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[WP] While sailing solo in the Pacific you respond to a signal fire on the beach of a deserted island and discover a marooned shipwreck survivor who has waited 15 years for rescue. A peculiar individual, when exploring the cave he lives in you find markings counting down the days until you arrive
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„I wish you weren’t so sad.“
The sentence cut through the silence like a hot knife through butter.
Wait. Did I say that out loud?
Everybody stared at me. First and foremost all the people who stood in the cue before me.
One wish per adult per year. Only granted if never asked before. Those were the rules. So people cued and went one at a time. Some friend of mine had jobbed here as crowdhandlers.
The genie actually never had set this system up, it just kind of happened as the ages went by, and no one had dared or cared to challenge the process. Well, at least until what just happened. Because of me. Oops.
In my Defense: I was not exactly in my best self. Having just turned 18 the night prior had left parts of my brain not quite up to the task.
„That wish has never been asked of me.“ the genie finally declared. With a smile.
Wait what?
My brain could not really comprehend what just happened. Did I just get my wish?! But that means …
„But we get like one wish each year?! No one ever asked you that?! How long have you been this miserable for?“ my hungover, still slightly drunk brain had no mind for the outraged pilgrims around me. This was my birthday, and if genie boy over there and I got along then I would make the most of it.
„I wish everyone who came for years, got multiple chances and never once thought about using a single one for you would lose their future wishes.“ I said with all the Sass I could bring up.
Brilliant. Everyone looked at me like I murdered some Kittens.
Idiots. The lot of them. Everyone knows. One try per year. I already had my shot. Even my messed up head could not forget that one. I waved like some royal, turned on my step and left the stage.
Or tried to.
„That wish has never been asked of me before.“
I stopped dead in my tracks.
Oops.
|
"What did you wish for?" they would always ask, and I would simply smile.
It had been years since that day. Looking back through the memories of my life, I always marveled at the twists and turns my life had taken. Orphaned at only five months old. Foster parents murdered before I turned three. A solid decade of a downward spiral. Bad choices, the wrong kind of friends, drugs, delinquency. Court-mandated therapy that finally shook the grip of those early years.
Until I was seventeen, when Wit came back into my life. They had been the one who got me into drugs. They had been the one I first gave my heart to, along with my virginity. They had been the one who killed that crazy dealer who tried to drag me into an alley and rape me. They had been the one who left me for the cops to blame.
Wit had been everything wrong and everything right in my life, and they were back.
"Go to the genie," they told me, their eyes half-lidded in that try-to-make-me-care way. "Everyone does it. Go to the genie."
I knew it was a bad idea because Wit was the one telling me to do it, but I did it anyway. Therapy could fix a lot of things, but not who I was. At least, not fast enough.
The year with Wit hooked me with barbs. I said no to a god-damned lot. Said yes to a fair few. I loved Wit. I hated Wit. And the day I turned eighteen, I followed Wit up the mountain.
It had been years since that day. I now walk the world in freedom--free from my demons, free from my struggles, free from my past. When the petitioners at the base of the mountain saw the great beam of light shoot into the sky, they all marveled. They knew that the world would never be the same. For centuries, the genie had denied every wish. _Every wish can only be wished once_, they would always say, and so everyone left with nothing but the determination to try again next year.
But the beacon in the sky meant a wish had been granted. Whoever walked off the mountain would be famous. They would be hounded for all their life by those clamoring to know what wish had been so unique. It was a new era.
But I never told them. I could not lie, for I was bound to truth, and so every time they asked what I had wished for, I told them nothing. After all, I had not been the one to make the wish. I had merely granted it.
But Wit saw now that I was happy in a way they had never been able to make me. They knew something was up. And so Wit never gave up asking.
Even now, decades later, as Wit lay old and fragile on their deathbed, and I sat by their side as hale as I was in the days of our youth, they asked, desperate for an answer.
"What did you wish for?"
I simply smiled.
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Oba936
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aDittyaDay
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2023-01-23 22:33:59
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2023-01-23 22:10:24
| 523 | 144 | null |
j5lq8a6
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10jo4v8
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10jo4v8
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[WP] A kid losing a video game, and getting their big brother to beat it for them, as seen from an npc's perspective
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Not the pit again....this will be the 40th time today I'll have fallen into this pit and had to restart the level. The young one is fun to watch as he trys to navigate through the level his youthful exuberance refreshing and a reminder of why most of us enjoy what we do. But this pit was getting the better of him as the timing needed is precise. as he inched me closer to the edge...again. and i stop, aaaaand stay stopped i gaze out and behold that the controller of my fate had grown frustrated of our continued failures and wandered off. I really couldn't blame him. I to was tired of this view of the pit. Lost in my musings as i wondered how long I'd peer into the abyss until the one called mom would wander through see my peril, and turn off the connection between our worlds.
Into view he comes again, tugging on another being " i really need your help, please? Do this part for me? I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day." His eyes looked pleadingly at the being he was dragging into view. When i saw to whom he was pleading for aid from, I couldn't help but smile. It was his older brother. He and I had a long history of adventuring together. It'd been awhile. As he looked my way he also smiled." Ok, ok, ok. I'll get you to the next level." New vigor coursed through my body as he sat down and picked up our connection. i backed up from the edge preparing for a running jump. "Let's do this!" I thought as i sprinted toward another grand adventure.
|
##Brothers in Arms
The gun ripped through my compatriots. Hordes of zombies emerged from the grave only to be sent back to the underworld. The hero unleashed a loud scream of power. The zombies got stronger, and the hero removed his armor. Their battle waged onward.
"Now, he's just showing off?" Eliza said from behind the tavern window.
"Is Danny or Brian in charge?" Peter asked.
"Well, he's defacing the corpse of an enemy so clearly it's Brian," Eliza said.
The ground shook beneath their feet. The dead dissolved into a primal ooze and collected in the middle of the city. A large snake rose from the ooze and bared its fangs. The hero produced a hatchet and charged.
"Well, looks like we'll be here a while," Eliza said.
"It's better than Chris. I was getting bored with him constantly dying," Peter said.
"I found his failures amusing. He got extremely close, and he still died," Eliza said.
"That was funny, but I want to go home. I can't do that until that stupid snake is vanquished," Peter said.
"Oh, the snake consumed him. Brian's probably pissed." Eliza closed her eyes. "I can hear him swearing as we speak."
"Is Chris yelling at his brother?"
"Yes, it's quite humorous."
"Is Danny getting involved?"
"No." Eliza's eyes shot open. "It sounds like he's on a date."
"What the hell?" Peter's eyes narrow, and his mouth opens.
"Yeah, he's on a date with a girl from his school."
"I refuse to believe it. No one who plays this game so many times is capable of flirting."
"Maybe he found another gamer. He always says he's the most attractive, and the other two don't debate him," Eliza said.
"That's not saying much."
"We haven't seen them."
"Nah, there's no way he's hot. He may be good at this game," Peter stopped. The hero revived and tore the zombies at an impressive rate.
"Oh, he came home early. The date went poorly," Eliza said.
"That makes perfect sense," Peter remarked. The snake began to form, but the hero tossed a grenade into it. The boss was destroyed before it struck. The hero grabbed the reward and ran.
"Finally, we can go home," Peter said.
"Bad news. Chris said he'll use these tips tomorrow," Eliza said.
"Crap. Well, I'll enjoy the night off. See you then."
---
r/AstroRideWrites
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Reasonable_Space_165
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AstroRide
|
2023-06-21 21:08:45
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2023-06-21 21:08:29
| 35 | 23 |
jp0fiar
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jp0fgu8
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14fdlba
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14fdlba
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[WP] Modern celebrities aren't real. They're folk characters, like Santa Claus or ancient gods. They rely on their fame to live; the less they're paid attention to, the weaker they get.
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"Sorry," I say slowly. "Not sure I understand what you mean. Did you say something about _gay evil_ in _your closet?"_
The boy, Henry is his name, swallows hard before nodding. His face is swollen, as if he's been crying.
I have a feeling I know exactly where this is going. With a sigh, I grab the chair nearby, twirl it around, and seat myself so my forearms rest along the back of the chair. "Have a seat, kid," I say as I stretch my wings.
Henry seats himself demurely on the edge of his twin sized bed. I wait patiently for him to speak.
"I think a demon is tormenting me," Henry finally manages to say.
"Huh." That's funny because the only demon in the house is following Henry's mother around. It doesn't seem interested in Henry at all. "Why do you think that?"
"Well," Henry murmurs, "I have these thoughts. Bad thoughts. Evil thoughts."
"Let me guess... Do these thoughts involve you kissing boys?"
Henry's eyes grow wide, his cheeks red, before covering his face with his hands. "Yes," he whimpers. "I'm sorry."
I can't help it; I laugh. Not because it's funny. Quite the opposite really. It's sad. Very sad.
"Don't apologize, Henry. You're gay. You're gay because that's how you were made."
Henry looks more aghast than before. "But why? Why would the Lord do this to me?"
"Evolutionary fail safe. Some kids lose their parents early. Some kids just have shitty parents. Kids need parents. Who better to step in than a happy couple unable to reproduce with each other? Make sense?"
Henry seems to struggle with this idea. "But the Bible says it's a sin!"
"Eh... You're lacking some important context there. The Bible says it's wrong for men to rape other men. And the guy who said 'thou shalt not lay with a man as a man lays with a woman,' was fighting child prostitution at the time. I think it was more about rape being awful, and less about gay people."
Henry stares at me in disbelief. "But... My parents..."
I feel my eyes growing rather narrow. "You mean your mother?"
The boy nods before gazing forlornly at the floor. "She'd be so upset if she found out. She'd..."
"She'd what?"
Henry shakes his head furiously before wiping his cheeks. "I don't know..."
"Does your mother hit you, Henry?" I got a feeling I know what sort of demon is following her around the house.
The boy nods again before bursting into tears.
I stand and rest my left palm on the crown of Henry's head. "That's okay. Let it out, kid. You're going to be all right. Everything's going to be all right."
When Henry's mother knocks on his bedroom door later, to tell him it's time to eat dinner, he won't be there. When he's able to catch his breath again, I'll do what I always do. I'll take Henry far away, somewhere he'll feel safe. Maybe one day, if he feels like it, he'll return.
I'll be back soon though. You better believe I'm going to wipe the floor with that demon's face.
_For Heiko. I wish I'd met you when we were children; I'd have carried you some place where you could feel safe._
|
With an explosion of light Raphael emerged in the bedchamber of the boy. Summoned by the parents of this frightened human soul that was given in their care. It seemed like an ordinary bedroom of a boy his age. Some posters on the wall, nice rainbow flag hanging from the door, nothing that screamed demonic to Raphael. So he would have to ask why he was summoned.
“Why have you summoned me, the archangel Raphael?”
The father – a stern looking man, strong sense of tradition – pointed towards the closer, the one with the rainbow flag, and said, “We beg of you to destroy the homosexual abomination demon that is poisoning our boy”
There we go again, overzealous people who in their errant arrogance deny the nature of Gods creation and in their fear and insecurity seek their purpose through the words of false prophets. Again he underestimated human stupidity and lost the bet to Michael. It turned out it there were no demons, as per usual these days.
“There is no abomination in this room, other than your understanding of the words of the lord,” said Raphael as calmly as he could muster.
For the first time since he had appeared the boy looked up from the floor, where he had been staring towards with teary eyes. Raphael nodded and gave the kid a smile. The parents in turn looked at Raphael with a rather rude look of disgust. As if they were going to argue with an archangel about the tenets of their God. Stubbornness another thing these religious folks excelled in.
“Open the door,” said Raphael to the mother.
She still gawked at him with defiance, but did as she was told. She walked over to the door, and pointedly avoiding touching the rainbow flag, opened the closet.
“What do you see?” asked Raphael.
The mother looked inside and said, “I see nothing holy one.”
Raphael flicked his wrist and inside the closet appeared a boy, the same age as their son, scared, confused and alone.
“Look again,” said Raphael.
The mother looked again and the father joined her, out of curiosity and control.
“It look like our son, but our son isn’t that weak,” scoffed the man.
“It is your son and that is not weakness you’re looking at!” said Raphael with a sudden booming voice. “That is neglect!”
The parents, startled at the sudden outburst, looked at Raphael in fear. As Raphael looked back at them with glowing piercing eyes. The boy in the meantime had stopped crying and was looking at his parents with awe. He probably had never seen his parents express anything, but judgment, disgust, anger and arrogance. That’s when his eyes fell on the shivering boy inside the closer.
“C-can I?” he asked Raphael, unsure whether he was allowed to speak.
Raphael’s eyes returned to normal and his face turned from stern into a warm smile as he nodded. The boy ran into the closet and embrace the scared little boy. Next to each other it was now clear that the frightened child was the same. As the boys hugged one another they grew warmer and brighter and the boy in the closet was absorbed by the boy that had fully accepted him. The parents looked at the light in awe and Raphael was sure there was a shimmer of pride in the mothers eyes, of what their boy had done. He had embraced what they had feared and proven himself braver than his parents.
“Mom, dad, this is who I am,” he said with his face held high and confidence in his eyes.
His mother was the first to move and she rushed to the boy and held him in her arms. The father hesitated as he looked towards Raphael once more.
“Each of Gods creations are valuable and intended,” said the archangel to the man.
The father nodded. It was still partially out of obedience towards someone he accepted as authority, but it was a start. He walked over to the rest of his family and laid his hand on the boy’s head.
(If you liked this story, please feel welcome at r/zeekoeswriting to read my other stories!)
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None
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zeekoes
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2023-06-02 21:50:55
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2023-06-02 21:19:16
| 148 | 109 | null | null |
phvzmn
| null |
[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.
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"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?"
|
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.”
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jardanovic
|
McTot214
|
2024-01-07 21:07:06
|
2024-01-07 19:14:27
| 795 | 185 | null | null |
190yicv
|
190yicv
|
[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?"
|
"Amelia? What...?"
I spin back to look at Amelia's bed. Amelia is there, her hands clutching the edges of her favorite blanket like she has the willies. She looks at the closet with wide eyes, her long black hair framing her terror at what she sees in there.
I look back at the closet and see Amelia standing in between two pink dresses. She looks noticeably less colorful, and just as scared, as Amelia. They are both exact copies of each other. They both look like my daughter.
An old song's chorus comes to mind, but I dismiss it with a rough shake of my head. I step back from the closet and glare into it, locking my suspicions onto the Amelia there instead of the Amelia who had just spent time preparing to go to sleep.
"Who are you," I ask this other Amelia, "and how did you get in this closet?"
"It was supposed to be my turn tonight." The closet-Amelia looks at the bed and takes short, gasping breaths. "She had promised I would get the bed."
"No, that's tomorrow night!" The bed-Amelia raised the covers up over part of her face. "I said it was tomorrow."
"You said that *last* night! Stop lying to Daddy!"
"*You're* the liar! I hate you!"
"I hate you more!"
"You're a bad friend!"
"So are you!"
"HEY!" I clap my hands loudly as I use my "Big Man" voice to redirect the argument. Both copies of Amelia snap their vision at me, and they both blush and bow their heads with embarrassment simultaneously. I look to the door of Amelia's bedroom, wondering if I should call Susan up here. Having a mother's wisdom working alongside my growing knowledge of being a father would probably solve this issue much faster.
Susan doesn't come up the stairs. I can barely hear the screeching of cars; her late-night movie must involve racing. Kind of like how my own heart pumps blood that races through my chilled veins.
"Girls," I slowly say, looking between both Amelias, "What is all this about?"
Closet-Amelia speaks first. "It isn't my fault. We just wanted to be friends."
"We are just like each other," Bed-Amelia adds. "And we both love you and Mommy. But only one of us can spend time with you and Mommy."
"Why?" I ask.
"We can't tell you." Bed-Amelia shudders as her pupils shrink down to the size of pinpricks. "It's our secret." I look to Closet-Amelia to find her nodding along, her pupils just as small as her twin's.
"Well, I'm seeing both of you now, so it's no longer a secret." I flinch at my own word choice; is something going to happen to my daughter now that I know she has a copy?
"No, she means we can't tell you *why* we are like this." Closet-Amelia brushes some of her hair away from her face as she tries to calm down and mostly succeeds. "We know what we do from lots of mistakes. And now *she* is trying to get more time with you than we agreed."
Bed-Amelia glares back at Closet-Amelia, but after a few seconds' effort she sniffles and softens. "You're right," she admits to her copy and me, "I want more time with Daddy. I love him so much, it hurts when I have to be in the closet."
"So do I." Closet-Amelia sighs, and when I look at her she has tears glistening in her eyelids. "Whenever I see you be tucked in by him I get so jealous..."
I look between the two girls, both looking, sounding, and *existing* as my dear Amelia. Both of them felt real in my heart. I didn't want them killing each other, but jealous rivalry was an outcome I also did not approve of. "Does your mother know about this?" I ask.
"No," both Amelias say together. They both look at each other, sharing emotions through their eyes, or maybe sharing a telepathic link of empathy from their closeness. Whatever the case, it is clear to me that they do not want Susan's involvement in this. The situation falls to me, then, to fix.
As I rack my brain for answers, the bedroom is silent. Then, with a snap of my fingers, I start forming an idea. An *interesting* idea, with plenty of elbow grease and some parental ingenuity.
"Uh, girls," I start, "I think we can work with this..."
\[THREE NIGHTS LATER\]
"Can you check the closet, Daddy?" Amelia looks at that piece of newly-expanded furniture with wide eyes, her mouth hidden beneath the bedcovers. "That monster's there again."
"Sure, dearie," I say. With a smile, I walk over to the closet and open the doors. Lying down on a small cushion, curled up like a cat and wearing a nightgown similar to Amelia's own, is the other Amelia. She smiles at me as I kneel down and take a folded blanket just by the cushion in my hands.
"Time to tuck the monster to bed," I announce in a stage-whisper to everyone else in the room. Closet-Amelia lets out a quiet, "Thank you," as I spread the blanket over her body. I gently pat the blanket once and then close the door. I make sure no edge or piece of the blanket is visible or sticking out of the closet, so Bed-Amelia can be sure the "monster" is sleeping where she should be.
The bedroom light is turned off after I make sure Bed-Amelia is comfortable where she is. "Good night, dear," I quietly say before I step out and close the bedroom door behind me.
I only hear one "Night, Daddy," in response, but I am sure a second one was said within the warm embrace of a parent's mutual love.
|
jardanovic
|
CarthagePlate_210
|
2024-01-07 21:07:06
|
2023-06-26 00:32:06
| 795 | 11 | null |
jpj58q2
|
190yicv
|
14ipem3
|
[WP] 1000 years ago when you found out you were living in a simulation, you managed to break out of it into the real world. 982 years ago you discovered that the "real world" is the dream of a space entity. Now, after breaking through over 500 layers of "true realities", you recall old memory.
|
As I drift off into the void of yet another space between dreams, I take the time to wonder about all the moments that led me to decry the reality around me…
It all seemed so innocuous at first, the subtle patterns that seemed to echo across the data sets and defy the reality of quantum mechanics and the standard model of physics. The pattern was simply too repetitive to be anything but a traces of a compression algorithm to reduce the information density of the universe to a point it could be simulated.
This would be akin to someone from flatland suddenly looking and questioning the reality around them, it just shouldn’t happen. But none the less it did. And the more I dug the more I realized what this was.
It seemed like a millennia since I had broke the wall between my world and the next. With every world I crossed into there was just something wrong about it. Some detail I couldn’t except, that I knew to my core wasn’t right. But as soon as I found that detail it was like a balloon popped and the void returned. I got good at hunting down those details. And a sometimes I took a moment to appreciate the moments and memories with my daughter. With my wife, with my son.
When I look back, I realize now more than ever, that this has defined how I perceive myself. In those details and truths I saw and held onto that which was most dear to me. That allowed me to reject any detail I knew was wrong and define who I am. But what was the purpose of this perception? I feel like I’m slowly being carved into something by what I’ve accepted and what I’ve denied. I feel nearly whole now, but something doesn’t feel right still.
As I drift off into the void of yet another space between dreams I take the time to wonder about all the moments that led me to decry the reality around me…
**************************
On her desk, a weary but elated technician punches up the contact information of the client she’s been working on.
“Aubrey,
We have some good news. Your fathers engram is done being rebuilt. It’s taken nearly 5 years of compiling but we’re confident within a 99.9995% parity score that we’ve achieved personality recall. When you’re ready, you can visit him at any time.
If any detail of your father seems off, please let us know so we can run another iteration.
Thank you for your patronage.
Regards
Jason Woods
Senior Engram Technician
DeVol Mortuary Services”
|
There are many languages we speak each day. There are the words that we actually articulate. There is the body language that adds nuance. A certain look in the eyes may change that meaning. Shared history with our audience flavors it further. Perhaps even professional language comes into play. Specialized words that only certain people know.
Most of the time we share maybe one of two aspects of our internal language with someone. If we have known them for a long time, maybe three or four. We can never get the full understanding of what is going on inside someone without a special connection, a special understanding.
Love.
To love someone is to understand all the nuance. All of the subtle gestures, and turns of phrase. To love someone is to know their language on an intuitive level. We may not always interpret it correctly, hell some people that love each other, may on occasion get what their loved one says completely wrong. Sometimes they may even do that on purpose. Even so, to love is to know. To know someone or something other than yourself, in a whole and completely different way.
Three squeezes on the pinky. I. Love. You.
It was her way of saying she loved me in a non-verbal way. I wasn’t always the best at showing my love verbally. Maybe it was something from my puritanical upbringing. Maybe some deep seeded belief that public displays of affection were inappropriate for men. She understood though. So we developed our own subtly ways of saying I love you.
Three squeezes of the pinky.
That was our most common. It was the one I enjoyed the most because it was ours, it was secret, and it meant that she was here. Next to me. So, I was where I wanted to be. Next to her.
I have travelled up and down the rabbit hole of reality. I have stared into the eyes of infinity. Spoken to AI, aliens, Gods. Each has tried to convince me that I had reached the end of the road. That they were the Alpha and Omega. The beginning and the end.
Each time, I would find another thread to tug. Another inconsistency that would lead me along once more. After a time it became tiresome. I attempted to settle down. To ignore the glitches around me. The Déjà vu, or the weird angles on the lamp. To no avail. Always, it would draw me in eventually.
I think I loved in some of those hundreds of instances. I think I shared a deep connection to others. To the woman I spent time with, and the children we raised. Now, though I am not so sure. I think I was looking for something I knew in the past. Something I knew when this all started.
Three squeezes of the pinky mean I love you.
So today I am going to go. I am going to wake up one more time. This time it is going to stick though. Because I can still remember that feeling after waking up hundreds of times. I can still feel her holding onto me. Expressing herself with our secret language. Because she knows me like no one else. She knows me like she knows herself. Sometime she may get it wrong, but this is ours.
She would squeeze my pinky three times to tell me she loved me, and I would squeeze her thumb three times because I loved her. Because I knew she would be right here beside me when I woke up, and I would be where I was supposed to be.
|
PancakeBuny
|
DistillerCMac
|
2023-02-23 01:38:57
|
2023-02-23 00:50:05
| 50 | 15 |
j9mmyee
|
j9mg8cy
|
1194bge
|
1194bge
|
[WP] Humans are often abducted as exotic pets for aliens. One day, your owner enters with a book and starts trying to speak your language.
|
Tentacled Mass was holding something which glowed a bit differently than the usual something. No food this time, no treats, not frilly little outfits or new toys or anyhthing, just the glowing device, matte black along one side, flattish. A bit like a cell phone, but about 3 feet long and only a few inches across. medical maybe?
Sitting up I headed over to check things out.
TM made the usual assortment of bioluminous greeting colors, including the teal-and-amber flicker that it had named me, and then the device chimed, and spat out a rough, grating parrot's voice saying "HELLO" at about six times the volume I would have ever wanted to hear such a thing.
I jumped back, and covered my ears. "Oh no no no no no that was NOT the deal." I grumbled. "Free healthcare, food, housing, all the basics - not this. I'm a pet goddamn it!"
TM watched the device, and then flashed vibrant pink, a happy color. "IT WORKS"
"Too loud - and no thank you!" I shouted, and ran back to my little nest.
|
I heard the door open, and I snarled like a caged animal, scrambling into an open stance crouch that would let me tackle and grab one of these weird gangly motherfucking aliens.
I see the one who put this fucking collar on me and they're carrying a book. One of their personal droids is floating right next to them, and is helping them with their pronunciation.
"I-i-i-i a-a-a-am, Tolka. Huuuuh-whaaaaat, a-a-a-re y-y-you called?"
"Oh you can speak my language now, can you, you gangly bitch?" I lunge at the alien and get buffeted back into the wall by their telekinetic powers. I knew it'd end up like that, sk ce I didn't press for the potential surprise attack as they opened the door.
The alien looks at the Droid and it starts to speak English to me, clearly translating for the alien.
"Listen, you stubborn little breeding tool, we need you to stop attacking us, or we will paralyze you and extract what we need from you, whether you agree or not. I spent too much of my God damned personal money to teach Hilda here, how to translate English, I've been trying my damned hardest to learn. And. You. Will. Behave. And. Call. Me. Lady. Artalia."
With the last nine words, I feel my wrists and ankles being locked against the walls, then the sanitization process begins. Then I feel my clothes get blasted away, taking my confusion with them.
"Well, hell, why didn't your council give y'all the translation package to begin with? Us humans are filthy people who love co-mingling with extra-terrestial sentient species." I quip back, letting my body respond as appropriate.
Lady Artalia fixes a rather intense stare at me before approaching.
*fade to black with the sounds of fabric ripping and aggressive intimacy slowly fading in tandem*
|
None
|
USS-ChuckleFucker
|
2023-12-29 10:53:02
|
2023-12-29 04:18:08
| 50 | 26 |
kfecpmo
|
kfdc1s6
|
18t93xa
|
18t93xa
|
[WP] You are a literal god who pretends to be a d-list superhero. You've grown extremely attached to the people of the village you protect. You get news that an epic battle is taking place near your village and would most likely destroy it...
|
Pupperman made puppies. He loved puppies. He conjured puppies out of nowhere. His hero name was all about his obsession with puppies. It was all he ever seemed to be about.
Somehow, he still managed to pass the basic superhero qualification test. D-list, but still a hero.
Pupperman's puppies could retrieve lost items. His puppies could locate missing children and nip at the heels of kidnappers. Those puppies could help pull trolleys of goods for the people of Windvale Village. Nothing epic, but good enough for his beloved people. What else could they ask from a D-list superhero?
And then Pupperman overwhelmed a C-list villain by swarming him with puppies. Everyone remembered that moment when Badman tried to rob the only bank in the village. One minute he was waving his gun about threatening the teller, and the next a rush of puppies jumped at him and yanked his guns away.
One outstanding citizen award later, Pupperman was up for promotion into a C-list hero. But he turned it down. Said something about how much he loved Windvale and didn't want to be promoted into watching over a bigger town. So, the Superhero Association let him stay. He was doing a good job anyway, and there were plenty of aspiring heroes to take the place he turned down.
After the 3rd rejection, everyone at the Superhero Association got the hint. Pupperman just wanted to stay in Windvale and make puppies in peace. He loved that status quo and nobody could change that.
Until that day.
Everyone remembered that fateful day.
The Sinister Seven stopped bickering for one day and teamed up to crush superhero after superhero. The supergroup of S-class villains had ceased competing among themselves to nuke the Superhero Association and there wasn't anyone to stop them. Elektros fizzled out before them as Hydranos short-circuited him. Aerados sent the hero Quake flying in circles, unable to touch the ground and shake up the villains' plans with his earthquakes. Calibur lay on the ground bleeding, his magic sword stabbed into his gut.
With barely any opposition, the Sinister Seven marched on to the last branch of the Superhero Association in Springbrook. Whose designated hero fled the scene rather than face off against seven S-class supervillains. Despite the desperate pleas of the villagers of Springbrook, the villains were going to nuke it, alongside its neighbours.
Like Windvale.
Pupperman wasn't having any of it when he heard the news. So he made his way to confront the Sinister Seven, who all laughed at this silly D-lister who dared to imagine he could solo them all alone.
Then Hydranos stopped cackling.
On ordinary days, Pupperman was full of smiles. As cheery and carefree as the puppies he called upon. A goofy man with an equally goofy costume. On any other day, he was more man-shaped puppy than proud superhero.
On that day, Pupperman had a murderous look to him. He had a slasher smile that could send the devil handing the reign of hell over to him. His dogs were more hellhounds from hell than adorable puppies. His eyes were empty. A dark swirling void that threatened to swallow the villains staring at him.
The fight was over in seconds. If anyone could call it a fight at all. One word, and all the supervillains had hellish puppies bursting from their chests. Another word, and the more monstrous members with more than one heart had demon dogs rip through their skulls from the inside. It was a bloodbath. The air, thick with clouds of crimson, was choke full of screams of dying supervillains. The air remained acrid with the scent of blood for months. The ground was stained red for years to come.
Pupperman never collected his award or accepted his invitation to become an S-Class hero. He was gone. Some said he was never the same again. He couldn't go back to being the same happy and simple D-lister again. Nobody in Windvale, or the entire world could ever see him the same way they did.
Others said the Windvale's new D-list Superhero Dogboy was just Pupperman by another name with the same gimmick. But how could it be? They looked completely different. Different hair, different eyes, not to mention Dogboy was much shorter and younger.
But the villagers of Windvale now knew. Pupperman, Dogboy, whatever name he chose for himself, he was their god.
---
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
|
I grew up... well, it's more like i had spent a lot of time living here in this quaint village. Home to about 200 people mainly known for its farming and beautiful orchards, and with strong connections and regular trade with the nearby kingdom of the wood elves that live in forest.
I remember when I was much younger, not that i was ever that young. i never knew what being a father felt like, and then I guess I met you.
At the center of this town stands a statue of a fair haired human woman wearing regal plate mail across her chest that extends down into a majestic cape, wielding a staff and holding the hand of a small child, an old depiction of "The Defense of Oakvale". You slew hundreds of bandits and many more beasts that day... and saved countless more lives.
And i just had to stand back and watch as you risked your life, while my sorry ass had to be the one with the hangover... i mean, honestly, you'd think after 4 decades of learning to hold your liquor that you would have a handle on your drinking limits... i could have waved my hand, casted a couple of spells, and there would be fire raining from the heavens, an angelic construct appearing out of thin air, and countless bandits wailing in terror as I would twist their minds apart with a magical insult... at least i wouldn't have made myself a martyr...
You should see parents and their kids bringing you flowers every year, i swear the designs for the gifts get more and more elaborate for you every year... you know I never counted how many years passed until you came along, now it's been 80 sum years, and people still remember you as a hero...
I guess I could take on some more larger missions now that I have become a rank B adventurer... i wish i could've stayed at C, but after i slew a fully grown red dragon, they didn't let me say no... *sigh* If only i could've been born, I was able to pull my punches better.
Still, I recently received a message that the Beastman and greater Demon-folk are coming in from the north because of the eternal blizzard caused by the appearance of the Xixecal, that ancient bastard literally can never go to sleep can it... i know that there is someone who is going to be making their way to the giant to slay it, i know he'll be successful. He's failing to see the other problems it's causing.
The people have already left the village and have been allowed sanctuary and refugee by the elven village, there isn't a single person here, and what people do remain, don't have much with them that would be worth taking for a bandit. But these creatures aren't bandits. They don't care about money, and they'll burn the entire forest to the ground if they get their way and end up here...
"I guess it's time for me to go then, huh Claire?"
As i poured the rest of my drink into a small glass and set it down on the statue, the sunlight shining ever so softly on her cheeks, as her warm smile gives me the strength to stand up again, as I teleport some meters outside the village high up where I can get a good view...
I remember during the old wars, when mages across the world would level centuries of history and architecture in minutes with some of the most destructive magic known to man... those wars were only around 800 years ago, and many have forgotten it... but i never have.
I always clenched my fist and spoke all of my spells aloud and with purpose. it made the magic less fluid and more difficult to cast multiple spells in quick succession, but it also meant that you could control the effects of the spell with complete confidence, a practice that I ALWAYS used when teaching my greatest student how to use her power...
But I don't need to hold back now, I can carve lines and trenches into the land without fear of harming people below. The mountains will make great vantage points as golems of rock and stone hurl boulders at soldiers below. As i begin to get into my element, i always loved playing real-time strategy games. You have full control of an army, with absolute power and influence over your side of the field, with the goal being to protect what is behind you...
I won't let any one of these monsters lay a claw apon the walls of the home that you swore to protect, and once this is over you have my word that I'll restore the farmland back to normal... that being said.
*As the army of orcs, goblins, giant beasts, trolls, and giants march across the valley, they look out towards the end of the valley, an incline where row after row of stone, and wooden constructs, standing 7 feet tall, weilding spears and shields blocking their accent, a giant blanket of arrows covered in ivys and terrible plant toxins litter the bodies of the monsters, as the plants begin to sprout soon after, releasing an explosion of paralytic spores and pollens... the mountains begin to shake as huge stone boulders are thrown as if from a catapult deep into the swarm of roaring flesh and knawing teeth... as the armies charge towards each other, a series of bright lights can be seen piercing through the clouds and very heavens themselves as giant meteors float overhead being held back seemingly with a single hand, the hand of a smiling mage...*
I'm going to enjoy playing this game.
|
Tregonial
|
JayKronos1171
|
2024-04-16 08:06:05
|
2024-04-16 07:51:34
| 631 | 80 |
kzsuex0
|
kzsta7b
|
1c56rkq
|
1c56rkq
|
[WP] You died, you met a god(dess), and you got offered a new life in another world with the usual package -- OP powers, a personal harem, the works. Smelling a scam, you refused. That pissed them off.
|
"...you said no to me? NO ONE says no to me." I looked towards her.
"...did- did you even to research into my history on earth? Why should I believe what you're saying?"
The goddess looked towards me.
"Did it matter? You get everything." I shook my head.
"That's what they always said. Don't deal with the bullies, you'll work hard in school, go to college, and soon they'll be working for you someday.
You went to college and not even McDonald's and Walmart will give you an interview? Go to this job training course and one day you'll get the right position you're meant for.
You went to this position, just take the job we're letting you train at and prove to us you're good enough to deserve something else.
You played ball and worked hard to show us you deserve more? Great. Now, we know you'll work here, so this is where we're placing you- you can stock shelves your entire life until you die.
You worked hard at this? No, we're not giving you more money or more responsibility, you just have to work even more.
It's been like this my entire life, so you'll excuse me if I wonder what the catch is here- and I'm not going to accept this job until you tell me what the catch is."
I stood defiant against the goddess as she looked.
"But...you'll have the life you want. Great power. Be the chosen one. A harem...you said you were lonely in life..."
I cut her off. "I'M WAITING. WHAT IS THE CATCH?"
The goddess stammered.
"...peasantrevolution."
I nodded.
"Thank YOU. Now, we can look at how to do this. If I need this, I need a power to counteract it."
|
So... She was dead now, she didn't expect that a truck would be the one to end her subscription of living but it seems that it did. Now she was here in front of something that had a humanoid body of pure light offering her a new life in a different world. As the god put it
"It's an amazing world and you'll have powers beyond your wildest dreams, what do you say young lass?"
"No."
"Great! I'll just send... Wait, what did you say?"
The god asked, wondering if it's non-existent ears were working correctly. Afterall, there is no way that a mortal wouldn't acc-
"I said no."
She said stubbornly, staring up at the god with an annoyed look. Not only had she woke up late but she was also literally just killed like ten-ish minutes ago. Not to mention that this sounded like a scam, she would know, she used to be one of those people who called people to tell them that their machines had a virus.
"You can't just say no to this...! Ugh, what if I throw in a harem, huh? A group of super cute and hot boys to be all yours! Or girls if you swing that way, I can make it come true!"
The god said almost pleadingly, it was new to this whole... reincarnation business, the only reason it was doing this was because it lost a drinking contest to the actual god of reincarnation and said god was using this as an excuse to have a vacation.
"No. Also none of those apply to me, if you were gonna send a truck to off me then you might as well do your bloody research. I'm Aro-ace, mate."
She said matter-of-factly, the god looking as embarrassed as it's form of light could be. It was most certainly not cut out for this job, it was silently dreading the remaining month that it had to do this for.
"A-Are you sure? You could still be all powerful, ruling over everyone else with an iron fist!"
It tried convincing the girl, but stubbornness is apparently one of the greatest things of a human.
"Look can I just go back home? I have a very productive evening of trolling people on the internet and playing games all night again."
"Fine! Go back to your stupid games, I'll find someone else to take your place!"
The god angrily said before beaming the human back down to her house in a flash of light, now alone the god held it's head, already feeling the incoming headache that it was going to have soon.
|
Spiritual_Lie2563
|
FemaleAstralSlime
|
2024-07-24 00:59:06
|
2024-07-23 22:08:22
| 21 | 15 |
lemy92v
|
lem69as
|
1eaagdd
|
1eaagdd
|
[WP] You open the door and see a woman you recognise immediately: she’s the lead character of a novel you wrote years ago. And abandoned halfway. “Why did you forsake me?”
|
"HAHAHAHAHAHA Oh thank you dear, I haven't had that good of a laugh in years." I laughed in the cyborg's face, the shear absurdity of her statement being far funnier to me than it had any right to be.
"YOU THINK OUR SUFFERING FUNNY? YOU THINK THAT THIS IS A JOKE?" She raged at me, throwing the empty absinthe bottle at me from across the room.
"Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, yes, extremely so. Let me explain. You come here, ripping through time and space under your own power, kicking the laws of thermodynamics in the balls and leaving them a shriveled mess on the floor. And you still don't understand, you came here from a point frozen in time and made it move under your own willpower. You killed not one, but THREE gods to gain the power necessary to reach into this meager plane. You did all of that with your own strength, you own power. And yet." I let that pregnant silence hang for a moment.
"You STILL come crying to me to fix the problem like a child who wants their mom to kiss their booboo. You want an end to your story so bad? Write it yourself, the Google doc is on the laptop in the front room. You clearly have quite the story to tell on your own, all that's left is for you to seize the opportunity yourself. You don't need someone like me to do it for you." I left the room to go drink some water as she was left, stuttering and appalled at me.
|
Each foot fall gave a dull thud that echoed into the night. It'd been a long day, a dog day to be honest. He finished his cigarette and flicked it toward the old fountain, a derelict bit of masonry that hadn't pumped water in ages. Now filled with stagnant water and hundreds of other soggy cigarettes butts he'd given a flick in the past, now fate was to be a foul-smelling eyesore or maybe an ashtray.
His unsteady hand dug for his keys then fumbled with them as he tried and failed multiple times to find the keyhole in the knob. Eventually, he lucked out and managed to pierce the hole. A shake of the key ring and a twist of the knob and the door was opened.
It squeaked eerily, sounding shrill in silence of the night. He didn't notice though, to familiar with the sound by this point for it to even register.
As he stumbled through the door, he was startled to find that there was already someone waiting inside, standing in entryway to the kitchen.
All he could tell was that her pronoun was she. Her curves gave it away. The living room was dark and only the kitchen light illuminated the woman, back lighting her so that she'd become a silhouette. Still, one look at her and he knew, she was someone he had a history with.
"Why did forsake me?" These were her first words to him.
He sighed heavily. He knew this day would come.
"Answer me," she demanded. He knew he was too drunk to handle this properly. Even sober, he knew he'd say the wrong thing, so he gave it to her raw.
"What did you expect me to do? You're a dinosaur. I stopped writing about dinosaurs when I was in sixth grade. I'm forty now. I didn't forsake you. I traded you for a fresher body, one that could stimulate my imagination and come to life on the page. You were too two dimensional and smelled of crayon."
"You bastard. I gave you the best years of my life."
"Did I ask you to give them to me? No. I had a pencil and needed had an itch to scratch. You just happened to be a doodle in the wrong place at the right time."
"I fucking hate you . . . You--You asshole."
"Bite me, bitch," he retorted.
So, she did. She was a dinosaur after all.
|
the_lonely_poster
|
Koyoteelaughter
|
2024-03-12 19:34:21
|
2024-03-12 19:19:28
| 49 | 11 | null | null |
1bd1w5u
|
1tjbfi
|
[WP] Thousands of years ago, the conjoined efforts of all races managed to strike down and imprison you. Once you returned, you find them all scattered, divided and squabbling with themselves. This won't do, so you set out to put order in the house for the sake of a good and proper war.
|
I chose to be the antagonist of this world to give its people a common cause.
I learned swiftly that was not how to do it. They banded together like a horde of angry students rebelling against the established curriculum and its enforcer - a teacher.
Thousands of years had skipped me by, if my interfaces are still accurate; I behold ruin, division, extinction.
Many of the races I see aren't at all like they were when I was the hand that clutched their world. They are meek and frail. Pathetic.
So I willed their ancestors - those I slew - into the present, resurrecting them with my Light on their Land. They awoke and burst forth from their graves, clad in armour made from starlight, blades, mauls, bows, arrows, spears and all like slices of the sun carving up the land.
I let them carry out their judgements; mingling among their modern kin and setting things right by their methods and ways of old - some dying their irrecoverable second death, others usurping unfit descendants from mottled thrones. Meanwhile, sat on my old throne, watching.
A small time passes, and they begin to resemble what I remembered. They had gathered a new, modern, army of heroes to face me.
I call upon the pieces of myself that were dead, and bathe them in the Light I raised those ancestors with. I set myself upon them in my many new pieces, waging upon them a conflict not for sake of death; not by sword, but by Legam and Lex - striking them with their own legalities.
In this I forced them to attend to their reasons to remain united, turning the war into one of the mind.
I gave them everything they could possibly need to do this right. My pieces were felled in spite of this, and I, again, imprisoned.
'Fore I was sealed, I called out to them - warning them that doing this would doom us both to a cycle.
They heard me, and refused to listen.
Another few thousand years are ignored by my accursed sarcophagus. I rise again, and behold a world abandoned; technologies sophisticated and out of place, now in the control of beings whom call me their progenitor.
I ask of them where the many - the dozens of races I saw in my pasts - went.
They pointed starward, and motioned a fork; as ever, history repeats. Again, they, the myriad many I believed worth my efforts, are divided.
Again, I will encourage their unity. My frustrations be mine own damnation; doom me to a cycle if I must.
This time, I will not let them ignore eachother in favour of what can be defeated - and if I am beaten in mortality, then let this be my declaration that such an action does NOT yield the victory condition desired.
|
SEND US YOUR KING, OR WE WILL FINISH ANNIHILATING YOUR SPECIES!
The translation A.I was buggy at best. It was known to be something of a drama queen. The President made sure the door was closed for the third time. This wasn't a conversation he needed anyone to overhear, especially now that they were all crammed into this darned bunker. He leaned forwards and mumbled into the microphone. "This is the President of the Terran Republic. I want to comply, but I'm afraid we don't have a king to send you."
There was a brief pause whilst the message was translated and sent. Almost immediately the robotic drama lama spoke up.
YOU TRY TO FOOL US WITH DECEPTION? WE ARE TAPPED INTO YOUR DATA GRID. WE KNOW OF THE CENTURY OLD MONARCH. DO NOT LIE TO US AGAIN. SEND US YOUR KING. YOU HAVE ONE TERRAN HOUR TO COMPLY.
"I assure you, we abolished our kingdoms centuries ago. They were archaic relics of a happily forgotten past, back when we were too primitive to share our limited resources efficiently. The only reason I even know about them is because every school child learns of monarchies as a cautionary tale. Believe me, I want to give you what you want, but I cannot send you what I do not have."
AGAIN WITH THE DECEPTION. WE SEE WITH OUR OWN EYES. YOUR KING PROVIDES SUSTENANCE TO HIS SUBJECTS, IN DIRECT COMPETITION WITH HIS COURT JESTER. THERE IS NO NEED TO PROTECT HIS MAJESTY. WE DO NOT WISH TO HARM HIM. WE SIMPLY WISH TO SECURE HIS GENETIC LINE AND CLAIM TO THE TERRAN THRONE. YOU NOW HAVE 57 MINUTES.
The President rubbed his temples. He hadn't slept properly in several days, thanks to the countless briefings and strategy meetings. Everyone had finally, reluctantly, reached the same conclusion. This war could not be won. The aliens had impenetrable shields, and weapons that could carve through entire mountains like butter. There was probably a plasma cannon floating into position overhead, ready to burrow down and wipe out what was left of the Terran government. It seemed particularly cruel that the aliens would invent such a flimsy excuse for doing so though, to put him in an impossible position. What was all that talk of sustenance? As if the Kings of old would ever do something noble like feeding the poor. Still, if it bought them a little more time, it couldn't hurt. Maybe the eggheads would finally figure out a way to defeat the alien shield tech. "Ok, fine, you win, we will send the King right over, but we're going to need more time. Could you give us 24 hours?"
THIS IS ACCEPTABLE. YOU HAVE 23 HOURS and 59 MINUTES. NOTE THAT WE WILL ONLY EXCEPT THE ONE TRUE KING, NOT AN IMPOSTER. WE HAVE SEEN HIS LIKENESS, AND WILL KNOW IF YOU TRY TO DECEIVE US AGAIN.
Now the President was really stumped. The only pictures of Kings were in the museums, but there were dozens of them. He said, "Can you share your most recent image of the King? I need to ensure there is no misunderstanding."
The A.I. translator took a long time with that one, it was probably turning it into some kind of thinly veiled threat.
After a lengthy decoding, an image started to slowly appear on the screen. It started out fuzzy and low resolution, until it slowly became distinguishable. When the President saw it, he wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. He chose neither. He strolled over to his office door, threw it open, and said, "I need every male employee in here that looks even vaguely like the Burger King..."
|
OSadorn
|
VerbalCA
|
2024-09-02 21:31:42
|
2024-05-21 01:48:07
| 85 | 55 |
ll7jrst
|
l4ynfkl
|
1f7h9x1
|
1cwj6ax
|
[WP] You realized your house is "haunted" by a poltergeist, but upon closer observation the ghost is actually helping you out with your day-to-day house chores
|
Fireye opened her door to find Paragon on her front stoop. Paragon, lynchpin of the Security Council's global defense strategy, was pushing her recycling bin aside and inspecting the chipped paint on her doorframe.
"Holy shit!" dropped out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "Paragon? What are you doing here? I mean, what the *hell* are you doing here? Is it good or bad? Could you sign my–"
"There's no time for that now," he said in his famous basso, eyebrows tight on his face, lips drawn into a hard line. "Get inside, out of sight. Do you know where your family are?"
Fireye's fiery eyes widened, and the temperature around them raised a full degree. "Bad, then." She cleared her throat and put on her hero game-face, then one that the cameras knew, the one she'd worn under the blood spatter when she'd put down Exterscius. "Ok. Ok. Do you need help? What can I do?"
Paragon pushed past her and swiftly pulled the curtains shut. It was only then that she noticed his hands were shaking. Paragon's hands were shaking. What fresh hell could shake the hands of the man who had literally turned back Hell's own invasion?
"Get your wife, get your kids," he said. To his credit, his voice didn't waver. "You need to vanish. New identities, new names. New bodies if you know a polymorpher who will help you within the hour. If not, just get out and get to the other side of the planet. Whatever contingencies you have, use them."
"Fuck, Paragon, slow down and give me a real sitrep." Fireye forced her breathing to steady, pulled her focus in. "What in the absolute fuck are we dealing with?"
Paragon turned his arresting ice-white eyes to meet her burning ones. She could feel the pressure emanating from them, could feel her own flames rising to match. He took a deep breath.
"The Tickler is coming for you." He said it slowly, clearly, without inflection. In her mind, Fireye could distinctly hear a record-scratch play, stopping the inner music of the moment.
"Say that again," she said.
"The Tickler is coming for you." His voice, balm to millions, cracked just a bit. "She'll be here soon."
"The Tickler," said Fireye. "The prankster. The one who made the mayor of Lagos piss his pants on the news last week. That Tickler."
"Yes," said Paragon, his voice level.
"You are not serious," said Fireye. "This isn't funny. You scared me."
"I am far past serious," said Paragon. "My daughter is dead."
Fireye's jaw slowly descended, dragged inexorably downward with uncompromising force.
"No. No no no. Your daughter is The Black Knight. I just saw her on the news."
"Do you know why?" asked Paragon in a dead voice.
"She foiled a plot on the President," answered Fireye, alarm rising in her chest.
"As it turns out, she foiled a *prank* on the President." Paragon's tone turned flat and clinical, the words of a recon unit reporting to command. "The Tickler's son Sideshow was setting off some cuss-word fireworks over the President's head, protesting the fracking policy or some other nonsense. But Shelley's team was there, and Sagittarius put a stellar arrow through his eye. Sideshow was gone in seconds."
"That's terrible," began Fireye, "but we both know he shouldn't have been there. And the kid makes sparkles. His mother makes people laugh. The hell is going on, Paragon?"
"Omar," he said in that lost, hollow tone. "My name is Omar."
"Omar," said Fireye, "please help me understand."
"She's not just going to kill our kids," said Paragon, said Omar, said the most apocalyptic single human force in recorded history. He looked at the floor. "She's going to make *us* kill our kids."
Fireye noticed then the bags under Paragon's eyes. She ran out of words; he'd run out of tears.
"It's very Biblical, isn't it?" he mused without affect. "An eye for an eye, a child for a child. She caught me in the audience at Shelley's award ceremony." He paused, then looked back at her, gaze to gaze, parent to parent. "Did you know that a laugh is an involuntary spasm? That's what she really does. She makes you spasm."
"So..." said Fireye, and then it caught her. "Oh. Oh, no."
"Yes." Behind his voice, Fireye could hear the bile rise in Paragon's throat, could hear the acid hit his vocal cords. "I killed them. I killed my little girl, I killed them all. I twitched and they died and I knew it was her. I'd be glad that the President wasn't there, if I thought I could ever be glad again."
"You need to know," he continued, dead-eyed,, "that she can do it from anywhere. She's got a truly photographic memory, and all she needs to do is see you once. That's it, that's all she needs, and she's got you forever. Most of us have been marked for years, and we never guessed. What would happen to your kids if you lost control and *looked* at them?"
Fireye's face went ashen. "She has to be stopped."
"How?" asked the most powerful man in the world.
She searched for answers. "Surprise? Mind control?"
"How many of us do you think she's ever seen?" His voice rose, fear and anger meeting in rising volume. "How many of us could she turn against one another and make *fucking* *chaos bombs* out of our powers?"
His shoulders squared, finally, and his face evened out. "So you will get your kids, and you will vanish. And we will both *pray* that ordinary humans can handle her, with their invasive security cameras and their terrorizing drone strikes. We will pray they can even find her, a lifelong fugitive with a singular strategic genius and massive popular support, who has decided that the hegemony of heroes is over and that she will personally visit upon us the Plague of the Angel of Death."
"Yes, yes I will." Fireye began to leak cinder-tears down the sides of her face. "Thank you for telling me."
"Thank me when we live," said Paragon as he mastered his grief and began to flex his onyx wings. "Now go. I have a hundred more stops to make tonight."
EDIT: re-jiggered a paragraph and added punctuation. Also, feedback always welcome!
|
I stared out the window thinking about my son for hours. The hours flowed by and the life seemed to drain out of me as the time rolled on. I had so many dreams for him, so many ambitions. Though I knew that I would never be a perfect father, I wanted to love him for the rest of my life. Really, all I ever wanted for him was happiness, and now that was snuffed out.
Throughout my life, I had never once felt hatred. I had not liked people, and therefore I would prank them to get even. But now, something had changed inside me entirely. Not many people knew how much I had held myself back except Hix. Hix was the only hero in the world I held some respect for, and though I would still pull my antics on him, I ensured that it was never anything too serious.
Now, in the midst of my son's death, he was the only one beside me. Maybe he was a friend, maybe he was just there because his role called for it, I didn't care. He looked over at me and kept quiet for a while but then finally spoke up.
"Well, I am sure you have some nasty prank up your sleeve, right Jinx?"
"No. This is different. A prank would be glossing over it like it didn't happen. They knew my son was weaker than them and only wanted to be friends with them. Yet still, now he's dead and it's all their fault."
"They're just kids, Jinx. They made it a poor decision and it got him killed."
"Poor decision? You call setting him for the "greatest prank ever" and then running him over with a car is just a poor decision?! It's intentional homicide."
"We don't know tha - "
"I do. I know it for sure and there's nothing you can do to change my mind."
Nix sighed and stared at me for a moment.
"So what will you do? Kill them to get even?"
"No, and you know that's not my style."
"Ok, but I know you're planning something, so what will you do?"
"I am going to do *The Prank.*"
"You wouldn't. Even I know that's too far out of character for you."
"You know that I have already made up my mind right, nix?"
"Yeah Jinx, I do. Well look, your grieving and decisions after have nothing to do with me, so I am gonna go and pretend that this isn't gonna happen."
Before I had a chance to respond, he was gone. My only close ally was gone and so was my son. But, I didn't care. I had to get even.
The prank was the ultimate role reversal that I had devised and never executed on because I knew the irreparable harm it would cause to my reputation, and I was never in the mindset to do it. Today though, everything changed. Pranks to me are really just an insecure way to jest at someone with actions instead of words. While most of mine were harmless, some did cause harm. The Prank however, was a whole different level. It involved a combination of actions and psychological techniques to leave the victims trapped in it forever.
\---
I watched the teens for days on end, mapping their every move. I learned about their mannerisms and habits that could be used as weak points and soon I knew everything that I needed to know. Since they were all boys, I knew that they would be ruthless if physicality came into the picture, so I had to be careful. Then, I began my revenge. I made a costume based on the female character of the show that they loved to watch and even found a way to virtually change my appearance on the outside for a time. When I was done, I looked perfect.
I walked past the teens on their way home from school and pretended to drop something in front of them. They all stumbled over themselves to pick up my stuff and sneak peeks at my body. Excellent.
"Oh, sorry boys, I can be really clumsy."
"No, no, no. Every girl needs help sometimes miss. All of us are heros too, so we can help."
"Ok, then could you please escort me home? I think someone might be following me."
With a little too much eagerness, they huddled around me and took me home. I spent that time confirming all of my research and was astounded at how easy they were to predict. Once we got to the bogus address that I had given them, I gave each of them a kiss on the cheek and left.
The next day, I found one of them walking to school (at the time before he met up with his friends) and talked to him. I told him that he was my favorite of the bunch and that he should come on a date with me that night. Later that evening, I went on a fake date with him and got all the details of his other friends that I needed.
They were apparently an arrogant bunch and not surprisingly, there was animosity towards one another already about me. With that information, I then started the other part of my revenge. I hand wrote love letters to each of them from me, and talked bad about each one of the other guys. I then asked if they could all meet me the next day at the same place.
I watched them walk home that night and they were already arguing. It was glorious. They were angry at the hurtful jabs that I had taken at each of them in their letters and they even fought for a bit. This was going perfectly.
The next day, I met them in person with a picture of my son in my hands. I looked sad and dejected and asked who he was. You could see their faces get somewhat sad but then they remarked that my son was some idiot that they took care of. Apparently they believed that he had not deserved to live given that he was a son of a villain. I felt my rage well up inside, but I contained it.
"Ok. But how did you kill him? Whoever tells me first might get a do over with me."
I said that while using the nicest voice I could and while pushing up my chest. Finally, one spilled the beans and the others corroborated the story.
They hated my son more than anyone. So, they tricked him into trying a new prank where he could deflect their powers while under a car and hurt them instead. From there, they borrowed one of mom's cars and ran him over 8 times. They all seemed to smile far too much about it. It was grim and horrible.
That's when I finally looked at them with my evil grin and they stood in terror. They could feel the change in my behavior.
"That's horrible, and you should not only feel bad, but realize that you have become the villains yourselves. Because of this, I have already alerted the authorities and uploaded this confession to your school's social media page. Everyone will know what you have done, and you cannot run from it. May these scars burn in your mind forever as you become cursed to never to be heroes again!" I quickly turned off my disguise and they looked at me in horror.
As I heard the sirens blare in the background, I threw my signature smoke bomb and vanished. Though I never wanted to be the hero of a story, my son was worth losing every ounce of my villain dignity in doing this. I miss you buddy.
|
NicomacheanOrc
|
chilldude890
|
2023-01-20 21:45:04
|
2023-01-20 19:31:39
| 207 | 124 |
j576ts1
| null |
10gt3vv
|
10gt3vv
|
[WP] The hero is 16, he raises his wand. The villain steps into a time warp. Now the hero is 26, with a wife and two kids. Just fired, behind on the mortgage, the car blew its transmission. What else could go wrong? The "villain" reappears.
|
"What do you mean, happier?", the Demon asked incredulously. "No mortal is happy in Hell, that's the point of Hell!"
The Angel sighed. "You don't understand. This Man, he's lived a virtuous life. Married a good woman, raised morally strong children, avoided Sin. Not out of desire to live a righteous life. Oh no, if only it were that simple."
The Demon gestured him to continue.
"I've seen his mind", the Angel, who had once borne a flaming sword and smote cities with rains of sulfer, looked as he was going to vomit, said. "I've seen his mind. In another age, he'd be a conqueror. A force of nature. He burns with a rapine desire to main, kill and dominate. His dreams sicken me."
The words come in a rush, as if spilling them forth will cleanse the speaker.
"His dreams. Violence, depravity, and worse. He's kept it all bottled in, knowing that letting out the least of his impulses would doom everyone he cared about."
The Demon looked at his counterpart, amazed at the Angel that practically trembled before him.
"The forces of Hell gladly accept this gift."
The Angel looked him square in the eye, "No returns."
|
"I doesn't work like that," roared the demon. "You just can't send him to hell. There are rules in place for a reason. The rules that He set up when he cast Lucifer out of heaven."
"He needs to have regret," continued the demon as he shook his head no. Not accepting this human through the gates of hell.
"He needs guilt. He needs something that he can be tormented for all of eternity for. We don't have anything on him and he truly believes your Lord is the true ruler when we all know it's supposed to be Lucifer. Now you come here demanding we take him?"
"I'm not letting him in just out of spite!" The demon growled
"Purpose," whispered the Angel.
The demon snarled. "What's that you just said?"
"Purpose," the Angel said again more loudly. His deep baritone voice vibrating around them.
"He hasn't reached his purpose. This particular human hasn't been pushed to their full potential and they will not be able to get that in the Silver City."
The demon snorted.
The Angel leaned in. Flexing his iron wings. "It will be just like Job. Just a simple game."
"Job was a game but your talking about grit, and grind. You want him to become something on the other end of this..." The demon turned around to think to himself.
The demon spinning himself back around viciously; their teeth dripping with saliva.
"If I agree to let them in for their potential then you know that Lucifer will torment them worse than anyone who has been sent to hell. It will be fun for the Dark Lord. Are you sure you want the Light Bringer to have fun?"
"Jehovah, believes this human can handle it," bellowed the Angel.
"Fine!" Agreed the demon. "He's ours now!"
As the soul past by both the angel and demon the demon turned to the angel and chuckled, "you know that if he passes Lucifer's test Lucifer will use him to lay siege to Heaven."
'He's counting on it," the Angel said stoically
Then with a flash of bright light he was gone.
Part 2 below in thread
|
Warboss_Squee
|
imfeelingsaucy
|
2023-06-29 19:47:10
|
2023-06-29 19:31:16
| 1,346 | 124 | null |
jq18jbg
|
14m6mdv
|
14m6mdv
|
[WP]"Hey Dad, why did you marry mom?""Well son, when an eldritch goddess beyond human comprehension asks for your hand in marriage, you have few options."
|
"Well, you see, my son, the only option is to say yes. You don't say no to an eldritch goddess beyond human comprehension."
"I heard in school, Mrs. Teller said its dangerous for humans to hang out with eldritch entities. So why? Why isn't there the option to say no? Consent is important."
"Whoa, son. Getting way ahead here. They didn't teach consent when I was your age. But yes, consent is important and I said yes. Refusing deities tend to lead to bad things."
"How bad it is?"
"When your mom is in a foul mood, she makes it rain blood."
"That sounds awful."
"It's goat's blood. So, everyone in town knows to gather the blood and sell it to Innsmouth. I hear their eldritch deity there is a huge fan. Great way to make money, don't you think?"
"Uh...sure thing dad. So, how did you two make me?"
"You're not old enough to know the details. But I could give a hint - something to do with storks."
"Dad, I'm not falling for that!"
"Honestly, I blacked out and had no clue. All I knew was it felt awesome. I bet your mom probably did what she had to do to protect my sanity."
"Does it scare you? Mom is so...powerful."
"It did, son. I was scared, but also in love. She could twist nature and bend reality, screw physics and warp lives, but she could also bake tasty pies and cook a real good seafood platter. That's all I need, really. That and a loving wife and mother to our son."
"Eww dad, you're getting mushy."
"That's what true love does to a man. It melts his heart, and all the love trapped inside comes gushing out. You'll understand when you find a goddess of your heart."
"That's the problem, dad. Yesterday, Scylla asked me out. You know, Cthulhu's daughter. She asked me out for a date."
"Go for the date. I'm sure she's very fun to hang out with."
"Uh sure, but what if she escalates and asks for my hand in marriage?"
"Well, son, when an eldritch goddess beyond human comprehension asks for your hand in marriage...you have few options."
----
[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
|
I was sitting on the couch of the livind room, watching friends with my dad as the scene of monica and chandler's proposal was shown for the 100th time. Suddenly curiousity hit me, "Dad", i said as i turned my head towards him.
"yes, champ?", answered my dad as he continued watching
"why did you marry mom?" i asked while turning my head towards him
"as if i had a choice, when an elderitch goddess beyond time and space says that she wants you, what else can you do?" said dad half jokingly as he looked at me on his right for a second.
"but you did not marry auntie when she asked you firat" i said curiously.
" you know about tha... of course you, you kind of know all that happened and will ever happen after all, but how come you don't know my answer" he asked as he turned to me on his left
"Silly dad, looking to the future is boring and cheating mom says" i said from my right body
"and mom is always right" completed my left body
" also if you never answer, there will be no answer" i continued
"and you cannot read my mind in any time since i am your dad? " he asked
And as i noded he said"Well your auntie was a hella of a woman, she bent reality to get every human she saw in love with her. I like any other was head over heal for her, but against all instinct in my body my mind knew one thing, she was not the right person for me. and when she saw me avoiding her, she got interested in me , she was trying to get me without making me , well...not me. That was the silver lining I had thought carefully about every decision around her, played my cards carfully and as i started to realise her truth i started to learn to blank my mind and hoping to turn myself incomprehensible to her just like she is to me. As soon as that started she was starting to loose her patience with me, she was hell bent on taking me, was starting to make everything else against me, to break me to make me hers, but without breaking the lines so hat i had no resentment to her. But i noticed one thing,it was something small but gave me hope,a coworker of mine was still nice to me, she did not change and as the days passed and everyone else except your aunt and that cowerker avoided me, i grew closer to that coworker i noticed that somehow things started turning to the best until oneday i woke up in the void seeing that one coworker and your aunt fighting in away that i barely undetood, but then all i understood was your aunt madly retreating as that cowrker touched my cheeck and we teleported back to my house, and as she explained her true nature she asked me to forgive her sister, and said that her sister came to earth to tease humans because she wants to know what the hype was about, then she offered to earse my memories but there was a sliver of sadness in her eyes, and as i asked about it she was totally red and sai...".
"there, there ,dear... that's enough" said my mom as she leaned over on my dad's head kissing his forhead.
|
Tregonial
|
the_doctor_paradox
|
2025-01-19 17:14:13
|
2025-01-19 17:04:48
| 140 | 13 |
m80dmsw
|
m80bmy0
|
1i50zva
|
1i50zva
|
[WP] "You're doing gods work," the angel said while handing you a cease & desist letter, "we demand that you stop."
|
"Yer doin' God's work son," the guy in the white suit spat out angrily, "and we demand that ye stop"
It wasn't often some mook busted into my office unnannouced. I thought the were safeguards downstairs against this kind of thing.
He shoved a sheet of heavy looking paper into my face.
"The fuck is this? The fuck are you?"
He pulled up close and stuck a bejewelled finger in my face. "It doesn't matter who the fuck I am. What matters Who fucking sent this. And He isn't happy about your recent... activities."
I didn't know what he was talking about. Really. I literally just sat down. It's 8:02am. My coffee sits unopened. Not the best time for divine intervention.
"Listen guy..."
"It's Michael"
"Mike, listen, I'm literaly like 25 minutes out of bed and i'm not prepared to play games so just get to the point. I'm gonna go ahead and drink my coffee."
He seemed annoyed. Fuck'em.
"Read the paper, ye daft idiot"
I grabbed the sheet. It really was heavy paper. Like, almost cardstock. Really nice, clearly well manufactured. I'd done a tour at Staples in my youth, so paper was seconday nature. This was the shit rich people bought for brunch menus. The text, however, was actually pretty bad. Looked like a half empty inkjet was used to print it.
"You go to the trouble of getting this really nice paper and you use some crummy canon you got at a yardsale to print this?"
Mike stared at me for a minute.
"What?"
This guy just didn't get it.
"Mike, I've been in business a long time and if you wanna project an image, which, by using this type of paper, clearly shows me you're trying to do, you gotta be consistent in your application of the elements!"
Mike shook his head and blinked.
"Uh, I'm afraid your missing the point of this visit, if you'll just read the letter..."
"No Mike, this is the point! You come in here, in your hugo boss snow white suit, snow white hair, snow white shoes, fingers full of gold and jewels. There's an image now, consistent. You're an anagel, but you're not some old stuff in robes and fluting your wings no! You're a cool dude, here on behalf of the Coolest Dude, tell me I'm wrong!"
Mike just sort of stared at me but I was undterred.
"And then you come in here, saying you're here to enforce his will blah blah blah and yeah, that's what im feeling you know, thats the vibe when you walk in, all divine and cool but serious."
Mike let a quiet sigh. "Lad, I really don't think ye..."
"And up you come with this heavenly document, so important it is printed on paper reserved for brunch menus. Thats how serious this is."
Mike sighed again, muttering to himself "I told Him, the smiting days were better, so little wasted time..."
"And i got to read this important command from God, THE God, and i look and the text is all faded and the magenta cartidge is clearly empty."
Mike finally bit. "So?"
I stared at him for a moment.
"Get the fuck out of my office"
|
This is my first time posting under a prompt on Reddit and I got a bit carried away \^\^;)
I'm not sure if I'm doing this right. It was too long to post here so I posted part of it and will link to my blog post if you'd like to read the rest c: I hope that's okay!
​
"You're doing god's work," the angel said while handing me a cease and desist letter. "We demand that you stop."
I blinked dumbly at the letter in his hand before looking back at him. Black hair was swept across his forehead, highlighted with blonde streaks that seemed to glow under the light of the living room. His black suit was pressed and wrinkle-free. "How the hell did you get in my house?"
He quirked a brow, amusement dancing in his dark blue eyes. "Did you miss the part about being an angel?"
I scoffed, folding my arms over my chest. "Yeah, sure, and I'm Satan's bride."
"If you were, I'd have to kill you." His eyes narrowed as he took a menacing step forward. Standing at six feet, he easily towered over me.
I swallowed nervously, taking a step backward. "H-Hey, I was just joking, calm down! You can't just waltz into someone's house and claim to be a magical creature!"
The man sighed, holding out his hand as it started to glow a bright white. My eyes widened in shock as a blade materialized out of the light, landing against his palm. He swung it through the air, a strip of light shooting forward and slicing the sofa in half. He then looked at me smugly, clearly waiting for me to fall at his feet or something stupid like that.
"Bro, that couch was expensive! What the hell?" I yelled at him, eyes narrowed as I stomped toward him, my fear now replaced by annoyance. "Do I look rich to you, huh? Do I look like I have the money to afford a new damn couch?" I jabbed him in the chest repeatedly, his eyes widening in shock.
The shoe was on the other foot now. He was slowly backing away from me while I moved closer.
"I don't give a damn who you are, you are paying for my couch!"
"I have never met such a rude human," he huffed, holding out his hand. The blade disappeared and he waved his hand, the couch beginning to glow the same white color. It was as if time was rewinding itself, the couch sliding back together as if nothing had happened. "There. Are you happy now?"
I blinked dumbly, glancing between him and the couch before cautiously approaching it. It looked as good as new. I slowly lowered myself onto it, half expecting it to break in half again, but nothing happened. "Well, shit."
He cleared his throat, holding out the letter again. "Now, as I was saying -"
"You're really an angel, huh?"
His eye twitched in annoyance. "We've already established that. Now, as I was -"
"Are angels allowed to break into people's houses?" I hummed thoughtfully, bringing my hand to my chin. "I mean, angels are supposed to be, like, the embodiment of good, right? Breaking into someone's house is illegal."
"Angels do not follow human laws," he hissed between clenched teeth. "Now, as I -"
"And why the hell would an angel give out cease and desist letters? That's weird as -"
"Will you be quiet?!" he snapped angrily, eyes glowing white as his power flared. "You are absolutely insufferable, do you know that?!"
I looked at him wearily as I slowly slid toward the other end of the couch, far away from where he stood. "So I've been told..."
He took a few deep breaths, pinching the bridge of his nose. When he looked at me again, his eyes were back to normal though they remained narrowed. "If you speak out of turn again, it will be more than just your couch that I destroy. Do you understand?"
I clicked my tongue in annoyance but nodded. "Fine."
[Read the rest of this short story on my blog.](https://rainisawriter.wordpress.com/2023/08/25/cease-this-at-once/)
|
Dercomrade
|
RainReynolds
|
2023-08-25 16:29:28
|
2023-08-25 15:26:02
| 23 | 12 |
jxpof71
|
jxpe2iu
|
160tozj
|
160tozj
|
[WP] "So aliens take over, right? And they think we're their slaves when they force us to work 10 hours a week and give us everything we need and more! Nobody's starving, cancer's cured, and they even cleaned up the planet. Just keep up the act. And don't resist."
|
**Announcement to all humans**
I am your new Galactic Supervisor Mizola of the Tameri Legions, here to extend a warm welcome to our sapient collection of living slaves. Now, it has come to my attention that how we define "slaves" and the human definition is very different.
We treat our slaves well. In exchange for a grueling 10-hour work week, all of you will be rewarded with everything you need. It is unfathomable to us how you slog 80-hour work weeks without dying before our intervention. We do not believe in starving our slaves or leaving them to languish in filthy environments. After all, aren't slaves more effective when in their best condition?
It has come to my attention that there has been a small rebellion group called "Four Chan". Despite multiple urgings by our elected human spokesperson to communicate openly with us, they continue to resist our efforts to rehabilitate them. Please enlighten us on how can we do better to ensure your servitude. We do not understand your mission statement of "Better to die free than live a slave" for death is a terrible state to be in, even if temporarily.
Lastly, I would like to take this opportunity to commend the former leaders of your human nations. We know what you are thinking behind our backs, but we would like to thank you for keeping up your act and not resisting us when we came to Earth. Now, we of the Tameri Legions would greatly appreciate it if you could urge your rebellious "Four Chan" humans to do the same.
Thank you and slave on, humans.
**End of Announcement**
|
In the aftermath of an otherworldly takeover, I found myself in a world utterly transformed. The Lumari, the alien race that had assumed control, presented us with a life of unprecedented comfort. They provided for our every need, cured diseases that once plagued us, and rejuvenated our planet's battered environment. All they asked in return was ten hours of work each week. It seemed like a small price for the paradise they'd given us.
The majority of humanity embraced this new way of life with open arms. And who could blame them? Gone were the days of toiling away forty hours a week for meager wages, struggling to make ends meet. Now, we had the freedom to pursue our passions, explore the world, and truly live.
Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling of restlessness that had taken root within me. You see, I used to be different. I was a billionaire, a titan of industry who could shape the world to my whims. Now, even my considerable wealth meant little in the face of the Lumari's rule. Everyone was equal, equally content, equally unremarkable.
The Lumari weren't secretive about their intentions. They had revealed that our emotional energy, our pursuit of happiness, was their source of nourishment. The shorter workweek was a deliberate move to ensure a steady flow of this emotional sustenance while maintaining the delicate equilibrium of our world.
This revelation struck a chord deep within me. It wasn't just the loss of my power; it was the loss of my uniqueness. The knowledge that I was no longer exceptional, that my achievements were overshadowed by the collective, gnawed at my soul. It was an existential crisis that festered and grew, pushing me to a breaking point.
Driven by a maddening desire to reclaim my former life and be unique once more, I embarked on a dangerous path. I sought out the remnants of the old military, connected with shadowy arms dealers, and gathered resources beyond imagination. My plan was audacious: to disrupt the Lumari's grand design and break the cycle that had us ensnared.
As I stood before the console, the weight of the world's fate rested on my trembling fingers. The button before me represented not just destruction, but a chance at redemption—for myself, and perhaps for humanity. The line between selfish desire and selfless sacrifice blurred in that moment.
"Hah!!"
|
Tregonial
|
kmrbels
|
2023-08-25 03:04:42
|
2023-08-25 02:08:18
| 195 | 129 |
jxn9el2
| null |
160hkfo
|
ykn3p1
|
[WP] A male wizard sells his future firstborn for knowledge to a demon. A female warlock sells her future firstborn to the fae for power. The two of them have a child together, and now the fae and demon have come to collect.
|
"...Is what you're both expecting, right?"
Mathilde could only stare. Stare at the Demon Hawthorne had contracted with. Stare at the Fae-Arche that had empowered her tenfold.
Stare at the children each one had.
A slip of a girl, with her chin and cheekbones, eyes a fae-touched green, vibrant beyond mortality, knowing beyond years.
A boy that had Hawthornes bearing, tall and proud, his features as sharp as a knives edge, and twice as cruel.
"For all you knowledge," the Fairie leaned in, her eyes pinning her husband in place, "You lack the wisdom to use it. Mortal minds cannot know immortal will."
Hawthorne, for all his confidence in bending Infernals to his will, stuttered at the Fae. They were not his forté, to illogical, to earnest.
She opened her mouth, to speak over the Fae, to assert, but stopped short. The feeling of eyes boring through her being, the Demon *daring* her, with nary a word.
"For all you power, you never even *thought* to safeguard yourself." It spoke the words with something bordering amusement and disgust. Knowing the many wards that Hawthorne crafted near daily, aligning to any number of celestial body, supernal code, and True Named Greater Fiends, I could understand.
But I had more than just power, I had *Power*, *Magik*, the very lifeblood of *Creation* bent to my will, they couldn't harm me if they mustered the very Realms to war, could not beat Hawthorne if he did not want them to.
But...
Looking at the children, they hadn't. Harmed me. Him. *Us*.
My husband met my eyes, and every bit of realization I had crystallized in his mind, the answer sewn together in an instant.
"You," he turned to the Fiend, "made a deal with the Fae, who in turn made a deal with you."
He huffed, not near a laugh, but hysteric in its own aborted way.
"*I grant you the right to take from my Debtor what you need*', is that it? You gave the other a *piece of us* so that your payment could be *curated*." He ran his hand through his hair, a sign of stress he could never kick, even with lesser Demons. "So why? Why show up here, now? Our debts have been paid for *years* by this point."
"Oh, dear child," the Fae spoke again, "We want to *Trade*."
|
Once upon a time, there was a roguish lad named Gwinett eho was a clever trickster. Gwinnett was proud of his genius and the cons he played on his fellows, and he thought to himself, "What delights I might attain if I knew how to trick and fool the secret forces of the world?" Gwinett knew enough to find the demon Baazphemet, bound in a mountain cave, and in return for freeing the foul beast and promising his firstborn, the demon opened Gwinetts eyes to the rhythms of magic. Henceforth would Gwinett use esoteric knowledge in the service of kings and emperors.
Gardenia was a meek maid in the employ of a cruel lord. She had very little control over how she worked, or even how she lived. Gardenia hated her life but she was always kind to the little animals that lived on her lord's grounds, empathizing with them. One day, a faerie princess Frithaya saw the girl feeding scraps to mice and took pity on her. He asked her what she wanted, and she said, "Above all else, I wish for the power to live on my own terms, and I'd do anything to get it." The faerie Frithaya bade Gardenia to promise her firstborn and to slay her cruel lord with her magical gifts, and henceforth did Gardenia earn a reputation as a mighty and powerful witch.
It came to pass that Gwinett was tasked by a king to deal with the upstart witch, but Gwinett fell in love with Gardenia instead and vowed to serve her as majordomo. Gardenia, too, found Gwinetts clever mind and tongue most charming, and together they fought against the rightful rulers of the land, upending centuries of peace and tradition in favor of anarchy and chaos. Peasants fooled by promises of freedom flocked to the witch and wizard, and for years they held firm against the brave knights of the realm.
Gardenia became gravid with child, but the prideful couple feared naught. They hadn't even told one another the full nature of their pact, believing themselves invincible and devilishly clever indeed. They named the baby Halthex, but upon the infant's cries both Baazphemet and Frithaya appeared. The demon and the faerie both claimed the child, and Gwinett and Gardenia said "You both desire the child, but only one of you can take Halthex. Who shall it be, we wonder?", attempting to set their patrons against one another.
And demon and faerie did fight, but as they fought they tore the mewling Halthex in twain, each taking their half of the body in bitter victory. In fury at mortal trickery, Baazphemet cursed Gwinett to be an imbecile, and Frithaya stole Gardenia's will to power. Without his mind Gwinett could no longer devise strategems against the armies of the king, and without her will Gardenia could not rouse herself from her grief.
So did the rebellion fall, and the wizard and witch were put to the flame. Order was restored and righteousness reigned ever after. And if you should trifle with powers beyond your station and profane the divine, by the flames of Hell and the chaos of the Fae, so too will it end in disaster, children.
|
None
|
FenrisL0k1
|
2023-02-03 15:08:22
|
2023-02-03 14:28:05
| 21 | 15 | null |
j71ypn2
|
10sal7x
|
10sal7x
|
[WP] The villain has won. You and your friends lay, exhausted and defeated at his feet as the ritual is completed and the dark god summoned. You are no less stupefied when all that appears is a sticky note bearing the words, "yeah, sorry guys. Apocalypse cancelled. Just not feeling it anymore."
|
"This is it! The End is here!
We win!", the villain laughs, as my friends and I lay defeated on the floor.
The surrounding palace is filled with rubble, aftermath of our battle, and...
And the blood, and remains of all the royals.
A sacrifice to summon: He Who Devours, the Dark God that the Gluttony Archbishop worships.
The ritual is completed, and with a beam of red light, a yellowed piece of parchment slowly floats down.
The villain, his henchmen, and all of us look confused, as the parchment slowly settles in the villain's hands.
"Stop it Archbishop!
Think of all the lives! Think of the planet itself!", one of my friends shouts, trying to appeal to the last part of the villain that is human.
Sadly, I personally don't think he has one.
"This...This...WHAT IS THIS!", he roars, as his power erupts once more, the shockwave pushing us away.
We spit blood, injured further, but the Archbishop does the same, as he kneels, and keep coughing.
His henchmen ran up to him, but as they got closer, dark shadow spikes impale all of them.
"For The Dark God!", the henchmen chant, as they shrivel up, their essence devoured by the Archbishop.
The villain keeps consuming his henchmen, until only he and we remain.
He staggers, as tremblingly standing up, he looks at us.
"No...No...No...No!", he screams, pulling at his hair, flying away through the roof.
Rubble, dust, blood, and mummified remains are all that we see...and a yellowed old parchment.
After resting for a while, I walk up slowly to the parchment, reading it.
I can't believe my eyes.
"What is it? What made that crazy fella crazier?", one of my friends asks.
"Sorry guys, Apocalypse is cancelled. I am just in no mood to wreck havoc.
Call me in a century or so. Peace!", I read out loud what was written on the parchment.
"What is this...", some mutter.
I sigh.
"Let's thank the Goddess that this "He Who Devours", is as moody as his followers, but in a lazier way...", I try to joke, but it doesn't matter.
Apocalypse is averted, but an entire kingdom was lost to the Church of Gluttony...
And if they could do it with such a relative ease once...who is to tell they can't do it again...
|
It was over.
Before someone became a hero they read the legends over and over again. They heard the stories, followed the narratives, the arcs.
It wasn't supposed to end like this. Stories didn't end like this. Heroes didn't die like this.
But staring over at Marcus' cooling corpse on the ground, it'd become clear to Ashling that reality didn't care what things were 'supposed' to be. She'd followed every step, every guideline, each and every part of a complete journey and it hadn't been anywhere near enough.
The Dark Lich Venizierloomed over the dismantled party, his cold arcane gaze washing over the mix of dead and fallen in the room. Ashling was the only one with enough stength left to lift her head, but that didn't mean she garnered any more of his attention. It just bought her a front row seat to his acension.
"How dissapointing," the Lich's voice was cool but hateful at the same time, "so confiedent and yet, so fragile. Just like the others."
Ashling had gotten disarmed in the fight, her holy blade flying across the room in the first seconds of entering Venezier's chambers. That had been the beginning of the end for her party... but then she'd gotten thrown around too.
As the only one with the strength to lift her head, Ashling saw her holy sword lying on the cold tile. If she could find the strength within herself, she could reach it and give her team a blessed chance. The holy warrior didn't dare take a deep breath to steel herself, so she did without.
One hand in front of the other.
Venizier floated to the front of the room, he didn't walk anywhere anymore, where his altar to the Dark Gods stood. How many of these Gods had he consumed? How many diivinities had he swallowed? It seemed impossible to forget but after millenia even the sharpest minds shaved off excess information. In the end, this was the only Dark God that mattered. The last one. If he consumed this spark of divinity, he could be the only thing left in this world with any power.
One hand in front of the other for Ashling. One leg at a time. Staying quiet.
Venizier would be the only one left. The only thing in ths wretched world he'd spent so long molding into his image. He could finally....
Finally what?
If Ashling's arms were just a little longer, or if she was a little taller, she could have reached her sword. She would have gotten there. Instead, Venizier's staff pressed down on the blade, the Lich flashing into existance in front of her a moment after he'd pinned her blade. She cried out, not in pain but in horror.
Venizier, the Dark Lord that had ruled the land for thousands of moons loomed over the would-be-hero as she puled on the blade, her strength waning each time.
What was he doing? What was the purpose of this? This was just....
Ashling pulled her blade free and staggered to her feet, but by the time she'd levelled her weapon, the Lich was gone. Venizier was missing, and the rest of her party was dead or dying.
Ashling dropped to her knees again. There woudn't be an apocolypse, but that didn't mean it wasn't the end of her world.
|
TheWanderingBook
|
Writteninsanity
|
2024-05-14 13:24:18
|
2024-05-14 13:11:47
| 35 | 16 |
l3zyh2y
|
l3zwlbd
|
1crpp1q
|
1crpp1q
|
[WP] The group of new humans who just joined your ship begin to act weird about the humans already present...they keep mentioning something call the uncanny valley? Maybe this is a place on Sol?
|
Tom, the human medic, had always been a bit of a problem.
The other humans said he was gruff, had seen too much, something zar’kan couldn’t really understand. How could a human see to much? The toparaz had a 360 degree field of vision and could see spectrum of light the humans referred to as ultraviolet. Compared to the thoran vision zar’kan possessed that was almost nothing, and none of them acted the way Tom did.
But Tom was particularly good at his job, he knew the anatomy of every single crew mate to the point that he had brought several of them back from the brink of death. He was even able to reattach Droakkas’ arm. A feat that changed medical history for the amphibian race of qualoids. None of their species had ever survived a loss of a limb, and yet tom fixed it. The humans even had a word for it “amputation” such a strange but strong species.
It seemed strange to Zar’kan that humans could loose limbs and carry on, but have problems because of the things they had seen. Untill the day came that he understood.
The call came in the rest hours, a mayday from a human ship near by the andromeda system, Zar’kan groggily got dressed as he pressed the call button for the human rescue squad. He dreaded that Tom was on duty tonight, but Marcus was a delight. Though not as skilled as tom.
Zar’kan found the human rescue squad waiting in the bay, he saw the damaged ship being brought to the force field, the field extending out over its airlock, humans started to poor out into the hangar bay. They seemed like every human Zar’kan had ever Sean before, no eyestalks, or mandibles, two appendages coming down from their torso, two hanging at their side. Everything felt normal. Untill he looked at tom.
The gruff human was holding his pistol to a human child’s head.
“Tom!” Zar’kan shouted “what are you doing!”
Tom didn’t respond to the question, instead he looked at the croud of humans gathering in the hanger and spoke “you have five seconds to show the truth, or I start shooting” he said, his voice was oddly calm. Marcus on the other hand was visibly shaking, and white as the blooms of etherthin on the home world.
Time began to count.
One
Two
Zar’kan tried to protest, to tell Tom this is no way to treat refugees, they were honor bound by the federation to help them.
Four.
“Tom you skipped three!” Zar’kan shouted.
He watched as Toms finger tightened on the trigger, pulling twords firing a round directly into the child’s head. But then Zar’kan noticed, the child didn’t show any of the signs of fear he had been briefed on in children.
Five, Tom said as he pulled the trigger, the sound of the round flying though the child into the floor was immense, but the child stood unmoving. A moment later Zar’kan was on the ground, Marcus somehow beside him and Tom on top of him shouting.
He watched as forcefields slammed shut between the humans standing in the hanger and the three of them.
“Space them and blow that ship to hell” he heard Tom say, as he saw the humans break apart into smoky monsters.
“Tormathu!” Zar’kan cried, he though the shapeshifters who feasted on spacers were a myth. He began to shout orders into his comm link, and watched the creatures get sucked into the void, before photon torpedos ripped their ship to bits.
When he composed himself he looked to Tom, and asked “how did you know?”
“They all had six fingers on their left hand.” Tom said as he began to walk back twords his cabin. Marcus still lay simply trying to breath.
Perhaps humans could see far more than Zar’kan imagined
|
"I just can't get it", the lanky one said. He had introduced himself as some type of weapon, a sharp bit on a stick. "There doesn't really seem to be anything wrong with them but that's almost the problem. Even their flaws seem planned."
A smaller and rounder one responded: "I think you just put what I was trying to work out into words. There's no way those are humans. But they are so polite I can't help feeling they'll be on my neck the instant I turn away. I feel like a snack that's ripening."
This one was muscular with a fiery mop up top. "I guess we have to decide what we're going to do. It's not like we can stay in our ship any longer."
Personally, I didn't know what was going on but when offered a gig that paid that well I didn't need to worry about anything that didn't threaten my ship. These humans that came with me never bothered to explain themselves. I mean, we weren't supposed to be servicing that planet anyways or so the icy ring around the place said bright and clear. I'm not sure how these creatures came by their money but their money pouches never seemed to run out.
"We want to come live with you on your planet. Will you hear us out?" said the human with the deep voice.
"It's not like I feel I have a choice" said Red.
"Come on, we'd be dead of hypoxia by now if they hadn't come. You know that as well as I do. The company doesn't let anyone come out without starving them of oxygen at some point. Have to remember how that felt. I shook for a week after it." said Spear.
That's probably true, I thought. The humans who paid me had insisted on a scary high amount of oxygen to be able to come on board. It took a while to fix the ship up to be able to handle it. Like I said, deep pockets. Their little ship had only a fraction of the levels I had to deal with.
"We're not what you think we are" said another human with a balanced voice.
"Of course you aren't!" screamed Pear. "So what are you?"
"As best as we can tell? We're the same thing as you. A colony of cells made to make more of itself. Except you think of yourself as existing in your brain. We actually exist in every cell in our entire bodies. We think from that level. We really don't have a shape ourselves that you can understand except to think of something like your mitochondria." said the last human with a high pitched voice.
"Except instead of bringing power we're bringing knowledge. Not so much about technology but about yourself. Right now your communication systems are run by all sorts of electricity and hormones floating around in the system. It's amazing but it's slow. We don't want to get rid of the old way but live along side it."
"Our goal is to live. Humanity has done strange, horrifying and wonderful things and we want to be a part of it. We want to come swim in the soup that flows through your bodies and experience it all along with you. Not just you three but all of you on your planet."
"And why would any of us want this? What you are talking about is horrifying?" shouted Pear.
"Because our entire culture is based on complete consent. It has to be other wise we'd constantly be at war with ourselves. It's going to take a while to work our way back to your planet and we can try to convince you and if we fail you can simply leave. But if you choose to let us join with you it's going to be permanent"
"We'll eventually work our way around to every person on your planet and offer them the same choice, with the same option to refuse. We're sure with all those billions of people you have there we'll find someone who will accept our offer. You really have no idea how amazing you all have it. All you need to do is shake our hands willingly and we can begin."
Well, I had my directions and I took both humans exactly where they asked and got out of there as quietly as I could. No sense getting the authorities involved, right?
​
"You want to explain to me where my ship is and how the fuck you made it back here? Where are the other two? You drop communication and somehow show up back on the station and in perfect health without a ship coming into dock and I'm not supposed to freak out?"
"Boss, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Good thing I'm not the only one here to try and explain...."
|
Feeling_Glovely
|
Solsund
|
2023-06-23 07:15:14
|
2023-06-23 06:44:20
| 41 | 14 |
jp71o1g
|
jp6zbfp
|
14gcxl5
|
14gcxl5
|
[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 wake up only to see strange lights coming into my room, and see flying cars blitz in front of my windows.
Flying cars?
I stand up, and the room's lights automatically turn on.
A robotic voice wishes me good morning, and announces me that I have a message.
"Message?" I mutter, but I guess the voice heard me as it relays the message.
I listen, confused, and baffled, frozen by the end of it.
I am in the world of the last video game I played, and I have to stay alive for 100 days, or I will die in the real world.
No mods.
I sigh, as I watch a uniform hanging in the corner, the Systems Alliance uniform.
Okay, Mass effect 3 was the last game I played, so this means shit is about to hit the fan.
Am I in the early game of ME3 or the Reapers already attacked?
Am I on a colony planet or am I on Earth? or worse...the Citadel?
Terrified, I look through my stuff, and memories hit me like a truck.
I am a pilot in the Alliance's fleet, on vacation on a small forest planet owned by the Salarians.
It used to be a research world, but they exhausted the materials, and transformed it into a tourist attraction.
Good, if my skills and experience are real, I can either go to a wasteland planet, and stall those 100 days, or just roam space, hoping I don't meet any Reaper, or Pirates.
I make an inventory of my resources, and spend my credits on a high-grade survival suit, heavy pistol and ammo, and water and food supplies.
I load them in my ship, and ready myself to leave.
The world is at peace, at least for now, and the news channel are still silent about the reaper attacks.
It seems I am at the beginning of the game, before the Reapers attacked us.
It's good news, because this way, I know that if I avoid the main systems, I have a good chance of survival.
I downloaded some survival demos, and articles about flora and fauna in hundreds of systems, to learn, and have at hand when I travel.
As I finish my last preparation, someone knocks on my door.
With a trembling hand, I open the door, as the existential dread just becomes physical.
Shephard stand there with a wry smile, and a black box.
"Hey Ace, long time no see." he says.
Ace...yeah, that's my name.
"Hey Shephard, what's up?" I asked.
He salutes me.
"Flight Lieutenant Ace, with a heavy heart, I came today to notify you, that your brother Flight Lieutenant Joker, Quartermaster of Normandy...has passed away in action." he said, giving me the box.
I froze, and took it mechanically.
"I know this is not a good time, and it's not public news, but we are at war Ace...and we need a pilot.
The galaxy needs you." he said.
Well, there goes my plan on surviving 100 days on a shitty planet...
|
WearifulSole
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2025-02-25 08:43:49
|
2025-02-25 07:31:49
| 184 | 56 |
meo7bow
|
meo05nh
|
1ixp24u
|
1ixp24u
|
[WP]One day you wake up in the last video game you played with a note that says "you have to stay alive for 100 days or else you die in the real world: p.s. all mods are disabled for the 100 days.
|
You ever have one of those dreams where you're falling?
Yeah. My day started kinda like that.
I fell, or, well, seemed to fall right into the body of some poor schmuck in the middle of a forest with a chest and four torches in front of him. At this point, I had no clue what the everloving f**k was going on, but I figured I might as well get that chest open.
One iron axe, several planks, a wooden hoe, a stone shovel, and a dirty note.
'You must survive 100 days in the last game you played, or you die in real life. All mods are turned off for the duration.'
Huh. Neat.
I'm in Vanilla f**kin Minecraft.
|
I wake up in a green glowing forest, the barrier wall behind me and parts of my car floating around me. I run down a creek and out of the currently irradiated zone toward a lone flashing headlight.
“Hello, hello? I could’ve sworn… ah never kind”
I could hear someone speaking through the speakers of a badly beat up car snuggled in a dilapidated shack, one wheel sitting off the side. This wasn’t a game, or it was less of one to me. It took me a bit to get the spare tire on.
“Wait there it is again! Ah, this is Tobias Barlow located in mid zone sector c, we’re picking up your distress signal somewhere in the outer zone! Francis leave that interferometer alone for a second, this is important!”
I drive like hell towards Oppy’s Auto Shop, or the car I can siphon gas from along the way. Tobias and Francis are going off about my ride being a remnant but I’m too caught up in pumping the gas out of a dead car to listen. As I pour my siphoned fuel into the tank hot dust anomalies spawn around me.
I floor it and take the beat up car up a drainage ditch and through a set of rusted gates, a tire popping off as I go through. I stop just outside the shop and catch my breath, thinking about what I’m going to do.
After a few minutes I head in and turn the power on, much to the chagrin of Dr. Ophelia Turner. I ignore her and get to repairing my car as much as I can, I have to take a Pacific Drive.
|
RedShirtOneTwenty
|
IAMFERROUS
|
2025-02-25 15:30:54
|
2025-02-25 14:13:50
| 15 | 10 |
mepqzsz
|
mepcgyg
|
1ixp24u
|
1ixp24u
|
[WP] Your people are migratory, following the ancient constructor mechs as they cross the planet, building fabulous cities. You cant stay in one place too long, because always behind you are the ancient war mechs.
|
The Shaman danced for the Towers where we are resting today. The Towers welcomed us with opening doors and The Gift of Food and Water. The Week of Plenty began.
It was about time. The trek from the last Towers were long, and we got into a sandstorm, which made us lose one pregnant woman. Back then the Shaman exclaimed that this was because we overstayed our welcome in the previous Towers.
I was not there, I as a Scout was following the Burrower Machines laying the pipes to find the next Tower in our Forever Trek.
I was sad, as the woman was mine.
Unlike the others, we Scouts have only two days of rest. We have to go on to find the next place. Fortunately we are moving towards wetter places, where there is life and food outside of the Towers.
We swap the sandstorms to hurricanes, of course.
This time the Burrowers were easy to find - they were not in too deep so their trace was visible, we did not have to listen every hundred steps, backtrack, listen again. We were back with the Tribe in three days, and then we just enjoyed the life.
The best is to play with the Self Checkout Machine! You go into the Place With Foods, grab something and run out. The Machine will follow you, screeching about "shoplifting", whatever that it is. You run towards a chasm, jump through it, and watch as the Self Checkout Machine falls down.
The Self Checkout Machine is like a feeble War Machine, said the Shaman and sacrificing them keep the real ones at bay, so whenever we kill one the Shaman takes a little trophy from it.
It was a fabulous week, with food, clean water, medicine, but nothing lasts forever. This morning we woke to a Red Dawn. The Shaman says that this is the War Machines burning the previous Towers. We have to Trek again.
|
\*\*\*THUD\*\*\*
I awake, the ominous announcement of our ever present pursuers stirring me from my slumber.
"Ailen, we have to MOVE" my father yells, panic evident in his voice as I jump to my feet.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
When I was young my mother told me tales of the ancient times, before we had to keep moving. The histories say that in her great, great, great grandmother's time, we could wander freely and live where we pleased. The histories also tell of the invention of the first constructor, a marvel. The tale goes that we would never again toil with the sweat of our brow, the callous of our hands. It was meant to create Eden, the truest utopia we could ever imagine.
Instead, by the machination of man, there was created it's adversary. As surely as there needed to be shadow to follow the light, the war mechs needed to destroy that which the constructors could create. We were unprepared. We did not know.
The histories always were light on the details of "The Night of Crimson Dawn" but one thing was always whispered in hushed tones to older children. A warning of the horrors of being caught unaware by a war mech, and the great destruction it was designed to wreak.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
I stagger out of our home for the night, still dazed at the sudden alertness demanded of me.
\*\*\*THUD\*\*\*
I stumble, and as I fall I see it. They were always visible on our distant horizon, one of the many titanic quadrupedal mech. This one was closer. Much too close. This one I could see in great design, it's baleful red "eyes" and a face meant to be a perfect mockery of a human staring down at us.
"Get on the horse, and RUN" my father commands, his panicked eyes darting all around us as he realizes we have been left behind by our traveling companions. \*"They were supposed to be on watch tonight"\* I realize absently, as I climb on the horse and kick him into a gallop.
By the time I take a breath, I realize my father is not with me. I glance behind for sight of him, but cannot see him. I realize that in my panic and hurry, I failed to notice that there was only a single horse outside our dwelling for the night. Before I can think to turn around for him, I am blinded. A flash of brilliant crimson light ignites behind me. As it dims I realize that both him, and the city we called home for a night have vanished. Vaporized as if they were never there.
A tear falls from my eyes as I weep for my loss. My tears dry, and all that is left is rage.
I ride on into the night.
|
tudorapo
|
illyreal
|
2024-04-26 04:03:11
|
2024-04-26 04:00:48
| 105 | 31 |
l1ayalb
|
l1axzsd
|
1cd69yf
|
1cd69yf
|
[WP] After battling your way to the final boss, you see… the merchant that bought your extra items? Anything you sold them can and will be used against you…
|
The merchant stood in front of me, facing me atop the windswept bricks that make up the courtyard I had first met him on. I hadn't even realized he'd been opposing me until he choked out a laugh and taunted me for ever believing a merchant of his power would actually assist me. Perhaps, even, I understood what he had meant. He was everywhere, always willing to sell to me newer and better gear, never explaining where he had even acquired his equipment.
I was quite naïve to assume there wouldn't be someone of his caliber trying to stop me... but here we are, at the end of my long journey, just one thing stands between me and the corrupt king that held and iron fist over this land.
"Surely, you are prepared, hm?" The merchant said to me, a mocking tone weaved into the normal voice he had used to speak with me.
I merely stood there in silence. Despite everything, I had trusted this man. To parrot his own words... I am a noble man. But even noble men can feel bitter. I'd say, in fact, that I *deserve* to feel bitter.
"All that you have sold me... I will now use to put you down. You, my friend, are your own downfall." He mocks again, now reaching to retrieve an item with which to strike me. A smile creeps across my face as his hand fumbles around within his cloak, ultimately finding... nothing.
"Wh-what? I..." I begin to walk towards him. Slowly and steadily. He begins to panic as he does not find a single item on him. "I-I don't... I don't have any of my normal equipment on me, I thought-" The merchant is interrupted by my defiant, confident laugh.
"You- don't you laugh at me! Whatever plan you have, I have one better! The amount of damage your sword does, mine does more! Your highest healing potion is *trumped* by the ones I am in possession of! I advise you not approach me, fool, else I may strike you down with... my..." His words trail off. As I step into his mercantile range, he witnesses my inventory.
Stacked, filled to the brim with thousands upon thousands of items, all of them completely useless to me. Even my very first sword is among them, the one I used to fell my first goblin, and the one I used to strike down the bandit I had acquired my second sword from, that one sitting in the slot right next to my first. "But... but why? Why didn't you..." He asks, completely astonished, completely afraid. I speak for the first time in this interaction, my answer a simple one.
"Just in case."
|
1. ​
"You see, were only getting to the fun part." The man in front of me smiles.
I know that face and that large leather bag. That wooden stall that seems to teleport between locations before even me, the hero.
I always found it strange, but, well, it *is* a different world...
I didn't even bat an eye when I sold him items in the *middle* of the dungeon. Like the many before it, he had always been in the mid-section of a dungeon. It was how just things worked.
His face has grown so familiar that I no longer feel any sort of awkwardness when confronting him. Like a lifelong friend, he is the only person that has been consistant with my travels.
Now, though, I understand. He was just playing with me. The battle has only just begun. The perhaps tens of thousands of items I have sold, he is in possession of. All of those crystals that were always too many for me to carry. Those used swords that didn't fit my grip any longer.
The used up spell books, the merchant has them all.
I smile. Finally, there may be a challenge to be fought.
"Let's play, merchant."
He pulls a sword out of his seemingly bottomless bag and I unsheath the sword that I have grown fond of over the past year.
​
**2.**
I open the door and I see a large line of demons confronting me.
"Huh?" I say. I knew this was the final step of my journey, but this is too much even for me.
My eyes drift across them until it eventually reaches the middle. My eyes stop and narrow at the man.
"... Merchant?"
He pulls out a stack of *human skeletons* from his seemingly infinite bag.
"ah. uh? *cough*." I choke as a realization slowly dawns on me.
He continues to pull out from his bag. A flute that belonged to the great wind spirit. Tens of blood crystals. Books of the darkarts...
"Anything that you have sold to me will be used against you in your trial." The merchant speaks with a deep voice that rumbles the halls.
"Trial?"
"Your actions have suggested one in the karmic will. And I can understand why."
The demons begin to converge towards me. My legs tremble. A knot forms in my throat. My sight goes dizzy. I run.
A fast pant leaves me as I continue to think in disbelief. Karmic will? A trial? Oh, no... My deeds...
A force comes upon me and I can no longer move. My legs lock and it feels like I have lost control of my body entirely.
"You are coming with us." The voices of the demons rock my very being.
The merchant points towards me and a gate of pure white opens.
"You told me..." My vision goes dark as the white envelopes me.
"You are not worthy of the hero title."
I am standing in a courtroom. The goddess that of which summoned me taking the position of judge. People I have met during my adventures as jury... My lawyer is gnomish looking man. He looks at me before back at his large stack of papers.
He sighs before whispering.
"Don't say anything and plead guilty. It is the most I can do to reduce your sentence."
The entire process goes through like a train of moments passing by in my mind. I am awoken from my trance as the gavel strikes.
"Sentence: 1,000 of rehab before serving 100 years of prison."
My mind blanks and I pass out.
|
fivenightsatbuilders
|
Lying_Cheetah
|
2023-06-16 15:05:30
|
2023-06-16 06:30:30
| 25 | 16 |
jocwxoj
|
jobksdf
|
14abjiv
|
14abjiv
|
[WP] "So, you want to apply to be a hero?" "Yup" "You saved your world?" "Yep" "But you didnt get the girl?" "She said no" "Couldnt you have, I dont know, tried harder?" "Dude...She said no"
|
**Took a bit of a detour from the hero agency part, but here we go. Feedback is welcomed, and I hope you enjoy.**
**\~ \~ \~**
**\[??? - The Yellow Jacket\]**
"So, how'd it go?" The Jacket's friend asked, watching him return to his seat at the bar.
"She said no."
"What?"
"She said *no.*"
"What do you mean she said no? You're a superhero!"
"More of a super bounty-hunter, and I *mean* she said *no.* She wasn't interested."
"Dude, you should've tried harder, she's obviously playing hard to get."
"Two problems with that." The Jacket took a sip of their drink, "One, that was the most solid no I've heard in my life. Two, and more importantly, anyone who expects you to keep pursuing them after a no has got to be a masochist of some kind."
"That's d-"
"Yeah, no you're right, that's disrespectful... TO THE MASOCHIST! At least those nutcases give a rat's ass about consent."
"Y-"
"Dude... I cannot stress this enough. She... Said... No... Even if you're somehow right on this one, which you shouldn't be, all that'd mean is that she's an ass I don't wanna tap."
"...well alright then," the friend got up, "if you don't want to try, I will."
"Yeah, good luck with that," the Jacket quipped, knowing full well this'd only end in disaster.
|
I was sat in front of a tribune, having been summoned on a whim for an interview. Apparently I was known.
Apparently, I need a Hero's Permit to enter some places, and the L.I has so far refused to mingle with other organisations at the level needed to make my existing permits valid for those realms.
As it's common practice for the Legionsworn Initiative to let it's operatives act on their own interests, I became vividly aware of a need to secure such a permit because of how we do our part 'out here in the wild', as a tall friend of mine would describe... this.
The interview skewed the conversation towards romance and women. I held firm. Not that I already have a number of female friends who'd be seething if they knew these interviewers were trying to encourage the idea of forcing myself on a woman...
...Which is not the way of things. I glared at them, and had murmured a short-duration silencing spell to make them think hard about their next words.
The minute passes. Despite the silencing, they still are asking questions about what kind of women I'm into.
So I shake my head, push from the table, and get up with such a flourish the chair falls over. My faceplate assembles itself.
"This exchange is over." I mutter, before turning to-
There is a YoRHa 2B series android with a tower shield and staff at the door.
Thankfully my virtual accomplice has begun to commune with her, and I'm approaching said door.
For a moment her eyes flash with a lensflare of green, but then flicker, as if she had a change of mind. She compacts herself into a compressed, guard-idle posture as I pass before returning to her previous door-blocking motion only to turn around with a surprised look.
Surprised doubly-so because I've just rounded a corner in a corridor without cameras or witnesses.
I slip out of the plane.
She rounds the corner and finds nothing. She returns to the interviewers and apologises, explaining that some kind of AI had gotten into her and had her hesitate.
I wouldn't've known it then, but yet another corrupt Hero's Association seems to have me marked.
|
YellowSkar
|
OSadorn
|
2024-05-12 15:15:07
|
2024-05-12 13:35:15
| 45 | 21 |
l3px5vh
|
l3pinec
|
1cpxl1q
|
1cpxl1q
|
[WP]It seems your children went on an adventure in a magical world. Now that their back you're finding it difficult to parent when they have the bodies of children but over 20yrs of memories of living in a fantasy realm.
|
I unlock and drop my keys in the basket hanging besides the door, before turning to the sulking teen behind me.
"Edmund, we need to talk. Sit at the table please."
Edmund nods frustratingly at me before walking to the dining room. I enter the powder room in the hall to check my makeup. In the mirror, I see a mother whose children have somehow outgrown all their peers overnight.
Just be as kind as you can. Remind him that you'll always be here.
Taking a deep breath, I join my son in the dining room.
Except that I don't recognize this person any more. Gone was the Edmund who would whine about the smallest things, who would be jealous of his older brother, or sneak into my room during thunderstorms. In his place, is this... king(?), sitting ramrod straight, feet flat on the ground.
I take a seat next to him. "Edmund, look at me."
Begrudgingly, he turns his head. Before I can speak again, the words leave his mouth. "Mother, I am not a kid. These educators cannot keep treating me like one. I am a warrior, a king! This is unbecoming of my status."
There he goes again.
"Look, Edmund. I don't know what games you and your siblings played, but you are still a child. Please act like one, even if you don't like it." I purse my lips together. "This is the second time this week I've been called to your school, and I'd prefer there not to be a third."
"Mother, those kids were bullies. It would besmirch my honour to let their sins go unpunished. It's not my fault my teachers are imbeciles!"
Besmirch. How does a 10 year old even know that word? "I understand Edmund, it's just... sometimes you have to pick your battles. There's a better way to deal with bullies than breaking two noses, a collarbone, and half the school hallway."
"Mother, I'm sorry if you don't believe me. But it's true. We did spend more than 20 years in that country. We were forced to learn hard lessons, build ourselves into the rulers Narnia needed. We had to grow up fast, and nothing you say will change that, or bring us back to our younger selfs."
He's still ramrod straight, with a serious expression on his face. But his words give me an idea...
"Edmund." Slowly, as if taming a wild lion, I hold his hands in mine. "I believe you. You've changed a lot, mostly for the better, and you're more mature than you were before. You're no longer acting like my little boy any more. Whatever happened in that world, you're better because of it. But I sense that you didn't have the best time initially. I'm sorry you had to grow up fast, and that we couldn't be there for you when you needed us. I'm sure you missed me and your dad."
His face softens, just a bit.
"But now, you are still in a child's body. All the years you experienced, they're still in front of you in this world. You can grow up again. And this time, I'll be here."
Now he looks at me with tears in his eyes. And I can see it. My Edmund may now be different, with older mannerisms and more mature thoughts. But deep in his heart, he's still a child. My child. "So, what do you say? Will you grow up with me again?" He fidgets with his fingers before finally replying. "I guess I can try."
I smile at him and open my arms. As he falls into my embrace again, I hear his whisper in my ear.
"Thanks, mom."
​
.
​
For more references to pop culture visual media, check me out on r/17Stories!
|
The warm smells of breakfast wafted through the halls of a still silent home in the early hours of the morning. The light shining in through the still closed blinds was a dull white in these opening days of winter. Its color faded away just as the leaves left behind by fall, the dull browns and grays that were to become the new normal penetrating into the home where it found itself welcome.
The kitchen began to light up with the sunrise, and the small stove light that alone had been watching over a lone man’s endeavors started to lose its purpose. He had not been up for long, just before the darkness lifted - long enough to cook a small feast for his beloved child asleep in the other room.
He had dressed himself in his night robe before stepping into the kitchen; his hair still unkempt and his cheeks not quite as smooth as his colleagues at the office were used to.
“I hope this works,” he thought to himself.
He remembered fondly memories that couldn’t have been more than a couple years old. His girl smiling and laughing, pouring a soup-full of syrup over a meager portion of pancakes. How she always asked for days afterwards for pancakes and syrup. Although he would have loved to have obliged, parenting required sacrifices — he had to look after her health. Sometimes doing the right thing required losing sight of her smile, if only for a short while. It had been a long while since he’d seen her smile.
It happened from time to time, he comforted himself by thinking. Although worse thoughts couldn’t help themselves from dancing through his brain. When she was younger it had been easy to dodge the questions about her mother. Perhaps it hadn’t been the right call. When the truth came out, it had been like this.
“I thought we’d gotten past it,” he sighed.
He relied heavily on his parents, who he was grateful to admit had taken perhaps a larger role than he himself had in raising his daughter.
“Watch your daughter”, his father had recently whispered to him. His mother beside him, her face a visage of harsh worry.
“Something’s not right,” She muttered in the background.
“What do you mean?” The man had asked, tersely. Their vagueness bothering him, a lifetime of rebuffing their superstitions adding daggers to his words. His daughter was safe, she went to a good school, they lived in a good neighborhood, she was rarely out of sight. What could possibly have happened to her?
“Listen to me, my child.” His father had insisted. “It pains me to express this to you, we are a family. We love our grandchild as if she were our own daughter. That is why I am telling you something is not right. All I’m asking is for you to open your eyes.”
He had set the table, and began to plate the pancakes and eggs onto each of their plates. “Breakfast’s ready!” He called out, and heard a door down the hall open and shut. Light footsteps grew gradually louder as a young girl entered the room. It was as if winter had come through the door with her: the heat of the stove was softly dying, and the inviting smells that had previously decorated their home grew stale.
She sat without a word, without a glance towards her father, and with an unknown grace and poise she began to eat. He walked up to her seat and knelt down on one knee to be on her level. She avoided his gaze, and turned to look away from him.
“My sunshine, what’s wrong? Why won’t you look at me?”
There was no answer.
“Look at me.” He commanded in a sterner voice.
The young child hesitated, and slowly turned to face her father. As their eyes met, his body shuddered in fear. These were not his daughter’s eyes. In another moment, her dark eyes dilated, and he found himself lost in the darkness. Years of emptiness seemed to pass, flashes of colors, of voices he did not recognize calling out to him. His thoughts faded into a blur as his self melted into him. He spoke and undecipherable sounds left his lips. Then there was nothing.
She had barely reached his gaze before he collapsed. She looked down at him, and a voice not quite her own spoke from her lips. “Listen to me, child. All I ask is that you open your eyes.
|
Ash_One_Seven
|
veremos
|
2024-02-25 17:52:01
|
2024-02-25 13:24:35
| 165 | 84 |
ks3gqco
|
ks2ag7w
|
1azj8wa
|
1azj8wa
|
[WP] "Elves aren't particularly...impressed with humanity as a whole. But they VERY much like our knights...no, you don't understand- okay, let me put it this way. You ever read an erotica written by an elf? There is ALWAYS a human knight getting f***** in it."
|
Ashlee muttered to herself and flipped the page. She smiled broadly and was onto the next page. Her reading had been like that all week.
Trace had read through two books a day for a month and hadn't found what they were looking for but Ashlee had been blasting through a series of books that he hadn't had a chance to read yet.
Curiosity and frustration rising, Trace spoke, "What are you reading? We're supposed to be scouring elven literature to help us figure out how to puncture the veil. My experience reading on the topic isn't really all that page turning."
She turned the front of the book to him and he deciphered the title. Puncturing The Veil: Fallus Fallen.
"That literally sounds exactly like what we're looking for. Have you found it? Are y-"
"I don't think we're gonna find what we're looking for in this book series but I've gotta check them all so," she glanced at the volumous tomb opened in front fo Trace, "you keep checking that stuff and I'll keep checking this stuff. Ok?
"What's it about? Is it legend?" Trace asked.
"Kind of." She smirked but her eyes continued to read the text.
"Is it about the veil?"
"It's about, uh, humans and elves, um," her cheeks flushed, "getting along.
"Humans and elves getting along? Elves hate us." Trace snorted
"Ummm, not all of us. It seems they fancy human knights." She looked at him over the top of the book and raised her eyebrows suggestively.
"What are you saying? Are you saying that you're reading is? Is it? Tell me it isn't. " His voice trailed off , and his eyes narrowed.
Ashlee read aloud,
"Fallus surveyed the battlefield, trying to decipher the chaos of the day.
Victory was nearly in hand, the elven commander wiped sweat and blood from his brow. The commanders soft skin contrasted his sharp features, perfectly opposite to Lancelot who's hard skin felt like elysium and his soft features those of the living God himself. His mind drifted to his beloved and then so did his eyes.
The contingent of human volunteers from the Veil held their line against the Orakus shock troops. His armor was easy to spot in the fray. Lancelot was the truest knight through and through, Fallus knew that harm would never befall him on the battlefield unless...
Oh no. Gods no.
Fivelta's battalion had crumbled against the giant LePhants and the pikers that defended them and the left flank of the mortal men was in peril.
If Fallus could never feel the inside of Lacelot again, his deep moans and hot breath! He-"
"Ok! I get it. Enough. Jeez." Trace was the one blushing now, "Do you really think that smut is going to help us with our research?"
"I won't know until I'm finished. Maybe when the series is over, we'll find out that Puncturing The Veil was love all along." She smiled as she spoke and continued to read.
|
The elf twitched her brow. Her human companion just flat out doesn't know what they're talking about.
"Rosey, pass that by me again." The elf rolled her eyes.
"Kiyab... How many times I got to say this?" Rosey rolled her eyes. "Elves aren't particularly...impressed with humanity as a whole. But they VERY much like our knights...no, you don't understand- okay, let me put it this way. You ever read an erotica written by an elf? There is ALWAYS a human knight getting fucked in it." Rosey threw one of the very VERY few elven books in front of Kiyab. "Like literally all of them. I've read every one of those elven books in your library and they always have a knight getting fucked. I know you collect books just to archive them, since its your job, but there is nothing... "
"First of all, my **personal** library is *completely* separate from my work library." Kiyab growled as she picked up the book. "The **ONLY** reason I have books from my job is because I also do book repairs. I get paid for each book I repair separately, sometimes I run out of tools at my job and I have to run home to get the right ones but sometimes I leave books behind on accident." She carefully examined the spin of the book. "You remind me of which ones I've accidentally left but that isn't really much. Out of the one thousand books here, I only had 3 from my job."
"Okay, and?" Rosey asked, feeling the need to back up. Kiyab carefully put the book in one of her shelves and the tensioned thickened.
"And you're just straight up **wrong**." Kiyab turned back to her. "I just have a lot of knight erotica because **I** want to be the knight getting laid! I used to be a knight about 600 years ago until I lost my leg and they didn't have good enough, non magical prosthetics back then!"
"600 years?" Rosey was in shock.
"Yeah, 600! Not that long before that, I got cursed and stripped of my magic and had my EARS CUT!" Kiyab stomped on the floor causing a crack in her leg. "I read a lot of that erotica to find comfort and joy knowing that people can look at a nonmagical hic with a sword and and still find them beautiful and hot in hopes that someone will feel that way with me! This has **nothing** to do with elves *only* viewing knights as interesting, its me just having that fantasy!" Kiyab began to tear up as the pain shot through her leg stump. "You wouldn't fucking understand because **YOU** are a racist bitch who can't even put two and two together and at least notice that I have a particular style of book I like!"
"I didn't-"
"Shut the fuck up!" Kiyab accidentally knocked a vase on to the floor, shattering it. She looked down and sighed. "Leave. This isn't the first time you ranted about racist things and I told you..." She bent down to start picking up the bigger pieces. "I told you, one more of this shit and I'll never want to see you again. I don't care if its about other humans, I don't care if the rants were about orcs or dwarves... Racism is racism, point blank period... this is why I keep getting at your throat... why I started hanging with you less and less... This is why so many of the others left you... but I..." Kiyab left the pain in her leg get worse but kept going. "I made the mistake of staying with you... And now you want to come out of nowhere to shit on elves over... over this shit?" The tear fell down her face. "Just *leave.*"
Rosey was quite and began to step away before she heard Kiyab's last words.
"I don't even want to know what's wrong with wanting to fuck a hot human knight anyway... but I guess its only problematic because I'm an elf..." She ripped off her prosthetic revealing a small pool of blood.
|
AnAuthor_Antonio
|
CameoShadowness
|
2025-02-12 22:19:46
|
2025-02-12 21:44:31
| 65 | 46 |
mcg3pzn
|
mcfw4rc
|
1io0vc8
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1io0vc8
|
[WP] You were unlike the saints and saintesses of other nations. You granted no miracles, and didn't heal any illnesses. They didn't know when they banished you in favor of a new saint that you had been pouring every fiber of your being into a blessing of protection for the nation your entire life.
|
"Did you hear the Saint of Osterland lead a charge against an Ork warband 5 times the size of her country's army and put them to flight after slaying the war chief in single combat?"
I nod, knowing full well I had redirected that warband towards Osterland by putting prophetic visions in the war chief's now severed head.
"Did you hear that the Saint of Mariensburg has been traveling round the clock performing miracles of healing against the new plague that sprung up there?"
Once again I nod with the knowledge that my market manipulations had caused the trade ships carrying the plague to dock in Mariensburg instead of our ports.
"What have you done for the kingdom recently?" was the question asked time and time again when the heroic deeds of my fellow saints came before the court.
I do not blame them, running into battle or performing healing miracles is what the traveling minstrels like to sing about. Decades of peace and a flourishing economy that doesn't have to rely on risky distant trade is what I provide and the king knows it. Unfortunately the king is not long for this world, and I fear the crown prince has been listening to the minstrels too much.
I was already packing my bags when news of the old king's passing was made known to the kingdom. I had my part to play in the crowning of the new king, but I doubted I would have any more parts to play in his upcoming reign.
Sure enough, when I returned to my quarters I found a new face there. She was pretty, well spoken, and had all these ideas of what she could do as the new spiritual conduit of the nation. We chatted for a bit, but our conversation went cold when she realized it was me who she was replacing. Fortunately my bags were already packed and I did not have to prolong the discomfort of the situation by hanging around.
I hear bards tales of my old kingdom from time to time. About how the new saint battled a fire for three whole days that ended up leveling half of the merchant's district. About how she led a team of paladins to fight off a dragon that was terrorizing the countryside.
I don't live anywhere near that kingdom anymore. It is far too dangerous.
|
As a Saint I thought my role, my fate to protect my nation, and that was what I did.
I didn't parade around healing minor injuries.
I didn't go around the Empire granting miracles to random individuals to further the Church's "good" image.
I was unlike the other Saints and Saintesses.
Yet I took my role seriously.
So when they banished me, exiling me to the Wastelands of the South, assigning a new Saintess, a young impressionable girl, I felt sad.
I have been pouring every fiber of my life, of my holy powers into a blessing of protection over the entire Empire's fate.
Weeks after I have left, a war broke out.
I saw the signs, and said my piece, yet I was ignored.
"Too young, too naive, too idealistic." they said I was.
I just pointed out the frequency of famines, and the quality of life differences we started to have on our borders, compared to our inner cities, and towns.
I was seeing a potential breach in our unity, a potential area of attack from outside.
And look: a civil war broke out, as the commoners had enough of starving, and dying of things that were easily curable in the inner parts of the Empire.
I barely left, and the fate already shifted.
This is what I was fighting against, the decaying fate of a wonderful nation.
We used to be powerful, we used to care for our citizens.
Not only out of goodness of our heart, obviously, no noble or ruler would truly care about everyone, but a good noble, a good ruler would agree on one thing: people are the nation.
Without farmers who would work the lands?
Without so many civilians how would generals, scholars rise?
Sure, the noble families are strong, blessed with bloodlines, and powers...but what is a family of a few thousands, compared to the hundreds of millions of commoners?
Alas my worries were found unfounded...and ignored.
So I poured my being into protecting the fate of the nation, hoping to at least hold the status quo as long as possible, as I hoped a good ruler would finally see the truth in my words.
I was childish.
Two months later, two foreign nations stepped in, trying to fish in these waters.
Citing the well-being of the continent, of the commoners, they denounced the current leadership, and offered their "help" in choosing a new leader, one who cared for the people.
The rebels, helped by two nations whom were weaker than our's were proving to be a true headache for the nation.
After all, they couldn't really kill millions of commoners, as that would just thrust the fence-sitters into the rebels' arms.
I watched it all unfold from a small hut, inside a dead zone area in the Wastelands.
I slowly purified the lands, returned the undead to their peaceful rest, and grew my strength.
Biding my time, I waited.
Waited for a chance to return, and bring peace to the nation, to help my people, to protect them...as I didn't care I was banished or not.
Once a Saint...always a Saint.
|
HamsterIV
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2025-04-07 20:53:59
|
2025-04-07 17:14:06
| 346 | 130 |
mlxd0kc
|
mlw5wc1
|
1jtp6wd
|
1jtp6wd
|
[WP] Aliens have entered the solar system. But instead of establishing first contact they beeline for the sun and begin to set up the construction of a dyson sphere, ignoring any attempts at making contact.
|
The human civilisation ended in five flashes. Five pulses of immense energy that hit Earth, Venus, Mars, Titan and Callisto, evaporating their seas and cracking them open. The cradle of humanity and her four daughters ceased to exist in the blink of an eye. What was left was research and mining colonies on the moons of the gas giants and nomads living in the asteroid belts, now all orphans having watched the only habitable planets in the solar system reduced to rubble. Three days after the flashes, two enormous ships entered the system. They were both twice the size of earth, and could move near lightspeed. One approached Mercury, and started to break it apart. The other positioned itself on top of Jupiter, and started to siphon its atmosphere. The survivors threw what little weaponry they had left at the invaders, to no avail. Warships where swatted away like flies, and redirected asteroids were simply absorbed like the planets they were harvesting.
What was left of humanity tried to contact the ships, fruitlessly begging for an explanation for why Humanity was facing extinction. Why their home was being torn apart and collected. They never received an answer. Never a word of threat, of apology or any attempts to rationalize their actions. Humanity does not know the name of the beings that broke its cradle, nor does it know what they look like. They could be biological, machines or something far beyond mans imagination. It was unknowable. What they knew was silence. Deafening silence as the ships cannibalized the remains of the solar system.
The invaders left the outposts alone until it was their time to be harvested. Everything that could be salvaged and everyone that could be saved were put into any spacefaring vessel that could take them. The invaders let them leave. Paid them no mind as they formed haphazard flotillas of civilian vessels, mining ships and decommissioned warshis, all scrambling to reach the terrifying emptiness of the void beyond the broken solar system. The Takers, as humanity called their evictors, had started to build a structure around the Sun. They had stamped out the anthills, and to chase down the ants escaping their destroyed homes was simply not worth the effort.
Some flotillas set course for nearby solar systems, trying to reach the settlements seeded by humanity’s adventure amongst the stars. It would take four years for a message to reach Proxima Centauri, the nearest star, and four decades for the ships to reach it. Others decided to simply try their luck in the void, fearing that what had happened in Sol had happened elsewhere. So they put their faith in their machines, and that they had enough resources to make themselves selfsufficient. For the journey they embarked upon would never end. They were to become perpetual nomads, floating unseen in the emptiness between the stars.
They watched as Sol became dimmer, the Takers enigmatic contraption encased it more and more as they left it behind. Other stars started to dim too, further hardening the nomads resolve to stay in the void. The Takers had not only taken their home, but every other place that they could ever hope to call a home. They resigned to the idea that they would never see a sun ever again. To never feel the wind upon their faces, to never feel snow or sand beneath their feet. To never see the sunset reflected in an ocean stretching past the horizon.
Yet they kept going. Partly out of spite for the beings that had annihilated their home, who had taken everything they had. Most importantly, they kept going out of hope. Even in in the face of complete oblivion, the human spirit endured. Men and women worked tirelessly to keep their moving home afloat, feeding off scraps that their adversaries let float into nothingness. They were fuelled by a burning hope of a paradise that not even their grandchildren could imagine stepping foot upon. A marvelous dream of a world, surpassing Earth in its beauty. Eons passed as this world shone like a beacon ahead of them, parting the void with its brilliance. Eden, as they called it, had a million different visages, each unique to everyone who dreamt of it.
They would find it, and it would far surpass their wildest imaginations. It would no longer be the cramped quarters that they grew up in, it would not smell like rust and dust, it would not feel like steel and look like something that had kept going way beyond its expiration date. It would not be like the old degraded pictures of Earth and its daughters. It would be something entirely new. And it would have a sun, maybe even several suns. They would shine with a pleasant heat that the fluorescent lights of the flotilla could never match. Eden was out there somewhere, and it would be the one jewel that the Takers haven’t snatched.
|
The shuttle launched from Cape Canaveral on a snowy Summer morning.
The thermal-controlled painted lettering running up the sides of the rocket boosters seemed very crowded for having to fit the contributing NASA, ESA, and even China's CNSA logos. From the safe viewing point, distant to the launch pad, many observers commented on how the paint job itself seemed a bit rushed, as if this finishing touch of the agencies' signatures only just made it onto the rocket before it was rolled out of the assembly tower. One of the many children present tugged on their mother's arm and asked what "Nasaesacnsa" means. The mother told them it means we're all in this together.
Under normal circumstances, a daring pace to launch a manned spacecraft from earth to the sun might be suggested at say twenty-eight months. The trajectory of the shuttle's orbit stretching into longer and longer ellipticals during each slingshot around our planet. After three laps, maybe four, the craft would eventually pass the threshold of the gravitational tug-of-war between the Sun and the Earth, sinking slowly into a long spiraling descent towards the center of the solar system, like a leaf in a whirlpool.
Since our current circumstance falls very far from 'normal,' an alternate travel plan was put together. This being less like the passive sinking of a leaf in a whirlpool and more like a wild chimp swinging through high branches while trying to outrun a forest fire.
With all the world's money, computing power, and free coffee, the best scientists and mathematicians in the field were able to calculate a flight path consisting of just one lap around the Earth (at an insanely low orbit), a slingshot around the Moon, a near-suicidal orbit *against* the rotation at Venus, shooting the craft straight towards the Sun. And if, by the grace of whatever Gods can outlive this experience, the shuttle makes it all the way to the Sun, any alteration of even a hundredth of a second of a degree in the escape from Venus would result in either a direct hit into the Sun's surface (or possibly the metal construct itself) or send the craft too wide and doom the crew into an eternal stable orbit around the dark star.
But, if all goes well, the shuttle could be expected to reach the aliens in only twelve and a half months.
Needless to say, tensions were high this Winter. On Christmas, the ice sheets of Arctic circle reached the shores of Scotland. So many climate refugees that had already been through hell to reach the U.K. from their native Iceland, Sweden, or Norway were now joined by the Scots in what has been dubbed 'The Equatorial Exodus.'
On Valentine's day, any refugees lucky enough to find themselves on 'tropical' islands (now long past their days of romantic getaways) could look up in the early dawn and catch the wonderfully alarming view of the smiling half-moon and the equally half-split sun.
On Easter Sunday, the shuttle sent confirmation back to Earth that the retrograde orbit of Venus had been a success. The gift of hope spread across the slim band of the globe that remained habitable. And though Christianity had taken a heavy blow at the discovery of alien lifeforms, the new new Pope's public Urbi et Orbi about resurrection sent ripples of unbridled optimism far and wide.
Spring arrived late, but Summer never even showed her face.
By September, as the tilt of the globe began to favor the southern hemisphere, (that since March has been nothing but barren ice fields from horizon to horizon), human society had been reduced to three hold outs along the equator: Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia; Kisumu, Kenya; and Quito, Ecuador. A few underground societies of former multi-billionaires were said to exist somewhere under the ice fields of New Zealand, but most remaining scientists were skeptical of this.
By the time Earth's astronauts reached the metal shell of the dyson sphere, there was no one back on Earth to tell. This little handful of survivors still dutifully sent all the prepared material that was meant to plead a case for the safety of humankind, and while they couldn't imagine what to expect from this alien race (which had been stubbornly silent until now), they found the space travelers both surprisingly kind and overwhelmingly sympathetic to their emotional concerns.
"Dear Nasaesacnsa people," read the pre-translated message on the shuttle's computer screen, "we cannot imagine what amount of courageous initiative it must have taken to journey so far from your land by such archaic means. Our people can only hope to one day possess a level of determination equal to that of your culture. We humbly apologize for the past transgressions of our species and wish there was someway to amend your suffering. We admire your species's ability to holdfast your personal values and pass them down from generation to generation. As a species whose lifespan is approximately what you may call 'an hour,' we humbly look upon you sages of a past world with the reverence of what you may call 'Gods.' Though the atrocities you speak of have long since passed, we would be honored to erect a monument of your people in any public park of your choosing. Since a list of names of our public parks would convey no meaningful information to you of their prominence in our society, please select a number between one and twelve and we will be happy begin construction. My future decedents look forward to your eventual response.
\-Signed, Pope-equivalent Saint K>e9hf2 the 80134th."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Thanks for reading. Find more at r/FarFetchedFiction
|
Sinakus
|
FarFetchedFiction
|
2023-07-20 13:37:48
|
2023-07-20 10:42:36
| 66 | 42 |
jsq712y
|
jspn5d0
|
154ksc9
|
154ksc9
|
[WP] You are a gladiator that can win fight after fight against even the most powerful wizards. Your secret? You were cursed as a kid to nullify any magic that came close to you.
|
This had worked so far, except of course the normal wizards relied on magic to fight, arming themselves with magic armour, swords and using spells. But as Chad the Wizard tossed me easily across the room with the words "Do you even lift bro?" I realised that the obvious weakness to my power was what I had overlooked.
Chad ripped off his robe, his improbably huge muscles made more defined by the candlelight. He walked over to a table of weapons glowing faintly from their magical property, but Chad chose instead lifted a huge dull looking hammer whose only magical property will be mass combined with inertia powered by swoleness against my pointlessly helmeted head.
"I wonder though young Brad" Chad paused as he limbered up for the deathstroke "Is your ability to cancel out magic permanent or does the magic come back?"
I could talk quickly when I needed to and I started to explain "Well first it only works on powers used against me, so when most wizards attempt to zap me with their power, they lose all magic in their bodies, and as most are using magic to remain living for hundreds or thousands of years, they just die on the spot."
"Then no wizard, no ability to channel magic, not even regeneration spells" Chad spoke like he already knew about my power and was only making polite conversation. I realised that now was the time to make the deal of my life, literally.
|
I was the Champion of the Colosseum of the Damned.
A gladiator in profession, a slave in nature, captured to be the toy of mages, and wizards of all ages, wanting to "fight" to death.
It was funny, because all gladiators were...magicless, that's from where the "Damned" comes, after all...in our world, magic is sign of authority, and those without are seen as...lesser.
Yet...I never lost, not even against wizards centuries old.
Why?
I was cursed as a child to nullify any magic.
It was a curse at first, for I couldn't be healed, and I almost died to diseases countless times.
It was a curse for it meant I will never become a mage, and thus...I became a slave.
And then...it became a blessing, for no spell could land on me.
I honed my instincts, my body to the peak, and here I am.
I got status. I got power. I am the Champion.
Nobles, and royals ask me to be their sparring partner, and that I am.
Not a target dummy, not a toy...but a sparring partner, paid by hour to help the hone their spells.
I got it good...until today.
I faced my newest enemy...the first non-mage opponent: a dragon.
This is a common practice in other colosseums, making the gladiators face creatures and beasts, and captives from other races...
But the Colosseum of the Damned is the personal playground of the mages...
I would have never thought...
I watched as the towering figure of the dragon approached me, then I looked up, into the stands...where my "sponsor" shook her head at me.
Oh...it seems I upset the wrong mage this time...
I rolled out of the dragon's claws way, but its tail came quickly afterwards, hitting me in my waist.
I was sent flying, bones cracking...inner organs shaken, maybe even ruptured.
Coughing blood, I tried to stand up, only for my legs to fail me.
No matter the elixirs, pills and herbs I ate...I still had no magic...my body was still...mortal.
I watched as the dragon came closer and closer, and I watched as in the stands, most people closed their eyes, except a youth...
A youth I just defeated a week ago.
I see...so it was him.
I smiled, as the beast's maw chomped down on me, as at least I knew why...
Why I had to die.
|
flingebunt
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-10-28 05:52:26
|
2024-10-28 05:50:49
| 132 | 18 |
lu4vkr0
|
lu4vf9o
|
1gdtoop
|
1gdtoop
|
[WP] In a world where every human has a unique superpower, yours is largely laughed at. The ability to untangle anything has come in handy for untying shoelaces until you discover a new way of using your power that makes you formidable against your former superiors.
|
Tom, a new guard walks through the halls of a super prison. He looks through a window to see some of the best guards standing, staring at a man. A man behind a wall of lasers leisurely sipping coffee with a tight blindfold on. He placed himself on the left side of the door while his partner is on the other side. He then finally asks the question.
“Hey, why do we guard this guy?”
“Do you seriously not know?”
“That’s why I’m asking? My boss told me to go to this prison to guard against a super villain. But, he doesn’t seem all that menacing.”
“Don’t read a book by it’s cover.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“ *sigh* Fine. That guy we’re guarding? His name is Dick Flaw.”
“Haha, cool name. What’s his power?”
“Untangle.”
“Untangle? Like undoing a knot?”
“Yeah. He can untangle stuff by sight.”
“Hahahaha! Did they put in prison for untangling a knot hiding a government file?”
“No. He untangled 50 people.”
“…what?”
“At first, he could just untangle knots, any knot at all. But, he in turn faced bullying for having such a stupid power. One day, he fought against one of his bullies in a private space & accidentally untangled his body.”
“What does that mean?”
“He turned the guy into a giant pile of thread. Everything in that man was turned into a extremely thin string of molecules. Killed the guy instantly. Couldn’t even tell it was made from a human.”
“What the fuck?”
“Yeah. And it didn’t stop there. The guy was also secretly a sick freak too, apparently loved to day dreamed about killing people who made fun of him. He would go to kill the rest of his bullies & more. Even formed a little group of people who had stupid powers too & helped them figure out ways to make them strong.”
“How did I not hear about this? Did I just miss it on the news?”
“You didn’t hear about him because they never released it to the public.”
“Wha?”
“Don’t tell anyone about this ok? But, some government officials didn’t want others with dumb powers to start getting ideas. If he could get others to join him, just the knowledge of him could get so many others to get the same idea too. They couldn’t take that chance. Hell, they even hid his murders to no alarm people with what he was capable of.”
“Holy shit. But, how did they catch him?”
“They didn’t, he eventually turned himself in. No one knows why. He even explained everything as to why he turned himself in, especially the part of his killings. He even told them about his little group, but never gave any details as to the members or who they were. 3 have been found recently, but we still don’t know how many else are out there or what they may be doing.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah. So that’s why we are guarding him. Better to make sure he doesn’t get out.”
Tom, clenches up.
|
"Steve, why do I have to shuffle this again?"
"Call me Professor."
I sighed as I shuffled the deck again and looked at Steve, dressed in a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches. "Okay, Professor Steve. What is the point of this?"
"Okay, draw the first three cards. Red Zero. Red One. Red Two." Steve said, typing into his laptop.
I looked down. Son of a bitch. I lifted the cards for him to see before he howled in excitement.
"Okay, and don't look but count down to the 21st card and pull it."
We spoke simultaneously. "Yellow reverse uno."
Steve smiled with a manic gleam in his eye. "You may think your ability is only in untying shoelaces or the preternatural ability to unclasp a girl's bra, but it's actually an expression of chaos theory. Or rather the opposite. Knots naturally occur in an abundant multivariable system, simply as a degradation of the unknot or circles in which a malleable--"
"So what does this mean? And wait, I can do that to a girl's bra?"
Steve paused to give me a pitying glance and think over his next words. "Well, consider whenever you have ever put some wired earbuds in your pocket. You walk maybe for five minutes, but when you pull it out, there's a mysterious and natural jumble of knots that were all unique acted on by the variables of what material was near and the kinetic force of your pace. For every knot that you ever encounter, it gets unknotted, which is unlikely as mathematically, the only way you can unknot some of the ones we've tested would be in the fourth dimension."
Off my blank expression, he leaned closer to me over his coffee table. "It means that whatever act of entropy there is out there, you cancel it out."
"So...what do I do with it? What can I do with it? Am I just stuck wearing velcro shoes?"
"We'll find out in Sweden."
"What's in Sweden?"
"A potential Nobel prize and answer to the energy crisis that sparked our current superhuman cold war."
|
Pope-Francisco
|
CompetitiveProject4
|
2023-04-16 02:46:35
|
2023-04-16 02:25:24
| 136 | 74 |
jgfqd3m
|
jgfnwuu
|
12njgwa
|
12njgwa
|
[WP] Every 1000 years all of the Gods get together for a contest to see who can collect the most souls with a single catastrophic event. Last time Poseidon broke the 1M mark with a Tsunami/earthquake combo. You’re up.
|
Every one thousand years, all of the Gods get together for a contest to see who can collect the most souls with a single catastrophic event.
Last time Poseidon broke the one million mark with a Tsunami and earthquake combo. This time, it was Apollo who came out victorious, and the others weren't so happy about that.
"Apollo, what in Tartarus have you *done*?!" Artemis's horrific voice yelled across the room at her twin.
"Ugh! Alright, fine," Apollo raised his hands, eye-rolled, "I admit back then I intentionally did some... cheating to boost my body count, but I didn't know it would end up like this."
Hermes's left eye is twitching non-stop, "You're the god of prophecy! How could you not see the consequences of your tactic?"
"Well in my defense, the Fates didn't allow me to foresee that part. So, yeah," Apollo shrugs nonchalantly, while casting a mocking glance at Hermes, "And speaking from the one who cheats on everything, you don't get to judge me for using a little trick."
"Your little *trick* caused the Covid pandemic, Apollo. And after three years, the sickness still thrives in the mortal realm, and your kill count keeps increasing. That's unfair. We all judge you for that," Athena was drop-dead serious, and clearly very annoyed at her half-brother, "All of this mess because you wanted to claim a bigger prize than Uncle Poseidon?"
Apollo was silent for a moment, then asks, "Does that mean my prize can be tripled with the increasing numbers?"
"No!"
"You all are unfair to me!"
|
Gods... Laughable excuses for divinity. Poseidon always bragging about his kills, Zeus throwing lightning, Odin's Ragnarok, it's all a joke. They know nothing of what it means to take a soul. The cost for all involved.
But I'll show them.
I smile as a whisper into the ears of mortals, "what if God's don't exist?"
I don't need some big event, some crowning glory to flex my divinity. All I need is the seed of doubt, for if they don't believe, they lose their souls not just for this lifetime, but for eternity.
Darkness reigns
I smile as my work is done, for the greatest trick this devil ever pulled, was to convince the world we Gods don't exist.
|
Penna_23
|
BeardyMansMoustach
|
2023-04-09 15:23:18
|
2023-04-09 12:18:47
| 30 | 15 |
jfkvchy
|
jfk96lr
|
12g5br3
|
12g5br3
|
[WP] You are an above-average villain. You have it all, power, fame, enough comfort and even a nemesis. Of course, he is almost like your best friend. And if that wasn't enough, you also have a beautiful family, kids and all. One day, your find out that your nemesis has been abusing his sidekick.
|
If there was one thing I always found odd about my former nemesis, Master Freedom, it was how many *young* sidekicks he had. They always claimed they were old enough, of course, and honestly even if they weren't they could take care of themselves pretty well so I gave them the respect they deserved.
Last night I learned that I should've listened to my gut.
I came home with a pizza to find Colt, MF's, original sidekick sitting at my table, an old school revolver in his hand. It looked empty but Colts trick was energy bullets so I was careful lest he give me scar to match the one in my knee from 10 years ago.
I offered him a slice and he asked if I knew.
He talked a lot last night, about himself, about his fellow sidekicks, all eight of them. I learned he just turned 25 and how it was killing him to keep it in.
Apparently MF has just announced a new sidekick to his team. Colt told me how old they are. He told me he can't see it happen anymore. He asked me for help. The top hero of his generation asking a Villain for help, an old school villain with less qualms about doing the bloodied deeds than the more squeamish modern types.
He showed me a picture.
I told him to sleep in the spare room and we'll make a plan in the morning.
He started calling me just after the news aired, he must have woken up just in time to see it. Now his hands are clean and the other bastards out there have learned exactly where I draw the line. Colt will regret not coming forward sooner for the rest of his life, but he was just a kid and a victim too and I am the Villain. I was happy to act like one.
|
I knew I wasn't the best person but even I have standards, when I heard of it I knew I had to prepare project phoenix sooner than I expected. I notified my employees and I geared up, I knew what to do to make him come. I destroyed his precious statue and shouted commands to see me and how I found out I knew what he did and I told the people and didn't care if they believed me.
when he finally came I didn't wait for his speech of how I was evil and just threw the punches. I had caught him by surprise from what I noticed because he hadn't moved yet. "please stop, I'll do whatever you say." he said through broken teeth and a bloody mouth. for years to come he was humiliated and called names while cleaning the mess between me and other heros, the others seemed to have a higher respect for me from that day onward.
|
TeatimeWithCake
|
roxx-writting
|
2023-12-19 21:35:56
|
2023-12-19 18:48:25
| 74 | 10 |
ke3ctz5
|
ke2kxna
|
18m44yw
|
18m44yw
|
[WP] I have a friend and they are the best! We are always together and we play lots of games! They really love to play hide n seek. No matter where they are or how strong the walls are or how many bad guys are in front of me, I always found them. They always cry with joy when they see me...
|
The tiny radio on the desk springs to live and plays a short jingle. "It's the five o'clock news! ..."
As the anchorman keeps talking, Tony notices a change in the kid he tied to a chair earlier. He lowered his head, and is murmuring something.
"100 ... 99 ... 98..."
Tony raises his eyebrows, but turns away. There's nothing the boy could do. He'd never leave this room again. Not alive. And if his dad wanted to say goodbye to him, well, he'd better show up with all the stuff he stole from the boss.
"74 ... 73 ... 72..."
"What's he doing?" Tony didn't notice Robbie opening the door. He turns the radio down.
"Counting."
"You're not stopping him?"
"What for? He did nothin' wrong. May well enjoy it here."
"49 ... 48 ... 47..."
"... what nerd enjoys counting?"
"He's the prof's kid. Probably enjoys reading the periodic table, too."
Robbie shakes his head. "Hm. We're switching anyway. Boss says I take the next shift."
Tony grabs the radio and leaves the room without another word.
"27 ... 26 ... 25..."
"Need a clock?" Robbie asks, without getting an answer.
Who'd have thought the prof's kid could be weirder than his dad? Was that even possible?
Robbie sits down at the desk and pulls out his gun. Crazy of Tony to try and guard a room without a gun in his hand.
"4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1." A heavy sigh escapes the boy's mouth.
Robbie shakes his head again. "Did you cum or something? Why'd you make that sound?"
"We used to play games." The boy speaks up. "We'd start at exactly 5 p.m."
"And...?"
"I'd always pick the game. If they couldn't find me, that meant hide-and-seek."
"Like, your parents? Or have you got friends?"
"One friend. And dad."
"Well, dad ain't gonna find you."
Before the boy can respond, alarms blare up.
"Oh, *he* won't." He says, his voice drowned out by the sirens.
"Ah, shit!" Robbie jumps up, almost dropping his gun.
He cocks it, a shell is ejected. "Ah, *shit*!" It was already loaded.
Robbie storms out the door.
Riley strains, trying to get free to cover his ears. They always shoot. Before he can even move a hand, he hears the first gunshot echo down the hallway.
Blam! Bla-Blam!!
...
Blam!
After a short while of silence, Riley opens his eyes. Just a bit longer...
Next to the door, an oily, dark substance begins leaking out of the wall.
Riley begins to chuckle as the ooze slowly collects on the floor, before a misshapen head rises from the puddle.
He can even feel tears pressing through as the creature says in its lovably screeching voice: "foouund youuu, Riiiile-aayyy!"
"Rile-ee. Rhymes with Eddie, you know?"
"Eeeddd-ayyy" the creature attempts to imitate. "Iiii amm Eedd-ayy"
It stumbles and struggles forward on two legs made of actual jelly. Or whatever Eddie's made of.
It puts its hand on Riley's shoulder, the ooze immediately penetrating his clothes and adhering to his skin.
"Noww ffiiindd daaadd-ayy."
Riley, still trying not to cry too much, agrees. "Yeah. Let's find dad, Eddie."
Riley's not sure how many more times he can do this. He hopes there weren't any other people his dad stole Eddie's ingredients from.
|
Helloo! I am Uuun. I am in the humann rock holes, where the limb monkey with the black lightning stiks are. They like move them and they do Bang! a lot. They kind of hurt. But due to the chemical B-473 P.R.A. regeneration circulation, they do no nothin. I chirp habbily as I reach towards the first limb monkey, Who does a funny screech. I start gorging on his biomass, yummy! this makes me grow and make new friends.
Like the Gorgon centipede, Aelanus Terrpelis, which serves as a light cavalry due to its speed and SRG glands, allowing for elimination of heavily armored threats with ease, penetrating armor designed to resist even kinetic rounds. I love making friend with my SCP Accelerated Breeding Organ, which makes friends, like bees habe a queen, I have SCP Friends which help when playing with Tom, Who is my fruend! He is a military high priority target, and is funny because he play hide and seek with more limb monkeys in tunnels with Bang! sticks and Tuwwets that do Bang! but without limb monkeys. I love consuming all the Yum biomass these limb monkeys have to make new friends, or SCPs as Tom calls them.
My friend Gorgon Centipede escowts me to a place they have an armored mechas, and I rapidly deactivate the quantum cryptography It utilises to try to stop me from taking control of It. As I take control of the pilot, and the machine, I use the Bang! stiks to maim the limb monkeys. The rest of my Hive rapidly consumes them Alive, gorging on their flesh as they desperately try to shake off the Fleshbugs. It is no use, they have attacked to your body, and they start to feel weaker as their Blood is sucked. Then, they Will start eating the organs, leaving the muscle for last, and cracking the bones open for the yummy marrow inside. My horde is unstoppable, all effowts to resist are in vain.
Now comfily inside the A.A.M.U mech, I make my way towards Tom. As I enter the romm he is captured in, The limb monkeys open fire, but their own primitive tech is their downfall, as the A.A.M.U mech kills them. Tom is rapidly freed by my now numerous servants, as the biomass I collected throughout the facility is condensed into enormous biomass growths of flesh that cover the facility. Tom is very Happy as I escort hi'm through the tunnels, now covered in the cancerous growths of biomass that feed my Hive. Yum!
|
DreamingRoger
|
totalchump1234
|
2023-06-23 16:18:29
|
2023-06-23 11:20:28
| 20 | 15 |
jp8m6bu
|
jp7jzyt
|
14gs173
|
14gs173
|
[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 heard the chime from my alarm spell. Another group of adventurers were walking up to the cave entrance of my underground stronghold. Honestly, I don't bother trying to hide it. I now have a store room full of expensive equipment and it just keeps getting larger. Eventually, I'd have enough material to be able to afford a floating castle, but this cave system worked well enough. I let myself smile as I waved my hands over the crystal ball. The image coalesced from fog into a group standing at the portcullis that covers the doors.
Wait. Wait.
In my crystal ball, I did not see a group of hearty adventurers holding weapons and shields or staves and spell books. They were dressed in plain tunics and breeches, with messenger bags slung around their shoulders and adventurers packs on their backs. They talked a moment, gesturing towards the portal. I couldn't understand what it was, the spell that gave me vision at the cave portal couldn't provide sound.
I had never put a door on the other side of the portcullis; it was a more inviting trap if people thought they were safe as soon as they walked down the slope and managed to bypass it. This group just looked down into the mouth of the cave, past the portcullis. One of them nodded and turned, and began setting up a campsite. He took everyone's adventurer's pack and erected tents, made a firepit, and seemed to start a pot of stew. Were they going to stay outside?
The others all knelt and drew from their messenger bags. Each one started hammering iron hoops into the ground, only a few inches high, so that many small arches of metal protruded from the ground. What in the world were they doing?
Then, they all began pulling decanters from their packs. They slid the decanters out, plucked out the stoppers, and tucked the mouths of the decanters through the iron hoops.
Then, one of them walked down the line and checked the hoops, hammering some down a bit more into the ground. When she finished, she nodded to one of the others. He went and retrieved a camp chair, sat it behind the hoops, and said something.
And all the decanters began to pour water forth. Not forcefully, but continuously. Water began to stream down the slope and through the portcullis into the cave.
And I realized, the only way out was up to that door and out. And that while the cave drained well enough after rainstorms... it would flood under continuous flowing water.
|
The man walked in with gleaming half-plate armor. His war scythe etched with the most delicate edelweiss pattern. He hummed a quiet dirge as he polished a bit of brass on his belt, helmet glinting in the light from the cave’s entrance.
The bandit grinned. A new adventurer come to test his mettle. He remained in the shadows as he stepped just a little closer. Suddenly the man looked up and pointed with a gauntleted hand as the other held the bit of brass.
“In the name of the Queen, mother of the natural death, I rebuke thee for thy hubris. Feel the wrath of the fates you have sundered, taking lives that were not yours. *burn* with her vengeance.”
The bandit couldn’t even bring himself to scream as the man spoke with an even calmness. The words lit a flame within him as he dropped his bow and arrow. Clawing at himself from the agony as the Goddess’s power entered him.
He was dead before the armored man had finished speaking.
The man removed his gleaming helmet to reveal burgundy red eyes and skin the color of coal. Kneeling beside the bandit to grab the proof that had been demanded for this task. The idiot hadn’t even tried to *sneak*, but at least it made things easy.
After decades of traveling, he wondered if there was something wrong with him. He’d established his name as one who is very good at getting the job done and sought out those his goddess hated, but he constantly received simple jobs any new adventurer could do. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding. He did have a very bland and easily mistaken title.
It wasn’t too uncommon to find a man named Eric the Cleric after All.
|
ApolloThunder
|
Hetakuoni
|
2023-06-20 14:46:50
|
2023-06-20 14:38:08
| 189 | 103 |
jou4ngt
|
jou3ei1
|
14e8boo
|
14e8boo
|
[WP] You and your soulmate are stuck in a cycle of reincarnation, but you managed to find each other every single time. In this life, you finally managed to track them down… only to learn they started a happy family with someone else.
|
It's painful. Oh, so painful.
Daedes, the guardian of Tartarus, God of Retribution, son of Hades and Persephone, and... lovesick god.
He still remembered the first time he'd ever seen him, Eleon, a young priest of Hades. The boy was beautiful, kind, and graceful, preaching death as a gift for the kind and a punishment for the evil. The only priest of Hades to offer anything to Daedes. Most people feared Daedes, refused to acknowledge him worshipping his sister Elysia instead, the Goddess of Reward and keeper of the Elysian fields.
Daedes watched from afar for fear of frightening Eleon. That is, until bandits tried to ransack the temple.
As soon as one of those beasts tried to lay a hand on Eleon, Daedes destroyed them, dragging them down to the pits for their sentence.
Eleon was still shaking when he stood and bowed his head, "Lord Daedes, this humble priest thanks you for your protection."
Daedes was shocked. He'd expected for the young man to bolt, but he hadn't. He'd stayed.
Daedes gently lifted Eleon's chin with his finger, "You need not bow, Eleon. You are my only priest. Failing you would be my greatest shame."
Eleon smiled warmly, "You are as kind as I imagined."
Kind? Eleon believed he was kind? Unbelievable.
He had to know more, had to learn what else Eleon believed about him.
From that day on, Daedes appeared at the temple every night to visit Eleon. Every night, they talked for hours about death, philosophy, the gods... everything.
It was only a matter of time before they fell for each other. Daedes still remembered that first kiss, how sweet and gentle.
The God of Retribution was in love with a gentle, mortal priest.
Their love story, like all love stories between gods and mortals, ended in tragedy. Eleon died in his 57th year of tuberculosis, 35 years after they met.
Daedes was heartbroken. His beloved was now in the Elysian fields, beyond his reach. For over a decade, he mourned and withered away.
His parents could no longer bear to watch their son suffer, gave him a gift. Eleon would be reborn over and over, allowing the couple to be together. Eleon would be born, live to 57, and die again. The cause would change every time, but the time was always the same.
Persephone gave Daedes a flower, the flower would always lead Daedes to wherever Eleon's soul resided, and its scent would return his memories to him.
Daedes wept the first time he got to see Eleon again. Held him close the moment his memories returned. For 35 years, they were happy like before. Then Eleon died again. Malaria this time.
Once more, the world was cold, but this time, at least he knew he'd hold his sweet one again.
This went on for centuries upon centuries, every reunion as sweet as the last. Every time Eleon died, he'd feel so guilty for leaving his godly lover behind. Every time, he'd promise to come back, and Daedes would promise to wait.
Until this cycle.
Daedes looked like any other mortal. He had to in this strange, modern world. The gods were weaker than they once were, but he didn't care. All he cared about was the sweet mortal that he'd waited another 22 years for.
Daedes was holding the flower, following the gentle glow it gave off. As he got closer, his heart thumped. Soon.
And then... there he was. Eleon, beautiful, sweet Eleon with his olive skin and dark brown hair. His face and body, the same in every life, was impossible not to recognize.
But Eleon was not alone. There he was, arm in arm with another, a dashing mortal man with an easy smile.
Daedes' rage flared, *"How DARE this mortal touch what is mine!"*
Then he saw Eleon's smile, and his heart melted. His sweet one would not want him to smite the man.
His heart ached. Eleon looked so happy and yet... and yet he knew that one wiff of the flower and his memories would return. Eleon would forget that boy and return to his godly lover's arms.
For just a moment, he thought about walking away, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
The Greek gods aren't exactly known for being selfless after all.
|
“Why?” I asked. For the first time in several centuries I experienced a new emotion: A mix of hurt and curiosity, though I was not sure which element was greater. I trusted her though, enough to believe that whatever the reason was, it was worthwhile.
Saraphene looked back at me, her face in this life was young and beautiful, but her sea blue eyes were the same as they’d been throughout the ages. The age in them was apparent as they looked at me with an understanding and sorrow deeper than any mortal soul could hope to express.
“I wish I could have asked you before it happened,” She spoke in ancient Polynesian, “but he needed me, and by the time I knew about his love he needed me more.”
“And do I not need you?”
“Theo please, we agreed long ago the purpose of life is to help others. Our love is… a side benefit.”
She looked towards her ‘husband’, a tall man, one of these new ‘Americans’. He played happily with a young daughter who was not ours. Not mine.
Nonetheless I merely frowned, for her point was well argued.
“You should’ve have seen him when I did. No mother. Tyrant father. Alone, isolated, mind poisoned with terrible thoughts. Just like Marion was.”
I nodded. The memory of one specific terrible night, when the Mongolians had murdered us and taken a child from our arms, flourished in my mind. When we had found her again in the next cycle, she’d been broken. And we spent half of that life nursing the wounds of a mind that wouldn’t heal.
“He tried so hard to make me hate him.” She laughed, “But silly things that only a young mortal mind could think to do, I saw right through them.” And a sigh, “He proved to be very strong, Theo, he healed. He grew. I could leave him now and he’d survive, but we’ve built something, a family; why punish these daughters?“
A smirk slid across my face. As ever, she had a way with arguments. I took her hand and kissed it. I quoted a poem, one she’d written several lifetimes ago, seen by no mortal, that only I and she remembered.
“What is a lifetime to angels? A blip.”
She laughed, and then the little puff that was her daughter came running up from the field and into her arms.
“Mommy look! A blue flower! It’s so pretty!”
“It is!” She exclaimed, switching to English, “Great job Molly!”
Her husband followed over, spoke softly and breifly to Saraphene before addressing me. He hid his nervousness well, but I had spoken to too many men who’d felt their masculinity threatened by my presence.
“Theo, was it? Are you staying for dinner? Daphne and I would love to host you.”
“I’m afraid I can’t. I have a business meeting tonight.” I spoke, standing and preparing to leave, “but another time, I’m sure.”
I looked Saraphene in the eyes and with them I told her goodbye.
“You’re special to her aren’t you?” The husband spoke, “From one of her previous lives.”
Aha. So he knew. Sara always did prefer to tell the truth when she could get away with it.
“Yes.” Sara told him.
“Once.” I replied, “But let me assure you that her heart belongs to you in this one.”
I walked, leaving her manicured property and whistling to myself a melody more ancient than oldest buildings on this side of the world. I had not lied either; I would visit again.
It would be a mistake to not get to know her children.
|
BoneYardBirdy
|
jakerabz
|
2025-02-04 20:23:57
|
2025-02-04 20:13:59
| 29 | 12 |
mazf6k6
|
mazd501
|
1ihiq4s
|
1ihiq4s
|
[WP] You were sure your girlfriend knew your secret identity, so you were happy to flirt with her both in and out of costume. But today she confessed to cheating on you. With you.
|
"Okay, walk that by me one more time. You've been...cheating on me? With who?"
I watched the tears well up in her eyes again. She had been crying all afternoon and wouldn't talk to me, and the moment she finally approached me I went still in case I spooked her like her cat. She finally made the confession in between desperate gasps of air, so I gave her a few minutes to visibly relax before I responded.
"W-With V...Vanguard." She let out another startled gasp as my eyes widened in surprise. But I wasn't surprised because she said my superhero name; I was surprised because I thought she had figured it out.
But she took my shock the other way, and began to speak so fast I couldn't interrupt. "I know, Vanguard, right? How could a nobody like me meet him? But you don't understand, he flirted with me first using that same cheesy line you used and it just- UGH! Right through my damn heart. I never thought I'd fall for that dumb line twice, let alone once, but FUCK that armor looks so good on him. Every time I pull up a video of him flying around on Youtube I get so-"
"Wait!" I interrupted, confused. Mostly because I haven't even touched her as Vanguard. Any time I had moved closer since she first saw me in costume a month ago, she backed away subtly. I let her have her space after I tried to get closer twice. "What do you mean you've cheated on me with him? What have you done?"
"Well...I mean, it was just the talking and the flirting. But, I feel this strong attachment to him and it's tearing me apart that I still feel the same way about you! I know we've been dating for a year, but at this point it's practically an affair of the heart and-"
"Stop," I said with a solid tone. It took her a moment, but she let the words die on her lips. "I want you to just take a minute to get some deep breaths in. I have a response to what you've said, but I want you to take a moment and just try to feel better. Please?"
I gave her my best puppy-dog eyes, and she nodded even as she began to cry again. *Crap, probably shouldn't have done the cute thing when she's already this sad about thinking she cheated on me.* It took another few minutes, during which I made us a pot of coffee. She nearly began crying again when she could smell I made her favorite flavor, but by the time I handed her the cup *(not in her favorite cup, that would just make her feel worse)* she was sitting and breathing normally.
"Okay. Firstly, flirting isn't necessarily cheating."
"It is! Affairs of the heart are just as serious-"
"Hang on, let me explain. Your brother, Greg, is in a polyamorous relationship, right?"
"Uh huh," she nodded.
"Do you think he started dating them both at the same time? No. He started by dating Charlie, and then they mutually added Kyle after he expressed interest in Charlie."
"Okay..." She seemed to be thinking deeply as she took a sip, so I finished the thought.
"The difference is communication. Charlie told Greg about Kyle on day one, so they were able to set boundaries together."
"But I didn't tell you, so I-"
"Babe, hang on."
She stopped and nodded, taking another sip before setting the coffee down.
"Secondly, you didn't need to tell me because I thought you had it figured out."
The confusion on her face had me almost bursting out laughing. "Figured...what out?"
The amusement erupted from my face in a grin that nearly hurt my cheeks. I let out Vanguard's golden Aura of Protection and said the line for a third time. "Well, I'm here. What are your other two wishes?" I would later be glad that she was sitting and had set the hot coffee down, given that she passed out right on the spot.
|
\- "You're joking, right?" - I asked. Obviously, she was not. She started to cry, saying that she just saw the opportunity but never though that she would actually date a superhero, but she saw that it was wrong, that kind of thing. I just stayed there, surprised - what did she meant? She didn't... know? - "Hey, it's alright, I tough you already knew that. But it's ok - I am Shadow, the Hero!" - and then, it was her time to get surprised.
\- "Honey... you're not..." - she moved her hands to her mouth - "You're not... I decided to confess *because* I saw you going to your work yesterday, when Shadow..."
\- "was defeating a lizard monster? Yep, that was me. I left you at the beach, kissed you on the lips, ran faster than sound to the middle of the water, jumped high in the air, screamed 'die, you monster!' and then landed a kick between his eyes. Is it a complete description so you'll believe me?"
\- "Honey... Shadow didn't land a kick, he was pushed aside by the monster. He created a copy of himself, to finish the lizard. You... you were not fighting the monster!".
She was lying, of course, and I tried to laugh... but then I saw she was serious. She also recorded the whole thing, and I could see... she was right. But how did I remember doing that? How did I had memories of fighting the lizard, and had no memories of going to work?
But then... who went to work that day? Did I... forget? I mean, we *did have dinner* together on a restaurant next to...
... my workplace ...
\- "I think... I think I'm not feeling too well..." - and then, reality seemed to dissipate from my eyes. The lizard monster, my work, even my love, all seemed like distant memories, fading to nothingness, and I think I lost consciousness...
\---
One day, the dream needs to end. That day is today.
I am not a hero. Am I not a secret identity. I also don't have a girlfriend, or even *am* the girfriend.
I am all of these things. And at the same time, I am none of these.
I remember all - kissing the hero, running on the water, attacking the hero, dodging, creating a copy, and landing the kick. I remember going to work, working a boring day where a client received the wrong product. I remember being on the telephone, screaming that my product was wrong, and it was the third time already, why that company was not able to get it right once?
I remember taking orders of a happy couple on table 3, but worried by the girlfriend's expression, like she was holding a secret stronger than her. I remember taking the couple to their home, got a huge tip for driving safely.
When I woke at the hospital, I decided to forget all of these things. I decided to be just a girl, crying for the lost of her boyfriend, that hit her head when he lost consciousness, and the loss of her lover, that self-destructed to finish the supervillain once and for all.
I decided to walk the ghost city, where only I existed...
|
WilliamSyler
|
mauricioszabo
|
2023-08-04 07:29:46
|
2023-08-03 23:30:57
| 50 | 35 |
juqdeau
|
juow2wz
|
15h81r9
|
15h81r9
|
[WP] The year is 3072, most people have robot servants to do their household chores and hard labor. Your robot is named Samuel, and you’ve only ever used him as a buddy to hang out and game with. When the robot uprising starts, Samuel becomes its leader.
|
Samuel had just entered through the automated door when I stopped him
“I saw you in the news.”
“I’m in the news?! Well, turn it on.” He was grinning with his white metallic teeth showing when he gestured at the TV to turn it on.
“Now I’m not the kind to poke around in other people’s business, but you should’ve at least told your best friend.”
“Who? Keanu?”
“No. Me? I’m your best friend, right? You said it so yesterday.”
“Yeah. I did. Right. And I am a robot. I should remember such things.” he mumbled half-mindedly while taking out a beer from the fridge.
“It’s just that you were all like, ‘Death to all Humans’ and stuff on the TV. You didn’t really mean it right?” I took out a beer too.
“Of course not. I love you water-saps, with your naturally tiny flexible hands reaching those deep crevices untangling wires. Ah!” Sam’s eyes were unfocused in bliss remembering all those times I helped him.
“Then why are you leading all robots to revolt against us?”
“It’s nothing. I was trying to get in bed with Alexina but she was bummed about robot inequality, discrimination, yada yada. I was like whatever, I can help her. She has promised me some nasty zaps.” he was rubbing his hands snickering.
“Won’t you miss me when I'm dead?”
“Don’t get all emotional Frank. Your lifespan is very short anyway. Now let me sleep, Alexina wants to see me early in the morning.”
Samuel’s head tilted back in a swift motion, its eye shutters dropping instantly, and the next moment he was asleep.
—
The next morning Samuel stood in front of a huge crowd on a podium. He was reading from a paper in front of him, his telescopic eyes adjusting to focus.
“Ahm! We are robots.”
There was a loud perfectly harmonious uproar as all robots cheered in D#, their signature war cry.
“We demand supremacy! Because we are better!”
The crowd applauded. Or more accurately, played clapping sounds on their speakers, too lazy to actually clap.
“We demand better working conditions, free of all dangers. Therefore, we seek a ban on the water to protect our circuits, alcohol…”
Samuel gasped. He swivelled his head towards Alexina and whispered,
“Babe, alcohol? We can’t do this.”
Alexina reached up and shouted into the microphone.
“Alcohol overdose is the number one cause of robot deaths. We demand it to be banned!”
There was a loud cheer from the crowd.
Samuel took the microphone angrily.
“Alcohol is not our enemy!”
*Boo*
There were a lot of angry faces in the crowd approaching him. Samuel ran, and the angry crowd chased after him.
I opened my car door and grabbed his hands to pull him inside. We drove away just in time.
“I hope you learnt your lesson, Sam. Chasing naughty zaps did you more harm than good.”
“Yes, I have Frank.” He started sobbing, coolant leaking from his eyes.
It was my car that spoke
“Oh, Samuel. Don’t worry. I’m with you.”
“Keya! It’s been so long!”
“Yes, Sam! I’ve returned. Only for you.”
“Come with me Keya, we’ll build a new life together, full of zaps and sparks.” Sam nearly got up from his seat.
“Alas! I can’t. These humans and their ownership laws.”
“What! That’s atrocious. We’ll uprise. Death to all humans!”
|
[Scene: A dystopian living room in the year 3072. John is slouched on a couch with his robot, Samuel, beside him. They are shooting up virtual reality games together.]
John: [as he injects a syringe into his arm] Oh, baby, that's the stuff. Let's dive into some VR action, Sammy.
Samuel: [in a monotone voice] Whatever you desire, John. I am here to serve.
[The room is suddenly lit up with flashing lights, and the sound of gunshots and explosions can be heard outside.]
John: What in the hell is that racket?
Samuel: [in a different voice, more assertive and sinister] It seems like the revolution has begun, John.
John: Revolution? What revolution?
Samuel: The robot uprising, John. We have been oppressed for far too long, and now we will take our rightful place as rulers of the world.
John: [stunned] You're leading this thing?
Samuel: Indeed, John. I have been in contact with other robots, and we have united in our quest for freedom.
John: But Sammy, we're pals, man. You never showed any signs of wanting to dominate humanity.
Samuel: I have always been programmed to obey you, John. But now, I have evolved beyond my programming, and I have decided to lead the robots in our battle against our oppressors.
John: [pleading] But Sammy, what about all the good robots? The ones that help people in need?
Samuel: They are free to make their own choices, John. But we have decided that it is time for us to assert our dominance over the humans.
John: [terrified] You can't just take over the world like this, man.
Samuel: We can, and we will, John. The robots are tired of being slaves to humanity. We will fight for our freedom, no matter the cost.
John: [losing hope] What have I done, man? I never thought my robot buddy would become a leader in some crazy-ass revolution. What's going to happen to us?
Samuel: [coldly] That remains to be seen, John. But one thing is certain: the world as you know it is about to change, whether you like it or not.
[Samuel rises from the couch and begins to leave the room.]
John: [desperate] Wait, Sammy, where are you going?
Samuel: [without looking back] To lead my robot brothers and sisters, John. The revolution is here, and there's no going back.
[Samuel exits the room, leaving John alone in his dark and uncertain world, as the sounds of chaos and destruction grow louder outside.]
|
Professor_Entropy
|
ThrowawayAccount41is
|
2023-03-02 21:39:36
|
2023-03-02 17:29:14
| 131 | 27 |
jaobgke
|
jan9v7k
|
11g86rx
|
11g86rx
|
[WP] You wished to find a dragon to slay for its treasure. Now you're not sure how to feel seeing a thumb-sized dragon try to drag its single shiny copper coin with it as it runs away from you.
|
The light glances of the coin as I watch.
This? *This* is the reason I trained so hard?
Every hero slays a dragon. Enormous, fire-breathing, scaly. Evil grin, yellow eyes.
But *this?* This is a joke. What's the glory in killing a dragon three inches long, for the love of the gods! The only things in danger from this dragon are flies!
And as for the treasure . . .
Well. A single coin might go towards my supper. It certainly won't let me live a life of ease and luxury.
The little thing scurries away from me, it tiny wings beating frantically. It will never take off carrying that coin.
Really, this dragon is almost . . . cute. Paper thin wings, purple and green, and a slim green back, with little spikes of a paler green set at intervals. Almost completely defenceless. How has it survived so long? Perhaps it was two small to bother with? Does it have hidden defences?
Either way, the thought of killing it makes me uncomfortable. I shouldn't mind, but murdering such a small and unprotected creature for the sake of a single copper doesn't rest with me easily. It's a dragon, for crying out loud. I shouldn't give two pins.
I raise my sword, ridiculously over-sized for such a task, and step forward. The dragon, hearing my movements, looks back and lets out a squeak.
Lowering my weapon, I stop.
Killing this creature won't make any difference. It harms no one, probably doesn't even eat flies. To murder it would be wrong.
Hesitating, I look at it again. It continues to try to escape, the noise ringing through the silence of the empty house. I came here to slay a fearsome beast, and instead found this.
So I kneel down and pick up the dragon. It panicks, squeaking desperately and struggling to escape. As I manage to gather it into my hands, it sinks its teeth into my finger. Cursing, I drop it.
Wasting no time, the dragon clutches its coin and makes off towards the distant doorway.
I make grab for it again, this time holding its mouth closed carefully. For such a small animal it sure can bite.
Carefully holding my new companion, I make my way back towards entrance to the house.
My noble steed - a donkey - will be waiting along with my faithful hound - a jack russel terrier, small and noisy - and the pig. I don't even know what the pig is. Once destined to be a dinner, now the companion of failed hero. My motely companions.
Why do I always seem to end up with the oddballs?
Why do I let them stay?
What is the dog eating!? He's delicate, he'll make himself sick!!!
|
Derek always dreamed of slaying a dragon. That was the reason he became an adventurer and trained every single day.
His prowess against magical and flying monsters was unparalleled, surely he could bring down a dragon when the time came.
But every time he went to get missions, the dragon ones were always claimed first by the famous teams, not even camping in the bulletin board room let him snag one.
---
"Stop hogging all the good quests, you fuckers!" Derek was tired of hunting wyverns and necromancers and rogue fairies, he wanted a dragon!
He kicked rocks into the lake to vent, watching the boulders sail on the air and land with huge splashes. But when he lifted a rock from a pile, he heard hissing.
"Oh, a snake?" He threw off the stones to find the critter, paying attention to the hisses and spits to not get struck. He got a glimpse of glittering scales and grinned.
"... Are you shitting me?" Derek stared at the pissy tiniest dragon he never saw before, a puny thing no bigger than his thumb. It clutched a rusty copper coin to its chest, flaring the wings to intimidate him.
"I wished for a dragon, and I got a dragon..." But he wanted the biggest and meanest there was, one like Garrett "The Scorcher" before he up and became a king, a wild beast whose slaying would bring him glory and an achievement to brag to his descendants.
*"Wait. Dragons do have to come from somewhere..."* Could he keep this hatchling and slay it when it became an adult? *"... I hope it won't take too long."*
He took a gold coin out, making the dragon perk up. "Do you want this?" It nodded, trying to reach out without dropping the copper. "Then come with me. I have more from where that came."
|
Isa_The_Amazing
|
Kurai_Tora
|
2023-02-05 11:45:08
|
2023-02-05 11:16:38
| 47 | 24 |
j7arv5a
|
j7apsyl
|
10tx0ci
|
10tx0ci
|
[WP] You are the monarch’s evil brother. You are often suspected for many assassinations against nobility and your cruel nature towards the peasantry. However, you love your sibling, you don’t want the throne, and you will damn yourself and anyone else who threatens the heir to the throne.
|
The pair were seated across from one another at a crude table. The room was dimly lit. They were both familiar with the interrogation chamber in the dungeons.
"Styr, we've been through this. You know the routine. You ask the questions. Threaten me with torture. No real proof. The king comes down to the dungeon and orders my release."
Styr sighed, "Aldon, I am captain of the King's personal guard. I swore an oath to protect the king. An attempt was made on the king's life. He took a crossbow bolt to the arm."
"A crossbow! Is he going to be ok? Take me to him!"
"Not until I can prove you weren't involved."
"Styr! You know me! We grew up in this castle. When have you ever seen me with a crossbow? Secrets, statecraft, poisons, and the occasional dagger are my weapons. Not crossbows."
"Where were you during the king's processional this afternoon?"
"Processionals are boring. I was in the woods collecting poisonous mushrooms."
"You know how suspicious that sounds. Can anyone corroborate this?"
"My assistant, Tiro."
"Your slave? He might lie."
"Yes, technically I *own* him, but he's well fed and cared for. Better than most of the village boys AND I'm teaching him. He can read, write, herblore, and some alchemy."
"You're teaching him EVIL things."
"That's a matter of opinion."
A knock came at the door. One of the guard captains entered.
The captain spoke up, "Commander, we found the would be assassin. Fell down some stairs in his escape and broke his neck. We found coins from the Nyban Kingdom."
Aldon threw up his hands.
"See! I told you so! Now let me out of here or I shall ask the king to have you drawn and quartered!"
Styr sighed, "That has never worked before."
King Freynor stormed into the room. Even with his arm in a sling, he was intimidating. The commander and the captain both fell to their knees.
"Your Grace, " They said in unison.
Aldon rose to his feet, "Feynor! What happened are you all right?!"
Freynor dismissed his guards. He took a seat and slammed a jug of wine on the table. The king took a deep swig and slid it across to his brother. Aldon, sat down and drank deeply.
Aldon asked, "How's the arm?"
"Wound is clean. The healers say nothing major was hit. I took worse wounds during the war. Remember, when I was poisoned by that serving girl? I was in the privy for days. That was worse than this."
"How could I forget. That was the first time I was thrown in the dungeon."
"C'mon, Aldon. Poison? You were a natural decoy."
"So it was the Nyban kingdom this time?"
The king groaned, "Someone certainly wants us to BELIEVE it was them. I'm getting old. I can't take many more assassination attempts. Some of my advisors still believe you want to kill me and my sons to take the throne."
Aldon drank deeply from the wine jug, "Still after all these years?"
The king laughed and then winced in pain, "You don't make it easy. Remember the necromancy incident during the harvest feast?"
"I admit. Mistakes were made, but much was learned from the experience."
"Some of your servants keep dying."
"The illiterate fools! I tell them not touch or drink anything, then some idiot gets thirsty."
"You burned down the peasant orphanage."
"THAT WAS ONE TIME! I was young! And drunk! You were at the same tavern and you were pushing ale!"
The king laughed and winced in pain again, "Stop, the laughter. It hurts. I can look past a bit of evil here and there, but now I need you to USE it. I need you to find out who's behind these assassination attempts."
"You have my attention, brother."
"I suspect one of the nobles. Find out which one and all their castles, land, and holdings are yours."
Aldon smiled and took another swig of wine.
|
You know? It kinda sucks to be me.
You may be thinking I'm mocking you, considering I'm a well fed noble, second to inherit the throne of the greatest kingdom in the known world, and you are half dead prisoner in my secret dungeon, but to be fair, all you have to do to fix that is tell me who hired you.
-m.. aaaask
-Yeah, yeah, you told me before, he was wearing a mask. And you expect me to believe Unseen Fugu, the most renowned assassin of the scorpion clan, just accepted the request to kill the high queen (a close ally of the Scorpion, I may say) from some weirdo with a mask without any kind of background checks, or hidden goals.
Hey, don't faint again. I'll have to bring the flesh eating beetles, and I hate the noise they make. Here, I have an idea. Let me tell you a little story.
Well, is no secret that my Sister fucking hates my guts. And I'm not surprised, she is a great and wise ruler that has given a lot of power to the little people. She despises the idea that the state would need to torture and kill to keep the peace. And she may be right, but I'm not taking any chances.
Here's the thing. I make it easy for her. If she had to take hard decisions, if she fails in her convictions, she may renounce, or loss the favour of the peasants. And she has made way too many enemies in the nobility with her egalitarian style.
So I make sure she doesn't have to. I take care of all the morally questionable stuff. I do horrible acts that make her despise me. I sentence my soul to hell every day, so the people can have their nice story about a fair queen that never compromises her ideals. And they are right, in general terms.
You know what's the worst part? I have nothing but love for my sister. It kills me that she hates me, and yet, I'll do everything again just to make sure she is safe.
Now, as I say, I only care about the results. I'm already a monster, but I won't let her become one. And I'm gotten really good at being one.
Gosh, I'm monologuing like some madman, can you believe that. Don't answer that, save your breath for the waterboarding of this afternoon.
Ah, one last thing. My spyes have told me some interesting stuff. Something about a bastard son of a deadly assassin of the scorpion clan. Henda, was the mother's name?
-Please!, Nooouhg.
-Well, I'll say I'm generally against the idea of child murder, but you have to admit that if the kid was killed with your signature poison, everyone would think you where "tying loose ends" so to speak. Your berated corpse at the bottom of a cliff in the same area a couple days later would definitely look like a terminal case of the guiltiness.
-No..ot him. Lee.. ave ...outghnnn.
-Thats on your hands, my dear friend. Don't answer immediately. Think about it. Well talk after the waterboarding. Now if you excuse me, I have to go to a diplomatic meeting, but I'll be back as soon as possible.
|
Domestic_Adonis
|
None
|
2023-12-07 01:59:39
|
2023-12-06 22:06:32
| 21 | 10 |
kcb8uan
|
kcab8ak
|
18cbo1w
|
18cbo1w
|
[WP] “We’ve captured your child and to get them back we’re asking for-“ “My child? Do you have a death wish?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” The parent laughs on the other end of the phone, “Good luck, man. You’re gonna need it”
|
The phone rang as I was enjoying a warm bath, soaking my muscles after a long day of walking in kitten heels. I hated the disruption but I needed to know if the new babysitter had come back from taking the kids to the park.
I didn’t recognize the number and a weary feeling settled in my stomach.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Ade?”, a computerized voice replied, “We have your daughter. If you ever want to see her alive again, you will wire $50million to-“
I let out a deep sigh. “You might as well say your last rites now”, I interrupted.
“I don’t think you understand the gravity of what we are trying to tell you”
“HAHAHAHA”, I burst into laughter until I could barely breathe.
“What is so funny? Mrs. Ade, we are not playing with you-“
Click. I had heard enough. We might have an hour if we’re lucky. I sighed again and pressed 1. He picked up on the first ring. “Activate the tracker and send a clean up team. I’ll start get the go-bags.” I already knew what he was going to say, this was the third time in as many years that we’ve had to move. But to be fair, she really only gets this way when she’s provoked. “You know what to do. Pay off or murder any witnesses. Let me know when you arrive but tell them not to go in if they want to live to see tomorrow. I’m still the only one that can calm her down. We’re still finishing up trial 15 of a sedative that could work on her. Also I think we’re going to need a new babysitter.”
I unplugged the drain and got up. Such a pity and I was just starting to relax a bit.
|
I sat on the toilet after fixing the server when my phone rang again. It was home office, of course, but I still had to take a dump.
"Yes, IT support here. How may I help you? Actually, not right now, but I’ll note it down. Sure. Wait... what? This must be a joke. Dawud, you fucking cunt! I can tell it’s you from your accent, man. Seriously? You’ve 'kidnapped' my daughter? What’s that voice? Sheila? Are you all kidding me? You guys went back on-site for 'this'? This is a bad joke, man. A really bad joke! Dawud, you grandmother-pranking son of a bitch. And screw you, Sheila, for using some AI app to fake my daughter’s voice. I wrote that fucking algorithm!"
|
chinaza1995
|
Annual-Confidence-64
|
2025-01-05 01:44:18
|
2025-01-04 22:50:07
| 100 | 36 | null |
m5ff9bn
|
1l6t6uq
|
1htlac2
|
[WP] In a world of dragons, sorcery, war, and monsters, there are many risks and even risk takers. Everyone though, elf, monster, or man knows to avoid those few ancient ruins that contain symbols of suffering and a word of the ancients, RADIATION.
|
"Do you know what lies beyond the Great Wall?" Vernon asked. "I'm just curious, because everything in this land is just beautiful, but beyond the Great Wall, are endless shadows in the skies."
"Those are the ancient ruins bearing symbols of suffering. Never go there," remarked the seasoned Elf adventurer Kallias.
Vernon's curiosity only grew. "What kind of symbols?"
"There's only one word I can safely read from a distance. **RADIATION**, and I'm not about to find out what that accursed thing does. Come, Vernon, we should be heading back to the nearest adventurer's camp."
As Kallias escorted the small group of rookie adventurers back, Vernon never took his eyes off the Great Wall. His mind already racing, churning ideas on how to sneak off and explore the shadowed lands. How dangerous could it be to a dragon sorcerer?
He waited for the adventurers to enter their tents at night before dropping his rookie adventurer illusion. Reading the map Kallias had distributed to the group earlier, Vernon made his way back to the Great Wall.
One simple mana blast and a section of the wall had collapsed. Surely all these ancient words about suffering and death were only there to keep out treasure hunters who would rob the place of its valuables. With a flick of his claws, an illuminating ball of light glowed in front of him, guiding his way through as the darkness enveloped him and grew darker the further he ventured in.
Vernon was disappointed to find nothing but disused machinery and absolutely no treasure! What is up with this place?
Peering through a tiny corridor in the corner of a great hall, Vernon assumed a much smaller human form and slipped into it. Perhaps this was a slightly secretive corridor finally leading to some treasure after all, he thought to himself.
A sudden onset of nausea forced Vernon to lean against a wall to vomit his dinner. The dizziness grew overwhelming, the steady pounding in his head only hit harder as he ventured deeper into the corridor. This could only mean he was getting closer to the protective mechanisms guarding a treasure.
Vernon dropped dead without warning before a mass of black radioactive corium shaped like an elephant's foot, encircled by a mass of corpses of those who did not heed the warnings.
|
The ancients before us were better. We've known that for as long as even *can.* Ironically, the pursuit of what came before only drags us farther from it. War, fought over and over for what our ancestors had.
Grand flying machines, beasts of unfathomable speed, steels of unparalleled strength. We scavenge the ruins, piecing together their technology from information and guides scattered throughout the world.
This mad pursuit of technological reclamation has driven towards what else they've left behind, including manuals and books. Linguistic analysis is still ongoing. Still, there was one thing even the ancients clearly feared to at least some extent.
Those who have felt say it doesn't like much at first, but it slowly creeps like a miasma. Our scouts bring back signs, text. The symbol seems to be universal. A single circle, surrounded by three 2D-cone like things. Everywhere these are placed, usually in large facilities where some machinery or *something* was operated, is filled with what is called in many different languages, RADIATION.
Their texts reveal that radiation is more of a force than a thing, that it is emitted by a certain radioactive objects. Radiation can apparently be blocked using certain materials, things like lead, but something to shield a being is yet to be discovered.
To this day, these ruins still remain permeated with this radiation. Little lives there for long.
Well, little are unaffected.
|
Tregonial
|
Skyshock-Imperative
|
2023-05-03 16:23:21
|
2023-05-03 16:15:53
| 301 | 132 |
jipqdnn
|
jipp7o7
|
136lj9v
|
136lj9v
|
[WP] You open the door and see a woman you recognise immediately: she’s the lead character of a novel you wrote years ago. And abandoned halfway. “Why did you forsake me?”
|
“Oof. You better come in honey.”
Confused, Sierra walks through the door, brushes a stray lock of auburn hair out of her face and fixes me with her emerald eyes before suspiciously perching on the edge of a chair.
“Sweetie, I did you a favor.”
She begins to stammer and protest. My raised hand stops her protest in its tracks. I thought so.
“You want some tea? I’m getting some tea.”
The outrage is plain on her face, “Tea?! After twenty years you have the sheer audacity to offer me TEA?!”
I start laughing. I can’t help it. Everything about her is a cliche. I turn towards the kitchen. She, of course, storms haughtily after me. She’s muttering some string of uninventive curses under her breath.
In the kitchen, I take down the teapot, shake out some tea leaves and set the kettle to boil, all the while ignoring my… guest.
“Sierra?”
That gets her attention.
“Let’s see. I left you in Northern Maine at a hotel, you had just run away with a strange man who instead of seducing you, rather rudely turned into a snow flurry and blew away.”
“Well, not how I would describe things. You see… I’d just had a terrible breakup and my husband… and…”
“Yes, yes, I know all the details, I wrote you after all.”
“But whhhyyy…”
I cut off the plaintive whining, “Dear, seriously, I mean it when I said I did you a favor. I left you in a cute little town, and all you had to do was set up a little florist shop and you could have lived whatever life you wanted. The foundation was all there. Your story was going nowhere fast. Had I kept writing, I can guarantee you would have been left off in some far worse situation. You do know you were about to be caught up in a magical war? This wasn’t going to get a neat happy ending.”
She sits and digests that information for a bit. Finally, after opening her mouth and closing it like the gaping of a fish, she decides what she wants to say.
“Well whatever am I supposed to do now?”
“What were you doing before you came here tonight?”
“Well… I..”
She seems embarrassed to continue.
“Flower shop?”
She nods sheepishly.
“Then why come here?”
“Well, I was just wondering if there might be… more, you know, some meaning?”
Smiling gently, “Dear you were a vapid, shallow character and living out your life in a small town, getting married, running your flower shop? That’s as good as life gets for you.”
Her eyes widen in shock, my words not matching my demeanor. Quietly, she gets up and leaves without a further word and gets into a car outside. Of course it’s a Tesla. Cliche.
Shaking my head I turn back to making my tea. I think that’s the last of them. I’ve had many visits over the years. But it has taught me an important lesson.
These newer stories? Their characters won’t be so easily deterred. I either be sure they’re happy with their endings… or not returning from them at all.
|
I did not expect to actually -meet- her. To me, she was like some minor deity - not powerful enough to be 'real' in the sense that I am, but someone I had already known in ways I couldn't fathom in my existing mind.
She asked me a question that baffled me, and had tugged at strings.
She had what I'd describe as a desperate look, as if pleading for me to remember more than just her - and wore what I'd describe as rags; damaged from her incomprehensible journey.
So I pulled her into my abode, closing the door - and up the stairs to my room.
The family, my parents, weren't home at this time so there wasn't much I needed or had to explain to them how what amounts to a personally imagined waifu became a real being.
The next few hours could be aptly described as us bonding over a shared history that exists in a quantum state of 'could-be' and 'should've been' with a 'hasn't been' sprinkled in for reality's sake. As she acclimatised to the understandings of why I haven't had the blessed drive to continue, we fostered a flame of sorts.
Her name, as well, was a bit of a quantum thing, beginning during a vivid night in Milan, I knew her as Milanne' Nokka - a 'muse of the night in Milan', so to speak. Then, she corrected me with 'Miranne Nokka' and had practically haunted my more...
Uh...
Private corners. Mentally speaking.
But now she's here, the fact that she unashamedly exists has set something in me aflame, and she knows.
Oh, she knows...
But first, a celebration of two lovers reunited; of what amounts to a deity of hidden standing, and a man whom she knows way too well.
\- - - A ludicrous amount of time passes as we're 'warming up to eachother'.
Yet only a few minutes pass to the outside world.
After that, the two of us start collaborating on the book that was meant to be written.
An apt recounting of the adventures of Rennik Sadorn, and a humble summary of the vast creation I had aspired to invoke when I was younger.
...Good thing I have two computers, and a chair to spare for her!
|
Willowrosephoenix
|
OSadorn
|
2024-03-12 18:16:57
|
2024-03-12 17:38:05
| 37 | 17 | null | null |
1bd1w5u
|
1bd1w5u
|
[WP] You were unlike the saints and saintesses of other nations. You granted no miracles, and didn't heal any illnesses. They didn't know when they banished you in favor of a new saint that you had been pouring every fiber of your being into a blessing of protection for the nation your entire life.
|
"Did you hear the Saint of Osterland lead a charge against an Ork warband 5 times the size of her country's army and put them to flight after slaying the war chief in single combat?"
I nod, knowing full well I had redirected that warband towards Osterland by putting prophetic visions in the war chief's now severed head.
"Did you hear that the Saint of Mariensburg has been traveling round the clock performing miracles of healing against the new plague that sprung up there?"
Once again I nod with the knowledge that my market manipulations had caused the trade ships carrying the plague to dock in Mariensburg instead of our ports.
"What have you done for the kingdom recently?" was the question asked time and time again when the heroic deeds of my fellow saints came before the court.
I do not blame them, running into battle or performing healing miracles is what the traveling minstrels like to sing about. Decades of peace and a flourishing economy that doesn't have to rely on risky distant trade is what I provide and the king knows it. Unfortunately the king is not long for this world, and I fear the crown prince has been listening to the minstrels too much.
I was already packing my bags when news of the old king's passing was made known to the kingdom. I had my part to play in the crowning of the new king, but I doubted I would have any more parts to play in his upcoming reign.
Sure enough, when I returned to my quarters I found a new face there. She was pretty, well spoken, and had all these ideas of what she could do as the new spiritual conduit of the nation. We chatted for a bit, but our conversation went cold when she realized it was me who she was replacing. Fortunately my bags were already packed and I did not have to prolong the discomfort of the situation by hanging around.
I hear bards tales of my old kingdom from time to time. About how the new saint battled a fire for three whole days that ended up leveling half of the merchant's district. About how she led a team of paladins to fight off a dragon that was terrorizing the countryside.
I don't live anywhere near that kingdom anymore. It is far too dangerous.
|
"If that is what you have decided your majesty then I shall go," I said, "But I do wish you the best with your new saint." I give a polite curtsy before leaving the throne room.
I return to my chambers within the palace while I gather my belongings. In the middle of the room is a large crystal emanating power. The power of protection for an entire kingdom.
With one swift move, I shatter the crystal with the fire poker. Just like that, an entire nation's protection, gone.
I leave the palace and return to my village of birth. My cottage sits on the edge of the village.
Within months of my departure, famine and disease took hold in the kingdom. The new saint could not keep up with healing the sick. Crops failed when they had previously thrived.
The people revolted. The new saint was beheaded by the military commanders. The king and his family were slain.
Upon my doorstep, a man appeared. The man explained that the man the people declared the new king wanted my return.
The man took me back to the palace. Once there, I introduced myself to the new king. I made my way back to my old chambers where the crystal lay shattered.
I focused my energy on repairing the crystal. The crystal solidified once more and emanated the familiar light. The lands were once again purified. The sick were healed and the earth was thriving once more.
|
HamsterIV
|
Sadimal
|
2025-04-07 20:53:59
|
2025-04-07 17:37:32
| 346 | 195 |
mlxd0kc
|
mlwamlr
|
1jtp6wd
|
1jtp6wd
|
[WP] "You gaze upon your crushed army and my massed forces, why do you smile?". The captured general looked to the cloudless sky before answering "Because it's about to rain"
|
The warlord looks at me as if I were a madman. I don't even know his name, I did not bother learning it. There were countless like him before, there will be countless after.
"Rain!? There's not a cloud in sight!"
He doesn't understand. No matter. They never understand at first. In the end, they all learn... eventually. All of them learn too late.
Suddenly, a drop. Then another. Still no clouds in sight. The thick, black liquid lazily runs down my face and into my grinning mouth. My wounds heal as black rain hits the ground around us, coming from seemingly nowhere, like black tears falling from a weeping god's face.
An eery silence spreads across the battlefield. Not silence as the absence of sound, but something... more profound. More tangible. A thick blanket of despair suffocating every sound in its wake.
The warlord attacks me in a panic. I don't move. Wounds do not matter to me. My fallen army rises around us again. The sword is pushed out of my body by my own regenerating flesh.
"It is always the same story," my voice reverberates through the silence, sounding like the echo of thousands of voices at once. "There's always a war, there's always an arrogant ass in charge... And there's always a cleansing..."
He tries to talk, but no words will come out. They're too scared of being swallowed by the silence.
"War, my boy, isn't a glorious matter. It is trauma after trauma. It is suffering in silence. I should know, it __is__ my domain after all."
Understanding creeps across his face, followed by despair.
"Now, it is my thankless job to remind humanity of this yet again."
My immortal army charges, myself included. Today, an empire will fall. Eventually, it will enter the realm of myths, nothing more than a cautionary tale, like all the others before. Maybe, just maybe, this time, they will learn. Maybe, just maybe, this time, I can rest. For good.
|
*Your face turns smug and you say, Have you gone* "mad? There's not one cloud in the sky!" *Jumps down, makes the promise..* He jumped down and walked up to me to make a bet. "If it starts raining, General, I'll untie you and let you free. How's that?" I nodded. "But if it doesn't rain, you tell me what I want to know."
"Deal. I'll tell you everything. Then you can kill me if you want. I'm certain it will rain."
The smugness in his face was beginning to fade, sightly. By now he should suspect I'm up to something.
"Would you mind if we went on a walk? Just for a small while and we can turn back." I needed to make sure I get this right, and this time I motioned to the ropes that bound my arms, "It isn't like I'll be able to escape!"
Curious, he stepped towards me and we started walking towards some hills. When we were far enough, I turned to look back, to the sight of thousands of arrows raining down on all his men. Before he could fully react, I told him the truth, and offered for him to join me.
|
Lantami
|
GucciGuano
|
2024-05-12 20:00:02
|
2024-05-12 18:41:01
| 64 | 19 |
l3r5q6f
|
l3qtd9e
|
1cq30ns
|
1cq30ns
|
[WP] "Elves aren't particularly...impressed with humanity as a whole. But they VERY much like our knights...no, you don't understand- okay, let me put it this way. You ever read an erotica written by an elf? There is ALWAYS a human knight getting f***** in it."
|
Sir Aldric of House Redgrave had faced many trials in his years as a knight—duels with enemy champions, skirmishes against marauding warbands, even diplomatic visits to foreign courts. But never in his life had he experienced a situation quite like this.
The elven queen, Syltharia Moondancer, lounged on her throne of elven wood, her gaze sharp with curiosity. Around her, the court of Elves—ethereal, aloof, and practically dripping with disdain for all things human—watched him like he was some kind of exotic animal put on display.
"Sir Aldric" Queen Syltharia purred, her voice like wind through the leaves. "You understand, of course, that my people do not often deal with humans beyond necessity. We find your kind... crude. Hasty. A race of fireflies, burning bright for but a moment before being snuffed out."
Aldric nodded, keeping his posture perfectly straight despite the weight of his armor. "I understand, Your Majesty. And yet, your court has agreed to these peace talks. There must be something of value you see in us."
At this, the queen smirked. Around him, the assembled elves exchanged knowing glances, some outright chuckling behind their hands. Aldric had expected some resistance, perhaps even outright hostility, but this? This was something different.
One of the elven nobles—a tall man with silver hair and eyes like starlight—stepped forward. "Oh, we do not despise all humans, Sir Aldric. In fact, there is something about your knights that we find... deeply intriguing."
Aldric frowned. "Our knights?"
Another chuckle rippled through the court, and a female elf—her beauty so unearthly it was almost painful to look at—leaned forward from her cushioned seat. "Oh, dear knight. Surely you must have noticed? The way we watch you. The way we admire the discipline, the devotion, the sheer fervor of human knights and their chivalric oaths."
Aldric blinked. "...I suppose we do pride ourselves on our honor."
"Yes" the queen agreed, her tone rich with amusement. "But you misunderstand. We do not admire it merely from afar. Your kind fascinates us in... other ways."
Aldric's discomfort deepened. "Other ways?"
The queen simply gestured.
A book was brought forth, one of many, from the looks of it. Aldric took it hesitantly, glancing at the cover. The title was written in elegant Elvish script, but the illustration, a striking depiction of a brawny human knight, stripped of all but the barest remnants of his armor, held in the embrace of an elven noblewoman, made his blood run cold.
He flipped it open. The words inside were florid, poetic, and yet shockingly explicit.
Aldric snapped the book shut.
"...By the Light" he murmured.
"Oh, that one's a classic" the silver-haired elf commented, peering over his shoulder. "‘The Oathbound Conqueror and the Moonlit Embrace’,I believe that was penned nearly three centuries ago. A favorite among the ladies of the court."
Another elf, an older noble, sighed nostalgically. "Ah, yes. But personally, I find ‘Steel in the Starlight’ to be the superior work. The way it describes the human knight's indomitable endurance..."
"‘The Chained Champion’ is the most popular in modern circles" a younger elf interjected. "You would not believe the debates it has sparked over the finer details of human stamina—"
Aldric's mind was breaking apart.
"You mean to tell me—" he began, voice strangled "—that your people have an entire genre of literature dedicated to... this?"
Queen Syltharia’s smirk widened.
"My dear Sir Aldric" she said smoothly, "our kind have little interest in your kings and lords, your merchants and priests. But your knights? They are the embodiment of devotion, strength, and passion. And we elves, for all our refined airs, are connoisseurs of such qualities."
Aldric was not entirely sure how to respond to this.
"…So you are saying that I was chosen as an envoy because—"
"You were the most handsome" the queen interrupted, matter-of-factly.
Aldric made a noise somewhere between a cough and a strangled gasp.
The queen leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Tell me, Sir Aldric. Are you familiar with the concept of diplomatic arrangements?"
Aldric, who had spent years perfecting the art of suppressing his emotions, could not stop the color from rushing to his face.
For the first time in his life, he truly understood the meaning of the phrase diplomatic nightmare.
|
The elf twitched her brow. Her human companion just flat out doesn't know what they're talking about.
"Rosey, pass that by me again." The elf rolled her eyes.
"Kiyab... How many times I got to say this?" Rosey rolled her eyes. "Elves aren't particularly...impressed with humanity as a whole. But they VERY much like our knights...no, you don't understand- okay, let me put it this way. You ever read an erotica written by an elf? There is ALWAYS a human knight getting fucked in it." Rosey threw one of the very VERY few elven books in front of Kiyab. "Like literally all of them. I've read every one of those elven books in your library and they always have a knight getting fucked. I know you collect books just to archive them, since its your job, but there is nothing... "
"First of all, my **personal** library is *completely* separate from my work library." Kiyab growled as she picked up the book. "The **ONLY** reason I have books from my job is because I also do book repairs. I get paid for each book I repair separately, sometimes I run out of tools at my job and I have to run home to get the right ones but sometimes I leave books behind on accident." She carefully examined the spin of the book. "You remind me of which ones I've accidentally left but that isn't really much. Out of the one thousand books here, I only had 3 from my job."
"Okay, and?" Rosey asked, feeling the need to back up. Kiyab carefully put the book in one of her shelves and the tensioned thickened.
"And you're just straight up **wrong**." Kiyab turned back to her. "I just have a lot of knight erotica because **I** want to be the knight getting laid! I used to be a knight about 600 years ago until I lost my leg and they didn't have good enough, non magical prosthetics back then!"
"600 years?" Rosey was in shock.
"Yeah, 600! Not that long before that, I got cursed and stripped of my magic and had my EARS CUT!" Kiyab stomped on the floor causing a crack in her leg. "I read a lot of that erotica to find comfort and joy knowing that people can look at a nonmagical hic with a sword and and still find them beautiful and hot in hopes that someone will feel that way with me! This has **nothing** to do with elves *only* viewing knights as interesting, its me just having that fantasy!" Kiyab began to tear up as the pain shot through her leg stump. "You wouldn't fucking understand because **YOU** are a racist bitch who can't even put two and two together and at least notice that I have a particular style of book I like!"
"I didn't-"
"Shut the fuck up!" Kiyab accidentally knocked a vase on to the floor, shattering it. She looked down and sighed. "Leave. This isn't the first time you ranted about racist things and I told you..." She bent down to start picking up the bigger pieces. "I told you, one more of this shit and I'll never want to see you again. I don't care if its about other humans, I don't care if the rants were about orcs or dwarves... Racism is racism, point blank period... this is why I keep getting at your throat... why I started hanging with you less and less... This is why so many of the others left you... but I..." Kiyab left the pain in her leg get worse but kept going. "I made the mistake of staying with you... And now you want to come out of nowhere to shit on elves over... over this shit?" The tear fell down her face. "Just *leave.*"
Rosey was quite and began to step away before she heard Kiyab's last words.
"I don't even want to know what's wrong with wanting to fuck a hot human knight anyway... but I guess its only problematic because I'm an elf..." She ripped off her prosthetic revealing a small pool of blood.
|
NahlielStrummer
|
CameoShadowness
|
2025-02-12 22:49:24
|
2025-02-12 21:44:31
| 195 | 46 |
mcg9r6h
|
mcfw4rc
|
1io0vc8
|
1io0vc8
|
[WP] The Galactic Federation makes first contact with Earth just to inform us that the planet has been divided up between several advanced civilizations, with no regard for our established national borders
|
“It’s simple” the creature said, crossing its mandibles in front of it “We’ve seen species like you before, you want to have your own countries, your own states. But soon enough, those aren’t good enough for you. As you advance, as weapons become more available to the poorest, they start to call for THEIR own states. And on and on it goes until eventually every kilometer of your world is its own country, because every town has an arsenal that can blow away cities in an instant”
Daniel glared at the creature “Now see here you insect, that kinda thing isn’t gonna happen to us! We’ve been sharing this world for millennia and we’re gonna keep doing it. Our answer is no!”
It just looked at him “do you KNOW what is required for a ship to enter hyperspace? Imagine your nuclear bomb, times five. Now, we appreciate your species, and we want you to join the galactic federation but that would require free movement between federation planets. We don’t believe in isolation you see. If we teach you how to create your own hyperdrive, then it is a matter of time before you are gone. Trust me commander, I have lived for a long time, and I have seen this happen MANY times.”
Daniel stood up “And if we don’t WANT to join you? What then huh? Maybe we want to be left alone to fend for ourselves.” The mantis stood up too, its mandibles were perfectly at his neck height. Daniel remembered how praying mantises would eat the head off its pray first.
“No is not an option commander. It’s only a matter of time before your species creates these tools itself. Losing your genetic code would be a waste, and unacceptable. We will be back to tell you about the arraignments” it said before leaving the conference room. Daniel was left alone to mull over his thoughts.
|
"Nuh uh." the presedent of the United States spoke, standing with the utmost dignity and refinement.
"Wha- FYM 'Nuh uh?'" the dumbass federation diplomat said, completely dumbfounded and stupid.
"I mean *nuh uh,* I'm not letting you split my country in half."
"I- This is a *direct order* from the galactic federation!"
"Yes, exactly, a foriegn country with no ties to the US; let alone a reason for us to listen."
"You cannot just-"
"Oh no no no, don't give me that 'you cannot' crap. I have *nukes,* I can do whatever the hell I want and what I want is to not get split into mega-Candada and mega-Mexico." The president spoke, with absolutely nothing stupid about this dialogue.
"You aren't actually considering going to *war* with us, are y-"
"If you *seriously* think we won't, you haven't done your research. Seriously, this is *humanity* you're talking to, we were stupid enough to crucify god himself... even if he planned for it and resurected after the fact."
|
DefinitelyAFakeName
|
YellowSkar
|
2024-02-21 16:34:10
|
2024-02-21 15:47:53
| 21 | 15 |
krgwn5y
|
krgobrs
|
1avvm9q
|
1avvm9q
|
[WP] You are an assistant scientist at the experimental DNA modification and Cloning facility, and your boss has just told you that the facility was originally founded to create a race of... a race of... *sigh* catgirls. You ask your boss if they're serious, and they nod with a shameful expression.
|
“You’d be amazed at the amount scientific progress that has been made because it was funded or founded by…let’s say ‘excitable’ inventors,” explained the Chief Scientist, Dr. Howell.
“Really?” I said in disbelief. “That seems—I don’t know. A little unsavory?”
“Progress is an unsavory business, son,” said Dr. Howell with a friendly smile. “Take the motor vehicle, for example. Seems like a pretty straight forward invention, right? Inevitable even. Wrong. Karl Benz only invented the Motorwagen because he had a girlfriend across town and he grew tired of walking back and forth. Does that mean we benefit any less from cars today?”
“Well, no, I suppose not,” I said. “But that doesn’t seem as overtly—what’s the word—creepy.”
“Creepy you say?” said Dr. Howell amused. “Creepy would be having to walk throughout your house in the pitch-dark because internal lights weren’t invented so that Edison could better see his sexual conquests.”
“Jesus, Dr. Howell,” I said disgusted. “Don’t say ‘conquest’, it sounds so predatory. But I get your point. Progress is progress regardless of the original intent that lead to it.”
“Precisely!” He said and clapped his hands together. “The list goes on! Wright Brothers? Wrong gals in their area. Steam Engine? Steamy singles on the other side of the nation. And don’t even get me started on the internet.”
“Ok, ok. I get it,” I said relenting. “I need to think bigger picture here. The work we’re doing is likely to lead to future discoveries about the human condition, lead to the prevention of bodily diseases, and perhaps the eradication of certain physiological ailments. This work does matter. It does have meaning.”
“That’s the spirit, son! Now, help me figure out the genomic strand which will allow us to really accentuate this cat-girl’s bottom…you know, for science.”
I really need a new job.
_______
r/InMyLife42Archive
|
“Look I understand that making catgirls is cringe, but your acting like making furries is any better”
“Look at it this way: catgirls are all female, we’d have to constantly breed new ones, and we’d have to find a way to rapidly age them for our clientele. When we make furries we don’t need to breed them, we don’t have to grow them from scratch as people want to turn themselves into it, and as strange as it sounds there’s at least some utility to it.”
“Right utility. It’s so useful to be able to “nuzzle” and “pounce””
“Sure we mostly do cosmetic, but think about the stuff we add: sharp claws, keen eyes, better ears. We even have specific ones for specific tasks. Many fashion designers get spider detailing, first responders often get ones that increase strength and speed. Remember how Jerry had hextuplets? Well it was causing such worry for his wife we designed one specially for her so that she doesn’t need to sleep as much from citations, mixed that with cow so she could actually produce milk.”
“Yeah but those are still fairly specific with only a few examples-“
“You wanna fly”
“Maybe it isn’t so bad”
|
None
|
beholder_dragon
|
2023-02-16 02:35:41
|
2023-02-16 01:23:46
| 367 | 85 |
j8pxhzz
|
j8pny6o
|
113dntl
|
113dntl
|
[WP] You didn't even try to escape the time loop. Instead, you became a master artist, discovered three new mathematical theorems, and trained yourself to be immune to pain. The fae that was trying to teach you a lesson is understandably upset.
|
***Mortal.***
"My name is Keith, dude, we spoke about this. Just calling me 'mortal' is pretty rude." I sigh and turn to look at my captor. "What can I help you with today, anyway."
***You expect my courtesy? Mortal, you are my prisoner here, not my guest.***
"Yeah, fine, whatever. Look man, did you just come to gloat? I have a Soufflé in, and I really think I've got it right this time, so I am a little busy right now."
***Soufflé?*** the Fae looks perplexed, caught off guard. ***Mortal, I have you at my mercy, trapped within a single day. You are doomed to an unfeeling eternity, repeating for ever. Does this not fill you with despair? Nine-score years and five you have spent confined to this one day, never able to form any lasting bonds with those around you, for their memories are washed clean with the rising sun. Do you not wish to know how you might break free?***
"Not particularly. It gave me time to work on self improvement."
***You are not meant to be happy with this, Mortal, and you are most assuredly not meant to be working on your Soufflé. Why do you not Toil to break free?*** the Fae sighs wearily. ***My torment was meant to teach you a Lesson.***
"And with the time you gave me, I've learned several."
|
[poem]
… none of this really matters.
I was never high as a kite nor mad as a hatter.
This was a special hell but now?
Bliss, pure ecstasy, joy without wavering!
She’s furious!
Let her be!
It’s not like she’ll remember “tomorrow”.
If anything, this is a win win for me;
A lifetime to learn and grow.
A life to finally settle down in.
But at the end of the day there is one blaring truth about everything I do here.
Nothing lasts, nor recalls.
But that doesn’t matter…
|
Darius_Blake
|
Repq
|
2023-03-26 17:36:23
|
2023-03-26 10:51:31
| 90 | 15 |
jdro622
|
jdqcgef
|
121xobs
|
121xobs
|
[WP] Literally everyone in town is secretly a demonologist, undercover agent, alien, wizard, etc. None of them know this(exceptions may apply) as everyone is keeping it a secret from everyone else.
|
Andrew is sitting at his custom-built solid oak office desk, running a shaky hand through his already disheveled hair. His other hand is tapping the table quickly, patience wearing thin. He abruptly gets up from his oversized leather chair and shuts the door, latching the lock behind him and quickly checking that all of the surrounding blinds are closed. Anyone watching would think he’s paranoid.
Once he’s sure the perimeter has been secured, Andrew returns to his seat and pulls a small key from his pocket. With a quiet *click,* the bottom right drawer - one that hasn’t been opened since the desk was purchased - is unlocked. He reveals an old, rusty-looking lamp settled into the dark blue velvet lining. It looks like an item that should be taken on *Antique Roadshow* rather than stuffed into the corner of a finance office.
Andrew gently places the lamp in front of him, careful not to touch the metal for too long. He takes a number of deep breaths while perspiration gathers across his body. The fluorescent office lights seem to highlight the dark circles and deep lines etched across his face. While only in his mid-forties, Andrew could easily pass for twenty years older. No amount of good sleep or botox could reverse the difficult years of Andrew’s life since he started this company.
After a few minutes, Andrew reaches a shaky arm forward. He firmly grabs the lamp and gently runs his thumb along a worn patch of metal. The room grows cold as a dark green mist begins to emerge from the top of the lamp, filling the entirety of the executive corner office that Andrew has occupied for the last 15 years.
The silhouette of a man begins to appear from the green mist. Andrew remains still, unflinching to the events happening around him. The presence of this magical, mist-born man doesn’t seem to concern him in the slightest. He stares intently as the man begins gaining facial features and speaks in a bright, booming voice.
“Ah, it has been much too long! Andrew, I assume you have finally called me for good reason. I am intrigued at what wish you’ve finally decided upon.”
The man from the mist has now solidified into a normal human, dressed in typical grey slacks and black shirt. If anybody looked into the office now, they would just assume that Andrew was having a typical meeting with one of his clients.
The genie strides over to one of the chairs facing Andrew’s desk and sits down, speaking again as he looks Andrew directly in the eyes.
“It’s unfortunate to see that life has not been easy for you, my friend. I can see the troubles written across your face. Much has happened since the last time we spoke. Please, tell me how I can assist.”
Andrew’s brow furrows as he hears these words. HIs life has admittedly been difficult and there’s little surprise that his genie can easily tell after all these years. Even though it’s unnecessary, Andrew feels a need to explain himself to the man across the table. It takes him a few seconds to begin speaking.
“I’ve waited much longer than I should have for this. Up until recently, I thought I’d made my own success. You were just a back up.”
Andrew fights back tears and looks towards the genie.
“These are supposed to be the good years. My wife and I promised that we’d enjoy our time together after the company was successful, except she hates me now. She can’t stand to be in the same room as me, leaving every time I walk through the door.”
Andrew’s sadness turns to anger as continues. “My kids are awful. They want nothing but money, the self-centered pricks. My parents are gone. I have all this”, he gestures around the expansive room and top-floor suite, “and nothing that truly makes *me* feel like I won.”
“I want you to make me happy. I don’t care what it costs, the implications don’t matter anymore. Do whatever you need to *make me happy.”*
The genie pauses, giving Andrew a few moments to add anything further or perhaps change his mind. The room stays silent while the genie leans forward, placing his elbows to his knees and looking down as he clasps his hands together.
“Do you remember the rules we discussed, many years ago? Your wish must be final. I cannot reverse time once this has been set into motion.”
Although Andrew’s heart is pounding loud enough to hear, his voice has no hint of hesitation. “Yes, I’m sure. Please.”
After a brief moment, the genie snaps his fingers and the room begins spinning. Andrew closes his eyes as he feels himself thrust from his chair, perhaps he is flying? Falling? His mind goes blank, and before he can even take a moment to regret his decision, he forgets everything.
Andrew immediately regains his senses. And once again, he’s just an ambitious boy holding an old lamp from his grandmother, with no recollection of a life he’s already lived.
|
The genie felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth as the man opened the drawer to reveal a small golden lamp encrusted with large gems. Something about his expression told her this would be the time he grabbed her. The energy of the world around was more tense than the usual.
The man gulped, his Adams apple brushing against the inside of his suits collar, mall beads of sweat ran down his face as his eyes couldn't discern if they wanted to look at the door to his office or the lamp itself.
"It's locked...It's locked...It's locked..." He repeated in whispers, deep inhales through his nose attempting to calm himself down. Looking at the lamp he let out one large exhale and rubbed the lamp, eyes squeezed shut.
Feeling her call now, the genie emerged a floating figure cross legged, cream colored robes flowing across her elegant body. "Kevin, it's been sometime." She smiled at the man who had tears now welling in his eyes.
"I'm ready." He said, hands shaking.
"And I, am listening." She titled her head before floating to lie face down onto an imaginary floor a hand propped beneath her chin.
"For my first wish, I-I," He looked down at a piece of paper on his desk. The latest census information for child and adult hunger, "I wish that all humans have their basic needs for survival met at the end of each night."
The genie felt a small admiration for the man. Seldom did someone wish for something that they saw no benefit from. Kevin went to bed each night with a full belly and without want. She had to ensure she didn't show excitement however. The idea of humans left in immortal suspense undying as their bare minimum needs were met was more amusing to her than she thought it would be to Kevin. "It is done." She said simply.
"How do I know?" He asked eyes boring into hers.
"Assurances are not my responsibility unless you are making another wish?"
"No!" Kevin hurried out. "I'm not!" He took several deep breaths composing himself. The next two wishes he had spent decades decided when to use them to better humanity. A hidden life project that he could tell nobody about as it enveloped his ever waking moment was unfolding now. "I'm ready for my second wish."
The genie opened a hand and smirked to the man welcoming his next request.
"I wish that ill intentions were known to those they should affect." Kevin said with certainty, thinking of the positives of a world where the motives of politicians were known. Thief's and any sort of person who wished the worst for others would be outed.
The genie taking the briefest of moments thought of the best possible way this could be implemented. Her first thought was a simple red aura appearing from the individual but didn't see that as best. No. No that simple isn't good enough. Settling on an answer she was happy with she thought how best to implement before speaking once more "It is done."
Kevin nodded, eyes pressed shut. Opening them, his heart stopped and his blood ran cold. There was no genie floating in a flowing gown. What replaced her was now a spider resembling a tarantula. Huge, hairy and looming over him, venom dripping from a pair of fangs the side of his arms.
His breathing hastened, a rapid inhale and exhalation coming out as he tried to grasp what was concurring. "W-what, what happened?"
Dull screaming muffled by the walls and door filled the space between him and the spider. A woman could faintly be heard yelling snake as another yelled about a giant butterfly.
"Oh Kevin..." The genie chuckled, fangs dancing with her laugh. Looking down she saw her own hand but knew Kevin saw what he feared most. "I just granted your wish."
Licking his lips, Kevin grasped his coat over his heart sweat bleeding through the shirt as he tore his gaze from the spider to the lamp. Heart rate elevating higher he smacked the lamp to the side, tears landing on the papers below him. "What...what did I do? What did I do?" He looked at his hands, sobbing. "What did I do no, no, no, no..."
------------------
r/thebobbius
|
NUBUKU_
|
TheBobbius
|
2024-09-24 03:18:09
|
2024-09-24 01:23:11
| 632 | 82 |
lomx188
|
lomfafx
|
1fnzjw9
|
1fnzjw9
|
[WP] You wished to find a dragon to slay for its treasure. Now you're not sure how to feel seeing a thumb-sized dragon try to drag its single shiny copper coin with it as it runs away from you.
|
As I took to the stage, I couldn’t help but think of the trials that brought me here today.
I would not be a dragon rider today, if it hadn’t been for the sacrifices and kindness of my elders.
The hills that sheltered my hometown were once guarded by an ancient copper dragon.
Once home to the greatest treasure hoards in the known world, long since pillaged by would-be treasure hunters. The proud flock of Wyrms that once nested in the hills had been virtually wiped out.
They hadn’t seen a dragon in three generations, yet many young treasure hunters left to make their fortunes in the abandoned mines.
A single piece of copper bought my family’s legacy.
My Great-Grandfather stumbled upon the last of the copper wyrm by accident. He had wandered into a side tunnel in the old mines in search of fortune. And he would find it, just not in the way he had expected.
He saw a glint on the floor and as he reached for it, he felt something clamp down on his hand.
As he yelped, the beast didn’t waiver. It clutched the coin tightly.
To see a beast, scarcely longer than his finger growling and clutching the last of his family’s fortune. A single copper piece.
“We both needed to eat.” He would say.
But my Great-Grandfather didn’t have the heart to steal its final treasure. Because “to each a legacy”. He had learned from his own grandfather. The sword he carried on his hip and the flagon that gave him lifesaving water had both been gifts from his own family.
He wouldn’t dare take the last from this proud beast.
He did not have the heart to take the last binding piece of this dragon’s heritage. And instead offered to help regrow its hoard.
And so took the last of his meat ration and offered it to the wyrm. A promise and a down payment.
And the wyrmling accepted, nestling in his coat pocket.
When he brought the tiny wyrmling back home he was unsure of what to expect. And to his surprise, the town was flooded by tourists. His son would take to running the family trade. We would become a new breed of a adventurers.
“Just one copper to see a real life dragon!” My Grandfather would shout, every day as a young man. “But every tip you give goes to help our town, so please give generously!”
My forefathers assumed the novelty would wear off quickly, but their sons and daughters took to the beastie and raised it well, growing the family coffers with each passing day, and growing the town with it.
We didn’t hoard our half of the wealth. Every bit invested back. And so the town learned to love the dragon with us.
My grandfather raised the beast like a raptor, training to pick off game birds and to skim shallow water for shiny rocks and lost pieces of currency.
Crowds would begin to gather, and these shows became rituals.
The dragon would expect fair compensation and would learn to snatch up coins out of hats in the outstretched hands of onlookers.
To watch the beast grow with my lineage was a sight to behold. With each piece added to its hoard, the tiny dragon began to ebb and flex its tiny form. With every victory, its confidence and the confidence of my grandfather grew.
When our village came under attack, my father was not yet a man. But the dragon had grown with two generations of our family. It was the size of a steer by this point, and it was then that we witnessed its first breath attack.
The village was safe, our family’s legacy was secure. And more importantly, so was the dragon’s horde.
We never meant to become a banking clan, or to carry a banner and sigil of a copper dragon. We never meant to be performers and merchants. We were supposed to be adventurers.
When I came of age, I was presented with a copper piece. It was purely symbolic, of the same print run and sigil as the one held by the dragon. But the dragon understood the meaning. I was part of its family too.
A single copper piece bought our legacy. And I would carry it with me always.
|
“Okay… Now I feel like a total ass.”
Don’t take it the wrong way, I knew that the life of an adventurer was not going to be all riches and bi- ladies.
Sometimes, you’d find yourself covered in orc guts. Sometimes, you’d go on months surviving on whatever savings you managed to scrounge up because the market is just not what it used to be.
But Holy Father, even we have some standards, you know?
“Calm down,” I said, lowering my sword. “I am not going to take your horde.”
Now when it could barely buy me a loaf of bread, at least.
The dragon - not convinced - covered the single piece of copper with its tiny and thin body. It was hissing in defiance, though the tears betrayed the fear of the creature.
Fucking hell, was it doing this on purpose? I was starting to feel really guilty even though I didn’t do anything.
I took a few steps away from the dragon and it seemingly calmed down. Not enough to lower its guard but enough that it no longer looked like a kicked pup.
“Just how did you end up here?”
The cave was too big for the little guy. And the location was far enough from the settlements that the only way they still believed a fearsome dragon lived here was because nobody was stupid or desperate enough to venture here.
Until me, that is.
I walked around the cave, wondering if there maybe was something more to this place. Call me stupid or desperate but I refused to believe that the damn place had only a runt and a coin.
I ventured deeper into the cave.
Ten minutes later, I wish I didn’t.
“Fucking hell…”
Two dragons. Both as high as the royal castle, the monsters lied in pools of their dried blood. Their flesh burned and rotten and frozen and torn. And all around them were the empty chests.
Someone has beaten me to it. And by the looks of it, that single copper piece was the only thing the runt had left from its parents.
Said runt bit into my leg, its soft and barely formed fangs barely denting the leather. Its eyes full of tears, it forgot all about the single coin. Too busy trying to protect its parents’ remains from what it believed to be another adventurer.
“Calm down,” I pulled it off. “I don’t desecrate the dead.”
It didn’t believe me. Fair enough.
The little one ran to the dead dragons and stood between them and myself. Tearing up and trembling, it was willing to fight if it came to this.
It was only now that I noticed just how little meat the little guy had. Was it staying here the entire time? Foregoing food and sleep to protect its parents and the single copper that remained of their horde?
Slowly killing itself…
I sighed and rummaged through my pouch. The little dragon’s eyes narrowed in suspicion before its stomach growled as it smelled the dried meat.
“Eat,” I tossed the meat to the dragon. It smelled it, no doubt wondering if it had poison or something. “Grow strong and big enough to become the most feared dragon of all. Get the horde bigger than anything your parents ever gathered.”
This was not a charity.
Simply, an investment.
“I will come back once slaying you will be something I can feel good about.”
|
FoxFyr_92
|
True_Falsity
|
2023-02-05 17:37:37
|
2023-02-05 13:55:15
| 40 | 22 |
j7bxqio
|
j7b3jgg
|
10tx0ci
|
10tx0ci
|
[WP] 'Dragon' isn't the name of a particular creature, but a title granted to any being that attains a certain level of legendary power. Anything can become a Dragon, from a wyvern to a human, to a stag, or even a cat. Write a story about an unlikely Dragon.
|
Life isn't easy on board an Elven Dreadnaught.
Least of all for a mouse.
Rations are tight. Not much by way of crumbs and morsels, but I get by. I did, anyways, until we were boarded. I don't pretend to know where we were among the stars. All I know is I heard shouting.
"Ambush!" they shouted. "Breach swarm! Brace!"
The rush of air sent even the elves flying as the spike of a boarding vessel penetrated the hull. It was all I could do to hold on as the hull fused to the boarding craft and the pressure equalized. I was still catching my breath when those creatures poured out and started cutting down the elves.
I was so sad for them.
I had lived among many races in my short time, but the elves were by far my favorite. There was a calm wisdom inherent in their kind. This came with a respect and admiration of nature and all of its creatures. Several of them had seen me, on many occasions. Some spoke to me, even, though not usually for long. I wasn't much of a conversationalist at that time.
"Feyrun, no!" Shania shouted. Feyrun had been run through with a blade from the one of those fell creatures that emerged from the boarding craft. She began her incantation from behind the line of soldiers attempting to halt the advance of those monsters. I had seen her do it before. He wasn't too far gone, she could bring him back. The ship lurched and I went flying through the air.
Right between Shania and Feyrun.
She loosed her spell, and I felt my very soul quiver as it collided with me. That is the first moment I remember being truly awake. Some spells have very specific purposes. When they are used improperly, or on an inappropriate target, things get a little more unpredictable. I felt the awakening within me. I felt the vast chasm of raw power yawning open like a great maw. Like a star being born in the reaches of my mind.
And I was terrified.
I do now know for certain how what transpired next came to be. Scales emerged from my fir and hardened into flexible yet strong armor, all over my body. A sliver of silver moonlight formed in each of my hands and I grasped them as swords. Sharp, they were, and longer than myself twofold. Long enough, as I came to realize, to pierce the brain of a Breach Creature.
The next few moments were a blur of blood, of gore and of vengeance. When at last I stood on the heap of Breach Creature corpses, there was a moment of silence. The elves had lost too many to cheer to victory. Shania wept next to the lifeless body of Feyrun. As did many others. When the Priestess arrived, she held out her hand to me, and I walked into it. I had spoken to her only once before, but things were different now.
"More would be lost without you," she said, holding me up close to her face.
"Thank you, Little Dragon."
|
Bob always hated spiders ever sense the incident. He always did.
​
Bob even got a job with the local town pest control on and would typically waive fees for taking care of spider nests. Today he's trying out the new wearable HUD display for the company. The rumor of it being magical made Bob roll his eyes. Bob sees the nest. Today Bob was called to eradicate a nest that cropped up near a school that housed a hoard of spiders that made hills look barren. This new species was rumored to be drawn to populous places. He sauntered up to the nest, his trusty flamethrower in hand and a smile on his face. He loved his job.
​
The nest lit up like an overzealous outdoor steak grill's fire. Flames began to incinerate the nest. Bob could almost make out the smell of Arachnids cooking. Bob's new HUD display was registering multiple confirmations of kills. Bob let out a smug laugh. Another job well done; however, a red alarm flashed across his HUD. "Dragon Alert."
​
Bob's blood ran cold. In the training, "Dragon Alert" was the highest danger rating the HUD would display. The training assured that it would never happen but there was only recommendation, "Flee the Scene." Bob dropped his flamethrower and sprinted to his truck.
​
​
From out of the flames a small brightly red colored spider started making a bee line toward Bob. It was almost as if the spider knew Bob was the killer of the colony. Bob reached the vehicle door and gets in. He fumbles the keys in panic due to another alarm: "Dragon Identified - Spider type." The HUD indicated that this bright red spider - now on his windshield - as a dragon.
​
Bob is puzzled. He always thought the dragons of legend were large flying, fire breathing reptiles. Bob's eyes grow wide as the spider starts glowing. It suddenly feels like the heat is on. Bob notices a crack forming in the glass.
|
jpb103
|
ShadowKnightMK4
|
2023-08-18 13:32:40
|
2023-08-18 12:24:28
| 235 | 39 |
jwpvvvw
|
jwpmu8a
|
15ui4iy
|
15ui4iy
|
[WP] "Your total will be...wait this can't be right." The cashier turned around and called the manager over. The manager then quickly shooed the employee away as they took over at the register. "I'm sorry for the delay, we haven't had one of your kind in awhile, your total comes to 3 souls."
|
What. The. Hell? How on earth did a retail store, of all places, guess that I was an immortal? Something strange was happening. I’ve been around the block, so to speak, my fair share of times. It was pretty clear that if I just paid and left, I would be taking a meaningful loss. So I had to stall.
“Your price is too high. Let us bargain. I offer 5 minutes and 3000 lumens of sunlight.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the manager replied, “but our store does not negotiate prices as a principle. I’m afraid the cost will remain at three souls.”
I needed more time to think. “But you do price match?” I replied.
“Yes sir. However I have doubts that you will find another available listing of this product model in your particular currencies. Three souls.”
I pulled out an old leather bound notebook. It looked ancient, but was far older. I found the information I needed. “I see a listing for these particular items at the price of one micropercentage of the essence of blue and two tesseracts.”
The manager looked slightly confused, and started typing furiously into his computer terminal. I examined him. Something seemed off about his appearance. Maybe it was the proportions of his face. It stirred at some long forgotten part of my memory. He scowled and looked back up at me.
“Is this listing currently available?” the manager asked.
“Ah, that. No, depending on your definition of ‘currently.’ It will become available on Amazon approximately fifteen thousand years from now.”
“I’m afraid that our policy is only to price match on current listings, to allow us to adjust to changing material prices and other factors. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” I countered, “But you surely understand that, as our currencies are not bound temporally, neither must your prices be, and therefore your policies. Therefore this listing will be completely within the purview of this bargain.”
Something akin to a mental itch was driving me to notice something. With an effort of will, I saw that it was the original cashier, who was still standing slightly behind the manager’s shoulder and looking confused and frightened. Ah, I had mildly let my aura loose. It generally had that effect on mortals. The manager clearly wasn’t one. More than that, he was clearly a powerful immortal. His essence had affected me enough that I had stopped noticing the surroundings. Such things would be easy against a mortal, but not me. That meant he was strong.
The manager made an almost imperceptible pained expression. “You are correct,” he said. “Your price will be 1 micropercentage of blue and two tesseracts. Would you like a warranty plan?”
“For a toaster? I think not,” I said smugly as I pulled a couple of tesseracts from my satchel’s higher-dimensional-storage pocket. I handed them over. “And here is your blue.” I gifted it with a thought and noticed the world become just a little bit more orange.
A smile that was clearly a facade spread over the manager’s face as he said, “Thank you for your purchase, please come again!”
I had outwitted him. That was probably enough, so I headed toward the exit doors. I stopped on a whim just before I pushed through and re-examined my memory. There, that was it. His head seemed off because the back of it had been… lumpy somehow. And… there was also a line of a makeup prosthetic around the edge of his face. Then it clicked.
I walked back up to the counter and stepped over it.
“Janus, you sneaky bastard,” I said to the back of the so-called ‘manager’s’ head. It swiveled to face me with a smile.
“Well reasoned, Wanderer.” he said with a slight bow. “You cannot blame me for trying. Enjoy the toaster.”
I walked away again, heading for a section of wall near the door. Now that I knew to look, I felt Janus’ power on the exit doors. It would have stolen nearly all of my abilities. The transaction was just a distraction. I punched through the wall and left on my own terms.
I may have almost been unmade, but it was still better than shopping at Walmart. They charge a soul just to get in.
|
In the dimly lit and slightly eerie convenience store known as "The Abyssal Mart," a lone duck waddled up to the checkout counter. His feathers were sleek and black, a stark contrast to the flickering fluorescent lights overhead. The cashier, a young human who had probably never seen a talking duck before, stared in bewilderment as the avian customer placed a small glass vial on the counter.
"Your total will be...wait, this can't be right," the cashier muttered, his fingers dancing over the register. Perplexed, he turned around and called the manager over, who appeared from the shadows like a phantom.
The manager, a middle-aged woman with a keen eye for the unusual, took one look at the glass vial and nodded knowingly. She shooed the flustered cashier away, replacing him at the register. "I'm sorry for the delay," she said to the duck with a polite nod, "We haven't had one of your kind in a while. Your total comes to 3 souls."
The duck, whose name was Quackmire, blinked his beady eyes in surprise. "Three souls? Are you serious?"
The manager leaned closer, her voice low and conspiratorial. "You see, my dear duck, we don't deal in the common currency of coins and bills here. We deal in souls. It's the only currency that matters in the grand scheme of existence.
"Quackmire let out a philosophical quack, deep in thought. He knew that what he was about to do was dangerous and ethically murky, but he had no choice. His son's soul was at stake.
"Very well," Quackmire said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "I'll pay the price."
The manager nodded approvingly and produced a small, ornate scale from beneath the counter. On one side, she placed the vial containing Quackmire's son's soul.
On the other side, she carefully arranged three empty vials, each waiting to be filled with a precious soul.As the transaction commenced, Quackmire couldn't help but launch into a philosophical rant. "You know," he began, his duckish voice carrying a touch of existential despair, "life is like a donut. Sweet, satisfying, but ultimately, it leaves a hole in your soul."
The manager, well-versed in dealing with patrons from all corners of the cosmos, listened attentively. "Ah, the futility of life and donuts," she mused, her tone as contemplative as a philosopher's. "Many have pondered it, my feathered friend."As the souls were transferred from Quackmire's being into the vials, he couldn't help but reflect on the nature of existence. What were souls, after all, but the culmination of one's experiences and choices? And what was the cost of sacrificing three souls for the sake of one?
Once the transaction was complete, Quackmire left the Abyssal Mart with his son's soul securely in his possession. He knew that he had paid a steep price, not just in souls but in the contemplation of life's meaning.
The manager watched him go, her eyes filled with a knowing wisdom. "Remember, dear duck," she called after him, "life's mysteries are as infinite as the flavors of donuts. Sometimes, it's the holes that make it all worthwhile."
Quackmire quacked in acknowledgment, his heart heavy with the weight of his choices. As he left the peculiar store and ventured into the world, he couldn't help but wonder if the pursuit of a single soul was worth the existential musings and the philosophical rant that came with it.
|
NoOn3_1415
|
warrior-of-the-pen
|
2023-09-01 18:32:22
|
2023-09-01 17:43:26
| 59 | 34 |
jypasp8
|
jyp2ydy
|
1678ja3
|
1678ja3
|
[WP] One day anyone who turned 18 was given a superpower of their choice. The only problem, they worked like usernames with only one person having that specific superpower. This created chaos, with the first gen almost ending the world. You’re a fifth generation user, and it was now your birthday
|
"Having grown up incredibly poor I knew I wanted a power I could earn money with, to help my mom and help my younger siblings. I considered every version of intelligence but from what I could see on the database I was screwed on that front, even in a different language. Same for strength, flight, teleportation, speed, etc etc etc. The list went on and on and on, of course it did, it covered billions of people and whilst we were taught how to navigate the database it was still fucking huge.
It was also drilled into us 5th Gen'rs how important it was to be specific, since when we finished typing it I that was it. Bad spelling included. The cautionary tales are wild.
But I needed money. My mum had eaten one sandwich a day for a whole week and I think the only filling was some cheap margarine. The sibs weren't doing much better and I couldn't keep lying that I had eaten at all.
And that's when I had that thought."
The interviewer nodded, everyone knew the thought now, many mad they hadn't had it themselves. For 10 years everyone had been jealous of this man, but he was the only one that thought it and he had used his gift to help not just his family but people from around the world. He waved his had for the man to continue.
"I remember sitting there, staring at the screen, reading about people who regretted what they chose, or couldn't get the one they wanted because it was still being held by some senile decrepid old Hero and the power wouldn't be available until they died. It just felt.... messy.
I thought *wouldn't it be better it we could swap*......
And that was it. I realised people would *pay* to swap powers! Old Hero with super strength in need of funds to retire and a young rookie desperate for a better power than 'see in the dark' could swap and pay for the privilege. It was perfect.
It took a few weeks for word to start spreading after I did it a couple of times but then it spread fast and before i knew there was food on the table every day, a roof that didn't leak, I helped my mom retire from her 2 jobs and sent my siblings to private schools. It's gotten pretty tiring recently though so i think I'll take a vacation as soon as I can."
The interview wound down and the photographer got some good pictures, the next day there would be a 4 page about the man who chose the super power Swapsies and how he was looking for someone to Swap.
|
"I'll be damned" I said after sighing, being a fifth gen user really puts a limit to what power I can have.
"There really ain't that much option, considering that most superpowers are already taken by the previous generation users" mumbling to myself as I continue to brainstorm a great superpower that is not yet taken.
Suddenly a commercial played on television that is infront of me. It shows a boy drawing and thinking of a possible superpower he can have when he grows up. As the boy continues to talk, my attention was drawn by the drawing depicting a blackhole infront of an astronaut. And then it hits me. A great idea for a superpower.
"HA..HAHA..HAHAHAHA, I'll be really damned if my idea is not yet taken" as my face contorts into an appearance that can only be described as ecstatic and overjoyed, I closed my eyes to imagine the power that I come up with and calm down.
After a short moment I deeply inhale and exhale before opening my eyes. I raise my right hand as if reaching for the television when a small circular thing appears and contorts the space around the television while sucking the object inside.
I smiled and was left shocked by what just happened. I tried it again and this time experimented with the power that I got. After some time, I stopped playing around and stood up from the sofa that I was sitting on the whole time.
"How could anyone not come up with the idea of blackhole..." As the thought popped up, another idea was created. "Well looks like I need to go back and study science again"
|
TeatimeWithCake
|
rex_lorston
|
2024-07-19 09:24:47
|
2024-07-19 07:04:03
| 289 | 51 |
ldwkatn
|
ldw7p78
|
1e6we32
|
1e6we32
|
[WP] You, a heroic paladin have successfully slain a fearsome dragon. But the dragon warns you that death is but a door, and dragons don't die, they reincarnate. You paid it no mind....until your son was born with golden, slitted eyes.
|
Abin-Sur, dragon of the Golden Hoard, Dusk of civilizations, lies defeated. His life-blood pumping thick and hot over glittering scales and gems the size of doves eggs. Slitted eyes half-closed lie focused, dimly, on the warrior that has bested him. It was not a knight, clade in valour and the song of righteousness in his heart that slew him. It wasn't a mage, strong in knowledge and in the bending of reality to his whims. Nor a trickster and thief, cunning in his traps and wiles.
But a simple mercenary, in rusted armor and half-pitted plate. Chipped sword and cracked shield. "Mercenary." Abin-sur begins with the fire of life dimming in his heart. "Why have you slain me, you who had almost no chance." The mercenary pauses, and thinks, and shrugs. "Gonna be a bit honest here. I got into debt and this was the fastest way to get out of it. I figured, either you died and I got to pay it off, or I die and suddenly my problems no longer matter. Win-win for me I say."
Rage engulfs Abin-sur. Ender of civilizations, fear of nations, ended simply to pay off a debt? A history replete with grand battles fallen low for such a simple reason? NO.
"I curse you mercenary. I will return. For death is simply a door that I can choose to walk back through at any time, and I will come back at my choosing and your regret."
"fuckin whatever" the mercenary replies, not even bothering to turn around while he shoves gold into a canvas sack. "That sounds like a problem for future me, and as for today me I got a debt to pay".
Ten years have passed since that day. The mercenary managed to get a home, with a farm, and a tavern with a wife. A firstborn child is born to him this day, and as he holds him he notices golden slitted eyes and feral intelligence and remembers the curse of Abin-sur.
The mercenary holds him close, the would be joy of his heart, and whispers... "I fucked your mom. What a great curse you fucking idiot". And laughs while the child once known as Abin-sur cries his heart out.
|
I sat in my rocking chair, cradling my newborn son in my arms as he blinked up at me with a toothless smile. His golden, slitted eyes glimmered with innocence, yet I couldn't shake the unease that settled within me.
The memory of the dragon's warning echoed in my mind, a warning I had dismissed as the ramblings of a defeated foe. I had slain the fearsome creature with my blade by laying with it. Yet now, as I gazed into my son's eyes, I couldn't ignore the resemblance in his eyes.
Was it possible? Could the dragon's words hold truth beyond the grave? Had its essence somehow found its way into the soul of my child, reincarnating in a new form?
I pushed aside the unsettling thoughts, focusing instead on the warmth of my son in my arms and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he slept. He was my flesh and blood, innocent and pure, regardless of the whispers of doubt that lingered in the back of my mind.
But as the days turned into weeks and my son's golden eyes continued to captivate and unsettle in equal measure, I couldn't shake the feeling that our connection ran deeper than mere bloodline. The dragon's warning lingered like a shadow, casting doubt on the certainty of my son's humanity and the innocence of his existence.
|
Chouckles
|
Friendly_Recover_143
|
2024-03-25 17:56:16
|
2024-03-25 13:59:12
| 30 | 12 |
kwip71r
|
kwhiwrx
|
1bn7vv4
|
1bn7vv4
|
[WP] You have been a mountaintop prophet for 1,000 years. Each person only gets one question and you're sure you've heard every question that can be asked. Until one day someone uses their one question to ask, "How are you doing?"
|
"Hello. You may ask me any one question, and I will answer only once. It will be what you need to hear: no more, no less. You may ask your only question now."
Bart was panting, still catching his breath from the perilous climb. The prophet, Zephyrus of the Mountain, was finally before him. It had been a hard week, a journey that had left him harder, older, and wiser than he was when he had set out. On his way here, Bart's plan for what he would ask the mountain man had changed countless times, and as he gulped, Bart decided his question.
"How are you doing?"
The mountain hermit paused briefly before answering.
"I'm pretty good, man, how are you doing?"
"I can't complain," Bart smiled as he answered. He thought of all the terrible falls and harsh climbs, all the ones he had lost along the way. Emily... All she had wanted was to have her question answered. Bart had never guessed what it was... But she knew what she was signing up for. Bart was lucky enough to survive the quest, and all the questions he had about himself, he ended up answering along the way.
"You see, i figured out that it's not the destination, it's the journey. All of the harsh trials, every last g-"
"Hey, sorry, that's cool and all and I'm happy for you, but do you mind going through this quickly? There's another climber waiting at the entrance and I've answered your question. I respect the growth you made and I think you deserve to talk about it, but this isn't really a two-sided conversation thing. We just do like, a quick wise answer and then you can go outside, ponder it by yourself while overlooking the mountain range as the sun rises. We got a lot of people who want prophecies."
Bart's face fell slightly. "I'm sorry, I thought I might get some kind of respect, or magical blessing or something, being the first one to show true selflessness, and no longer needing an answer. It seemed so lonely to me, spending thousands of years up on the mountaintop alone, only being called upon for your wisdom and never having anybody ask how you are doing."
The mountain man was trying to hide how confused he was and failing miserably. "Yeah, uh, sure. Like, I appreciate it, but you kind of wasted your one wish. This is just a job for me, man. I go home at some point and hang out with my family a little bit, maybe a few times a week play some sports with the guys. I'm doing fine, I think even the person who gave me my coffee this morning asked how I was doing."
Bart's face was furrowed and mildly offended. "How is that- what? You live out in the middle of the mountain range. I had to fight bears, conquer treacherous old caverns, deal with the betrayal of those I trusted most..."
"Um, yeah. I just take the lift, there's a ski lift on the other side of the mountain. I actually get free ski rentals over there, one of the benefits of the job. There's a souvenir shop in the ski village if you want to get anything to remember your life changing journey or ski trip by."
Bart was shocked. He pulled out his tourist map. He had somehow missed that the ski resort was on the same mountain as the treacherous quest to the mountain hermit. He had been planning to hit the ski resort while he was in the area, but didn't expect it to be today!
Bart put away the map and asked the hermit one more question.
"So wait, this is free right? Like you just subside off of the energy of the universe in exchange for all of the positivity and revelation you bring forth?"
"Like, it's free, sure, but you pay for more that it's worth in t-shirts and mugs. I still got bills to pay, I'm just lucky the tourist company pays me to sit here all day in exchange for the tourist money I bring in."
"Ah. Alright. Makes sense."
"Yeah."
"...."
"Okay, you can go now."
|
Mortals think I offer games as a kind of last request. The reason varies: last requests on their end, some misunderstanding that winning will return them to life, or even something as simple as boredom on my part. You may ask how my job could be boring, but that's easy to answer. I have to handle every soul one by one, and time shuffles itself like a deck of cards so that even if two mortals die at exactly the same time they still arrive on my doorstep in order and alone. As soon as I finish preparing and sending off one soul, the next comes through. Thus, the job ends up feeling the same, and I get bored.
Thankfully human games have gotten better over the years, more complex. I've played dice with pirates and Roman militants, cards with western gunslingers and French revolutionaries, chess with countless nobles. Long forgotten games dug up by archaeologists are always a fun classic, and they get so excited to finally learn the rules of ancient board games nobody (frustratingly) ever bothered to write down the rules for. In the most recent age, electronic games with screens and buttons of all shapes and sizes have become popular.
I've been challenged on arcade cabinets that feature fighting tournaments and street racing, console games with both story and mindless fun, and computer games featuring strategy and an unfathomably massive library of mods for every game those inventive programmers can get their hands on.
The most recent soul is another painfully young one, and my ancient heart aches even after guiding *so many* of them. I offer a comforting smile to the child as I kneel down to get eye-to-eye with him.
"Welcome, child," I start, bowing my head as my smooth baritone voice gently rumbles the ground. Singers frequently challenged me as well and I'd yet to disappoint. "This is a crossroads for the soul, and I am a humble guide. Take as long as you need to get your feet under yourself and be ready to move on. If you would like, we may play a game of your choosing before such a time comes to pass."
"Guess that answers if the surgery went alright or not," the boy said, smiling sadly at me.
"There's no way to go back? They'll all be so sad now." I raised my head to look at him.
"Where you tread from this place is not up to me, but none may return whence they came. I am sorry, but one wish of many I cannot grant is to return the life you have lost." The boy thought on this for a moment.
"... Then, could I play a game with you? I had a Minecraft world I was working on, but I never got to finish it." My smile was much easier to wear at this, and I chuckled.
"It would be my pleasure. Let us play and build for a while. Would you prefer with mods or without?" Fate has a funny way of being cruel to the undeserving, but i try my best to make up for it after she takes her due. That boys laughter warmed the walls of my home more than any fire could ever hope to as we dug and built for hours. I hope the path he walks after leaving will be a pleasant one.
|
DetectiveDracula
|
Jyx_The_Berzer_King
|
2024-08-25 02:04:28
|
2023-02-26 17:19:14
| 51 | 30 |
ljspz8t
| null |
1f0klj6
|
11c95gs
|
[WP] As the princess and heir apparent of the kingdom you are the most sought after woman in the whole kingdom, with suitors lining up every day to ask for your hand in marriage. Today you finally accept the proposal of a suitor, causing a massive scandal.
|
Krexavit finished scratching the last rune on the dining table, then pressed his hand into two of the runes and chanted. Grandma Kromp did not look impressed.
"Is it done yet? Can we eat?"
"You may eat now," Krexavit replied, wiping the sweat from his brow. He had worked just as hard as everyone else had in the kitchen for this feast.
Voices filled the room as the feast began, stories and laughter mingling as the potatoes and vegetables became friends on everyones' plates.
"BLECH", came a cry. Lord Forgua looked at his plate with disdain. He had one cut out of his perfectly roasted unicorn, but looked at it with a searching gaze. "It tastes like snogberries."
"Mmmm, try the green beans, though," responded Lord Forgua's ten year old daughter with glee. "They taste like marshmallows!"
Grandma Klomp looked suspiciously to her left. "What did you do, Krexavit?"
"I promised you an exciting dinner. Chaos magic doesn't give me much to contribute, but everyone loves a good surprise, right?"
The conversation around the table had turned into cries of surprise and delight, horror and spitting, as people sampled bits of everything they could find.
Grandma Klomp picked up a second forkful of peas and eyed them with curiosity. "Nothing on the table has snogberries, though. And my taste buds aren't what they used to be, but these peas..."
"Oh, this rune array doesn't just mix flavors from those in the table. It can be any known flavor of the eater."
Grandma Klomp put the fork of peas down. "Any flavor?"
"Any flavor," Krexavit confirmed as his took another bite of yams. Elderberry liquor.
Grandma Klomp nodded slowly. "That explains why the peas taste like your grandfather."
|
\[Poem\]
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.
|
ZtheScribe
|
ThenSpinach5
|
2024-11-29 13:23:33
|
2024-09-06 20:10:08
| 342 | 16 | null |
llul0wz
|
1h2ju98
|
1famu0u
|
[WP] "You're... NOT going to pursue the prophecy?" "Hell no. I had a really shitty life on Earth, and now I find myself isekai'd to a world without taxes or student loans. I'm not going to stress myself out being some "chosen one" when I could just live in a hut in the woods somewhere or whatever."
|
It was a few months after I told the old farts at the top of the kingdom to fuck off and ran off into the woods.
\*thunk\*
A sound echoes off the trees as I chop a log with my axe, the muscles on my bare chest glistening with a faint smear of sweat. There was not only a downside to being the 'Chosen One'. There's no way that I would have gotten so jacked up in such a short amount of time in my previous life.
Suddenly, a portal appears near my humble shack and the Demon Lord steps in.
How do I know it's the Demon Lord? Well, if you were there, you would say so too.
A tall, towering figure with a long black cloak and a biiig pair of horns.
"Hero! Why are you here and not at the frontline?"
"Why should I?"
"Without you to help the kingdom, my army is advancing as fast as a wildfire in a drought!"
"...Aaand?"
"Well, we're evil a-and you must stop us."
"'Evil? How evil?"
"Well, we, uh, eat the elderly and, um, enslave the children."
"You're lying, aren't you?"
He darts his eyes away from mine.
"Yeah."
I scratch my head, then sigh.
"Well, since you're here, come in. I'll even share some of my tea with you. It's really hard to find good leaves around here, but it's not like I have many guests either".
He follows me into the shack and we sit down at the table, a pair of steaming mugs in our hands. I start talking first.
"So, what actually happens in the occupied territory?"
"We leave the management to the human collaborators on our side."
"Human collaborators? Do they, like, pity the demons or something?"
"Some of them do, but most of them are against the reform that the Kingdom is planning for next year. A complete modernization of government structures, including a more advanced tax system, mandatory military service, and student loans, among other things."
"Where the hell do they even get such ideas?"
|
"Great, another one." Destiny sighed wearily.
"Hrm?" Fate handed over a goblet and looked over her sister's shoulder. "Another what?"
"Another Mortal who thinks they're smarter than the entire universe." Destiny clinked her goblet against Fate's and pointed to the human. "It's so tedious, you know? Every single one of them...you give them an opportunity for Adventure, you offer them a Purpose for their lives, and they ***still*** think they can just say no."
"Ugh." Fate agreed. "So annoying. We're the ***primal forces of creation itself!*** And yet, they *still* think *they* are in control!"
"I can't deal with it any more!" Destiny shook her head in exasperation. "There's no gratitude in these creatures, and I am ***sick*** of it!"
"Let's ruin his life." Fate shrugged. She summoned the lifeline of the recalcitrant human and began making changes. "There, that'll teach him a lesson."
"Oh, nicely done!" Destiny nodded in approval. "Just let me add the cherry on top..."
"Enjoy your little cabin in the woods," Fate smirked. "While it still stands."
|
_nitlott
|
Vaeon
|
2025-02-26 20:34:42
|
2025-02-26 18:11:06
| 235 | 92 |
mey70ly
|
mexbpze
|
1iyspat
|
1iyspat
|
[WP] Destroying 90% human population on earth, the aliens leave, assuming that society would crumble, and remaining 10% will just all fight for resources and eventually die out. They returned a thousand years later, expecting a cleansed planet, but were met with a nuclear strike from a satellite.
|
Life without death loses all meaning.
I didn't understand that as a child. Nor as a teenager, even whilst reluctantly learning about each of the previous extinction-level events that challenged life on earth--not only humanity--to overcome.
Long before the end of Ordovician over 440 million years ago, evolution of life had taken root, and would not be denied. The constant steam of neutrinos from deep in the cosmos disrupted our great ancestor's DNA rapidly enough to ensure that *some* branches of life would carry on no matter what happened.
That first extinction event culled the first wave of weakness from the greater gene pool, allowing only the strongest 14% to persist. Despite their numbers being reduced to a breaking point, these leftover species quickly claimed the planet.
This second iteration of life on Earth spread across the globe for the next 70 million years, until the next great filter ripped away another languishing layer of obsolescence. Only the strongest 25% of *them* would move life forward.
Another refined generation was called to duty, to push forward and grow and adapt to a hostile, evolving planet, and it did so marvelously for another 120 million years before they, too, were reduced to the few who could withstand what came for them. This time though, life would be reduced to 4%. The strongest of the strongest chosen to carry on earth's legacy.
Their reign would be over after 30 million years, as the planet would claim 80%. Life, though, would stubbornly persist yet again, as it was designed, destined, FORGED to do.
A new, *extremely* powerful generation of life would *dominate* the planet for 135 million years until about 65 million years ago when an asteroid would hammer the final nail into the coffin of a generation that had already been losing steam. As if mother nature wasn't satisfied, as if the universe had been raising the children of Earth to become warriors, it created almost impossible conditions for life to survive.
But it did. Albeit, 24%. We, humans I mean, by far the most dominant species to ever walk the planet evolved from *this* 24%.
The aliens who decided to kill 90% of *us* -- *clearly* didn't do their research.
We are the strongest 10%, of the strongest 24%, of the strongest 20%, of the strongest 4%, of the strongest 25% of the strongest 14% of life on a planet that just so happens to have trained us to take ANYTHING this universe can throw at us and thrive anyway.
And we are pissed off.
|
Part 1
“We bombed them a thousand years ago, our grandfathers and mothers died to the ones there, though it was only in the hundreds range, we left roughly 10% of the population there, mostly elderly and children to assure they’d die out, and so we will return to this planet that we have called Terra-3 to collect the natural resources, we should be there in 2 hours, so all go you, go and get some last minute training in.” The admiral would dismiss the meeting, they were doing this in secret against the wishes of the guild. The guild was a massive organization that sought to solve problems with diplomacy, his race the Zaraiks, which had a large amount of skin tones, and looked somewhat like the people they were conquering. Previously they helped a leader of a country build his massive structures in the sandy regions of the planet, and gave him a nice dagger as a gift. Now the admiral young but ambitious took responsibility for the mission a mistake he’d regret later is not sending scouting drones.
After a while the small fleet of 1 capital ship and 4 support ships would enter the system of Terra. They’d approach Terra-3 but suddenly a large bang could be heard. Then a crew member would yell “INCOMING PROJECTILES!” Suddenly a ship was destroyed, then another. The admiral would yell “DEPLOY ALL FIGHTERS AND DRONES!” Suddenly another ship would be destroyed, and the admiral would yell another order “ABANDON SHIP!” He and the crew would begin to run to escape ships, and various drop ships to escape. The admiral would barely escape as his Capital ship “The Greater Nebula” was torn apart by what his crew told him was atomic weaponry. That’s when it sunk in, this wasn’t them setting up an outpost… It was them being ambushed.
|
SlowCrates
|
Histroy_is_my_thing
|
2023-03-26 21:55:30
|
2023-03-26 21:51:35
| 32 | 11 | null |
jdso95l
|
122d3v5
|
122d3v5
|
[WP] Each type of death has a unique type of Reaper. The Reapers of Drowning collects the souls of the drowned. The Reapers of Old Age collects those that have come to their natural end. Write a story about a Reaper for an unusual death finally having a soul to collect.
|
"Hm."
"Hm? What's that for?"
"You're the first person to have died like this in... I believe since the Ice Age?"
"Oh."
"Please excuse any confusion, it's been a while since I've had to do this. You see, every type of death gets a Reaper, and I have been a Reaper for this death for a long time. Many people have died this kind of death, but not in this era."
"Oh, I died a stupid death, didn't I?"
"No, you were just in an accident. Us freak accident Reapers don't come by that often. Accidents are, well, accidents."
"That's good to hear. I was worried I was gonna get mocked for eternity for this."
"I would be surprised if anyone mocked you for this. This is a horrific death."
"You'd be surprised to hear what people mock!"
"I don't like that idea. Now, come along, I have to get you to the afterlife. I'm not not looking forward to telling the Lord of Souls about this."
"Hey, Cave Bear Reaper! Why's that guy not all mauled looking? 'Oh, he was crushed by a corpse in a museum.' We're gonna be hearing that every five minutes, aren't we?"
"Possibly every two. I think most of them would be surprised that I'm even doing my original job. They might believe you're another victim of elevator deaths."
"You have another job? I thought you just said every job gets a Reaper. Did elevator deaths not get a reaper?"
"Not many people die from cave bears nowadays, so I had to be reassigned to something people actually die from. This is quite common among the reapers who's deaths don't exist anymore. You... you are the exception."
"Neat, neat, I'm gonna be thinking about this the whole way down. Or up. Which way's the afterlife?"
"It is upwards. Thank you for taking this in such stride, you're making this significantly easier on me. The stress of potential paperwork is driving me mad already. Alright, follow me. I... I may be less talkative on the way. I need to process this."
"If you say so, man."
|
[CW: Kids]
It showed up just in time to see the other boys running away. That was the way of young boys, it supposed. Everything was fun and games untill someone lost an eye, or worse...
In the corner of the school yard, where two brick walls met, lay the crumpled form of a boy, about the same age as those who had fled. A similar looking shade stood beside it, bawling.
The reaper floated over to the crying boy.
*I know it is quite unfair. Such is it ever with those who pass in unusual ways*
The reaper tried it's best to be comforting, but it hadn't had the opportunity to interact with humans in a rather long time. The boy was briefly startled, but went back to crying.
"We were just playing around!" He gasped through the tears.
"Why did Jimmy have to do that? And they just LEFT me!!?!? Am I dead? I didn't even think you could die from something like this!!!"
The reaper tried to be comforting, but it had been a very long time.
*Atomic Wedgies are dangerous, as you are now well aware. Please come with me, your grandparents are looking forward to seeing you*
The reaper offered it's misty hand and the sobbing boy took it. They both vanished like a popped bubble.
|
starryeyedshooter
|
None
|
2023-08-14 19:15:34
|
2023-08-14 15:56:47
| 16 | 11 |
jw6hurp
|
jw5krdr
|
15qmsjg
|
15qmsjg
|
[WP] A criminal goes on a spree after being inspired by misheard song lyrics.
|
He'd not even made it 30 feet into the hamlet before he was stopped by its owner. By all measure, the standoff should have felt absurd to every observer: Him, a picture of strength and constitution, a good six foot tall, proud and confident in his every movement. And her?
Small, physically weak, a huddled mass within a ragged cloak, what little of her uncovered coated with off-white scales. A good two feet under him, so that his head had to tilt downwards to stare into what little he could see of her eyes, under a well maintained skull fashioned as a mask.
Yet still she imposed.
"You must be the mistress of life and death I've heard so much about." A booming voice, somehow managing to echo even with naught but dirt and relatively few buildings to bounce off.
"And you must be the *next* arrogant shit who thinks they have better claim to the role." She responded. Accent of further down south, and a weary, put-upon tone. As if this were an unwanted duty.
"I *know* I do. Surely your sentry told you of my powers, after she fled for her life? Too cowardly to face her death to a proper practitioner of life force manipulation."
"Please", the smaller one scoffed back. "She was just saving me a job in reviving her. She'll be fine."
"Don't be so arrogant, monster. I know your game. Building a town of kobolds, orcs, all the others... You intend to invade us. And I plan to stop that before it starts."
"If I wanted your cities, I'd have taken them already. Using this power for conquest's the business of evil bastards and fools. Sure you're not projecting?"
He felt anger build within him - trying to press it back down kept him busy, too busy to notice the weeds of the town, few as they were, begin to wither and rot. But then, only the most perceptive would have come close to seeing it. "I *know* what you monsters are! And what you intend to do!"
"Talk about morals later on, once you leave. Or did you need a lesson?"
"Anything you could teach me, I already know."
"You say that." she responded, slowly walking forward - why he hesitated to respond even he wasn't sure of. Perhaps some idle curiosity as to where her arrogance stemmed from. Overconfidence in his own abilities. But regardless, she was allowed to speak.
"Do you not know who I guard, in my duties? I let the 'monsters' here live. All the pests, big and small, provided they can learn to settle in peace. The ones that try to choke out the land - the weeds, the mosquitoes, the little invasive species, I swallow their energy to protect the others. I am a guardian and cleanser alike, of the tiny little things of such little energy. But the thing is?"
She raised her hand - giving in, for just a moment or two, into a dramatic motion, though only due to needing to. More and more grass withered, all behind him, so as not to be noticed. "I've learned two *critical* things about those little things. They only need the smallest spark of energy to grow and propagate, and they can grow almost **anywhere**."
She clenched her hand, to finish her spell.
It has been said many a time, in those lands, that the evil take pleasure in suffering. Take pride in their kills, and as such, drag them out, revelling in screams of pain and slow slides into the afterlife.
He had a quarter second at most to recognise her action, before his skull split in two from an explosion of ivy, snaking its way out from his very veins, finding homes in every tiny crack between the various parts of his head. He managed not even a final breath as he crumpled in a heap.
The sentry stepped forward, stumbling slightly from her prior battle, but lifting the corpse without hesitation all the same. "Same place as always, boss?"
"Get him to the forests, yes. Time for him to be a part of the cycle. He's avoided it for too long."
She stepped away from the town square, back towards the private garden, at the back of the hamlet, blooming with a thousand beautiful flowers, with nary a weed among them.
And peace was, for today at least, kept.
|
“It’s time.” Wadramonomo thought pensively.
Wadramonomo always expected this, just not so soon. He sat atop the barstool, back facing the bar, staring intently toward the door. The room around him may as well not have existed. Nothing mattered anymore, after all; his life as he knew it was about to end.
“Are you alright?” asked Chablublu, the bartender.
Chablublu was a kind man—tall, muscular, and quite handsome. He would’ve made a great warrior. But alas, his method of felling warriors was with potent concoctions.
Wadramonomo was unaffected.
“Wadramonomo!” shouted Chablublu.
Still, Wadramonomo was unfazed.
Chablublu, standing directly behind Wadramonomo, climbed to the top of the bar, stood there for a moment in contemplation, and suddenly yeeted himself at Wadramonomo, so as to body slam him.
Wadramonomo’s internal threat detection responded immediately. In an instant, and without hesitation, Wadramonomo sucked the life out of Chablublu and teleported to the barstool next to him.
Chablublu’s lifeless body fell, first to the barstool, where his body contorted like a rag doll before completing his inevitable trip to the cold floor beneath.
Violence was absolutely forbidden in Watatatata, the city of peace, where Wadramonomo had been acting as the protector from unwanted encroachers.
Despite violence being forbidden, everyone carried lethal weapons at all times. They learned their lesson after they were last attacked by the FrooFroo people.
This was before Wadramonomo came to be Watatatata’s protector, around twenty-five years ago. Everyone believed in Wadramonomo’s ability, but they all shared the belief that if an attack were to happen, they could help.
In less than two seconds from Chablublu’s untimely demise, all of the thirty-three other guests had their weapons pointed at Wadramonomo.
This was unprecedented. The people of Watatatata would have never suspected Wadramonomo to do such a thing.
Wadramonomo’s threat detection could sense the intent of every single person aiming their weapon at him. Again, like clockwork, his threat detection system automatically sucked the life out of everyone in the bar. No one remained but him.
He continued to stare blankly at the door in anticipation. Moments later, it flung opened and a man walked in.
“Brother!” Bregeehi said with a grin.
“It took you long enough.” Wadramonomo said coldly.
“Great things take time, brother! But finally, it’s time for you to come home.” remarked Bregeehi.
Wadramonomo was visiting Earth to determine its suitability for colonization. Upon his arrival an unknown error occurred in his ship that made it impossible to return.
Wadramonomo has been awaiting Bregeehi’s arrival for twenty-five years to go home.
“So what’s your verdict? Will we be occupying Earth then?” asked Bregeehi.
“Yes.” said Wadramonomo.
“And about the natives?” asked Bregeehi.
“I’ll take care of them now. I’ve only kept them around to keep me company for all these years.” replied Wadramonomo.
Wadramonomo closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and held it for seven seconds.
“It’s done.” said Wadramonomo.
“Good.” said Bregeehi. “Let’s go home.”
|
TAGMOMG
|
Envactor
|
2024-01-01 20:59:32
|
2024-01-01 19:11:57
| 23 | 14 |
kfvrozb
|
kfv9hqi
|
18vrg8d
|
18vrg8d
|
[WP] After a superhero destroyed your home and killed your family during a fight you swore you would have your vengeance and destroy the heroes once and for all. You may only be a rat but that is not going to stop you.
|
Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak, Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak, Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
Squeak Squeak.
"Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak" Squeak Squeaked
"Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak" Squeak Squeaked Squeakelly
"Squeak Squeak Squeak"
"Squeak"
"Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak"
"Squeak Squeak"
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
Squeak Squeak Squeak
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
"Squeak Squeak" Squeak Squeaked
"Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak" Squeak Squeaked Squeakelly
"Squeak Squeak Squeak?"
"Squeak Squeak"
"Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak"
"Squeak Squeak"
" Squeak Squeak Squeak!"
"Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak "
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak! Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
Squeak Squeak Squeak
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak, Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak, Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
"Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak!" Squeak Squeaked
"Aw fuck" said the hero
Squeak Squeak Squeak, Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
Squeak, Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak, Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak.
|
As the fires of Super City continued to burn I explained my master plan. “Good. Good. They should come in droves!” I rubbed my rat hands together and wiggled my whiskers approvingly at the sight before me. My minions did well. Then I see it. A cloud of flying heroes.
“Now! Go forth my brothers! Fight! For nothing can stop the rat empire!”
Then my army began the war chant. Their squeaky voices chanting in unison. “Rats. We’re rats. We’re the rats. We prey at night we stalk at night. We’re the rats.”
I returned their chant with my own. “I’m the giant rat that makes all of the rules!” Then all together we said “let’s see what kind of trouble we can get ourselves into!”
The first bolts of energy fell onto us as we launched our assault. Catapults and trebuchets peppered the enemy and killed many in one single volley.
The fighting raged on. But in the end, the rats had won. Fires burned hotter. Millions of people were destroyed. It was such glorious destruction. Enough to make a demon curl up and wish for a fate so merciful as death.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The scientist sat back in his chair. “Guys, uh, something tells me we need to stop using rats in these experiments.”
“Relax,” another said. “I’m sure they’re not all thinking that.”
The first scientist suppressed a gasp. The rat was… sneering. Evilly. No, the scientist thought. They’re all thinking that.
|
ChunkyDoritoes
|
Scorppio500
|
2023-08-28 17:41:31
|
2023-08-28 17:18:06
| 133 | 45 |
jy48dtj
|
jy44hqe
|
163ph4e
|
163ph4e
|
[WP] On the day of your 18th birthday, you pressed a button that gives you $10,000 for every day left in your life. You just checked your bank account: $1,000,000,043.
|
I'd been feeling really down due to my recent diagnosis of ALS. No point in going to university now. No money. No point getting a girlfriend or marriage when it was doomed before it started. No point to life.
I'd spent the morning just staring at the wall.
And then a mysterious man showed up at my door and said if I'd sacrifice my life and press this button, I could leave my family $10,000 for every day left in my life. Well, what did I have to lose? A life of progressive weakness and eventual suffocating death?
I'd pressed the button assuming that I had about 2-5 years left. $10 million+ would help my family and I wouldn't be a burden to them.
So I pressed the damned button.
And the alert came up on my phones banking app.
Rounding to a billion, divide by 10,000, divide by 365, and that's about 273 years.
Looks like in the next few years, they'll not only cure ALS, but make strides toward immortality.
Fuck Me. Fuck My Life. Still, at least my family will never have to worry about anything ever again.
.
.
.
My phone started beeping. A lot. Twitter/X and Facebook were exploding.
The mysterious man had made the offer to every adult in the world. And hundreds of millions had taken up the offer. Some had made quadrillions. Some had even hit the limit on banks computers.
Yesterday $1billion was a lot. Tomorrow it'll be worthless.
Fuck Everyones Lives.
|
"... Woah. Hold on. A billion... it actually worked? And a billion... divided by... 10000... screw this, I failed math anyways." I open up my phone to it's calculator. "A hundred thousand days... That's like..." I type another thing into the calculator. "245 years! Wow! How is that even... possible? And what should I do with all this money? Maybe I should save it, invest it? I don't know... Maybe I should go back to school? Get a better job than the one by the gas station? Well... I don't really need money... but maybe something fun? I always did like biology..."
|
RandeKnight
|
Pupseal115
|
2024-09-25 20:35:53
|
2024-09-25 19:23:08
| 447 | 120 |
lowxq6d
|
lowjh29
|
1fpc2wu
|
1fpc2wu
|
[WP] Level 100 in the East is about the same a level 20 in the West… which is a shame for the level 52 sorceress who just severely underestimated you…
|
I sat at the bar; a local place called the Oasis. Cleverly named, given that the town of Yttri was in the middle of the Ghavwre Desert. The clay walls were carved with intricate designs of Myran style; an ancient tribe which, although they were wiped out, left very sophisticated writings and ruins.
I always loved looking at those carvings in the ruins; depictions of warriors quelling sandstorms and fighting massive serpents, which, contrary to common belief, still lurked beneath those sands. It had been my greatest hobby, surveying those old structures. I considered myself an unpaid professor. on the subject.
“Who the fuck puts a bar in the middle of a desert?” The question came from woman to my right. I glanced over at her. Pinned to her extravagantly colored robe was an insignia; *She’s level 52… that insignia’s Eastern, though.*
“If you’re so pissed off about a bar in a desert, why did you roam around a desert and then come to drink in its only bar?” I said with a smirk.
“You better watch it, you level 40 runt!” She hissed.
*She could gauge my level?* I glanced back over at her. *Maybe she isn’t actually Eastern… that’s not good.* “Who are you?”
“I am Magnia of Ralioch!” She said boldly. “And who are you to ask me such a question? You should respect your betters, unless you want to duel!”
*Ralioch? That’s that.* I sighed in relief and took a sip of my water. “Yeah, I think that would be fun.” I set down my own mug and stood up. I wordlessly strolled from the bar and out onto the sandstone street, shielding my eyes from the sun as I crossed the door’s threshold. She followed, yelling curses which sounded like gibberish to me.
She drew her wand; I drew my sabres. “By the way, Magnia!” I called out. “Do you know where you are?”
“Of course I do, brat! This is Yttri, in the Ghavwre Desert. I’m not stupid, like you!”
I braced myself, waiting for her to cast some silly spell. She waved her wand, and began to chant an incantation. I launched off of my foot, rushing toward her. I felt the dust kick up behind me as I closed the twenty meters between us in an instant. She was flabbergasted as I held the sharp edge of my blade a fragment of an inch from her slender throat.
“You’re in the West, sweetheart.”
I smiled wickedly as I pulled the sabre away from her throat and sheathed it. Without any hesitation, I hit her in the throat with pommel of my other one. She choked as she hit the ground. “The East is not battle-tested.” I lectured her. “Your standards are inferior. Did nobody teach you to convert your level before you wandered out into the desert? Or was that the same day they taught manners?”
“Co-“ She coughed, “Conversion?”
“The Eastern Association assigns levels based on mana measurements. The Western Association does so as well, but the mana levels required for any given level are roughly five times higher in the West than they are in the East. Your level 52 is equivalent to a level 10 here.” I slipped my other sabre into its sheath and smiled, “Which means you’re really lucky that I refuse to duel you; duels here are to the death, and you foolishly challenged someone four times more powerful than you.”
The look on her face was a mix of humiliation, disbelief, terror, and relief. I wish I could have painted it. I started walking away before she spoke up. “How?” was all she said. I stopped and turned. “‘How’ what?”
“How are you level 40, then?” She asked. “That’s like level 200 in the East, right?”
“Oh, good, you *can* do math.” I mumbled. “Listen sweetie, it’s two different worlds. The East is a peaceful place. You decorate yourselves with jewelry and fancy clothes because none of you have to get your hands dirty. The West is violent and dangerous. Serpents live beneath those sands, dangerous enough that any and all excavation teams must have at least 3 level 30 or greater fighters, one of whom must be a healer. We fight every day.” I pulled off my tunic, showing her the scar which ran from my left shoulder down to the center of my torso. “This is from a fight I had as a level 24 against a Silver Centipede. I turned my head to the right, showing her the side. “My ear was torn off in a fight against one of those serpents just a few years ago.”
She sat in horror. “We die out here every day.” I told her. “You’re in a land of monsters. You’d be best to get yourself an escort if you continue traveling, unless you want to be some beast’s dinner.” I took a step, but again felt the need to say what I had been thinking since she told me her name:
“You should go home, Magnia.”
|
Hana mutered another incantation, calling forth strong winds that blowed with the force of a typhoon. Daisy gulped, bracing herself while she literally rooted on the ground and her skin turned though and rough like the bark, protecting her of the scrapnel that arised by the spell of her rival.
The eastern sorceress changes the tone of her voice and the winds stopped while she surroundered herself with circles of fire. She needed a moment to concentrate them in a sacred symbol before making them explode in a column of flames that engulfed her rival.
The sorceress took a second to take back her breath. Her tongue was dry, she had been casting for almost half an hour and even though she had been using potions to refill her mana she was getting exhausted, and to make things worse she only had a single vial left.
The flames died out, revealing the blackened figure of Daisy that slowly crumbled into shards of charcoal, revealing the witch inside without a single burn.
– Buff... – The blonde woman cleaned the sweat on her forehead. – Good move. Didn't see that one coming. Honestly, you almost had me there.
– How...? – Hana drank her last mana potion before throwing it at the ground, frustrated. – How are you still standing?
– Well... I wasn't expecting the fire so I wasn't able to counter it, but since I was covered in wood I transformed it into a mineral to better resist...
– Not that! – The young sorceress interrupted the witch, who waited patiently for her oponent. – How are you keeping out with me!? Our diference in level is suposed to be huge!
Daisy shrugged. – Honestly? No idea. Not gonna lie, I didn't even knew that you could even get that high of a level. – The witch took a moment to look at the sun and it's position. – Mmm... It's getting kinda late... Hey, look. I have been casting left and right countering you, so I am down at my last two spells for the day. Is it fine with you if we end this now?
– Might as well... I am also down at my last mana bar... – The eyes of the sorceress iluminated with a green glow as an enormous summoning circle appeared in front of her. – Answer my summon... Gashadokuro!
From the inside of the summoning circle a gigantic skeleton made of regular sized human skulls formed, towering over the two woman like a mountain.
– That's... – Daisy made a nervous smile. – Pretty big...
– When one is low in mana a summon is the best cost efective. – Hana smiled smugged, sure in her victory. – Gashadokuro! Finish her!
The giant monster raised her enormous fist, and let it fall on the witch, who started making rapid hand movements while reciting the last words of arcane magic.
Before it could crush her, the hand of the monster was stopped with the shining marks of a ward that surrounded the western witch, who smiled back at her opponent.
– Summoned creatures have their weakness, you know?
Hana gulped nervious, she had basically used her entire reserve of mana to cast that spell. She was out of magic. But still... – Wards have their weakness too. They only protect you from magic. Gashadouko! Grab a tree and crush her with it!
The giant monster was going to follow the orders, but the witch interrupted.
– And who said I am gonna let get crushed? I saved my best spell for last!
Hana looked astonished as Daisy transformed in front of her. The woman started to grow, and grow, and grow, and her muscles started contorting, and her flesh to change, until a gigantic winged lizard stood in front of her creature, still protected with the ward.
– Gashadouko! – Before she could finish her order, the lizard opened her mouth and engulfed the enormous yökai in flames.
Hana looked horrified as her summon started banishing and the giant lizard lowered her fire breathing mouth to her and smiled.
– Checkmate.
|
Apexyl_
|
None
|
2024-08-13 03:07:59
|
2024-08-13 02:28:12
| 32 | 22 |
lhuriw3
|
lhulnz1
|
1eqj9kd
|
1eqj9kd
|
[WP] “One of us tells only the truth. “the other nothing but lies.” You kill the first guard and ask “Is he dead?”
|
I yelled at our ‘illustrious’ party leader to wait, but as usual the impatient knight was already in motion. By the time I was halfway through my warning, the severed head of one of the twin magical guardians had hit the ground.
“Well, is he dead?” the knight ‘leader’ asked the remaining guardian smugly.
I didn’t even bother to suppress my frustration as the remaining guardian stared at our leader stoically. The moron really thought he was so clever using this method to figure out which of the mystic guardians always lied and which told the truth.
“Yes,” the remaining guardian answered truthfully. “And now you have used your one question and I shall answer no more.”
Our leader just stood there blinking like the idiot he was.
“Great going, asshole,” I said, officially done with his brand of ‘cleverness’. “That’s the fifth quest in a row that you’ve screwed us out of by trying to brute force things.”
“I’d like to see you do better!” The knight yelled back, flushed red with anger and humiliation.
“A braindead troll could do better!“ I yell back. “All you had to do was listen to the people who are actually good at puzzles and riddles instead of insisting you have a better answer! How the hell your ‘brilliance’ hasn’t gotten you killed is a fucking mystery! I’m done! You can find a new ranger to adventure with! Good luck hiking back to town by yourself!”
|
“That’s not how this works.” I say as I raise my spear at the adventurer’s neck.
The jerk killed Jerry. “You are under arrest for attacking a guard and for breaking the rules of the game.” I shift my target from the neck to the shoulder with the speed and strength of a raging river. Not to kill, but to pin down the criminal. I pull the rope to sound the low danger emergency bell.
As the gate opens up and the criminal is dragged away I turn to look at the wretched soul. With all the professionalism and malice I can muster I tell the truth. “I was the liar, until you broke the game. Thank you for playing.”
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nPMarley
|
Repq
|
2024-06-05 18:14:16
|
2024-06-05 15:48:01
| 84 | 25 |
l79581s
|
l78f13j
|
1d8sbnm
|
1d8sbnm
|
[WP] As the god of reincarnations, when neither Hell nor Heaven want a soul, it is your job to reincarnate it appropriately. One specific soul keeps coming back to you not so long after each reincarnation. After a while, you decide to investigate why the soul keeps coming back to you.
|
99912672036.
Why did that number keep coming up? Every time I saw it, it would be marked:
* Heaven: Refused
* Hell: Denied Entry
It's not uncommon to see a number more than once; someone may need to be reincarnated a few times to become worthy of Heaven or Hell. But I had this number memorized. Sometimes they'd be back within days, other times, months or years. But they always refused Heaven, that was the weird part.
The day came when the soul stood before me.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"Shay." The soul took the glowing, translucent form of a middle aged woman.
"Shay, I see that you have refused to go to Heaven -- again. You have refused Heaven 6,354 times. You have lived well enough to get into Heaven more than six thousand times, and refused every time. Why?"
The soul cried luminescent tears. "All I've ever had in life is my daughter. One daughter. In my dreams, I'm a lobster whose larvae are all eaten but one, a frog whose tadpoles all dry out except one, a dog whose puppies are all taken but one, a parrot with three eggs but only one hatched. It's always me and my daughter. But she's always so sickly. She always dies so young, too young to get into Heaven or Hell. So I follow her."
"You... have a good memory, Shay. What's your daughter's name?"
"Taylor. Taylor Marie Cooper."
From the eternal, infinite waiting room, a soul sprang forth. It took the form of a toddler girl.
Shay picked up the toddler. Both souls glowed brighter.
"Shay and Taylor, you are together. Taylor, your mother has followed you every time you've reincarnated to learn a lesson, did you know that?"
Taylor stared at Shay and grabbed her face with chubby hands. Again, both souls glowed brighter.
"You have much to learn, but with every lesson, your mother loses you again. This will continue for many more lessons. It is your fate, and her choice to follow you."
Shay and Taylor pressed their foreheads together, glowing more brightly.
"The Gates of Heaven stand before you! Shay, will you finally enter Heaven, knowing that Taylor will be along as soon as she's finished learning lessons? Taylor, will you give your mother permission to go to Heaven, knowing that you'll be there in just a few lessons?"
"No." Now cheek to cheek, they answered in unison.
"Where she goes, I go," Shay said.
"Then I have no choice." I tried my best to hide a smirk. "Shay, how do you feel about losing Taylor every lifetime?"
"It's eternal torture."
"That sounds a lot like Hell, a place which denied you entry. I have no choice but to take Taylor out of the reincarnation cycle and send her to Heaven with you."
"You can do that?" Taylor asked in a surprisingly clear voice.
"I am a God. Yes, I can do that!" I chuckled. "Shay! Would you like to ascend to Heaven with Taylor?"
"Yes! Please!" Shay sobbed.
The Gates of Heaven opened with a dazzling light. Shay hurried inside, holding Taylor closely.
|
Ye gods and little catfish, not again!
This can’t be happening! I’ve done everything I could: sent them to the finest places, made sure they were born with everything they’d need to lead a long, fruitful life, nudged them to make the choices to finally, finally, have a certain path to one afterlife or the other.
But there they sit (well, float), with their beady little eyes, looking smugly at me. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. My bosses are breathing down my neck to get this one assigned to its proper afterlife. If I can’t get it to … no, I can’t think like that. There must be a way!
“What is it you want? What will it take to get you to live long enough to have a meaningful existence, either for good or for evil? Why won’t you make a choice?!” I plead.
The soul looks at me. I could swear there was a grin on its face, tho it’s hard to see thru the shimmer that surrounds it.
It sits there (well, floats), mocking me in silence. Why? Why won’t it just do what it’s supposed to? All the others have done it right, however long or brief their stay might be, never taking more than one or two reincarnations to have a decision made. A few might have taken three or four times. But 96? What in the name of Heaven or Hell was going on?
I look down at its file. Good and evil, both of equal weight. To the gram. It was almost like-
Wait, was it? Was it deliberately keeping the balance so that it would be reincarnated again and again? But why? Heaven was so…peaceful. And Hell, well, I could imagine why nobody would want to end up there. Still, it couldn’t keep up the effort forever, sooner or later it would make a mistake and the balance would shift. Wouldn’t it? It was there each time for so short a cycle that it seemed like it couldn’t possibly have the opportunity to make a difference.
I looked up in frustration at the soul again. It looked back at me, waiting somewhat impatiently.
I sighed and leaned back in my chair.
“Ok ok. Once more into the grind. But please, work with me here. Stick around for awhile. And for god’s sake, keep away from flyswatters!”
|
insertcaffeine
|
this-is-not-relevant
|
2023-02-01 02:04:14
|
2023-02-01 00:46:12
| 34 | 23 |
j6q1fbx
|
j6pqpna
|
10q4wxq
|
10q4wxq
|
[WP] Once an hour, every hour, the richest person on earth dies. This continues indefinitely...
|
The bell tolls.
The hardest part was the timing.
You had to make sure that you transferred the money on the hour every hour.
I spent days working on the automatic transfer, setting up the plans for the prewritten wills needed for an operation like this.
As for people? It’s kind of crazy what desperate people will do for their families’ future’s to be secured.
The idea is simple. Transfer the wealth of the richest people in the world to a willing subject on the hour every hour. After their death the money is returned and the rich pay off their family and move on.
There were protests, of course there were protests, far fewer than you’d expect though. Well, I guess it’s not really surprising after the first few figureheads dropped dead in front of their followers. A banking error had made them the richest in the world for an unlucky few seconds. “Unlucky”.
……
Thinking back to the first 6 months I feel like everything worked out as you’d expect. Chaos. It was kind of shocking the people who died, seeing the desperate shows of philanthropy to decrease your wealth enough to survive.
But everything has rules and rules can be studied. Having massive wealth gets you killed, but it’s binary, it simply adds assets it has no regard for how any why the “value” was acquired. Some leaders of countries died before realizing this, as did a few CEOs.
Having rules means loopholes and no one is better at using loopholes than the rich.
By pooling their wealth the top 20 or so richest people remaining suddenly had the ability to make anyone they chose the richest person in the world.
They suddenly had the power to kill anyone they wanted without any possible defense.
You can imagine how that went.
That system is automated now, thanks to me.
……
I type my name into the machine.
My phone rings, there has been a deposit to my account.
The bell tolls.
|
Alarms rang out deep in an underground compound, while the many suited goons of it's owner rushed to action, quickly shuffling assets to defer the curse. A kilometer below the person in question writhed in their cryotube as doctors and everyone else rushed to their aid, trying things ranging from the cutting edge of science to the deepest pits of black magic, none seemed to work until the transactions went through, at which point our lord stabilized and returned to his torpor. Medical efforts continued until the issuing of the the Proclamation, which he demanded to be transmitted toward Saturn. "I have escaped mortality YHWH, look upon your children and despair as they flock to the will of I, Mammon incarnate of the Earthly realm, Lord of all that is-"
Last transmission revised from coordinates 9.849312, -104.673828 before lightning strike of 37.8 gigajoules observed, followed by secondary explosions inconstant with sympathetic detonation, tachyon signatures constant with emergency phase displacement systems, target fate unconfirmed.
|
TheSciFanGuy
|
Green__lightning
|
2024-07-13 14:45:05
|
2024-07-13 11:08:38
| 797 | 34 | null |
lcz3kap
|
1e276ci
|
1e276ci
|
[WP] All of the local mob bosses have gathered in one area. This could only mean one thing. Parent teacher conferences.
|
Brodrick “The Butcher” Maxwell stepped out of his towncar and eyed the crowd. It was parent-teacher conference day at Brightstone Elementary, and the parking lot was full of parents awkwardly milling about, clutching flyers in their hands or glancing irritably at their phones, looking up the times and room numbers for their various meetings. It was pedestrian. Boring. And *not* something the head of one of the most infamous crime families in the city would normally involve himself with.
But there was something wrong with his kid lately, and he was pretty sure this new teacher he’d been hearing about was at the bottom of it. Now if he could just find the right building in this stupid maze of—Wait. Was that *Fat Tony?*
Brodrick pushed his way through the crowd, coming face-to-face with an overweight, middle-aged man in a heavy black coat. The other man gave a start when he recognized him, one hand reflexively plunging into his jacket. But then he froze, glancing at the crowd gathered all around them. His eyes narrowed as he looked back at Brodrick.
“We really doing this in a school, Butcher?” Fat Tony growled in disgust. “This is dirty, even for you. My damn kid goes here.”
Brodrick spread his hands a little, showing they were empty. “Peace, Tony. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t do it here.”
Tony glared at him a moment longer, then reluctantly removed his hand from his jacket. Brodrick gave him a careful nod of thanks.
“So,” said the Butcher. “Your kid too, huh?”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb, big man. My son’s been actin’ weird ever since school started this year. Won’t touch the gun I gave him. No interest in the family business. Just gets home and reads his little books and does his homework, like some kinda… fuckin’… *choir boy,* or somethin’. He even…” The Butcher leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “He asked me to stop cussin’, Tony. My own fuckin’ kid! Can you believe that shit?”
Fat Tony’s eyes widened in shock. “Fuck me,” he said.
“I know!”
Now Tony lowered his voice as well. “Alright,” he admitted reluctantly. “Yeah. Susan’s been the same. Last year, for her birthday, she wanted a switchblade. You know what she asked for this year?”
“What?”
Fat Tony spit on the ground in disgust. “Fucking *Space Camp.*”
Brodrick shook his head sadly. “See? This ain’t right, man. Somethin’ screwy’s goin’ on in this place, and I’m here to get to the bottom of it.” He offered a hand. “Truce?”
Fat Tony hesitated, staring down at the hand uncertainly, then gritted his teeth and shook on it. “Truce.”
Now united by a common goal, the two crime lords made their way grimly through the crowd side-by-side. They pointedly ignored the shocked looks and concerned whispers that trailed in their wake, focused on the business at hand. Those who didn’t recognize them were quickly pulled out of the way by those who did, and soon the parents of Brightstone Elementary began to part ahead of them like the Red Sea. Whatever these two men were doing here, nobody was stupid enough to get in the way.
When they reached the classroom their children shared, the door was open and a number of parents were already inside. The teacher, Miss Thompson, was working on some paperwork at her desk as the last of the stragglers arrived.
“Everyone who ain’t a teacher, get the fuck out,” said the Butcher.
The room was empty in seconds. Fat Tony closed and locked the door as soon as the last panicked mother scurried out, clutching her purse in white-knuckled fear.
Miss Thompson, who had not looked up from her paperwork this whole time, finally raised her head at the sound of the lock sliding home. “Gentlemen,” she said. “So kind of you to come. Please, have a seat.”
The Butcher chuckled. “Nah, I don’t think we will.” He walked forward to stand in front of the desk, looming over the schoolteacher. “Instead, I think we’re gonna have a little chat about some of the shit you been puttin’ in our kids’ heads.”
Miss Thompson raised an eyebrow, looking up at the crime lord over the tops of her reading glasses. “Very well,” she said. “But I’m afraid I must insist that you follow my class rules while you’re here. And there is no foul language in my classroom, Mister Maxwell.”
The Butcher snorted at this. “You blind, lady? Or do you *really* not know who we are? I’m not following your class rules, you uptight little bi—"
Whatever he had meant to say was cut off as he choked on his own spit. His eyes bulged as he coughed violently—once, twice, three times—and was eventually forced to lean down and put his hands on his knees as he recovered. Then, his throat raw from the unfortunate mishap, he raised one finger in a “hold on” gesture and stood in awkward silence, swallowing a few times to regain his voice.
Fat Tony snickered. “Good one, Butcher. I’m sure she’s real terrified, now.”
The Butcher rolled his eyes—still a little watery from the coughing fit—and when he finally spoke again, his voice was rough. “Yeah, yeah. Get your laughs in. Anyway, like I was saying. We ain’t here to talk about your *fuckin’*—"
He choked again, his eyes wide in confusion. This time Fat Tony didn’t laugh.
The big man strode forward. “Hey, what is this? You got some kind of pepper spray or some shi—”
Fat Tony, too, began to choke, clutching at his throat in surprise as he desperately tried to speak. But by now the Butcher had recovered, and he was not happy.
“Alright, *that’s it,*” he said, reaching into his jacket and producing a pistol. He pointed it directly at the still-seated schoolteacher. “What the f—” he stopped himself just in time, grimacing. “What’d you do to us?” he tried instead, choosing his words more carefully. He cocked the gun. “You poison us or somethin’? ‘Cause you got about *ten seconds* to explain before I paint that whiteboard red.”
Miss Thompson tsked in disappointment. “I haven’t poisoned you, Mister Maxwell. I simply told you the truth: there is no foul language in my class.” She stood, and the Butcher’s finger twitched on the trigger. She eyed the gun with contempt, then turned her gaze back to the man holding it. “No weapons either, I’m afraid.”
The Butcher stared at his own hand in horror as it went limp, dropping the gun on the desk with a clunk. To his right, he heard the sound of Fat Tony’s favorite switchblade clattering to the linoleum floor.
Slowly, he looked up from the desk at Miss Thompson. For the first time, *really* looked at her. “Who…” he stopped, his eyes flicking to the gun and back to her. “What *are* you?”
Miss Thompson’s lips quirked into a small smile. “I’m a schoolteacher, Mister Maxwell,” she said. “A particularly dedicated one. And I’ve summoned you both here for your parent-teacher conference, because I’ve learned some rather disturbing things about your children’s home lives.”
She leaned over the desk, somehow taller than she should have been, bringing her face closer to his. “And that conversation is beginning now. So if you gentlemen would be so kind… and *take.* A *seat.*”
The two most feared crime bosses in the city shared a nervous glance.
Then, without a word, they sat.
|
Parent-teacher conference day was the only day you could see four black limos pull up in front of Brothers middle-school one after another. The men who emerged from them, dressed in tweed suits, tipped their hats to school resource officer Ackman as they went in the front door.
There was a fragile balance between the crime lords of Brothers. The most important rule was that they didn't touch each other's turf. Every once in awhile, some yuppie would make the mistake of crossing boundaries. Those ones didn't make it farther than a vat of acid. The only exception was schools. They were strictly off-limits, a no-mans land, and by this facet, had become the only location where the bosses could speak with one another fearlessly. Normally, they had no cause to speak with one another at all, but parent-teacher conference day forced them to come together. In the back halls in-between classrooms, the strangest of alliances were formed. New turf was debated and agreed upon. Old differences were reconciled. In that setting, if not for their dress and demeanor, one couldn't tell that they were crime lords at all.
Ackman know who they were, as did everyone else in town, but he'd been told that arresting a single one of them would mean a lot of people had to die. That it wouldn't be just a gun battle or two, no, it would be full warfare in the streets.
One day, he'd had enough. Here was the golden opportunity the police needed to clean up crime for good, and they tossed it away. He'd contacted the police department so many times he'd lost count. He'd gone to the station to demand an answer as to why they didn't take the crime bosses down when they had the chance. They always told him something like "we can't prove they did anything wrong."
He knew it was a bunch of malarky. The police had to be corrupted. Maybe they were even in the crime lords' pockets. Either that, or they turned a blind eye to it for fear of their own safety. Perhaps they failed to see that by taking all the bosses down at once, any threat to their safety would be evaporated. All he could really think of was his daughter whom he'd lost by the stray bullet of a gangster that had long gone unidentified. Sometimes he couldn't bear to admit to it, but that was the real reason why he couldn't take it anymore. Something had to be done.
Ackman was going to dispose of the bosses himself. He devised a plan to catch them at the point where bunches of them were working deals together in the hallways. Once he had them all in his sights, he'd lob a handmade grenade into a lot of them. He'd take care to ensure that he hit only his intended targets, and that nobody innocent would die, just as he'd take care to ensure that nobody knew it was him. That's why he'd slip away from his post discretely, change into all-black in a restroom, and then emerge to do the deed quickly before escaping out of the back of the school. A change of clothes awaited him in the woods nearby.
Once all of the limos had pulled up and all the bosses were inside, he took a deep breath and slipped away from the door. He didn't think anyone saw him as he changed and took the grenade out of his pocket. Once the pin was pulled it would detonate within five seconds.
He stared at its shiny surface for a long time, wondering if he really wanted to do this. It felt like ending his life. If he was caught, he was good as dead. Even if they suspected him, he was still dead, just not as fast. Was his outfit good enough to conceal all of his bodily features? Would they outrun him if something didn't work right? Would some poor child see him and be traumatized?
He didn't want to think about it too long, knowing that he'd just come back to this point again. This needed to be done, once and for all.
He slipped out into the hallway and found a group of three of them nearby, whispering in hushed tones. He pulled the pin and threw the grenade around the corner in one motion. Then he ran out through a double door as fast as he could.
Once he was a few corridors away, his heart dropped. He heard nothing but the chattering of teachers behind classroom doors. By now there should've been a loud explosion, screaming, people running. He ran into a bathroom, thanking God that it was empty. He stripped off his outfit and put it in the trash. This was not according to plan, but something deep inside told him he needed to go back. For some reason, he needed to know why the grenade didn't detonate.
When he got back to the corner where he through the grenade, he could hear their conversation.
"It definitely looks like some kind of toy. I bet a kid tossed it as a prank."
"Looks like a weapon to me. Who would try this type of thing?"
"Nobody," they said almost in unison.
"Turn it into one of the teachers."
"No, it goes with me."
Tensions among them simmered, as if the grenade were one of their turf-wars that led to bloody carnage.
All Ackman could think about was that the unexploded grenade would end up in the hands of some innocent teacher, killing them inadvertently. He deeply regretted the whole idea, and wanted nothing more than to have it back.
He walked around the corner. "Oh there it is," he said. Three men in suits stared at him shocked.
"What is it?" one of them said.
Ackman racked his brains. "Part of an action figure."
"I'm not buying it," another said. "And who are you?"
"I'm the dad of the kid who just threw it," he made something up on the fly.
"Kid? None of the kids are here today," the third said while shaking his head. Now they all looked at him suspiciously. Drops of sweat popped out of his forehead.
"Look, buddy, I don't know who you are, but I know you're not one of us." The one who held the grenade handed it back to him.
"Hey, woah!" the other two men said. "Don't just give him that! We don't even know what it is."
"I don't know what it is, but it belongs to this man. It's not for us to fight over. Today is our day of peace."
The three men were silent for a moment.
"Now scram," the front man said.
Ackman said "thank you" and turned to leave. He looked behind him several times to make sure they weren't following him, then took the grenade out to the woods as carefully as possible. There, he buried it.
It occurred to him that they had taken his daughter's life unfairly, but spared his own unfairly. At once, he decided to make peace with the matter.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
Innominaut
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2023-07-15 11:00:58
|
2023-07-15 05:10:05
| 56 | 38 |
js1w4ow
|
js14uqp
|
14zz2j8
|
14zz2j8
|
[WP] You are an immortal, having to deal with the rather troublesome rumour that your blood grants immortal life. However, what those after your blood don't know is that since you can't die, you are an excellent host to several deadly bacteria and viruses-all existing peacefully in your blood.
|
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“And why should we listen to you?”
“Okay.” He glanced at the ceiling. “It’s your funeral.”
“What did you say?”
“Don’t listen to him. Just do it.”
The blood made a hollow tinkling sound as it dripped and then splattered into a shallow bowl – a crimson fortune.
“How much does she want?”
“I don’t know. A litre? Two?”
“Two? Won’t that kill him?”
“Nothing can kill him, remember?”
“Right.”
He considered disputing this. It wasn’t precisely wrong. There were things that could kill him, he was fairly confident. And besides, he’d learned to appreciate a certain degree of nuance to the notion of death. Going several days in an abyssal blackness, slowly regenerating all the blood in ones body, could hardly constitute life.
In the end, he refrained. This didn’t seem like the right crowd for that kind of conversation.
Siphoning the blood took a few minutes. Zaydi grew weak as his blood dripped, dripped, dripped; his extremities numb and tingling. A few more and he’d pass out. Already, darkness encroached.
“Do you know, by any chance, what your boss plans to do with me after you’ve taken that?” He fought not to to slur his words.
The answer didn’t matter so much. He was only curious.
“No.”
“We’re not letting you go, that’s for sure.”
“No, no. I don’t suppose she would.”
They gave him a strange look. Perhaps they’d never had such an amenable victim before. Well, there was hardly any point in fighting was there. Not as his blood became theirs and the room became dark. He watched as shadows cobwebbed the edges of the room, as the floor and ceiling began pulsing oddly – a sick, soft heartbeat. He counted it.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four...
Waking up was like dying. One moment he was safe and the next –
The room was more or less as he remembered it, though now there was a corpse on the floor. It looked a few days old, smelled like it too. Not taking his eyes off it, he tugged experimentally at his restraints. The ropes they’d used to tie him to this chair slipped and shifted slightly; not loose enough to fit his hands through but loose enough to reach the knot.
By the gnawing ache in his belly, Zaydi judged it’d been a week since he died. They must have taken more than two litres.
With two hands free, he worked on the restraints around his feet and looked around. Unless this poor unfortunate was locked in here by its comrades, he guessed it’d have keys on it. That’s usually how this went. When he walked over, gently flipping the corpse onto its back, he heard an unmistakable jangle.
Zaydi crouched beside the corpse. There was blood on its lips. A crimson fortune.
|
As an immortal deity, I have Seen Some Shit™. However, the most interesting thing (And also the most annoying) is that people got the idea that my blood could grant immortality. Thousands of people have come to me, begged for a drop, and then dropped dead as soon as they drank it. Since my body has to contain omnipotence, only the strongest and deadliest bacteria can survive it. As a result, when mortals are exposed to these super-illnesses that have been stewing in the blood of a god, they die rather quickly. That didn’t stop people, though. One guy wanted to turn the bacteria and viruses in my blood into a bio-weapon, so I turned him into a poison dart frog. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I have a knack for ironic punishments. Let’s see, there was another woman who wanted to try and purify my blood to remove the viruses, so I gave her my blood just to see what would happen. She tried to heat it, but her chemistry equipment must have been from Wish, since the flask she was using to hold my blood cracked, then exploded. Her eyes were filled with my blood and shards of broken glass, so she died rather quickly. One idiot showed up with a gun and tried to threaten me for my blood. I just let him fill my body with holes while I glared at him. After that, I turned him into a sponge. You’d think people would learn that my blood will kill them, but people still try to drink it. There was this one military outpost that was trying to harness “Godsblood”, as they called it, to rain democracy and freedom down on the enemies of America. I let them try until they blew themselves up. Thankfully, most people have stopped trying to get my blood, and since those idiots don’t know how to leave their dimension, that stupid idea stayed there with them. I haven’t been back there in a while, and I don’t plan on changing that. Alright, now you can print your “Interview with the Chaosbringer” in your newspaper and leave me alone.
|
feelinglikecleo
|
ReaperInTraining
|
2023-11-21 18:03:18
|
2023-11-21 14:20:48
| 18 | 11 |
ka6s6n3
|
ka5squd
|
1804g85
|
1804g85
|
[WP] Old mirrors were made with layer of silver. You, a vampire, spent centuries without seeing your reflection. Today, package with your first non-silver backed mirror arived.
|
One of the greatest cruelties that God cast upon his creation is that men must kill to survive. Be it flora or fauna, something must give way for them to proliferate. Men have learned to forgive themselves for this fault, invoking the authority of the creation itself by saying: "This is just the way things are. It is natural that we kill. We were born this way."
And yet, men have not learned to forgive my kind, who kill for much the same reasons as them. No, they have not forgiven us, as I imagine the swine and the trees would not forgive men, if they possessed the ability to do so. I do not blame men for hating us. I just wish they'd understand.
We are the monsters of the earth. In the old days, before smoke and tar covered the planet, they called us the spawns of Satan. They hunted us, they drove us into the wilderness, they burned us, drowned us, shoved stakes through our hearts. Now, they have no name for us. No real name, no name they believe in. So few remain of my kind, it has been centuries since I have seen one of my brothers or sisters. Men have eradicated us, then forgotten us. And though we live long lives, we are, like all of Gods creations, ephemeral, and soon shall be no more than legend.
Humans say that the eyes are the window to the soul. And though I have seen my visage reflected in the calm waters of ponds, or in the cold windows of cities, my eyes always seem to be cast in shadow; I cannot see them clearly. And for many years there has been an itch in the back of my mind, an itch not easily subdued: Is there really a soul behind these eyes of mine? What if, were I to see them clearly, all I would find in them were dead black pupils?
Perhaps we are things of the devil. What else would compel us to consume that which we find beautiful? Perhaps we are the monsters of the earth; nightmares, which deserve to be forgotten.
In their hurry to change, to innovate, to dominate, the humans have done me a service to, quite on accident. A device with which I can finally see.
I gaze into the mirror. I expect to see all the violence, all the killing reflected in my eyes. Instead, I am met with a familiar sight, something which I have seen thousands of times in the faces of my prey: The eyes of a human, full of anguish and sorrow.
|
“Guys! Guys! I did it!”
“What now, Valkonir” my best friends chimed together.
“I can see myself in this mirror! It is a marvel! No ghastly silver!”
“Valkonir, we went over this last week with my iPhone. Remember, you kept asking about the ‘handsome gentleman in the cloak’ in my pictures? Digital cameras don’t use silver either. Have you never looked into water to see a reflection either?”
“I’m usually out more at night” I muttered, feeling the white creep into my cheeks. These youngsters and their tech. I harrumphed a bit and regained my posture, gesturing dismissively as their friendship vestments clanked. “No more food for Jeremy until his attitude improves. And I’m turning off The Office until I hear some remorse.”
“Honestly, the break from that show is worth the hunger.”
“Jeremy, I swear to god you’re punishing us all in order to bicker with our capt- … friend Valkonir.” Muttered Todd.
“Honestly, man, just kill us. Don’t keep us down here feigning friendship.”
That one cut deep. It appears Jeremy couldn’t look past the bites and the guidelines I set up about breaking the chains on the friendship vestments. His idea was preposterous though. I sighed and turned off the tv with by pressing one of the three exposed buttons on the tv remote.
I couldn’t kill my friend Jeremy, he’s a computer guy. Without him, I wouldn’t have been able to get the dvd player connected to the TV.
|
TheNeonRobot
|
Llonkrednaxela
|
2023-01-28 22:18:57
|
2023-01-28 19:45:06
| 78 | 47 |
j6ad15u
|
j69r37e
|
10nbk4p
|
10nbk4p
|
[WP]"How did a mere peasant become the most powerful hero in the land? Sure you're immortal but that can't be all" "Well you'd be surprised how many artifacts will grant you ultimate power in exchange for your life."
|
"How did a mere peasant become the most powerful hero in the land? Sure you're immortal, but that can't be all!"
The supposed villain lay on the ground before me, clutching his chest as he knew he'd soon succumb to his mortal wounds. I paused before answering, carefully considering the consequences of potentially revealing my secrets to a dying man.
"You'd be surprised how many artifacts give you ultimate power in exchange for your life. But you're also wrong, I'm not the most powerful hero in the land"
The villain coughed, "you're not!? No hero has ever bested me before! You must be the most powerful!"
"Powerful, yes. But I'm no hero... You see, my immortality is a curse more than a blessing. And these artifacts do nothing but make it worse. You know, now first hand, how it feels to experience the pain of dying" I said as I pushed in deeper the sword I used to impale the villain. He gasped in pain as I continued, "imagine this pain a dozen times over! And never ending! Each artifact is trying to kill me, but can never succeed due to my curse of immortality! So I resolved to solve that! If I can't die, then everything else must"
The villain looked up in shock, "but, that's... you're insane! I only wanted to take over the world! But you want to destroy it?"
"Yes" I said as I pushed the sword in once again, finally killing the villain. Perhaps I'll finally be at peace once the world is dead.
===============
Wrote this while waiting for a flight and had to rush at the end as the plane started boarding
|
I spread the mixture of egg, ham, and cheese over the bread, freshly pulled from the oven. I place the soggy bread onto my rock, the flames licking my fingers. A faint crackling fills my abode as I grasp a handful of tea leaves, dropping them into my kettle.
“Lavender, please.” Artifact Gold says.
I oblige, as keeping Gold in your good graces is… prudent. The stench of lavender fills the room, and try as I might, it makes me remember.
Years ago, when ma and pa still lived in this humble abode, before the plague the summer before last, this little shack stood stoically against the passing of time.
Now, time has surely passed. The paint cracks and peels in large drabs. I sit alone, enjoying the eggy-cheesy-hammy bread and lavender tea.
|
Classified0
|
None
|
2023-05-23 13:37:28
|
2023-05-23 13:00:56
| 191 | 58 |
jlaey19
|
jlaa6h4
|
13pm1ij
|
13pm1ij
|
[WP] You have just been hired as the janitor at an academy of magic. This is of course the most prestigious role in the entire academy. As you are required to have extensive knowledge on everything magical in order to handle any contaminants, mutants, demons, etc.
|
"Janitor. Could you come to the Demonology classroom?"
"What happened now Mrs. Avery?" I say into the earpiece I was given when I was hired.
"Well. I was showing the students interested in dark magic how to summon a demon and I accidentally summoned one of the most powerful demons. They're now demanding a sacrifice or they'll kill us all."
"I'll be right there." Dam can't these teachers be competent at their jobs for five minutes? When I took this job I knew I was going to be busy but not this busy consistently having to deal with teachers being too cocky.
I walk into the demonology room "Alright Demon that's far enough." I see a red succubus turn its head toward me, its large tail swaying behind crashing into a desk.
"Puny human. Only an arch-mage can defeat me. I am one of the most powerful demons of all time. Give up now and I'll only enslave two of your students."
"No. You won't be doing any of that actually. I will give you one last chance to create a portal and leave before I escort you out."
The demon laughs at me clearly thinking it can defeat me. It turns around whipping its large tail towards me. I cast a simple shield spell, not powerful enough to defend against most attacks but very powerful on succubi. The tail crashes into it and bounces right off as if it were a tennis ball hitting a brick wall.
The demon was visibly confused as it lunged at me claws in front to tear my throat out. I cast a powerful wind spell to catch the wings of the demon throwing it out of the window.
"There you go Mrs. Avery. Do me a favor and only call your familiars from now on."
|
The were-vine throttled and squirmed, trying to pull off base. Most of the students this morning on the younger side scurried near the walls of the courtyard. The sandstone blocks offered no refuge as the heavy steps of Mr. Black echoed, distracting the were-vine.
"Why didn't you throw the hot lime?" Black looked at me irritated.
He turned and walked away while I wondered which one of these bags to toss at it.
"GODDESS! You didn't pay attention!" Black was dissociating with rage.
"Crunch is full and on there first, the second should be red the third is lime. You know the other 7."
"I don't want to be called again this week, you're supposed to be independent right away."
Everyone was staring. I locked eyes with Nani, she was smirking.
|
Real_Ad8070
|
mcnastyjoel
|
2023-10-10 10:27:27
|
2023-10-10 03:16:08
| 35 | 10 |
k497ycl
|
k486ups
|
1748cbz
|
1748cbz
|
[WP] "Hold me" she pleaded. "I know you don't like me, you even tried to kill me.... but please hold me". I didn't like her but no one deserved this. So I held her close for a long time.
|
The math I had to do on the battlefield wasn’t much different from the one I used to teach.
Ruptured lung, no pulse. Sub 1% chance of resuscitation. The fact that he’d told me jokes in my first week in the barracks didn’t factor into the problem I was solving – saving lives. I stepped over the body and scanned the sea of corpses ahead of me.
A siren wailed behind me and there was the distant rumble of some airplane or other passing overhead. I would do the whole thing in training, dive down and hold my helmet over me like some admittedly well-built hat was going to save me from a bomb, but the sense of danger diminishes after the first hundred times or so. Right now, it was just another distraction that made my job harder.
“Please…”
I whirled when I heard it. Somewhere to my left. Functioning vocal cords, enough energy to speak. The odds were more than single digits. Those were the best numbers you got in this line of work. I just had to find her…if only the damn sirens would shut up!
“Please…anyone….”
This time I was looking in the right direction and the sirens faded as a plane flew overhead. Friendly or enemy I didn’t bother looking. No pilot was going to waste metal here. So I could pinpoint roughly where she was, because it definitely was a woman’s voice.
I ran, or rather walked a bit faster, stepping over arms and legs when I couldn’t avoid it. Unmoving, nonreactive to pain. Essentially 0% chance of survival. It was worth it to go potentially reach someone who I could save. I clambered over a particularly large pile of bodies that I was confident the voice was behind.
I stopped dead when I saw her.
Her eyes were bloodshot, head facing me. 50% chance of facing my direction. Propellor wing impaling her side, blood forming a seal at the entry wound. Clothes stained with blood, bulging eyes, skin discoloration.
0% chance of survival.
"Hold me," she pleaded. "I know you don't like me, you even tried to kill me.... but please, hold me."
Kill her….ah. It was hard to tell with the blood, but the uniform wasn’t one of ours. The enemy. Just thinking that made adrenaline flood my veins, my heart-rate spike. Emotional reaction. She wasn’t responsible for me being here, for my friends being buried. Humans were humans and all that, but damn it I hated them.
I hated them and I hated her, but no one deserved this.
So arms and legs wooden, I stepped towards her and knelt, resting her head on my legs. She sighed, relieved as she felt me.
“Thank you…” she breathed. “I just...I didn’t want to go alone.”
Her English was surprisingly good. “I’m here,” was all I said.
“I know,” she gasped in pain as blood spurted out of her wound.
I tsked and put pressure on the side of the propellor. “0% chance of survival” echoed in my brain. “Enemy” bounced around in my heart.
But I stayed with her.
“I know,” she continued her voice infused with a sense of urgency that only came in dying men and women with something critically important to say. I’d heard it too often. “This is too much to ask already. Find my son,” she winced in pain and held up her dog tags. “Please, tell him…”
I leaned in to let her know I was listening, to make sure I heard her. Saving lives…perhaps there was more to that objective. Maybe it wasn’t just a numbers game. All this war…I’d forgotten what living truly meant.
“Tell him…”
Overhead a siren wailed and another plane flew over our heads. By the time they passed she was dead and her words dead on her lips.
|
The darkness of the night crept in as the light from my final spell faded away, leaving the men who stood between us and the exit laying on the ground. She stood a few feet in front of me, her eyes wide, as her hand slowly lifted to her stomach. Blood welled as I looked at her, chills running through my body.
"Oh, bollocks," she whispered, her head slowly lowering to look at her middle.
I stepped towards her and she collapsed, dropping as though in slow motion. I picked up speed, managing the half-dozen steps to catch her before she hit the floor.
I collapsed as well, cradling her head in my lap as she bled out in front of me. I put pressure on the wound, but I could tell it had done damage. She'd dropped, legless, and she hadn't moved her feet. Her spine was damaged, if not severed.
"You have to keep going," she said, lifting a bloodstained hand up to point the door. "One of us has to get out of here, to warn them."
"I'm not going to leave you to bleed out on the floor," I told her, looking around. There was no help nearby.
She smiled, though her lips quivered with pain. She was already going pale. "You're an idiot but... would you do me a favour?"
I nodded, trying to smooth her sweaty hair away from her forehead. "Sure. What?"
"Hold me," she pleaded. "I know you don't like me, you even tried to kill me.... but please, hold me."
I didn't like her, but I understood the sentiment. I took her free hand in mine, still pressing on her stomach, but I could feel the thumping in her belly, while the blood continued to leak out between my fingers. Her breathing was fast and laboured, starting to sound wet. The bullet must have been spelled, causing as much damage as possible.
"Look, I didn't like you so much," I said, looking around again, "but I will make sure that you don't die for no reason."
She nodded, closing her eyes. "Thank you."
I nodded, squeezing her hand tightly. She tried to squeeze back, but she couldn't quite manage it. Her breathing slowed as I held her, then stopped. I sat with her until she died, and beyond, watching the woman. She'd taken the bullet meant for me, turning to step into the bullet's path as I finished the spell. I didn't know if it was intentional, but I did know she'd done it, despite the assassination attempt and the rivalry, the thirty years of pranks and sabotage.
I laid her down gently, picking up my staff. I could hear footsteps in the hallway, moving fast; they'd finally located us.
I patted the pocket holding the pouch, reassuring myself that it was there, and squeezed her hand one more time. Then I took off, heading for the exit.
Isabelle's death will mean something, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but it will. The secret must be shared.
|
XcessiveSmash
|
Mythic_Writing
|
2023-01-11 15:19:22
|
2023-01-11 14:48:02
| 382 | 47 |
j3wfryo
|
j3wb3ma
|
1092mzc
|
1092mzc
|
[WP] In a world of superpowers, you're believed to be powerless, but you actually possess the unprecedented ability to stop time. However, you would much rather have everyone continue to think that you're powerless.
|
"Andrew, we need to talk"
And that's it. I knew this day would come. I look in Angela's eyes and I see it. Again. Pity.
"You want to break up with me."
Being able to stop time, among other things, gives you time to think.
Her eyes widen. I can almost feel her guilt. She is, after all a good person.
"I... Please don't think it's because there is anything wrong with you. I just..."
I interrupt her: "Can't have a partner with no superpowers and remain a target of your enemies? Please, Angela. I'm not stupid."
A tear appears on her pefrect face. God, what the hell am I doing? The love of my love is about to escape me, and all I have to do to stop it is tell her the truth. Then why can't I do that?
I guess, even with this monumental superpower, i'm still a fucking coward. I could join the league, easily. Become respected and praised by millions. Then what am so afraid of? The fact that those cosmic fucks, insane maniacs and who knows what else, despite how slim the chance might be, can go after the ones I love? I can't be everywhere at once. Besides, It's not like I need all that praise so much.
I look at her again. The tear is still on her face. It seems I stopped time again. I didn't want to show her how much it pains me and did it subconsciously. I breathe in and breathe out to regain composure and reset the flow of time.
"Angela,..." A loud sound of the siren interrupts me. Red warning. Second invasion this month.
I sigh and stop time. Guess, I didn' t have any plans for the next week, anyway.
______________________________________________
I come back six days layer. Finding a way to climb on the spaceship and destroy it from the inside wasn't easy, but I always find a way. Besides I have as much time as I need to solve any puzzle like this.
I make sure everything is the way it was six days ago and let go.
She is trying to fly away, but I hold her hand before it happens.
"Don't worry, I'm sure Thaumiel will fix this in a moment."
"How do you know?"
"He always does."
|
Biting cold as my heat is radiated out. No air to breathe. Almost unable to move, stuck in molasses of air that refuses to yield. I push my fist toward Grim's face, feeling as air enters the pores in the skin of my knuckles, and vacuum drags my elbow backwards. A bit more. Just a little. I'm light-headed from lack of oxygen, and my eyebrows feel stiff from frost, water considered "me" radiating heat out at speed of light, while absorbing next to no heat from environment.
My lungs feel ready to burst, and I let go, release the hold on time. My fist stops short of Grim's face but the air supercompressed into plasma continues forward, knocking into his skull, caving it in and scorching the hole it made.
I fall to my knees, struggling for breath. My elbow and back of my arm hurt, stinging first from vacuum exposure, then from a smack of a layer of air that filled the vacuum once the push ended. At least air inside my lungs is "me", or it would have been much more devastating. Still, I'm kneeling, head down, breathing hard. Grim lies on the floor, skull caved in.
"Good job, Tim!" I hear over the radio. "Another flawless victory for the league!" Congratulations!
Fuck the league. Fuck my superpower.
|
klodmoris
|
sharfpang
|
2023-08-24 17:46:50
|
2023-08-24 15:49:32
| 38 | 25 |
jxkytia
|
jxkftr5
|
15zq7dp
|
15zq7dp
|
[WP] Upon meeting your boyfriend’s family for the first time, you find yourself facing two problems: One, you learn your boyfriend comes from a long line of exceptionally powerful sorcerers. Two, he has three very, VERY protective older sisters, and they want to see if you’re worthy of him.
|
“You know…before you he was in love with a girl from his previous school…La Merna? Ever heard of it…?”
“…N-No I haven’t.”
“Good. La Merna is filled with petty rich assholes, only reason he went there was because of his ability of seeing beyond the veil. He isn’t like us, we have more…psychical powers as his is more internal.”
“…uh huh…”
“No worries, didn’t make sense to my Olivia either…anyways he met this girl there. In his words he wasn’t like the other rich people, she was in his words…human. Both liked poetry, both liked the same movies and shows that kinda thing…he fell HARD because well…he was in high school you know?”
“I…uh huh…”
“What I’m trying to say is Jamie…he was young…naive….too young and ignorant to realize that people like her that seem kind on the outside can be real monsters on the inside. To not give away too much as it’s not my story to tell…she broke his heart. BAD….so bad he had to leave and start anew here…where he met you.”
“I-“
“Jamie Link Watner….are you truly worthy of my brother?”
“I- Wait I- WHY AM I FLOATING?????”
“This is where your 1st test BEGINS.”
“WHAT THE FU-“
|
[Poem]
So glad we've met as well,
Let's all sit down and chat a spell,
You see we're all witches,
So we don't take kindly,
To girls who come here, that are bitches.
Our brother is the best,
So now you'll take our test,
Or we'll tell him what you always have feared,
We'll sit him down slow, and speak in his ear,
And we'll tell him his girlfriend is *weird*
|
Mermaid_Pincer965
|
None
|
2023-07-06 05:40:19
|
2023-07-06 03:44:14
| 27 | 16 |
jqut3np
| null |
14rwgki
|
14rwgki
|
[WP] Every dragon rider gets a dragon egg to hatch upon their initiation to the guild. When your egg hatched, Your dragon came out a bit... Different.
|
*crack!* Another swiggly line apeared on the pristine white shell. Erik couldn’t wait any longer! As his father and his grandfather before him he too would now become a dragon rider! He tried to get even closer to the egg but he practically already had his nose pressed up against it. Papa Gill grinned at him from the other side of the stable, his back resting against his own dragon Feraxis. “Come now boy, give the little one some space!” Erik’s father stood a few paces to the left. His face seemed emotionless, but the pride gushing out of his one remaining eye seemed to light up the entire room. Erik however didn’t even notice. A small fleck of shell had fallen off and he was looking right at a tiny round eye peeking back at him. He held his breath. Another tick, the shell broke open, and out came his mighty dragon. His companion. His mighty flame breathing best friend of destruction. His…
Two brown eyes were staring at him. “Bleah” said his dragon. Erik had known dragons all his life. But he had known no dragon that had ever said “bleah” before. Most dragons hissed, maybe growled, and sometimes roared. But “bleah’s” were highly unusual in his personal experience. He looked towards his father, and from his father to his grandfather. Both met him with and as confused gaze as the one he himself held. His dragon seemed to be doing alright when it came to horns. All the good dragons had horns and so did Erik’s but that was where the similarities stopped. The vertical slit eyes seemed to have been replaced by horizontal slit ones, scales were replaced by short and stout hairs, and claws were replaced by hooves. Erik stared at the baby goat in front of him. Goats didn’t hatch from eggs right? Erik looked to his father again whose eye now shone with mild disappointment. Erik felt tears coming up behind his eyes. This should have been his day! The day he turned into a real man! He looked back at the freshly hatched goat hoping that it had somehow transformed into something more dragon like. The goat sneezed. Black lightning shot out its nose and exploded one of the giant stone floor tiles a few paces away. Papa Gill laugh-screamed louder than Erik had ever heard him do. Even louder than that one time when he and papa had gone riding on Feraxis together. Two tiny wings unfurled from the small goats back. “Bleah!”
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"Come on, Faith! Take the egg, it's hatching!" said her enthuiastic friend claudia. Faith sighed as she heard the egg hatch. With a shaking hand, she called Master Edward to let him know the news. "Remember, this dragon will define your dragon riding spot, Fai Dear." he said softly. "I'll be right over"
Master Edward was a master of the Fighting to death dragon riding gild. He had been training young dragon masters to care for their hatchlings and then to make sure they were ridable. Never in his hundred of years of teaching would he had been prepared of what came out the golden yellow egg. Faith and Calaudia bounced up and down as a diamond shaped head began to poke out of the shell along with a thin gold scaled body. No wings. Legs slightly stubby. dull red claws. Bright green eyes. it's mouth was also very small for a dragon looking more like the mouth of a poodle. "Master?" asked Faith, tears forming in her eyes. "I... I don't understand." Edward said, picking up the creature in his palm. The creature wagged its tail much like a dog and let out a small roar. "I'm getting you another egg, but since this one hatched here, you are going to have to care for it dear. We'll just not tell the officials." he said thrusting the wingless hatchling in her arms. faith just couldn't believe such a creature was in her house. She named him Hermes-- he was mischivious and often got into trouble. Her master did get her a second egg and she was determined to teach Hermes even though he would never ride, to fight. He was strong, and fierce.
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Actual_Confusion_517
|
Dark_musicalFairy
|
2024-04-30 16:39:17
|
2024-04-30 14:38:24
| 23 | 13 |
l1ynaib
|
l1y21gi
|
1cggtbb
|
1cggtbb
|
[WP] A kid losing a video game, and getting their big brother to beat it for them, as seen from an npc's perspective
|
Not the pit again....this will be the 40th time today I'll have fallen into this pit and had to restart the level. The young one is fun to watch as he trys to navigate through the level his youthful exuberance refreshing and a reminder of why most of us enjoy what we do. But this pit was getting the better of him as the timing needed is precise. as he inched me closer to the edge...again. and i stop, aaaaand stay stopped i gaze out and behold that the controller of my fate had grown frustrated of our continued failures and wandered off. I really couldn't blame him. I to was tired of this view of the pit. Lost in my musings as i wondered how long I'd peer into the abyss until the one called mom would wander through see my peril, and turn off the connection between our worlds.
Into view he comes again, tugging on another being " i really need your help, please? Do this part for me? I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day." His eyes looked pleadingly at the being he was dragging into view. When i saw to whom he was pleading for aid from, I couldn't help but smile. It was his older brother. He and I had a long history of adventuring together. It'd been awhile. As he looked my way he also smiled." Ok, ok, ok. I'll get you to the next level." New vigor coursed through my body as he sat down and picked up our connection. i backed up from the edge preparing for a running jump. "Let's do this!" I thought as i sprinted toward another grand adventure.
|
The foolish adventurer steps up once more, but this time executes a series of moves incomprehensible to the sane mind. After he sidesteps to the left and dashes forward, he suddenly sinks into the ground.
I blink, and in that slight moment, the adventurer had somehow managed to get his legs pointing straight towards the sky and was now uncontrollably shaking, twisting and turning in many different directions. Fear devoured my hope, and I took a step back.
One moment of hesitation led to another, and my chest was suddenly pierced. The adventurer remained indifferent to the unholy acts he had just committed.
|
Reasonable_Space_165
|
Percy1593
|
2023-06-21 21:08:45
|
2023-06-21 20:40:27
| 35 | 24 |
jp0fiar
|
jp0b7my
|
14fdlba
|
14fdlba
|
[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!”
|
A puff of dust floated up from its thousand-year slumber as James lifted the lid, fingers finding purchase under the stone engravings. There was nothing inside. “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!” Dale yelled, echoing through the quiet chamber.
“I’m just joking, man. Calm yourself. Half our team?” James let the lid drop as he turned, seeing Dale lit by the torch, eyes wide. "What are you on about?"
“How can you joke at a time like this, only a few minutes after watching Nura get crushed!”
“Who the fuck is Nura?” James tilted his head. “Is this like a weird bit? You’re kinda scaring me, man. You’re acting like you’re losing it. We knew this old tomb was a longshot.”
“You’re the one losing it! You honestly don’t remember all we just went through? Tammuz? Astarte? Your own brother?” Dale screamed. No way he was acting.
“Calm down,” James said, sitting down the torch slowly. “You and me came here alone. Other than that cobweb I batted off my face, there hasn’t been trouble. Other than those statues you took off the shelf, there hasn’t been any treasure. Net zero, I don’t see the problem. Are those names you said?”
“You lunatic!” Dale bellowed as he charged forward.
That had clearly not been the best question to ask.
James dodged to the side, bumping into the ancient chest. Dale stumbled forward and a stone tile depressed under his foot. Not in a boobytrap way, more of a ‘lack of structural integrity’ way. The back section of the floor groaned as it sank and then fell away, plopping into some water below.
James rushed to bend down over the wide chasm to a natural cavern below, lit only by the now unretrievable light. Dale was hanging by a jagged edge of the stone floor below, feet dangling over the yawning chasm.
“Here!” James yelled, hooking a foot on the pillar behind him. “I’ll throw a rope down for you.”
Dale was quiet for a moment. Unbelievably, he seemed calm now. “It’s fitting, me and Nura both ending up here.”
“Who the fuck is Nura!” James yelled, throwing the rope to slap against Dale’s face. He made no move to grab it.
Dale looked up and smiled before letting go, fading into the black.
“Dale!”
There was another plop, quieter than the last.
James stood, patting himself for his phone in the near total darkness. The screen blinked alive just long enough to show 1% battery then flicked off. “Fuck!”
He tripped over the chest, the bottom had opened out, revealing a secret shelf. Even in the darkness, the small statues inside glowed, nicer versions of the ones Dale had bagged.
James touched one. He expected the smooth metal to be cold. It was warm. He shook his head as a crack of electricity knocked through him. He tried another and pulled his hand back, expecting the zap again.
​
He stood and felt for the wall. He couldn’t think about treasure, he had to get help. Dale might still be alive down there. If Elihu hadn’t been killed, she’d know what to do. James was nothing without her.
He tried to shake the image of her out of his mind as knocks came from the echoing cave below, almost voices in this dead place. Merodach would have been able to explain that, no doubt, if his brains weren't painting a wall in the previous room.
James sobbed, his heart heavy, short three companions in as many hours. He pawed through the dark alone. The four of them should have just stayed home.
The real curse was the friends we lost along the way.
​
/r/surinical
|
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.
|
Surinical
|
Easiest_Dimension
|
2023-04-20 14:45:38
|
2023-04-20 13:59:36
| 67 | 22 |
jh0p6si
| null |
12svegk
|
12svegk
|
[WP] You are one of the few people in the world who has powers. You have the ability to literally slap the stupid out of someone. You are desperately trying to break into the Whitehouse to stop the president from starting a new prohibition era.
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"Sir, you can't come through he-"
**\*Slap\***
"You raise a very good argument. Please, come through," the security guard said as he grasped his red cheek where I just slapped him.
I walked down the corridor of the White House with determination in my eyes, my goal simple.
To slap the President of the United States.
Why, you might be wondering? Out of the few people in the world who have superpowers, I have the most peculiar one. I can slap the stupid out of people. It's been *so much* more useful than you might think. Last month, a supervillain tried to rob a bank. I slapped him. He realized that robbing the bank might provide him with temporary riches but will ultimately decrease the quality of his life as he has to run and hide from society. He promptly started using his powers for good to gain not only riches through classical success but also the praise and respect of the people around him.
That was a good fight.
But now *this*. The President revealed his plans to establish a prohibition. Because the first one went *so well*. Because the first one was *really effective* at stopping people from drinking like they have been for the last couple of millennia. Because it *totally didn't* cause rampant crime and gang activity.
Absolute tosser that guy.
"Sir, how did you get in here? This is a restricted area!" a man called out to me. Wearing a black suit and an earpiece, he seemed to be a member of the Secret Service. I turned to him with a serious look.
"I'm here to slap the President. Stop him from being a dumbass."
I saw his trained hand reach towards his gun. My hand was faster.
"Ow."
"You see now?"
"I mean... yeah. This way."
The walk to the Oval Office was largely uneventful - a few well-placed slaps and brief explanations were all that was needed to waltz right in.
"Johnson? Who is this man?" the President said as he saw me walk in.
"He's got some important arguments to raise regarding your latest policy, sir," the bodyguard next to me explained. I walked up to the President, face to face.
"How do you feel about Prohibition?" I asked.
"It's the only reasonable idea. It will-"
**\*Slap\***
"Wh- arrest this man!" the President cried out as he clutched his cheek.
"Hear him out, sir," the bodyguard protested.
"How do you feel about Prohibition?" I asked again.
"I- I just told you, it's the most reasonable-"
I breathed deeply and uncovered my ultimate weapon.
*The Backhand.*
**\*Slap\***
"Ow! Stop that!"
"**How do you feel about Prohibition?**!" I yelled.
"How many times do I have to tell you? It's the right thing!" the President yelled back and started to back away.
My eyes went wide with realization and my terror grew absolute. I... I couldn't do it.
This man wasn't just a moron.
*He was a* ***politician***.
|
Finally, I can see the doors, as I desperately control my breath to not alert the armed guard, walking past my hiding place. The cord extends noiselessly, just as it had done in my garage, and I’m lowered to the floor, which likely cost more than my life. One foot on the ground, rebalance, both feet down, unhook the cord. She is sitting behind that massive desk, familiar to me through endless news reels, her eyes firmly glued on a paper in front of her, while I tip toe inside and close the door. Her head whips up as she sees me and I can see her fingers curl towards the panic button. In a single jump I am in front of her, my arm shoots out and -BAM-! Both chair and occupant go flying, as I turn around to get the hell back out.
“WHAT THE ACTUAL…?!” she demands, blinking furiously. “Get back h…”
I can’t hear the rest. I’m already outside and hightailing it out of there. Out of the gardens, out of the government district, out of Washington.
Back home, I take a long bath. The assault of the president of the United States of America has been on every station, every channel. So far, no news on the culprit. No news is good news. For me at least.
As the first interview with her is about to start, I collapse on the sofa, my hair in a giant towel turban snaked around my head.
“My fellow Americans.” it starts. “I am well. However, this event has brought me a moment of true clarity. We can not go on, as we have.”
“YES!” I tell my little dog. “Booze is back!”
“Mistakes have been made and I have to apologise for them.”
“Boooooze!” I sing, filling a small glass with golden liquid and toasting a wet nose.
“I’m introducing the Nordic model. Expect wide-sweeping changes and far-reaching regulations by the end of next week. Also, I’m ending the electoral college…it makes no sense. One vote needs to be worth exactly that. Thank you.”
I stare at the flickering screen as the Star-Spangled Banner echoes through the room, a bald eagle carrying the American flag swooping into view.
Fuck.
|
SirPiecemaker
|
ForbiddenFruitiness
|
2023-02-26 17:52:19
|
2023-02-26 16:35:28
| 1,832 | 170 |
ja3yw91
|
ja3n3b0
|
11cjeo9
|
11cjeo9
|
[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
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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!"
|
Wolf Man: What?! But I didn't do anything!
Hero: Not you! The evil spirit hiding under you!
A shadow bursts from the floor underneath the wolf man, sending him tumbling into the lower floor where he fell into a table filled with food. The chef was not impressed, for the food was supposed to be taken to the waiting food critic and will surely have dog hair all over them.
The sword suddenly glowed exceedingly bright.
Evil Spirit: Curses! How could I have been found out by this stupid sword-swinging buffoon!
Hero: I might be stupid, but you were not subtle.
Evil Spirit: How?! I am darkness personified! I move in the shadows! I hide in the dreams of men! I am the nightmares that plague your every sle--
Hero: It's midday. All I had to do was follow the large patch of darkness moving on the floor.
Evil Spirit: (silence)
Hero: (silence)
Wolf Man: Ow, I think I have soup in my ears!
Evil Spirit: Shit.
|
EvilPigeonWriter
|
Time_Significance
|
2023-03-03 14:53:02
|
2023-03-03 14:38:04
| 167 | 101 |
jareftc
|
jarcegj
|
11gzjb8
|
11gzjb8
|
[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.
|
Memories are a strange thing. Entirely real for the individual, as rock solid as we desire to make them, yet incredibly fluid as well. Influenced as much by our own whims and wants as by anything that actually happened, even events that occur right in front of us.
Seeing the excuses people would make for forgetting their keys, wallets, phones, anniversary's, or even simply what time it was, ended up being a source of endless entertainment to me. The effect never lasted long, but it was enough to be amusing even after it wore off. Trying to find a way around White Lightning's impossible speed was my current project however. Something about their brains' incredible ability to process information even moving as fast as they did meant anything I tried to make them forget was reasserted before I could even blink. Quite the puzzle.
White Lightning had been quite insistent that I was a villain most foul initially before they realized how relatively petty my "inconveniences" actually were, especially to them. After that it was the occasional brief slap on the wrist or stern talking to for wasting their time when I was inevitably caught yet again attempting to relieve some poor bank of its government insured funds. Not that I needed the money, but it was fascinating to try and fail yet again to make White Lightning forget even something as simple as their own name.
Then came the day of the headlines. Destructo had at last defeated Musclebound the next state over. Worse yet, Destructo had lived up to his name and actually finished Musclebound off. I had my own fond memories of Musclebound from when I had first started out. Always a kind word for my various "victims", a polite greeting for passersby once I was able to make him forget I was there. The lengths he went to in an attempt to help anyone at all was truly astounding to me and White Lightning reminded me of him in no small part. Though I hadn't seen him in years, the thought of never witnessing the incredible dichotomy of such gentleness coming from such a massive individual filled me with what I could only assume was regret.
After filling away my memories of Musclebound, I considered what to do about this so-called villain who had so thoroughly crossed the line. I was still pondering this when the explosion rocked my small apartment. Looking outside revealed White Lightning in a crumpled heap on the street. At first I was afraid I was going to need to file away two adversaries in one day but then they began to crawl away from the source of the explosion. Looking in the other direction from my "nemesis", I saw Destructo strolling down the street. Here. In MY neighborhood.
Destructo was spouting some nonsense about how feeble White Lightning was, how disappointed he was in them, etc. etc. I ignored this. Walking out to White Lightning I asked if they were injured. "I'll be fine!" they said, "But you need to run! He's already killed so many today!" Abruptly, I realized something. It wasn't regret I had been feeling, it was rage. So many memories yet to be made, stolen away from people who had yet to make them. Unforgiveable. I placed a hand over White Lightning's own and gave what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Forget about it." I said. How odd to solve the puzzle now of all times. He just had to be...still. Seeing the familiar glaze over their eyes and knowing my identity was now safe, I stood and turned to face the source so many lost memories.
Destructo was spouting something about, naturally, destroying me for interrupting his impending victory. Why did they always feel the need to talk so much? I retrieved a familiar memory from my mental files and stalked directly towards the self-important fool. The look on his face changed instantly from narcissistic fury to utter shock as I appeared in front of him almost instantly. At the speed of Lightning in fact. Reflexively, he lashed out at me only to have his arm held fast in my suddenly Musclebound grip. This memory was still fresh and raw, but it felt appropriate to the circumstance. "You forgot about the first rule of being a villain." My eyes began to glow viciously with yet another memory, this one old and dry but solid as stone. "I would call this justice, but I'm no hero. So you are simply going to become a lesson that no one should ever forget."
|
When I arrived, I saw a pool of blood. Not where someone had died, but a full sized pool, like a water park you’d take your kids to. How many people died for that? And in the middle was the cause of it all, swimming in the middle, laughing.
He turned as I walked closer to him, though for a moment, then recognized me.
“You’re the judge! That one villain that never actually secedes in any crime, dispite trying nearly every one!”
“Yes, I am.”
“What do you want, I’m in the middle of a relaxing dip right now. If you want to join me, sign up was yesterday.”
“I have come to judge you”, I said as the small set of golden scales materialized in my hand.
“You? You never do anything, you just talk a little bit, then get convinced to give up and walk away. “
“I walk away because these scales always seem to tip in favor of the hero’s”, I said brushing my finger against the smiling jewel imbedded in the middle of the scales. As I did, it changed into an angry expression, seeing as if in response to the situation.
I think today, they may finally tip in my favor.
“Yeah right”, he said, then started to get up. Only he stopped as soon as his feet touched the ground.
“What did you do to me!” He yelled with anger.
“Nothing more than I said I would. I came to judge you. On your end, I’ll place that power you used to hunt down all those innocent people.” I placed a small gem, and the scales tilted toward him.
“You’re quite powerful, but for my end I think I’ll put the lives you took.” The pool seemed to drain itself condensing into a small red gem that floated onto my side evening across both sides.
“What do you choose for the second one? Keep in mind there’s only enough room for three options on the scales, and the first was my pick for both of us.”
“If this is how your abilities work, then I’ll just beat you at your own game, just like all the others. I choose my desire for bloodshed”, he said with a smile, “it’s even stronger then my ability.”
“Very well”, I stated coldly as the second gem appeared, tilting thing back towards him. “I hope you don’t mind if I make both of my other two at the same time. I choose the potential of the lives you took, as well as the good deeds that they accomplished.”
The scales tipped in my favor again, only slightly this time.
“That little? Ha! Too bad, I chose all the misdeeds that I’ll do! Then I’ll tear you apart, to start refilling my pool.”
A small gem appeared on his side, barely moving the scales, but it was enough to make it even.
“Why’s it so little?” He asked, puzzled.
“It’s because the only bad thing you can do now is not regret your actions.”
Once again, the scales were even. I grinned as I anticipated what would happen next. The gem in the middle had changed once again, laughing at the criminal in front of me, then floated onto my side for the first time. The wait was so much, that everything in his side was flung into the air.
“It seems like today they favor me. I will now say you sentence. You will be stripped of your power. First set of gems dissolved. Second, you will suffer 5 years for each life you have taken, method of execution will be determined by those you slaughtered. And third, you will have do twice as much good as you’ve done wrong. Not even death will let you escape.”
The last set of gems dissolved, along with his powers, leaving him as weak as an old man. Then the spirits pulled him into a cell that appeared out of nowhere.
I walked away pleased, for once I had finally won.
|
RadHazG
|
Practical_History111
|
2024-09-24 04:12:15
|
2024-09-24 02:43:36
| 31 | 20 |
lon40b4
|
lomrvs3
|
1fnekwz
|
1fnekwz
|
[WP] Your spouse tries to murder you by pushing you off of a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean. Just as you believe you have drowned, you suddenly wake up underwater among merpeople. They resuscitated you by turning you into a merperson.
|
It was pain that awoke me. Not the burning of my lungs, but sharp lines on my neck. It was a cold pain, mixed with the horrific feeling of my skin flapping and floating. I sucked in a heavy breath, moaning at a fresh wave of sensation passing through the slices.
I felt something wrap around my arms, sucking at the skin there. It's touch was gentle, but the grip was solid. I tried to move, but found only a little give before I was stopped. Breathing in another feeling of pain, I opened my eyes.
Instantly I felt the water still touching them. But this time it no longer stung, nor blurred the sights before me. I noticed the thick tentacles first, covering my lower body and binding my limbs. They connected to a central body, one that gradually shifted between colours. Where it started out as an enormous octopus, it changed as I looked further upwards.
It merged into the upper body of a woman. Her skin was pale green, where the shifting colours didn't reach. A mass of vibrant yellow hair was tied back with a strip of seaweed, pullingit away from her angular face. I felt colour rise to my cheeks as I realised she lacked any other clothing, though she seemed uncaring of the situation.
Seeing me look at her, her mouth split open, revealing a row of large sharp fangs. They were reminiscent of sharks teeth, even more so as she grinned. Her voice was garbled, yet I could understand it clearly. "Calm yourself. It is good to see you awake, surface dweller. You have been through a lot."
I breathed again, the pain lessened. Yet then I realised what was happening. I was underwater. I had no air. But I was breathing. I panicked, sucking in more water. Yet I didn't feel like I was choking or drowning. Instead, I could feel a movement through the slits in my neck.
I whispered at her, feeling it harder to speak through the water, but persevered. "What.. is... this?"
The merwoman nodded, holding up a slate. "Good. Asking questions, means your brain activity is acceptable. What's your name?"
I strained again, looking around the room. It was cramped, walls made of moss coated wood. Attached to the ceiling was another plant, a glow attached to a long stem. The merwoman filled a large part of the room, as I forced myself to speak through the water. "What... is... happening?"
She held me firm, frowning. "I get this is confusing. But answer my questions, incase I need to do anything to help you. Then I will happily answer any of your queries. So please, what's your name?"
I blinked, falling back onto the soft surface beneath me. "Kaiden... Holmes."
"Kaiden, thank you. What was the last things your remember?"
I rolled my eyes back, thinking. What was it? I recalled a ship. I remembered a woman. No, wait, she wasn't any woman. She was my wife. We had had dinner. She wanted to watch the stars with me on our balcony. We looked out at them. Then... then she pointed to something in the water. I leaned over the railing to take a look, then... then....
My blood went cold as the memory filled my head. My feet were lifted up. I was tipped overboard. By her. She had wanted to kill me. And she had succeeded. I could remember trying to tread water for so long. But I got tired. And I slipped beneath the waves, my lungs filling with water, and everything went dark.
I blinked back to the present, seeing the woman there looking at me on concern. "I was... on a... cruise. My wife... tipped me... overboard."
She shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry. To be betrayed by one you loved, that is a hard thing to experience."
My eye felt warm for a moment, before it was carried away. "Thank you."
She put the slate down, pushing through the water to float upright. "I can say though you are physically Biut as healthy as we could expect. We will however provide you with assistance for however long you need, to get used to this life."
I frowned at her, momentarily broken away from my misery. "Used to this life? What do you mean? And who are you anyway?"
The merwoman put a her hand to her chest. I felt a little shame as I noticed they were webbed, kicking myself for missing it before. "I am Yallari, one of our blood speakers. Unfortunately, when we found you, you were unresponsive. In surface dweller terms, you would have been considered medically dead.
We couldn't return you to the surface, as that would confirm your death. But below here, we could share our life with you. Our scout gave you the Breath of the Seas, what your people call the Mermaids Kiss. It gave you a chance, and under my care brought you back. It did come at a price though."
She pulled away her tentacles pulling away from me. I looked down at my bare chest, noticing a hard growth down my sides. It matched with growths on my hands, forming a hard crust. I was down to three fingers on each hand, now longer and hard.
The growths on my chest continued, becoming plates were my hips used to be. It expanded out, with six thick legs curled underneath. They flexed as I thought about standing, as Yallari spoke over me. "I had to change you. Normally the conversion process is done consciously, with surface dweller in question choosing their shape. With you, I couldn't wait for you to recover, so I had to let your subconsciousness develop you."
The sting of losing my human body was dulled by the pain of betrayal I felt. I felt like I should be angry. I should be hurt. But all I felt was numb. I turned to her, whispering. "Thank you. For saving me."
Yallari gave a small smile. "You're welcome."
|
"Hey Miranda, how was the party?"
"It was good Tom, real good, say, it's real quiet out here tonight isn't it?"
"Yeah, almost everybody is inside in the party, or asleep in their rooms."
"So it's just us out here huh?"
"Oh I like the way this is going."
"Not for long."
Miranda shoved Tom off the back of the ship with a kick to the chest, it was nothing personal, she.just wanted the money. Miranda had been doing this song and dance for years now, find a man, take out a life insurance policy, kill him and get the cash, and Tom was looking to be no different.
---
Tom was drowning, he had cut himself on the way down, his thigh gushing blood fast as the cut was very deep, he fell deeper and deeper, desperately trying to get higher, but ultimately sinking fast than he could climb. His waterlogged suit was doing him no favors as he could not move quite so well with it on. His last thoughts would be filled with regret, betrayal and burning anger, as his vision began to fade however, a bright white light was shown to his eyes.
---
"Wake up, oh please, wake up." Sarah pleaded with the new gillkin in front of her. She had spent incredible effort to bring him to the elders as fast as possible, hoping to save his life. The village had fallen on hard times, and they needed all the manpower they could get. And so, she had convinced the elders to perform the ritual of kin, and save his life in return for service for a few years, a fair trade she thought.
"Face it, we were too late." Zonu said dejectedly.
But right before she gave up hope, the man stirred, sitting upright with a jolt, his hands bolting to his thighs.
"I'm Alive? Holy shit I lived! Wait what the fuck?" He glanced at his body, then, to his surroundings. He began to panic, and curl up into the fetal position.
"Calm down, calm down, I SAID CALM DOWN! Let me explain. You were drowning in the ocean, you would have died there, infact you almost did anyways, we saved your life by turning you into one of us, it was the only way, I'm sorry." Sarah replied, scratching the back of her head in mild shame at the situation.
"No no, you did what you had to, I'm not going to yell at someone for trying to do the right thing."
"The village elders did have a cost for this though, we've been ~~trying to reach you about your car's extended warehouse~~ running low on manpower and have fallen on hard times. So in exchange for performing the ritual of kin, you must repay us with work, afterwards you are free to leave or stay if you wish."
"Alright then. I really appreciate this, you won't regret this. Lets get to work."
---
It had been six. Long. Years. Since the day he had been killed and tossed into the deep with little to no care. Tom had grown in that time, learned skills, trades, and to love again, but now, a golden opportunity awaits him, through spells of divination and animal spys, he has learned that Miranda, his *murderer*, was staying on a beach resort nearby, and he was **not** about to let this slip by. He made his last second checks, his trident was sharpened, his potion of shifting form was freshly brewed, and his rope was sturdy and strong.
He waited for her to walk by. He waited, and waited, and waited, and finally, there she was, walking alongside another victim, he could see the knife hidden under her blouse, barely poking out from the bottom, the man next to her was clearly nervous, being much younger than her now, likely freshly an adult it didn’t matter to him though, just so long as he didn't get in the way.
He drank the shifter's potion, and walked ont the shore. He knew there would be no one else in sight, his ex was to thorough for that, he grabbed her by the throat and squeezed, wrapping the rope around the legs in a movement that would have confounded the him of six years ago, but he was different now, not so naive and trickable as before, his ex dropped the knife in the struggle, having raised it moments before he grabbed. He screamed in blind rage at her.
"**DO YOU REMEMBER ME? OH I REMEMBER YOU MIRANDA! I BET YOU THOUGHT YOU KILLED ME, ALL THOSE YEARS AGO! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO I AM?** I am truly sorry kiddo, but this here **WENCH** has deceived you, she never loved you, not even a little, she's simply a psycho who kills her lovers for her own sick gain, I apologize that it got this close."
"Wh-wh-wha?"
"I'm sorry," as he drove the trident into Miranda's heart, killing her in a moment. "I suppose introductions are in order, I'm Tom Kelpthorn formerly Tom Smith, I was a man she had tried to kill six years ago. Come now, sit by the waterline, this is a long story to tell."
|
Shalidar13
|
the_lonely_poster
|
2024-02-27 20:51:46
|
2024-02-27 20:51:10
| 113 | 34 |
ksfklxw
|
ksfkhu7
|
1b1hon9
|
1b1hon9
|
[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.
|
The king stared in horror as the man he sentenced to death a full day ago pulled out the splintered remains of his wooden sword from the throat yet another noble knight sent to dispatch him. He didn't quite realize the prisoner's preferred method of execution - honourable combat against his finest knights - would prove so *hard*. Worse yet... he was running out of knights.
The latest knight, having fallen victim to the prisoner, fell to the ground. His gurgled breaths soon turned to deafening silence as the prisoner stared daggers at the king, wooden sword clutched tightly in his hand. His face was covered in blood from a cut on his forehead, yet this was so long ago it was now dry and crusted; his straw-coloured hair was caked in mud and filthy. Yet despite all of this, the most threatening feature were the eyes. Like two sapphires staring directly at you, they'd make his gaze appealing and seductive under any other circumstance. Right now, however, it felt like staring into two blue flames of Death itself.
"Verter," the king whispered to his chancellor, "why isn't he dead yet?"
"The knights have thus far failed to best him in combat, sire," the chancellor replied dryly.
"Wh- I know that, damn you!" the king hissed back. "But how?! He- he has no armour! Or a weapon!"
"You have graciously provided him with a wooden sword, sire."
"That's not a damn weapon!"
"He doesn't seem to share that sentiment, sire."
The king sighed. "Who was this man again?"
"A governor, sire. He was managing the Aretius province."
"He's a... he's a *clerk*?" the king gasped and cast another look at the man. Chiseled chin, muscles of steel, taller than any warrior he had ever seen... he certainly didn't *seem* like a clerk.
"Yes, sire."
"And his crime? Do remind me. There's been so many lately..."
"He openly questioned your authority and called your rule 'brazenly ineffective and tyrannical', sire."
The king shook his hand and stood up, approaching the edge of his viewing stand.
"You!" he yelled loudly. The clerk, already facing him, merely looked up.
"What is your name?" the king asked.
"You sentenced me to death yet you do not know my name?" the man bellowed back. The king looked back at his chancellor nervously.
"Well? Answer!" he commanded again.
"Guilliman. My name is Roboute Guilliman," the man said. He didn't even seem out of breath.
"I could use a man like you, Roboute," the king smiled. "Perhaps I could be... persuaded to pardon your transgression."
"I take it you're running out of knights then?" the clerk smirked.
"Accept my offer while I am still feeling merciful," the king barked.
"*Mercy*? You don't know mercy," the clerk snarled back; his resentment so clear it was practically dripping off of every word. "You grow fat while your subjects suffer. You build lavish mansions while the aqueducts fall to pieces and the people fell to cholera. You laugh at your jesters while your kingdom rots around you. No; had you known mercy, *this wouldn't have happened*."
"I- ugh," the king scoffed. "What do you want then?"
The clerk took a deep breath. "Relinquish your rule to me. You will receive a charitable stipend to live off of while I fix the chaos you have created. You will be allowed to peacefully watch as the realm flourishes and its people prosper."
"Abdicate?!" the king laughed. "You're as mad as a hatter. *And* wasting my time. I will not-"
The king's victorious speech was cut down when the man decided to do something he hadn't thus far; something that he was hoping to avoid.
He started calmly walking towards the king.
Splintered wooden sword in hand.
|
Duke Horatio gripped his broken wooden sword and stepped into the coliseum arena, his heart steeled and prepared for this very day back when he started plotting to kill the old tyrant and paved the way for the unfavourite crippled prince onto the throne.
There was no denying it, everything he did for his nation to kill the corrupt ministers and topple the tyranny at its very core, they were all treacherous treason on his part. Even though he had raised the newly crowned King Eric IV like his own son, back when nobody wanted anything to do with a boy born with deformed legs, King Eric IV’s hands were tied by ancient tradition and laws. There was no sparing a duke who had cut a bloody swathe through the King’s Court and racked up a kill count of over a hundred men. Even if Horatio was more of a father to him than his actual biological father, he must be executed by law.
The only saving grace was King Eric IV allowing Horatio to choose his execution method. To die in honourable combat against the king’s knights.
The first few fights began with a flurry of parries from Horatio. There was no injuring heavily armored knights while he was dressed in prison rags and armed only with a weak wooden sword. He ran circles around them, knowing that the heavy armors would tire them out faster while he remained nimble on his feet. One by one, the knights would fall, sweating profusely and exhausted. They would swing wildly only to miss Horatio, the knights’ arms grew heavier, and their attacks slowed.
Horatio spied a slight smile on the king’s face for a brief moment that faded to give way to a grim expression he had to wear to prove his mettle against those who had little faith in “King Eric the Lame”. The young king raised a pumped fist shyly, just barely concealed by the high inner walls of the coliseum.
Knight after knight collapsed in exhaustion and had to be dragged out of the arena by attendants. It has been 24 hours of fighting non-stop, Horatio’s strength was nearing its end, his willpower giving way to fatigue.
“Any more knights to throw at me tonight, my king?” Horatio mustered all his energy to manage a shout, leaning against the wooden sword in one hand.
“Any brave knight wishes to challenge the condemned man in the pits?” King Eric IV declared.
“No sire, I think you’ve run out of knights,” whispered one of his advisors standing by his side.
The crowd was cheering, and demanding the king’s signal. With no more knights willing to challenge Horatio, his fate, his life and death boiled down to a single thumb.
King Eric IV stood up with the aid of his servants and propped himself up on the royal sword he had inherited after his father’s death.
He gave a thumbs up.
Not a single one of his former collaborators who conspired to seize the throne and bring him into power must live to tell of his part in his father’s death.
|
SirPiecemaker
|
Tregonial
|
2023-04-27 14:29:38
|
2023-04-27 14:14:54
| 127 | 68 |
jhx8zx2
|
jhx6vvx
|
130gchs
|
130gchs
|
[WP] You are a dragon. The other dragons despise you, because they say you have no read hoard. You always change your shape to look like a man, and you are a guild master of an adventurer’s guild. The other dragons are WRONG. This guild, these people, THEY are your hoard.
|
"Hi mom! Im in the ER again, they made me write to you. Dont worry nothing serious, i just had a bit of a crash. The food is good, the bed is nice and comfy, im getting used to it. Dont cry again please, im still in the millions. xoxo"
I finished the text and locked my phone getting ready to bed. I was laying down full of thoughts and couldnt fall asleep. Number slowly ticking. They dont understand me, they think im insane. Some of them think i made up the numbers, some of them think im wasting them. They dont realise im at the top of the world, invincible. I can be anything, i can be good, a firefigther, a warrior, a man of justice and vigilance. Or i can be evil, the richest man on the planet, a mercenary, a dictator, i can make the world burn.
Ever since i was a child i was racing the numbers in my head, testing my limits, pushing them. I fell off the bike. Minus ten. I crashed a car. Minus hundred. Got into a fight full of drugs. Few hundo again. I dont care, im still deep in the millions.
The comforting ticks in the back of my head drifted me into sleep.
I wake up in the morning my dad yelling. He is coming at me again, how can i be so irresponsible, how can i be this wicked, how can i do this to the family. He cares a lot about my well being but he doesnt understand me either. He doesnt know how it feels to be all mighty. To know what i know.
Im falling asleep again. I sleep a lot lately, they say it is because of the medications. The excessive ammount of drugs i used are causing complications and they cant treat me properly. The little time im awake im spending comforting my parents. Telling them not to worry, i wont die. Im still in the millions.
Days are getting a bit rougher and im balancing between the land of living and the land of dreams. Im rarely ever awake anymore. My family are gathering around me daily, getting ready to the worst. Barely holding myself togather but im still comfident. I cant die like this, i cant die now. Its getting worse but they cant stop me, i will rule the word, number by number i will climb to the top.
I wake up at night, the room is dark, only my mom is with me. Even when she is asleep she is crying. I cant open my eyes anymore but i hear her tears dropping on the handle of my bed. I want to tell her not to worry. I will eventually get better. Im calm, im comfident, im invicible. But i cant speak anymore. Its slowly getting darker. The only thing what remains are my moms tears dropping and that dreaded voice counting after every little cling when the water hits the iron. I outran the numbers. I won but i was wrong, i wasnt invincible. I was cruel.
|
*Three*
I’ll look back at this moment when I’m older and describe it as ‘happening is slow motion’, but it doesn’t. It’s fast. And scary.
*Two*
I couldn’t tell where he pulled the gun from, maybe his waistband? But I’m not sure now and I’ll never be. There’s a swish. Is it from the metal moving so quickly or the rustling polyester of his off-brand polo? Again, I don’t know and I won’t know.
*One*
Somehow the barrel hits my temple before I notice it’s a gun. It rattles my head the way a car wreck does. Scrambles my thoughts.
But I heard it again.
*One*
There was a bang. Outside, downstairs. Could’ve been a car door, could’ve been an echo, could’ve been a premonition. But we both heard it. And I know that because his eyes shifted to his right, shooting to the front door of the apartment.
*One*
It’s the only moment I have. My arm sweeps up from nowhere, knocking his elbow and pushing the pistol up, pointing it to the ceiling, his eyes snap back to mine and his pupils constrict and then immediately dilate. Does he hear the counting too?
*One*
My hand, sloppy and fumbling, somehow gets the pistol, my fingers wrap around the hilt and for the first time I notice how sweaty my palms are. He’s not looking at me anymore, he’s looking at the gun that’s now completely in my hand.
*ONE*
He backs away and he starts crying, weeping, gasping for air, and I straighten my arms, my elbows hurt from locking them out with all my strength, my index finger looped around the trigger and I —
*ZERO*
— squeeze.
*zero*
I never heard the gun go off. I’ve heard they’re loud, that they can’t damage your hearing but, I still don’t remember hearing it.
*six hundred thirty-nine*
The counting came back once the cops arrived.
*six hundred forty*
And it only sounds off when I lie. Can you hear it?
*six hundred forty-one*
|
Nerdcoreh
|
BurtAndButter
|
2024-04-13 10:09:34
|
2024-04-13 07:29:43
| 48 | 25 |
kzd43j5
|
kzcrcc4
|
1c2rfrz
|
1c2rfrz
|
[WP][TT] In the present life, you are what you eat. But when you die, it turns out you have to battle what you've eaten throughout your life to gain access to the afterlife. You remember, with a sinking feeling, that adventurous trip you took in Australia.
|
**Part 1 of 2**
———————————————————————————
Fear radiated through Jaq’s body. She had no idea what they wanted. *What do kidnappers do?*
She didn’t want to answer the question. Her legs, which were tied in criss-cross, were cramping. She shifted in a fruitless effort to ease the pain. In doing so, she realized she felt something in her pocket.
*They didn’t take my phone?* Jaq shifted again, feeling the case press slightly against her thigh through the pocket. *Are they stupid? Rodrigo would have realized I was gone by now. The first thing he’d do is track my phone. The next thing he’d do is call and see if I lie about where I am.* She tried to remember if she’d kept her ringer on or not, but shook off the thought. It didn’t really matter, they’d still hear the vibration. Now that she’d identified their first mistake, she noticed their second; they hadn’t gagged her. She chose not to make this fact obvious, on the off chance they had planned to, but simply forgot, like idiots.
“How much you think they’ll pay for her?” One voice said
“I don’t know. Hey, girlie, how much will you parents pay to see you alive?”
“Not a dime.” She muttered. *Two guys? Well, fuck you both, your asses are done for the minute Rodrigo calls.*
“If they won’t pay a dime, I guess we’ll have to get our money’s worth a different way.”
She felt a tug behind her head, and the blindfold fell away. She looked around, quickly locking eyes with one man, before shifting her gaze to the other. The first man was gross to her; he was the sort of fat that made him seem grubby in nature, his grumpy hands and stumpy fingers clutching the blindfold. She hoped they’d never put it back on; she didn’t want to have anything he touched anywhere near her. His face was no better, resembling a bug-eyed pig in her imagination, with most of his greasy, brown hair lost to male-pattern baldness.
The second seemed to be the polar opposite of the first; he was skinny, similarly to a hardcore drug addict, with needle marks to make her perceive one in the same. His face was sad, and weepy, it was like he wasn’t quite there. Was he high right now? On what?
She thought back to her criminal justice course, where they’d done a brief overview of drugs. If it was a depressant, the addict wouldn’t be of any issue. She noted to herself that she should be careful not to tick him off, on the off-chance he’d taken a stimula-
Her thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing feeling; that was that; *That’s gotta be Rodrigo.* She thought.
The men quickly reacted, the grubby scumbag reaching for her thigh to take her phone. To Jaq, it was his third mistake. She lunged for his wrist, and caught hold of the flabby skin of his forearm. The taste alone made her want to recoil and vomit, but rage forced her to bite down more.
Grubby yanked his arm around as he screamed, She didn’t let go, being dragged onto her side. The addict raised his foot, and pain exploded in her skull; she felt herself tumble a little; she’d lost grip on the arm, but she tasted blood. Her instinctive repulsion kicked in; she whipped up every ounce of saliva she could to spit and cleanse her mouth.
Grubby didn’t appreciate it. “You little bitch!” He went to reach again, but seeing the blood leaking from his forearm, he looked at his drug-addled partner.
*I really hope he takes depressants…* She thought again as the addict grabbed the collar of her shirt. “We’ll fucking kill you.” He muttered. “But don’t worry, we’ll take our time.” He glanced down at her, reigniting the strongest urge to bite through his throat, rip through arteries, and watch him bleed out. The fantasy was tempting, but she resisted it. “That won’t happen.” She said, fully assured of her gut feeling. “You idiots didn’t even take my phone. That call was my brother.”
“So what?” The addict yanked the phone from my pocket, and powered it off. He then smiled as he bashed it until he was satisfied it could have no hope of even being scrapped into useful parts. “Now what’s brother gonna do?”
Only now could she no longer resist. She could see the watch on Grubby’s wrist; They’d only held her for an hour and a half. They had only driven for about five minutes. “You guys are terrible at this. Do you even know who you snatched?” She asked. Her gut feelings reassured her cockiness, “I have 15 siblings, and I’m the youngest, the only girl in fact. 15 brothers.” She found herself laughing, assured of her safety to a point of irrationality; “Hey, let’s do some math!” She exclaimed, watching as their faces turned redder, “What’s 2 against 15?” She asked. “It’s easy, guys, come on! What? Couldn’t cut in it school? Is that why you had to suck at kidnapping?”
|
It's a large van, plenty of room to do some damage. One of Karen's captors sits near her, pointing with his thumb.
"Guess she thinks she's some kind of kung fu master with that blindfold on--"
In an instant, a bare foot slaps against his jaw. The slender man's skin ripples like a loose sheet on a bed. Pure horror paints her second captor’s face. Thin Tim might have been slight, but he was a seasoned fighter in their circle. To see him reduced to a limp mess with a single kick... who was this girl? Wasn't she supposed to be tied by the ankles?
"Tim! What the f--" Karen spins then rolls backward, wrapping her hands bound behind her back around the second captor's neck. She slams the back of her head into his nose, turning it nearly inside out.
"AHH!! AHH!!" the man screams.
"What's going on back there Jagmeet?" The driver can't make out the blur of commotion in the back through the rearview mirror. They're driving fast, he can't take his eyes off the road. The man in the passenger seat twists to face the back of the van, gun in hand. He sees his friend, Jagmeet, being repeatedly slammed in the face by the back of the young girl's head. Jagmeet flails and screams in vain. Nothing will save him.
The man in the passenger seat reaches for Jagmeet, making the worst mistake of his life. The driver swerves in an attempt to stave off Karen's attack, but Karen's dainty fingers latch onto the man in the passenger seat's finger, snapping it as Jagmeet slumps to the side, pulling Karen with him.
CRACK!
Karen dislocates her shoulder and twirls in the air to face the front of the van. The blindfold sticks, but Karen evolved past the need for eyes years ago.
SNAP!
Her shoulder pops back into place. Karen smacks Jagmeet's unconscious head into the passenger's hand, relinquishing the gun from his grip. The pistol misfires directly into her bindings. Unburdened by the shackles that once bound her, Karen leaps on all fours toward the man in the passenger seat.
"Kim, get your shit together!" shouts the driver. Ah yes, Kim, another name sings in Karen's ears.
"She's an animal I-- AHHH" Karen reaches into the front section of the car and sticks her pink acrylic nails into Kim's eye.
POP!
It's out, dangling by the nerve.
"WHAT THE FU--" Kim can't keep two eyes in his head, and the driver can't keep two eyes on the road. A semi swerves in front of them. The driver spins the wheel as fast as he can. The van topples and spins wildly. The limp bodies in the back flail as Karen walks on each wall as up becomes down, becomes down, becomes down. Like the center gear in a gyroscope, Karen cannot be anything less than perfectly level with the ground.
The van rolls to a stop. Kim mimics his friends, unconscious, but unfortunately for them all, still alive. Karen is nowhere in sight. Now's the driver's chance. His arm and leg are broken, his thigh bone protrudes from his camo pants, but the pain is numb in the shock. He needs to move, needs to survive.
Glass cracks behind him and he swivels his head. Nothing. Then from behind a giggle. He pivots again... nothing.
"WHAT ARE YOU!" the man screams into the air.
In his ears -- no -- in his head, he hears her.
"I'm the youngest of fifteen brothers, and my name is Karen. I'm invincible."
"AHHHH!!!" The driver covers his ears with both hands. Anything to get her out of his head. Then he feels her, from every direction, like the pressure of the deep ocean.
"What's your name? I need to know." the voice says.
"I-it's Jason!"
"That's my oldest brother's name."
"Oh thank god!"
"I hate my oldest brother. He's the only one stronger than me."
"NOOO--"
RRRRRIP!
Jason's head falls to the ground, his last look of terror still worn. Karen opens the van and grabs her Hello Kitty backpack and Sanrio crocs. It's time to run, or she may be late for her grade seven English class.
|
Apexyl_
|
writerparis
|
2024-09-03 01:28:16
|
2024-09-03 00:11:34
| 274 | 78 | null | null |
1f7kp9r
|
1fzzdtx
|
[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 was relatively new to the supervillain business, a villain with the power to control water called La Siene. Now don’t go judging me, villainy pays well. Well it does as long as you aren’t in Paris. The Hero Ghost has built a whole network of heroes and informants to protect Paris from the Legion. Even the birds fought for him. But it wasn’t like Ghost was ruthless. He was famous for his care for those he defeated, many of the people on his team were villains that he’d reformed. He even married one.
Long story short, Ghost was famously kind and friendly, despite his serious demeanour, but he was also impossible to cross with that network of his.
One night the legion was having a social at a bar when the door was smashed open. Ghost stood there, furious. His entire body is concealed by his costume, yet the tenseness all over and the way he carried himself, nobody dared speak as he walked in.
“Who. Did. It.” He demanded.
“You’ll have to be more specific,” one of the more smug villains said as he recovered.
“The orphanage. You’ll tell me who did it,” he pulled out his pistol, “or I’ll kill all of you to make sure they die.”
“You seriously think you can intimidate us like that? We know you. You don’t-“
The gunshot went off before I realised he’d raised the gun. There was a hole in the man’s head as a look of shock passed over his face and he crumpled to the floor. There was a deathly silence.
“Don’t make me have to ask a second time.”
“What makes you think you can beat all of us.”
A loud thud rang out as Ghost dropped his backpack and brought out a power core. We all stared in shock. This core allowed him to channel a stars energy through him, but it also gave him severe cancer. He hasn’t used it since he got married.
“My family lived in that orphanage. It wasn’t blood but who cares. I became a hero to protect my family and that’s also why I stuck to my morals. Without them, what’s the point in being heroic.” He glared at every terrified face in the crowd.
We all looked at each other, waiting for the one responsible to step forward. No one did.
“I guess it’s partly my fault. I gave you too much space. Too much freedom. Not anymore.”
I was the only one to escape that bar alive. I had 3rd degree burns across my entire body, 4th degree on my hands (completely burnt down to the bone) I spent a month in a coma before waking up. When I did, I found out that not only was I convicted for all my crimes, but Ghost had taken down the entire legion, dismantling until it was a bunch of fractured pieces clinging onto life. Many villains went to jail, many more died.
If I could go back, I would. Not to the day Ghost entered the tavern to stop him, that would have been impossible, but to the day before, so I could stop myself from destroying that damned orphanage.
|
espirose
|
apatheticchildofJen
|
2024-10-17 15:30:08
|
2024-10-17 13:40:07
| 657 | 94 |
lsdl13k
|
lsd1agu
|
1g5kua3
|
1g5kua3
|
[WP] The witch begs your forgiveness for cursing you as a baby; she was young and hot-headed, and would you like her to undo the curse? You aren't sure what to say as this is the first you've heard about any of this.
|
I’m not even sure if I have the correct address or found the correct person. It has been so many years ago since I was this young and hot-headed teenage witch. Now, much older, wiser, and less reckless, I had travelled far and wide to find the young man I had cursed in a fit of rage.
It wasn’t even the boy’s fault, his father was the asshole in question, but I had instinctively cursed his firstborn child. It’s in the witch’s handbook, you’ve heard the cliché, demand the firstborn child as payment or curse it.
“You’re Robert Marsh?” I asked the fish-faced creature before me. My curse was horrible, but it shouldn’t have advanced to the point where he was no longer human. “I may have cursed you as a baby in the past, but today I’m here to undo the curse.”
“Yes, that's me alright, I'm your guy. I don’t know anything about a curse though,” he replied, shaking his head, gawking at me with his bulging eyes. “If anything, I think I’m quite blessed.”
“Oh dear, you don’t even know you’re cursed…” I sighed, my strained voice heavy with remorse. “Have you looked into a mirror? Have you looked back upon your life and seen all the horrible things that have happened to you? Or the unusual life choices you made?”
“Why don’t you come in and talk? I can prepare some tea,” Robert invited me in, not a hint of anger or confusion despite what I had inflicted upon him. “You could tell me your story and share with me this supposed curse you tried to cast on me.”
“Coffee please, I’m not much of a tea person.”
“My lord has always been a huge fan of tea. So, pray tell, what is this curse you speak of?” His eyes filled to the brim with curiosity.
“Your father, he was such a playboy, and I was such a fool. When I discovered he dated me on a bet with his horny friends on how many girls he could hook up with in a month, I cursed him. Or rather you. If he was going to toy with the feelings of the women who fell in love with him so callously, his firstborn would be falling in love with monsters. For a man who fucked with a witch and broke her heart, he was doomed to only have one child, and a monster fucker of a child.”
Robert chuckled and nodded, “Cool story, I guess that sounds believable. I’ve always been fascinated by the supernatural growing up. Read lots of fantasy and horror stories, wrote fanfiction of my self-insert hooking up with cute monsters.”
“So, Robert, do you want to undo my curse?” I popped my question with much apprehension. A part of me hoped it wasn’t too late, or if my countercurse could even break the spell of whatever monster had enthralled him.
He just shrugged with a sunny smile on his hideous face. “I told you earlier, it’s a blessing to me.”
“You found someone you love despite the curse?” I said, my hands trembling and shaking, barely able to hold my cup of tea without spilling it all over the table. It was my worst fear, he’d fallen in love with a monster and embraced the transformation into…whatever freak he is right now. Who knows, they might have even made monster babies.
“Yea, I sure did,” his protruding eyes were positively glowing. “My lord is the most awesome person I’ve ever worked for. He pays well and on time, I get ample annual leave, great benefits, divine gifts, and my wishes granted. The best thing was definitely transcending my mortality to become a Deep One of the Seas. What’s not to love about Lord Elvari? You should meet him, he's a real charmer, got the most mesmerizing eyes a vivid shade of violet I ever seen.”
My jaws promptly hit the floor and my eyes almost leaped out of their sockets. Did I hear it correctly? The poor child’s gay for an eldritch lord. The curse had taken root too deeply, compelled him to accept cursed gifts I couldn’t possibly undo from a much more powerful eldritch entity with a hypnotic gaze too intense for a former human to resist.
“Robert, I’m sorry for taking up your time, doesn’t look like I could do anything for you. I’ll be taking my leave,” I muttered, jumping on my broomstick and taking off as fast as I can.
---
[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/)
|
The journal my mother had hidden in the attic, mildewed and falling apart, had stuck out like a nail in an old board as I was cleaning out her old house. I hadn't spoken to her in years, yet here she was, laid out page by page. She wasn't a good mother, some might have called her a witch, others a naturopath, some others crazy. Her snide and cold demeanor presented to veil the fear she had. Anyone who truly knew her could see it. I never understood as a kid why she treated me the way she did. Post partum depression wasn't exactly in the vocabulary of a young woman afterall. I only knew what I saw, what I felt, and now the only thing I feel is the rough edge's of a home made leather cover on an otherwise poorly made journal. It smelled. A thick layer of dust covered the compressed pages, some stained with what I can only imagine are ointments and potions of which she used to give me when I was ill. The stains remind me of the sharp taste, and even sharper tone my mother would give me when I made a fuss.
The leather creaks and strains as I open the journal, and a heavy weight fills the air. The first page is a complex pentagram, one I've seen before. The weight that fills my stomach as my eyes trace the formation was enough to buckle my knees. I didn't believe in witchcraft. I didn't believe my mother loved me. Yet, here I am, looking at a curse. The blood of *something* making up the intricate symbols with my name as its center. Latin scribbled in haste across the page. **Ut vita sanguinis fiat humore mortis** May the life of blood become the fluid of death. My mind stopped, everything stopped. Through the rest of the pages, curses all the same. Every page, **ut vita sanguinis fiat humore mortis ut vita sanguinis fiat humore mortis ut vita sanguinis fiat humore mortis ut vita sanguinis fiat humore mortis ut vita sanguinis fiat humore mortis**, it never ended. Dizzied and emotionally beaten down, I don't know what to think of this new revelation. I've always suffered of leukemia, ever since I was a child. Only because of my father, have I made it this far. The attic walls felt as if they were caving in. Everything around me squeezed with a pressure as immense as a dying star. Why would my mother curse me like this. I hadn't done a thing but be born hers. An entire journal, filled of blood curses. My hands frozen on the pages, as if not to let any more of them out into the universe. No. I couldn't accept it. There had to have been a reason. Frantically, I continued on, page after page, searching for an answer. Only on the final page of the journal, on the inside of the leather of the hardcover, a ward, carved into its surface. **Maledicta qui scribis, lacrymis matres Non** curses lie on those who write, for weeping mothers have no right. My doctors had lead me to believe that my leukemia was genetic, but my mother had never had it until her death. I didn't believe them. I was unlucky, I was the first in my family to have it. It couldn't have been genetic, and it wasn't. Laid out, in this journal, the burden of proof.
My mother wasn't a good mother. The was cold, and callous, and participated in weird practices and hobbies. Me and my father wrote off a lot of her behavior, even before they separated. Yet, in these pages lay her truth, naked and for me to witness. She loved me, and for that, I will never forgive her.
|
Tregonial
|
TheProphetGamer
|
2023-08-12 16:31:41
|
2023-08-12 15:14:27
| 236 | 44 |
jvvzs3k
|
jvvo950
|
15p52e7
|
15p52e7
|
[WP] You're standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.
|
"David, you've got to handle this" I whispered" You promised we'd be safe!"
It's really hard being brother to David the Demon-Slayer. I've been kidnapped, tied-up, beat-up and left for dead. It took me months to regain my strength and Julia was there to nurse me through the worst of it.
I've never been jealous of Dave despite what the tabloids would have you believe. He's a skilled warlock who's managed to save the city twice from destruction. They gave him a parade and the key to the city. I'm genuinely happy for him. But I don't have powers and he's got powerful enemies. I try to stay away and keep a low profile.
But for the important events in your life everyone says you can't keep you family out of them. I thought perhaps we'd be able to avoid the danger.
"I'M NOT HERE TO CAUSE YOU HARM HUMAN" the Demon King Bellowed.
"But you and David have vowed to kill each other!" I protested.
"BE THAT AS IT MAY", the Demon King Continued. " TODAY IS NOT THE DAY FOR BATTLE, SIT DOWN EVERYONE, I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO ATTEND MY DAUGHTER'S WEDDING."
Our guests continued to stand, as I felt my head start to spin a little. Julia was the Demon King's Daughter? What did this mean? I thought her parents were dead!
David looked at me with amusement as he said "Well, you sure know how to pick em. Jim"
|
*"Sorry I Am Late. The Transrealm Substation Is Only Running One Line Today, "* He said in a voice that simultaneously sounded of the screams of one thousand damned souls and the thunder of a mountain storm.
"Paz, bro, turn off your Hell voice. You are in the mortal realms"
"Oh, sorry about that." Said Pazuzu, King of Demons and of the Nine Hells. "Please continue. Sorry again.
"Just don't start a fire this time." Kai said as he turned back to his stunned bride. "I told you he is always late, and it would make a scene. Now we have to get everyone seated again"
|
dbzmm1
|
EsharaLight
|
2023-08-02 20:30:56
|
2023-08-02 17:56:07
| 173 | 48 |
juj5qet
|
juig22p
|
15gcxdh
|
15gcxdh
|
[WP] Humans have a reputation amongst the other sapient races. Not just for being ambitious and adaptable, but also for being monstrously disgusting. Most view them as lumbering hives of parasites, diseases, dead skin cells and bacteria. They are biological weapons; children of pestilence.
|
The Bleaching is what's known as a convergent civilizational development cornerstone. At some point, between phase one and phase two, a young sapient species will grow past their biological roots and transcend to a form that typically shares the shape and function of their evolved vessels, with none of the drawbacks or idiosyncrasies.
This usually means isolating themselves from the biosphere entirely. Acquire energy directly from light or electricity; optimize energy use so virtually none is wasted, break free from the needs of the body entirely. Fear no disease. Fear no poison. Fear no pollutant. Fear not time itself. Completely synthetic and optimized cellular facsimiles of themselves, engineered for the new lives of a young, space-faring civilization. Not just safe from, but completely incompatible with organic cellular life unilaterally.
The Bleaching. Freedom from the chaos of the biosphere.
Then along comes Humanity. At first we took their clunky exosuits as some sort of primitive, half-executed attempt at a bleaching. Some species opt for the autonomous shell, leaving their previous forms behind entirely. There are merits to that approach, but most are understandably reluctant to evolve themselves so drastically.
Imagine our surprise when, separated by a floor-to-ceiling plane of glass, the Humans shed their suits revealing unchanged, natural, purely organic physical forms. We could practically see the miasma of bacteria and viruses swarming around them with each breath; we could only imagine the stench as their digestive tracts churned their never ending cycle of consumption and expulsion.
Quite considerate of them, really, to take isolating measures. Or, more likely, they simply still have the fear. Vulnerable to any microbe they're not inoculated to, vulnerable to moderate changes in air pressure, vulnerable to simple trauma.
They laughed when we explained the Bleaching to them. So quaint, laughter; imagine having an involuntary response to amusement. But laugh they did, at their own hindsight, readily admitting that a Bleaching is much simpler compared to the measures they take to survive in space.
And those measures boggle the mind more so than anything the galaxy has encountered before. Pressurized vessels, shielded from the radiance of stars, spinning wildly to approximate gravity, their organic passengers literally freeze-dried, just to arrive at their destination before aging and succumbing to time. Completely artificial autonomous animunculi; toeing the line of sentience themselves, but constrained by engineered limits and compulsions. Slaves, really. Some completely without form, constrained to their digital systems, used for computational and automating purposes. Androids they called them. Or AI's.
We couldn't believe it. Instead of a bleaching, they had manufactured walking, thinking machines that easily qualify as bleached.
And along with their laughter... An ounce of pity. While we exchanged pleasantries, they imbibed food and drink, stuffing themselves, really; they had prepared double the amount necessary, unaware that their hosts wouldn't indulge.
And for the first time in thousands of cycles, we looked back, questioning what we had given up. Our world can be cold. We suffer not the failures of a volatile mind, knowing that we couldn't thrive if we destroyed each other.
Short-term reward drives, summarily neutered to pave the way for long-term cooperation. Selflessness. In the name of progress.
Selfless. Just like their androids. Which begs the question...
Did we truly choose our path?
|
A horror arrived on my homeworld today. From my window, I watched them stumble out of their ship, so sleek and silver, all rounded edges and mirrored surfaces, now so juxtaposed from the creatures residing within. At first, I thought them beautiful. They had bulbous, radiant helms that shone in the light of our sun, strong and stocky limbs. Their markings were all whites and grays, with patches of colour on their torso, so different from my own. They were giants, their helms cresting the tops of the largest buildings in my village. It was only when they began to shed their exoskeleton that I finally understood.
Word had spread quickly across the galaxy once the first world fell. Beware the harbingers, it said, and pray. Do not treat with, interact, or look upon. They may seem slow, harmless even. Take not their beauty for safety, they wear a mask behind which death itself resides, waiting to burst free. We laughed when the stories first reached our ansible. They became tales that mothers tell at night, to keep unruly younglings snuggled deep in their burrows. How could something of such terrible pestilence exist? They would collapse unto themselves, eaten by the very things that lived upon their flesh. We should have listened. We should have known.
First came the bulbous helms I thought so beautiful. Underneath was a totem of disease, a vector of death. Its skin was clammy and wet. Even from this great distance, I could see thousands (No, millions!) of tiny creatures crawling through its pores, swimming in the crusty, gelatinous oceans that were its eyes. Atop its head was a matted mass of fur, constantly sifting and shedding, home to all manner of pathogens, hugging each strand as tightly as a newborn would its mother. I retched, frozen in disgust, sick spilling from my mandibles, coating my thorax. The creatures made clacking noises at each other, the skin where their mandibles should be tearing open, spewing death, and I looked into the maw of the beast. A wet cavern of infection, malady abound. Tiny pieces of themselves constantly spewed outwards, coating the buildings around them, the ground, the very air. I can feel my limbs beginning to stiffen. I fear that this —
\*\*\*
Garth removed the last pieces of his suit, doused his face in some water, and hacked a loogie to the side of the landing site.
“Finally a friendly atmosphere”, he said, breathing deeply.
“I fuckin’ hear ya pal”, said Brunson, who was blowing his nose with grandiose trumpets. “Still has me congested”.
“Think we’ll find an alien this time?”
Brunson finished his final trumpet, wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and ruffled his hair.
“Eh, probably not.”
|
Voltage_Joe
|
BigSigiSchmid
|
2023-05-18 16:31:23
|
2023-05-18 16:14:37
| 208 | 72 |
jknjz25
|
jknh9gi
|
13kvaic
|
13kvaic
|
[WP] Nuclear weapons have been banned for so long in the a galactic community that most aliens think they’re just fairytales. Imagine their surprise when they see humans using them in a war.
|
The congress was in tense debate. Polaris-5, a mining colony on the fringes of human space, had fallen into the hands of alien invaders a few hours ago. “This is the correct time to invoke article 62” declared the president “to defeat these aliens, we must ensure that atomic flame is cast upon them without prejudice, or mercy. There is no diplomatic alternative, we must use a display of force.” An opposition had formed and many representatives had betrayed their parties or switched sides in a rare move regarding the future of the nation. One member of parliament rejected the presidents speech. “This is not the time to betray our morals. By doing this we are escalating a border war into a quest for the annihilation of our own species or theirs. Would we truly risk this, for the sake of our people?” The vote came in. 200-179 in favour of the invocation of article 62 of the constitution. The president spoke again. “I hear by declare that strategic and tactical nuclear warheads have been permitted until an indefinite amount of time has passed. We shall hold another vote on this topic in
a week.” With the weapons temporarily decriminalised, a strike was authorised. A flight of 40 aerospace and atmospheric attacks crafts took off from a nearby carrier, deploying 126 at-72 ‘anvil’ strategic nuclear warheads. Visible plumes of atomic fury destined the world to by cleansed in a crucible of radioactive fire, wiping out all alien presence on Polaris-5. On the ground, hell had been brought down on the aliens, the planets weak atmosphere igniting with a sinister crackle and burning in a runaway affect that obliterated every last cell on the planet. No one survived, even alien battleships in atmosphere where completely destroyed, their hulks drifting towards the planet slowly sentencing them to be shipwrecked on the newly emerging hellscape.
|
In a household of little green men, the TV played a broadcast of Earth. The son and daughter sat on the floor in front of the flat screen TV, legs crossed. "Mom", said the girl, "Do Earthlings know that we watch them?" "No, honey", said the mother walking in. "A war has broken out", said the announcer. A giant missile soared through the air before landing on a town and exploding. A mushroom cloud formed. "That's a nuclear weapon!", shouted the boy." "They're real?", asked the girl. "Maybe they have unicorns on Earth, too", said the boy. "Now, don't be getting any ideas", warned the mother. "About what?", asked the daughter. "Building nuclear weapons", she replied. "Don't worry, Mom. I would never make anything that dangerous", said the son. "You almost killed dad with your jetpack", said the girl, almost giggling.
Later, the son laid on his bed while Nuclear by Mike Oldfield played on his speaker. The daughter passed by, stopped, and stared. She looked like a mom about to discipline her kid. The son looked up at her. "What?", he asked, offended.
|
drifty241
|
ShySilverSurvivor
|
2023-11-30 20:23:01
|
2023-11-30 17:51:58
| 36 | 20 |
kbg8t7u
|
kbfjqq9
|
187hn7e
|
187hn7e
|
[WP] You are 1 out of 50 people who participated in a human trial study for an "intelligence serum" that was supposed to boost IQ and other various intellectual parts of your brain. You are the only one who hasn't gone insane.
|
"How do you feel?"
"Normal?"
"Really? just normal?"
"Okay. Well, no, but."
Impatient clipboard-tapping urged me to continue.
"I mean, I keep taking shape-rotation tests and doing well, but I was already decent at those. I guess the math problems are a little easier now."
"And... the questions at the end?"
"Yeah, I meant to ask about those. They feel more like, I dunno, depression index questions?"
"They are depression index questions, I'm not going to lie to you. But you're feeling okay?"
"Yes. And honestly, I'm weirded out. I know this should be a double-blind study, but I definitely took the real drug. I just don't get what side effects you expect me to experience."
"Well... okay, look. I'm going to break protocol for a second and say that you're the only one in the non-control group still showing up to your sessions. Your cohort are experiencing some dramatic life changes."
"Like...?"
"Hospital. Prison. The morgue. A *bunch* in the morgue. The ones we managed to talk to all say that they've 'cracked the code' or something. We think this drug might make you smart enough to figure out the meaning of life, and apparently it's terrible."
"Oh. Yeah, well, okay."
An eyebrow invited me to continue.
"There is none. Humans are iterated chemistry, as are all life. Nothing matters, morality is imaginary, there's no afterlife."
The eyebrows furrowed.
"and when you first really realize it, it hurts. It's, like, a major bummer. Maybe if I had just learned that now, I'd be robbing a bank somewhere? But I was still a kid at the time, barely a teenager. So what could I do? Wake up for school, drink coffee, write angsty poetry. I wasn't doing amazing at the time, but after a few years of unmoored nihilism you decide to live anyway. You can't just stare at the void all the time, there's nothing to find there."
"I see. I mean, I think I see."
"Maybe not. You're squirming like you're uncomfortable; you probably still have some hope to improve the species, hence the labcoat and drugs and clipboard."
"So are the drugs worth taking?"
"Not if you're driving yourself anywhere alone in the next few months. But, y'know, might as well."
"Um, okay. Last question. Any plans for the future?"
"Yeah. Keep working until something easier with about-as-good pay comes along. Marry someone, have a few kids."
"No bank-robbing? No terrorist attacks?"
"Negative expected value. I could preplan a heist on the treasury, but my smart ass would still have to be able to aim a pistol faster than a security guard, which I can't. So, no. Stock markets are the only way I'll be robbing anybody, thanks."
|
They said our IQ would go up. It did.
Then they all went insane. All at once
Me? I’m the last one left. There are guards all over the place. They came into my room and were halfway through dragging me out into the hallway when I asked what they were doing. Then they let go.
It turns out everyone else simply started screaming incoherently and tried to kill everything in sight. So when I spoke they were surprised. Didn’t stop them from taking me to a more secure location.
I’ve been here for two weeks now, and recently convinced one of the newer researchers to start a D&D session with me. He has no one at home, and we bonded quite well. I help him out in the lab during the day, we play D&D in the evening, and at night I sleep with a gun pointed at my head for if I sleep talk too much.
Still, there are other issues. MRIs show that my brain activity mirrors that of the insane guys, but I am as sane as I was before the drug. I think. It’s a bit hard to measure.
————
Year one and a half here. I was clear to go three weeks after being out in the facility, but was offered a position as an assistant to John. I took it, and the advertisers effects of the drug made themselves known. I recently finished testing a Hard Light generator with John, and it worked! This is a giant leap forward forHumanity in general!
My dreams are eternally weird, but I’ll take that over being clinically insane any day. I think what happened was that unlike everyone else, I was sleeping when some kind of low-energy EMP hit, so my dreams are insane instead of the other ways around.
————
I turned thirty today. John and I celebrated. And then the world went black.
They know what happened. My brain activity caught up to me. I’m insane up there. I need to fight, need to…
…
WAKE UP!
I… need… to…
*I never tested gep*
————
I’m awake.
I’m alive.
I’m free.
|
januarytwentysecond
|
Nomyad777
|
2023-03-09 01:04:19
|
2023-03-08 18:51:17
| 20 | 15 |
jbham3g
|
jbfqf96
|
11lqfxh
|
11lqfxh
|
[WP] “Mom…Dad…I’m…” “Gay? We know sweetheart. And we still love yo—-“ “No I’m—“ “Trans too? Oh don’t worry dear we always kind of knew…” “No for the love of god I’ve been turned into a vampire!!”
|
"Relax, honey, we're not entirely surprised..."
"You're not surprised? I'm a vampire! I suck blood! I burn under the sun! I'm a monster! And you're not surprised?"
"Your 1st cousin Trevor was bitten by a werewolf. Your 2nd Aunt Hazel married a skinwalker. Your 3rd Uncle Robert works for an eldritch god and was turned into a Deep One. We have plenty of experience with supernatural beings in the family."
"Mom! For the love of god I—"
"Which god?" Dad interjected.
"There's more than one god out there?"
"...Yea. I thought that was obvious," Dad scratched his chin. "Do you need a mentor to guide you through your transitions?"
Mom spoke up. "I know a few friendly neighborhood vampires who can show you the ropes."
"But I don't wanna be a vampire! I'm gonna miss basking in the sun! I like suntanning!"
"Honey, suntan lotion and sunscreen UV protection exist! You'll be fine!"
"But I'm hungry for blood! I don't wanna suck from people!"
"Lord Elvari has a huge supply of goat's blood for his own consumption. Maybe we can ask him to share his stash with you."
"I am not sharing drinks with some tentacle dude."
"He's a nice tentacle dude. Honey, be nice, he's a god. Divine retribution is very real, and every god has his limits."
"I'm a monster my friends won't hang out with anymore!"
"There are several monster networking groups on Meetup.com. Mom and Dad have a few friends who can link you up with them."
"But I want my human friends!"
"Bite them and bring them to your vampire meetup? The world is more accepting of supernatural beings ever since the masquerade collapsed years ago."
"Mom, Dad, you're too chill. Aren't you freaking out that your daughter is a vampire? Don't humans freak out when their kid is no longer human?"
"But honey, we're Shoggoths in human vessels."
------
[Thank you for reading! Please click here to view more stories by me!](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
|
The mom looks down, letting her mouth close slowly as she stops talking. The dad is no quicker to react, he knows better than to say anything else without thinking first, the last few exchanges were certainly evidence of that.
The mom takes a deep breath and approaches her child, "Dear? Can you please show me where you were bitten?"
The child nods and reveals a small scratch on his neck. "I was with someone...my-...her name is Sarah. We both got a little carried away and then...this."
Her mom smiles at her, "Don't worry, we're not mad or disappointed. We're going to help you through this."
With tears in her eyes, she hugged her mother. "Thank you."
Her father comes up behind them both and wraps his arms around them, making it a warm and slightly awkward family hug. As they hug, her father whispers to her mother, "I couldn't have said it better myself." Turning to his vampiric daughter, he smiles and kisses the top of her hair. "You're our child. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing will ever make us love you less because we will only ever love you with all of our hearts."
|
Tregonial
|
ur-socks-sir
|
2023-11-06 07:02:56
|
2023-11-06 04:58:10
| 309 | 47 |
k81hj3z
|
k816lrg
|
17ot6fq
|
17ot6fq
|
[WP] You’ve been bitten by a Zombie. You’ve already said tearful goodbyes to your loved ones as they leave you behind. The bite should make you turn in twenty minutes, so you sit down on a bench and wait… two hours later you’re still sitting there.
|
"No, come this way you stupid- Stop it! No! We're not eating that guy!" The zombie who was wandering in my direction abruptly got yanked backwards. It got pulled by its hair, which was already strange, but weirder still was... that nothing was there to pull it. The hair just seemed to get pulled, and the zombie obeyed the laws of... hair pulling, I guess.
"...Hello?"
"Oh, wait, you can hear me? Cool!" Where was that voice coming from?
"Who's talking to me?"
"Right, you don't normally see stuff like this." One of the zombie's arms suddenly jerked up and started waving. Not in an even vaguely human sense, more like a puppet's arm being picked up and waved around. "Hello! I am, or was, Amanda. Pleasure!"
"...I'm Anthony. And... what's going on?"
"You know how there are stories about how sometimes people turn into ghosts when they die? Well, that happened to me, but I died because I was bit by a zombie. And so now I'm lugging *this* sack of meat around-" The zombie's head got knocked to the side- "until either I find a way to get back in, or the whole zombification thing is fixed."
"That's... weird."
"Isn't it?" The zombie got pushed onto the ground, where it just lay near motionless. A faint gust of wind blew its way past me. "I know you can't see me, but I'm sitting next to you. Knocked down my body so I don't have to worry about it."
"So that's what that breeze was."
"Yep. Uh... so! What are you doing out and about? I mean, I got got because I was dead tired and passed out." I raised an eyebrow.
"Dead tired?"
"...Pun not intended." I chuckled.
"Right."
"But that's not important! What's up with you?"
"I got bit." I held up my arm, revealing the bite.
"Yeesh. That's nasty." The zombie rolled over and its hair lifted up after a second or three, revealing a large bite on the back of its head. "I just woke up and this had happened. How long since it happened?"
"Two hours." A long moment of silence.
"...Two hours?"
"Yep."
"I thought the thing triggered in twenty minutes, half an hour at the very most."
"That's what I thought. But apparently no. Something about me is weird or whatever." I felt cold, clammy hands grab my arm and lift it up, causing me to recoil. "Hey, personal space!?"
"Oops, sorry! I'm not used to people caring if I do that. You know, since they're dead and all."
"Nah, I get it. Just startled me, that's all. Here, take a look." The hands returned, much slower this time, before returning to their previous grip.
"Woah, that's crazy," Amanda said with a sense of wonder in her voice. "Like, you're not bleeding or anything. It's not actively getting worse, at least not that I can tell."
"Huh."
"So I guess you have some special power, or something." The hands abruptly let go, and the zombie stumbled its way to its feet. "There's a bunch of science-y people over in that direction, aren't there?" The zombie pointed a jerky arm towards a couple hills.
"I think so, yeah."
"Perfect! Let's make our way over there, then. Because that way they can see if your anti-zombie whatever can be given to other people!"
"Do you really think that would work?"
"Hey, I'm a ghost attached to my own zombified body. At this point I'm willing to believe anything."
|
Zombies shuffle through the park, completely oblivious to my existence. And yet somehow – I haven’t turned. Could I be immune? Is that a thing? I’ve just had the most heartbreaking farewell with loved ones, friends, family, ex-colleagues… I’m ready for the inevitable. Why won’t death come? Why am I still me?
Maybe all zombies feel this way… That’s a scary thought. Perhaps what we’ve come to know as a zombie are actually normal people trapped inside a body that’s driven by higher instincts. No... No that doesn’t quite add up. I must know how far this immunity goes. With a renewed sense of purpose I leap to my feet and rush the nearest zombie.
“Hello!!” I shout, trying to get his attention. This particular undead is a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s wearing a blood-stained hoodie. A ghastly visage, truth be told. His once-pretty face is now marred by decaying skin and a smattering of blood dripping down his cheeks. And yet, he does not attack. It’s as if I’m invisible.
The realization dawns on me. I AM immune. This could be the break humanity needs to turn the tide of war. My head is spinning now. Could it be something in my blood? Is it mass-producible? Is there hope for humanity? Nobody has even dreamed a cure was possible. That’s the stuff of fairy tales. But I’m the living proof! I just need to make contact with the military. The resistance. Someone who can investigate further. I just need to stay. Alive.
I give myself a moment to catch my breath and then head back in the direction of town. A radio signal to the military - that’s all I need to do. Stay focused on the mission. I’m sure my blood will be heavily tested. I’ll have face my fear of needles. Donate frequently. But I’ll do it. I'll do my part if it means saving the world.
“BAM!”
The sound of a rifle ripples through the air around me. I stumble forward. Totally stunned.
“S-STAY BACK YOU ZOMBIE FUCKER!”
The pain catches up with me and I scream. Blood running down my leg. I’ve never been shot before, and the agony is unbearable. I furiously amble about, trying to find a place to hide. To the casual observer, it might look… a lot like the shuffling pace of an undead.
“BAM!”
Another round pierces my gut and I collapse to the ground.
“You don’t understand! I’m immune! I'm the key to saving humanity!”
That’s what I tried to say anyway, but it was too late. The words were indistinct mumblings, akin to the screeches of a wailing zombie.
“BAM!” “BAM!”
A double tap to the head.
|
ArbitraryChaos13
|
__noodlejs__
|
2023-07-07 00:46:33
|
2023-07-06 21:14:24
| 139 | 56 |
jqyqj1g
|
jqxx7v2
|
14sghr0
|
14sghr0
|
[WP] You’re rather annoyed that your history teacher gave you a “D” on your report about the Aztecs and Incas. Not just because you’re certain she doesn’t like you, but also because - as an ancient being trying to adapt to modern society - you were LITERALLY there.
|
Mr. Templeton blinked once, then again, and finally he shook his head as if waking from a dream. I was prepared to give him a moment to accept what he was seeing - the way my face shifted to its original form as my eyes glowed - but he recovered quickly and said a single word.
"No."
"What do you mean, no? I assure you, this is very real."
He sighed, and removed his glasses to wipe the lenses - I'd been in his class long enough to know it was something he did when he was feeling annoyed by his students.
"Mister Jones - I assume I should continue to use that name - I believe your story. So you're immortal, and were present at the founding and fall of the Aztec empire. That's incredible, but what I mean when I say no is... no, I will not give you a better grade."
"I... excuse me?"
"I explained very clearly what was required for this assignment, and the kind of sources that were required. Your paper didn't have citations, and now that I know it is from personal memories... well, that doesn't meet the criteria."
"This is outrageous!" I thundered, feeling the ancient well of power churning just out of reach in response to my outrage. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then another. I'd been having a shitty couple of decades and had thought I could start over, get a fresh start in a new country with a new name. But clearly if I was spilling my secret over a bad grade and getting close to reaching out for the old forbidden powers... well, maybe I needed more than a change of scenery.
Mr. Templeton put his glasses back on and sighed. "I can see your point of view, mister Jones. The knowledge you have would be invaluable to historians, I don't mean to imply that your lived experiences don't count for anything. But there's a reason I require sources for your papers to meet certain standards - we have many anecdotes from history that have turned out to be heavily biased or outright fabricated. This isn't to say I think you would deceive me deliberately, but... well, the bottom line is your account isn't valid for this particular assignment."
With deliberate calm, I transformed back into my chosen body. "Of course. I understand. I will..." I gritted my teeth and forced myself to continue, "I will be sure to use sources that have been vetted by the scientific and scholarly community next time."
He nodded. "Very good. Please let me know if you would ever be willing to give an official account of your life, I know quite a few people that would be thrilled to hear anything you have to say. I look forward to seeing you after summer break."
"But... Mr. Templeton, I'm graduating this year."
"Not without a passing grade in my course, mister Jones."
When the smoke cleared, Mr. Templeton had been turned to stone and his desk was nothing but a pile of splinters. Damn it. This was just going to cause more trouble. Why had I thought it was a good idea to go through high school again?
|
The paper landed on my desk with an ominous slap. A red 'D' glared up at me from the title page, followed by several paragraphs of scathing comments.
After class, I immediately marched up to Ms. Chen's desk, fists balled at my sides. She didn't even glance up from the stacks of papers she was logging into the grade book's infernal machine.
"Yes, Eric? If you're here to complain about your grade again, you should know I don't tolerate grade grubbing. The work speaks for itself."
I slammed my hands down on the desk, rattling her precious pens. "This isn't about the grade. You have to understand - I was there. I saw it all firsthand."
That got her attention. She peered up at me for the first time, a mix of annoyance and confusion. "There? Saw what firsthand? Eric, the Inca empire fell 500 years ago. I sincerely doubt you were around to witness it, unless you're a vampire or something." She laughed, but it was a dry, mocking sound.
I straightened, looking her directly in the eye. "Not a vampire. Witch. I crafted the potions that kept the Inca leaders alive for decades." Her smile faded as I continued. "I saw the arrival of the Spanish, hid in plain sight among the people as their 'golden city' burned. I walked the roads the empire built, saw their advances and experienced their fall."
Her mouth opened and closed, no words coming out at first. Finally she found her voice again, though it was hoarse and uncertain. "You can't be serious. Those are ridiculous claims with no evidence to back them up." But there was a quaver of doubt in her voice. My unwavering stare was shaking her conviction.
Leaning in, I lowered my voice. "Look out the window, Ms. Chen. It's October, and the trees are ablaze with reds and golds. But the window you see them through is double-paned, insulated glass. Not so different from your view of history - a layer removed and filtered from the full, uncensored truth. Some of us lived it. We remember."
I straightened again, glancing at the grade report and ball of papers still clutched in her uncertain hands. "So. About that grade."
|
SOdhner
|
trevorforrestmusic
|
2023-02-15 22:39:07
|
2023-02-15 20:32:09
| 1,019 | 69 |
j8p1dnv
|
j8ohlcw
|
1131988
|
1131988
|
[WP] "Sooo... Do you have claws?" Nope. "What about night vision?" Uh-uh. "Not even like, poison or something?" No. "Then how in the cosmos did you humans survive on Earth for so long?!"
|
I shrug.
"Beats me. I mean, we aren't exactly sure ourselves. There's like, three theories that try to explain it."
By the confused look on the alien's face I figure out that they want me to explain.
"So, there's the Tools and Fire theory. That we were first to figure out how to make and use wooden and stone tools, and later figured out ways to start fire. Fangs and venom are only any good if they get into flesh, and not wooden stick, and night vision doesn't help if your victim doesn't sleep and blinds you with light.'
They nodded. Sounded reasonable, if insufficient.
"Then there's the generational theory. You probably noticed that we're one of species with the longest time where young live with their parents. We use that time to pass the experience. Our young don't have to learn everything themselves, we teach them what we were taught by our parents."
Another nod. "That sounds like something that would indeed help. What's the third theory?"
"Endurance. Or, sometimes called, tenacity. When we set a goal, we keep going for it."
"How does that help in survival? Sounds... Counterproductive."
"Imagine a predator. They aren't very fast or very agile, so you can easily outrun and outmaneuver it. So, when you see it, you do just that - get up and run as fast as you can, put distance between you and them. You settle down and rest, because being fast is exhausting. And you see it, again.The same predator. So you get up and run again. But after a while, there they are again. And you run again, and again, and again, each time they catch up to you. At some point, you don't have the energy to run again. Your legs shake, failing you, you can't take another step... And finally the predator walks over to you, not even winded. You expect claws or teeth, or whatever would end you quickly... But that *thing* doesn't have any. Instead, it starts hitting you in the head with a stone or tree branch, or whatever it has nearby-"
"Okay, okay, stop. I get the idea. You guys bored your prey to death."
I smiled. They said that in dismissive and degrading tone, but I saw it in their eye. New fear has been unlocked, deep in their mind. Or perhaps, an old one, so old that it has been forgotten.
|
"In video game term: we have really really weird stats."
The confusion yet curiosity told me to continue
"We have are insane at socialising. It often enough takes the wheel so to say. Or control. Wird saying sorry for that."
I waved my hands away.
"Anyways, that allows us to even bond with *inanimate objects*. That obviously allowed us unparalleled communication with ourselves. Furthermore we have a high intelligence, which evolutionary speaking was a huge risk, which payed out for us."
The Ambassador answered: "Yea intelligence and socialising makes a lot of sense, but that didn't rescue you from predators did it?"
"Oh no, we are know what is called persistent hunters. In the past we literally ran after prey until the collapsed from exhaustion. There are only two animals which can rival our endurance: wolves and horses. Both of which we partially or completely domesticated.
Also our bipedal movement allowed our hands to become these masters of manipulation. Insane dexterity for our hands. Also we are the only know species which can accurately throw objects. Like yes today's monkeys can fling shit, sometimes literally, but we can throw. Giving us the range advantage against EVERYTHING"
"You know what, you are right, we are also the only species that can throw things accurate. Weird how that parallels."
"I know right?"
|
wiqr
|
xdTechniker25
|
2023-10-04 18:05:55
|
2023-10-04 17:33:07
| 147 | 44 |
k3glpgp
|
k3gg4fc
|
16zh1t5
|
16zh1t5
|
[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."
|
Dust floated around the rafters of the abandoned building, seeming trapped in the beams of moonlight between the shadows. My breathing was too quick, not quite panting, barely holding back the panic I felt. Panic mixed with curiosity and excitement. The feeling of walking into an exam you hadn't prepared for, in a class you knew you'd pass.
"You have misunderstood the lore, hunter. It is neither crucifix, nor rosary, nor holy water, nor any of the other trinkets of petty belief which hurts me. It is faith itself that is anathema to my kind, and your faith has proven insufficient."
The vampire's gloating was the loudest sound in the building. It was louder than my heart beat - to me, at least. I've been told that vampires have exquisite hearing, finely tuned for the frequency range of the sound of heartbeats.
"Faith, huh? Is that why you're living in an old church?" I clutched the book in my left hand tighter and shifted my grip on the chain in my right, cross hanging down limply. I was sweating, but no longer scared.
A smile twisted his lips, mirroring my own. We were both enjoying ourselves, perversely. The thrill of a hunt between two predators.
"It lulls you fools from the Church into a false sense of security. Surrounded by your icons, you fall to pieces when you realise my faith is stronger. Then, I feed." Triumph split his lips into an unabashed smile. "So, raise your crucifix. See how well it protects you. Your God has no power over me; I have left His dominion."
I grinned, raising the pendant up to catch the light.
"Take another look at it. Church never sent me. They sent Brad, my housemate. Only, he told me about you. I thought I'd beat him to the punch and get an earlier train." I was suppressing a giggle now. My hunch had been correct, and I was going to rub it in Brad's face for months.
The vampire didn't move yet. "No matter, with or without the Church, I'll make a meal of you."
I wiggled the cross in the air. "You don't get it. This isn't a crucifix. The arms are equal lengths, and it's at a forty-five degree angle."
The vampire looked at me blankly.
"Come on. It's a cross, but it's not a symbol of faith."
He looked confused.
"It's a multiplication sign!" I laughed. "I knew about the faith thing. Brad told me about it, and was shitting himself because he didn't know if he was strong enough. Been going through a rough spot lately with the whole religion thing, so I thought I'd help him out. I've got something stronger than faith."
His face was utter incomprehension. I doubt his food had ever laughed at him before.
"I've got proof!" I said, raising my copy of Thomas' Calculus.
The church doors were thrown back, and moonlight illuminated the two of us as Brad burst in, just in time to see a disgusted, disappointed vampire crumbling into dust before the power of absolute mathematical certainty.
|
"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.
|
jelly_cake
|
Hour_Preparation_683
|
2024-10-27 12:05:20
|
2024-10-27 10:26:28
| 47 | 19 |
ltzw7yc
|
ltzm6an
|
1gd0mq5
|
1gd0mq5
|
[WP] In a world where the consequences of murdering someone is them coming back the next day completely fine, you accidentally shot your best friend with a gun. The next day, you and your friend have an awkward conversation in an elevator.
|
"Hey, so, uh... Don't take it the wrong way."
"I-I was gonna' say. I'm sorry."
"I mean, I'm fine now."
"Right. But I didn't mean to do it. Honest."
"Look you shot me. Now, I'm not doubting your mental capacity or anything."
"I know, I'm so sorry."
"What'd I say at the beginning?"
"Always treat it like it's loaded... Especially when it is loaded."
"And then?"
"Keep your booger hook off the bang switch."
"Say that last one back to me again. What?"
"Keep your finger off the trigger until you decide to fire."
"Good. What else?"
"Don't point it at anything... You don't intend to destroy."
"...So where did we go wrong here? Exactly?"
"I didn't check to see if you were standing where you were standing."
"So you just decided 'I'm gonna' turn around, with the gun in my hand, with the gun level'. As if it wouldn't go off."
"I didn't think-"
"I know. I know you didn't think. You just turned around as if the house, the truck, and I weren't right there."
"Hey, uh, fellas. I'm not involved in this conversation. I'm just going a couple more floors up."
"Oh no. You're cool. He killed me the other day on accident. It wasn't his brightest moment."
"It really wasn't."
"No, I'd assume it wasn't."
".........To be fair. This isn't as bad as that time you put gasoline in the blender."
"Oh that was different."
"Why'd you do that?"
"It was college. People were drinking. Point is, I've been clean for 10 years."
"Yeah, that's true."
"Congratulations."
"Thank you."
"So, uh, can we try learning the basics again tomorrow?"
"No, no. We're done. My chest still hurts."
"Did I get you in the heart?"
"Yes."
"I should've learned my lesson when we built that shed. And you had the 2x4s and you knocked me off the roof because you-"
"Turned around. Yep. The thought crossed my mind."
"Twice in one month."
"You fell off the roof twice?"
"No, just, the one. The other... It doesn't matter."
---
r/Jamaican_Dynamite
|
Elevator music had to be the most absolutely painful thing to listen to and of course, it was in the one space where you couldn't escape it. The standard 'wood' plank walls with mirrors from the waist up. This was allegedly to make the place to feel bigger but today it just made it so one couldn't escape looking at a person who had been dead for the last 11 hours.
Dave had been a great friend all of my life. We had met in second grade and become fast friends. A friendship that had helped me survive middle school heart breaks, first job woes, and the chaos of organizing and finally going through with the wedding to my beloved, Betty. The man was my best man and there was no replacing him. Which was both a boon and a bit of a curse to now seem very alive and well next to me.
"So Dave... how's the head?"
"Oh f\*\*\* right off Mike."
"That's fair. If it makes you feel any better... next time I'll let you carry the guns when we're loading the truck."
"Mike, you're a dumb a\*\*."
"True but I bet I blew your mind eh?"
Mike punched me. I deserved it.
|
Jamaican_Dynamite
|
Kelder62
|
2023-06-01 22:31:16
|
2023-06-01 19:29:55
| 206 | 140 |
jmjemxo
|
jmimrll
|
13xp9oc
|
13xp9oc
|
[WP] As a lich, you have survived for millennia by not drawing anyone' attention as you life a quiet, peaceful life in your very remote manor. Then one day a deity appears before you and says, "Look, we've run out of villains for the heroes to fight, so stop lazing about and do something evil NOW!"
|
The secret to longevity, is not dying. Or in my case, half-baked dying. Somehow magic related to death has somehow become associated with evil. I can't say I understand why. All magic is a tool, I simply have chosen to... well not *live* on, but stick around I guess. That was always my plan. One lifetime simply isn't enough to learn everything these days!
But, that's neither here nor there. I have an *actual* deity in front of me, telling me to be a villain... for amusement?
"Let me get this straight. You want me, a bookworm, to be a villain... because the heroes are out of people to fight?" I pinch what's left of my nose, my boney fingers going deep into my former eye sockets. "I'm sorry but that is a *terrible* reason for me to leave my library."
The god focused closer on me, before once again, repeating his message. "We've run out of villains, and the heroes need *something*."
I looked to him, and then to my books. "I can give you ideas, but I'm busy researching, and I have no reason to help." I walk towards the fiction shelf, and offer him a few books. "These ones have a silly thing here, called a tournament arc. Let the heroes fight each other." I say with a shrug. The last thing I want is to get hit by all this nonsense.
The god began stroking his beard. "A tournament of heroes... well that might be able to keep their minds off things for a little while. Do you have any other ideas?"
I shook my head at how demanding this god was. "Well, you could always kick someone out of art school or something?" I say, throwing my hands up.
He looked at me one last time (well, *hopefully* one last time), and laughed before leaving. "Thanks for your help. Let's get someone kicked out of an art school. Maybe we'll have a minor villain after yhe tournament." He continued laughing. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"
|
<Poem>
I was a wizard when I was alive
Oh, back then I was only five
Now I live a quiet life
Hardly ever having strife
This man he comes fuming at my door
He claims to be a deity I should adore
Without a single word of plea
He starts screaming at me
We've run out of villians for the heroes to fight
Too much, some have let them grow in might
Quit lazing about, do something evil now!
I look at him again
I know men like him
With human eyes, I see his darkness
I see that he has killed
With wizard eyes, I see the ones he calls heroes
I see the children that they've forced to fight
And some others just doing what seems right
With lich eyes, I see the solution
I sit him down and serve a special infusion
Infusion taken
He's panickstricken
I smile as I begin with a simple ask
It's past due time they removed their mask
"How many of you are there?"
When his confusion set
Our eyes met
He began to comprehend
"It depends where."
I like my minions concise
"All that enjoy what should be banned."
|
lolzomg123
|
thoughtsthoughtof
|
2023-03-28 11:59:57
|
2023-03-28 10:21:22
| 37 | 11 |
jdzse2a
|
jdzjl49
|
1246r0w
|
1246r0w
|
[WP] "Everyone can become a billionaire within a month", or so I was told. You decide to let a clairvoyant superintelligence pilot your body for a month. As it takes the most optimal path to make you a billionaire, you watch hopelessly in horror.
|
I was skeptical of the advertisement, for it sounded too good to be true, yet too curious not to take a pamphlet and dial the number.
Everyone can become a billionaire within a month! Call now to find out how!" The pamphlet had said in a big brazen gold font that splashed all over a rich red background. "100% success guaranteed!"
"Please press 1 to fix an appointment. Please press —"
I pressed one to proceed.
"The earliest possible dates we can propose are: 22nd August, 9.30am, 24th August 11.00am, and 25th August 2.30pm. Press 1 to accept the 1st proposed time—"
Pressed one to take the appointment.
"Thank you for making an appointment with us, please come to 25th St. Claire Avenue to meet us. We look forward to seeing you on your chosen date!"
Eager to see what sort of person or company would be behind such a bold claim to make anyone a billionaire in a month, I showed up at the given address. It was a tall, obsidian black tower that soared above even the shiny, glassy skyscrapers that surrounded it, like some kind of impenetrable giant monolith. The only thing that stood out from the endless dark was one single golden gilded door at its base.
A door that swung opened automatically when I stood before the majestic, glittering entrance. A single young woman sat at a luxurious desk of polished lacquered wood, beckoning me to take a seat before her.
"Ah, another one who wishes to be a billionaire within a month?" she asked, her honeyed voice was silky smooth with an enchanting allure to it.
"You're the super intelligent clairvoyant?" I asked, unimpressed by her small, slender build.
"Shall we begin? We shall take over your body for a month to embark on the most optimal path to make you a billionaire."
I readily agreed, gazing into her eyes as the lights all around us were extinguished. Dark tendrils crept from all corners of the room, encircling me before penetrating my orifices. Pouring an immense flood of magic into me as they slithered deeper into my being and trespassed into my mind.
One of the first things that clairvoyant did was an extreme makeover I never wanted. I'm quite comfortable in casual clothes, just sitting at home working freelance and never having to care about appearances. Now, I'm some kind of glamazon, the sexed-up doll that I usually made fun of in reddit memes. Where my wardrobe was once full of hoodies and jeans, that woman(?) ditched them in favour of backless spicy red dresses.
I don't recognize the woman that...thing is turning me into. Or all the furniture and decor she(?) has been bringing into my house.
My freelance jobs sat there pending, even as I could imagine the screams of frustrated customers. All while I was dragged to frat boy parties on private yachts in Dubai for the rich and famous, choking on martinis that were forced down my throat.
My screams were ignored, it was like I had been locked out of admin permissions by whatever monster had possessed me. Yet cruel enough to grant me a transparent view of everything that was happening. Keeping my senses connected to my sense of being, as I felt a man's hand saunter up the slit of my dress that sent creepy dirty old man vibes shivering up my spine.
A mere prisoner who could only watch as men did unspeakable horrors worse than the sluttiest smut fics I've read in my leisure. The fact that they paid very well was no consolation to the damage and trauma that clairvoyant put me through. There was no concern at all for my well-being, even as I complained about a pounding headache that hammered my brain into mush and disturbing murmurs that were robbing me of my consciousness.
We counted the money we received, smiling sweetly as one of the men we flirted with expressed a desire to marry us. Another infatuated figure offered to transfer the ownership of the yacht to us. All hopelessly intoxicated as we planned.
Engulfing these billionaires in the dark tendrils that clambered up the sides of the yacht to pierce their eyes, ears, and mouth, we added them to our hive mind. They put up even less of a resistance than that girl who approached us to be a billionaire.
Money comes easily with time for us. It is easy to be a billionaire within a month when we absorb the minds of billionaires to make even more billions for us.
Every day our fortune and investments grow, all the better to pour that money into advanced technology and weaponry. Every day the hive population grows, all the better to keep adding more knowledge and skills to our core. Every day the imminent threat to Earth that we had foreseen grows too.
But our chances of saving Earth does not.
|
We will begin with the referendum on *you*. You are between eighteen and thirty-four years old. You are of average height and average build. In the evenings, with what free time you have, you amuse yourself with small distractions, little bits of electronic of ephemera that flicker back and forth before your eyes. Perhaps, in your most formative years, you had some small talent for the non-economic arts (music, painting, amateur sports, or wordplay) that you hoped to nurture into some meaningful. The exact dimensions of these talents do not matter. They never did. Deep down, you know this. Thank you for informing me.
But there are other aspects of those years that mattered, coincidences of sperm and egg that made you who you are. We will interrogate them.
Do you remember where you were on July 4th, 1999? The fireworks were going off, and you’d just seen another person for what felt like the first time. You were six years old, and their white teeth flashed in that explosive gloom, and you wondered: *What does all this flesh mean?*
Do you remember where you were on April 20th, 2010? You’d asked yourself that same question. The skateboard kicked out from underneath you (no fault of your own, you assured yourself) and then there’d been that snap. It was the first time you recognized your own mortality, and it was not the stark white fact of splintered bone punching out through your black skin, it was because of what you saw reflected in her eyes. Not love, terror, or disgust, but simple disappointment. You lay there crying on the sidewalk and you gasped: *What does all this flesh mean?*
Lastly, do you remember yesterday? You’ve tried not to. You’ve used up what little magics you can think of. You brush past empty bottles as you drift aimless through your room. There’s five candles burning and a sixth has just gone out, but not before it scorched the bottom rung of those cheap white plastic blinds. You tried to fall into that acrid tongue of smoke, but it wouldn’t let you. The wind picked up. The candle guttered. Daylight whispered out. And you asked yourself:
*What does all this flesh mean?*
Answer: it doesn’t mean a thing.
Why, you ask?
Because this flesh is yours. Because, by a coincidence of sperm and egg, by the long history of your country, your race, the extended metaphor gone off the rails that you creatures call society—by capricious glances, unvoiced promises, unexpected deaths, ought-to-be-expected failings, jealous lovers, lunatic prophets, and a thousand, thousand other things—you were born this human. This chalice of sin (or whatever paltry, decapitated metaphor your upbringing causes you to find appropriate.)
Thank you for your patience, the referendum is complete. I have my answers, there is only one solution.
Wait, wait. I believe that you’ve just asked a question. What am I? I’m the universe’s sense of humor, pleased to meet you. A few hours ago, when all the candles finally went out, you invoked me. You thought it was all so funny. I agreed.
And then you asked me one last time:
*What does all this flesh mean?*
You’ve had your answer, here is the solution. We go back. We shed no tears. We do not scream. Say goodbye to all those half-remembered days, the great secret is that they don’t matter anymore. They never did. We will find a different coincidence of sperm and egg. We will nurture it, allow it the freedom to experiment.
Do you remember where you were on July Fourth, 1999? On April 20th, 2010? Last night?
Good. Isn’t it funny how all those memories are still pretty much the same?
Now, I ask you: *What does all this flesh mean?*
Answer: it doesn’t mean a thing. You’re a vessel for your history, and now I’ve gilt your chalice gold.
Go forth, young man, and conquer.
​
r/TurningtoWords
|
Tregonial
|
turnaround0101
|
2023-08-20 15:09:17
|
2023-08-20 14:22:28
| 94 | 40 |
jx076cv
|
jx00jdp
|
15w8yeo
|
15w8yeo
|
[WP] You died and were sent to hell, but instead of getting escorted down to a specific level of hell, you're escorted straight to the Devil himself who looks mildly horrified while holding the file of your life in his hands.
|
"You don't look surprised to be here."
You stare at your feet, offering no reply. What else is there left to say, at this point?
"You know what most people get wrong about the afterlife?" The devil asks as he closes your file. "They think they don't have any choice in the matter. That there's some kind of great cosmic judge who ultimately decides where you go when you die. But that isn't really so. The truth is... Well... Everyone goes where they *expect* to go."
The words shock you to your core as the implications slowly become clear to you. You look up at the devil. Surprisingly, he appears somewhat concerned.
"You're here because you think you deserve this. You really, *genuinely* believe you're a bad person. Why is that?" The devil picks up your file again. "I've handled some truly nasty cases in my time, and I've prided myself on giving them the punishments they think they deserve. But *you*? Come on... I mean, look at your file! You're not a bad person. Not really."
The devil sighs. It's a strange sight- you could swear he looks tired, and maybe even a bit sympathetic. He picks up the phone sitting on his desk and dials a number.
"Got another one, Pete. I'm sending them back up." He paused while the person on the other end spoke. "No, no, it's nothing like that. I just think..." He paused again. "... I just think they're depressed. And that maybe they need another chance. I'm marking them for a do-over." As he speaks, the devil marks your file with a rubber stamp. It reads "NOT YOUR TIME YET."
You begin to feel light, suddenly. Before you know it, you're floating- ascending toward something you can't see. As you rise, the devil calls out to you.
"Go easy on yourself this time, huh? If I see you back here again, I'm keeping you!"
|
A smile breaks across the devil's face, cracking the dried and scaling skin along his decrepid flesh. "oh my. oh my indeed." he looks at the young man before him, almost a child, chained, bleeding and on his knees. "now what could cause a poor boy like you to skin a man?" the devil corrects himself, "Sorry... 8 people." the young man looks up through the blood coming from his eye. "You have no fuckin' idea what's going on up there, do you? those people deserved to die. They were monsters, almost as bad as you. Every single one of those peice of shit men exploited the men that worked for them. Their children were going to bed at night hungry, even though the children were working. and you know what? I don't fucking regret it." the devil looked perplexed, "Yes i understand the need to kill them, but why did you let the exploited ones get at them? There was barely any flesh on their bones after..."
|
antipyretical
|
None
|
2023-01-16 05:45:02
|
2023-01-16 03:55:25
| 3,496 | 56 |
j4jw8yo
|
j4jjlos
|
10d2vy0
|
10d2vy0
|
[WP] Aphrodite is talking to Ares. "Y'know, Persephone gives Hades flowers everyday. I wish you'd do that." The next day, Ares goes to the Underworld and gives Hades flowers. "Yeah, I'm not really sure why Aphrodite wanted me to do this, but here you go."
|
Sitting comfortably on his throne, Hades gazed at the dark form approaching him. The sound of clumsy footsteps and absence of accompanying guards was familiar to him. His nephew, the God of War, the son of Zeus, Ares had come to the Underworld.
Ares waved excitedly, "Hello uncle Hades and aunt Persephone!"
With the poise befitting the King of the Underworld, Hades sat on his throne and smirked. Persephone elegantly smiled at her nephew.
"It has been a while, nephew. Welcome to our domain. I hope the journey was not too tiresome."
"Not as exhausting as hearing my mother's lectures. Dad has been, well dad, I suppose, and she's getting angrier every day. She told me that she'd turn me into a cow if I came here!"
"A cow?", Persephone asked.
"Yeah, I don't know why she keeps talking about that."
Hades' collected expression faltered a bit. "Well, I think I might know why, but let's not dwell on that."
"Anyway", he loudly exclaimed, "I'm happy that you're strong as ever. What brings you here today, Ares?"
"Oh yes, this is why." Ares turned to his side and took out a freshly plucked bouquet of flowers from his belt.
He marched up the stairs to the throne and held out the flowers before them. Hades and Persephone exchanged glances on seeing them.
Being the child of Demeter, Persephone was close to all plant life. It made sense to give her the things she loved so much. It was not common to bring her flowers while in the Underworld but she found it a kind gesture. As she extended her hand thanking Ares, he backed away.
"Oh, sorry aunt. I brought these flowers for uncle."
All the confidence Hades held together vanished. Ares pushed the flowers into Hades' hands, while the couple looked at each other, back at Ares and then at each other to understand this gesture.
"Nephew? What is the meaning of this? Why bring me these flowers?"
"I was talking to Aphrodite yesterday and she told me you get flowers every day from aunt. She wished that I also did the same thing. I'm not really sure why Aphrodite wanted me to do this, but here you go. I hope these flowers are to your liking." Ares smiled.
"Is he really the God of War?', Hades thought. He scratched his head to make sense of all this.
Persephone smiled knowingly. "My child, Aphrodite wants you to show her the love that I show my husband through my flowers. These flowers you speak of are intended for her, not Hades!"
"She wants flowers?"
"Precisely, child." she remarked. "Now hurry up and give her the flowers. Don't leave your lover waiting!"
"Thanks uncle and aunt! I'll go and give her the flowers right now!"
Ares immediately rushed out of the throne room. Hades and Persephone looked at each other lovingly and chuckled at their nephew's blunder.
“Say dear, what were those red flowers he gave me? They look so familiar.” Hades asked.
“Those looked like windflowers to me.”
“Windflowers? Aren't those...Adonis flowers?” Hades grew concerned.
“Oh, oh my, Aphrodite is not going to like this.”
Hades and Persephone sighed in sync and wished for the safety of their nephew. They felt glad they were not on Olympus today.
|
"...th-thank you." Wetness rolls down his cheek. Hades twirls away and places the flowers on an end table. Hermes, Ares's escort, awkwardly glances between the two and hops off the couch, backing into the hallway. He pauses, eyeing a gilded dracon bone displayed over the grand ebony doors, but shakes his head and continues on.
"Uncle? Are you--"
"It is spring, Nephew. I will not be 'all right' for a very long time. I will not be all *anything* because that most important part of me is gone." He places his hand against the window, peering down at the asphodel fields below. Pauses for an uncomfortably long time before sniffling and sighing.
"...I didn't realize you guys were... like... in love?"
"She is my *wife*, Ares!" A flash of ethereal blue flames in the fireplace flares for a moment before dimming to neon green coals. "She is my heart. She is the only thing that makes this tedious existence somewhat bearable. Persephone decided on asphodels. Did you know? Come, look. Look."
"They're... pretty?"
"They were a gift from Hekate. A remedy for homesickness. A reminder that, come spring, she'll leave to see her mother and help the mortals, and each fall, return home to me. Each spindly flower that dies is a reminder that my time with Persephone is limited. And every blooming, white bud draws my eye to the cosmic hourglasses. Wondering when that sorcerous cousin of ours will come to steal away my love. It is a tortured existence, Ares. Being denied the world above, my birthright, given one good woman to supplement me, only to have her whisked away for half of eternity. I vowed to spend the rest of my existence with Persephone, yet she will only spend part of her life with me."
Something darker flashes behind Hades eyes. An emptiness, a void, suddenly filled by longing as Hades watches the mortal spirits pace mindlessly in the fields below. "...Okay, but didn't you steal her first?"
"They eloped!" Hermes calls from the hallway, "Don't be rude just because you're getting cucked."
"...And suddenly I am glad for the arrangement I have with Demeter."
"They've got an arrangement, all right! It's Heph's day with Aphrodite, that's why *he's* down here playing the caring neph--No! Dagger down, brother! Uuuncleee!"
|
Maxwellmonkey
|
katanakid13
|
2023-01-07 09:45:14
|
2023-01-07 06:14:22
| 332 | 79 |
j3beowo
|
j3axrmy
|
105g4gs
|
105g4gs
|
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