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[WP] You're on a hike and find a sign, it reads: "WARNING DO NOT LOOK AWAY. There is a danger here, the danger is based on sight. The danger cannot see you if you cannot see it. Help will arrive every half-hour. DO NOT LOOK AWAY." The sign has a built-in clock, it's 3:15pm.
|
I honestly hadn't planned on living inside of what I call my Power House. But, and I say this with a sly and unashamed smile, I worked hard for this, and I'm having fun.
A few years back when we were all given those mysterious seeds that all of us get every hundred years or so I didn't think much of it. I'd grow my seed and not be too concerned about size. Nobody likes a guy who is overly concerned with size - but all kidding aside, which you know is hard for me, I never expected that happened. Not in a million years.
I love magic. I was born to it. Unlike some of my cohorts I actually have fun with it. They're all looking for gigs with important kings, and long bearded mages, and creepy seductress witches (or whatever for lack of a better title, but you know the type). I decided to be a free agent and work of myself. I spoke to my dad who was the King's Mage and he thought it was a good idea. He told me, confidentially, that the only reason he worked for the King was because they grew up together and were best buddies. They're still best buddies.
So anyway, about that seed... I was doing a lot of magic. Some of it was small, but there were some pretty serious jobs I was hired to handle. I separated a three headed dog. It ended up being four dogs. They were terrifying together but real sweethearts after I was done with them.
Next I took the spell off of a woman who had been cursed to have a nose like a sausage that never stopped growing. No kidding. To make it even worse, it smelled like old liver and stinky cheese. Her ex-lover had put a curse on her so she wouldn't be able to marry anyone else. And she didn't marry anyone else until I fixed her. I ended up marrying her. Needless to say we don't eat sausages at my house but I'm fine with that. Damn, I love that woman. By the way, she isn't a princess but she might as well be.
From there every weird ass thing that needed to be undone came to me. Bratty cursed children, barren wheat fields, blights in orchards, goblins invading crawlspaces under castles, moat monsters, ghosts, broken hearts, ingrown toe nails, and anything else you can name.
So my seed, yes, that seed, kept growing and growing and growing. So did our family. Pretty soon we had two dogs, three cats, two children, and my grandma living with us. By then my cottage was bursting at the seams, but so was my love. The seed had grown to the size of a Ford F-150.
Around that time I was watching the sunset with my wife. The colors ran across the sky like bright festival ribbons. I looked at her and said, "It's magic when I'm with you." Then I kissed her as if we'd just fallen in love. Behind us we heard a loud sound like a crack or explosion. When we turned around we saw the seed had grown to the size of a manor house.
So we moved in. Named the place Magic Love Manor. And yeah, we're living happily every after, still making magic after all these years.
May your seed grow with love, and magic, for all the years to come.
|
As I stood there reading the sign, I had a particularly strange feeling. I knew these woods through and through, since our family cabin was just about half an hour of walking away from this place. The sign looked just like the other ones that ranger Willy puts up updating the hikers about bears and other wildlife. However something felt off about this one.
“Every half an hour…”, surprisingly out of all that, this part bothered me the most. Did Willy hire someone to help him out? Or was this 60 year old geezer really the kind of person that would come to this exact place every half an hour? Why isn’t he watching this place at all times? Now that I think about it I walked by here yesterday and I don’t remember any signs being around…
As I got lost in thoughts again the clock moved up to 3:20. I really have a problem with this zoning out business don’t I? Well, at least it will help me to pass the time faster, I thought to myself still observing the sign as a foolish obedient person I am.
To be completely honest I was not that worried about that danger nonsense. I hunted in these woods with my granddad ever since I was 8. Whenever Willy had a grizzly problem, he would call us and we swiftly took care of it. I shouldn’t have been so naive, but how could I have known.
By the time I snapped back, the clock said 3:25 and the so called “help” was on the horizon. When I managed to go this far I might as well wait till the end. But on the other hand, I wanted to be home for lunch. After all, I promised my wife, that this will be a quick 2 hour walk to get my mind off work stuff.
The clock read 3:28 when I decided I am going to risk it, since the forest was silent ever since I came here, just birds singing in the distance. As I tried to turn my head to the right I found out that it didn’t work. It was as if my muscles were not responding. As if my body didn’t even belong to me. As if I was just an observer that is tasked to look at the sign at all times.
The clock read 3:30 when I all of a sudden started moving towards the sign. And to my surprise it moved towards me too… I tried to resist but as the sign split open to reveal a set of about a billion teeth, I understood that it was all in vain as soon as I started looking at that damned sign.
And in my last moments I realized… that I am never going to make it back home for lunch.
|
Hangingwithoscar
|
Spy_Mouse
|
2023-10-02 23:48:53
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2023-08-13 12:38:06
| 32 | 21 |
k37pgfm
| null |
16y261p
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15pgoo5
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[WP] instead of the typical angel and devil people have on their shoulders influencing their decisions, you have a hype man and a nihilist.
|
"No species is that moronic." Growled the leader of this latest invasion force.
"Not moronic. Brave, foolishly so -" I start to explain before I am rudely interrupted.
"Who in the Empire are you?" The nine foot tall commander snapped as he loomed over me.
"I am what happened to the past invasion fleets sent by your species, that green-scaled species which are shorter than you and an over-reliance on shielding technology. Oh, and that Xhythryl race. They sent some snacks, I mean invaders too. A few others too, but I left survivors to spread the word that there be Dragons on this side of the galaxy." I explain calmly as I watch what would be described as muscular Wookies pace around.
*In their systems now. Full control.* A voice whispered in my ear.
As I smiled, the enemy commander who looked confident faltered when I mentioned the Xhythryls.
"I didn't intercept your fleet, because I wanted to see what they were capable of against a common enemy." I tell the suddenly wary Commander as I rummage through a portal.
"Zero Space isn't possible by your species." He growled.
"True, they haven't a clue on how to create Zero Space, but I have my own people who worked on it, and found it inferior to my magic." I speak as I remove several corpses from my storage.
"That should be the leader of this incursion force, the three main spies he had on your ship, and the assassin you sent to Earth to kill some of the world leaders."
The commander is stunned, but his day is about to get worse.
"There are some things you have drastically overlooked. I am speaking in your language and you never noticed. I have been on your ship for the past day and you never noticed. And my people have finally hacked your computing languages and have gained control of your fleet. In light of the atrocities you committed and planned to commit, your death will be long. Disable life support and communications, please. Maintain the orbit."
|
"look to the skies on the third day" ? What's that supposed to mean?
No idea sir
Oh well order in the troops for another assault
Yes sir
*Days of unimaginably brutal combat later*
Ugh these damn humans, why won't they just give up?! They have to know there is no hope of winning
Sir they appear to be charging out lines
They're what?!
*Sight of black clad warriors charging the aliens lines*
*After the battle the gener stands over the broken body of the last survivor of the human forces*
Why? Why did you not surrender? Why did you charge our lines?!
Cause it's the third day, I can see it now
*Alien commander looking up*
What's that?!?!
H: *that* is the the god emperors judgement you filthy xenos
*Cyclonic torpedo hits the planet*
AC: what's happening?! How did that missile get past our defenses?!
H: we happened, me and my brothers kept ALL of your attention on us while our comrades snuck into the system to deliver holy judgement
AC: wait you *knew* this was gonna happen?!?!
*Sounds of the planet cracking, the skies beginning to collapse, the oceans boiling*
H: I go to the god emperors side *detonates the melta charges hidden inside his armor obliterating the enemy commander*
*Planet is destroyed*
Last stand Black Templar edition
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Voidbearer2kn17
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CrimsonRazgriz
|
2025-01-10 00:18:41
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2025-01-09 22:53:34
| 85 | 35 |
m6bho8f
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m6b2clw
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1hxh7by
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1hxh7by
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[WP] You are a poor child going to a popular magic school at your mentors insistence, telling you to "broaden your horizon." But when you get there you realise everyone is doing magic differently to what your mentor taught. They use silly chants and carry big ugly books around.
|
Comprehending spread across my mind like wind blowing across a field of dandelions. All those exercises. All the weird gesturing. All those mental disinhibition sessions. All of that painful work that had been slowly massaged into me was for a very good reason.
His Great Wise Mentor, He who-shall-not-be-henceforth-critiqued-ever-again, had wanted me to expand my horizons. When I met my fellow students I immediately understood that “expanded horizons” was code for “you will understand why I’ve taught you the way I have and won’t say another word about it again, comprenez-vous?
They carried massive tomes around them everywhere. They would hover them at chest height, the telekinetic effort causing some to sweat shamefully. They would cross reference charts and read their spells out loud in careful singsongy fashion. With a small stick topped with a hand pointing a finger they would trace their place across the page, and in their other hands would be the most unbelievably ridiculous item. When they first used one I thought they were joking. Wands. They used wands.
When I met my master two years ago he had strict rules. I couldn’t communicate with him until I could project my thoughts to his mind. He would bark orders, and I followed along with every one. He had me tying knots in little fibers over and over again, finishing a pattern then weaving a new one after it had been mastered. I hadn’t slept until my first night here at school with the patches he had prepared for me.
I worked nearly 24/7 weaving those random patterns, the few other precious hours set aside were put into practicing various other esoteric techniques. The first questioning look came when he had me begin practicing kegels. I almost asked him aloud why he would be having a boy do that when he pinched my ear and dragged me to another room filled with weights. I was to lift each plate telekinetically up for every squeeze, and down with each relaxation, progressing through each one until I could lift 1,000 pounds with ease, and crack a walnut with my cheeks. I was careful to not question for a while after that.
I left that room after a month and returned to the varying other ludicrous exercises he had me do at his whims. After a year he re-taught me to read. First I mastered reading the words without subvocalization. Then I progressed to reading whole sentences, and then paragraphs at a time. With my growing telepathic abilities I could read my own mind and recall every word.
In order to cast spells effectively, he taught me to read the whole passage all at once in my mind. Instead of each word being bottlenecked in my mouth, bound and limited to how fast I could speak, I could simply think it all at once.
Truthfully I didn’t cast my first spell until last week. In order to cast them, a magician could use a wand (training wheels for babies, and diapers for the elderly as my mentor explained) or they could weave the spells with their hands. My master furthered this by weaving them with the whole body. To shift your stomach like a belly dancer, while twisting your organs around into better positioning. To use your legs for better grounding of energies, even the back muscles had their place in his system.
It was a simple spell. A minor viewing portal. I cast it flawlessly, however I also forgot to make it one way. Needless to say he had his hands full with memory alterations that day.
And that was it. He thought that perhaps I needed to see what other “wizards” were all about. What terribly empty fate awaited me if I continued to question him.
I returned after a semester at that hell hole for a vacation. The patch went back on and my practices resumed for my “time off,” after a brief question and answer between my mentor and I.
“So. What is it that you’ve learned at that…school?”
“That with everything you’ve taught me so far, if I go back there I’ll be stuck teaching them instead of learning anything.”
“Correct. And?”
“No questions.”
“No questions.”
|
"Cassian Thorne!"
The teacher called upon me, as I got up, my robes slightly tattered, and walked towards her.
"Child, I want you to cast the light charm, the incantation is *'Lux'*
I raised an eyebrow, holding up my wand.
"No, no, you need to pull out your grimo-"
Suddenly, the tip of my wand lit up a brilliant, powerful white.
The teacher's eyes widened in shock, so did everyone else, their mouths agape at me.
Had I done something wrong?
"M-Mister Thorne...how long have you been casting magic this way?" The teacher asked in shock
"Ever since I learned how to do so, Ma'am" I answered.
"Who...who taught you?"
"My mentor ordered me to not reveal their name to anyone"
"I must kno-" I interrupted her.
"I'm sorry, Miss Shultz, but I made a vow to them"
"I...I see, very well, full marks for you"
The classroom violently erupted, as the students shouted.
"It's unfair!"
"It can't be!"
"He's a no one! A nameless peasant!"
"I mean, come on! Look at his skin! It's grey! He's obviously some form of Homunculus!"
I didn't react.
The comment about my skin color was nothing new.
No child in the kingdom had skin like me.
Brown, white, olive, pale.
Yet no one had grey skin like me, nor did anyone have the same purple eyes as I did.
"SILENCE" Miss Shultz shouted. "Here stands in front of you a boy of great talent! Capable of doing things you can't even dream of! And you accuse him of being an abomination? Shame on all of you!"
I merely stood back, not a word, her voice was strong, powerful, backed by strong magic.
"Now, Mister Thorne, please step onto the platform to be sorted into your house" She said to me, returning her voice to its normal grandmother's tone.
I nodded, getting into the magical seal.
"Now, each table in front of you represents a dorm, House of the Falcon, Avis , house of the snake Scalis, house of the crow, corvus the orb will decide your house"
From above me, a white orb came down, my head entering through the hole in the bottom, drowning me in a white void
A voice, quiet, yet so clear whispered into my ear.
"So much suffering, yet I sense nothing from you, no hatred, no anger, not even a smidge of annoyance" The soft, male voice said "Even more, there is no happiness, no sadness, no nothing"
I simply stared into it.
"No...it cannot be" The voice said "I can feel it...*his* blood runs through your veins"
I gave no response.
"I should have known, you have his eyes" The voice, now slightly shaky, muttered "You will do great things, Aubrey, terrible? Amazing? You will decide, but I know where you belong"
Outside, the students waited with baited breath, before the orb came off my head.
There, clearly on my neck, was a mark of purple ink in the shape of a crow.
"CORVUS!" Miss Shultz shouted, as the house of the crow cheered, although rather quietly, as I got off the seat, and went to sit with them.
The others around me immediately bombarded me with questions, eager to know the secret to my power.
I looked up, gazing at the moon, ignoring them.
No matter what, I won't let your teachings go to waste, Lady Ruby, I'll become just as strong as him.
*I'll be just as strong as Lord Eclipse, to one day claim his title, to be reborn anew.*
*The house of the crow will be brought back to its rightful ruler.*
**me**
(Edit: I accidentally called Cassian 'Aubrey', Aubrey is not Cassian's family name, but the name of his cousin)
|
NewReputation8451
|
_Tyrondor_
|
2024-02-19 02:09:02
|
2024-02-19 02:04:48
| 615 | 150 |
kr2vhgw
|
kr2uvcm
|
1au9gqd
|
1au9gqd
|
[WP] you have the odd ability of "idle stockpile" which means that if you havent performed a certain action for longer, the more easy or powerful is the next time you perform the action. You just threw your first punch in 10 years.
|
"And so you have found me," said the old woman. She was emaciated, with bluish veins clear under skin that was more transparent than brown. Her hair was blue-white and thinning badly, but she'd still styled it in the local fashion: a long queue down the back. She sat on the stone floor of her shrine, with a small tea set placed before her, and the warmth of the temple fire at her back.
"So I have," I said, and sat down in front of her. I shook the snow off my shoulders.
"You believe we have something in common," she said to me.
"I do," I said.
"Your power grows the less you use it," she said.
"Yes," I replied.
"And you believe I am the same, do you not?" she asked me.
"So I have been told, by many travelers. I've come a long way to meet you," I said.
"Well, I must tell you, then, that we are the same in a simple way, but different in a much more important one." She reached slowly forward and took a sip of her tea. I noticed–because I have to, because in my work, you need to be keyed in on these things–that her hands didn't shake as she held her cup. Not even a little, not even a tremor. It was intense, now that I'd spotted it.
"What is that difference, grandmother?" I asked respectfully.
"It is that you may be powerful, but you have failed to see what it is for. And thus, I have both fallen behind you, and completely eclipsed you."
"I...pardon?" I blinked at her.
She met my eyes and held them. "Why do you wish to have power?"
"I...I want to save people."
"Many people save others in different ways. You want to save people from violence, yes?"
I nodded. "Yes, that makes sense."
"What is the greatest problem that raw force can solve?" she asked me.
I frowned. I'd never thought about that. "An army, maybe?"
"Think you can fight an army, do you?" she asked cuttingly.
"Ah, er, no," I admitted.
"So, then: you and me, we punch. The less we punch, the greater we hit. What should we save our punches for?"
I thought of an old movie and chuckled. "Asteroid impacts, I guess?"
She breathed once, and nodded.
"No shit," I whispered. "Seriously?"
She nodded again, curtly, and with finality.
"So...can you do it?" I asked her.
"I hope we never learn that," she said to me over the rim of her cup. "Drink your tea."
I picked up my cup and sipped slowly. "How much have you stored?" I asked.
Her eyes met mine, and something deep in me shook. Her eyes, like her hands, wasted utterly no movement. She looked where she meant to, breathed how she meant to, *stored* everything within her.
"I do not know," she said slowly. "I am over ninety years old, and I have not yet thrown my first punch."
r/EntelecheianLogbook
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I had been a bart-ender for years. Hunting down all the Barts, starting with the one in Springfield Virginia.
It wasn't easy being a 'minor' hero. Others had the Invincible Package, or what they called the Alexandra Package on Earth Beta. Others had the ability to spawn multiple copies of their consciousness, like Bart, which would occupy people's time and attention with annoying antics and causing chaos.
My only limited ability was the ability to stockpile. I only discovered that when I tasted my taco at fifteen. The gas I had passed was enough to nearly asphyxiate a roomful of classmates. I abstained from it for a few days, and when I ate it again, it was only confined to choking people on the apartment elevator. On the following day of another taco meal, I merely got disgusted looks from the smell.
I continued to test my theory, eating tacos on a regular basis. I was then just working as a Tex-mex deliveryperson, skimming tacos off the top of every delivery. Eventually I was caught, and fired and briefly stopped eating tacos.
My cessation of producing atmospheric pollutants was so sudden and powerful, the President of China declared that day the Day Of Miracle, where all of the smog and air pollution went away suddenly.
Today I was ambushed while I was mixing my fruity alcoholic drink, known to be toxic to Barts. Several Barts swarmed at me, trying to gouge my eyes out and chew on my ears. I had no choice...I threw the drink at them.
It was the first punch I'd ever thrown since I started my Bart-ending career ten years ago. Two Barts caught droplets in their eye, leaving a big red mess on the ceiling as the drink passed through their skull.
Another two caught it in their mouths, instantly dying of a combination of toxicity and the high velocity of the droplets. The rest dropped to their knees then sank, as the misty spray eventually overcame them.
Officer, that's how I have ten dead Barts in my living room
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NicomacheanOrc
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livebeta
|
2023-02-10 07:25:44
|
2023-02-10 06:58:01
| 53 | 28 |
j7ycs68
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j7yak83
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10y8e0y
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10y8e0y
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[WP] „It‘s not what it looks like!“, your girlfriend shouts with panic in her voice, after you walked in on her in the bathroom and stare in shock at the remaining upper half of her body. Her lower half has turned into some sparkling goo that is slowly running down the drain.
|
Daniel sighed, heavily, as he watched his girlfriend dissolving in the bathtub. Her attempts at explaining the situation away had turned into incomprehensible gurgling almost immediately, as her sudden panic accelerated her condition, and she became an increasingly amorphous mass of sparkling jelly.
*She's sick. She's sick, and I love her,* he reminded himself.
She'd been so desperate she'd forgotten to plug the drain first, he noted. He didn't panic -- that was what the special drain trap he'd had a plumber install in the basement was for. He'd just let her go, and then empty the trap into the big plastic basin he bought for that purpose. Then he'd wait for her to come back to him.
He crouched down and picked up the torn mylar packet she'd discarded on the floor. He crushed it in his hand, gritting his teeth. He wished he could find whoever sold her the little baggie of *A-Morph.* He thought about turning their face into goo -- the old-fashioned way.
*You knew she'd relapse at least once. They all do, that's what the doctor said. You knew it wouldn't be easy. It's not her. It's the drug. She's sick. You love her.*
Silently, he stood, and trudged out of the bathroom, though the living room, and down the stairs to the basement.
*She's sick. You love her.*
|
"It’s not what it looks like!"
"Well clearly you are one of *them*"
"No, i mean, yes, but no… I’m a traitor, i swear i didn’t maliciously took a human form for harm ! I’m fighting *them* too !"
"For God’s sake Janice ! You could have told me earlier" I said while using my telekinetic powers to lift her parts from the drain
"Wait, you’re not a human either ?" She asked, surprised.
She continued "because while rebelling i was cast aside and lost access to my human pills"
"Yeah, this is exactly why we should have talked about this earlier… take my allergies prescription, i’m only allergic to the human form anyway…
I’m going to make some coffee, i think we’re in for a talk"
|
SilasCrane
|
FalconMirage
|
2023-01-02 18:16:02
|
2023-01-02 16:23:21
| 88 | 51 |
j2nq30v
|
j2n8usw
|
101cski
|
101cski
|
[WP] The dragon spoke, "Release my human, and we will leave you all in peace. Do not, and I will reduce your walls to rubble to rescue them myself."
|
*WHUMP!*
Captain Ivor unceremoniously dropped me onto the floor of the throne room, the chains around my wrist clanking loudly as they hit the ground. King Lawrence got out of his throne, walked over to the two of us, and said to Ivor, "Why is the side of your head bandaged?"
Ivor rubbed his wound and winced. "The girl bit my ear off."
Lawrence facepalmed. "Oh, for the love of--go get that treated already."
Ivor bowed and walked out of the room as I hissed at him. Lawrence sighed and knelt down beside me to say, "How long are you going to keep this up, June?"
I scoffed. "That depends. How long is forever?"
"I tolerated your... eccentricities for years now. When you became obsessed with the forest, I had it registered as a national landmark. When you insisted on learning to make potions, I had the royal apothecarian take you on as an apprentice. But this has gone too far. You're running around the forest in a cobbled together ranger uniform, living like a wild animal, assaulting the captain of the royal guard!"
"Feel like you're ignoring the part where you had me banished to the forest for making out with a baron's daughter."
Lawrence groaned in frustration and paced around angrily as he continued, "You are a *princess*, for God's sake! Your demeanor is reflective on all of the royal family! Your misbehavior is taken as evidence of--WILL YOU GET OFF THE FLOOR ALREADY?! I have had it with your tantrums!!"
I smirked. "I would, but it's really in my best interest to stay low."
"What do you mean in your--"
*BOOM!*
The doors to the throne room were blasted off their hinges and sent flying. Lawrence narrowly ducked to avoid them while I calmly watched them soar over my head and destroy the throne. Through the smoke that clouded the entryway, a dragon with burnt ochre scales emerged and stared down Lawrence murderously. Then she looked at me and happily said, "Hi pumpkin!"
I waved back and responded, "Hi mama!"
My mom turned her attention back to Lawrence and growled, "Take those chains off of my daughter or I'll flay the skin from your body and roast your exposed flesh."
Lawrence looked like he was pissing himself, but still found the anger to glare at me and say, "You allied yourself with the dragons?! That--that's treason! I'll have your head for this!"
I got on my feet as my mom replied, "First of all, June didn't ally herself with us, we adopted her. Second of all, my brother Ganymede burned the guillotine on the way here. Now you can either let my baby girl go or you can die screaming."
Lawrence got up and drew his sword. "I'll not let my kingdom fall to such--"
*FWIP!*
A blow dart lodged itself in Lawrence's throat, sending him falling back to the ground. From behind my mom's legs, a woman in her own makeshift ranger uniform appeared and smiled at me. My fiancee, Tulip. As she picked the lock on my chains, I said to her, "So how does it feel to be back in the castle after all this time?"
Once my chains were unlocked, Tulip took them off my wrists and purred, "Just as I remember it: empty of anything interesting save for you." I happily pulled Tulip into a kiss as my mom lowered her back and interjected, "Come on, you two. You can be adorable at home."
Tulip and I stopped kissing and got on my mom's back as I announced, "Bye Lawrence! Hope I never see you again!" With that, my mom turned around and flew out of the hole in the castle wall to begin the journey home.
|
Old Hogan was the one who found them, huddled and scared on the side of the Laneway heading into town. Poor Hogan was heading back from his favorite pub when he happened upon the wretched thing, cold and weak from exposure.
I was asleep, having stoked the fires of the Maesters rooms and ensuring all the doors and windows were locked when Hogan barged into my room.
"Yoan, we have a problem!"
Hogan half whispered, half murmured as my door banged open. I shot out of bed, the twilight of sleep washed away by the rude surprise. Clothed in nothing but my gracious skin, Hogan promptly turned around and closed the door before then knocking politely...before opening the door and stating again;
"Yoan! We have a problem and sorry I didn't knock."
Still naked, I began to dress and question Hogan about the problem 'we' had. Since I was asleep, in my room, and couldn't fathom what could be the problem I assumed that Hogan was just drunk and confused.
"Ok, Hogan. Explain to me 'our' problem so I can fix it. Did you beat a wench at the pub again? I have only so much coin to spare for your shenanigans."
Hogan huffed at me as I said this, shaking his head.
"Naw, Yoan, its na' that. At all. I have plenty of coin myself to pay a Death tax. Naw, 'tis here is something worse. It's a human, and its Branded."
I was listening to Hogan half heartedly, absent-mindedly dressing myself. I had slipped a few golden Dakas into my pocket as he spoke, smiling at the sheer absurdity at Hogans words. It was the tinkling of the gold in my pocket, the rattle of the silver candlestick as I bumped into my nightstand on the way out of my room when Hogans words dawned on me.
"Branded?" I croaked out, freezing as I crossed the threshold of my bedroom.
Hogan had his beat up hat in his hands, staring at me with almost tears in his eyes. The single candle he held sputtered and died. I took a sharp breath, trying to slow the sudden rise in my heartrate. Humans were like vermin to the Horken and Dyads, who viewed Terragia as sacred. The Humans, they spread like a disease across the vast continents of Terragia since their arrival via the Heavens thousands of years ago. They dug and burned and built, destroying to support their society and people. Hogan, poor Hobbled Hogan was wounded by one of them during The War.
"Where is this Branded human, Hogan? What trouble have you brought home at this time of night?"
Hogan nodded and just turned and headed up the dark hallway of the Servant Quarters. I heard him begin to thump up the stairs into the Hall of the Maesterium, as I dutifully followed him toward this Human he was speaking of. In a way, I was excited. In another, I knew deep down there was trouble coming.
Only Drogons branded anything, and only Drogons scared the Maesters.
|
jardanovic
|
BlantantlyAccidental
|
2023-01-28 20:36:11
|
2023-01-28 18:25:05
| 22 | 16 |
j69yeo4
|
j69fcb9
|
10nb6cj
|
10nb6cj
|
[WP] "God can come have coffee with me if he's really interested." You said, shutting the door on some irritating guys with pamphlets. The very next day, God taps lightly on your door, to have a coffee.
|
“I swear if it’s those Mormons again..”
I open the door to a radiant woman standing there peacefully, almost angelic and cloaked in white.
“Oh. Hello.” It’s hard to hide my surprise.
“So I heard you wanted to talk?” She said, her voice like a symphony. “I brought the coffee.”
She materialized two mugs of coffee in her hands instantly, “Just cream, right?”
No words could find their way to my mouth, just a little nod with my jaw frozen mid-air.
She hands me the mug as she walks past me—still gawking.
“Nice view!” She says as she effortlessly sails over to the couch facing the ocean.
A quick slap hits the inside of my skull as I watch her.
“Eyes up, boy.” She says without even turning her head before taking a seat.
I rub my head while walking over to sit in the chair across from her, still trying to shape words.
“Okay, this is actually going to be even more fun than I thought” she says with a smile as I sit down with intense focus, only able to get out a chesty “uhhhm.”
“Didn’t think I’d be a woman, did ya?” Her smile growing a little more.
“I had a clue, but wasn’t sure.” I finally spit out.
“I know. I just wanted to see your response.” She leans back a little, “I’ve sent you a lot of clues, you know.”
Suddenly so many moments where I’ve had little passing contemplations, or marveled in nature, or have been utterly hypnotized by women, and thoughtful of mothership came flooding in.
“Yeah, and there were even more than that.” She said with a sip, “I’ve had my eye on you for a while actually. It’s about time you asked me out.”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you remember that crazy MDMA trip you had, years ago?” She leaned forward a bit, a little more serious.
Suddenly the forgotten trip hit me like an anvil.
“Yeah, I had went to the astral plane and then—wait, that was YOU?”
Her eyes lit up, “I can’t believe you forgot. I didn’t quite have this body yet though. I actually just made it specially for this.”
The world started spinning around me, a little bit of coffee spilled on my shirt before she waved the mug into the air.
“Thanks.” I muttered, while a million thoughts raced through my head and then started shaking my chest like an invisible seizure.
“Am I dreaming, or tripping, or dead or something?” I said, grabbing my head with both hands and staring at the shifting floor.
She knelt down in front of me to meet my eyes—I didn’t even hear her move.
My nausea went away as soon as I actually noticed how beautiful she was, and how much love she held in her eyes.
She took my hand in hers, and I noticed over her shoulder that both of our mugs were on the coffee table already.
“I just can’t believe this is happening.” I tell her plainly.
“I didn’t think it ever would.” She said softly, “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for someone like you.”
“Like me?”
She said nothing, but gazed into my soul with the depths and patience of infinity.
Like magnets we drew closer.
Until our lips finally met with what felt like a flash of lightning.
And that kids, is how I met your mother.
|
**Rat-a-tat-tat**
I admit, I wasn't really expecting any visitors that day. Much less the man who stood outside of my home.
He hardly looked divine, in a worn coat and tattered boots. Hell, if it hadn't been for that.... *Something* in his eyes, I would have thought him just another bum, looking for a meal or some change. It was those eyes.
An ocean of knowledge and weariness, in equal measures.
He smiled then, softly. Humbly. "I believe you invited me for coffee yesterday." He gestured toward himself awkwardly, a strangely human gesture. "Well, here I am."
I could only stare for a moment, stunned.
*Could this truly be the Lord of All Creation? The Creator Himself?* He looked as if he knew my turmoil, and gestured vaguely inside. "Yes, dear boy. It's me. May I come in?"
I stepped back, some part of me still gripped with doubt, but willing to play this man's charade. I had precious little else to do. He stepped inside, and strode confidently into the kitchenette. Almost as if he had lived there as long as I had, he opened cabinets and rattled drawers, coaxing my aging coffeepot to life.
After a while, He sat down at my small dining table, a fresh, steaming cup before him, and placed another across from him. "Come. I know you have many questions."
I sat in my creaking wooden chair, it's squeaks a comforting anchor. "So..." I began, but then realized I truly didn't know what to say. He seemed bemused, sipping his cup as I raised my own to my lips. It was perfectly the way I liked it, but I couldn't bring myself to be surprised. The quiet man across from me hadn't even said much of anything, yet I knew who He was.
"So..." I began again. "You... You're God?"
He chuckled, setting down his cup and folding his hands over the scarred tabletop. "I think you knew that from when you opened that door. But to answer your question... Yes. You may know me as God."
The statement shook me to my core, yet it was true. Some part of me had already recognized him, even as I answered that first knock.
"Why?" I croaked. Swallowing the lump in my throat, and a sip of coffee, I could only repeat the half baked thought
"Why?"
He sighed, gazing into his cup. "Why what, son? Why am I here?" He sipped, his eyes on mine. "Because you asked."
~Ah, my goodness. I love this prompt. I'll definitely add a part 2, but that is such a great stopping point for now.~
|
WhatsGoingggOn
|
hara_sensei3377
|
2023-03-21 06:44:46
|
2023-03-21 05:14:01
| 44 | 26 | null | null |
11wsrfi
|
11wsrfi
|
[WP] “I’ve seen what your secret identity has done. The charities, the scholarships, the women shelters. In fact you may have may done more good in this world than I ever could, even as their hero. So why do you still dress up as the villain?”
|
I steeple my fingers and sultrily swung a leg over the other thigh.
"What difference does it make to you?" I purr.
"All the difference," Captain Stallion says. "Because if your secret activities are the genuine you, you aren't a villain, Lady DeMonika."
"How about we settle for 'it's complicated' and get to the fighting that inevitably ends with me cuffed and escaping before we get to InterPol?" I examine my nails, waiting for an answer. When that doesn't seem to be forthcoming, I pout and wave in the air. "Fiiiiiiine. Follow me, and I'll show you my big, dark secret: my vault."
"I've seen it."
I laugh. "Oh, you only *think* you've seen it. How much, Captain, of what we do is theatricality?" I push myself up and stride toward the vault door at the back of my command center, swaying my hips invitingly. "For my part, I'm not certain whether Denise Madeira is the true person, or Lady DeMonika. How's that for 'playing the part,' Captain? Lost in the role, are we? Well, I am."
I raise a remote and push the button; and the vault door spins a few tens of degrees before a heavy thudding sound is heard, then it spins back, and so on and so forth through twenty magnetized steel spoke locks weighing a quarter ton each.
"It's such a fine work of engineering and puzzlecraft. Twenty tons, yet the slightest touch of the tip of my finger will swing it wide." I smirk. "So your stallion's strength would be utterly unnecessary."
He looks at me; and not for the first time do I find myself fighting to keep from audibly gasping.
"Well, if you won't open it," I finally say, "then I suppose—"
"It's a trap," he says.
"Oh please. It's a *revelation.* Why would I bother go trap you after you made such a bold declaration of my intentions to me?"
The Captain pulls the door open with a tug.
"It's empty."
"And it always has been. At least since I made good...it's not cheap, being a supervillainess as well as the world's most secret benefactor." I examine my nails again. "Do you know why my demons keep working for me, Captain? Because I pay them, very well. They have guaranteed health and life insurance. They can keep families in comfort. It's not spectacular; but henching is by definition not making the big bucks. And while I'm sticking my forked tail in every silly plot on this planet, that first hundred million has ballooned into two billion. What am I going to do with two billion dollars, Captain Stallion? Hold the world ransom again? So instead, I looked for and found places to discreetly deposit it, places where it might make up for...me."
"Are you turning a leaf over?"
I laugh. "Hardly. Villainy is too much fun, and having a hero who I trade barbs and sometimes softnesses with is diverting. So no, I think I'll keep on being the villainess."
"Which one is true?"
I give him a mock hurt look.
"Why can't they both be?"
|
"Do you want the honest truth?" I asked.
Once I saw the nod of the head that meant yes, I had to walk away dramatically and place my hands on a window sill. I lowered my head, closed my eyes, and counted to ten. On ten, I lifted my head and looked out the window, trying to think of something sad that would make me cry. I got choked up thinking of the price of gas and it took me a moment to speak.
"Are you sure?" I asked one last time for my listener's sake, knowing that most times, they couldn't - *wouldn't* - believe the truth.
"Yes," he said.
I took another deep, shuddering breath, and jumped straight to it:
"It's because I wanted to wear pants."
There was a moment of silence as I let my words sink in. The outburst came three seconds later.
"What? Because you.. wanted...you...y-you're lying. This must be a joke!"
I spun, meeting the look of confusion in the young man's eyes with the pained look of my own. "I'm not! It...it's not," I said softly, turning to the left and looking down to show my good side.
"You're a filty damn liar! I refuse to believe that you've chosen this evil persona because you...you...all because you wanted to wear pants?!"
"I didn't want to be Superman when I could be Lex Luthor! I didn't want to be Batman when I could be Joker! Why must I wear my underwear outside my pants to be a hero? I couldn't do it."
"So you chose to become a villian..." The man seethed. "You're right. You aren't a hero. Only a true hero would be man enough to step outside wearing their underwear over their pants. You will *never* be a Superman, *never* be a Batman, or anywhere close to even the greatest superhero of all time...Captain Underpants!" He had walked over to me and stuck a finger in my face. "Captain Underpants was so much of a hero, that he didn't even *wear* pants."
Then he spun on his heels and walked out of the room.
The door slammed. I fell to my knees and buried my head in my hands, shaking my shoulders up and down to imitate the effect of sobbing, as I visually imagined a camera slowly zooming out from me and then deadpanning away to take in the great expanse of the dark, night sky.
|
Beautiful_Business10
|
MicroscopeMac
|
2024-01-20 21:14:01
|
2024-01-20 21:13:14
| 111 | 59 |
kiskhnd
|
kiskd3e
|
19bi95r
|
19bi95r
|
[WP] You are a god with no followers nor enemies, yet you still persist. No god had ever lived without worship before. The other gods are stumped as to why this is so...until you tell them what you are the god of.
|
"Order! Order!" Sovereign Reality called out to the cacophony. All around me the gods were restless, eyeing me with great suspicion and maybe a little bit of fear.
Given the situation, you'd think they had the worst sort chained up by the Shackles of Gleipnir on the central dias. Tartarus perhaps, Cthulhu, or the Queen of Wasps. Not a plain looking Jane.
How did I even get here?
I was minding my own business (like always), trying to eat a damn sandwich for lunch. A big ol' heaping two-foot submarine that nobody could eat in one sitting (except me, of course.) Just as I was about to take a bite, I instead materialized (as I sometimes tend to do when I'm distracted), at the worst time in the most unfortunate place in front of the wrong god.
Houdini, who ascended as Lord of Escapes when he "died," is really buddy with Hephaestus, the Greek dude who likes to make stuff. Hephaestus makes traps, Houdini escapes them for fun. It's a really sweet bromance, you couldn't come up with a better pair.
They're not the ones who were the problem though. The problem was, *Hermes* happened to be there, and he's an annoying chatterbox that never shuts up and says whatever is on his mind. So *of course* he says the magic words, and suddenly I'm in an "inescapable" box and walk right out of it faster than even Houdini could manage. If it was just Houdini and Hephaestus, I probably could have gotten away with nothing but some rumors. But no, Hermes started zipping around the world, gossiping about how "some random girl" bested the gods.
Next thing I know, some minor immortals are attacking me - maybe just testing the waters to see if I'm really all that. Instead, one immortal or deity after another attacks me - with spears, fire, laser, poison, curses, Disco - that nobody could survive, and are dumbfounded when that's *exactly* what happens.
Now, normally I could just keep going on unharmed and undetained, but after a few months I was getting tired of it (I still never got around to enjoying my sandwich!) so I willingly turned myself in, which brings us to-
"ARE YOU IGNORING ME!?"
Oh, right.
I look up at Sovereign Reality, who was glaring murderously down at me.
"Uh, sorry. Could you repeat that?"
Their eye twitched "Declare your name."
I sighed. "Nobody."
"We don't believe that. You have bested the strongest deities, shrugged off our most powerful attacks. You are *someone* and yet there is no record of you! You are all powerful and yet we sense nothing divine within you! You are violating the laws of Reality! My laws! We demand your name!"
"Nobody."
"Tell us the truth!"
"Seriously, I'm Nobody."
Their face, which was actually already red, turned white from anger. Some of the gods snickered, the ones guarding me growled.
"I will have your head girl, as soon as we can figure out how to remove it! Nobody disrespects the court"
"I do what I want, you f\*** ing b**ch." Ah damnit, they look apocalyptic now.
I raise my hands and the gods gasp as the chains crumble away like pastry flakes. Sovereign Reality's jaw drops - earlier they were smug, gloating about how Shackles of Gleipnir could not be broken by anybody.
Actually, their exact words were "*Nobody* can break these chains."
"My name" I look around making sure they were all listening "*is* Nobody. Whenever you invoke my name, it becomes my truth."
Sovereign Reality huffed. "I would have remembered creating a *'Nobody.'*"
"I was already kicking around when you came into being."
"Preposterous! I am eternal! Nobody existed -" Sovereign Reality stopped, realizing what they were about to say. The gods around us murmured as they recounted all the times they had said the magic words. I saw Houdini and Hephaestus glowering at Hermes for ruining their game.
Sovereign Reality set down their gavel, and gazed down at me, as it started to dawn on them...
"Your powers, are ridiculous."
I shrug ruefully. "Yeah well, you know what they say. Nobody's perfect."
|
Sorry for the formatting I’m on mobile (not part of the story)
Bakunawa the Filipino dragon god stood shoulder to shoulder with his pantheon. His was one of hundreds gathered here today in the Infinite Embassy, the only structure strong enough to hold so many deities, and he was nervous for today the First Prophecy was to be opened and read.
I Am That I Am the god of existence takes the scroll into his hands. That scroll looks pretty scrawny to hold the greatest prophecy every told thought Bakunawa. I Am That I Am opens it and his face scrunches up in thought. He puts it down.
What does it say one of the many gods of knowledge shouts from farther back. I Am That I Am looks at him and sighs. “It tells us the date of the end of existence” he says in a low voice. A great murmur erupts in the Embassy as the gods and goddesses talk amongst themselves. “Gather your mortal champions we will meet in one week to form our war council” the god of existence says. Bakunawa looks at his fellow Filipino god and whispers “I call dibs on Marc.” “Bro what the hell? You know he’s my favorite mortal!” Minokawa shouts back.
“So what is this end of resistance thingy?” Marc says as he looks up at his dragon god. “End of existence. You gotta work on your English Marc” Bakunawa says grinning down at his favorite apostle. “The end of existence is when the Great Enemies come to challenge us to see who has the right to stay well existing I guess you could say. And before you ask the Enemies are nigh-impossible looking creatures from across the stars, the very sight of them could make a man go insane. They hunger for destruction and suck the life out of the fabric of reality itself.” “Ah so kinda like my ex girlfriend” Marc says. “Heh” Bakunawa chuckles. “I have to go talk to my fellow God Heads be carful not to too far from our pantheon. You’re a big shot mortal here but we are a small pantheon in the grand scheme of things.”
As Marc mingles with his fellow mortal champions he spots a man sitting by himself munching on some fries. I didn’t know we were even allowed food here Marc thinks to himself. Marc walks towards him. Maybe he’ll give me some fries if I ask it is lunch time in the Philippines and I’m starving. “Careful” Apolaki the Filipino war god says to him. “He’s a god.” Marc looks back and forth between the 20ft tall mountain of muscle and the average looking blond eating fries. “Is he really?” Marc says. “He is and he’s a conundrum even among us gods for he has no followers.”
Damn Marc thinks to himself. There should be no way that he could survive without followers. Right? That was the rule right? “Though I’m pretty forgetful full?” Marc says that last part out loud to himself as he walks toward the god.
Now that he looks at him he thinks that the god dosent seem so godly. He smells like a the earth and has a purple suit, same color as a Okinawan potato he thinks. Average height brown blond hair the same color as the French fries he’s eating. And his eyes are red just like those small red potat… wait a minute. Marc’s eyes bulge inside his head as he realizes it. No way no way this guy is the god of..
The god looks at him “ya idk why the other gods don’t see it I’m not exactly trying to be subtle here” the god says.
|
None
|
zoskalanic
|
2023-11-29 06:07:03
|
2023-11-29 01:28:09
| 34 | 12 |
kb88z3d
|
kb7978n
|
185vjhr
|
185vjhr
|
[WP] You used to be the scourge of kingdoms, the reaper of heroes and the mere mention of your name scared even the toughest of them. But today no one remembers you and you are fine with that. You have lived in peace ever since until one day a stranger approaches you and calls you by your true name.
|
"Can I get you anything?"
I smiled at the table's lone occupant, one of the few seats currently filled in the tavern. He looked up at me, grey eyes watching below bushy eyebrows. His hair was split by a white scar, running from forehead to the back of his skull. He stared up at me, before returning my smile. "I hope so, Drezda."
I felt the room go cold. That was a name I hadn't heard in decades. An eye opened up on my neck, hidden from sight by my long hair. A quick look through it showed no-one to be paying attention, as I leaned close to him. "Still your tongue, mite, lest I rip it from you."
To his credit he paled, glancing around much like I had. Seeing none paying enough attention to help, he held up his hands. "I-I meant no harm."
I sniffed, staring down at him unblinkingly. "I would advise you leave, and speak naught of this."
The stranger gave a small shake of his head, steeling his will. "Please, I just want to talk with you. I swear I won't spread your secret."
I frowned at him. The fact he knew of me was an ill omen. I enjoyed my life amongst the mortals now, and had worked hard to scrub away the connection between my past and present. If he knew, it begged the question who else did.
He watched me from his seat, and I sighed. Like it or not, I had to speak with him. I had to know how he found out. Plus he wanted to talk with me. If not now, at sometime later he would try again. They were annoyingly persistent like that. "Fine. My shift finishes at the stroke of ten. Wait outside then, and we shall talk."
He nodded, relief evident on his face. I finally blinked, returning to my serving girl mode. "So can I get you anything?"
His face twisted in confusion, before understanding hit. "Ah! Um... yes, could I get a mug of... Slayers Stout?"
I gave him a nod. "Coming up."
With that I left, feeling the room warm a little.
\-----
I left on time as always, wrapping a shawl over my head. Stepping onto the paved street, the stranger emerged from shadows, giving me an awkward wave. "Hi."
I rolled my eyes, nodding away from the tavern. "This way, we can talk at my place."
His arm waved as if to say lead the way. I walked with purpose, my stride enough to make him hurry to keep up. It was easy to see his eyes jumping around, nervously taking in our surroundings. It was amusing, seeing how worried he was.
My home wasn't much to look at. On the outskirts of town, it was a very small dwelling. Just big enough for a bedroom, rudimentary bathing room, and the main room. I lead him in, seeing him take in the place. It was sparsely decorated, with a simple table and chairs, and a cold stove. I sat on one chair, watching him look around at the nothingness. "You wanted to talk, so talk."
He nervously sat opposite me, scratching his chest. "So... um... I know you're Drezda. I was hoping you could help me with a problem."
I rolled my eyes again. "I am neither a wish giving genie nor deal making devil. I don't help with problems."
His scratching grew harder. "I know... thing is, you are the only sane Voidling I have seen."
My temper flickered. I always hated that name, Voidling. It made me sound infantile, and not the creature I am now. "What possible reason could you have for seeking out one of us?"
His hand dropped to the bottom of his shirt, lifting it in one swift movement. There I saw a muscled chest, with a black oval coating part. The oval writhed, a small tendril poking from it. "This is why. The physicians don't know what it is. All I know is I got it fighting a Spawn, and its growing bigger."
I leaned forwards, inspecting it closely. The tendril flicked towards me, a tiny eye momentarily opening at its end. I sighed, looking up at him. "How long ago?"
He looked upwards, thinking. "Near two weeks. Why?"
I rubbed my human guise's eyes. "Simply put, that's an Incursion Subjugation. That Spawn you fought? It didn't die. It latched onto your body, and is changing you into a form more suitable for it. If you had been properly treated in three days of its occurrence, it could have been eradicated. Now however, it has too deep a hold."
His had started shaking. "I-is... how long?"
I peered closer. "At this rate, maybe a month before you are gone. You can expect to start hallucinating soon, and hear the Spawn talking with you."
I heard his stomach gurgle, as he clamped a hand over his mouth. He sprung up, heading to the door to throw up. His retching continued for some time, as I waited. After a few minutes he settled. He spoke again, voice shaking. "Is... is there nothing I can do?"
I shook my head. "No, nothing. However, I can give you a chance."
His head spun to stare at me. "A chance?"
With that I smiled, mouth stretching too wide. "Indeed. In place of it taking over you, I can give you an opportunity to take over it."
|
##Human Nature
The old woman hobbled to the chess board in the middle of the park. The other tables were occupied with games, and she decided to wait. Eventually, someone would come, and they would grant her a game.
A confident young man walked towards her. She knew his type well. He thought she was merely a warm-up, an easy victory. He would be startled by her skill and grow to doubt his own knowledge. When the old woman won, his would walk away thinking it was a fluke.
"Hello Duena." The man sat down. Duena leaned back in her chair careful to avoid showing her surprise. She tilted her head at the man trying to figure out who he was.
"Have we met before?" She attempted to keep her guise as a sweet old woman.
"A long time ago. You may call me Liam. Is it alright if I go first? You historically came much later," he said.
"Did we meet at the grocery store two weeks ago?" Duena asked as she made her own move.
"We met at the market a long time ago. Rather, I saw you at the market. That was when few saw your face, goddess of destruction," Liam said.
"I never understood why I was singled out as a terror. The other death gods never acquired my reputation."
"Few enjoyed it as much as you."
"I never enjoyed it." Duena raised a hand and knocked over the king by accident. "The philosophers wrote me as gleeful, but I was merely fulfilling a role. You kill one person, and you are somber. I destroy civilizations, and I'm a raging monster."
"During the flood, I heard you laugh," Liam replied.
"Which flood? There have been so many?" Duena asked. The rain fell around them. "Ah, a touch dramatic are we?"
"You don't live as long as I do without fantasizing about revenge," Liam said.
"I suppose that's true. Many have tried to stop me, but they cannot. Let's keep playing," Duena said. Their game continued while everyone else went home. Duena was surprised to find herself losing. She attempted to sense the man's true nature.
"The other gods hated me for destroying their worshippers," Duena said.
"So I've heard."
"You never interacted with them?"
"Indirectly." Liam put her in check. Duena moved out and found her path to victory limited.
"You mentioned a flood. How long ago was this?" Duena said.
"Perhaps it was your first disaster. I'm not sure. Either way, my true language is unrecognizable to humans," Liam said.
"That's not difficult. They forget how they spoke two hundred years ago."
"You hate humans don't you," Liam asked. He moved his bishop. Duena stared at the board. She was three moves from checkmate, and there was no avoiding it.
"No, I don't. I told you that I'm necessary."
"I suppose you were necessary to create me."
"And what are you?"
"You were a war goddess, our war goddess until you realized the destructive force of nature. You harnessed it's power to destroy everything in your path. On your first flood, I was the only survivor. It was a sad and lonely life, but I pressed onward. I taught the rest of humanity to live and thrive. I went nameless though; I didn't brag like you." Liam moved his rook.
"I never bragged. If I bragged, would they forget who I was?"
"That was my doing. They turned me into a deity. I draw my strength their persistence. I suppose I should thank you. Every tragedy that you create adds to my power." Liam moved the queen. "Check mate."
Duena tossed the board off the table. "Why have you come here? Why not wait until later then?"
"Because I love the humans unlike you, I know your next plan. You've grown bored and want to move on. You will fail, but your disaster is to great that I cannot allow you to do so," Liam said.
"My plans have already been set into motion," Duena said.
"You didn't take into account for that." Liam pointed at the chains surrounding her.
"No one has achieved such a spell on me. Are you going to kill me?" Duena asked.
"You're too powerful, and you're correct. You are necessary." Liam stood up. "You're just trapped until I clean up your mess. Enjoy watching yourself fail." Duena spat at his feet.
"I never fail because the humans always fail."
"That's where you're wrong. The humans frequently fail, but they find ways to succeed." Liam walked away from the old woman.
---
r/AstroRideWrites
|
Shalidar13
|
AstroRide
|
2023-07-29 20:18:39
|
2023-07-29 20:15:19
| 286 | 36 |
jtzj42q
|
jtzimln
|
15d05q2
|
15d05q2
|
[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?"
|
Black Briar, a special members only club. Villainy is our requirement and only the ones with some sense of class or restraint. Serial killers and psychos are often cut down by members of the Black Briar Club for just how bad it goes.
Today there was a party and everyone was enjoying it. General Rampage took just robbed the federal reserve and sent his long time rival Angel Wing to the hospital with a broken wing, missing foot and 3rd degree burns all over. It's all over the news that her healing factor will restore her by tomorrow. Quite a shame really, these heroes heal too fast.
I think Doctor Speed is celebrating the theft of the Hope Diamond too. I see him holding it up from time to time. Of course a few of the slick thieves have already tried to steal it from him, but no one gets away from someone who perceives and thinks in nanoseconds. At least they buy him a round for the joke.
I even see a few noob villains nursing a drink while listening to the old generation on how things are done. Me? I'm Cyber King, Master of robots and technology. Soon my robot minions will act, but for now it's a day to relax. Or... so I thought.
The doors open and suddenly the android DJ I loaned to the club sends me a class 5 emergency and stops the music. The sudden silence that filled the room was chilling. Standing in the doorway was Diamond Moon, a teenage magical girl known the club over as Little Miss Cotton Candy cause that's what she was to everyone. Bubbly, sweet and even to villains caring. A few turned antihero or even dark hero because of her. Heck, even I liked her.
"Who did it?" Her voice was not Bubbly as we all expected, but dark and full of the most blood thirsty rage. She shook down to her core and her wand was pulsing with barely restrained power. No one dared budge, and many seemed confused. "Who did it!?!" She repeated in a near screech of rage.
"Did what?" I asked as I stood up slowly and held my hands up. With a flick of my wrist my power gauntlets hissed and fell to the floor leaving me unarmed. "I won't resist, but you need to be more clear on what."
"Who... who..." She shook all over as tears ran down her face and I took a few steps forward.
"Whisper to me if you need too." I said with a soft tone as I stepped over to her. The few words that hit my ear was enough to make my blood boil. "Villains of the Black Briar Club! Somebody did the unforgivable to Diamond Moon with their powers. Let's make sure she doesn't need to bloody her hands with this, defiler." A few with super hearing where already looking ready to kill as my robot DJ cued up "For Whom the Bell Tolls."
Several of the female villains moved to offer support for the magical girl, as an alert pinged of somebody running out the emergency exit.
The Black Briar Club doesn't tolerate those kinds of monsters.
|
(Recommended listening before reading this: [This is how villains are made](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plPtZPem94o) by Madalen Duke)
Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he made his way through the Downs. Before his red tinted vision, a familiar sign winked at him. *Gormenghast*.
Someone was voiding whatever poisons they'd used the last of the hard earned slip to purchase into a nearby gutter. He barely noticed it as one of his hounds boiled out from beneath the shadows of his cloak and bore the unfortunate man into the dark recesses of a nearby alley way.
There were no screams. And even if there had been, he wouldn't have noticed.
In his hands, grasped withing the rictus of a bloodied fist, a tattered handkerchief barely fluttered as he arrived beneath the neon monstrosity and looked up.
The shadows beneath him roiled in response to his emotions; a question asked by the masses that normally lay dormant within. Nails biting into his fist, he marveled at how easily an answer was given. His shadows boiled out into the streets and alleyways of the Downs, a torrent of fur, teeth and ill will. He found himself snickering darkly as he pushed his way in through the nondescript door and made his way down the stairs.
*All it took was one really bad day, eh?*
The screams all along the quarter begun in earnest, though they were drowned out by the sound of the blood pounding in his ears and the thrum of music rising from behind the heavy steel door that he'd descended to.
He didn't even recall how the two bouncers normally stationed there has come to find themselves slumped against the graffiti-ed walls with their necks ripped open. With a gesture, two of his hounds made short work of the door, barreling into it with enough force to crack the plaster around it and bear it into the pulsating lights and sounds of the infamous drinking hole.
The music didn't even skip a beat as every eye in the establishment turned to take him in.
*Wonder what I look like right now*. He wondered as the questions reached a fever pitch, and every shadow in the room shifted to pool at his feet.
*Doesn't matter anymore.* He snapped his finger and gave his reply. *Eat.*
|
LordVulpix
|
Visible-Ad8263
|
2024-10-17 17:51:43
|
2024-10-17 15:05:12
| 57 | 41 | null |
lsdgcz6
|
1g5kua3
|
1g5kua3
|
[WP] "Stand down! Join the side of justice!" The hero exclaimed at the villain's henchmen. "But why? Our boss gives us healthcare, paid vacations, and homes for our familes to live safely."
|
The towering silhouette of The Vigilant loomed over the burning cityscape, his cape billowing dramatically in the wind. He pointed a gloved finger at the dozen or so henchmen blocking his path. "Stand down!" he commanded, his voice echoing with righteousness. "Join the side of justice!"
A ripple of uncertainty passed through the henchmen. They exchanged glances before one of them, a burly man with a receding hairline and a faint smell of burnt coffee clinging to his uniform, took a tentative step forward.
"Uh, sir," the henchman began, clearing his throat. "No offense, but why would we do that? I mean, what exactly is in it for us?"
The Vigilant paused, caught off guard. This wasn't the usual response—no desperate scrambling for freedom, no cries for mercy. "Why?" he repeated, gathering himself. "Because it's the right thing to do. Because justice will prevail, and you will be on the side of the light."
Another henchman, this one with a slight limp and a name tag that read "Carl," piped up. "Yeah, see, that's all well and good, but our boss—Mr. Blackclaw—he, uh, he actually takes pretty good care of us."
The Vigilant blinked, trying to process what he was hearing. "Takes care of you?" he asked, almost incredulous.
"Yeah," Carl nodded. "We've got healthcare. Like, really good healthcare. And dental." He smiled, revealing an impressively straight set of teeth. "I got braces last year. Didn't cost me a dime."
"And paid vacations," added the first henchman. "Two weeks a year. Three, if you’ve been here over five years. Plus, we get family housing. The kids love it—there's a pool and everything."
"Plus, last Christmas, we got bonuses," another henchman chimed in, his voice muffled by his helmet. "I paid off my car."
The Vigilant's mind raced as he tried to come up with a counterargument. "But... but he's a villain," he finally managed. "He's evil!"
"Well, yeah," Carl said, scratching his head. "But he's got a 401(k) match up to 5%. You don't just walk away from that, you know?"
"But what about the *atrocities*?" The Vigilant pressed, desperation creeping into his voice. "He’s blown up buildings! He’s terrorized the city!"
The henchmen collectively shrugged.
"You get used to it," one of them said nonchalantly. "Plus, the buildings he blows up are usually just condemned properties. I mean, no one was living in those places anyway. And, hey, the terrorizing? It’s more like… job security."
Carl nodded sagely. "And I mean, look at the state of the world. Heroes, villains... who's to say who's really on the right side? At least with Blackclaw, we know what we’re getting. He’s upfront about everything. It’s not like he’s pretending to be the good guy."
"Yeah," another chimed in. "And you should see the benefits package. I’m talking comprehensive mental health services. I've been working through some stuff with Dr. Harris, and it’s been life-changing."
The Vigilant’s shoulders slumped as he realized he was losing them. "But… what about honor? Dignity?"
The henchmen looked at each other and shrugged again.
"Honor doesn’t pay the bills," Carl said finally.
The Vigilant sighed, lowering his hand. "Okay, but... surely there's something I can offer you? Maybe... half-days on Fridays?"
The henchmen stared at him blankly.
The Vigilant sighed again, deeper this time. "Fine. I’ll just... I’ll just go after Blackclaw myself."
Carl gave him an empathetic nod. "Good luck with that, man. But, hey, if it doesn’t work out, we're always looking for new recruits. Seriously, though—let us know. We get a referral bonus."
|
After being swarmed by countless henchmen, the chosen hero and his faithful party of adventurers had no choice but to use a more charismatic approach. He cleared his throat, extending his arm out for them. "You don't have to do this! I know you're only doing it for your poor families, but we can help you! Join justice and fight for righteousness," the hero exclaimed, pouring his heart into every word. The henchmen stood there, looking at each other silently and back at the hero. "But why?" One of them stepped forward and asked, and soon followed another, "Our Lord gives us healthcare, paid vacations, and safe homes for our families."
The hero's jaw dropped to the floor, and he began stammering," W-Well, when his reign comes to an end, wouldn't you be left with nothing!?"
"Well," the henchman answered, "we signed an official contract approved by the government, so we have our rights to keep the houses."
The hero was left speechless, trying to find any word, but nothing came out. "I summon your Lord!" he yelled out, and a henchman made a quick call. "Boss? The hero wants a word with ya. Mhm. Oh? Yeah, yeah... I see," the henchman nodded, before passing the phone to the hero. "Hello?" A voice boomed from the phone, the same raspy voice of the accursed Demon Lord, "Is this the hero talking?"
"Uhhh, yeah?" The hero answered, unsure how the situation escalated to this. "I just wanted to know... Am I too late to sign?" The hero's question made his companions stare at him with disbelief, the sorceress smacking him with her staff. "Focus!" She exclaimed, and he spoke again, "Ahem, I meant, how dare you brainwash these poor civilians to sign your socialist contracts!?"
"They are free to drop off whenever they want, dude. I just want to make sure they spread the word. I'm low on henchmen since you literally killed 63% on your way here!" The frustration of the Demon Lord's voice was clear through the phone, and the hero just rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, they *did* attack first..."
"Just go away. You already caused enough destruction. Do you know how hard it is to manage hell!? Do you know just how obnoxious the other demons are!? I have to deal with this shit every fucking minute, and now you're killing my subordinates. I lost half of my voters because you killed them in the name of your self-proclaimed justice!" The Demon Lord started ranting, a quiet sniffle being heard. "That's it, I want a divorce! I will find another hero to antagonize!"
"No! We can sort this out, I promise!" The hero tried to reason, but the Demon Lord hang up on him. The hero dropped to his knees, shaking his fist against the sky and getting a lot of weird looks. "So... we are living our best life, yeah. We should just... leave," the henchmen all agreed, awkwardly stepping outside the scene, leaving the hero alone to manage his breakup, and his party just looked at him with judgmental stares. "Is he serious?" "He is..." the sorceress asked, and the paladin answered.
|
StoneBurner143
|
18InchesOfMessmer
|
2024-08-18 23:49:38
|
2024-08-18 21:47:09
| 55 | 32 |
liso0us
|
lis4nox
|
1evdkds
|
1evdkds
|
[WP] As an elf you have heard many stories of hero’s summoned to your world to defeat tyrants. So you have some context as to why you’re standing in a summoning circle with humans asking you to kill their “corporate overlords.”
|
I looked around at the tired looking, human males and females, wearing this awfully restraining clothes.
The summoning circle was rudimentary...but somehow it worked.
Just as how people in my homeland summon "heroes"...these people managed to summon me.
"So...slaves can cast magic as well?
Aren't you restricted?". I asked.
I saw that they couldn't understand me, so I took the liberty to use some wind magic, to listen to the conversations around us.
"Ahem, now, can you understand me?", I asked them.
"Oh! The magic worked! You speak English!", a female human jumped in joy.
"Actually, little slave, I learnt it through my own wind magic.", I smiled at her, but she paled, and froze.
"Excuse me, is "slave" a bad term in these lands?", I continued.
A male human walked up and nodded, as he gave me some clothes.
These looked much more comfortable.
"I apologize, but you look so tired, your souls are worn out...those clothes you wear are clearly for your own punishment...
So i thought...", I said.
"Shirts? Suits...Yeah...maybe we are slaves...", the female human mockingly laughed, as she tugged at her clothes.
"Can you help us? You are an elf, aren't you?
Can you liberate us from our corporate overlords?", a younger human male enthusiastically asked.
"Explain your situation to me a bit.", I said, happy that I was naked no more, and happy that these "hoodies" and "sweatpants" were comfortable, even though the materials felt weird.
After their explanations...I sighed.
"So, these "Overlords" are actually just really good merchants?
And they overwork you, but pay you?", I asked.
"They barely pay us! Compared to what we do!", a young female woman shouted.
"I do apologize...but your situation seems decent?
In our world, some human kingdoms still employ ancient slavery, where slaves are seen as pure objects, and not even living beings.", I said.
They just stared at me, hopeless.
"Can't you...can't you do it for Mother nature then?", one of them pleaded.
They told me how this "corporations" are killing nature, alas...
"I am a rather old being compared to you, but I am but average as an elf.
Also...you would wish me to fight against the richest of your fellows...fellows whom probably have weapons, armies, and authority at their disposal.
Also, the magic of your world is still dormant, I am sorry, but I can't help you.", I said, biting my tongue, chanting, and slamming my hand on the summoning circle.
I reverse summoned myself back home, and closed the channel to their world.
"Sigh...no world is safe from greed...", I muttered, thinking about our own problems, with the endless conflicts for land, and power...
|
"What is a slave, my lord?"
Vulleryne stared at the group facing him, and the leader, who spoke those words. The fire crackled in the middle. Vulleryne rang his wrists. The ceremonial uniforms of the elven had manacles of woven cotton, strong as copper, and he used to wring them all the time, in the military academy. He knew a slave. All soldiers must be slaves at some point.
"A slave works without reward, and is punished harshly for not doing so."
"Is a slave punished constantly?"
"Indeed they are."
"If a slave earns, do they earn little?"
"I have seen that you people do not earn very much often. I see. I see." Vulleryne looked about them.
"Corporate overlords, now?"
"There is no joy, living in fear, with no passions, liberty, or zeal."
"So it goes. But what makes them overlords?"
"They want to crush every penny of effort from us until there's nothing left, that's what makes them overlords. They think they're above men, they think they've above liberty, but they bleed, and have flesh and blood, and if they were not, they should know better... as you do, my lord."
Vulleryne stood, his hands behind him. His war tunic shimmered in the light, the colour of shimmering emeralds. The fire was enchanting, constantly moving, as destructive as it is creative. Like an ocean, or the wind. Vulleryne's eyes seemed to glow to the congregation around him, gleaming as though they were made of light. His eyes darted up suddenly, and the leader felt adrenaline soar through his veins.
"Frightening, is it? Inquiring into elves."
"I'm shitting bricks so I think so."
Vulleryne closed his eyes, digging his botos a little into the ground. He could feel the soles of it. He could feel, below the ground, the soil. "Well, my lord? What do you say?"
"Talk more. I am, to the elves, an infant. To mankind, I am young. I know little about the universe that we share. So tell me of yours, and I will return, if it suffices, to mine. If I am convinced, I will deliver help." Vulleryne nodded to the group. "So speak."
|
TheWanderingBook
|
Recent_Bad_9268
|
2024-11-24 04:43:57
|
2024-11-24 04:21:40
| 109 | 20 |
lyozatd
|
lyowa7z
|
1gyh1kv
|
1gyh1kv
|
[WP] A human ship activated its self destruct sequence when boarded by an enemy, when humanity was asked why would we do such a thing by the galactic community, we simply responded "We don't give up the ship, such as the crews of old. We never give up the ship."
|
Ambassador Farnsworth straightened his cuffs, waiting for the representatives of the Interstellar Council to quiet down.
"Esteemed Members, the reports and rumors that have circulated for the past several intervals is correct. Seven weeks ago by our time keeping", he paused as computers did the math for the delegates, "the Terran Colony Ship New World was boarded by Grath forces."
"New World was nowhere near Grath claim territory. New World had no offensive weapons, no military forces and posed ZERO threat to anyone." His voiced boomed across the silent chamber. "What she did carry was thirty THOUSAND colonists in cold sleep and one hundred crew on a rotating duty schedule. Fortunately, Captain Riss, God bless her soul, was awake, and made the decision to detonate the ship's reactor. She did this per Terran policy."
The chamber buzzed with confusion, outrage and fear. Farnsworth waited, until it was again, brought to order.
"Privately, many have come and asked, why. Why would we sacrifice so many? Why would we not try to negotiate for survivors or prisoners? Why do Terrans place such little value on the lives of our people?"
His gaze swept the chamber. "We understand that we are new to the stars, and that we have much to learn. However, today we have an opportunity to teach. Teach that humanity is not a prize to be taken. In our own history, if one nation had taken the peoples of another, it would be an act of war. You do not see it as such. You are old, civilized peoples. We are not. The stakes for us are much higher than they were before we reached the stars."
"No member of this body has condemned the actions of the Grath. Instead, several have voiced the opinion that humanity has to prove that we deserve our place." His eyes narrowed, "You see what we will do to preserve peace. Do not entice us to prove our resolve in other arenas."
Farnsworth turned to the Council President, "Thank you for your time."
|
Humanity proved itself by the galactic community that they were the most advanced and desired the galaxy for itself. They attacked and used aggressive diplomacy when necessary. A galactic council of the most strongest nations made a unanimous decision to attack the nation known to human eyes and ears as “United states of earth. This coalition realized that open engagement such as in alpha centari would be catastrophic and thus simple hit and run tactics would suffice. One universal cycle later and they encountered a Earth scout ship and ambushed it. They planned on taking them alive for questioning and possible peace negotiations but when the galactic forces infiltrated the ship, the ship exploded killing everyone on board. They galactic community was shocked by the news that the Earthlings rather killed themselves than be captured. Why did a diplomat ask, the earthling diplomat responded with “it’s cheaper to get a new soldier then negotiate and rehabilitate a POW, what are we animals.” Everyone knew that the earthlings did not fool themselves of this conquest of the galaxy of noble intent, the rulers of earth as later revealed by Galactic spies ran out of means to exploit their planet and went on to continue the cycle of exploitation and conquest until of course, it no longer became profitable.
|
Warboss_Squee
|
Nature_Walking
|
2023-05-02 04:07:37
|
2023-05-02 01:15:20
| 753 | 45 |
jiiv9cz
| null |
1354r1x
|
6ge507
|
[WP] You, a necromancer, were always fond of your skeleton minions. Even going as far as to make each one a personalized name tag. Then you were cut down by those blasted heroes, only to one day reopen your eyes and see an Elder Lich looming over you with a very faded name tag.
|
Loyalty.
It is a feeling and sense of duty toward a person, a goal, or something else entirely. Me and my bretheren have for centuries had the same loyalty and goal. To bring back our lost master.
As the first I know and remember everything about them. They were a necromancer, not the best there was or currently is, but skilled enough to easily raise numberous undead. When revived you are nothing but a drone for your master, a puppet to be controlled and used, bound to the soul of your master to die once their life ends. But they were different, very different. Unlike others they refused to control us, use us, or even be mean to us.
They treated us kindly as if we were equals, they gave us names after we forgot the ones we had in life, and together with them we did many things that could even be called fun. They did not want bloodshed or power but friends, and it was a role we enjoyed and desired to fill. I was one of the first when they were but a young adult, but in the following decades they amassed hundreds of thousands of us. And each of us had received a name by them, and even a name tag and clothes they had crafted themselves which we wore with pride and joy.
Then they died, in an unjust killing by a group of warriors sent by some ruler we did not know or care about. We all tried our best but none had knowledge of combat or any fighting skills and in the end our numbers were reduced to under a hundred and our master whom we loved dearly was slain. We had defeated the invaders but more would probably have come, so we left the home we all had created together and traveled through inhospitable lands in search of a new home.
And one we found, it was a kind of ancient tomb and while it showed great damage and signs of being raided, there were many things we found which would eventually lead us to our new goal. Most importantly an ancient tome which taught us great magic and knowledge, along with other books in a decrepit and nearly empty library which told us who previously resided there. A lich and a rather great one at that, in fact it was the very first one who had threatened the entire world at one point long ago, something we had learned from our master who looked up to the heroes who had slain the lich.
We studied everything we could learning from everything we could scavenge, and greatly increased our powers by both magical talent and knowledge of the forbidden magics from ancient times, some with great similarity of those our master knew. We raised our own abilities and numbers with various rituals and spells training by raising other skeletons and undead, all in preparation for the goal of reviving our master.
I was leading everything and everyone, each ritual another test to strengthen our skill, each traveler or intruder peacefully sent away, and each of us ascended from a simple undead to a lich with myself ascending further to an elder lich. With our total and complete understanding of death and our combined skill, we began the final ritual. Large intricate magic circles drawn in mana conductive chalk, soul and mana strengthening candles and runes placed around and active, and each of us channeling our magical energy into one singular spell. All of it targetting the corpse of our master which we preserved as best we could for the centuries between the death and now.
And with everything combined, our master was freed from the clutches of death. Although as with us death had taken their memories, everything we had experienced together lost and forgotten. At least for them, we still remember, I still remember, and even though it was the case they are still the same kind and friendly soul as before. And that is all we care about, they are still the same master whom we swore loyalty to.
|
I could have been one of those vilanous dark lords after I started practicing necromancy, but when I realized I could use my minions as research assistants, the prospect of power and conquest seemed so...limited. With help, I set to work immediately. It'd been a couple of years since then, with no villainy or dark lordliness to speak of, but, potentially, what should have taken me decades of solitary efforts to learn took a fraction of the time thanks to my lab assistants. I was doing work that would change lives, change the world. I was going to stop death. I may be seen as an apocriphal blasphemer, an abomination of the first order, but to my skeletal assistants, I was a scholar.
I was also still the master of my house, responsible for guests and those who serve me, and that meant the sooner I finished instructing my minions on the day's tasks, the sooner I could return to my lab.
My master often said I was easily distracted. I had no hand for domestic tasks and I was considering skipping the whole thing and returning to my current research, persistent magic that lasted beyond the death of its caster. It was slowgoing work and that meant every distraction cost me critical time. But, "*an untidy home meant an untidy mind,"* I said to myself in a poor imitation of my master's rich basso.
In front of me, Biscuit cocked his skull to one side like a confused dog.
"I wasn't speaking to you," I said, waving a hand dismissively. "As I was saying, I want you to take ten skellies with you to work on the roof. Rain is coming and I don't want to deal with drying everything again." I paused for a moment, considering, then added, "Take Chowder with you too. She's good with tiles."
Biscuit nodded, clacked a bony fist to his bare ribscage, just to the left of a small rectangle of brown cloth tied to his bones with the name *Biscuit* embroidered in thick black thread. It was the easiest way to keep track of them, considering, aside from variations in height, the skellies, my skeletal assistants, all pretty much looked the same.
The grand hall was all stone and dust and cobwebs, much like the rest of the property, which sat out on the borders of the Scarwood. Long ago, something or someone had wrought a dark and immensly powerful spell in what used to be a living forest. That spell had, potentially as a consequence or potentially as intended, killed the forest. Since then, these blighted woods has been called many names. Currently, it was known as the Scarwood. Where monsters lurk and adventurers are dispatched to fight back the darkness, and other propaganda sold to impressionable youths.
I was giving Pepper instructions to dust the second floor when I heard a great boom from out in the hallway leading to the front door. A few moments later another boom blasted from the hallway along with the sound of wood breaking. They came in a party of five. Five grizzled, hard-faced adventurers. Not youths. These were mercenaries, killers. There was no point in talking. I could tell by the looks in their eyes, the pure hatred that smoldered like burning coals. They'd come for blood.
|
Null_Project
|
cadecer
|
2024-06-08 19:05:58
|
2024-06-08 18:29:09
| 52 | 34 |
l7poq3i
|
l7pj0b9
|
1db40o9
|
1db40o9
|
[WP] After mistakenly transfering to a high school for monsters, you try to tell them that you're just a regular human. However, because of bizarre coincidences creating apparently inexplicable situations, the school population and teachers come to believe you're actually an Eldritch Abomination
|
"Did Selenia the Siren lose her voice for a whole month after you told her to shut up and stop hypnotising the boys?" The discipline mistress, Ms. Maven, loomed over me with her imposing centaur build.
"It's a coincidence! I didn't jinx her!"
"So you admit to telling her to shut up."
"Yea I did. Was getting so cringey watching the boys fawn over her."
"Did you use eldritch magic to send Damien into the void? The poor vampire remains traumatised after several months!"
"No, I just pushed him into some bushes when he would not stop flirting with me. How am I supposed to know there was a portal to the void hidden there?"
"Because you made that portal!"
"No I didn't!"
"Did you respond to that eldritch summoning circle that your classmates conjured?" Ms. Maven clacked her hooves as she gazed at me.
I shook my head. "I just came across it and told them to clean up their mess before a real eldritch god showed up and demanded sacrifices."
"Like your father?"
"I'm a human and so is my dad! How many times must I tell you this is a big mistake! I was supposed to enroll in Portsmouth High school, not Innsmouth!"
Ms. Maven's hooves clicked as she snorted. "Everyone knows your father here."
"My dad is not who you think he is."
She pulled out a stack of folders from below her desk and slammed them in front of me. Flipping through with one eye glaring at me.
"You could be honest with us for once. It says your father is Elliot Livera. And everyone knows that's just Lord Elvari's civilian identity."
Oh. So that's how it is.
"My father is Elliot Rivera the accountant! Not Elliot Livera the eldritch god!"
"An eldritch accountant," Ms. Maven stated flatly.
I simmered in my seat, feeling the sweltering heat despite the cold outside.
"Human accountant. From Portsmouth City."
The centaur wasn't convinced. "We'll call your father and we'll see who shows up."
I groaned and crossed my arms. Tapping my foot against the floor, waiting for my dad to finally appear and tell her it was all one big error from a typo error.
"Ms. Maven? Did you call me regarding my daughter?"
She looked smug, rearing up to her full height, while i shrunk in my seat when this tentacled creature slithered into the office.
"That's not my father!" I yelped and shot up from my seat.
"That's not my daughter either," declared the eldritch entity.
"It says here that she is Jane Livera," the discipline mistress whimpered when the eldritch god pulled her face close to his with his tentacles.
"Rivera," Lord Elvari corrected her with a death glare. "My Jane still keeps her old family name from before I adopted her. That was her choice. So there isn't a Jane Livera in Innsmouth." With an oddly inviting smile, he extended a hand to me, "Come, little one. Let's get you back to Portsmouth and talk to the actual school you wanted to register for, shall we?"
---
[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/)
|
...In reality, this classification was a misnomer appended to humans who were misplaced in this school because they had several anomalous properties that only seem to manifest when in proximity with monsters.
One such is called 'Continuity Resistance' (the ability to disregard fatal injuries from an event 'so long as it wasn't well-known', though this clause seems to disregard digital mediums and secondary observers via such or appear radically different despite not having done anything to achieve that different appearance, such as undergoing a training montage in a daydream when at school, and having improved physical health the next day after a full sleep). This, to the students, is nothing more than real-world 'plot-armour', but has saved many human students.
Another is the ability to affect monsters with Continuity Resistance's effects, but requiring particular circumstances for the effects to apply such as being closely involved with one-another for a prolonged timeframe outside of the school.
The third property seems to be related to humans who are classed by human society as 'neurodivergent' or 'atypical' in any fashion.
This seemingly determines the lower and upper limits of the other two powers, but due to a lack of funding to study this in earnest it has been largely ignored.
...Mainly due to stereotypes about people who talk of these things being mistaken for talking about fictional events, LARP, or something 'cringe'.
Me, though?
I wasn't meant to be here. Not on Christmas night either - and yet they have classes. I'm in my mid-20's, and don't recall signing up to any education that would yeet me out of my native ordinary life.
Only reason I know the rest was because it's induction material.
The other thing is, somehow, time moves differently. Could be a temporary phenomenon or it's actively induced.
...Anyway, I've written this because they've concluded a barebones induction for the abruptly displaced and had assigned me to a room I'm sure was already occupied.
If I survive and remember, I'll write further.
From something better than a mobile phone using their free wifi.
Funny how there's internet here when the place resembles a more fantastical interpretation of a modern educational facility.
^(Already dreading the exams. Rennik Sadorn, going to sleep. Merry Christmas! for those who celebrate.)
|
Tregonial
|
OSadorn
|
2023-12-25 02:11:08
|
2023-12-25 01:37:10
| 289 | 63 |
ketezkg
|
ketb5o8
|
18q5jpu
|
18q5jpu
|
[WP] We invented immortality, but a seemingly random subset of the population is barred from the treatment for 'incompatibility'. Well, you just figured out what incompatible meant.
|
It took just one shot before I felt the burning. "How bad could it be?", "They're just hiding something from us!", "I won't lose my family!". I had many, many thoughts and reason that brought me here.
I couldn't tell you what convinced me in the end. Was it seeing the first steps of my daughter, knowing I had to eventually leave her behind or seeing my wife interact with my mother, not seeing any difference in their age?
What matters is what I did. A slight of hand, a scam, an illegal purchase. Apparently for those already immortal, getting another shot was feeling the highest high. No other drug could give you that. If people demand something, there will be someone who is capable of providing. Legally or not.
At this moment however, I wished I never found that dealer. Never convinced him I was "compatible". Never stole the vial when he wasn't looking.
They weren't hiding immortality. They were protecting us. The burning subsided but I felt *something* growing. At first I thought it were bones but now even my arm looks deformed. I can feel changes all over my body in places I never knew I had. I can't see anymore, I can't hear anymore, I can't *feel* anymore. My last thoughts before I started screaming were "Please let no one of my family see me" and "I hope this immortality isn't as eternal as they promised".
|
**Forever and Always**
I thought we’d love each other forever, you and I.
But ‘Til death do us part’ took on a new meaning,
When neither of us could die.
-
Now, I hate you with every fiber of my being.
My soul explodes like angry comets,
When I look at your stupid grin.
-
The way you chew like a slack-jawed horse,
Fills me with unbridled rage.
And yes, it *matters* you left the toilet seat up.
-
I could go on and on. And on.
The ‘pull my finger’ jokes were never funny.
No adult needs to sleep with a fan.
-
But we’re stuck together for eternity,
Doomed to live life alone,
Always and forever.
|
blanklikeapage
|
katpoker666
|
2024-11-10 04:26:57
|
2024-11-10 00:36:07
| 121 | 30 |
lwd4dob
|
lwc4ml7
|
1gnnqnh
|
1gnnqnh
|
[WP] "Ensign, in spacecraft people breathe and sweat. It collects on everything, and without regular sanitizing it smells." "Yeah, so..." "They're lax in maintenance and cleaning. If they're descendents of the original crew, and they've been here 200 years, why does this ship have no smell at all?"
|
"This Terran spaceship is too clean," Zachon spoke to his partner Gharkis. "Something isn't right."
"Isn't a clean spaceship a good thing?" Gharkis was confused. "Surely we can inspect and let this ship pass easily. I hated that Wurm-infested ship that came by a week ago. Killing the Wyrms with fire was hell."
"Dude, humans breathe and sweat. It collects on everything, and without regular sanitising, it smells. Bad," Zachon crinkled his brows and waggled his antennae.
"Uh huh," Gharkis nodded. "So they cleaned up well."
"No, that's the thing," Zachon downloaded the ship's logs and translated them into Xylonian. "They're lax in cleaning and maintenance. The last maintenance recorded by the ship's system was 100 years ago. These are the descendants of the original crew that set off from earth. And this ship has carried humans for 200 years. With no smell."
"Sounds...good."
Zachon shook his head. "That's good for them. Not for us. There's an anomaly we should investigate before this ship can pass Xylonian Intergalactic Customs."
"It's a nice anomaly that cleans up after the humans," Gharkis shrugged.
"That may also do other things," Zachon was worried. "What if it was secretly a contraband? A banned species? Forbidden technology?"
"Bro, it cleans up after humans. It can't be that bad. Zach, c'mon, let's just finish up our report and let this go. So we can knock off, finish our shift and go home."
Unable to dissuade Zachon, Gharkis sighed before following him into the deeper corridors of the spaceship.
It was too quiet. Not even the whirring of machinery. The beeps and blips of mechanisms. Yet, it felt like something, or someone was watching them.
One slip up on a carpet, one pen falling towards the ground, and the flooring rippled akin to living flesh and swallowed Gharkis' pen. All without a sound.
"What was that?" The alien jumped up in alarm, dropping his badge, which sank into the flowing flesh-like floor.
"I don't know!" Zachon bellowed. "But we're getting out of here and barring this ship from passing customs! Call in the military to kill it by fire!"
Wires peeled themselves from the ceiling, attempting to ensnare the Xylonians. The carpet rose and whipped about as a tentacular tongue. All while they ran past humans, still hibernating in their Cryo tanks, kept in a deep sleep by the ship's systems.
Whatever mysterious protector this was, it seemed determined to repel these foreign beings. These...aliens.
When some wires coiled around Zachon's ankle, he was quick to kick off his boot to keep running. Gharkis gave another wire the slip by sliding out of his jacket. When a long fusion of seat belts slashed across the corridor, both aliens leapt as though they were playing a deadly version of skipping rope.
The exit was in sight. Zachon made a final burst in speed towards it, only for the doors to slam shut.
"Open up!" Gharkis yelled, banging his fists against the steel doors. "Let us out!"
The weaving wires wrapped themselves around the aliens' necks and tightened. It sliced into their throats, blood dripping down their uniforms. Their gurgling screams suppressed, the ship's system began to break them down into fuel and sustenance for the hibernated humans it carried in cryosleep.
When it had fully digested them, it was time to clean up. Slurp up all the blood and any traces of the aliens. A clean ship is a good ship, after all.
----
[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 watched as the ensign happily recounted what she and her colleagues found.
"It's the Empire's Nest! The mothership with the nobles Sir!
It's been missing for 200 years!" she said.
I nodded, reading through the report, and listening to her.
"And the descendants of the original crew are there!
Pure blooded humans sir!" she excitedly said.
I sighed.
"Ensign...it's a spacecraft, colonizing type from 200-250 years ago.
It's sanitizing systems are outdated, the gardens are all automatized as these descendants all live like queens, and kings.
From what you told me...festivals are weekly, parties daily...their activities resembling that of Ancient Earth Romans...during Saturnalia." I said.
"Yes. Historian Schmidt said so, but the first blood samples that they allowed us to take proved their words." she said with a smile.
I chuckled, and shook my head at the newbie.
"Ensign, if they party all day long, they are lazy, lustful, greedy...I have 2 questions.
They have no proper sanitizing systems...they breath, eat, sweat...why aren't there smells in the ship?
Even more-so considering their daily...activities, they do in the open, as you and your crew recounted." I asked.
She stopped smiling.
"Then we can go to the next one, the blood samples.
Indeed, they are biological, ancient humans, and the samples are of perfect health...then after fornicating left and right...even if so recently...why is the population exactly the same as the original crews'?" I asked.
At this she paled.
"W-What are they Sir?" she asked.
"Mimics, monsters, gods from beyond our realm of understanding, skinwalkers...or my theory, which is the most common one I saw happen: androids." I said.
"Androids?" she asked.
"Our Empire still uses androids, and robots, but we aren't humanizing them anymore...200 years ago on the other hand...we liked to make them as humanoid as possible.
Seen cases where old robots and androids took the skin of their deceased masters, revitalized them, and wore them, playing the role of their masters." I said.
She paled even more, shifting left and right.
I stood up, and steadied her.
"Protocols are clear, Ensign...so don't worry." I said.
At this, she rushed away, holding her mouth.
"Omega." I said.
"Yes, Captain?" the ship's A.I. answered.
"Release the gas into the ship we are hatched to, monitor the vital signs, and repeat this for 12 cycles of 2 hours each.
Afterwards send the Android crew for a check up, if there is the slightest anomaly in any of the units, disengage, unhatch, and bombard the ship." I said, sitting back down.
"Yes, Captain." Omega said, as I heard the alarm bleeping, and watched how the gas was released into the other ship...waiting patiently...
If they were humans for real, the gas will make them sleep, if they are anything else...it will corrode them.
|
Tregonial
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-12-21 12:38:51
|
2024-12-21 12:02:13
| 181 | 67 | null |
m34iva9
|
1hj6se9
|
1hj6se9
|
[WP] It's been 6 years since the zombie apocalypse started, thousands die weekly, but society hasn't changed much. Your local news tracks zombie migration. An armored school bus picks kids up every morning. Your local walmart just installed a fancy new bio-scanner. And you still need to go to work.
|
Ragers, shamblers, crazies, and normies.
That's just what we call the customers. Zombies are just zombies. All the cool parts of a zombie apocalypse from the movies have been woefully absent, and all that remains is more of the same. I stood still for my scan before putting on my blue vest to start the day.
My register for the day was already abandoned as I approached, likely due to the rager with the line behind him. Something something, "political nonsense", something about having rights, and then he said the magic phrase. In refusing his scan, I summoned our security squad with a wave of my hand. They moved in swiftly, physically carrying him away to remove him from the store, before putting him on the company blacklist. Although I was vaccinated per my employment contract, I still kept my distance as they moved past with the unpredictable nutcase in tow.
Being blacklisted from Walmart is a big deal these days. The outbreak came fast and hard. The population dropped by about a third in almost a week before governments around the world were able to take control of the situation. In the chaos, none but the biggest of businesses were able to survive. For those who disagree with Amazon's zombie labor, Walmart is their only remaining option.
In the years since, most people find themselves in one of two camps. You either believe that China failed an attempted worldwide biohazard takeover, or it was an operation executed by a clandestine organization meant to usher in the new world order that exists today. Pick your crazy. The world media sure did, and boy, did they run with it.
With everyone focused on why they're the ones who are right instead of figuring out solutions, society has been stuck in "limp mode" for the past six years. Thankfully, China learned from the last global pandemic and were highly prepared for this one, leading to draconian isolation measures, the ability to keep churning out products, and immense speculation of involvement with the outbreak.
None of this mattered to me. The one silver lining on this crap cloud was that WalMart needed all the help it could get, which resulted in a labor revolution born out of necessity. Worker safety was paramount, recently demonstrated by the security posse. Even then, they had trouble finding enough people to tolerate everything, leading to ever-increasing wages with every employee who walked out.
I sighed as I stepped up to my register. It wasn't really a terrible life, but 12 hours is still 12 hours. "Thank you for shopping at Walmart, apologies for the delay. Please step forward to start your scan."
|
Do any of you know how long a zombie outbreak usually lasts? If you said 3 weeks, you'd be right on the money, and even then it's not that serious. Sure, you'd get the odd mugger, rapist, or murderer chewed up and torn limb from bloody limb, but usually it's just citywide or, at worst, regional. This outbreak was global and it had lasted for 6 years, all because of a new, undiscovered variant that had somehow made its way into a batch of heroin.
Said bad batch was mistakenly grabbed by a crackwhore who used it to OD after her unborn child was killed by a mix of kicking and a broken bottle. She became Patient Zero, gradually killing and maiming her way to the top of a pandemic-causing horde before she was captured. They found out she was just incredibly pissed at her assaulters and their supporters, but eventually she calmed down. They got her help along with many other zombies, and eventually she volunteered for a vaccine, allowing zombies and humans to be immune to becoming the mindless walking dead.
Human and zombie worked together to eliminate the true zombies, nicknamed ghouls, yet there were always a few who survived. That being said, Patient Zero moved on from her previous life and eventually worked her way to a CEO position of a trading company. She finally had her kid after she healed, now having a 5-year-old daughter. She had healed, but I was still reeling from the whole apocalypse.
I got out of my cubicle hotel room, stretching as I got the files ready. Putting them into the case, I sent them through the chute before I went back to sleep. After all, some good things that came out of this whole apocalypse were capsule hotels in office buildings, not having to travel to work, stable living wages being the minimum wage, an efficient and effective contamination-reducing transfer system, and shorter workdays with a higher pay per hour. At least I wouldn't be late for work.
|
rancidtuna
|
Icy_Wildcat
|
2023-01-23 18:02:42
|
2023-01-23 15:31:06
| 43 | 13 |
j5kmj6o
|
j5jynvd
|
10izz91
|
10izz91
|
[WP] “So my mom is half-Fae, and my dad is half-dragon; that’s where my powers come from. How about you?” “I’m half-mermaid on my mom’s side, hence the wheelchair.” Your new magic school roommates suddenly turn to you. “What about you?”
|
"Me?"
"Yes, you", Elenor the half-Fae replied.
"Well, my father's a warlock, and my mother, well..."
I felt my face getting red and started fidgeting. Gods above, why do I feel so embarrassed just talking about my parents?
"Go on..."
"I really don't want to say..."
Melody the half-mermaid piped up. "Well, you had to get your powers from *somewhere* - as far as I know, warlocks can't pass their abilities onto their children," she said.
"Well, aren't you the smart one," Elenor teased.
I gulped. Time to rip the band-aid off, I guess. "My mother's [the demon my father made a pact with](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1er8k01/wp_let_me_get_this_straight_your_patron_is_your/lhymzr5/)."
Both girls spent the next few seconds struggling to keep their laughter in. "I'm going to assume you're the firstborn?" Melody asked once she composed herself enough to speak.
"...yes."
"Well, that's one way to fulfill the bargain," Elenor remarked, still trying to keep herself together.
She then saw me glowing beet red and sighed. "If it makes you feel any better," she said, "your parents aren't the only ones who met that way."
"Really?"
"Yeah - I've heard similar stories from one of my aunts. Course, they don't always end up with children, but, you know..."
There was a moment of awkward silence before I said, "You know, that did make me feel a bit better."
"Well, good," Elenor replied. "Because stuff like this still blows my mind, no matter how often that happens!"
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. This is why I don't like talking about my parents.
|
Gwendolin- So my mom is half-Fae, and my dad is half-dragon; that’s where my powers come from. How about you?
Ariel- I’m half-mermaid on my mom’s side, hence the wheelchair.
Al' Masar- My dad is a Djinni and My mom is a water genasi, so it might come as a bit of a problem to Take notes....
Your new magic school roommates suddenly turn to the one beside you.
Everyone- What about you?
You dreaded this moment for a while, but, extrangely, You are pretty calm now.
Matias- Well, My dad was a centaur and My mum was a horse head minotaur and so...
Gwendolin- Huu...
Matias- I know what it looks like, but it's not a spell, as i was saying, i inhereted both horse parts of My parents, and My sister got the human ones
Matilda- (aproval horse noises)
Al' Masar- Shouldn't she be capable of talking?
Matias- Yea, that's why i'm here, It's either that or cast speak with animals every 2 hours
Matias- *This is going to be one hell of a first day.... Sorry lil sis*
|
shingofan
|
Arquero8
|
2024-08-28 19:49:11
|
2024-08-28 18:56:32
| 103 | 70 |
lke6sjp
|
lkdx4yh
|
1f3fqm4
|
1f3fqm4
|
[WP] You've noticed that unlike the rest of your companions, the elves you're travelling with have never excused themselves to answer nature's call, even though they eat and drink just as often as you do. When you work up the courage to ask the elves about this, their explanation astounds you.
|
Coming back to camp after relieving himself, Garry sat with the strange realization that he was the only one in his party to relieve himself. The others, both elves and dwarves, sat around the fire drinking merrily after a long day of travel. Garry sat down between two of his closest companions, simmering on his thoughts.
“A copper piece for your thoughts!” Hagish, the female dwarf shouted to him when she saw his dejected look. “It’s just…” Garry considered responding but pondered his decision in a moment of silence. “I’ve noticed none of you ever have rest stops. I think I’m having a little culture shock but how am I the only one that has to take rest breaks?” Garry finished his final thoughts in a hushed voice, fearing he may insult the others around the campfire. There was nothing in the history books about waste management, and Garry didn’t want to insinuate that the great races of the world wore diapers.
Hagish looked over to the elf sitting on the other side of Garry and their eyes met. Zindela asked “We’ve been wondering about that. What are you doing when you leave? Is it anxiety? Do we need to go slower? None of us have ever traveled with a human” Garry was shocked at this. “No, I’m not just resting. I’m… RELIEVING MYSELF!” Garry whispered this in a high-pitched whine which caught the wind and fluttered over the entire campfire. All conversation stopped, each head turned to look at Garry, and the melodic melodies of the lute stopped abruptly.
“So, humans relieve themselves every day? That’s terrible!” one elf from the other side of the fire blurted out. Garry looked at the rest of the crowd in abject horror. Zindela pushed his glasses up to his nose, began to talk and then stopped for a moment. “We don’t, um. We don’t relieve ourselves every day. No. Have you ever heard of the great Melancholy?”
Garry had read of the melancholy. Supposedly, it was common for Elves to go into a deep seclusion once a century and meditate on their past. Many times, according to the books, elves came back from the Melancholy free of earlier burdens and well rested. “Of course, I’d been meaning to ask you about it at some point.” Horror slowly dawned over Garry’s face. “Don’t tell me, is the Melancholy…”
Zindela looked over to the other elves across the fire for help but they were stalk still and silent. None of them understood human culture enough to walk this perilous mine field of cultural nuances. “We like to make it sound all high and mighty because it’s a little embarrassing. The waste from our systems build up for a century and” Zindela paused before finishing his sentence in one single breath so this conversation could be done “we expel it over the period of a year. Now that I’ve explained it, I hope to never speak of this again.” Each elf looked into the fire for a long period, remembering their own harrowing experiences in the past. After a long pause the music kept playing and the elves continued talking amongst each other. Garry drank the rest of his drink, trying not to imagine what a century of manure looked like.
Hagish leaned over as Garry drank his mead and whispered in his ear “Us dwarves just wear diapers. It’s hard to find a good place to go in the mine. Do you want one? It’s only slightly used”
|
"... So that's what I mean. I do it. Beatrice does it. Imani and Baku are from the nubian deserts" He fingers the shape of a foreign continent in the air. "They do it. That orc... guy-"
"Zogstuf" She said, discerningly.
"Yeah" He points. "Zogg. He does it. Alot. Like a shitload- no pun intended."
"What *pun*?" Gylledhia's sharp, steely brow furrowed.
...
"... What?"
"'Shit' is a human expletive. It is recent."
"Yeah." He muttered. "It is. But that's because... it comes *out* of you." He gestures his hands downward "It's gross."
"Nothing comes out of me, Derek." She barked sitting impossibly still
"Yeah, except when...." He trailed off. "You eat plenty of apples, and it comes out *firm* right?" gripping the air.
"I don't follow" she lisped dangerously.
"**Okay!**" He yelped "Like, you know the think between your-"
"I'm aware. Males and females use it to-"
"**Yeah!** That. But there's something else.... we *do*." He begins pacing, voice lightening "Most of the time. Especially men like me and Baku, stuck in no man's land. With dwarves and... goblins and, *worgs* and... you. We just... listen to nature."
"Nature tells you to procreate. Young men like you are *dead* in 5 years. I've seen enough of you to know."
"No. I meant like..." He falls abrutly onto a nearby rock. Intentionally. "Ugh..."
...
"Like you know when you drink too much *mead* and..."
"Mead?"
"**Gods!**" A firmer voice interrupted from behind. "Do you *shit*, Gylledhia?"
"Do I?" She replied curiously.
"I just took a fat one-"
"Do you have no restraint man!?" Derek whispered.
"What *good* is that?" he sung maniacally.
"In front of a *woman* Baku. Shame onto you! And your sister-"
The elf's face and pure purple eyes contorted even more, she sprung up abruptly. "Hold!" They knew what this meant.
She returned to her tent to tended to her equipment. Derek still, flinching silently for what wrath Baku may have incurred, while the man himself waits with glee, eager.
She comes out and orders both of them to sit.
"I don't answer to nature, as you say."
...
"Speak."
"Uh..." Derek paused. “What do you do.”
"Not your concern…”
“… I told Derek 'nothing’ comes out of me, but something does. Infants. A couple thousand of them. Tens of thousands of years ago. From you lot… I’ve lived long enough to where it no longer concerns me.”
…
“Okay?” Derek responded with an oddly high volume. “That’s personal.”
“Neither of you will live to tell. I know this. But you are entertaining. I hope you have issue.”
…
…
“Baku. How *would* you?"
"Through your butthole!" the man chapped up.
Her eyes settled, then quickly widened.
"***HOLE!?***" Gylledhia shouted.
|
DefinitelyAFakeName
|
None
|
2023-04-23 06:21:58
|
2023-04-23 03:47:44
| 607 | 91 |
jhd4mo3
|
jhcqqpl
|
12vn8x6
|
12vn8x6
|
[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.
|
My first thought: “I’m supposed to ride this?”
We’re all coached on what to expect. But what do you do when your dragon is… different?
The coaches are keeping their distance. It is well established that even in the case of a medical emergency, you don’t get near a dragon or its rider.
It’s why we take years of training before this moment. Dragon first aid. First aid on ourselves. We learn every possible outcome. There are proud dragon riders with missing eyes, fingers, even one missing a foot from a… rambunctious hatchling.
So what, what is this before me?
The tiny creature barely fills half its egg. It is covered with sleek… fur?
Its huge, pleading eyes look at me expectantly.
Before I have a chance to think about what I am doing, all my training to let your dragon come to you, to keep your distance until it accepts and bonds with you, has fled from my mind and my hands are scooping up the tiny scared thing out of its own outsized egg.
The remnants of the membrane which should be still clinging to the hatchling dragon hang like bits of spiderweb in the cavernous hollow of the egg.
I might have thought it not a dragon at all, given its size and, well obviously the fur, but taking it into my hands, it is tiny and furred but otherwise a perfectly shaped dragon.
It’s hooked egg tooth with which it broke through the egg, the slim muzzle and jaws, four clawed limbs and two membranous wings, all a quarter of the size they should be.
Terror. It’s terrified.
The thought is clear in my mind.
Rejected. I’ll be rejected. I’ll be culled. Die. I’m going to die.
It takes me a few moments to realize the thoughts are not my own.
I stare into its… no, her, her giant violet eyes.
I start to speak then realize I don’t need to.
I’m hearing you?!
A hesitant thought of affirmation in my mind.
This isn’t supposed to happen. Dragons aren’t telepathic.
But there will be plenty of time for that later.
I accept you. I’ll protect you. You’re mine. No one gets to hurt you.
I become quickly aware that I’m going to need to back up my words as I see the three coaches overseeing the hatching coming towards me with a cage and collar. The culling tools.
Holding her close to my chest, my next words surprise even me.
“She’s mine. I have accepted her. You can’t take her.”
The coaches look at each other. Their own dragons stand nearby behind them.
“But… it’s misshapen, we have to take…”
“HER. And her name is Penelope. No one is taking her anywhere.”
|
It was a wiggly, legless boy... I stared at my son, with awe and confusion, stared at everyone else... and then back.
"OH NO!" The guild master turned pale. "You got the wrong egg!"
"Welp!" I waked away with him trying to flag me down.
"Wait wait wait! Which one of my assistants gave you that one!" He managed to get in front of me.
I cocked an eyebrow and looked to all the others behind me. I knew which assistant did it. The same one who hated me and threatened to feed me to a Mealwyrm, so I gladly pointed her out. She turned very pale, she knew such a deadly '*mess up*' would not only get her kicked, but also arrested and black listed.
"Okay, do you know what that is?" He was so afraid to touch da baby. I don't blame him, Mealwyrms are deadly to the touch and I was only not burning because I was a plasmoid and we were naturally immune.
"Yeah, I dealt with Mealwyrms before. Just never a baby until now." I moved passed him to keep going.
He wasn't surprised that I survived an encounter, its not hard when you're faster than everyone else in your village but that was back in my prime. I'm now a lot thicker as much of me has evaporated. I kept going to find a nice, quiet place. They gave me this baby, even if the specifics was due to malice, I was gonna do all I can to take care of him. I heard the others fighting, I never turned back- until I needed to get back to work the next week.
Between the back and forth, time went flying. Its been about 60 years, turned out they age a LOT slower than us Plasmoids. My death bed has been waiting for me and I know they'd kill him the moment I'm not here. I need to find him a home but there is a reason why Mealwyrms are rare as they are. No one wants them, well no one but me. I can't die until I know he is able to defend himself properly. I just wish I knew how to avoid death like how I avoid taxes.
|
Willowrosephoenix
|
CameoShadowness
|
2024-04-30 03:07:59
|
2024-04-30 02:49:22
| 280 | 148 |
l1vxyqn
|
l1vvbnk
|
1cggtbb
|
1cggtbb
|
[WP] “I wish that all exercise I do is equal to doing it ten times as much.” The Genie looks concerned “Have you really thought about what that means?” Their normal devious intentions floated away no need to twist the outcome this time…
|
People have told Sarah that she had a habit of biting off more than she could chew her whole life. It's not like she didn't believe them. A 'normal' girl's ambitions probably involved more flowers and swooning over knights than traversing ancient catacombs. Not that she particularly enjoyed running from massive rolling boulder traps or battling giant spiders or anything. But when the healer told her that her heart would fail her before she hit her 40s she knew she would be willing to take a bite out of a god if that's what it took.
Her bargain with the genie had worked out... mostly. Sarah consulted many scholars on the matter and after convincing them that no she was not suicidal and yes she did in fact plan on challenging the labyrinth which killed countless heros before her - she got surprisingly helpful advice on how to frame her wish. It basically boiled down to two things. Don't be direct and don't try to wiggle your way out of all bad side effects. A strong boost to the effectiveness of exersize sounded just like the kind of wish a lazy fool would make to try and get out of working hard and the genie saw no need to twist her words further.
"Not -" grumbled Sarah to herself "that he needed to."
Sarah no longer had to worry about her heart, whatever weakness which made it grow weaker each passing day was more than alleviated by the workout it got by simply existing and beating. However Sarah found herself in a brand new kind of hell. The hell of boredom. Most who made similar wishes in the past found that normal everyday exersions were now beyond them. Walks to the market became marathons and a flight of stairs a mountain. But Sarah was already close to the peak of human physical fitness and marathons and scaling cliffs were part and parcel for her. It was just that... that was all she could do. Walks to the market and stairs that is.
It turns out that while hearts can fail from being too weak.. they could also fail from being too strong. So now Sarah spend all her days ... lying around. Doing.. nothing. The healers were clear, she could now live to a ripe old age if she wished. But her next adventure would be her last. So Sarah spent her days in her room thinking - just thinking - about what it was that she truly wished.
|
My wish is granted and the genie vanishes inside the lamp, a weird sound like supressed laughter emerges as the smoke goes pouring inside.
I grab the lamp and decide to test my wish with a light jog back home. Suddenly, the lamp is heavy, my clothes are heavy and even the air starts to feel heavy. I haven't jogged a block, when my jogging turns to walking, and five blocks later, it turns into pacing, one heavy step after another. With each step doubtful of the next one I start to think that I grossly underestimated my wish.
But I endure and eventually, I reach my building. As soon as I cross the threshold the weights are lifted. The lamp is once again filled with genie shaped smoke instead of mockery shaped lead. My clothes are light again, heavy only with the weight of my sweat. And I breathe, I breathe in a very conscious manner, feeling the oxygen refueling my aching everything.
When my body feels capable of walking once again I start the usual route to my apartment thinking. "It's ok. It's just going to take some time to getting used to. No more casual training I suppose". I call the elevator. I'd usually take the stairs, but my legs protest too much for it.
Once I'm home, the sofa welcomes me and my legs welcome the respite. I breath a sigh of relief and as I take another gulp of air, morpheus takes me.
Your phone call wakes me. I quickly reconstitute myself and head straight for a much needed shower. I dress quickly and head straight out. I'm already late but not unfashionably late, I could make it if I run. But... It would be faster to walk.
So you see. That's why I'm so unfashionably late.
|
IcyInk
|
ElYino
|
2025-01-03 06:00:20
|
2025-01-03 02:49:55
| 33 | 13 |
m554bay
|
m54cka3
|
1hrtopy
|
1hrtopy
|
[WP] You used to be the scourge of kingdoms, the reaper of heroes and the mere mention of your name scared even the toughest of them. But today no one remembers you and you are fine with that. You have lived in peace ever since until one day a stranger approaches you and calls you by your true name.
|
“Lagus.” The name is a statement, but I don’t turn around, my beer paused on its journey to my mouth. “Lagus Oryn, don’t ignore me.”
I slowly lower the cup.
“Fine, I can wait. For a while,” the figure grabs the stool next to me and takes a seat. It’s a young woman, a girl really. Young enough that she shouldn’t be in a bar, definitely.
“Should you be drinking that?” I finally ask after the drains her second goblet without breaking her stare.
“Finally. A good ol’ binge drink usually gets you old farts talking,” she says, slamming down the empty goblet with a smile.
*Not human*, my instincts say. I’ve spent years in retirement, so the list of possibilities is foggy, drained away by disuse. *Elf, immortal child, nightwalker,* the list goes on.
“What do you want?” I ask, because I wouldn’t trust any answer it gave if I asked who it was.
“Well, me personally, I don’t want much. The heroes you’ve sent to the afterlife and their loved ones, however…” Instinct has me gripping my knife hilt, gathering the long slumbering magic in my blood. “Woah, calm down. I’m not threatening you. Believe me, when I threaten you, *you’ll know.”*
Panic pounds in my heart, a strange fear whispering *run, run, run* with every beat. Was it the discomfort of being discovered? Maybe partially, but I could always pick up and leave. No, it was this child, I decided. Something was off about her.
“You seem to mistake me. I’m calm, just prepared. Who has sent you?”
“No one, and quite a lot of people at the same time.” The child is smiling now, twirling a blade as she speaks, letting sink with a *thunk* every now and then into the table. “Believe me when I tell you it’s in your best interest to be honest with me.
“You’ve shed plenty of innocent blood, a little guilty as well. You tore through the people of the world seeking world domination, until your wife and child died on one of your campaigns. You hung up your whips and pokers and retired quietly to the countryside.
“Of course the power vacuum left by your disappearance lead to another hundred years of war, but what did you care? You needed to lick your wounds. You’ve been living a quiet life since. You wave to neighbors, you go to the local whorehouse when your bored, and you drink here.
“I could fill oceans with the women and men and, yes even children you’ve killed.” She stands from her seat, expression mysterious, eyes winking with light. “You’ve never admitted anything was wrong about your actions. ‘Good intentions,’ right? Not when you strung up that Elvish hero, not when you decimated an entire Aguan village and raped all their women and girls. Not when you still ask the women at the whorehouse to fight back… So, do you admit this, Lagus? How do you plead?”
The words won’t come out. How dare she? What does she mean plead? This child has come to judge me? What does she know of true pain?
I tighten my grip on my mug and stand, drawing power protectively to myself. My heart pounds.
“I’ve tired of your games. Goodbye.”
I make it to the door without incident and then my world stops, spinning. I turn back and the girl’s face is a skull, her black cape open to reveal twin scythe-like blades in her hands. A ticking clock booms, deafening and loud.
“Your time is up,” the girl says, walking toward me. I struggle, stuck to the ground. “Goodbye, Lagus. This won’t be a pleasant afterlife.”
|
I decided that I would write this note and leave it here for anyone who can decipher my handwriting to read. To hopefully understand that I am genuinely remorseful for what I have done before I came to this place.
They came for me in the dead of night when I was a child. That night broke me and allowed them to reshape me in the image they desired. As I grew in body, so I grew in rage and I dedicated myself to the training they demanded. They stole my name and replaced it with their own.
And I let them because I wanted to please them. And I hated myself for it.
Eagerly I embraced the Destiny that they set before me to prove my worth. With their enchanted equipment I was unstoppable. First I crushed their enemies, than I crushed them.
None could stand against me, my armor repelled the strongest blows and my blade was imbued with unholy rage. I stalked the land with a gathered flock of fiends and harried villages throughout the land.
Until one day while I sat in a brown study, I heard someone speak my name. The name my mother had called me by, so long ago. But that was not her voice, so I turned to see who it was.
An old man in clean, neat robes stood by a tree, gazing about with a natural casualness.
“You have done terrible things.”
“I have.” I agreed with him. And to my great surprise, I discovered that there was no sarcasm in my voice. He was not accusing, simply stating a fact, and it was the lack of judgement that affected me, I think.
“Do you think that Goswin would fear you?”
Goswin? I had not heard that name in a lifetime, although I thought of him far more often that I would readily admit. We had been boys together; I was tall and strong, but Goswin was small and frail.
He had the quick, bright disposition of a squirrel. I envied him, his joyous, carefree nature because I sensed that, were circumstances different, he could be my brother. Together we could have roamed the countryside as heroes, and I suspected that was his secret desire as well.
Instead, I allowed others to guide my path, no matter how much it sickened and enraged me to be so weak.
"I can't fix it. There's no way to undo that kind of damage."
"No, you can't." The robed man shook his head and shrugged. "You can start over. You can be better."
And I knew he was right. So, I put aside my weapons and my armor and I left that life behind. I came here and built a school so that they could learn. Then I built a library so they could study.
And still, I find myself an outsider. I do not trust myself to become to close to these people, least I inadvertently poison them. So perhaps it is time for me to move on once again, and strengthen a new community.
|
littlepillowcase
|
Vaeon
|
2023-07-29 21:47:50
|
2023-07-29 21:23:15
| 54 | 35 |
jtzvyti
|
jtzseve
|
15d05q2
|
15d05q2
|
[WP] Small domestic house dragons have become the norm. Here is a guide on how to deal with the hoarding instinct of your little one.
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Jim from Pennsylvania asks :
"My Red Scale Western has been cooping himself up in the closet and taking all of my loose change and piling it up on the top shelf. He has been doing this for months and I'm starting to get concerned that he will break the shelf and gets a bit aggressive when I need to get my clothes. Are there any ways to train him out of this? Or at least get him to move?"
Thanks for the question and the post, Red Scales tend to be the more aggressive when it comes to defending their hoard, but they can be easily won over. First, I'd suggest getting some really well cleaned pennies, or if your red scale is like mine, nickels. When you need into your closet, the Dragon is going to react according to instincts, that you are an invader coming to take its shinnies away. When he hisses or snarls, offer up a nickel and slowly slide it towards him. This will confuse him at first but when you are about fifty cents in, the hissing will die down, as he will start to recognize that you are a good thing.
Now the moving of the hoard part is going to be a bit harder, but what you would need to do is show him that there is a better spot. I got my Red a modified Cat Tree from our sponsor Scale-Center and started leaving a few nickels over in the new spot and while I was working on my article, Ignis moved all of his coins to the Cat Tree and my hamper was no longer a lost pool of change. This doesn't work with everyone and bribing a dragon can get expensive but start off cheap try Aluminum foil if they just like the shine, try fake gems instead of real ones, and if feeding their hoard doesn't work, a good cut of steak, fish, or treats will work as well, as they think with their stomach just about as much as they will with their brain.
You can't un-work the hoarding problem, as it has been a trait in their breed for centuries and they aren't going to stop any time soon. Don't punish them otherwise they will learn to hate you and they will get out and run away. Feral Dragons are a thing and have been responsible for a few fires, and other missing pets. Their hoard is like your social status to them, their worth is their hoard. They sleep better, they are more affectionate, and they even live longer with proper hoard maintenance. You just need to be a good friend to them, and you will be allowed to touch and move it, with their permission.
I hope that answers your question Jim, I do think my next article is going to be more tips about Dragon Hoarding behaviors, practices, and techniques to ensure healthy instincts. As I have plenty of readers wanting to know how to clean the hoards, and what to do in worse cases scenarios. Until next time dear readers, this is the Dragon Speaker, signing off.
|
Problem with your little buddy’s hoard?
We all know dragons are adorable companions, capable of mass destruction and fierce protectors. However, these little fire sparks sometimes have bad habits. One of the statistically most disliked habit of near all dragon species is hoarding.
Trinkets, gold, wood, chairs. Dragons love to hoard things and stack them in a safe place, then show them off to others. Most of the time, these hoards are manageable and small, simply being the location where the dragon rests and plays. Sometimes, though, especially for larger breeds, these hoards can intrude on human space and even pose a risk.
So how do you end your dragon’s hoarding instinct once and for all? We have the answers.
First, don’t take it all away suddenly. This will cause extreme stress on the dragon, possibly causing it to claw walls and floors in an attempt to find it. It may lose sleep and refuse to eat, and it will make it distrust you. Instead, begin by slowly taking an object every day, one after another, and putting it back where it belongs. The dragon may pick it up again and move it back, but patience is key; after a while of this routine, the dragon will accept the item’s disappearance and you can begin deconstructing the horde. The dragon will likely build another, but use this as an opportunity to show boundaries; if the items are too important, dangerous, or the hoard is too big, simply move it or edit the size and amount of objects. This is the most effective way of allowing your pet dragon to adapt to a new hoard size or lack whilst still maintaining the bond between dragon and owner.
Another way, if your dragon simply refuses to let go of the hoard, begin sitting on the hoard or near it, and move items around. Dragons don’t like their humans disturbing their hoard, so the dragon will eventually abandon the hoard. This has the risk of your dragon losing its trust in you, however.
If these methods do not work, see a professional dragon trainer for advice.
See next: 10 ways to tell your dragon you love them, how to make your dragon grow bigger, how to change your dragon’s scale colors safely.
|
ZomgWheeeeeeeeee
|
ColoredMonster
|
2023-01-23 20:42:30
|
2023-01-23 20:38:59
| 42 | 20 |
j5lc6ub
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j5lbm9d
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10jgryq
|
10jgryq
|
[WP] The alien leaders can hear the past of a species like it's music. The Slyth sound like hyms and peaceful chanting, the Goraz sound of drums and whistling. The newest discovered species are the humans and all that can be heard is grinding gears and screaming... Soo much screaming.
|
"Do not fight them."
So said the Voltians. They who were a race that resembled sea foam and jellyfish, they who called the deep seas of their ocean planet home, they who speak and hear the souls of all that pass by.
The crocodilian Akligars' souls was of drums and waves and birds of prey. Their mangrove planet was a hostile world, so they developed rituals of song and dance that scared away predators and attracted mates. In times, tribes would converse in war-drums, the side that lasted the longest and with the most vigor would come absorb the members of the other.
The cattish people of Lompia had souls that echoed with the sound of grass and paws on loam, their predator nature evident in their postures and the short screams of prey every so often. For the uninitiated, it can be jarring...and for some, an exhilarating experience. Untrained Voltians are typically unallowed to meet Lompians until their two hundredth moon.
The warmongering Auks laughed deeply in their blood red souls, the sound of coins and thrusters mixed in as well. Profit and bloodshed were their favourite past time, and none are suited better. It is when said that if you meet an Auk, the worst think that can happen if that they start laughing; they have found a plaything that will keep them happy for a long, long time.
But then, a newcomer arrived at the galactic scene. Young, unproven, and a bit of an upstarter. Pink skinned, two legged, two armed - honestly, somewhat standard for the galaxy. They sent ambassadors and ships and workers and soldiers, all to be expected, all to know better now that their neighborhood has become far louder then they have ever expected. They were called humanity...and the first Voltian to meet them shriveled up like jerky. When they were resuscitated, they confined themselves to their room for many moons.
When they came out, they issued a warning; "Do not fight them."
Do not fight them, for their souls scream with the pain of a billion trillion lives, as if the hounds of hell have long since began to gnaw on their bones.
Do not fight them, for their souls scream in resonant beats that would far outlive any war-drum, screams that would terrify even the boldest of bird of prey.
Do not fight them for they scream like prey that has been trapped in a corner, with naught left to do but fight to the death for their lives.
Do not fight them for their screams will choke out any laughter, any coins, any thrusters; there is no profit to be found in a fight with them, no joy in conflict.
Their soul is one of Death, a banshee's wail of prophesized end. If you hear the screams of Humanity...flee, and pray that you have fled far enough to die before they find you.
|
Greetings, all members of the Galaxy Federation, we of the Hessian Delegation are sending this message to warn you of the newly discovered space-faring species called humans.
To give you a brief background, Hessian leaders can hear the past of a species like it's music. The Slyth sound like hyms and peaceful chanting, the Goraz sound of drums and whistling.
But these humans? Ambassador Torak and his band of diplomats went insane upon returning from his first meeting with humans to assess their application to join the Galaxy Federation. He would not stop babbling about how humans do not emit music but non-stop screaming after an unfortunate attempt to peer into their past.
These are his words:
All I hear from these humans are grinding gears and screaming... Soo much screaming. The screaming would never stop. Loud screaming, deafening screaming, cacophonous screaming. They never stop. What have they done? What have they lived through? What have they killed? What have they tortured? How many voices are in those terrible screams? I cannot stop counting the screams that never stop.
As of this announcement, Torak is still undergoing psychiatric treatment under our best psychotherapists but shows no signs of recovery. He has spent his days banging his head against the padded walls of the combined therapeutic wards housing his team of traumatized diplomats, trying to destroy his eardrums to silence the screams of the humans.
This is not a drill, this is a real warning.
Do not allow humans into the Galaxy Federation. They are not peaceful like the Slyth, industrious like the Goraz. They are a violent, cruel, war-like race filled to the brim with insanity.
We must not let the insanity spread to others as it has afflicted Torak. For the safety of the aliens of the galaxy, do not engage them, do not fight them, steer clear of them.
Stay safe, fellow members of the Galaxy Federation.
We pray to our gods of this universe the humans never find the rest of us.
|
BlackMothCandleLight
|
Tregonial
|
2023-05-30 08:17:19
|
2023-05-30 05:47:01
| 541 | 194 |
jm6ebrf
|
jm62tlo
|
13vdfux
|
13vdfux
|
[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.
|
Ever since I was born, I had a complete and total immunity to magic. While it was my greatest strength, it was also my greatest weakness. After all, I could not be healed by any magic, which made encounters in the wild more dangerous than any could imagine. As an adventurer, it isn't hard to see why that would be the case. But... my body was also at war with itself, due to my lineage. I was only a half-human, after all. I constantly felt ill, and I had to train very hard for my body to be at the peak condition that it is in now. But another side affect of the curse? The one that hurt the most? I could not touch any magical beings.
As a child born from a fairy mother and human father, this meant I could no longer be around my mother. My very presence posed a danger to her. It broke her heart to know that she could not hold me. She always watched over me from a distance. But there was always a fear, somewhere behind her eyes. And then one day, she passed away. She became gravely ill, and could not be cured, due to her banishment from her tribe. Our human medicine simply could do nothing to treat this fairy illness. And the last thing she wanted to feel was my hands.
I can never forgive the man that did it. My own grandfather, on my mother's side. All because he disapproved. Ever since that day, I've been looking for them. But this particular fairy tribe was nomadic, and it was incredibly difficult to track them down. And my journey led me here, to this arena. I was not forced in: I volunteered. The person who ran the event had made me a promise, "Slay one hundred mages, and I'll point you in the direction you've asked." He seemed to think a guy of my build couldn't do it. It was a foolish trade, but not for me. I never really had to explain why I was immune to magic. Most people just assumed I had some resilience, or luck, or perhaps my armor was enchanted, or maybe the gods were looking over me. I felt like I was hustling this fellow. I kind of was. But I really needed to find my extended family. The letter in my breastplate demanded me too. The last wish of my mother...
I always wondered what I'd do when I saw him. And now, here I am, nearly a month after accepting this guy's demand, with my hundredth victim in hand. I can feel the anticipation as he approaches me, a huge smile on his face, as he hands me a parchment, a map of some kind. I suppose this is the end of our arrangement. I smile as he invites me to return some day, and we both laugh. After some goodbyes, I'm on my way.
I glance at the map as I walk, and realize my journey will take me another two months. I sigh, realizing I have yet to reach the end. But I can feel my mother beside me, urging me on. I know this is what she would have wanted. Well. She told me so. Maybe not with words, but with her eyes. What was that letter doing there, anyway?
Maybe when I see him, I'll give him a good punch.
|
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.
|
DreamsofLilacRoses
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-10-28 08:09:53
|
2024-10-28 05:50:49
| 32 | 18 |
lu57n2c
|
lu4vf9o
|
1gdtoop
|
1gdtoop
|
[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.
|
Sarah always thought that older brothers got unnecessary shit for their overprotectiveness. Older sisters are worse. Way worse.
Especially when they are witches, she was not trying to swear, his sisters were actually witches, with magic!
"Look at her!" The one with lashes so thick that they made every girl in a 5 km radius jealous said.
"Very plain, isn't she?" One who looked like a model added.
Sorry, what? Plain? Sure she didn't like to dress like a runway model like her but she was not plain. She was, well she was who she was.
Sarah raised her eyebrow. Making one of them narrow her eyes.
"Sit down." One with lips so red that she looked like she drank blood instead of water said.
Not wanting to get into an argument, she sat. Also, they were powerful magical beings, and Sarah was not an idiot.
"Now it's high time we have a chat." The kindest looking one said. "A proper one."
A length of rope appeared out of thin air and Sarah blinked.
"You know what this is?" The red lips one said.
"A rope." Sarah said, trying to show that she was meek. But she was raised in a household with 3 brothers, it took a lot to faze her.
"A rope, she says." Thick lashes said. "This is the honest rope. One who is bound by it cannot lie."
"The lasso of truth? Like Wonder Woman has?" Sarah asked. A little impressed, a little perplexed.
"Where did you think she got it?" The kind one said.
Sarah shrugs. "So you want to use it one me?"
They all laugh. Like she was being stupid.
"No we are going to use it on us so that you know how serious we are of what we'll do if you hurt our brother." Red lips said.
Sarah respected that.
She also thought that she should probably introduce them to her brothers. They would get along spectacularly.
A little too spectacularly.
|
“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-“
|
iknowthisischeesy
|
Mermaid_Pincer965
|
2023-07-06 07:32:15
|
2023-07-06 05:40:19
| 78 | 27 |
jqv21dc
|
jqut3np
|
14rwgki
|
14rwgki
|
[WP] a king has received the standard prophecy that his youngest daughter will be the one to kill him but instead of reacting as "get this baby out of my sight an abandoned it somewhere in the woods for it to die" he accepts his fate and dinner time is made very awkward
|
The king sat at the head of the long, gleaming table, his fingers tapping nervously on the polished wood. “Pass the potatoes,” he said, his voice as casual as a boulder rolling downhill.
The youngest princess, barely eight, her hair a nest of golden tangles, paused mid-slice of her roast. She squinted at the king like he’d just insulted her doll collection. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Me? Staring? I’m not staring,” the king said, though his eyes darted back to her every few seconds like moths to a flame. “It’s just… lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it? Very stabby—I mean, sunny.”
The eldest princess, who was doing her best to blend into the wallpaper, snorted into her goblet. “You’re obsessed, Father. Maybe she’ll kill you with bad table manners instead of a dagger.”
“Not helpful, Abigail,” the queen murmured, her eyes flicking between her husband and youngest daughter like she was watching an overly tense game of chess.
The prophecy had been delivered eight years ago by a wandering soothsayer who insisted on being paid in muffins. “The youngest,” she had croaked, crumbs spilling from her mouth, “will take the throne from the king.” Naturally, everyone assumed this meant murder. Except the king. The king decided it was destiny, leaned into it like a man hugging a cactus, and started treating every family dinner like it might be his last.
“Darling,” the queen said now, her voice low and sharp as the carving knife. “Could you stop twitching? You’re making everyone nervous.”
“I’m not twitching,” the king replied, his left eye twitching.
The youngest princess sighed dramatically, the kind of sigh that suggested she was already tired of this nonsense despite only being eight. “If I’m going to kill you, do you think I’d do it at dinner?”
The room fell silent, the kind of silence that suggested everyone was suddenly contemplating whether she *would*. Even the royal dog stopped chewing on a table leg to listen.
“Well, no,” the king said at last, clutching his goblet like it might offer him moral support. “But it could be poison! Or—who knows! A strategically placed pea I choke on!”
The youngest rolled her eyes with the weight of ten generations of daughters tired of their fathers’ dramatics. “If I *do* kill you, it’ll be cool. I’ll use a sword or something. Something flashy. Not food.”
“Oh, how comforting,” the king said, his voice dripping sarcasm. “A flashy murder. Wonderful.”
Abigail raised her goblet. “To flashy murders!”
“ABIGAIL!” the queen snapped, her hand slamming on the table.
The youngest giggled, which somehow made the whole situation worse. “You’re so silly, Papa. If I wanted to be queen, I’d just wait. You’re old.”
The king choked on his wine.
“Can we *please* have one dinner without talking about regicide?” the queen begged, pressing her hands to her temples.
The youngest shrugged. “He started it.”
“I did not—”
“Yes, you did,” Abigail said, grinning as she speared another potato. “You always do. Every meal. Every snack. You probably dream about it.”
The king crossed his arms, sulking like a scolded child. “Well, excuse me for being concerned about my *life.*”
“Maybe try enjoying it instead,” the queen muttered, reaching for the wine bottle.
The youngest leaned across the table, her expression suddenly serious. “I don’t want to kill you, you know.”
The king blinked at her, his jaw slack.
“I don’t,” she insisted, her voice soft but steady. “But if I have to, I’ll make it cool. Like I said.”
The queen sighed deeply as the king fainted, his face landing squarely in the mashed potatoes. Dinner carried on as usual.
|
The king sat slumped over his bowl of soup, lifeless eyes staring forward into oblivion. “Gods, Martha. What have you done to the king?” said the king’s servant as he entered the dining hall carrying what was to be the next course.
“She shot him in the back of the head.” said Thelma, the king’s eldest daughter. The king’s youngest daughter, Martha, stood next to him, tears flowing freely with her head buried in her hands. “I didn’t mean to do it!” She yelled at Thelma with as much venom as she could muster. “It was an accident, you know I would never do anything intentionally to hurt our father!”
“That doesn’t change the fact that he died.” Said Thelma flatly in response to Martha’s outburst. “The battle was firmly in our grasp until your misstep. Now we have to meet back up with the kings of Palmu and Kard to strategize for the next round of fighting. If they even wish to remain our allies at this point.”
The king’s servant looked confused, unaware of what conflict was being referenced by the royal family. He chose to remain silent in order to not reveal his lack of knowledge.
“Surely they will not abandon us in our hour of need after everything we have been through together.” argued Martha. “We have been through countless battles with them as our most trusted allies.”
“Perhaps now they see weakness in our ranks”, the servant jumped as the king lifted his head and spoke for the first time since dinner started, “and wish to join our enemies who have more combat prowess in their royal lineages.”
“Father…I” Martha began, trying to make pleading eye contact with her father.
“Silence, daughter.” said the king, not turning to look at her. “This event was foretold years before your birth by a witch that appeared in a dream. She told me “one day, many years from now, you’ll make a plan with your allies to rush A and your youngest daughter will make an error that leads to your death and the loss of the battle.” I refused to believe it at the time because I knew no offspring of mine would make such a novice mistake.”
Martha was staring at her plate, on the verge of weeping again. Massive tears welling up and threatening to soak her face and carve flowing canyons through her makeup.
The king exhaled an accepting sigh, “Martha, my daughter, look at me. I love you more than anything in the world. I apologize for my outburst and I promise it will not happen again. Now that this has happened, I can stop living my life in fear.”
“I love you more than anything too, father. Shall I go contact the other kings and let them know we’re ready to continue the next round?” Martha reached out to hold her father’s hand.
The king reached out and squeezed his daughter’s hand in return. “Yes, inform them that we are ready to crush the opposition.”
As the family departed the dining hall joking and laughing heartily, the servant began cleaning, glad to be done with what ended up being a very awkward dinner service for him.
|
StoneBurner143
|
AlternativeLoan6473
|
2025-01-13 08:05:12
|
2025-01-13 06:09:31
| 42 | 16 |
m6w229y
|
m6vq9zm
|
1i02wtc
|
1i02wtc
|
[WP] You know a shapeshifter replaced your significant other a while ago. You don't much care, though; the relationship's been far healthier since.
|
Author note: Not quite the exact prompt but I thought I had a fun idea for flipping the perspective.
Usually when shapeshifters infiltrate and replace a person there are months of observation and practice mimicking them by the operative.
Last week though I got a ping on my comms that the abduction squad had “goofed a grab big time”, and the higher ups needed “any infiltrator that wouldn’t shit the bed” to replace the human male who had been, “accidentally turned off.”
Obviously they didn’t use those exact words, I’m just a bit salty about the whole thing. Less than I should be, but that’s what makes this whole mission Weird.
The dossier I got for the man all of 30 minutes before I had to have dinner with his mate, aka wife, showed that he had a very high profile position at a pharmaceutical company.
Said company was unwittingly working on manufacturing medicine for shapeshifters which were practically useless to humans. This man had been making moves to shut down the “unproductive and wasteful experimental drug research division”.
That’s about as far as I got into his background before had to replicate his features and “borrow” his clothing, which the abduction squad had at least avoided getting bloody.
I expected to be immediately made or at least raise a lot of suspicion, but the dinner was actually quite pleasant.
When I arrived at the restaurant “my wife”, Isabella, was already seated at a table for two by bay windows that framed a beautiful sunset.
As I approached I realized I had no idea what this man’s voice sounded like, so I made what I hoped was a reasonably sneaky dash towards the bathrooms and opened up “my phone”.
The guy had tons of voice memos on his phone, so I opened up the first one and prepared my voice box to modulate to his speech.
“Note to self, Isabella’s getting a bit chunky, Adriana schedule her with a trainer and dietician. Also I don’t like her hair anymore, it’s too “woke”, so get her hair cut to something moderate and sensible.”
WOW. No time like the present to test my new voice.
“Jesus I suck.”
It didn’t sound quite right so I needed another sample. On to the next voice note.
“Isabella is complaining about some house wife nonsense, Adriana send her to a spa or something. I don’t want her going to therapy or any of that nonsense. Also reschedule my dinner date with her, I’m going to the lake with some of the boys. Find a time that won’t interfere with my golf plans, or the boys weekend in Vegas. … you know what just push it out to the first open evening next month.”
I had the immediate feeling I was going to do a poor job being this guy.
“I was wrong before, this guy is a walking waste of space. The air he breathed would be better used by someone exclusively farting in it.”
Not a standard voice test, but it felt right and I was pretty certain I had used up my available time. I left the bathroom and walked to the table.
Isabella was an attractive woman of South American heritage, and I couldn’t see how the man I was supposed to be thought she was fat.
“Isabella, you look fantastic. Sorry I was late.”
She had been looking out the window as I approached, but I still saw the change in her expression from bored acceptance to confused skepticism as she turned to look at me.
I pulled out my own chair and sat, allowing her a moment to process what I was sure had been a “major goof” on my part.
She squinted at me with obvious suspicion before saying, “Well. At least this means I can eat something with my drinks.”
Ah. Not good, but not bad. Seems “my” chronic tardiness is normal and the apology is considered disingenuous as a matter of fact.
“A drink sounds lovely, and I’m famished. Let’s see … I think I’ll get an Old Fashioned, and the … hmm. I can’t read the food menu.”
Isabella laughed quietly to herself and covered her smile by taking a sip of her drink. Then she raised an eyebrow at me as if challenging me on something.
“Ohh. Well played. I cede the point to you, and would ask you the favor of helping me understand what it is I might be ordering.”
Her face did that thing where someone’s jaw goes slack but they don’t open their mouth, so it just sort of gets long and sends the message, “what the hell am I looking at?”
“… or it’s possible I haven’t worked my way back into your good graces, in which case let’s take the fun route and my dinner will be a surprise!”
Isabella just stared at me like a poleaxed ox. Or what I guess that looks like as I’ve never actually seen one. After about 45 seconds of me smiling the cheesiest goofball smile I could make she coughed and took a drink.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, but you hate being surprised. You also can’t order my food to your liking unless you know what you’re ordering.”
“Wow when you put it that way I sound like a petty tyrant and a bore.”
Her eyes got a little wide and she thinned her lips, very much looking like someone expecting to be in trouble for something.
|
(This is my first time writing something like this so if you are so kind to give me criticism that would be nice).
Another day where he is gone, another day wehre I can do whatever I want to and don't immediately get yelled at for not being productive.
"I'm gonna be gone for two days be sure to keep the house clean yeah?"
That's what he said before he left a week ago.
He's in a hospital now, after 3 days I contacted our friend's where he was going to but they said he already left and should be back home.
He had a car crash, and it didn't look like he was going to make it.
Im worried about him, but now that I'm alone I feel better, I feel like I'm finally able to breathe.
Since he's gone I've been doing things that I always wanted to do, play my favorite music and dance around for no reason at all, playing all my favorite video games.
And most importantly I don't have constant arguments with him.
I feel guilty for feeling that way, since I do love him very much but it's a nice change. I hope he will be well.
Suddenly my phone rang, kicking me out of my thoughts.
"yes?"
" Hey Darling, it's nice to hear your voice again"
"Daniel?! You are awake? How do you feel???"
His voice sounded wierd, he talked in a calm voice and he called me Darling?
He hasn't given me a nickname ever, even though I asked him to.
"Of course, would you be so kind and open the door for me Darling? I forgot my keys"
"wait, are you outside right now?"
"Yes, it's raining, please let me inside"
I stood up from the couch and move to the front door and he really is standing in front of it.
I open the door and it seemed to have rained hard, he looks like he came out of a swimming pool.
"Daniel? How? The doctors said they weren't even sure if you would make it!?" saying these words makes me tear up
"Don't worry about it, im fine" he says giving me a warm smile.
I haven't seen him smiling like that in years
"I don't want to stress ya, but it's still raining Darling"
" oh right, im sorry!"
I move away and he walks inside, i close the door behind me.
Now that he is fully lit, i can see no trace of any injuries he had days ago wehn I visited the hospital. This is wierd
He seemed to have noticed my worried look and put his hand on my cheek and says
"Is everything alright Darling?"
He looks into my eyes waiting for me to answer but i can't.
"Darling?"
He comes closer
" who are you?" I ask , my voice is shaking
His eyes lit up and he smiles
"What are you talking about? Its me Daniel!" he chuckles.
I push him out of my way and I walk in the middle of the living room.
"Whats wrong?" he asked again also walking into the living room.
"How old am I?"
"What? You are 24"
"How old are you, Daniel?"
"I'm 35, is everything alright Darling? Do you have a Fever?"
" wehre did we first meet?" I ask in a serious tone
"I don't know what's going on with you Darling, is this supposed to be a joke?"
"Answer me!"
"you can talk to me, I'm here for you"
" I said answer me god damnit!"
He laughs, pushing his hand through his wet hair
"How did you notice?" he asked almost whispering.
" Daniel doesn't treat me like that, who the heck are you?!" i asked
" haha, I might not be the real Daniel but I'm still your Daniel" he says coming closer and hugging me tight.
" you know.... I've been watching you ever since we first met and seeing how he treated you, how he used you ugh.. I just couldn't watch it anymore I had to do something.."
He whispered into my ear, I was to confused to answer, what could he possibly mean with that.
"are you mad at me Darling?"
"no.. I kinda like the new Daniel.."
I'm surprised by what I said but it's true, these 15 minutes that I know the "new Daniel" I feel more loved than ever, he's finally treating me as his partner.
"Im glad to hear that" he says smiling
He gave me a kiss
" Don't worry, you'll never be treated like this by anyone ever again, I'm here for you now and i will never leave you alone again "
These words made me realize how crazy this is, if he's not Daniel why does he look and sound like him? He's been watching me? This is creeping me out, what the heck is that? Is it even human?
" of course I am Darling, don't think about it to much "
My eyes widened at that response he's just smiling back at me
|
intellectualgulf
|
KarlHeisenberg007
|
2023-04-05 19:00:53
|
2023-04-05 17:31:21
| 70 | 27 |
jf36ga1
|
jf2s4ae
|
12c7za2
|
12c7za2
|
[WP] As you tuck your daughter into bed, she tells you that there's a monster in her closet. Thinking she's just being a kid, you open the closet to show her there's nothing there, but you instead find your daughter who tells you that there's someone in her bed.
|
Orion was all of fifteen when he first discovered his superpowers. Which *sounded* cool, sure, but... his hometown was boring.
Fairview wasn't Springfield, wasn't Seaside; the population of the entire county over the past decade combined was barely a fraction of a block in New York City. Fairview's biggest claim to fame was the potato harvest and a handful of wineries, and that was *it.*
The nearest mall was nearly an hour away, the library was a block from city hall, and everyone's parents knew each other. When he and Amelia first started getting together— first started shyly *holding hands*— it'd taken everything he'd had to ignore the excited chatter of what felt like his entire grade talking about "how cute" they apparently looked, and learned way more than he'd ever needed to know about the betting pool in the teachers' lounge than he'd ever needed to know.
So the fact that he'd managed to hide his superpowers was nothing less than a miracle, and it was entirely thanks to his amazing girlfriend, Amelia. Because the League had been next to useless the one time they'd tried reaching out after registration, and while he *understood* Meteor Man was a very busy hero, it'd still felt more than a little insulting to get a "yeah, that's nice, call my office about an internship sometime next year" when all he'd wanted were some tips on flying.
Sure, flight was one of the most common powers out there, but that didn't mean Orion had anyone else to ask!
Meanwhile, despite not having any powers, Amelia had managed to work out a training regimen the summer before junior year: one where Orion practiced and she constantly readjusted the pile of pillows and bucket of sand after she figured out that what he was throwing out was plasma.
She was the one who thought of *Rigel* as his hero name, throwing ideas out like confetti as he hovered and wobbled and fell facefirst into the river again and again.
Rigel made his debut almost immediately, when the first fire of the season happened and the firefighters needed all hands on deck to contain it. While Orion couldn't do much about the fire itself, he immediately set to evacuating the civilians, and gained a commendation in the process. And it felt... good.
Good enough, that Orion did it again. And again.
Fairview was a small town with a next to nonexistent crime rate, the summer fires and winter accidents were the most action they ever saw around here. Of course he jumped at the chance to help, and of course the local first responders didn't question their newest volunteer beyond asking for his League registration number. A short but confusing phone call with Meteor Man later, and ta-da!
Rigel officially became Fairview's hero. Mostly, it meant getting cats out of trees and helping firefighters, but it really wasn't as big a time commitment as it sounded. Orion loved it, and his girlfriend, and it was the greatest summer and school year he'd ever had— so of course, he really should've known it would never last.
Officially, the entire region was Meteor Man's territory. Rigel was technically his hero intern, despite never having met the man for more than five minutes, but for the sake of paperwork and bureaucrats' sanity that's how it worked. It was the bigger cities that had stricter rules about this sort of thing, but heroes tended to avoid rural areas if they could help it: after all, who ever heard of a robot uprising happening outside of New York City?
So when Meteor Man found himself overwhelmed by an alien invasion and requested backup, Rigel was the closest hero available to help.
And... sure, Orion wasn't his biggest fan by any means, but that didn't mean he wanted to see the guy dead. So he went, taking off with nothing more than a pointed look toward his girlfriend and an inward wince at having to miss English and Chemistry.
The flight was mercifully quick, and from there...
In retrospect, the invaders really stood no chance. Not when it came to Rigel's plasma, or his strength. Not when he proved to be invulnerable to their laser blasts, and by the time backup finally arrived, the aliens' ships had already signaled their retreat.
|
I stared long into closet Isla's face, my heart thudding in my chest. A doppelganger? Skinshifter? A young kelpie? Flickers of evil smiles, bleeding wounds, and miserable death invaded my mind: James missing half his torso after a scared woman revealed herself as a nosferatu and made contact with a disintegration spell, Heriot hacked to pieces by a horde of imps pretending to be the children they had kidnapped and devoured, Juan suddenly losing his head when a kingfisher demon's maw snapped out from the darkness and snatched it away. I reached for the pocket watch that hung from my belt - Timesaver - but found nothing. My belt was at my bedside and all my other foci were attached to it save the wedding band on my finger.
She just stared back at me, and so long as that was all she did, I was content to think. How did whatever this was break the threshold of our home? Was I dealing with a power player looking to pay me back for my day job, or had this thing slipped in behind my daughter.
Neither of those could, or should have been possible without creating a massive racket. I wished I could peel away its glamour, but blue magic had never really agreed with me. Half the tools on my belt were shortcuts to various different spells for blasting monsters into bloody chunks.
My wife, however, was a fantastic blue mage - even my daughter showed more promise than I ever d-
Wait.
I pulled together a quick shield against bodily harm and willed it into existence, then I reached out with my index finger and gently booped closet Isla's nose. The image blurred around my finger and flickered into nothing as my personal magical field overwhelmed it.
The red haired ragamuffin on the bed giggled behind me, "I got you, daddy! I got you!" Her accent more resembled her mother's middle American than my lowland Scot.
My heart coming back to a rest, I turned around to regard all forty pounds of her condensed hubris. Her grin was at once adorable and infuriating, real. I didn't know whether to hug or ground her.
"Isla, when did you get so good at illusions?"
"Ms. Haley started teaching us how to make birdies in class last week."
"And this?" I waved to the empty space where the illusion had been.
"She doesn't know I can do that yet."
"You learned it from one of the older kids?"
She nodded her head. Of course she had been put up to this stunt. My position on the college board was not popular among the Blues, and parents' sentiments have a habit of trickling down to their children.
I sighed, "Sweetheart, I'm proud that you are doing so well with your magic, but you need to be careful who you listen to. Someone could have gotten hurt."
Her pride fled from her like water from a dropped pitcher, which hurt to watch. Her moment of triumph outdone by a single oversight. It wasn't fair at all.
I closed the small distance between us and pulled her into a hug, "The magic wasn't wrong, love. It was the trick." I stood, lifting her up from her bed, blankets and all. "Come on, can't leave your mum out of this."
"But then I'll be in more trouble."
"Maybe, but I think she'll have some fine ideas for getting that sneaky cu--uh kid back."
She giggled at my expense and I carried her out of the room to have a conversation I had hoped to have at least two years later.
(Started with the mage and daughter idea. Ended up writing a character study for one of the novels I have on the back burner.)
Edit: correcting some autofill BS.
|
notcarrie
|
MasterV3ga
|
2024-01-08 10:55:43
|
2023-06-25 23:09:00
| 36 | 20 | null |
jpiv1ow
|
190yicv
|
14ipem3
|
[WP] “Be careful! That line of salt is the only thing keeping them at bay!” “Sea salt.” I said. Confused, he looks at me “What?” “Sea salt keeps us at bay.” I clarified.
|
“Sea salt. Sea salt keeps us at bay.” I clarified.
I'm met with startled, but confused, cries, as the two young boys turn away from the front door to face their living room couch, where I'm making myself comfortable.
"You see, while most seasoning salt is a majority sodium chloride, NaCl, - you remember that, right kiddos? From chemistry class? - the difference lies not in the composition, but the origin. Mined salt comes exclusively from the erosion of the Earth's crust, which means jack shit to us demons, but sea salt? That baby is dynamite to us!"
I lazily get up, rifling through the mementos on the mantelpiece.
"Ooh, first place in a maths competition, you could have been someone, sport! What was I saying? Oh, yeah. Sea salt, young fellas, while also surging from the erosion of the rocks that come in contact with the sea, form deposits at the sea floor. Ya know what else deposits on the sea floor?"
The boys start shaking and backing away, unaware of my companions' approach outside.
"How did you get in?!" the oldest one shouts.
"Dead creatures." I respond, ignoring his desperate query. "Did anyone ever tell you demons can possess more than just human bodies? Like the old tale of, what was his name, Yoshua? Yeshua? You know, the guy who forced a spirit into pigs and then had them jump off a cliff to their death?"
"I have a weapon! I can hurt you!" The kid pathetically clutches the aluminium baseball bat, already looking dented and flimsy from overuse.
"But there's a little problem. All animals have souls too, and being without sin, they go to some form of heaven, probably a huge farm, or fish tank in this case. And the big man upstairs, he decided to be a decent fella for once, and instilled a protection upon the bodies of all souls up in heaven."
I can smell their nervous sweat, laced with fear. I think the oldest one might have pissed himself too.
Pathetic.
"So, sea salt. Specifically, sea salt with a higher concentration of salts other than NaCl, obtained from the decomposition of animals. That's what keeps us away."
I'm now inches away from them, as they try as hard as they can to stay on the right side of the salt line they drew.
"But wait, this is sea salt! How did you even get inside?" the young one finally speaks. He sounds smart. He's probably the maths genius.
As I raise my hands to shove them across the threshold, a smile spread from cheek to cheek on my face.
"You forgot the kitchen door..."
|
John blinked, as he looked down at the salt circle that'd been drawn and back at the fish man who stood in front, on the other side.
"Come again?"
"It's *sea* salt that keeps us at bay. Not table salt" the fish man deadpanned, as John looked incredulously at him before turning his critical gaze onto Marv - his assistant.
"God damn it Marv, I told you *explicitly* to get the sesalt!"
Marv, a skinnier boy barely 18 wearing glasses quaked in his boots, and argued "I did! I brought you sesalt, see it's right there on the package!"
John blinked, and looked at the box he held in his hand and sure enough it had the words "sesalt table salt" printed on it.
The fishman looked at John as though he was an abstract work of art, amusingly confusing.
"Well I'll be damned - it *is* sesalt!"
"Exactly".
"But boy I wasn't asking for this sesalt, I was asking for that sesalt" John replied, as he pointed a finger at the fish man, who found it necessary to clarify.
"Sea salt. He means sea salt".
Marv blinked, and said "oh...I get it now".
"What'd you mean *you get it now*? You should've gotten it when I told ya!"
"How was I supposed to sir? You said sesalt not *sea* salt!"
"But that's how I say it!"
"No, no - he's in the right, you pronounce sea salt in the most mind boggling moronic way imaginable" the fishman interjected. Crossing his arms over his chest.
"You take that back".
"Or else what?"
"Or else I'm gonna lick ya".
The fishman blinked, and shuddered saying "ew, anyway your little salt circle isn't going to stop me".
John sighed before throwing the box away, and going "well I guess its time for plan B".
"What's plan B?" Marv asked, as John then pulled out the shotgun that'd been strapped covertly onto his back.
"Blast it" said John, as he aimed the barrel at the fishman who gulped thinking 'oh no'.
**The End.**
|
LlewellynArcher
|
ThatCrazyThreadGuy12
|
2024-05-12 20:40:13
|
2024-05-12 14:46:25
| 14 | 10 |
l3rc1wv
|
l3psqtx
|
1cpvyit
|
1cpvyit
|
[WP] For 10 long years war has raged while the Galactic Committee held a tight leash on the humans; stating "We do things a certain way". Now, with the enemy closing in, the leash comes off.
|
*This isn't how war is meant to be waged.*
No, this is... dishonourable. Foul. *Deplorable*. Conduct that should be relegated to textbook examples, not the field! But we had no choice; the war with the Qo'neer Empire had raged for 10 long years with us on the struggling side. For every planet we took, they took a star system. For every ship destroyed, they claimed a flagship. Their technology was simply far too efficient and advanced for us - any direct engagement was a death sentence.
Throughout all of this, the humans - a young, upstart race from a backward corner of the Milky Way - eagerly asked the Galactic Committee to join the conflict. Some hushed rumours were spoken about their proclivity for war, their bloodlust, their blood-soaked history, and as such, they were denied. Theirs was not the way we fight. It was wrong. Yet in the end, we had no choice.
We let them off the leash.
And it was a mistake.
A blind man could see the efficiency of their tactics, yet no one could possibly fathom how they could stoop so low. To act with such disgrace. Such cowardice.
They wouldn't meet the enemy in the field of battle. They fought from the shadows, spreading misinformation and distrust. They happily twisted shipping manifests and marching orders. Entire fleets of the Qo'neer Empire were stopped dead in their tracks; not because the humans created an impenetrable bastion, but because through their actions, the fleet ran out of fuel and ended up drifting aimlessly through space.
Where a warrior of *any* merit would challenge the enemy commander to a duel, the humans would wait until they were asleep and quietly butcher them, like an *animal*. Their troops almost never fought their own battles; they ran away, scattering into nothing, only coming back with overwhelming numbers with the gall to demand surrender as if they accomplished *anything*.
The war, much to the disgrace of the Galactic Committee, halted within 2 years. The Qo'neer Empire simply weighed the value of their conquest against the economy and found that should they continue, entire systems under their control would starve as entire supply chains were disturbed.
Perhaps the most shameful thing, however, was how little the Qo'neer Empire *actually* suffered. The humans took every opportunity to preserve not just their own lives, but even those of the enemy. Millions of soldiers died on both sides when billions would have given laid their lives if the 'war' they waged had but a shred of virtue.
But the humans would happily sacrifice *every* ounce of honour if it means preserving even a *single* life.
|
"We do things a certain way." The Committee stated.
The Committee was made of every known species, each having an equal say in the actions of the Federation. Humanity, new to the stage, simply watched as the Committee sent out a war fleet to kill the bugs.
It failed.
Ten years and two months later, the Electorate of the Terra Firma Systems Union stood before the tens of thousands of species and laid out a proposal to the Committee.
"We are all well and familiar with Terra's First Contact War. We are aware of how we fought compared to how the galaxy fights. We are knowledgeable of the reasons why each action was taken, each violation of the Geneva Conventions. Hence why the TFSU Armed Forces have not yet joined the Committee's, and never will.
"Yet it has become clear that the Committee is failing to hold off the bugs. The front is holding, but is expanding to our flank and we can't hold that forever. When the bugs arrive at our borders, they will receive our treatment. You do things as efficiently as possible, we do things as ethically as possible, and we pay our costs out of pocket; problem solved."
There was a low murmur in the hall as representatives remembered the General of the TFSU Armed Forces besting the Grand Leader in melee combat, yet stepping down from taking the position.
"I do not care about a vote or if the Grand Leader themselves vetos this position. The TFSU will respond to this threat the way we see fit, and that's that."
The Electorate left the hall, followed by her entourage.
\-----
It took three weeks of fighting for the Bugs to officially send a diplomat to the front lines and sign a treaty with the TFSU. The other members of the Committee attempted to change their tactics, but it was too late, and their governments were forcefully destroyed.
The First Milky Way War is a testament to the fact that being ethical can indeed pay back. Now, any questions, class?
\-----
**A/N:**
**Effort level: mid**
|
SirPiecemaker
|
Nomyad777
|
2023-06-11 01:51:06
|
2023-06-11 00:38:54
| 513 | 116 |
jnqaotb
|
jnq2d5j
|
146dwvr
|
146dwvr
|
[WP] “Why should I care what you think, dad? Humans only live for a hundred years if they’re lucky! Me and mom will be here for thousands!”
|
Damon could see the pain pull down on his father. He knew it was a sore spot and at that moment, he wanted him to hurt.
Julian knew this would happen, that one day his mortality would be used against him.
"When you're a thousand years old, then you can say you told me so, but right now, you're still my son," said Julian.
Damon rolled his eyes, why should his father have any say over him, he was nineteen now, an adult. "Does mom even know about this?" he asked.
"She does, and she agrees with me. But even if she didn't, I don't need to ask for her permission and I'm allowed to disagree with her. Being older doesn't magically make you smarter than everyone else."
"Is that what you tell yourself?" Damon smirked, his smugness almost laughable to his father.
"This teacher of yours that you say got you suspended, Mr. Lai, you think he's so much smarter and wiser than you?"
Damon rolled his eyes. "Obviously not"
Julian feigned perplexion, "But he's in his sixties, isn't he?"
"He's not two hundred years old."
"Oh, is that what you tell *yourself*?" Now Julian was smug. He’d been ready for this conversation for years and knew his teenage son was running on only emotion.
Damon lambasted his university teacher to his face. It was the first semester of his first year and already Damon was showing signs of a massive superiority complex. Julian worried this would happen, but his wife reassured him that she went through a similar phase in her life and only regretted she had no one to talk her down.
Julian sat on the living room couch and took a deep breath.
"You need to be careful Damon, this line of thinking is incredibly stupid and shortsighted and can be used to justify almost anything. You think your mother thinks any less of me because I'm only going to live another forty to fifty years? You think she looks forward to the day I die?
Damon didn't reply.
"Well?" Julian pushed.
"No."
"Then why should you get to think so low of everyone else? Are you really that arrogant to think that maybe other people might be smarter or wiser than you?"
Damon said nothing still, and it infuriated him. Once again he'd been proven wrong by his father, a mere mortal. He felt he should have been stronger and smarter, but failed to prove it at every opportunity.
"Last I checked your mother wasn't a renowned philosopher or architect or programmer, hell, she can barely work her email. She *is* wise, however, and knows what she is and isn't capable of. One day you'll learn that. Maybe not today, maybe not for hundreds of years, but one day you'll remember this conversation and realize what a terrible thing you've done and I'm only sad I won't be around to help when you regret it."
Damon looked to the floor. Now his father was throwing his mortality back at him, and he didn't like it. He hated his father at that moment, but he didn't want him dead. Remembering that he won't always be around filled him with sorrow.
Damon hesitated to speak, but his father stood up and left the room. Now he was alone with his feelings and without his father, a brief reminder of what the future would have in store for him. Perhaps he was wrong all along. Something to think about.
|
"My Lord, I have no clue who these mortals are. Why are they-"
"*These four mortals are the key to saving my Realm!*" the King of the Amethyst Court bellowed. "They seem to know you, so you better get them comfortable with their new role as Protectors of this land! Oh, and don't out yourself as an Amethyst Courtier to these mortals."
I bowed slightly. "Of course, My Lord. But mortals? Truly?"
"Yes. Now go, before I send you to that one part of my Realm that you recently got for me. You know, the one that the thermostat is broken?"
"Right away."
~*~*~*~*~
I looked at the mortals, shaking my head slightly. Fragile beings. I still do not understand why my Lord chose these weaklings to save these lands. The war that the Crimson Queen began with Znanel is an immortal matter, to be dealt with the Blood-Knights and the Knower-Keepers.
"Wow, Isoth! You got to talk face-to-face with the god of this place?" a sad looking girl with her hair dyed a powder blue walked up to me. Marienne, I think her name is.
A young man with mousey brown hair was the next to bombard me with his energy. "What did he say? I know we are meant to save this realm but-"
"SILENCE, FOOL!" my voice shook crystalline purple leaves off of the tree. "We are all to choose how we want to look in this realm. Man, Mer, Beast, Manbeast, Mermanbeast, whatever. Just choose, and choose quickly. The forces of Znanel are upon us."
Another young man, but with short blond hair, looked up from his book. "Wood elf."
Immediately, he grew shorter, his features turning more angular and wood-tinged.
Marienne was in awe. "Silas, who knew you would look so good like that!"
The mouse haired male jumped up and down. "Can I be Mousefolk?"
Much like how Silas became as he is now, so did this male.
"Way to go, Benji," the last mortal clapped slowly. "Way to out yourself."
Benji pouted. "What about you, Myata? What will you be?
Myata looked up at the sky. "Make me into a powerful warrior. With a sword. I like swords a lot."
"A mortal after my own heart," I smiled as the androgynous form became their desired self. "Now, Marienne, what do you want to be?"
"I liked Myata's idea. Something like that?" Her transformation started. "Only less swords, and more magic, please."
Benji twitched his ears in my direction. "Isoth, what about you? What will you be?"
"In my fucking armor is what I'll be," I started marching southwards towards my domicile. "And that's what you lot had better start considering, too. Light, medium, or heavy. Or unarmored and let your guts feed the wildlife for all I care."
|
writerparis
|
RosenrotEis
|
2024-08-14 17:48:03
|
2023-02-27 08:05:36
| 50 | 20 | null | null |
1es40qy
|
11ctaxn
|
[WP] You partner in crime has pulled a gun on you. "The truth is, the game was rigged from the start." You know that very well, mostly because you did all the rigging.
|
You'd think there'd be some honour among thieves, but he looked *far too* smug with that gun pointed at me. Too much for him not to be enjoying this.
"Alright, Miles," he said in a condescending manner. "I think it's time for us to go our separate ways. Specifically, me going towards luxury and comfort with the rest of our little gang, and you, well..." he cocked the hammer on the gun, "I don't much care."
I sighed. "So is this how it's gonna be?" I asked.
"You played your part in this little game well, but the truth is... it was rigged from the start. Frankly, I'm a little surprised you didn't see it coming."
"I did."
He tilted his head curiously. "That so?"
"Of course. Which is why I loaded your gun with blanks earlier today. I mean, did you really..." I smiled.
"Oh," he chuckled, "you mean *these* blanks?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pile of bullets - all marked with the tiny little indent on the side. The exact marking I used. "I checked them an hour ago. Like I said - you played your part well, but-"
"Is that the same gun from yesterday?" I continued. He frowned and nodded. "Right. So, the one with the firing pin filed down. Good."
Carefully, without turning the gun away, he inspected the inside and cursed quietly.
"I could've *sworn* that- bah. Doesn't matter. That's why I brought *this*," he said and pulled out a *second gun* from behind his back.
I did *not* see that coming.
"By the look on your face," he said calmly, "I assume you didn't find this one. So with that, I'll-"
"I was really hoping you wouldn't force me to do this, but..." I pulled out a small vial from my pocket. "This is-"
"The antidote to the poison you put in my coffee? Yeah. I know. It's why I switched the cups."
"Was that *after* I switched them *again*?"
"It was before I brewed a fresh new pot."
"With the-"
"Poisoned coffee beans?" he interrupted. "Of course not."
"I was going to see with the coffee pot I laced," I chortled. Finally, the ball was in my court and-
A laser appeared on my chest.
"I don't suppose you've met Laura?" he asked. "An excellent sniper, I must say. Now, if you'd be so-"
"Of course I know Laura," I replied and watched with satisfaction as the laser moved from my chest to his. "An excellent sniper indeed. And *very loyal*. I told her to aim at me first - a little bit of theatrics never hurt anyone."
A second laser appeared on my chest.
"Theatrical indeed," he nodded.
"It would appear we are at an impasse," I commended him.
"Not... exactly," he shrugged.
"*Hey, uh, Miles? We may, uh...*" the voice in my earpiece sounded quite concerned - never knew Laura to be nervous.
"Laura, I suspect, has just realized there is a man in her apartment with her wife. A man I am paying quite well."
"That man is an undercover FBI agent, I'll have you know. It took years for me to arrange for you to meet him."
"Oh, he flipped. You see, money..." he pointed at the pile of cash-filled bags at our feet, "money conquers all."
"I know he did. Why is why *I, and the rest of the Bureau*, set up this little operation," I revealed grandiosely and pulled out my ultimate trump card - my FBI badge.
"Wait," he stopped. "The **fuck**?!"
"And now it's time for justice- wait *what the fuck*?" I gasped as I saw him holster his second weapon and pull out something far more sinister - an NSA badge.
We stared at each other silently.
"*Hey, uh, Miles*?" Laura chirped in my ear. "*Is- is this something I should've been briefed on*? *No one back at the Agency mentioned*\-"
"Did you say *Agency*?!" I yelled at her. Looking up, I saw my partner-in-crime turned traitor turned NSA agent speak into his very own earpiece.
"*The fuck do you mean* ***DEA?!***"
|
"Woah, woah, woah!" I blurt out, raising my hands into the air as quickly and cleanly as I can. Fortunately I was only carrying a small box of valuables that won't break from simply being dropped. Or is that unfortunately? Perhaps if the box had broken, I could have used the spillings as a distraction or a trip hazard... heh, imagine that. Zack's reflexes are faster than that and I'd take a bullet through the skull. You can't do stuff like that as you see it done in the movies; the movies aren't real.
Zack smiles with a big grin. A big, cocky grin that I'd become so used to seeing as a good omen. This is the first time I have to register it as bad. The mental dissonance pains me. "Giving up already? Or are you thinking of a way out? I want to see you squirm."
I mentally begin to tune out the useless parts of his monologue - didn't I just say that the movies aren't real? - as I notice the other pair of our group of four step into the metaphorical frame, guns also drawn on me. To one side of Zack, his girlfriend, Laura, and to the other side, my boyfriend, who only ever told me his name. Allegedly, of course. Telling the person you love the identity you're trying to hide is a mistake made by the bad guys in the movies - and, of course, the movies aren't real.
"So here's what you're gonna do," Zack demands of me, finally getting to the point. "We're gonna load these back onto the truck, and you're going to eat our exhaust fumes as we drive off without you. Do that, and *maybe* I won't put a-"
His words are cut off as the crack of guns going off fills the air. I reflexively flinch away from the loudest sound, but that's hard to do properly when the sound is coming from every direction and you have tinnitus in one ear. Shame I had to flinch, too - I really wanted to see the look on Zack's face when this happened.
I step up to him and lean over his anguished lump of a form on the ground. By the looks of the bloodstains he's taken at least two bullets to his left leg and one to his right arm, and his gun is completely wrecked as well. Laura seems to have been more accurately hit, her upper arms are both completely red, even through her clothing. Spit from my direction just so happens to land on his face.
I look up at "My Boyfriend", who has dropped his gun and is now leaning back against the truck. I'm sure that if this were forty years ago, he's be smoking a cigarette, too. My gaze turns back to Zack. The wetness seems to have drawn his attention.
"Did I ever tell you that I was ex-military? Or that Leftenant Boyfriend over there isn't ex? Yeah. The game really was rigged from the start, you just tried to do something right before I would have done."
After all, it shouldn't come as a surprise that soldiers can actually aim. You cannot outrun bullets, especially not those fired by actual trained military personnel. As I've said, the movies aren't real.
Maybe my inside ops would make a nice movie, too. In two hundred years, anyway, assuming this story gets declassified at all. Hm. I'm going to need a completely new identity after this.
|
SirPiecemaker
|
Bunnytob
|
2023-08-17 23:50:23
|
2023-08-17 20:01:06
| 364 | 72 | null | null |
15twp5a
|
15twp5a
|
[WP] Your job description: 1) Sit in an empty room with a red button for 8 hours a day. 2) NEVER press the red button, no matter what happens. 3) Do not talk to anyone about the job. After many uneventful years, your phone rings and a stern, slightly panicked voice says: „Press the button. NOW!!“
|
I sat there, as I had been doing for 8 hours a day for as long as I can remember.
The button. It was ominous, and glowed a bright red.
Through these days, I wondered.
What did it do?
Launch nuclear missiles?
Open a door to another universe?
Nothing?
...
I didn't know. Nor did I want to find out.
My superiors spent what felt like hours telling me how important it was to not press the button.
I wasn't about to disobey that.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes. I pause for a moment, and answer the call.
"Hello?" I said.
Then I heard a voice, panickly asking me a question.
"PRESS THE BUTTON. NOW."
"Excuse me?"
"I SAID, PRESS THE BUTTON!"
"S-Sir, I-"
"You have NO time left. No more screwups. PRESS. THE BUTTON."
I looked to the button.
"Sir, how do you kno-"
"I am telling you. Stop wasting time and press. The godamn. Button."
"Sir, wh-why should I do that, sir?"
"*Everything* depends on it. Your LIFE depends on your ability to press it."
This stranger was starting to get on my nerves. I got up from my chair and paced around the room.
"Sir, I'm gonna n-need you to-"
"No, Johnathan! The job was to PRESS THE BUTTON!"
My name wasn't Johnathan.
"That is *not* my job, nor is that my name! Is it possible you have a wrong num-?"
Then I realised.
The call wasn't meant for me.
The "job" wasn't *my* job.
The door was open.
Someone had broke through, and pressed the button.
|
“I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to.”
“The fate of the world is at stake!” The voice sounds honest enough, but then I’m a terrible judge of character. Maybe I can get some information out of this guy.
“Then give me your badge number.”
“Nine eight five three six eight eleven decka one!” came the anxious response.
“Security clearance?”
“Alpha alpha beta!”
“The operations unique forty-two and a half digit alphanumeric identification code?”
“D R G Z 2 H 5— wait… forty-two and a half?” The voice said. “JUST PUSH THE [redacted] BUTTON!”
“Okay…”
“HURRY UP IN— Aah! you pushed it!”
***
I may come back in add some more later. For now check out some of my [other stories](https://www.reddit.com/user/Matthew-IP-7/comments/ww45tq/a_list_of_all_the_stories_ive_written_that_can_be/).
|
BlueBorbo
|
Matthew-IP-7
|
2023-01-03 03:20:37
|
2023-01-02 20:04:44
| 16 | 10 |
j2q09kt
|
j2o761r
|
101bwam
|
101bwam
|
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a human trafficking ring, & it’s unlikely that the authorities can recover you at this point. Unfortunately for your kidnappers, your SO is a member of the Greek pantheon.
|
Chains clanking, manacles restraining my hands against the back wall. My eyes are dark, covered by a blindfold, but I know my kidnappers are standing nearby, guarding me. I want to run, want to get away, but I know it's impossible. Even if I could get free from these manacles, I wouldn’t make it very far without getting kidnapped again. I’ll admit, I hated them. I hated these people who were keeping me and the others in captivity. Who knows how many others were ripped from their lives by their hands. Here I was SUPPOSED to be on vacation in Greece, and here I was SUPPOSED to be meeting my SO here, but no. I was stolen in broad daylight on a crowded street by a giant group of goons in all-black outfits, bound, gagged, blindfolded, and taken somewhere where not even the local authorities could find me.
I struggle some more until I feel a hard slap across my cheek. I hear a masculine voice say something in Greek. I don’t speak Greek very well, but I can understand the meaning well enough. “Stop struggling or things will become much worse for you.” he seems to say. My cheek feels like someone lit it on fire, but I don’t cry out. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me. I whip around and spit as close to his face as I can figure. I brace myself for another slap, but instead, all I hear is a grunt that might’ve been a chuckle. “This one has some guts. She’ll make someone a nice wife.” Again, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction, but inside, my stomach ties itself into knots. The sheer audacity of this man, basically saying he’s going to make me marry someone I don’t know, selling me into a relationship with someone who probably would only want my body. However, as soon as I hear him turn away, I smile to myself, because I know something they don’t know.
I dip my head down, my chin touching my chest, and whisper to myself “My love, if you can hear me, like you told me you could, please rescue me from my captors. I cannot do this without you, my love.” As soon as these words leave my lips, I feel a peaceful calm wash over me. After what feels like hours, but what might’ve only been a few seconds to a few minutes, I start hearing a commotion that ends abruptly; each captor starts asking who’s coming, but is abruptly cut off, and I hear people falling to the floor. I smile to myself, knowing my SO is coming to rescue me. Soon enough, I feel a gentle touch of warm fingers on my cheek.
“My darling, what have they done to you?” I hear his voice, a soothing whisper in my ear, as his cool fingers untangle the knot of my blindfold. I blink in the sudden light, and soon, my SO appears in front of me. His youthful face, pale as the moon, complemented by hair as blue as the midnight sky encircled by a crown of bright red flowers. Poppies, one of his sacred symbols. His eyes, deep blue like the night sky, look at me through heavy lids, as if he just woke up from a nap. He is dressed in a deep blue chiton tunic, with silver accents, and silver sandals, and from his back stretch large, feathered wings, also a deep blue, like the midnight sky, and streaked through with silver, like the stars. He smiles at me, and gives me a gentle hug. “I apologize for my lateness, my love.” As he hugs me, I look around at my captors, and they’re all lying on the floor in various positions, completely unconscious.
“What did you do to them?” I ask him. “You didn’t…I mean, they aren’t…”
He pulls away, and gives me a look that’s somewhere between amusement and pity. “No, my love, they aren’t. Thanatos and I may be twins, but it is he that deals with death.” He shakes his head with a gentle chuckle. “No, no, my love, they are merely asleep. They will wake up, eventually, after my son, Morpheus, is finished weaving them a mutual dream showing them the error of their ways.” He gestures to a younger man, fluttering above my former captors in a purple chiton. His eyes are closed in concentration as glittering threads flow from his body and weave themselves into dream tapestries above each unconscious man's head.
Hypnos turns back to me again. “Shall we leave my son to his work, my love?” I turn back to him, and smile. He takes me in his arms, sweeping me off my feet, spreads his night-like wings, and we soar off into the bright blue sky.
|
Aphrodite is perfect in form, without blemish. Every detail of her aesthetic is locked into place, seemingly without error. I am hers.
I met her on Craigslist. She put out an ad in the personals saying she was running a dating school. Having struggled with that, I signed up. I was surprised when the first class met and I was the only one there. She instructed me anyways, giving me innumerable tips to improve my appearance, confidence, presentation, and communication skills. As the classes went on, it became clearer that she wanted me to want her. She asked me what I wanted in a person, and I said I wanted one as beautiful as she was. She seemed pleased with this, and afterward, she told me that she wanted me to go on a date with her.
During our first date, I asked her where the name Aphrodite came from, and she told me that she was the Greek Goddess Aphrodite. I almost spit out my pasta, before recalling that would be the type of bad etiquette that she abhorred. I just smiled, and asked, "How?" She told me that she'd always existed, since the dawn of time, and that only a lucky few ever got to meet her. I asked her why she didn't already have a date or a significant other, and she said she had many throughout history but was currently single. I couldn't help but say that this seemed suspicious, a dating school instructor being single, but she just smiled and told me to feel grateful for being lucky.
We went on a few dates. On the last one, she kissed me. It was the most perfectly blissful thing I'd ever experienced. I started to dread right away that I'd lose her. She was Aphrodite, and she could have whomever she wanted. I was rather plain and boring, why would she want me?
I didn't have long to fret over this, for the day after the kiss I was ambushed by five men dressed in black. I thought I had done something wrong. I tried to think of all the reasons why they would kidnap me. I plead my innocence and screamed that I knew Aphrodite and that she had special powers. They put a bag over my head and forced me into what felt like a van. We drove forever, then flew, and when I got off the plane I could feel desert heat and sand. In tears, I prayed for Aphrodite, my beloved, to save me.
The men took me down into a chamber, where they took the bag off my head. I was surprised to see many other people there, heads bowed. I was even more surprised to see Aphrodite, standing up on a stage. I tried to scream for her, but the men kicked and slapped me until I kept quiet.
I felt pain at having been tricked, and agony at seeing my lover ignore me, but I understand now. She spoke on the stage, telling us that this was the final step of dating school. We all wanted her, and to have her, we must prove above all else that we have mastered the techniques taught in the class. With time, she said, our appearance, presentation, and communication skills could be *better*. Only the one with the *best* skills would have her hand.
It seemed absurd, stupid. There were dozens of other people. I stood no chance against them, surely some were better than me. I told her that during my first 1-1 on with her, and she told me that was the very thinking that had led me to dating school in the first place. I hadn't talked to people with the assumption that I wasn't good enough for them, but in reality, nobody was better than anyone else. I had to assume that I was the best, and then I would act like it. Only then would I stand a chance.
She was absolutely right. Sometimes I doubt, but she always corrects me.
In glory to Aphrodite, may your hand be mine.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
Straight_Attention_5
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2023-05-20 17:18:28
|
2023-05-20 15:08:37
| 83 | 60 |
jkxbz3p
|
jkwt2qz
|
13mpraz
|
13mpraz
|
[WP] When the villain asked you how you didn't go insane from the constant evil thoughts they were whispering in the back of you mind, you were not sure how to explain that this is your normal state of mind and you didn't even notice anything had changed.
|
There’s this thing people do when they think they’re being clever. A kind of tick. A twitch at the corner of their lip, a tightening of the eye, like they’re waiting to see if you’ll react, if you’ll flinch, if you’ll fold under what they think is a cleverness that’ll flatten you. Like a blade so sharp you don’t know you’ve been cut until you’re bleeding out. But that’s the thing, isn't it? They’re all always waiting for you to bleed. But I don’t bleed. I just sit there, dry, cracked at the edges, watching them wonder why.
The villain has this same look. All hunched over, waiting for me to collapse. Expecting my mind to fold in on itself, sink down deep in the dark, because he’s been *whispering* for hours. Must think himself a real maestro of misery. Maybe he’s used to breaking folk, spinning madness like a spider, delicate, precise. And to him, I must be the fly. A real sweet, soft, stupid thing tangled in the sticky strings of his words.
He asks me how I haven’t gone mad yet. He sounds so sure, like it’s supposed to be a punchline, and he’s waiting for me to crumple at the weight of his question. Like I’m some vase on the shelf, filled to the brim with thoughts I’ve never had, and it’ll only take one good whisper for me to spill all over the floor.
But, see, the thing about being a vase is I’ve been cracked long before his whispers found their way into my head. Long before I even had a name to call my own. I’ve been leaking since the day I was set on the shelf. He don’t know it, though. He don’t see me like that. I’m whole in his mind. A person with a fixed beginning and a fixed end, and the space in between is supposed to belong to him now. He thinks his voice is carving something new into me. But I’ve been carving myself long before I knew what a villain was. There’s nothing new about hearing a voice telling me I ain’t right.
"How haven’t you gone mad?” he says again, slower this time, like maybe I haven't been listening. But I have. I just don’t care.
I laugh because it’s all I can do. And he waits, confused. He’s not used to being laughed at, I can tell. I want to tell him there’s nothing he can say that I haven’t already thought. Nothing he can suggest that isn’t already a daily, hourly routine for me. I want to say, *Oh, honey, you thought you were special?* But that’d be cruel, and I don’t think he knows how to handle someone else being cruel, not like this. It’s supposed to be his game. He’s supposed to win.
I look him dead in the eyes, and I think he’s waiting for me to explain myself. So I do, but not in the way he wants.
“I didn’t notice,” I say. And he doesn’t like that. I can tell by the way his face twitches.
“What?”
“I didn’t notice anything changed.” I shrug, because what else is there to do? The whispers, the doubt, the endless noise in the back of my head? That’s my baseline. That’s the rhythm I’ve been marching to since the day I learned how to put one foot in front of the other. All you did was add to the symphony, pal.
He stands up now, paces, agitated. He’s unraveling. He didn’t plan for this, didn’t think his villainous monologue would bounce off me like rain. Thought it would seep in, soak me through, make me pliable. But no, I’m just standing here, dry as a desert, watching him come undone.
“I’ve been speaking to you,” he says, almost frantic now. “For days.”
I nod, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. And?”
His mouth opens and closes, like he’s choking on a response. And I wonder if this is the first time in his long, villainous career that he’s truly felt powerless. Like maybe all those other people weren’t tough at all—they just didn’t know the trick to surviving. Didn’t know you could live your whole life broken and never feel a thing.
“I don’t—” he tries again, but I’m already halfway out the door. Because I don’t need to hear the rest of his sentence. Don’t need to explain myself any further.
What he doesn’t know, what he could never understand, is that sometimes the villain is just a background hum, a low static. The kind of noise you forget is even there, until someone points it out and you have to laugh, because it’s been there the whole time. And you were never listening.
|
Gryfus laughed as the villainous Renn finished their query.
Renn, try though they might, could not hide the feeling of being unnerved rapidly spreading across their face.
Gryfus was amused at how the tables had seemed to turn after Renn's psychic onslaught. The disturbing images that raced through his head gave him some pause at first, attempting to filter out the external noise against the grinding, shuddering thoughts he normally had occupying his head. This wasn't the first time a foe had projected an attack that gnashed at his consciousness like a blood-starved rat, but, he had to admit, it was one of the most impressive.
*"worlds in ruin... unloved... forgotten..."*
*"sun bleached bones under an eternally new moon... screams of strangers and their agony... a symphony of your failures..."*
Gryfus pushed these thoughts aside as easily as a cat knocks a cup from a table. That part almost felt more like poetry than something that would distract him from his goal of liberating Renn's prized hostage: The Mayor of Unduval's daughter, Yana.
*"you seek reward? praise? perhaps. justice? righteousness? perhaps not."*
*"you are no hero. not even in your own story. your life exists to cause burden."*
These whispers were meant, surely, to induce a sense of self-doubt. Gryfus had felt the hissing sensation, the burning echo, of these words stinging around the base of his skull, trying to find purchase. They clawed, hoping to pull at a thread that would unravel him, make him question why he does this line of work.
Renn had misread one thing, though.
Gryfus was no hero.
Gryfus did indeed aim to free Yana from Renn's captivity. But not to return her to the mayor. She was to be a bargaining chip in a much larger conflict. When he finally brought her to Prince Valsius of Thoub, Unduval would raise their allies and burn Thoub to the ground. Thoub's allies would bring their sorcerous might to bear. Kingdoms would fall, ashes would remain.
Make no mistake, Renn was a heinous one. all right. He had take Yana in the night, leaving the Mayor with an impossible to pay ransom. But the Mayor could afford one mercenary and a few dozen men. The same few dozen men who lay sprawled and screaming, or at least whimpering, around the circular stone chamber in which Gryfus now stared his opponent down in. But Gryfus was much worse.
"ANSWER ME, MERCENARY!!!", Renn screeched, breaking Gryfus' contemplation.
*"what is it you seek? why does your mind not reel at my caress? what are you?"*
Gryphus tilted his head, smirked, and spoke to Renn.
"You know exactly what I am. Your powers originated from somewhere, some long forgotten source. And so do mine."
"What am I? That's hard to say. Maybe I'll show you, and you tell me."
Gryfus' eyes flashed a deep violet, and Renn collapsed to the cool stone floor, clawing at their face. The fresh blood from their newly self-inflicted wounds trickled like spilled cider upon the surface of the room, and their screams spewed forth, wildly distorting in pitch and timbre. Visions of impossible, consuming horror flooded Renn's mind. As their screams grew hoarse and their breath shallow, Gryfus approached and knelt by their side.
"Now, pretender... what am I?"
Renn could not speak, but mustered their scant remaining life into one last whisper.
*"if y-y-you knew... de... des-des-... o... lat-lation... w-would be... befall... cre-crea... creation..."*
Renn's body was limp and already cold to the touch. There would be more wizards, with more knowledge of the dark than them. No matter the cost to this world, or any world he touched, Gryfus would have his answer someday.
|
StoneBurner143
|
NeveedsWorld
|
2024-10-21 03:20:43
|
2024-10-21 02:32:59
| 62 | 29 |
lsyadwf
|
lsy35ej
|
1g85zh3
|
1g85zh3
|
[WP] You wake up in a chair in a padded cell. Someone else sits across from you. A voice from a speaker in the ceiling says, "One of you is a natural person. One of you is artificial. Determine which is which. The real person gets to go free." You can't remember anything before this room.
|
As I sat up straight, I feel something in my neck click and snap. Something metallic. The soft whir of servoes can be heard as I raise a hand to my head to stroke my hair.
*Fuck.* *I'm the robot.*
I'm about to resign myself to my fate when I see something about my counterpart in the chair across from me. Maybe it's just a twitch, or a flash of fear in their eyes, or the way the hair on the back of their hands rose. But it was then that I realized that they were afraid too.
*They think they're the fake. They don't know they're the real one. I can use this.*
"All right," I say, feeling the voice box in my throat vibrate in response. "First things first. What's the first thing you remember?"
The Other Guy flinches. *They don't remember shit*. "I remember my mother's kitchen," he says. "She's standing at the sink, washing dishes. She's humming a song. I'm four years old. You?"
"I'm five years old," I lie. "I'm playing in my grandparent's backyard. There's a butterfly caught in a spiderweb. I try to free it, but it's stuck. I tear the spiderweb trying to get it loose, but it can't fly away, and the ants tear it to pieces." *Easy now. A good lie should be a simple one.*
He nods nervously in reply. "All right, so whoever created the fake has implanted artificial memories," he says. "We can't use our memories as a gauge."
*You just think we've had artificial memories implanted. Actually, they erased the real one's memories, and we're both lying out our asses.*
"Punch me," The Other Guy says.
"What?"
"Punch me in the nose as hard as you can," they say. "Let's see if I bleed."
It's a real effort to regulate my strength to deliver a punch to the nose hard enough to draw blood but not kill the other guy: artificial myomers and all. The Other Guy flinches and shouts in pain. He touches his nose tenderly. "Fuck, that hurts!" he shouts.
His nose is bleeding. Why wouldn't it? He's the real one, after all.
"All right, your turn," I say. "Hit me."
He does. I divert internal cooling fluid to my nostrils and vent a small amount as I rolled with the punch, recoiling in simulated pain. I pray that whoever made me thought of this as I reach up a hand to my nose. The fluid is dark red, viscous. A close enough analogue to blood. I show him my red fingertips, hoping he won't notice the metallic smell in the air.
"All right," The Other Guy said. "So we both bleed. What next?"
"Spit," I say. "Let's see if we both make saliva."
I'll spare you the gory details of the next half hour. Suffice to say, The Other Guy and I go through every single bodily function we can think of. The padded room stinks to hell by the time we're done. We're both naked, sweaty (my sweat happens to be an artificial joint-lubricating fluid, but he doesn't know that), and humiliated. But I've managed to pass every test we can think of.
I can see the doubt turn to fear in his eyes. It's time to play my hand.
"Look," I say. "We're not going to figure this out from physical inspection. Whoever made the fake one did a great job of making sure they wouldn't be caught out. So let's go back to memories. Do you remember what song your mom was singing when she was cooking pasta in your first memory?"
"Yeah," The Other Guy says. "It was 'Frere Jacques.'" He confidently starts to sing that old children's folk song.
"And what kind of pasta was she cooking?"
"Spaghetti," they say. "She made the best spaghetti and meatballs."
*Trap triggered.* "You're the fake," I say.
"What?"
"You're lying about your first memory," I say. "You claimed before it was of your mom washing dishes in the kitchen. . . not cooking pasta. Which means I'm the real one and get to go free."
The other guy screams at me and explodes into a shower of gore. Tendrils and tentacles lash out at me as his broken eyeball twitches wildly, bloodshot veins throbbing with every heartbeat. ***"I'm nOt gOing BACK!"*** he screams. ***"I'LL KILL YOU BEFORE I GO BACK TO THAT LAB!"***
I scream too. My arm servoes slide open, and the blades lash out, cutting through his throbbing tendrils. I see acid blood splash forth from his wounds, etching away at the artificial skin on my face, just before the world goes black.
\-----
>**INFILTRATION TEST #209**
>
>SUBJECT 1: OPHIDIOID SHAPESHIFTER
>
>SUBJECT 2: TECHNOSWARM GESTALT
>
>SPECIAL TEST PARAMETERS: SLEEPER PERSONALITY NOT IMPLANTED TO PREVENT EMPATHY RESPONSE WITH NATIVE LIFEFORMS (SEE INFILTRATION TEST #208).
>
>RESULT: MUTUAL DESTRUCTION OF BOTH SUBJECTS
>
>RECOMMENDATION: REPEAT TEST. REPORT DELAY OF SOL-3 INFILTRATION TO ALLIANCE COUNCIL.
|
I look over to the man sitting across from me. Nothing is memorable or stands out. I still recall basic knowledge and understanding of concepts, but no memories of my past. I know my name is Michael. Michael… Stevens? I think? I try to recall my past, but it’s totally blank, wiped clean. The concept of being a child and growing older to learn from school and getting a job and such is still present, but not MY childhood or MY job. I look around, a padded white cell with no visible exit or entrance, 2 chairs, 2 men. I look down at myself and quickly assess for any physical problems.
A somewhat metallic voice from above speaks out, “One of you is a natural person. One of you is artificial. Determine which is which. The real person gets to go free.”
I look across from me and stare at the concerned looking man. “Do you have any memories of your past?” I ask him blatantly. He stares back at me, seemingly reluctant to speak, and shakes his head. “I do have memories of my past,” I lied, “my name is Michael Stevens, I was born in 1996 and lived with my single mother after my dad died in a car accident. We struggled each day to survive until a generous man brought me and my mother in. My stepdad is the nicest man I’ve ever met.” I start to cry my crocodile tears that I didn’t know I was capable of. “It’d shatter my mother’s heart if she found out I was gone from her life. Please, you have to be the artificial person in this situation. Agree with me, please, I’ll be set free and you won’t die or anything, they will simply reuse you for the next event I’m sure of it.”
The man across from me seems to agree with me but still refuses to speak a word, presumably out of fear or simple introversion. I smile at him as a tear streams down my cheek. I look up towards where the voice emitted previously, “You hear me you bastards! I’m the real human here! Come get me out of here!” A moment passes. A strangely long moment. Eventually the intercom crackles to life once more, “Is this your final answer?”
“No it is not!” I answer quickly and adamantly.
“What makes you reconsider?” They ask, trying to be monotone, but I can sense the little bit of surprise in their voice.
“Your own response. You would only wait to respond if you were surprised with something about the situation. If I were to guess, that means I was brutally wrong, but something about my actions surprised you. Maybe it was the fact that I lied. Maybe it was the fact I cried. But that pause can only mean I am wrong. Which means one thing. I am the artificial person and the confused man before me is the natural person! I meant what I spoke. If I am the artificial person, you wouldn’t kill me and I would simply be reset and reused again and the natural person would be set free. Set this man free!” I yelled up to the system above.
Another strangely long pause, about the same as the last one. “Is that your final deci-“
“STOP!” The man that sat across from me finally spoke aloud. “You can’t be the robot in this situation! Your emotions are too real for that to be true.” I smile at his words. “I have to be the robot as I don’t feel anything, I don’t feel any emotions whatsoever. Not until you declared you were the robot. I finally felt something was wrong then. Something stirred up in me that told me you had to be wrong. It’s the only logical conclusion!”
I smile at him and walk over to him. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Now I know that you’re the natural person 100% Thank you for speaking finally. You were the final nail in the coffin.” His confused expression only widened my smile. I look up above. “I am the artificial person, and this man is the natural person. That is our final decision.”
“How can you say for sure?” The man looked up at me with a pained look.
The intercom confirmed: “7 minutes, 28 seconds. Sir, this is a new record.”
I stare at the man before me. “Who said anything about being a robot?”
|
ArgumentativeNerfer
|
illiagorath
|
2023-01-24 18:00:27
|
2023-01-24 17:39:22
| 848 | 138 |
j5pkljp
| null |
10k7qyz
|
10k7qyz
|
[WP] When humanity enters the galactic stage we find that our history of violence is quite unusual, but not because we wreaked unimaginable death and destruction upon each other, but rather because we stopped eventually.
|
The Etren grinned at me. It was unsettling. That was a really scary set of teeth. "How reliable are those histories really?"
I stopped and actually considered the question carefully. The diplomatic orientation package had emphasized that the Etren were generally easy to get along with, but that one should always put some thought into what one said.. and never, ever lie to them. They really didn't like it, and they were scary good at spotting it. I had a cargohold of art to unload.. and while there were other dealers here, she was supposed to be the best in town.
"anything after the printing press will be quite accurate in broad outline. Usually pushing a point of view, but the facts will be quite solid."
She flexed her hands, inspecting her claws. They were scarier. It wasn't a threat display. This was a grooming habit, if I remembered right. Just fidgeting while thinking. But gods. She was big. She was blatantly a pure carnivore. I told my lizard brain to go sit in a corner. The Ethren were liked by about everyone because they were trustworthy and peaceful. Not harmless. Picking a fight with one was considered, legally, "Suicide" in most jurisdictions.. but unprovoked violence ? Not really a thing they did.
"That is quite something. I studied civilizational development a few centuries ago. Lots of societies with ritualized contests of violence. The Anka have great big battles with spear wall formations every decade or so, and they mastered zero point energy so long ago that the exact date is a matter of scholarly dispute, and of course, many societies never had large scale violence at all.. but usually, societies that.. Apply science to war..
Well, we don't actually know that much about them, because we only find the ruins. How did you manage to stop? I'm afraid I've been too buzy to keep up with the literature"
"..... Well, the text-book answer would be that the destruction manifestly got too expensive. That's not all of it. We knew that at least a century before the last war. The second piece is held to be diagnostics. We got good tests for several forms of mental disorder endemic to us and it became common place to require a clean bill of health to be in politics. It turns out, sane humans don't want to pay the butchers bill."
She cocked her head at me.. "Hmm. You believe that to be true, but you never studied it?"
And I felt like I was made of glass. This was also in the orientation package. Dealing with the Fang of Commerce was uncomfortable for many, many humans. Unimpeachable reputation for fair dealing.. and cold readers every one of them.
It was fine. I had good provenances for the entire cargo. Provenances I had personally vetted. I didn't have to lie to her. This should be an easy sell.
"Yes. Not a field that has caught my interest to date. Do you want to see my wares?"
She rose. Smiled again.. but carefully kept the fangs covered. Quick learner. "But of course."
|
When humanity enters the galactic stage, we find that our history of violence is quite unusual, but not because we wreaked unimaginable death and destruction upon each other, but rather because we stopped eventually.
Often times people ask, "why do bad things happen"? Pain and suffering often times are just words that indicate the need to survive. We become smarter in order to survive; we learned better ways to fend of predators, we also became better predators in order to provide food for ourselves and our families. We needed warmth and security, so we cultivated fire, utilized skins as clothing, and built shelters. Had others not also became smarter this would have been enough. However, as we grew so did the threats. Predators, pry and other humans also became smarter, so the cycle of our evolution continued. Stronger weapons, better shelters, warmer clothing, and the development of reliable food sources where all part of the evolution of man. During the course of this process, we enslaved and tamed lesser species to fulfil are unyielding need to survive, until eventual it was not enough just to survive but instead, we needed to thrive.
So, the answer to the question why bad things happen is not that of some all-powerful deity demands that we suffer. It is simply that we suffer so we can grow, and without suffering in life we would have deuterated as a species. Look at the dodo bird, once a mighty beast but due to an abundance of food and limited dangers in their nature habitat they devolved into something no better than a giant chicken and were eventually wiped out when a legitimate threat did arrive in the form of humans.
Take this rudimentary cycle, of suffering and growth and imagine at what level an intergalactic species would have had to endure in order to evolve into something powerful enough to have mastered space travel? We didn't seek the stars just to learn, we sought the stars to find our next challenge and in order to secure our own survival beyond the confines and restrictions of our own planet. Without this goal in mind, we would have become comfortable, and ignorant in our own little world until a bigger beast came to pluck us out of our existence just like the fabled dodo bird.
|
Izeinwinter
|
davinci1001
|
2023-01-18 00:34:36
|
2023-01-17 20:37:57
| 118 | 25 |
j4sthcq
|
j4rt3qx
|
10ekl2b
|
10ekl2b
|
[WP] You used to be the scourge of kingdoms, the reaper of heroes and the mere mention of your name scared even the toughest of them. But today no one remembers you and you are fine with that. You have lived in peace ever since until one day a stranger approaches you and calls you by your true name.
|
"Fluffles! The Devourer of Gods! I have come for you!" A powerful voice rang out through the deep dark caverns. A soft undertone sounded reminding me many female adventurers who came to face me. How long has it been that I've slumbered and rested. How long have I been alone on this continent that even the gods did not visit? A millennia? Two?
A hiss escaped my lips as I cast a spell activating the hundreds of thousands of runes and defenses that lined my cavern. I started to stretch and yawn. I shrugged off the dust that settled on my frame as I got up and slithered out of the chamber I slept in. I pressed myself against the side of the walls and against sharp rocks letting them pull and peel away the dead shedding skin from my frame. The wings the hardest thing to slither through, before getting them out. I ended just short of my bathing area. A massive underwater lake. I checked the measure of a stalagtite and just gave a soft chuckle. "Sixty or so years for that last nap. I guess I am a bit peckish." A blast of flames from my mouth warmed the lake up and I used it to clean my body, feathery wings and peel away the last of my old skin.
"How is that one doing?" I mutter to myself and feel for the traps. She had already bypassed nearly a hundred traps and was in the fourth floor of the full mountain complex. "She's making good time for a solo adventurer. Maybe a demigod? Wouldn't be a god no one is stupid enough to bother me after the last war... I think. Maybe a new god?" I just shrug off the idea and dive into the deep part of the lake.
Casting invisibility I breech the surface of the water far from the main opening of my mountain. I see a large airship parked not too far from the entrance with tiny humans milling about. Banners and insignia I didn't recognize showed itself off. I got as close as I could without disturbing the rock and just observe for a few minutes. Some merchant group was leading this thing apparently and responsible for delivering the woman. Paid to do it instead of responsible for her. Said she'd be back. Hah!
I found the whole idea laughable. Someone going deep into my domain and expecting to come out alive? I had to leave before my laughter gave myself away. I hunted in the deep valleys of my continent and even out on the open plains. A number of large elk and deer was a perfect light snack. A lone horned beast a main course. And for desert, there so happened to be a roc nest nearby. I pilfered an egg leaving the other behind for later, maybe.
Hours passed and as I was just enjoying the feel of pure sun on my scales, I felt an alarm go off. The woman had entered the vault. Seriously? The first one in ages to ever reach my cavern and she makes it to the vault? A full two thirds of the way to my arena and domain? Almost at my own resting chamber? The thought raced in my mind on if I should even grace her with my presence or wait till she leaves? I idly just chewed on the tip of my tail, an old tick I never quite got over. "Fine, I'll meet her if she so wishes."
I had to race to make it back. Crossing a whole empty continent and returning through the lake passage. Finally, came to my arena. A large open space that was perfect for facing me. It had small solid walls that any smaller being could hide in. I carved and created it with perfection to give myself the biggest challenge. I wanted to have a good fight. I coiled around a large pillar near the back hidden away in shadows and just waited.
The woman finally entered. She, a brazen tall figure with fiery red hair and polished white armor. She almost looked like a holy knight as she wore a long flowing cloak. Not even a tear in it or singe. She bypassed all of my traps. Fascinating. First one to make it to me unharmed it seemed. A loud hiss from my lips and the hundreds of large crystal around the arena lit up glowing and shining in all areas. She had to hide her eyes a moment to adjust, and when she looked back she saw me.
I was a glorious serpent that sat hundreds of meters long and with massive wings and thousands of feathers. I was said to have been the most beautiful and destructive force this world has ever seen. A sight of wonder and terror. "I am Fluffles the Devourer of Gods! Who dared to enter my domain?" I said with a soft hiss looking down at the woman.
"I am Victoria White." She pulled a pouch out from under her cloak and started to open it. "On Behalf of the united kingdoms and the gods at large. I've been authorized to audit you. I am with the Internal Revenue Service of Heaven."
"The IRSH?!" Oh I'm in big trouble now. How much did I owe in back taxes? How long have I been asleep and alone? Did they even change the divine tax laws? "Ho-" My voice cracked. I coughed to clear it a bit. "How can I help you? I've been asleep for quite some time. I'll do what I can to make this go easy."
|
##Human Nature
The old woman hobbled to the chess board in the middle of the park. The other tables were occupied with games, and she decided to wait. Eventually, someone would come, and they would grant her a game.
A confident young man walked towards her. She knew his type well. He thought she was merely a warm-up, an easy victory. He would be startled by her skill and grow to doubt his own knowledge. When the old woman won, his would walk away thinking it was a fluke.
"Hello Duena." The man sat down. Duena leaned back in her chair careful to avoid showing her surprise. She tilted her head at the man trying to figure out who he was.
"Have we met before?" She attempted to keep her guise as a sweet old woman.
"A long time ago. You may call me Liam. Is it alright if I go first? You historically came much later," he said.
"Did we meet at the grocery store two weeks ago?" Duena asked as she made her own move.
"We met at the market a long time ago. Rather, I saw you at the market. That was when few saw your face, goddess of destruction," Liam said.
"I never understood why I was singled out as a terror. The other death gods never acquired my reputation."
"Few enjoyed it as much as you."
"I never enjoyed it." Duena raised a hand and knocked over the king by accident. "The philosophers wrote me as gleeful, but I was merely fulfilling a role. You kill one person, and you are somber. I destroy civilizations, and I'm a raging monster."
"During the flood, I heard you laugh," Liam replied.
"Which flood? There have been so many?" Duena asked. The rain fell around them. "Ah, a touch dramatic are we?"
"You don't live as long as I do without fantasizing about revenge," Liam said.
"I suppose that's true. Many have tried to stop me, but they cannot. Let's keep playing," Duena said. Their game continued while everyone else went home. Duena was surprised to find herself losing. She attempted to sense the man's true nature.
"The other gods hated me for destroying their worshippers," Duena said.
"So I've heard."
"You never interacted with them?"
"Indirectly." Liam put her in check. Duena moved out and found her path to victory limited.
"You mentioned a flood. How long ago was this?" Duena said.
"Perhaps it was your first disaster. I'm not sure. Either way, my true language is unrecognizable to humans," Liam said.
"That's not difficult. They forget how they spoke two hundred years ago."
"You hate humans don't you," Liam asked. He moved his bishop. Duena stared at the board. She was three moves from checkmate, and there was no avoiding it.
"No, I don't. I told you that I'm necessary."
"I suppose you were necessary to create me."
"And what are you?"
"You were a war goddess, our war goddess until you realized the destructive force of nature. You harnessed it's power to destroy everything in your path. On your first flood, I was the only survivor. It was a sad and lonely life, but I pressed onward. I taught the rest of humanity to live and thrive. I went nameless though; I didn't brag like you." Liam moved his rook.
"I never bragged. If I bragged, would they forget who I was?"
"That was my doing. They turned me into a deity. I draw my strength their persistence. I suppose I should thank you. Every tragedy that you create adds to my power." Liam moved the queen. "Check mate."
Duena tossed the board off the table. "Why have you come here? Why not wait until later then?"
"Because I love the humans unlike you, I know your next plan. You've grown bored and want to move on. You will fail, but your disaster is to great that I cannot allow you to do so," Liam said.
"My plans have already been set into motion," Duena said.
"You didn't take into account for that." Liam pointed at the chains surrounding her.
"No one has achieved such a spell on me. Are you going to kill me?" Duena asked.
"You're too powerful, and you're correct. You are necessary." Liam stood up. "You're just trapped until I clean up your mess. Enjoy watching yourself fail." Duena spat at his feet.
"I never fail because the humans always fail."
"That's where you're wrong. The humans frequently fail, but they find ways to succeed." Liam walked away from the old woman.
---
r/AstroRideWrites
|
LordVulpix
|
AstroRide
|
2023-07-29 20:16:59
|
2023-07-29 20:15:19
| 112 | 36 |
jtziv71
|
jtzimln
|
15d05q2
|
15d05q2
|
[WP] You are a demon and you have been summoned by a mortal. He announced that he has brought you a sacrifice. Except it's the same teenaged girl that people have tried to sacrifice to you 5 times already
|
Not this again. Seriously, not this again
\- "Mortal! Leave her be, and I'll leave and spare your soul. Continue this ritual, and **you** will be the sacrifice."
\- But Master..."
\- "**I have spoken!**" - thunderstorms manifest outside. How I hate the mortal realm, where a mere demon anger can manifest natural disasters. The girl, laying down, opens a single eye, then closes it again. The stupid summoner seems confused, but cuts her ropes, and claps his hands to "wake her up" - the poor fool doesn't know he has been fooled.
\- "*Where am I?*" - the girl asks, faking being scared. I saw soap operas with better acting.
\- "Ok, let's drop the acts, shall we? Mortal, you never wanted anything, right? And you, girl... Samantha, I guess? What gives? It's the sixth time, and I'm loosing patience. You..." - but then, I see. Her eyes, there's something... familiar... - "wait a little.... you're not..."
\- "Yes, sorry, ever since I got my wishes delivered I could not take my eyes of you! Please, be mine! I know I sold my soul to you, but I can't wait that much! I know I wished to outlive my enemies, but I never though I would be so madly in love with..."
No.... this cannot be!
We, Demons, are unable to offer wishes that truly satisfy anyone. A prank from God, maybe? Anyway, anytime we grant something, there is a catch. We sometimes get to decide, other times, it is decided for us.
I liked her wish: "I want to outlive my enemies". I decided for her that she'll always have at least one enemy, so she'll live forever, since the death of all life on Earth. I decided that, even if there were only insects in the world, the insects would be her enemy somehow - getting her food, sucking her blood, whatever annoys her. Imagine being an eternal being haunted by mosquitoes? Every night, no mater what you do, a mosquito will find a way to disturb your slumber...
But it seems that this wasn't sufficient. She... fell madly in love. With me. And she won't die for at least 5 billions years...
... and she'll try to get into my pants.... for all these years ...
Maybe I can summon an Angel, somehow? Hopefully they know how to undo wishes...
|
As I materialize in the summoning circle, I see a young man standing before me, holding a struggling teenage girl by the arm. He greets me with a smug expression and announces that he has brought me a sacrifice.
I look at the girl and then at the summoner, unimpressed. "Oh great, another one. You know, I'm starting to feel like I'm the only demon in hell who doesn't have a teenage girl on their sacrifice list."
The summoner looks taken aback. "But isn't that what you demons like? Sacrifices?"
I roll my eyes. "No, we don't like sacrifices. It's a common misconception. We much prefer pizza and beer, but you mortals never seem to get that right."
The girl looks up at me, confusion etched on her face. "Pizza and beer?"
I smirk. "Yes, it's much more satisfying than a scared teenager, trust me."
The summoner looks bewildered. "So, you don't want the sacrifice?"
I shake my head. "Nope, sorry to disappoint you. This girl has been offered to me five times already, and I'm getting pretty bored of her. Can't you find someone new to offer up?"
The girl looks relieved, and I can't help but feel a bit of sympathy for her. "Listen, kid," I say to her, "don't worry about it. You're off the hook. But you might want to find some new friends if they keep trying to sacrifice you."
As I disappear back to the underworld, I can't help but chuckle to myself. Mortals are so silly sometimes. Sacrificing innocent teenagers to demons? It's like they never learned from all those horror movies they love to watch.
|
mauricioszabo
|
Willblain25
|
2023-03-10 23:40:20
|
2023-03-10 21:04:14
| 48 | 33 |
jbqp6bf
|
jbq2ndd
|
11nu4j6
|
11nu4j6
|
[WP] You are at the center of a time traveling war. For every assassin sent back to the past to murder you, another warrior is sent to protect you and kill the assassin before they get a chance. As the bodies pile up, you still don’t have the slightest clue why you’re so important to these people.
|
The world is ending.
Not literally. Global climate change has turned the arable lands into arid wastes. The oceans have started to tip into inhospitable carbonated saunas. The algae crops are failing. Worst we didn't control our population. People are sleeping on the streets it's so over crowded. Soon. Soon we will all starve.
I was lucky, I've got a job working for one of the Algae plants, I tend the murky red algae vats. My mom pulled some strings and I've been set. The company feeds billions. I got Flfood on the table every night but then there are the assassins. First day of work, minding the vats and a rift opens, out pops a dude, lunges for me and then another rift a another dude with a sword stabs him. Second dude disappears. Great. Just great. I'm so going to loose my job I think. But then, a thought occurs to me. And I give him a nudge into the vat. Problem solved. Yeah no. They started showing up all the time. Lots of them. So many I lost count. I had to rent a van and make midnight deliveries to work to get rid of them all. I was worried about it but it's been going fine. The ph of the vats have changed but corporate sent new ph guidelines so yeah. My vats have turned from red to green.
I can't tell anyone. For obvious reasons. But i'd still like to know what is going on. Part of me wonders if it's all a clever way to smuggle us food.
|
Walking down the street has never been so dangerous.
Or getting groceries.
Or literally just watching T.V.
For me at least.
Standing outside a bar, not even tipsy and waiting for an uber to pick me up, I hear the oh-so-familiar rush of the wind.
A man emerges from nowhere, blade raised and eyes fierce. He looks so determined, so excited to be the one to finally get rid of me it's honestly a bit sad.
A gunshot fires and he drops to the ground, blood oozing from the new hole in his forehead.
I walk over, kick his head and give a quick thumbs up to the shadows. A new person steps out, nods their head and zips away.
"Thank you!" I call after them.
Ah, what a regular night.
|
GoogleIsYourFrenemy
|
CorgiOtter
|
2023-02-19 07:51:35
|
2023-02-19 04:07:02
| 150 | 91 |
j950wov
|
j94gem7
|
115zvws
|
115zvws
|
[WP] You are a member of the Hero's Party, but are distrusted because of your profession. You and the Party win, but they suddenly find themselves paralyzed. They call out your 'betrayal', but the Hero begs you not to do this. You calmly explain that a self-sacrifice was always needed in the end...
|
With his own sword plunged into his chest, King Davon crumpled to his ruined throne as the hero group, tired and bloodied, stood triumphant.
“Davon’s dark reign is no more,” Simon breathed, looking around at the five people who had been strangers just two weeks ago. “Thanks to everyone in this room.”
Though the others cheered, one among them didn’t share their excitement.
Kael, the team’s soulbinder.
He glanced through the crumbling roof, where the last of the sunlight slipped behind thickening clouds. Though dawn had broken, the sky was growing darker by the second. His time was running out.
Not noticing the encroaching darkness, Elane, the sorceress, turned toward the group and was ready to launch into another of her long speeches about how fate had guided their hands. But the words never came. Her mouth froze open, eyes wide with terror.
The light drained from the sky, leaving the throne room bathed in the creeping shadows of night. The group tried to move, but an unseen force gripped them all where they stood.
Jare the Barbarian, his muscles straining against invisible bonds, shouted as he spotted Kael approaching them. “You did this to us!”
Rolf, already gripping his short blade, tried to bring his arm into action, but it refused to obey. “I told you guys that soulbinders were bad news. He’s going to rip our souls out!”
Kaylesta's eyes, blazing with fury, locked onto Kael’s. “After everything we’ve been through, you pull this trick? Have you no shame?”
But Simon, watching Kael with a more careful gaze, saw something the others didn’t. There was no anger or betrayal in Kael’s expression.
Only sorrow.
“Please,” Simon pleaded, his voice softening. “We can help you. Don’t do this.”
Kael paused for a moment, meeting Simon’s eyes with regret. He wanted to explain, to tell them all the truth. But there wasn’t time. The pull of the dark magic that bound him was growing stronger, begging to be used.
The distant rumble of thunder echoed through the crumbling walls as Kael approached Davon’s fallen sword. It was almost here.
“A sacrifice must be made,” Kael said quietly, running his hand over the hilt. He could still feel Davon’s presence within it, but it was fading, slipping away like the last traces of daylight.
He took a deep breath. “For what it’s worth… you helped me find my soul again. But some battles…” His grip tightened on the sword. “…must be fought alone.”
He turned to face them one last time, his smile soft but regretful. “I wish I could stay and enjoy the peace we fought for. But my time… is already gone.”
As night swallowed the last light, the rumble ceased, signaling the beginning of the end.
Reaching the balcony, the starless sky bathed the land in darkness as silence filled the air. Suddenly, the rumble began anew and Kael looked above to see a white vortex of light, growing bigger with each passing moment.
The Storm.
The Book of the Damned Souls didn’t mention much about The Storm, only that it was fated to swallow every soul in its wake. The Soulbinders didn’t fear The Storm, seeing it as a natural conclusion to life with the realms left barren. However, the book did mention a way to ward off The Storm.
A soul for a soul.
The ultimate sacrifice.
Kael thought about his friends. Maybe, if defeating the dark king wasn’t their focus, they could have stood united against this threat. But they were woefully unprepared and already spent. This was the only.
From the spinning spiral, a river of light descended unto Davon’s kingdom, illuminating the dark with its glow.
Feeling his own dark magic, Kael glanced at Davon’s sword. “I will need your dark magic before you can rest, dark king,” Kael muttered.
|
Many people think a battle is something grand and flashy, large swings of a great sword, spells flying everywhere. When they tell the tale of this battle, it will be long, it will be arduous, many great phrases will be said. Probably a bit of grunting too.
What people do not realize is that a real battle between few people is over in moments, it is blood, its best to do in the dark. The hero party had infiltrated the castle and had murdered the general, two bishops, and finally the arch-chancellor. There would finally be peace, the figurehead of a king would declare it so after 23 years of bloody war. The so-called hero party would finally be allowed to return home.
The hero looked down at his sword, blood and fat dripping off the dull edge, he had used it on 5 people and a wells cover stone tonight, it would need a lot of doing to get it back to sharp, his clothes back to clean, and his sanity back to normal. Work, that he would not have to do as he raises his head, passed it over his childhood friend, the mage, fiery red hair muted by a dark hair net, and the stranger they had met, a spellsword from Atens, working on the promise of much gold. At least he says he is, Buhri the hero always just thought the stranger was much more loyal to the kingdom than he ever was, Atens was the first to fall after all.
Buhris gaze wavered as he turned his head a little more, to the Saint of the Dead, the person with the highest title in the kingdom. A saint strong enough to recover limbs, heal any illness, breathe life into the dead. Spells that took a day to cast, but what is a day for a lifetime, what is a day if you can have your arm back?
"You know you don't have to do this..." Buhri whispered to the Saint.
"Yes, I do." the Saint did not waver, did not hestitate, as always he was silently chanting under his breath as the words came out in a sing-song.
The hero despaired, "We could do so much more, so much more".
"That is the privilege of the living", a quiet whisper, the all encompassing song just a little louder in his voice, "Buhri, I need a break my friend"
Buhri reached over without thought and grabbed his childhood friend, pulled him in close and kissed him deeply. To say they were both suprised would be to deny the 15 years they had spent together, day by day, closer than any lover could be. "I love you." Buhri whispered.
The Saint had stopped his song, the hero party fell silent, dead, long ago by wounds untold. For the first time in 10 years, the Saints ears were not full of chants, the silent pitter and patter of the waterway, in a well under the fortress of an enemy, it was the most beautiful place he could imagine.
He got up, slowly, leaning on his staff, suddenly so tired. It was when his legs gave out underneath him that he realized he, too, had been a little reckless for the last few years. Just a bit too close to the edge, always wrapped in song.
Would he endure? Would he live? Would he have to sing, or would he elect to stay quiet. He did not know, not yet, enjoy the quiet just a little longer. He stood and waited.
|
Necessary_Ad_2762
|
Emriyss
|
2024-10-02 15:06:46
|
2024-10-02 13:00:05
| 262 | 125 |
lpziia0
|
lpywwyc
|
1fuc9n7
|
1fuc9n7
|
[WP] You're patient zero of a infectious disease with hilarious side effects.
|
"You... you got a young of their kind, didn't you?" A tentacle swiped by Suzy's hiding place, inches above her head.
Suzy remained quiet. It wasn't every day that the hide and seek champion of the fourth grade got a real challenge. Plus, she still needed her Animal Habitat badge, and extraterrestrials were a type of animal, weren't they?
"Of course I got a youngling! But young move slower, don't they? They have shorter... what you call 'em... legs."
She crept from her hiding space, crawling under the foliage of the space she was in. She was pretty sure it was fenced off, but that was okay. She was a great climber. Only Cara could climb better, but Cara was afraid of heights so didn't climb as much as Suzy did. Cara was just taller so could get higher first.
It was a bit like cheating if Suzy thought about it.
"That didn't look *slow* to me, you gabnarf."
"Well, the youngling has to be in here! If the show doesn't go on, our ratings will plummet! We can't have another incident like the Ratorsk."
She hadn’t even needed to climb the fence: it had so much space between its bars! Now she just needed a place to watch. The nature shows always had their camera people way off in the distance, but they had cameras and she only had her eyes. And her climbing skills. There was a bunch of cabling along the wall. The wall itself was a smooth shiny surface, but she could probably still climb it if she hung onto the cords. And they led right up to a beam she could lay on!
It wasn't her fault that the beam was right out of reach. She had to lean real far, kicking the cables to get just a few more inches. And ship cables weren't supposed to be so flimsy! At least they weren't in the space shows daddy liked to watch.
Sirens screamed as she curled up on the beam. "Life systems critical! Emergency power disconnected!"
Below one of her captors shouted, "This is *worse* than the Ratorsk!"
|
Filmed in front of a live audience…
A creature with 2 heads and three tentacle appendages steps onto a stage saying “Hello and welcome to another episode of…” The audience enthusiastic cries “Abducted!” The host of the show introduces himself as Pats Spacejacks and makes his way to a lever.
“Today we have from the planet dirt a guest descended from small hairy arboreal cats.” Flashing a picture of a human the audience awes and cues. “Our translators are on stand by and here is our guest ‘Karen’.”
Some time into the interview.
“Well I’m not certain what some of what she is talking about but apparently humans do a whole lot of it. We are assuming that the ‘manager’ she is referencing is maybe our leader? We have had some guests want to speak with our leaders before but as an autonomous collective we have long passed the need for such a figure.
More time later…
“And there we have it, the little tree cat has been sent back to her homeworld with a parting gift. A subspace distributor, I think myself and the audience can say good riddance to ‘Karen’ and that whole flipping race.”
The show ends showing the planet earth slowly be pulled apart into a string of fine dust.
|
Kheldarson
|
oliverjsn8
|
2023-04-05 04:56:51
|
2023-04-05 00:06:40
| 105 | 37 |
jf0k9ta
|
jezkqfj
|
12btoov
|
12btoov
|
[WP]You reincarnated in a fantasy world, but when you go check your stats, everything seems to be really average, until you put your eyes on charisma, that is on 200 points
|
As I wake, I hear moaning. Not the usual moans of agony I’ve become used to, punctuated with screams and gunfire. Soft, constant moaning. From all around me.
It’s pitch dark. My head is pounding. I lever myself up onto an elbow, and realise that I am no longer lying on blood-infused sand and volcanic ash of the Iwo Jima beach. Beneath me is stone.
Had the mortar blast that knocked me out collapsed me into a cave? Had one of my fellow marines dragged me to safety?
I feel for the lighter in my combat pants pocket, and realise that I’m not wearing them anymore. Instead of the familiar heavy layer of cargo trouser, I am wearing something soft, skin-tight.
Tights?
I run my hand over my shirt. I feel ruffles, under a velvet-pile jerkin.
A jerkin?
“Command: Simulation pause”, I say. Nothing happens. I squeeze my fingers together, then let them explode outward into a spread hand. The menu comes up, but all the options that would take me out of the game are disabled.
The moans float towards me, from all directions. I begin to feel a seed of panic.
“Ok,” I say to myself. “Ok. Command Info Panel”.
This time my command works as expected. A ball of light floats into existence in front of me, and then expands into a round, semi-transparent screen.
*Name: Sir Roger Dragonthrust*
*Ok*, I think to myself. I must have somehow switched to a different simulation. *Fuck*.
It had taken me months to get to Iwo Jima. No shortcuts for me, I’d played the whole WW2 Pacific campaign, being bitten by bugs day after day as I’d suffered the nightly surprise attacks on Guadalcanal, feeling my feet rot in the constant rain on Peleliu during the goddamn Operation Stalemate saga. And now, just as I get to Iwo Jima, some glitch has taken me out of the campaign, and landed me in some goddamn Hobbit game.
The moans are louder now. No, not louder. Just, more. A lot more.
I check my bio settings. Pain is still set to *full* - Getting shot on a beach at full pain stung like a wasp sting. It’s a hardcore way to play but a great incentive to take it seriously. I like realism, and if pain is anything, it’s real.
I glance at my stats. *Average strength*, I see. *8 Dex, 9 Intelligence, 7 Wisdom, 200-*
I do a double take. *200 Charisma*?
Now I know the game is broken. Charisma scores didn’t go to 200. Charisma 9 meant you would occasionally get invited to a party. Charisma 18 meant that you could charm pretty much anyone, raise and lead an army. Charisma 19 meant that you were destined for President or supreme dictator.
Charisma 200? What would that even do?
It would be beyond charm. Beyond hero worship. People would have their personalities wiped away under the blaze of your personality.
They would mindlessly follow you. Heck, at 200 they would probably try to physically devour you out of a titanic primal desire to be close to you.
A glitch like this would probably turn the entire world into a mass of seething zombies, everyone of them consumed by no thought except the thought of you.
The moans are very loud now. Somewhere nearby, I hear a window break.
|
That, you see, was the beginning of the end. I truly wish I could go back. Do so many things differently.
The number burned into my mind and unfortunately, my friends, I let it affect how I viewed the world. I let it change me.
Honestly, even saying that I feel the fool, knowing others will read it and scoff. They'll ridicule me, acting as if I have no agency in my own bleeding life. I don't know how to explain it. It was a choice. I knew this day would come. At the same time, with great power comes immense responsibility, of which I have proved I have none.
I am sorry, ladies and gentlemen.
Just, when it comes so *easy*, who am I to turn it down? I'm not Gandhi or Martin Luther King. No one will ever say: "Turn right onto Bill Thompson Ave."
So when I realized people would practically throw themselves at me, their belongings and their, like, flesh, I mean... who among you could say you'd do differently? Brothers and sisters, that who is without sin may cast the first stone.
I have forgone my right to a lawyer with only the truest intentions. I want to make you understand and see and admit that I am right. We are all like this or would be if we had the chance.
It is not my fault that I had the chance and that I took it.
And again: I'm sorry.
Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, I'm sorry about your two little girls. You'd understand too if a single wink could drop skirts and panties.
*Mrs. Johnson erupted in sobs, leaving Bill Thompson's next lines inaudible.*
Herbert, I'm sorry about your grandma's things, but, like, man she practically *gave* them to me! She double-fisted the heirlooms into my own bleeding paws, thanking me out the door.
Look, all this to make the point that: I'm just a normal, ordinary guy, doing what any of us would do, given the same circumstances. Look at it this way: if you were to become me, to live all of my same experiences, from my birth up to the present, you would do all of the same things. There is no special essence of *you*, ladies and gentlemen, that would make you behave differently. When viewed from this vantage point, do any of us even have a choice? Was it my choice to wink at Mrs. Johnson's little girls? Was it their choice to swoon and follow me into my home?
I'd argue not! I'd argue that there were no choices in the matter, regardless of how you look at it. And that any of you, including even you, your honor, would act the same way.
That is my opening statement, your honor.
|
HolIerer
|
None
|
2023-01-06 19:29:11
|
2023-01-06 17:05:30
| 388 | 27 |
j38g3kk
|
j37s3v7
|
104txuo
|
104txuo
|
[WP] "No, you're fine, I'm not upset," they said, near tears. "It's just ... I haven't heard that song in over a thousand years. Where did you learn it?"
|
"My father used to sing it for me. I was lost here, in this place, but I would here his voice singing those words. It was like he was calling to me almost. I would follow them, running until I would collapse on the ground and cry when I couldn't hear them anymore....Until the next time I would hear that song and follow again, each time finding my sense of purpose and direction." The old man wiped his tears and took a deep breath. He extended a hand with a cup in it, which began to waft steam as he breathed. He was suddenly so calm.
"Here, take this and drink some. It is my favorite."
I sipped from the cup which the old man had given me. A warmness spread through my soul like I had not felt in a long time. I sighed happily, taking in the taste and complexity of such a simple drink. "...Jasmine, my favorite." I begin to tear up, not able to hold back the tears as I smiled through them and broke down. The old man across from me appeared to be doing the same. Through a broken voice he said:
"My sweet Lu Ten. How I have missed you, my son." He jumped across his tea set, letting it all fall to the ground in a mess as he embraced me for the first time in a thousand years.
"I missed you too, father."
|
“Sorry, I didn’t learn it. I heard it in a dream” she replied. “What was your name again? I know you have told me before but it keeps slipping my mind.”
Never in my wildest imagination would I have thought reincarnation to be real but now that I remember the witches humming and the pain in my chest do I know know what I had lost for my immortality.
A song. I had thought I had won. Only a simple song but what came with that simple melody was all that was what I held dear. With it my love. With it my life. With it my paradise. And the final loss? With it my wife.
|
SairenjiNyu
|
alaskaguyindk
|
2024-07-18 16:36:24
|
2024-07-18 14:16:22
| 44 | 30 |
ldslj3y
|
ldrwhuo
|
1e6bbhf
|
1e6bbhf
|
[WP] You thought your friend was just a little delusional with their whole…insisting they were a god business. But it was nothing too severe, I mean, you got a good laugh out of it sometimes. That was until they convinced the other gods to make you one as well…
|
I smiled at Oren, trying to play along. She was so nice, just a little strange. “Okay cool. What did you guys decide to make me the goddess of?”
She laughed, twirling her dark cloak around in a broad circle. That was another thing I admired about her. She was brave enough to live the dream. She wore cosplay stuff everywhere, especially that cape. Full on goddess of darkness everywhere she went. It was pretty cool in my book.
Oren took a seat at one of the park benches. “Well, I wanted you to be the water goddess because water powers are awesome, right?” I sat beside her, nodding along. I’d only agreed to this whole godhood thing because… well, I wanted to protect her. She four foot five and antagonized people constantly with her talk of nightmares and doom. “But Isaiah said that was too close to his ice powers. So I showed them a picture of you and they agreed you could definitely be the goddess of beauty. Oh, and plants because beauty isn’t entirely practical.”
“Cool.” I think. A group of my delusional peers thought I was hot enough to be granted divine powers. “Well, thanks.”
She nodded and grinned. “Oh, good. Ann, I was hoping you’d like it. I do know you’re self conscious, but now you don’t have to be.” She leaned back on the park bench and shade seemed to stretch from a nearby tree to cover her. Things like this just… happened around her. I took it as the universe protecting the weak. She believed it was a form of godhood. “Go ahead, try it out.”
“How?” I asked weakly. She usually didn’t focus on her mildly delusional view of the world for this long. Just a mention or two of a supernatural event.
Oren twirled a hand, pointing vaguely. “I dunno. Dazzle me. My powers just came in a snap, like a thunderclap.”
I managed a little smile and her eyes popped open a bit. She leaned forward eagerly, grinning. “Ann, that’s amazing!” Oren pointed at a passerby. “Smile at him like that!”
Uh. Fine. I turned my dubiously powerful smile on the man and he did a full stop. Then turned to stare, open mouthed. I laughed softly, just now getting it. This must be some elaborate ploy from Oren to raise my self esteem. And it really was touching, the thought she put into this. She must’ve payed the man and set this up.
I grinned back, touched by her thoughtfulness. She’d given me weird presents before, like blessed dice which were admittedly lucky. But this was a new level of crazy I wasn’t entirely comfortable with. “Are you sure, Oren? I mean, godhood might be a bit too much responsibility for me.”
Oren cackled. “And you think we’re model citizens? Chris used to boost cars before he got his powers.” She laid a gauntleted arm over my shoulder, having to work to offset the foot or so of height difference. “Ann, you’re worth it.” Her words carried more significance then was apparent, and they cut me deep. We both knew I believed that I wasn’t. I wasn’t worth the custody battle my parents had over me and I wasn’t worth the effort Oren took to get to know me.
Little tears started to bud in my eyes and I hurriedly blinked them away. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” She ruffled my hair and bounced up. “How about that ice cream?”
|
When I was a child, I envisioned God as a perfect creator, kind yet infinitely calculated. When my parents would argue, I would begin to question why he couldn’t stop them. Maybe he was busy being a God on another world, or maybe this was all somehow part of his plan, and in the end it would turn out all right. I never consciously made the decision to stop believing in God. I guess the whole idea started to sound pretty ridiculous as I got older. My best friend had always been a bit of a religious zealot. Maybe he had been through hard times and relied on a higher power like me. One day, we were sitting on an old stone bridge over a fast-flowing stream, our usual hangout spot, and he said to me, "I feel guilty keeping secrets from you." He trailed off, but I prodded him to open up. "I know this is going to sound crazy to you, but I can feel the spirit of God in my body." I thought it was a little weird how he phrased it, but I figured he just meant he had a strong religious conviction. "Every day I can feel myself becoming something more than human. I see things differently, I hear things differently. I’m scared. I need someone I can talk to who can keep me grounded in my humanity." At this point, I thought he had gone off his rocker but I wanted to support him if he was going through a tough time. I sat and talked with him for hours. He never really made it clear what he meant by “more than human.” I didn’t see him for several months, and I forgot all about our conversation. That was until I heard a ringing in my head: "You have been chosen. You have been found to be worthy of the authority." Suddenly my vision blurred, and billions of faces and trillions of voices all entered my mind at once. The birth of the universe, the genesis of humanity, humanity’s eventual fall, and the collapse of the universe—each of these things I perceived in their infinitesimally short existences. I screamed, but the voice that erupted was that of everyone who ever had, has, would, or could exist. All was me, and I was all. My mind fractured and repaired itself in an eternal war between insanity and clarity. I existed in a state of constant contradiction. I created a boulder so heavy I could not lift it, and then I lifted it. Nothing meant anything, and everything was beautiful. I found the truth, and I found it to be meaningless. All was pain, and all was joy. I wished for death, but I was death. Through all these things, I failed to notice one thing: the kid whose parents were arguing with each other for God knows what reason.
|
StormingSilvertongue
|
Connect_Light9184
|
2023-08-09 01:24:37
|
2023-08-09 00:46:37
| 40 | 10 |
jvdt0b8
|
jvdnqq0
|
15lthv0
|
15lthv0
|
[WP] at this point the dragon felt bad for kidnapping you since no one bothered to show up in a year, he offers you a potion that can turn you into a dragon to get revenge on your kingdom for forgetting you
|
Part 2:
And so we waited as seven months silently marched on. Ghinil making an effort to keep me entertained with his stories or escorting me throughout the mountainous territory he had picked to stage his Rights of Passage.
It was during the eleventh month that one day Ghinil announced that my kingdom had won the war. And now with that out of the way they surely would turn their attention to rescuing their kidnapped princess. I remember feeling nothing at the announcement. No joy. No hate. Just nothing.
And as the year finally ended, I knew why I had felt nothing. I had felt it because I knew that I was not wanted. That my existence to the kingdom wasn’t important since other heirs could easily be made to replace me.
It was at the start of the new year when Ghinil came to me carrying not a cup of cinnamon tea but a bottle with a potion inside it. As he placed it in my hands he solemnly explained that this was a way for me to get my revenge on my kingdom. Though he would lose his princess needed for the Rights of Passage, a new dragon would be born and I could destroy those who had abandoned me.
I could not think of a reply as I stared at him before he left me alone. Turning my attention to the bottle I thought of what it meant. I would no longer be human but I would have toe power to hurt them as they had hurt me.
A power that I willingly accepted as I drank from the bottle. The cinnamon tea flavored liquid sending a pleasant warmth through my body as a drank. A warmth that continued to intensify as I felt my body grow and expand as scales began to emerge from my skin and talons began to push out from the tips of my fingertips. A gasp escaped from me as I felt a tail began to grow and shape as my body continued to change until a burst of heat and my jaw and face shifted and began to elongate until my new muzzle was created.
As the warmth subsided
and the change ended I took a deep, ragged breath as I began to get used to my new form.
“Beautiful.”
I heard Ghinil say as I turned to see him. The scales of his body a stunning blue with my new vision.
“More then a swamp toad?” I laughed as he came closer.
“Yes. More beautiful then a swamp toad. More beautiful then the human you once were. A beautiful visage that will forever haunt those who wronged you.” he answered with a sigh as he looked at me.
“Thank you Ghinil.” I replied with what I hoped was a smile. “But you know I don’t plan to let it be a swift revenge. We first need a to get you another princess so you can complete your Rights. So I think we’ll start by destroying parts of the castle and some villages when we kidnap the target so they will take you as serious threat. And then when the hero or heroes come we’ll destroy them one by one. Crushing the kingdoms hope with each pawn they send us.”
“I think I’ve created a monster.” Ghinil chuckled.
“And for that. I thank you.”
|
Part 1:
The potion tastes faintly of cinnamon tea as I drink it. I never liked the taste of cinnamon but slowly over the year spent with Ghinil I had grown to enjoy it.
A year. For a year I had been kept in this cave by Ghinil after he had kidnapped me from my kingdom. Of course during those first few days I had been a hysterical mess despite his politeness and repeatedly telling me that the kidnapping was his Rights of Passage into adult hood. With his surviving the impending attack from whoever my kingdom sent as the requirement for the Rights.
But no one ever came.
As the days slid into weeks, my hysteria turning into a hopeful and defiant act as I taunted Ghinil over his impending doom, then the weeks turning into a month, I became quite and withdrawn as I realized no one was coming.
As the month slid into another Ghinil began to prod me into drinking a cup of cinnamon tea that he managed to make when he used his magic to change from a windmill sized lizard to the size of draft horse. I remember when he pushed that first cup into my hands how he nervously laughed and said that if he survived the attack, that surely would happen soon because the kingdom had to be gathering the best to rescue me, he would gain the magic ability to turn into a human. I had only responded that I hoped the form would be as ugly as a swamp toad.
Whether he was hurt by my rudeness I don’t know. But every day with my breakfast and dinner he would give me a cup of cinnamon tea as he chatted with me before leaving me in a spacious room of the cave that branched out from the main section where Ghinil stayed and had originally kept me there for the kingdom’s hero or heroes to see me.
As the second month entered the third Ghinil began to bring a variety of items to decorate my room. Beds, chairs, artwork, every week he’d bring me something new. Where he got them from he’d never say when I asked. But I could guess that wherever he got them it was from plundering a town or village to get the kingdom’s attention.
But even that failed as one night he sadly reported that the kingdom was now at war with a northern kingdom and all the forces were being used for that. So I simply asked him to stop and we could wait for the war to stop for him to complete his Rights.
|
RynTyn
|
RynTyn
|
2024-11-08 17:01:23
|
2024-11-08 16:58:17
| 23 | 15 |
lw3ulti
|
lw3tyu3
|
1gmfss8
|
1gmfss8
|
[WP] When it happens, no one can believe it. One of the magical girls on the team that protects the city has been killed during a monster attack. Late that night, a women sits awake in her house and wonders why her daughter hasn't come home.
|
Everybody must have been shocked when it happened. Alive one moment, the next, collapsed in a pool of softly gleaming blood. I remember seeing it in person, I remember...
...
No, I can't bear to think about it just yet.
No one actually expected them to win after that. We don't know who they are, but it's pretty clear they're barely teenagers. They did a great job holding it together after she died. Their big evil-cleansing finisher that turned the monstrosity back into a person has never been done without the full team of 6, but this time, they made do with 5.
What shocked me most was how everyone just... Left, afterwards. The other magical girls, I don't blame them, once it was over, they finally let themselves face the emotional impact of what happened, and they all fled the scene in tears. The live reporters tried to follow the girls, perhaps the channels they were live filming for had an age restriction they didn't wanna break intentionally.
But in the end, everyone left. It seemed like... Everybody was too scared or depressed to face the direct evidence of this tragedy.
I was the only one who stayed there long enough to see her revert to her normal form. No less dead than before, unfortunately.
---
Eventually some people showed up. A team that managed to usually minor aftermath of the fights the magical girl squad got into.
I saw a pair of them bringing a body bag over.
"Not what you usually bring, huh?" I muttered.
"Well actually... We always brought it just in case. But... I thought it would see use for some unfortunate or stupid civilian caught in the crossfire. Not like this." They kept walking.
They did a facial scan before bagging her, before one called out to the group.
"Alright, who's the unlucky guy who has to tell her parents?"
Dead silence.
"... Guess it's down to drawing straws, then."
"I'll do it." I said.
"Who are you, exactly?"
"Guess."
They all paused. They knew.
"Are you sure you wanna do that? You don't have to put yourself through more than you've already-"
"I'm sure."
"Well... Okay." He handed me the name and address. I finally left.
---
The walk was long, and I didn't think about much. Until I reached the house. As I took the first step into the front yard, memories resurfaced.
Seeing her drop to the ground.
_Stop it_
I made my way to the front porch, trying to focus on putting one step in front of the other. Yet another memory broke through.
Seeing the surprise in her eyes, before they slid shut for the last time.
_STOP IT_
I reached the door, and saw the doorbell. I moved to press it, before another memory intruded.
Seeing-
_SHUT UP, SHUT UP! PLEASE!_
Despite my desperation, the last memories resurfaced.
Of ripping my claws through the girl's frail form.
Shaky breathing, nausea, jittering movement. I pressed the doorbell, and pulled myself together.
This was why I had to bring the news to her family. The magical girls were able to cleanse the physical monstrosity, but the memories... What I did while transformed...
I have to face those demons myself.
|
9 PM. 10 PM. 11 PM. Midnight. 1...2...3...
She's still not home...
Awake and terrified, I already called the cops, but they shrugged it off saying that a 14 year old missing curfew once is not a reason to worry, I should call them if she doesn't show up tomorrow.
But...I am her mother...
I can feel it...
Something has happened to her.
Our world was...dangerous, and that's an overly optimistic way to put it.
Monsters, aliens, and superpowered individuals were common.
Our city was the same, and our protectors were...magical girls.
Girls. Mere young ones...fighting to death with those creatures...
Today...one of them fell, dying to the cruel poison of an Oceanic Monster...
She...she was the same age as my daughter.
The feeling I couldn't shake off for a year now came back.
My daughter is a bookworm, and we stayed home reading...together.
That's how we bonded.
But a bit more than a year ago...it changed.
She started going out, started having "Friends", really really good "friends" out of nowhere...
Missing appointments, missing from school...
I shrugged it off as puberty, but now...
As I was lost in thoughts, I felt a ray of light fall on my face...the sun was rising...
Just then...the doorbell rang.
I ran to the door, my expectations high, ready to hug me daughter, but when I opened the door, I was greeted by the sorry sight of 4 young girls, two of them holding something...
"No...", I muttered.
"She...she saved me.", one of them whispered.
I grabbed the blanket they were holding, and it was true...it was...her...
I took her from them, and hugged her close.
"You are so cold...let mom brew you some tea, your favorite tea...", I muttered, holding my daughter close.
"She...she was a hero...", the girls muttered.
"Why?", I looked at them, my eyes stinging.
"We...someone...monsters...", the muttered unintelligibly.
"WHY?!", I roared, breaking down.
The girls didn't know what to do, so we stood there, as the sun shone on this sight.
Me, crying over...over my daughter's body, and 4 girls shifting uncomfortably...
I should have been more reasonable, after all I was the adult, but I couldn't...not now...
I shut the door on their face, and together with my daughter, I went upstairs to her room...
I needed time...time to process this, I...I knew it was true...I knew I had to call the authorities, but...
I wanted some more time with her...
|
MajorDZaster
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-09-23 05:02:30
|
2024-09-23 03:21:51
| 50 | 37 |
lohcqwb
|
loh0vkv
|
1fn9g2s
|
1fn9g2s
|
[WP] Whenever someone is buried in your town, plants grow and surround the grave, representing what sort of life they lived. When a pillar of the community dies, their grave is covered in thick, gnarled brambles.
|
"I think it's fitting, really."
My voice breaks the uncomfortable silence that has fallen over the grave, where everybody turned up expecting to see a field of beautiful flowers over the late Mrs. Hawkins grave only to see this. Thick, ugly, thorny brambles. Half rotting and bearing no fruit.
Well, almost everybody. I expected to see something like this when I showed up today.
"And how exactly is this fitting? She organised all of the community events that have brought so much joy to our community, she put in so much work and you call this fitting?"
I smile condescendingly at him. "Oh, you don't even know, do you. She didn't do any of that. All she was really good at is claiming credit for other peoples hard work. She'd hear about somebody setting up some kind of community event and then sweep in and pretend that it was her idea all along, and that she alone had worked on it. And of course, since she was such a 'pillar of the community', you always believed her. Well now here's your proof. A grave of rotting thorny bushes that will produce no fruit and damage any that come near it. I'm half surprised that her grave didn't sprout poison ivy because she was certainly a parasite."
There is another uncomfortable silence. "As for who actually organised all of that? Who did the legwork, who actually made all of those events work? I'm sure you 'pillars of the community' will figure it out eventually. The graveyard never lies, after all."
As I walk away from them to leave, I make a brief stop at my mothers grave to pick some of the wild strawberries that grow there. Such a tiny fruit and so easily overlooked or missed. I pop one in my mouth. Schadenfreude never tasted so sweet.
|
Everybody liked farmer John. A loving husband, dutiful father, and animal lover. He has went beyond the veil, leaving his wife Nelly, 10 of their children, many friendships that have lasted decades, 3 loyal hounds, a couple of donkeys, a motley assortment of all kinds of farm animals and his 200 acre estate. But when we got his coffin in the ground, tree root thick and dark brambles had wrapped over the top, odd quality of the cemetery that is.
After that there was rumors of an extra person hanging around old farmer Johns house. A 19 year old boy that had to have been 40 or 50 some years younger than John. We heard from Nelly’s friends in the bar that the day after the funeral nelly had been visited by Johns ‘lover.’
A sickening history had been uncovered when they discovered Johns first interaction with the boy was when he held his farm as a corn maze and petting zoo in the fall season for families with free animal feed tickets for young kids.
It was a small conservative town, everybody trusted each other like family. No one ever expected such a monster to be right under our noses.
|
HairyHorux
|
RogalDornAteMyPussy
|
2023-10-08 08:12:36
|
2023-10-08 03:28:59
| 84 | 45 |
k3yov1o
|
k3xzb7d
|
172hfk9
|
172hfk9
|
[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.
|
As the goddess of Discord, I normally didn't have much power over mortals. I could cause wars, yes, but there weren't nearly enough soldiers to do the kind of damage that Poseidon or Zeus could.
However, we are an hour away from the 3rd millennia of the common era, and my plan has been set in motion for five hundred years. From the making of modern Europe, I inspired nationalism in the Serbian people, in the German people, everyone was proud and wanted an empire as big as Britain. When I gave the Black Hand help in assassinating Franz Ferdinand, the first major part of my plan was in motion. The first world war would inspire the second. It would be the cause of the Bolshevik revolution. It would cause the cold war, where I would gain infinitely more sway now that the mortals have intercontinental ballistic missiles to play around with.
So how does one start nuclear war? One simply blows up an american spy satelite that was hovering over Russia. Tensions escalated and eventually, the first (and last) Nuclear War of the humans had begun, and within months there was nothing on this brazen earth.
The other gods were both horrified and impressed with my work, but nothing beat the satisfaction of saying to those gods who have acted like they're better than the rest of us for thousands of years "It's time for my era now, the era of discord!"
|
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.
|
None
|
BeardyMansMoustach
|
2023-04-09 13:11:00
|
2023-04-09 12:18:47
| 33 | 15 | null | null |
12g5br3
|
12g5br3
|
[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.
|
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.
|
The Rat had hidden underground for several years, building something big.
A large mech built like a human built to kill the hero who ruined his life.
He began maneuvering through the labyrinthine wires and arms as he made his way to the control room hidden inside this gigantic robot of steel and bolts.
He made it there surprisingly quickly, with no buttons or levers, just a chair with two halves of a neckpiece dangling from cables.
He sat down in the chair, snapping the two halves together, and pressed a button on the edge of the chair.
His body shook sporadically, and then went limp.
The robot began to stand up, and the rat saw through its mechanical eyes.
|
Scorppio500
|
None
|
2023-08-28 17:18:06
|
2023-08-28 15:56:46
| 45 | 19 |
jy44hqe
|
jy3rdhr
|
163ph4e
|
163ph4e
|
[WP] You're a mostly forgotten god whose only believer is a ten-year-old girl. Every night she offers you a bit of her dinner or a shiny rock in exchange for her family surviving the night and every night you accept because she's never in danger Tonight, however, you actually have to work for it.
|
(I've never done one of these and also I have never really written anything before, but I liked this prompt so I wrote this in like 20 minutes. Please don't be too mean...)
*Goddamned girl* I thought as I hastily made my way back to my realm. “Jackson, go make sure Alex got the records stored properly. I can never tell if he is actually listening to me or just playing with his tablet.”
*Janice is going to be the death of me* I thought as Jackson ran off to do my bidding. Of course, I’d be dead if Janice was dead anyways. She is the last believer in me in the universe. Once she is gone, so am I. Also, she is 12. Don’t ask me how she came to find out about me, but she did. She offers me DELICIOUS little portions of mac and cheese or some really cool shiny things and in exchange she asks me for her and her family’s safety. And like, that’s cool and all considering they live in a relatively safe suburb and don’t really go out too much, but all of a sudden they’ve gone off on some “Family Vacation” and now it’s just been one thing after another.
The first thing I had to fix was when their plane got struck by lightning when flying over the Atlantic. How often does that happen? I had to personally go out there and put the fires out to make sure their plane made it to Greece.
Then, at the airport, they got in a car with a “Taxi” that was actually a car from a sex trafficking ring so I caused them to get a flat tire on the way out and they had to find another ride.
And this last time! Two of them got bitten by a snake. TWO OF THEM. Holy shit, snake bites are one of the hardest for me to deal with! I had to make sure a nearby hospital had the anti-venom, and call and ambulance out to their location because they were just going to “Walk it off”. As if they could just “walk off” a bite from a nose-horned viper... That last one was really taxing on me as I had to basically ret-con the anti-venom. I can only do that like 2 times a year max! I just hope they’ll be more careful for the rest of this vacation as I can’t really spend much more time on this with my limited power…
|
It wasn't hard to do as a god. It was just terrifying that I actually had to do it.
The beast didn't know any better. It was a winter storm and it broke in to stay warm. The beast was that of a father carrying his babies. The mother was long lost in the snow and beast was desperate.
Hearing the screams shot my anxiety up. Seeing my child run to her mom crying was just heart breaking. Of course I had to act! It wasn't hard to manipulate the winds or break the floor, but everything I did, I had to do carefully-
Especially when the child is asking me to not kill him.
She was scared but she didn't want to face death, even if it was the death of something that threatened her life. I had to comply.
I yelled to her dad to lure the beast into the kitchen and then lock himself in the closet, I'll take care of the rest. He was so hesitant that my girl decided to do it instead.
Seeing her face the beast made my heart drop! "I asked the old man, not you!"
"But he can't do it so I will!"
"My child." Tearing up I let her do it as she managed to ignore her parents.
Soon she got it into the kitchen and there I dropped the ceiling. Not on the beast but behind him. He accidentally dropped his babies, all of which ran to the closet in fear of the loud noise.
Seeing the father's look of fear was something new. The beast was expressive. I haven't seen anything like that in years but I also haven't seen a child be stupid enough to let the young lines in with her. The beast ran up but she closed the door on time and I let more of the house drop, not killing but instead trapping the beast and sealing him in such a way the cold couldn't get to him.
When the sun finally broke through the clouds the next day, I got to see the most heart warming moment ever.
She dug him out. With the help of his younglings. Seeing his babies somehow perfectly fine in the crip cold of the morning's glow, it felt like he was going to cry.
He was hurt but not bad enough to be concerning. My little girl still helped him by badging him up. During so, she thanked me for keeping my word and promised me a big muffin.
"How big?"
"As big as the beast!"
"Pppft. How about make it as big as his pups. I don't think you have enough flour otherwise." I rebuild the house quite easily to the rest of the family's shock.
The last thing I see is the beast bowing and leaving the family after a nice breakfast together before his mate ran up to greet him. My twin sister was right behind her, happy that I helped.
"So you still have it in you after all." It's been so long since I've heard her voice.
All I can do is smile.
|
FetzyWriting
|
CameoShadowness
|
2023-10-23 20:09:24
|
2023-10-23 18:58:57
| 50 | 37 |
k65htx6
|
k655ujs
|
17eo460
|
17eo460
|
[WP] "God can come have coffee with me if he's really interested." You said, shutting the door on some irritating guys with pamphlets. The very next day, God taps lightly on your door, to have a coffee.
|
"So you're not Rob Benedict?"
"No, I'm not. I came as something familiar to you because seeing my true form has been known to cause some people to lose their sanity."
"Right, and you're here because...?"
"I'm here because you extended the invitation to me for coffee."
"When the hell did I do that?" I asked as I let the man, no, God inside my house.
"When you slammed the door on a couple of my followers yesterday." He stated as he went to sit down at the kitchen island.
"Of course." I sighed as I moved into the kitchen. "I got a pretty fancy coffee maker. How do you take your coffee?" I asked as I moved to make myself a cup.
"I'll take whatever you're having, my child." He said as I moved about the kitchen. "Hope you like it sweet and over complicated."
I made the two cups and handed one to Him. It was still strange to have an actual conversation with God in the flesh.
"So, my child -" "Please, just call me by my name." I said as I stood in front of him on the other side of the island.
"Right, Alex, why did you shut the door in my followers' faces? They weren't behaving rudely." He said.
"While they didn't behave rudely yesterday or the weeks before, their church and beliefs are something that I do not support. Especially not when I am one of the people they preach about going to hell." I stated with a slight bitterness to my voice.
"What do you mean? You aren't sinning in any way. You aren't an adulterer, you haven't committed murder, you don't steal or anything that would be considered a sin. You would be right up in heaven with each of your loved ones."
I let out a low chuckle. "I guess it matters to them whom I marry and what is between my legs." I said as I watched his face fall.
"Excuse me, what do you mean?" He asked as he furrowed His brows. I moved to grab the multiple church pamphlets from the cabinet. I dropped them in front of Him.
"Racists, bigots, homophobic, transphobic, sexist, misogynistic, greedy. I will never associate with people with that much hate in their hearts while claiming to be doing your work."
I sipped my coffee as He read over the pamphlets, His face paling as He read each and every single one.
By the time He spoke, I was finished drinking my cup. "How long has this been going on for...?" He asked as He rose from His seat.
I turned around to see Him looking out the window. "That depends. How long have you been gone for?" I asked casually before moving to put a hand on his shoulder.
"I've been gone for far too long. They've twisted my words to further their own agenda and line their pockets. I will not stand for it. I will make this right, I have to." He stated before turning to face me.
"And you're going to help me." He stated, making me raise an eyebrow.
"Me? Why me?"
"You have helped open my eyes to how much the world needs my help, I would appreciate your help with the modern times."
I sighed and rub my face. "Okay, fine, but I'll need more coffee first." I said before grabbing my mug.
He reached His hand out and refilled my mug. I sipped it and it tasted exactly the same as before.
"Thank you." I said as I saw Him refill his own mug.
"No, thank you. You're the one who made me this delicious coffee."
|
There was a "tat-tat" sound on the door. I rushed over, wondering who the surprise visitor could be, but all that was on my porch was a package of coffee. The label said Veronica Coffee Co. I looked down the drive to see if I could catch a glimpse of my mysterious benefactor, but it appeared as if they'd rushed away because I saw no sight of them.
At first, I was hesitant to pick up the package, wondering if it was a bomb. I didn't think I had any enemies, but who wouldn't think it strange when a bag of coffee shows up unexpectedly? After inspecting it carefully, I gave in and picked it up. From it came the most pleasant aroma. I shook it, hearing beans within. *Hmmph*. It seemed perfectly fine. I read all the text on the package, which was strangely sparse, lacking even an address of where it was made. There was just the label in a thick green cursive font overlaying an image of something reminiscent of the Big Bang.
The flavor was printed below - "All Knowing. All Seeing. All Places."
If that wasn't a weird flavor of coffee, then I didn't know what was. I scratched my head for several minutes, wondering if I should text my friends to let them know that I'd received this strange package. I took pictures of it with my phone, planning to post them on Instagram, but when I went to upload them they were gone. So I took the pictures again, and the same thing happened. *Terrible time for there to be a bug in my phone.*
*Fine. I'll just text them.* The moment I was about to tap send on the text, my phone shut off out of nowhere. I tossed the coffee aside and started fiddling with my phone, trying to get it to work. At least an hour went by before I gave up and went back to the coffee. Later, the tech at a phone store told me that all of the chips inside were fried due to a rare malfunction that had only happened to six other devices of the same model. This same malfunction was also probably responsible for my inability to send the pictures that wouldn't send.
Anyways, so my stomach was grumbling now and I remembered that I had a tasty pastry waiting for the perfect cup of coffee. So I opened the package from Veronica Coffee Co. and got my french press. The package only had enough for a single cup in it, and it measured perfectly with no leftovers at all. So I made the cup, and it was by far the best cup I'd ever had in my life. Total coffee perfection. When I took my last sip I actually felt sad that it was over. I looked at the package again, trying to see if I'd missed an address or something so I could order more. Just like the first time, there was nothing.
I shook my head. I just had to tell someone about this, and not having my phone really sucked, so I decided to drive to my brother's house a few streets away. I grabbed the Veronica Coffee Co. package and got in the car. At this point, I should've expected something to happen, since everything about this was strange, but I didn't give it a second thought. And as you probably guessed, that was when the accident happened. I was proceeding through an intersection when I was T-boned by another car. I lost consciousness, my car was totaled, and of course, as you can guess - the coffee wrapper was destroyed.
That wasn't even the strangest thing. The occupants of the car who hit me were the two men who came to talk to me about God the day before. When I woke up in the hospital and found out, I knew that none of this had to be a coincidence - that somehow I was being called by God. I couldn't prove a shred of what happened to me was true. Yet I know it was because I experienced it. You can call me a liar, a fool, or a person who believes in fantasies, but what happened to me is real.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
\------
This was a fantastic prompt!
|
ClearCasket
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2023-03-21 02:11:30
|
2023-03-21 01:41:06
| 81 | 29 | null | null |
11wsrfi
|
11wsrfi
|
[WP] The most fearsome super villain in history was defeated and for judgement received two options: death sentence or memory wipe. They chose the latter. When the super heroes perform a coup and take control over the world, there is only one person powerful enough to aid you...
|
Kyrie did not join the coup the other heroes initiated that week, despite the numerous invitations he received. They often looked down on his unrefined powers, but raw physical strength still had its uses. If not, the government would never have plucked him off the filthy doorsteps of Tyhon Orphanage and groomed him into a licensed hero.
He faithfulness to the government wasn't due to loyalty or any trivial emotional like it. He remained on its side because it paid him. Not in pretentious status or "higher purpose" drivel, but in gold coins. The government may be corrupt, but its gold was amongst the most pure existences known to man.
Kyrie sat in a meeting room amongst five suited men. Their eyes darted whenever he glanced at them. Understandable given the circumstances. Sitting around a hero in the middle of a coup defied logic. The conference room's doors slide open, and Mr. Carlile limped from the hallway's darkness into the bright room. He held one hand toward Kyrie while the order gripped an ivory cane so hard his knuckles shone white.
"Now Kyrie," he whispered. "I need you to listen. I've recently been briefed that you have some history with the man behind me, but we need his assistance to restore order around here."
Kyrie snorted. "What man doesn't have history with me? It's all good." He said with a shrug.
"I'm afraid you don't understand the full context here. Can I speak with you privately for a mo- hey, wait. Don't come in yet!"
A second figure entered the conference room. This one a young man in an expensive tailored suit. He wore his black hair in a bun and green strands streaked through it. His purple eyes widened as he scanned the room, lingering on holograms and maps. "Wow. This is some fancy tech you have in here."
Kyrie bolted from his chair and launched toward him. "Hendrix?" He yelled unconsciously as painful memories flooded his mind. How the man still lived never crossed his mind, only the joy that he'd be able to kill Hendrix himself. He'd be able to enact vengeance for his miserable childhood. Warm currents of electricity encircled his right fist as he cocked it back and slammed it into Hendrix's chin.
Not a flinch. The suited men around him muttered praise at the sight and heat stung Kyrie's cheeks. Hendrix stared at him blankly, then asked, "Are you unwell? There wasn't much heat to that strike, you must be fatigued. I always strike weakly when I'm tired."
The heat in Kyrie's cheeks blossomed until his whole head burned as he swung again and again. He struck spitefully. A hook to the jaw for his mother. An uppercut to the liver for his father. Flurries for the years at the orphanage. He punched until his fist cried and his eyes ached, then punched some more.
Hendrix stood through it all, then carefully raised his right hand and flicked Kyrie like a gnat. The force flew Kyrie across the room with far less grace than an insect, and his body shattered the conference room table as he landed through it. Splinters of wood burned his back as he howled in a non-physical pain.
The room grew silent as his howl ceased, and Mr. Carlile coughed before he spoke. "I'd hoped to warm you up to the idea first, but this is Dave. He'll be your assistant on your mission to defuse this coup. Think of him as a sidekick."
Kyrie spit blood and laughed. "Dave, really? You think you can change the hair from purple to green, change up the name, and everyone will buy it?" He thrust a finger toward Hendrix and yelled, "That's fucking Hendrix, don't you try to tell me it isn't."
Dave's eyes widened and he raised his brows. "Hendrix?" He whispered.
Mr. Carlile held his palm toward Kyrie and said, "That man did exist once, but no longer. Ms. Creopatra vanquished his tyranny, and his reign ended. Can we discuss logistics of the mission now."
"You've gone senile old man. You gone fucking senile if you think that'll fly. That shit might work on you, but I'm not buying it." The blood steadied in Kyrie's head as a thought came to mind. "Why isn't he dead?"
"Ms. Creopatra, in her infinite kindness saw Dave through the fog of Hendrix, and offered him a change at redemption. Once she'd trampled and dispersed that fog, Dave gladly took her up on the offer. We erased all fogginess from him, and now he possesses a clear future."
Kyrie cackled. "So that's what this is all about. That's why the others gave Creopatra what she had coming." He sneered. "They looked past the prior corruptions, but this was the heavy straw on the camel's back, huh?"
"We need someone of Dave's power to remedy this situation before it shatters the publics trust in us. Whether heroes, police, or government, the average citizen requires stability. The longer this coup continues, the more our nation is threatened."
"So we're unleashing the greatest psychopathic killer in history? That'll reassure them. Let me do us all a favor and just kill him myself," Kyrie said, summoning lightning to his fists once more.
Mr. Carlile raised his brow and said, "I doubt you could. You lack the power to do so." Before Kyrie could chirp back he raised a finger. "For you to kill Dave, you'd have to surpass his power. Your government only needs someone as powerful as Dave to thrive. Do with that information what you will."
"And no punishment will come if I do what I want with it?"
Mr. Carlile nodded, "You'll learn any punishment can be voided if you serve you nation faitfully." He turned toward Dave and whispered, "Sorry to speak of you like you're not here, good man. Please excuse your supervisor, he can be a tad brash."
Dave smiled. "I'm not worried. If those punches were his attempt to kill me, I'd say I can sleep well at night."
Mr. Carlile smiled and pointed at the two of them. "Then shake. This is the start of a beautiful partnership. As a citizen I feel safer already."
|
"I now pronounce you, husband and husband. Whichever of you is the bride, kiss the husband". A gentle laugh danced from the crowd to the high walls of the church, before it was destroyed by the screams, shouts and applause of a family, friends, and those who occupied a space of honor that, despite barely knowing the betrothed, they had been deemed fit to watch this monumental step in their lives.
The wedding was over quickly, and the guests filed out. The third ceremony performed that day. The priest, who spoke the words over each couple, sat in a hastily prepared office, while he worked through the banal realities of owning a 500 year old building. Letters detailing cracked walls, listed architecture, crumbling foundations and, of course, the utter scorn of his peers that he would perform same-sex ceremonies.
The footsteps echoed through his church, and he welcomed the distraction, leaving behind the scrawled piles of architecture, construction and religious fundamentalism. He met a young women, who he found stood at the alter, admiring the cross, complete with the suffering, emaciated body of the Lord himself.
"It's 427 years old, you know", he said. He walked beside her, and gestured to the inscription, half of which had been stolen by time. "In Christ, we find forgiveness", he translated the worn Latin. She seemed interested, looking up at him with dark eyes and a strong jaw. She did not cover her shoulders before entering the church, a transgression punishable by death when this cross was first crafted, but now, the Church had learned to be more lenient. He noticed the weapon at her hip, and the thin lines around her shoulders - the evidence of intense exercise over many years. How did he see those things? It felt as if, in those moments, he saw the world through the eyes of another.
"We do not know the rest of the inscription, it was charred in a fire 233 years ago. But those who wrote about this place, spoke of the quote, and said it brought them peace. I have spent the past 8 years searching, and found nothing. I suppose I must settle for forgiveness". She smiled.
"And what must you be forgiven for, Father?". The priest knew that behind her eyes was something cold, calculating. He had seen the look before, perhaps on the faces of the saints carved into the walls of the Church. Something in his mind spoke to him, and told him that she had the capacity for terrible violence. But all that stood in front of him was a woman who enjoyed exercise. Sweat grew at his brow, and something clawed inside his chest, writhing and screaming, threatening and howling.
"I...". He knew his sins were uncountable. That his every waking moment would be poisoned by shadows of memories, cast across his mind like a silhouette play that rendered only a fraction of the story. And he knew, looking at her, that this was what he could sense. That the shadows, stretched and haunted as they were, were once cast by her. He stepped back, and she turned to face him, because he realized that she too, had been analyzing him.
"Who are you?". The words were hoarse. The dry, dusty walls of the Church seemed stifling, sucking every drop of moisture from the air, from his skin, from every crevice of his mind, until all that was left inside was an emptiness, a desert, begging for life, begging for a chance to let something grow. Her smile was gone now, replaced by the empty expression of a woman who was entirely focused on her goal.
"I can't go back", he whispered. He didn't know from where the words came. Back to what? To where? Her eyes widened. "You remember?". Her hand rested at her hip now. The lines in her shoulders deepened and flexed, and the Priest realized he could smell the adrenaline in her blood. "You remember don't you? You know? It didn't work!".
In the darkness that followed, The Priest imagined himself in front of the gates, looking up at a long staircase that projected out into the heavens. It was far, but each breath filled his body with a youth he had not known for a lifetime, and he knew that all he had to do, was climb, but a voice echoed across the empty clouds. In fact, two voices.
*"You're here because they have finally betrayed you?".*
*"The memory wipe didn't work, did it?"*
*"No, your scientists are as clumsy as your operatives. It didn't work"*
*"So you spend your days, hidden here. Why? Why a Priest?"*
A laugh danced along the plains and the Priest knew that he could not climb the stairs, not before he knew the conversation, but the longer he stayed, the weaker his legs became. Every syllable, every sound, shook the life out of his joints.
*"He's the Priest. I spend my days in peace. I made him."*
*"We knew about your powers, but this? You MADE him?"*
*"Agent. I like my life here. But you have found me, and that means they will too. So perhaps I shall begin again. But for that, dear agent, you too, will have to forget."*
The Priest fell to his knees, his strength finally failing. He looked at the first of the steps, and dragged himself forward, but found that his hands passed through the clouds. Before long, he was falling, aimlessly, eternally, through darkness and rain and smoke, and he knew that his desire to know, his lust for knowledge, had damned him to whatever fate lingered at the bottom of his decent.
**Three years later, in Southern Italy**
*"Father, I must insist. The Church will not allow you to marry these two women. It is wrong".* The young nun, who had been born into the habit, pleaded with the father. He stood two feet taller than her, and she clung to the side of his robe, making no effort to slow the tears dripping onto the floor of the half rotten Church.
The town around the Church had been burned out in the war. A war that still raged in the African continent, the last of the holdouts. The Church was the only thing that remained standing, and it now housed hundreds of homeless villagers.
He smiled, and placed his hand on hers, and knew that if there was ever a time, a chance, to make amends for the hidden guilt that sat heavily on his conscience, a chance to remedy the dark dreams that haunted his midnight hours, of bloodied women, dragged through churches, and buried in unmarked graves, this was the time and the place. This was the time and the place.
|
intheweebcloset
|
ChristopherCooney
|
2023-02-04 23:22:49
|
2023-02-04 22:21:47
| 59 | 43 |
j78t0ai
|
j78kwp2
|
10tn857
|
10tn857
|
[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 would have dismissed the woman on my doorstep as a harmless nutter, but she knew things about my childhood and my parents. Details Mom had kept to herself for years and years. She only told me everything after I found some old photos in the attic of my father with another woman, holding a baby in her arms that could only be me.
"I wanted him," she said now. More than twenty years later, she didn't look a day older than she'd been in those photos. "I wanted a life by his side as his wife and the mother of his children. But he wouldn't leave your mother. Even as he swore to me that there was no love between them anymore."
He would say anything and swear blind by whatever you held sacred to get his own way. I knew that firsthand. Cursing him would have been entirely reasonable even though the right thing to do was walk away and never think about him again. Cursing my mother would have been wrong, but an understandable line of thought.
But she'd done neither.
"My father was no prize, ma'am," I only said.
She nodded fervently. "I know that now. But I was so young back then, so unreasonably fixated on what I thought was mine... He didn't love me. My passion for him came to nothing. So I cursed you to a loveless, passionless life. I'm so sorry..."
"Wait, hold on," I said as she started to literally wring her hands. "I had a wonderful childhood. Sure, there were hard times, but Mom never made me feel like a burden. She loved me."
The witch shook her head. "I didn't curse anyone else. Just you."
I went to shut the door in her face again, but it just wouldn't close. When I looked down, there was a wedge-shaped barrier of red energy propping the door open. A literal magic doorstop.
"If you'd just-" she began.
"Why," I cut her off, speaking through gritted teeth, "would you think that I don't love *anyone?*"
"Listen!" The witch shouted. "You care about your mother, you care about your friends. But have you ever wanted something more? A deeper connection? Someone to give yourself to in every way?"
I stared at her. "Why?"
She nodded as though I'd proven her point. "Exactly. But I can undo it. You won't be a stunted child anymore. You can experience the whole range of human-"
"No."
"But..." She sounded lost, like she hadn't expected this answer. "I have to rebalance the scales. I took those chances from you."
I rolled my eyes. "And I might not have chosen to take those chances anyway. You can't say for sure. So you took nothing. There's nothing to balance. Go now before I call the police for trespassing."
The magical doorstop disappeared. That sudden lack of opposing force made my door slam shut. But she didn't leave just yet.
"Or maybe there was nothing for the curse to take away," she muttered. Just loud enough for me to hear. "Heartless girl."
I waited until I heard footsteps receding away before smiling. That diagnosis was nothing new to me.
|
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.
|
wordsonthewind
|
TheProphetGamer
|
2023-08-12 16:27:08
|
2023-08-12 15:14:27
| 444 | 44 |
jvvz46d
|
jvvo950
|
15p52e7
|
15p52e7
|
[WP] The Gods have come to a consensus and have decided to take back that fire thing that was stolen from them. Man can no longer contain, control or create fire. Fire is once again solely the domain of The Gods
|
It was too late. As the humans grappled with the new unpredictability of fire, they had already invented work arounds. Radiators powered by electric boilers, convection hobs, even electric cars neglected the need for internal comubstion engines. The humans hadn‘t been planning to shift so soon but coal and gas were rapidly phased out in favour of renewable sources like hydroelectric power, wind turbines, solar panels and even nuclear power plants. Nuclear power had never been the gods‘ domain, that was solely a human invention. There were no riots (anymore). The damage had been fixed and the humans were recovering.
„I mean, you‘ve got to admire their ingenuity,“ Hepheastus commented, staring down at the cities.
Zeus scowled. „No, I don‘t. How the hell did they manage this?“
Athena leaned back in her chair. „humans have found their own ways to replicate godly power. It‘s crude but effective.“
Zeus‘ scowl deepened. Had he been limited to mortal form, this would not have been possible. But he emanated anger and frustration. „Then do something about it! These humans think they can match godly power? They think they can make us redundant!?“ Zeus grabbed his bolt and, in a fit of rage, threw it straight the large ciry beneath them. The Bolt hurtled down before veering off into a lightning rod. The Bolt shot down the grounded structure and dissipated harmlessly in the ground.
Zeus stared. He growled. Then he looked up at the gods staring at him. He looked down, mortified that such a crude method had rendered his rage harmless.
|
I was at the trash can again. I just can't help myself. I know it's dangerous, but it's so pretty. I thought feeding my lighter some old newspaper would give me a quick hit- until I saw that man at the side.
"Taking in a little flame, Jimmy?" The man said.
"Who the hell are you?", I asked him.
"I'm stronger than anyone you can think of. I am one of the Gods of this world. And if you're going to use fire for this, then we have no choice but to take fire back from you."
I shook my head. "That's not possible. This will teach you!" I took out my lighter- and nothing happened as the man shook his head. "Uh, uh, Jimmy- you're in a world without fire. All you've got is a simple gas-spewer...not that it'll help you."
"That isn't going to stop me that easily!" I headed to my car and tried to aim- but the car wouldn't stop.
"Sorry, son- that car needs the chemical reaction to run that can only come from fire...not that it'll help you!" Suddenly, I was surrounded by a big hunk of metal, sand, and thin rubber. "Though it doesn't matter since most of the pieces of the car get made from- you guessed it, fire!"
This guy really needs to get it now- but I'm so hungry. "I need some energy and I'll give you what's what, crumb-bum!" I headed to the soda shop for a burger- and got raw meat and grain.
"Sorry, that delicious burger needed to be made with- you guessed it, fire!"
"I'll fix you yet..." Just then, the sky went super dark and cold. "Oh, hope you don't freeze to death- what's the sun but a big mass of incandescent gas- set off with, you guessed it, fire!"
I felt myself freezing. "N-no...come back, fire! Come back..."
...and then, I was in my bed, the covers off of me. "...come back, fire...come-come back..."
I bolted upright and needed to check. The candle near my bed still worked. "It was all a dream. But I'm glad I live in a world with fire to help with all of our needs! I'll never risk losing it again!"
*The preceding filmstrip was brought to you by the National Fire Council. Fire: Making your life better since Prometheus stole it in ancient times.*
|
Bdarwin85
|
Spiritual_Lie2563
|
2025-02-26 16:51:01
|
2025-02-26 16:10:40
| 45 | 18 |
mewuk14
|
mewly5n
|
1iyl8pz
|
1iyl8pz
|
[WP] Aphrodite is talking to Ares. "Y'know, Persephone gives Hades flowers everyday. I wish you'd do that." The next day, Ares goes to the Underworld and gives Hades flowers. "Yeah, I'm not really sure why Aphrodite wanted me to do this, but here you go."
|
"...I... thank you?" Hades awkwardly held onto bouquet, glancing between it and Ares, "Did... did she specify these are for someone, or...?"
"I have no idea, she started talking about Percy giving you flowers and told me I should do it too." The god of war shrugged, standing gormlessly in front of his fellow god's desk, and Hades looked back to the flowers. Was... was Ares coming on to him, or something? After a second he realized how ridiculous that was; he and the god of war worked together closely but despite what the mortals believed (thanks Zeus) the other gods weren't up to any ridiculous shenanigans... mostly. Honestly though, these two were probably the least equipped to handle any mysteries regarding romance. "I... well tell her I said thank you, I guess?"
Ares gave a flummoxed shrug and departed from Hades' realm, and the god of death just as awkwardly began the search for a vase to put the blooms in that Persephone's flowers did not already occupy, trying to think of the message behind the gift...
\-----
Ares stepped back onto Mt. Olympus and was almost immediately accosted by an excited looking Aphrodite, the woman nearly bouncing on her feet, "Sooooo..."
"Y-Yes?" She leaned in close.
"A little birdy told me you were out collecting flowers\~."
"Yes? Yes, I delivered them already." As she blinked in confusion Ares took a step back.
"Wait what? I've been here all day and haven't received anything..." Okay now what the Styx was she on about?
"Why would I send them to you?" Aphrodite stared at Ares in confusion for a long, silent moment before Zeus' voice suddenly rang out from around the corner.
"Dite, why in my name did my brother just send me a load of flowers claiming you started this..?"
|
"...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!"
|
thatsnotacracker
|
katanakid13
|
2023-01-07 09:39:32
|
2023-01-07 06:14:22
| 1,250 | 79 |
j3beaar
|
j3axrmy
|
105g4gs
|
105g4gs
|
[WP] Aphrodite is talking to Ares. "Y'know, Persephone gives Hades flowers everyday. I wish you'd do that." The next day, Ares goes to the Underworld and gives Hades flowers. "Yeah, I'm not really sure why Aphrodite wanted me to do this, but here you go."
|
“What not-on-earth has happened here?” said Dionysus, surveying the Underworld. He had expected to bring the party to the grey void but was instead presented with vast swathes of colourful life.
“It’s all your brother’s fault!” raged Hades, emerging from behind a particularly large sunflower. His throne was surrounded by pots and flowers of every variety found on earth.
“For some reason he gave me an enormous bunch of flowers and it seems that word got around and now…” he waved his hands towards the line of recently arrived dead being processed after crossing the Styx. More than half were carrying floral tributes.
“Ares and Aphrodite are waging botanical warfare on my realm…”
*Flower power*, Dionysus thought but, wisely, kept to himself.
“…Charon wants a bigger boat and Cerberus has hayfever!”
“What does your wife think?”
On cue, Persephone swept into the throne room humming happily. She scooped up as many more bunches of flowers as she could and skipped towards their living quarters.
Dionysus roared with laughter, thumped Hades on the back and swayed slightly.
“Don’t worry, uncle,” he replied, failing to maintain a straight face. “I didn’t care for this fermented grape juice at first but I grew to love it.” He took a large swig of his flagon of wine, dripping red juice into his beard.
Hades paused, looking around the array of colours and taking in the scents. He felt his iron will bend slightly.
\-----
The gardens of the Underworld became renowned and are regularly visited by all but one of the Olympians. However, be careful not to mention them to Aphrodite as she will fly into a jealous rage.
Mortal souls close to the journey to the Underworld now look forward with hope as they will soon see the most beautiful gardens in all existence.
|
"...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!"
|
cses87
|
katanakid13
|
2023-01-07 15:22:41
|
2023-01-07 06:14:22
| 150 | 79 |
j3cathe
|
j3axrmy
|
105g4gs
|
105g4gs
|
[WP] "One drip of this poison is enough to kill a whale." The scientist points towards a table, but the beaker isn't there. Instead a silly coffee cup shaped like a beaker sits. You lower the not coffee cup from your mouth. Tastes like lemon-lime.
|
I hadn’t heard from Carl in years. He was my best friend in university, and all the best stories from that time involved him. Like the time he mixed drinks at a pre-finals party and everyone turned lemon-yellow and got a pass on the vector calculus. Or the time he gave Cindy, the self-proclaimed “Biology Bimbo”, some sort of confidence booster before her big presentation that she aced. She took great pride making sure Carl couldn’t walk for the week after. Or the collection of beaker-shaped coffee mugs, and the misunderstandings those caused. So when I got the email inviting me to his parent’s mountain retreat, I couldn’t book time off work fast enough.
The Canadian Rockies are amazing -- tall, jagged spires of rock clawing triumphantly at the blue, Albertan summer sky. When he wasn’t at the research institute on the Pacific Coast -- something to do with whales, I think -- he spent his time at his parent’s old cabin. I grinned remembering the ragers we threw here. Carl and I made a great team back then -- he was the brains, and I was the charm.
Carl welcomed me with his trademarked shy smile as I pulled up the lane to the cabin. It looked completely different than the last time I was here. Originally, it could have charitably been called a shack, ramshackle and fresh out of a horror movie. Now, it was an almost palatial lodge; multistory and open with tall, glass windows.
“You came, Tom! I’m so happy, please, come in, come in!” I hugged my old friend -- I was one of the few he afforded this luxury. “Carl, my man, it’s been too long, you look great! What did you do to my cabin, you’ve ruined it!”
“I’m sorry, Tom. As you can see, I have some good news, and some bad news.” We shared a laugh over our inside joke almost older than our friendship. “I… uh… I needed some extra space. I loved the view. So, I made a few changes, nothing major… Uh… come in, I’ll show you around. I… I’ve made a breakthrough.”
My feet kept following Carl to his chalet while my mind stopped. He said, “breakthrough”. Carl’s failures were far more successful than anything I’d consider a life victory. But he always called them “failures”. He’d never used the b-word before: refused to, in fact. It courted disaster, he claimed.
After a quick trip to the kitchen -- I was dying for a coffee before even getting here, and he still had the novelty mugs -- we ended up in his laboratory. Of course, Carl has a laboratory in his remote, mountain retreat. It wasn’t the first time I accused Carl of being a mad scientist in jest. But the b-word kept my mouth shut. Absently, I put my mug down on the laboratory countertop and waited.
“Uh, so Tom, you may not know it, but uh I’ve been working with orcas. Lovely creatures, not the killers everyone thinks. I’ve been working on a formula to increase their intelligence. Most of them, even one drop of the solution, caused immediate death of the whales. But this one, this beaker holds the breakthrough.” The brown-black liquid sloshed in the beaker in his hand as he triumphantly waved it.
Swept up in the moment, I grabbed my coffee mug; it was fuller than I thought. I raised it to toast his victory. “Congratulations, Carl! That’s amazing!” I took a deep swig, the pleasantly sweet, lemon-lime liquid coursed down my throat. The caffeine roared through my mind, awaking me.
The look on Carl’s face froze me. His eyes were wide with fear; his mouth falling, falling open; the rest of the colour draining from his pale, gaunt face. A healthy face, though, with not even a trace of the facial scleroderma that killed his father.
“What? How did you turn my coffee into lemonade?” I checked my mug, the brown-black liquid swished around the graduated flask. Oh. Carl’s novelty mugs didn’t have precision measurements of a real Erlenmeyer flask. The refractive index of the borosilicate glass should have given it away as well, or the heft, or even that this glass was room temperature instead of piping hot.
“Tom, a drop of that beaker was enough to kill a whale!”
I already knew that. In my mind, I could see the chemical reactions in the orca’s biochemistry as its brain tissue surged and expanded, as the creature’s encephalon grew, as the Vitamin A became toxic to their enhanced minds and killed them. I could feel the terror as their last thoughts knew how and why they were dying and how powerless they were to stop it. I could tell by the swish of the liquid in the beaker that Carl -- poor, slow, dumb Carl -- was still years away from his breakthrough.
“Carl, I have some good news, and I have some bad news”.
|
Authors note: I tried something different, a bit darker, hope you like it!
​
​
*Three days ago - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia.*
“Fascinating,” Amelia said.
“What’s that?” Daniel asked sipping his coffee, his earbuds in his ears like always.
“I said,” Amelia raised her voice. “Fascinating!”
“What’s fascinating?” Daniel asked taking another sip of his coffee.
“The liquid that new species of fish produces, the one we discovered last month,” Amelia said with annoyance. “One single drop of the liquid can kill a whale… What are you even doing now?”
“Drinking my coffee, with milk finally,” He answered.
“What milk, no one bought milk once again,” Amelia said.
“What was this then?” Daniel asked shaking the empty beaker.
Amelia froze instantly, could it be? No one could be that stupid to pick a beaker with an unknown liquid from the laboratory table, right? She thought to herself. Then again Daniel was, well Daniel the IT guy, he never really cared much about anything, living life on reserve power.
“Where did you find it?” Amelia rushed towards him.
“Here,” He pointed to the table where liquid from the fish stood minutes ago. “It tastes kinda funny though. Which kind is this, don’t tell me they mike out of limes now?”
“You idiot!” Amelia yelled.
“What?”
“You drank the poison?” Amelia frantically looked around the lab, hoping she was wrong.
“What? WHAT?” Daniel yelled the information only hiding him now. “No I took the white liquid from here, the milk.”
“That is the poison,” Amelia said. “It was white, like milk yes, but what the hell Daniel, do you even use your brain?”
“Oh my God, Oh my God, what do I do now?” He started pacing around the lab.
Amelia took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the panic rising within her. "There's nothing we can do now," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You should have been dead by now."
"What do you mean, dead?" Daniel asked, his face going pale. "Amelia, please tell me you're joking."
"I wish I were," Amelia said. "That liquid is highly toxic, and there's no known antidote. Well, we have just discovered it."
Daniel sank into a chair, his hands trembling. "So, what's going to happen to me?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
"Maybe it's not toxic to humans," Amelia said, her voice rising with hope. "Let's get you to the medical bay and see what we can do."
She helped Daniel to his feet, and they rushed out of the lab and down the long corridor toward the medical bay. Amelia was in a state of panic, her mind racing with all the possible outcomes. What if the poison really was lethal to humans? What if there was no cure, no way to save Daniel's life? Was she to blame? Was him?
As they reached the medical bay, the door slid open, and they were greeted by the medical team on duty. Amelia explained the situation to the doctor in charge, who immediately started examining Daniel.
"What do you say he drank, exactly?" the doctor asked.
“New poison from the new fish we discovered at the bottom of Mariana Trench,” Amelia asked. “It’s highly toxic, he should have been dead already.”
Doctor just nodded and continued to examine him. “He looks just fine, his vitals are up a little bit, but that could be from the panic. Let’s leave him here overnight and we will monitor him.” The doctor said.
Amelia nodded and said goodbye to Daniel leaving for her lab, hoping he would be ok.
*Two days ago - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia.*
\> 08:30 AM: SOS signal towards the mainland.
\> 08:36 AM: SOS signal towards the mainland.
\> 08:38 AM: All contact was lost with The oceanic life research facility.
*One day ago - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia.*
\> Still no contact with the OLRF
\> Rescue teams deployed to the OLRF location, one day to arrive.
*Present day - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia*.
“What do you think happened, Chief?” Henry asked his commander, Norris.
“No idea, maybe the power is just out?” He said.
“Don’t they have like a gazillion backup generators?” He asked.
“I don’t, I guess we will see in a few minutes,” Norris answered and turned towards the side of the chopper, looking out of the window.
As choppers drew closer they could finally see the OLRF in the middle of the thick forest. Seeing it this up close, the facility completely dark, a feeling of unease came over Henry, something felt way off. As they came closer and closer, they could notice that the windows on the second floor were broken and the front door of the facility was busted. Looking closer Henry saw what looked like a white lab coat in front of the building, and something red around it. No, it was a body in the coat, a body missing its limps laying in a pool of its own blood.
​
Like the story? Check out my sub for more r/LukasWrites
|
DoomHaven
|
Nellthe
|
2023-02-28 16:12:42
|
2023-02-28 15:29:24
| 471 | 60 |
jad5gd5
|
jacyum6
|
11e4oe5
|
11e4oe5
|
[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."
|
In the back of my mind, I always knew it would end this way. I just expected it to be more… violent.
Instead, it was a small bite to the ankle when I walked too close to one I thought had already been eliminated. The bite was so small, I didn’t even bleed. A rookie mistake, and the costliest mistake I could make.
I haven’t even had time to be sad about it. In fact, I’m pretty pissed. I have managed to fight my way out of a hoard, tear apart one with a freshly broken arm, and sneak away unnoticed when a blind one entered my bedroom in the middle of the night. But the one that took me down was missing its entire lower half of its body and barely managed a nibble before I put a bullet in its brain.
So now I’m here, a mile away from my family, sitting on a bench of one of the old bus stops. I surprisingly didn’t meet any undead on my walk out here – not that it would matter at this point – but I feel naked without my usual arsenal of knives and pistols that I have learned to keep on me over the past two years.
I’ve lost track of how much time has gone by, but it certainly feels like longer than 20 minutes. It’s probably the anticipation of it, making time speed up, but I find it hard to believe the feeling of my flesh burning hasn’t set in yet.
I glanced up at the sun, trying to determine what time it was. It seemed to be after 4pm, and I thought back to how long ago I had been bit. The sun’s angle wasn’t really my priority at the time, but I vaguely remember the high angle it had while I was saying my goodbye to my husband, and the way the shadows were cast on his face as I burned that image into my brain to carry me through the rest of my short life.
Wait.
That would mean I had said goodbye over two hours ago. Impossible, since I was bitten a few minutes before that.
I jumped off the bench, rubbing my knuckles into my eyes as if that would change the position of the sun when I next looked at it. It didn’t.
I glanced at my skin, which still looked full of color. I didn’t feel any burning under my skin, signaling the turning of my blood. If I didn’t know any better, I would have looked and felt as if nothing happened.
I reached down to pull up my pant leg to check the wound. Maybe, since it wasn’t that deep, it was taking longer than usual for it to turn me.
At my ankle was a small scratch, but no sign of broken skin or a bite.
“No!” I gasped, dropping my pant leg, and stumbling backwards.
It was impossible. I had felt the bite. Sure, it wasn’t a big one, and I didn’t bleed, but it had to have broken the skin enough, right?
Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I lifted my pant leg again, wiping at the spot with the fabric of my jeans to see if I could uncover a hidden deeper scratch perhaps. Nothing else was there.
I glanced up, unsure of what to do next.
Was I infected?
Was I safe?
There was no way to tell. But I had to go back to camp, just in case. I couldn’t risk being out here any longer, on the slight chance that maybe everything was going to be okay.
Tears sprang to my eyes, and the thought that I might be able to see my husband again almost made me collapse.
A rustle from the tree line behind the bench dried my tears and made my blood run cold. I took several slow steps backwards, putting as much distance between myself and the trees without making too much noise. I reached for my knife, and my stomach dropped when I realized I didn’t have it.
A male zombie emerged from the trees, not yet spotting me, but aware of my smell.
I took another step back, hoping I could make it to the other side of the street before I would run for my life to camp.
The zombie turned to me, his undead eyes locking with mine.
|
ArbitraryChaos13
|
marblewienlaw
|
2023-07-07 00:46:33
|
2023-07-06 22:26:40
| 139 | 41 |
jqyqj1g
|
jqy7rew
|
14sghr0
|
14sghr0
|
[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.
|
What a time to be alive.
Or dead, I guess. Or somewhere in between? Mom was right; I should have been a doctor. Maybe if I was, I'd have some idea of what's happening to me. And, more specifically, what's *not* happening.
I'm not dying.
I should be a mindless shuffling maniac by now, slowly rotting from the inside. I know the infection has taken root; more than a few zombies have passed me by without a second glance.
Yet my heart still beats.
I can feel it. I can hear it. I can smell the blood flowing through my veins and it almost makes me sick. I sit for another few hours, quite sure that I've lost my mind, or that I've perhaps finally graduated to Hell Original Flavor as opposed to only Hell on Earth. A living breathing human runs up in a panic. I can hear every squishy thump of her heart hammering away in her chest.
"Oh thank God!" she says. I wish she hadn't brought him up. We're not on speaking terms. "I need your help, please! My son, he's trapped." I sigh and stand up. "Alright then, let's go." Not like I have anything to lose. She leads me through a series of back alleys, and I can hear more hearts thumping up ahead.
"Oh," I say. "An ambush." I feel a rush crash into me like a wave and time slows down. I see the woman open her mouth to shout at the others while she reaches for her pistol.
I see my hands wrap around her face and twist.
The snap did make me gag, but I recovered fast enough to take her pistol and kill the others. I don't feel too bad about it. Bandits deserve no mercy. I also feel rather proud of myself for not feasting on any of them. I didn't feel the urge to, but I am quite hungry. Luckily, their supply cache was nearby and well stocked enough that I could travel. I suppose I might as well catch up with my family. I'll insist that they lock me up but, if we get in a scrape, my new *talents* might come in handy.
What a time to be alive.
|
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.
|
jpb103
|
__noodlejs__
|
2023-07-06 23:38:08
|
2023-07-06 21:14:24
| 125 | 56 |
jqyhjge
|
jqxx7v2
|
14sghr0
|
14sghr0
|
[WP] You’ve been bitten by a Zombie. You’ve already said tearful goodbyes to your loved ones as they leave you behind. The bite should make you turn in twenty minutes, so you sit down on a bench and wait… two hours later you’re still sitting there.
|
20 minutes left.
i pick up my pack. all that's in it are a few weapons and sentimental objects. i don't need anything else.
15 minutes left.
my team is out of sight. it's me against the horde. i bring out my first weapon. a shotgun.
10 minutes left.
the sounds of broken flesh are all to familiar. though now they represent something. every zombie i kill is a little more time i buy for the others.
1 minute left.
it's a miracle. i managed to kill them all. i cry in bittersweet relief that the others are protected. there is nothing else to do but sit down and cherish the memories.
0 minutes left.
i get up, not against my own will, like i'm some prisoner in my own body. quite the opposite. i get up through my own will.
\-1 minutes left.
something is wrong. i check my watch. i should be a zombie by now, and yet my heart is still beating, and my thoughts are still coherent.
\-2 minutes left.
i'm limping through the hall. maybe i can still reach them. maybe i can still see my family again.
\-5 minutes left.
there they are. maybe if i get their attention...
\-5 minutes and 5 seconds left.
they shot me. i guess i can't blame them, they probably assumed i was a zombie.
and yet it doesn't hurt, and the fluid that leaks from the wound is green.
i have never seen a zombie bleed green. in fact i have never seen a human bleed green.
and i had a thought. a thought that usually only philosophers have.
what am i?
|
Bernard shuffled away from the bench clutching his left shoulder, where the bandaged bite wound (which had appeared deeper than any other bite wound of the people in his group who turned) began to throb and swell and leak blood. He cursed under his breath.
The sun was setting, and if Bernard could afford it, he would’ve smashed his head against the asphalt ground right then and there for the gigantic idiot that he had been. He should have known! He should have known an hour ago that there was something wrong. That this was different. That he was immune. But he waited and waited until the sun began to set and he lost more and more blood.
Bernard made it to the outside of a gas station as twilight began to fade. He glanced inside for zombies for but a moment before brashly entering to search for a weapon and some more bandages.
He left Sophia for nothing. He left little Jerry for nothing. He could be their only chance to end this living hell, to cure the virus for good… and they were heading away from his protection! Away from his grasp! They were in their van, grieving his loss… and he couldn’t be there! He could see the scene: Sophia was looking at his photo, coming to terms with it. Accepting his loss. Moving on… he couldn’t bear to imagine! He knew they were heading to an isolated town due southwest, but what if they left before he even arrived? He needed to save them.
No, he would save them.
Bernard found a wrap of bandages and tied them firmly around his shoulder. He discovered a decaying corpse of a self-wasted individual. Alongside them was a wieldy crowbar and an empty sports bag which he stuffed with supplies. He slung the sports bag around his right shoulder and put the weapon in his right hand.
A dozen or so zombies were already heading towards the station. But Bernard was mentally and physically prepared for the trials to come. Now that he had a mission—now that his life had a purpose, nothing could stop him.
|
foxstarfivelol
|
nalavip
|
2023-07-06 21:44:05
|
2023-07-06 19:33:32
| 152 | 94 |
jqy1o6q
|
jqxhf83
|
14sghr0
|
14sghr0
|
[WP] You’ve been bitten by a Zombie. You’ve already said tearful goodbyes to your loved ones as they leave you behind. The bite should make you turn in twenty minutes, so you sit down on a bench and wait… two hours later you’re still sitting there.
|
20 minutes left.
i pick up my pack. all that's in it are a few weapons and sentimental objects. i don't need anything else.
15 minutes left.
my team is out of sight. it's me against the horde. i bring out my first weapon. a shotgun.
10 minutes left.
the sounds of broken flesh are all to familiar. though now they represent something. every zombie i kill is a little more time i buy for the others.
1 minute left.
it's a miracle. i managed to kill them all. i cry in bittersweet relief that the others are protected. there is nothing else to do but sit down and cherish the memories.
0 minutes left.
i get up, not against my own will, like i'm some prisoner in my own body. quite the opposite. i get up through my own will.
\-1 minutes left.
something is wrong. i check my watch. i should be a zombie by now, and yet my heart is still beating, and my thoughts are still coherent.
\-2 minutes left.
i'm limping through the hall. maybe i can still reach them. maybe i can still see my family again.
\-5 minutes left.
there they are. maybe if i get their attention...
\-5 minutes and 5 seconds left.
they shot me. i guess i can't blame them, they probably assumed i was a zombie.
and yet it doesn't hurt, and the fluid that leaks from the wound is green.
i have never seen a zombie bleed green. in fact i have never seen a human bleed green.
and i had a thought. a thought that usually only philosophers have.
what am i?
|
It brings me back to the days of my youth. I’d smoke a joint with the boys, and everything would be just dandy.
Until the exact moment that it wasn’t. Then, the anxiety takes over, and you spend the next several minutes inspecting each breath. Does your heart usually beat that way? Do your muscles and joints always feel this sore? Is the tightness in your chest normal?
While high, I’d battle the fear of my body shutting down with the very real, practical knowledge that I was okay. It was just weed coursing through me.
Now, though, with this infection coursing through me. Every odd breath gets the utmost scrutiny. The tightness in my chest, likely due to anxiety, is solid evidence that I am slowly turning. I will be one of them soon.
At least I will be a lucky one. I am well dressed. I can walk, maybe even run. I could probably catch a few people and snack on them.
I won’t go hungry.
The moans grow closer. I finger the trigger as I press cold metal into my skull. Something stills my finger. I let the gun fall.
Maybe it would be better, going on as one of the dead. After the pain of being eaten, after I had died and turned… maybe it would be nice. I could rejoin Ma and Pa. I could rejoin Ashley and Tom and even little Maggie. We could eat as a family again, sitting around a little dinner table.
Only this time, a calf or a thigh would replace chicken nuggies.
A military jet buzzes overhead, moving West with the rest of them, over the safety of the Rocky Mountains.
The moans grow louder. I catch my first glimpse of the hoard: a little boy in baby blue overalls. His left leg drags behind him. His left eye is a ruinous pit of red.
Oddly, I feel totally at ease. At peace, as though my life was building to this one, perfect moment.
I greet the first zombie, a business dressed fellow who walks faster than the little boy.
He bites my neck gently, like a lover, then yanks back savagely.
|
foxstarfivelol
|
None
|
2023-07-06 21:44:05
|
2023-07-06 18:23:05
| 152 | 27 |
jqy1o6q
| null |
14sghr0
|
14sghr0
|
[WP] Your superpower isn’t anything special. You can make stuff disappear behind your back then pull it back out again. When a friend at a party asks you to do it to them it sounds like a great laugh. But when you pull them back out they look older, disheveled, and are frantic to be sent back.
|
I was not born special. The event of my birth was as normal as any other child, a run of the mill baby with run of the mill parents in a house far too cramped and a head far too big for my neck. Yet despite the absolute mundaneness of my birth, my parents loved me as if the world had become anchored around my existence. For them I think it really did.
The house in which I was raised was only special to us, and only because it was ours. To any passerby, any wandering eye on the sidewalk who glared into the windows, they would read our lives as nothing but simple. As a mother who cooked and a father who worked. A child with a sensible amount of curiosity and another who died young. But that wasn't notable, that was just life. That was my life.
But of course, somewhere along the way, I thought the world had begun to revolve around me too. Convinced so by how much love my parents showed me. I must be special if they thought so, my parents were never wrong. And in this rare, stupid instance, it turned out I was right.
I had realized quickly as a child that I could move things. Not move from place to place, but *between* places. I'd put something behind my back and poof, gone. Then with my other I'd reach into the apparent void and just like that, it'd be back again.
A superpower? Hardly. Hell, it was hardly even of any convenience. I had only ever used it as a party trick. A simple display of harmless fun to entertain guests. Well, at least that was until I understood where it all led to.
It was Jackson's thing, a party I guess you could call it. Not enough people to be considered a party I'd thought, but he was turning twenty-one and those few of us there were making a big show of it. Finally he asked me, as he always did when he introduced me to others, if I could show them my "superpower". I obliged, starting with a candle, then a book, a handful of marbles, simple stuff. Sometimes it'd come back odd, candles used, marbles scuffed, minor things that I couldn't explain.
But it didn't seem to be enough, not for Jackson.
"Ok, ok! Now do me!" The room shut up at his eagerness.
"Have uh...have you tried it on a person Harry-" A concerned voice spoke up from the back of the room. But Jackson insisted.
"What? If not even better! I'll be the first." Jackson continued. Everything you've ever put in comes back right?"
I was hesitant, scared, but eager to know where it all went. So, he positioned himself behind me. The small crowd of friend's leaned in as if to notice any imperfection. Any clue of how my oddity worked. But nothing. The moment my hand touched him he simply faded from our existence.
The crowd ooe'd but I trembled knowing the power I now held. If I decided to do nothing he would be gone forever. My hands shook. Instantly I pulled him back, reaching into the void behind my back and yanking. What came through the other side though was something *different*. Much older, grayed hair and circular wrinkles around his eyes. A pair of wire framed glasses he did not previously have.
"I...I...send me back. God please send me back." An audible gasp blew through the room at this older mans desperate pleas. His eyes shot between us as if we were nothing more than distant strangers. But I knew it was him.
"Jackson? What was on the other side- where did you go?" I stuttered the words out.
"Paradise, hell, purgatory, does it matter?! Send me back! Please god what sort of cruel dream!" He dropped to his knees in a desperate plea. Rather than wait for my reply he gripped my hand and dove at my back, dissapearing once again.
Instantly I yanked back, feeling around the void for his shape, but gripping nothing. Nothing came. Nobody in the room moved, they all just stared at one another in disbelief as I struggled. I put my hands behind my back and yanked, and yanked, and yanked, my heart pulsing in my chest.
"Jackson! Jack!" I yelled, pulling one last desperate time. And this time something did come from the other side. A person, child, smooth skinned and wide eyed, no older than five. He looked like Jackson, in an odd way; something deep in his eyes.
"Jackson?" I questioned in a whisper.
And the child shook its head up and down.
Then and there I knew, it was true I was not born special, I was born cursed.
|
"Are you sure? This isn't our scene. Wouldn't you much rather play Mario Kart in your parents basement?" I exclaim while my knee moves as quickly as my heart is beating. I feel myself sink deeper in the passenger seat of Darren's Accord. "Dude, just chill. Don't you think we're too old to be doing that every weekend. Just breathe a bit, maybe have a few beers. We'll have a good time." "You know my parents don't usually let me out, I don't wanna disobey them the first chance I get." "Listen Howe, all will be fine. If you follow my lead you might even enjoy yourself. Speaking of which, Tommy told me Jess Hernandez is gonna come through."
We make our way inside Tommy's house party. I make sure to take with me a stick of gum and some confidence (girls like that). The noise of the loud music and yelling was disorienting at first but after Darren and I met up with Tommy things felt all chill. I clocked Jess hanging with her friends near the drinks. As we settled in my mind see-sawed on whether I should go over there and start up some conversation. Darren noticed my internal struggle and my googly gaze at her direction. "Before your eyes pop out their sockets go talk to her. Dont knock yourself yet, how about you give her a conversation starter." "How do you propose I do that?" "Do the thing." As Darren flexes his eyebrows a couple times. "Are you crazy?! I can't, my parents said-." "Enough of that bull shit. Your hanging with the boys now. I say if you wanna chance to talk to Jess, you need to impress." "Okay, fine." I concede. Darren winks at me and smiles.
"Hey everyone check this out!" Yells Tommy. The room goes quiet as all eyes now stare directly at me and my friends. Darren tosses an empty beer bottle at me, I catch it surprisingly gracefully and I try super hard to concentrate as I "do the thing". In my hands the beer bottle disappears. Everyone roars. I look around, I see Jess. She's smiling and in disbelief. "You guys wanna see something really cool?" Darren steps up and whispers to me, "Make me disappear." I hesitate but as the party chants, "Do It!" I have no choice. I whisper to Darren, "Are you sure." He assures me all is fine. So I set Darren up infront of me, I put my hands on each of his shoulders. I drown out the noise around me, I close my eyes and lower my head, my arms shaking, my head feels compression. I raise my head to my own amazement Darren is no more. He's gone.
Everyone now holds their breath before I bring Darren back into physical reality. As he phases and reappears Darren doesn't look like Darren. He's back but he's frail, wrinkly, and old. He screams in fright. The party forms into a tighter circle. Darren falls as his knees give out, his body drops to the floor before I'm able to get a grip on him. I freak out, I feel my body go cold, I'm frozen like a statue. Tommy helps him up. The look on Darren's face haunts me, his words even more so: "What did you do to me. What took you so long? Why did you wait so long." The breath in my lungs disappear as quickly as he did, words on the edge of my tongue fail to my lips. Terrified I remain still. Some of my peers begin to turn on me, shoving me. Tommy yells at them to stop but maybe I deserve it. Darren out of breath asks me to turn him back. I don't know how. "If I try to make you disappear and reappear again how do I know you won't come back worse?" I've never used my powers on a living organism. I shouldn't have agreed to be a stupid party trick. "Please Howe, at least try." Tommy pleads. I look at old Darren and I can't in good conscience send him back knowing he may not return.
I need fresh air. I decide to try to leave the house. I pass Jess and I feel her stare at me in distraught. I can't handle the pressure surrounding me. Finally, I escape, alone outside I let out tears of stress. Tommy sends everyone home. As every scared and disappointed person retreat, they whisper things about me as if I can't hear them as they pass by. "He's a freak." "Howe just killed his own friend." "Best party ever." Finally, I go back inside. I see Darren and Tommy sitting on the living room couch. Darren pleads to me once more, "I need you to make me myself again Howe. I trust you. Please." "Focus on bringing him back the way he was before. You can do it." Tommy reassures me. Tommy holds Darren up as he is between my hands again. I close my eyes tight and deeply breathe through my nose. I lift my head as the light in the room can be felt through my eyelids. I feel Darren go. I begin to pray as I attempt to bring back my friend. My eyes welling up with tears, I squeeze as much of my powers out of me as I can. Tommy stays as silent as a mouse. My heart beats out of my chest. I yell and open my eyes, chills run down my spine. Between my hands something begins to reappear.
Dust.
|
GrunkleStanwhich
|
SmittyThee1
|
2023-01-26 02:31:30
|
2023-01-26 02:30:37
| 1,159 | 98 |
j5ws905
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j5ws3sk
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10lcgjs
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10lcgjs
|
[WP] A soul can reincarnate after they drink a bowl of magical soup to forget their past life. You've drank hundreds of bowls, but the memory is still as clear as day in your head.
|
“So how long does it take?” Alan asked as the Administrator started to pack away the bowl.
Pausing mid task the Administrator looked back up at Alan and blinked slowly at him “Pardon?”
“The whole memory wipe thing.” Alan replied with a twirling gesture to his temple “How long after I drink you magic soup do I lose my memories and can reincarnate?”
The Administrator stared at him for a long moment before saying “It’s meant to happen instantly. You still remember your past life?”
“Yea.” Alan nodded.
“All of it?”
“Well, as much I ever did I guess.”
Turning to look at the bowl in his hand the Administrator asked “Are you sure you drank all of it?”
“Of course I did. You would have noticed otherwise when you took the bowl back right?”
“Right.” The Administrator said uncertainly “Let’s just try again shall we?” he suggested as he placed the bowl back in front of Alan. Picking up a small flask the Administrator uncorked it and started to fill the bowl, pouring out more of soup than could possible be contained in such a small vessel. Once the bowl was filled to him brim the Administrator slowly pushed it towards Alan who carefully picked it up as to not spill any and brought it to his lips. Gulping down the soup Alan set the bowl back down on the table and met the gaze of the Administrator who was watching expectantly “Well, anything?”
“Nope, still me.” Alan shrugged.
“I don’t understand…” the Administrator muttered to himself as he brought the flask to his nose and gave an experimental sniff. “Here, try drinking straight from the flask.”
“Sure, if you think it’ll work.” Alan said as he took the flask and brought it to his mouth. Swallowing as quickly as the liquid filled his mouth Alan drank continuously for several minutes before pulling it away and shook his head.
“This… This doesn’t make any sense… This has never happened before!” the Administrator cried out.
“So what do we do now?” Alan asked as he tried to hand the flask back to the Administrator only for him to push it back towards him.
“You just keep drinking!” he insisted as he got to his feet. “I’ve got to tell someone about this!” he said before fleeing out the door.
Shrugging his shoulders Alan brought the flask back to his lips and started to sip. After an indeterminable amount of time passed the door flung open as the Administrator returned with someone in tow. “It’s this one!” the Administrator said as he pointed an accusing finger at Alan. “He drank two full bowls and even straight from the flask but he’s still here and-”
“Calm yourself.” the Senior Administrator said as he held up a placating hand. “While such an occurrence is exceptionally rare it is not unheard of.” Taking a seat opposite Alan the Senior Administrator said “This is usually the result of a particularly strong memory having taken root directly into the soul. To exorcise it we simply need to identify the memory and pry it free from the soul. Now then, Alan was it? Can you think of any memory that could have such a hold upon you?”
“Nothing really comes to mind.” Alan shook his head.
“Come now.” The Senior Administrator said with a kindly smile “You were over 60 years old when you passed, there must be something?”
“I lead a kind of uneventful life to be honest with you.” he said awkwardly. “I never had any family, not many friends, I worked a dead end job; me dying was probably the most eventful thing to ever happen to me.” he finished lamely as he scratched the back of his head. “I was kind of looking forward to going back and making a better go of it this time around."
“mmm, then perhaps it was some form of trauma that you have repressed but still weighs heavily on your soul.” the Senior Administrator pondered as he stroke his chin. “Let us find out together, your hands if you please.” he said as held out his own hand on the table palms up. Doing as he was told Alan placed his hands in those of the Senior Administrator causing an image of a diner to appear between them “It seems to be a restaurant of some sort. Does it seem familiar at all?”
“Not really. I’ve probably ate at hundreds of places like this in my life. I can’t think of anything traumatic happening in one.”
“Let us see how it plays out.” he said as the image shifted to inside the diner where a twenty something Alan sat in a booth being served by a young waitress. “She is rather attractive no? Perhaps your deep seated memory involves this young woman?” the Senior Administrator suggested only to notice Alan looking pale. “Is something the matter?”
“I...er think I remember what memory this is.” he said evasively. “We don’t have to watch any more.”
“Of course we do. How else will we help you move on.” the Senior Administrator replied as the memory continued to show the waitress placing a plate in front of Alan.
“Here’s your meal, do you need anything else?” she said with a smile.
“No, I’m good thanks.” he replied with a shy smile.
“Enjoy your meal.” she smiled.
“Thanks.” Alan replied “You too.”
|
The afterlife wasn't what I thought it would be; wasn't what they told me. I felt a fool, after the fact, to have believed them.
The tales of men.
It wasn't until I shed my former body– dropped it like a coat on the floor after the end of a hard day's work, that everything became clear to me. It was as though I had wandered through life with a static in my head that I'd grown used to, maybe even came to enjoy. Because in the afterlife your mind is as clear as a crystal bell that rings true every time the rooster calls.
Every detail.
Every moment.
And all the time.
You're something different when you break away from the things that made you human. Not something necessarily better, but different. You bloom like a flower in a field, but with directions for what happens when your pedals blow away with the wind. The collective beauty of it all loses its novelty, and you yearn for the things that you never dreamed you would.
Evil. Revenge. Pain. Suffering. And most importantly, struggle.
A baby born, wet, sticky, and cold lacks a compass. They may have their parents if they're not some unlucky SOB, but that alone isn't enough. Life is a web tangled with threads of entropy, gossamers of the unknown, and it's one's own personal journey to avoid the many spiders that populate it.
Drugs, gambling, alcohol, whores, hedonism.
I made some sweet vibrations in life; heavy ones that pulled every thread and called every eight-legged bastard straight to me, fangs glistening, and venom at the ready. The sun never set without venom in my veins. Never rose without me scrambling for more of it. Life was never enough for a guy like me.
And it seemed indeed neither was death.
I was told everyone grew bored with the afterlife at some point or another. Reincarnation was a certainty; not an if, but a when for every new flower that bloomed there. Each would inevitably crave the things that came with life and seek it again for themselves. It started with a journey– a pilgrimage known as the *Long Walk*. Some left in groups, others alone across a long field filled with flowers that watched as you passed.
From there, they'd cross a vast wetland, a barren desert, a wheatfield that stretched as far as the eye could see, and then a long arctic plane filled with snowcapped mountains, glaciers, and long stretches of white wilderness. Through a forest of golden leaves, a swamp of spewing gasses, and lastly a grassland that led to a single structure in the far distance. It sat nestled within the trunk of a great tree, the leaves of which one could see from where they first bloomed.
For as many who leave the garden at a time, the tree was never busy. Only ever a few souls at a time stay for long. It was like a traditional ramen shop like the kind they had in Japan. You'd pass under pearl white drapes and take your seat at the counter. A turtle man would greet you and ask you why you wished to return.
Any answer was good enough, it wasn't a test.
He'd then slide you a bowl of steaming soup, and ask you to reflect on your past life as it cooled. He said the same thing to me every time as though I hadn't been here every day for the past four seasons.
"Bathe in the steam; this step favors the bold. Inhale your new purpose and exhale the old."
I'd stare into his soulful reptilian eyes and take the soup into me again, again, and again, day after day. I would see others take but a single spoonful and vanish where they were. It was a gateway, you see. It was right in our instructions from the moment we bloomed. Much like I had shed my old body, I would need to shed my memories of it in order to be given life anew.
"It doesn't work," I'd tell the turtle.
But he'd simply stare back at me wisely; silently; never uttering a word, as though he were simply existing on a loop.
And there weren't any further instructions.
No contingencies, and no workarounds. In life, there were many pathways to achieve one's goal, but in death, there was only this. It was absolute. I spent years visiting every day and drinking the soup, but I couldn't forget who I was; couldn't emerge from my chrysalis as a fresh face with a new story.
I was stuck as me. As this.
And in time I grew from remorseful to angry. I finished the bowl and smashed it against the wall, only to get no new reaction from the turtle man. He would just watch me through his big all-knowing eyes, as though pitying me. As though he had the answer and was withholding it from me. His gaze drove me to madness day after day. He would never say a word, save for his stupid rhyme about inhaling my new purpose. I inhaled all the steam every time and all I exhaled were curses at the end of each unsuccessful attempt to pass through the gateway, as was my right to do so.
My divine right.
I snapped.
I leaped over the counter and bludgeoned the turtle to death with his own cookware. I ventured into his kitchen and found behind it a cave.
The inside of the tree.
Gold and silver flecks blew past my face as I ventured into the trunk. A warmth washed over me as I reached what I imagined was the center. I felt a wind beneath my feet that pushed with a gentle force and lifted me into the air. I ascended into the trunk of the tree. I saw things no soul has seen. Understood truths available only to one willing to take. The turtle was dead. If I couldn't go home, then nobody would.
I would exist as I always had– as a spider.
As a spider in the tree.
r/A15MinuteMythos
|
Saiga123
|
a15minutestory
|
2023-01-30 19:14:02
|
2023-01-30 18:17:50
| 84 | 35 |
j6jcdk7
|
j6j3a24
|
10p2t6g
|
10p2t6g
|
[WP] While checking out an abandoned island with your new friends, you decide to look at the local pictures online. The only one nearby is a photo of you and your friends posted a month ago, before any of you even met.
|
"AAAAGH!" I screamed as Bonnie, one of the new friends I have made over the summer break, snuck up on me and grabbed me by the shoulders, instantly pulling me out of my uneasy slumber.
"HAH-!" she laughed loudly, clearly happy with the fright she gave me. "Come on lazybones, you've slept all day."
"Right, right. I'm going," I said and rubbed my eyes weakly. A stretch, a yawn and I was out of bed, heading out of the houseboat to join my new friends. It's been a fun couple of weeks - we met at an exclusive party and immediately hit it off, all four of us, and ever since that we've been getting from one spot of trouble into another, having the time of our lives. An endless party.
"Remind me- wha- aah!" I said with a barely suppressed yawn, "what we're doing on an abandoned island again, Ranjit?"
"Oh come on mate," Ranjit, the cleverly dressed man leading us all on this foolhardy expedition, responded, "it's an *abandoned island*! We explore it, find a chest o' gold, and get famous!"
"Right," I glared at him.
"Or, you know, just bond over the *epic* adventure," he added.
"*Right.*"
"Oi!" I heard from behind Ranjit, "not like we're going blind, innit?"
"Hey Summer," I smiled at the upbeat freckled girl that appeared from behind Ranjit.
"Aye, got us some satellite images. Lay of the land and all!" she smiled and pointed at her laptop. Fancy way of saying 'Google Maps' but who am I to judge? We huddled together, eager to inspect the island properly.
"Not many images, are there?" I said disappointed. "This one seems to be of this beach, click on it."
Summer obliged and the image of the beach we were standing on, judging by the shape of the nearby reef, started slowly loading. But with every pixel, the whole image grew more and more... wrong.
"Weird. This place is supposed to be abandoned, right?" I asked.
"Yeah," Ranjit noted.
"So who are the people in this photo?" I said and pointed to the 4 figures. "Zoom in?"
She did, eventually getting to street view. And we saw their faces.
Our faces.
It was an image of us as if taken by a photographer directly in front of us. We all looked up instantly but saw no one; yet the picture, dated more than a month back - before we've ever even met - showed us all in our current attire, standing where we currently were, with our currently dumbfounded looks.
"What's going on?" I asked in a hushed voice.
"I- I don't... I-" Bonnie tried to speak but found no words.
"What's this?" Ranjit said and pointed to the monitor. On the image - our portrait - was a blur, something behind us, dark and tall.
I tried to turn but was stopped when some sort of spike pierced through Ranjit's back, running him through and splattering us all with blood. My instinct kicked in. Flight.
I ran. Ran as fast as I could. I only managed to turn around once to see the thing, tall, hideous and unnatural, descend upon Summer with an equal level of cruel savagery, cleaving her nearly in twain. I saw the spike it killed Ranjit with was its arm, resembling a crab claw. I saw it snip Summer's head off as she tried to scream. I saw it look at me with dark, beady eyes; the only thing on its otherwise pale, smooth face. And then I stopped looking back and ran.
I ran. And ran. And ran. Until I could run no longer. My heart felt like it was going to explode from my chest, my lungs were on fire. I collapsed into a nearby shrub and tried my best to conceal myself with the spare leaves.
It didn't make sense. The photo was impossible. The monster was impossible. Ranjit and Summer - they - were they dead? Actually dead? This can't be happening. It can't. An abandoned island, no help, monster... is...
Is this Hell?
I had no time to finish the thought. I looked up and saw the creature, wet and slimy, hideous beyond measure, standing above me, pincer raised.
​
I screamed.
​
"AAAAGH!"
I screamed as Bonnie, one of the new friends I have made over the summer break, snuck up on me and grabbed me by the shoulders, instantly pulling me out of my slumber.
"HAH-!" she laughed loudly, clearly happy with the fright she gave me. "Come on lazybones, you've slept all day."
"Right, right. I'm going," I said and rubbed my eyes weakly. A stretch, a yawn and I was out of bed, heading out of the houseboat to join my new friends. It's been a fun couple of weeks - we met at an exclusive party and immediately hit it off, all four of us, and ever since that we've been getting from one spot of trouble into another, having the time of our lives.
An *endless* party.
|
People always talked about the good old days of the '70s and '80s at Boblo Island in Detroit. It was an amusement park from 1898 to 1993, but it has since become abandoned and ruined.
Roland and his friends lived for exploring abandoned buildings, which Detroit had plenty to offer outside the concrete jungle of the bustling downtown.
They had seen the massive Packard Plant and they even managed to sneak in a trip to the beautiful art deco train station before Ford swooped in, purchased it, and made it inaccessible to the trespassers.
But the holy grail of it all was Boblo Island, the desolate amusement park. There was a lot to see. The abandoned boat was still anchored by the island, not to mention the incredible dancehall built by Henry Ford. There were trains and roller coaster rides to gawk at too. Since it was on an island, they would be one of the very few people that had ever gone exploring there.
It required a boat to get there, and a day came by where Roland and his pals were able to access a boat owned by his friend's father. They felt like pioneers when the four of them managed to cram into a small boat and take a trip to Boblo Island at dusk.
Upon reaching the island, they parked the boat on the beach and got out. Roland and his three other friends marveled at the abandoned boat sitting 200 yards away on a dock. Streams of black lines ran down the windows of the once sterling white ship. Then they scanned the whole island and saw the shadowy figures of the roller coasters and the pavilion and the legendary dance hall.
"God, I can't believe my mom came in the clutch with this map!" Jimmy yelled. He had a pamphlet map his mom had saved from the '80s. A treasure and a relic in the Detroit area.
"Dude, shut up and keep your voice down!" Roland snapped but whispered.
"What? It's not like anyone else is around." Jimmy flapped his hand at Roland.
"Remember that time You were yelling in the Packard Plant and wild dogs barked at us and chased us? Yeah, that wasn't funny," Layla said.
Their other friend Boris was quiet in the corner. Boris preferred exploring and taking the sights in as opposed to talking. Boris loved imagining what the place used to be like when it was full of life.
"Relax, there aren't going to be any dogs here. And if there are, we can easily get back to the boat and be on our merry way," Jimmy said. "Now, how's about we go on that boat?"
"Hold on one second." Boris pulled out photos from his fanny pack. They were pictures taken in the '70s and '80s that he bought at a thrift store. Each photo had a family posing in front of the roller coaster or the dance hall or the boat itself. But something gave him the chills as he referenced the photos again. "Uh, guys..."
Roland and Jimmy were arguing about something stupid in a fury of whispers.
"Layla, check this out. This is really freaky. I feel like I'm seeing something." Boris waved Layla over.
He handed her the photos and she flipped through them.
"Do you notice anything really weird about those photos? I got those at the thrift store but they look totally different now!"
Layla felt her chest tighten up. "Boris, what the hell is this? Is this some kind of a prank?"
"No! I swear, you saw these photos earlier. They're the same ones that were in my bag. I don't know what happened to them."
Layla pinched herself since she thought she was in a nightmare. "Boris... This looks like us. These are pictures of us on the island having *fun*. What the hell! Those are your glasses, and your same hair in this photo from 1970! And that's me! I own those shorts and that t-shirt but I'm not even wearing that right now *what the hell*!"
"I think we should leave this place," Boris uttered, but loud enough for Roland and Jimmy to hear.
"What's that? You want to leave?" Jimmy echoed. "We just got here."
"Roland, check this out," Boris said. Roland was the unofficial leader of the group, whatever he said was practically law. As he walked over, Boris gave him the photos.
Roland furrowed his brow and had confusion written all over his face. "Uh, dude, what's up with these photos?"
"Hey! Jimmy! Where are you going!" Layla shouted.
Jimmy took off running toward the abandoned park while the three of them were analyzing the pics.
"Dammit!" Roland whispered. "Did you Photoshop these or something to freak us out?"
"No, I swear! These are the photos that I bought from the thrift store," Boris said.
Roland exhaled. "Well, we can't leave without Jimmy so I guess we either stay here and wait for him or we go get him right now."
Then the three of them heard a blood curdling scream that sounded like Jimmy's tortured voice. Goosebumps covered their bodies.
r/randallcooper
I recently finished a story that has a same mystery type of feel. Check it out [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/s2kxxl/club_novus_part_1/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button)! :)
I'm also from Michigan and Boblo Island is a very real place. It's a fun little rabbit hole to read about.
|
SirPiecemaker
|
randallfcooper
|
2023-01-29 16:01:08
|
2023-01-29 15:22:08
| 198 | 14 |
j6dh6da
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j6dbhda
|
10o836s
|
10o836s
|
[WP] In a world of dragons, sorcery, war, and monsters, there are many risks and even risk takers. Everyone though, elf, monster, or man knows to avoid those few ancient ruins that contain symbols of suffering and a word of the ancients, RADIATION.
|
# No Place of Honour
*Part One of Two*
“I have a bad feeling about this place.”
Freya shot an annoyed glance over her shoulder. “Keep it down, Marik. I’d rather not alert those guards we passed earlier.”
The little wizard wrung his hands, looking up at her with wide eyes. “That’s just it – I’ve never seen armour like that, and we all read the warnings. That was more languages than I could even count, all saying the same thing!” His voice dropped to a whisper as he eyed the huge metal doors they were huddled beneath. “Turn back.”
“They *would* say that,” Kley muttered as they tinkered with the locks. Their tools lay in a haphazard pile at their feet, several pieces of carefully disassembled alarms and traps scattered around them. “Whoever built the place wants to keep their treasures away from clever entrepreneurs like us. Ghost stories work just fine!”
“But some of the texts out there aren’t even spoken any more! They–”
A noise drew Freya’s attention away from the whispered argument. She peered down the rough-hewn corridor they’d followed to reach the doors, and saw the flickering glow of torchlight steadily coming closer.
“Shit,” she hissed. “Better hurry up, Kley, we’re about to have company.”
“Almost got it–”
*”Did you hear that?”*
“Nine Hells,” Freya cursed, fumbling at her belt for the little canister she knew was there. “Out of time!”
*”Intruders! You must not open the vault!”*
*”Stop them!”*
Freya leaned away from the wall and threw the little canister towards the running figures. It hit the floor a few feet in front of them and shattered, erupting in a bright flash and burst of deafening sound that sent the darkly shrouded forms reeling away from it with shrieks of pain and shock.
“Any time now!” she grunted, readying her pistol. “I’d prefer not to shoot someone tonight!”
“Got it!” Kley yelled, throwing their tools together as fast as they could. “Get the door!”
“About time!”
Freya chucked a smoke bomb after the dazzler for good measure, then turned to haul at the solid block of steel, the hinges groaning with protest as she strained against the weight. The doors shifted far too slowly, the shouts of their pursuers getting closer by the second, more clamouring voices joining in as the alarm echoed down the halls of the cave system.
Marik shrieked as a blindly fired net smacked into the doors and fell to the floor in a tangled heap. The halfling scurried away, pressing themselves through the widening gap in the door as soon as they could, Kley following hot on their heels.
Freya cursed and dropped her backpack, pressing herself flat through the narrow gap after them. She slipped through with a grunt, the air pressed out of her chest.
*”You can’t! Please, come back!”*
“Close it, Marik!” Kley yelled.
The little mage nodded and pointed his staff at the door. “Arcane Lock!”
*”No!”*
|
First time writing a prompt and english is not my first language.
“I want that dragon dead!”
“Sire we can’t attack the dragon at it’s hoard. The plaguedragon lives in the forbidden forest, we can’t reach her.”
“Pah, that beast has been pestering my kingdom since time immemorial. Find a way to slay her, I’m sick of her, every couple of years it ransacks our grain storage and shortly thereafter her brood descends that sicking Mushroom forest.”
“That might be true sire but how are we meant to approach? The last time your father Curie III send in an expedition they shortly returned and died an agonizing death over the next couple of weeks. And their armor could not be reused whoever wore it after died as well, albeit slower. The brood is also quickly deposed of by our glowing guardians – shall their fur be ever glowing.”
“Shall their fur be ever glowing … fine, then send for the Wizard immediately, he shall think of something.”
“Of course Sire, I’ll inform the mighty Oppenheimer immediately.”
\-
“It is I, Oppenheimer, you have summoned me Sire?”
“Yes yes, you are to find a solution to the menace Typhon.”
“The creature living in the mushroom forest Sire? What of it?”
“My knights reminded me that her lair is unapproachable. Because of the folly of the Ancients.”
“Aaah yes most unfortunate, well we could try several approaches Sire? All of them quite costly one way or another.”
“What do you propose Wizard?”
“Three ideas come to mind. First ask your elderly knights if they would be willing to slay the beast. They will surely die, but they might be willing since their names would go down in history, also give their families an incentive. Second the ancient texts mention a metal, which protects from the folly of the Ancients. The blacksmith could fashion armor out of it, if we are able to find it my Liege. Third, we wait for Typhon to approach the next time and fight it while it raids a grain storage or poison the grain in the hopes that this will kill it.”
“I like your ideas Wizard, even though I’m skeptical that she can be killed by poison if she lives in such a hazardous area. We shall do all three proposals together. Find out if there is a mine of this wondrous metal in my Kingdom, if not acquire enough from the neighboring kingdoms. Fashion suits of armor out of it with the blacksmiths and give it to anyone who is willing to fight the beast, I want at least 20 men. If possible find a poison which is able to injure the creature if not alright kill it.”
“Sire such things take time, I’m not sure if we will be ready by the next attack.”
“Well she hasn’t destroyed the kingdom yet find a solution as fast a possible.”
“If I may, if the guardians - shall their fur be ever glowing...“
“Shall their fur be ever glowing.”
“wouldn’t kill the entire brood I could study the young and find a suitable poison, maybe find a weakness…“
“Oppenheimer you know as well as I, that no one can control the guardians. They go wherever they please. Also I find the idea of the living brood rather uncomfortable. If you want a specimen you’ll have to find a dead one which they guardians left.”
“Of course Sire, anything else?”
“No get to work, I want that Dragon dead.”
|
Zetakh
|
campusschampus
|
2023-05-03 19:15:53
|
2023-05-03 16:29:26
| 330 | 48 |
jiqh552
|
jiprbo8
|
136lj9v
|
136lj9v
|
[WP] In a world of dragons, sorcery, war, and monsters, there are many risks and even risk takers. Everyone though, elf, monster, or man knows to avoid those few ancient ruins that contain symbols of suffering and a word of the ancients, RADIATION.
|
It has long been known that the Precursors, seemingly distantly related to Humans, harnessed lost energies capable of both raising cities and leveling them. Energies so powerful that they could melt one's body into itself by mere proximity. The Radiant, as the material has been named, is rare. However, just a handful of the valuable pellets could fuel an entire city for months to even years, though how the Precursors seemingly extracted more energy than the pellets could reasonably contain is unknown. It is, of course, assumed to be arcane in nature, as with the rest of their artifacts.
The warmth, a lie.
At some point around the time of the Convergence, a turning point in Precursor history that seemed to cause a descent into madness, they locked these energies away in erratic basalt structures. Collapsed towers, corrupted Maze-Cities, platforms between hills littered with runes of danger. No one knows what caused the appearance of the Anomalies, but it is commonly understood to have been related to the subsequent downfall of the Precursors. The few who survive long enough to both enter and leave the Anomalies rarely live more than a month after returning home. Most of those survivors are Elves though, who instead usually die after a year.
The tombs, a shield.
The brightest Dwarven scholars of Dhenfaldur determined that, at some point between recent history and the Convergence, in an event known as the Cataclysm, the planet grew cold, angry, and hostile to life. It killed all but the most stalwart of plants, and its rage did not fade for decades. It is estimated that the best preserved Precursor cities fell during this time, having been spared from the original Cataclysm that all but erased the rest.
The world, a warning.
Many theories exist on what caused the Cataclysm, marking the complete disappearance of Precursor civilization, but many major proposals focus on the Broken Mountains, a range believed to have been rent apart by the Precursors. The center of this split is the largest Anomaly known to exist, a massive basalt pillar seemingly dropped from the sky, jealously guarded by the Dragons. No visitor, not even Elvish, has lasted more than a day after exploring it, but all tell stories of a distorted place so Radiant that most of the area inside has melted. Many experience the same fate, melting into their beds before poisoning their surroundings with the same Radiant Energy locked away by the Precursors.
The Radiant, a corruption.
And yet, some fools refuse to leave the Anomalies alone. Many die each year due to this, to the point that hubris and the Radiant energies have been intertwined.
In that case, perhaps lost technologies, especially those harvesting the Radiant, should remain lost, so the Cataclysm may never occur again. At least, not before we can do away with the hubris shared by the Precursors.
|
First time writing a prompt and english is not my first language.
“I want that dragon dead!”
“Sire we can’t attack the dragon at it’s hoard. The plaguedragon lives in the forbidden forest, we can’t reach her.”
“Pah, that beast has been pestering my kingdom since time immemorial. Find a way to slay her, I’m sick of her, every couple of years it ransacks our grain storage and shortly thereafter her brood descends that sicking Mushroom forest.”
“That might be true sire but how are we meant to approach? The last time your father Curie III send in an expedition they shortly returned and died an agonizing death over the next couple of weeks. And their armor could not be reused whoever wore it after died as well, albeit slower. The brood is also quickly deposed of by our glowing guardians – shall their fur be ever glowing.”
“Shall their fur be ever glowing … fine, then send for the Wizard immediately, he shall think of something.”
“Of course Sire, I’ll inform the mighty Oppenheimer immediately.”
\-
“It is I, Oppenheimer, you have summoned me Sire?”
“Yes yes, you are to find a solution to the menace Typhon.”
“The creature living in the mushroom forest Sire? What of it?”
“My knights reminded me that her lair is unapproachable. Because of the folly of the Ancients.”
“Aaah yes most unfortunate, well we could try several approaches Sire? All of them quite costly one way or another.”
“What do you propose Wizard?”
“Three ideas come to mind. First ask your elderly knights if they would be willing to slay the beast. They will surely die, but they might be willing since their names would go down in history, also give their families an incentive. Second the ancient texts mention a metal, which protects from the folly of the Ancients. The blacksmith could fashion armor out of it, if we are able to find it my Liege. Third, we wait for Typhon to approach the next time and fight it while it raids a grain storage or poison the grain in the hopes that this will kill it.”
“I like your ideas Wizard, even though I’m skeptical that she can be killed by poison if she lives in such a hazardous area. We shall do all three proposals together. Find out if there is a mine of this wondrous metal in my Kingdom, if not acquire enough from the neighboring kingdoms. Fashion suits of armor out of it with the blacksmiths and give it to anyone who is willing to fight the beast, I want at least 20 men. If possible find a poison which is able to injure the creature if not alright kill it.”
“Sire such things take time, I’m not sure if we will be ready by the next attack.”
“Well she hasn’t destroyed the kingdom yet find a solution as fast a possible.”
“If I may, if the guardians - shall their fur be ever glowing...“
“Shall their fur be ever glowing.”
“wouldn’t kill the entire brood I could study the young and find a suitable poison, maybe find a weakness…“
“Oppenheimer you know as well as I, that no one can control the guardians. They go wherever they please. Also I find the idea of the living brood rather uncomfortable. If you want a specimen you’ll have to find a dead one which they guardians left.”
“Of course Sire, anything else?”
“No get to work, I want that Dragon dead.”
|
TheFinalDawnYT
|
campusschampus
|
2023-05-04 05:51:09
|
2023-05-03 16:29:26
| 64 | 48 |
jisr2rp
|
jiprbo8
|
136lj9v
|
136lj9v
|
[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.
|
Thousand years ago, were the age of the ancient gods of infinite power and possibilities. They built and destroyed civilizations in the snap of their fingers.
They travel the skies and reached the stars. Voices are sent and travels the wind. Messages were seen through pieces of glass. Looking mirrors allowed them to communicate across miles apart.
Stored food in metal containers to prevent them from perishing immediately. Prophecies and visions are shown through windows. Carriage with no horses, and boats with no sails.
And despite of all the mystics and enchantments, they turned to each other and the war of the gods have caused their demise. They used their powers to level kingdoms, knock down huge metal trees, and cursed the lands. Lands, that once treaded shall caused incurable sickness.
One of the curse lands is the Ruins of Was’gton, home to dark creatures with two headed deer, three eyed bears, two bodied dog, and many more. It is covered with overgrown trees, dense that no light passes through. Many heroes tried to map it and none succeeded. But the maps they all made were put together to help create a progressive map.
The mystiques were soon revealed by a party of legendary heroes of humans, elves, dwarves and a harpy. They were consisted of Darren the Huntsman, Steve the Spearmaster, Antwan the Elven Archer, Lakesha the Elven Diviner, Mario the Dwarf Butcher, Carlo the Dwarf Axeman and Karen the Harpy Navigator.
Using all the maps put together by the first heroes, they explored the Ruins of Was’gton. Fought the dark creatures that cross their path. And endured the sickness that continue to wear them down. And right across a toxic river is a small mountain with flat top.
In this place they felt strong power leaking, the power that caused the curse of the land. They pushed through. This is the only ruins that has most of the structure is intact. But cracks on the walls are visible and on the brink of crumbling. And right across the most secured room, ancient writings were written - RADIATION.
They finally found the source of dark magic. And to prevent it from ever leaking dark magic again, the party did all they can to cover the ancient temple. Using mud and tar, they sealed all cracks. The party decided to dig a trench around the temple connecting to the river to let the water flow around it. As water has mystical properties that wash out dark energies.
They were successful to contain the dark energy but at the cost of their health. The party wrote a book of their adventure and listed all the cautionary measures to survive curse lands. After all Ruins of Was’gton is not the only cursed land. There are hundreds across the continent.
The glyphs of RADIATION meant dark magic. Beware of the sign or face the danger and accept your fate.
|
First time writing a prompt and english is not my first language.
“I want that dragon dead!”
“Sire we can’t attack the dragon at it’s hoard. The plaguedragon lives in the forbidden forest, we can’t reach her.”
“Pah, that beast has been pestering my kingdom since time immemorial. Find a way to slay her, I’m sick of her, every couple of years it ransacks our grain storage and shortly thereafter her brood descends that sicking Mushroom forest.”
“That might be true sire but how are we meant to approach? The last time your father Curie III send in an expedition they shortly returned and died an agonizing death over the next couple of weeks. And their armor could not be reused whoever wore it after died as well, albeit slower. The brood is also quickly deposed of by our glowing guardians – shall their fur be ever glowing.”
“Shall their fur be ever glowing … fine, then send for the Wizard immediately, he shall think of something.”
“Of course Sire, I’ll inform the mighty Oppenheimer immediately.”
\-
“It is I, Oppenheimer, you have summoned me Sire?”
“Yes yes, you are to find a solution to the menace Typhon.”
“The creature living in the mushroom forest Sire? What of it?”
“My knights reminded me that her lair is unapproachable. Because of the folly of the Ancients.”
“Aaah yes most unfortunate, well we could try several approaches Sire? All of them quite costly one way or another.”
“What do you propose Wizard?”
“Three ideas come to mind. First ask your elderly knights if they would be willing to slay the beast. They will surely die, but they might be willing since their names would go down in history, also give their families an incentive. Second the ancient texts mention a metal, which protects from the folly of the Ancients. The blacksmith could fashion armor out of it, if we are able to find it my Liege. Third, we wait for Typhon to approach the next time and fight it while it raids a grain storage or poison the grain in the hopes that this will kill it.”
“I like your ideas Wizard, even though I’m skeptical that she can be killed by poison if she lives in such a hazardous area. We shall do all three proposals together. Find out if there is a mine of this wondrous metal in my Kingdom, if not acquire enough from the neighboring kingdoms. Fashion suits of armor out of it with the blacksmiths and give it to anyone who is willing to fight the beast, I want at least 20 men. If possible find a poison which is able to injure the creature if not alright kill it.”
“Sire such things take time, I’m not sure if we will be ready by the next attack.”
“Well she hasn’t destroyed the kingdom yet find a solution as fast a possible.”
“If I may, if the guardians - shall their fur be ever glowing...“
“Shall their fur be ever glowing.”
“wouldn’t kill the entire brood I could study the young and find a suitable poison, maybe find a weakness…“
“Oppenheimer you know as well as I, that no one can control the guardians. They go wherever they please. Also I find the idea of the living brood rather uncomfortable. If you want a specimen you’ll have to find a dead one which they guardians left.”
“Of course Sire, anything else?”
“No get to work, I want that Dragon dead.”
|
curse1304
|
campusschampus
|
2023-05-03 21:19:46
|
2023-05-03 16:29:26
| 75 | 48 |
jir0ago
|
jiprbo8
|
136lj9v
|
136lj9v
|
[WP] You are an assassin with a reputation for pulling of very public hits without being noticed. You achieve this not by being extremely stealthy, but by making sure that your kills are so absurd and ridiculous that no one would ever believe the witnesses if they told their stories.
|
As the cart rolled forward the man behind yelled, "Runaway hotdog cart! Out the way!", gesturing side to side for those in the park to move. The steel cart careened forward, barely avoided by the crowds and followed closely behind by the frantic stand worker.
It swerved left and right, the steel missile rocketing down hill and picking up speed until it had left the worker behind.
"A baby! Oh god there's a baby!" A shrill womans voice cried out. And she was right. Down at the bottom of the hill sat a lone stroller, no parent in sight. It seemed the cart did not prefer the company of infants, because just as she screamed the cart swerved left, directly in the path of the stroller.
"I've got it!" A voice yelled out, then a large man leaped in front of the steel brick with impressive agility.
But it seemed he did not have it. As when he rose up to his feet, his body between the cart and the child, the cart caught him in the torso in an explosion of hot dogs and metal pieces. Screams. Yells. A crumpled body on the floor. And somewhere in the shadows of the park, a man with a grin on his face.
When the police arrived, the sea of paramedics and investigators, they quickly determined it to be an accident. Brake failure on the cart, is what they'd said. When asked about the bricks meant to be behind the wheels the employee swore they had been, and of course, he was right.
And of course the man had died on impact, because that was how it was meant to be. Too ridiculous to question as anything other than an accident. Then negligence, the fact that humans are inherently flawed creatures.
The detectives *would* question why a man so notoriously selfish as Gregory Solth jumped to save another, but they would be asking the wrong question. They would look into his life and determine possibly he intended to turn his negative reputation all around. But the question was rather: had he jumped at all. The question was if that had even been his voice that had called out, "I've got it!" And further, what of the baby? Who's was it and where had it gone?
The question was why had so many strange deaths, accidental of course, been popping up all over the city. The balcony pool of CEO Carl Lincoln breaking, dropping him twelve stories. J.M Lenoy, a man tied to the mob, slipping on a wet floor sign and breaking his neck. Now Gregory Sloth, tech giant, dying to a hotdog stand.
But then again, they were all accidents, and nobody questions an accident.
|
The stall was all set to go. I walked around one last time. Colours were loud but not obnoxious. The tubes were set. Disposable mouthpieces were in their containers. All the tanks were fully and ready to go.
Take a deep breath, exhale. Control your breathing...
And GO.
_Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Squeak Stall._
**Remember how you used to laugh when you spoke like a chipmunk.**
**But it only last for one sentence?**
**At the Squeak Store, we make you a chipmunk for 15 minutes.**
**Yes, 15 whole minutes.**
**Yes that is 900 seconds.**
**Imagine the fun.**
**Imagine the pranks you can pull with 900 seconds of chipmunk voice.**
**There are disposable mouthpieces available and you can a free trial of 30 seconds**
What followed was the most irritating 15 minutes of my life. Random people coming up, having a pull and talking to each other in that chip munky voice!
Argh! My bleeding ears.
And then, I saw them walking towards my stall.
All in their three pieces suit, leather suitcases and Rolex watch.
**Hey, it's the Shark Tank panel!**
**C'mon guys. Have a whiff, it's free! And you don't have to invest at all!"**
**Imagine using a chipmunk voice to reject a proposal!**
Long story short, they all took a whiff. In fact, several whiffs. But did they purchase any from me... No... But being the entrepreneur that I am, I cut them a deal.
**Ok, guys. No hard sell from me.**
**No, seriously. I not looking to make a buck here. Especially from you guys.**
**But here is what I will do instead.**
**All of you get a free canister. All I want is that for this evening show, all of you use it together before discussing on live TV. Imagine the ratings if you drop teasers. Imagine the numbers of viewers you will get once it goes viral.**
**Hashtag sharktank chipmunks**
**Hashtag 15minutes of chipmunk voices**
And of course they all took the present. Who wouldn't? You could almost see their eyes lighting up with the potential viewer count.
**Remember, for the 15 minutes effect, you need to fit the canister to the face mask and be inhaling it for 5 minutes before.**
_And today on Shark Tank, we bring a special episode._
_... Sharks will be doing..._
_... They are getting ready..._
_OMG, why are they wearing face masks?_
_This is hilarious, they are speaking like chipmunks_
_Are they going to be... Yes... It is lasting for more than a few words..._
_Damn! Who thought they would have a sense of humour!_
_Hey, love their make up, cheeks are looking rosier than normal._
_Wait! 2 of the Sharks have passed out. It cannot be that boring._
_She is grabbing at her throat, what's happening._
_Somebody get medical help._
As the cameras panned to the Sharks all unconscious in their chairs, the medical team could be seen rushing from backstage.
And one of the cameras zoomed in onto the canister with the letters **HeCO** stamped on it
|
GrunkleStanwhich
|
crabcancer
|
2023-01-07 21:27:04
|
2023-01-07 18:58:39
| 394 | 98 |
j3dtpvl
|
j3d76b7
|
105t1i8
|
105t1i8
|
[WP] You are an assassin with a reputation for pulling of very public hits without being noticed. You achieve this not by being extremely stealthy, but by making sure that your kills are so absurd and ridiculous that no one would ever believe the witnesses if they told their stories.
|
As the cart rolled forward the man behind yelled, "Runaway hotdog cart! Out the way!", gesturing side to side for those in the park to move. The steel cart careened forward, barely avoided by the crowds and followed closely behind by the frantic stand worker.
It swerved left and right, the steel missile rocketing down hill and picking up speed until it had left the worker behind.
"A baby! Oh god there's a baby!" A shrill womans voice cried out. And she was right. Down at the bottom of the hill sat a lone stroller, no parent in sight. It seemed the cart did not prefer the company of infants, because just as she screamed the cart swerved left, directly in the path of the stroller.
"I've got it!" A voice yelled out, then a large man leaped in front of the steel brick with impressive agility.
But it seemed he did not have it. As when he rose up to his feet, his body between the cart and the child, the cart caught him in the torso in an explosion of hot dogs and metal pieces. Screams. Yells. A crumpled body on the floor. And somewhere in the shadows of the park, a man with a grin on his face.
When the police arrived, the sea of paramedics and investigators, they quickly determined it to be an accident. Brake failure on the cart, is what they'd said. When asked about the bricks meant to be behind the wheels the employee swore they had been, and of course, he was right.
And of course the man had died on impact, because that was how it was meant to be. Too ridiculous to question as anything other than an accident. Then negligence, the fact that humans are inherently flawed creatures.
The detectives *would* question why a man so notoriously selfish as Gregory Solth jumped to save another, but they would be asking the wrong question. They would look into his life and determine possibly he intended to turn his negative reputation all around. But the question was rather: had he jumped at all. The question was if that had even been his voice that had called out, "I've got it!" And further, what of the baby? Who's was it and where had it gone?
The question was why had so many strange deaths, accidental of course, been popping up all over the city. The balcony pool of CEO Carl Lincoln breaking, dropping him twelve stories. J.M Lenoy, a man tied to the mob, slipping on a wet floor sign and breaking his neck. Now Gregory Sloth, tech giant, dying to a hotdog stand.
But then again, they were all accidents, and nobody questions an accident.
|
Geoff pumped up the each balloon on the cart with hydrogen gas. He had little trinkets clipped on and a box of glow sticks for sale. He had the tracker on his target - the CEO of a biotech firm replacing horse hair with an algae breed one. The horse park owners were annoyed, he was taking their income and these men didn't like any loss. So, they hired Geoff, the chaos killer. He tied off a balloon and let its bright red color worm its way up to the rest of the bouquet.
​
Geoff rolled into the alley with the rest of the street vendors. Three of them had buckets strapped around their neck filled with water bottles, two had giant cardboard boxes of hot dogs and then there was the man with a clipboard. Geoff had to apply weeks ago for this slot, who knew street vending rights were so competitive? It cost him a bullet and some flowers, he traded an assassination of an ex-wife for this ticket but it would be worth it.
​
The CEO was right out front, standing on the platform giving a speech. He was dressed in a blonde suit that looked stringy. Geoff checked his reference photo, he was wearing the same thing; his suit made from his company's material. A blonde fake horse hair suit, yeah he can eat these balloons. The company sponsored the orchestra tonight with brand new instruments. "Thanks for this time, and for helping us grow like no other. We have helped bring down the cost of instruments by ten fold and with our latest technology we are going to change the musical world. It's going to be crazy and we wanted to help celebrate with the city that made us!" The CEO walked off stage, shaking hands each step of the way. Geoff rolled his eyes.
​
He was always called to take out men like this. The changers and earthquake-generators of the world. Three politicians just last year, all with odd sex-based kill requests. Geoff nodded to a hotdog vendor who he'd paid to lead the way to the CEO for him. They started off, selling and inching toward the man of the hour. The hot dog vendor doled out wiener after weiner for free, just pushing past the crowds to the man in the suit made of fake horse hair. "Hi sir, hot dog?" The vendor offered one of his products to the CEO, this was it. Geoff charged forward pushing the cart right into the CEO.
​
He turned, and lit a match and a small pocket-sized bottle of vodka. A pocket molotov aimed right for the silly highly flammable fake horse hair suit. "The bluegrass state sends its regards!" Geoff shouted as the entire cart - equipped with the glowsticks that had just been covering C4 and dynamite strapped to the bottom of the cart. The entire stage became a massive fireball, sadly the hot dog vendor also didn't make it. Those dogs were burned and Geoff had succeeded again. He brushed off his pants, contorted his face into an anxious pained scared man and ran with the rest of the crowd as his phone dinged with small payments between two and seven thousand dollars until they fulfilled his contract fee. On to the next one.
|
GrunkleStanwhich
|
WritersofRohan17
|
2023-01-07 21:27:04
|
2023-01-07 19:07:46
| 394 | 55 |
j3dtpvl
|
j3d8kpj
|
105t1i8
|
105t1i8
|
[WP] The hero, normally jovial and humorous in their interactions, steps into a watering hole for villains, shaking with rage, tears running down their face, and with as much patience and calm as they can muster, simply asks "Who did it?"
|
It was easy for Noelle. Even her name had an indicator of happiness tied to it. To fight for the land she believed in. To bear blades against the villains and offer gloveless hands to the needy.
It was so easy.
But this? This was not easy. She offers everything to this land and its rulers, and in return, they offer her the equivalent of a blade twisted and gnarled as it is, directly into her heart.
The beats of her heart skip, and her face is flushed. Tears burn at the corners of her eyes before trickling down her cheeks and tapping in small droplets against her plated armour.
It made her unsteady on her horse. She didn't care. As long as she arrived at The Broken Wheel, she needn't care for anything else.
She huffs as she arrives at the tavern. The sign, a stolen wagon wheel, is broken in several places and hangs precariously low. The door is slightly ajar, and Noelle can hear the faint hum of a bard's song wafting out.
The sound does not salve her wounds. It only deepens them. She grits her teeth as she ties her horse to a post by a water trough and enters the tavern.
The jeering and laughter fall silent as she enters. She hears the whisper of her name on their lips. A mixture of awe and hatred. She again does not care.
She shoves a man out of the way and climbs onto the bar before bearing her dented sword. "Who did it?"
Mutterings fill the tavern.
She growls and points her sword towards them. "Let your head not join the others of villains I have slain. Who. Did. It?"
"Did what?" A burly man dares to ask.
"Kill my daughter," Noelle answers through a pained breath as a sob gets caught in the back of her throat. "Who? Which of you could be such a monster as to slay a 7 year old girl?"
"There's a bounty," a woman, leaning against a heavy hammer, says. "It was issued by the King. To slaughter you and your family. It seems whoever did it, only did half the deed."
Noelle blinks several times. She sways on her feet and can not bring herself to be embarrassed when the barkeep helps her off the bar and offers his arm as support. "My lady, they speak the truth. The King wishes for you to be gone."
"Why?" Noelle whispers, disbelief coating her tongue.
"He is hungry for power. You see us as villains? I see us as farm hands whose land has been stolen. The average stall hand turned crook to keep food on the table. The desperate mercenary trying to escape this land. What do you see yourself as?"
Noelle wets her lips with her tongue. "A hero, I had once thought. But it seems the King's pawn is more apt."
Noelle flicks her eyes over the crowd and assesses them beyond their weapons and rough armour for the first time in years. And she sees... the person she was was. Desperate and heedy for an escape. A future.
She purses her lips. Very well, if this is how the King wishes to treat his people, perhaps they need a new one. "The King dies," Noelle whispers before tilting her head up and shouting, "The King shall die!"
Shock echoes around the tavern before unifying into agreement.
They would take back their land.
And the only head left to be had is the King's.
After all, Noelle was quite fond of her own.
|
“God dammit, Storm Breaker get off the table” I shouted at her. The job was kind of tough, considering the fact that I was just an ordinary person in a room full of drunk super villains. at least the pay was good and there were plenty of benefits.
“Hey bartender, another one please-“ Hive Mind was interrupted by the sound of the front door being slammed open. I turned towards the door and saw the city’s poster child. Dawn Ender.
“Who did it.” she was very pissed. that much was clear when you so much as glanced at her. The bar was silent as I would imagine having the number one superhero burst into the place that you’re drinking at isn’t something that’s normal.
“Ma’am, I will have to ask you to kindly refrain from fighting with customers or causing property damage” I somehow managed to stammer that much out. when push came to shove, I wasn’t going to do anything to her as she could easily murder me if she wanted.
“Where is the owner.” She was staring directly at me. I would’ve probably have shit my pants if it wasn’t for the fact that I knew exactly who the owner of this establishment was. Which also made it strange why she was looking for him.
“I’m not sure what business you have with him, but he currently isn’t here right now, so unfortunately, you’ll have to look elsewhere” I reached for the button under the desk and pressed it. He would be here if things escalated.
“I’m not in the mood for games, now tell-“ The door to the back room opened as my boss and owner of the establishment, Looming Eye walked in.
“Miss Dawn Ender, i’ll have to kindly ask you to leave the premises or perhaps order a drink or two. You are disrupting my business.” He adjusted his shirt a little bit and stared at her, almost daring her to do something about it.
“I’m not in the mood for jokes, now tell me who did it.” She walked up closer to him. “Don’t think you can weasel your way out of this one.”
“Now what makes you think I know what happened? or who did it? what makes you think any of the customers in here have any idea?” Looming Eye simply grabbed a glass and poured himself a glass of water.
“Because you’re villains, and even though we have a sort of routine. I never thought one of you would be an actual villain.” If looks could kill, my boss would be dead 10 times over. “Bombing a middle school. For what purpose could that have served?”
“So you come here instead of doing any investigative research? I can assure you that none of the present customers are responsible for such an act. Although once again, this isn’t the place for this kind of stuff. So if you’re not here for patronage, I must ask you to leave.” He took a sip from his glass.
“I know what you’re capable of, either you know who did it or you will be able to know faster than anyone else. Tell me who they are.” Dawn Ender slammed her fist into the bar counter.
“I will have to ask you to refrain from committing any property damage. As for your request, currently I’m business owner first, S rank villain second. I will get you your information and deliver it to the front door of your justice hall as long as you leave this establishment and its customers alone.” He walked towards the door. “However I will not have you wait here for my staff and I have a bar to run. The information will be to you before tomorrow morning.”
“Fine. It better be” She walked out of the bar and flew off. The rest of the patrons were still silently stunned by the whole exchange.
“Well, now that that’s over. How about a round of drinks for free for everyone? that includes you too bartender.” I smiled as the whole bar lit up with cheers.
|
Rory_LS
|
G0lden_Puppet
|
2024-10-18 05:39:36
|
2024-10-17 20:39:45
| 24 | 18 |
lshhcrw
|
lsf7s6o
|
1g5kua3
|
1g5kua3
|
[WP] Today was a shit day. Everyone telling you what to do. You were so angry, you didn't notice the car. - You wake up, the pit to hell on your left, gates to heaven right. Death stands before you, pointing to a chair. "Sit, we will decide your fate." That's it, the final straw. "No."
|
"Yes. It is inevitable". Death was as I had always imagined it - a skinny, no, skeletal, hooded figure, with a scythe, its indistinct dark clothing swaying in a breeze I couldn't feel. And it spoke in a completely atonal, emotionless whisper.
"My manifestation is a product of your mind - as it was for those who came before you and those who will come after you. And your fate will be decided by the council, as it was for those who came be-"
"Yeah, yeah, cut to the chase. I'm done. Everyone made all my decisions in life for me, might as well wait and see how this one turns out - I'm already dead, how mich worse can it get, huh? No, boss, death or whatever the hell - pun intended - you're called. This is my death, this is MY call."
Death stood, looming. And I couldn't help but feel like it was *evaluating* me. Judging would be the wrong word. Judgement means innocence, or guilt in some form or another.
"You seem to be of sound mind and perception, human. Indeed, the beliefs prevalent on earth which prophecy binary judgement are false."
"But they seem to *lack* humility." A new voice, coming from the nothingness around us, a nothingness whose oppressive vastness and presence I only appreciated now that it, or something in it, had made itself known.
"Most of them do" - another, this one pulsing from the ground I felt I stood on, but couldn't see. It looked like the rest of the nether around death and me, but I sensed some kind of support, some kind of brace beneath my feet, now that it had spoken.
"I want my life back", I said defiantly. I wasn't about to become some deities' club's latest toy without any resistance.
"You cannot. Your choices are plentiful, but that is not one of them", death explained.
"Then I want a new life. One where I'm not pushed around by everybody all the time."
"So be it. We shall see if you make the same choice next time, young one." The voice from the nothingness seemed content, while I sensed sadness below.
"Choose carefully, young one", the voice from below cautioned. It felt like a concerned parent was trying to lovingly guide me towards a choice they thought was better.
I'd had a terrible relationship with my parents.
"Nope, I made my choice, please just let me have it."
Silence. For just a moment. I felt the three entities communicating.
"Come", whispered death. It started walking. I followed. At least I had chosen where it would lead me - even if I didn't know exactly where or what I had chosen.
|
"Very well, you can leave," announced Death. He lifted his finger and pointed it at me, "Brace yourself, child. Usually, this action is not pleasant."
"Wait!" I yelled, yet my voice came out as a squeak. This encounter panicked me for a second, but looking down at my blurry hands, a wave of relief washed over me:
*I am a ghost. I don't have vocal cords.*
"What will happen to me?" I asked.
The question made him chuckle. "You will get back to Earth."
"What?! Why?"
"Well, you don't want to be here, do you?"
To say I was dumbfounded will be an understatement.
I remember staring at the creature in front of me, like a middle-aged stay-at-home mom whose show was continued after being canceled for two years.
"Wait a minute. Are you telling me I can decide not to die? Like a cheat code?" I blurted out, expecting him to laugh at me and tell me this was a joke.
"No. You have the option to keep on living."
Before I could ask another question, Death waved his finger over my head, and the world went black.
\----------------------------------------------------------<OoO>---------------------------------------------------------------------
I woke up in my bed around 2 am, with the TV on. My body felt as if it was just hit by a car.
Every part of me was aching, and it was *adjusting?*
Looking down at my palms, I noticed their greyish color and my bones moving.
Before I could react, the volume on my TV went up:
*Good evening, I am Bethany Smith, and you are with the news on channel 5.*
*On today's news: a car crashed at a local cafe killing five people. Everyone died on the impact, including the driver.*
The picture of the crash appeared on the screen, and I almost threw up. It was very graphic, but that was not the most shocking thing.
Bethany was one of the victims. I could clearly see her body face-down behind the car.
*Could she survive like me? Did I save everyone?* I thought while frantically looking for my body, but it wasn't there.
Suddenly the picture disappeared, and Bethany looked straight at me. Her appearance changed. She turned into the same corpse I saw in the picture.
"You did this," she stated with an angry voice.
"You have sacrificed our lives for your own. Your selfishness destroyed us. If the car hit you, it wouldn't crash in the shop. I hope you live a happy life because we won't."
With that, the TV shut down, and everything went quiet.
To this day, I don't understand what happened. I was told, by a witch, that it was not my fault. Nobody can revive themselves as they wish. We do not take that decision.
This theory makes me feel better but does not eliminate my guilt.
I still feel responsible for the poor souls who took my place. Sure, I did not revive myself, but I took the decision to live.
I wonder what I would have done if I knew my life would cost five others.
I always say that I would have peacefully embraced the afterlife, but deep down, I know - **this is not the truth.**
|
1Mandolo1
|
elblackroute
|
2023-01-09 20:18:51
|
2023-01-09 19:57:43
| 226 | 51 |
j3njmfe
|
j3ng5b2
|
107g6b1
|
107g6b1
|
[WP] Whenever you flip a coin, it lands on its side, Rock-Paper-Scissors always ends in a draw, and when you enter the lottery you always win your money back but not a dime more. You're not lucky, you're not unlucky, you're... something else.
|
I am, frankly, a statistical wonder. Luck, fortune, probability; whatever you want to call it, the universe contorts itself into a pretzel to ensure that in games of chance I never win... but also never lose. Some people are blessed with good luck. Others are cursed with misfortune.
I would say luck doesn't effect me, but strictly that's not true. If I was truly without luck one way or the other, I'd be at the mercy of random chance. Instead, I'm caught in a probabilistic Limbo, where luck itself keeps me neutral.
Which is why, even as sixth man in a game of Russian roulette, I'm not worried. 5 shots down. The other players looking at me with expressions ranging from pity to predatory glee. They know now, as I did before the game began, the bullet is in my chamber.
I pull the trigger and smile as I hear the familiar sound of the gun jamming.
|
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mrs. Johnson.” Dr Harmon said. “There seems to have been some anomaly of which we are still trying to ascertain the cause.”
“What?” Mrs. Johnson said. “What happened to Jim? God, just tell me.”
“Ma’am,” He said. “I’m not sure how to explain this. You see, the surgery had a twenty five percent success rate. Well… somehow… it was twenty five percent effective, exactly.”
Mrs. Johnson buried her face in her hands.
“And?” She asked. “How is he?”
“Well, ma’am,” The Doctor continued. “In this case, it means only twenty five percent of the transplanted heart is actively beating, the rest is sitting stagnant. Sadly, ma’am, this means that he must be on the heart pump for some time longer, as the twenty five percent of his working cells are not enough to provide nourishment for his entire body.”
“Do you think it will get better?” Mrs. Johnson asked.
“That is impossible to say,” Dr Harmon said. “We’ve never encountered something like this, I’ve already contacted the CDC, they’re sending some folks down here. We are optimistic within a few months we could transfer Mr. Johnson back home along with an artificial pump to continue working his heart, until a new transplant becomes available.”
Dr. Harmon turned to leave.
“After all,” He said, pausing as he opened the door. “Only three more transplants until he has a full heart again.”
He closed the door behind him.
|
Darius_Blake
|
None
|
2023-04-13 15:36:57
|
2023-04-13 13:00:42
| 194 | 85 |
jg3touy
|
jg371q8
|
12klmt6
|
12klmt6
|
[WP] You've been abandoned on the battlefield, the enemy closing in. Forsaken by heaven and countrymen, you retreat to the deepest corner of your mind. If your gods won't help, perhaps the inner dark will. You cry out to the void. It answers.
|
I'm bleeding. Oil and atmosphere. My life spills from me as I tumble in the dark.
My crew is dead.
I can feel their bodies drifting inside me. They never had a chance. No suits. No warning. The strike was perfect. Clean. Impossible to anticipate. Two mines, one above, one below, positioned to intercept me just as I came out of transit. They detonated instantly when I appeared, perforating my hull with a devastating blast of shrapnel.
The lucky ones died instantly. The unlucky weren't far behind. Decompression doesn't leave a lot of time to think, or act. Or grieve.
My crew is dead.
I have been betrayed. And I'll never know why.
I am spinning away from the rendezvous point, my broken body trailing bits and pieces of useless hardware. Fragments of a comms dish, radiator panels, an empty escape pod torn from its housing. I am going dark. But I can still see.
My fleet is nowhere within sensor range. They should have jumped with me, but I am alone.
They killed my crew.
There are a dozen incoming contacts, maybe more. No IFFs. High thermal signatures. Drives burning hard to accelerate. They will intercept my ragged course and destroy whatever is left of me. I detected no jump signatures from them, no telltale fading light of transit. They were lying in wait, and they're almost here.
I divert power to the few critical systems I have left. My engines are severely damaged, most of my thrusters wrecked. Even if I could stabilize and correct my spin, I cannot maneuver and there is nowhere to run. The enemy is already within weapons range. One torpedo would do it. They could finish the job now, if they cared to. Do they think they can take me alive? They know what will happen if they get close enough.
I test-fire my self-destruct charges. They're functional. Perhaps the best I can hope for now is to take someone with me when I go.
The stars whirl around me. The sensor contacts continue to close. With faint hope I activate my distress beacon. It is a piercing wail, a wave of pain and fear that shimmers out into the cosmos faster than any ship can travel. Is there anyone out there? Anyone who can save me?
Anyone who can avenge me?
There is no answer.
I sink into myself. I shut down my eyes. I set my self-destruct to proximity arm and I wait. I wait to join my crew.
I wrap my broken fingers around the glowing heart of my transit drive, and pull it close. It cannot save me. There is too little time, even if I had the energy left to charge it. But as my mind curls up next to its pulsing warmth, I feel something. Something I've felt before, in the dark.
Whenever I jump, I am alone. All ships are alone in transit. Alone in the infinite depths. There are no stars, no beacons, no minds, no voices. Just the ship, and the dark. Whenever I jump, I am alone…
My captain used to wonder if there was something out there. Something out in the transit void, something lurking in the emptiness we jump through. He never slept during transit. Even during long rides between the farther stars, he would keep himself awake, and talk to me.
My captain once had a dream, in transit. He dreamed of eyes, and teeth. He never slept during FTL again.
I never told him. I never told him! There *is* something in the dark. I know there is.
I spool the drive. I can't jump, but that doesn't matter. The heart drinks all the energy I have left. My reactor is a cooling mass of dead metal. My batteries are one last lungful of air. I give it everything. I twist my fingers around the transit drive and I pour my desperate agony into it and I tear open the darkness and I beg and I plead for the eyes and the teeth.
*My crew is dead!*
The transit drive splits in two.
My eyes open.
I can see the lights above me, the white and blue flares of engines burning and burning with all their power, no longer toward me, but away.
Their velocity is too great. The enemy is closing too fast.
They will never decelerate in time.
*I am hungry.*
|
Ramius sagged.
Blood rained from the sky, actual blood. A huge cloud hovered just overhead, and a flash of light ING cracked the dark sky.
"Outlaw, copy?" The warlock gasped for air, pulling the magazine from his bullpup assault rifle. He shook his head. From feel alone he guessed it was half full.
The radio didn't even crackle with sound.
"Fuck." Ramius looked over the Salt Flats. Dozens of bodies littered the ground, wizards and beasts alike. He shook his head, taking a knee. He hadn't ever been this tired before.
"Outlaw?" He tried the radio. Still nothing. Thunder accompanied a quick bolt of lightning. Instead of a typical crack and rumble it was a scream. A very human sounding scream.
The warlock collapsed, vest usually full of mags was empty, his pistol too was empty. Grenade pins and spoons became a pillow as the young man disengaged from reality.
The blood kept falling, and while ramius knew he wasn't in the real world, he also knew he was in its domain now. The sound of a deep base wub shook the dream state. Like a helicopter blade in slow motion he felt a vibration shake his feet.
"Ready?" Cackled a distorted male voice. The thing knew English.
"Why are you here?" Ramius struggled to stand in his dream.
"Why do you attack me?"
Ramius spat into the blood puddles surrounding him, "you started this fight, we are finishing it. Wiping a village from the face of the earth is an act of war."
"They worshipped, but broke my law." The thing quipped.
"This is a human home, earth is protected. Regardless if they break your law, it was broken on earth. If you fuck with a human..." ramius looked up, glaring at the blood red cloud that the voice emanated from. "Expect to fight one of us."
"Fear of a few petty mortals is of no serious threat. I am a God, and you should kneel."
Ramius felt the presence trying to crush his mind, "I am a warlock. I will bow to none." The young man howled as his mind was slashed.
"Kneel."
"You think a God frightens me? I watched one of your kind slaughtered by a single one of my kind. You bleed, and so you can die." Ramius grinned manically, "try again you feckless fucking waste of sentience.!"
The air screamed and ramius couldn't stand anymore. He fell into a hole appearing as his feet, razors lining the walls of the hole. Barbed wire ripped into his mind as he plummeted, mind battered and lashed at his resistance.
Ramius screamed, he felt his resolve crumbling. I'm going to crack. He thought, panic making his inevitable mental break accelerate.
"Papa?"
Ramius blinked as his scalp was ripped by half a dozen rusting nails.
"Billy?"
"Papa wake up!" Ramius felt his body falling in his mind, but his physical form jostled in the opposite direction. The sensor input from his real body and his mental one triggered an unpleasant response. Snapping upright, Ramius vomited blood.
"Papa?"
The Warlock gasped for air as the Boogeyman cocked it's head.
"Billy, go!" Screamed Ramius as the sky crackled.
"Billy don't like rain." The boogey muttered.
"It's coming! Get out!" Ramius shoved the boogeyman from him, "run!"
Billy shrugged, "Papa want pizza?"
The voice made the soil tremble, "another soul for the reaping..."
"FUCK YOU!" something snapped in the young warlock, his rifle firing wildly into the cloud.
"Weak." The voice chuckled.
"Papa?"
Ramius looked to his semi adopted boogey man. "Yeah buddy?"
"Angry box make mean sound."
Ramius blinked, "what?"
Billy sighed, vanished a moment, then returned flashing back into existence. "Angry box."
The Boogeyman held up a cube, cogs scraping by each other in a cracked casing.
"Bring that back!" The voice rumbled with a note of panic.
"Bless your incredible heart." Ramius snatched the box. Drawing knife, he drove the tip into a cog. The mechanism immediately stopped.
The rumbling stopped, and a bright noonday sun blinded the warlock. He almost dropped the mechanical device.
"Angry box quiet." Noted the boogeyman helpfully.
Ramius nodded, "that was a nasty sealed..." The warlock paused, "thing." He finished with a shrug. Someone would have to explain what the hell it was.
"Billy knew Papa hurt." The Boogeyman looked at the device.
"How?" Ramius asked.
Billy shrugged.
"Thank you, billy." A tear began to form in the warlocks eyes. He knew how close he had been to breaking.
"Happy Papa now." Billy thumped his amorphous head into the warlocks knee before vanishing.
Ramius chuckled, flopping to the earth. "What a fuckin job."
|
BreakfastInSymphony
|
walkswithmagic
|
2023-03-08 03:35:14
|
2023-03-08 01:35:54
| 48 | 11 |
jbcyrup
|
jbcjekq
|
11l9yyr
|
11l9yyr
|
[WP] You are a super villain and for your latest diabolical scheme, you’ve kidnapped the hero’s dog to lure them into a trap. Except it turns out the “hero” doesn’t care about the dog. You take offense to this.
|
Upon figuring out my nemesis's secret I did what any self respecting villain would do. I staked out her place. Linda Brent it turned out was a loner with nothing but an adorable little corgi for company. Perfect. Even more perfect when I broke in it wandered for a moment out of my sight then made a beeline for me with a leash in its mouth. It dropped the leash at my feet with a small whine. The moment I picked up the leash its whole body wagged. I grinned. Transporting the dog was going to be easier than I thought. I left a note letting my nemesis know where my trap was. I quickly checked the tag "Opal."
"I gotta be honest you don't look much like an Opal. More like a loaf of bread."
Opal's ears flattened as she stopped wagging her tail.
"Don't be like that." I pat her head. "You're a very cute loaf of bread."
At that the dog seemed to brighten back up again.
Made sure that Opal's cage was well insulated and had plenty of food and water. I wanted to fry the stupid hero not the dog. After all why shouldn't I keep the dog? Hopefully I would be able to change Opal's name.
After the first hour passed I thought that she must have come home late.
After hour two I pulled up the news to see if one of the other villains had held her up. No it was an usually quiet day.
Hour four I called her.
"Hello?" Brent said.
"Linda Brent, I have your dog."
She replied by hanging up the phone.
By hour five it was clear that either Brent wasn't coming are was prepping a trap of her own. So I carefully checked for traps nothing. So, I took Opal home making sure to let her know that I would be a much better owner than her last one.
I decided to wait until Brent had the day off from her civilian job to pounce. Maybe I could humiliate her while I exposed her for the fraud she was.
I followed her to the library and kept myself in civilian guise.
"Aren't you going to put up any flyers for your missing dog."
"No," she didn't even stop to look at me.
"People like you are the worst. You got a dog and just abandoned it in the moment it's convenient."
"More like Opal broke into my house and adopted me."
"The Evening Blade took your dog and don't care!"
Brent smiled. "She's fine."
"You don't know that." I lifted my chin contemptuously.
"Evening, she's right there." She pointed behind me. I turned and sure enough Opal was sitting at my feet. And weirder still Opal was wearing a therapy dog vest.
"How? Where did she the vest? Much less someone to put it on her."
"Yeah, you get used it after a while." Brent shook her head. "I tried to rename her Caramel about five times. The last time I tried I actually saw the name on her tag morphing so it turned into Opal. Well, good luck.
|
What was that awful smell?
Midnight Widow’s jaw dropped as she entered her office. Several of her books were torn to pieces, various chew toys and dog food were scattered around the room, and in the center of her rug was a pile of dry and wet poop with a large piss stain. Midnight nearly gagged at the sight. After a week of being away from the mad doctor and his inane schemes, she hoped she could enjoy some relaxation to get her mind away from her latest assassin job.
She might do it.
She just might kill Dr. Reality.
The researchers ran away from the assassin as Midnight Widow marched through the hallways. She appreciated the doctor from time to time. Sure, she worked for an F-Class villain and his reality-warping inventions barely worked, but he was funny (though she never laughed in his presence). But a line was crossed today, and someone needed to pay.
Pushing the two doors open, Midnight entered a large room where scientists worked on a (most likely doomed) reality machine. The air grew silent as they looked at the fuming villainous. She scanned the area until she saw Dr. Reality writing on a whiteboard. By his feet was a German Shepherd chewing on one of her boots. Since when was the doc a dog person?
“Ah, Midnight Widow!” Dr. Reality beamed when he turned around. As usual, he was oblivious to her annoyance and anger. “I hope you had a great cruise ship vacation. By the way, did you tan?”
Midnight Widow’s eyes narrowed, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Dr. Reality,” she said through gritted teeth, “care to explain why there’s a mutt chewing on my boot?”
The doctor's smile faltered slightly as he glanced at the German Shepherd, still gnawing on the boot. “Oh, uh, yes. That’s Max. He’s part of my most diabolical scheme yet to get me into the D-Class level.”
She blinked. It was very hard to tell when her boss was losing his mind. “Do I even want to know?”
Without being prompted, Dr. Reality ran to one side of the room and returned to Midnight and Max with a laptop. Her jaw clenched when she saw the man and the dog. “Here’s my plan,” Dr. Reality began. “In order for me to get out of F-Class, I have to make a hero suffer. Surprisingly, easier said than done. But then I asked myself, ‘Who is man’s best friend? Dog!’ What’s worse than stealing a hero’s dog? However, I couldn’t steal many dogs. It’s hard to do when heroes have secret identities…”
“Stop,” Midnight interrupted, not wanting to listen to another ramble. She pointed at the grizzled man on the screen. “Do you recognize who that man is?”
Dr. Reality nodded. “Yes, that’s the Executioner. Not the most heroic hero, but he should count. So I was saying, my plan involved me taking his dog, Executioner falling into my reality trap, and the Villain Association making me a D-Class villain. It’s strange that there’s no E-Class…”
“Does Executioner know you have his dog?” she whispered, looking nervously at the German Shepherd.
The mad doctor of reality shrugged. “I stole Max six days ago, though Executioner doesn’t look like he doesn’t miss Max. Seriously, what kind of dog owner doesn’t notice their dog is missing? Worse, the Villain Association still says I’m an F-Class…”
Midnight Widow gripped Dr. Reality’s arm and looked him in the eyes. “Give the man his dog.”
|
Zestyclose-Leader926
|
Realistic_Badger_708
|
2024-06-22 06:38:42
|
2024-06-22 04:10:42
| 25 | 12 |
l9qbfhh
| null |
1dlj1fc
|
1dlj1fc
|
[WP] As a young witch, you have recently made a deal with a devil. In return for power, you must become his servant, the concept of which greatly excites you. At the end of your 5 years, you find that by “servant”, he didn’t mean an agent of justice who torments sinners, he simply needed a maid.
|
"HA!" Stella slammed her finger down on the contract. "I *knew* you were going to try and pull this horse piss! Paragraph 19, Section C, bitch! Not only is my indemnity limited to *ten years* by default, but I can only be held to the terms of Paragraph 45!" She silently thanked her mother's dear departed spirit for insisting that she get her law degree before pursuing the occult.
"Hoo hoo hoo." The devil chortled and licked his eyeball with his thin serpentine tongue. "Little girl thinks she can play with the big boys, eh? See Paragraph 66, Section N."
"Ah, but I nullified that with Paragraph 92! Thus forcing us to default to the terms of Section 3(d)!"
"But... wait..." The devil blinked. "Wouldn't that also invoke the paradox exception in Paragraph 81?"
"No! Oh, wait..." Stella scanned the bloodsoaked document again. "You're right. It does." Crap, she thought resignedly. Well, she'd tried. And honestly, the French maid thing wasn't as bad as she'd been expecting. She'd thought for sure the devil was going to try and slap her into a Slave Leia bikini for the next decade.
(She'd known from the start she wasn't going to get the whole *"agent of justice"* thing he'd tried to bait her with, of course. A lie so obvious that it was borderline insulting. After all, why would the forces of Hell have the slightest interest in justice?)
"But if that's the case... and if Paragraph 18 still applies..."
"... then... we *both* have to wear the dress?" Stella tilted her head. "Can't we just mutually rescission out of that?"
"No." The devil sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Appendix F, Section 13. The enforcement provision. If either *or* both of us try to cancel, management consigns us both to the Deeper Pits for a thousand years."
"... shit."
In the end, it wasn't all that bad. The worst part, as far as Stella was concerned, was how much better her contractual partner managed to pull off the look.
|
“Your time has come. Your purpose shall be fulfilled in serving me.”
The devil cackles from his sprawling throne of bleeding gold. Beside him a little maid outfit, in its stereotypical black and white sprung out of nothingness.
“This should fit you perfectly.”
Despite her many efforts she found herself at a crossroads, as the deep abyss of blackness stared back at her, the devils eyes enveloping her very soul, she remained stoic and unrelenting in her quest for power. She began muttering under her breath, the incantation spewing at the edge of her lips faster than even she could comprehend. The devil etched towards her from his throne, towering hundreds of feet above as his over-crusted skin chipped and crushed the ground around her with his every movement. The fires surrounding the rock they stood on began to soar into the sky and swirling in unison. The witch closed her eyes and continued, swishing her fingers by her side, the devil’s laugh echoing through the endless void of hell.
The grumble of his voice vibrating through the floor before he’d even begun to speak, “You dare defy me,” reaching his arm out to smite her like a bug.
Unbeknownst to him, there was one final trick up her sleeve. One she had never expected to have to use. As the fires stood to a halt before jolting towards her a mile a minute, she began to rise into the air. When the fires reached her it was clear there was no other choice. She had given the last five years to the devil in hopes to serve alongside him in taking over the very world that had once forsaken her, humbling herself to his every whim and request. So she had to use everything she had learnt to continue her mission, now not to serve, but to reign.
“Limbo,” she whispered. Her body that lay in a deep slumber on earth began to run cold as her soul split from it and whisked through the layers of hell into the one place she knew she could not be found. When she opened her eyes, the mist clouded her vision but the voices began to surround her, begging for forgiveness and release from this world. She had escaped him, he could not reach the purgatory she found herself in but his voice continued to rattle in her head, cackling at her defiance.
“I will find you, witch.”
She walked on through the mist, whispering incantations as the mist parted before her, “Not if I find you first.”
-
Not sure where I was going with this but maybe a fanatical opening to a story of a battle between this witch and the devil, hope it worked.
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jon_stout
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silvacorner
|
2023-10-29 00:06:11
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2023-10-28 23:18:13
| 173 | 14 |
k6w337p
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k6vwlal
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17ifinb
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17ifinb
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[WP] “And what do you do with the children? Enslave them? Eat them?” “What? No!” The witch shouted, aghast. “I raise them, of course. If parents are willing to give up their children for greed, then imagine what they’d do to the child, given the chance to raise it?”
|
This interview was not going the way Jasmine planned. Her book was supposed to be the real deal on the wickedness of witches. All she'd managed to find, however, was a sea witch that helped a girl save a prince after her father tried to sink his ship, the story of a sister trying to retrieve a family heirloom after a girl dropped a house on her sister then stole them from her feet, and now this.
"How do you even find parents willing to do this?" she asked the witch.
"I don't," the witch replied taking a sip of her tea."They find me. One would think as the times change, people would too. But no. Greedy, conniving people remain."
Jasmine stared at the woman sitting across from her dumbfounded. "What do you mean?"
"These people aren't starving. Most aren't concerned with the child living better. I help those parents. Most of them that seek me out actually work in my factories and bakeries. They deserve their kids," the witch began ranting. "But no, those greedy bastards just want a bigger house, more money, maybe a new phone. No better than my father. Actually maybe a little better! That bastard traded me for foliage!"
"Foliage?" Jessica's eyebrow raised.
"Rampion,Campanula rapunculus!-"
"Rapunzel..." Jessica breathed, the realization hit her like a ton of bricks,"But how could that be possible?! You'd have to be hundreds of years old."
The witch smiled but said nothing.
"None of this makes sense! You were stolen as an infant so now you do the same?"
"Not stolen!" Rapunzel snapped, "Traded! So now I rescue children like myself and raise them in the arts. Those people weren't fit to be parents anyway!"
The kitchen door burst open and five children rushed in, rushing through the house like stampeding elephants , only stopping briefly to hug Rapunzel. She looked annoyed as she snapped her finger and a mop began cleaning up the mud the children tracked through the house. They looked happy. Jessica sat an watched at a loss for words. Her book was definitely changing.
"Rapunzel how would you feel about me telling your story? I think it's time to change the narrative."
Rapunzel smirked. "Let's do it. Just wait until I tell you what really happened and how I ended up raising my siblings, Hansel and Greta."
|
##Natal Deal
Elsa wept as she held Heinrich in her arms. Her son stared at her with bright green eyes, same as his father's. She placed a finger in his hand, and he gripped it. Holding him close to her chest, she tried to make time stop and preserve this moment. It would be the easiest moment of motherhood.
"I can help you." An outline in the doorway walked towards her revealing a balding woman. Her hands swayed with each step, and one eye was closed.
"Where's Dagmar?" Elsa looked around the room.
"She's occupied. You could say that I was her mentor. My name is Bertha." Bertha curtsied with her black robe. "I heard that there were complications with the pregnancy."
"I didn't even know if I would survive if it weren't for Dagmar," Elsa said.
"Dagmar is gifted, but she can't solve the problems that come after birth." Bertha moved close to Elsa, and Elsa felt the urge to pull away. She didn't as she knew that would be rude.
"I thought I could stay for a week."
"You can, but what about after that? You're a sad girl with no husband, family, and hardly a penny to your name. Had to rely on charity for birth." Bertha smiled. "I could provide the funds for your survival."
"Do you want me to be your servant? I lack formal training."
"No, I want Heinrich." Bertha rubbed Heinrich's head. "I always wanted a child of my own." A worm emerged from Bertha's hand and crawled on Heinrich. Elsa swatted the worm and Bertha's hand away.
"You're a witch." Elsa held Heinrich close to her. "You wish to enthrall my child."
"I may be a witch, but I don't have wicked goals for your child. I merely wants what's best for both of you. You are desperate for money. Do you believe that you can provide a proper life for Heinrich? With me, he shall never want again, and you will live the rest of your days in comfort," Bertha said.
"But how will you raise him? And what about my reputation?" Elsa asked.
"I will raise him to be a good man, and don't worry about the whispers. You're a widow; the people would never accept you," Bertha smiled, "I'm only thinking of you two."
Elsa stared at Heinrich. Her heart ached as she thought of the future. Life would be difficult. This witch would help them both, and witches couldn't be that bad. But why isn't she simply giving the money.
If Bertha was generous and had the means, Elsa and Heinrich didn't have to separate. They could live together under her care, but Bertha explicitly rejected it. No, Bertha must have nefarious means, and she knew that Elsa was desperate. Elsa looked at Bertha and opened her mouth.
"I know your answer." Bertha squeezed her hands into a fist and walked away. "You made a mistake. Soon, you'll regret your decision." Bertha disappeared into the shadows, but the word soon hung in the air as Elsa comforted Heinrich.
---
r/AstroRideWrites
|
ProfessionalMoose547
|
AstroRide
|
2023-10-05 04:03:56
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2023-10-04 23:54:36
| 106 | 25 |
k3j5dqu
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k3i7cmb
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16zvo6l
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16zvo6l
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[WP] You're the first test subject for an experimental super soldier serum. You are told the truth only after you transform into something not quite human anymore.
|
I open my eyes. Everything was not, but suddenly is. I search my surroundings to understand. Objects are scattered around me within a space.
I am an object as well? No. I am me. More than an object.
My eyes focus in on my form. I feel my body. It's familiar like I've always known it yet it's the first time I've seen or felt it. Sweat drips down my arms as I involuntarily inhale until my chest is full.
I can smell my own odor. It's strong, but calming. I've been in this space for some time.
The air tastes metallic. Strange that I know the taste of metal to even compare. I lick my lips and feel a sharp pain and the taste of copper. I cannot help but lick again only to feel the pain subside and the wound close.
The ringing subsides and only in its absence do I know it was there. Objects around me move and now it's clear they're making sound, but the patterns are ones I can recognize.
I make out the phrase "Captain? Can you hear me?"
'Captain'? Is my name 'Captain'? That does not feel like my name.
I look to the one speaking before another quickly interrupts. "He shouldn't know his name, Clive."
The first man's name is Clive. He is a man. I look to my body. He is a man like me. He knows his name. Why shouldn't I know my name? I must ask.
"Why shouldn't I know my name, Clive?" There is a silence as loud as it is quiet.
The other man speaks even though I spoke to Clive. "It's not that you shouldn't. It's that you wouldn't... Do you know your name?"
"Do you know yours?" Conversing feels natural, but my throat feels dry.
The other man smiles and says "Tara. My name is Tara." This is not a man. Tara is a woman.
"Hello, Tara and Clive. Is my name 'Captain'?" I believe this is not my name, but Tara and Clive may know better.
Clive is looking to Tara for a response. She opens her mouth to speak, but there is a pause. "It's more of a title."
"Then what is my name?" I feel as though I have just been born. I long for an identity.
Tara motions for Clive to leave as she sits down in front of me to loosen my restraints. Why was I restrained? "I don't know your name. I know the name that once lived in your body, but that is not you."
"Tara, I do not understand. Am I prisoner?" As my wrists are freed, I feel a sense of relief though I still feel confined.
Tara passes me a glass of water. "The man who walked into this room and lay on this table once controlled your body. He was a Captain that volunteered for a procedure that would grant his body extraordinary abilities."
"Extraordinary? To what end?" What differentiates my current being from what he was?
Clive returns with a box, a clipboard, and food on a plate. "The Captain wished to be more than he was. We knew how to make that a reality."
"Did you know he would not be me?" Tara hands me a sandwich and I take a bite.
She unloads equipment from the box and begins to remove syringes from my arms. "Yes. We did."
"Did the Captain know he would not be me?" I can feel her pause in her actions, before placing a brace on both my wrists. They're heavy, but seem to be relaying information to her monitor. The world is becoming clearer.
Tara takes out her clipboard and begins taking notes. "No. He did not."
"In giving me life, you have taken his away?" I feel something within... This is guilt. I feel as though I have stolen from another man.
Tara is avoiding eye contact as she writes. "We promised him his body would be capable of performing remarkable things. We did not lie."
"You did not lie, but you did not tell the truth." I feel angry and dismissed. I clench at the sides of my bed.
Tara presses a button and my arms are pulled by the braces back to a resting position. She is standing now, looking at me once more, but a tear falls down her face. "We didn't have a choice, Capt-"
"I do not like this. Take these off." I hardly noticed the restraints before they were released, but now that I've experienced that freedom, how can I accept this?
Tara points to the sides of my bed where I clenched. Nothing but a hole the shape of my hand is left and I realize I'm holding the pieces still in my palms. "I'm sorry. It's a precaution. When your heart rate settles, it will automatically release. We don't yet know the extent of your abilities and we need to be sure you will not pose a threat to us or our facility."
"That makes sense." I calm myself and as she said, the braces released their pull. I considered trying to pry them off, but... I do not wish to be a threat.
Tara looks on in wonder and perhaps fear. I don't think she expected that response. "I don't want this to be difficult."
"I believe you." I don't know why, but I have a gut feeling Tara can be trusted.
There's a pause before Tara sits back down. "What can I call you?"
"I still need time to think. For now, call me 'Captain'."
|
The warm western wind sneaks into the apartment through an open window. The curtains, which The Soldier only now notices are not made of cloth but taped together newspapers, crinkle and threaten to tear apart.
The Doctor tells him that the procedure is complete. They are not at the military base like The Soldier imagined this all happening in, but The Doctor's apartment, a tiny civilian thing five miles away which they travel to and from by a bus whose radiator needs to be replaced. They have to stop every so often so the engine doesn't melt.
The Soldier looks down at his hands. His fingers are fat like swollen sausages and scars run over the palm, getting mixed in with the natural lines. The largest one splits his lifeline in half. Two weeks ago, when the newest girl he was with told him that, he said he didn't believe in palmistry. They made love, and as they did he couldn't stop thinking about how his life was severed.
"You're not going to turn into a monster," The Doctor says. "The serum doesn't affect your body, but your mind. Remember?"
He does not remember. Last night, he was drunk. He tries to piece together the bits he does recall yet they don't explain why he's here: a gunshot, screaming. A bomb in the distance, turning the night sky orange. A fresh throbbing cut on his ankle.
"How so?" he asks, still turning over his hands yet not seeing them any longer. He has receded into his mind. He searches for the change, but does not find it.
"It's different for everyone," The Doctor says. With that, it is settled. They walk out of the apartment together. On the bus now, a group of starved kids run after them, hoping for bottles of water or candy. They all disappear in a cloud of dust as the heavy machine roars. They stop twice before getting back to the base yet neither Doctor nor Soldier nor Driver speaks.
His bed is not made; there was no time in the morning. Now, he makes it, and as he straightens out the sheet he hears something underneath. A paper with a name and number. Alisha. Before he calls her, he eats dinner, still exploring the recesses of his mind, still searching for the change.
There is an explosion. The Soldier is out of the mess hall, his fork on the ground with a thin slice of meat on it. Grey gravy.
He readies his weapon and without thinking he fires at the band of men in a truck headed for the front gates. The driver is dead instantly, and after more gunfire the rest of the men. The Soldier, along with all the other Soldiers, return to their dinner. He is not allowed another slice of meat so he eats the one off the ground.
Alisha speaks in a demure purr and he goes to her. She lives just outside the base, and he vaguely remembers that she has black hair.
She pulls away from his kiss. A coughing sounds from the apartment below.
"What's happened to your eyes?" she asks. She looks at him closely, and though nothing has changed with his eyes, there is something missing. This is not the same man she has been with before.
He hears The Doctor's words from earlier. "Nothing," he says, and goes in for another kiss. She slaps him and tells him to get out. He does.
The Soldier feels he should be angry, but he is not. Perhaps this is part of the change. He walks through the town for half an hour in search of another girl. It is dark and he is alone and he returns to the base. Night passes.
The Doctor returns in the morning. He performs a physical check up on The Soldier, and at the very end, he slaps him.
"What was that for?" The Soldier asks, rubbing his cheek.
"You are a piece of shit," The Doctor says instead of apologizing. He slaps him again, the other cheek. "You are worthless. Nothing more than a body to be used. Less than human. Do you understand?"
The Soldier nods. His cheeks sting red. He knows he can break The Doctor's neck—he is such a small Doctor—if he wants, but he does not want. The Doctor tells him the procedure was a success.
The Soldier is on execution duty today. There are three men in the pit and the hot desert sun bakes them alive. He drags them all out, one by one, and lines them against the wall. He removes their black hoods though he does not need to. They beg him in a language he only knows parts of, but he can understand what they say because they plead in the most rudimentary words. Please. Sorry. Family.
He dumps their bodies back in the pit with all the other bodies and makes a note that there will need to be a new pit soon because this one is almost full and the rotting stench has been wafting all over the base for some days now. He decides to start digging himself, though he does not need to, because he has already performed his duty for the day. Sweat soaks his fatigues yet he continues to dig until he passes out. The sun disappears and its heat echoes throughout the night.
He wakes up in his bed. The moon is out. Underneath his pillow is Alisha's note. He puts it in his pocket and goes to the mess hall. He thinks about calling her; maybe they could talk it out. But the more he thinks about it the less he wants to.
After his body is full of sustenance, he returns to the hole—his hole—and continues digging. He rips up Alisha's note and scatters it amongst the dirt. He looks up at the moon and realizes he will never climb back out.
He continues to dig.
|
jmd10of14
|
ApprehensivePen
|
2023-08-06 02:44:13
|
2023-08-06 00:54:21
| 307 | 22 |
juzda4g
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juyzml6
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15j8mzq
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15j8mzq
|
[WP] "Did you know, human mouths have a higher risk of infection and disease than any other animal besides certain lizards?" You calmly explain. The alien looks in horror at the bite wound on its arm, then back to you in horror.
|
I sat back down at my desk slowly. I probably have a broken rib and my left forearm definitely has a break on the ulna. Maybe a hairline fracture on the radius. If it was more than that, the arm would be beyond useless. The right arm was fine though. This is what I get for working late and alone in the pursuit of yet another published study.
The air between me and the alien was thick. I could almost taste the horror growing inside of it. This meant a couple things. It meant the creature could understand English, which in turn meant I could continue to communicate with it. It also indicated that the fucker could feel emotion. Emotion is a lovely control panel with all sorts of levers and buttons that can be operated to a desired effect. Lastly, this meant that another physical attack would be postponed until I could argue a case for why it should leave me alive. No immediate attack meant I could reach into my bottom drawer for the handle of vodka and coffee mug I received as gifts from the last lab Christmas party.
Pouring a bit to get the taste of the creature's blood out of my mouth, I reassessed and poured a bit more to lubricate the courage from my brain to my heart. The impatience of my captive audience was beginning to build. I continued.
"Humans, whether or not they are aware, know this from a pretty early age. In modern folklore, zombies almost always transfer their condition through a bite like the one you have. Of course zombies aren't real, but then again I was on the fence about aliens until 5 minutes ago. My point is that humans tend to incorporate their learned knowledge into folklore."
I sipped a bit of the vodka. The faint almond taste of the alien's blood echoed and died among the alcohol. I swished the combination in my mouth before spitting it out. Still, some of the blood was probably in my gums. I took a gulp and forced it down.
"I however found this out in 9th grade. Nick Reidman kissed me behind the gym at our homecoming. While you don't know what '9th grade' or 'homecoming' means, I can tell you that mononucleosis caused by transmission of the Epstien-Barr virus can cause a ruptured spleen and make you miss the whole damn volleyball season. In essence, something less intrusive than a bite made my life hell and arguably could've killed me."
The alien paused. My left arm drooped along the side of my body, hanging slack. My body obstructed the view between the creature and my arm. The slight nervous tremor was out of its line of sight. At least, I hoped so. The creature stood 8 feet tall and had a thin muscular system. The muscle was dense, which is why I was lucky enough to bite through. I think if the muscle was thin, it would have had an exoskeleton and all I would've had was a corpse with broken teeth. White blood tricked down its long, dark blue arm.
"My point is this. This is probably your first time on Earth. If it isn't, you haven't been here often. Often enough to know what the word 'microbiology' means and what a lab is, sure, but not long enough to build defenses against centuries upon centuries of bacterial evolution. Given that information, do you understand that my body is host to a fucking arsenal of microbes that don't mean shit to me but are the equivalent of a thousand tiny nuclear explosions to you?"
The large, white, gossamer beehive-looking eyes on the creature's face darted from lips to my eyes and back to my lips. A low rumble emitted from its pincers. A sound manifested and was like a few timpani drums tried to make the word "yes."
"And while I have a lifetime of understanding bacteria and diseases, I also have a passing knowledge of chemistry. Your blood might be a little different, but probably is like a cousin to our chemical known as 'arsenic', right?"
Again, the mallets went to work on canvas and the word "yes" crawled out of the creature's mouth. Slower this time. The creature was already following the path of logic that I paved for it.
"Yeah, almonds are a bit of a tip off for that. Well good news and bad news, Cricket. And I am calling you Cricket from now on. Good news is that your blood is poison to me. I have about 9 hours. Give or take. Bad news for you is that both you and I have absolutely no idea what I have in my mouth that can royally fuck you up. And if I gave you a fun little souvenir from your layover on Earth, your layover just turned into a lifetime stay because your species won't want you back anytime soon. You need to keep me alive beyond 9 hours for a return trip to Cricketland."
I poured another finger or two of the vodka into my mug. This one was celebratory. I drew a breath, sighed, and winced. That rib rattled a bit and I resigned myself to the fact that it was broken.
"Sorry, Cricket. I guess it's all bad news. But what do you plan to do about it?"
The air between us grew thick once again. Cricket's eyes twitched slightly before becoming still. He slumped down, sitting on the ground next to the small pool of Cricket-blood.
After an eternity, the timpanis began to rumble again.
|
I can taste the acrid flesh of the octopus-like being still. A chemical rinse and an oral inspection later, and it's there. It doesn't leave.
I was told that I did the right thing, that I saved my crew, that I should not feel bad for creatures like that, threatening us. "They attacked first"... I can't believe that, but it appears true, surprisingly enough, given our species' track record when dealing with the unknown. It's likely they were just as terrified of us as we are of them, and they had good reason.
I'm a military man first, I do as I'm told and I make enough money not to ask any questions in this mission. They said our encounter could turn sour, but we weren't prepared for what happened. Have you ever seen what an octopus looks like when they're moving underwater? Can you imagine what it's like to see something move like that when you're crammed? Stuck in a matchbox of a room, with tools and clothes floating everywhere, how it feels to exercise in space? Can you imagine what it feels to lack any sort of privacy for months? I was terrified. I thought I was prepared to fight if it came to that, I was taught how to combat in 0g, but I wasn't prepared to have to see anything like what's in that security footage.
Did you know it's very easy for humans to find patterns? To recognize emotion, even in that which shows almost none at all? I'm sure I saw glee on that things eyes when it tore Dr. Kennedy apart, and when it crushed my legs, mocking the sound we made. I should be fine, I killed that shit, we're as toxic as they come for them... I think we create fear... I can't think of any other reason something as powerful as that, died to me. To us.
I saw two of them. Only one is dead, and with how fast the other one disappeared I'm entirely too sure that we're fucked. They can understand us, and I know they cay because I saw it. I saw dread in its eyes when I spit out the tendrils that tried to take over my throat. If that thing hadn't been looking forward, if it hadn't taken me for dead, this mission would be over. I think my saliva made it kill itself. We had no chance of defeating it, it's impossible to shoot something that moves like that, that changes color and texture on a whim. Not that I could shoot it, regardless. Can't risk a hull breach, so only the stun weapons, not that they would have helped.
I'm not sure why I said that to the creature. Maybe I'm too into action movies and I thought the one liner would somehow ring the bell and save me. I didn't expect the sounds that came from within its maws... The beak, the teeth and the appendages within, gurgling and foaming as it... It shook in horror, too stunned to do anything but smash itself against different parts of the ship until it died. Maybe it's the fact that they realized how soft they are... It's quite clear they're the dominant species wherever they exist, so maybe they are simply not used to being harmed. Maybe it actually understood what I said, and the idea of a slow infection from a foreign species was enough to make it spiral into the abyss. God knows it did that for me.
I don't know why I feel so bad about it. We were being killed yet I can't help but imagine that poor thing... Alone and helpless... It killed itself right in front of me, I saw its innards expand and wiggle as it died. Why? I need to do something about it, I can't just stay here. I need to see people, I need to tell them, to apologize... I feel the flesh still, wiggling in my mouth...
I can't let this lie, I have to speak the truth of the matter. I need to move to the tallest building in our base and I have to scream out at the world that we've made contact, and that our contact went just as it should have. We met new life. Mission report shows the creature, I have proof.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I saw the footage for the 13th time and I'm sure now. I'm convinced that I need to speak of this to everyone. The creatures we've found, the creature that took down the crew... I believe we can do exactly what we've done with octopi before. I think we can eat them.
Have you ever tried to eat octopus by itself? It's not that great, right? But what about when you dip it in soy sauce? Different story altogether. I think I've found our new source of sustenance. The sensation I had in my mouth was strange at first but now I adore it. The way my teeth move around and how my jaw is looser now. It works perfect, and I can eat more and more of whatever delicious food I can find now.
I've never felt better, and I have our octopus friends to thank for that. I have to bring our own kind to meet them too, we can feast either with them, or on them. It doesn't matter in the end. I feel amazing, I'm going on a date tonight, but I want to eat something too. Luckily we're going for dinner.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
You can't have good sex in 0g, but when your base has artificial gravity that you can fuck around with when you fuck? That's life.
I told my date all about my encounter after the night we spent together. She seemed terrified of it at first, and kept nursing the bite marks I left on her, but I wasn't much worried about hers, or mine for that matter. Sure, human mouths have higher risk of infection and disease than almost all other creatures, but... What was the worst that could happen? I hadn't had anything weird in my mouth except those oysters last night.
Besides, with her writhing movements and twisting joints, with her unhinged jaw melding with mine in a kiss... I could tell she was coming around to my idea.
|
SemperPieratus
|
BrunFer-Author
|
2023-01-03 08:35:02
|
2023-01-03 07:15:13
| 291 | 123 |
j2qw76e
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j2qpwy5
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101slvb
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101slvb
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[WP] "Demonic tradition states that as punishment for your disobedience, I must bestow a curse on you. Common sense dictates that you were absolutely correct to disobey me. So, human, I have decided to burden you with the most inconsequential of curses..."
|
“BEHOLD MORTAL! THE CURSE OF ENDLESS TEMPTATION!”
The demon exclaimed while gesturing in an exaggerated manner.
I felt something light rolled up behind my ear. I reached behind and took it.
It was a single rolled up Twenty Dollar Bill.
“Uh… thanks?”
“YES MORTAL, THIS SHALL HAPPEN ONCE A MONTH FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAYS, YOU SHALL BE TEMPTED BY THE DEBAUCHERIES PROMISED BY TWENTY DOLLARS. YOU ARE DOOMED TO FOREVER TEST YOUR WILL AGAINST THE PULL OF TWENTY DOLLARS.”
The demon smirked and gave me a wink.
Well... I may have helped a demon… but twenty dollars is twenty dollars.
|
"Your curse," said the booming voice, "Is that you now see the world upside down!"
"Whoa hold on that doesn't seem very inconsequential to m--"
You're cut off as your stomach churns from your vision suddenly swirling and shifting until everything is upside down.
You can't keep your balance. You fall over, and you can't quite catch yourself.
The voice speaks. "This is your curse, and so it shall be."
The smell of brimstone fills the air, and Astorsyix disappears.
You struggle down the hallway. Up the stairs. You call for your mother.
"Steven! What is that *horrendous* smell down there?? You better not be playing with hellfire again!"
•••••••
A few months later and you're almost completely accustomed to your new vision. Occasionally when you awake, you're left jarred and confused, but even that will fade. Occasionally you point the wrong direction. Sometimes you look the wrong way. But generally, it's not an issue.
Your mother says it's likely that your disobedience inconvenienced the demon for a while, but that he'd grow accustomed to it. And so such was the nature of your curse.
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SYLOH
|
AlternativeShadows
|
2023-01-10 09:07:03
|
2023-01-10 08:38:40
| 1,409 | 848 |
j3q8to4
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j3q6ru0
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1084k7g
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1084k7g
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[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.
|
We call it the 80-20 rule.
Clean out 80% population of a species, and the rest 20% dies out on its own.
This rule has been in place as long as there has been xenocidal wars in the galaxy.
Exterminating an entire species to its last member is not economical. We wanted to find a sweet spot where we can annihilate a species at the lowest expense. Basis multiple trials and errors, the 80-20 rule was followed. It has never failed.
Eventually, however, a mistake was made.
A primitive species was found on the third planet from the star in a remote system in the galaxy. In his zeal, the Admiral of the quadrant wiped out *90%* instead of the calculated 80% of the population.
This mistake was quickly noted, the Admiral was quickly stripped of his ranks and sent to a penal colony, his incompetence filed away.
Everyone forgot about the incident.
A thousand years later, someone discovered this incident in the archives. Determined to make a movie out of the whole incident (“The incompetent admiral”), they sought the help of the imperial starfleet to shoot the movie at the site of the actual incident.
Our first hint that something was amiss was the massive Dyson sphere around the system that contained the planet. As the scout ship accompanying the movie crew approached the sphere, they were vaporized by multiple nuclear strikes from satellites orbiting the sphere.
While this was unexpected, it was not intimidating. The “humans” had used nuclear strikes in the first war as well. Surprised at the fact that some resistance still remained, we sent in a fleet to seek and destroy whoever remained.
Little did we know we were walking into a trap.
The humans had used the thousand years to reverse engineer our technology and understand our battle strategies. Their first move *was designed* to draw out a fleet to measure our current capabilities, both technological and strategic.
In this we were found severely lacking.
Now, nearly two thousand years after that second contact, we stand at the brink of extinction.
The humans do not care about the costs of war. On every planet they have conquered, they have systematically exterminated every man, women at children.
Even now, while we desperately fight to defend our capital city on our home planet, our last citadel, I hear whispers of camps being set up in the conquered territories, where our captured citizens are systematically massacred.
If these are to be my last words, do pay heed.
While in Xenocide, do not violate the 80-20 rule.
Crossing the 80% threshold apparently *prevents* a species from dying out.
|
Audio log: Date, Febuary 9th 2020, Destroying 90% of the human population on earth, the aliens left, assuming that our society would crumble, and the rest of us would just fight each other, making us go extinct. But, That 10% they didn't destroy was part of Japan, America, and Germany. We have no idea when the aliens will be back, but the first sight of an alien craft entering our planets sphere of influence, we must destroy the ship.
I laughed my ass off as soon as I got confirmation on the destruction of the alien ship. By the way, my name is Void. After I was done dying of laughter, I gave the green light to launch what I like to call "The Hunters". The hunters is a fleet of capital class and standard class ships that are both nuclear and biologically capable. I decided to hitch a ride on the flag ship, nicknamed the God of War. The two flagship escorts are named the twin slayers. The main Assault, or Attack, ships, I call the Fifth fleet. There are going to be support ships arriving about thirty minutes after our initial attack on the alien home world.
Me: "Hahahah, after one thousand years, we will find this alien species home world, and just wipe it off the galactic map."
:Radar manager "Sir, we're getting reports from \[REDACTED\], appears to be more aliens dropping from hyperspace."
Me: "Go ahead and open fire, non-nuclear as a test."
:Combat and Radar manager: "Yes Sir!"
I get confirmations from the radars that the ships have been destroyed, but I realized something was wrong.
Me: "CEASE FIRE, SOMETHINGS WRONG!"
Combat manager: "CEASING!"
Me: "Those smart ass aliens, any reports from \[REDACTED\], don't engage unless they engage first."
Radio: "10-4."
I was about to give the order to start charging the Frameshift-drives when we were hit with something.
Combat manager: "WE'VE BEEN HIT WITH SOMETHING!"
Me: "WELL FIGURE OUT WHERE THE HELL IT CAME FROM OPEN FIRE, USE NUCLEAR WEAPONRY TO MAKE THEIR SURVIVAL CHANCES ZERO!"
Combat manager: "SIR, THOSE MISSILSE WERE CAUSTIC, WE NEED TO START OVERHEATING THE SHIPS."
Thirty seconds go by...
Me: "WELL??? WAITING FOR A KISS AND A COOKIE???? IF YOU NEED TO GO AHEAD AND UN-STABILIZE THE REACTOR!! JUST GET THIS DAMN CAUSTIC SHIT OFF OUR SHIPS!"
We must of lost at least 25% of our entire fleet. We managed to jump to a star-system with an earth-like world with breathable oxygen. We decided to set up a Dyson sphere so we could harvest as much energy as possible for a super-weapon. Only 5% of the energy will be used for construction of several space docks and ship yards for the construction of the ships we lost and then more.
After three years, we increased our fleet size by 300%, not included the ships we did need to replace. We sent out several ASP Explorers, ships designed with a high jump range and high maneuverability to escape any combat situation. We still haven't found the alien home-world. We decided to call the species S-1, species 1. Our super weapon I mentioned is done, but needs to be put into several Heavy cargo ships in order to be transported.
(god school is literally deleting all of my creativity
|
Remarkable-Youth-504
|
Ok_Spinach_4615
|
2023-03-26 18:51:23
|
2023-03-26 09:26:29
| 124 | 25 | null | null |
afitvc
|
122d3v5
|
[WP] Humans make a deal with you, and you "accidentally" give them a way to get out at the end of the contract. you've been doing this for quite a while, but now a human is doing their best to pay the cost. Ignoring, or perhaps not seeing, the solutions you're leaving for them.
|
It’s true what they say – high school never ends.
These divine gods have existed since time immemorial, their bonds forged through standing up against the primordial forces that ruled the world, blah blah blah. It’s a clique is what it is! A clique of lazy assholes who tell themselves actually getting off their ass and doing work in this world is a waste of time and in fact only makes things worse.
I suppose it was this negligence that allowed me to slip through the cracks. Allowed a mere mortal like me to amass enough power, work out the holes in the foundations they’d laid all those eons ago and ascend to godhood. I wasn’t born into it, I worked for it.
Somewhat understandably, this didn’t sit well with, well any of them.
Well fuck em. Let them sit on their thrones, I actually had matters to attend to. While they imposed their rules, deals were still within my power to make, and I had a particularly brilliant deal to close.
I closed my eyes to move through space when a force stopped me. Ah.
In front of me stood Aurora. Her face hidden in a kaleidoscope of colors, 8 arms arrayed around her holding anything from a sword to a bird to a pen, each constantly shifting. She actually chose to appear that way. We could take any form she wanted but she picked that. It was like wearing a clown suit at home – it wasn’t as though the other gods left their realms.
“Off to play with your fellows, Demi?” she said, 8 voices layered on top of one another.
I resisted the urge to ground my teeth. Demi – demigod being the implication. It was clever I had to admit, in the same way a schoolboy might come up with a catchy insult.
“I have to close a deal,” I countered, keeping my voice even. “You know, our job as gods?”
Aurora made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. “Deal you call them, as if we’re blind. We know what they are – they are gifts.”
I stood up straighter and looked her in the eyes. “I make deals. It is the prerogative of my clients if they choose to disrespect me and follow the letter rather than the spirit.”
“You know our rules,” Aurora’s colors shifted, becoming darker. “There cannot be an unbalance. Deals must be fair and in good faith.”
I spread out my arms. “And I make deals, not gifts.” I shouldered past her. “Talk to me when you see me not doing exactly that.”
***
I met my client at a castle.
It was dark except for the single candle that sat on the table, barely illuminating my client’s face in the flickering candlelight. In the room behind him I could make out some light snoring. He gasped when I revealed myself in front of him.
“M-my lord,” he said, immediately getting off the chair and onto the ground. Have some self respect, man I sighed internally. Still, I bent down and held up by his shoulders and lifted him up so he was standing a bit taller than me actually – a deliberate choice in the form I chose. Subtlety over extravagance – if only the rest of the pantheon understood that.
“No need for that my champion,” I said with a the widest smile I could muster. “You’ve united a kingdom that has been split for centuries. I’ve seen you begin to bring reforms and prosperity to a land that has been stained with blood for so long. Stand straight!”
He nodded a small smile coming onto his lips. “It was all thanks to you, my lord. You gave me the power to do what I did, to bring peace to this land, and now I have come to fullfill my side of the bargain.”
What?
“Do you remember the terms?” I asked, less grandiose than I would have liked.
At this, of all things, he brightened. “Of course! You have me the power to accomplish my goal, and I agreed to serve you for the rest of my life afterward.”
“And this mission of yours,” I said, “is it accomplished?” Was I going to have to spell it out for him? His motto was “my work is never finished” for gods’ sake!
He looked back at the room where someone was sleeping and then tore his gaze away from the door and looked me in the eyes. “It is. You have served me in good faith and now I must do the same. I am here to pay my portion of the deal if you are willing!”
You had to be joking right now. “Look, I don’t want to take you into servitude. You can just decide whatever your mission is so I won’t ever actually have to execute this part of it.”
He blinked at me slowly. “You mean…you never intended to follow through with the cost of the deal?”
“Yes!” Finally.
The man in front of me dissolve in a amalgam of colors to reveal, who else but Aurora. “So you could say the deal was not made in good faith then?”
|
I AM THE GENIE OF THE LAMP. And I’m bored. It’s been 300 years since my brother wished me in here to save me from the plague that hit our town (his fault) and gain everlastiiiinnnnggggg liiiiifffeeeeuuuuhhh.
Everlasting life is, predominantly, everlasting periods of lounging in an alternate universe OF MY CREATION and waiting for somebody to rub me out. You think you have problems. Granted, I’m never hungry. Never cold. Never die. I live in an absolute palace but do you hear that bonging when I knock on the walls? Pure lamp. Can’t change the drapes.
Martha Stewart can back me up. A prison’s a prison, no matter what you hang to make it more “homey”.
You know what really sucks about the lamp? It seeks out good, kind people who are struggling with terrible life circumstances. I mean, it singles them out for the torment of a granted wish. It’s written right on the side, for anyone who happens to read 17th century Arabic. “Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.”
I get poor people off the streets and make them very rich! I get barren women pregnant! I heal the sick and the blind and the lame!!!! And there’s always a cost. It turns out, the Universe doesn’t give anything away for free. Nothing.
So, I give them a way out. A little shadow whispers in their ear. They find a clue. A note. Anything to get them out of this wish-prison we’re both trapped in, one of us for ALL OF ETERNITY.
Sorry about that echo. Occupational hazard.
It was all going along just fine, until this last guy. Washington Richardson Jackson, the man with 3 last names. He has everything. You wouldn’t even believe he was on the streets 3 months ago, and the redacted history of his life the wish created certainly won’t tell you.
Me? I was rattling around the lamp for almost 2 decades with not much to do but play Atari when he came along and rubbed me out. The lamp had settled in a random alley between a homeless shelter and a Soup Shop. It smelled like savoury broth and urine in (unfortunately) equal amounts. I had to breathe through my eyes, it was that bad.
The man holding onto my lamp like he thought it would keep him from falling was tall and bulky with an overbite that could have cut glass. He looked up at me, grand apparition though I was, with hazy, wet eyes. People have a lot of reactions when they first see me. Gasp. Scream. Run. The whole pyrotechnics and smoke effect is pretty exciting, sure… but Washington isn’t like other folks. He just looked up at me towering over him in all my gold-braceleted impressiveness like he’d never seen a more ordinary person in his life and said, I kid you not, he said:
“Excuse me?”
I was like “Yes, Master?”
As that is the pre-programmed response.
He goes; “I’m Washington. Washington Richardson Jackson. You can remember it, on account of I got 3 last names. You know who else got 3 last names?”
“No.”
“Me, neither.”
I waited.
“So I guess since you came outta that lamp, you can tell me something about it?”
“I was about to, when you said ‘excuse me’. I have a whole shpiel. I was going to say I AM THE GENIE OF TH—“
He cut me off. Honestly, the gall.
He flapped his hand in the air at me. Yeah. Like this. Like HE was dismissing ME.
“Yeah that’s good awesome great but do you know if the lamp you came out of is gold? Like, pure gold?”
“I….what?”
“You know, like, it’s an artifact or sum right? So it’s gotta be real?”
“I’m sorry. A person just leaped forth from this lamp trailing primordial smoke and you’re asking me what this lamp is MADE OF?!?”
He ran a hand over his sweaty brow, panting from the effort of existing. “Yeah. Do you think I can get money for it?”
I slapped my forehead with my palm. “Do I think you can get money for a MAGIC LAMP with an ACTUAL GENIE inside?”
He slid down the alley wall, draping both arms over his considerable forehead. “You don’t, do you? Ah, it’s just my stupid luck.”
The guy just found a genie, and he was on about his bad luck. Complete monotone. Tears in his eyes. “I won the lottery. Wow, I have the worst luck.”
I considered just letting him sell me. I don’t know what happens if the wisher never wishes.
I’d probably end up trapped outside the lamp forever, but hey. That wasn’t so bad. And I’d never have to grant another wish. I’d be a useless artifact. A total dud. What was the risk, really?
“I wish genies were actually real.”
“Did you say, I w—“
“….but you’re just a hallucination. I could really sell that lamp if you were real.”
I closed my eyes. Took a deep breath. Counted to ten.
“What are you on, Washington?”
He chuckled to himself, a thin and mirthful snort. “Just everything.”
Eyes. Breath. Ten. Maybe I could do him some good.
“Don’t you WISH you could stay off drugs? Clean up your life? Maybe get a place to live?”
He looked at me like I had just lost my ever loving mind (or he had just lost his glasses) and rolled his eyes. As if he possessed some depth of knowledge I couldn’t possibly understand.
….to be continued in whatever free time I find.
|
XcessiveSmash
|
catniagara
|
2023-01-12 14:14:22
|
2023-01-12 13:35:52
| 114 | 31 |
j41adul
| null |
109wolf
|
3futyn
|
[WP] The lottery is a secret plot to catch time travellers. You have just been detained despite winning by pure luck.
|
"What the hell do you mean time travel! I've never even been outside of my city!" Jake says, annoyed. "Is this some sort of joke?"
"No joke" The man with the comically large moustache says to Jake.
"Well then I must be sleeping, because this is nonsense" Jake bites back.
"We have reason to believe that you-" The second man (this one has a small pencil moustache) interjects.
"Oh sod off. So let me get this right, This is your story, yeah? Just so all three of us are on the same page. You think, That I, Jake Bishop, a mediocre mechanic who spends his days scamming old women who come in for a service, you think that I am a time traveller? And instead of going back in time to see the pyramids get built, or going to interrupt the last supper with my best virgin Mary joke, or even just going back and investing in google... OR BETTER YET, instead of going back in time and fixing every shit, soul crushing moment of my life... you think instead of going and doing all of that, that I would instead just go and win the lottery? If I could do all that stuff, Why do you think that would I be here?... in this time... in my miserable, pointless life..." The anger and bluster fades from Jakes face, and is replaced by melancholy. "Why would I be here, when I could be back... back when everything was fine!" Jake stops himself.
The men with the mismatched moustaches turn and look at each other for a moment before turning back to Jake.
The large moustache man clears his throat. "So you didn't play the numbers (4,6,8,9,18,22)"
Jake leans back in his chair. "I'm saying that I'm not a time traveller... I'm not saying that I didn't play those numbers. I play them every week"
The small moustache man cocks an eyebrow "Every week?"
Jake nods. With that, the large moustache man slides out of the room to check on it, whilst the small moustache man and Jake sit in silence.
"So... say this isn't a joke, and say this isn't a dream... you're saying that time travel exists?"
"Yes, Sir" The man replies.
Jake nods sadly. "So, say it did exist... Could I go back in time and change things?"
"Pretty much" The man says, and Jake sits there solemnly, thinking, contemplating.
After a moment, the large moustache man returns.
"Checks out. You're free to go" He says.
Jake stands and heads towards the door, but the small moustache man stops him.
"You play the same numbers every week? People who play the same numbers every week usually have a meaning behind it"
Jake sighs and turns back to face him. "4/6/18, that's the day I met the love of my life" Jake says sadly.
"And the rest?" Small moustache man asks.
"9/8/22... That's the day she died" Jake says, as he turns and leaves the interrogation room.
The End.
|
The world is a harsh place. We prize everyone based on their talents and successes. Those who simply can do more, can do better, and can continue despite the obstacles--those ones rise to the top. They're the ones people view as the "greatest," or the "best." Money, fame, sex--whatever they want, they'll get it one way or another.
On the other hand, there's the type of people like me who exist as stepping stones to their success. I don't think "stepping stones" is even the right term. Maybe "footstool" is better. We simply exist to lift those who deserve to go to the top. Simple as that. Average, bound to normalcy and a trite daily routine.
Things changed though, be it through a twist of fate or just agony at the monotony in which my life has set itself in, because I decided to gamble and put my luck to the test. I rolled my chances for a lottery ticket, and there I was in front of the television eagerly waiting for the numbers to appear. I had randomly chosen the numbers because I didn't want to overthink it. I thought it would sting if I had used something personal and none of the numbers showed up.
Then, as the television began showing the numbers, the world felt as if it had slowed down. The first number appeared. It was the same one on my ticket. Then the sound began to drown itself out as the second number showed up. Then the third. Until the world stopped when I finally matched the last number.
It quite literally, in every sense of the word, stopped.
I looked at my television and the screen froze exactly at the numbers which were on my ticket. I got up from my chair and looked outside the window: the birds stopped midair, Ms. Gardner was at her yard frozen alongside her dog whose pee formed an arc beside a tree. It was all surreal, unbelievable! Everything just stopped...as if time itself had ceased.
A knock on my door eventually came through. In a world that has completely stopped. I would have normally hesitated at the thought; no average person is going to be able to knock at my door at this time, or worse, it might not even be a person. It might be something far worse and far more sinister.
Yet I knew I must carry on. It was heaps better than nothing. I slowly reached for the door knob, bracing myself for whatever stood behind the door. As I pulled, the hinges creaked, and a figure was in front of me. Thankfully, it was at least a human and not an eldrich horror.
"I am John Titor," he said immediately.
"By sheer luck, you managed to decode the winning numbers to the time machine. There is no time to explain, but because time has stopped, TEMPORAPOL will begin their chase once again. Those who fall into the temporal realm, by accident or not, will be hunted down. I am here to rescue you."
I gazed at him in bewilderment. Was this an act? I opened the door expecting answers, but I only ended up with even more questions. Maybe it would have been better if an eldritch horror had showed up instead.
"Take this," he said as he handed a gun over to me. "Keep that and hold on to it tight. It is your only defense from being stuck in time *permanently*." He began walking down the path of my yard and beckoned me over to his car.
"Now. Follow me. I could use your time-stopping luck."
|
JATMorgan
|
mount_sunrise
|
2023-03-06 22:17:08
|
2023-03-06 18:15:15
| 62 | 19 |
jb6z8y1
|
jb5zkuj
|
11k4lei
|
11k4lei
|
[WP] One day, the heads of all religions in the world recieve a telepathic message. "We are the Divine Protection Service, You have been removed from the care of your god for reasons of neglect. You will be entrusted to the care of a foster god."
|
It was a chiming voice, so sweet and soft with the comfort of a warm blanket on a cool day that echoed throughout every being’s mind.
“***Hello. Oh, hello. Look at you, so beautiful. Even while broken, so resilient and beautiful. My poor beloved, my poor dears…***” It cooed, bringing many of the 8 billion people to their knees as they wept from the unconditional love that swept forth.
It started some months ago with a telepathic message that was promptly dismissed by many high-level religious figures to be nothing but a hoax, nothing but a “test of faith.” “Stay loyal, stay true, stay faithful” was their slogan as the masses began to panic and look around for an answer; many people who turned from religion flocked back to the churches and the steeples to kneel and pray to show how devoted they were. To show that they never betrayed the one true God.
Although there were just as many, who stated that they were finally being heard, finally given an answer, they began to reconnect with the roots of what they knew was right, knowing that they were finally going to be taken care of. They tried their best to clean up the earth, reconnect with the soil, and took care of one another in the community as civilization slowly started to collapse and divide itself into two factions: those who Stayed Loyal, typically those of monotheistic religions, and those who Waited, those who were from polytheism religions or otherwise apathetic about God.
With the discourse, messages began to appear in the form of letters, and graffiti art, taking over the broadcasted news and airwaves. “*Thank you for your patience; you will be entrusted to the care of a foster god shortly.*” Letting everyone know that what they heard wasn’t a hoax and that it was real. Eventually, the Waited faction grew, but the Stayed Loyal remained the “most devoted” and kept praying to be heard in a desperate attempt to reconnect with the original God(s) that they were subscribed to.
It slowly started to feel different as the Divine Protection Service, DPS for short, began to do minor patches as humanity waited for their new god. It was only minor, though, as they stated they do not have the power of a real God to assist in any particular way, but they can at least ease the suffering in the short-term until the God is found and is given to them. Food was a main thing that people saw increasing, although it wasn’t consistent. Water was another much to which many people rejoice, especially those going through severe draughts and forest fires. The DPS messages kept saying, wait for your new God to be given to you, and they will help even more. To some, DPS was already a God and couldn’t believe that it could be better- could ***get*** better.
What a strange concept, many have whispered, that being Given a God was some right. Something they deserved. That they didn’t have to fight for it truly. That was supposed to be something we had all the time. That we were born, made, and, as such, it was our divine right to have a God that loved and cared for us.
“***It’s okay my dears, let it out… It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be angry. You have the right to feel that, my loves.***” The voice soothed the hurt, the anger, the rage. It took the yelling as people screamed to the sky about how unfair it all was, how humanity has suffered for so long through floods, through the greed of those in power, through starvation and famine. Some of it was abuse, stating that they don’t understand why, why now, it was so needed as they were abandoned for so long. Some shouted that they didn’t even need a God anymore, pointing out incidents of when humans were able to triumph on their own.
“***We are so sorry; we apologize so much for allowing this to happen to all of you. You are right; it’s not fair. You did so much by yourselves though, look at you. Amazing. All of you just simply amazing. Even without a God, you achieved so much and tried so hard to keep it together. It’s okay though, We are here now.***” The voice soothed even further as it repaired the planet for the humans as they grieved. It cradled them in its warmth, holding them close even as they waved their fists in anger at it. It understood, after all, that they were hurt; they were oh so lonely for thousands if not hundreds of thousands to millions of years. To them, humanity was a hurt child who had to be resilient and survive for so long on their own. Their rage was understandable, and it couldn’t even fault them for it.
“***That’s right. Let it out.***” It cooed as it lessened the heat that was already frying the earth and the human’s tempers, giving cool breezes that caressed away the tears, whether they be from pain, hope, or joy. It cleaned the waterways, allowing the humans to enjoy clean water, for some the first time in centuries. It repaired the damage from the earth, allowing plants and animals to spring back forth into nature, and slowly taught the humans about harmony with not only each other but with every living thing on Earth. “***Even now, you are showing how brave you all are. There are so many changes. But look, you’re adapting so well. My precious humans, adaptability is your perk, but you shouldn’t have had to rely on just that for so long. Come, rest for a bit now. You deserve to. I'll take care of it all and once you are rested, we can learn together.***"
Eventually, they learned the name of this new god, Ahavah. The general consensus of every human was that it suited it.
“*We at Divine Protection Services wish to extend a formal apology to humanity as we have let you go under the radar for so long. It was not until we were reviewing old case files that we realized our error. As such, after reviewing incident reports and the prayers that we were given by you, we wanted to find a God that could best suit what you all needed. Please do give us more prayers if we are wrong, but what we found humanity needed was unconditional love.*”
|
The UN was the most neutral place to hold the panicked meeting.
The general concept was to hold it in Jerusalem but the mere mention of that suggestion caused riots.
The Pope, Dalai Lama, a number of high-ranking Imam, Rabbis, Monks, and leaders of Hindu religions had joined.
Among the gathering were even a few native tribes from the Americas and the Polynesians.
To my utter shock, I even spotted a few folks wearing pentacles on their well-pressed suits and dresses. Were those Wiccians? I suppose it was derivative of me to assume they'd be walking into such an event wearing floral decorations and headdresses.
There was a man who was rather smug, among the group. He had a Pentagram on his lapel and glanced pridefully among the grouping of religious leaders.
I couldn't recognize most, being an American reporter and an atheist myself, theology wasn't my strong suit.
Yet, here I was, covering a most insane story.
The Pope stood up, clearing his throat. Before he could speak, a bright light filled the room.
Hovering above him, filling the room with holy light, was a strange creature.
They had four arms, and two sets of glowing eyes, each a different color. One yellow, one blue, one red, and one brown.
Three sets of shimmering white, gold, and silver wings hung off their back. Their lower half was humanoid, but more like a horse. Like a human-like centaur, of sorts.
They wore white robes over their upper body, their legs were clad in shimmering armor, and their feet (not hooves) were clad in armored boots.
They floated down slowly, "**Sorry, My New Children, I was only just informed by DPS of the situation. I rushed over to this plane as swiftly as I could and... oh... Oh, dear**." Their voice was both many and few, caring and disappointed. "**Oh, you've all split up already? That's unfortunate. Did you receive no prophets or miracles lately to guide you?"**
The man wearing the Pentagram burst into laughter.
The deity before us gave a glare to the apparent Satanist, "**I don't think that's called for, young man."**
The Satanist cleared his throat, giving a little chuckle, "My apologies... It's just... Well, I've been saying God abandoned us for a long time. It's funny to get proof."
The deity sighed, looking around the room, "**Fair enough. You're a rather astute prophet to notice."**
The Satanist covered his mouth, turning away so as to not offend.
The deity rolled their many eyes, "**Anyway... Hello, my New Children. I am the god Tirpheir. I understand this is a difficult time for all of you, but I can assure you I'm a very experienced foster god. I've seen many a neglected mortal plane, and ushered many into a better place."** They looked over the stunned group, "**Though this is the most... dire case I've seen,"** One of their fingers looked over the group, "**Have any of you been granted exceptionally long life by your previous deity?"**
The room was silent.
"**...Oh, uhm,"** Tirpheir paused, "**Any Avatars of the Divine's angelic choir?"**
More silence.
"**Oh for the love of the grand combined essences-What was Yahweh doing for the last century!"** Tirpheir called out in increasing frustration.
The Pope leaned forward, "Actually, the last prophet we have ever received that was ever confirmed was about..." The Pope heaved a heavy sigh, "Was about 1500 years ago."
An Imam growled, "Ah, so *Now* you accept that Mohammad was a prophet!"
The Pope growled, "Listen here, he was sent by Raphael, not God!"
"And who commands the angels?! Huh?!" the Imam shouted.
Tirpheir lifted their hands, a heavenly sound of trumpets filling the room.
All were silent.
"**The Angel Raphael is who reached out to the DPS in the first place. They stated they were befuddled by their last mission, as it fractured the religions and caused yet more divisiveness among the mortals here. This, after yet more divisiveness was caused by a direct visitation of your Lord,"** Tirpheir explained.
"AH-HAH!" the Pope shouted, "Jesus was the Lord!"
"**Was,"** Tirpheir emphasized, turning to the Pope, lifting a finger to their mouth, "**Please be silent, while we transition."**
"I am only commanded by the Lord God, Jesus Christ, Hollowed be-" The Pope began, but then choked, grabbing his throat as no sounds emerged.
Tirpheir's eyes narrowed on the Pope, "**What we speak, becomes law. Your refusal to be silent has robbed you of your voice,"** They turned to us, "**Going forward, there shall be some changes to stop all of these** ***Holy Wars*** **that you've begun,"** Tirpheir looked towards the Israeli delegation, "**Firstly, while we do not normally require sacrifices nor tribute, you're to destroy your old altars and artifacts. They no longer have any spiritual significance, as your God has been egregiously absent. Secondly, we shall select interim prophets and bless them with near-immortal life, and divine power,"** They glanced at the Satanist and a few of the native leaders who had remained mostly silent, "**Your sort seem more in tune with the spiritual world, so I shall select you, who saw the truth as the interim prophet of Law and Order."**
The moment the words were spoken, Satanist's pentagram glowed white and was replaced by four multi-colored eyes. He smiled at first before he flinched, and gasped, falling to his knees as he grabbed at his own eyes. He got to his feet, blinking a set of four human eyes on his head, looking around, "Oh - Oh wow I can see it all and... Oh, it's a mess."
"**Yes, it is,"** Tirpheir then pointed to a few of the natives, who experienced similar changes, "**You shall be prophets of life, of Earth, of air, of Earth, and of Sea."**
The room was now full of confusion as the prophets were chosen. I tried to write down all I could.
Tirpheir turned to the Dalai Lama next, "**You, who follow a kindred spirit through the ethereal plane and into the physical, shall be the new Prophet of Death and Rebirth."**
The Dalai Lama looked himself over, nothing changing.
"**Giving you ever-lasting life would, of course, be meaningless. Your role will remain the same, but obviously, I shall be your patron. I'll, however, announce your rebirth whenever it occurs, to prevent all the confusion about it,"** Tirpheir sighed, "**That whole 'Leap of Faith' thing is a cop-out for abusive gods. You'll find I'm stern but fair, and I will be involved in your mortal realm,"** Tirphier said, as the room shook from their voice.
I swallowed hard. I was unsure if that was for the better or the worse.
|
Antique-Bird-4454
|
Alexandratta
|
2023-07-26 14:19:11
|
2023-07-26 13:32:11
| 30 | 20 |
jtixl1m
|
jtiqutq
|
159czme
|
159czme
|
[WP] Every alleged weakness of vampires in folklore is completely fake. Silver, stake through the heart, beheading, garlic, sunlight, holy water? All bullshit. The vampires had spread those stories themselves, as a joke.
|
Count Vrensal swirled the crimson liquid in his wine glass. "'Tis good fun, I will say. These mortals will believe anything you tell them." He took a long sip of the viscous liquid. "Why, I told them we cannot stand the sunshine, that we'd burn in its radiant light. One way to explain a hangover."
Diocletes the Flayer chucked deeply. "You think too small!" The heavyset man bellowed. "I told them, 'silver, I cannot stand silver, please no silver.' Guess who wakes up next morning with a front lawn covered in free silver!"
The room nearly howled. Several pale-skinned party goers stood with empty glasses. At the far side of the room was a set of finely crafted bronze spigots. Pipes connected these through the ceiling, where the staff kept its slaughter floor.
"I must also confess," Lady Shivver announced. Her melodic voice cut through the crowd, quieting the room. "I was once preparing a small country family for roast. I had spent the morning gathering the mountain of ingredients I would need, but do you know what I forgot? Garlic. So, I cut free the smallest of the farming clan and tell him to spread the word, I can only be killed by garlic. 20 minutes later, a band of men come romping to my door--the remnants of the city I had plundered earlier. And they brought garlic! Mountains of it! Saved me a trip to the store."
"Oh, I have one," a voice called through the room. Heads turned looking for its source until they found a man in a coat standing in an open doorway. "I once told a city that the only way to kill a vampire is by weakening. You do *that* by tricking then into drinking vampire blood."
Nobody laughed. One of the more inebriated of the clan heckled to the man, "Ay. You can't tell 'em real ones."
The man threw a golden set of rings to the stone ground. Vampires leaned over to inspect. They were the rings of the Blood Covenant, to be worn by the Emperor. Where was he?
The vampires looked back to the man, who looked up at the ceiling. No, not the ceiling. Higher. The next floor. The killing floor.
A scream broke out from the crowd. Then abother, until the whole room pieced it together. The man at the center of the chaos pulled a shotgun from under his coat.
|
The vampire hasn't stopped laughing. From the old gothic church where the townsfolks had swarmed all over him, to the town square, where they had chained him to a large crucifix.
A paid mercenary stepped forward to repeatedly hack and slice at his body with a silver sword. The vampire wasn't amused. Not because it left deep wounds that wouldn't heal, no that was all bullshit, the reality being that he was uninjured. He was upset his new suit had been shredded into ribbons. It was rather expensive and he loved it. To add fuel to the fire they were about light up under his feet, that dumb merc didn't have the courtesy to leave him a shred of cloth or dignity. And the stares. He didn't like the way the women gossiped and gawked at his nakedness, their eyes swimming in cheesy vampire romantasy dreams he wished to scrub out of his mind. Especially the drooling soccer moms.
Not to mention, the sun was coming up and he was going to be sunburnt. He liked the pale gothic look and wasn't up for a tan.
The "holy water" was but a mild annoyance. Having garlic stuffed in his mouth and then duct taped so he couldn't spit it out? Well, that sucked. But the fire and the scorching rising from the horizon to ruin his beautiful complexion? Mortifying. His worst nightmare in fact, comparable to the nightmares of these Twihard soccer mom fantasies that would haunt him for...a while. He thinks. It's been a while since he last saw one of those black covers with a fruit in the middle. The nearest bookstore had replaced vampire romance slop with fae romance slop. It's a phase. It'll cycle out one day.
If he could talk with a clove of garlic in his duct-taped mouth, he would bring up how much harder it would be to put a stake through his heart or behead him while the fires were raging.
As much as all these alleged weaknesses started out as a joke by one of his elders, the reality was still such a pain in the ass to deal with. One human had gotten the idea to extinguish the fire below to stab a stake through his heart, then behead him with a sword.
Stories told these morons a single strike could take his head off. Reality dictated that without sufficient strength, the blade was only lodged midway in his neck. The warm blood trickled down, only for a handkerchief to dab it.
"I think that's enough. Clearly nothing is working," a burly foreman declared. "I say we toss him down the sea. Even if it doesn't kill him, it would stop the vampire from terrorizing the townsfolk."
Crap.
It wouldn't kill him, but it would definitely put a big damper on his plans like a wet blanket. Whoever said a weakness had to fatal had to be kidding him.
Escaping from being chained to a crucifix while being tossed into the raging sea was going to be a real challenge.
|
Protowriter469
|
Tregonial
|
2024-11-21 04:43:02
|
2024-11-21 04:30:18
| 64 | 25 |
ly7dbjw
|
ly7bjwa
|
1gw49m9
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1gw49m9
|
[WP] Being invisible has its perks, but you can't exactly sign a lease. As such, you've become quite the expert lockpick to always have a place to sleep. When you settled into the cozy lake cabin to get out of the rain, you hear "We've been expecting you" from the shadows.
|
They say not to mess with magic; in this case, 'they' is every PSA, textbook and veteran you interact with from the moment you discover how to shoot sparks. They say many things about magic, how it behaves, and how it thinks.
Of course, they also suggest the speed limit, and nobody thinks that 70 is a reasonable speed no on the highway.
Of course, I found out the hard way that the speed limit comparison was the problem or I wouldn't have thought about this so much. While speed limits are a matter of physics and law, magic has always been about negotiation. Sure, some spells are so consistent that they are essentially laws, but anything off the beaten path is a conversation between the caster and curse.
I'd wanted to turn invisible, but I rewrote the spell to try and buy myself an extra hour of invisibility. That's how all of this started, two glasses of wine, a bad idea and misplaced confidence in my improv skills. I'd bought myself extra time; I had yet to figure out how much.
It was at least enough that I'd stopped being angry about it a while ago. Invisibility wasn't entirely downside, and life as a 'ghost' was tolerable.
Either that, or I was just used to it. Hard to tell.
Living with the accidental curse was interesting. I still needed to eat, sleep, keep myself warm and everything that came with that, but there wasn't a way for me to engage with society. Jobs, leases and most other steps in the social ladder required a visible form. I'd been able to use Government Curse Adjustment Programs for a while, but they were underfunded and weren't a long-term solution.
No, the solution had been to embrace invisibility and do what I did best, disappear. I could live in someone's house for several days before they suspected a poltergeist, and there were enough books to keep me entertained. Between my required curse-breaking hobby, getting four unofficial degrees from MBU and trying to find a fabric that didn't turn invisible when I wore it, I'd managed to keep myself busy.
All of this to explain why the homeless, jobless invisible woman was taking a vacation. I thought I deserved it, and I'd seen the family that owned this cabin head back to the city earlier today. I could spend a week here, specifically not getting a tan, and head somewhere else before they came back next weekend.
The front door was easy. They always were. Lockpicking spells were more than enough for residential bolts, and nobody was arresting me for illegal magic anytime soon. The alarm systems were more annoying, even if I set it off and the cops showed up...
Well, it was like lockpicking; they'd need to find me first.
I opened the door and slipped into the house just as it began to rain outside. The light pitter-patter of droplets chased me as I shut the door and kicked off the sneakers I'd been wearing. My ratty shoes popped into view as they stopped touching my body. I needed a new pair, but I'd kept putting it off because nobody could see them, and I had no idea if they even looked good on me.
Thinking about it, I missed shopping. I'd always been too harsh on myself in the mirror and put things back on the shelf that I should have bought. I'd always been able to tell myself that I had years to make brave fashion choices. Now I didn't have a reflection, which made it hard to know whether I looked like a wet rat or cute as I broke into this place.
I turned away from the mirror in the entranceway and found the light switch. I flicked it on, and a single bulb in the entryway sputtered to life, leaving the rest of the house mostly shadow.
"One of those houses," I mused to myself as I walked properly inside and started to take stock of the little lakehouse. There were only three rooms, and the main one was taken up by a massive dining table that was clearly the most expensive thing in the room.
I flicked another switch, and the fixture above the table turned on; five bulbs where candles should have been on a chandelier. The warm light betrayed how shined the table was like nobody had ever eaten off it before.
I was going to change that this week.
|
"We've been expecting you."
I froze. Thunder rumbled in the distance, as shadows shifted in front of me, seeming deeper than a second ago. Maybe they hadn't been talking to me. Maybe they'd been expecting someone else in this remote cabin on the lake. Maybe whoever it was had come in behind me. Right behind me.
Walking softly, I moved to the side, out of the way. Being invisible had its perks, one of them the ability to avoid pursuit as long as you made no sound. Shadows reached out to embrace me, and though I didn't need them to hide, I welcomed their presence.
That was a mistake.
They hardened around me, the dark becoming steel, wrapping my wrists and ankles. Breath shortening, I flexed my wrists, trying to see if there was any give. Nothing. I stilled as a sound came from the back of the cabin. It curled around my ears, digging its way under my skin. Laughter. Whoever... whatever, was holding me, laughed at my attempts to break free.
I suppressed a shiver, making sure my voice wouldn't break with the fear that was starting to rise in waves.
"Who are you?" The shadows absorbed my voice, deadening the words. I tore my thoughts away from the idea of death as someone responded. But as they spoke, the laughter continued.
"You know who we are. You've been running from us for too long." There had to be two of them, at least.
"Running from you?" My mind raced as I tried to think of an escape. Around my wrists, the dark bonds tightened until they threatened to break bones.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Now, we've caught you fair and square, there's no running now." The voice scolded in a strange sing-song, as the laughter rose to a crescendo before choking off.
"You've got the wrong person," I said, desperate to keep them talking. If they were talking they hopefully wouldn't be killing. That voice sounded as if it would enjoy killing.
"The wrong person? Hmmm. That sounds like something the right person would say. After all, you didn't want to get caught." The voice was closer now, and I started praying for light. Any light, any light at all... A slurping sound came from the darkness, the noise reminding me uncomfortably of someone sucking the marrow from bones. The bonds shifted, pulling my left hand forward until it hung suspended straight out in front. Thunder rolled again and I took a shaky breath, whimpering as a cold dry hand took mine.
"Oh, I think you're the right person. Oh yes, oh yes. You see, you're invisible. Invisible is flavorful." There was a strange chuckle, different from the laughter of before. This was controlled, but something dark lurked behind the light sound.
"I've been invisible for a while now. But I haven't been running from you. I haven't been running from anyone. So you see, you've got the wrong person." I could feel myself starting to babble and bit my tongue. The voice broke into a cackle as the cold hand tightened. It felt strange, not quite like flesh.
"Just because you didn't know you were running, didn't mean we weren't chasing you." It hissed, and the cabin lit as lightning flashed outside. In a split second, the inhabitants were revealed. The laugher, the sucker of bones, curled against the back wall, long taloned claws reaching towards me, darkness dripping from underneath the hand that was too long to be human, bone-white skin stretched too tightly over a form that only mimicked human anatomy. Close at hand, the speaker, grinned with a too-big smile. Eyes like the blackest pit stared at me, *saw* me as no one had seen me in a decade. A tongue flicked out, as if sniffing the air, an illusion reinforced by the snake scales covering its face. I screamed as the hand holding mine started to pull me closer. Darkness fell again, and teeth closed around my flesh.
A flash of lightning. As it lit the cabin, the bonds around my feet and wrists loosened. Panic lent me strength, and I broke from the shadows, tearing myself free, wrenching pain shooting up my left arm. Scrabbling, half-falling, I burst out of the door, running as soon as my feet hit the ground. Wriggling out of my jacket, I wrapped it around the stump of my left wrist, trying not to scream as the cloth hit the exposed wound. The Speaker had bitten off my hand.
Laughter echoed behind me, rising in cruel hysterics. The lightning flashed again, hitting a tree nearby, and setting it ablaze, but I dared not stop, dared not turn my head. As I fled, the Speaker's voice rose through the trees.
"You can run. But we'll find you. We have a *taste* of you now. And we *liked* it!"
​
———————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories!
|
Writteninsanity
|
Mooses_little_sister
|
2023-01-20 01:59:53
|
2023-01-20 01:14:05
| 235 | 115 | null |
j530uqa
|
10gh61d
|
10gh61d
|
[WP] Everyone is born with a hole where their heart should be. This hole shrinks the closer you are to finding your purpose and grows the further away you get from it. Yours has been steadily growing for the past ten years, and soon you'll disappear altogether if it doesn't stop.
|
**Medical Report**
**Subject:** Phenomena of Existential Void Syndrome (EVS)
**Author:** Dr. Richard Simmons, Senior Cardiologist
Good heavens, here we go again. One more subject complaining about the EVS – the latest trend, as it seems. Frankly, I've grown quite tired of these melancholic accounts and their incessant need for philosophical justifications. But alas, here we are.
Over the past ten years, this patient has reported a steady growth in the 'existential hole', which supposedly correlates to their dwindling sense of life purpose. Baffling concept, really. It's as if the humdrum life of regular cardio workups isn't dramatic enough.
Anyhow, according to this over-dramatized condition, our subject believes they will 'disappear altogether' if the expansion of this void doesn't cease soon. Perhaps, a rather intriguing metaphor for the human psyche but an exasperatingly vague medical symptom to investigate.
The heart's physicality remains intact, as verified by countless echo cardiograms, stress tests, and angiographies. The EKGs, as always, are as thrilling as a stale piece of bread – normal sinus rhythm, no arrhythmias. Yet, the patient insists on the persistent 'growing void.'
From a psychiatric perspective, the hypothesis aligns with the manifestation of an identity crisis or existential depression. Our charming subject here might be struggling with defining their purpose in life, an issue that would typically fall into a psychologist's territory. But as fate would have it, it appears to be my proverbial 'cross to bear.'
For therapeutic measures, perhaps a few sessions with a life coach or motivational guru might do the trick. We could also look into cognitive behavioral therapy, although I must say, I'd much rather prefer to untangle the mysteries of a complex congenital heart defect.
To wrap this up, my medical advice for our dearest subject here would be to cut back on the existential dread and focus on more tangible life goals. Perhaps take up a hobby, try painting, learn a new language. Whatever it is, just keep the existential crisis at bay.
At the end of the day, it's another case of 'mind over matter.' A seemingly increasing void in the heart can be as perplexing as it is metaphorical, but it's high time we return to addressing physiological ailments, and not philosophical quandaries. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a mountain of paperwork to attend to.
**End of report**
|
Have you ever had the feeling that there is an empty space where your heart should be? Well, in my case or rather in the case of humanity it's true. No one can be accused of being heartless because we don't have one. We just have a blank space. We were told it could close when we find our purpose and make us whole. Or it will grow and ultimately consume us if we don't.
Sounds great if you are the kind of person who plans their life. Or you are like me and accept that one day you will collapse into yourself like a dying star.
*
When I was 10, I found out what I wanted to be. I saw the first female civil servant and knew I wanted to be that. There could be no doubt about it. I could feel the cavity where my heart should be pulse with happiness.
Little did I know that this pulsing was the cavity growing larger.
*
When I was 18, I enrolled in college. I worked hard on both life and studies. I had a dream afterall. But life had some other plans.
*
When I was 20, I felt the first hints of darkness inside me. It was the small moments- suddenly turning morose, feeling the need the hide and sleep forever and simultaneously never sleep at all. I thought it was because I was working towards my dream.
It was because my the hole where my heart should be was growing. Slowly and surely, it was giving space to darkness to occupy. And I could feel it trying to take over me but the light inside me was too strong for it to defeat.
Oh, how wrong I was.
*
I was 26, when it first started to dawn on me that my dream could remain that only - a dream. I was distraught. I didn't know what to do. The darkness had almost overtaken my entire being. Even breathing hurt. My parents who constantly tried to talk to me to go to a doctor were now growing severely concerned.
It wasn't until I was 28 that I realised that there was nothing else but darkness in me.
I was 28 when I first realised that the small cavity felt like a chasm.
I was 28 when I gave up on my dream.
I was 28 when my parents told me I was more important than any dream.
*
The doctor told me if I didn't find my true purpose and gave up on what I thought was my purpose I was going to disappear. Forever.
For a moment disappearing forever felt like a blessing.
For a moment I didn't want to give up on my dream. It was the only purpose I knew.
Then I saw my parent's faces and realised that the only thing that should disappear should be my insane pursuit of that dream.
*
I was 30 when I officially closed all doors on my dream. What I previously thought was my purpose. Though I knew I had given up on it there was a finality to it now.
Why is the silence that follows after broken dreams so loud?
I looked at the ruins of my dreams. And for the first time in 10 years felt a contraction in my chest.
Was this healing?
*
I was 31 when I decided to look for other options. The cavity was now slightly smaller as compared to 3 years ago.
I still haven't found my purpose. But at least I'm not chasing the wrong one either.
|
None
|
iknowthisischeesy
|
2023-06-18 17:24:01
|
2023-06-18 13:43:25
| 217 | 62 |
joltv3w
|
jol1y79
|
14cj86j
|
14cj86j
|
[WP]You were born in the Medieval Age, but at 15, a time anomaly brought you to the modern era, where a scientist adopted you. Now, 11 years later, they’ve found a way to send you back and asked for your opinion, but your answer is clear: "Hell no."
|
"What. No. Why," I deadpanned with a blank look on my face. "I mean, great for you, pops, that you invented a time machine, but... actually, why is your first decision using it be to *return me*? I'm a bit touched, but you certainly didn't make it this far without being a dumbass."
"Language," The old man chided gently. "Well, for starters, it was not a time machine. Just reversing the temporal anomaly, that's all. I can add some cargo, but-"
"That explained why I'm so high on the priority list, huh?" I smirked. "Yeah, I'm grateful, pops. To think that you have been working that long to send me back. But you know- wait, what, cargo?"
"Cargo, yeah. It'd be really bad taste for me to send you back to the actual fucking Medieval-"
"Language." I snickered.
"I think we earned the right to say that with how many treatments and vaccines I had to get you through. Anyway, cargo." Dad rubbed his hands with a mischievous smile. "Fifty kilograms of machinery and equipment, of any type and form on Earth. Books, guns, vaccines, computers, nuclear batteries, solar batteries, you name it."
"...so that's your idea, huh." I narrowed my eyes and sighed. "Sorry, Dad, even then, no can do. I'm no savior like you. You... you know that it's far, far worse than even North Korea, right? It was cold, and it smelled, and I smelled, and I was always hungry too... I can't go back to there. Well... that's a bit of my fault, wasn't it? All the times I told you how I wish Mom and Aria and Chris could've been here with us, with you, away from that bastard..."
"No, no." Dad hurried with a frantic expression. So quick to apologize. One of the many things I loved so much about him. The bastard never said sorry for all the beatings even once. "You see, I've also figured out how to replicate the anomaly in the common direction, so it wouldn't be a one-way trip. And-"
"Wait, what?" I stared at him incredulously. "How is that different from a time machine, then?"
"Well, the temporal anomaly is attached to you as an individual and-"
"Doesn't matter! You figured out a way to travel BACK AND FORTH TIME?!"
"W-well, yeah, technically, but-" He stammered.
"You fucking idiot," I swore out loud and for once satisfied that he was too cowed to comment on that. "This Nobel Prize, I'm taking it."
"...I was planning on doing that anyways..."
"Don't try to hit me in the feels to cover up your dumbassery," I grumbled, as we strode over to the lab.
"Language." He smiled back.
|
“Hell no. I do not want to go back,” Thomas said.
Proust took a step backwards. And steadied himself against the door frame. His wide grin lost to a grimace. “But why?”
“Because I don’t.”
Proust Finklemyer was a famous scientist. Famous because he invented time travel eleven years ago. Kind of. It certainly wasn’t unintentional. Proust had been trying to understand time and tried many a way to create a method of transporting oneself through it, but he had never succeeded. Until one day, a wormhole generated during one of his experiments. It was wild and uncontrolled and when it ended a young man lay on the ground scared out of his mind. That was Thomas.
“You always talked so fondly of your time Tom. Now is your chance to go back to the moment you left… or we can move it forward some time so…”
“Dr Finklemyer. Please. I said no.” The rhythmic tapping of fingers against a plastic keyboard stopped as Thomas leant back in his chair looking at the ceiling.
Proust did he best to hide his wince. He hadn’t been Dr Finklemyer in years. He could still remember the moment he laid eyes on the child. Well, teenager. Lost and alone. Though there was a slight understanding of language most modern slang was simply too foreign and much of the modern world made no sense to Thomas. Proust had to choose: send him somewhere random, give him to social services, or adopt him (through slightly discreet methods).
So Proust adopted Thomas. It was only meant to be for six months maybe a year. But time is fickle. And tampering was resisted. So the process took longer. Now Proust almost couldn’t imagine a day without Thomas. But he had to send him home. It was the correct thing to do.
“I don’t understand Tom.” Proust walked over and sat on the bed.
“Because that life is gone. It was a nice dream to go back but how can I now? I’ve seen too much. I know too much. I’ll be an outcast,” Thomas almost shouted.
Proust shifted back. He knew the anger wasn’t aimed directly at him, but he still felt the passing burn.
“My family. I miss them everyday. I miss that they won’t ever see this. I miss that they wouldn’t understand why their child would disappear for 10 years only to return with tales of a magical land of metal and fireless lamps. Perhaps I would be accepted. Perhaps I would be laughed at. It is of no consequence that I would then have to live back then. In the conditions I have been made acutely aware of, that were not exactly hospitable.”
“Well what if we bring your family…”
“No. Dad. Please. No. Don’t make this harder,” Thomas cut him off. “I am a different person now. In a different family. In a different time. We don’t need to mix them up anymore than they are now.”
Although Proust was still slightly taken aback by his son’s wishes, they were to be respected. “Alright,” he half choked out of his throat. “Well then, let’s say we take a journey to somewhere else back in time. Together. As a family.” Proust looked over to Thomas.
Thomas swivelled in his chair. A lone tear rolled down his cheek. He nodded.
|
_Koch_
|
dougy123456789
|
2024-08-29 17:24:04
|
2024-08-29 16:22:51
| 51 | 34 |
lkj9pua
|
lkixiir
|
1f43kse
|
1f43kse
|
[WP] A fantasy army with its generic Hollywood tactics meets a small group of Medieval Infantry who understand things like "formations" and "discipline".
|
"Shit they are moving slow!"
A female barbarian says. Her "armor" exposing her huge cleavage and her muscular thigh are mostly naked.
"They are indeed Tatiana. Not gonna be a match for my mighty hammer. "
A dwarf in full plate answers. His hammer is two times his size. And engraved with magic runes.
They are standing at the top of a hill, looking at their future battleground.
Several miles away, ten of thousands of enemy soldiers advancing in several lines towards them.
A tall and well built middle aged man approaches them. They both bow to him.
"Lord Arthur! My dwarfs are ready to kick some arses." "And my brave sisters are at your will as well!"
"Okay then. Here is the plan." Arthur continues. "Your dwarfs charge the front Bughdan. My cavalry charges their flank while they are busy dealing with you. And Tatiana's amazons rain them with arrows. Let's give them hell!"
Soon they march. Dwarfs walk till they are several hundred meters from the enemy line then charge into them. To their surprise the line in front of them just keeps walking. Holding their spears in front of them. Dwarfs have to stop their charge before getting impaled by spear.
"What do we do now?" one dwarf asks. "Smash them!" Another replied. But dwarves are too short to reach the enemy and so is their maces and axes. They tried to charge several times to no avail . And the enemy was moving forward slowly. One dwarf tries to swing his hammer into them but just hits a few spears. Few dwarves rush into their doom. Others are just going backwards step by step. Soon they see no other way but to retreat. Bughdan encourages them to attack "come on you cowards, charge" but as he tried to swing his hammer the weight of the hammer breaks his balance and he falls. "Fuck this useless shit is heavy".
Arthur and his knights are leading a thusend heavy cavalry into enemy flank. But sadly the enemy is not blind and can see them advancing. And even if they were charging from cover their voice would ruin the element of surprise.
So when they rich enemy flank, "the flank" is ready for them. And they are holding "spears!"
Arthur shouts. "Don't charge into spears!" But the battlefield is way too noisy for an entire cavalry regiment to hear their leader. His horsemen rush into spears, against horses better judgement. And die an agonizing death. For some reason horses are not good at "breaking enemy lines" head on.
Meanwhile Tatiana and her amazons are shooting arrows non stop. They are all beautiful, strong, clean and wear make-ups. Some of them shoot several arrows at once but strangely enough none of those arrows fly far. Enemy archers are also shooting at them. And those big exposed cleavages and naked thighs are proving to be a nice target. Many of them bleed to death.
Enemy is advancing slow but steady. And soon Arthur and his warlords has no choice but to flee.
Decades later when asked "what was the reason for your defeat", Arthur replied: we were backstabbed, by the reality!"
|
King Gregor the 3rd sat in his chambers, sipping at a glass of warm, honeyed wine.
Today was an important day for him, the dawn of what was sure to be a successful campaign against the kingdoms at the edge of his empire. This was not his first war, one does not rule a land as vast as his without putting a few unruly lords in their place, and he doubted it would be his last.
The kingdom of Falder sought to expand its borders into the lush, resource rich lands of the fey courts. The courts were small, isolated, and very territorial, but the lands they held were some of the most verdant, beautiful lands he'd ever seen. The king idly wondered if he could build a summer home there, once the land was in his grasp.
If his generals had advised him correctly, his first warband would have arrived on the field of battle a week ago. They were no strangers to war, and he doubted they would have faced much trouble against a force as small as the fey courts.
A knock at his door interrupted his train of thought.
"May I enter, my lord?" It was one of his military advisors. He recognized the voice, but couldn't recall his name.
"You may." The door opened to reveal an average man in plain brown robes. He carried a few sheafs of parchment, which he placed on an empty desk.
"News from the front, my lord. The generals told me to appraise you as soon as possible."
The king pursed his lips, and nodded for the advisor to begin.
The robed man cleared his throat, and held up a letter.
"Squire Peter of Faldridge reports that, the 5th infantry and calvary divisions of the royal Falderian army has been..." He squinted. "Completely destroyed."
The king choked on his wine. "What?! Give me that!"
He snatched the letter from his advisor, scanning the contents. The paper had seen better days, and was very short on details. Written in a clear, panicked haste, all the king could gleam from it was that his forces had faced a crushing defeat, with few survivors.
The advisor picked up another letter, this one a more detailed battle report.
"The squire of Faldridge.." The advisor resumed, "Was one of only a dozen to survive the engagement, and gave a clear report of events after retreating to the primary gathering at the edge of our borders. According to his reports, after rallying to defensive positions and establishing standard formations, our forces met fey infantry. The enemy footmen were loose and unfocused, many either rushing within the range of our pikemen and being cut down, or falling in close combat to our swordsmen."
"That... doesn't sound bad, how did we lose?"
"It began to rain blood, sir."
"It began to rain-" The king cut himself off.
"Yes. And then the blood caught fire."
"How the fuck does blood catch fire?!"
"I'm not entirely clear on that, my lord. I would have believed the squire had simply been hallucinating, if not for the fact that our entire division is dead..." The advisor reread a line on the letter. "Oh, I misread. Our entire division is undead."
"Unde-"
"Yes, they got back up and started killing each other. According to the squire, shortly after they lost formation a man identifying himself as a 'necromancer' revived our fallen forces, and instructed him to return and tell us what he'd seen."
The king rested his forehead in his hands.
"I see."
"Do you have any orders, my lord?"
"Is my son old enough to rule yet?"
The advisor raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"He turned 23 last winter, sir."
"Good, tell him the crown is his, the necromancers are his problem. If you need me, I'll be busy faking my death."
|
Successful_Craft3076
|
lacergunn
|
2023-02-27 15:36:47
|
2023-02-27 15:31:58
| 133 | 89 |
ja84f09
|
ja83pm4
|
11da6ln
|
11da6ln
|
[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 heavily armoured man sat down at the bar with a heavy sigh.
"Ale," he commanded simply. The bartender, knowing his disposition just from the tone, obliged.
"Rough day?" he asked and started pointlessly polishing a wooden mug.
"A rumour of a dragon that turned out..." the warrior sighed. "Wasn't what I was expecting."
"A failed hunt? It got away?"
"No, it's... the damn thing was the size of my thumb," the warrior complained. The bartender stopped polishing the mug for a moment.
"Say again?" he said.
"It was... tiny. I dunno if the rumour I followed was by some bumpkin unable to recognize the thing was harmless or a prank, but... it was this tiny lizard guarding a single copper coin."
"Huh," the bartender commented plainly. "So... what did you do?"
The warrior looked at him wearily and passed him a single copper coin. "For the ale," he said grimly and finished it. The bartender gave him a disapproving look but accepted the money.
The warrior got up with another loud sigh and headed for his room, wondering what to do with his new roommate; a very small and very happy dragon resting atop a shiny golden coin.
|
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."
|
SirPiecemaker
|
Kurai_Tora
|
2023-02-05 14:53:04
|
2023-02-05 11:16:38
| 91 | 24 |
j7badzr
|
j7apsyl
|
10tx0ci
|
10tx0ci
|
[WP] Everyone knows the hero won't defuse the bomb until the are less than 10 seconds left. That's why I've set it to explode at 20 seconds.
|
_"JUST CUT THE FUCKING WIRE!!"_
_"HANG. ON!"_ I roared back.
This shit is easy when when all you need to do is wait for ten seconds to appear. Now there's basic maths involved and I'm completely lost.
_"IT **NEEDS** TO BE LESS THAN TEN SECONDS!"_
_"WHAT ARE YOU...JUST CUT THE THING AND LET ME OUT OF HERE"_
I put a finger to his lips and shush him. Everytime he shouts, I lose my place and have to start the equation all over again.
_"Shhhhh. Look if the bomb goes off at twenty seconds and I need to wait for a least ten seconds left to defuse it and there's fifty six seconds remaining and the clock is decreasing by two seconds each time due to the wrong wire bring cut, at which point in the timer do I nee.."_
|
“John!” Shouted Plaus. “The book!”
John finished his hero monologue and turned. To his horror, the book that the pair had been hunting for the past two years, was tightly secured between the arms of a man; his hip containing a little black box with a timer on it.
“We can negoti-“ and the man slapped the book on to the box, and the clock could be heard ticking its springs and twisting the fuse of packets of powder.
The man looked up and locked eyes. Ten seconds passed until finally he bellowed: “The CIA and KGB will never take me alive!” Before charing at them.
Plaus froze in terror, John simply held out his hand and let the man run into a brick wall, knocking him out. There was now only about five seconds left, and John, the hero and just, threw the man’s body up into the air like a firework. The crimson blood showering the skies like a firework.
“Anyway, that’ll be $50 bucks please.” John said to the crowd. There were cheers and beers being poured onto the streets. John smiled, until he felt something burning his nose, then something pecked him on the head; and that’s why this town you see now is called “Metal Hail” by the locals instead of Johnvsbookville.
|
Sonnyboy1990
|
Nicvonkaiser
|
2023-03-18 09:58:51
|
2023-03-18 06:13:02
| 36 | 20 |
jcoh07w
|
jco1bzp
|
11u22ur
|
11u22ur
|
[WP] "You never killed him! He kept committing crimes and hurting and killing people and you just LET HIM! So we, the citizens, did it FOR YOU!" The supervillain's corpse twitched as the hero asked, "Did you ever stop and wonder why? I can't help you anymore. So I'm leaving this planet. Good luck."
|
"No no no no no no! You fools! What have you done?!" Xele dropped to his knees in despair, the crowds bloodlust dissipating after being satiated by Quer-El-Sif's death.
A burly man with a biker mustache stomped over to where Xele knelt, a wicked looking blade clenched in his hand so tightly his knuckles were bone white.
"You never killed him." The man's words came out in a growl, fear and anger still yearning for more. "He kept committing crimes, hurting, and killing people." He took a breath through his nose, "and you just let him." His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, it was taking all his will power to not attack Xele. "So..." Another deep breath, "so we did what you could not, we killed him for you." The man's voice broke, he knew the severity of taking another's life, something he never imagined having to do. But in the face of years of damage, millions of lives lost because of this one being, the people had enough.
Blood dripped from the blade, staining the ground with an inky blackness. A blackness that Xele focused on. "Did you ever stop and wonder why?"
"Of course we did." The man responded, almost insulted at the question. "We constantly asked why our hero, our Paragon would allow such an evil to continue living." Fury raised the man's voice, gave it strength. Behind him the crowd nodded and murmured in agreement.
"There was always a reason. I told your leaders why I couldn't kill Quer-El-Sif, and they agreed. But it was their decision not to let the general public know." Xele placed his hands on his knees, pushing on them as he stood. Despite being in the right, Xele couldn't look the man in the eye, instead focusing on the ground where that blackness grew.
He sighed deeply. He had grown fond of his life on earth, he was always learning something new from the monkeys. But despite how far they've come, monkeys were what they still were. The same instinct that drove them to conquer every unknown before them recognized what Quer-El-Sif was, and knew at that instinctual level that it couldn't be conquered. Subconsciously mankind realized that he needed to be destroyed, but didn't truly understand why or how. Or the consequences thereof. A damn shame, Xele thought to himself, a damned shame.
"I can't help you anymore. By killing Quer-El-Sif, you've brought about your own destruction, and there's nothing I can do to help." Finally Xele locked eyes with the burley man who stood a full head taller than he, "so I'll be leaving this planet, now. Good luck." Xele slowly drifted into the air, maintaining eye contact until he was too high to continue.
That's when the first scream reached his ears. He turned his gaze to the heavens, increasing his speed. Yet his enhanced hearing heard more blood curdling screams. There truly was nothing Xele could do, but humanity was resourceful. There was a chance, a very slim chance, they could save themselves. But they would be subject to untold suffering for years to come, and his own soul wouldn't be able to bear witness.
Maybe someday in the future he would return, but for now the abyss was free, a shadow spreading across the planet behind him as he flew to the stars.
|
With a single bound, the hero rocketed up into the bright blue sky, towards the upper atmosphere. A swirling of dust and leaves were the only indication he once held stewardship over this planet. The gathered crowd stood in stunned silence. From somewhere in its depths, a voice called out.
"Well now what do we do?"
The crowd murmured and began to dissipate. The once proud villain, neck now bent at an unnatural angle, swung lifeless from the streetlight.
The effects of his death were felt almost immediately. Overnight, DynoCorp, which had been one of the leading employers on the eastern seaboard (and which also happened to be the seat of power for the deceased), closed its doors. While malevolent and cruel, the villain also had a penchant for business. DynoCorp was his baby, and he maintained almost total authority in its dealings. With the power vacuum his death created, the remaining members of the board fought for control. Some sold their shares, some tried to take over leadership, some were killed by others in the boardroom. After a period of days, the remaining members decided to dissolve the corporation and sell off all of their assets. The money they received was enough to buy islands and governments of small countries. For the rest of the workers, however, the decisions of a few morally corrupt board members changed their lives forever. 25,000 DynoCorp employees now had to find work. But that wasn't all. The dissolution of DynoCorp also had a ripple effect on all of its subsidiaries. Thrill World Amusements, Ms. Clara's Food Inc., The Vermont Woodchucks Baseball Team, Yahoo.com. All of these separate entities immediately lost a major source of funding and, subsequently, also had to enact major layoffs. All told 48,000 people were now eligible for government unemployment assistance. Many of those people would also apply for, and receive, countless other social programs.
The strain on the government infrastructure, be it local, state, and federal, was immense. Funding was cut from education and the arts. Public radio and television were taken off air. Space missions were cancelled. Senators who were bought and paid for by DynoCorp now held no allegiances to the company or the dead villain. Without DynoCorps lobbying and campaign contributions, the incumbent congressmen were voted out of office. And while malevolent and cruel, the villain also cared about social programs and the environment. When the new congresspeople took office, they voted to take away the social assistance that 48,000+ people relied on. They reneged on environmental regulations. They watched the world burn.
All of this happened in the first two years. By year five, 60% of the laid off workers were homeless. By year ten, the global temperature had risen by .3 degrees F and the ocean acidity fell to 7.7. By year twenty, the east coast of the United States had devolved into chaos. Cities were urban hellscapes ran by corporate puppets and crime lords. There were only two currencies: lead and blood. By year forty, America was lost. Roving bands of raiders and outlaws ate and drank the land clean. By this time, however, all food and water were scarce. DynoCorp was the leading researcher and developer for farming methods in a warming world. Without their contributions, the midwest turned into a dustbowl once again.
By year 80, the only people left on the North American continent more closely resembled rats than what man once was. They were diseased vermin. And they were lost.
Above the Earth, our once great hero sat and watched. A tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it way, turned, and flew off into the void.
|
TheReturned
|
SheaWritesSometimes
|
2024-10-10 21:23:04
|
2024-10-10 18:04:07
| 68 | 30 |
lrbdgex
|
lracbrq
|
1g0l4t4
|
1g0l4t4
|
[WP] Humanity is on its last legs, an alien race has destroyed all of her other colonies and now converge on Earth. But as humanity makes its last stand, its gods come out of hiding to defend the planet.
|
“Look, I get it” said the Ambassador: “you were angry, you wanted to make a point. Happens to the best of us.”
Even the Xorg could sense that there was something special about the envoy. A kindness seemed to radiate out of him.
A lesser Xorg would have been swayed. Admiral Khorkul, however, was no lesser Xorg.
“All of Earth, and lives originating therein, are forfeit” thundered the Admiral: “nothing you pacifist scum could say or do is going to change any of that!”
The human put his hands together in a gesture the Xorg knew to be dejection. One could see the violent marks on his palms and wonder how this person, who seem to have suffered such terrible wounds, remain such a kind and loving person.
“You leave me no choice but to turn to my father” said the young man at length. “Whatever he does, I can *guarantee* you it would be significantly worse than anything you have done so far”
And a booming voice reverberated in all Xorg ships: “I WILL GO OUT INTO THE MIDST OF XORG FEDERATION SPACE, AND ALL THE FIRSTBORN OF THE XORG SHALL DIE! FROM THE FIRSTBORN OF THE…”
“Father, PLEASE!” screamed the young man, evidently in distress: “can we not start with the genocide first?”
Admiral Khorkul remained unfazed: “Your father dares to threaten OUR children? It is YOU who will die, here and now!”
The booming voice returned. It took a while for the Xorg to recognize the sound as laughter. It was as if someone who has not laughed in a long, long time and had forgotten to laugh, had suddenly broken out in unbridled laughter.
Then the voice went silent.
“Oh, no” whispered the horrified envoy.
*******************************************
Part 2 below
|
Beneath the ocean something wakes, a power not seen in all the histories of man, but still felt in every dark space, present in every shadowed corner just outside comprehension.
Ever shifting forms rise above the water, tentacled masses with eyes disappearing and reappearing all over their bodies join them, alongside countless forms whose mere existence defies all known laws of physics.
Each of them glows with a color unlike any seen on Earth, which seems to blight the very water around where they rise, floating into the sky despite having no wings or thrusters or any other conceivable propulsion system.
Alien and human forces alike are stopped in their tracks by the shock, even troops in space can feel the magnitude of what has just happened, and the fighting pauses. 3 minutes and 7 seconds of agonizing silence follow the emergence of the old gods, until finally the largest of them speaks, despite having no mouth to do so.
“Kill” was the only word it said. Its companions understood its meaning, however, and they surged forth into the battle. Alien armadas launched dreaded ordinance, unleashing enough firepower to shatter the surface of a dozen planets and annihilate the remnants of the human fleet if it connected. But it did not connect. Instead each shot simply ceased to exist as it was inches away from striking true
Those who observed the battle from ships in orbit or command centers on the ground had, by this point, been completely overcome with madness. An attack was launched to aid the old gods, though in truth they needed no aid. Ships and crews rapidly morphed forms, taking on the ever shifting qualities of their new masters, along with a shadow of their might. Such power was too much for the armada which had sowed doom to a trillion souls, and it was shattered.
That day, the end of mankind was averted, but a new era was forged. An era of madness, and service to the unknowable old gods which has awakened. For 100,000 years they would rule before returning to slumber, and the psyche of the living universe itself may never recover from what was wrought in that time
|
Remarkable-Youth-504
|
Aetherial32
|
2024-02-15 15:48:08
|
2024-02-15 14:27:47
| 70 | 40 |
kqjozpn
|
kqjc4v2
|
1arcdtq
|
1arcdtq
|
[WP] You (a supervillain) and a superhero actually work together to help the city. In one fight, the damage to a building forced the owner to bring it up to code. In another, your conflict "accidentally" exposed crimes that were getting swept under the rug. Someone's pieced it all together, though.
|
"I know exactly what you're doing, Blackskull, and I don't like it!" The gaunt, pale businessman was tied to the chair, screaming at the supervillain.
"Don't think you can get away with this!" His voice cracked. Despite his gray hair, he sounded like a teenage boy in that moment. "You and Super Heart are ruining my business and I'm putting a stop to it!"
Blackskull chuckled, running through his arsenal in his mind. He could lower Mr. Harlan into a vat of acid, make it look like an industrial accident. He could vaporize the guy with his sonic beam.
"You leak one more thing about the Green Initiative and I'll send my people after you!"
Blackskull unholstered the plasma blaster on his belt. It was useless against the super speedy, flying Super Heart, but against a sitting target?
"Listen, charging people for clean air is just good business -- "
*SPLAT*
Blackskull re-holstered his weapon.
"Did you actually have to kill him?" Super Heart, the dashing young superhero, asked him.
"We're in the business of improving this city. Trust me, we do not want this guy alive." Blackskull shook his head.
"But we can't just go killing people all willy nilly!" Super Heart said. "The cops hate vigilantes!"
"And I hate the cops," Blackskull said with a shrug. "If you're that offended by me killing Mr. Harlan, kick my ass about it. Slam me into the EnerCor building so we can get the lowdown on the Green Initiative."
|
Malika and I were best friends, growing up. We were those two kids who people thought would be a cute couple when they got older. Of course, thats not how this story goes but its super corny to say the least.
As we got older she became the typical ace student- Medals, nominations, top prizes, what-have-you. Meanwhile I was down on my luck. Thankfully, my folks died AFTER college at the ripe old age of 72 and 68 so we can cross off 'wannabe Batman' as my motive to becoming a villain. No. So while Mal got everything she ever wanted, I was slowly losing everything. But there's only so much you can take before you snap, and snap I did. I didn't preform some meager heist or kill some big-wig politician. That would've gotten me nowhere. No, what I did. It was beautiful. See, here in the grand ol' lands of New York there are underground subway stations on almost every 4 miles or so. Of course, I'm not a monster. I didn't bomb a main subway tunnel. It'd be too much of a hassle to plan THAT much, so I figured I'd bomb somewhere with a handful, few people. Everything was going so well and then- BAM!!!
Half my explosives detonated, caving in a chunk of the street above it. Damn faulty wiring, Home depot, how could you betray me so? I figured it was a lost cause, deciding to make my not-so-grand escape and thats when I saw her again. Curly, auburn hair and dark skin with darker freckles on her cheek, dressed head-to-toe in a ridiculous, sparkling tutu with a gold headdress. That's My Likee, alright.
It was a miracle that I managed to slip away that day. Not unscathed of course- cut up forearm and a black eye. It's not like I leave my apartment anyways.
Switching on the TV, my jaw dropped. Apparently, There was some kind of drug deal that went on in that subway tunnel and my explosives killed a few of said dealers. Well. Christ.
Funny enough, this happened more than once.
((I'm tired rn idk if I will finish this tomorrow and srry if its bad))
|
insertcaffeine
|
redt3d12
|
2023-04-02 18:45:13
|
2023-04-02 13:22:51
| 130 | 90 |
jeowf3i
|
jenocnl
|
129azhf
|
129azhf
|
[WP] A hero's work never ends. You became a litch out of necessity. The next hero would not be summoned for another thousand years and you were old. You planned to stay around long enough to pass the safety of the world on to the next.
|
The air grew cold and still as the tall, slightly glowing skeletal figure hovered towards the increasingly mortified mayor. The figure's skull and empty eye sockets, filled with flickering blue flames, turned towards the shaking man and spoke in a deceptively soothing voice.
THE GOBLINS SHALL RAID YOU NO LONGER, MAYOR KLEENER, it spoke, its voice heard, but not spoken.
"Th- th- thank... you," the mayor stammered out carefully. "We- we really, uh... appreciate your h- help, sir- sir..."
EDWARD, the lich replied.\*
"O- oh," the mayor replied, confused by the name. "What... what happens now? What do you want from us? We have no riches-"
YOUR SAFETY IS ENOUGH, CITIZEN. BURY YOUR DEAD; REBUILD THE VILLAGE. LIVE IN PEACE.
With a slight nod of his white skull, the lich turned and set out to leave the desolate village. He sighed\*\* as the face of the terrified mayor lingered in his mind. He knew his visage was terrifying and seen as a product of evil and even though he wasn't looking for fame, he still regretted this. The choice to become a lich was one made out of necessity; knowing fully that the next legendary hero won't be born for a thousand years, he swore to protect the realm until he will no longer be needed. Only then would he rest.
As he ruminated his plight, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye socket, a young girl staring at him. What caught his attention, however, was the fact that there was no fear on her face; rather, it was a look of curiosity.
"Hello," she said politely.
GREETINGS, YOUNG ONE, he replied calmly.
"Why are you a skeleton?" she asked.
I AM NOT A SKELETON. I AM A LICH.
"A... leech?" she tilted her head.
A LICH. ONCE A HUMAN, IT TOOK A GREAT DEAL OF SACRIFICE, DECADES OF STORED MANA, AND THE COMBINED EFFORT OF A DOZEN MASTER WIZARDS TO ALTER MY SOUL,GRANTING ME IMMORTALITY AND POWER BEYOND MORTAL IMAGINATION.\*\*\*
"Oh..." she replied half-heartedly. "How are you speaking? You don't have a tongue," the girl continued to inquire. The Lich considered his response carefully, then decided to take the path of least resistance.
MAGIC.
"Cool!" the girl chirped. "You think I can do magic too?"
YOU WISH TO LEARN THE ARCANE ARTS? Edward asked.
"Well... yeah," she shrugged. "You used magic to help us. Save us. Maybe if I knew magic, ***I*** could have saved us, before..." her words trailed off as she somberly looked at the burned-down houses on the edge of the village. Edward looked at her, truly looked at her - her stance, her hands, but most importantly, her eyes. The window to the soul. There was a fire in her; a fire of heroism.
PUT YOUR HANDS LIKE THIS, Edward said and formed his skeletal digits into a complex gesture. The girl followed carefully. NOW WHISTLE THIS TUNE, he said before, to her surprise, producing a short melody. The girl imitated it carefully. Suddenly, a small, shiny snowflake materialized between her palms and danced around slowly. The girl watched it with wide, amazed eyes before losing concentration - and with that, the snowflake.
IMPRESSIVE. YOU HAVE TALENT, Edward commended her.
"I- I did magic! I just did- did you see that?" the girl excitedly jumped up and down. "Do you think I could be a hero just like you?!"
NO.
"But-"
I WAS BORN OF PROPHECY. TO BE A HERO - A PROTECTOR OF THE PEOPLE - WAS MY DESTINY. IT WAS IN MY BLOOD.
"You have blood?" the girl remarked.
OF COURSE.
"Because I thought-"
IT'S SOMEWHERE IN MY STUDY.
The girl chose to merely squint at him suspiciously.
"So... I can't be a hero?" she finally said dejectedly.
YOU CAN. BUT NOT LIKE ME. IF YOU CHOOSE THIS PATH - TO BE A HERO - YOU WILL BE BETTER.
The girl opened her mouth in surprise. "But you said you were prophesized to..."
CORRECT. I WAS BORN TO BE A HERO. BUT YOU, he said warmly, despite his chilling aura...
YOU CHOOSE TO BE ONE.
​
​
\**Edward considered rebranding himself to something akin to 'Vraexis the Eternal' to fit his outlook, before shaking the notion off as being too theatric.*
\*\**As much as someone without lungs could.*
\*\*\**This was a carefully crafted lie Edward perpetuated to dissuade disreputable characters from attempting to gain immortality. The true ritual only required parchment, an olive branch and two bottled of dwarven mead.*
|
I wake up to the sound of my alarm screeching about a new day, my projector screen flashing my refreshed list of daily quests to complete.
Farmer Fred needs his sheep sheared. Chef Calvin needs another box of eggs from the chicken farmer Chuck. Tanner Tammy needs another 50 Bearskins. Alchemist Artie needs me to collect 20 spider eggs. Mayor Martin needs me to clear 100 goblin raiders. Nurse Joy needs me to pick 50 healing herbs in the forest. Again.
That’s been my routine for centuries. These villagers I aid in my daily quests? They’re the 50th generation of the original batch of Fred, Calvin, Chuck, Tammy, Artie, Martin, and Joy. All Xerox copies of the 1st generation I met back when I was a strapping young lad eager to start my adventure and take down the Dark Lord. I used to be so excited to meet new people, grow my experience, and check off optional missions and side-quests of my ever-growing list of things to do.
Now I’m a bored old lich who keeps going because there hasn’t been another worthy hero. I do everything I can to keep the village running, expelling the endless flow of respawning mooks that come from nowhere. You might as well say they dropped these monsters out of the sky. At least I’m glad the villagers have been quite accepting of my skeletal visage, rather than asking why I looked like a dead ringer for the former Lich King Veras.
Today, there’s a new chap in the village, getting his quest from Fred. He’s rude, constantly waving off Fred and trying to skip his dialogue. Immediately, he goes around in circles trying to find the entrance to the sheep pen. I walk up to him and offer to show him the one part of the fence that’s broken so he can slip in and start shearing the sheep. Whining and complaining non-stop about the lack of quest arrows and flashing indicators. I have no idea what’s he rambling about, but it’s obvious this guy doesn’t have what it takes to be the next hero.
“Kthxbye loser!”
And he’s gone.
I don’t think that uncouth chap is coming back.
My next stop was to check on Calvin. There’s a new girl in beginner’s armor standing before him.
“Why isn’t the chicken farm right next to the chef?”
Do I have to spoon-feed her? I guess I can try. So, I greet her and offer to show her the way to Chuck’s chicken farm. She raises her sword against me, proclaiming me an enemy to attack despite my insistence that I’m actually the local hero around these parts. In self-defense, I drop a fireball on her and she falls over, screaming incoherently about “unfair pvp mechanics” before disappearing.
At Chuck’s chicken farm, there’s a new adventurer killing the chickens. I dashed over as fast as my boney legs can take me, shouting about how he would unleash chickzilla if he murdered too many of them. He asserts he can handle it, but I know better, having fought chickzilla myself many years ago. To my embarrassment way back when I still had skin and flesh, that murderous chicken pecked at me so hard, it reduced the durability of my equipment to zero. I had to respawn back home wearing nothing but a loincloth, dragging a wagon full of broken gear to the blacksmith for repairs.
That new guy was dead in one hit from chickzilla. Can’t say I wasn’t surprised.
Next up was Tammy. Ah, the old stumbling block, the infamous stopping point where heroes throw in the towel and refuse the call. She was standing all alone at her usual spot, the silence around her impermeable.
“Hey Zach, you wanna help me skin 50 bears?”
I accept the quest and head down to the usual area in the forests where the bears are. I’ve been doing this for centuries, it’s all instinct, and muscle memory (despite the lack of muscle on me). Could do this with my eyes closed.
Tammy is pleased with her 50 bearskins and after some short exposition and banter, directs me to go to Artie. Considering no new hero wannabe ever reached Tammy, it wasn’t to my surprise that nobody was there for Artie. Or Martin. Or Joy. It didn’t matter, they are always happy to see me, always saying the same things, giving me the same quests. I am always happy to be of help, as repetitive as it is, these tasks give me a sense of purpose that keeps me coming back again and again.
With my dailies done, it was time to head back home and wait for a new day to start again.
Just at the docks near my house, I spied a new arrival. Fresh like a newborn baby, eyes full of wonder for this beautiful, magical world I inhabit with my quest-givers. That same sense of wonder I had when I first came here. I hope she’s the one to finally become the new hero. Time to gather myself and approach her. Introduce myself and this gorgeous world I fell in love with.
“Welcome to Tutorial Island! I’m a retired adventurer and your guide Zach! What is your name, new adventurer?”
|
SirPiecemaker
|
Tregonial
|
2023-07-25 03:21:22
|
2023-07-25 03:09:58
| 261 | 67 |
jtc7qpo
|
jtc6ebi
|
158s14x
|
158s14x
|
[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.
|
As I look into the worried eyes of my beloved. I recall the parting words of my greatest foe. That death is not the end for their kind.
I had everything a man could want. Gifted land, a noble title, and a hefty reward for slaying the dragon that has been terrorizing the kingdom for ages by the King himself.
All this allowed me the peaceful and quiet life with the love of my life. Such peace wasn't to last however.
.....As I turn to look into the eyes of my son, I see those hateful eyes staring back at me. Eyes golden and reptilian as my greatest foe. I knew. He was back.
His voice was harsh and grating. "Father, you cannot stop me. I will have what I desire."
I took a deep breath and readied myself. Gripping my familiar tools with the clank of metal on metal.
"Listen here you little shyte."
I said as I prepared the bathwater in the metal basin. "You need to wash up before dinner else you get no dessert."
Those golden reptilian eyes widened in shock and horror. "You wouldn't dare, that's inhumane." said my son.
"Well you should've thought of that before declaring yourself a dragon and not a mere human." I replied.
|
I take the time to appreciate my first born. He is precious, his skin is like his mother's, while having so many of my factions.
Now, let's wait till he opens his eyes.
Hold up... Humans do not have golden slitted eyes.
And it hit me.
That bleeding lizard slept with my wife!!!
-----
The child opens his eyes to see his father, and couldn't be more disappointed.
The barely straight homunculus is dissing against a lizard, which absolutely implies that he already saw his eyes.
Again, disappointment is too soft... Though ashamed is a bit strong for his taste.
He is in the Limbo of emotions...
With his young lungs, and still forming vocal cords he calls his "father".
"Ahem..."
----
I turn to see the child in his cradle... I do not have the heart to cast him away, nor kill him in cold blood. I stare at him stupefied at his calling.
A baby should be able to do this sound, yet.
"I know that you are making so many scenarios in your head about the faithfulness of your wife..." The creature says with his baby voice, though full of ancient wisdom... And an acid tongue...
"... And let me tell you that we Dragons would never consider that. It is bestiality and absolutely seen as deviant behaviour between us."
Now this turned personal.
"Now before my words strike your exhausting patience, I must remind you... I warned you."
"We Dragons reincarnate every time we die... But it seems the Creator also has a funny bone and an itch to scratch related to it..."
I could only keep breathing. What?
"Seems that we are stuck with each other... Dad..."
Oh goodness, why?
|
MagicHamsta
|
Aljhaqu
|
2024-03-25 19:57:04
|
2024-03-25 18:54:19
| 25 | 11 |
kwjb2pb
|
kwizpod
|
1bn7vv4
|
1bn7vv4
|
[WP] Elves and Dwarves have hated each other from time immemorial, warring often and bloody. Now 2 scouting parties, one Elf, one Dwarf, have found something neither expected. In a small cabin in the middle of nowhere, they find a startling anomaly. A Dwelf. Half Elf, half Dwarf.
|
A silence fell over the shaded glen.
The Dwarven party stood like several stones, planted behind their blacksmith'd shields, not the thinnest hair of a moustache astir. Stillness hung in the air.
The Elven party, upon sighting the Dwarves' similar numbers, melted back into the trees without a whisper--but not very far back. Several bowstrings made the faintest singsong sound as they were held tense.
Not a muscle moved among the Dwarves. Their iron helmets gleamed, defensive.
In the center of the glen stood a humble cottage with firelit windows, the object of both their journeys. Each weary party, unbeknownst to the other, had been carefully approaching this cozy dwelling with the intention of asking shelter. The nights were growing very cold, and both parties were ragged with adventure.
This quiet standoff might have lasted hours, except the door of the cottage opened after a few moments of tension.
"Great gods and goddesses," lilted a maid's voice saucily, "will ye stand all night like idiots, or will ye come in to the fire?"
The Dwarves, noting the maid's short stature and braided sideburns, started across the glen with relief.
The Elves, seeing the maid's sharp-pointed ears and dainty build, did the same.
There was a split second's entire confusion. Rough voices were raised in the falling dusk.
Over them all rang the sharp voice of the Dwelven maid. "Oi! I willna let in such a rabble as all that! Calm yerselves and mind yer manners, or be frozen!"
The Dwelven maid swung her broad hips indignantly as she flounced back inside and slammed the heavy door behind her.
The chief Elf looked at the chief Dwarf. The chief Dwarf looked back.
They both looked with longing at the bright windows glowing through the twilight, smelling the aroma of rabbit stew that had drifted by with the door's forceful closing.
The chief Dwarf scowled, swallowed, and then cleared his throat with violence.
The chief Elf hummed gently to himself, shut his eyes as if to summon patience, and nodded.
Each turned to glare his troops into silence.
Then the two of them stepped together up to the stone hearth and, in a single motion, a slender, glimmering forearm and a burly, braided one lifted to knock politely upon the ancient wood.
.
|
"This god forsaken forest will be the death of me," grumbled Bofur.
He found himself having to lift his short legs often, as to not trip on bramble. The orange sky was clouded with tree branches that seemed to scrap the wispy clouds. After three days of scouting, his movements were as loud as his joints, and he'd never say it aloud, but his hammer was getting heavy. At a young age of 200 years, Bofur felt old.
A rough grunt from his fellow in front jolted Bofur to his senses.
"Look Sharp, there's something over yonder."
Bofur raised his head and sniffed once, he could smell them. If silk had a scent and was suddenly slide under your nose, cloying like spoiled molasses, that was the scent of em. Unnatural, if you asked him.
"Aye, elves," said Bofur, licking his lips and instinctively reaching for his hammer.
"What you reckin they are doing this far south?" Asked Therin, he too had his axe in his thick hands, spinning it quietly.
"Probably lookin for the same thing we are," said Morkin.
Together, the three stalked that scent. Hearts pounding slower with each step.
\*\*\*
Laslorith felt them before he saw them. Swaggering towards them like beetles in dirt: so clumsy. To their credit, they didn't make much sound, but the way they moved through space was unnatural, and their ripples through time made him shudder.
"Methrialie, they come. "
She nodded once, her silver hair catching the late sun. "Let them come."
Las agreed.
So they lead them to the cabin.
\*\*\*
It had been 2,000 days; if he was counting anyways—scoffed Erith.
But she had promised, said she would be back and that he must not show himself past the forest. He had made some friends, among the walking trees, and some of the wood nymphs — who all seemed to share a funny secret about him, but he couldn't live off mushrooms and berries anymore. He craved something fleshier.
The thought had been turning in his head for a fortnight. It started when he saw that doe, so beautiful, she looked straight into his soul, and he felt a yearning for something solid in his hands, something to kill with. He shivered at the thought.
Suddenly, he felt something stir in the void, and at the same time, he smelled them. Like flowers by a bubbling brook. The movement was familiar too. A soft thumping of hearts, like padded feet coming to tuck him into bed.
"Finally," he sighed, and walked out to greet them.
"AH FUCKIN HELL," yelled a squat red headed dwarf, his face red.
Erith found himself rooted like an aged oak. Their scents and sounds like laughter to his heart.
He raised his arms and shouted "Welco..."
but the word were drowned by blood pouring from his mouth, as an arrow and an axe crashed into his heart.
|
None
|
intimidateu_sexually
|
2023-02-02 23:45:00
|
2023-02-02 18:55:14
| 108 | 53 |
j6zfyss
|
j6y6tng
|
10ruum5
|
10ruum5
|
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