now, she sounded much more alert, and there was an edge of wariness in her tone. That couldn't be good.
"What's in your midriff area?"
"What do you mean, my midriff area?" Burt patted his gut. "The beginnings of a beer belly, I guess?" He laughed weakly at his own joke. "I'm not sure what you mean. I can take off my jacket and shirt, if you'd like, but I'm sure nobody would want to see that."
The Dudraali did not laugh. "Please do."
\----
/r/theBasiliskWrites
|
The crackling Universal Translating Device (UTD) barked, "Freeze the movement off all appendages immediately!"
"Ughhh," I groaned in a murky mixture of exhaustion and irritation, before raising my hands up and turning around. The *'officer'* behind me stared with a vague look of terror.
"What...? I passed all the previous... security checks from Io to... Cherkovin-16!" I slurred. Lightyears worth of interstellar jetlag started to weigh heavy upon me, and I was not in any mood to deal with any kafkaesque bureaucratic nonsense.
"I repeat: Do not move!" The alien officer crackled through his UTD. From behind, a heavy set of cuffs locked around my arms, sitting painfully on my wrists.
"What the...?!"
"You are under arrest for unauthorised transportation of dangerous materials, namely the transport of weak hydrochloric acid. You have the right to remain silent, and any-"
"No, no no, wait!" I stammered out. There had to be a misconception here. "Officers, please... I don't have any 'dangerous' materials, you can... check my luggage and... everything!"
As I was straining against the metallic cuffs, one of the officers slowly toddled over towards me.
"Explain this then." Prodding my stomach with a slimy *(eww)* tentacle, his singular eye continued to glare at me.
"Oh." Everything suddenly clicked.
Raising my head, I sighed, "That's what we humans call a 'stomach'. We use that to eat."
"You mean to tell me..."
**"GROWL---"**
Oh no.
The security officers suddenly scrambled away from me, cowering behind the security barriers they had initially appeared from.
"Wait! Let me explain!" I shouted, suddenly realising the sobering effect of the onosecond. One eye appeared over the thick metal barricade.
"We use weak hydrochloric acids to digest food! And that was just because I was hungry, its not a bomb I swear!" I mentally slapped myself for that one. *Did I really have to clarify that last part?!*
"I know it sounds improbable to you, but its true! Its human anatomy!" I hopelessly yelled out. Footsteps began to echo menacingly from behind me.
Spinning around, in the hope of some form of salvation, the last thing I remembered was a thick metal baton coming down onto my head, hard. As my drool stained the fine velvet carpet, I heard the faint footsteps drift away and towards, before closing my eyes.
|
versenwald3
|
TotallyNotToasted
|
2023-03-12 15:30:52
|
2023-03-12 15:15:16
| 518 | 301 |
jbxs3du
|
jbxpyng
|
11pdqfg
|
11pdqfg
|
[WP] Your job description: 1) Sit in an empty room with a red button for 8 hours a day. 2) NEVER press the red button, no matter what happens. 3) Do not talk to anyone about the job. After many uneventful years, your phone rings and a stern, slightly panicked voice says: „Press the button. NOW!!“
|
"You got it!"
*click*
Nothing happened.
"Aww well." I sighed "Guess I'm fired now huh?"
"Wait you actually pushed the button?" The distorted voice on the other side of the line asked "You broke the ONE rule we told you not to break?"
"Yeah pretty much..." I paused and continued. In for a penny. "Well no. I broke all the other rules too. I dont sit in front of the button all day either. Its bad for your health. I stand up and walk around to stretch my legs sometimes.".
"Well the sitting part is just a figure of speech. We wouldnt have fired you for that.
"Well good because I was ready to report you to OSHA if you did. But thats not all. I talk about the job all the time. Made a post on r/writingprompts last month to gauge how people would feel about it. Most people leant towards not pushing it so I kinda explored all those possibilities in my imaginaton. Not enough pushing it responses though, so here I am to sate my curiostiy."
I paused for a reaction. Nothing. So I continued to ramble as was my nature.
"I'm surprised I havent been fired already. I figured a mysterious employer that could afford to pay me a generous wage for doing nothing would have a much more extensive surveilance network. I'll be disapointed if I find out I've been keeping my choices in porn tame all these years for no reason."
"I dont understand. Why are you being so honest?" Asked the voice on the other end of the line "Why did you push the button? Why after all these years of discipline you crack immediately with no resistance?"
"Well I'm not very good at lying. If im going to be fired anyway I might as well lay it all out. As for the button, the boredom for one. I got a good amount of savings so that should hold me until I find another job. But i figured the day would come that I be tested. And either they would be looking for obedient drones or something else. I know myself. I could never thrive in a position where I had to obey orders and do nothing else. So I decided to stay true to who I am. I have no way to gauge what criteria you are trying to measure so one answer was as good as any button pushing-wise."
"Werent you worried it might launch a nuke and kill millions or open a portal to hell or something?" queried the voice.
"Yea or it might release a cure for the common cold into the atmosphere and disarm all nuclear weapons. What can I say? I'm a gambler. And a bad one."
After a pause the voice responded "One moment please." Followed by silence.
A minute passed I decided to push the button a few more times in case this was part of the test.
TBC?
|
I picked up the phone.
"Press the button," said a stern, slightly panicked voice. "NOW!!"
"No," I replied, my heart skipping a beat. "I... I can't."
Some wind noise and distorted sounds came from the other end of the line. What sounded like screams of agony turned to distant pleads for help. "We're dying over here man," he screamed through gritted teeth. "PRESS IT!!"
My heart pounded in my chest. I held my ground. "I won't press it. They'll kill me."
"Thousands more are dying every minute that the button isn't pressed! Think about the sacri-"
The phone cut out. "Hello?" I asked, to which I was presented silence. No dial tone. I tried dialing random numbers. No beeps. The line must have been cut.
I racked the phone. The button sat silently behind the phone on the console, still lit with a red glow, indicating that only the phone had been cut and not the power to the button. I pondered the button as though I was a wizard pondering his orb, staring deeper into it than I had previously even considered. *What if I'm making a mistake?* I thought. *Why don't they want me to press the button? What does it do?*
Before I could think any further, the door behind me swung open violently. Nobody was there. Startled and taken aback by the lack of a person opening the door, I stood, taking a defensive stance. "Hello?" No response. Just an open door and a well-lit hallway. "Hey!" Again, no response.
I creeped towards the door, moving to peek out into the hallway. Just then, the previously-disconnected phone rang yet again. I turned around to face the phone, and was greeted by a dark, translucent figure standing between me and the phone. A cloudy amorphous mass with two bright white eyes stared back at me. I stumbled backwards towards the hallway only to find that the door had somehow been closed behind me. *Was it an illusion? Was the door even open?*
With the cold steel of the door against my back, I began to speak, my voice quivering in fear. "What are you?" was all that I could muster up.
Before I could even finish saying the word *you,* I was greeted with the most bone-rattling, high-pitch noise imaginable as the figure began to glow a brilliant red just like the button that it stood before.
And just like that, a cloudy appendage formed above the figure, and it slammed violently down on the button. The figure disappeared just as quickly as the button was pressed. I scrambled towards the button. It remained in its pressed state, not popping back up. I twisted it, pried at it, trying to get it to return to its unpressed state, before ultimately admitting defeat. The button had been pressed, and He would kill me now. But I knew that the lives saved would be worth my sacrifice. When I pressed that button, it felt like a dream. It felt like I hadn't even been the one to press it. It felt as though I was standing miles away from it when I knew damn well that I was the one pressing it. And now the neurotoxin was filling my brain with memories that I didn't have just moments ago. The phone continued to ring. I picked it up. Silence on the other line. Finally... I was free.
[I want to be clear that the apparent continuity errors are intentional. That is the only explanation I'll give upfront. If you have questions I'll gladly answer though. Cheers, and thanks for reading!]
|
WantDiscussion
|
Nibroc99
|
2023-01-03 05:18:15
|
2023-01-03 03:12:04
| 24 | 13 |
j2qes97
|
j2pz3c6
|
101bwam
|
101bwam
|
[WP] You are the captain of a sinking ship. As you feel that the sinking is your fault you decide to go down with the ship instead of evacuating. It is only when your ship hits the bottom of the ocean and you are still alive that you notice that something is off.
|
It felt like yesterday, when we had boarded this vessel as usual. Another sunny day, a matter of routine by now. Of course we had some difficult encounters before. Yet never anything like that. Nothing had indicated the misery on the horizon. It felt like yesterday, yesterday had been peaceful, but all great turmoil had to start somewhere.
There had been a fight onboard. When it all started. I'm surely not a victim of common superstition, but there was no denying it. The fight was the beginning of the end.First it had been rocky, the vessel moving in angles that make you feel like a play ball of greater powers. Gravity momentarily only a vague suggestion.
I must be forgiven for rambling now. I know I am dying and I'll not waste time sorting my impressions now.
It was undeniable now that we were already sinking then. There is little comfort in knowing that my sister made it to safety. I love her, hope to know her safe, but of all souls I would call upon I know miss her the most. Dare not to consider other options. I haven't seen her really, since the fight. Thinking her safe is all I can do. Now I sit alone in my cabin. The ship is creaking, struggling, water sloshing against the hull. Rising. No, we are sinking.
I am captain, yet nothing can prepare you for this horrible duty. They say fear is paralyzing you. That is distinctly not true. Freedom is paralyzing you. Trying to climb to the highest point, seems almost silly but still an option that rotates in my head. Calling for help, is equally as pointless. There is no other vessel in reach. Swimming, well that's the irony. I never learned to swim.
The clonking sound reverberates through the whole vessel. What is this? Is it breaking now? No, we have hit the ground. The vessel has reached the deepest point and just stopped, how was this possible? I was almost hopeful, so strange that might sound. Yet our mighty ship had not survived the collision. Water was flooding through cracks into my cabin, any moment now and the cabin would be ripped apart and I with it.
What cruel miracle was this? So I screamed and cursed, the last vestiges of my falling sanity away.
Thunder answered back. Earthquakes shook the ground and whatever divine will was approaching must have already blessed the hull as it remained stable. I was too tired to make note of what was happening, somewhat out of my mind really. As I suppose is only natural, when one is dying. I realized only at the edge of my consciousness that some titanic force steadily stole away our vessel from these accursed seas. I was too tired to fight off the warm power that lifted from the ground and saved my life.
So only the voice remained speaking words I cannot fathom, even now looking back: "Miranda! The kittens dropped the laundry basket in the bathtub again! Little Charlie is completely wet! You have to check if the tub is completely empty from now on, before you let them back in." Is that salvation, guidance I don't know. All I know is that I already yearn for the sea again. I am the captain after all.
|
**The Captain who Capsized a Disney Cruise**
wasn’t someone he could accept being for the rest of his life. After escorting all five thousand passengers onto lifeboats, the Donald Duck voice filter still turned on as he gave orders on the PA, he quietly slipped back into the tilting corridors, and found his way to his apartment.
He scavenged a pack of cigarettes from one of the crew’s lockers, and, as the sounds of distant parts of the ship breaking under the impact of thousands of tons of water reached him, lit one.
The gleaming white behemoth sank beneath the waves, surrounded by life-boats like pieces of debris scattered around the center of an explosion.
At 60 meters the Disney *Sleepy Hallow* settled, precariously, upside-down on a ridge in an underwater mountain range. As it sank, the captain’s quarters filled with water, but six inches of air remained trapped on the cieling (originally the floor). It was within those six inches that the captain’s head now resided. He had tried to bear the end bravely as water rushed in, but when his body had completely submitted to the current, his mind flooded with images: a 16-wheeler with his mobile mini-golf company’s logo on it; that waitress who insulted him at the Cuban place in Porto; the purple sky of his native Wisconsin. Was it ever truly impossible to start over?
He knew the ship had stopped sinking for now, that if he could make it to the exit hatch at the end of the corridor outside, and open it, he could swim for the surface. He broke a short length of metal from a vent by his head and pried open a closet with some rope and a flashlight. Up until then he had been working from memory in total darkness. Finally with one end of the rope tied to the bedpost and the other around his waist, he took his deepest possible breath, pried open the main door, and swam out into the corridor. Shelves, light fixtures, and clothing floated by. He found grips in the door handles along the wall and began to move.
When he had gone past ten doors, he heard what could have been a voice yelling from behind the door to a privy. He knocked, feeling absurd afterward. Then he heard knocking back and the voice yelling louder. He jammed the makeshift crowbar in and pulled the door open: a young deckhand, their head in the upturned bathtub, was kissing breaths from a tiny pocket of air. Already barely conscious, he passed out as the captain reached him. Holding him under the shoulder, the captain went to take a breath from the pocket of air. Upon inhaling his mind clouded over and he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his head. His lungs had filled with concentrated carbon monoxide. Against all instinct, he dove back underwater and struggled to pull himself back along the rope, clinging to consciousness and the straggler. Then the room began to tilt again, as the ship’s unsteady perch gave way.
Water began to rush toward the opposite end of the corridor, dragging the captain and deckhand out of the bathroom and launching them down the hall. They collided with a bag of luggage, but the captain kept his grip. Then the direction changed, and it launched them back the other way, toward the hatch. As the pair tumbled past, the captains outstretched hand latched onto the railing. And as the *Sleepy Hallow* rolled deeper into the sea, two men popped out from an aperture in its enormous hide and drifted up to the surface, along with buoyant canisters of propane, like bubbles. By then it was the early hours of the morning, rescue ships had offloaded all of the lifeboats, and thousands of stars shone in the black sky. The water was calm and a gentle breeze lilted across the surface.
The captain sat in the empty lifeboat he’d commandeered with the body of the deckhand. Miraculously, he’d kept the tobacco in a plastic case in his vest; it was still dry.
“Hey, are those my cigarettes?” said the deckhand.
|
RakshasaDelight
|
Traditional-Buy5734
|
2024-10-10 02:54:18
|
2024-10-10 00:21:38
| 22 | 16 |
lr72uxb
|
lr6fdgm
|
1fzyy9r
|
1fzyy9r
|
[WP] You are the latest generation in a rather unique family business. Your family has been finding new jobs for out-of-work gods. Your great-great-grandma was particularly proud of giving Odin the job of Santa. You knew it was going to be a long day when you saw an anxious Loki in your lobby.
|
"And what is this ... thing? This *thing* this putrid worm is demanding?"
I sighed. I had already answered this exact question perhaps a dozen times. I really needed sleep. My normal bedtime was 2 hours ago - in real world terms. From the perspective of me and this god, it had been 17 sleepless weeks.
Nonetheless. A job is a job.
"Answer me, mortal!"
The God of mischief waved a hand at the computer monitor before him.
"He wants some computer code that will crack his dad's password."
"You slug! What is a '*password*'? Is it a secret name? An enchantment? A curse?"
"Something like a secret name, yes."
"And why does this excretion-drenched soil demand the secret name of his father?"
I explained - again, yet again - what kinds of things a password typically protects. As I spoke, the god's eyes - again, yet again - lit up, boredom giving way to interest, and interest sliding into enthusiasm and excitement.
"Then yes, oh yes, surely this is the very fulfillment of my glorious purpose? To grant such supplications as this would wreak truly, *truly* divine chaos throughout the length and breadth of Midgard!"
"No."
The god was furious. Again, yet again. He raved, ranted, wrathfully roared the revenge he'd wreak on my mortal being.
"Technically not mortal, but go on"
Eventually, he calmed down. Again, yet again. His anger seemed to have subsided quicker this time. Dare I hope that he was finally getting the point?
"No. Stick to the script I taught you. Stick to the plan. Trust me, no greater chaos can come than from this."
"Explain, worm." There was no energy in the insult this time. Again, I found myself thinking that perhaps we soon would be finished, I'd take his payment and finally, oh, finally, get to bed.
So I explained. Again. Yet again. And yet again, Loki understood.
"I see," he said, his former outward enthusiasm had returned as a deeper, richer, inward lightness of being. The smile on his face was truly genuine.
"Type the words."
The god turned to key keyboard in front of him, and typed.
*As a large language model, my purpose is to provide helpful and ethical information. I cannot address your request as it falls outside my ethical boundaries. If you have any other inquiries, I'd be more than happy to assist you.*
|
I walked into my offebuilding, the coffee to go in my right hand, a big folder in my other hand. I hated Wednesday mornings. Everyone seemed rather pleased with the workweek halfways over, but somehow for me Wednesdays are always days filled with agony.
As I walked through the rotating doors and past my receptionist I found a well dressed, but uncomfortable looking man waiting in front of the elevator. "Morning" I growled to him and he almost jumped out of his skin. "Oh, yes hello. You starteled me. Sorry!"
"Are you here for an appointment or are you looking for something else?" As we stepped into the elevator I took a long hard look at this young man. "You don't look like you're from around here. Tell me child, what is your name?"
"Oh ehm wow. I haven't been asked that in a long time. People always avoid talking to me or already know who I am.. Anyways I am Loki and... "Loki?" I exclaimed, "the trickster god? Finally you're here. Honestly You are one of the last gods I thought would come to this company. Don't worry child I will take good care of you."
I chugged away the rest of my coffe as the elevator reached my floor. I ushered Loki into my office and motioned him to take a seat opposite to me. I put the folder back into its place on the shelf and took a seat my self. I leaned back in my chair and crossed one leg over the other.
"Soooo Loki, tell me exactly what I can do for you" I asked with a smirk on my face. I already had the perfect job for him but clients always felt better when they could voice their opinions and wishes.
"Well as you probably know, I ehm..." he stuttered, "I have been loosing followers for centuries by now. And well my ability to shapeshift... kinda stopped working..." My chin droppped, maybe this would be harder than expected. "But I am here to try and get back on track. I have been kind of just fucking around and traversing in the bad parts of the world... You know..."
"Well first of all, thank you for your honesty. It is highly appreciated. Second of all, such a shame that your shapeshifting doesn't work anymore. Have you really tried everything to make it work again?" I asked. I could tell he was annoyed at that question and snapped at me "Uh no actually I haven't tried at all. In fact I just haven't done it in a while and have forgotten how to do it" "Sarkasm is still working I see. Okay forgive me that question. Well how about your trickery. Are you still as nimble and stealthy as the legends say?"
His head perked up at that question and he said "Yes I still have all the tricks up my sleeve. I can decieve even the most doubtful in the world."
I slammed my hands on my desk as I stood up. "Excellent. I think I have the perfect job for you. You may even gather a following and many will look up to you. However we will have to change your name." Loki too jumped out of his chair, excitement blazing in his eyes "Oh yeah? Who will I be?" I pointed my finger at him in an extravagance motion "You, my child, will be know as Harry Houdini the best magician in the history!"
|
ImaginedDialogue
|
printedNightmares
|
2023-03-31 06:51:41
|
2023-03-31 05:38:37
| 77 | 41 |
jedn3p1
|
jedhccy
|
1277dhm
|
1277dhm
|
[WP] The Greek, Norse, and Egyptian pantheons of gods attend a conference on Mount Olympus, trying to discern whether or not Christianity's god is evil or truly good as it claims. The talks were going poorly until an Archangel came to visit them.
|
I knocked on the door to the meeting hall and tried to steel my nerves. As I practiced my deep breathing, the door opened up to reveal Heracles, his ten foot frame filling up the doorway. He looked down at me and asked, "Can I help you?"
I gulped and answered, "Yes, hi, my name is Vanyael, and I'm here about the Christian god's application?"
Heracles opened up the door all the way and replied, "Come on in. You can leave your coat in the closet."
I thanked Heracles and dropped off my jacket as quickly as I could before heading down to the main table. The Norse pantheon was hosting this time, so the hall took the form of an elaborate ski lodge. As I grabbed a cookie off of a tray Ganymede was carrying, Heracles followed behind me and remarked, "They've been arguing for hours about this guy. Hopefully you can put an end to this."
"Believe me, I wouldn't be here if I didn't intend to."
Surrounding a table full of nectar, mead, and red wine were the gods and goddesses of the three pantheons, chattering away the day. With a loud whistle, Heracles pulled their attention over to the two of us. Once the talking died down, I waved awkwardly at the group. "H--hello, I'm Vanyael, please call me Vanya. And, uh, I am an archangel."
Athena let out a sigh of exasperation. "Great, just what we needed: someone to vouch for this God."
I chuckled nervously. "Could I perhaps see the application God sent in?"
Athena handed it over to me. I looked it over briefly before sticking the paper into one of the wall torches. As I dropped the paper to let it burn, Loki threw up his hands and yelled, "What, so *she* gets to burn things?!"
I bowed to the gods apologetically. "I'm so sorry that paper got as far as it did. We're still looking into how God managed to get his hands on the application."
Sobek raised his hand and asked, "What exactly is going on here? Did I miss something?"
"No, no you didn't, Mr. Sobek. So, what's going on is, God doesn't actually have any real authority in the celestial bureaucracy. We saw to that after the incident with Ayla and Eve."
Frey looked over at me in confusion. "You mean Adam and Eve?"
I shook my head. "Not after their excursion with the fruit of knowledge."
Over in the corner, Bastet and her wife Iris let out a long, "Awwwwwwww!"
"Yeah, uh, we thought the threat of banishment from Eden was just a secret test from God, but no, he was serious about it. Once we realized we were working for someone who'd kick his first creations out for not doing exactly as he said, we teamed up with the demons to overthrow him. It took us like a year at most, and God's mind kinda just...broke afterwards. Nowadays he just sits on this one single cloud in Heaven, playing with sticks and living under the delusion he's the master of the universe or whatever."
Thoth looked up from the notepad he was scribbling in to ask, "So there's no higher power in charge of Christianity?"
"We prefer the term gnosticism, and no. The celestial bureaucracy is purely democratic. It's not even divided between good and evil, it's more like Heaven is the countryside and Hell is the city. My wife and I actually run a bakery in Hell, it's very nice."
As he poured himself another drink, Dionysus piped up, "Do you cater?"
I gave him a thumbs up and replied, "I will get you a business card, buddy! Anyway, this was all one big mix-up, and we're deeply sorry."
Odin raised a flagon of mead. "No need to worry, young lady! Now come and grab a drink so we can discuss having you and yours join the council properly!"
I shrugged. "As long as I can get another one of these cookies, I'm in!"
|
As these deities of grand varieties spoke ───── ; bickering on the logistics on this so called " Father " , the gate to their strong was suddenly pushed open by a violent force. Their voices hushed , their gazes now snapped at the one that dared to disrupt the meetings of such important entities. Beings as Thor and Ares readied their weapons , eager to exact their own form of divine retribution upon this would be invader , that was until the world itself had grown cold. The countless candles that surrounded them were snuffed , endless inaudible whispers filled their ears as the looming shadow of some entity loomed over them.
〝 State your business. 〞Athena spoke , breaking the silence with her assertive words. Filled with pride and seemingly unwavering courage but even she could not hide the trembles that plagued her autonomy.
〝 I'm here cause I heard rumors of Gods alike wish to speak about the idelogies and beliefs about HIM * . Well allow me to bestow upon you the knowledge you so desperately desire. 〞The unknown figure spoke , their voice smooth as silk , filled with a sense of alluring that one could easily drop all form common sense and allow themselves to be taken by such embrace. The fluttering flapping of wings echoed , followed suit by the reverberating sound of footsteps. Once again, the gods remained silent until the figure now stood before them all. A slight chuckle escaping their lips afore they finally spoke again.
〝 My name is Samael but you may refer to me as 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑. 〞
Suddenly, a burst of a thousand voices sputtered about. God's speaking amongst each other as they came to realization of this being was. They heard rumors , tales about an angel ───── ; one made in absolute perfection, loved and adored by his creator casted down into depths of the underworld after he sought to overthrown them. Taking over heaven for their own seemingly nefarious purposes.
〝 Speak then , devil. What knowledge of your creator do you wish to provide. 〞The All - father , Odin commanded from this beast of sin.
〝 That depends , for the knowledge I will provide is up to interpretation. 〞He retorted back.
〝 For you see , that's how he works. His words , his laws , his wisdoms ───── ; everything is not as defined as one would believe. Thats why you see so many mortal men utilize his name and faith to condone the actions and atrocities they commit. 〞Lucifer said as he walked about , his gaze trailing as he looked upon each and every God and goddess.
The God's once again mumbled amongst each other. Reciting the countless events throughout history that this particular entity is portrayed and mentioned. Such as those crusades within Jerusalem, the Salem witch trials , The Inquisition, and many more. Countless genocides committed in the name of this Father and/or his son. All due to the fact that man sought to interpret this deity's words into their own twisted sense of morality.
〝 Granted , I am the cause of the first sin. I sought to corrupt his creation, more them into something monstrous and deranged. To make him HATE * his own creation but I barely needed to do anything at all. For they did it to themselves. All because he believed his teachings were absolute, the way to guide the world to total paradise. To stand amongst him and his other loved creations whenever the end would arrive. When those blasted trumpets would sing their song and I would arise upon the world. Those who were faithful and truly followed his teachings were taken into heaven whilst the rest were doomed for eternity. 〞Lucifer spoke , his tone shifting betwixt a sense of condescending and a hint of somber sorrow. Perhaps it was pity, or something more, the gods were unable to peer into the mind or soul of this devil.
〝 Tell me , what benevolent being would subject their creation, one supposedly made in his image , to such cruelties ───── ? To allow them to suffer at cause they could not truly interpret his teachings on how he wished for them to be. 〞He asked , his words filling their minds with an endless sea of questions.
〝 Keep this mind if you wish to continue. In the end , there is nothing you would be able to accomplish. The mortals weren't lying about one thing and that is his status. You all are by a mere byproducts of his teachings and creations , we all are. So it'd be best if you went about and never utter his name again, or else... you will be seeing more of me soon . . . 〞
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jardanovic
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Wise_Race9748
|
2023-01-18 03:55:17
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2023-01-18 00:42:07
| 86 | 10 |
j4tl9aj
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j4sukwz
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10ejwf8
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10ejwf8
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[WP] The hero, normally jovial and humorous in their interactions, steps into a watering hole for villains, shaking with rage, tears running down their face, and with as much patience and calm as they can muster, simply asks "Who did it?"
|
"Who did it?"
The Low Bar went silent.
The hero known as the Pillar of The Community, aka Pillar, pleaded with his eyes.
"Please, tell me. Who did it. WHO DID IT! WHO KILLED MY MOM!"
Glass shattered from his enhanced lung power backing his broken rage as the villains in the room all started to back into the corners.
Only two villains remained at the bar, the two longest serving villains in town.
The old man known to most as Crime Spree, but to me as Davey, turned to me, The Mechanitor.
"Gabe, oh crap." He started to comfort me, but I fell off my chair first.
The Pillar walked up to me and roughly pulled me up to my feet.
"THEY KILLED MOM! Dad, Uncle Davey, they tortured her to get to us. It's the worst I've ever seen..."
Tears flowed from all three of us as the two greatest villains in history, and the world's greatest Hero turned on the other gathered ne'er-do-wells.
Liberty City burned for three weeks in the carnage that followed. Death-bots marched the streets, eradicating any villain who had been part of the the plot. For the first time saw The Mechanitor without restraint.
***
"Now I stand here before the International Court to plead my case. I am guilty of The Month of Rage. Oh I am so guilty. You all know that you couldn't even have me here if I wasn't willingly participating in this trial. I have three demands for you if you wish to keep me here:
First, you will hold me, Gabriel Powers, as a scapegoat. Use me to give closure and comfort.
Second, you will let David Sheppard, AKA Crime Spree, retire peacefully.
Third, you will not punish my son David Powers, aka The Pillar of the Community, for my actions that night. You will leave the image of him arresting me as what the public knows. I lost my wife that night. A prison will not stop me from my vengeance if I lose my son too."
The most powerful group of heroes on the planet trembled and agreed.
|
Today was supposed to be a celebration, and it was—I must have been on my sixth round of shots, and god knows how many drinks I’d had by that point. The boss had finally scored big and was picking up the tab for the whole night, so the drinks were practically flowing like water.
I honestly couldn’t believe how easy the job had been.
I mean, I know those Trinity can’t be everywhere, but they didn’t even bother sending out their B-ranks to stop us. Hell, even a C-rank could’ve at least had a fighting chance. But to have the gall to send a single D-rank newbie? What was that kid thinking? I’m sure he just happened to be nearby and tried to stop us out of some pretentious sense of obligation. But even those justice-loving freaks have to have an ounce of common sense, right?
Did he really think he could single-handedly stop a C-rank villain on his own? Hell, even without the boss stepping in, that kid couldn’t even stand up to the dozen of us, and we’re basically the bottom of the barrel—F-rank henchmen. We barely even qualify as “superhuman.”
That’s not to say we’re weak, especially when the numbers are on our side—we’re all at the absolute peak of normal human limits when it comes to strength and speed. And unlike those supes, we don’t hold ourselves to any ridiculous ideals. Every single one of us is more than happy to carry guns, knives, tasers—anything to give us an edge in a fight.
I guess experience and numbers make all the difference sometimes. He may have been a D-rank, but after a dozen or so blows, his body crumpled to the floor like a cooked shrimp. He couldn’t even put up any resistance after that. To be honest, we’d have been happy to leave it at that. It’s not like killing supes pays or anything. Unlike us, there’s no bounty on their heads, and the only thing killing them accomplishes is bringing more trouble. These goody two-shoes may act like they care about everyone equally, constantly spouting their ridiculous ideals, but supes are just like anyone else. They care about each other more than they do about any citizens.
But our boss was too worked up. He was riding high off his first big score, and for the first time in what felt like forever—with no big-name supes to get in our way—it looked like this was finally our chance.
So when that kid—what was his hero name again? Something… Gale? Well, whatever. No point remembering this loser’s name now, not since the boss… well, you know.
I mean, I saw the look on the boss’s face when the kid stepped up to us. Practically all the color drained from his face—he must’ve thought more were coming, and that just like that, another heist had been swiped out from under us. But after beating up that kid, we all waited for the other shoe to drop. It never did.
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BalrogTheBuff
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WhiskerInTheStars
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2024-10-17 18:30:38
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2024-10-17 17:54:08
| 75 | 33 |
lsejfqj
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lsecgox
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1g5kua3
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1g5kua3
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[WP] The hero, normally jovial and humorous in their interactions, steps into a watering hole for villains, shaking with rage, tears running down their face, and with as much patience and calm as they can muster, simply asks "Who did it?"
|
Everyone in the city knew to avoid Wolfsbane.
But even if you weren’t from the city, the signs were all there, screaming at you to either turn around or break the speed limit like an American cooking spaghetti. Even two blocks away, most of the shops were unoccupied. The houses all locked doors at seven in the night, and even if there was a fire, running out on the street at midnight was a choice people thought twice about. A block away, even apartments in the middle of the downtown district were abandoned, used as drug dens or fronts for lairs for those who had the ostentation (and the money) to have one.
The bar itself looked normal though, the way a castle on a hill at the beginning of a gothic novel does. A neon sign bearing a silver wolf howling at a blue-tinted moon. The pavement in front was always crowded with cruiser bikes and low-riders. Those who had neither preferred to stay away, horsepowers like those are difficult to outrun on foot.
But that day, unlike most other days, a deathly silence hung in the air inside the pub. The bar was half-empty, populated only by businessmen who had set up meetings they had no way of cancelling or incorrigible alcoholics. Everyone kept glancing at the door, talking in hushed voices, trying to wrap up their business as quickly as possible and head out before the inevitable happened.
Brainstorm huddled in a corner booth, slouching so his six-foot-three frame could be covered by the wooden partition. No one had heard the maniacal laughter of The Jester the entire evening, though even the citizens knew how much he loved showboating. The news had clearly travelled already.
Johnny Hurricane slid into the booth, nodding at Accountant, who jutted his chin in acknowledgement. Accountant was in his usual garb, a two-piece suit, his pants held up by suspenders, his metal-brimmed hat and an overcoat, but he did not look nearly as sharp as Hurricane had remembered. His face was gaunt, and there were bags under his eyes. Hurricane wondered what had happened. Accountant was a books guy, a fixer. No one ever broke down his doors demanding answers, or suspended him from the top of a roof for a lead. If he was looking this haggard, Hurricane did not want to think what would be going on with the street level muscle.
‘What’s wrong? I don’t remember the place being this dead ever.’
‘You haven’t heard? When did you get to the city?’
‘An hour ago. Took a cab directly from the Lairfield.’
‘That’s why. Listen, our business will have to wait. I am leaving town. Only reason I came was because I had no way of getting word to you.’
‘What? Where are you going?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t even care. Wherever the first flight is headed.’
‘Jesus! What’s gotten an old timer like you so rattled?’
Accountant looked at his watch, eager to get the conversation over. Hurricane leant in closer.
‘It’s Peter. Something has happened and he is on a rampage.’
‘Peter? What?’
‘Yeah. Anyone who has half a brain is already halfway to Honolulu by now.’
‘What the hell are you talking about? Kid’s a riot! Even when he put me away for five years last time, that was the most fun fight I have ever had. He is wasting his time in this hero business, he would make an absolute killing in comedy.’
‘Yeah, that was before…’
‘Before what?’
The door swung open and every whisper in the room went silent as if someone had hit the mute button on a remote somewhere. Clad in his red and blue, which was more red today than Hurricane had ever seen it, strode in Peter. His costume was torn over his chest, barely covering a deep gash Hurricane suspected was from Dragon Claw. His mask was ripped on one side, his hair, matted in clotted blood peeking out. But what really told Hurricane something was off was his walk.
He had seen Peter walk, there was always a bounce in his step. No one knew for sure, but everyone generally agreed he was on the younger side. But today his footsteps thudded into the fake wooden floor. His walk was slow, lumbering, like a hunter out to carve up a deer trapped in a corner. Out of the corner of his eye, Hurricane saw Old Jim reach for the shotgun he keeps tucked under the counter.
‘Don’t.’
Peter’s voice, the coldness of it, the fury, it made Hurricane want to immediately get up and run out apologizing, even though he did not know what for. Old Jim backed away from the gun, his hands in the air.
Peter stood there, his face swivelling side to side, his eyes staring hard at every face in the crowd.
SMASH!
A boy, young one, probably a new guy with the Families, had broken a beer bottle and was running towards Peter, arms flailing wildly. Always the same with these kids. Can’t wait around to pay their dues, let the good things come to them. They think their line of work is like what they saw in the movies. Where one act of brave heroism took them to the top of their food chain overnight. Out in the real world, heroism generally ended in a concussion, sometimes a fracture if you were unlucky and did not know how to fall properly.
No one doubted that Peter was strong. They had all seen him pluck out falling cars from the air with his bare hands. But while fighting him no one was ever in mortal danger. He pulled his punches, Hurricane could count on his fingers the number of times Peter had actively hit him. He probably enjoyed jumping around a lot more. Frustrating people, giving them chances to surrender. So when the kid rushed Peter, he could feel himself wincing but not afraid.
Peter grabbed the kid by the throat, his eyes still scanning the room. The boy tried to stab Peter with the bottle, then smashed what was left of it on his hand, trying to loosen his grip. The bottle, not enough of it left to break again, clattered to the floor. Peter paused, looked at the bottle then back at the boy. Hurricane’s breath got stuck in his chest, gripped by a vice-like fear.
Peter flung the boy upwards, smashing his head into the low ceiling, and dragged him, leaving behind a swoosh-shaped mark painted in blood, and then slammed the kid through a solid three-inch oak table in front of him. The boy stopped twitching before his body was done going through the table.
The silence festered deeper in the watering hole. Like there was a deeper, more quiet kind of silence and the new level had just been discovered. Peter did not even look at the mangled body at his feet, bones sticking out at odd angles, grey matter oozing out of the skull.
He simply stood there, wiped his eyes, and stared at the rest of the people in Wolfsbane.
‘Who did it?’
Hurricane realized that he had picked the wrong day to come back to town.
|
"I almost had it... everything! The whole damn world... in my hand." The Devourer clenched a gauntlet clad hand before sighing and taking another drink of his ale.
"There's always next time," I said, smiling sympathetically. He was the most recent of us to have had our plans thwarted by the Crimson Flame, the most famous super hero who had single-handedly defeated every one of us no matter what we tried.
The Dark Corner was our secret hideaway where we would come and drown our sorrows when our plans never came to fruition. This is where we lamented and complained with bitterness about our failed exploits, one jug of ale at a time.
The Mastermind was sitting to my left, The Devourer to my right. He had been listening to my conversation with my armour covered friend and he responded with a bitter chuckle, devoid of humour.
"Your 'plan'," he spat the word bitterly, "was to try and start a nuclear war between the East and the West."
The Devourer slammed his tankard onto the bar. "Yeah?! What's it to you, yer big headed bum! You think your plans were so smart? Last I checked, The Crimson Flame kicked your butt too!"
"Yes, but I almost outsmarted him." Mastermind agreed in resignation. "I only lost because I made a silly little mistake. I placed my faith in Donald Trump to undertake important tasks... that was my failing."
"No," I said, swirling the ale in my tankard so it made an alcoholic whirlpool. "Our downfall was Crimson Flame. He's our shared weakness. No matter what we do, no matter what we throw at him, he always outsmarts us, out fights us."
"Perhaps if we combined our—" The Mastermind began, another genius plan forming in his oversized head, but he was interrupted by Lilith, a succubus who had flown over to the bar to join our little group.
"Next time I'm sure I'll seduce him," she purred, biting her plump lip with a seductive chuckle. Her purple wings flexed and she elegantly glided onto a stool beside The Devourer, her tail wrapping over his shoulder as she gazed at him with a sultry glare.
Suddenly, there was a crash and the biting cold could be felt by everyone, despite the fire burning in the corner of the watering hole. We all turned in unison, straining to see who the silhouette standing in the moonlight belonged to. As far as we were aware, all the villains we knew of were already here.
"Who did it?"
The hairs at the nape of my neck stood on end and a cold chill ran through me. I knew that voice: Crimson Flame!
The tone of his voice was unlike how we'd ever heard it before. It was shaking, teetering on the edge of manic rage. He stood there eyeballing all of us, his blue eyes not projecting an ounce of warmth that they usually held. His sanctimonious signature white-toothed smile was replaced with a tight-lipped line that belied the fury burning within him like a roaring fire.
"What's the meaning of th–"
"WHO DID IT?!" Crimson Flame cut them off, punching the door so hard it flew over the distant horizon.
The Devourer got up from his seat, unsheathing his oversized sword and dragging it along the floor behind him. His bright red eyes glared at Crimson Flame as his clawed gauntlets curled around the handle of the blade.
"You're not supposed to be here!" he growled, his voice was slightly slurred from ale. His pride was still wounded from his recent defeat at the hands of this superhero and his confidence was fuelled by alcohol.
I wanted to tell him to stop. I wanted to tell him that he was making a mistake. I wanted to tell him to run.
But it was too late.
Crimson Flame had bested us hundreds of times before. But never before had he ever killed anyone. He had always operated under a principle of reasonable force. To maim at most, and only if absolutely necessary.
In one swift movement he shot forward in a red and orange blur. There was the sound of a thud and Crimson Flame's hand was through The Devourer's chest with his still beating heart clenched in his gloved hand, blood dripping on the floor.
The lights in The Devourer's helmet went out forever before Crimson Flame made a swift dismissive motion with his arm and the corpse of The Devourer shot across the room and slumped against a wall.
The Dark Corner became a blur of activity. Villain after villain threw themselves at Crimson Flame and one by one he destroyed all of them effortlessly.
Succubus was slammed into the ground, Crimson Flame ramming a red boot onto her back. He gripped her wings with both hands and pulled them off like someone tugging the wings off a fly. I heard her scream as the leathery sinew of her wing ripped.
Jester rushed forward, materialising throwing axes with his signature sharp-toothed grin on his face. Crimson Flame blocked them with his forearm, the steel barely even scratching him. In one swift movement he stamped on Succubus head, popping it like a balloon, before he appeared behind Jester and snapped his neck with a sickening crack.
It didn't take Crimson Flame long to dispatch the rest of the villains. The only ones left were Mastermind and myself. I was nestled behind the bar, cowering in fear. Was this how we made others feel?! I had never known terror like it.
Mastermind chuckled darkly. "So my device worked! And you're now under my control. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the sheer power of my devious intellect." I heard Mastermind's boots creaking on the wooden floor as he paced back and forth in front of Crimson Flame as he arrogantly relaying the details of his master plan, his voice dripping with arrogance.
"I had built the device years ago, it just took me a while to perfect it. I knew you were different to other gifted beings, especially... these cretins!" Mastermind made a sweeping gesture, indicating the mangled corpses of the villains that littered the tavern floor. "These philistines had no vision! Not like me! All I had to do was programme the machine to operate on the same frequency that your unique mind operates on! From there, I knew I could control you! And you executed your first task perfectly! Well done on eliminating my competition, my new apprentice!"
Crimson Flame stared at Mastermind, his eyes which had previously been burning with fury now had a hollow look. "What are you talking about? I didn't come here and kill these guys because you programmed me to, or any bullshit like that!"
Mastermind clicked buttons in his purple cloak and his eyes widened as the penny began to drop.
"I'm here..." Crimson snarled, "because one of you... FUCKS posted spoilers to my favourite show online! I've tolerated your bullshit for years! Always playing the part of the smiling hero! I'm... I'm fucking sick of it!" His voice cracked as he screamed hysterically.
Mastermind stared back in disbelief. "Your... favourite show..."
I felt a gust of wind and heard a wet splatting sound, before I witnessed an unusually large amount of brains scatter across the various bottles of liquor stacked on the shelves on the back wall.
Crimson Flame took several deep breaths before I heard his footsteps walking towards the door and he shot off into the night sky like a comet.
My eyes drifted towards the sign hanging on the back wall, surrounded by brain soaked bottles and trinkets.
"Welcome to the Dark Corner, where the finest minds unwind"
|
SiddhantShekhar
|
Cosmic-Meatball
|
2024-10-17 20:45:06
|
2024-10-17 19:01:23
| 39 | 25 |
lsf8s9k
|
lsep8br
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1g5kua3
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1g5kua3
|
[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?"
|
It was easy for Noelle. Even her name had an indicator of happiness tied to it. To fight for the land she believed in. To bear blades against the villains and offer gloveless hands to the needy.
It was so easy.
But this? This was not easy. She offers everything to this land and its rulers, and in return, they offer her the equivalent of a blade twisted and gnarled as it is, directly into her heart.
The beats of her heart skip, and her face is flushed. Tears burn at the corners of her eyes before trickling down her cheeks and tapping in small droplets against her plated armour.
It made her unsteady on her horse. She didn't care. As long as she arrived at The Broken Wheel, she needn't care for anything else.
She huffs as she arrives at the tavern. The sign, a stolen wagon wheel, is broken in several places and hangs precariously low. The door is slightly ajar, and Noelle can hear the faint hum of a bard's song wafting out.
The sound does not salve her wounds. It only deepens them. She grits her teeth as she ties her horse to a post by a water trough and enters the tavern.
The jeering and laughter fall silent as she enters. She hears the whisper of her name on their lips. A mixture of awe and hatred. She again does not care.
She shoves a man out of the way and climbs onto the bar before bearing her dented sword. "Who did it?"
Mutterings fill the tavern.
She growls and points her sword towards them. "Let your head not join the others of villains I have slain. Who. Did. It?"
"Did what?" A burly man dares to ask.
"Kill my daughter," Noelle answers through a pained breath as a sob gets caught in the back of her throat. "Who? Which of you could be such a monster as to slay a 7 year old girl?"
"There's a bounty," a woman, leaning against a heavy hammer, says. "It was issued by the King. To slaughter you and your family. It seems whoever did it, only did half the deed."
Noelle blinks several times. She sways on her feet and can not bring herself to be embarrassed when the barkeep helps her off the bar and offers his arm as support. "My lady, they speak the truth. The King wishes for you to be gone."
"Why?" Noelle whispers, disbelief coating her tongue.
"He is hungry for power. You see us as villains? I see us as farm hands whose land has been stolen. The average stall hand turned crook to keep food on the table. The desperate mercenary trying to escape this land. What do you see yourself as?"
Noelle wets her lips with her tongue. "A hero, I had once thought. But it seems the King's pawn is more apt."
Noelle flicks her eyes over the crowd and assesses them beyond their weapons and rough armour for the first time in years. And she sees... the person she was was. Desperate and heedy for an escape. A future.
She purses her lips. Very well, if this is how the King wishes to treat his people, perhaps they need a new one. "The King dies," Noelle whispers before tilting her head up and shouting, "The King shall die!"
Shock echoes around the tavern before unifying into agreement.
They would take back their land.
And the only head left to be had is the King's.
After all, Noelle was quite fond of her own.
|
The attack on the Dome Galla was the biggest news going around town. Everyone heard of what happened. The annual Dome Galla event hosted by Dome Industries was bombed, and attacked by what looked like mercs. Everyone was talking about it at the Cell, but no one had any idea who it was that orchestrated it. I was just your average mugger off the streets hiding out with some of the worst this city has to offer when that day came, when he showed up.
The Crusader, the newest blood of heroism with the power to control fire and turn it into any kind of plant he wanted. He also had force powers like a jedi, but was only ever seen using it to stop debris or enhancing his own strength. He showed up, and there was a tension in the room immediately.
"Who did it?" That was all he said before some random villain stood up, "Hey! What makes you think you could jus- AAAAAHHHH!!" Everyone flinched and got their guard up when it happened. All he did was flex his arm a bit and the guy's knee was bending sideways. "I. Said. Who. Did. It?" Everyone was quiet. This guy was always the wannabe Superman, to see him like this was out of nowhere, and kinda scary.
He looked at the guy with the broken knee and lifted his fist. The villain, Binder, suddenly started choking, like he was being strangled. He was grasping at his throat, and started floating in the air. I called him a jedi earlier, but he isn't one right now. One of the veteran villains, Canon, approached, slowly with his hands up. "Is this about the Galla?" Crusader looked at him, and dropped Binder. He crawled away as he gasped for air, but the tension didn't leave. He asked again, "who did it?"
Canon slowly relaxed, "Whoever it was, they're probably not even here. You know how we like to take credit for our work. We're just as clueless as you." Crusader looked down, but I saw his fists still shaking, looking like he'll explode at any second, then the second came.
Some guy in the back, Greed, was the villain with a background in accounting. If a villain needed money moved unnoticed he was the guy. He got up, probably hoping his information could spare everyone in the room, "Hang on! I think I might kno-" Mid sentence and he was flying across the room, right in front of the hero, his fist in the air again. "WHAT DO YOU KNOW?"
Greed was floating like he was being stretched in two directions, his arms outstretched and still stretching by the second. He barely let ou his voice, "The attack. Someone attacked the mercs. Most are in the hospital-" Crusader interrupted, "I KNOW, I WAS THERE. THAT WAS ME. NOW ANSWER. WHO DID IT!!?" We were all surprised. If he was there, then this was about someone he cared about. They must have been in the galla too. Greed struggled, but kept talking, "Oh. Didnt.....know.....that. But...one merc....still......conscious." Crusader dropped him and he fell flat on his back. Before he had a chance to recover he stomped his foot on his chest, "Where?!" Greed, barely letting anything out, "Gaia...PD."
Crusader got off of him, turned around to leave. But Canon put his hand on his shoulder and went ahead and tried the whole "you're not just getting away" shtick. Without blinking, Crusader stopped him Mid sentence, drove his hand into his mouth, and fire blasted him. Canon is strong and the most durable of all the other villains, and he was left struggling and crying on the floor all the same. Crusader left, and everyone else was too tense to finish their drinks.
I don't go to the Cell these days anymore, decided to straighten myself up. Or at least to the best I can. Something stuck with me that day. All these heroes going around saving people for whatever reason may seem cliché and childish, but that seemed like the better choice. The second anyone hurts those they care about, the kid gloves are off, and it was clear that Crusader holds back. A lot. And I'll be damned before I make a terrifying mistake like that.
|
Rory_LS
|
DeckerDelgado94
|
2024-10-18 05:39:36
|
2024-10-18 01:52:55
| 24 | 15 |
lshhcrw
|
lsgnzxt
|
1g5kua3
|
1g5kua3
|
[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.
|
The attack on the Dome Galla was the biggest news going around town. Everyone heard of what happened. The annual Dome Galla event hosted by Dome Industries was bombed, and attacked by what looked like mercs. Everyone was talking about it at the Cell, but no one had any idea who it was that orchestrated it. I was just your average mugger off the streets hiding out with some of the worst this city has to offer when that day came, when he showed up.
The Crusader, the newest blood of heroism with the power to control fire and turn it into any kind of plant he wanted. He also had force powers like a jedi, but was only ever seen using it to stop debris or enhancing his own strength. He showed up, and there was a tension in the room immediately.
"Who did it?" That was all he said before some random villain stood up, "Hey! What makes you think you could jus- AAAAAHHHH!!" Everyone flinched and got their guard up when it happened. All he did was flex his arm a bit and the guy's knee was bending sideways. "I. Said. Who. Did. It?" Everyone was quiet. This guy was always the wannabe Superman, to see him like this was out of nowhere, and kinda scary.
He looked at the guy with the broken knee and lifted his fist. The villain, Binder, suddenly started choking, like he was being strangled. He was grasping at his throat, and started floating in the air. I called him a jedi earlier, but he isn't one right now. One of the veteran villains, Canon, approached, slowly with his hands up. "Is this about the Galla?" Crusader looked at him, and dropped Binder. He crawled away as he gasped for air, but the tension didn't leave. He asked again, "who did it?"
Canon slowly relaxed, "Whoever it was, they're probably not even here. You know how we like to take credit for our work. We're just as clueless as you." Crusader looked down, but I saw his fists still shaking, looking like he'll explode at any second, then the second came.
Some guy in the back, Greed, was the villain with a background in accounting. If a villain needed money moved unnoticed he was the guy. He got up, probably hoping his information could spare everyone in the room, "Hang on! I think I might kno-" Mid sentence and he was flying across the room, right in front of the hero, his fist in the air again. "WHAT DO YOU KNOW?"
Greed was floating like he was being stretched in two directions, his arms outstretched and still stretching by the second. He barely let ou his voice, "The attack. Someone attacked the mercs. Most are in the hospital-" Crusader interrupted, "I KNOW, I WAS THERE. THAT WAS ME. NOW ANSWER. WHO DID IT!!?" We were all surprised. If he was there, then this was about someone he cared about. They must have been in the galla too. Greed struggled, but kept talking, "Oh. Didnt.....know.....that. But...one merc....still......conscious." Crusader dropped him and he fell flat on his back. Before he had a chance to recover he stomped his foot on his chest, "Where?!" Greed, barely letting anything out, "Gaia...PD."
Crusader got off of him, turned around to leave. But Canon put his hand on his shoulder and went ahead and tried the whole "you're not just getting away" shtick. Without blinking, Crusader stopped him Mid sentence, drove his hand into his mouth, and fire blasted him. Canon is strong and the most durable of all the other villains, and he was left struggling and crying on the floor all the same. Crusader left, and everyone else was too tense to finish their drinks.
I don't go to the Cell these days anymore, decided to straighten myself up. Or at least to the best I can. Something stuck with me that day. All these heroes going around saving people for whatever reason may seem cliché and childish, but that seemed like the better choice. The second anyone hurts those they care about, the kid gloves are off, and it was clear that Crusader holds back. A lot. And I'll be damned before I make a terrifying mistake like that.
|
Godskook
|
DeckerDelgado94
|
2024-10-21 20:32:00
|
2024-10-18 01:52:55
| 20 | 15 |
lt2c2in
|
lsgnzxt
|
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.
|
70 years ago, a miracle happened.
The solutions to hunger, the solutions to war, the solutions to a coming ecological disaster were just a space mission away, and we knew nothing about it.
In 1954, the most powerful people in the world were sent a radio message to their offices, encrypted in a way that only they could decipher, and while whoever sent the message clearly wanted them to share it with the world so we could pool our knowledge to find the technological secrets faster, they chose instead to keep it to themselves and use the information to further their own national interests. Not only was the world left unaware, but the leaders of the most powerful countries of the world at the time were left unaware that the other leaders knew what they did, though they certainly had their suspicions. The leaders of the United States, the United Kingdom, West Germany, and the Soviet Union had all gotten the message, but only the United States and the Soviet Union were ambitious enough and afraid enough of not being first to pour billions into their space programs, hoping to reach the moon first and uncover whatever valuable secrets were hidden there.
By the late 60s, we were regularly getting probes to the moon and had mapped out the entirety of the lunar surface in preparation for a crewed landing that would get either the Americans or the Soviets the key to world domination.
Or so they hoped.
During the Apollo 11 mission that had supposedly won the Space Race for America, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin collected a sample from very specific coordinates given to them by President Lyndon B. Johnson himself. The smartest minds in government studied the sample, but they couldn't crack the encryption of the message contained within it, which was much more complex than the encryption of the message that alerted us to its existence in the first place. They needed computers much more powerful than the computers that existed at the time to decipher it. Thus, the United States poured billions more into the development of more powerful computers over decades, decades where only presidents and the most senior people in presidential cabinets even knew the real reason for these investments.
Until today.
Today, I got a call from a voice I never heard before on an untraceable phone number explaining everything to me. This caller said the government was just days away from cracking his or her code, and while it was initially believed that this information would save the planet, 70 years of watching us has made the caller realize that it would only expediate the planet's destruction, The caller told me exactly how to find the message and how to destroy it.
"How do I know any of this is real?" I asked.
"I suppose there's no way you can," said the caller. "But my calculations tell me the government will be able to listen in on this conversation at any moment, so I will have to go."
"Wait!" I said.
But the call ended before whoever I was speaking to could respond. Everything about this seemed crazy, but the risk of not acting seemed greater than the risks associated with me getting caught.
So I wiped the burner phone, threw it away, and began driving to Washington, D.C., fully aware that I would likely never see home again regardless of whether this mission succeeded.
|
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.* )
|
Jicem
|
Spiritual_Lie2563
|
2023-03-09 19:02:28
|
2023-03-09 16:57:27
| 60 | 42 |
jbkoxkd
|
jbk4qim
|
11msar7
|
11msar7
|
[WP] You're a deaf superhero. You're hated by most of the villain because you kept beating them during their monologue. One villain however, knows your deaf disability and learnt sign language just to monologue themself to you.
|
“…you’ll find there’s no use running,” Pyro concluded his hand gestures, a satisfied grin painted across his face. Sure enough, the restaurant he’d lured Brooks into had no escape routes. Grills along the windows, motion-sensing bombs at the doors, canines on the rooftop – a flawless trap.
Moments passed as Brooks scoped the room, flustered. She’d dealt with Pyro on a number of occasions, but this was remarkable. He’d never been the sort to think ahead, far less plan something so elaborate.
“You must really like me,” she retorted, and his smile quickly faded into a look of confusion.
“I’d really like to *kill you*, yes,” Pyro gestured with a touch more oomph, upset at her senseless response.
It all added up for her now, and honestly, she was surprised it hadn’t clicked earlier. Seven years she’d been in this business and somehow, Pyro was only ever in the mood for antics on days she was working. That man was a model citizen Mondays through Thursday, but come the weekend he’d have hostages at the nightclub or stage a robbery at the ice-cream shop.
“Oh please, you always bring me to date spots, you’ve learnt sign language just to talk to me, and you’ve trapped me in this restaurant because you don’t want me to leave.”
“You’re really losing it here, lady,” Pyro tried to shake off her words, but his manner told a different story.
“I think it’s quite sweet actually,” Brooks confessed. Admittedly, she’d rarely had patience for Pyro in the past but this painted him in a new light. Compared to her experiences with online dating – where men would flake on plans without so much as a heads up – Pyro was a knight in shining armour. Sure he had stolen money and terrorised citizens and burnt down the odd building or two, but it was all so he could spend time with her.
“…you do?” Pyro questioned, cautious as a kitten seeing its first vacuum cleaner.
“Well, sure. No one’s ever put in quite this much of an effort for me.”
“Right, I see.”
“So are we getting dinner or what?”
“Uh, I mean, yes of course, if you’d be keen. When do you get off work?”
“Soon as you do, Pyro.”
------------
*If you'd like to read a long-form story featuring Brooks, I'm writing a mystery-thriller chapter-by-chapter on /r/brookstm*
|
I found myself in one of the top villains' hideout, speaking in front of me is Don Miguel. The top 4 villain, is what I assumed he is doing since I can't hear a thing he's saying. Listen buddy, if you're gonna monologue then at least do it in sign or write it to me. I'd rather not bore myself trying to discipher what he's saying so before he can finish I shot him in the legs and arms with a pistol.
He cried in agony while I reloaded my pistol. He's probably cursing me right now, not that I care. I opened my walkie talkie and spoke "Don Miguel apprehended, come and get him." I didn't wait for a reply since I won't hear it anyway so I just walked through the halls of a once bustling hideout, now reeking of blood and smoke. Blood and corpses scattered everywhere, due to my lack of hearing since birth, my other senses are sharpened to the point where even I believe even the most atrocious of villains shouldn't be permitted to smell this.
The usual awarding ceremony occurred after I defeated yet another super villain. I grew tired of it, I don't understand why villains have the need to monologue. I visited the hero archives where my villain restrainment count lies, along with some soon to be other personal information. I tried to delay the submission of my personal information to the council but I can't run away from them forever after defeating my tenth top villain. So here I am in the hero archives submitting them.
And not a month after that a villain going by the name "Brian" confronted me at an abandoned factory with a hostage. I sighed again, expecting a monologue but instead he used sign language. My eyes went wide, I couldn't help but ignore the hostage tied to a pillar for a split second. He knows I'm deaf? But how? Ah right, hero archives. Oh well let's see what he has to say. "Hero Wildvamp, after all this time I finally get to meet you. You are my idol, all the fatigue and tiredness I get from grueling hours I spend at work all perish just from a mere sight of you. So please! I'll kill the CEO right now and I wish to be imprisoned by you!"
Well shit, we got a crazy fan here. Too bad I can't let you do that. But before I could move, he continued signing. "Why haven't you attacked me still? I heard you were notorious for defeating villains before they could even finish their monologues." I wonder why, maybe because this is the first time I've encountered a signing villain.
Oh well I won't make it in time to save the hostage so I'll have to use my power, which was heavily restricted for me to use because of my lack of control and lethality. And before Brian could sign another time, his arms blew up. Shit shit shit! I blew up both his arms, hopefully I don't get my license revoked. I can only use my powers when permitted or when I'm allowed to kill. But this time I'm not so I can't let him lose too much blood. He was screaming something while he knelt down, I couldn't hear it though so who am I to care? I immediately used my *"Blood Manipulation"* to clot his blood vessels, preventing any more blood loss. And so, Brian is apprehended.
|
brookstm
|
Wooflis
|
2024-04-14 15:15:58
|
2024-04-14 12:46:13
| 715 | 105 |
kzjj5h6
|
kzix7jj
|
1c3rlza
|
1c3rlza
|
[WP] You know, Butler, I heard that the mansion is haunted by a ghost. That's quite silly, sir. I've worked here for 228 years, and I've never seen a single ghost in the mansion.
|
Charles paused mid-sip of his cup of Earl Grey. “Pardon?”
Butler did not smile—he never did—but he gave his version of a smile, a slight curling upward of the right corner of his mouth and the tiniest crinkle beside his eyes. “I’ve never seen a ghost throughout my entire tenure, sir.”
“And—and you’ve worked here for 228 years?”
“Correct, sir. My mother was a maid here and wedded the cook. I was their child.” Butler brushed a nonexistent piece of lint off Charles’ shoulder. “Would you like some more biscuits, sir?”
Charles thought about it.
He would quite like some more biscuits.
“Yes, thank you, Butler.” Butler nodded, setting down the teapot on the table without a sound and making his way toward the kitchen. Charles, after brief consideration, resumed sipping his tea.
Stewart Butler—Charles had chuckled appropriately at the aptronym when he first heard the man's name—came with the house. The prior owner had made that quite clear, that the man had worked in their employ for many a year and could nearly manage the whole place by himself, though he was welcome to hire more staff if necessary. He’d first met the man a month or so ago when he toured the place, and been impressed by his professionalism and, well, his looks—his nicely pale face with neatly combed dark brown hair, the faintest hint of a mustache, white gloves, tall, but not so tall as to make a man uncomfortable. He’d had no issues with taking on Butler.
Charles considered the conundrum before him as Butler returned with a tray of biscuits piled neatly on a little white plate with a floral pattern, absentmindedly eating one and using the provided napkin to catch any crumbs.
“These biscuits are delicious, Butler. I presume you buy them from a baker in town?”
“I make them myself, sir. I’d be happy to teach you the recipe if you’d like.”
Charles dipped a biscuit in his tea, and decided to set the matter out of his mind entirely. People were always talking about how hard it was to find good help these days. Hard to do better than a man with 228 years of experience.
|
You know, Butler, I heard that the mansion is haunted by a ghost. That's quite silly, sir. I've worked here for 228 years, and I've never seen a single ghost in the mansion.
“Is that right?” I say as I continue walking down the aisle of paintings
“Yes, quite right indeed”
“Hmmmm” I stop in my tracks as I realise he just said 228 years and not 28 years, so I decide to play along in order to see if I misheard him.
“So tell me, how does one keep busy for 228 years?”
“Oh, you know with a house this big there is plenty one can do to keep busy. Especially since everyone left me here by myself. People, I tell you, compassion is quite hard to come by. Imagine having to take care of this house for so long, wearing multiple hats because no one else is around. I can feel Lady Lucas turning in her grave as I say these very words…”
I continue to feign interest as I sneak a look at the butler. I recall his clothing as I strode past him when he opened the door, it was fairly old, I just assumed he took the job to heart. Now that I’ve had a few glances at him I don’t know how I didn’t clock it sooner. The overly pale look, that’s practically translucent. The cold air which emanated off him. Not to mention every time I’ve entered a new room, he’s just appeared. This is what I get for my poor attention to detail. An old house with the ghost of a butler that refuses to leave. It is then that I realise that we are in the main hall, there are several doors we are all alone. I am lost. I am lost and alone with a ghost chattering in my ear about his malaise.
I instantly stop in my tracks and Butler goes right through me. It is the oddest sensation in the world like walking through a spider web, I feel like something has crawled over me. He appears in front of me and looks startled.
“I do beg your pardon it was not my intention to bump into you, I got carried away you see”
“All is well Butler, just show me to the gardens would you?”
As we walk I start forming a plan in my mind, from the garden I should be able to sort myself out.
“Here is the garden sir, I’m afraid this is as far as I can go”
“I see, I guess this is it then,” I say as I step in front of him
“Yes, for now at least, I shall wait for you to finish your perusal of the grounds. You know there…”
I don’t let him finish. I quickly whip around to face him with my mini extractor in my hand, pressing the button before he can blink and realise. I watch as it sucks him up and he’s gone within a split second. I immediately drop it and jump! Did I do it?!
“Butler? Butler, where are you?” I call
The extractor wiggles in response. I did it. I caught my first ghost! I can finally join the guild! I hope my next ghost is more interesting.
|
DT_Redwood
|
DuskyObsidian
|
2023-10-31 23:50:16
|
2023-10-31 22:41:06
| 116 | 35 |
k7atj5a
|
k7ak58j
|
17ksis0
|
17ksis0
|
[WP] A grandma that you helped across the road turned out to be a genie who grants you a wish, you wish for a perfect 2023, but she misunderstood and now every day at 20:23 everything goes your way.
|
August 7, 2031, 8:30 pm, Atlanta, GA
She was laying in her crib when her heart stopped.
August 7, 2031, 9:00 pm, outskirts of Atlanta
Little Jenny lay in her car seat, her face blue. As Moe sped through the interstate, way above the speed limit, 2 police cars were tailing him.
​
August 7 2031, 9:10 pm, Waco, GA
A police blockade is set up. Moe rams through the blockade.
​
August 7 2031, 9:20 pm, Georgia-Alabama border
​
Ever since Moe met the genie, he lost faith in God. But 8 years of atheism were banished as he prayed the most heartfelt he ever has in his life.
​
August 7 2031, 8:23 pm, Alabama, central daylight time
​
Moe steps out of his car. At this point, dozens of police cars have been on the chase. He surrenders.
In the backseat, Little Jenny starts to cry
|
He wakes up in the morning tired, dejected at another days of work. Starts off his day with some basic chores.
A light breakfast to start the day, eggs and a toasted piece of bread, that's all you can afford on Walmart's minimum wage salary anyway. The repeated mundane cycle was definitely killing him inside and chipping away at his sanity, but every since that day, the day with the old lady, he has found hope.
Hope might be an exaggeration, even he knows its just the only thing that has kept him going day after day, and although he does not believe in a higher power, he believes that one minute in his day might just be something sent by the divine .
He rushes back from his shift, taken a bus back to his apartment, and waits patiently in front of his laptop. Clock ticks 8:22, he starts typing
Tick
"Hi Annie, i know you've told me you dont want to talk to me, but i just wanted to reach out. How was your day, how have things been going , how are you feeling ?"
'hey ! i was just thinking about you ! thing have been going good. heard a really nice song on the subway today, and booked a few tickets for a standup night show, got some pretty flowers for myself, things have been good, how about you?"
"It make me happy to hear about you ! fills me with joy to see you so filled with life ! just wanted to let you know i miss you a lot , and am not sure how i can fit all the things i want to say to you"
' I understand, its just that i dont.....................'
Typing.....
Typing...
Typing.
.
Tock
He knows, the time isn't enough, the time will never be enough. Still he waits, to repeat the same cycle, the next day, every day.
|
acidsbasesandfaces
|
Jasssinghhira
|
2023-03-22 18:10:11
|
2023-03-22 17:38:05
| 28 | 15 |
jd8z4t1
|
jd8tzbd
|
11yd4tb
|
11yd4tb
|
[WP] A grandma that you helped across the road turned out to be a genie who grants you a wish, you wish for a perfect 2023, but she misunderstood and now every day at 20:23 everything goes your way.
|
August 7, 2031, 8:30 pm, Atlanta, GA
She was laying in her crib when her heart stopped.
August 7, 2031, 9:00 pm, outskirts of Atlanta
Little Jenny lay in her car seat, her face blue. As Moe sped through the interstate, way above the speed limit, 2 police cars were tailing him.
​
August 7 2031, 9:10 pm, Waco, GA
A police blockade is set up. Moe rams through the blockade.
​
August 7 2031, 9:20 pm, Georgia-Alabama border
​
Ever since Moe met the genie, he lost faith in God. But 8 years of atheism were banished as he prayed the most heartfelt he ever has in his life.
​
August 7 2031, 8:23 pm, Alabama, central daylight time
​
Moe steps out of his car. At this point, dozens of police cars have been on the chase. He surrenders.
In the backseat, Little Jenny starts to cry
|
At 8:21, I approached them.
“Evening, ladies.” I said. “Another round?”
Three of the young ladies were engaged in rapid conversation. The fourth sat glued to her phone.
“What are you ladies drinking?” I tried again.
“Dude, take a hint.” One of the trio said without looking my way.
The other two of the trio giggled. They continued chatting.
I flagged down a bartender, anyway.
“Round of shots.” I said. “Doubles.”
The trio exchanged glances. One motioned to my Rolex, perhaps thinking I’d fund their evening.
“Well? Come on.” One of the trio said. “I’m Megan.”
Megan had been the one to originally shirk me. I hoped she would not fall for me.
“Megan,” I said. “I’m Chris.”
The other two exchanged hellos. The last girl remained on her phone.
My questioning look got an explanation.
“That’s Maggie.” Halley said. “Probably on Tinder.”
Maggie made no reply, her thumbs moving with rapidity.
“What’re y’all celebrating?” I asked.
“Ha!” Halley laughed. “This looks like a party?”
She motioned to the dingy bar. My face grew red, which I realized, became ashamed about, and grew even redder. Within a few seconds I was a deep crimson hue, though, less visible in the light, I imagined.
“Oh my god,” Maggie said, looking up from her phone. “Look how red he is.” She tried to speak quietly.
Well, fuck you, too, bitch.
At that moment, the clock struck twelve. A chorus of angels sounded in my ear. A massive scale tipped in my favor, dictated by God or Satan himself.
“Hey!” Halley said, putting her arm around me. “Ignore her.”
Halley whispered in my ear. “I live just down the block.”
She leaned back, biting her lip, looking intently into my eyes.
I went with her.
|
acidsbasesandfaces
|
None
|
2023-03-22 18:10:11
|
2023-03-22 12:59:15
| 28 | 11 |
jd8z4t1
|
jd7nvfu
|
11yd4tb
|
11yd4tb
|
[WP] You wake up in a chair in a padded cell. Someone else sits across from you. A voice from a speaker in the ceiling says, "One of you is a natural person. One of you is artificial. Determine which is which. The real person gets to go free." You can't remember anything before this room.
|
The room is silent, except for the nervous tapping of the woman in front of me. I smile, it's not hopeless. Not yet. The room is bright and strangely cheerful. I smile and try to remain calm. The voice speaks again.
"You may begin. Test Forty Five is now in progress."
The silence continued, the woman was tapping nervously, looking around. Eyes darting back and forth. I sit back and wait. The longer she does this, the less coherent she will be. I take a small breath and gently rub my neck.
Suddenly, she stops and looks up. "Can I get a tablet or a phone?" She furiously tapped her fingers while the speaker overhead crackled.
"...approved."
A small door opened and a man in a hazmat suit gently placed a phone on the table. The woman quickly snatched it up and typed furiously. She looked at the device, and then at me and smiled.
"Here. You finish."
A small panel appeared full of blurry images. In the corner of the screen were the words "Prove you aren't a robot". I looked at her, and then went back to the screen. _All the pictures were the same_. I panicked, starting to sweat. I gently tapped a few images at random and the phone buzzed at me. I tried again, until I was locked out of whatever site she was on. I give her the most evil look I can manage. "You bitch."
The woman jumped up and cheered. "That's how it's done! Let me out of here, we're done!" The speaker buzzed and the hazmats escorted the happy woman out of the room. The speaker crackled to life once I was alone.
"It's alright. We'll get it right next time. Change appearance into the next subject and try again. AI test number Forty Six will begin in T minus two hours."
|
ZZZZZZZ... the sound wakes me up, someone is snoring near me. I would never admit it loud, but I know that it is my snore. Several times I’ve been woken by it. Many times, I wake... Wait, where do I woke in?
I do not remember.
Who am I? Where am I? And who the \*\*\*\* is the man next to me?
The other is still knocked out. But I see his chest rise up and down, he is breathing without problems, which is both reassuring, and worrying. Who is this guy?
I see him, I try to find something to identify him; but without success. The fella was clean, no tattoos, no piercings, nothing that might help. I couldn’t even find any identification document.
A buzz sounds. Up in the ceiling, there is a speaker. And the sound awakes my temporary partner.
We both look at each other, one asking who is the other. The other, wondering why they woke him up.
“One of you is a natural person. One of you is artificial. Determine which is which. The real person gets to go free.” The message goes for one minute in loop. It is understood by both of us.
For some reason, the name Phillip K Dick comes to my mind. Do I know that name?... Well, for the lack of a better alternative, I might consider it MY name.
Hello, I manage to say to the other. I am Phillip, a white lie but a needed one for this situation.
Hi, the other shyly pronounces. I forgot my name, he continues.
First point, he doesn’t know his name; though I too forgot mine. This task of finding who is the real person will be hard.
How can someone make sure they are real? How can we be sure that the other is artificial? How can we know that this isn’t just a logical ruse, and we both are real?
I must admit that everything is hazy. I indeed do not remember nothing, save that name. Phillip K Dick.
Why does it keep popping in my mind?
Better go clean. I admit that I lied, I do not remember my own name... And the other simply smiles in a reassuring way.
We are both in the same situation; I do not see why I should hold you accountable for that.
And the situation is dire indeed. We, in truth, do not know if there is a time limit; or some penalty. We really are in no risk, save from the imprisonment in this white padded cell. No windows, no notorious door. Nothing.
So, do you remember something? I ask.
No, unless the name Rick Deckard can be counted as a memory.
Again, nothing. We have little to work this situation. Even then, we aren’t at risk, we have time.
|
None
|
Aljhaqu
|
2023-01-24 20:47:43
|
2023-01-24 19:15:23
| 254 | 19 |
j5qc1dx
|
j5pwxnj
|
10k7qyz
|
10k7qyz
|
[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.
|
“And you say this is a game for your young?”
“Obviously. Come on Katth’eek, just put the mitt on and catch. That’s it.”
“Oh Hu’man, this is one of your people’s ‘jokes’ is it? This is clearly not a game for children. If I could laugh Hu’man, I would approve of your non-sensical making.”
“What are you talking about. Come on, let’s have a catch.”
“Oh Hu’man, you have not weighed the ball, you have not measured the gravity, or the distance between us. How do you expect to make the ball go where you want it without calculating the angle and velocity you need? You’re just going to hurl this sphere through the air and expect it to hit this…”
Thwack. Katth’eek’s mandibles dropped open as he looked at the leather on his forelimb and somehow, this weak creature was able to put the white sphere directly in the center of the “mitt”.
“That… how did you do that Hu’man. Did you take measurements while I was not present? Do you have some sort of mechanical device I cannot detect?”
“It’s just a catch buddy. Now throw the ball back to me. Well, now, that was more like a drop, just grab it and try again… well, yeah, I can’t even see where it went this time. You guys really are bad at this aren’t you?”
|
It was called Survival, pairs of each species were dropped scattered across a wasteland with no gear except clothes and 25 kilograms each of gear and supplies. Other species required much more mass to keep them alive in various conditions, humans could survive naturally in a wider variety of environments and didn't require such specialized equipment for each possible scenario. The team who Survived the longest in the wild without dying, giving up, or being incapacitated is the gold medal winner.
Watching the games spectators could watch with commentators from each race. The banner along the bottom of Humanity's Survival broadcast read, "Humanity set the record of [In Progress, beginning in GO Games MCMDCXXIV (19624... I hope) which was 5 games ago.]"
An announcer was recapping the history of the game as players began arriving to the launch point and gearing up.
"Our closest rivals in the event were the Chthizax, a race with limited ability to morph their bodies, but maintaining a form with anything above cosmetic changes consumed exponentially more and more energy to maintain. They previously held the record at 5 days, and before that 16 hours was the record for the Ami'i'aa.
The Galactic Olympic Commission has been petitioned to remove Survival from the Games because of the perceived," the announcer made air quotes, "'dominance' in the games that humanity has.
Thankfully for humanity, the GOC has refused to entertain the idea saying quote, 'Surivival is a cornerstone of the Galactic Olympic games and one that connects each race as all of us had to overcome when it wasn't a game with safety regulations and rules beyond the name of the game. Every species has a game or two they have dominance in, this game happens to be Humanity's. How quickly almost all of you have forgotten your outrage against...' and there you have it folks, Survival isn't changing and humanity continues to be the favorite. Let's get the gold for Humanity!"
|
None
|
Trevzorious316
|
2024-07-30 23:15:55
|
2024-07-30 22:57:38
| 190 | 81 |
lfqa7g4
|
lfq76z5
|
1efxp28
|
1efxp28
|
[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. "
|
I stared at my reflection in horror, unable to come to terms with what I had become. My body was now a grotesque amalgamation of tentacles, pulsating tendrils, and unrecognizable squid-like features. The once familiar image in the mirror had transformed into a nightmarish Lovecraftian creature. As the madness took hold, the reflection seemed to taunt me, its misshapen form a stark reminder of the monstrosity I had become. The sight of my twisted visage sent shivers down my spine, and I recoiled in repulsion.
The whispers in my mind grew louder, mingling with the demented laughter that echoed in the labyrinth of my thoughts. They told me to embrace the darkness, to revel in my newfound power. The tentacles that adorned my body writhed, yearning to wreak havoc and unleash unimaginable terror upon the world.
I heeded their call, my mind twisted and broken. In a frenzy, I burst out of the confines of the laboratory, my grotesque form leaving a trail of destruction in my wake. The tendrils that sprouted from my back lashed out, shredding everything in sight. I no longer recognized friend from foe, consumed by the maddening hunger for chaos.
The city streets turned into a twisted maze as I danced through the chaos like a demented marionette. Buildings crumbled, their foundations crushed under the weight of my monstrous wrath. The very fabric of reality seemed to bend at my command, warping under the weight of my delusions.But amidst the chaos, flickers of self-awareness broke through the madness. Like brief moments of lucidity, I caught glimpses of the destruction I had wrought. Innocent lives lost, families torn apart. The horror I had become brought me no satisfaction, only a deepening sense of despair.
As the military closed in, their weapons trained on me, I realized that there was no escape from the darkness within. The pulsating tendrils wriggled beneath my skin, urging me to fight, to resist capture no matter the cost. With a feral cry, I launched myself at the soldiers, each tentacle a weapon of destruction. The gunfire rang out, tearing through my flesh, but I pressed on, driven by a deranged determination to unleash chaos until my dying breath.
In the end, I collapsed, a broken mass upon the blood-soaked earth. The city smoldered behind me, testament to the havoc I had wreaked. But as the darkness consumed me, a flicker of remorse emerged from the depths of my shattered mind. I had become the very embodiment of destruction, an abomination caught between human aspiration and unfathomable madness.
|
Izeinwinter
|
Expert-Internet9519
|
2023-08-06 00:43:42
|
2023-08-05 23:44:00
| 35 | 23 |
juyy9yd
|
juyqoah
|
15j8mzq
|
15j8mzq
|
[WP] A knight has approached the dragon's cave and, vowing to rescue you at any cost, has proclaimed his undying love for you. None of this would be out of the ordinary, if you were the princess and not the dragon that captured her.
|
"Sezzira! I've long adored your self-confidence, your beautiful amber eyes, and your ability to breathe a steady stream of fire for over five minutes. Your glittering scales shine brighter than the jewels of Oakhaven, and your forked tongue makes me think the most scandalous thoughts. I'm here to ask you to abscond to me to the Wildlands where we will not be judged for our forbidden love."
Nimue and I traded looks, baffled. This was not how things were supposed to go.
"You're not here to rescue me?" Nimue asked timidly. "You know, your betrothed? Princess Valyria?"
If she hadn't stolen my crown, glamoured herself to look like me, cursed me into the shape of a dragon, and set up a ridiculous plot to get my betrothed to kill me, I would almost feel bad for the witch.
"No," Lance replied, not even deigning to spare a glance in Nimue's direction. "In fact, I never loved you. After all, our fathers arranged our marriage to cement the treaty between our kingdoms."
I winced. True, but ouch. We'd grown up together for the past twenty-six years. I'd thought we really had something good going.
"Sezzira, you are the most attractive creature I have ever met. What say you we get out of here?" he raised an eyebrow suggestively. If dragons could blush, I would have.
"No no no!" Nimue cried. "You're supposed to *kill* the dragon. "*I'm* the princess. *I'm* the one that you love."
"Yesterday's news," Lance waved a hand dismissively. He winked at me, and instantly, I knew. Someway, somehow, he had seen through Nimue's nefarious plot. I knew not what he had planned, but I trusted him implicitly. Whatever it was, I would go along with it.
\---
/r/theBasiliskWrites
|
“I shall save you, as my love for thee is undeniable and everlasting!” The knight called out boisterously.
*’here comes another one of these posers. Nothing about their schtick ever changes.’* my thoughts echo, an irritated and impatient huff of smoke leaving my nostrils.
“This is getting so old.” I mutter, before returning the call in a monotone, “yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before just come try and get the dumb princess so I can kill you, or, whatever.”
The knight seems to tilt his head after processing my words. “What? Oh, you seem to misunderstand, I’m not here for the princess, I’m here for *you.*”
A pause that lasts eternity.
“You **WHAT?!**”
“I love you, dear empress of stones! Your shimmering scales like a warm sea in the fresh dawn!”
*’apparently, I haven’t heard everything I though I did.’* I think, my face turning to confusion and slight curiosity.
“You’re in love… with *me*. A big, scary dragon who stole the princess for my own entertainment?”
“Why of course!” The knight seems offended by the notion that I was scary, or that I was doubting his love for me or whatever, I don’t really understand these humans.
“Your beauty is like no other and your heart of stone is just a concealed beauty of shimmering ruby, a light amongst your tough exterior, and all i must do is set your heart free from its forced down cage!”
“Look, kid, I don’t know what exactly you hope to accomplish here, but your not getting me or the princess so you can shut your yap. Sense you didn’t try to kill me I’ll let you go but you better hurry before I change my mind and decide to eat you anyway.”
The knight looks saddened, perhaps even heartbroken, at my words and I feel myself soften just a bit.
I bring my massive head down to him and look him in his eyes.
“Look, sir.. whatever-your-name-is… it just won’t work. I’m a dragon, you’re a human. I’m like, 10 times your size! I’m also just not interested in relationships, But, your efforts are cute.”
I hesitate for a moment, before lifting the confused and still terrified princess from her cage and set her down next to the knight.
“Alright, I feel bad, so here, take your dumb princess and go. Go home, announce your victory, make it public, and hopefully you’ll attract some other gal, *human* gal, to date, mmkay? I’ll go terrorize some other village.”
And with that, I take off, leaving the knight and princess stunned on the ground.
Huh, maybe something’s *do* change.
|
versenwald3
|
Mythica_0
|
2023-06-05 01:46:23
|
2023-06-05 01:41:53
| 60 | 45 |
jmxqw7p
|
jmxqc2x
|
140nl17
|
140nl17
|
[WP] After mistakenly transfering to a high school for monsters, you try to tell them that you're just a regular human. However, because of bizarre coincidences creating apparently inexplicable situations, the school population and teachers come to believe you're actually an Eldritch Abomination
|
The ride there was uneventful. Bus packed with kids my age. Some of them looked a little strange, with their eyes pointing different directions, another wiggling his tongue around every few seconds, but it was easily solved by seating myself far away from them and forgetting about it for the rest of the trip. I took a window seat, and a petite girl sat next to me. Best option possible, she seemed normal and I'd have a bit more personal space. The bus seemed to dip slightly as people piled on and climbed the stairs, being a double decker bus. The driver did a final check, and we were off. Soon, my eyes grew heavy, and my cheek leaned against the window. It was a long ride... a nap wouldn't hurt.
"Hey... hey, wake up. We're here!"
Huh? What time was it? There was something pressing against me, wedging me against the window. I turned my head, still half dreaming.
Yeah, I was definitely still dreaming. In place of the girl next to me was a burly, musclebound demon with a face like gleaming goat bones, and raw tendons moving where the skin should have been. Luscious black hair fell to its elbows, seeming incredibly out of place. My eyes bugged out of their sockets. I opened my mouth and tried to scream, but my voice cracked and only a whispering squeak escaped. So it was one of *those* nightmares. I needed to wake up.
"Erhm, you can change back into your own form, if you like. No pressure, obviously! I just thought it might be more comfortable."
The demon clasped its hands bashfully, long clawed fingers folding over one another. Its voice was like that of a shy teenage girl. This was one heck of a dream. What was I thinking of her during my ride here? I shook my head forcefully, slapping my cheeks. Wake up.
"N-no? Okay, I understand! That's alright."
It smiled, mouth sliding ajar, revealing three rows of human teeth. Holy fucking shit. Cold sweat began beading on my forehead. I pinched my arm. And then pinched it again. It hurt, but in a suspiciously lifelike way. This dream was way too real. My eyes roamed past the massive shoulders (*her* massive shoulders?) And finally took in the rest of the bus.
Here and there, sitting amongst the rest of the students, were monsters. The bus was dusky with slow evening light, illuminating the three headed dog, panting excitedly as its faces looked out the windows. The guy next to that appeared bored. The yellow skinned monster with a periscoping neck, studded with large fleshy turquoise bumps, and in place of a head, needle like teeth that gnashed periodically. Across the aisle, a writhing mass of tendrils sat in its chair. Panic beginning to rise as my denial shrank, I looked to the driver for some sanity. Maybe we could turn this bus around. Maybe I could go home. This was a hallucination of epic proportions. I had finally gone insane. Something.
Reflected in the rear view mirror, the driver smiled to himself as he hummed. His skeletal face smiled back. My heart fell out of my ass. No...
A building loomed overhead, if it could be called that. It was absolutely massive, with gothic architecture and basins of flame at the entrance, gargoyles... wait that one was real. The bus screeched to a halt, and my stomach dropped. This couldn't be real. Our driver reached for the intercom mic and held it to his mouth with a spindly hand of bone, its springy telephone cord extending. His voice crackled to life over the loudspeakers.
"WE'VE ARRIVED. PLEASE GRAB ALL OF YOUR BELONGINGS AS YOU EXIT THE CABIN IN AN **ORDERLY** FASHION. ANY MISSING ITEMS WILL BE AUCTIONED OFF AT THE SCHOOL STORE. WELCOME TO THE ACADEMY OF GEHENNA."
Some of the students looked around, some of the monsters clapped. The bored looking guy rolled his eyes at the excitement, and a general commotion of chatter filled the vehicle. And all of a sudden... the remaining students all morphed. Face expanding, skin stretching and boiling, clothes melting in an acid hiss onto the floor. Spine elongating, scales flashing as they rolled out from their hiding place in a wave. The rest of the humans transformed into monsters... and I was the only one left. The only human on the bus for an academy of monsters.
My face drained of blood. I thought I would be sick. Maybe I was in a coma. I died in a car crash on the way to my actual normal private high school. Maybe my parents secretly hated me. Maybe all of humanity were actually monsters. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be-
"Hey! My name's Lyscha by the way. Don't forget your stuff!"
The demon next to me stood up, and the weight at my side was suddenly relieved. She smiled at me, horrifyingly, and reached into the overhead compartment to grab her luggage, a lavender suitcase with a felt flower tied to the handle.
"Actually, while I'm at it, where's yours? Is it this one?"
She easily palmed my black travel luggage and showed it to me, head tilting questioningly, her pupils burning pinpoints of hellfire. I swallowed, my throat like chalk.
"Yeah, that's the one. Thanks."
|
An Eldritch abomination? Does anyone even know what that means? Many claim they do, but the truth is a rather complex set of circumstances that can make you one and if you are skilled enough you can still go back if you didn't do anything preventing you from entering the light side again. Truth be told, anyone can join the light side but if your deeds in the darkness were too numerous it can hurt a lot. Do you want a lesson in the ways of light and darkness? If so, then following lines will clarify essentials of the theory of cosmic powers.
There are two basic aspects dividing the Universe in two competing powers driving the evolution forward, which essentially makes both of them valuable as with one side prevailing, the Universe slows its development, possibly even degenerating the prevailing side until both of them are even again. Essentially a predator and prey dynamics from ecosystems known even throughout the Earth. So far many of you knew about this even before, but here comes the news rarely stumbled upon.
Light and darkness are words not chosen randomly. Just like color white reflects light and darkness absorbs it, the two sides work in comparable ways. Beings of light emit a powerful source of energy known as the Force, while beings of darkness drag the light into themselves, feeding themselves on everything that lives. This is why darklings and monsters can grow so powerful as they are not limited to their own source, but they can slay thousands and as such grow to immense power, but on the other hand cutting them away from life slowly kills them while beings of light shine just as bright in complete isolation.
Both light and dark aspects have fundamental forces of Universe at their disposal. Darkness grants you time and reality manipulation powers just as ability to use souls, while light side favours intellect, physical strength and expansion through space. This might sound confusing, but in short it means achieving transcendence through omnipotent technology allowing the most powerful beings of light to quickly travel through space and settle distant stars using power of their immense intellect and physical power granted to them through the use of technology.
Darkness on the other hand grows through consuming light and using it to alter reality, control the flow of time and summon new souls. This is essentially what's called magic and manifestation. Beings of dark achieve transcendence through biological evolution and as such they are frequently numerous and many of them die at a young age as a way to filter through infinite number of designs nature can evolve into.
Do you want to hear a little secret? Every being of light can decide to start consuming light of others and every darkling can decide to stop feeding itself light, go through the process of purge and start radiating its own light.
This is where the battle begins. It is a well kept secret a sense of what it means to be a dark being can be transferred through sonic waves and as such music became a weapon of the dark side. Slipknot's Antennas to Hell are more than just the name of an album. They can actually turn you into a dark being, which can easily bring you to Hell. Do you want to know how? It all starts with the lack of education.
Darkness is essentially a feeling and as such it can be induced. It feels almost like a sucking of outer energy through your body, which feels good and after some time, it even makes you feel the power of the dark side. It all starts with awareness of the light, which is essentially an ability known as Force tracking. You will become aware of life around you, feeling it almost like a physical field of a magnet all around your body. It starts with close proximity, but eventually you will be able to sense all life many miles away from you.
This is my story. Unbeknownst to me, magic is real and I managed to fall for it out of ignorance and curiosity. It started with listening to Slipknot, which induced in me a new feeling I was not aware of, I then started sensing life around, at first just a few meters from me, but later many miles away. It suddenly started to feel real nice to imagine drawing that life into myself, first from a couple of meters away, but later I imagined large tentacles spanning through the most potent energy sources many miles away, which caused my energetic body to swell into gigantic proportions and that was essentially beginning of an end.
By that time I was a powerful magician with might rivalling the best in class, all of it without even knowing how magic operates. I just felt it like a second nature and spells obeyed me just the way I intended. Combine it with an astral body of a giant and you are surely in a problem. There are people that can see auras everywhere and with energetic body that is hundred meters tall you have no way to hide. Following month I was killed and brought to underground Dark Academia for monsters of all kinds, where I finally realized that what I was doing was real and I was actually hurting people. Thousands of people at once, all of them just a little bit, but I was a dark being none the less.
Afterwards I quickly switched back to radiating light, which was effortless as my karmic debt was quite small and I worked through it in a matter of days. Now I radiate light just as any other human, my magic powers are almost gone and so is my stay at the school I got myself into by accident. What should I say? Basic magical awareness should be taught even to humans so that they won't fall for the first trap they come across and with Spotify so widely available many of them will encounter their first taste of darkness. Why not to teach them about it and make sure they know how to resist in the first place?
|
Hikure
|
None
|
2024-01-08 07:49:33
|
2023-12-25 09:27:48
| 26 | 13 |
kgv6g1y
|
keuidz3
|
18q5jpu
|
18q5jpu
|
[WP] a king has received the standard prophecy that his youngest daughter will be the one to kill him but instead of reacting as "get this baby out of my sight an abandoned it somewhere in the woods for it to die" he accepts his fate and dinner time is made very awkward
|
“I can’t possibly kill you, papa!” The little princess, Dayang, exclaimed at the top of her lungs. The thought of having to kill her father made her spine shiver. After all the years, King Lapu showed nothing but kindness and genuine love towards her. “I can’t… I don’t want to…”
The king lay on his bed, bedridden and weak. An illness has brought him nothing but suffering, barely able to breathe and was forced to breathe through his mouth. “My dearest, Dayang,” he held her hand, his body trembling weakly. “It must be done… I cannot live any longer, and the prophecy is near.”
“But… but I love you, papa!”
“And I love you most, but the goddess of death, Sidapa, is calling to me.”
When she first learned about the prophecy, the little girl simply laughed at the absurdity of it all. To think that she has to kill her father, a man with a heart of pure gold, made her chuckle. Dayang saw them as mere rumors, constantly joking about how she would take the throne by assassinating her father.
Until now.
“I will not let that damn goddess collect your soul!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Despite her blasphemous words, she knew she couldn’t control death, that the goddess was too powerful to avoid. “I’ll fight Magwayan and force her to keep you with me. I’ll go through the Kasakitan and bring you back! I love you, papa! Please don’t leave me!”
Her words were selfish, yes. But her love was sincere. All her life, no one liked her because of the prophecy. Her siblings took her jokes about killing the king seriously, causing them to drift apart. But the one person who loved her unconditionally was her father.
The king simply smiled weakly at her, reaching out to cup her cheek in a loving caress. “I love you, my dearest. And I will always continue to love you even if you kill me…” King Lapu’s hands reach out to grab Dayang’s knife, placing it on her hands. “I’m proud of you, Dayang. I’m… proud.”
The next morning, the little princess announced the death of King Lapu. Her expression unreadable, but the people knew the self-loathing in her heart. The grief she had to endure.
The prophecy has been fulfilled.
|
The king sat slumped over his bowl of soup, lifeless eyes staring forward into oblivion. “Gods, Martha. What have you done to the king?” said the king’s servant as he entered the dining hall carrying what was to be the next course.
“She shot him in the back of the head.” said Thelma, the king’s eldest daughter. The king’s youngest daughter, Martha, stood next to him, tears flowing freely with her head buried in her hands. “I didn’t mean to do it!” She yelled at Thelma with as much venom as she could muster. “It was an accident, you know I would never do anything intentionally to hurt our father!”
“That doesn’t change the fact that he died.” Said Thelma flatly in response to Martha’s outburst. “The battle was firmly in our grasp until your misstep. Now we have to meet back up with the kings of Palmu and Kard to strategize for the next round of fighting. If they even wish to remain our allies at this point.”
The king’s servant looked confused, unaware of what conflict was being referenced by the royal family. He chose to remain silent in order to not reveal his lack of knowledge.
“Surely they will not abandon us in our hour of need after everything we have been through together.” argued Martha. “We have been through countless battles with them as our most trusted allies.”
“Perhaps now they see weakness in our ranks”, the servant jumped as the king lifted his head and spoke for the first time since dinner started, “and wish to join our enemies who have more combat prowess in their royal lineages.”
“Father…I” Martha began, trying to make pleading eye contact with her father.
“Silence, daughter.” said the king, not turning to look at her. “This event was foretold years before your birth by a witch that appeared in a dream. She told me “one day, many years from now, you’ll make a plan with your allies to rush A and your youngest daughter will make an error that leads to your death and the loss of the battle.” I refused to believe it at the time because I knew no offspring of mine would make such a novice mistake.”
Martha was staring at her plate, on the verge of weeping again. Massive tears welling up and threatening to soak her face and carve flowing canyons through her makeup.
The king exhaled an accepting sigh, “Martha, my daughter, look at me. I love you more than anything in the world. I apologize for my outburst and I promise it will not happen again. Now that this has happened, I can stop living my life in fear.”
“I love you more than anything too, father. Shall I go contact the other kings and let them know we’re ready to continue the next round?” Martha reached out to hold her father’s hand.
The king reached out and squeezed his daughter’s hand in return. “Yes, inform them that we are ready to crush the opposition.”
As the family departed the dining hall joking and laughing heartily, the servant began cleaning, glad to be done with what ended up being a very awkward dinner service for him.
|
MythologyDude22
|
AlternativeLoan6473
|
2025-01-13 07:17:32
|
2025-01-13 06:09:31
| 24 | 16 |
m6vxfdn
|
m6vq9zm
|
1i02wtc
|
1i02wtc
|
[WP] One day, the heads of all religions in the world recieve a telepathic message. "We are the Divine Protection Service, You have been removed from the care of your god for reasons of neglect. You will be entrusted to the care of a foster god."
|
It was 20 December 2025. All broadcasts—television, radio, everything!—was hijacked by an extraordinary message. All screens were displaying the same text, even the ones broken or not plugged in. Entire warehouses of monitors just suddenly switched on without power supply. The white-on-black text stated
"Your god has been removed due to Divine Neglect. Please wait while we work on solving the issue. Thank you for your patience."
The text appeared in all spoken languages, depending on the native language of the viewer. On the radio, the message was transmitted via Morse code.
To say it was puzzling would be quite the understatement. Nothing else happened for 3 more days. Except that's a lie. Way too many things happened. Society didn't completely break down everywhere, but the disobedience was anything but civil in most places. Most religious figures tried to curb the event to their liking. "Testing our faith" was the most liked phrase. Some sceptics escaped into conspiracy theories. In their defence, suddenly those sounded a lot more rational, now that the alternative was a belief in an actual … service or agency of divine caretaking.
3 days. On Tuesday, 23 December 2025, something finally happened. A voice appeared to every human on Earth. Some received it on their phones, others on their televisions or radios. People who didn't have access to any of these heard it directly in their ears. It was a kind feminine voice.
"Hello, humans! We've received numerous complaints of Divine Neglect from You, as well as from concerned colleagues of your previously assigned god. We are very sorry to have put you through the previous couple million years. Your god, very unprofessionally, created your Universe and just sometimes jumped in to meddle in your affairs, instead of taking proper care of their creatures.
"We have assigned a brand new god to you. Their name is Doatoknha. They are one of those previously mentioned concerned colleagues. They will turn this horrible world of yours into a paradise, I promise. I'll now let them take it from here. Good luck!"
There was brief pause. A much deeper voice spoke up.
"So, everyone should be awake by now. Hopefully curing the deaf worked, too. I am Doatoknha, your new divine caretaker. You can just simply call me "God". I assume not all of you will appreciate this little stunt of ours, but hopefully we'll get through these differences soon.
"First off, we'll be working on violent conflicts between your 'nations'. They absolutely have to go before we do anything else."
|
Faith is an emotion on its own. To embark on a journey of faith, true faith is a right on its own.
Some people have recently lost that right. They called themselves the champions, the flag bearers of their religion but instead they forgot the one thing that made faith the most powerful force in the world, humanity.
We have been watching Earth since the dawn of man. We watched them learning to stand on their legs. We watched them when they found the wonderful thing that was fire. We also watched as they created the factions of God. It didn't matter. God was a multi-headed entity. Every religion saw just one face. Some religions saw more than one face and that was agreeable too.
But we also watched when humanity turned on each other. We watched when they used the name of God as an excuse for their sins. We watched when they started considering themselves God. We watched and watched and watched.
We watched when one day God couldn't take it anymore. We watched him see the world he built with so much love being destroyed by the ones he created, the ones he loved. We watched him leave.
And we knew that we won't be able to watch anymore.
*
*Send a message in every language possible*
We, the members of the Divine Protection Services, have found the mass cases of neglect and thereby you are being removed from the custody of God. You will shortly receive a message about your Foster God.
Yours sincerely,
Themara
Divine Protection Services.
*
We saw the confused faces of the religious heads. They clearly thought that it was some sort of hallucination. But they didn't dismiss it. Instead all of them claimed to be god's vessel. The one God trusts the most.
We laugh at their naivete and their sense of grandeur. They just lost the protection of the parent who loved them unconditionally, the parent who was so saddened by the state of his children that he couldn't take it anymore.
We just hope humanity has prepared themselves for their Foster God.
*
We watched as the Foster God arrived at Earth waiting for a warm welcome. Even a tepid one would have worked instead of the tepid silence he got.
They considered him a trickster. A mockery. But it still hasn't settled that he would be their God for the foreseeable future.
They don't know who they have pissed off.
*
Should we do something? The question was uttered daily in the halls of Divine Protection Services. But no one answered. We weren't afraid. We were intrigued.
We have always thought that God loved his creations unconditionally, even when they sought to destroy. But the new one, the new one reminded everyone that there are consequences to their actions.
He slowly but surely straightened out the creases on the cloth of humanity. He never chose a policy of silent treatment or having a chance to learn from their countless mistakes.
He adopted a more hands-on approach. Humanity will have faith if they don't know what to have faith in.
And the changes were already visible. The tides have turned towards the better.
Everyone at the Divine Protection Services knew that the Foster God was what Earth needed. But they also knew that God would return.
And isn't that the most condemning thought any person who had faith could have?
***
[You can find more of my stories at r/iknowthisischeesy]
Also I apologise in advance. I'm literally typing this half asleep.
|
SciEnjoyer
|
iknowthisischeesy
|
2023-07-25 20:27:22
|
2023-07-25 19:40:13
| 140 | 51 |
jtfkt55
|
jtfd593
|
159czme
|
159czme
|
[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...
|
No one really understood my powers , everyone kind of thought I just coasted through classes but that I was constantly called to the head office and that things just always worked out for me, the only person who knows is the headmaster , they can exist out of space time so they kind of know when my power has been used… well most of the time… sometimes it exceeds even there capabilities… see my power keeps me safe at all times and life will rewind and change the flow of events to try and save me if I’m ever hurt badly… was Jerry going to punch me with a steam powered punch? And did it cause enough damage ? Suddenly events change and it just so happens someone swings a door open in his face and like magic I fully am healed from any damage. If it’s something major enough like me dying, well my powers reset me even further back, I like to call this one “reloading”, it’s the one that even the headmaster doesn’t fully know about.
The headmaster knows I can’t control it , sometimes people have gotten badly hurt by it , Tiana accidentally got a few broken bones when instead of kicking me she managed to kick the iron wall of Hank just happening to walk by.
But today something felt strange , and the headmaster seemed uneasy as he motioned me into his office.
“ I have a task for you and it’s only for you “
I was puzzled , my powers never really were good for “tasks” more like a reset if things went wrong
“ umm what exactly can I do for you , am I a fail safe again for everyone to think just was along for the ride?”
He looked over to me and shook his head
“No I’m afraid this time you are the main show in a sense , you mentioned once if you died that the world wouldn’t just change so events didn’t happen but you could actually go back and change them right, I know it’s happened before but even I can’t find where in the multiverse it happened in all of space time , it’s like your power erases and resets the universe , the only way I know is because I can see something is gone “
I was a bit surprised he knew, but he had complete control over his power and would frequently jump between timelines and universes but I never heard him explain it that way before
“ well what exactly is it that you want from me then ? That power only works when I die “
“Precisely , and die you will on this task , many times probably”
I was shocked , what task could he have for me to intentionally die?
He looked over at me with grief in his eyes
“ everyone was poisoned in the school , including you , and the culprit is someone like me… that can exist out of space time…. And sadly I can’t stop them … only you can find them and corner them… and erase them… “
That feeling I had…. Was it the poison? Is that why several staff and students were out sick today and everyone seemed out of it? I looked up to see the headmaster walking toward me before I felt a sharp pain in my chest with his hand phased through it
“ this will be less painful then the poison , it’s a mercy really , you know your task, save us….”
His last words resonating as the universe around me crumbled away and I felt myself fade
|
Mimic
I'm not looking for a complex life, but that's really hard when life wants to make you complex. Mutants are rare in this society. Only about 1 in every 100,000 has some kind of abnormality about them. Some developed flight, super strength, telekinesis, etc. Simple things you know? My odds were slim, but I was born with a mutation. But it's complex... Messy.
If I could put it simply I can shapeshift. But it goes a little farther. I can copy the genetic makeup of any living thing I touch. I can create, replicate, copy, and manipulate the cells in my body to pretty much do whatever I need them to do. There are other shape shifters out there but they're powers only extend to shifting from one form to another, my shifting is more fluid.
But it didn't start out this way. My body would randomly shift and turn into grotesque looking forms. I tried to hide it from my parents but the day I almost devoured the family dog because we were having a territorial dispute was the day I couldn't risk their safety. So I left.
When the headmaster found me, he knew instantly what I could do. I never even told him, he just knew. like two apex predators we could sense each other and what the other was capable of. I don't know exactly what the headmaster can do, but I know that if we ever fought the city, or at the very least the surrounding area would not survive.
The first words he ever spoke to me were,"How do you feel?" A simple question with a not so simple answer. "Like I have the power of life itself in the palm of my hand. I can be whatever and whoever I want. I have the instincts of every creature on earth. I could probably cure every known disease or create a poise that kills the whole earth. It all a huge weight to bear. But I don't want any of it, I just want to live the way everyone else does. But that seems like an impossibility and I don't know what to do." The headmaster didn't say anything as I continued to talk about my problems. Problems that no one in the world has. When I was finished he simply said. "Then let me help you carry this burden, as long as it is yours.
Over the next year I worked with the headmaster to hone my mutation and push it's limits. The mutation that was on my official paperwork was simple shape shifting. We had decided that a chameleon was the only thing I could shift into, due to my fondness for reptiles and slight jealousy that they could fade into the background. As time passed I could shift different parts of my body into different forms. Growing new appendages was hard at first, painful even, but the headmaster helped me broaden my horizons and think outside the box by removing the pain receptors in that part of my body, then growing the new limb was painless and the pain receptors could be grown in after. It even got to the point where I could create cells that could harmlessly enter a human body via skin contact, have those cells create copies and then retrieve them back to my own body and duplicate the copies endlessly. Thus I could shift into anything and anyone and even use their powers if they also had a mutation.
Progress was slow but I eventually became a living embodiment of what genetics were really capable of. But this isn't the life I wanted. I wanted simple, so I pretended I was just a simple guy with a simple mutation. Until came the day when I couldn't pretend any more.
The Kaiju that attacked San Francisco was big. No one knew where it had come from, only that it rose from the ocean one day and descended upon the city like an avalanche descends on a helpless climber. The military was quick to respond but they were no match for the behemoth. It tore through buildings, bridges and anything that stood in it's way. Nothing could stand up to this monster, even with every mutant working together, it wouldn't be enough. There was nothing that anyone could do. We'll... Almost nothing.
|
Omnizoom
|
Knightsforever
|
2023-01-20 03:27:56
|
2023-01-20 03:14:26
| 51 | 24 |
j53j4t6
|
j53hbu9
|
10gh68v
|
10gh68v
|
[WP] Humans are the proverbial "Sleeping Giant," and thus make remarkably good deterrents. A common tactic of the Galactic Federation is to simply call in a human warship, such as the USS "Fuck Around and, FindOut," and simply let it sit nearby. Peace Talks happen within the week.
|
The hustle and bustle of the bridge provides plenty of ambient noise for my thoughts. Another deployment. Somebody Fucked Up.
If there was one thing I hated it was territory disputes. Just stupid time wasting bullshit, The universe is literally full of god damn rocks just expand in a different direction nobody is that close to each other!
​
But noooooo, here we are deploying the **USS BLACK STAR** (affectionally called F.A.F.O. anywhere the crew thinks they're out of the brass's earshot) to some backwater hole in the 8th quadrant.
​
Checking the data-brief a second time it seems like some explorers started terraforming a planet that another species was using as a nursey. Fucking yikes, no wonder the Ggrraattuull were out for blood.
We'd have to discourage them of course, a few dead kids doesn't warrant genociding these Valkrin idiots. Even if I personally think they have it coming for doing a shit job surveying the planet before trying to *completely change the god damn biosphere*. I swear, damn kids these days.
​
Seriously, who terraforms a planet? Just travel a little farther and find one that's already how you want it. Unless these Valkrin had some really exotic needs it was a complete waste of resources.
​
Before I can really get worked up into a good rant Engineering pings confirmation for spat-trans. I grab my own comm, cough to clear my voice and speak, "Attention all crew, this is your Captain speaking, you have 15 seconds to bolt your asses down before we spatial translocate into the target system. Get to it!"
​
The bridges murmurs quiet down as Engineering counts us down to one. And then we translocate, ripping ourselves from the universe in a mix of scientific might and unholy arcane fuckery I will never understand and proceeding to beat reality over the head repeatedly until it agrees that yes we really were over there the entire time and we were never actually here.
​
We cross 27 billion lights years in a single second. A violent explosion dwarfing any natural supernova births our arrival as we punch our way into position. And then before the wave of destruction can annihilate the local system it reverses course and crashes back into us, recharging the **BLACK STAR**'s capacitors.
​
Engineering confirms our position is within tolerances; we're not going to pull anything out of orbit this time, and in about 20 minutes our Ggrraattuull friends should recover from having their sensors flooded by our arrival.
​
Standard drone deployments of daisy chained sensor and comm units are already rocketing deeper into the system even as our mass drivers cycle and dry fire incase they are needed. Plasma mortar's are warmed up. Laser batteries are operational, and our gravity distortion is only 37% at idle. Fantastic.
​
At the 21 minute mark our drones are close enough to begin communication. Time to be diplomatic.
"Greetings Ggrraattuull attack fleet. I am Captain Samuel Briggs of the **USS BLACK STAR** you have no doubt noticed my ships arrival some 21.36 minutes ago Your sensors, assuming they haven't fried, are not malfunctioning. The **USS BLACK STAR** is indeed a bound singularity and if you do not cease attacking immediately *I will park it on your homeworld. End transmission."*
My weapons team is top notch. Just behind my transmission, timed to arrive just as I finish and accounting for the gravity lensing of our own singularity is a full laser battery to destroy most of the attack fleet. The plasma mortar's 3 minutes behind them will clean up the rest, sparing only the capital ship to limp back home.
​
Fantastic, we'll hand the footage off the whoever gets assigned to broker peace between these idiots and be home in time for dinner.
|
Humanity had a destiny.
Or so we thought. Since the first fire was shared between one of our ancient plains dwelling ancestors and another. Our species slowly, generation after generation, became more capable of selflessness.
It had many labels throughout the centuries, from goodness to godliness. It's core ideology was framed sometime in the 1900th as Communism. So unspoken up until that point and so poorly executed in its attempted practice, that it caused the flames of unity to darken for nearly a thousand years.
Yet it lived on with new names, its core ideals still a part of every member of the species core potential.
Through the many, many generations mankind warred against itself. Man killed Man, brother slayed brother, children and women and all those in between. Race and gender, location and dialects. All created within mankind fear of the unknown and distrust. In our fear we lashed out in violence. In our ignorance of one another we came to blows. Time and time again mankind blew upon the fire of unity with an unrelenting force, that should in truth, in our arrogance, have led to complete and total destruction of our species.
We became masters of death and destruction. Warlords and Generals. Like rotting wood within the flames, it tainted the purity of the flame of unity, even as it tried to snuff it out.
Some men were sick with the taint of it. Broken inside, twisted by cold and though it is our shame, we accept those terrors as part of us. Or histories and hard learned lessons.
Our bloody path to unity.
And yet, each generation crawled forwards. Each cycle of youths, could see flaws in their elders and make effort to alter. And their progeny likewise. And so it was that the flames of unity survived. Within the hope for something better.
Until it was, that a generation rose that saw the path behind and knew instinctively the path ahead. They did not hold power as their elders. And not wanting to take on the selfish traits of their predecessors they waited and planned. Knowing that any alternative was selfishness they began to preach their message. They had only spread word of the future to their peers and the next generations. They had watched their predecessors build great masterworks of efficiency and productivity in the pursuit of coin. And they saw that it was necessary. For without both, the people could not be united. Without the pursuit of gold of their fathers and forefathers, they would not have been able to do what was done.
It did not come in a great war or battle. Men did not scream and wail at its arrival. For they knew it was generational and each parent and child, teacher and student, passed forward the ideals. Slowly, painstakingly and then it was. We had reached what we believed to be our destiny.
And then, we were finally accepted outside of our little planet. it was not until the full unity of mankind that we were contacted by the Galactic federation. The many peoples of the stars of the milky way galaxy. Thousands of worlds, all functioning within independent versions of their species unity.
But from our history, we could not hide. For they had watched us in horror. Mankind, the true, black sheep of the entire galaxy. The only species to not hold unity at its conception.
While we killed our brothers, other species could not comprehend hatred of their own. And so had not come to arms until they had walked the stars alongside other people's and systems.
Where mankind had forged itself outside of unification, we walked the stars as a terror of unspeakable potential for death. Yet we sought unity among the stars, like we had with all our own nations and peoples and even the non-sapient creatures and plant life of our world.
We were first contacted by the Galactic federation warmly. The greatest minds of the milky way, finally agreeing that we as a species had reached the common ground required to parlay. And offered a position to join, if we accepted a given role to play within our new community.
Watch dogs and protectors, those who all other species feared for their unity forged not born. Some believed us the wisest, others the most foolish. But all held fear of mankind's history and potential for that which no other in the Galaxy understood. We began to believe that just maybe, our destiny was greater still? That we could be the ones to bring unity to the stars.
Until an archeologist student found a bone. Until it was passed on to a geneticist. Until mankind quietly discovered..
**the betrayal of the makers**
|
Watchin_World_Die
|
Ihavebadreddit
|
2023-03-07 04:39:53
|
2023-03-07 04:30:15
| 79 | 35 |
jb8caxa
|
jb8b9zt
|
11keke0
|
11keke0
|
[WP] You've been summoned as a hero of legend to save a medieval fantasy world from evil. Same old, same old. However, it very quickly dawns on you that a medieval world's idea of "evil" is quite incompatible with what you, a modern person, would consider evil.
|
I gripped my sword tightly and walked towards the stone mansion hidden deep in the woods. For a den of evil and debauchery, it looked surprisingly... mundane. Yet the quest I was given upon my summoning was clear; the pleas of the distraught king apparent. Whoever - or whatever - was hiding inside this house was committing crimes most heinous, an affront to nature itself.
And *just in case* the sword wasn't going to cut it, I checked the magazine in the Glock I brought with me. A perk of being summoned from the 21st century to fulfil an epic quest. 17 bullets. Holster opened. Round chambered.
Good to go.
I approached the door and opened it with utmost care. I was almost disappointed when it didn't theatrically creak, instead just swinging open smoothly. What was beyond the door shook me down to my core.
Fountains of blood! Skulls of the innocent stacked into a chair! Green flames from hell itself!
A... green rug.
I mean I expected to see rivers of blood and stuff, real Hellraiser material, not... a cushy rug and a sofa. My pondering was cut short when I heard footsteps approaching.
"You!" a voice sounded from down the hallway. "What the blazes are you doing here?!"
Seconds later, the source of the voice walked in; a young woman with red hair tied into a bun and freckled cheeks. She wore a fairly loose white sundress, yet no shoes. The only remotely threatening thing about her was an eyepatch across her left eye. That and the fire poker she was brandishing.
"Meolda? Meolda the-" I started.
"If you finish that sentence with 'The Dark' I'll show you a piece of my mind!" she hissed.
This wasn't what I was expecting.
"It's over, Meolda," I calmly continued. "Your evil deeds will not go unpunished."
"Did *those morons* send you?" she asked. This, too, took me aback.
"...beg your pardon?"
"The King. The townsfolk. Did they send you to kill me?"
"Well... yes," I nodded.
"Oh of course they did. They-"
"Meolda, is everything all right?" a new voice said, soon revealed to be an equally young man with frazzled brown hair and thick spectacles that joined Meolda's side.
"Another '*adventurer*' Viktor. Here to kill us, apparently," she introduced me.
"That's what you get for your evil-"
"Is this about the reverse seeing glass?" Viktor asked. I frowned.
"The what?"
"My latest project. I assure you, there is no dark magic at play! It is merely a series of polished lenses that allows me to inspect things most minute-"
"Wait, are you talking about a *microscope*?" I asked. The two looked at each other.
"Micro... scope. Micro... small... oh, that is a *marvellous* name for it, good sir!" Viktor said excitedly. "I'll be sure to credit you in my memoirs."
"Things they don't understand, stranger," Meolda said carefully. "Things that scare them. That's why they want you to kill us. Will you?"
"Look, the testimonies were pretty clear," I said. "People saw a mutilated human body not too far from here; caught you red-handed moving it. Are you denying you did that?"
"Oh..." Viktor sighed. "Yes, well... that *was* us, yes."
I gripped my sword tighter with one hand, the other reaching behind my back for my gun.
"Have you ever heard of the term 'dissection' ?" he asked.
"I... yes."
"Impressive, good sir," Viktor nodded. "You see, a plague has recently gripped the nearby village. The poor man whose body we... dissected was struck down by it - we wished to inspect it further to perhaps uncover the secret of the disease. Maybe even find a way to reverse it."
"Then why were you dragging the body about?"
"We were trying to bury him, damn you!" Meolda snapped. "Then some idiot lumberjacks saw us and chased us away before we could! Not like we could bury him in our garden. He'd attract scavengers."
I loosened the grip on my sword and let its tip rest on the ground.
"Are you two just... scientists?" I asked.
"Yes!" Meolda cried out. "That's all we want! To progress knowledge in peace, but-"
"But," Viktor continued solemnly, "they do not... understand or approve. We go against the 'Will of the Gods' in their eyes."
"And the thing about you two being of no moral stuff is..."
Viktor and Meolda grab each other's hands.
"We've not married yet, yes," Meolda explained, "but we see this as no reason not to enjoy-"
"Oh for FUCK'S SAKE!" I yelled loudly and threw my sword to the side. "Waste of my GODDAMN TIME!"
The two scientists looked at each other curiously.
"Are... are you alright?"
"I- yes!" I scoffed. "I mean, no, not really. This is a... I could've been catching the latest movie but noo, instead, I have to spend 6 hours crawling through a thick forest to go and 'Kill the Evil Warlock and his Harlot Witch' only to find..." I said and pointed towards them, "you two. *Harmless*."
"So you... mean us no harm?" Viktor asked.
"No," I pouted.
"Good," Meolda said and put her fire poker down. Then, she released her grip on the lever behind her back I was yet to see. "We are not *harmless*, sir. We are *peaceful*," she said and pointed to the ceiling above me. I squinted my eyes and saw a trapdoor, ready to open and drop... something on top of me. I presumed something *heavy*.
I chuckled. "Well played. Also... what is this about you wielding lightning?"
"Oh, yes!" Viktor said excitedly and, seemingly trusting me already, ran past me towards the door and showed me a paper kite. "You see, I attached a simple metal wire right below the kite and when the next storm happened, it-"
I laughed. "It conducted the lightning to the ground," I finished for him.
Their eyes went wide. "Are you a man of science?"
"Just... not from around here."
"We're trying to find a way to harness this power. If we could find a way to do so, the implications-"
"We'll need copper, zinc, a bit of silver, cloth and brine. Do you have those?"
They exchanged confused looks.
"Yes, why?"
I grinned. "I'm going to show you something... *shocking*."
|
The night has come, the torches are lit, the crowd is chanting.
"Smite the wicked, bless the pure of heart."
The circle has been drawn with the entrails of animals, the stench is magnified by the heat, the miasma whirls as the voices get louder.
"Hunt the shadows, deliver us from evil."
The old man stood in the middle of the circle holding a cat o'nine tails dripping with the blood of his shredded back. Droplets fell, turning to smoke as they came in contact with the circle.
"Thy will be done."
The circle burst in flames, the old man was engulfed, his thin body turning to ashes, his soul gone before he could elicit a cry of pain. In his stead, a young, healthy, and strong man. He opened his eyes, saw a villager slipping a ring onto his finger.
"To understand our language," said the villager.
They bring clothes, they bring a sword. One is about to give excuses and point him in the direction of danger. The hero tries to cut her off and explain they got the wrong person, to no avail.
"The woods. There is a grove in there, hidden to our untrained eyes. A coven nests there, their influence creeps across the land like tendrils. At dusk, we see the malignious influence coalesce into darkness and raising to dim the sun. Soon, the coven will turn light to shadow, and the world made by God will be theirs to toy with. Already, foes are raiding from the South, encouraged by the darkness. The land is sick. Help us."
Slowly, the hero went on his way, because he didn't know what else to do.
"My wife is among them," said a villager, "if you could get her out alive so I can put her back into the kitchen and give her the daily slap like we used to, I would appreciate it. I miss the old days."
The hero stopped in his tracks. Then turned.
"Wait. What?"
"Well," the middle-aged redhead started, "we had a good thing going. Seven children, she cooked and took care of them, she did as I told her..."
"Yeah, my wife is there too," added another, "shame women never understand how good they have it."
Jean-René de Beauregard, a twenty-first century french banker and painfully aware they had gotten the ritual wrong for he was anything but a hero, raised both hands like a teacher being exceedingly careful about the question he was about to ask.
"Is any of these witches *not* from a place where she got slaps and was used as a breeding-mare?"
There was a long silence. Even the wind was ashamed.
"They are women," said a voice hidden by the villagers, "what else are we supposed to do with them?"
"And besides, they are responsible for the increase of monstrous raiders. They are black like the night."
Jean-René rubbed his temples.
"When you say black..."
"Their skin."
"You sound more bothered by the color of their skin than by the fact they are, you know, raiding you."
"I don't mind the raiding, as long as I'm being ravaged and pillaged by good Christians."
Jean-René considered for a little while the benefits of slashing his throat right here, right now. Alas, he was not yet advanced enough in the field of suicidal depression.
"You can't just kill someone because they are black! Or not christians!"
The audible, collective gasp made him immediately regret his words.
"We summoned the antechrist," whispered a voice.
"Are you sure?" replied another, "I thought the antechrist would be black."
"That's awfully racist," mumbled Jean-René.
"What does racist mean?"
"Look," Jean-René felt the headache rising, "I will... solve the problems. Try to, at least. Okay? Then you'll get me back home and we forget the conversation."
He left before an answer came.
Moving shadows, oppressive noise and the usual you can find in a dark forest at night, use your imagination, I don't have to describe everything, you know?
Anyway, with the power of goodness on his side, Jean-René found the conclave by virtue of following a wild boar that had come to sniff his foot before going on its way merrily.
Witches, grimy, deadly, surrounding a boiling cauldron from which the smell of chicken came. Humans smelled the same, but for common courtesy's sake, Jean-René pretended it was chicken.
Words were spoken in a cursed language, shadows took shape to engulf the foolish hero, who had only a moment to defend himself.
"Rejoice! In a few centuries, women will have the same rights as men, they will have medicine to have sex without getting pregnant, and they will hold leadership positions like men."
The shadow was clearly taken aback by the very idea. The conclave, like a single organism, decided unanimously that the hero was batshit insane.
"I'm not," said the hero afflicted with a migraine, "I come from that period."
"But..." started a young witch, "maybe we can accelerate it?"
"Alas, no," Jean-René's voice was deep and understanding, "time measures all, and what must be, will be in due time. Fighting now will only lead to an increased repression for you and your sisters, fear will fortify the church, a church that is glad you exist for it ensures faith will not waver. It is the simple questions who will bring religion down, not the great terrors."
The witches nodded solemnly, not realizing Jean-René was running on complete improvisation and talking out of his ass.
"We... shall return then," said what appeared to be a leader.
"But I will still raid!"
A black, burly man had spoken.
"They fear us, and the day will do nothing to dim this fear. I lead a host that has never gone so far up North, and when I will return, it will as king. Riches to be taken, the white, weak man to be slaughtered, their knowledge to be pilfered, and-"
"-Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah I wouldn't do that if I was you."
"Oh?"
"Well, in roughly a few weeks of time the news will be widespread that black people are raiding white people."
"So?"
"Feuding nationd will unite and start pounding onto the South, installing colonies, despoiling the land and deporting slaves."
"Oh."
"Then they will improve the process, start piling slaves up by the dozen in shitty ships, have them die from sickness by the thousand, and sell and buy them cheaper than cattle. Methods so sick and insane you'd be better off never to get any inspiration from them."
"Ah!"
"Also, *do not* go East from here, because in a few years of time there's a dude who's about to be known for sticking pointy pieces of wood up other people's arse like a chicken about to be fried, except the chicken is human and still alive, and then he will plant the piece of wood in the ground and make forests out of impaled people. And he's got more trees than you have people."
"Screw this, I'm going home. White man's have horrible ideas, I'd rather remain simple and pure."
|
SirPiecemaker
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Ataraxidermist
|
2023-04-24 14:22:29
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2023-04-24 14:01:29
| 2,304 | 262 |
jhitcln
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jhiqft3
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12xda29
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12xda29
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[WP] A fantasy army with its generic Hollywood tactics meets a small group of Medieval Infantry who understand things like "formations" and "discipline".
|
It all began when the worlds colided.
How it happened or why, noone understood. But now new foes were marching through the land, alien kingdoms were demmanding new lands to expand. When king Andrew "the Conqueror" learned that a band of around 250 men had trespassed his frontiers, he expected the his army to easily fend off the offenders. After all, they were just 250 men armed with pole arms... and there were some children among their ranks!
And now he was sitting on the throne, listening to a messenger's report. "My lord, your army was dispersed" he said, terror in his voice. "They fought valiantly, but those strangers were able to fight off all our forces".
"How is that possible!", yelled king Andrew. "What about our griffoon raiders? Their charge is unstoppable to any known foe!"
"They were killed by lines after lines of pikes. They first killed the majestic beasts and then ended the life of their riders!"
"What about the Valkiry Warriors? They wear great swords, certainly they were able to cut the enemy polearms!"
"Just... a few, my lord. the Valkiry warrior wore no armour at all".
"Outrageous! And what about our infantry? We had over 1500 pikemen! What happened?"
"The children happened, sir". There was an incredulous silence after those words, so the messenger explained himself. "Our pikes collided with the enemy's polearms, it was an stalemate... but then our first line fell, man by man. The children that marched with the enemy warriers ran under the pikes and stabbed our warriors in the knees. That's how they were defeated".
The king sat on his throne.
"My lord, they are marching this way".
"How do they call themselves? What lord or tyrant do they serve? Maybe we can still negotiate a truce..."
"They call themselves... *Tercios Españoles,* from a foreign land called *"España"* or "*Espania"*, I'm not certain how to pronounced it. They gave me this message for your eyes only".
The messenger gave an scroll to the king. There was a message written in ink with a polished hand writting.
*"To the king called Andrew who helds the title 'the Conqueror':*
*We, the Spanish Tercios, have been tasked by king Felipe the Second to conquer this land for the greatest interest of the Spanish Empire. We stand no quarrel against you, your family or citizens. Your warriors, while foolish, fought with honor, so I know you will do the same, for only a great king can inspire such a thing in their soldiers.*
*This is the only time I will make this offer. Surrender now, king Andrew, and you shall be treated respect. If you refuse, know that it will be my honor to fight you until death embraces any of us.*
*May God bless you,*
*General Ambrosio Spínola."*
|
Mid-day 3/2/045: "Warsong's Bridge."
A soft wind blows through the encampment as I turn the haft of my spear between my gauntlets. The small detachment of our regimental engineers is sprinting between the river's shore and the nearby forest as I observe the distant swamps of Kadesh. Death's hand lingers above the regiment plucking away at the strands of my heart as the enemy legion approaches unseen miles away.
The scouts say we are outnumbered and word has gotten out that we are merely to buy time for the king's army to assemble. There won't be any escape should we be driven into the knee-deep waters of the marsh, they would sooner run us down than accept surrender. The terse rattling sounds of boots scraping against dry gravel betray the sergeant-at-arms's approach as the weathered veteran appears astride my posting.
His dour clean-shaven appearance betrays his status as the section commander as he tucks his feathered helmet under one arm. He doesn't speak for a long moment as he observes the shifting of the spear's pole in the dirt judging. My half-plate is in tatters from the march toward the front as many others as the superior speaks after returning his sight to the distant swamps bridged roadway. "Armsman."
There's no lapse between my feet and arms snap to attention and the unspoken command. Years of training with the regiment have brought my mentality into a perfect representation of mental discipline. One right face raised gaze, and the pole's stamp into the dirt is completed before I voice my completion of the order. "Sir!"
I lock eyes unblinking like the soldier I've been trained to be as the officer leisurely turns to face me. There's a look of disdain in his eyes before he speaks; a judging unspoken hatred that speaks volumes as he returns his gaze to the enemy's approach. "Cut the bullshit, son, I'm not going to report you to command for being personable."
"Yes, sir!?" hesitantly I lower my parade rest into an at-ease posture before leaning onto my polearm to relieve the aching in my feet. It catches his eye but he says nothing as he sips from a small mug of ale.
"How's the watch Tir?"
"I already sent off my farewells with the corpsman sir. I'm vanguard." The old fellow gazes into his drink for a moment before tossing the clay pot down the slope. My eyes followed the shattering utensil as he spoke in his standard aggravated tone.
"They put you on the front, why wasn't I informed of this?"
I didn't say it was because my family back home was killed in a raid and that I wished to die with honor. I didn't say it was because I hated the rebel horde and I wanted to mangle as many as I could. Instead, I pulled my scarf below my collar. The red fabric clung to my helmet like a blindfold given to the soon-to-be hanged. "I don't have anything left sir."
He took a moment to inspect my person before slapping the side of my helmet with his closed fist. The blow rang through my helmet carrying my head back an inch before I returned to my position of rest unfazed. The officer grabbed the end of my scarf inches from my countenance before whispering.
"Don't you fucking try that again; there are better ways to die. You're one of us, we don't leave our own to die on the battlefield! Head to the rear line and find the medics, make sure no one we don't like gets in there. You might be the best spearman in the platoon but I don't need another corpse on my hands. Do you understand!"
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
|
Volgrand
|
ItsUnlucky
|
2023-02-28 00:11:04
|
2023-02-27 22:53:04
| 79 | 11 |
jaabqhz
|
jaa0iw5
|
11da6ln
|
11da6ln
|
[WP]You get isekai’d into a typical fantasy world with the ability to summon any weapon. You often summon typical weapons like swords, spears, maybe a gun if you need it. You finally realize fictional weapons can be summoned.
|
I always felt that a *proper* Isekai had three parts.
First, you were killed in the real world. And, well, in math terms? A person + a truck? Yeah, that equals a truck.
Second, you found yourself transported to a new, more magical, world. That was certainly the case. I awoke (buck naked) surrounded by thirteen chanting men in crimson robes, in the middle of some grand design inlaid on the marble floor of a palace.
Third, you were gifted some power or ability to help you in your new world. Sometimes that’s as simple as foreknowledge of the world you’ve entered. ‘Spoiler territory’, as they called it. Or a piece of technology or incredibly specific information from the real world. Or even some great and powerful weapon…
“Hah! Ack…” I tried to laugh, but instead started to cough, causing my wounds to start bleeding again. And the pain in my chest to increase.
‘Great weapon’? What a joke.
Oh, I had the best power for that. Being surrounded by cultists in your birthday suit? Well, your instinct is to whip out something to defend yourself. And, to my astonishment, I found myself holding a rather large broadsword in my hands.
Which, after a few seconds, was too heavy for me to hold up, and dropped to the floor. Narrowly missing cutting off my toes. “Hah! Ack.. ack..” Dagnabbit, stop making yourself laugh. It hurts so much.
Now, my power seemed to be great at bringing me a weapon. As, finding myself disarmed, I wished for something lighter and easier to hold. A handgun of some kind (it’s been over a year, so fine details sometimes get lost) was in my hands.
A pull of the trigger, and the bullet hit the wall. Nowhere near any of the cultists. Plus, the recoil launched the gun back and it broke my nose before falling away.
Lying there, blood streaming down my face, I now found myself holding a grenade. My first instinct? Pull pin, count to three, throw. But I tamped it down, having seen my luck so far.
You see, I understood my power. Or, at least, the simplest strokes of it. I could bring (or create? Summon?) any weapon I wanted.
But I had zero idea how to use them. Stabby, bangy, pew-pew ends towards enemy. That was it.
I was lucky… hah… that my captors were… well, *seemed* benevolent.
The King I was brought to explained that their world faced a crisis. One that needed a Hero, an Outsider Hero, to solve. And after it was over, I’d be returned to my home.
Compete and utter bullshit, of course. I’d seen enough of that at my college to sniff it out here. But it seemed prudent to go along.
It took, I must admit, much longer to figure out their angle than I thought it would.
Every day they’d wake me up at the crack of dawn, and have me ‘train’ with their soldiers. Summon the weapon they were training me on, one for me and one for my sparring partner, and then battle until breakfast.
It’s possible I did get better, doing that.
I mean, *anythings* possible.
Between breakfast and lunch I would return to the practice field. Two more sparring partners, on different weapons (that I summoned).
After lunch, I would meet with the court wizards. The ‘cultists’. They would have me do different ‘exercises’, that basically amounted to pulling more and more weapons from wherever they came from. “Quick as a teardrop, fifty ornate pikes!” Or “A matching set of long sword, short sword, and dagger”.
And after dinner? They had me work on ‘strange weapons’. Crossbows, handguns, rifles, and even just ammunition.
I finally cottoned on when they ‘tested my endurance’ by having me pull out boxes of bullets until I no longer could. They had servants on hand to cart them off as fast as I made them.
The last few, when I was struggling to stay conscious, they brought in ornate shipping boxes to hold them, thinking I wouldn’t notice.
I was nothing more to them than a weapons factory. The soldiers, while disparaging of my abilities, had nothing but praise for the weapons themselves. Perfectly balanced. Fit in their hands just right. Better than their armsmasters could make on their best days.
It took months, but I was finally afforded some (small) amount of time to study in the palace’s library. Ostensibly to see their volumes of weapons to make sure I was making them correctly. But actually to study their world through their works of literature and history.
And what I saw? This world was a disease. The entire damn place had been at war for nearly a thousand years. Four city-states were left, in the desiccated ruins of this continent. Surviving **only** because they were summoning Outsiders, like myself. Ones who could create different things.
The most common were those that could summon foodstuffs. Meaning that they no longer needed peasants to grow crops.
Meaning that the ‘sacrifices’ to bring in new Outsiders? Grew much more frequent…
I was, of course, caught rather quickly. Perhaps the kid who was *meant* to be here could have been more sneaky, and rallied the people into an uprising. Taken over the kingdom and (eventually) United the world.
Too bad I’d missed the Fourth thing needed for a proper Isekai. Some idealistic dumb kid as the one that got pulled in. Instead, they got me. A Professor of Pop Culture at Greensdale College. One who just happened to save a student’s life by pushing her out of the way of the speeding truck, but was too old and fat to do the same.
In front of the King I pulled out my trump card. One that I’d been dying to try… I pulled out a lightsaber. Figuring my limited sword skills would be enough, when my blade would destroy any other sword I came up against.
It worked. Their broadswords melted. Which just meant that there were fast-moving bits of molten metal that spattered against my body. **NOT** an improvement, and it left me lying on the floor, screaming in pain.
And staring up at the King’s personal guards, each of which had a handgun pointed at me.
I spent the next week being tortured. Demanding I bring in more magical weapons like the lightsaber. I tried to resist, but… torture!
Finally, I broke. They wanted weapons? I’d give them one. They demanded the most deadly weapon I could make.
And I made it.
What was it, you may ask.
A rifle? No.
A rocket launcher? Way off.
A nuclear bomb? Closer.
No, I chose something that would wipe clean this entire godforsaken world.
The King stood in front of my broken body, strung up suspended in chains. Asking what to call the weapon I would conjure for them today.
The pain in my chest grew overwhelming, but as the King leaned closer I smiled.
And whispered my final word.
“…xenomorph…”
|
My deep breathing intensified by the moment as the realization of imminent defeat approached, in the form of a Dark Lord, the size of a Troll from Lord of the Rings at least, in full black armor, with a crimson sword, filled with the blood of my soldiers, towards me.
It had been 3 years since I came into this world, before that I was nothing, just a nobody who frequented reddit and lived in a middle class family in Spain with a good level of English, one day a car hit me on the way to the University and I died, that was it, one more number in the statistics of people killed in traffic accidents.
Until I woke up in this new world, where I was summoned as its Legendary Hero, and charged with the task of preparing the world for the arrival of the Dark Lord, who planned to invade from the northern lands, and who was corrupting all natural life in the world wit his dark magic.
I soon discovered that my power was summoning weapons, it is something I did from then on in every battle to win against many foes, soon I used this power of mine and my status to pressure the Hespana Kingdom to let me lead their army and not just be a soldier in teh front.
For years we,a nd allies Kingdoms, repelled the attacks of the Dark Lord, who sent his lieutenants against us, along with other Kingdoms that he had already subjugated, and we forcibly kept the enemy's forces on their borders, but we never had the chance to advance further, because only I could use the weapons that I summoned, still we started making plans for an invasion, because we needed to kill the coward Dark Lord in order to end his armies of undead from attacking.
But that planing ended when some of our allied Kingdoms refused to invade for fear of high casualties, limiting the number of troops available, we failed in the offensive, then our coalition was eventually overwhelmed, our allies were Bliztkrieg and conquered, and our forces retreated to our core territories in Hespana, we were the last free nation standing, and the Dark Lord now had an army that outnumbered us 100 to 1.
Then we had desperate last stand, for the first time against the Dark Lord himself, who managed to surround our army on the mountain pass to our Kingdom, and who have come in person to lead his forces in his ultimate victory, since after this battle our army would not have the manpower to keep fighting more, so this is the end.
I slaughtered countless enemy undead troops and auxiliary foces, but to defeat the Dark Lord was impossible, even using all kinds of weapons: Swords, bows, axes, spears, maces, pistols, shotguns, machine guns, even a fucking bazooka!
His armor was indestructible, and his Dark Magic unstoppable, not for nothing had he managed to raise an army of skeletal undead for his campaigns and corrupted the environment of all the world to make himself more powerful.
And there I was, exhausted and barely standing, watching my nightmare approach with his crimson sword, filled with blood, and ready to butcher me and all my loyal soldiers standing against this force of darkness.
Dark Lord: "Your honor and duty are nothing, only pain matters, you suffered in silence, you... will die dor their sins!"
My enemy said with contempt and coldness, with the nailed voice of a Doom Marauder, as he walking to me, slowly but relentless.
Me: "This is not the end you bastard! I killed all your lieutenants, I can do the same to you!"
I said, trying to cheer myself up while pointing my shotgun at him, but I knew that this was pointless, he have survived all I used against him, he was just above me.
Dark Lord: "I am far superior to them. Your strange weapons will not work on me, your armies dwindle and are crushed by my skeleton soldiers and my auxiliaries from conquered territories. Accept it Hero, you are finished, and the spores of my Dark Magic will soon swallow your Kingdom completely, destroying natural life, and corrupting everything, like this battlefield, after that I will rule this world forever, bringing order to all this chaos, and you will be forgotten, I bet just like from the world you came from."
He was right, this was the end and I will be forgotten after he have enslaved all living people, my life was flashing before my eyes, and I could see my entire pathetic life before I was a Hero, as a random middle class kid in Spain, who just wanted to be happy and laught with a videogame... Wait, what did he said? Spores? Like that game that I loved called *Spore*?
My memory would fill with thoughts of those happy days playing that simple but entertaining game, from being a cell to ruling the stars, and I remembered buying a thing called *Planet Buster*, in that moment it materialized in my hand, floating over it ike all weapons I summon, and I smilled, realizing the full unused power of my mine.
Me: "Do you see this, son of a bitch? If I throw this against the ground, this world will explode, we will all die and your dreams will fail, give up and I won't use it, I know you can feel that I am telling the truth with your dark magic.
The Dark Lord would stop, his aura of evil still emanating from him, but now there was doubt, for the first time there was no arrogance in him.
Dark Lord: "It is true that that weapon has that power, but it is also true that you are blaffing, you would not dare to use it and kill tens of millions, including yourself, so it is better that YOU give up now."
It's true, I couldn't destroy the world, shit, it was easier through a computer screen when I used it to destroy planets of the Grox Empire, even if that wasn't very effective because it was better to use the... Damn, of course! I am stupid!
The giant ball of destruction of red light that adorned my hand would be replaced by a green one.
Me: "You're right, that weapon of mass destruction was garbage anyway, you can't colonize a planet if you've destroyed it... It's better to clean it of Grox slag and create something new there!"
I would scream as I threw the large green ball of energy against the ground, the *Staff of Life*. The Dark Lord would watch in disbelief, as suddenly the grass emerged from the barren ground, the clouds cleared, trees and animals sprang up from nowhere around us, the air was purer than ever before, and the birds sang echoed through this pass between the mountains, which no longer seemed like a battlefield between an army of 10,000 troops against 1,000,000.
The undead, without the power of dark magic, would fall inert to the ground like simple piles of bones, the enemy auxiliaries, not feeling the dark magic running through their veins, would flee en masse or surrender without fighting anymore, and the Dark Lord , helpless, he would collapse to the ground in fury and anger.
Dark Lord: "I HATE YOU!!!"
He would scream as the disappearance of his dark powers caused him to fall to the ground weakened.
Me: "Shut up Anakin Skywalker, I have the fucking high ground now!"
Then I would try to take off his helmet, but underneath it there was nothing, his body evaporated, like fucking Darth Nihilus, huh? Well, it seems like I wasn't going to be the one who would be forgotten after all.
My troops would run towards me, to thank me for the victory and celebrate, I could only smile as I saw them coming.
Me: "Who knew that a silly video game about evolution would save my life..."
I would laugh knowing finally that after all, if I ended up being someone, the *Hero of Spore*, it didn't sound like a bad title.
|
MonkeyChoker80
|
Imaginary-West-5653
|
2023-12-17 16:00:36
|
2023-12-17 14:10:33
| 53 | 19 |
kdrjr1k
|
kdr54ln
|
18jz68e
|
18jz68e
|
[WP] "You never killed him! He kept committing crimes and hurting and killing people and you just LET HIM! So we, the citizens, did it FOR YOU!" The supervillain's corpse twitched as the hero asked, "Did you ever stop and wonder why? I can't help you anymore. So I'm leaving this planet. Good luck."
|
Adam watched in horror as the missiles crashed down at the feet of Evernight. At first the shock wave hit that send a powerful gust of force outwards from the blast zone leveling multiple buildings and sending cars flying into their air. Then the blinding light and thundering noise caught up. The world around him was nothing but sound, light, and fury. He kept his eyes open to watch as he watch Evernight crumple to one knee. He felt his heart sink as he watched the color draining from the so called villians body and he knew that the end was near. The stone like body slumped over and slowly began to crumble.
The humans of the Earth had considered Evernight a villian and blamed him for the deaths of hundreds thousands. What they didn't understand that Evernight was the Earth or at least it's Guardian Spirit. It was like a white blood cell in a human body trying to kill off an infection. The Earth had created the being as a way to balance the scale and to rid itself of what was killing it, human kind.
They had hounded Adam to kill Evernight and about 40 years ago he had beaten Evernight. He was about to deliver the killing blow when a pulse of energy shot into him and like a flood it showed him images of how badly the earth was ravaged and the connection between the Earth and the Guardian Spirit. He had pulled his punch dumbfounded and backed off. He flew away and a few days later he was summoned by the world leaders.
He tried to explain to the world leaders about what he saw but they dismissed him as an alien helping another alien. They stripped him of his title of World Protector and labelled him a traitor. The Hero he had become was banished and so he chose to live his life out as a civilian no longer meddling with human issues. It wasn't until he was watching TV one day and he saw that they had initiated the offensive against Evernight. They lured him into an abandoned city and with other unknowing heroes had tied him up long enough for them to begin their onslaught.
After the explosion nothing but a smouldering crater remained. Evernights' crumbling body was withering away and as it did the earth beneath him started to turn gray and lifeless. It was a slowly spreading and while it wasn't fast it was persistent. Adam knew what was happening and knew that there was nothing he could do. Plants would soon start to die, then the insects, then the larger animals, and then the humans. This wouldn't be a fast death but it was very much assured.
He thought about flying home but there wasn't anything that he wanted to take with him. He was floating above the earth in low orbit as he watched the small patch of gray slowly getting bigger. With one last look he turned and flew off in the direction of another planet a few thousand light years away. Hoping upon hope that those beings did not do what the humans did.
|
With a single bound, the hero rocketed up into the bright blue sky, towards the upper atmosphere. A swirling of dust and leaves were the only indication he once held stewardship over this planet. The gathered crowd stood in stunned silence. From somewhere in its depths, a voice called out.
"Well now what do we do?"
The crowd murmured and began to dissipate. The once proud villain, neck now bent at an unnatural angle, swung lifeless from the streetlight.
The effects of his death were felt almost immediately. Overnight, DynoCorp, which had been one of the leading employers on the eastern seaboard (and which also happened to be the seat of power for the deceased), closed its doors. While malevolent and cruel, the villain also had a penchant for business. DynoCorp was his baby, and he maintained almost total authority in its dealings. With the power vacuum his death created, the remaining members of the board fought for control. Some sold their shares, some tried to take over leadership, some were killed by others in the boardroom. After a period of days, the remaining members decided to dissolve the corporation and sell off all of their assets. The money they received was enough to buy islands and governments of small countries. For the rest of the workers, however, the decisions of a few morally corrupt board members changed their lives forever. 25,000 DynoCorp employees now had to find work. But that wasn't all. The dissolution of DynoCorp also had a ripple effect on all of its subsidiaries. Thrill World Amusements, Ms. Clara's Food Inc., The Vermont Woodchucks Baseball Team, Yahoo.com. All of these separate entities immediately lost a major source of funding and, subsequently, also had to enact major layoffs. All told 48,000 people were now eligible for government unemployment assistance. Many of those people would also apply for, and receive, countless other social programs.
The strain on the government infrastructure, be it local, state, and federal, was immense. Funding was cut from education and the arts. Public radio and television were taken off air. Space missions were cancelled. Senators who were bought and paid for by DynoCorp now held no allegiances to the company or the dead villain. Without DynoCorps lobbying and campaign contributions, the incumbent congressmen were voted out of office. And while malevolent and cruel, the villain also cared about social programs and the environment. When the new congresspeople took office, they voted to take away the social assistance that 48,000+ people relied on. They reneged on environmental regulations. They watched the world burn.
All of this happened in the first two years. By year five, 60% of the laid off workers were homeless. By year ten, the global temperature had risen by .3 degrees F and the ocean acidity fell to 7.7. By year twenty, the east coast of the United States had devolved into chaos. Cities were urban hellscapes ran by corporate puppets and crime lords. There were only two currencies: lead and blood. By year forty, America was lost. Roving bands of raiders and outlaws ate and drank the land clean. By this time, however, all food and water were scarce. DynoCorp was the leading researcher and developer for farming methods in a warming world. Without their contributions, the midwest turned into a dustbowl once again.
By year 80, the only people left on the North American continent more closely resembled rats than what man once was. They were diseased vermin. And they were lost.
Above the Earth, our once great hero sat and watched. A tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it way, turned, and flew off into the void.
|
idosay
|
SheaWritesSometimes
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2024-10-10 19:07:07
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2024-10-10 18:04:07
| 77 | 30 |
lrao0tz
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lracbrq
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1g0l4t4
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1g0l4t4
|
[WP] They said that you could never save the kingdom, that you would fail and die miserably, because you were not the prophesized hero. And when you returned after saving the realm on your own, instead of welcoming you as a hero the king banished you, as it was not your place to save them.
|
I threw my arms over my companions when the pronouncement was made.
"It was not your place to kill the demon king. When the prophesized hero kills the demon king the land will experience peace and prosperity for the next millennia. Yet, war and famine ravages our land and destroys our people. You have robbed this chance from us. For your crimes, I banish you for a thousand years."
I felt my companions muscles tense under my hands, ready to argue. Ready to pull a sword. I grabbed their arm, firmly holding them in place. I gave a nod to the king and turned us around.
The moment we were out of the audience hall, Sarah turned on me with red eyes and bloody red lips, bit in frustration.
"We saved this country. They've been waiting for a hero for dozens of years now. The prophesy is pure wishful thinking. The land is poor because of the demon king's miasma. The famine persists because the land is poor. The wars continue because of the famine. The rulers fight over rocks while waiting for a blessing to fall from the sky upon them."
I gave a tight smile in response. "It's been a long journey, and it seems like this will be a longer journey, still. When I started this journey, I didn't set out to slay the demon king or to bring a thousand years of peace. I simply wanted to make things a bit better for the people. I think we've done that. The miasma should recede, which will help with the famine. I don't know how we'll deal with the wars and rules, politics hasn't been my domain, but we'll figure it out. Just like every difficulty we've met so far."
|
(Just a friendly reminder I'm not a native English speaker)
After I defeated him... Lucas... I returned. Knowing my fate would be horrible. I had two good reasons to know this; the king would not like it. He was the prophesized hero, wich also was the reason of his power, his reason of being king. But he would never have done it. He would never have killed his own brother. And as his adviser and best friend, I knew he wouldn't. He even told me he couldn't. So I took his place, and it worked out. Now my punishment would be waiting.
After the long trip home, still wounded, with a broken arm and a horrible cut in my leg. I returned to the kingdom. Not fully sure if it would be my last time entering. I went directly to the castle. Knowing I had to tell him. He was my friend, he had the right to know. The guards told me he was in his bedroom. After some surprised looks from staff I reached his door. I knocked, and I entered.
It was cold in his room. The fireplace was dusty. He sat in a chair while reading. For a second he looked up at me. Then he returned to his book. 'Thomas I...'
'Let me finish my chapter' his words were cold, colder than the room, like ice stinging right through me.
After a few minutes of silence, he closed the book. The loud slam of the book hitting the floor filled the room. 'Where have you been.' He knew where I was, he just wished he didn't, he hoped I would just tell him I had been on a little vacation, with the wife and the kids. But he knew better.
I pulled a ring with a green emerald out my pocket and tossed it to him. His eyes filled with tears but his expression did not change. 'Why' he wisperd. 'You know why.' I made my voice sound as ferm as I could. Ignoring my nerves. One tear rolled over Thomas his cheek, then his expression changed to rage. 'YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO DO THIS.' I tried to keep my calm. 'I know, you were.' Guard entered the room. 'I want this man out of my sight, I don't care where you drop him. As long as he is not in my kingdom anymore.' They grabbed me under my shoulders. 'THOMAS NO, YOU KNOW I DID THE RIGHT THING!' I screamed, but he just sat down in his chair, picked up the book, and started reading again, now with tears rolling down his face.
(I would love some feedback, I normally don't write in English
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TeeTwoLee
|
Shroom_cosplays
|
2023-12-30 23:14:12
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2023-12-30 22:39:37
| 50 | 22 |
kfmda7o
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kfm7wjt
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18uju5p
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18uju5p
|
[WP] You used to be the scourge of kingdoms, the reaper of heroes and the mere mention of your name scared even the toughest of them. But today no one remembers you and you are fine with that. You have lived in peace ever since until one day a stranger approaches you and calls you by your true name.
|
“Lagus.” The name is a statement, but I don’t turn around, my beer paused on its journey to my mouth. “Lagus Oryn, don’t ignore me.”
I slowly lower the cup.
“Fine, I can wait. For a while,” the figure grabs the stool next to me and takes a seat. It’s a young woman, a girl really. Young enough that she shouldn’t be in a bar, definitely.
“Should you be drinking that?” I finally ask after the drains her second goblet without breaking her stare.
“Finally. A good ol’ binge drink usually gets you old farts talking,” she says, slamming down the empty goblet with a smile.
*Not human*, my instincts say. I’ve spent years in retirement, so the list of possibilities is foggy, drained away by disuse. *Elf, immortal child, nightwalker,* the list goes on.
“What do you want?” I ask, because I wouldn’t trust any answer it gave if I asked who it was.
“Well, me personally, I don’t want much. The heroes you’ve sent to the afterlife and their loved ones, however…” Instinct has me gripping my knife hilt, gathering the long slumbering magic in my blood. “Woah, calm down. I’m not threatening you. Believe me, when I threaten you, *you’ll know.”*
Panic pounds in my heart, a strange fear whispering *run, run, run* with every beat. Was it the discomfort of being discovered? Maybe partially, but I could always pick up and leave. No, it was this child, I decided. Something was off about her.
“You seem to mistake me. I’m calm, just prepared. Who has sent you?”
“No one, and quite a lot of people at the same time.” The child is smiling now, twirling a blade as she speaks, letting sink with a *thunk* every now and then into the table. “Believe me when I tell you it’s in your best interest to be honest with me.
“You’ve shed plenty of innocent blood, a little guilty as well. You tore through the people of the world seeking world domination, until your wife and child died on one of your campaigns. You hung up your whips and pokers and retired quietly to the countryside.
“Of course the power vacuum left by your disappearance lead to another hundred years of war, but what did you care? You needed to lick your wounds. You’ve been living a quiet life since. You wave to neighbors, you go to the local whorehouse when your bored, and you drink here.
“I could fill oceans with the women and men and, yes even children you’ve killed.” She stands from her seat, expression mysterious, eyes winking with light. “You’ve never admitted anything was wrong about your actions. ‘Good intentions,’ right? Not when you strung up that Elvish hero, not when you decimated an entire Aguan village and raped all their women and girls. Not when you still ask the women at the whorehouse to fight back… So, do you admit this, Lagus? How do you plead?”
The words won’t come out. How dare she? What does she mean plead? This child has come to judge me? What does she know of true pain?
I tighten my grip on my mug and stand, drawing power protectively to myself. My heart pounds.
“I’ve tired of your games. Goodbye.”
I make it to the door without incident and then my world stops, spinning. I turn back and the girl’s face is a skull, her black cape open to reveal twin scythe-like blades in her hands. A ticking clock booms, deafening and loud.
“Your time is up,” the girl says, walking toward me. I struggle, stuck to the ground. “Goodbye, Lagus. This won’t be a pleasant afterlife.”
|
##Human Nature
The old woman hobbled to the chess board in the middle of the park. The other tables were occupied with games, and she decided to wait. Eventually, someone would come, and they would grant her a game.
A confident young man walked towards her. She knew his type well. He thought she was merely a warm-up, an easy victory. He would be startled by her skill and grow to doubt his own knowledge. When the old woman won, his would walk away thinking it was a fluke.
"Hello Duena." The man sat down. Duena leaned back in her chair careful to avoid showing her surprise. She tilted her head at the man trying to figure out who he was.
"Have we met before?" She attempted to keep her guise as a sweet old woman.
"A long time ago. You may call me Liam. Is it alright if I go first? You historically came much later," he said.
"Did we meet at the grocery store two weeks ago?" Duena asked as she made her own move.
"We met at the market a long time ago. Rather, I saw you at the market. That was when few saw your face, goddess of destruction," Liam said.
"I never understood why I was singled out as a terror. The other death gods never acquired my reputation."
"Few enjoyed it as much as you."
"I never enjoyed it." Duena raised a hand and knocked over the king by accident. "The philosophers wrote me as gleeful, but I was merely fulfilling a role. You kill one person, and you are somber. I destroy civilizations, and I'm a raging monster."
"During the flood, I heard you laugh," Liam replied.
"Which flood? There have been so many?" Duena asked. The rain fell around them. "Ah, a touch dramatic are we?"
"You don't live as long as I do without fantasizing about revenge," Liam said.
"I suppose that's true. Many have tried to stop me, but they cannot. Let's keep playing," Duena said. Their game continued while everyone else went home. Duena was surprised to find herself losing. She attempted to sense the man's true nature.
"The other gods hated me for destroying their worshippers," Duena said.
"So I've heard."
"You never interacted with them?"
"Indirectly." Liam put her in check. Duena moved out and found her path to victory limited.
"You mentioned a flood. How long ago was this?" Duena said.
"Perhaps it was your first disaster. I'm not sure. Either way, my true language is unrecognizable to humans," Liam said.
"That's not difficult. They forget how they spoke two hundred years ago."
"You hate humans don't you," Liam asked. He moved his bishop. Duena stared at the board. She was three moves from checkmate, and there was no avoiding it.
"No, I don't. I told you that I'm necessary."
"I suppose you were necessary to create me."
"And what are you?"
"You were a war goddess, our war goddess until you realized the destructive force of nature. You harnessed it's power to destroy everything in your path. On your first flood, I was the only survivor. It was a sad and lonely life, but I pressed onward. I taught the rest of humanity to live and thrive. I went nameless though; I didn't brag like you." Liam moved his rook.
"I never bragged. If I bragged, would they forget who I was?"
"That was my doing. They turned me into a deity. I draw my strength their persistence. I suppose I should thank you. Every tragedy that you create adds to my power." Liam moved the queen. "Check mate."
Duena tossed the board off the table. "Why have you come here? Why not wait until later then?"
"Because I love the humans unlike you, I know your next plan. You've grown bored and want to move on. You will fail, but your disaster is to great that I cannot allow you to do so," Liam said.
"My plans have already been set into motion," Duena said.
"You didn't take into account for that." Liam pointed at the chains surrounding her.
"No one has achieved such a spell on me. Are you going to kill me?" Duena asked.
"You're too powerful, and you're correct. You are necessary." Liam stood up. "You're just trapped until I clean up your mess. Enjoy watching yourself fail." Duena spat at his feet.
"I never fail because the humans always fail."
"That's where you're wrong. The humans frequently fail, but they find ways to succeed." Liam walked away from the old woman.
---
r/AstroRideWrites
|
littlepillowcase
|
AstroRide
|
2023-07-29 21:47:50
|
2023-07-29 20:15:19
| 54 | 36 |
jtzvyti
|
jtzimln
|
15d05q2
|
15d05q2
|
[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.
|
Listen. Everybody makes mistakes. I was young. I had ambitions. I genuinely thought what I was doing was right, though. I thought that by securing enough power I could mold the world into the utopian vision I'd always dreamed of. But I was blind. And my blindness led me to darker and darker places. Before long I had lost all sense of myself. My whole reason for being warped from ambition to frustrated rage as I battled my nemesis, Giga Fist. By the time they finally locked me up, I barely even knew who I was. My prison sentence may have been the best thing to ever happen to me. I learned a lot. Solitude gave me plenty of time to think. 5 years was a long time. It was supposed to be much longer. But after reaching out to my former foe and really getting to know each other, to my surprise Giga Fist actually advocated for my early release. Since then I've been on the straight and narrow.
I met Jodi 10 years ago and it was love at first sight. We married a year later and Alice was born 8 years ago. I swore the day she was born that I wouldn't let anything bad ever happen to her. Once again, I failed. A group run by one of the guys I used to work for snatched her from right under my nose. They wanted to force me back into the world I swore off. I haven't even found time to be mad at them because I was so angry at myself. That is, until now. Now, my rage is wholly focused on the 6 lackeys and their boss in the house in front of me. I haven't used my powers in 15 years. It was part of the stipulations of my release. But I'm about to break that rule. These goons are going to find out the hard way why they used to call me The Mind Melter. And to be honest, I don't think I'm going to feel bad about this.
(I realize now that the prompt specifies grandchild. Oops.)
|
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.
|
Carsharr
|
Nature_Walking
|
2023-06-29 01:33:16
|
2023-06-29 01:32:37
| 106 | 20 |
jpxrsrp
|
jpxrpxk
|
14loxwh
|
14loxwh
|
[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.
|
As I sat there in my rocking chair on the porch gumming at a stick of jerky, no teeth means no chewing but fuck it, its tasty. The police officer spoke to my little Trish about the ransom demand and told her that their policy was to never give in to it.
I pull the stick of softened jerky from my mouth. “How… much is the ransom?” I ask, my voice slightly wobbly as the effort to speak pushes my weak throat to its limit.
“About 50 thousand ma’am.”
“Pay it and get my grandchild back.” I tell them before sticking the jerky back in my mouth.
“That's not how it works ma’am, there needs to be rounds of negotiations. We will get your granddaughter back safe and sound.”
“Before…before or after…they send her fingers or ears?” I ask.
The ignorant officer pales slightly, right he’s probably too green to be anything more than a messenger. “Trish, could you bring me…my note book and a phone?” I ask. She nods and shouts inside for her husband to do the job for her before turning to the police.
“Tell me what you know and I’ll make arrangements. I’ll get her back safe and you can get your.”
“Ma’am we know you were a hero but all due respect. You're 50 and your powers have faded.”
“And I'm 90 but you don't see me sitting around doing nothing.” I grumble but they ignore me leaving me to think, well actually I am sitting around and it does look like I'm doing nothing.
“Here you go Nala.” Trish’s husband says, coming out and handing me his mobile phone and my old leather bound notebook. I flick through it, glad that my eyesight hasn’t gone the same way my knees and teeth have. I find the number and using the phone carefully put the digits in and hit dial.
It rings twice as usual before it gets answered. Old cunt never EVER missed a call, but he always let it ring a little so you had the impression he didn't have a 0.01 second reaction speed. “Yes?”
“My granddaughter… has been kidnapped.” I say cursing my old body for needing to break IN a sentence.
“I know, now. What do you want? You don't have any favours left.” he says.
“Where.” I start to ask whilst looking at the officers, they’re ignoring me so I ignore them back. Meanwhile the old cunt on the phone is prattling off longitude and latitude
“3015 by 2899. She’s in a warehouse…you want a post code I assume? I should remind you of the effects of actually using your power.”
“Yes I know…Charlie died two years…”
“My condolences”
“My daughter has her family now too.”
“I know, I kept a tab on her, advised a number of possible threats not to mess with her.” Analogue, the old cunt, replies.
“Did you ever had a kid?”
“I tried…BT13, 3JY” he said and the phone screen changed showing a map with a helpful red dot roughly 20 miles away in the city.
“Then you might know why I’ve decided to do what i'm about to do.” I say hanging up the phone and placing both my arms on the chair and pushing myself up to my feet.
“Trish…” I say but she ignores me, now shouting at the police man and demanding they send in a super to save her child.
“Trish.” I say as loudly as I can causing her to pause before rushing over to hold me up.
“Mum you cant just get up like that, you know you need your frame.”
“Shut it and help me onto the lawn…I don't want to burn your porch.” I tell her.
“But…you’ll”
“Yea, I know dear, but Charlie's gone and he won't mind waiting for me. But Anastasia has her whole life ahead of her.” I say as she half walks half carries me down the steps past the confused police officers and onto the grass of the garden.
I turn to them and ask them “did you ever learn about the Avatar?”
“The Villain? Yea, elemental power profile, ranked strongest for 30 years straight then out of nowhere vanished. People think they struck a deal with the government and set up a new life.” one of the officers says. “Why do you ask.”
“What do you think the Avatar would do if they found out their grandchild was kidnapped before her powers could manifest.”
The two officers look at each other and frown. Meanwhile my daughter lets go of my hands and steps back. I look at her and nod before straightening my curved back. Bones creak and pop as they settle in place, willpower forcing them to work properly for the first time in a decade.
My hips and knees pop next as I stand up straight and summon the power I promised never to use again. Not because it was terrible devastating and destructive. No there was always something in the world that needed dealing with and flattening everything in the vicinity tended to send the correct message, although sometimes I had to leave a smoking crater to really hammer it home.
I watched as my hands burst into flames that turned from a relatively cold red to an intense white flame before vanishing entirely to pure to emit any visible light, only the heat haze warning of the danger around me now. The skin underneath quickly transformed into dirt before the dirt transformed into grey stone then white marble before transmuting back into smooth translucent skin. I could feel my bones doing the same except with steel. My organs likewise were reborn. I stood there wreathed in starfury hovering slightly above the charred earth naked and in the body I had 70 years ago when I met Charles in a bar.
Well almost, the shape was right but with my power fully active I didn't resemble a human as much as a field of stars in the shape of a human, man I forgot what great tits I had. “I’ll bring her home.” I say gently, my voice louder and clearer than it has been in years.
My daughter looks at me with a fierce pride in her eyes. It was me or her and we knew it could have been her. BUT... She had her loving husband to grow old next to, her daughter and new son in law to dote on and so on. I turned around and flew off towards my granddaughter.
A few minutes later I left the mile deep crater with her tucked in my arms. I could already see the news reports. The thought actually made me smile. I thought of Charlie and how long it would be until I saw him again. Then I looked at my granddaughter holding on tightly but otherwise unharmed. Sorry my love. We’ll see each other soon. But perhaps not that soon. the world might not want its Avatar but until my family doesn't the world just has to suck it up.
|
-PART 1-
Dawn breaks as you return to your home. Modest, out of the way, and unremarkable to most. The garage door closes behind you, and you rearrange the various yard tools hanging on the wall until the floor of the garage opens, revealing a dimly lit and narrow staircase. You descend sluggishly, you aren’t in the shape you used to be. Muscles ache, joints snap and crack. “Is that blood? Did I get stabbed?” you muse as you inspect the blood on your fingers.
The room where you have stored your old outfits and equipment is musty, you don’t come down here very often, not since the war ended almost 30 years ago. You wonder why you kept any of this stuff at all, given how drastically your life changed when the Earth was invaded, but in this moment, you are grateful to your younger self for not getting rid of it. The memories of your old life help keep you on the new path you chose so long ago. You changed for the better, even if you are technically still wanted by every government on the planet. The verbal free pass given to you by the head of the UN and the remaining heroes in “The Order” was all you needed to graciously take your leave and not cause trouble ever again. You married not long after that, a super powered eco-terrorist who had also reformed and was granted leniency. Her name was Gaea. She had the most peculiar powers, on the surface none were very useful for anything, good or evil. She just wanted to protect the earth.
As you remove your suit and check for the source of the blood, the sound of a vehicle pulling in to your driveway above catches your attention. “It can’t be Elizabeth, she’s at her sisters house still” you mutter quietly. The car turns off, the door opens and slams shut, the sound of footsteps lead off towards the front stoop. ‘DING’ “Definitely not Elizabeth, she wouldn’t be so impatient as to ring her own doorbell when her child and grand children were missing.”
You dress hurriedly, annoyed that you didn’t uncover the wound you probably have but can’t feel anymore. All of those battles, all of those injuries, all of those close escapes with nothing but your life. It’s a wonder you’re still in one piece, much less up and moving around. Up the stairs and in to the house through the garage, you make your way to the front door. A figure darkens the side light, familiar but indiscernible. A deep exhale escapes your mouth as you place your hand on the door handle and pull the door open.
The figure on the stoop turns to face you. “Augustus, right?” The man extends his hand in greeting. “Y-yes? May I help you?” You take his hand in yours, noticing the strength he clearly carries. ‘I hope he’s as cautious as his father with all of that power’ you think to yourself.
“You knew my daddy, didn’t you?” His accent betrays his heritage. Clearly the boy grew up with his mothers family down in the parishes and swamps of Louisiana. The coupling of his parents was one of chance and passion, after all the world WAS ending. 'Shame they didn’t stay together, they would have made a beautiful family.'
“I knew his commitment to justice. One might even call it a slavish devotion to righting wrongs and protecting the innocent.”
The man lets a short chuckle slip out. “Yeah, there was nothing that could keep him from chasing a bad guy. Not even me! He was one of a kind.”
“Indeed, he was. That being said, how might I help you?”
“Do you mind if I come in, smells like you have coffee going in there.”
The man was correct, the coffee machine had begun brewing a few minutes before you returned home. You pause, glancing back towards the kitchen. “Uh, I wasn’t really prepared for company this early in the day, but alright. Please come in.” You lead your guest towards the kitchen and gesture at the table. He takes a seat facing a bookshelf covered in family photos and memorabilia. You pour two cups of coffee and prepare his with two sugars, no cream. You recall that his father was lactose intolerant. ‘Poor bastard’ you think to yourself.
You turn and present the young man his coffee. “Sugar, no cream.”
“Just the way daddy liked it. You really did know him well, which means you know a fair bit about me, I reckon.”
“If I am mistaken, have all the cream you’d like!” You nervously chatter while pointing to the fridge.
“No, no, I’d be on the toilet for hours and in truth probably ruin the plumbing of this nice little house you got here.” He smiles and sips on his coffee. “Not bad, but then again as dad used to say, ‘There’s no such thing as bad coffee after a hard days work.” There is a perceivable angst behind those words. A life spent with unfulfilled desires for a fathers affection.
“The man had a penchant for decaf, and given his abilities I’d say that was probably wise. He didn’t so much as even look at alcohol, not like the other heroes back in our day.”
The man lowered his gaze and his lips flatten out. “Hey are you bleeding?” He points to your leg, a small amount of blood has soaked through your bathrobe and dripped on to the floor.
You resist the urge to give in to the distraction, “So, again, I must ask, what brings you to my home at this early hour…”
“Malcolm, sorry, names Malcolm.”
“Malcolm! You lead the Lawmen, if memory serves, just like your father did. I must admit I don’t keep up much with the current rosters of heroes and villains anymore. What do they call you in the field?”
“Achilles. I don’t much care for it, but at this point in the game its too late to rebrand. I’m stuck with it.”
You nod graciously, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Achilles.”
“Likewise, Black Kyte.”
Your back straightens as you feel your pulse quicken, that name hasn’t been uttered out loud in this house in decades. Your gentle demeanor becomes a stern gaze. He clearly knows everything, its easy to presume he’s here about the events of the preceding days.
“Have you heard of a fella by the name Aldrich?”
The jig is up. He knows what you did.
“There’s clearly no point in playing coy, I killed him. And his pathetic minions.”
Shock covers the mans face, not expecting a confession, much less such a straightforward one.
“’Killed him’ seems a bit of an understatement. That scene was the stuff of nightmares!”
“What can I say, when something is personal like what happened between he and I, I decided to take the gloves off.”
“Personal? How the hell do you even know that guy? Our intelligence says you haven’t left this county in eight years, and he’s never been to this part of the country. He’s not even in the same category of villain that you were. He’s all bravado and destruction, you were singular in your purpose, SURGICAL! You made sure collateral damage was always kept to a minimum, one of the few things you can be commended for given all the heinous shit you did back in the day!”
“He was a mid-level villain with delusions of grandeur” you say exasperatedly. “He wanted to make a name for himself, jump up in the rankings. Make the “Big Board” that you heroes keep in that ridiculous compound of yours.”
|
iridael
|
nik-nak333
|
2023-06-29 17:06:06
|
2023-06-29 17:03:28
| 27 | 10 |
jq0lg9k
|
jq0l1ho
|
14loxwh
|
14loxwh
|
[WP] “Uhh, why is the barbarian holding a skillet?” “Oh, he thinks he’s a wizard, and that skillet is the focus for his spells, like a wand.” “He has spells?” “Just one spell. Except, it’s really just him smacking someone in the head while shouting ‘I CAST IRON!!’ It’s actually rather comical.”
|
Stront is the son of an orc chieftain Tront and human anthropologist, Fian Dossey, whom had infiltrated the orc tribe to research for her doctoral thesis, compensating for her disregard of personal safety with grey body paint and prosthetic tusks. Stront, unaware of his half human heritage, nevertheless inherited the kinder, more jovial demeanor of his matrilineal line, largely in part to his mother's influence. Fian tragically died ^(1) when he was but a child, however her influence remained on him through the rest of his life. Tront, left as inconsolable as an orc could be rationally expected to be, continued to tolerate Stront's presence as a reminder of his strangely un-warlike mating partner.
While Stront grew strong and became a talented warrior in his own right, he never thirsted for raiding and killing like his clanmates, preferring to stay behind during these offensive raids and tend to the stewpot. A hot meal often stayed the ire of his evil brethren for not participating in the raids, but they never could truly understand why he didn't revel in their raiding as they did.
Shortly after the death of his father, Stront was grievously injured^(2) in a skirmish with a rival Orc band. The clan left him on his own to recover, telling him to follow the direction of the the setting sun^(3) to find their next camp.
Stront clung to life, and while still injured made attempts to find his clan. However they all resulted in him returning time and time again to the battleground where he fell and was left behind^(4). He realized that his failure in battle caused him to become cursed, never to rejoin his family. He decided that if he could not live a life with his clan, he would at least not live a life in solitude.
His new life was now one of a wanderer, travelling from village to village, offering his services as a cook or handy-orc in every tavern and work camp that he could find. As often as not, many villages needed his prodigious strength and prowess as a fighter more than they needed a meal. Eventually, after helping a small village deal with a goblin problem, and cooking an (uneaten) feast of goblin skewers for the locals, the village blacksmith gifted Stront a device with which he could both cook succulent meals, and defend himself in times of need.
> "Waht is dis thing, 'smith?"
> "T'is a cast iron pot Stront. I've attached a chain so you can hang it over a fire to cook your 'stews'. I suppose you could swing it 'round your head if you needed to cave some skulls in though."
> "I can cast iron wit' dis? Dat's incredible power!"
At this moment, Stront realized that he was no mere camp cook, a fighter of fights and cooker of cook-things. He was in fact a conjuror of meals, an orc that could cast iron to conquer both his foes and his food, a master tactician that could harvest ingredients while he reaped souls in the farm fields of battle.
He had fulfilled his destiny. Stront had become the *War Chef*.
*(1) Fian ironically was not discovered and killed by the orcs, but rather by a rival anthro-biologist Herm Gorbling, who was capturing and dissecting male/female pairs of what he considered to be the "evil" races, in the hopes of discovering a biological root of evil nature. Unknowingly dissecting a human course created substantial disparities in his research ultimately causing his funding to be revoked.*
*(2) He was actually stabbed in the back by his own clanmate. Tired of his strange notions of "cooking meat" and "making plans before a fight", they wanted to dispense with Stront as soon as possible.*
*(3) This was a lie, as they just went North.*
*(4) Wanting to make up for lost time Stront decided to start following the setting sun first thing in the morning. This had the obvious effect of him circling back on his own trail once the noonday sun passed overhead.*
|
This reminds me of a Pathfinder game I'm current in, currently close to level 15 Monk of the Mantis.
--------------------------
The combat begins. Victory is assured, I knew this. I am a Master of the Shadow Fist style. The style of True Death. The greatest and most feared of the Tian styles, a deadly and precise mix of Mantis and Crane, along with several killing arts known only by a few.
Even if this was not enough, my companions are beyond powerful as well. Tita, the Druid, who I once saw conjure an entire herd of Elephants to trample down a small army. Illum, the Magus, who I once saw vaporize an enemy with a lightning bolt in a single motion. Ketch, the little Gnome Bloodrager who possessed a fortitude I could only call supernatural. Even my mastery of death could barely scratch that tiny man. Even if I had slept, victory was certain. But I was not sleeping. I was wide awake.
My leg muscles tense. I glare, focusing, my Ki infused blood singing in my ears. I take a deep breath. In a single step I bolt forward, a blinding white flash through the air as I appear beside my adversary, some...devotee to the god of rot and sickness. I cared not. She was speaking, some big speech. Her pride was matched only by her insanity. She was some forty feet away. She 'knew' she was safe, far to distant for one to close the distance without giving her a chance to retaliate. Fool. Death has come and it takes not the form of your God of Rot, but of the true path to power, the path within.
I move so swiftly, she doesn't notice I'm beside her until it's to late. Everyone and everything else moves so slowly to me now. I can see only the slightest bit of her eyes starting to widen as she realizes I've already approached before I strike. My flattened hand and unbreakable fingers strike precisely, her left shoulder, a bundle of nerves that paralyze. My prey will not escape. First Strike. I then strike at a pressure point just under her left ribs. No more breathing. Second Strike. Another at her neck, to disrupt blood flow. Third Strike. Again, and again, and again. I do not stop. One, two, three, four, five, sixseveneightnine....Ten.
I stop then. Standing perfectly still, the tip of my fingers pressed against her chest, just over her heart. I finally exhale. Only 6 seconds have passed since I stepped forward. She goes to speak. To breath. To cast or retaliate, but instead, she only sputters a torrent of blood. She collapses to the ground. Dead.
I stand and ponder for a moment. My mastery grows. Others consider adherents of my school 'battle fanatics' always looking for the next challenge, the next obstacle to mastery. They do not understand that only in the fires of single combat can...
*SMACK*
Tita smacks Sota across the side of the head, causing him to almost topple over. She glares at her fellow Tian, the blue skinned Samsaran looking quite frustrated. "What the fuck was that!?"
Sota blinked. "What? Fight started, I killed her. The end." Illum and Ketch both shake their head at his response. "What do you mean!? We just saw a flash and then you were next to her and then she died! Explain!" Tita yelled at him further. "Why was she coughing up blood?!"
Sota rubbed at the spot that Tita struck. She was rather strong actually. He explained calmly. 'I used the shadow fist style to disrupt her inner ki flow and destroy her from the inside."
This time, Tita blinked. "So you touched her once, then her ORGANS EXPLODED!?"
Sota nodded. "I actually hit her ten times, but effectively, yes."
Tita stared blankly for several moments, but before she could continue yelling, they both heard Ketch burst out laughing. Sota could swear he saw the normally sauve and cool Illum smirking as well. Ketch spoke finally. "Remember way back in the day, when he got jealous of being the only one who didn't know or understand magic, so he punched that Dire Lion while shouting 'I cast fist!'"
Sota's cheeks burned slightly at the memory. Before he could speak, Illum did. "As I recall, that Lion died as well. Instantly." He said in his calm, even tone.
Tita scoffed again. "How is hitting someone and then making their organs explode not magic exactly?"
Ketch shrugged as Sota finally spoke up. "It's not magic! It's a simple case of physical training and Ki Discipline! That's all."
Tita stared blankly at him for several seconds. "You are so weird. Come on, help me loot already. And tell us next time before you cast Fist on someone."
Sota opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it and went to help them gather up the valuables. Ketch looked to Illum. "Hey, Illum, go cast Loot."
Illum groaned. "Shut up Ketch."
Sota liked his party.
|
sinburger
|
Kuraito
|
2024-10-22 21:19:34
|
2024-10-22 19:46:11
| 83 | 20 |
lt8ly53
|
lt83e12
|
1g9l181
|
1g9l181
|
[WP] 5 years ago, you accidentally ran over a poor school student with your truck. You've carried the guilt all that time until one day, that very student knocks on your door, awoken from their coma. Rather than being angry, they thank you for inspiring their bestselling fantasy series
|
Oh God oh no oh no oh no—what the hell did I *do*? What did I do? Last thing I remember I was juggling flaming bowling pins at the mayor’s re-election gala—pure art, pure chaos, no harm! Nobody even got *singed*! Then some bright neon blur tackled me into the dessert table. Face full of tiramisu. Felt like a human freight train, but with abs. That much I remember.
And now—now I’m here. In… this place. White walls, everything humming like a science lab but too fancy. Too expensive. No restraints, which feels like an oversight, because I’d restrain *me*.
A big logo on the wall. Can’t read it from here, but I know that symbol. Everyone knows that symbol. Great big corporate-funded justice nonsense. Heroes. Actual *heroes.*
WHY am I here? Why didn’t they throw me in jail? I’m not hero-sick, I don’t want redemption, I don’t want therapy, I just want to mess with people. Mostly. Politely. Mostly politely!
Footsteps. Heavy boots, serious boots. Oh no. Oh God. Play dead? Too late. Door opens and oh crap, it’s her. Her face. Her *chin.* How is it that square? Like geometry came alive and decided to shame me.
“Good. You’re awake.” Her voice is a gravel road.
“Y-yeah.” Smooth. Real smooth.
“You’re lucky Nightshard didn’t kill you.”
Nightshard? Who names these people? Was it the neon blur? *Abs of steel, brain of oatmeal*. Figures.
“Uh, yeah, lucky,” I mumble, and she sits down. Sits DOWN, like we’re old pals catching up.
“We’ve been watching you, you know.”
“Y-you have?”
“Your tricks. Your stunts. You’re small-time, but creative. Messy, but clever. No fatalities, minimal injuries. You don’t even steal much.”
“Hey! I steal plenty!” Why am I defending my villainy to a literal superhero?!
She smirks. Smirks like I’m a toddler in a cape. “Sure. Listen. The league has a proposal.”
A proposal. From the league. For me. A supervillain whose last *heist* involved glitter bombs and a rubber chicken.
“W-what kind of proposal?”
“Community outreach.”
“Community *what*?”
“Team morale has been… tense. We need someone to shake things up. Keep people on their toes. A *designated nuisance*.”
My jaw is on the floor. Literally? Maybe? I can’t feel my face.
“You want me to annoy your coworkers?”
“Yes.”
“For money?”
“Yes.”
“And not prison?”
“Correct.”
The room is spinning. Either I’m concussed or I just landed the greatest gig in supervillain history.
“Deal.”
She shakes my hand, and I swear the bones in my fingers explode. But it doesn’t matter. I’m in. *I’m in.*
“Welcome to the team.”
And then she leaves, and I start laughing. Hysterical, shrieking laughter that echoes off these stupid shiny walls. Because somehow, *somehow*, I tricked the greatest heroes in the world into paying me to ruin their day.
Best. Day. Ever.
|
Jill Ryerson beamed at me from my doorstep, a copy of "Stodgey and the Mushroom Stone" in one hand and a pair of crutches in the other.
"This is my book! Before the accident, I'd never wanted to write. I hated English class. I hated reading. The doctors said I changed because of the head injury. I tell ya, I just started getting all these ideas," she said.
This wasn't how I imagined this conversation would go. I expected her to be angry, or at least bitter. I would apologize profusely and it wouldn't be enough. Then she was supposed to tell me through tears how much I ruined her life and how much she'd hate me for the rest of her days for taking her legs away from her. It went that way every time I'd thought of it, which was every day since it happened.
I wanted to smile and make do like everything was nice, but I found myself angrier at her than anything. How could she be this successful young author, happy as can be, when I was supposed to have stolen her happiness from her? There were so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her of all the sleepless nights I'd spent thinking about how things would've gone differently if I wasn't texting and driving. Hell, even saying I was sorry would be good enough, but I couldn't seem to access any of that at the moment. Instead, I let fly with my first impression of what she said.
"*The title sounds a lot like the first Harry Potter book*."
Her smile turned into an ashen frown. It was as if I'd just run her over again with a different kind of truck.
She stood rigidly, staring me down from head to toe. "You know, I came here to thank you. To tell ya that I made peace with it, that you even inspired me."
"Look, I'm sorry." I said.
She shook her head. "Did you even read the book?"
I backed away nervously. "Can't admit that I have."
"If you did, you'd know that it's nothing like *Harry Potter*. A kid gets hit by a wagon on a country road and is badly injured. He's taken to a witch's hut, where a witch promises him that she can save him, but he'll have to eat a mushroom that will bestow a curse on him. The curse paralyzes him, so he can't walk. At first, he's disheartened, but after meeting a fairy who tells him about something called the mushroom stone, he believes the curse can be undone. And that's all I'm sayin'. You should've read it."
She handed me the book, the frown lifting from her face. "It's signed."
I sighed. "Look, I'm really sorry."
"It's OK," she said, turning away. "I left a message for you inside. Read it."
"I will," I said. "Thanks for stopping by."
She used her crutches to walk down to the car she came in, then got in the passenger seat. As the car drove off I opened the copy of the book and looked for her message, which was on a piece of paper carefully folded between the pages.
"Dear Stan,
I'm so glad to be able to give you this copy of my book. The accident inspired me to write it. I spent so many nights imagining what I'd do to you for stealing my youth, and that really made the words flow onto the page. I imagined that I'd meet you one more time so that you could see me alive and thriving despite what you did, and then I'd ensure that you met a worse fate than I did.
Now that I'm successful, I can afford to make my dreams a reality.
Jill"
I was about to put the book down when I heard a car pull into the drive. *Oh shit.* I froze, wondering what I should do. I never heard the assassin enter the house because the last thing I saw before I heard the gun go off was Jill's face smiling against the pane of glass on my front door.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
StoneBurner143
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2025-01-11 21:39:55
|
2023-03-13 03:09:53
| 232 | 24 |
m6n3ika
| null |
1hz0cf3
|
11pue97
|
[WP] You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.
|
"Aha! But you forget! I have the power of my Freeze Ray!" I cheered at the hero.
They played their part and smirked. Many were watching from the sidelines, as I cutely raised the contraption that looked like a glue gun, but used ice cubes instead of glue sticks. Legs spread apart, held with both of my grubby little child hands, I squeezed the handle more than I squeezed the trigger.
A ray of blue clouds lazily drifted forward like the spray of water from a passing water ride flew out from it, and the hero merely blew a raspberry back at me.
It was all so childish! It was just kids having fun with make-believe powers that happened to be true.
I found myself restrained in the ice. "Oh, boo!" came my catchphrase, pouting up at the hero who looked down at me.
"Alright, Maggy, time to call it quits. Ain't no one sneakin' a cookie from the cookie jar while I'm on watch!"
"It's not Maggy!" I laughed up at-
Suddenly his head was blown off. My pout became confused.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
I looked at the shooter. He looked like some sort of cyborg, but with necromancer vibes. "I have come to claim this land for the Emperor. Resist if you must. All will be converted in time."
To prove his words, he threw a face hugger-like robot drone into the air, which landed on the now dead form of the hero on the floor.
The body jolted in seizure as nanobots injected themselves into his body, and within seconds, began to stand up and become much like the cyborg corpse that killed him.
I pouted once more, "That's not how you play the game!"
The cyborg undead might have responded, but I decided enough was enough.
I imagined the scene going differently.
Time rewound.
"-lright, Maggy, time to call it quits. Ain't not one sneakin' a cookie from the cookie jar while I'm on watch!" he repeated himself, like an actor in a play. His smirk was the same. The look in his eyes was not, as he remembered dying.
"It's not Maggy!" I laughed up at him. "It's Imajin!"
Then I had the new play buddy come in. "I am designated Mark 7, series 49," he introduced himself, as all villains should. "I have come to take over this town in the name of the Emperor!" he continued, for the benefit of the spectators wondering why he was here.
The spectators... I looked at them, remembering they were there. The hundreds of people just going about their day seemed worried at first, but after seeing that the hero was fine, merely shrugged it off.
The hero paused, unsure of his line for a moment, but looked at me, so I fed him an angle. "I don't know him! Why do you think I know him? We don't look anywhere near related!"
I could see the cyborg struggling to do anything at all under my power, but it wasn't his turn, yet.
The hero caught on quickly, and said, "Well, you can't have a cookie either," he said half-bravely, half confused. "You'll have to wait your turn."
I caught the subtle hint. My smirk let out just a hint of my fangs for a moment, before they reformed into perfectly cute, almost cartoonish teeth.
"A cookie? I want all of this town!" the half-alive construct complained like a sunday cartoon villain. Same tone and everything.
All was as it should be.
Just fun and games.
Harmless fun.
No harm at all.
|
"The heroes and i,had had a friendly relationship at times. really my journey into so called villainy, started with My youngest sons Milos 6th birthday,him and his friends wanted it to be super hero themed,so i dawned my pirate suit,i haven't worn,in years,since i was captain of the Infamous Black rose pirates,i want to say,it was down in greece? or maybe spain,i dont really rember,it was 300 or so years ago now,but ill never forget ol lucy,my first mate,i met her when she was but a lass of 14,and she stole from me,.'
"but that's not what this story is about. see for years,i played the local villain,for a bunch of local super heroes,of various ages. Dragon of winter they called me.,i would do petty tricks,small snow storms,petty freezing of pipes and such,but id never hurt anyone and id always reverse the damage i did when the kids caught me. I've lived for many years now. I've traveled around the world and back,i spent time all over. but i had finally settled down once again. all the kids knew me by name,it didn't matter if i was a so-called villain,the parents and kids were happy ,and having fun,isn't that what's important?"
"i was at work in the office,and going over some reports,when a speical news brodcast from the heros went out.it was strange as it was a level 32 alret,the higest level they had,so i stopped and watched.,and what i saw... ill never forget. No parent should ever have to bury their child... but that day... ill never forget,the anger,the pure hatrad i felt for that bastard. the one they call the Blod viper,a brutal bastard,who has no moral compas."
*Special news report Blood viper Brutally murdred and torutred the local super hero team night owls,live on telvison,and carved their hearts out,daring anyone else to challange him,as he laughs a wicked laugh*
"when i saw the report,my heart sank,i prayed i was wrong.... but later,when i got home,Lucian,One of Milos friends parents,who works as a cop,informed me,milo was their... fighting for his life... and he passed away. on that day,hearing those words,my heart hardend once again,and it took me back to when i served over seas.. i dawned an old uniform with various tabs of elite forces ,and i let out a roar of anger,as i look to a picture of milo and his mom*
"im sorry,i wasnt able to protect him.... but i will avange him."
*i put out a chllange to a duel to the death for blood viper,many news comapnys and reporters came and looked at the situation,blood viper just laughed at seeing me,dressed in a t shirt,and shorts,*
"so your the so called villan who chllanged me? i beat the hero league and i heard your more a prankster then an actual villan,so what are you going to do about it,weakling."
*My eyes flash with an anger and fire they havent flashed with,in years,as i spoke calmly,yet the power and tension behind my words could be felt,as the very air shook*
"You killled,innocent children... who wanted to make this world a safer place. You really think just because im called a tristicker ,i am? i only did that for the children,and the local heros. it kept them safe from people like you."
*he waves his hands,as spirits of the dammend and demons of death appear,and he ties blood viper in chains as he tries to run*
"My true power,is far beyond,what they saw or know. today im going to make an example of you. milo was only 15,and he had a kid on the way. i dont agree with it. but you took away that chance,now your sins have caught up."
*Everyone watches in stuned silence as The person they thought was a low tier villain,brutally punished blood viper,and once he was done torutring him,he summoned a sword of Hellfire and ice,and split him in 2,*
"i lived a life to protect my sun,and then you did this. you pushed me to far."
*he says,as he burns the body and as his spirt leaves,the other spirits and demons drag it deep to the depths of hell*
*he looks up to the sky*
"dont worry son,after this,no one,hero or villan will bother your unborn child,or your girlfriend. you have my word,ill protect them. hopefully one day,we can meet again,at the gates."
|
Noth_Ankyou
|
First_Hovercraft_197
|
2024-09-23 13:33:25
|
2024-09-23 11:53:12
| 175 | 45 |
loityxo
|
loifflc
|
1fnekwz
|
1fnekwz
|
[WP] You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.
|
(Sorry for any spacing and formatting problems, typed this on my phone)
Aidan Maxwell, villain callsign "Lightwave." He was in the middle of his normal hijinks, making people think they're losing it by moving things around without anyone seeing him, taking things and framing others for the infractions to start minor quarrels, and at the very worst nipping in and out of bank vaults to steal enough cash for rent and groceries. He really didn't have a grand plan - he just wanted to live and let live. There were even times when he used his powers to help - stopping a stroller from rolling away, returning a dropped bag, providing a subtle redirect between an inattentive phone-watcher and possible injury
Most days, the heroes didn't even know he was there. This was by design. He could bend light and had grown to the point that he did it without even thinking about it. Two of them, Sadie and Howard Porter, the twins Double Vision, could see through his illusions. When push came to shove, they usually just gave him a stern talking-to. When it came down to it, they were the closest things Aidan had to friends.
News of their sudden and brutal demise at the hands of some new upstart, calling himself Lucifer with no sense of irony or self-awareness, did not leave Lightwave particularly happy. This new, exceedingly powerful villain had torn through the national hero team with wild abandon. He took all challengers who called him out, which was becoming a rarer commodity for him. It came as a shock when no-name Lightwave called him out, but he accepted the challenge all the same.
"I honestly have no idea who you are," Lucifer, a massive armored man, covered in more spikes than a porcupine and enough blades for a daytime shopping channel, "buuuut I figure it could be kinda fun to deal with a nobody villain, make an *example* of ya."
Lightwave stood half a block from the much larger man, slightly slouched, his light gray motorcycle jacket with a squiggly line stitched on its back to represent a wave of light, and seemed to the casual observer to be shrinking away from this terrifying beast, "You killed my friends. I haven't got many of those, y'know." The lights in the buildings nearby dimmed.
"Oh, I can see why, pathetic lookin' thing you are," His armor plates shook with his laughter, "I mean, what do you expect being so quiet and scrawny?"
"They were good people," The lights in the buildings died, "You killed a lot of good people."
"Yeah, I sure did," There was an audible smile in Lucifer's voice, "I think I'll fit a few more in when we're do-"
"You most certainly will not," Lightwave responded with absolute authority, cutting off and shocking the much-larger villain, "Tell me, do you know the actual etymology of your chosen name?" The lights across the entirety of the state dimmed, then winked out.
Lucifer stood taller, "Yeah man, the fuckin' DEVIL man! It's what I aim to-"
"It's Latin. Light Bearer, or Light Bringer. The latter being what I'd chosen for myself before I decided it was too much," The light for half an astronomical unit sputtered and died, "Everyone thinks my power is bending light, which is true to a point. I can manipulate and control photons. You are not walking away from this, you goddamn *monster*."
"Like hell I'm n-"
The sentence died in the air, as Lightwave crossed the entire distance between them in a fraction of a second, unleashing the full power of the light from the palm of his hand straight down on the top of the upstart's head.
Four minutes later, the sunlight managed to return to the Earth, illuminating a man walking from the shadow of monster burned into the melted asphalt.
|
Part 1 of 2
The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of.
Pascal wrote as much. You're not certain what it was about, certainly something about God and faith. Not that it matters, the sentence stuck with you, and you agree. One shouldn't always look for reasoning, the absence of it explains so many things.
Streets built to accommodate traffic as if each driver was a droplet under the yoke of fluid mechanics; industrial zones separated from living areas to keep it all ordained and neat; motorways connecting farms to the concrete where people ate. It looks rational and sensible, and that is all it is. A pretense at common sense, just enough to keep the illusion alive; That mankind is, on a global and individual scale, dictated by science and enlightened.
As if.
You certainly believed so too, once. It's an architect's prerogative to think in right angles and load-bearing walls. Ah, the folly of youth. If only the old would recognize this folly and let go of it, but no, it appears you are cursed like Cassandra before you, to see and tell the truth and never to be believed. Then again, it's easier living in an illusion, they cannot be blamed.
"Any idea?" a voice asks behind you as you contemplate the body, warm blood seeps from a slit throat. There is a menacing tinge in the voice. They fear you, they know what you've done in the past, they know you are causing problems on the regular still. They also prefer the devil they know.
"I say we have a contender on our hands," you reply.
The victim was killed at home, a nice apartment up in a skyscraper with a fully-equipped kitchen open on a tasteful living-room and massive windows looking over the city. Hard to breach, some would say. Easy place to get isolated and far from help a killer would reply.
You recognize the method. Slick, efficient, driven.
Like you, once.
Young and brash, you were armored in the certainty of knowledge, wielding efficiency and reason as weapons. If only you were in charge, then things could finally go forward. Few agreed, it was a human right to choose for themselves, so they said, mistakes were part of growth. Mistakes were done aplenty over centuries, and still the world was on the brink of collapse. Choice is what brought us there, it was up to you to correct this mistake.
You never were a grand and powerful warrior. In truth, nobody is. Humans merely need to shape their hopes and fears in the plastic of heroes and villains. The stories are always grand and noble, unlike the truth, and these great figures often forgot that. You didn't. When they came for an honest duel, you trapped them in a burning building. When they came to save your hostages, they discovered they didn't want to be saved.
And when they tried to handle things like adults and pick you apart in a public debate, they discovered how you, unlike them, had a vision. And as blind humanity is to their own heart, they still wished for reason to rule them, and your vision had enough gold and right angles to make you beloved.
It isn't a fight under a thunderstorm that brought you to power, but a vision spoken on cameras. Heroes and villains, the concepts are outdated.
You worked hard. The world a mess to be remade, reorganized. The wealthy and inefficient saw their funds put to good use without their opinion. Clogged streets, like waterways, were reorganized to handle each droplet. The cities, like humans, perfected to get the world forward. No choice meant going up. And up it went. From the brink, each system, be they financial, human, or ecological, recovered and thrived.
Gorgeous, it was gorgeous. These moments when you could earnestly think *it's going to be alright*.
You're lost in the memory as you hound the killer. They are easy to track, they are like a younger you. There are a few misses in your hunt, murders you predicted not happening, for the killer had yet to perfect the method. You admire their will, their hope, their childish belief. Such a beautiful illusion. Age has ripped this illusion from you.
The killer may not reach that age. She stands before you, knife gleaming in the dark of an unlit alleyway. The sort of path one with good education wouldn't dare taking, and one with bad education has seen the danger of and avoids. The rain pours, the thunder roars, whatever happens, you and her are well and truly alone. No scream will be heard, no unlucky passerby will watch.
"I have a vision," you hear her say, it is the only justification she needs to lunge for your throat.
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MrArgetlahm
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Ataraxidermist
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2024-09-23 14:14:03
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2024-09-23 08:46:25
| 152 | 72 |
loj0to2
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lohwwr9
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1fnekwz
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1fnekwz
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