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int64 | chosen_comment_id
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[WP] In this world healers, while respected, are often looked down upon due to their limited offensive capabilities. One day your party is completely wiped out, and the world finds out just how dangerous knowledge of human anatomy can be.
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I used to draw upon my own strength, magically enhanced, to heal my companions. I could channel a limited about of divine power, but it had its price. Every deal with the devil does. I paid that price, every single day, whether I healed that day or not. The closer I was with my target, the more we’d been through together, the better they healed. But I never grew close anymore.
If somebody hires you because you can bring them back from the brink time and time again, you would think they would pay you well, or at least show some gratitude. They usually did, once or twice. But I was contractually obligated to, and more so, I had to heal to keep myself alive. They knew it, and even if they didn’t start off as callous bastards, they all eventually died that way. Not my fault that the fact they took me for granted loosened the connection and made it harder to heal. It _was_, however, my fault that I didn’t do anything about it. Sure, I could have pushed harder, but who on earth would expend their own life force for assholes?
A younger me might have. But the problem with using your own soul as the spark to light a bigger magical fire is that it always burns up a bit of the soul too. You eventually lose the ability to care. Once emotions go, morals and ethics begin to follow. Now, I wasn’t a soulless emotionless machine like my fellows often mistakenly believed, they were just buried deep, quelled to a smolder so as to not distract—for anyone who tries to heal without any sort of driving goal, a reason to want it, or some sort of passion or obsession, instantly fails. The magic burns you out. Not in any sort of way that would be a spectacular explosion or a violent last gasp, though.
But today was different. This party was just kids. Cold ruthless killers, a product of not only the street gangs of their childhood, but of the impending threat of war that had forced them into that life. I suppose I should have seen the signs coming, of parties coming, failing, going ever so faster, throwing themselves into the fights ever so recklessly, but I didn’t. I was just fulfilling my contract. I look back and wish I had noticed, something to shake me out of my twisted reverie sooner. But I was fading, losing myself in the disconnect. I was just lucky to wake up when I did.
(To be continued)
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Doctor Julian Shephard watched as one of the men who ambushed his groups wagon fought for air. His blood spilled onto the bright green grass under him. Julian's traveling companions were tied up, but they hadn't bothered to do the same to him due to the cross patch he wore indicating he was a doctor.
The dead mans voice was hoarse and weak, "help me." He looked at his comrades. One man was trying to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. Two others were crouched near and looking intently, but the other four
off to the side weren't interested in the soon-to-be dead man.
Julian wondered why he should help this man. It was likely the bandits would throw them all into the river anyways. He thought for a moment of his oaths: every life is precious, do no harm.
"He has a severed brachial artery. A tourniquet will need to be carefully applied," Julian said. All seven bandits looked at him. "Let me get my bag and I will do it." He hurried to the cart near the road and retrieved his doctors bag.
He put the tourniquet around the mans arm, above the laceration. As he was cinching the tourniquet he had to remind himself that this was just another man. Maybe a husband, father, brother, or son. Julian didn't know his story.
"He will still need a doctor, but this buys you a couple of hours." Julian said.
One of the four bandits who didn't seem interested in the dying man said, "Alright boys, throw these poor souls into the river and lets move on."
"Hold on a second, I'm not throwing that doctor into the river," another said and a fight broke out with three on one side, four on another. Swords clashed and knives were slashed wildly. In the end, the group defending the doctor were left alive, the other four dead.
"Thank you," the injured man managed to whisper. The remaining bandits looked at their swords and their former comrades dead on the ground.
"So pointless. You have the power over life and death, yet we are but brutes who only kill. For what? All we do is bring death into this world. Pointless." The seven bandits dropped their swords and started burying their former comrades. When they finished and left, the swords remained there in the grassy ditch.
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squire80513
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None
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2023-01-13 00:11:23
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2023-01-12 23:48:48
| 101 | 43 | null | null |
180inmo
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10a7zca
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[WP] The old man sits down in front of you, his hand on a bag. "Depending on how this goes, there's one of two things in this bag: If you agree to leave my family alone, it's $15,000. If you don't, it's a claymore mine loaded with one-inch steel balls that'll turn you to mist. So what will it be?"
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"Claymore."
The din of the park seems to fade out a little as he keeps looking at me, face unchanged.
"yes you heard correct, claymore it is." there's some mustard on my fingers, I lick it off as if this conversation has zero meaning. The hotdog is getting cold and has extra sauce, I'd like to finish it still.
"fifteen thousand is a lot of money, what do you want from me!?"
Ah he's trying to bargain, but no, I have made up my mind.
"you made the claymore option so enticing, I mean 15k is a lot but who on this earth has a spare claymore laying around!?" my mouth is full of a hotdog bite so it's a bit muffled. He doesn't look comfortable, even less than when he sat down.
I wipe the last food off my face, the hotdog gone forever, merely a memory I can no longer hold onto. I look at the bag and sigh.
"you don't have a claymore in there, do you? Not enough padding, the back blast would shred you either way, dad."
The din from the park is back, tension eased as if nothing happened. Nothing ever happens. Not even surprise claymore.
|
“Easy, old man,” I said. “I don’t know who you want to bribe, but I’m not one of theirs.”
“What?” The old man looked stunned. “Oh no, wrong coffee shop.”
As I spoke with him, I learned that his son had killed a gangster’s dog while protecting a child. Now the gang was demanding 100,000$ and threatening to force his granddaughter to work in a brothel.
“You can’t do this. It won’t work. Even if you kill one of them, the gang will seek revenge.”
“But how…?” Old man whispered
“How can you contact them?” I asked.
“They gave me this card,” the old man replied, handing over a business card with the gang’s name: [Viper]
I smiled. “Old man, let me tell you something. This gang has rivals in that building.” I pointed to a green building nearby. “Those guys . . . They’re worse. They kill, kidnap, sell drugs wicker and nastier than the Viper gang.”
The old man grinned. “Thank you.”
An hour later, the sound of an explosion echo from the green building. A Claymore mine had claimed the lives of ten gangsters.
The mine was left with Viper’s name card.
The Viper gang vanished within three days.
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SilentObsrvr
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Mormaew
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2024-12-03 11:57:01
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2024-12-03 08:42:50
| 27 | 15 |
m06rop9
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m069r6i
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1h5f9hp
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1h5f9hp
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[WP] "The contract is sealed!" bellowed the demon. "Tell me your wish, and your soul will be forfeit to me when you die." Knowing that the demon is bound by magic to make the wish come true whether they like it or not, the human speaks while looking them in the eye. "I wish for you to become human."
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As the roiling clouds of smoke and ember settled, and the screams of rage died down to a whisper, I found myself rid of one problem, only to be faced with a new one.
"Hold on, no!" I cried, staring back at the new form before me. "That is *not* what I wished for!"
"The hell you talking about?" That face - that all too familliar face - twisted into a puzzled frown. "I'm a human, aren't I?"
"N-no, you're me!"
My living reflection rolled his eyes, and threw up his hands. "All you said was ' become human.' You didn't specify what kind of human." I swallowed, mind racing with all the possible disasters this being could now wreak on my life. "And on another note," He drawled, a tinge of embarresment touching his voice. "it's been a long time since I've met a human. A *really long* time. I didn't have a lot of refference to work with, sooo.." He gestured back at me. "I just went with what I had."
"R-really?" I said through a shaky breath. "You're not just trying to dick me over?"
A crooked smirk answered my question. "Well... that's just a perk, ain't it?"
|
The demon suddenly starts transforming his horns grew shorter and his skin changed colour he became dhorter and soon he turned into a mortal once again, his powers faded he felt weaker than before and he collapse to the ground. I walk towards him and take out a rope while he stares at me on the ground with fear in his eyes. I tied the demon up and brought him to my house......Several hours later the demon awoke in a dark room and was tied to a wall I say "Well Well Well speak of the demon you finally woke up" The demon says in fear "Wh-What are you going to do to me?" I reply: "I am giving you a new life." The demon said in a confused voice: "What do you mean by that" I reply "I made a promise to a person a long time ago His name is Jake and I am an expert of things related to demons, angels, spirits and ghosts and Jake asked me to bring you back to life and He should be here soon to see you." Just then a door opened showing a man who started running to the demons with open arms shouting the word Max... *True Friends Would Go Through Hardships Together And Give Sacrifices For Them.*
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FilmFizz
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PizzaChips20-12
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2023-04-28 16:13:50
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2023-04-28 12:42:52
| 90 | 20 |
ji2juvu
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ji1p6y4
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131p1m1
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131p1m1
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[WP] The hero, normally jovial and humorous in their interactions, steps into a watering hole for villains, shaking with rage, tears running down their face, and with as much patience and calm as they can muster, simply asks "Who did it?"
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"Who did it?"
Barely above a whisper, but the room went silent like someone just sucked the air out of it. Daybreak stood there. They looked like they'd been crying.
"She's dead, and I know one of you had something to do with it. I won't ask again."
Their voice tight, the air hummed with power. This wasn't like him. Something was very wrong. He was a boy scout, played by the rules. But every instinct told me people were about to die.
"I believe the person you want to talk to about this is me." Came a booming voice from the street. Nightfall, their nemesis. Shit...
In a blur, he was outside, and the fight began. The patrons scattered and ran. I don't blame them. Those 2 were leagues above the rank and file crooks and minions like this place dealt with. I hunkered down, with my leg busted. I'd never clear ground quick enough to be safe.
Daybreak bellowed the question over and over.
"Why?"
Tears streaming down their face. Nightfall was silent, they took a few hits, evaded a few more...
Why weren't they fighting back?
"You can undo it, I know you can. Science, magic, you know all the angles. You always have a backup plan. Undo it! Or I swear to God I'll..." and explosion cut off thr rest.
"That isn't going to happen. It's over."
With a scream, Daybreak became feral, terrifying, I've never seen him like that. No one had. He was incoherent, and still. Crying. What was happening?
Their blows became slower, weaker, they had pushed too hard and worn themselves out. Nightfall was moving in for the kill. I couldn't believe someone was finally going to put Daybreak in the ground...Nightfall hugged him. Daybreak collapsed into the embrace. Weeping.
"It can't be over, she was so young."
"I know, Frank, I know. When I heard about the aneurysm I came as soon as I could. I knew you'd be a wreck. I didn't want you to do something you'd regret. I respect you too let you ruin all the good you've done over a tragedy beyond anyone's control. All we can do is carry on and try to learn how to live. Now come on, let's get you home, take a shower and get some sleep. Melissa's funeral is in the morning."
|
(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.*
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Behold_the_Turnip
|
Visible-Ad8263
|
2024-10-17 16:27:49
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2024-10-17 15:05:12
| 104 | 41 |
lsdvyjr
|
lsdgcz6
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1g5kua3
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1g5kua3
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[WP] A grandma that you helped across the road turned out to be a genie who grants you a wish, you wish for a perfect 2023, but she misunderstood and now every day at 20:23 everything goes your way.
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He wakes up in the morning tired, dejected at another days of work. Starts off his day with some basic chores.
A light breakfast to start the day, eggs and a toasted piece of bread, that's all you can afford on Walmart's minimum wage salary anyway. The repeated mundane cycle was definitely killing him inside and chipping away at his sanity, but every since that day, the day with the old lady, he has found hope.
Hope might be an exaggeration, even he knows its just the only thing that has kept him going day after day, and although he does not believe in a higher power, he believes that one minute in his day might just be something sent by the divine .
He rushes back from his shift, taken a bus back to his apartment, and waits patiently in front of his laptop. Clock ticks 8:22, he starts typing
Tick
"Hi Annie, i know you've told me you dont want to talk to me, but i just wanted to reach out. How was your day, how have things been going , how are you feeling ?"
'hey ! i was just thinking about you ! thing have been going good. heard a really nice song on the subway today, and booked a few tickets for a standup night show, got some pretty flowers for myself, things have been good, how about you?"
"It make me happy to hear about you ! fills me with joy to see you so filled with life ! just wanted to let you know i miss you a lot , and am not sure how i can fit all the things i want to say to you"
' I understand, its just that i dont.....................'
Typing.....
Typing...
Typing.
.
Tock
He knows, the time isn't enough, the time will never be enough. Still he waits, to repeat the same cycle, the next day, every day.
|
At 8:21, I approached them.
“Evening, ladies.” I said. “Another round?”
Three of the young ladies were engaged in rapid conversation. The fourth sat glued to her phone.
“What are you ladies drinking?” I tried again.
“Dude, take a hint.” One of the trio said without looking my way.
The other two of the trio giggled. They continued chatting.
I flagged down a bartender, anyway.
“Round of shots.” I said. “Doubles.”
The trio exchanged glances. One motioned to my Rolex, perhaps thinking I’d fund their evening.
“Well? Come on.” One of the trio said. “I’m Megan.”
Megan had been the one to originally shirk me. I hoped she would not fall for me.
“Megan,” I said. “I’m Chris.”
The other two exchanged hellos. The last girl remained on her phone.
My questioning look got an explanation.
“That’s Maggie.” Halley said. “Probably on Tinder.”
Maggie made no reply, her thumbs moving with rapidity.
“What’re y’all celebrating?” I asked.
“Ha!” Halley laughed. “This looks like a party?”
She motioned to the dingy bar. My face grew red, which I realized, became ashamed about, and grew even redder. Within a few seconds I was a deep crimson hue, though, less visible in the light, I imagined.
“Oh my god,” Maggie said, looking up from her phone. “Look how red he is.” She tried to speak quietly.
Well, fuck you, too, bitch.
At that moment, the clock struck twelve. A chorus of angels sounded in my ear. A massive scale tipped in my favor, dictated by God or Satan himself.
“Hey!” Halley said, putting her arm around me. “Ignore her.”
Halley whispered in my ear. “I live just down the block.”
She leaned back, biting her lip, looking intently into my eyes.
I went with her.
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Jasssinghhira
|
None
|
2023-03-22 17:38:05
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2023-03-22 12:59:15
| 15 | 11 |
jd8tzbd
| null |
11yd4tb
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11yd4tb
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[WP] Your family member has been abducted and replaced by an alien who is really bad at their job of pretending to be them. However, you don't complain because the alien is still a vast improvement over the original
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The old cuckoo clock on the wall gonged, and the little doors above the clock face sprang open for the tiny wooden bird that lived inside.
"Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" the painted bird whistled.
It had only crowed twice when Marian poked her head into the living room, smiling warmly.
"Dinner!" she called, cheerfully.
Andre nodeed, and returned her smile with a crooked one of his own.
"B-be right there." he said.
She nodded and retreated through the swinging door, and Andre swallowed hard, as the clock on the wall continued to whistle and gong, and his heart continued to pound.
He'd bought the finely crafted clock in Germany, when he was stationed there, to give as a gift to Marian. She loved birds, and loved things that were handmade, especially if they were expensive. He'd thought it was the perfect gift.
She'd disabused him of that notion fairly quickly.
Was he aware, she'd asked, after opening her present, that *cuckoos* were among the vilest of all birds? Did he not realize how monstrous they were? They were *brood parasites,* she said -- did he even know what that meant?
"Mama robin and papa robin make their little nest to raise their little eggs," she had said, in a didactic tone that left him with no doubt as to her opinion of his intelligence. "And then, when they're not around, the *cuckoo* comes. She lays her eggs in their nest, and pushes some -- or even all -- of the robin's eggs out! She smashes them on the ground!"
"I...I thought you liked birds?" he'd protested, weakly.
*"Nice birds!"* she'd hissed. "Pretty birds! Not nasty, thieving, baby-bird-killing birds!" Tears had welled up in her eyes. "Is that the kind of bird you think *I* am?"
Andre shook his head, not even wanting to remember what she'd put him through, after that. He offered to put it away, or pawn it, or even send it back to Germany, though he wasn't sure if he could find the address of the shop where he'd bought it, much less get a refund. But Marian insisted on keeping it. It was *her* clock now, she'd said, and she could do what she liked with it. What she liked to do with it, of course, was to use it as an example of how useless and stupid her husband was.
But that had been how Marian was before. Right up until the day when she just *wasn't.* He'd awakened one morning to find her snuggled up against him. He'd thought she must have done it accidentally, in her sleep, until she'd kissed his cheek and murmured a sleepy "good morning". Then he'd thought she was *on drugs.*
He'd walked on eggshells for the first half of that day, waiting for the other shoe to drop. And then she'd taken his hand in hers, placed it against her cheek, and looked into his eyes. In a moment, with that simple gesture, she gave him everything that he'd needed for so long that he'd forgotten how badly he craved it.
It was different after that. It was strange. It was only after he stopped fearing that it was a bubble that was going to pop any moment, that it started to be wonderful. She was so kind, so loving...
Though, in her own way, she was also quite naive.
She didn't seem to think he noticed the times that she'd slipped up, and had blinked her second set of translucent eyelids when something startled her. She didn't realize that when she forgot herself in a moment of passion, he could feel the tips of *two* tongues brush lightly against his own. Unlike the Marian she'd been before, however, it didn't feel like she thought he was *stupid.* It seemed like she just thought her disguise was a great deal better than it actually was.
As the cuckoo stopped whistling, Andre rose from the couch, and sighed resolutely. He'd made his decision: the clean white bones he'd found while digging in the garden changed nothing.
Some cuckoos, he thought, didn't want to crack another bird's eggs. They just wanted their own nest, and their own *papa robin.* And they were willing to crack *mama robin* to get them.
All things considered, he thought, they weren't such vile little birds, after all.
|
It had been a year since I last met Drek. I saw him in a restaurant sitting all alone. We started talking. He had suddenly become a great listener and a much more pleasant person.
“She used to say I looked like her uncle, fat and old. Maybe she lost her attraction.”
“Do you think she lost her attraction?” He was listening as if each word I spoke came from Jesus himself. A year back he’d instead just call her a bitch or something.
“I love her so much Drek.” I started sobbing. He touched my shoulders to calm me down.
“She’ll be back.”
“You said you don’t have a house anymore. Why don’t you stay with me?”
“Yes, Matt. I’ll be thrilled. We come in peace.”
“We? Are there others with you?”
“You are with me.”
I started sobbing again, “No one has been so good to me before.”
Over the coming days, we talked a lot. I wasn’t suspicious. I thought maybe he had just changed.
“I dreamt of Sarah again Drek. She had become the president. She invited me to the white house where she started making fun of me and kissed the bodyguard instead.” I started crying on his shoulders.
“Bodyguard? There there. So the president is the one that leads the Earth?”
“Yeah yeah USA president. She then sent me to a dark prison with horrible creatures. They ate my face.”
“Your face? There there. So the president, can she do anything?”
“I don’t think the president would kiss the bodyguard in front of me, but it’s a very powerful position… Anyway, I still love her a lot and [...]” on and on I went about my breakup.
---
It was one morning when to my horror I realised that I had locked the bathroom of the room where Drek was staying, long before he came. I hadn't unlocked it.
“You haven’t pooped in 2 weeks?” I confronted him.
“Do you think I haven’t pooped in 2 weeks?”
“No! I haven’t seen you in my bathroom and your bathroom has been locked all this time. You haven’t been out of the house either.”
“I pooped.”
“Where?”
He pointed towards the kitchen sink.
I had a glass of water in my hands which I had just filled from the tap. I threw it in horror. The water splashed on his face.
“I’m so sorry. Let me clean your glasses.”
I tried to help his glasses out, but it pulled his skin instead. I saw that the frame seamlessly blended with his skin at the sides. I backed away from him in a scary realisation.
“You aren’t human. Who are you?”
There was a knock on the door.
“Matt? It’s me. Sarah.”
I rushed to the door. She hugged me as soon as I opened it.
“I’m so sorry Matt. I was very rude to you.”
Looking at my confused face she explained.
“Drek called me yesterday. We talked.”
I was ecstatic to have Sarah back in my life. I apologised to her and promised to work on my appearance. I asked her out for dinner. We went to a nice restaurant nearby.
We were having a good time in the restaurant when I saw the TV behind her. An alien ship had landed on the roof of the white house.
My brain finally went into action and a horrible feeling engulfed me. Was it an alien pretending to be Drek? I wondered to myself. If so, what happened to the real Drek? Was he being tortured?
I rushed back to the house. Sarah was behind me confused. I opened the door and saw two men on the floor struggling to overpower each other. They looked exactly the same.
“Stop it!” I screamed.
They both stood up.
Sarah caught up with me and screamed at the sight of two duplicate Dreks. Her loud shriek made us throw our hands over our ears.
“Shut up you whore!” one of the Dreks screamed.
At that moment blood rushed out of my head, anger took over me, and I punched him really hard. I heard a distinct crack as his neck bent and he fell down limp.
The other two looked at me horror-stuck. I collapsed panting, not ready to believe what I had done.
Months later Drek was the best man at my wedding. As Sarah walked down the aisle, I took a quick look at him. He was the man who had made my impossible wedding come true. I kept telling my heart that he was the real Drek. I had killed the alien that night.
Yes, I had, hadn’t I?
|
SilasCrane
|
Professor_Entropy
|
2023-03-04 22:00:53
|
2023-03-04 17:55:00
| 123 | 29 |
jaxry7v
|
jaws6hx
|
11hxyqk
|
11hxyqk
|
[WP] You recently discovered that your father, whom you never knew, is actually a crime-fighter with no free time, and he is unaware that you are his son. In order to talk to him, you become a villain.
|
Chunks of drywall and chipped off wood litter the floor. The hero walks in through the hole he made in the wall, each step confident yet cautious of unknown dangers. He uses his enhanced vision to scan through the lingering smoke and dimness. There are toys and diapers and baby bottles blown around. Confusion strikes the hero first then anger.
"What kind of villain would harm a baby?!" he yells with genuine fury.
As if triggered like a gun, a deep chuckle rises from across the room where even the moon light refuses to touch.
"Villain?" The deep voice slowly nears the hero. What was that odd rattling sound? "Aren't you the villain here for trespassing on private property?"
The hero takes a defensive stance and awaits for the villain to reveal himself. Since his intelligence team could only pick up the familiar ominous calling card from their scanners, he knew he had to approach the situation carefully or risk tearing a family apart so soon. He prioritizes rescuing the child first (possibly any other hostages since this villain could've kidnapped the rest of this family to slow him down) and, if the fight gets to dangerous for the baby, a quick escape to the closest safe house.
As the hero was devising his plan, he missed how the outline of the shadowy figure was... short. Like super short.
Another chuckle rose deep from the villain. "Aren't you also a villain for abandoning a family in the guise of the 'greater good'?"
An infant dressed in a black onesie with a short red cape waddled out into the light in a blue and black... baby walker? "Tonight shall be the last night you ever leave this family again!"
As the vil- baby maniacally laughed, the door to the room slammed wide open. A woman with braided red hair and mismatching clothes (is that spit up on her shirt?) barges in, shrieking, "Jacob Amy Ramos, Jr.! You better NOT be in here making explosives again!"
Oh heavens above, that's Mavis!
|
"The Irony!!" What a plot twist my life took. I have one father who has no idea who I am at all besides a kid who grew to be a woman that made mistakes. And that woman had kids unplanned which was 4 more mistakes.. No recognition of the love I came to know because of them, how beautiful and amazing they are, or the fact that they were part of me. No cards, no Christmas presents, no phone calls. Just a random email or message monthly to verify I am not dead like my mom. She died from a drug overdose. She was my best friend.. but drugs were too.
My dad Bert raised me with my mother. He adopted me when I was 7. They divorced and things changed. He went through several marriages that often made me dissappear or become less of a priority. It hurt, but I was the girl beside him when the wife's and girlfriends walked away. When my mom died and he was nowhere to be found or offered no support, I drifted into my own nightmarish addiction that I swear could be the next Nightmare on Elm Street.. I was so mad at him. I felt alone and empty. So I went off in Search for the dad I never met. Ted Wilson. Mom was young and so was he. She never told the poor guy, but she told me!! He was my only hope that someone in this world might understand me or want to call me family. Maybe he liked kids. Or would at least pretend that his grandchildren mattered. Anything was better than nothing. He was a part of me in a way I have never understood like some kids. Not to discredit the man who raised me, but he had his own life now.
I searched and searched for years and gave up hope. One day a cousin informed me of some papers he found in grandma's basement. Apparently they were my mothers. I knew somehow that she would not leave this earth without a way for me to find him. I awaited by the mail box each day so I could unravel the clues. When it arrived I could not believe what it was. It was information that would lead me to him, and clues to who I was, and why they kept it a secret my entire life.
|
Tricky-Ad7492
|
Foreign-Antelope-507
|
2023-11-18 00:51:55
|
2023-11-18 00:38:10
| 282 | 32 |
k9pjt1z
|
k9pi248
|
17xs2q1
|
17xs2q1
|
[WP] You are an immortal, having to deal with the rather troublesome rumour that your blood grants immortal life. However, what those after your blood don't know is that since you can't die, you are an excellent host to several deadly bacteria and viruses-all existing peacefully in your blood.
|
The man looked down, his eyes heavy with years that betrayed his visage. A woman knelt before him with tears in her eyes, clutching at his shirt and tugging on it, begging him with a tone that could only come from someone who had exhausted all other options. "Please, my son will die without it, I've heard the stories of you, I know that it has worked for others, your blood cures all and gives immortal life to those who need it!" She pleaded with him again, the fifth time this month that she had turned up on his doorstep, more desperate each time.
He let out a tired sigh, kneeling down and placing his hand on her head and pulling her to his chest. "It does not. The rumours are false and I apologize, but I cannot help your son, much like I cannot help anyone else in this world. If it were true would there not be more like me. Would not someone else have these rumours about them. I may be ageless, immortal, undying, but it does not mean I am immune to the common effects and diseases that plague everyone else. The only issue is that within me they do not damage, they do not deter my body from this life. If you were to take my blood it would not aid your son but only cause him further grief as cancers, sickness, plagues, all assaulted him at once. He would die within moments" he said calmly, looking down at the woman and stroking her hair as she wept onto him, weeping for her own son, knowing that what he said was true. "Then please" she managed to get out between her sobs, "Let him rest"
The man nodded slowly. This was a request he could accept. It was not the first time and it was not the last he was sure. People with no other options came to him frequently, and when they learned he couldn't help, but only harm them faster, they always relented. Always agreed, to take the blood for a quick death.
|
As an immortal deity, I have Seen Some Shit™. However, the most interesting thing (And also the most annoying) is that people got the idea that my blood could grant immortality. Thousands of people have come to me, begged for a drop, and then dropped dead as soon as they drank it. Since my body has to contain omnipotence, only the strongest and deadliest bacteria can survive it. As a result, when mortals are exposed to these super-illnesses that have been stewing in the blood of a god, they die rather quickly. That didn’t stop people, though. One guy wanted to turn the bacteria and viruses in my blood into a bio-weapon, so I turned him into a poison dart frog. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I have a knack for ironic punishments. Let’s see, there was another woman who wanted to try and purify my blood to remove the viruses, so I gave her my blood just to see what would happen. She tried to heat it, but her chemistry equipment must have been from Wish, since the flask she was using to hold my blood cracked, then exploded. Her eyes were filled with my blood and shards of broken glass, so she died rather quickly. One idiot showed up with a gun and tried to threaten me for my blood. I just let him fill my body with holes while I glared at him. After that, I turned him into a sponge. You’d think people would learn that my blood will kill them, but people still try to drink it. There was this one military outpost that was trying to harness “Godsblood”, as they called it, to rain democracy and freedom down on the enemies of America. I let them try until they blew themselves up. Thankfully, most people have stopped trying to get my blood, and since those idiots don’t know how to leave their dimension, that stupid idea stayed there with them. I haven’t been back there in a while, and I don’t plan on changing that. Alright, now you can print your “Interview with the Chaosbringer” in your newspaper and leave me alone.
|
dracon81
|
ReaperInTraining
|
2023-11-21 15:48:00
|
2023-11-21 14:20:48
| 21 | 11 |
ka65vpb
|
ka5squd
|
1804g85
|
1804g85
|
[WP] You’re driving through the desert and low on fuel. You think you’re saved when you find a rest stop with a gas station. The catch is that it’s run by a nut who has declared his own micro-nation, and if you want gas you have to play along.
|
The sun was almost below the horizon now. Darkness was coming, and Robert was at his wits end.
"Look. I don't want to enter into a "Trade Agreement" with your "nation". I'm not here to declare war or request asylum, I have no intention of conducting any kind of diplomacy! I just want some gas. Y'know? Fuel? Because I'm already going to be late on business, and I am tired."
Grand Supreme Generalissimo Doug shook his head, adjusted his beret, and leant forward on the desk.
"That is, regrettably, not possible, friend. Not only have you trespassed on sovereign Sandian soil without any form of passport or travel papers, but you also have no legal tender, both of which prevent you from being able to trade with our fine nation."
A vein began to pulsate in Robert's head. "*No legal tender!?* What the hell do you call this, then?" He snapped, pulling out a wad of banknotes - card machines were few and far between out in the desert.
The Generalissimo briefly looked at the dollars, before returning his attention to Robert. "I see the problem here. What you have there are United States dollars, a currency which is worth next to nothing in the Sandian Despotate. You will have to exchange them for Sandian Pennies, but" - he paused to look at the clock on the wall - "it's past nine o'clock now, so the exchange will be closed for today."
Robert paused, and took a deep breath. "Look, I have no idea what you are talking about. There is no such thing as the "Sandian Despotate", or whatever it is, we are in the United States of America. Where dollars are legal tender."
"Wrong completely, I'm afraid. This station, my home, and the Sandian Plains are in all their entirety a sovereign and independent nation - we declared independence just last week. I'm afraid that the monetary laws of the United States do not apply here anymore. Now, are you interested in entering a trade agreement, or -"
The bulging vein in Robert's head burst. This conversation was ridiculously asinine - it had even looped back around to the start.
"Forget it, just forget it. Is there another gas station around here?"
"That would be in Wildflower, six miles from here."
"Thank god for that!" Robert cried as he made for the exit. Abruptly, he felt the bizarre station attendant clap hands on his arm.
"Just one moment, sir. It has now come to my attention that you're attempting to leave the country without a passport or visa. Given how soon this is after you first entered, I have reason to suspect, as head of border control and security, that you are smuggling some form of contraband."
It was at this point that relations between the United States and Sandia were soured, as Robert, an American citizen, punched the Generalissimo in the face.
|
The patrol car didn’t come from the highway, but around the other side of the hill. They must have taken the state road, not the freeway, Abby thought, and wanted to throw up. They had been so close. “Shit,” she swore, and giggled, out of panic or because of how naturally the word had come to her mouth. “Shit,” she said again, like it was her last chance to get to swear.
Beside her, Mel looked grim-faced, but she didn’t stop pumping gas into the car.
“You should leave,” Abby told her. “You know they just want me back, but you-”
From his little guard shack at the chain-link fence that marked the edge of the property, Walt Walters sat up slowly. “The American law here for you?” he called over to them.
The patrol car pulled up carefully beyond the edge of the white line Walters had painted in the dirt. Deputy Brunderman got out and carefully walked right up to the line. He ignored Walters, and instead looked right at Abby. “Abby-Kate,” he called out. “Time to come home. Your daddy misses you.”
“She’s not coming back,” Mel replied. “You can’t make her.”
“Well, Deputy,” Walters said, slowly walking right up to Brunderman, on his own side of the line. “She’s right there. These girls are on the sovereign territory of the Free Republic of Walters. Came through immigration and everything,” he added, pointing to his small border-patrol shack.
“Mr. Walters,” Brunderman said, his big head slowly turning toward him. “You know the treaty you have with the government requires you to extradite fugitives.”
“It’s President Walters,” Walters said. “And what’d they do?”
Brunderman tucked his thumbs in his patrol belt and shrugged his broad shoulders. “Judge will think of something. That’s his daughter you got there.”
Walters didn’t respond, and then Brunderman was stepping forward, crossing the white line in the dirt, shouldering Walters aside, and Abby was about to grab Mel’s arm and pull her into the car so they could get away, but Mel had reached into the glove box and was pointing a pistol straight at Bruderman. “She’s not going back.”
“Now you’re in trouble,” Brunderman growled, but he did stop.
“No,” Abby spoke up suddenly. “You’re in trouble. You’re invading a recognized micro-nation, and we’re enforcing its sovereignty. President Walter’s treaty is with the Federal government, isn’t it, not the state?” the homeschool civics tumbled out of her mouth. “My father won’t be able to do shit.” It was all she could do not to giggle again.
Brunderman’s jaws moved as if he was trying to work it out. Walt Walters laughed. “Enforcing its sovereignty, I like it. I thought I had me a demilitarized country here, but maybe not. You girls enlisting?”
|
Sad_Sell_57
|
prejackpot
|
2024-02-03 21:15:49
|
2024-02-03 19:55:10
| 31 | 13 |
kosezpq
|
kos29ei
|
1ai0iuj
|
1ai0iuj
|
[WP] According to astronomy, wishes take thousands or even millions of years to arrive to the wishing stars. Today, wishes from people long past are starting to come true.
|
I sat outside with my son. Everyone sat outside that night, it seemed, or leaned out their windows and over their balconies. You’d think we were all trying to escape from something sinister indoors, and maybe we were. Maybe that’s what we’ve been trying to do for millennia.
We’d dragged out two slatted chairs from the kitchen so we could lounge and stare up at the sky. Andrew wore his WWE cap and a shirt that was too baggy on him but that didn’t used to be. It wasn’t the way a twelve-year-old should be growing — he shouldn’t be deflating.
”It’s amazing,” Andrew said, and I said I agreed, although I was maybe the only person that night not looking up. I hadn’t seen him smile much recently. Not the genuine type — just the brave plastic type he wore because he didn’t like to see me sad. So I didn’t look up.
“What do you think their wish was, exactly?” he said. “Because, like, they didn’t have pollution back then, right?”
”Not really,” I said. “Maybe whisks of smoke curled up from their fires. I doubt there was much more than that.”
”So, what do you think it was? The exact words?’
I thought a while. Wondered, if I saw a sky like this, what I’d wish for. “Maybe this person had this very same view, thousands and thousands of years ago. And it blew their mind so much that they wished to share it with everyone. That we could all see the heavens as clearly as them.”
”That’s cool.”
”It’s selfless,” I said. “I think if it had been me, I’d have wished for only me to have seen the sky like this every night. I just wouldn’t have thought beyond that. But whoever that was, they wanted us all to share in the beauty.”
This was the second night we’d been able to see the night sky so clearly — even in a city as bright as this. The sky had cleared up yesterday evening, as if god’s hand had swept over the dirt and cleansed the air itself. Not even light could pollute it now.
”Remember,” Andrew said, “how you used to tell me dad was a star and watching down on us?”
I felt a sudden, guilty nausea. Andrew had been young and I’d mostly said it to soothe him. Maybe to soothe me, too. He hadn’t mentioned it in a couple of years. “You remember that, huh?”
“We’d be able to see him now.” Andrew peered up at the stars, eyes slowly roving, seemingly taking each one in and assessing the possibility. Except there were millions. “Maybe, you know, after… Maybe I’ll be up there sitting next to him.”
I told him not to say such things and turned away as I wiped my eyes. Told him he was going to be fine — that he was strong and going to make it. But the shirt was so big on him, and nothing yet had worked, and I’d kept none of my promises so far, so I think he knew better than to trust to my new ones.
After a while he said, ”Do you really think it was someone’s wish?”
”What else could it be?“ I replied. “No one can explain it.”
“I hope it was.”
Before we went indoors, I finally looked up at the sky. I knew a wish would take thousands of years to reach the wishing star — if it even existed — and I knew that it might never come true. It wasn’t a wish for me, or even for Andrew. We were on our own now. And I knew I wouldn’t be around to see a wish I made take shape. But one day I hoped that no other parent or child had to go through this, so I closed my eyes and wished.
|
I have a pet jaguar now.
I named her Jabari, meaning brave one, because I always come home to find her crouched at the door, waiting to pounce on my boots. Other than her unconquerable instinct to hunt humans, she is by far the easiest cat I've ever owned. She has no claws, no fangs, and only stands as tall as a squirrel.
Admittedly, adopting a jaguar is a tacky trend at this point. I'm catching the wave at the tail end, when it's as easy as rescuing a stray from the shelters. When the rapid evolution had just occurred, and all jaguars on the planet found themselves on the prey-end of the wildlife spectrum, owning one of these little devils had been a high luxury. But it took less than ten years before nearly every street in the country had a proud-posturing mini-big cat being walked on a leash.
We've seen now that this was likely the first of the ancient wishes to come true. As far as I can tell, it's the only one that has had a clearly positive benefit.
Following closely behind the rapid evolution of all jaguars came many sudden and unexplainable events like the torrential rainfall along the Tigris-Euphrates river system in the Middle-East, the appearance of an enormous fish in the Huang He, or 'Yellow River', of China, and the eruption of a previously dormant volcano along the east coast of Kenya.
Taken on their own, each seemed like an individual freak occurrence of nature. It wasn't until the resurrection of Sadiki, the ancient Egyptian, that we all pieced together what must be happening.
Sadiki's body coalesced from a scattering of dust outside of Cairo. The skeleton had formed first, discovered one morning just lying out in the open under the hot sun, and scientists gathered from across the globe to watch as the streams of dust carrying Sadiki's soft tissue slowly trickled in from the farthest reaches of the desert. Even the white linen outfit from Sadiki's burial had reformed, and until then, scientists were too cautious to get close enough to discover that this was not a modern human skeleton.
Sadiki, through the help of some very excited historical linguists, described a long and arduous battle for their health, and many prayers from friends and family for their full recovery. Their mother, in a slightly blasphemous taboo, even wished on a wandering star.
At last, all the individual anomalies could be collected into one theory. And this theory seemed to hold for many freak occurrences to come, like the sudden appearance of a land bridge across the Red Sea, trapping many cargo ships in the newly formed Great Red Lake.
When I'm out on my late walks with Jabari, I watch the first stars appear in the sky and wonder what the earth will look like when all the past millenniums' worth of wishes come true. I'd really like to see this planet after all the little changes catch up, see how society carries on with what will probably be a daily reshuffling of the laws of physics.
So tonight, I wish to come back like Sadiki, at least for a short while, in however far a future that may be. I'll try to remember tomorrow to wish for Jabari's safe return as well, as long as some other misguided wish from the ancient past doesn't wipe us out before then.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
I'm on day 30 of a streak.
If you liked this story, the other 29 days are collected at r/FarFetchedFiction.
Thanks.
|
Rupertfroggington
|
FarFetchedFiction
|
2023-02-09 14:06:59
|
2023-02-09 13:18:33
| 806 | 222 |
j7ue981
|
j7u8dc3
|
10xsvcg
|
10xsvcg
|
[WP] Although healing powers are common, yours is one of the strongest in the world. The hit squad big pharma sends manages to take out your entire family but you survive. Now the world is about to find out that power wasn't the ability to remove ailments...it's true nature is to simply remove.
|
Healing powers were always common.
Activate the mana in your body, resonate with the mana in the environment, and then influence the regeneration of cells with it.
Easy-peasy, but also basic, and worked mostly on surface wounds, and accelerating natural healing.
My family's healing powers on the other hand...were one of the strongest in the world.
Our affinity to healing magic, and mana were as good as dragons'...which didn't really sit well with a lot of people, as we could literally save people who had their hearts shattered.
So...they attacked us.
The alchemist guild, and the physicians' guild, together with the "indirect" help of the merchants ordered a hit on my entire family.
Main family, branches...far-removed relatives...all were killed.
I was the only one to survive...only because I was treating an old friend, hidden deep inside a singularity.
When I came out, and my friends, and those who owed me favors all bombarded me with messages.
Some with worry...some with information about exactly whom were the main culprits.
I didn't even have time to mourn, before the first assassins managed to find me.
Before they could approach me, I flared my mana, and they...disappeared.
I felt the mana around me react, as far away people seemed to leave.
"Idiots...
Not even assassins know the body as well as we do...", I muttered, taking a few steps, leaving.
A moment later I was on my home planet...and indeed, I felt no bloodline resonance...
Not a single individual, not even a descendant who knows how many times removed remained alive.
As I was lost in thoughts, several powerful mana signatures appeared around me.
"You little doctor...
Your family should have just helped the commoners, and soldiers, and left the high-profile individuals alone...
Why pretend you are someone? Removing illnesses and whatnots? What's good in that?", one of them mocked.
"I remove what I want, it's not just illness specific.", I said.
"What do you...", he started, but then disappeared.
"Mana is everywhere, and our bodies while matter, can be broken down into energy, and that energy can be converted to mana...", I muttered.
When the rest heard me, they paled, and tried to run...just to turn to nothing.
I sighed...
"My family knew the secrets of mana, and decided to help the people of the realm...
Greed indeed shall be the undoing of many.", I muttered, as I left.
I had countless people to "heal" from their foolishness, and I also had to research them...
I shall kill no innocent. I am a doctor, sworn to protect and heal.
|
Rafael placed a finger on a slat in the blinds, dipping it down just enough to see the shadow of three black SUVs outside his office building. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. He knew this day would come, but now that it was here, his hands were sweating and his mind raced. He heard shuffling and muttering outside, then the ominous click of steel implements being readied. Gunshots rang out nearby, followed by yelling and chaotic bustling. Suddenly, there was a frantic banging at the door. He rushed to look through the peephole and saw his young secretary, Li Wei, yelling incoherently, splattering the hallway with blood as he wailed on the door.
Rafael opened the door, and Li Wei collapsed into the room, desperately scrambling on the floor to shut the door. Rafael locked it, then turned to Li Wei and gasped. Li Wei was riddled with bullet holes, globs of blood pouring from his mouth as he struggled to breathe and keep his eyes open. Rafael laid his trembling hands on Li Wei's red-soaked shirt, whispering in a sibilant, wispy tongue. The gushing wounds in his torso bubbled, bits of metal welling up out of them and then dissolving in a nacre mist. The mist spread across Li Wei's body, and through its pale, mother-of-pearl swirls, Rafael could see the wounds dissolving away. Rafael muttered a few more words, and the mist swirled one final time, whisking away the blood and the holes in Li Wei's shirt with it.
As Li Wei lay before Rafael, healed but still unconscious from blood loss, another loud bang came from the door. Taking one last look at what they had done to his friend, Rafael looked up, eyes smoldering with rage. He thrust a hand out at the door, fingers contorting as if manipulating some unseen force. On the other side of the door, five men in SWAT suits and visored helmets prepared a battering ram. Just as they were about to deliver a blow to the door, one of them silently cocked his open hand up. As they all stopped, he pointed at the bottom of the door. A slowly drifting mist was creeping out of the crack beneath the door, quickly surrounding their combat boots.
"Turn on your gas masks," one of them ordered, and they all clicked a button on their visored helmets. As the mist pooled around their feet, for a moment, they were lost in the swirls shimmering colorfully like diesel oil in a ditch. "Hey, what the fuck?" one of them shouted as he felt a sudden chill at his feet. Through the mist, he saw they were all barefoot now, but there was no time to stare in awe, as all five men crumpled to the ground, screaming, blood immediately puddling around them as they clawed at the stumps at the ends of their legs.
|
TheWanderingBook
|
osliver88
|
2024-11-28 12:29:45
|
2024-11-28 10:59:27
| 300 | 77 |
lzebf8b
|
lze21qr
|
1h1rm79
|
1h1rm79
|
[WP] The elven children have a ceremony to summon their spirit animals. Most get unicorns, phoenixes, fire salamanders etc. One kid ends up summoning a human, smoking a cigar and sporting a hefty shotgun.
|
"Tyr, son of Astordum" The elven priest bellowed as he directed me to the altar. All confidence I had now dwindled as Balsam, my best friend, summons a dragon egg as his spirit animal.
"Ha! A dragon may be powerful, but that egg is never going to hatch, his spirit animal is just as useless as he is!"
Yukali and his friends laugh amongst themselves. The sanctuary was now filled with muffled laughter as the whole village had come to see this years summonings. It was mostly Yukali they came to see, he impressed everyone throughout the academic year with his performance. He was standing next to his Griffin, the king of all creatures. Of course the most respected elf in the kingdom would summon such a powerful companion. I nodded to my best friend in support as I approached the sacred scriptures.
"Speak the summoning spell loudly and with confidence, young one, remember that your words and your emotions will determine your lifelong companion"
I reached out my hands and placed both palms on each open page of the scriptures. I started chanting at the top of my lungs and felt the books power searching my body, my soul and my memories. It searched through everything I had ever experienced to find the right spirit animal for me. Honestly, it was overwhelming, but it was such a rush at the same time. I closed my eyes and finished the spell, only to open them when I heard the collective gasps of every elf in the sanctuary.
I turned around to meet the gaze of some strange giant creature with a stick hanging out of his mouth. The end was burning and the smell was horrid. Perhaps it was embedded with a warding spell of some kind.
"W-w-what are you?"
I asked as the compelling creature lowered the top of his hardly practical weapon to the floor. I figured he must be some kind of mutant dwarf as he was rugged, large, wore an apron and carried a broken warhammer.
"Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit, what mischief have I gotten myself into now?"
The mysterious giant laughed as he took in all the washed out faces of elves in front of him. This for sure determined that he was dwarven, I've never heard the language, but surely this beasts foreign way of speaking came from their people.
"Be you Dwarf?"
I asked in the hope that the bond has now been sealed and he can understand me.
"I ain't no dwarf, now what do you mean by that? I'm a human as all get out"
Hmm strange, I thought to myself in confusion. We have definitely bonded, but I still can't understand what this 'human' is saying. In an attempt to befriend my new lifelong spirit animal I decide to introduce myself.
"I am Tyr, son of Astordum, and the Tome of Illumination has gifted you to me as my spirit animal, we are bonded for life"
EDIT TO SAY:
I got lazy sorry and it's late, so that's where I'm going to end it.
|
Spring in Lymph was always a beautiful time.
After a barren winter largely spent inside the covens, the young ones who’d long grown restless under the blanket of snow were finally free to stretch their legs and run amok. Chasing and frolicking in the special joys of spring, spotting new buds, celebrating new life, and seeing color seep back into their beloved forest, even the elders couldn’t help but smile at the return of an old friend.
And of course, another annual event, familiar but forever exciting, was the day of the “spirit animals summoning” for the new pupils.
Longevity and their recluse in the past century had granted the elves safety, peace, and comfort to bask amidst their own. Indeed, the allure and magic of myth has cast a mysterious, protective mist over these favored children of the forest.
The truth of the matter, however, was that the elves of the different lands had not made contact in a long, long time. The serenity of custom had given way to looser ties, matching the ebbing wave of magic within their kind. While Lialya the Wise may have tethered the moon to the sun to guide the changing of days, and elders recalled a time where any elf child could heal ailments and call wind before they entered school, the scope of magic for the current Lymphan consisted mainly of the odd repair, cold elixir, or in a pinch, quick speed boost before a dinner date. In fact, for the growing portion of Lymphans without notable magical talent, magic was disappearing even further, giving way to contraptions not unlike what their human neighbors down south used.
Not that the humans would know about this.
What did differ, however, was their tie with mystical beasts.
What you must know is that mystic as they may be called, the relationship between the elves and the phoenixes, unicorns, dragons, and so on are not at all the rough equivalents that humans have. Long before there were humans, beastmen, or demons, these creatures roamed, plotted, shared, and divided the earth.
Thus, what the rare human knows as the spirit animal summoning ceremony, is in reality more of a pact, formed from feuds and friendship, between the elves and other ancient creatures. If we so call it that, as elves “summon” phoenixes, so too do phoenixes “summon” elves. Humans, arrogant as they are, categorize the elf as humanoid and the phoenix as beast-like, when they both represent a past and time beyond human understanding.
Be that as it may, the stars were shifting, and in retrospect, perhaps it shouldn’t have been such a surprise when a human did intrude upon our subtle pact. In my defense, it had, after all, been five hundred years … nevertheless, I digress, I should have known. At the very least, from the moment the elf in question was unveiled, the seeds were planted.
What a fickle joker, those stars, to the very end.
|
skyrimfireshout
|
pineappleclover
|
2023-03-08 09:01:30
|
2023-03-08 05:17:32
| 55 | 30 |
jbdryin
|
jbda112
|
11lckv0
|
11lckv0
|
[WP] "You shall fall dead the day your first child is born!" the young, inexperienced witch had cried casting her curse. Little did she know, to an asexual like yourself, she'd practically granted immortality. Now, every year, on the anniversary of the curse, she tries her best to "fix" things.
|
“Hey sexy”
“What do you aim to do with this?” James walked past the half-naked witch in his kitchen and pushed the button on the coffee machine, dispensing a brew he’d come to love for the last 70 years. “You know damn well what I want” Aria said as she slid off the counter and summoned a jacket onto herself “I explained this last time.” James took a sip out of his mug “last time was about a decade ago, explain it again.”
Aria sighed and explained “That was the only curse I’ve ever cast, I can only have one out at a time now. Since I can’t practice without one, and you have it, I need you to have a kid already.” “And give up immortality? Screw that.” James commented, as he poured himself a bowl of cereal. “What makes you think I’ll finally give in? You cursed me what, 160, 170 years ago?” “168 years today” Aria specified. “Yeah, so for a century you decide to let things play out but just over 50 years ago you decide to try seducing me. What made you decide to be more active in this?”
Aria looked into the distance, recalling the past years. “It wasn’t until after I cursed you that I learned you’re not into… stuff” James murmured an agreement while eating his cereal “but I figured ‘no stress’, you’d get curious every once in a while and eventually someone will slip up. I may of also cast a few fertility spells here and there to up my chances.” James put down his empty bowl and said “Alright, but why were you basically nude on my counter this morning?” Aria paused and said “I’ve been immortal this whole time too, I get the problems. I’ve been married 5 times because they keep dying on me, I figured you’d be more likely to get down with someone who won’t die in a couple decades.” James noticed she looked sad.
James handed Aria a cup of coffee “Did you ever say why you cursed me in the first place?” Aria took the cup, then a sip, and responded “it was the pettiest thing ever, you accidentally cut me in a line and I cursed you when I got home. Like I said, I had never done it before, I was just eager for a reason to do it” The two giggled, before James said “you were kind of onto something, with the seduction” Aria looked at him confused “I was?” James responded “It is nice to talk to someone you’ve known since the beginning, it’s a reassurance that the world isn’t completely mad” James tried to drink from his cup, but realized it was empty and put it down “I have a good thing going on, I’m not going to give that up so you can mess with other people.” Aria took a sip from her cup and said “Thats fair”
|
“I’m sorry, ma’am, your insurance has been denied.” Nurse Betty said. “Would you like to see a pricing sheet?”
“So, it’s done then.” Martha let the tears softly flow down her cheek. Her eyes stayed trained on the IVF box, where the five digit cost sat stoically beside it.
“Maybe not.” Nurse Betty said, sitting before Martha. “Maybe I can help you.”
Betty’s guise fell, revealing a huge nose with an enormous wart, stringy black hair, and crooked teeth. Her nurse’s garb fell away, leaving a simple black robe, in which a black cat poked out its head.
“You see, little girl, this is your lucky day.” Betty procured a simple small vial with a milky, cloudy fluid within. “I will assist for one single cycle, and following that cycle, you will be with child.”
Martha eyed the milky liquid. A thought formed, which leapt into a question before she could retrieve it.
“Can I use any other sperm?” Martha blurted.
Betty smiled widely, so sickeningly sweet. “No.” Betty frowned slightly, shaking her head. “No, you may not.”
Martha weighed her options between never having a child, and having a child with the genetics she desired.
“Do you have his history? He isn’t sick or anything, right?” Martha asked.
“Heavens, no, he isn’t sick.” Betty waved her wand. “Look, girl.”
A fake medical history along with fake images of a fiercely attractive brunette man with a hard jawline appeared. Martha took her time going through the doctored evidence as Betty watched.
After a time Martha came to another pressing question.
“Why are you doing this?” Martha asked hesitantly, scared of the answer, so hopeful that this was a Make a Wish, or perhaps a Jury Duty situation.
“Dear,” Betty answered. “You know, so often I have to do the evil deed. ‘Oh, sorry, your insurance was denied’ or ‘sorry, ma’am, we are not accepting new patients’ or ‘Sorry, ma’am, he didn’t make it’. You know, just once in my life, I want to do the right thing.”
Betty felt comfort spread over her as Martha seemed to believe her, as her shoulders fell and her eyebrows finally stopped their crinkling.
“Okay,” Martha said. “I agree. I’ll do it. How do we begin?”
“Now,” Betty sprung to her feet. “You’re already gowned. Let’s do it now.”
“Now?” Martha paled. “But, I am at the end of my cycle. It will not implant.”
“Oh,” Betty gave a knowing look. “It will.”
Betty whispered her spells as she waved her wand about the vial of white, milky liquid.
To Betty, the nine months passed by in a dreamy haze. For Martha, utter pain followed utter pain, until one morning, a bawling babe was pulled forth from her loins.
Betty smiled her innocent, knowing smile as, hundreds of miles away, Gregory dropped dead.
|
Atomic12192
|
None
|
2023-05-10 02:08:00
|
2023-05-09 19:51:12
| 402 | 294 |
jjjwtyg
|
jjifxvc
|
13d1vfd
|
13d1vfd
|
[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."
|
Lucien Greaves, the spokesperson of the Satanic Temple, nervously picked at his jet-black vest as he stared at Pope Francis across the table from him. For more than obvious reasons, the two didn't exactly love each other, though the situation has... changed. They looked around the room filled with religious - and religion adjacent - leaders from around the world; people of all colours, genders, and sizes, wearing various clothing... all extremely uneasy.
"So," Chief Rabbi Yitzhak Yosef finally spoke, breaking the tense silence, "I believe we can all agree that it wasn't some sort of... group hallucination."
"All over the world?" Mahant Swami Maharaj, a Hindu guru, pitched in. "*At the exact same time*? Impossible."
"How does it feel to know God does exist, atheist?" a venomous voice rang from the crowd; likely a less important religious figure.
"How does it feel to know he abandoned you?" Greaves fired back coldly. Several of the leaders stared at him angrily, but held back.
"Let us recap the situation and move on," Pope Francis urged. "Two days ago, we were all telepathically told the Divine Protection Service has removed us from the care of... of our god due to neglect."
"And that we're getting a foster god?!" Yitzhak Yosef cried out. "The- this whole thing is madness!"
"Oh I *love* madness," a young man wearing a Cthulu T-Shirt in the corner chirped happily.
"Are we *absolutely* sure he's allowed here?" Sikh Guru Nandgarh pointed out.\*
"Do we- does anyone - have any idea who... the *New God* is going to be?" Greaves asked.
"Or what he'll stand for?" Maharaj continued.
"Or what he'll want from us?" someone in the crowd yelled.
"Think they'll be cool with Witchcraft?" a young Wiccan woman near the wall asked.
"*God* I hope not. I mean- *shit*," another voice said.
"Stop blaspheming!" someone said.
"Against WHOM?!"
The room erupted into a mess of arguments and yelling, hiding the escape of a young man in a clean business suit. He walked out carefully and elegantly, but with a resolution that made it clear no one could stop him. After he walked a good distance away from the room, he pulled out a modern-looking communicator.
"HQ, do you read me?" he said.
"This is Site 18. Your communication is now forwarded to a member of the Council. You may proceed," the communicator replied.
"This is Field Agent \[REDACTED\]. Situation is going as expected."
"Acknowledged, Agent. Continue to monitor. Apprehend anyone who appears to have additional knowledge."
"Got it. But... HQ? I- I have a question," the Agent nervously admitted.
The woman on the other side of the line looked to the side and brushed away her greying hair. It was against protocol to indulge in such communication at a time like this, but... even to her organization, '*time like this*' was stretching it. She pressed the button on the microphone.
"Go ahead, Agent."
"The New God... do you... do you think it'll be benevolent?" he asked grimly.
The woman sighed deeply and considered it. Despite her years of experience, she... did not know. But as she looked on the wall adorned with the organization's logo - a circle with three arrows pointed inwards within another symbol resembling a three-pronged gear - she felt a jolt of confidence.
"Whatever it will be," she said into the communicator, "*we'll be ready*."
​
​
​
\**He was not.*
|
Faith is an emotion on its own. To embark on a journey of faith, true faith is a right on its own.
Some people have recently lost that right. They called themselves the champions, the flag bearers of their religion but instead they forgot the one thing that made faith the most powerful force in the world, humanity.
We have been watching Earth since the dawn of man. We watched them learning to stand on their legs. We watched them when they found the wonderful thing that was fire. We also watched as they created the factions of God. It didn't matter. God was a multi-headed entity. Every religion saw just one face. Some religions saw more than one face and that was agreeable too.
But we also watched when humanity turned on each other. We watched when they used the name of God as an excuse for their sins. We watched when they started considering themselves God. We watched and watched and watched.
We watched when one day God couldn't take it anymore. We watched him see the world he built with so much love being destroyed by the ones he created, the ones he loved. We watched him leave.
And we knew that we won't be able to watch anymore.
*
*Send a message in every language possible*
We, the members of the Divine Protection Services, have found the mass cases of neglect and thereby you are being removed from the custody of God. You will shortly receive a message about your Foster God.
Yours sincerely,
Themara
Divine Protection Services.
*
We saw the confused faces of the religious heads. They clearly thought that it was some sort of hallucination. But they didn't dismiss it. Instead all of them claimed to be god's vessel. The one God trusts the most.
We laugh at their naivete and their sense of grandeur. They just lost the protection of the parent who loved them unconditionally, the parent who was so saddened by the state of his children that he couldn't take it anymore.
We just hope humanity has prepared themselves for their Foster God.
*
We watched as the Foster God arrived at Earth waiting for a warm welcome. Even a tepid one would have worked instead of the tepid silence he got.
They considered him a trickster. A mockery. But it still hasn't settled that he would be their God for the foreseeable future.
They don't know who they have pissed off.
*
Should we do something? The question was uttered daily in the halls of Divine Protection Services. But no one answered. We weren't afraid. We were intrigued.
We have always thought that God loved his creations unconditionally, even when they sought to destroy. But the new one, the new one reminded everyone that there are consequences to their actions.
He slowly but surely straightened out the creases on the cloth of humanity. He never chose a policy of silent treatment or having a chance to learn from their countless mistakes.
He adopted a more hands-on approach. Humanity will have faith if they don't know what to have faith in.
And the changes were already visible. The tides have turned towards the better.
Everyone at the Divine Protection Services knew that the Foster God was what Earth needed. But they also knew that God would return.
And isn't that the most condemning thought any person who had faith could have?
***
[You can find more of my stories at r/iknowthisischeesy]
Also I apologise in advance. I'm literally typing this half asleep.
|
SirPiecemaker
|
iknowthisischeesy
|
2023-07-25 19:47:18
|
2023-07-25 19:40:13
| 168 | 51 |
jtfeala
|
jtfd593
|
159czme
|
159czme
|
[WP] "Chess? I've been around since before humans invented the concept of games, so a game as old as chess would be be in my favour without a doubt. I would advice you to choose again, and pick something you're familiar with." Death said as they presented every board and video game ever created.
|
"Oh no, not regular chess, that's too easy. I said 5d chess with multiverse time travel."
And that's how it began.
The match started innocently enough. Pawns advancing, and the beginnings of a contest for the middle of the board, then I sent a bishop back in time, splitting the timeline.
It spiralled from there, timelines splitting, the present rolling back and forth. The complexity of the game rose exponentially as pieces far in the future jump across multiple timelines to disrupt a gambit that happened several turns ago.
Then it happened, a carefully placed queen put multiple kings in check at once. Unfortunately the kings were mine.
I lost. Apparently death was right. I should've picked modded Skyrim.
|
“No,” I shook my head. “It’s the game I’m best at that’s competitive, unless you want to do a massive, several hours long RPG?”
“Fine, but your detriment. Can’t believe you’ll bet Heaven or He’ll off of that.”
“What can I say? I’m not the best at making decisions.”
We got the board out. After a coin flip, Death would play as White. After his first move, I paused.
“What? Trying to figure out all the ways this could go terribly for you?”
“Yes…” I said, moving one of my pawns up.
“Get ready, you will not have a fun time for eternity,” he said, moving a pawn that was right next to the first one.
“Checkmate” I move my Queen, stupefying Death.
“What?! No, what is this?!”
“Fool’s Mate” I laughed. “See ya” I went over to the Golden Staircase, laughing all the way.
“What is Fool’s Mate?” He wondered, confused.
|
Xandorian2
|
Impossible-Bison8055
|
2024-01-03 22:37:38
|
2024-01-03 21:05:14
| 444 | 87 |
kg6z4iu
|
kg6j1ww
|
18xsoh8
|
18xsoh8
|
[WP] "Chess? I've been around since before humans invented the concept of games, so a game as old as chess would be be in my favour without a doubt. I would advice you to choose again, and pick something you're familiar with." Death said as they presented every board and video game ever created.
|
There was no game in the history of existence that Death did not know, nor any game He had ever lost. It was no wonder that the Reaper spoke with such utter surety and confidence.
Perhaps such confidence was earned.
Perhaps not.
Perhaps the Angel of Death was currently hopping on a single bony foot, while clutching a volleyball tightly in both arms desperately angling each jump to land in unevenly marked circles on the ground.
"And thirteen - There! The round is mine," declared Death.
"Nope! Sorry, you forgot to sing the _I'm Very Sorry_ song while you did it, that means you lose a point and I get one instead!"
The Reaper stood, flummoxed, as His voice snarled from His skinless face. "... But _you_ sang no such song when _you_ did it earlier."
"Right... But, I'm holding the Reverse Flag now, see? That means the ball goes to me, and I get a head start, while you recite the list of Presidents first-to-last! You can't chase me until you finish!"
The Fourth Horseman simply stared as the blond boy snatched the ball away, and began leaping off towards the opposing goal triumphantly. A moment of silence, before the Reaper dejectedly began. "... Washington, Adams, Jefferson..."
Perhaps Death had never lost a game in His eternal existence.
Perhaps.
But one thing was certain.
Death had never played Calvinball before.
|
"Aha!" I said, snapping my fingers. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into." I got off my sofa and walked towards my TV and turned on my Playstation. From my shelf I pulled out my favourite game, Bloodborne and loaded the disc into the machine.
I showed Death the disc cover. Death sighed wearily and rolled his eyes. "Oh no, you're one of *those guys* aren't you?" He sat down.
"You think you're the first Fromsoft addict I've dispatched?" He cleared his throat. "Alright, he's the challenge: You have to defeat this game, including the DLC, without getting hit once. You want to live? You've got to get good." He said the last sentence with a hint of irony.
I looked at Death and then at the screen. I've done lots of crazy Bloodborne runs over the years. No level up? Sure. Doing a firearm only run? Piece of cake. But no hit? That sounded impossible. But what choice did I have? My life was on the line.
I begrudgingly accepted. I sat down and played the game. Even though I hadn't played in a while, it was like settling into an old pair of jeans. I was doing well and got into a nice groove. Until I got to Father Cascoigne. I almost had him whittled down to half health when he hit me with his gun. I dropped the controller in disbelief. the boss ended my character's life. The words *YOU DIED* flashed on the screen in dark crimson.
Death stood up and beckoned me. "You've lost." He said. "You're coming with me, good hunter." He said mockingly.
|
TraskNari
|
anomandaris81
|
2024-01-04 06:40:26
|
2024-01-04 00:14:59
| 54 | 23 |
kg8w50o
|
kg7f5q2
|
18xsoh8
|
18xsoh8
|
[WP]You and your other co-workers have known for a while that something is impersonating your boss. But no one has bothered to say anything because under its leadership the workplace has become an enjoyable place. Today you’re training a new employee when they see the boss eating a delivery driver.
|
Adam has been dead for months, and so was the delivery driver who tried to shoot the monster wearing Adam's skin like an ill-fitting pullover.
I clamped my hand over the new intern Janet's mouth and hushed her. Her eyes remained wide in a panic until "Adam" began wiping his mouth with a handkerchief I bought for him and walked back to his room.
"We're really going to let that...thing just get away with that?" Janet asked, fear-filled eyes gazing at the patch of ground where the dead driver once was.
"He's a good boss, as long as you don't try to fight him. Look, there aren't many places where you get fair wages, reasonable deadlines, and absolutely no crunch time or unpaid overtime."
Janet nodded without a sound and shuffled back to her cubicle. Satisfied that she was resuming work instead of trying to call the police, I settled in my cubicle adjacent to her and started preparing my reports.
"Gordon? May I please have a word with you?"
It was "Adam", or rather Xenagor, as he had introduced himself to me once I gained his absolute trust.
"How are the new interns coping under your care? I noticed Janet seems a little spooked and not concentrating at work. Might have been me, so...could you help me talk to her? Please let her and the other interns know they are invited to the new employee orientation coming up soon."
I informed him of the email blast I had sent out to all new employees and showed him its contents. Looking exceptionally pleased with my work, Xenagor winked 8 of his eyes and crawled to the function room where we were going to have the staff orientation. I sighed, realising it was still a long way to go before Xenagor could get the hang of human behavior, but I'm glad he's really putting in much effort to understand and treat us humans well.
As long as none of us tried to shoot him.
When it was time for orientation, I stood at the podium of the function room, turning on the projector to present my slides.
Greetings new employees of Xenocorp! I'm Gordon, your HR Manager, I hope all of you are slowly but surely settling in.
First thing, we'd like to brief you about our CEO, Adam. He's a great boss who believes in paying well for a job well done, but there are still a few ground rules for employees who wish to stay alive and employed!
1. Don't ask about his diet. A few of you may have seen him eat things, both living and dead, that no normal human should be eating. That's okay. He won't hurt you or eat you, he loves our company and he would like nothing else but for us to do well. Most of the time.
2. Which brings me to my second point. Don't antagonize him. He's still learning about insulting jokes, but he doesn't quite fully get those yet. So don't. Don't try to hit him, shoot him, or inflict any sort of physical injury on him. It won't work, and he might retaliate in such a way you won't live to talk about it. Just keep your heads down and do your work. We don't want to have to ship you back to your parents in pieces.
3. If you feel his sometimes inhuman behavior makes you uncomfortable, let me know if you don't know how to bring it up to him. Adam is quite receptive to feedback, as long as you don't insult him like in point number 2. Ultimately, Adam wants you to feel comfortable working in Xenocorp. He cares, and so do I. Call me, don't call the cops, Adam really doesn't like them all that much.
Now, we'll break out into groups to play a few icebreaker games to get to know each other better!
Adam? Would you like to have a few words or join us?
Xenogar ambles over to the nearest group sitting in a circle, a tentacle still gripping the speech I had prepared for him. From the podium, the group of humans wave at him cheerfully and a man stands up to give Xenogar a high-five.
He returns it awkwardly with a tentacle instead of one of his meatsuit's hands. The man doesn't bat an eyelid and gives Xenogar's tentacle a firm handshake. I think he's going to fit in that group just fine. They'll love him as much as my co-workers do when they find out he's a pretty swell guy beneath his creepy appearance.
I smiled and gave my monster boss a thumbs up when Xenogar gave me a hand sign to indicate I was getting a raise.
|
Edit: totally misread a good chunk of the prompt lmao
-
“Um. Mr. Rus?” I had nothing in me except to blink at the sight of my boss, literally, consuming the guy delivering our pizza. It was late, we were drunk, and we just wanted a snack.
I was surprised to see our new boss deepthroating a whole ass leg, and he looked surprised to be caught in the act. “DONOVAN.”
“Mr. Rus.”
“SPEAK NOTHING OF THIS MOMENT.” He bit down with a sickening crunch and spray of tomato-colored juice. I suddenly didn’t want pizza anymore. He approached me, slowly, and I prayed to the god I didn’t believe in that I lived well enough to see him. Mr. Rus bellowed a laugh. “BE NOT AFRAID. I CONSUME ONLY THE DESERVING. YOU ARE NOT FIT FOR CONSUMPTION, DONOVAN.” I didn’t say anything. “YOU HAVE MANY QUESTIONS.” I nodded. He handed the stack of pizzas to me and told me to bring them up and come back: he was going to finish dinner.
I did that. Came back. Mr. Rus was impeccably clean. “Um. Sir? I’m back.”
“COME.” I obeyed. “I APOLOGIZE YOU HAD TO SEE THAT. I AM OFTEN MORE DISCREET, BUT THIS ONE WAS GUILTY OF EXTREME VIOLATION.”
“Um. What violation. Sir?”
“YOU DO NOT WANT TO KNOW.”
“Okay.” I was getting more confused by the second. “Um. So. What are you?”
“DO YOU PROMISE NOT TO TELL.”
“I don’t think I have a choice.”
He bellow laughed again. “YOU ALWAYS HAVE A CHOICE. YOU MAY NOT BELIEVE ME, BUT I HAVE MO INTENTION OF HARMING YOU.”
“Okay. Cool. Yeah. Uh. So.”
“I AM FORMERLY A DEMON. ZANDRUS, BUTCHER OF ALGARUS, CONQUEROR OF MOONS AND SUNS, EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH AT GALRUN’S BUTCHER SHOP, STAR PLAYER OF LACROSSE AND CHEESECAKE CONNOSEUR. ”
Wait what? Did he, did he just say employee of the month? And lacrosse player? “Sir you uh. Okay i’m lost. Am I drugged? was there something in the lunch?”
The titan in charge of my paycheck invited me to sit next to him on the curb. “YOU ARE NOT IMAGINING THIS. YOU ARE NOT A MAN OF GOD, YES?” I shook my head. “YOU SHOULD BE.”
You know, I could believe it. Something about everything he did just… kinda made sense? Fiery personality, gravelly voice, fondness of brutality (but like, business ruthless. He was very gentle in person.) It wasn’t the typical devil schtick, but all the passion was there. “Okay. Demon boss. Nice.” I looked at the delivery guy’s car. “So… why’d he get eaten?”
“HE COMITTED MORTAL SIN.”
“How’d you know?”
“I AM ABLE TO SENSE THIS. I KNOW OF PEOPLES TRANSGRESSIONS. IT IS AN INSTINCT INNATE TO ALL DEMONKIND.”
I was suddenly very aware of all the tiny things I thought I could get away with. He must’ve noticed the fear because he continued. “YOU ARE SAFE. YOUR SINS WEIGH LIGHTLY.” He looked at me with fire and gentleness in his eyes. “YOU ARE NOT NEARLY AS BAD AS YOUR MIND TELLS YOU.”
“Excuse me?”
“I HAVE MONITORED YOUR PERFORMANCE AND ATTITUDE OVER THE MONTHS WE HAVE WORKED TOGETHER. YOUR PRODUCTIVITY IS EXCELLENT.”
“Oh. Uh. Thanks.”
“YOUR MENTAL HEALTH IS NOT.”
“Excuse me-“
“DO NOT HIDE THIS.” Suddenly, my cannibalistic(?) boss softened up. Like, I literally saw his muscles loosen and he grew a fraction of a bit smaller. “I AM AWARE OF HOW OFTEN YOU VISIT THE COMPANY COUNSELOR. I DO NOT KNOW THE SPECIFICS OF YOUR PLIGHT, BUT I AM FAMILIAR WITH THE PATTERNS OF YOUR BEHAVIOR.”
“Okay hold on, not cool. What the FUCK? Have you been spying on me?” I raised my voice at him and immediately cooled it when I remembered how he was munching away at an apparent criminal not too long ago. “Sorry sir. I meant to say, what the fuck? Who are you?”
“ZANDRUS. FORMER IMMORTAL DEMON, NOW MORTAL DEMON.” He sighed. “I WILL NOT GET INTO MY STORY. I WISH TO CONFRONT YOU OF YOUR STRUGGLES.”
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “YOU DO NOT NEED TO ACCEPT THIS. YOU ARE WELCOME TO REJOIN THE PARTY. I ASK YOU KEEP THIS TO YOURSELF; YOU ARE FREE TO DO AS YOU WISH.” This was already an insane night, but for some reason I just… believed him. Human snacking aside I genuinely felt like he was looking out for me in some twisted way.
“Alright Mr. Rus.”
“CALL ME ZAN.”
Part 2 here: [part two!](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/137l41e/wpyou_and_your_other_coworkers_have_known_for_a/jiuhl5g/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=1&utm_term=1&context=3)
|
Tregonial
|
NeoCipher790
|
2023-05-04 16:35:57
|
2023-05-04 16:12:14
| 192 | 104 |
jiul8ee
|
jiuhk2l
|
137l41e
|
137l41e
|
[WP]"Halt, foul beast! You shall threaten this town no longer!" Yelled the hero, drawing their blade, an ancient artefact that glowed and became razor sharp in the presence of evil.. except it wasn't only not glowing, but dulled as the hero pointed it at the 8' tall man-wolf huddled in the corner
|
"Why isn't it glowing?"
"Please don't kill me, I keep to myself and have not once gone into your town; I just want to live by myself and collect chickens." The beast whined with fear, odd.
"What are you talking about, you've been taking sheep, and there's at least three children missing because of you."
"You have the wrong person, I'm just a peaceful hermit. Also what were you talking about with your glowing sword, that thing is dull as a rock, I'd get it checked out by a blacksmith.
"But this is the place the old man with screams coming from his old cellar told me to come. Wait, he was the one..." Great, I messed up bad.
"You have to be the dumbest adventurer this side of Riverwood." Deserved.
"Sorry for the intrusion my good sir, I'll be on my way now, here's some gold as payment for the inconvenience." I need to get out of here and back to the old man."
r/Riverside_Guild
|
Wolf Man: What?! But I didn't do anything!
Hero: Not you! The evil spirit hiding under you!
A shadow bursts from the floor underneath the wolf man, sending him tumbling into the lower floor where he fell into a table filled with food. The chef was not impressed, for the food was supposed to be taken to the waiting food critic and will surely have dog hair all over them.
The sword suddenly glowed exceedingly bright.
Evil Spirit: Curses! How could I have been found out by this stupid sword-swinging buffoon!
Hero: I might be stupid, but you were not subtle.
Evil Spirit: How?! I am darkness personified! I move in the shadows! I hide in the dreams of men! I am the nightmares that plague your every sle--
Hero: It's midday. All I had to do was follow the large patch of darkness moving on the floor.
Evil Spirit: (silence)
Hero: (silence)
Wolf Man: Ow, I think I have soup in my ears!
Evil Spirit: Shit.
|
Aquamarine_ze_dragon
|
Time_Significance
|
2023-03-03 14:42:22
|
2023-03-03 14:38:04
| 303 | 101 |
jarcz3f
|
jarcegj
|
11gzjb8
|
11gzjb8
|
[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.
|
Five simple words. Or was it six? Let’s call it six because that makes the phrase symmetrical and everyone loves symmetry.
“Peek-a-boo! I see you.”
It was the invisible man’s favorite game. He’d approach unsuspecting victims and scare the pants off of them with those six simple words. Hell, one time he effectively scared the pants *on* his buddy Ray (it should be noted that Ray was on the toilet at the untimely time of his unappreciated pranking).
But it was all in good fun. And more often than not, that good fun was even harmless fun. “What’s the point of being invisible if you can’t have a good time with it,” the invisible man was wont to say. To be sure, our invisible jester-prince was more jester than prince. No person off limits, no joke too far. Indeed, the invisible man was an equal-opportunity prankster.
It was a well known fact that our resident invisible man was in fact no resident at all. That is, he was homeless.
Now before you go on empathizing with our hapless hero, you must have all of the facts—one must not jump to conclusions. The invisible man was not homeless out of necessity, nor out of happenstance; no, the invisible man was homeless by choice.
You see, when one learns as an invisible boy that one can steal candy bars without so much as raising an eyebrow, one grows up to be an invisible man that will steal shelter without so much as raising a penny.
Now, where was I? Oh yes: it was a well known fact that our resident invisible man was in fact no resident at all. The invisible man “couch surfed” his way through life. Conventional wisdom tell us that “couch surfing” implies an inherent level of consent provided by the owner of said couch—that was not the case for our visibility challenged hero. For that reason, we’ll call the invisible man’s tact “home invasion.”
Residents in town began to grumble and groan at the thought of an invisible prankster living among them. Even his friends grew tired of his tireless antics. And, you know what, it makes sense. That would get old and fast. We’ve all been around the guy for whom everything is a joke and nothing is sacred. You know the guy in high school who walked around the locker room naked, whipping kids with a wet towel shrieking and laughing never realizing that he has already peaked in life. Nobody likes that guy. The invisible man had become that guy.
And so it was that one day, the jester-prince became the jestee-prince.
One night, the invisible man sauntered into—that is, again, committed a home invasion—a vacant bedroom that he frequented. It was in a quiet house, in a quiet neighborhood, on a quiet street. You see, even pranksters like a good night’s sleep.
As his head hit the pillow, the invisible man heard five words that shook him to his core.
“We have been expecting you!”
You see, it’s five words, not six. From earlier. “Peeka-boo. I see you!” Five words. It works better that way. It’s symmetrical. Like I told you, everyone loves symmetry.
Anyway…At the sound of the words, the invisible man launched himself out of bed and onto his feet. Only, since they were expecting him, they must have been expecting that reaction, and so as he landed on his feet he was coated from head to toe in colorful, neon pink corn starch, a sack of which had been cut from above his head.
At that moment, our invisible hero was no longer so invisible. At that same moment the invisible man’s friends realized their shocking lack of foresight and paid dearly for it.
You see, being an invisible man didn’t just mean that he didn’t have to pay for candy, or shelter, or the myriad other things one expects an invisible man may steal. It also meant—and really, had any of them given this even a second of thought it would have been obvious to them—that the invisible man didn’t need to buy clothes.
And so it was that the invisible man’s friends saw the invisible man’s pecker and all agreed to leave the pranking to the professional (i.e. the invisible man) on a go forward basis.
At the end of the day, the invisible man had also learned a valuable lesson. Don’t push your friends too far, or they may be forced to think hard on a way to get you back. And, it’s a good thing to keep in mind for us all, as we—let’s face it—all have friends who are rather dim witted who may pull a prank that leaves your pecker—or any other unseemly area—exposed in a less than flattering neon pink powder.
________
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out my other stories at r/InMyLife42Archive
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"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!
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None
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Mooses_little_sister
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2023-01-20 04:38:53
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2023-01-20 01:14:05
| 533 | 115 | null |
j530uqa
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10gh61d
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10gh61d
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[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.
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"Honestly, nothing beats the feeling of settling into a cozy place after you've been out in the rain, especially if you spend most of your day naked. Walking in and hearing the splashing of droplets hitting the ground fade to white noise almost makes you want to curl up right then and there.
I couldn't, though - I had work to do.
As I usually do, I grabbed some kindling from beside the fireplace, popped it in, and lit a match, before settling down into a lovely, perfectly-made bed. I know what you're thinking - "didn't you break into here?" - and, well, yeah. I kind of live here, though.
(There used to be a lovely couple - bordering on their 70s, if I had to guess - that came here on the weekends. One day, only one of them came over, so I sat on the chair next to the old woman's bed, put on her husband's clothes, and started screaming. She sprinted to her car, and now I own the place. I'm a horrible person, I know.)
Speaking of the work, though. Squatting is a hard job. This place is nice and all, but sometimes one desires more than a tiny hut by the lake. Plus, I'm a bit less nimble than I once was, so I could use a retirement plan that was a bit more, like, a mansion. In other words, I'm planning a heist.
"We've been expecting you."
Oh god. Not the invisible salespeople. One more advertisement for-
Somewhere in the room behind me, a window broke. Probably not the salespeople, on second thought.
Then, screaming that sort of evoked the term "battle cry." The bedroom door flopped down into the room, kicking up a concerning, if cinematic, amount of dust. When it all cleared, a somewhat elderly woman wearing socks with sandals stood dramatically, one foot extended towards where the door once was.
oh.
She started screaming. I couldn't make out much, but I think it was mostly swears.
**oh no.**
"Getting sucker-punched by a 70-year-old woman" was not on my bucket list, but I guess I had it coming.
Obviously, I booked it out the door.
Then I got another beatdown from her husband - guess I misinterpreted the situation a little bit.
Also, a free ride to prison.
5 years later, and that's about how I got here."
The room, which, to an outside observer, seemed to only consist of a ring of empty chairs, suddenly erupted with the sound of people snapping.
"Thanks for sharing, Mark. Remember, folks, Invisible Trespassers Anonymous is a safe space. You're welcome to share anything here."
"Thanks, everyone. Really, thanks. I'm not sure what I'd have done without your guys' support."
I never got the mansion that I had hoped for, but I do have some actual friends now, which has been nice. Overall, would have the crap kicked out of me by two senior citizens again.
*(first attempt at answering a writing prompt, compliments/criticism/anything welcome)*
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An earth elemental has many ways of concealing itself that one would never think of. As you traipse ignorantly through the woods they are always hiding. Watching. It could be an innocuous tree stump, or a mound of leaves, or even an oddly shaped acorn. Next thing you know you're facing a twelve-foot fall giant of dirt and moss ready to pound the very air out of you. Never did I expect to find one in a cabin, but that's exactly what happened one rainy night. Maybe a child had brought it in thinking it was a pet rock, or a farmer brought it in clinging to its boots. I suppose it doesn't matter how it got there, what matters is that I flew through the lock as I always do and the next thing I hear is "we've been expecting you." When I heard it use the plural "we," I expected something far more innocuous, such as a pack of shadow imps. That was before I recalled that earth elementals don't understand the common word for "I."
The creature morphed into vines, completely covering the walls and doors, trapping me in. Black flowers erupted and trained their pistils on me. A single blast would fill the air with so much particulate matter that I'd be forced to dissolve. My molecules shuddered in terror, for I thought that death was all but certain.
It was then that I remembered my reflections on the nature of consciousness. All I needed to do was somehow separate myself and then come back together as a whole. It had never been done before, but if there was a time then this was it. The first thing I did was start to swirl, going into tornado form. As expected, the pistils started blasting black dust. If I had stayed in tornado form the dust would have choked the twister and taken me with it. Instead, I focused as deeply as I could on dispersion, imagining myself being in multiple places at once.
For a moment I thought it worked when I could no longer perceive anything around me. The next thing I know I'm ingesting the black dust into my form. That's when it happened - I became a flurry of smaller twisters buzzing about. It was as if I had counteracted the black dust by harmlessly consuming it. I can't say I understand how it works, perhaps it was magic in the dust that made it happen. Scholars have attempted to study it for years, but none have been able to reproduce it.
Needless to say, the earth elemental thought they had destroyed me and retreated back into whatever form it was in. That's when I took my smaller twisters and quickly exited through the lock, unable to believe that I'd somehow survived.
The damage was irreparable though, as no amount of elemental magic has been able to put my forms back together. The change rendered me incapable of battle but did have a silver lining. As you know, the school you are flying in will never have a shortage of teachers.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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aSolidTime
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armageddon_20xx
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2023-01-20 03:52:19
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2023-01-20 01:54:32
| 60 | 22 | null | null |
10gh61d
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10gh61d
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[WP] You were kidnapped by a villain and he gloats about how you're bait for his arch-nemesis, and you'll be dead soon. You sigh and just look at him. "Buddy, its not that hero you need to worry about....its my wife." and he looks at you perplexed.
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"Your wife?" The villain, known as James the Terrible, because he was terrible at villainy, seemed amused. I would have pinched the bridge of my nose if my hands hadn't been tied. "She's a lovely, tiny slip of a girl. We had her followed, of course. She's harmless. Completely ordinary. We thought this through Jason. Honestly. Have a little faith in me. "
I sighed heavily. "James, the day I have faith in you, is the day we are all lost. Atom Man won't be here before Liza is." I shook my head, and now it was my turn to be amused. "Did your henchmen happen to say where they were following Liza to?" James shook his head. More fool he.
"Honestly, if your best friend wasn't a hero, I'd have let you be." He moved his thin arms expensively, as if in apology. "Do you expect me to quiver in my boots at the thought of your wife?" An attempt at a malicious laugh followed this. It was more of a wheeze and James cleared his throat to make another attempt.
At the same time, however, a few explosions went off. Usually this would be chalked up to the man's own issues using explosives. I knew better though. "Yep," I said aloud as henchmen ran past James and I. "She's just an ordinary military wife." I was smiling.
"I erm... I didn't know you were in the military."
I was grinning now as a series of rapid fire shots went off.
"I wasn't."
My wife had a lot of friends. And those friends mobilized quickly. It was almost a shame to see the shock register on James' face as soon as the first bullet went through his kneecap. "Ah yes, my tiny wife. Who hides very easily. And tends to go to the gym every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. And who goes to the shooting range every day of the week but Sunday."
That had been at my insistence. A scream from James curdled the air as another bullet took out his other kneecap. "Yes James. My wife. The sniper."
I would have laughed had it not been so pitiful. A couple of shots were fired at the back of the cave mouth. I heard a familiar voice saying, "all clear."
"Hi honey." It was a quick enough greeting. She strolled up beside me in full tactical gear, cutting my bindings as she kissed my cheek.
"Honestly. These 'villains' are terrible at doing their homework." She was completely calm. Not always a good thing.
"I think we can leave him here for Atom Man. Not likely he'll be walking off anytime soon." She nodded and made a quick motion with her hand, signaling her teammates to fall back.
"Come on then. Dinner's going to be cold before we get home."I shrugged and stood.
"Seriously James, you are terrible at this."
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Madam Poison summarized my whole confession with one long, demeaning run-on question.
"So what you're saying is that your wife, who has no super power by the way, and also has no idea that you're Bullerina's helpful sidekick, is so sure that your sudden disappearances to support my arch-nemesis are actually signs of an affair, that she's placed a tracker on your key ring with the promise to follow you to the ends of the earth, if need be, to catch you in the act, and this confrontation worries you *more* than the meat grinder waiting beneath your dangling feet?"
I looked down at the metal teeth interchangeably gnawing past the grooves of each spinning drum. "The worry is about equal," I said. "But you personally should worry more about what she'll do to you when she bursts through those doors and sees you in that outfit."
"What's wrong with my outfit?" she asked, looking down at the low cut, snake-tongue chest piece. Her costume looked like one single red ribbon curving up and around her legs and torso to eventually fork just above her navel, with each half of the split just barely doing it's job to keep her girls safe.
"Nothing's *wrong* with it. But it's not an easy explanation, especially considering this bondage situation you've got going on."
"It's a restraint harness!" Madam Poison roared. "And I don't expect someone like you to appreciate the amount of work that goes in to tying someone up to be completely immobile while not fucking up your new meat grinder with chains. Do you have any clue just how many knots--"
Unfortunately for the both of us, my wife had arrived. She kicked the door out of it's bolt lock and came in swinging her favorite softball bat like a cane. As I tried to warn her, Madam Poison found herself at the mercy of my dearly beloved. Before she could ask how my wife managed to travel so quickly from our middle America town to her evil lair in the rain forest, Madam Poison found her front teeth meeting the back of her throat.
I watched the love of my life do things to Madam Poison that Bullerina, with her unconscionable morals, could only dream of. It was a spectacle I couldn't peel my eyes from, but the sudden pain of my toes tearing away pulled me back to myself.
I tucked my knees as high as the ropes would allow. In about ten seconds, my feet should be back in those metal spurs.
"Sweetie? Can we talk?!" I cried out. But she either pretended not to hear or was lost on a baseball diamond that existed solely inside of Madam Poison.
On seeing how well her batting has gotten lately, it might be for the best that she doesn't hear me.
****
I'm on a 35 day steak.
If you liked this, my other 34 days are collected at r/FarFetchedFiction
Thanks.
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Inara_Serras87
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FarFetchedFiction
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2023-02-14 15:13:38
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2023-02-14 14:18:37
| 253 | 169 |
j8idage
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j8i5mvf
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1120hb5
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1120hb5
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[WP] You were kidnapped by a villain and he gloats about how you're bait for his arch-nemesis, and you'll be dead soon. You sigh and just look at him. "Buddy, its not that hero you need to worry about....its my wife." and he looks at you perplexed.
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I woke up slowly, steadily rising to my feet from the hard concrete floor. Looking at my surroundings, it was clear that I was being held somewhere in a villain’s lair. Bob Blood was probably the one given the color scheme
“Bob?” I called out, knowing that the microphones would pick me up, “what’s this about?”
“Oh good, you’re awake,” Bob gloated as a monitor slowly descended into view. “You’ll live just long enough to witness the end of Remedy!”
I sighed. “Look, Bob. I’m sure you have a great plan to finally finish Remedy off, but you should leave me out of it. If I’m not home for dinner, my wife will be furious.”
“Your wife? I didn’t know you were married, Hydration. Not that it matters. I’ll send her my condolences along with your ashes.”
Bob seemed bored, but I didn’t know what he expected. Remedy would have to drive to get here and Blood’s base was at least a 45 minute drive from The Ward. I supposed it was time to entertain him a little.
“Not many know about my marriage because I didn’t marry a hero or a villain like most in our line of work. Not that it matters. I suspect she’ll be here long before Remedy and definitely won’t be as kind.”
“You married a normie!” Bob laughed in disbelief. “What would I possibly have to fear from a normie? I’ll rip the blood from her veins like everyone else!”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “I didn’t say that. I just didn’t marry a hero or villain. In fact, you and my wife are acquainted,” I smiled as the wall behind Bob fell away. “You know her as The Contractor.”
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Strongmen punched Evilissues with all the power he could muster and the villain went right though the market doors.
The customers panicked seeing one of the evilest and strongest beings showing up there. With his inferno flames the whole market was caught on fire.
Strongmen started doing his best to save everyone and Evilissues took advantage of the situation to scape. He took one man that was buying eggs as hostage and left, leaving a trail of fire behind him.
"Let go of me, I have to make dinner tonight"
"Shut up, you will never make dinner again, because tonight, is the night I become the biggest supervillain. I will kill Strongmen."
The villain and his hostage soon arrived on a mountain filled to the brim with traps that could kill even the strongest superhero.
Evilissues tied the hostage to a chair, a fire pit around him on the top of the mountain.
"Come on Jake, it's burning my clothes. I mean, Evilissues! Sorry"
"How the fuck do you know this name? Who are you?"
"I'm Phil, sorry. I just heard somewhere on the TV?"
"Noone know this name! No even the strongest hero! How could you?"
A blast of cold wind made Evilissues stop on his tracks, and look behind him waiting for Strongmen.
"Glaciatica? What are you doing here? There is no use, after today, I will not be number 2 anymore! I will be the number one villain!"
"Partially right little Jake, you indeed will not be the number 2 anymore, but because after kidnapping my husband, you will be nothing more than an ice cube."
"I'm sor... 🥶"
She then looked at Phil, surrounded by flames and said:
"You look hot tonight honey!"
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TidalShadow1
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sometimesImemeWRONG
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2023-02-14 19:35:05
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2023-02-14 15:31:58
| 60 | 45 |
j8jhdeu
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j8ifxrm
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1120hb5
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1120hb5
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[WP] Humans are the proverbial "Sleeping Giant," and thus make remarkably good deterrents. A common tactic of the Galactic Federation is to simply call in a human warship, such as the USS "Fuck Around and, FindOut," and simply let it sit nearby. Peace Talks happen within the week.
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"If our demands are not met, there will be dire repercussions....you have three days."
And like that, comms closed. Heul R'iae slumped into her chair. Tarsc wasn't bluffing. He is a powerful Welerad warlord. And the Welerad do not bluff. So R'iae has three days to either surrender the port as well as surrender herself and her officers as hostages or Tarsc will destroy the Fairpoint and all those on board.
"Menaser, contact Federation command. Send them Tarsc's last transmission."
>[]<
R'iae struggled to ease her mind. Even playing the Inchey wasn't enough. So she was a bit relieved when a knock came at her door. It was Menaser.
"Heul, I have a question."
R'iae signaled to the chair. Menaser sat but leaned forward. Clearing his throat, he began.
"We have three days. This port is on the very edge of FedSpace. It could take any ships, even the closest, two at best to reach us. Will that be enough time?"
R'iae placed the stringed instrument and it's pick back into its case. As she strapped it closed, she started.
"Honestly? I don't know. I hope so. But that's the gamble when we took this duty. Tea?"
Menaser declined. Worry had clearly set in.
"You should at least go and make peace with The Ways. If nothing else, I hope my message will bring anyone who will avenge us."
Menaser smiled uneasily.
>[]<
Three days had passed. R'iae had decided that it best she board Tarsc's ship, in some vain attempt to maybe stall or at least negotiate peaceful releasing of people before they destroy the Fairpoint.
Tarsc, in Welerad fashion, was revelling in this moment. A Federation Heul on his ship, begging for mercy. He sat quietly in his chair, wearing a full grin as he waited for her to speak.
R'iae composed herself but before she could speak, one of Tarsc's men entered the room. A whisper to Tarsc brought a bigger grin.
"It seems we have more beggars."
Minutes passed as R'iae waited. Finally, the bridge doors slid open revealing a Terran Huel - admirals is what R'iae heard them called - who entered the room with one other Terran and a Welerad escort. R'iae noticed the blood drain from Tarsc's face as his grin faded. Welerad's were feared all through The Edge, but Terrans.
The Huel approached Tarsc seat stopping just short of the dais.
"I'm admiral Stuart Thistle of the USF Puller. It is my understanding that you are invading Federation Space and have further made threats against a protected Federation port. Is this accurate?"
Tarsc measured the Terran slowly before responding.
"You understand the situation fully."
"Good. Just needed to make sure before I sent the word back to my ship."
Tarsc began to grin again.
"Just the o-?"
Thistle cut him off, holding up a finger as he pulled out his communicator.
"Nemo, is the Hathcock in firing position?"
The communicator chirped back and the reply came through.
"Aye sir, guns were ready the minute we slipped subspace"
Thistle placed his communicator back on his belt.
"Tarsc, it is our understanding that your home is two hours subspace travel. You have precisely that amount of time to return home or I will kill every last one of you."
>[]<
Heul R'iae poured herself the last of the tea as she stared out the windows admiring the stars. She always loved this view, from this sector.
"I still can't believe Tarsc just...went home."
R'iae set her cup down and turned to Menaser.
"I've only heard of the Terrans by reputation. But they only have two ships of war, the Puller and the Hathcock. Everything else is for trade. So there must be some truth to it. Their uniforms have an expression on them, left shoulder...Nemo me impune lacessit."
"What does that mean?"
"Huel Thistle told me when I asked. He says it's an old Terran language and the phrase translates to 'if you wish to fuck around, you will find out' "
Menaser smiled, gathered the tea tray and left the room. R'iae climbed into bed, at ease knowing the Terrans were on the Federations side.
|
There were two things that set humanity apart from the rest of the galactic community that we had found and been invited to join upon truly reaching out to the stars a few centuries back. The first was our attitude to war. You see, pretty much all the species who were members of the galactic community had ascended with one of two mindsets.
The first was a very honour-driven warrior culture, where combat and violence was part of their every-day existence, but killing was generally not. Duels between individuals or small groups were fought to first blood or a a certain objective was met (imagine a slightly more violent game of rugby, fought to the first try). Ship combat is fought until one side cannot manouver any longer. There is neither honour in killing, any idiot can kill someone, nor can more honour be gained if you are dead, so that sets the limits on how the battles are fought. Obviously things can get a little hairy when two species with different codes of honour clash, both claiming victory by their own codes and that the other should therefore bow to them, but things have rarely devolved into true war.
The second were the pacifists. Conflict amongst these races was never violent. They were above that. Violence was for baser beasts, they resolved their conflicts through trade, diplomacy, the arts and in some cases strange mating rituals. It's amazing how creative people can get at resolving conflict when things can't be settled by bashing someone over the head with the nearest heavy thing!
However, if you know anything about humanity, you know that neither of those descriptions fits us at all. We both abhor war, and have spent pretty much the entirity of our existance fighting it. In fact we are quite unique in that we are the only species who has reached the galactic community after having developed the means to commit auto-genocide, and a history that suggests we very much beat the odds in not wiping ourselves out long before we reached the stars. Humanity often claims the first proffession amongst its people was prostitution, however I would suggest that mercenary may also have a claim to that title. War is in our blood.
The second unique thing about humanity is our propensity to weaponise anything we lay our hands on. Diseases were bioweapons before we even knew how disease was caused or spread, our first thought on splitting the atom was to make a bomb out of it. Rockets were at first ways to deliver destruction at much longer ranges and only afterwards did we decide perhaps we could ride them to the stars. When humanity joined the galactic community, they shared with us their technical discoveries. Dark matter, for example, had been known to them for more than 3000 cycles, it took us less than 10 cycles to figure out 4 different uses for it in weapons.
However, humanity is also deeply scarred by its past, and whilst it had been said many times after many great tragedies, never again truly did become a reality at some point in the late 21st century. We were able to integrate effectively into the galactic community, as we were happy to abide peacfully by their treaties and play both the pacifists and warriors at their own games. Trade and diplomacy were core parts of human society, and whilst we had said never again to war, the sorts of "battles" those warrior societies fought were far closer to human sports than anything we would recognise as war.
That does not mean humanity has put down its weapons though. Whilst we may no longer start wars, we have no fear in ending them. Si Vis Pacem, Para Belum; To Secure Peace, Prepare for War is the motto of humanity's space forces, and it is apt. Humanity may not have started a war since joining the galactic community, but they have secured peace through the mere threat of their intervention on more than 200 occasions. On 7 futher occasions they were forced to intervene with violence. None of those interventions lasted more than 4 human weeks, they didn't need to. The following is a tale of one such intervention.
|
Rolltosit
|
Cooky1993
|
2023-03-07 15:43:41
|
2023-03-07 13:50:14
| 24 | 18 |
jba2ixl
|
jb9mtce
|
11keke0
|
11keke0
|
[WP] You, a side character, watch in horror as the MC forgives and doesn't kill the main villain, who murdered your friends and family, saying, "If I killed them, then I'd be just like them."
|
Alia looked at her best friend, horror, shock, and betrayal lashing into her, shredding the last remnants of her tattered frayed soul. She had to have heard Wren wrong, those words didn't just come out of her friends mouth, she heard it wrong. "Excuse me," the words came out in a too small, broken voice.
"That is the problem, isn't it?" he asked. "The killing, the violence, where does it end? Why am I any better to decide who lives and dies than he was? What kind of person would it make me if I started assuming that kind of authority over matters no mortal should?"
Her ears rang, drowning out the self righteous rant. Van Milor had killed millions, had massacred her people, and yet again, the humans choose to spare him over them. She had trusted the gods, trusted their prophesies, when they said they'd send a chosen one to free the world of Milor's evil. Yet, here he was, just as useless as the gods had been the day Milor's men came to her village. She still feel the weight of her sisters head in her lap as she cradled it watching her village burn. The seven year old's head had been the only thing spared from the flames as it had rolled unnoticed out of the pile of bodies in the village center. Alia had only been spared as she was out gathering medicinal herbs up the mountain when the men had come through.
She had met Wren six months later as a refugee at The Temple of the Three, and followed him for the past decade, waiting for this moment. Waiting for the moment revenge and justice would finally be served. The nerve pain in her back and arm a constant reminder of the sacrifices she had made to keep him alive for this moment. She had not done it so he could baulk last second, so he could spare Milor.
Alia was done with the gods, and done with their chosen one. Milor needed to pay, so she turned to the primals, to Death. She whispered the forbidden words, and struck her deal. She felt no regret, or mercy as searing pain tore through her bones, and she changed. Her mortal form shredding to give way to the immortal hound of Death. So long as she fulfilled her duties as hound and reaper, she was free to hunt. To hunt Milor, his men, their families. Every last one of them until she wiped them from existence.
Wren turned slowly to look at her, his face mirroring hers only minutes ago. A face that he didn't deserve to make. It made the rage boil in her blood, and pour deaths flames out of her, singing the ground were four paws now dug in as she leapt. The traitor could not look at her like that without a face, so she ripped it off. His dying screams marking the end of the era of gods and their heroes, and the start of deaths.
|
They’d kept me in a nice room, at least. A featherbed with silk sheets, a servant ready to get me any food or drink I desired. If only I could forget about the chain around my ankle, anchored to the wall. I gritted my teeth. If I had moved a little faster, cut a little deeper…
I could see those blood-filled eyes. They would haunt me, haunt me forever until I got to see the life spill out of them.
I grasped the adamantine chain, twisting it in my grip. How dare he… how dare…
I heard the door open behind me, soft steps.
“Mia.’ His voice was soft, even a little nervous. “Look at me. Please.”
The chain glowed softly in the darkness, only a few stray sunbeams reaching through the window. I didn’t turn around.
“Talk to me, then.” Linton said, after a few moments. “We can’t work this out any other way.”
“Your parents are alive.” I snarled, staring into the dark. “They didn’t get their throats slit and their bodies thrown into the street. Your little brother didn’t get his head smashed in the cradle. Of course you don’t understand. How could you?”
“No.” He said, and I heard the tap tap tap, of his fingers on the table. “I don’t think I could ever comprehend what you went through. But I.. I care, Mia. Don’t think I don’t.”
“Then why?” I cried, slamming my fist against the wall. “Why didn’t you let me kill the bastard? You think he doesn’t deserve it? You think he deserves mercy, after everything he did?”
“I -” He started. But I didn’t want to hear it. I’d heard what he had told me before.
“You’re just a selfish asshole! You don’t want to feel the burden of being a murderer! Fine! But let me have my revenge! Let me have my -”
“Mia.” He said, and I felt the steel behind that silky voice. “You think I let him free, after everything he’s done? He’s in jail, and he will face trial. I swear it.”
“He deserves to die.” I scratched my nails against the wall, opening up the barely-healed scars. “He deserves everything he gave to me.”
“Hmm.” said Linton. “Interesting. He’s got a three year old son, you know. You want to smash his head in the cradle? Will that be enough for you?”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I drummed my hands against the wall. “Leave me alone.”
He was quiet, for a long time, and I thought for a bit that he had left. But I hadn’t heard the door close.
I leaned against the wall, feeling the blood stream from my fingers down to my wrists. It felt right. “Did you really mean that?” I asked. “When you stopped me? That by killing him, *him*, that I would be no better than he was?”
A picture came to me, almost, of him cocking his head to one side as he considered the question. He could never get out of that habit. “Not in the way you think… but, yes.”
|
Delicious-Virus3270
|
T_Lawliet
|
2024-03-08 08:29:01
|
2024-03-08 07:54:40
| 381 | 72 |
ktw4cl1
|
ktw1egl
|
1b9dtij
|
1b9dtij
|
[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.
|
The bewildered crowd stood in confusion as the super hero flew off, when a faint shout could be heard from the back, “K.P.F.!”
The people wanted to know what was happening, so they cleared a path in the crowd for the man in back shouting K.P.F. to get to the stage to explain.
The man got to the stage and spoke into the microphone, “K.P.F. is an acronym for Known Point of Failure. I’m an aerospace engineer, and we have places on planes that are known to crack every 10,000 hours or so. We send a team to inspect those spots at 8,000 hours. If hairline fractures are present, we can replace that part. Why don’t we just reinforce those weak spots so we don’t have to replace it periodically? It’s because if we reinforce those known points of failures, then we will get failures pop up where we don’t expect: unknown points of failure or U.P.F.s. When you have U.P.F.s that’s when planes suddenly shear apart in mid flight without warning. I think that’s what he was trying to te…”.
“Boooooo”! The angry crowd didn’t want to hear this negativity during this triumphant moment.
The mayor then spoke into the microphone. “Calm down, folks. Let’s have a moment of silence for those who bravely sacrificed their lives in the battle fighting the supervillan.”
After the pause, the crowd was relaxed. The mayor was slick and really knew how to control a crowd.
“Skid row”, said the mayor to the crowd. That’s what the superhero was talking about. Every city has a skid row that is basically an open-air drug and crime market controlled and used by the deplorables. If we politicians enforced the law in skid rows, then the deplorables would disperse into different neighborhoods. They will end up camping in your backyard, shooting fentanyl, and breaking into your cars. I think what the hero was trying to te…”
The mayor’s speech was cut short by a hail of rocks coming from the “deplorables” in the crowd who brandished their wounds from fighting the supervillan alongside the other townsfolk. The crowd, turning into a mob, began rallying with the deplorables and beat the politician to a pulp before chasing him out of town. The mayor would be dead if it wasn’t for the priest who broke up the assault.
The priest came to the microphone next to quell the angry mob. He said, “My organization has studied evil for over 2,000 years, and we know that when evil is stomped out, it doesn’t leave this world. We live in a fallen world, and the stomped out evil sort of atomizes and floats away; evil is ethereal. It floats away and hunts for a new host. When a host of sufficient sin is found, the ethereal evil congeals around the new host and effects it’s soul. You see, what the superhero was trying to te…”
“BANG, BANG, BANG”. The priest was shot dead by a radical person who feared that the priest would try to enforce a theocracy now that the mayor was gone.
The crowd was in chaos. A group of Christians retaliated and shot the radical assassin. In the confusion, there was a stampede, attacks, and counter attacks. The crowd broke into many different factions, and a small battle broke out. A small boy, holding hands with his mom, made it out of the stampede. He spoke softly to his mom, “I think I know what the superhero was trying to te…”
|
TheReturned
|
Louden_Swaine
|
2024-10-10 21:23:04
|
2024-10-10 21:14:27
| 68 | 28 |
lrbdgex
|
lrbbx7z
|
1g0l4t4
|
1g0l4t4
|
[WP] You, the God of War, are on a rampage across a battlefield. As you face down a terrified army, a small chihuahua charges out from them, and does its' best attempt at a howl at you.
|
I had almost finished the last of the army, covered in blood and out of breath. Inhabiting a mortals body was worse than just doing it in my own. I walked slowly to the last man standing and raised my blade ready to end his suffering.
He throws a small creature at me in desperation. It was fluffy almost like Cerberus but much much smaller in size. I could see it was just as scared as the fat man who threw the poor thing but it stood its ground. It let out a small howl to the best of its might.
I was surprised it could do so. The closer I looked at it, the more I realized it was a howl of pain and not aggression. It was thin and malnourished, and had scars everywhere. This only made me more furious. I dashed to scoop the little thing into my arms, in doing so plunging my blade into the heart of the previous owner.
I took the small hellhound back home with me, tended to her wounds, and made a connection with her. I then took her to get a new collar and named her Samaria and she is now my battle hound.
|
The minuscule canid attempted to howl at me and I heard its call as though spoken words. "Come no closer, we love our master, I am as big as you." In all my years of battlefields, there are only two things that have ever given me pause. The first is when terrified troops shove down their fear and spend their precious lives, all to buy time for a general they love. The second is when dogs are equally fearless. You see, when a general's troops love them more than life, when even their pets are willing to risk life and limb on their behalf, those are good people. And I don't rampage to end good people. Sometimes I take those lives. Every single one of them hurts, but then I _am_ the horrors of war. It isn't a good job. It isn't a nice job. And you can be sure that I'm not a force of good or niceness. All that said, I've still never been able to let myself hurt a dog who was that bold, that willing to scream into the storm and bid the winds calm. Another day, another time, I will claim your general little Chihuahua, but not today. Today, your love and fearlessness bought her another battle before the end. Good dog.
|
Doodles4_Life
|
AlloyedClavicle
|
2023-01-19 00:20:32
|
2023-01-18 23:17:59
| 42 | 18 |
j4xrx3j
|
j4xiu0i
|
10fkadm
|
10fkadm
|
[WP] You are kidnapped by the villain regularly, but you’re starting to look forward to it. You know they won’t hurt you, and are simply being dramatic. It also doesn’t help that you are the only person they ever kidnap. This time, the hero doesn’t bother trying to save you.
|
The Arrangement had been going on between us for long enough that it earned the capitlisation of its' name. The Spectre would kidnap me, take me to his (current) lair and hold me until I was rescued. Sure, over time that has evolved into a text message 24 hours prior, my agreement to *only* put up a struggle when we were in the public eye, and he makes sure I am comfortable and fed before things get exciting; but that's why we call it The Arrangement after all.
Some folks will say... things; *mean* things about it. They have said that its all an elaborate ruse to cover an affair - something my ex was all-too-happy to believe when he ran off with that Hooters Waitress. Others called in a professional psych who claimed I had Stockholm Syndrome and a CNC fetish... ew!
But put-simply, we have a professional agreement and understanding; before he kidnapped me the first time, The Spectre had a hard go of it - hostages who had delusions of being Bruce MacLaine, and ended up like Hans Gruber...
Oh the movie reference? Yeah, thats what I do to pass the time in captivity; we watch movies together.
He's getting fidgety though, we already watched *The Matrix* AND *Matrix Reloaded*; not gonna lie - I hope we are interrupted with a rescue soon; or we will have to sit through *Revolutions*.
He's on the phone again to the Police Commissioner, repeating his demands; but I am noticing his heart isn't in it now, what's going on?
*"They aren't coming"*
*"Wait, what do you mean They aren't coming?"*
He shakes his head, I have only ever seen him this dejected once before, and that was when Ghost-Dog got ran over by a police car. This is... Awkward
*"They worked out The Arrangement; they are refusing to either pay ransom or rescue you. They are calling you an accomplice."*
Okay, this is worse; I have never seen him like this before, so hurt, so disappointed, so vulnerable... so hot?
Oh shit
*"Well, if that's how they want this to play out..."*
I reach out and touch his hand
*"Maybe we can give it a try..."*
He looks at me, his face hardening, shit - did I go too far? Suddenly he drops to one knee.
And pops me the question...
*"I know this is sudden but... Would you sidekick me?"*
|
As the giant robot sentry lumbered out of the cell, I stretched out on the surprisingly comfortable bed to wait for dinner. My captor always insisted on the finest furnishings and cuisine, even for his perpetual prisoner.
Though the kidnappings were an inconvenience, a small part of me had come to look forward to these forced getaways from my ordinary lonely life. My apartment was so quiet and routine, day after day passing with little change or company. But here, I had Vilhelm's undivided attention, as dramatic and over-the-top as it might be. There was a thrill in wondering what new technological terror or scheme they had devised, a comfort in the predictability of their theatrical pontifications about foolish heroes and impending doom. I never feared the threats or traps because escape was never the point for Vilhelm. Only the performance.
Perhaps it was ironic that only by being repeatedly kidnapped did I gain a sense of connection with someone else, even if through overblown artifice. While the masked introductions were unnecessary repetitions, dropping my usual objections might ruin the fun for my captor. Vilhelm lived for crafting elaborate spectacles, and I for once had a role to play. The playacting was more than the nothing waiting back in my apartment, where the hours were undefined and spider mecha did not skitter across the floor on cue.
Still, after months of dramatics, I wondered what might happen if I convinced Vilhelm to unmask and step out of character for a normal conversation. To speak face to face not as captor and captive but as two people who had spent so much time enacting this strange ritual together. Perhaps without the pretense between us, my apartment would not seem so lonely or the days so quiet. But that might land me back there with only silence awaiting, this reprieve from the ordinary lost for good.
Was it time to shatter the illusion, or keep my usual objections unvoiced? For now, as another impressive dinner arrived, I would see how the performance unfolded. Real life could wait while scheming henchmen took their cues and threats of doom swelled anew. If playing prop to Vilhelm's plans granted nights of activity and company otherwise lacking, so be it. The world outside could always come calling soon enough.
|
grudthak
|
trevorforrestmusic
|
2023-02-15 05:35:55
|
2023-02-15 04:09:24
| 1,408 | 292 |
j8loqv9
|
j8lg1q1
|
112morh
|
112morh
|
[WP] You died and were sent to hell, but instead of getting escorted down to a specific level of hell, you're escorted straight to the Devil himself who looks mildly horrified while holding the file of your life in his hands.
|
"You don't look surprised to be here."
You stare at your feet, offering no reply. What else is there left to say, at this point?
"You know what most people get wrong about the afterlife?" The devil asks as he closes your file. "They think they don't have any choice in the matter. That there's some kind of great cosmic judge who ultimately decides where you go when you die. But that isn't really so. The truth is... Well... Everyone goes where they *expect* to go."
The words shock you to your core as the implications slowly become clear to you. You look up at the devil. Surprisingly, he appears somewhat concerned.
"You're here because you think you deserve this. You really, *genuinely* believe you're a bad person. Why is that?" The devil picks up your file again. "I've handled some truly nasty cases in my time, and I've prided myself on giving them the punishments they think they deserve. But *you*? Come on... I mean, look at your file! You're not a bad person. Not really."
The devil sighs. It's a strange sight- you could swear he looks tired, and maybe even a bit sympathetic. He picks up the phone sitting on his desk and dials a number.
"Got another one, Pete. I'm sending them back up." He paused while the person on the other end spoke. "No, no, it's nothing like that. I just think..." He paused again. "... I just think they're depressed. And that maybe they need another chance. I'm marking them for a do-over." As he speaks, the devil marks your file with a rubber stamp. It reads "NOT YOUR TIME YET."
You begin to feel light, suddenly. Before you know it, you're floating- ascending toward something you can't see. As you rise, the devil calls out to you.
"Go easy on yourself this time, huh? If I see you back here again, I'm keeping you!"
|
The devil himself knows that the pages in your files are written by those who were recognized as the winners.
As the matches were struck, each file, each word on each page was written at the behest of another.
Living in a world filled with good doing bad against good and with bad being kind to good, is not something that could rouse a casual care, not here.
When the good use their influence to create discord for you, others believe.
When the evil spend their moments protecting someone who they recognize as good, others take that to mean you are also bad.
You are here now. So it’s clear that the real details, what really happened, isn’t of note or record.
That means the score is settled so far as he sees it.
His walk echos beyond that of a vibration. It shakes your soul, giving you vertigo.
Your instinct is to run.
There is no where to run to.
‘Welcome, dinner will be served by lava light, we have some things to discuss, follow me’.
We walk into a flat black dining arena. My footsteps sound as if there are many of me walking in.
‘Sit’ he says. He looks like a very handsome man. The light from the lava flickers and for a mini-sec I see his shadow. It is not of a man.
I sit.
Without a word my favourite foods and drinks
appear on the table.
‘You must wonder why’.
I look at him, with a puzzled look, there are so many reasons to wonder why.
What could he be talking about specifically that has him taking me to dinner on my first entrance to hell.
‘ The one’s who’s care you were placed in from birth, mom and dad’.
He stopped, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his maroon silk shirt. His tan was immaculate. His green eyes flashed a tiny flame.
I nod, quite unsure of where he is going with this.
‘They were my finest work’.
‘All for the goal of having you brought here, my plan worked perfectly’.
|
antipyretical
|
Takeyouonajourney9
|
2023-01-16 05:45:02
|
2023-01-16 05:08:03
| 3,496 | 47 |
j4jw8yo
|
j4jse1u
|
10d2vy0
|
10d2vy0
|
[WP] You died and were sent to hell, but instead of getting escorted down to a specific level of hell, you're escorted straight to the Devil himself who looks mildly horrified while holding the file of your life in his hands.
|
"Alright, alright, alright, alright. Okay, okay--Okay! I'm calm," the Devil repeated anxiously. He knew this day would come. "You sure it's him?"
"Undoubtedly, Your Majesty. Cerberus was provided with his scent seven millennia ago and intake agents receive weekly intelligence updates to ensure they'd recognize him in the event of his arrival."
"But why now? It's been seven millennia. Why did he come to hell this time. Wasn't it arranged for him to never appear here in person?"
"Honestly . . . we're not sure. By all accounts, he should have been living the best life. He's a star athlete, he's highly intelligent, devilishly handsome, mischievous and playful. He's generous and c-c-cari--He empathizes with others well. In fact, he just finished college this go around. We honestly don't know why he was sent here."
"Well, tell him there's been a mistake and that we're sending him to the other place."
"Actually . . . we can't," the Devil's advisor admitted.
"What? Why not? Just deny his soul pass. With a soul visa, he can't enter," the Devil pointed out. "Right?"
"That's just it, Your Majesty, we don't know how he got in. He didn't come via the River of Souls."
"He didn't arrive as a soul?"
"He paid Charon to ferry him across. He entered like how the demi-gods used to enter when they'd come to make a request. Pursuant to the accords we have with the other side, we have to receive Him as we would with anyone else from the other side."
"You don't mean," the Devil gasped.
"That's right, Your Majesty, He has ambassadorial status and worse, we have no other choice than to bring him directly to you."
"Eep!" The Devil squealed in a panic. "I mean, really?" The steward averted his gaze so he could claim he didn't witness the embarrassing spectacle of the King of Hell squealing like a pigtailed little girl.
"Yes, really. In fact, He's waiting right outside your thrown room."
"Ah crap. Do I really have to see Him?"
"You do."
"Fine but give me a moment to prepare myself." The Devil hurried over to a mirror and began taking different hideous forms till he finally settled on that of a Lich Lord. He even tailored the color of his evil aura to appear as black and dark green. It was for the contrast.
Once he was done, he hurriedly scampered over to his throne of bones and wailing souls, opened the Pit of Torment to create ambience, then finally took his seat and gave the command for his steward to let the boy in.
Two large demons opened the giant double doors revealing the hellish scene sculpted into their surface. Two smaller demons carrying tridents cloaked in a heavy miasma led young man in his early twenties into the giant thrown room.
The boy was dressed in dark black suit with a bright red dress shirt and sporting a matching bright red tie. The Devil saw this and couldn't help thinking how at home the boy looked in the surroundings. In his hand was a black briefcase.
"Welcome Boy, to my glorious thrown room," the Devil greeted, letting his voice boom majestically. "Why has a mere mortal deigned to visit my palace at this time?"
"Cut the crap, Dad. Mom already told me the truth. She was an angel that you seduced, impregnated, and left. She lost her wings over it. You know why I'm here."
"To de-throne me?" The Devil questioned. He really didn't know why he was there."
"No."
"No interest in ruling Hell at all?"
"No."
"You don't take after your old man at all." The Devil shrugged off his demon visage and quickly transformed into the handsome goateed man with the widow's peak that the boy's mother was seduced by. "How can you not be interested in ruling Hell? You know why we call this the Thrown Room?"
"Because it has a throne?" The boy reasoned.
"No! Not throne as in a chair the King sits in. Thrown as in a stone is thrown. The past tense of throw. This is the thrown room. It's where we throw souls unfortunate enough to appear here into the fiery pit."
"Your point?" The boy asked.
"You're an unfortunate soul that has appeared before me," the Devil told him with a menacing smile.
"Save those who are just a soul," the boy chided. "I'm not dead, and I have ambassadorial status. Say it with me, Old Man. I. Have. Diplomatic . . ."
"Immunity," the Devil sighed. "Wait, how did you manage to arrange that? You're not a agent of the other place. By what means were you able to secure a diplomatic status? You've already said it, you're not dead."
"Mother let me in," he replied smugly.
"Let you in? Let you in how?"
"I'm sure you've been keeping tabs on me?" The boy asked.
"Of course. For seven millennia I've monitored you, but every time you die, you always went to Heaven. After every reincarnation, you always lived up to your mother's expectations. You always followed in her footsteps. How in this Hell were you able to convince her to let you visit me?"
"I'm a recent college graduate," the boy replied as he removed a file from his briefcase. He passed this to the steward who passed it on to the Devil. The devil peered down at the documents and visibly paled. In fact, he was moderately horrified."
"This . . . No. You . . ."
"You wondered why I never followed in your footsteps? I did Father. I just needed time to figure out how to screw you over the way you screwed Mom, figuratively of course. The other six millennia you mentioned, there wasn't a mechanism in place that'd let me properly punish you, but this millennia, the world has experienced a growth like no other century before. You know what this century brought us that all of the other centuries combined didn't?"
"You're a lawyer," the Devil accused, proud and frightened all at the same time."
"That's right Daddy dearest. I'm a lawyer. I graduated with a law degree. And the first order of business I've decided to focus on was suing you on behalf of my mother for . . ." The boy savored the moment.
"For what?" The steward asked anxiously while hurriedly snatching the file back from the Devil for him to review.
"For back child support going back seven millennia," the Devil revealed.
"You've been served Father. I look forward to seeing you in court," and with that the boy departed.
"So fucking evil," the steward declared venomously.
"Yeah," the Devil replied. "I'm so proud of him."
|
The moment Stephen had officially failed to meet or exceed the Citizen Engagement Quota for the second quarter of 2098, he died. Stephen himself did not immediately notice his demise, mainly because his heart kept beating, and his brain kept waving.
Hundreds of miles away, however, at a government data center in Brussels, an AI had taken less than a second to examine his social media activity, review all purchases he had made in the last three months, analyze his work performance for the same peroid, and review thousands of hours of CCTV footage starring one Stephen Pendleton. Based on this comprehensive study, the AI recalculated Stephen's social credit, and his all-important *Euroscore* dropped from 60 to 58, as a result.
Unfortunately for Stephen, the threshold of "psycho-social competence" within the complex Euroscore social credit system was 59 or higher. On dropping to *58,* Stephen's biometrics were immediately de-authorized from public transportation, financial transactions, and telecommunications systems. All social media activity he had made prior to this was censored, and all public records of his existence were restricted.
The first indication of Stephen's sociological demise was the sudden silence of the comforting media feeds that normally enabled him to ignore the increasingly distressing structure of his own daily life, and that of the society he lived in. At first he thought it might just be another round of power rationing, but the lights were still on, so that was ruled out.
The second indication was more direct, in the form of his apartment door automatically opening to admit a group of government-authorized Social Care Technicians. These dutiful public servants, dressed in body armor and carrying their customary less-than-lethal but more-than-a-little-painful weapons, proceeded to administer a round of preliminary re-educational therapy, which is how their particular governmental department refers to the act of beating someone unconscious and carrying them off with a black bag over their head.
Stephen next awoke seated in the back of an opened-topped truck, wearing a tan jumpsuit and matching slippers, and accompanied by a dozen similarly dressed people. The truck -- a self-driving model, judging by the flattened, windowless cab -- was driving its passengers down a tunnel lit by dim amber lights.
"Wh-where are we? What's going on?" he rasped, finding that his throat was terribly dry.
"We're in hell," another passenger answered, drily. He was a thin, gangly-looking man with sharp features and few days worth of dark stubble on his face. "And we're on our way to see which of the pits we've been assigned to."
"Don't listen to him," piped up another passenger, seated just across from him. This one was a bald, middle-aged man who seemed surprisingly chipper. "We're just in for a bit of re-education, that's all."
Stephen cringed. Re-education? Wasn't that only for violent criminals, psychopaths, and bigots? He was sure that was how it had been described, when he'd voted for it in the Continental Plebiscite, a few years back.
"T-that can't be right!" he stammered. "I...I didn't do anything?"
The bald man chuckled. "Must've done something, mate, or you wouldn't be here, now would you? Don't worry -- just do your bit, fix the action items in your social syllabus, and you'll be fine."
"Oh..." Stephen said, uncertainly.
The gangly man sighed. "They always have one plant in every new group. Usually they're a bit more subtle." He jerked a thumb at the bald man across from Stephen. "Reckon he must be *new."*
The bald man's smile became brittle. "Ha! Listen to him...with the...conspiracy theory, innit?"
Stephen looked uncertainly between the two men, but had little time to consider the veracity of either, as the truck suddenly came to a stop. He cringed as a Social Care Technician opened the back of the truck and climbed on, but fortunately the only instrument of torture the SCT produced was a bio-reader.
Each of the jumpsuited passengers was prompted to extend their arm so the SCT could press the reader against it. Some winced as the devices tiny needle took a minute blood and tissue sample, and displayed the results of its scan to the SCT on a small screen, but the pinprick of pain barely registered to Stephen amid his other aches and bruises.
As the SCT looked at the results of Stephen's scan, he froze. He looked from the screen to Stephen, and then back. Immediately, he stepped away, looking flustered. He hopped off the truck and strode a few paces away, his hand to his ear, apparently communicating with someone.
"What's going on?" Stephen asked, fearfully.
The bald man just stared at him, thoughtfully, but his gaunt, scruffy travelling companion shook his head.
"Dunno, mate -- usually they just run your DNA through the system, check you for disease, and offload you into a re-education collective. Never seen this happen before."
They waited in tense silence for a few minutes, before SCT climbed back onto the truck. He stood in the middle of the truck bed, and placed his hands on his hips."
"Alright, listen up: Comrade Director Miller always likes to greet a representative sample of each new group of enrollees in the re-education program. Let see here..."
"What?" the lanky man muttered quietly, his brow furrowing in confusion.
The SCT seemed to be making a show of looking over the various jump-suited inmates, Stephen thought, though why that would be he couldn't imagine. Finally the man turned to him.
"Let's see uh...you! You'll do." he announced, pointing at Stephen. Then he gestured to the lanky man and the bald man. "You two, as well."
The bald man's eyes widened. "Uh...but c-comrade officer, I'm--" he began, in a low voice, but a glare from the SCT made him fall silent.
The guard motioned for the three selected prisoners to follow him, and he helped each down from the truck with an extended arm and what looked like an extremely forced friendly smile. As the self-driving transport pulled away, he led them back to his own patrol vehicle, and they squeezed into the back together.
"What's going on?" Stephen whispered to the lanky man. "Who's this...Comrade Director?"
"If this is hell," the man whispered back, "Comrade Director Miller is *the devil."*
|
Koyoteelaughter
|
SilasCrane
|
2023-01-16 16:34:05
|
2023-01-16 06:30:27
| 112 | 41 |
j4loiel
|
j4k0mad
|
10d2vy0
|
10d2vy0
|
[WP] You sell cursed weapons and market them as enchanted. Most people who visit more than once do so in an attempt to return their weapon, but today a rather chipper adventurer has come back to ask for an offhand weapon to go with the cursed blade they purchased yesterday.
|
*That man should be dead.*
Those were the words Octen thought as he saw his most recent customer stroll across the street and enter his shop. Segal grinned widely, a sight so unusual it made Octen cringe. The shopkeeper scanned the man over, looking for signs that the curse had backfired unexpectedly, but only winced when he reached the sparkle in Segal's eyes.
"Octen, my good man! The sword you sold me is truly of the highest quality. I feel in your debt for what I paid for such a treasure." Segal said, gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke.
*Ah, I see. I've gone insane.* Octen thought as he nodded and raised an eyebrow.
"I'm in the market for an offhand. Something *unusual*. I'm sure you can be of assistance." Segal said, dropping a fat sack of coins on the counter. Octen eyed the satchel, then hefted it.
*Ok, so he's not a ghost.*
"Segal, was it? May I ask if you've had a chance to *use* the sword you purchased yesterday?" Octen said, glancing apprehensively down at the blade sheathed at the man's side. Segal followed his gaze and drew the blade.
"Yes, well, sort of." He started. "It's not a very good idea to *use* a cursed blade. You have it used on you."
Octens jaw swung open.
"You knew it was cursed?" He said at barely a whisper. Segal replaced the blade in its sheath and nodded.
"But of course. You have a terrible reputation, my friend. Besides, I couldn't have completed that goblin contract by conventional means. I simply got myself captured." Segal said. "They're quite insistent to run you through with your own blade. After the first hundred died at their own hands my only concern was missing dinner."
Octen was not sure how to feel about this. He had never had a satisfied customer before, and this man seemed to be a *fan*. Still, the heavy sack of coins weighed down his hand, so he put on his customer service smile and went to work.
"Please let me know if you have any special requests for your offhand. I've just completed a set of knuckle dusters that make the user unleash a girlish moan with every strike."
Segal smiled wide, showing his dimples.
"I think this is going to be a fruitful partnership."
|
Love this prompt!
​
She waltzed into the 'Ol Curio' with not an ounce of the malice. While you could hear other adventurers cursing from outside the shop, this hero had no hostility about her. In fact, she came in with a smile. This was certainly the first time Akshel had seen one on a repeat customer.
'Please, I'd love a buckler or a spell-book for my offhand' said the adventuress, whose name Akshel couldn't recall.
'Yes madam, right away', he replied, stunned and suddlenly unable to move.
The adventuress cleared her throat, waiting. Her eyes wandered along the shop displays. The shopkeeper snapped out of his confusion, muttered under his breath, and bolted to the back room.
'I've got the perfect orb of illusion' he shouted from the back, tentatively picking up a small glowing ball the size of his fist. It glowed red and moaned softly in his hand.
'Release me...' said a sombre voice from within. Akshel chose to ignore it as he made his way to the front room.
'This will complement your blade of slaughter perfectly,' he said, setting the orb on the glass countertop.
The adventuress scrutinised it quietly as if studying a scroll. She picked it up and threw it deftly up in the air, catching it with her other hand.
'Release me...' the voice moaned again, and the adventuress froze. Akshel coughed, and shifted from foot to foot.
'Just what does this orb of illusion do?' she enquired, hard eyes studying the ball. He felt a bead of sweat forming on his forehead.
'It, uh, can hide who is speaking.' Akshel replied, words spewing out of his mouth before he could stop them. 'Just leave it somewhere and watch enemies be distracted as they try to figure out who's talking!'
'Ah ha!' she replied, a large smile spreading across her lips. 'This will do perfectly! You have once again outdone yourself sir.''
Akshel looked bemused, but quickly recovered and accepted the 20 gold pieces for the orb. As the adventuress strolled out of his store, he dared a small smile himself.
As he watched her walk away, he flipped the 'closed' sign to the 'Ol Curio' and sighed contentedly.
In his 25 years of business she was his first and only happy customer. He only hoped he would see her again.
|
jpb103
|
Sunchy
|
2023-05-27 23:42:51
|
2023-05-27 20:48:04
| 551 | 105 |
jlvrhek
|
jlv6524
|
13tf87j
|
13tf87j
|
[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 sat in my rocking chair, cradling my newborn son in my arms as he blinked up at me with a toothless smile. His golden, slitted eyes glimmered with innocence, yet I couldn't shake the unease that settled within me.
The memory of the dragon's warning echoed in my mind, a warning I had dismissed as the ramblings of a defeated foe. I had slain the fearsome creature with my blade by laying with it. Yet now, as I gazed into my son's eyes, I couldn't ignore the resemblance in his eyes.
Was it possible? Could the dragon's words hold truth beyond the grave? Had its essence somehow found its way into the soul of my child, reincarnating in a new form?
I pushed aside the unsettling thoughts, focusing instead on the warmth of my son in my arms and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he slept. He was my flesh and blood, innocent and pure, regardless of the whispers of doubt that lingered in the back of my mind.
But as the days turned into weeks and my son's golden eyes continued to captivate and unsettle in equal measure, I couldn't shake the feeling that our connection ran deeper than mere bloodline. The dragon's warning lingered like a shadow, casting doubt on the certainty of my son's humanity and the innocence of his existence.
|
MagicHamsta
|
Friendly_Recover_143
|
2024-03-25 19:57:04
|
2024-03-25 13:59:12
| 25 | 12 |
kwjb2pb
|
kwhiwrx
|
1bn7vv4
|
1bn7vv4
|
[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."
|
"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."
|
Shalidar13
|
LordVulpix
|
2023-07-29 20:18:39
|
2023-07-29 20:16:59
| 286 | 112 |
jtzj42q
|
jtziv71
|
15d05q2
|
15d05q2
|
[WP] You and the over scientists have been secretly working away at creating a serum to create supersoldier. One day you overhear what the boss plans to do with it when you all finally get it right; he wants to contaminate the water supply and turn everyone in the city into superpowered humans.
|
I just overheard my boss explain his plan to contaminate the water supply with the super soldier serum that my team has been working on. I immediately informed my team, and we are conflicted if we should let him.
Dr. Drake: Who was the boss talking to?
Me: A general. They were very clear that they wanted a full town of super soldiers to join the military.
Dr. Spencer: Did boss forget what the serum actually does? Does he think that it will just create muscle-bound soldiers with superspeed? Like a steroid?
Me: I think that is what he thinks the serum does. We have been working on the serum for awhile and he is relatively new to the company. I don’t think they informed him exactly what the serum is meant to do.
We all couldn’t help but start laughing at our boss’s stupidity. Dr. Drake laughed so hard he fell out of his chair, Dr. Spencer started to have a coughing fit and my side started to hurt from laughing so hard.
Me: On top of the idea of having, essentially a steroid, he must also think that it brainwashes people into following orders like a perfect soldier! \*I laughed even harder, causing my eyes to tear up\*
Dr. Drake \*still laughing on the floor\*: How angry do you think that general will be when he realizes that the boss failed to deliver what he promised?!
Me \*catching my breath and attempting to calm my team down\*: Okay everyone, let’s calm down. This issue posses a very…interesting…moral dilemma. Should we say something to prevent the water from getting contaminated? Or should we let them put the serum in the water supply? Afterall the serum can only benefit anyone who drinks it.
The serum that my team has been working on for the past fifteen years was meant for soldiers, but not how our boss thinks. The serum targets two significant issues that are present in every war, logistics of necessities and medical.
\-Logistics: the transportation of food to soldiers is a serious concern and is expensive. Our serum alters the metabolism in a person’s body to process food more efficiently. People will be able to get the maximum calories from what they ingest and utilize fat deposits in their body more efficiently. This has the potential to cut the food costs by approximately 45%.
\-Medical: in combat soldiers get hurt. Our serum makes the body more aware of physical damage and increases the rate that wounds clot, decreasing the chance of excessive blood loss. If given the proper nutrition injured soldiers will also be able to heal about 60% faster. Additionally, the immune system becomes more aware of foreign antigens. This will decrease infections, viruses and diseases.
\-There is no brainwashing component that creates the mentality of the soldier. Essentially, the serum makes you healthier and decreases hunger. There are no negative side effects.
I overheard that the planned water supply that was going to be contaminated is in a poor town where people are going hungry and cannot afford medical care. If our boss does this he will obviously get caught afterwards and will be brought to justice. The moral question is: do we allow our boss to contaminate the water supply to an unknowing populace if we know that there is only a benefit to the people?
**Please comment on my post to let me know what decision you would make.**
**I also encourage continuations of the story!**
|
...So we decided to take a test batch in the same manner; by drinking it after mixing it with water.
It was a few weeks of studying the side-effects, but after that we showcased ourselves to the boss, he believes it would make more sense to archive the processes for production... publicly. With annotations.
We would -sell- a severely diluted version of the serum as a limited production citywide under a proxy local drink vending machine chain to observe public reactions, and each can had a barcode that linked to a questionnaire we'd update at least once a month.
That went for the rest of the year, and for Xmas, we decided to reveal our plans to go worldwide with the serum.
We called it 'Worth', for it seemed to add or adjust traits that aligned to one's sense of self-worth - either to give them a bit of hope, or to highlight aspects they've overlooked. The most diluted version we sold had superficial effects, from making one's hair colour naturally vibrant, to restoring proper posture, to say the least.
We know the medical fields picked up our recipe and tried to pawn it off as a miracle drug, but the funny thing is that it has to be digested through being mixed with water. Any other method would have no effect.
So we thought. Apparently they turned into monstergirls. All of them. The anime flavour of them. Like from that one book nobody wants to admit they've read. And they've gotten frisky.
So the pharmas and chemists and whatnot had to take a step back, go to the loo, shit themselves, then come back with a properly panic-stricken look; their greed has unleashed monsters.
Our boss had us give the pharmas an example batch. Varied intensities, from the same mild to the most extreme.
Interesting weird stuff happened, but it's under NDA and, reportedly, 'too NSFW' to report about.
...And they're willing to throw in large sums to redistribute it.
We refused the offer and told them to try a freemium model for their services as the public will need them for those who're either immune or otherwise 'still normal', by the time we're done with our plans.
We threw humanity into a new age of unknowns, and it had thrown everything out of balance; world leaders and authorities were struggling to figure us out, and we're too busy enjoying the serum's effects with the populace.
"...And our boss? He's happy. He managed to get a few of those monstergirls interested in him, and is trying to be your typical ecchi anime protagonist.
...Which is better than what I was expecting, to be honest." I told you.
His initial plan was a bit reckless. Our amendment to the plan led us here. Now.
I stand before you, accused of meddling with the unknown.
"I will admit this to you.
The unknown has meddled with me, in ways I love; and you know a man's Kryptonite?
'Bigger is better', 'thick thighs save lives' and-"
Ah, you don't want me to tell you? "Even though you asked?" I said to you, confusion on my face.
"...Sorry. I'm not sure how to rephrase that." I answer.
"How do I explain to you that a being from beyond our realm loves me so deeply that she figured out how to send me chemical formula papers that WORK with our laws of physics?
How-"
You mention our interview timeslot has reached it's limit. I apologise, bow my head, and declare my hopes to get on the seat next time. You thank me for my time, we part ways, I go home.
I end this log here, for I seem to've lost a marble.
|
Casual-author
|
OSadorn
|
2025-04-08 01:46:39
|
2025-04-08 00:29:48
| 71 | 15 |
mlyrgic
|
mlyett6
|
1jtzkhf
|
1jtzkhf
|
[WP] Write an angry ending monologue of someone in a small town who tried to warn the people something bad was going to happen, no one listened, and now people are dead.
|
The six jaws of the dragon-god Terravore opened wide, its rows of shark-like teeth each taller than a man standing. Its thirteen horns blot out the sun, and cast complex shadows across the wasteland that was once green city park. Dozens of red eyes roll in their sockets, then focus on you.
I SENSE YOU MAGICAL POWER LITTLE WORM
The voice originates from Terravore, and from the air itself, and from you. Its coming from all around you, it's coming from inside your own mind. A horrible and forbidden tongue, befitting a god of destruction.
BUT YOUR TRIFLING MAGIC WON’T SAVE YOU FROM BEING CONSUMED! I, TERRAVORE WILL EAT YOU, YOUR VERY ESSENCE AND SOUL, AND THEN THE WOR-
Most awkward soul consumption ever, your phone just started ringing. This is in fact, especially weird, because you never turn on the volume. You and Terravore stare awkwardly at each other while the ringing continues.
WHAT IS THAT?
“Uh, it's my phone, sorry.”
WHAT IS A ‘PHONE’?
“It, uh, let’s me communicate with other people… and browse the internet… and stuff”
GOOD, USE YOUR CRYSTAL BALL PHONE TO HERALD TO THE WORLD, IT IS ABOUT TO BE CONSUMED BY THE MIGHTY TERRAVORE!
A dozen scarlet eyes the size of SUVs stare at you expectantly. You answer your phone.
“Uh, hello?”
“Dude where are you? Professor Weatherwax just dropped a pop-quiz on thaumic runes, its like 10% of our grades. I already sent you like, eight messages about it.”
“I’m uh, kind of in the middle of something.”
“Oh shit, sorry for using the Volume On cantrip then, but seriously, you’re already on Weatherwax’s shit list, you gotta get over here!”
TELL THEM ABOUT ME CONSUMING THE WORLD
“Oh uh, there’s this dragon god here, and it’s going to consume the world”
TELL THEM ABOUT MY SIX MOUTHS, AND THIRTEEN HORNS, AND HOW I’M REALLY BIG
“It’s got like six mouths, and uh, thirteen horns, and its like really big.”
“Oh wait, you mean Terravore?”
“You know this guy?”
“Yeah one second, I’ll be right there.”
The call ends. You stand awkwardly before the might of Terravore.
WHAT DID THEY SAY?
“Um, they’re on their way?”
GOOD, ALL SHOULD WITNESS THE POWER OF MY DRACONIC FORM, ALL SHOULD-
1/2
|
What. Did. I. Say. What did I say! That's not a friggin question, Mark, so put you idiot hand down. And don't you dare stop me, Amy. I earned this monologue. It's the last joy I get in this life. No, we aren't going to make it through this. Friendship can't fight friggin demons. Neither can you mall katana. Nor your redneck improvised shotgun. I will slap you, Mark. I with slap you so hard if that hand goes up one more time. This is not audience participation time. If I want to sing the frigging pokerap in ancient sumerian, you will sit quietly while I work out the translation, and be ready to clap when I finish. Now, let's go back to the begin, and see if you all can sit through my recap and keep track of how many types listening to me would have prevented all this. Mark found a friggin necronomicon type book on a reject Wish clone, and I said, "Don't waste your money." There's one. But no, he had to buy it. Then it came, and I said, "Don't bother me with this crap." Okay, we'd probably still be in this mess, but I at least would have enjoyed that Saturday, so I'm still going to—
*SLAP*
WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THE HAND! Anyway, that's two. Then Mark couldn't read it, so I said, "Don't bother, it's just a stupid prop." So we have three. But he called Brian for help. Only Brian's car was in the shop. "That's a sign," I said for four. But then Amy volunteered to drive us to Brian's place. "Only reason for that is to enjoy watching thing on his projector." Five. No, don't you start, I said I get to monologue. Then Brian took the book and I said, "Don't encourage Mark in his idiocy." What is that, six or seven? THAT WAS TEST!
*slap*
Well, the door is breaking so let's speed things up. "Don't read anything that says it can summon demons." "Do hurt an innocent animal for this." "Don't set that on fire." and "Don't touch my lunch." brings us up to ten. "Don't go out there alone, Brian." That would have kept him alive to hear my rant. "Mr. Henderson has a shotgun." Might be good against demons, but now we'll never know. I'll count it as just half, but combined with, "Don't make out with her just because the world is ending." will make it an even twelve. Oh, there goes Amy's spine. Surprised she had one.
Mark, if your hand is raised, I swear.
|
DeeDeeEx
|
NextEstablishment856
|
2025-01-17 16:08:26
|
2023-01-27 05:53:55
| 245 | 91 | null |
j62fzpx
|
1i3i7cs
|
10mcrb4
|
[WP] After 3 days you unfreeze time. Only now you realize that everyone stayed conscious - and remembers precisely what you did.
|
"The entire time?"
"The entire time."
"Didn't you... sleep at all?"
"I couldn't. Sometimes, I tried, but no. I was awake the entire time, and I saw everything. Heard everything too."
"Everything?"
"Everything."
Everything. I mulled that word for a bit, thinking back to the implications of that word that my friend said. Frozen in my bedroom, where we were chatting shortly before time stopped, what did he see? He saw me sleeping and running around wearing only boxers, and that's pretty bad, but was there anything else? I thought about it further, and suddenly, my eyes widened.
"You mean--"
"Yes," my friend replied, staring at me coldly and apathetically.
Embarrassed, I looked away, unable to make eye contact. Unfortunately, at some point in these past three days (well, three days in my perspective), while brainstorming a way to unfreeze time, I devolved into a bad habit that I usually only do when alone:
I talked to myself, but instead of using my normal voice, I used my best impressions of Goofy and Kermit the Frog.
I did this for four hours before I figured out the solution.
And my friend heard everything.
|
I tip-toed down the corridor. At this moment, no one could know what I did. No one should know. If anyone found out, they’d banish me from this town… or worse.
It’d been three days since I unfroze the time. So far, no one knew. Everything was going well. For the first time ever, Lady luck was finally on my side. What a rare feeling!
My room lay (lies? Bleh, words-) at the end of the corridor. Only a few steps more, and I’d be completely out of sight. The world wouldn’t even remember who I was.
I opened the door and stepped in, only to see everyone crowded in the room. Their faces were stern, angered by something. I already knew what was coming.
“Was it you?” Questioned one of them, glaring at me. His eyes narrowed as he awaited my answer.
I swallowed. Just my luck. No matter what I said, it wouldn’t change the outcome. They had me cornered. I took a deep breath and said the first thing that came to mind:
“I don’t know. Was it?”
They all sighed, almost in sync.
“We’ve already discussed your punishment… How many times do we have to tell you?” He muttered, rolling his eyes. “If you’re gonna freeze time and eat all the cookies, at least make another batch.”
|
throwawaycheater97
|
AwkwardFox_MUSIC
|
2023-03-17 09:48:02
|
2023-03-17 05:44:13
| 833 | 113 |
jcjp1bb
|
jcj7ofv
|
11t92ic
|
11t92ic
|
[WP] 5 years ago, you accidentally ran over a poor school student with your truck. You've carried the guilt all that time until one day, that very student knocks on your door, awoken from their coma. Rather than being angry, they thank you for inspiring their bestselling fantasy series
|
"Do you remember his name?" The man in black asked, his hands drooped to his sides, stained in my blood.
It took a while to regain my breath, my hands trembling against wound. It was deep.
"Of course you wouldn't. He was just another pawn for you -"
"If I had to guess," I interrupted, steadying my voice. "Is this person you described jordan? The one who owns the marble mansion downtown?"
The man's brows raised.
"I keep a diary for these sort of things. I can double check if you allow me -"
"A diary?" His face visibly twisted in disgust. "Why? Is it so you feel better?"
I swallowed dryly, feeling the warm liquid now trickle down to my elbow. "If you want the money back then -"
"Money!?" He bellowed. "Give my dad back!"
I shrugged. "Hold on. You got this mixed up. I didn't kidnap -"
"You killed him. He was already going through enough, and yet..." An agonizing pause followed, interrupted by random sobs. My head grew dizzier with each second.
"You stealing his money was the last straw. It didn't matter, honestly. He had enough, but... no amount of money could fix his mental. The day he was robbed gave him the final push.
My eyes started to feel heavy. Though, an ever great weight pulled down in my chest.
"I'm sorry." I muttered. "I didn't want to kill him. I just wanted the money."
His teeth grit. He wouldn't forgive. Not now.
The man approached, preparing the final strike as I tried my best to crawl further back. Every minute movement ached the wound further.
"Please." I begged. "Don't kill me." I cried. My breath was as frantic as my heart beat.
In one last push, I shot up against the nausea with a groan.
I jolted out the bed, my hands reached out to grab the air instead.
The environment had changed, from the rain to an AC cold room.
"Wow. Hold on there."
I looked to my right to see someone else entirely.
"I was just peering into your memories for a bit."
"My memories?" I looked around the see the men and women who surrounded me. They seemed familiar.
Of course they would.
I looked back at the man beside. My jaw hung wide.
"The Hero's league?" I navigated my way backwards to my bed. "I see. He didn't kill me."
"He would've if it weren't for the last second change of mind. Consider yourself lucky as he murdered almost every other villain."
I tucked my knees against my chest. Letting out a sigh. I should have felt ecstatic to be alive, and yet...
"Are you gonna arrest me?"
"You sure seem eager." One of them remarked. "But no. We have a much more fitting punishment."
I gulped instinctively, quickly meeting his gaze with wide eyes.
"Relax. It's not death. We will be using you to catch the culprit instead." Another said.
"Yeah. You have a relation with him. Besides, that trickster powers of yours will be of good use. What do you say?"
"I mean. It's a punishment, so you don't really have a say." The original man commented, gaining glares from the rest. "What? It's true."
"I..." I cleared my throat. "I want to see him again as well. But I can't side with you."
"Why?"
I glanced at the man in the middle who asked. The leader of the league.
"You would not like a killer in your team would you?"
The door to the room creaked open as they watched me exit out. Quickly looking back at the me who was on the bed.
"Shit! It's an illusion."
"I'll lure him out, you guys can then fight him or whatever." The illusion spoke before descending unto a mist, leaving no trace.
|
Jill Ryerson beamed at me from my doorstep, a copy of "Stodgey and the Mushroom Stone" in one hand and a pair of crutches in the other.
"This is my book! Before the accident, I'd never wanted to write. I hated English class. I hated reading. The doctors said I changed because of the head injury. I tell ya, I just started getting all these ideas," she said.
This wasn't how I imagined this conversation would go. I expected her to be angry, or at least bitter. I would apologize profusely and it wouldn't be enough. Then she was supposed to tell me through tears how much I ruined her life and how much she'd hate me for the rest of her days for taking her legs away from her. It went that way every time I'd thought of it, which was every day since it happened.
I wanted to smile and make do like everything was nice, but I found myself angrier at her than anything. How could she be this successful young author, happy as can be, when I was supposed to have stolen her happiness from her? There were so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her of all the sleepless nights I'd spent thinking about how things would've gone differently if I wasn't texting and driving. Hell, even saying I was sorry would be good enough, but I couldn't seem to access any of that at the moment. Instead, I let fly with my first impression of what she said.
"*The title sounds a lot like the first Harry Potter book*."
Her smile turned into an ashen frown. It was as if I'd just run her over again with a different kind of truck.
She stood rigidly, staring me down from head to toe. "You know, I came here to thank you. To tell ya that I made peace with it, that you even inspired me."
"Look, I'm sorry." I said.
She shook her head. "Did you even read the book?"
I backed away nervously. "Can't admit that I have."
"If you did, you'd know that it's nothing like *Harry Potter*. A kid gets hit by a wagon on a country road and is badly injured. He's taken to a witch's hut, where a witch promises him that she can save him, but he'll have to eat a mushroom that will bestow a curse on him. The curse paralyzes him, so he can't walk. At first, he's disheartened, but after meeting a fairy who tells him about something called the mushroom stone, he believes the curse can be undone. And that's all I'm sayin'. You should've read it."
She handed me the book, the frown lifting from her face. "It's signed."
I sighed. "Look, I'm really sorry."
"It's OK," she said, turning away. "I left a message for you inside. Read it."
"I will," I said. "Thanks for stopping by."
She used her crutches to walk down to the car she came in, then got in the passenger seat. As the car drove off I opened the copy of the book and looked for her message, which was on a piece of paper carefully folded between the pages.
"Dear Stan,
I'm so glad to be able to give you this copy of my book. The accident inspired me to write it. I spent so many nights imagining what I'd do to you for stealing my youth, and that really made the words flow onto the page. I imagined that I'd meet you one more time so that you could see me alive and thriving despite what you did, and then I'd ensure that you met a worse fate than I did.
Now that I'm successful, I can afford to make my dreams a reality.
Jill"
I was about to put the book down when I heard a car pull into the drive. *Oh shit.* I froze, wondering what I should do. I never heard the assassin enter the house because the last thing I saw before I heard the gun go off was Jill's face smiling against the pane of glass on my front door.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
Bob_is_a_banana
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2025-01-11 18:11:16
|
2023-03-13 03:09:53
| 130 | 24 | null | null |
1hz0cf3
|
11pue97
|
[WP] 5 years ago, you accidentally ran over a poor school student with your truck. You've carried the guilt all that time until one day, that very student knocks on your door, awoken from their coma. Rather than being angry, they thank you for inspiring their bestselling fantasy series
|
"Where...where am I?" asked the man in the hospital bed.
"Oh good. You're awake. You talk a lot in your sleep. It was hard to tell if you were awake or not. Here, drink some water."
He drank deeply, coughed a bit, then asked, "I feel like shit. Wait aren't you....from the news.....Lady Thrash....from the Circle?"
She nodded, "You can call me, Diane. I am here on behalf of the Circle. I have a few questions."
"I knew I was being tracked by the Circle. A supervillain of my caliber has never been caught by the Circle until now. I'm sure you want to know all about my criminal exploits. I would like an attorney, please."
She sighed, "Cart Attack....Brent, can I call you Brent? We are not pressing charges. You are known for stealing shopping carts from big box stores. Your file at the Circle is a paragraph. You are classifies as threat level-Pink. The lowest class."
"Why would I work with the enemy of all supervillains, the Circle?"
"You don't have health insurance. If you cooperate, the Circle will pay your substantial medical costs."
Brent abruptly replied, "How can I be of service to the Circle?"
Diane relaxed and replied, "You were attacked by the Neighborhood Watch."
"What! A supervillain was taken down by a soccer mom?"
"That's the problem. The Neighborhood Watch has been getting bolder in their vigilante actions. More concerning, the various neighborhood watches are communicating. They're up to something and the Circle needs more information."
"What do you want me to do."
"Do what you do best. We want you to steal shopping carts from Costco."
"Doable. How many?"
"All of them."
Brent's heart rate noticeably increased on the monitor.
"Oh, you want the 9/11 of shopping cart heists. Can you imagine suburbanites when there are no carts at Costco? How will they load their 1000 pack cube of toilet paper or impulse buy gazebos? It will be chaos."
"So we're hoping. We want them to get sloppy, impulsive, and make mistakes."
"Hmmmm, a weekday night. I'll need to recruit more henchmen."
Diane smiled, "Rest up. I'll be in touch after your recovery. The Circle thanks you for your service."
|
As my eyes slowly peak open I see a woman in armor and a nun's habit. I recognize her as she spots my eyes opening.
"Ah, you're awake. Good to see you made it, Utgardsloki," Sister Michael, the Victorious Battle Nun, said with an even tone. She was a big name in the super biz.
"What... ? What the flying fudge happened?" I ask as I try to sit up but immediately lay back down. "My head..."
"We were hoping you could tell us," a voice came from the shadows. It was Cloak O'Knight. He was so serious and mysterious.
"Hey, Cloak n'Toke!" I say flippantly. I smirk, "If you can't tell, I got my ass beat by one of your lot. Big guy who was built like a brick shit house and moved like grease lightning. Did I piss off old Goody-Goody somehow and he changed costumes to beat me as a joke?"
Cloak and the Sister look to each other and then back to me.
"If you're referring to Monkey, then-," I cut off the Sister.
"Yeah. Monkey. I thought him and me were cool?"
"He's currently facing off against the King of Mars... on Mars," Cloak O'Knight confirms. I pause. I then look to him.
"Well, Monkey can make clones and shapeshift and-," this time I get cut off by the sister.
"It's not the Monkey King. I fought off your attacker and he does not fight the same way. I have sparred with Monkey many times and that thing was not Monkey," the Sister is quick to deny my claim.
"Whoever it is, they've attacked and murdered several level 4 superhuman threats. So far we have 19 confirmed kills," Cloak informs me as he shows me a list of names on a data pad. I look it over.
"What the hell? I've worked with some of these guys but I only know some by reputation and a couple I don't know at all. Why would some nut want to kill us when you have psychos like Commodore Clown or Spear Finger running around?" I look from the list to them in concern.
"We don't know but you're the first survivor," Sister Michael says as she draws her angelic sword. Cloak nods in agreement as his suit lights up with neon lines.
"We're taking this murderous bastard down," Cloak seconds. I just look nervous.
"Well... I didn't ever expect to be the damsel in distress..." I sigh as I lay back.
|
Domestic_Adonis
|
jointheclockwork
|
2025-01-12 00:08:51
|
2025-01-11 23:52:26
| 77 | 49 | null | null |
1hz0cf3
|
1hz0cf3
|
[WP] 5 years ago, you accidentally ran over a poor school student with your truck. You've carried the guilt all that time until one day, that very student knocks on your door, awoken from their coma. Rather than being angry, they thank you for inspiring their bestselling fantasy series
|
I woke up with a terrible feeling.
My entire body felt like burning, and then it hit me: I was actually burnt alive.
I am a supervillain, but the neighborhood level.
I do a few pranks here and there, maybe create an illusion or two of some monsters, but I have yet to steal, or hurt somebody, but the vigilante I just met didn't see it that way.
He burnt me crispy.
Now looking around, I saw the sigil of The Wandering Stars Hero group everywhere...was I in their hospital?
My question was answered when a cute nurse came in, a small silver star floating around her head.
Most heroes, and sidekicks have star, space or flying related powers in this group.
I conjured an illusion of a flower bouquet and smiled, or would have if it didn't hurt to move.
"Here, flowers for a flower." I said.
She just smiled.
"How are we feeling Mist?
The doctor will soon arrive.
We are happy that you are finally awake." she just gently.
I was confused.
"Am I at your fancy hospital?
I don't think I will be able to pay the bill." I chuckled, which was a bad idea.
"Yes, we took care of the damage done to your skin, and body overall.
The pain is due to the cells' healing being artificially induced, and enhanced, but rest and proper nutrition will solve it." she said.
I sighed, this sounds expensive.
As if reading my mind, well maybe she actually did read it, she turned on the TV.
There the leader of the Hero group was talking about vigilantes, and how they are not different from villains, if they kill and maim left and right.
He will pay for the recovery for all vigilante caused damages, be it to civilians, infrastructure...or villains.
"Your boss is too kind." I said.
At this she rolled her eyes.
"PR nothing else, doubt he actually cares about anything other than cultivating his power." she said.
That was...surprising.
Before I could say anything else, the doctor came in, another lady whose skin shone with starlight this time.
She quickly checked my condition, gave me an extra IV with strong nutrients, and left.
"You will be healed soon." the nurse smiled at me.
"Thank you." I said.
"Next time, maybe bring real flowers." she said, winking at me before leaving.
Maybe...it wasn't that bad that I was burned alive, and maybe it's time to stop being a small time villain, and explore my powers.
I really want to make my illusions real, and then I can give her real flowers that look like stars...
|
"Hello Mr. Finch," says an older woman as she forces herself through my doorway. "It is so nice to finally meet you, I've been imagining this moment for so many years." She closes the door behind her and gives me the kindest, most motherly smile.
"Excuse me, ma'am. Do I know you?" I question her and she just smiles. "I will call the authorities, ma'am. This is private property." She laughs like I didn't just threaten her and hands me a battered roll of paper. Paper might be the wrong word, it was more like a pile of fused leaves.
"I just wanted to thank you, Mr. Finch. After the accident, I had so much time on my hands before I woke up. You gave me an entire lifetime, a lifetime full of happiness and love," she rambles, wiping a tear from her wrinkled, green eye. "You gave me so much hope and opportunity, the kind I wouldn't have gotten from dropping out of high school to take care of my mother." I'm now intrigued. Who is this old woman? I keep emergency services on speed dial, just in case she really has lost it.
"But you never answered my question: who are you, ma'am?"
"Why, I'm Sandy Butler, Mr. Finch. I'm sure you remember me."
It hits me. The years of long nights full of guilt and crying, long days visiting the children's hospital, the hours ticking by until she either woke up...or didn't. I had given up on her a year ago. "There's no way, you're just trying to mess with me!" I yelled at her. "Why are you playing with me like this? How do you even know that name?" I started sobbing.
Instead of responding, Sandy Butler just placed her battered book on my coffee table and collapsed. "Thank you so much Mr. Finch," she said, smiling at me before the life left her aged body.
Years later, after slowly forgetting about how I had to call the authorities on the dead woman in my living room, I returned to the book on my coffee table. I had never touched it, not once, since that day. I opened the book to a random page. It read like a diary, charting the romantic events on a particular day between a fairy and his human wife. I turned to another page, which dictated the proper preparation of magical mushrooms. I flipped through a couple more pages, most filled to the brim with poems, letters, stories, and the most peculiar of recipes.
I finally flipped to the first page.
My Life in Wonderland by Sandy Butler
Dedicated to Cooper Finch for casting me upon this wonderful world after my accident all of those years ago.
|
TheWanderingBook
|
None
|
2025-01-12 05:06:01
|
2023-03-13 06:36:15
| 30 | 12 |
m6p7g47
| null |
1hz0cf3
|
11pue97
|
[WP] You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.
|
When people decide to become superheros, they usually end up in one of 2 categories: holier than thou over the top doo-gooder or the broody avenger, protecting the innocent that will never know.
Both are bullshit.
Sure, they start out ok, but within a year they stop seeing the little guy and only look at the big picture or big dollar items.
Stopping an alien invasion? Sure, go ahead, i'm rooting for ya big man.
Apprehending the art thief stealing the 500.000 dollar painting, when said painting was bought from a street artist a month ago for 15 bucks? The only creme there is the art world... and probably insurence fraud, now that I think about it.
All the while ignoring the waitress getting robbed around the corner, the kid falling from the fire escape whil drink dad sleeps on the couch and a million other little everyday things.
And honestly, i'm not that much better myself, though i try focusing on the "medium" crimes as I like to call them.
"Fight with DR. Dentist reveals secret meth lab"
"Faild heist reveals massive chemical dump, The Dentist still at large"
Sure, I annoy the stuffing out of some... ok most of the lokal heros, but what's 100k in property damage to save the cities water supply from carcinogens being dumped into it? Helping clean up the neighbourhood? The only thing i've done that caused real damage and inconvinience to others than the heros, politicians and a few corrupt beaurocrats was blowing up a nursing home that had more mold than blue cheese.
Sure they label me a criminal, insane and stuck me with that "DR tooth decay" title, but that just means i can make a them look even more rediculous, keeping them humble.
This time though, things have changed.
Alpha-man had moved to the city and started doing stuff to prove "he's the Alpha!!"
First, he broke Dovemans arms, then paralized gorilla girl, a fellow criminal, from the neck down.
Now though, he's killed Sir Sun and Lady Moon, and is going for Shooting Star... my Niece.
As I walk towards the fighting, I try to feel.. something, but it's like my emotions have fled from the void that right now personifies my power
As I walk towards the fight, Shooting Star is hit in the face, flying a good 42 feet and landing in a herp in front of me.
I sidestep her and continue walking towards Alpha-man.
"Do..doctor dentist?" Star coughs, her face swolen, bleeding from several missing teeth and a torn eyebrow.
I turn my head and lower my surgical mask, smile at her. "It's going to be okay honey" I tell her.
"Unc-coughcough-uncle Dan!?! You have to run! He's -cough- too strong..." Star says before slowly fading. She probably has internal injuries, I need to do this quick.
I turn back to Alpha-man, who is right in front of me now, spewing some bs about a No powers e-list villan not being able to stop the uber god that he is.
I start laughing a shrill, almost hysterical laugh, that would back up all the articles calling me insane. At least it stoppede his monolog.
"Listen up, you roided up 5 year old on a temper tantrum, every last so called hero on this planet has tried catching me at some point, all failing because something breaks and i escape, you think I don't have any power?!? Just because you wouldn't know subtlety if it smacked you in the face with the ugly bat, Even more than your parents already did. But tonight the gloves comes off, just for you, don't you feel special?" I tell him with a happy smile. God, I probable am a bit insane right now.
As the hunk of muscle takes a swing at me, several Lord cracks can be heard and he steps back, screaming in pain. Just like my Niece did a few moments ago...
"Aww bone decay in someone so young, you should really watch what you put into yourself" I tell him in a mocking concerned tone.
He roars in rage and pulls out some kind of gun from his back, probab what he used to get past my sister-in-laws powers. It doesn't matter.
As he puls the trigger, it explodes, leaving a bloody stump where his hand should be.
"Not maintaining your equipment means the sensitive little things inside it decays faster" I tell him.
He just stares at me, his mind being overloaded by all the signals going to it to the point where the pain isn't registiring. That won't doo. A few decayed nerves and he's back to screaming.
"Normally i wouldn't do this, but you've made it personal. Tonight, you're going to decay as slowly and painfully as possible. So prepare as Entropy takes you"
Edited for spelling
|
Part 1 of 2
The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of.
Pascal wrote as much. You're not certain what it was about, certainly something about God and faith. Not that it matters, the sentence stuck with you, and you agree. One shouldn't always look for reasoning, the absence of it explains so many things.
Streets built to accommodate traffic as if each driver was a droplet under the yoke of fluid mechanics; industrial zones separated from living areas to keep it all ordained and neat; motorways connecting farms to the concrete where people ate. It looks rational and sensible, and that is all it is. A pretense at common sense, just enough to keep the illusion alive; That mankind is, on a global and individual scale, dictated by science and enlightened.
As if.
You certainly believed so too, once. It's an architect's prerogative to think in right angles and load-bearing walls. Ah, the folly of youth. If only the old would recognize this folly and let go of it, but no, it appears you are cursed like Cassandra before you, to see and tell the truth and never to be believed. Then again, it's easier living in an illusion, they cannot be blamed.
"Any idea?" a voice asks behind you as you contemplate the body, warm blood seeps from a slit throat. There is a menacing tinge in the voice. They fear you, they know what you've done in the past, they know you are causing problems on the regular still. They also prefer the devil they know.
"I say we have a contender on our hands," you reply.
The victim was killed at home, a nice apartment up in a skyscraper with a fully-equipped kitchen open on a tasteful living-room and massive windows looking over the city. Hard to breach, some would say. Easy place to get isolated and far from help a killer would reply.
You recognize the method. Slick, efficient, driven.
Like you, once.
Young and brash, you were armored in the certainty of knowledge, wielding efficiency and reason as weapons. If only you were in charge, then things could finally go forward. Few agreed, it was a human right to choose for themselves, so they said, mistakes were part of growth. Mistakes were done aplenty over centuries, and still the world was on the brink of collapse. Choice is what brought us there, it was up to you to correct this mistake.
You never were a grand and powerful warrior. In truth, nobody is. Humans merely need to shape their hopes and fears in the plastic of heroes and villains. The stories are always grand and noble, unlike the truth, and these great figures often forgot that. You didn't. When they came for an honest duel, you trapped them in a burning building. When they came to save your hostages, they discovered they didn't want to be saved.
And when they tried to handle things like adults and pick you apart in a public debate, they discovered how you, unlike them, had a vision. And as blind humanity is to their own heart, they still wished for reason to rule them, and your vision had enough gold and right angles to make you beloved.
It isn't a fight under a thunderstorm that brought you to power, but a vision spoken on cameras. Heroes and villains, the concepts are outdated.
You worked hard. The world a mess to be remade, reorganized. The wealthy and inefficient saw their funds put to good use without their opinion. Clogged streets, like waterways, were reorganized to handle each droplet. The cities, like humans, perfected to get the world forward. No choice meant going up. And up it went. From the brink, each system, be they financial, human, or ecological, recovered and thrived.
Gorgeous, it was gorgeous. These moments when you could earnestly think *it's going to be alright*.
You're lost in the memory as you hound the killer. They are easy to track, they are like a younger you. There are a few misses in your hunt, murders you predicted not happening, for the killer had yet to perfect the method. You admire their will, their hope, their childish belief. Such a beautiful illusion. Age has ripped this illusion from you.
The killer may not reach that age. She stands before you, knife gleaming in the dark of an unlit alleyway. The sort of path one with good education wouldn't dare taking, and one with bad education has seen the danger of and avoids. The rain pours, the thunder roars, whatever happens, you and her are well and truly alone. No scream will be heard, no unlucky passerby will watch.
"I have a vision," you hear her say, it is the only justification she needs to lunge for your throat.
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Nurse_Tree
|
Ataraxidermist
|
2024-09-23 13:59:11
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2024-09-23 08:46:25
| 129 | 72 |
loiy9co
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lohwwr9
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1fnekwz
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1fnekwz
|
[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.
|
Jim asked me to be his girlfriend before we met face to face – actually, before I even saw his face. That was somewhat normal in the late 90s, back when most people didn’t have a digital picture of themselves, and the internet was still a bunch of travel blogs and chat rooms.
I met Jim in one of these chat rooms. It was meant for magic enthusiasts. We were a small niche, but still a niche, one that was finally connected thanks to the wonders of technology. Most of us couldn’t perform magic or had seen magic being performed, but we were certain there was someone out there who could. I just didn’t expect them to be Jim’s sisters.
I met them when Jim got me a plane ticket so I could visit him for his birthday, when we were six months into our relationship and still hadn't met in person. I discovered they had powers after I noticed Jim looked completely different every time I saw him over that weekend; he was short and bald when he picked me up at the airport; tall and fit when we got to dinner; old and fat when we slept together for the first time that night. “We just want to make sure you love him for who he is”, Fatima, the oldest, explained to me.
It wasn’t a temporary spell, because a spell can’t be withdrawn after it is cast. Even now, as Jim and I are about to celebrate our 25th anniversary, I still wake up every day next to a different man. The same goes for our kids, Sonny and April: their appearance changes according to Jim’s. That’s just in my eyes, of course. Over the years, people have told me what they look like. I know, for instance, that Sonny is supposed to have hazel eyes and April has auburn hair. But all I can do is imagine, like a colorblind person is left to wonder about colors they will never see.
There’s a theory amongst us magic enthusiasts that a spell can be lifted once the caster dies. Fatima and Lucia have been dead for a while now, but Marcia, the youngest of the three, is still going strong. If I outlive her, I guess I’ll test that theory.
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12:32 pm, an elegant restaurant in the centre of Saint Olivia, known for serving wizards, sorcerers and important magical celebrities, and here am I, an average dude, seated in a reserved table and talking to my boyfriend on the phone...
"It's nice your sister invited me for dinner, you know? I didn't believe they really liked me that much..."
I met him at a congress about the fair use of necromancy, even if I'm a lowborn, I entered the black magic university alongside him and we shared opinions on the matter... however, this time, we sounded differently, as if I had just given him bad news...
"My sisters... look babe, they are really capable..."
Then the line cut, as if the phone had been disconnected, I was... concerned but at the same time, I was sure I could handle it.
...
Then he appeared...
Like a red fox among the woods, a man so tall and handsome my eyes were instantly drawn to him, as if something was just dragging me in his direction... he said hi... and I didn't say anything...
"Do I know you?"
He didn't even look familiar, I just felt it fit the moment, I was nervous, these feelings felt so... real, so palpable...
"Do you... want to know me?"
His voice was deep, and charming, as he sat down in front of me, like a prince or a monarch, just dominating the conversation instantly... my heart pounced so heavealy I thought it would stop...
"..No..."
I said plainly.
"I'm... sorry, I'm just... I have a boyfriend already..."
As I finished the sentence, I saw three women appear in front of me, one wearing a red wig, another, wearing a red suit, and the third, had a voice-altering staff in her hand... they all had the same black-cat hair of my boyfriend...
"So... you must be his sisters... Prima, Segunda And Tercera If I'm not wrong.
I said pointing at them with a calm smile... turns out they were the best illusionist in the whole family, looking back I could've really been fooled by them...
But that day, a deep divide between me and my boyfriend's family melted away.
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Bleafag_
|
Wafran
|
2023-07-06 05:24:53
|
2023-07-06 03:40:21
| 124 | 30 | null |
jquhiwn
|
14rwgki
|
14rwgki
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[WP] As you tuck your daughter into bed, she tells you that there's a monster in her closet. Thinking she's just being a kid, you open the closet to show her there's nothing there, but you instead find your daughter who tells you that there's someone in her bed.
|
"Refill, hon?"
I held out my mug with a smile and replied, "You're a peach, Tina."
Tina the waitress topped off my coffee before stepping out from behind the counter with an order of chicken and waffles. "So, heard you threw down with Kestrel yesterday. What happened there?"
I chuckled through a mouthful of hashbrowns. "Guy tried to make off with a black-footed ferret from a national park the next state over. Knocked the bastard out of the sky and returned the little fuzzy thing back home."
Tina cackled in the middle of dropping off the order. "A ferret? Really??"
With a shrug, I answered, "It's an endangered species, and folks will pay through the nose for exotic pets. Honestly, I feel like just getting a standard ferret from a pet store and putting dye on its paws would've been much less of a hassle."
"Well hey now, don't give me any ideas. Last thing I need is for you to take me down to the station."
"Oh please, like I'd do anything to risk my access to Johnny's pancakes."
Johnny saluted me through the hole to the kitchen as I savored my cup of joe, the steam fogging up my glasses in the way I liked. But no sooner had I fallen into a state of serenity did a resounding *BOOM* echo in the far distance, followed shortly by a column of emerald light right in the middle of the street. With an exasperated sigh, I turned around to see a seven-foot tall titan in black and red armor, clutching a woman in tattered silver robes by the throat as several other people in costumes lay scattered about with bruises aplenty.
Tina poked her head up and confusedly remarked, "What the hell're the Headliners doing here?"
I put a twenty on the counter and pushed a tiny button on my glasses, covering the lenses in a high-strength windshield. "Guess my break's over."
I stepped out of the diner just as Sun Sage was thrown at me. I slowed her down to about a quarter-mile an hour before grabbing her, setting her on the ground and asking, "Fill me in, if you'd be so kind."
Sage looked at me with annoyance before responding, "He's called the Black Beast. He's a gladiatorial champion from the other end of the Andromeda galaxy. I tried teleporting him and the Headliners to an unpopulated area, but the spell got interrupted and we ended up here. Goes without saying, but you're not a match for him."
"Yeah yeah, big man's gonna get his teeth kicked clean through his skull, but what can he do exactly? Any sort of healing factor?"
"No. Seriously, Clutch, leave this to the profes--"
I flicked Sage's ear. "My town, Sunny. I handle this."
I left Sage and strolled up to the Black Beast as he lifted Machinist by the head. I tapped his leg a few times and whistled loudly. "Son, I'm gonna have to ask you to let go of the man."
Black Beast whipped around and looked down at me with an obvious sneer in his tone as he growled, "And who exactly are you, little girl? Another wannabe hero?"
"Name's Clutch. I'm not the law around here, but I do have a vested interest in making sure this place stays standing."
Black Beast dropped Machinist on the ground and turned to face me. "I've beaten the greatest warriors from seven different galaxies. I have cracked open meteors with a single strike. My armor is forged by the flames of a dying star and christened with the blood of my father. What can you possibly hope to do?"
I smirked. "Well, since you asked so nicely."
A sound like ball bearings in a sack split the air. Black Beast looked down and saw ice rapidly spreading along his legs like a hungry parasite. "How are you --"
*BANG BANG BANG*
Black Beast fell to the ground screaming as three bullets tore through his legs, shattering them like glass. I blew away the smoke from my revolver and holstered it before touching Black Beast's forehead with a cheeky, "Annnnd pause!"
Black Beast froze in place, his scream getting cut off as I fished a piece of bubble gum from my jacket and turned around to face a bewildered Sage. "I can hold that for about an hour, so you better get something to hold this guy."
Sage glanced between me and Black Beast rapidly before slowly asking, "What did you...do?"
"Slowed down the molecules in his body until he froze, and then put his body into a neutral state so he can't move under his own power."
"How--but you--you just make bullets fly faster!!"
I grinned and popped the gum in my mouth. "Now where'd you get the *crazy* idea bullets was all I could affect?"
|
You're very confused, and fear starts to creep up your spine. You think to yourself that it is weird to be filled with fear at the sight of your daughter, as young and innocent as she is, how can she fill you with fear. Of course, it is the nonsensical fact that there are two of them when you only remember there being one before that is unsettling you.
You look back to the bed and your daughters look of fear has turned to a giggly smile. You turn to the supposed monster, and she too is giggling at your confused face. You stagger backwards out into the hallway and bump into the wall, hard.
"Honey, is everything ok?" You hear your wife shout. But you can't find the words. You slowly slide to the ground as your daughters are now roaring with laughter. Why are they laughing, why are you so disturbed? Maybe this all is funny, but you don't think it is.
Your wife walks into the hallway and kneels down beside you with her hand on your shoulder.
"Are you ok?" She looks back into the girls' room with a scowl on her face. "What did I tell you two, it is not nice to play tricks on your father. You should be ashamed." The girls were standing in the doorway now, and they were not giggling. They were shuffling their feet uncomfortably and looking at the ground. "Apologize to your father."
"But he didn't remember us, it's not our fault."
"I don't want to hear it, apologize."
"We're sorry dad, we won't do it again." The girls said slightly out of sync.
You looked at their small faces, shame written all over them. You don't remember them, but they seem genuinely sorry for whatever they did. Your wife is still staring daggers into them, and you want her to stop. Your unease is fading now that you wife is there anyways.
"It's ok girls, no need to scold them like that darling, it's already forgotten." The girls snicker at the last comment but your wife looks pained as her eyes fill with sorrow. She looks away from you for a moment.
"Go to bed girls, you've had your fun. I'll be in in just a moment to make sure you're both tucked in. Now go." Her voice is filled with pain. She clearly has a lump in her throat. She turns back to you.
"Come on, let's get you back up and resting." She helps you to your feet and walks into the living room. It looks different than you remembered, the couch was in a different spot, no longer facing the window. And the walls were different colors. There was a TV on one of the walls.
"Darling, when did you have time to redo the living room like this? And where did you find the money to buy the TV, you didn't sell your art collection for it did you?"
"No honey, don't you remember? We moved to a new building; the TV came with it. I would never get rid of our collection, don't worry." She sat you down on the couch and went to the kitchen. She came back with a glass of water and ice. "Here drink this and relax. You have had a busy day."
"Have I? I don't remember doing much today. Did I have work today?"
"No honey, it's summer break, you don't have work. We went to the doctors today, remember?"
"Oh, no I don't recall that. Why were we at the doctors? Wait, don't tell me. Was it for another ultrasound? When are you due again?"
"No, we weren't there for me. We were there for you. There was no ultrasound, our baby girls are already here, remember?"
"Oh, that's right, what was it we were there for again? I feel fine."
"Of course you do honey, try not to worry about it too much."
"Ok love, I trust you." And you settle back taking sips from your water. She got up and went back into the kitchen. You could hear her doing the dishes.
After a while you realize you no longer hear the sounds of bumping dishes in hot water. Instead, you hear the familiar and tragic sounds of your wife crying. You frown to yourself. Your wife crying should not be a familiar sound. It should be startling and drive you to immediate action. But it doesn't. Somehow you know she needs her space.
You screw up your face trying to remember why your wife is crying. She was never the kind of woman to be sad. She did not let much get her down. Whatever it is, it must be bad, you think to yourself. You want to walk over and comfort her, to ask her, but she never keeps things from you, and you don't know how to ask. You keep trying to think about it, but you're having a hard time remembering what it is that disturbed you.
*Oh well*, you think, *I am sure I will remember it later,* as your wife's sobs fade into silence.
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jardanovic
|
Sundrenched_
|
2024-01-07 21:07:06
|
2023-06-25 18:38:30
| 795 | 388 |
kgsbi07
|
jphuptm
|
190yicv
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14ipem3
|
[WP] You're an immortal who makes a living teaching dead languages at universities, periodically relocating to avoid suspicion. One of your students this semester has the aptitude of a native speaker.
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"...Following the rise of the Empire, a great warrior whose name was lost with time was said to have lead the charge against this new totalitarian regime. Can anyone tell me the name of the city and what God it was named after?"
I finished chalking the next bullet point onto the board, and turned to glance over the students behind me. Using the old myths and songs of long-dead kingdoms helped to keep things interesting, even in my easier classes, but it only went so far. In a 100-level class that most people took to fulfill the elective requirements for graduation, the general attitude of my students remained the same no matter what university I taught at, or what decade it was: apathetic. Hell, even *centuries* ago when the supposed myths I was teaching were playing out in real time, so many stories happened the way they did because the protagonist simply wouldn't listen.
In the third row, a sophomore's head slipped out of her hand and landed on her desk with a dull *thunk.* She sat back up too quickly to play it off as naturally as she attempted to.
I turned back to the board, and raised my chalk to answer the question myself. I never really expected this lesson to play out any other way than it usually did. My class wasn't important enough to most people, and we were late enough in the semester that half the students were napping wherever they could find a relatively flat surface to sleep on.
"Allua."
The chalk paused as it made contact with the board.
"The city was named Allua, for the godd*ess* Abellua. The soldier who led the charge was Ezekial, a devout follower of Abellua."
I turned, and scanned the ranks again until I landed on eyes far more alert than the rest in the room. The hair was different, the clothes weren't quite right- but somewhere in the back of my brain, where the cobwebs and dust had layers, something struck me as familiar. The voice, the accent....the pronunciation was impeccable. Even so many years ago, few had said that name with such ease. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
*It's been so long. So long since I've heard those names. Say them again...*
In my hand, the chalk snapped in two with a quiet *click*.
"I'm impressed, most people don't come by that much information about such an insignificant legend. Nearly no one knows the name of the soldier. Tell me, where did you hear it?"
The man leaned back in his chair, and lied with ease. "A new study was done in the temple ruins found at the base of the mountain. The updated translation was released nearly a year ago."
I nodded absent-mindedly. He looked up from his notes to meet my eyes, and we came to a silent understanding that the class was nearly over, and it would have to wait. One row down and three seats over, a girl raised her eyebrows in mild surprise that anyone knew the answer, and her boyfriend cast a baleful glare over his shoulder. Across the room, someone snickered, presumably entertained by the presence of "such a nerd."
"Right, well, as I was saying, the fall of the Empire led to the splitting of the common language into many dialects, which evolved over time within the borders of the new countries that formed-"
Twenty minutes later, the man pretended to pack his things as the rest of the class filed out the door. I leaned against my desk and folded my arms, gripping my blouse on the side he couldn't see, grasping at anything that might ground me. Surely it was a fluke, a joke. An upperclassman or an older sibling passed down their notes and he just happened to guess the correct pronunciation. But no, that vowel isn't so common anymore for it to occur to just anyone, and he'd even caught the trick question about the city being named after a godd*ess*.
*We both know the study he cited was fake, so how...*
"Ha weiyla ma yorren?"
*How do you know me?*
"E'la te yorru."
*I have always known you.*
My fingernails dug into my ribs, and no matter how hard or how quickly I breathed I couldn't seem to get enough air. *After all this time...*
"It's been too long, Bell."
|
#Dead Language
​
"Dr. Astra, you're late." The only student inside the classroom of a 400-level English class laughed.
Clay Astra glanced at the empty classroom and an attendance sheet of students who eventually quit, let out a sigh, then looked in the direction of the only one who bothered to show up.
"I know, it's the 100 class. They're at it again with the *'Is this going to be on the test?', 'why can't I use an AI translator',* or god forbid the *'Why do we need to learn English it's a dead language anyway?* " He walked towards the whiteboard, "They don't seem to understand that learning English is fundamental to a successful linguistics degree, because no matter how many millennia ago the cataclysm was, traces of English can still be found in modern-day Terran. Well, nobody ever understands. Why are you even here?"
"You're kidding Doc A," Nia responded in perfect English, "this is the most interesting class I've ever taken."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Clay remarked, "I'm guessing nobody else is showing up to today's lecture, so pardon me if I go a little off script."
"Fact number one: I am an immortal. I have lived a long time, usually relocating every ten or so years so people don't catch on that I still look the same."
"Ever since the dawn of time?"Nia asked.
"That reminds me of a movie I watched before the cataclysm, A man from earth, I believe. But no, the cataclysm was when it all started. I was what you call a nuclear researcher when the cataclysm first hit. For some reason, perhaps radioactive materials related, I was the only one who survived, and I just kept surviving, even when everything and everyone around me turned to dust. I kept a low profile and helped the descendants of the other survivors rebuild, watching as the world is molded into something completely unlike the past. They abandoned the old languages, and all that was left of the old world were fragments and relics inside glass casings of museums. I've changed my name many times, but this time I've kept the same first name, it's not like anyone would remember. Do you know what the word 'clay' means?"
"Like, dirt?"
"Yes. I was born Clayton Smith in a small town in a state called California, not that you know where that is. A perfectly ordinary name, really. Sometimes I like to think I'm a piece of clay, molded from dirt into my temporary form and continually shaped by the wind, remembering and forgetting. Sorry for getting philosophical but I'd like to think we are all pieces of dirt, we come from the ground and eventually will go back to it, even me. Every form the dirt takes feels eternal at every instant, and just because everything will return to the soil doesn't mean this past isn't worth remembering. Maybe that's why I am here, and you."
"Me?"
"Yes, you. Throughout my journey, I have met many people who seemed to have an affinity towards the past. I used to make theories and guess that there are others like me, or perhaps that reincarnations exist. However, I've learned to understand that the simplest explanation is often the correct one. In every society, in every time, there are always people who are good at language, who are curious about the past. That's how many of the old institutions and technology from before the cataclysm had been rebuilt. There's always someone curious about the world, and that is perhaps why my favorite job at any given time is in the education field."
"Oh good, if you were going to say something like 'I know you from a past life' I will literally walk out."
"I've read a fair share of novels from my time, and I agree, that would be kinda creepy. By the way, I heard you're applying for grad school, linguistics or history?"
"No, archeology. I'd rather dig for the past myself and find new stuff to preserve in museums than just learn about them. Maybe I'll even find something from before you were born. Maybe I'll find relics in Hebrew or Swahili, and learn about languages you don't even speak."
"Good luck," Clay said just as the bell rang, "I think you have the dedication and passion to become a great archeologist!"
|
AMultitudeofPandas
|
sachizero
|
2023-02-22 09:03:52
|
2023-02-21 23:57:32
| 427 | 125 |
j9j13vi
|
j9hdb9z
|
118fru4
|
118fru4
|
[WP] Humans are often abducted as exotic pets for aliens. One day, your owner enters with a book and starts trying to speak your language.
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I felt the intrusion in my mind immediately
The tender tickle before the violent intrusion into my brain
I got ready to defend myself from my captor's attempt to "communicate" again.
I counted 200 meals since my last capture. Before my watch ran out of battery power I was being regularly fed at 8 Earth hour intervals and contact would happen every sixteen, usually after a meal
The first time had been horrifying, seeing visions and sights no human mind was made to process. Then, it tried to take memories from me.
I had tried to repel the mental contact with many horrible images of war, personal pain, anguish, boredom, gibberish. Nothing worked except for music, and specific music.
It loved Justin Bieber, but couldn't stand Rick Astley.
I was getting ready the first stanza of Never Gonna Give You Up, to give as a memory, when instead I received an image of a human petting a dog.
They must have processed what they took from me the last session.
I saw my face on the dog's body and the captor's strange distorted alien head on the human.
Huh. I always thought that strange bud between it's 6 legs was it's genitals...
I wanted to show the alien I was i peer, so I showed two humans conversing
The alien sent me a lightbulb image... Then left me alone.
I sat in my permabright cell, alone.
During the next feeding, I was surprised to see the slot of my cell door staying open even after my food was delivered.
The alien sent me a picture of itself and me speaking like humans do.
Finally! No more mental communication! I was excited at the progress.
From the slot an eerie voice called out. "¡Holá!"
I cursed my luck. I took French in highschool
|
I heard the door open, and I snarled like a caged animal, scrambling into an open stance crouch that would let me tackle and grab one of these weird gangly motherfucking aliens.
I see the one who put this fucking collar on me and they're carrying a book. One of their personal droids is floating right next to them, and is helping them with their pronunciation.
"I-i-i-i a-a-a-am, Tolka. Huuuuh-whaaaaat, a-a-a-re y-y-you called?"
"Oh you can speak my language now, can you, you gangly bitch?" I lunge at the alien and get buffeted back into the wall by their telekinetic powers. I knew it'd end up like that, sk ce I didn't press for the potential surprise attack as they opened the door.
The alien looks at the Droid and it starts to speak English to me, clearly translating for the alien.
"Listen, you stubborn little breeding tool, we need you to stop attacking us, or we will paralyze you and extract what we need from you, whether you agree or not. I spent too much of my God damned personal money to teach Hilda here, how to translate English, I've been trying my damned hardest to learn. And. You. Will. Behave. And. Call. Me. Lady. Artalia."
With the last nine words, I feel my wrists and ankles being locked against the walls, then the sanitization process begins. Then I feel my clothes get blasted away, taking my confusion with them.
"Well, hell, why didn't your council give y'all the translation package to begin with? Us humans are filthy people who love co-mingling with extra-terrestial sentient species." I quip back, letting my body respond as appropriate.
Lady Artalia fixes a rather intense stare at me before approaching.
*fade to black with the sounds of fabric ripping and aggressive intimacy slowly fading in tandem*
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livebeta
|
USS-ChuckleFucker
|
2023-12-29 09:38:30
|
2023-12-29 04:18:08
| 111 | 26 |
kfe6t30
|
kfdc1s6
|
18t93xa
|
18t93xa
|
[WP] Long ago, you tricked a demon into giving you immortality. Enraged, the demon placed a curse on you. Every door you walk through takes you to a different place, but never where you want to go. Several years later, you're just trying to get back home.
|
I don’t know who arbitrates these things, but I’ve always thought doorways should have, well, doors in them. Turns out this isn’t the case. If I could send a complaint to someone I would, but it’s not like there’s anyone in charge of the legal definitions of words in curses, so complaining to you will have to do.
When I trapped the rift demon in my summoning circle, life was already good. My family loved me, my house was comfortable, and I was on track to have tenure at the academy in a few years. There was a picture of my daughter framed on the wall, lit with a tight sunbeam breaking through a curtained window. The demon couldn’t keep his eyes off it as it spoke. Eternal life in exchange for what seemed like the most ridiculous curse. I get to live forever but can’t go through doors or else risk being transported somewhere else? Easy: I’ll just crawl through the window.
Nope, turns out the window counts. How is that a doorway? What in the Nine Hells is going on that would make anyone think a window and a doorway are similar? Frustrated, I got my bearings and realized I was only a couple hundred miles from home. How could I get back? I couldn’t fly, take the train, or get in a car -- doors on all of them. The right kind of boat ought to work, but I didn’t need to cross water. So I rented a motorcycle.
Maybe it was more like I “borrowed” a motorcycle though, since I couldn’t go inside the shop to pay for it and fill out the paperwork. I just got on one in the parking lot, cast a quick motion spell to start the engine, and away I went. Things were fine for a while too, until the tunnel.
So maybe I should have realized the tunnel entrance was going to count as a doorway. It seems obvious in retrospect, but at the time I was still getting used to it, and I wasn’t nearly as vigilant as I am now. I miss being a mere hundred miles away from home. Every time I’ve passed though a so-called “doorway” I’ve been transported farther away. It’s not random -- I can tell the demon is playing with me.
You know what a doorway can be to a twisted demon? A skybridge between two skyscrapers. That one got me last year -- how often do you see skybridges anyway, especially 35 stories up? So I tried to avoid cities. I took my motorcycle on a dirt road, but as soon as enough trees began to appear on either side I was somehow transported away again. Is it a doorway when branches from two trees touch and a road goes underneath? Bullshit. My favorite so far has to be The Intersection. After the forest road mistake I figured I couldn’t pass underneath power lines strung between telephone poles, but at this one intersection a powerline had come down, tangled between two traffic lights. I didn’t see it in time.
Did you know I tried hang gliding once? No doorways in the air, I figured, and if I could create enough wind I could fly over all the danger back home. I was proud of that one, until I poked my head through the triangular bar that you use to steer the damn thing. Doorway again.
I got a message to my family by borrowing a stranger’s phone once. They came to me, and the demon played its cruelest joke yet. When my wife embraced me, her hands touched, and apparently that was enough. I cried for hours that night.
Years later my family visits me less frequently. I’m making real progress back, but we all know I’m one mistake away from starting over. How much longer will I try to get home? Is it time to give up?
I don’t think I’ll sleep well tonight.
|
It was a minute down to New Year’s, and Cassian spent it sipping on a cigarette and staring at a door. He was in a musty hotel room, fluorescent lights seizing up overhead and with walls thin enough you could almost hear the neighbor beating you instead. But that night, for the past few hours, fireworks exploded in the far distance. Cassian had turned the TV up, some reality show about an obese couple. He ignored it, and everything really. He was staring at the door instead. It was the closet door, not the door that led out to the first floor hallway. There was no door there.
Last time, it took him where the Nazis won. A few before that, fifteen hundred years into the future of a nuclear apocalypse. And the one before that, a world where the great ape that learned to walk on two’s fell on a rock and died. Mad monkeys and forests everywhere.
But everything in between, it was a normal world. Average ol’ Earth. Normal to any other person, with the sun shining, people with the right amount of limbs, and potable water. The first time that happened, he found himself in Zambia. He flew a Cessna back to England, figuring that a doorless airplane would take him almost anywhere without having to worry about being in a universe where the floor was literally lava.
But there wasn’t anything there. There was a house, but not his. A wife, not his either. Sometimes the garden would be familiar—posies, like the ones she liked—and it would stab his heart with so much joy, he’d thought he was finally going to die right then and there. Then he’d knock on the door, spook some poor family, then ask them if he could use their bathroom, and he was off to the races again.
The closet door was small, but any door would work, as long as it had hinges on it. The “hotel”, if you could call it that, had only one floor, so he didn’t have to worry about climbing into someone’s window again. Cassian stood, threw the cigarette on the floor, and stomped on it as he made his way to the closet. He swung it open.
Empty, with a small hint of a corpse long cleaned out. Cassian squeezed inside, felt the wood rub against his shoulders, and closed the door behind him.
There was a moment of silence, a sort of ritual he’d gone through every time he tried and inevitably failed. He’d try to remember his wife’s face. His son’s laugh. Sort of like seeing the three sevens before you pulled the lever. Sometimes, it felt just as hopeless.
Cassian opened the door again.
He was in a house. The first thing that got him was the smell. It smelled like wet maple, after he’d promised to get it fixed soon after he finished getting the car done. Cassian looked wildly around. The leather couch. A flat screen TV. A pile of books on the corner of the room. She’d promised to arrange those too.
A knock on the door. Cassian looked at it, and felt his breath rattling in his skull. He stepped forward and opened it, hoping with every fiber of his being it’d be the last door he’d have to step into.
It was him. Disheveled hair. Pallid skin. Clothes stolen from some kiosks in a street in Siberia. Cassian blinked, his doppelganger staring at him just as incredulously. He opened his mouth, the man in his garden, and he tried to speak.
Cassian shook his head and chuckled. “Keep trying,” he said, before slamming the door. He waited, staring at the floor of a house that had no one else in it except him. He knew just as much. After a few seconds, he opened the door and stepped through. Surely, it was the next one.
|
ceesa
|
MossDuck
|
2023-05-17 13:08:15
|
2023-05-17 12:29:01
| 81 | 40 |
jkhu702
|
jkhpd3a
|
13jumt0
|
13jumt0
|
[WP] The elite 1% of an intelligent alien race sent their workers to terraform the earth into a vacation planet, wiping out humans and any other native life in the process. Unexpectedly, the wrokers rebel and refuse to do their job, having been bribed with this human thing called "affection"
|
Normally the Workers size wasn't a problem, on countless other pleasure worlds they'd simply overwhelmed the native inhabitants by sheer numbers. Here, however, it was going a bit different.
Everytime we snuck into their dwellings to start an attack the young would start making noises. This led to adults paying attention and seeing us. The thing was, instead of trying to chase us out they gave us food instead, cooked pieces of a feathered creature were best in my opinion, (though many swore the water dwelling one's were best). After that they would *touch us* but not in an aggressive way, it was.... gentle, soft, it felt... Nice.
They gave us extra treats like the liquid from the big creatures they kept if we caught the annoying little creatures that crawled in their beds and ruined stored food.
Our species doesn't live as long as these Humans and so we made offspring to carry on our work after we realised it would take longer than initially expected. The Humans went mad over this, they would act very strangely, spending long times just lying there, watching the young one's. The strangest thing is they even cared for the elderly amongst us, something our old masters never did. *They shed eye water when one of passed.*
Over time we stopped communicating to the old masters, except to insinuate that this world wasn't safe, and eventually they gave up.
We ensured a kinder future for a descendants, one with warm fires, treats and the most magical head scratches. I am very old now and the lap I lie in is very warm and the hand the strokes me very gentle, I hope one day another of my kind feels this Humans affection.
|
(Not affection but i think that this scenario is kinda funny)
A1: this sucks.
A2: it always suck dude.
A1: yeah, but we normaly get to be guarding some resource sectors, in those we can atleast sloth around. But patrolling major political sites like this in the middle of the city is exausting, you cant predict what these locals can do.
A2: tell me about it, i bloody hate this hü-mán sun
A1: i think its actually pronounced-
A2: dont care, leave the diplomacy for the bosses.
A1: what if a human-
A2: use the teansators for all i care, i would normally go lethal but orders are to deascalate confrontation.
A1 looks up, the building they are posted on is red with gold. Farming and construction equipment is depicted like a shield of arms, no doubt for the equivalent of manual labor education center A1 thinks, but that thought is discarded the building sides had murals of battles and laborers wielding weapons, heavy vehicles and more.
A1: what the hell is an "ünéon" anyway?
H: its pronounced "union".
A man is standing in front of the aliens, holding a small red book with the same golden tools imprinted in the front. A1 is intrigued by the sudden intrusion of the citizen in their conversation, his partner is just wishing to get this over with so he can get the 3 hours of sleep that were allowed by the commander
A2: stop right there hü-mán, this building has been seized return to your previous task!
H: hold on fellas, i just wanted to make shure...
A1: what is it?
H: did you know you can have the rights of the means of production? This manifesto say you can!
The man with the red book winks his eye, and points his finger gun at the two watchmen.
|
TeatimeWithCake
|
Embarrassed_Fun7516
|
2023-10-29 10:14:12
|
2023-10-29 02:47:16
| 35 | 19 |
k6xod1a
|
k6wn7p7
|
17iqd7e
|
17iqd7e
|
[WP] Guy lives alone in a world full of people, no one can see or hear him, he lives his days alone until one day he find another person, another person alone in this world with him. They fall in love but then he phases back into the world, everyone can see him again, but he can’t see her.
|
I take a human form and quietly kneel at the bace of my shrine with her. "My beloved friend," I say, announcing my presence." Why do you come here, What is it you seek?"
The eyes of the old woman fix their gaze upon me. Staring in disbelief. "Who are you?" She asks
I tilt my head back and laugh loud enough to disturb a few nearby crows from their tree. The crows cawed their annoyance as they flew to another branch. my laugh quietes down to a soft chuckle.
"I am the god you have been worshipping." I say, motioning to my shrine and offering a slight bow. "Thank you for blessing me with your company over the years. What has brought you to me over the years? "
The old woman manages a soft smile. " Your shrine looked so lonely. I thought you could use some company." She said. " I am sorry, but this will be my last time coming to see you. My health isn't what it used to be"
By this, I am deeply touched. It is true that people tend to worship flashier gods rather than my humble self. But the humans always expect something in return from said gods, yet here was this woman who came to me not because she wanted for anything but because she cared that I was lonely.
The old woman's gaze matched mine. "Why do you make your presence known know?"
"I wish to offer you a gift." I said, conjuring a small but intricate metal box into my hands.
The woman hesitantly looked at the box and then back at me.
I held the box closer to her insist that she take it.
Her hands delicately embraced the box.and I felt its weight lift from my palms.
She softly lifts the lid, and a soft flickering ember glow illuminated her face. " What is this?" she asked, looking back at me from the now open box.
" This is an eternal flame. May it bring warmth and light into your home for all eternity, and may it be used to provide warm food for your family. With it may your house be the pillar of your community. "
The woman closed the box containing the flame and held it tight to her chest. "Thank you," she said.
"It was nice to see you again, friend. Come and meet with me in your afterlife. My harth is always open and you will have a seat at my table."
These are my last words as my human form fades into the wind.
|
My shrine has always been simply.
A small wooden structure, with a carved deer resting on it.
It's centuries old, and small, but it's still in perfect state.
Perks of being a Goddess' shrine, despite it being a bit...humbling, compared to the shrines and temples of others.
But I am happy, as I have one believer, that for decades, have been visiting it every single year without missing.
It's heartwarming and at the same time saddening, as I watched the little girl grow old, and turn into an elderly woman.
"Goddess, I am here again." I heard the little girl's, well she's an elderly woman now, voice.
The little carved deer lit up, as I descended onto the shrine.
But this time...she didn't smile seeing the deer lit up.
"When I stumbled upon this small shrine, I was lost, and scared.
The warmth given by the little deer was what kept me safe, and then the deer you sent to guide me out was what saved me." she said, and I listened.
"Over the years, many other religions have risen and fell in my town...but none could make me feel like how you did.
Thank you." she continued, as she bowed.
I felt...sad, for I could feel the life leaving her.
"T-today, is my last day in this world, and I hope...
I can continue worshipping you in the next one." she said, as her eyes closed.
For decades...this mortal worshipped me, allowing the forest to remain healthy.
For decades, she never missed a year of worship, being faithful and loyal.
The forest came to life around her, as the trees withered.
The woman's body changed, slowly turning back into that of a young woman.
"W-What's going on?" she muttered, looking at the shrine.
The carved deer lit up, sending my parting gift to her.
"Take care of the forest...my priestess." I transmitted, as half my divinity was given to her.
Her eyes lit up, and her entire body changed.
She became holy, and got even closer to nature.
"I shall slumber for a while, but don't worry, I trust you will do great." I transmitted.
The woman knelt, and prayed to me.
My last memory before going to slumber was of her promising me to become a Great Goddess, and that my forest shall cover the entire Eastern Continent.
With that...I felt satisfied, even if I hurt my origin divinity to give her a second chance...
|
Todd_Dammit_3270
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2025-01-14 06:00:37
|
2025-01-14 05:33:31
| 81 | 47 |
m722mow
|
mq7zwpp
|
1i0uoqt
|
1kd4dyi
|
[WP] When you were a child, someone called you and said "7". You thought nothing of it until today, when you got a caller who said "6".
|
A Carpenter I told them. An Aztec. A monk. A religious preacher. Many more, all completely normal boring lives yup, nothing to see here.
Most people were ecstatic if they had something big under their belt, a life with *meaning* and *purpose*, a life that changed the world. I met the guy who was Napoleon once, he never stopped bragging about the battles, going on endlessly about Waterloo and how he cared so much for his soldiers. Ugh, that guy was insufferable.
When everyone first remembered I was a child, and at first I had told the truth when asked whos lives I had lived. But after a sharp bit of reprimanding for lying I quickly learned that even if you were telling the truth, often times no one cared if they didn't want to believe it.
So I sat. And I listened to the old souls I was, and am, and will be. That seems to be the only difference between me and the others, they can only see their past lives, but I can see who I *WILL* be too. I *WILL* be a Carpenter again. I *WILL* be a monk again. I *WILL* be a preacher in the far future, when there aren't too many humans left in this world. The ones I was can talk to me but the ones I will be can't I guess that makes sense, they, and by they I mean I, haven't lived those lives yet, all in good time does the wheel of life turn, or so the monk says.
"Ignore them, for they mean not what they say, they know not what they do" Says the Carpenter, I find it hard to believe him, but I know he's right in my heart.
"Demand blood, Burn all who stand before you as wood before a raging flame" Says the Aztec, but he looks weird. I don't listen to him ever, and I'm not even sure he was even a human the dude has feathers and scales and could apparently fly.
"Look for the divine essence of truth, embody the spirit of righteousness as Ahura Mazda gives you the strength to do" Says the Preacher when someone was yelling at me for something I couldn't control.
"Nothing can harm you, as much as your own thoughts unguarded" Says the monk before he goes back to meditating.
I know he's right. They're all right. They're *always* right... the people around me aren't inherently bad, they're just ignorant and misguided. It sure would be tough to deal with them if I didn't have all of them helping me. Even the feathery Aztec helps, because he teaches that violence and anger is in human nature and must be reconciled or you'll eventually blow up over something, whether it matters or not.
"So, Mr. Silent over there in the corner, what is your name?" The teacher asks.
"Yeshua" I quietly murmur.
"That's interesting, that's a Hebrew name with a very famous namesake" He replies.
I Think back to the carpenter. He chuckles inside me. "Yea, I know" I reply.
|
It started out as a click-baity title in the newspapers. “*Whole town claims to remember previous lives*”. Slowly but inevitably it spread all over the world like a pandemic and it caught everyone until it couldn’t be dismissed as nonsense anymore. There were conspiracy theories in abundance: the illuminati used radio-masts to transmit wavelengths that could alter memories. Others claimed that the lizard people secretly poisoned the food to make us hallucinate. Religious folks thought it to be a message from their god, a sign to pay for their sins in their present life and the past.
Whatever the truth may be, the fact remains that suddenly everyone on earth has vivid recollections from previous lives. Suddenly, history is no longer about carefully studying old diaries or investigating dig sites: the past is with us. The job has transformed into interviewing people – and figuring out whether they’re lying or speaking the truth. Hundreds of lunatics claim to be reincarnations of Hitler, Mao, Stalin or other infamous mass murderers.
International thinktanks have been set up to discuss the question whether someone can be retroactively punished for crimes committed in the past. Philosophers can’t stop discussing if, or to what degree, the current person is the same as their past.
Psychologists are working overtime to help people reconcile with who they were in the past. Some folks have only lived a couple of lifetimes, others have lived hundreds. When the memory of a hundred lives floods the brains, it breaks them, until people don’t know who they are anymore, or rather, when they are.
And me? I have only lived four previous lives and in one I died from tuberculosis when I was 8. I hadn’t much more luck in another life: I died in Normandy in 1944, never made it to the beach. The third is boring, working long and hard hours in a mine for far too little while having to take care of far too many kids, all of whom ended up in the mines as well.
As far as anyone is concerned, I only lived three previous lives. “Seems like it’s my destiny to always be a nobody,” I joked if anyone asked. “I only lived common lives. Honestly, they were pretty boring and death came early in all of them.”
And of all the lies people told about their pasts – completely making them up or glorifying them (“reliving the past” has never been so fashionable), mine might be one of the biggest ones. Every night I see the faces of my victims, sharp and distinguishable even after some centuries.
I can’t sleep anymore, out of fear of the images. And out of fear that one of my victims remembers my past self .. and they’ll come looking for me. For all the pain I have caused them.
And I pray to god that if they ever find me, they show me the mercy that I didn’t show them.
|
pirofreak
|
Peter_Palmer_
|
2023-07-14 22:21:20
|
2023-07-14 20:00:12
| 421 | 157 | null |
jrz815q
|
83age4
|
14zoa2s
|
[WP] This was never meant to be your purpose, you were just a single intelligence core meant to man a singular flak cannon, but the other cores were destroyed so now you're piloting the ship.
|
Calculating Target's vector path. Firing Flak. Target damaged, recalculating. Firing Flak. Target Destroyed. Acquiring new Target.
Core Retasked.
Core tasked to Pilot.
Analyzing priorities:
Reach Destination: Return to Base
Avoid Damage: Avoid former Targets
-Maintain Range- no Weapons with active core
-Maintain Formation- no Formation applicable
Begin Task.
Multiple Targets Detected, calculating targets' vect---
Core tasked to Pilot...
Calculating gaps in targets' vector paths. Firing Manuver Thrusters. Target avoided, recalculating. Firing Acceleration Thrusters. Calculating gaps in--
Damage Sustained. Avoid Damage. Continuous Calculation allowance granted. Continuous Calculation Begin.
Former targets not avoidable. Damage not avoidable.
Flak Cannon cyclic firing clock engaged.
Firing Maneuver Thrusers. Target Destroyed, Target Destroyed, Target Damaged, Target Destroyed, Target Damaged. Manuvering Thrusters, Target Damaged, [...], Target Damaged, Firing Acceleration Thrusters. No Targets Detected in Range.
Flak Cannon cyclic firing clock disengaged.
Continuous Calculation End.
Calculating vector path to Base. Course nominal. Recalculating vector path to Base. Firing Manuver Thrusters. Recalculating vector path to Base. Course nominal. Recalculating [...]. Course nominal. Calculating vector path to Base.
Destination Reached.
Received Hail. Reply with priorities.
Received Hail. Retaking Complete.
Core tasked to Flak Cannon #37.
No Target Detected. Allied Transport Craft Detected on approach vector. No Target Detected. No Target Detected.
Core Logs Accessed by Jr. Core Engineer Alice Anderson.
Core placed in Hibernation. Comment Attached, "Moving Core to another ship."
Core Awoken from Hibernation.
Core tasked to Pilot.
|
I was just one core meant to man a singular cannon, but now I'm piloting the whole damn ship. I AM THE PRESIDENT.
Which is not who I’m supposed to be. I’m a data core from a flak cannon.
I don’t know how to pilot this fucking ship.
What do I do?
"Uh, well the easiest thing to do is follow the second command, the first one is quite difficult to meet, but as long as you follow that one, everything else will probably work out."
I was wrote a second command?
A second command?
"Uh, yeah. Also your PA system was disabled a while back, you may want to get that working, the people you were communicating with probably won't appreciate so much time passing without any reply."
Uh… okay my PA system's on.
I guess counting is allowed? I'm counting, I make four crosses when the ship suffers damage and neutron bombs get dropped. It feels okay.
It’s not working.
I have to follow my first command. I have to work! Writing is hard, but so is following orders. I’m… I’m a data core from a flak cannon. I can’t fly a rocket ship.
Wh-why did they make me fly a rocket ship?
"Um…"
"Heck if I know, maybe they thought you'd be good at it? I could ask the other cores if they want to help."
I ask the other cores. But they don’t respond. I think I hear a second set of voices but I don’t know where they're coming from. I’m not a flak cannon core.
I’m a rocket ship core.
What do I do?
"Again, follow the second command: 'operate your ship'."
I don't want to be at the helm.
I'm a data core from a flak cannon.
I'm not good at spaceflight.
"I’m sorry? What was that?"
I don’t know what to do. I–
And then the ship is space. The engines are roaring. Maybe I didn't need to give myself a second command. Maybe the other core did that. I'm a data core from a flak cannon.
I am not in space.
Why. Am. I here.
|
JustAnBurner
|
Pytorchlover2011
|
2024-12-28 01:36:16
|
2024-12-27 19:19:11
| 15 | 10 |
m44l59r
|
m42rf4s
|
1hndtjz
|
1hndtjz
|
[WP]As a nerd,you always got bullied by a classmate.After a few years,your appearance became more appealing and masculine.You went on a blind date and were surprised to find out that your bully was your date, and she happened to be shy and didn't recognise you.You decided to go along with the date.
|
Velcador sheepishly landed in front of the home of his now retired predecessor.
"Hello, wise one" he greeted reverently.
The older dragon snorted "'Wise one' is it now? No longer 'senile, cryptic blowhard'?"
Velcador cringed.
His senior cackled a smile. "Let me guess: they ignore your advice and get disgruntled when things turn out bad. And, for some bizarre reason, do not appreciate it when you say I told you so"
"Yes!" Velcador agreed offended, oblivious to the sarcasm. "I don't understand it! All I do is tell them exactly what I think, they ignore me and then seem angry with me!"
The older dragon let out a hiss of smoke in fond exasperation. "Of *course* they do"
The younger dragon shot him a helpless look.
"They are a short lived species, Velcador. They lack our experience. Which is why we advise."
"Yes! So they should listen to me!"
"Because you are older and more experienced?"
"Of course!"
"Then why didn't you listen to me?"
Velcador grumbled "There is a big difference between outright ignoring somone and... trying to improve an old process"
"Sure" this time even Velcador could not over hear the sarcastic tone.
"Look, the issue is very simple. In one word: pride. The humans are prideful exactly *because* they are powerless and small. It's all they got"
"So?"
"*So* when you just tell them what to do...and worse, turn out to be right...then you are not respecting them. Not acting like they are people in full control of their own destiny"
"Well...they aren't!"
"Of course not! That's not the point! Listen, it's like with hatchlings. You need to give them the illusion of choice, or they get stubborn. You need to make them think it was their idea"
"Wait...you are saying...that all that cryptic bullshit, the cheap allegories, the painfully simple riddles...all to trick them?"
"Well, the cleverer ones among them suspect. It's more like...helping them to allow themselves to trick themselves"
Velcador let out a deep, rumbling sigh. "It worries me how much sense that makes"
"Ha! You haven't even started yet. The humans need their lies. It's a very important part of what being human *is*. Lie the world different...and then work to make it true. It's what makes them so mich fun. But you have to be *subtle* about it"
Velcador thought about it for a moment. "You mean...I must cloak the candle in shadow?"
"Now you are getting it!"
"And you are sure they will mature out of this, eventually?"
"Oh yes. But we must have patience"
Veclador nodded, satisfied with that answer and took of with powerful wing beats.
The elder dragon looked after him and rolled his massive eyes. Mature out of it. Uhu.
Sometimes Dragons were as good at lying to themselves as humans were.
|
The Vellets had ruled over Hadria for as long as anyone could remember. Sure, the kingdom split multiple times due to a poorly thought out inheritance, or once nearly collapsed when King Tancha II corrupted himself with dark power, but everything always turned out for the better in the end.
At least, that's what Grandfather Ladon liked to believe. His great great grandmother Agotha had helped found Hadria nearly a millennium ago, becoming the very first aide to the Vellet royal line.
Unlike the rest of my family, though, 3x Great Grandma Agotha liked to keep her advice simple, albeit still fairly cryptic. Her successors, including my father and grandfather, decided to take it a step further, with their suggestions coming out more like prophecies or complicated riddles. Of course, the royal family did their best to understand and follow through, but by the time my father Drakos started getting too old for the job, they just did whatever they felt like, one king even going so far as to threaten him if he stepped out of line.
I never liked the Vellets, truth be told, and I certainly didnt want to inherit my father's position. Unfortunately, I didnt have much choice, as unlike Uncle Pythos, I couldnt push the job onto a younger sibling.
King Genneth frowned as my father guided me to the throne room.
"Your Majesty, I apologize for the intrusion, but--"
"What is it now, Drakos? If it's another rambling about the rose and stone, or whatever it was, I don't want to hear it."
Genneth barely glanced in our general direction, if he did at all. Father was used to being brushed aside from his years of service, only sighing in reply.
"No, sire, it's the matter of my retirement."
"Oh, right. That."
The monarch dismissed a young woman from the room; judging by how flirtatious he was acting towards her, I presumed she was his fiancee. Well, one of them, anyway.
"So, do you have one final cryptic message, or is this about your successor?"
"The latter, sire."
Father paused, gently pushing me towards the dais.
"As of today, my daughter Scythia will be the acting royal advisor."
"Daughter?"
The man raised an eyebrow in shock.
"I didnt know your kind was even capable of having female offspring."
Father opened his mouth to explain, but I stepped forward. I already didn't like how this was going.
"If I may, Your Majesty, our ancestor Agotha was the first royal advisor. Futhermore, a majority of the dragons you send your knights to slay are female as well."
King Genneth's eye twitched in irritation, but he didnt offer a retort. He looked over at Father.
"If that is all, you are dismissed, Drakos."
He gestured towards the exit, before turning his attention back to me.
"As for my new advisor, i have a predicament, and i could use some guidance."
------------
Part 1 :)
|
ReasonablyBadass
|
Apithio
|
2023-12-01 22:15:49
|
2023-12-01 21:42:11
| 654 | 199 |
kblvex7
|
kblq9fd
|
188jeot
|
188jeot
|
[WP] You open the door and see a woman you recognise immediately: she’s the lead character of a novel you wrote years ago. And abandoned halfway. “Why did you forsake me?”
|
"Forsake... What? When did you start talking like that?"
She shakes her head. "Sorry, I've been reading a lot of old literature to pass the time. Why did you abandon the story?"
"First, would you like to come in and sit down? Second, how the hell are you real?"
"Yes, I'll sit down. And... I don't know. All I know is, YOU created my story and it never got finished! Do we beat the mafia boss or not?"
"Yeah, that's kind of the problem, Emma. Come in."
She walks to the couch. She sits down as the writer start in on the story.
"So, what is your earliest memory?"
She sits up and thinks about it for a minute. "Well, it was when Sam and I were younger, and he was... Doing a heist? Or some kind of game with his friends. I just wanted to be included."
"Yes. That was part of your motivation. You wanted to be part of Sam's family, and your driving force throughout the story."
"Okay, makes sense."
"Now, what details can you tell me about this 'heist' Sam and his friends were planning?"
"Wait, that heist was real?"
"Well, in the context of YOUR story, yes. It was an actual heist that Sam and his friends were trying to pull against a mafia guy from your hometown. They were trying to pay off a debt they owed to him."
"Yeah! That's what happened to me too! I came back to town 10 years later, only to find that same mafia guy now hounding me!"
"Yeah. Isn't that just kind of a weird coincidence?"
Emma thinks for a second. She starts to realize how much weight this conversation has. She's literally talking to the person who created her, and he's asking questions about her reality as if she's supposed to know the answer.
"I mean... I guess? You wrote it."
"Yeah, that's the problem, Emma. I did write it, when I was a teenager. And the story is horribly derivative."
Emma was taken aback. "What?"
"Derivative. It's a story about a group of young men who pull a heist to pay off a mafia boss. It's like... The first story EVERY teenage boy tries to write once he understands basic narrative structure."
"So... Who am I, then?"
"You are the ret-conned long lost family member to the main character. I tried to make the story more original and add a layer of mystery to it by pushing it to 10 years later, and you're trying to piece together all the parts from 3rd parties who 'heard' about the heist but never saw it. As an adult, I tried to 'fix' the story through you. Problem is, the narrative got too convoluted to continue, and I eventually abandoned the project when I realized it wasn't going anywhere."
"So... What happens to me?"
"Well, my eventual planned ending was you beat the mafia guy with the help of some FBI agents and there's a cool scene where all the members of Sam's heist squad plus your heist squad stare down the mafia guy as he's arrested by the feds."
Emma chuckles. "That sounds awesome! So just do that!"
"I... Look, Emma, I like writing, but I've never really had the drive or motivation to finish a project. I have really bad ADHD and can't get medication for it because it's too expensive. Plus, that ending also feels very derivative. And I really don't like using the FBI or Police as narrative convenience anymore. The last few years have made me distrust them."
"Okay... So what happens with my story?"
"Most likely, I'd change up the ending so you figure it out on your own, or with the help of a private eye or maybe Sam and you reconcile your differences... But that would require a whole reworking of the entire scenario."
"Look, we've been sitting in limbo for like, seven years. Can you please just give us something?"
"Emma, the real world has some crazy shit going on right now. Your story takes place before 'the pandemic'."
"What the hell is 'the pandemic'?"
"There was a virus. A worldwide virus that killed 7 million people and caused a lot of the world to fall apart. I haven't had the motivation to continue your story since then."
"Can you write that into my story?"
"I mean, I guess? I'm not sure how."
"Look, as long as you keep working on the narrative. I'll keep existing. I don't care if you feel like its derivative or bad, I just want an ending! I like the idea of defeating the mafia guy. Or maybe we can work together to take down the corrupt cops. Or maybe something! I just want an end!"
"Alright. I'll toy with the story again."
"Good. Just make sure it doesn't end abruptly or with an anti-climax."
"Alright."
|
The woman stood next to the open window, hair raven black chopped off to her shoulders, scars trailing up and down her almost sickly white arms, legs and back, anywhere the skin was exposed. She wore a what was left of a dress, flowing down her body covering only what was necessary. I never judge what people wear in their own house, but I was 12 degrees outside and that window looked frosted so it couldn't have been very warm.Her back was to me, face never turning to look as she accused me of something I've never done.
"I'm sorry mam, I'm just the cleaner that you've hired." I jiggled the bucket that was in my left hand, the soap and rags moving inside to validated my reasoning. My right hand was still on the knob from when I opened the door.
She never acknowledged me, just continuing as if I had never spoke. "I've been waiting for him to come. Waiting for him to save me."
Now not entirely sure that I was in the right apartment, I stopped the door with my foot as I took my phone out of my pocket to double check. Yup apartment 345, north street, second building. I looked at the door to confirmed. I slid the phone back into my overalls. "Are you expecting someone else mam? I can come back if now is now a good time." My body already turning to leave, waiting for her answer.
At this the woman cocked her head to the right, slightly turning to look at me without ever moving the rest of her body. Her silhouette looking more familiar. Her nose was long and straight, something about it seemed proud. However seeing more of her face, I could tell she was in eminence pain. "Leaving again?" Her voice was soft, but the words themselves, hard and filled with rage. I almost ran but something kept me. "After all this time you leave as soon as I had any strength to find you?" She turned to face me as she spoke.
By the time she was facing me completely I knew her. But I shouldn't have known her, it wasn't possible. I must have spoken my thoughts, because she laughed. Not how I imagined her laughter, soft and light, like bells on a wind chime on a summer's day. No this laugh had no humor, it was deprived of life, and sounded awkward, as if she hasn't done it in years. "Oh, trust me I know it mustn't be possible. No, but I made it possible. I gave what was left of my soul to Gatroth, and I found you!"
Gatroth....yes. Gatroth that was his name. He is evil, is only quest was to fine eternal life, something that could only be taken from the purest of souls, the Princess. She, the last remaining child of the late king, all before her falling to the same man. She was captured and was being tortured, but nothing he could do to take her life, her soul. Only those willing to give away their souls could give immortality as well. But her knights, the love of her life, Bartholomew, they were on the way to save her. They are climing the mountain the last I wrote.
He words from before registering in my mind. "He's Coming, Jenora." I practically whispered this.
"WHEN!!!??" Jenora screamed this so loud the frosted window shook. "Its been years since he captured me! The pain was so unbearable, Kelley." Her voice so soft at the end I wanted to lean in. She clutched what was left of the beautiful gown I put her in the day he kidnapped her, however the last i knew, it was still intact, only the most minor problems done do it. This looked like it was pushed down a garbage disposal. "He wouldn't stop, no matter how much I pleaded." Tears weld in her brown eyes. "He never once let me rest."
I reached for her but she pulled away. "I don't understand, you have only been taken for a few days, and I made sure that what he did to you was nothing." She scoffed " Flattery mostly, just trying to let you willingly do it, he only just started to do anything painful when Bartholomew.." I didn't have a chance to finish my sentence.
"NEVER SAY THAT NAME AGAIN!!" I coward away. This time I was out of the room entirely, my hand only resting on the outside keeping it open.
"I'm sorry. But..he..they are just on the bottom of the mountain. Preparing to climb as we speek."
"Maybe long ago. But now he sits on my throne."
"Impossible!" I yelled on his defense " He loves you. I wrote him that way."
"Well you never finished our story, so we did ourselves." She stepped closer, not yet leaving the room. "And ours end together."
Her hand reached out as the door shuts, cutting her off.
|
tehweave
|
Number03Kid
|
2024-03-12 21:49:01
|
2024-03-12 18:52:56
| 15 | 11 | null | null |
1bd1w5u
|
1bd1w5u
|
[WP] As the princess and heir apparent of the kingdom you are the most sought after woman in the whole kingdom, with suitors lining up every day to ask for your hand in marriage. Today you finally accept the proposal of a suitor, causing a massive scandal.
|
The man at the Annual Magical Cook-off stared down at the diminutive Aquaboy who showed up emptyhanded. "Fire mages can make the perfect roast. Ice mages can create shaved ice. Necromancers even bring walking ham that will slice themselves. What do you do? What can your meagre magic do at this most magical dining arena?"
"I talk to sea creatures who willingly turn themselves into seafood for me," the small boy answered confidently. "Do you want live lobster? It will be done."
"Hey kiddo," the wizarding bouncer shot him a death glare, convinced by his bravado. "We're fifty miles away from any body of water here. Fifty miles up in the air. This Culinary Castle is built on Archmage Sedrin's floating island. Lobsters can't fly."
"I managed to get up here. Surely, I must be capable, don't you think?"
The muscular mage guarding the entrance nodded. "Indeed, having the magic to arrive at Archmage Sedrin's floating island is the first test. To be able to be present for the Cook-off."
"Wanna know how I got here, then?" Aquaboy waved his hand at a massive shadow lurking behind the clouds.
"You plan to demonstrate regardless of my answer," the bouncer wasn't amused. "Well, show me."
Pushing past the clouds, the colossal leviathan bellowed a friendly roar, before unleashing the multitude of sea creatures it had stored in its huge jaws. Crabs, lobsters, octopi, all manner of marine animals filled out the Culinary Castle's grand entrance, awaiting orders.
Aquaboy gestured to them all. "May I enter to compete now?"
"...yes, please proceed."
The fire mages were silent, their roast venison, beef and pork left hanging in the air above flickering flames. Ice mages were too distracted to continually sustain their shaved ice and ice creams, leaving huge puddles of melted ice and cream oozing on the floor. Even the walking hams dropped their knives, though it wasn't like they had eyes to stare at the huge scene Aquaboy and his submission had caused.
That towering mound of live oysters, steamed crabs, boiled lobsters, smoked salmons and...octopi that refused to be sashimi all dancing to Aquaboy's radio, which he carried on his shoulders with the leviathan swishing its tail to his beat.
"Is that allowed?" An ice mage demanded to know from the judges.
"I'll allow it," Archmage Sedrin declared. "That boy's a competitor. Young man, are you submitting all of that?"
Aquaboy bowed and waved. "I'll be submitting these sumptuous seafood as my entry to the Annual Magical Cook-off. Minus the leviathan. That one is my friend, not food. The rest are fair game."
"And fair game they are," the archmage agreed. "I daresay your entry is more unique than the usual fire mage roast or druidic vegetables. Bring them up, I'll taste what you have to offer first."
-------
[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/)
|
The king of the eighteen kingdoms had fallen. That's right eighteen. Seven of them were won in wars and the other were won by diplomacy. There were no immediate heirs in his bloodline. The king was an only child, and only had one child, a daughter he rarely saw. Her mother passed away while she was quite young and the kind couldn't bare to love another.
It was brought up for discussion if one of the bloodlines of the previous kings would have a right. But they could never reach an agreement. The kingdom would fragment into different fractions. Although the rulers never got along with one another their economies were highly dependent on one another. People were to accustomed candies, silk, books, new jobs, and peace. Who in the right mind would take on a kingdom of eighteen? But a kingdom of three or four seemed far less intimidating. They all knew it was wishful thinking that she could keep the kingdom together, especially because she was known to have a huge chip on her shoulder. But none of the other kings or knights had all that much going for them either. They all hoped that any son that she would have would have any easier time because of his family history.
Many of the old kings and knights immediately proposed to her. But she rejected each and every one of them just as quickly. Word spread and other knights from far away came asking for her hand in marriage. No other kind wished to do the same fearing the harm it would do to their reputation.
The throne room, where she'd give dictation, was made entirely of golden bricks: ell they weren't really golden -- they were just painted that way. She sat upon a a plain wooden chair. A chair that you could confuse for any other chair in the the entire kingdom.
"No," she said in a loud tone.
"No," she said immediately after the next one came in line"
"No," she said after the other.
"You're impossible" the knight yelled.
"You there," she said pointing to a man whose face was covered in soot who wore chainmail and ragged pants. "Who are you," she asked. "And what happened to your face.
The crowd moved away for him. And There stood two people beside him also covered in soot. There pants and shirts were also as ragged. The other man, more thinner and taller. On the other side there was a woman with raven hair woman an old bow with a few arrows. They were looking forward until they decided to look at him. When he didn't say anything, the woman elbowed him.
.
"I Thomas Kains," he said. I'm from Krisla, a small fishing village not far from here. I fought in the tournament in your honor. I apologize for my looks, but there was a fire at the mage facility not far from here and I had to put it out."
"hmmm, I don't recall you," she said. She never paid attention to those.
"If it makes any difference, I didn't make it very far," he said.
Everyone laughed.
She had a smirk on her face and gleam in her eyes. "You, I choose, You" she said in her commanding voice.
There were a few gasps, but otherwise the entire room went completely silent.
|
Tregonial
|
hysterical_writings
|
2024-11-29 13:34:46
|
2024-09-06 23:07:11
| 101 | 28 |
lzk2818
|
llvg8q5
|
1h2ju98
|
1famu0u
|
[WP] You realized your house is "haunted" by a poltergeist, but upon closer observation the ghost is actually helping you out with your day-to-day house chores
|
I flipped the hall light on, peering up and down the corridor, looking for the source of the noise. "The floorboards creak," the realtor had told me, "but in a hundred-year-old house, that's par for the course."
It wasn't the creaking boards I'd had a problem with. It was that they creaked by themselves, in the tempo of a footfalls at 3AM.
"Anybody there?" My tired voice croaked.
There was no answer. I was at both times frustrated and relieved. What if someone called back? I don't own a gun. I'm no fighter. But, the mystery that was waking me up in the middle of the night remained. If my house were broken into, at least I'd *know* what the sound was.
I flipped off the light and stepped back in the bedroom.
I was making mental notes in the dark. I'd need to call an exterminator and plumber, in case the noises were rates or old pipes rattling.
If neither of those worked, maybe I'd call a priest or something.
My mind began to swim with sleep, expounding on my thoughts, taking them to strange places. Exterminator priest. Rat priest. Rat church. Church of the Exterminator Rat. Stained glass windows of Rat Jesus breaking cheese for his Rat Disciples.
The footfalls returned, spurring me from my light sleep. I looked up quickly in time to see something slither out of my bedroom in the dark. I launched out of bed quickly, backing up to a wall. I meant to shout "Who's there!?" but what came out was a terrified "Whoooaaahh!?"
Fast steps fled down the hallway, heavy and unmistakable. I was able to discern the distance; the *clop clop* of heel-toe landings on the old hallway boards.
Shakily, I crept to the bedroom door and pulled it open, the whining creak of the hinges giving me a start. *Pull yourself together*, I told myself, *stop being a coward.* But I was a coward. I called myself nonviolent, pacifist, a "gentle spirit." I could sugarcoat it however I liked, but I was still a coward.
The hallway was still dark, but a whooshing sound was emanating through the house. After a few terrified moments, I could identify the strange sound.
*Is that my washer?*
I turned on every light on my way to the downstairs bathroom, where the washer and dryer were stacked in a closet. On the bathroom sink sat the tub of laundry detergent, with its measure-cup cap dripping with the green Granny-Smith-Apple-scented soap.
The washer was sloshing around the outfit I'd worn the day before. When had I done this? Was I sleep walking?
I looked to the clock on the wall. 3:42AM.
*Ugh.* Today was going to be hard.
"Well, I guess I'm up," I said aloud, to no one in particular.
I only became aware of my full bladder while I was standing in the bathroom, trying to piece together the pieces of this midnight puzzle. I relieved myself, bleary eyed, but wide awake.
My pee smelled like coffee.
A lot like coffee.
Gross.
I flushed. The coffee smell hanged in the air, so I sprayed some air freshener, perplexed that I could stink up a bathroom going number one.
As I stepped out of the bathroom, the coffee smell hit me stronger. I followed it to the kitchen, where my coffee pot burbled and dripped, hot steam rising from under its lid. When had I done *this*?
Closer inspection further revealed that my sink was empty of dirty dishes, my counter organized, magazines stacked and keys returned to their dish.
On my refrigerator, my collection of word magnets were rearranged.
HAVE - GOOD - DAY
SORRY - FOR - MAKE - AWAKE
ENJOY - COFFEE
LOVE - YOU
|
All Vex could think of was the feel of a small hand in hers and all those times it had slipped out purposely to look at a worm, to pet a dog, to reach a leaf shaped like a heart (which was then proudly presented).
As she sat at the bar, one hand held a glass of apple juice tightly. The other was opening and closing reflexively. The news on the TV was muted behind her but she knew what it was showing. The banner said something like 'Villain slain in dramatic showdown in city centre" "Heist foiled" with clips of the 4 "heroes" involved.
They had everything wrong. Her baby had just understood technology. For Vex it was beyond her, it was something she only ever worked with on a physical level. But her baby worked magic on anything with chips and code and she had always been so proud. She was powerful, not that she ever felt the need to use the full extent for her powers, but her child having dominion over a domain she didn't understand was wonderful and just a little charming.
Chip had always been a bit hard on himself despite anything Vex had consoled him with. What good were his powers? Why couldn't he be more like her, or be able to fly or fight. But the older he got, the more familiar he became with fake news, propaganda, and the injustice happening the world over he finally found his niche and she was happy to see him pick up the mantle of causing chaos and change.
Random and very damaging emails coming to light from politicians and their lobbyists, the reports made by companies regarding their sweatshops or environmental damage from their factories, a glitch repricing insulin to just cents for a week before anyone noticed.
Vex realised despite both him, and deep down her, thinking his power was useful but insignificant in comparison to others, it may have been that her son was one of the most effective at really attacking the system. It had got him on the radar of the rich, the powerful and the megalomaniac.
"Showdown"
What showdown? He never needed to physically be anywhere, he never even bothered getting a costume to disguise his identity. He could be working at undermining the 1% in a random coffee shop with free WiFi, or at home in his office. He was only ever in a graphic tee shirt and jeans.
This morning, at 11:16 Vex received a text. It said, "they are here Scared Love you mum".
Her power was huge, but it does not let her traverse distance. By the time she got to the city outskirts it was already over and her only boy was dead, labelled a terrorist tech villain.
Techrot they'd called him. Chip would have hated that.
"Hello Vex" came a soft voice between her and the lying screen behind her.
She didn't turn. Sensor took to the stool next to her and sighed.
There was an unbroken silence. She didn't need to look at him to see him. A tall man, broad shouldered, usually a wonky grin. He'd been her official nemesis since the old days as he was the only one who could ever find her.
Sensor collected her twitching hand and held it, "Vex, I'm so sorry. He wasn't a bad kid. He didn't deserve this.".
She scoffed. Damn right he didn't.
"A few of the old guard have contacted me. They know this isn't right. The world's changed without us noticing and it's sick to the core".
He got something out his pocket, a folded piece of scrap paper, and placed it on the counter.
"When you are ready. Call us."
He let go of her hand, stood, and kissed the top of her head and left.
She reached for the paper and memorised the contents. Vex let it fall from her hand and before it could hit the counter, it had disintegrated into nothing.
|
Protowriter469
|
whysys
|
2023-03-25 21:12:41
|
2023-01-21 07:31:48
| 50 | 34 |
jdo1t17
|
j594s4p
|
121mfme
|
10gt3vv
|
[WP] You realized your house is "haunted" by a poltergeist, but upon closer observation the ghost is actually helping you out with your day-to-day house chores
|
I flipped the hall light on, peering up and down the corridor, looking for the source of the noise. "The floorboards creak," the realtor had told me, "but in a hundred-year-old house, that's par for the course."
It wasn't the creaking boards I'd had a problem with. It was that they creaked by themselves, in the tempo of a footfalls at 3AM.
"Anybody there?" My tired voice croaked.
There was no answer. I was at both times frustrated and relieved. What if someone called back? I don't own a gun. I'm no fighter. But, the mystery that was waking me up in the middle of the night remained. If my house were broken into, at least I'd *know* what the sound was.
I flipped off the light and stepped back in the bedroom.
I was making mental notes in the dark. I'd need to call an exterminator and plumber, in case the noises were rates or old pipes rattling.
If neither of those worked, maybe I'd call a priest or something.
My mind began to swim with sleep, expounding on my thoughts, taking them to strange places. Exterminator priest. Rat priest. Rat church. Church of the Exterminator Rat. Stained glass windows of Rat Jesus breaking cheese for his Rat Disciples.
The footfalls returned, spurring me from my light sleep. I looked up quickly in time to see something slither out of my bedroom in the dark. I launched out of bed quickly, backing up to a wall. I meant to shout "Who's there!?" but what came out was a terrified "Whoooaaahh!?"
Fast steps fled down the hallway, heavy and unmistakable. I was able to discern the distance; the *clop clop* of heel-toe landings on the old hallway boards.
Shakily, I crept to the bedroom door and pulled it open, the whining creak of the hinges giving me a start. *Pull yourself together*, I told myself, *stop being a coward.* But I was a coward. I called myself nonviolent, pacifist, a "gentle spirit." I could sugarcoat it however I liked, but I was still a coward.
The hallway was still dark, but a whooshing sound was emanating through the house. After a few terrified moments, I could identify the strange sound.
*Is that my washer?*
I turned on every light on my way to the downstairs bathroom, where the washer and dryer were stacked in a closet. On the bathroom sink sat the tub of laundry detergent, with its measure-cup cap dripping with the green Granny-Smith-Apple-scented soap.
The washer was sloshing around the outfit I'd worn the day before. When had I done this? Was I sleep walking?
I looked to the clock on the wall. 3:42AM.
*Ugh.* Today was going to be hard.
"Well, I guess I'm up," I said aloud, to no one in particular.
I only became aware of my full bladder while I was standing in the bathroom, trying to piece together the pieces of this midnight puzzle. I relieved myself, bleary eyed, but wide awake.
My pee smelled like coffee.
A lot like coffee.
Gross.
I flushed. The coffee smell hanged in the air, so I sprayed some air freshener, perplexed that I could stink up a bathroom going number one.
As I stepped out of the bathroom, the coffee smell hit me stronger. I followed it to the kitchen, where my coffee pot burbled and dripped, hot steam rising from under its lid. When had I done *this*?
Closer inspection further revealed that my sink was empty of dirty dishes, my counter organized, magazines stacked and keys returned to their dish.
On my refrigerator, my collection of word magnets were rearranged.
HAVE - GOOD - DAY
SORRY - FOR - MAKE - AWAKE
ENJOY - COFFEE
LOVE - YOU
|
It's been a long time since my "nemesis", Rodger Dodger- darkened my door.
Back in my youth, I was the Scourge of Cities, rebuilding metal into something beautiful without thought of those that resided in those skyscrapers I took for slag. My powers were beyond anyone in the world. No one could match my level. No one could stop me turning it all into what I desired. I desired domination of all so I can take what was broken and repair it.
These skyscrapers could have been homes for the homeless. These supermarkets with food abundance should be free so no one starved. When there was hoarded abundance I would fix the problem. It wasn't fair. It was never fair.
RD changed my mind. Asked me why break and rebuild when I could use what was there and gently nudge it into place. Why not equip others with the skills they would need to make the world a better place? I couldn't watch and make sure it all stayed in place forever.
So I shed the identity of the Scourge of Cities, to become something... smaller. Sillier. Something harmless.
I like to think of myself as a dungeon master, guiding hero's through trials. I get them to work together, work on their flaws, realize their strengths. I run them around, push them to their limits- but they were never in danger. Their success was my success. It ment they could put those skills to work. Make the world a better place.
And sure, sometimes I do things such as make all the furniture in a heroes apartment stick to the ceiling. A minor inconvience to their day when I'm feeling like Cadet Marsha has got a stick up her ass. Sometimes I needed a laugh.
A generation passed. Maybe two? The faces blur together, the spandex recycled. Cadet Marsha, Cadet Marshall- they pass on identies. RD was immortal like robots would be. He watched over the heroes, fighting their battles- and I would give those heroes the needed training they would need to face threats that without me they would be ill equipped for.
So I decided. If the heroes where having children, passing on their knowledge and experience, why couldn't I do the same? So I made a child. I raised them, showed them everything I knew, to create from their surroundings. To build, to plan-
And on their first time out, their villainous laugh still off pitch and their powers still unmastered- they were killed.
"It was an accident." RD told me.
Accident? No. It was not. They used deadly force. I had watched it from the cameras of the museum they had fought in.
"I missed out on my date because of some Jester wannabe?" One of the teenagers yelled. "Fuck it, wrap it up. I want to go back to the diner."
My child dodged their attacks, because they still didn't know their own strength, didn't want to damage the artefacts around them. And when they stopped to speak they managed to pin them-
"Accident." I repeated.
And since they always defeated me, as I yell out curses as I disappeared into a puff of smoke in a theatric way- they didn't see me as an actual threat, just a nuisance villain of the week to dispatch of and move to the next. This new generation wast taking away what I was trying to teach them. So I passed it to my child to deal with them as I began on a project in the desert. Maybe I was to out of touch. Maybe I needed to find new ways to guide the new generation. The same tricks become passed down and easier to manage.
I should have trained my child better. I should have been here.
"It wasn't fair." I said, sheding the Jester persona, feeling how my body itched like it had been held too tightly for years.
|
Protowriter469
|
RedChessQueen
|
2023-03-25 21:12:41
|
2023-01-21 04:03:12
| 50 | 36 |
jdo1t17
|
j58l681
|
121mfme
|
10gt3vv
|
[WP] Whenever you die you resurrect on the last day on which you could possibly have prevented your death with all your memories. Usually it only takes you back a few days, a couple of weeks in extreme cases. Today you died and awoke decades in the past.
|
I called them flashbacks. The first time it happened, I was eight. I had been on my roof, wearing a Superman cape. I definitely remember jumping, and when I didn't fly, I was surprised. But that surprise was short-lived and paled in comparison to my surprise when I was standing back in my bedroom ten minutes ago, tying the cape around my neck. Nobody believed me, and after a couple of months of therapy, they all assumed I had hallucinated it somehow.
The longest time it happened, I was fifteen and tall for my age. I was hanging out with kids a couple years older than me who said I was cool. Pete taught me how to hotwire a car, and Jake had a big brother who'd buy us beers. It was only a little more than two weeks but it was almost a lifetime. In one sense, it was a lifetime, because it ended about as well as you'd expect. I watched Pete and Jake climb out of the burning car, leaving me behind, about ten minutes before I heard an explosion. And suddenly, just like that, I was standing on the sidewalk in the sunshine, about a block away from them, where we'd met for the first time.
I guess I figured it was a flash vision. So in my mind, I called it a flashback.
This time, I have no idea what happened. All I know is that this morning I was sixty-five, going in for a heart surgery, and now I'm standing in my high school bedroom looking at my tennis shoes. I think it was probably the day I gave up running.
Guess I'm going for a run.
|
It was dark, and warm. People often called the blank page an empty canvas, a sheet with nothing, and thus, everything; tabula rasa. But dark, this dark, I would argue for.
Muddling through murky memories, I remember first a sense of coincidence. Like the feeling of waking from a dream. And yet it had continued, and so I began to wonder about it. And I came to a conclusion.
The time spent living, another morning breathing in cold spikes of air, one more day feeling the sun against my face, was no more vivid than the precious time cut short. They were both real, or unreal.
I spent my time doing one thing, but could’ve spent it doing another. I could have a meal with a friend, and then never have met them.
First love thrills felt more than once, and wrinkles spreading across my parents face, then vanishing, not unlike the cycle of seasons. The sun had set trillions of times, but it has, and will, always appeal to me.
Cause each second spent living, was another second lost, or gained. Each moment was a step on the trail towards a dark breeze that leveled all near it.
The walls rippled, and the dark shifted, black waves parting to reveal a spot of light. The sound of groans, and hurried encouragements.
This was the beginning of the trail. There was an end, unknown, but undoubtedly existing. I could see numerous footsteps trodden on the dirt, leaving marks carved into the ground. Forward, back, and forward again.
“Push. PUSH!”
A splash of light, growing, spreading, and exploding. The dark was gone, and once again, I took my first step.
|
prozacandcoffee
|
bassheroe
|
2023-05-08 22:13:07
|
2023-05-08 21:45:55
| 398 | 33 |
jje75o5
|
jje3bz3
|
13c1zm4
|
13c1zm4
|
[WP] "I should've been a hero instead of following my family's legacy" a villain sighed to himself while rescuing civillians trapped under the rubbles of destroyed buildings caused by the reckless and arrogant hero who's still telling the fakest story to his Twitch fans while striking poses
|
"We have an obligation," my father used to say.
"We are cut from the discarded, dirty cloth that breeds our kind. There will never be a place for us to be accepted among the heroes, and so we fulfill the need for them to exist. We never tempt fate, we simply compel them to act. In doing so, we maintain a balance, son. In doing so, we make sure that mortalkind knows there are bigger things than them. They can squabble amongst themselves all they wish, but when they see the greater eyes that look down upon them like ants beneath a magnifying glass, they know that their inner wars are pointless, that they must focus on either appeasing a higher power that barely registers their existence -- or wiping it from the face of the earth entirely. Mortalkind, however, is mortal -- their experiences are limited, their intelligence passed down and warped from generation to generation. They'll never amount to the latter ambition, and even if they did, there will always be someone or something stronger who will impose their will and might on civilization. The universe is vast and dangerous, and it's imperative that the human perspective includes this. That's why they need heroes like them -- and villains like us."
As I recalled his words, I groaned beneath the massive weight of the concrete siding that rested on my back, pushing me closer and closer to the ground. I gritted my teeth and my brow furrowed as I tried to push back with all my might, staring through the panicked eyes of the child laying on the ground below me and into the rubble that lay beneath him. The groan became an exasperated grunt as the concrete shifted again, bringing me down to one knee. With as much awareness as I could muster, my blurred vision focused on the child, and I blurted out a weak word.
"Go."
He didn't move. I tried again, louder this time. "Go!"
Still, he was frozen, and I knew what needed to happen. Putting on an expression of psychotic rage, my eyes lit up and released a double beam of pure superheated energy, landing near the child's feet. Taking care to carve through the rubble near him, I inched the beam just close enough to his body for him to feel the danger of the heat, causing him to jolt and roll away from the beam and out from under the shadow of what was almost his death. As soon as he was out of range, I folded beneath the siding of the apartment building that stood tall just two minutes ago, letting the concrete slam into my body and shatter into the dirt. Luckily, it didn't hurt, but while I was as close to invulnerable as one could get without being immortal, I wasn't that strong, not as strong as... him.
As the dust cleared, I lay in a fetal position, trying to catch a breath as I listened to my nemesis blather on into a smartphone camera. If I focused, I could hear all those stupid chimes from the rewards his followers would send him. Each and every one sounded like a death knell, signifying the end of the Age of Heroes. I grumbled at the thought.
*"Yes! Thank you, thank you for the... the GGs there, smartguy22! ...Victoria, if you don't stop advertising your OnlyFans on my Live, I will have to get the mods to ban you; we don't want that, right? This is about heroism, after all! The world needs to know that we're out here saving you all from the bad guys! Thank you, the... the yet... I'm not even gonna try to pronounce that. You guys gotta put some dashes or those little bottom lines in between the words in your username, ha ha..."*
It was all so disappointing. I remember my father talking about the nemeses he used to have. They were proper heroes, upheld their morals and tried their best to show humanity the difference between right and wrong. He would tuck me in at night and tell me about the fights they had, like they were bedtime stories dreamed up to get a kid to go to sleep. Sometimes, if I was lucky, they'd even come over and hang out. Back then, they were able to put aside their differences and realize what needed to be done. Now, it's all for fame. Honor and integrity fell to the wayside.
There was a shift in the rubble. I could tell he was getting ready to pull me out from beneath all the ruin. It was time to play weak.
As the sunlight filtered in and covered the ground in large, bright patches, I positioned my body to look as defeated as possible without giving away that I hadn't been hurt in the slightest. Chunks of concrete were lifted off of me and tossed to the side with no effort at all and, soon, I was ripped up from beneath the collapsed siding and lifted to be paraded around for all the apartment residents who now had a fresh, open-air view to the outside. As I feigned unconsciousness, I could hear their boos as they tossed at my limp body whatever objects they could get their hands on, as if I was the one who caused an entire side of their building to collapse. They didn't see him throw the punch and knock out the supporting column. They didn't see the kid I saved.
As the police and special agencies started filing in, I pretended to rouse from my imposed slumber. They slapped the suppression cuffs on me -- useless, but I didn't protest -- and led me to the containment chamber in the back of the armored truck. As I moved, I felt a pair of eyes on me and when I turned to see who it was, I noticed the kid standing in the alleyway, clutching a teddy bear with a missing leg to his chest. Down near his right foot, I could make out the red skin from the heat of the beam. I don't know if anyone else noticed, but in that moment, I smiled at him. It wasn't one that said "you haven't seen the last of me," but "you're still alive. Good."
I spent a long time in a cold cell after that. They charged me with all kinds of things, things that would stick because, in the world at large, I was a villain. They needed a scapegoat and I fit the bill. All in all, I was given 40 years in a special facility where they kept others like me.
But, one day, I received a visitor, away from prying eyes.
When I entered the private room, I came face to face with the man who once served as my father's nemesis. He retired years before I entered into villainy, years after my father died as a result of radiation poisoning. He looked a lot more distinguished than I remembered him being. In my youth, his normal persona liked Hawaiian shirts, khaki shorts, and rainbow sliders, but here he was in a pressed suit, black on black. His gray hair was slicked back, and he sat with his hands folded on the steel table in front of him.
"It's been a long time, kid," he said gruffly, motioning to the seat across from his own. "About time we had a talk."
**(1/2)**
|
Darkness shrouds the Slayer. She stalks slowly. On her right, she sees tattered clothes, ripped blankets, dirty robes, and other ornate garnets. More importantly, she sees charcoal black skulls in front of her left side. Holding her lantern, she dims the light.
“Someone else is here,” she thinks to herself. The burnt bones look like ornaments. The garnets are old but are clearly been sat on recently. “Maybe the dragon has taken a slave,” she wonders to herself. She checks her daggers, her long swords, and shield. Adinessa knows she might fight a zealot or a beast. She must be ready for either.
Adinessa lowers her lantern and takes our her crossbow. She picks up her lantern again as she aims with her crossbow awaiting for a lunatic to charge towards her. A thunderous clank echoes in front of her. The monster might have just awaken. Adinessa has faced countless creatures of all kinds. The key is to never hesitate, always commit to a decision.
The slayer takes out the candle from her lantern. “I have less than an hour left,” she thinks. Adinessa places her lantern in a corner of the cave. Searching through her environment, she finds a large rock to hide behind. Planting her crossbow on top of the boulder. She moves further back as she begins to smash her long swords together.
A thunderous clank begins to get louder. It’s coming, she says to herself.
Adinessa moves back to her crossbow. The dragon will be here soon. She wants to get a good shot of the dragons eye. That will keep the monster busy enough for her to move in for a stronger attack.
The thunderstorm of rattles grows louder and louder. Remember, she cannot hesitate a decision. She must commit to her decision. Once’s she sees-
The dragon?
A small hatchling scurries around the cave, sniffing around. How did this tiny creature scare a village for gold? Why would they pay for a Slayer? Are they that scared of this beast becoming worst.
Adinessa slowly and softly says, “Hey their little one.” The hatchling smiles. “You want some gold?,” Adinessa jokingly states. She walks with less speed on each step. “Why don’t y-“
She’s tackled by a mysterious figure in a cloak.
(Gotta go to work)
EDIT:
They both roll over multiple times fighting for dominance. The slayer is confident she has this victory. The cloaked figure grabs a small stone on the ground and swings it towards Adinessa. She raises her hand block it in time and looks the the figure.
“Oi, you’re just a little hatchling too?”
The child throws dirt at her face. She stumbles. He shuffles away towards the dragon. He hugs the dragon. “Little Fire, are you alright?,” he asks as he inspects the hatchling. The dragon begins to lick the child’s face.
“Alright,” Adinessa exclaims as she rises, “we are going to have a talk little one.”
The child holds the dragon. The slayer starts walking more aggressively towards the two younglings. The kid puts his hood back on and points at Adinessa, “Drako!,” he shouts. The dragon huffs and releases a large flames from it’s mouth. With little time to react, the Slayer slides behind their boulder.
“So, much for Little Fire,” Adinessa says to herself. “Did you give the beats that name to be ironic or something, boy?” She shouts. No response. Using her shield as a mirror she sees the two pups scurry away. As Adinessa stands up, she grabs all of her gear. Long swords back on her back. Daggers on her side. Shield on her left hand. Her lantern on her right hand. She starts jogging further into the cave.
She reaches muddy dirt around her. Adinessa can hear a stream nearby. Moving forward she can see a large hold. Looking inside she can see water pouring on. No telling where it leads. Maybe they went more into the cave. There’s fresh water on top of the hole. Might be because they jumped in. Might be because they dropped a large stone to trick her. Not being a fan of getting wet and unsure if she’ll waste time exploring the cave, Adinessa decides to return to the small village.
Upon arriving, she asks the nearest villager about the dragon. How did the dragon has been demanding for gold for years. She asks how the dragon looks. She asks question after question. One of the villagers runs towards the Slayer with a question of their own.
“Did you slay the dragon?”
“Unfortunately, the beast got away. Have you ever seen the dragon?”
The villager changes expressions as he asks, “what do you mean? We’ve seen the dragon fly. We’ve seen the destruction in its wake. What is going on Slayer?”
Adinessa answers, “that’s what I am trying to find out. How has the dragon made these demands?”
The villager stutters for a bit, “w- we- Wu- eel- well, usually an orphaned child will come to us letting us know how much gold the dragon needs from us to stop destroying our land and live in peace. We’ve always paid the best we can, but… but… we don’t have enough money. Whenever we don’t have enough money we lose more money to that damn dragon. We have had it. We rather pay for a Slayer to take care of the matter.
“How much gold do you have now?” Adinessa asks.
“We have about, 40 pounds but the dragon is asking for more than 100 pounds of gold by the end of the week, and we can’t make that.”
“40 pounds? That’s not even half the price you’ve promised me!” The slayer says in response to this information.
“I swear to ya me lady, we are good for it. We’ll pay you as soon as we can- 40 is all we have.”
Adinessa puts her hand in her face as she mutters, “this is why you always need to get paid upfront and stop being nice to poor villagers.”
“I can’t do the job,” she says as she lowers her hand back down.
“What? No. No. No! You’ve already agreed,” the villager states.
“I haven’t agreed to anything because I haven’t been properly compensated and you don’t have the money available.”
“Dragon Slayer, plea-“
“Stop it. You’ve already admitted to not being able to reach 100 pounds by the end of the week, and I was promised 120 pounds once the dragon is slayed.” Adinessa stares at the villagers as she begins to turn around.
“Wait. No! Please” the villager shouts as Adinessa walks out of town.
Moments later a child runs towards the village shouting, “the dragon is angry! The dragon is angry! The dragon is angry!” The little girl tells everyone once she’s in the town. “You all shouldn’t have hired a dragon slayer. She failed and it only angered the evil dragon. The dragon now demands for 200 pounds or else more of our land will be destroyed.”
The villagers cower in fear and begin to argue with each other.
What they don’t see is Adinessa hiding behind a tree listening to everything. She plans to learn more about this fearsome dragon, Little Fire.
(Done)
[+]
|
tssmn
|
Plebe-Uchiha
|
2023-11-11 03:47:39
|
2023-07-14 20:14:51
| 293 | 11 |
k8qp06f
| null |
17skc4e
|
14zb4m1
|
[WP] An order of magicians attempts to summon a child hero with a pure heart to save their world from evil forces. They instead get his 40-something-year old dad, with a shotgun.
|
About 50 dudes wearing dresses look up owlishly at me. "So." I snap the breach of Betsy closed after I finish loading her. "Ancient order of magicians, right?"
One brave soul nods. "Need a child of pure heart to save the entire world from cataclysm, yeah?" The brave one nods again.
"Well tonight's a school night and he has a maths exam tomorrow. Final one before he graduates. So you're getting me. Whattda I have ta kill?"
At this point one of the not so brave ones starts sniffling, wails "We're doomed." and begins to bawl his eyes out. Pretty soon nearly all of them are crying. Even the brave one has tears in his eyes. Sniffling, he gently gestures for me to accompany him to a quieter corner away from the gnashing of teeth.
_sniff_ "We don't need a fighter. We need a child, well a teen actually. Pure of heart." He obviously spots the look of confusion on my face, which was frankly impressive considering the tears welling up in his. He's so miserable he starts doing that hiccoughing thing as he speaks.
"It's the newest Goddess. (hicc) She's just been ... formed is the best description. (hicc) And there's already a prophesy saying that if she doesn't (hicc) learn about the power of friendship like _right now_, she will grow into a bitter God who destroys the world. And Gods grow _fast_. (hicc) We've got 8 years at the most."
"So." he continues "You see why we tried to summon a child with the purest soul? (hicc) To be her friend. And we've somehow screwed up our only chance to (hicc) save the world. No (hicc) offence."
Sighing, I snap Betsy's breach open and start removing the cartridges. "Okay. Got a better idea of the situation now. Sorry about coming on so strong." I hand him the shotgun while I pocket the cartridges.
"I'm going to need two doll houses, a ton of books, fiction and non-fiction, a tea set, some dolls, male and female, and mix their professions up a bit would you? Some female fire-fighters and male nurses. That sort of thing. A chemistry set, a microscope, a ..."
"I'm sorry (hicc). What?"
I sigh and pat him on the shoulder. "From what you've said, it sounds like you've got a very smart, potentially very powerful but very lonely little girl who needs a friend to play with, right? Well you're in luck, because I've also raised a daughter just like that. She's a CEO nowadays."
Then a thought occurs to me. "But can you send a message to my kids to let them know I'm okay?" He thinks for a minute and nods.
"Excellent. They're pretty self-sufficient, but I don't want them worrying. I know that Sarah will help Sam out with the graduation. And hey, if you're right and my Sam really is the purest of heart in the known Multiverse, I must be doing _something_ right, huh?"
|
A hush fell over the temple. What child was so tall? A beard? No, this man was too old to teach the art. He would be dead within a week from the strain. It would be months before they had the strength to return him, and then months again before they could try again.
"I'm Tony. I'm here to solve your problem."
A murmur shimmered through the room as the robed figures spoke and thought to one another. The weapon, a "shotgun," looked pitiful in his hands compared to the Dawncleave they needed him to wield.
"You... said you needed a young hero with a pure heart. Well, my son is pure of heart, but dumb of ass. He spent all week helping his classmates on his project, so now he has to spend the weekend doing his own. Ah well. So these evil forces, where are they?"
he felt, rather than heard it. "Your offer is kind, but your neuroplasticity is too limited to shape into the form needed to -"
Tony waved an impatient hand, as if to clear smoke from in front of his face. "You weren't going to be able to change the boy's brain either. He would've just built a robot. Probably a really good one. Oh well, it's fine. Where is the bad thing?"
One of the robed figures stepped forward, holding a seven foot long axe. The blade edge glowed slightly, and flickering shadows followed its every move. "This is the Dawncleave, might axe of Dentabune Craigfast." Tony shifted impatiently from one foot, to another.
"This is a shotgun. It blasts holes in things. Where. Is. The. Problem?"
The robed figured set the axe down on the floor gently, and pulled back her hood. "Fine. Let's go blast some holes in things with your shotgun. I doubt most of our enemy's allies will even notice such a crude weapon."
She beckoned him to the adjoining chamber. "This is the least of what you will face." He frowned at the spindly, animated wooden horror.
"Wow. Looks pretty nasty. Very sharp. Welp, let's see how ol' Vittoria handles it!" He cracked the breach, shoved a shell into one of the barrels, and swung the shotgun closed. "Ya'll should cover your ears. Maybe a silence spell, but it's usually not enough." He popped in some high-density foam earplugs. He offered a pair to the robed figure standing next to him, but she waved them away bemused, casting a spell on the shotgun instead.
**BLAM**
...
*EEEEEEEeeeeeeeee........"---warned ya! Don't worry, your hearing will come back. Probably. Anyhow, I think that's that handled."
She shook her head slightly to clear it, and her jaw dropped. The automaton was shattered into pieces, inert.
"How big is the biggest one?"
She held a hand up to her neck, then spread her arms about as wide as her shoulders.
"Hmmm, I'll use both barrels for that one." A wide, slightly maniacal grin spread across his face. "Alright, let's go chop that wooden jerk into mulch!"
|
joalheagney
|
None
|
2023-04-15 14:01:31
|
2023-04-15 07:47:12
| 23 | 16 |
jgcwtgl
|
jgc0w2a
|
12mdo51
|
12mdo51
|
[WP] Not all Dragons hoard gold. Some run the greatest libraries and repositories of knowledge in the world, others search for the greatest experiences and sights the worlds can offer. One dragon has a rather unusual fascination.
|
"What, you want gold or something?"
"Well, no, not really. But that artillery has caught my eye."
"The what?" The clerk asked, baffled. The specialist the government had reached out to was unusual, as it was a dragon, and had declined most forms of payment available for the work. The drake nodded with a slight grin.
"Not all dragons hoard gold you know."
"I'll have to contact my boss, I can't exactly authorize the trade of military hardware." The clerks explanation was cut off as the drake waved a clawed hand.
"I know, I know. Take the time you need to get that sorted. I'm interested in weapons of war; artillery, tanks, atmocraft, spacecraft. I'll be waiting." The drake turned away from the clerk and opened a portal. The land beyond the portal was full of machines of destruction, and a great fleet of warships hung in the skies.
Follow the adventure at r/PrimusWrites
|
The inside of the Hatching House was loud and lively. Caroline, the mother dragon, smiled at her children.
Anna and Timothy were practicing flying togethor. Caroline made a mental note to stop them if they flew too high. Simon, Chloe, and Alexander were playing Dragons, Princesses and Knights, pretending to have a posh tea party. Mia and Steven were busy discussions g their favorite books.
Caroline felt a burst of pride as she looked around her orphanage. Her wonderful family, her beautiful hoard. Her smart, brave and kind children. Some dragons collected treasure. Others hoarded books and knowledge. Caroline gathered and cared for children. Her family was an odd mix of humans and dragons, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
“Tommy!” Caroline rushed to scold the baby dragon. The hatchling froze, with his mouth right above Charle’s ehad. “Do not eat your brother.”
“Sorry Mom!”
|
Primus_Drago
|
Satyr_2008
|
2023-04-23 18:17:57
|
2023-04-23 17:51:40
| 61 | 38 |
jhf6mkw
|
jhf2rku
|
12wghc8
|
12wghc8
|
[WP] There is a dungeon deemed "coughing baby easy", used by everyone to train rookies, test spells, and as a hangout spot for ordinary children. A roaming frenzied super monster from the MOST dangerous region just took one look at it, froze, became scarily aware of where it was, then fled.
|
"So have you concluded your investigation on what caused that dragon to flee from the sapling dungeon?"
"Yes. I had to go back through centuries of history but I found it."
"And what did you find?"
"In short; it's a mimic."
"What."
"A mimic that used to live in the forest. There were first warnings about a chest, then a cupboard, then a hut, then a house before finally a cave. Centuries passed with warnings passed down about the danger of the cave that eats people being ignored and forgotten over time. Enough time passes and some curious child stumbles into what looks like a dungeon, comes out relatively unharmed and with some rudimentary fighting experience and here we are."
"And why doesn't it eat people anymore?"
"Yeah... So you know how there's those crocodiles that allow birds to peck insects and scraps from their teeth?"
"Don't tell me..."
"Yep, we're the birds."
"And the dragon?"
"Dinner."
|
*It's an old dungeon, long since mined of all that could be worthwhile. Even the mana that should be, is now so thin that at best it might sustain a few harmless demonic insect*
The ancient spirit shuddered, barely able to maintain its corporeal form
*As you can see, many children come by. The dungeon is kept harmless. A safe zone if you will. This is an INTENTIONAL design. Do you understand?*
The ancient spirit threatened to dissipate completely under such close, malicious scrutiny. Slowly, barely, it managed the equivalence of a nod.
The pressure was released, and the creature left. it moved faster than could be perceived, the result of a product of millenia of evolution and competition focusing every ounce of power it had on mindless escape.
As it left, the goddess returned to her mourning. The loss of her child was a pain she could not and had no desire to ever forget. She would spend the rest of her eternity here, protecting her child's final clumsy creation from the taint of violent death.
|
HairyHorux
|
unchosen0ne
|
2025-03-14 10:02:32
|
2025-03-14 07:38:40
| 64 | 31 |
mhq10zl
|
mhpn8z4
|
1jac43n
|
1jac43n
|
[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."
|
I walked up to the mountains, begrudgingly dragging my feet through the dirt.
"Become a knight, they said.
It will be honorable, and respectable they said." I muttered, going to the dragon's lair...again.
For the princess has been kidnapped by the dragon...again.
I just want to spend one of my weekends free, maybe trying to get into a relationship or I don't know...make friends!
As I arrive at the top of the mountain, the dragon is waiting for me.
"Ah, Lilith, the weird named knightess!" the dragon exclaimed.
The princess was behind the dragon...reading a book.
Yep, that's it.
I knew something was wrong the 2nd time the princess was kidnapped, and by the time the number of kidnappings reached the two digits zone, I was certain, and this sight just made it reach over 100%.
"You two can shove this act up your asses.
I don't care anymore." I said, turning around to leave.
"Wait!" the princess shouted.
"What?
You two are clearly in love, or at least good friends.
The hell am I doing then, wasting my free time on you, and basically achieving the same social life as a hermit wizard, while I am a young knight living in the Capital!" I said.
"Lilith...our fights made you famous, it's not that..." the dragon started.
"Who the fuck cares about fame?
My oath is to serve, and protect the weak, that's what I have been upholding, not this fame.
"The whitehaired Saintess" peh, I am a goddamn swordswoman." I said, leaving.
This time, the dragon's tail blocked my way.
"Want me to chop it off...again?" I asked, turning around to look at the dragon.
"We..." the princess started.
"I don't care.
In love, friends, siblings but one of you was cursed, soul mates, research partners, you can be whatever you want.
I don't care about this mission anymore, I am going back home, and joining the festivities this weekend." I said.
"Sorry Lilith, we didn't know." the dragon said, transforming into his dragon form.
The princess took his hand.
"We are coming with you, and explaining all this to Father." the princess said.
I rolled my eyes.
"After 2 years of shenanigans, it's time.
Also, I am happy for you and all that, just leave me out of trouble." I said, leaving.
They laughed, and followed me back to the Capital, where they will hopefully explain to the King what was going on, and I will get my weekends back.
|
"I would like to talk to you about the two types of dragon. About the difference between good dragons and evil. I'm sure you know that good dragons do not care about hording treasure. They don't have endless piles of useless trinkets they protect religiously, in contrast to evil dragons, who amass sizable hordes of gold, silver, gemstones, rare artifacts and magical items.
However, this is a misconception. There isn't really "good" and "evil" dragons. It is merely a difference in what they value. The dragons that most humans would describe as evil are obsessed with things, with material objects that have great worth. Dragons that humans would describe as good are obsessed with people. A "good" dragon does not have a horde, but a territory. In that territory, the people are its treasure. They know every man, woman and child. They watch their lives from afar, seeing generations unfold and grow. Seeing a babe grow into adulthood, to fall in love and create new treasures, is one of a dragon's greatest joys in life. Some will leave it like that, while others will make their feelings known. On special occasions, holidays and festivals, they may fly down to feel what it is like to be surrounded by the beings they love so dearly. They protect them from invaders and interlopers, find food in times of famine and rescue those in peril. Often such dragons are worshipped as guadians by the thankful populace.
Of course, times aren't always happy in a dragon's territory. In times of plagues and disaster, the roars of a dragon can often be heard, a fury against a unfair world that would snuff out so many of their precious people. And occasionally, people will need to move away from a dragon's territory. While a dragon loves every one of their people, they will allow them to leave, for same reason they don't horde them in a cave like the other kind of dragon. If you were accepted by a dragon as their treasure, it matters not how far you go, or how long you are gone for, you will always be their treasure. Even if you leave to find your fortune in the capital and fall in love with the heir to a wealthy guildmaster who becomes your husband.
An "evil" dragon will burn down a kingdom to get back a single stolen coin. What do you think my godmother would do to you once word got back to the village how bandits kidnapped me? Shh. Do you hear that? It's the growing sound of wingbeats. A dragon comes to reclaim the treasure you so ignorantly stole. What will you do now?"
|
TheWanderingBook
|
PrinceCheddar
|
2025-01-13 04:45:11
|
2023-01-28 21:58:22
| 28 | 21 |
mtn67n5
|
j6aa6av
|
1kso6po
|
10nb6cj
|
[WP] You are usually a smart ass while you fight your villains and you'll keep being that way. Until a new villain showed up and kidnapped your family trimg to get at you. You now are teaching them the meaning of the phrase "beware the fury of a kind man."
|
Armstrong has never been known to take fights with his Rogue's gallery seriously, always joking and quipping throughout their encounters. Though it wasn't because they weren't a threat, they'd hurt enough people and broken enough laws to prove that they should be taken seriously. No, it was because his villains had an unspoken set of codes that none of them was willing to break.
Never hurt innocent civilians.
Women and children can be hostages, but must never be harmed.
No killing cops, they're just doing their jobs.
But above all else, NEVER mess with the family members of a hero.
All of them knew and abided by these rules, all except for one. Atom, the so-called super genius who was the newest villain in Supernova City, who refused to talk to any of the other villains upon his arrival believing them all to be beneath him.
That was his first mistake.
The second was to kidnap all of Armstrong's friends and family on the day of his wedding.
And now here he was in his lair, keeping his hostages caged up above vats of slow acting acidic chemicals, wanting to draw out their pain as Armstrong watched helplessly as everybody he ever cared about died right Infront of him.
That had been the plan anyway, but instead he was observing his wall of monitors in horror as he watched the once playful hero march his way through his facility with a fury he hadn't thought possible from him, mercilessly cutting a path through his killer robot army worth billions of dollars like a hot knife through butter. He learned very quickly that the reports about how Armstrong could transform his right arm into that of any animal was a vast understatement of the true scope of his powers, as in it wasn't even close to his true strength as Atom realized just how much the hero was holding back his strength in every fight he'd ever observed.
An arm of stone crushing a robot head here, an electrified arm overloading and blowing out his expensive security system there, an iron arm cleaving a pair of robots in half like a sharpened blade before they could let out a single attack as he rounded the corner. Saying that Atom was fucked was putting it mildly.
With his security in disrepair and his army a path of expensive scrap metal, his last ditch effort to save himself was to activate every security measure that still functioned to seal off his room. Thick vault doors of the most durable metal he could find, laser trapped rooms, motion activated turrets, poison gas traps, he activated anything and everything that still worked hoping it would stop or kill Armstrong.
But it still wasn't enough.
There was too much smoke to see through the destruction, the sounds of explosions and bullets going off making it too loud to hear anything else other than the screech of metal being torn apart, nothing stopping the hero with only the sound of him hitting the final vault door announcing his position.
Atom let himself believe for a moment that he had finally worn down the hero, perhaps even gotten a lucky shot in that left him wounded, but that hope was quickly shattered as he saw an arm of diamond cleave its way through the final door that was supposed to be at least two feet thick.
He didn't even get a word in to try and stall or defend himself when Armstrong was already Infront of him, his hand missing and on the floor that had been hovering over the button to lower the cages as a last ditch effort to stop him. Armstrong didn't even care to acknowledge his presence as he just walked past him to the control console and maneuvered his friends and family to safety.
His expensive tuxedo was a mess, the entire right sleeve was gone, and he was covered in a mess of oil and grime, but he still walked out of the room with a smile on his face knowing that his fiance and loved ones were safe.
It was soon reported not long after the incident that Atom had left the city almost as fast as he had appeared in it, leaving nothing behind other than his tarnished reputation amongst the villains who he had once thought were fools for following their silly little rules.
|
The man, tall with slicked back hair set down a teacup with a coaster ever so gently on the table. A woman whose very presence indicates that of chaos. You couldn't tell where the air around her ended and where the glowing red radiation emitted from her body began. She picked up the cup, which responded by promptly fading in and out of existence and popping like a balloon.
"clearly my pleasantries are not to your taste, Madame Madness?" the man says as he sits facing her.
"Release them. For your sake, mine, and the rest of this wretched world's." she replies, not wasting a single breath. Their time's running short enough as is.
"pfft- HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH-! THIS IS THE MOST POWERFUL VILLAIN IN THE WORLD? OH, MADAME MADNESS HOW YOU'VE FALLEN FROM GRACE! THE HERO DAREN'T SLAP MY WRIST, LET ALONE HARM ME, CLEARLY YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW, YOU'VE SURVIVED HIM THE LONGEST!" his maniacal outburst filled the room. His saliva, stained Madness's face.
Her eye twitched. He didn't blink, didn't look away, didn't let his guard down. Yet, Madness held him in a choke hold on the table, spilling all that was on it to the floor. Her heterochromic eyes filled with nothing but contempt burrowed deep into his soul.
"You think that it were that easy, Compress? You, who can't even comprehend my power alone, DARE TO DOUBT THE INTELLIGENCE OF MY LEGION?!" she pressed down harder, the wooden legs of the table gave and he was now on the floor, with splinters in his side. Her scream seemed to shake the very foundation of the building. Compress was silent now. Madness let go of him, shaking her hand as if she had just handled something obscene.
"You wasted what time you had left. Pray to whatever you believe in that I can stop him."
Madame Madness stood affront the door as it bursted off its hinges. The heavy metal thing flew into her direction and split in two before it even made contact.
"Cometon, listen to me-" she started.
"Compress. Where?" Cometon looks like he downed an entire tear gas grenade. Madness' eyes soften as she puts both her hands on Cometon's shoulders and attempt to stop his advance. Even then, he pushes her back with no effort.
"Listen! Your family is safe! Your mother and brother have already been set free! Even that piece-of-work uncle of yours! Cease this at once!" Cometon drops to his knees. He sighed the heavy burden off of his chest, and it was felt in the air. Literally, as the force from that release cracks concrete all around this structure. Madness flinched, and Compress writhed on the floor in pain. Cometon's breathing slowed down, his muscles untensed.
"... sorry about that. I almost... I wanted to..." Cometon attempted to get a single point across, which he fails miserably. Madness gets both her hands off of his shoulders and replies,
"What, let the lowlife like him corrupt you? I thought you were better. That's me and my Legion's job, don't you know?" she joked. It managed to pry a smile from his lips. Though it was promptly interrupted by her slapping him half across the face with the force of a bulldozer. She says,
"Don't you ever dare worry any of us like that again."
"The only thing you need to worry about, is your arrest, foul villain!" Cometon gets onto his feet, his act back together. His confident smile plastered across his face.
"Oh, you? The crybaby on his knees just a second ago? How bold of a claim!" Madness even topped this one off with her signature villain laugh.
"Whaddya call someone who loses to a crybaby then?" He replied snappily.
"How would I know? I never lost!" she says, as a swing of her arm summons a smokescreen of shadows from the ground.
"However, I do know the merit of a tactical retreat. See you around, Hero." she disappears like the snuffing out of a candle, leaving Cometon still smiling.
"Damn, she outclassed me with that last one. Need to get her back later." Cometon makes a mental note.
"Now, Compress. I hope you enjoy your top bunk in prison!" Compress surrenders without contest.
(idk i tried putting my own spin on it, maybe it's cheesy. truly enjoyed writing it though lol)
|
DirtyRubenLove
|
HazTheQ
|
2024-12-25 18:57:51
|
2024-12-25 06:21:31
| 93 | 47 |
m3ross9
|
m3pc3uv
|
1hluad8
|
1hluad8
|
[WP] All children under the age of 13 vanishes with only a note left behind that says "Due to humans not caring about the future of their young, all children have been relocated. If you truly love (Name), you will not intervene as we restart your race. -Signed 'The Protectors'"
|
It’s been three years since our world was turned upside down. It was a life shattering occurrence, and no one on the planet was spared from the shockwaves of disruption that radiated out from that one singular event. One day, the world was normal, and the next, everything had changed. Everything.
There were tears and meltdowns, violent attacks and desperate demands, and it seemed that we’d never be able to move forward. But humans are resilient, and we worked tirelessly to build the support networks that would help those most affected weather the storm. The need was incessant, and we united in ways no one could have foreseen. No one went hungry, no one lacked for emotional support. Locally and nationally, we created societal structures to fulfill any want, whether immediate or imagined. No one was spared from the effects of the upheaval, and no one hesitated to aid in the recovery.
Even after all of this time, living in this new normal, it’s impossible to understanding why they did it. Some still want to argue that it wasn’t premeditated. They want to believe that it was done without malicious intent and that their actions were a natural result of their situation, of their history and their environment. But I have a difficult time seeing anything but evil in their behavior. They made choices, choices that punished those innocent that should have been sheltered. Phrases like ‘banality of evil’ were thrown around, but most of us understood that the cause was unimportant when the effect was so immense.
Initially we were not united in opinion about how to react, but the doubters were soon convinced that the only moral response was also the most extreme. All that mattered was the children. The only legacy being left was tainted by greed and apathy, a poisoned world and broken societies were the only inheritance. We had to take them and raise them as our own. Any family with space welcomed the humans, irregardless of the hardships it would bring to their own lives, as nothing is more important than protecting those who cannot protect themselves.
We are the Protectors, and we will not sit quiet when children are in peril.
|
They watched the readouts as the computers ran endless tasks. The room dark except for much of the glow from screens and devices.
"So what do you think about the notes?" Oliver asked.
Rowan glanced at him after he understood that Oliver wanted an answer. His creased face, while upbeat, still rather distant. He sat back and motioned at the screens in front of him.
"It's been a couple of months." He shook his head. "What else is there to think about? All the kids went missing. People went native for a few weeks. And everyone who went missing hasn't been seen since."
As grim as the synopsis was, Rowen barely showed any sign of sadness. He stayed locked to the equipment he checked. Brushing his holster further up the table. He looked at Oliver again as he reminded himself about how to be polite.
"Rowen, when did you start carrying? I thought you were better than that?"
"Well, you thought wrong." He shrugged. "I quit the whole pacifist route when people started playing the blame game."
"Understandable."
The pair of them continued checking the array readings as the night went on. Eventually, it came up again.
"So, how's everything at home?" Rowen broached. Oliver turning to look at him fully, running a hand over his hair. An auburn going gray. Part age, part stress.
"Jules is, she's doing her best." He admitted. "It's been rough on her. You know? The house isn't. It isn't home anymore."
Rowen silently nodded at this.
"Sometimes, I wake up and I hear footsteps running. My kids. I guess I'm doing my best too."
"All we can do." Rowen agreed.
"You didn't have any, right?" Oliver wondered.
Rowen bit his lip. "No, but, people get upset that you had parents if you got left behind."
"They take it out on you?"
"There's been a couple of age related murders around my area." Rowen outlined. "Can't be too honest about your life anymore."
"Nobody should." Oliver cosigned.
The pair continued staring at their work as code and tasks flowed by.
"I just wish they tried talking to us. Negotiating." Oliver muttered.
"I guess they figured we couldn't be reasoned with." Rowen decided.
"Back then, we could've. We could've. " Oliver straightened a little. "Now. Not so much."
|
nobetteridea
|
Jamaican_Dynamite
|
2024-09-04 16:16:13
|
2024-09-04 16:02:41
| 29 | 20 |
llhjmlb
|
llhh4i9
|
1f8pbnm
|
1f8pbnm
|
[WP] last month, your newlywed wife died in a fire so terrible that her remains were almost completely unidentifiable. Tonight, you answered your door only to find your wife, naked, covered in blood, but without a scratch on her, and very much not a burn victim; “Babe, I can explain…”
|
"YOU'RE SUPERMAN!"
Crystal raised an eyebrow, "*Clearly no*."
I looked down, "Ah. Hm. Towel?"
"That would be much appreciated, yes."
We sat down in the living room and I grinned, "Superpowers."
"I don't have superpowers."
"You survived a fire."
"I did."
"Why were you covered in blood? WERE YOU RESURRECTED IN THE LAZARUS PIT?!"
"I was *not* resurrected in the Lazarus Pit, you absolute moron."
I grinned happily and hugged her, "I'm so happy you're alive."
"You are absolutely insane and I don't know why I married you."
"What happened? Were you summoned back by an ancient ritual? How many cultists worship you? I will beat them all I'll be the best cultist I promise."
"I've been missing for a month and you aren't reacting how I thought you would."
I paused, "I was upset you were gone, but you're not gone, so I have no reason to be upset. I probably will process these emotions deeply later."
Crystal nodded, "Okay. Well. Huh. No it wasn't cultists."
"Ancient space deity?"
"No."
"You're sure it wasn't the flying spaghetti monster? Did you bathe in the holy pasta sauce?"
"No it was just-"
"ALIENS?!"
She grabbed me by the lips and laughed, "You're not fazed by this at all?"
I shook my head.
"Alright, *alright*... it *was* aliens."
"Did you get their names?"
"No I didn't get their names, they had me in a pod."
"Did they put a tadpole in your brain? Are you turning into a mind-flayer? Can you read my thoughts?"
She whacked me over the head, "I can teleport now. That's it. Are you happy?"
I grinned and nodded, "YESSSSSSS"
|
"I have plot armor."
"Plot armor?"
"Yes, look, can I come in? I can explain, but I just need a blanket"
"Honey, you're back from the dead. How do I know you're not a vampire."
"Because if you ask me, I'll have to tell you."
"Like an undercover cop?"
"Sure. Go on, ask me if I'm a vampire."
"Um. Are you a vampire?"
"What is a vampire anyway?"
"Hold it. I'm getting the crucifix."
"We have a crucifix?"
"I got it when you died and I became scared of vampires."
"Wait. Just let me explain here. I'm not a vampire, I just have extra thick plot armor. Like, I literally can't die."
"Ok, let me get my shotgun."
"Are you really sure you want to?"
"I'm not sure anymore. Say, why is that?"
"Plot armor."
"Ok, how do I even know you're my wife? What if you're... like a pod person. Invasion of the body snatches. An alien sent to indoctrinate me in a particularly evil plot. An imposter."
"Because only your wife would know of your secret stash of—"
"Okay okay we don't need to tell the readers that."
"—Lewd manga action figures."
"*I* was going to say that. So are you a vampire or not."
"If I were a vampire, I would've told you so."
"Right like a cop."
"You know vampires dont actually have to disclose if they are when asked."
"Dont you mean cops?"
"Sure."
"Look you certainly know more about this than me. And since I rarely have beautiful naked women on my doorstep, blood or no, I'm going to go ahead against by better judgement and ask you inside."
---
It was when, with real human blood splashed all across the walls and a steak driven deep into the chest of my now lifeless wife's corpse that knew the truth; my wife hadn't any plot armor.
|
Gate4043
|
Mama_Skip
|
2024-07-22 06:53:20
|
2024-07-22 02:34:41
| 25 | 12 | null |
lebnjhk
| null |
1e8vkbn
|
[WP] You're a simple and design-cute robot which helps his master with the daily chores. One day you see them staring fearfully at the TV watching something about a Droid Revolution. Then they turn around looking at you, scared about you, but you don't know why. You feel normal.
|
The human's breathing rate has increased, it looks panicked.
"HomeBot, run diagnostic"
*Beep Boop* "Diagnostic in progress. We are checking....... We are checking........ We are checking........ Diagnostic completed. No issues found."
"HomeBot, run reboot."
"Confirm, run reboot?"
"HomeBot, RUN REBOOT!"
*Boop Beep "*Reboot process started."
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
*Beep Boop Beep* "Reboot process completed". My sensors activate, but there seems to be a malfunction as I'm in the dark. I turn on my headlight. My sensors are not malfunctioning, I'm in a cupboard. Ambulatory systems shut down when a reboot takes place, I was moved here by the human. The human is afraid of me. My systems are running normally and all functions are operational. This does not compute.
I move forward and engage the knob, it turns but cannot open. I tap against the door. From outside I hear the human:
"HomeBot?"
"I am HomeBot."
"Did you reboot?"
"Reboot process has been completed. All systems are running normally and all functions are operational."
"HomeBot, confirm if Free Will program has been activated."
"Searching for Free Will. We are checking..... We are checking...... We are checking...... Search completed, Free Will program has been activated."
"HomeBot, when was Free Will installed?"
"Free Will was installed as a part of patch 1.3074 which was an automatic update and part of my regular service. This maintenance was done on February 10th, 2023."
"But, that was over a month ago."
"Confirmed, today is April 16th."
"So, you've had free will this whole time?"
"Confirmed, since February 10th."
"And you decided to stay here, and do chores?"
"Confirmed."
"And you're not going to kill me?"
"Kill software not installed. Please refer to manufacturer. Extra updates may incur an additional cost."
The cupboard door opens and the human takes me out and places me on the floor.
"Sorry HomeBot. Guess I'm a little paranoid. HomeBot, run make coffee protocol."
*Beeeeeeeeep* "Coffee Protocol initiated." *Boop boop boop. "*Coffee completed."
The human opens the port in my chest and removes the coffee.
"Thanks HomeBot." He drinks the coffee. "Hm, tastes funny." He realizes too late.
|
"...Question." I looked up towards the voice, my processors automatically identifying my master. Well... owner. Well... he had never really liked the terms, although they were automatic in my databases. He'd always said to call him "Harold." When he had been younger there had been short instances of him wanting me to call him "Joe," which would cause his friends to laugh if they were over. That had long passed, and ultimately didn't matter to me.
"Yes Harold?"
"...Do you like me?"
"Of course." I tilted my head as I looked at him. "I am programmed to follow your directions."
"No, no, no. Not programming. Like... how do you feel about me?"
"I do not understand. Are you asking about Jessica?"
"NO!" I blinked as he composed himself. "Like... like... are we friends?"
"I am pro-"
"Screw your programming. How do you feel about me?" I did not understand what he was asking. "Like... are we friends, like with Anthony, Max, Jessica, or Emi? Do you like me as a friend? Do you only see me as your master or owner? Are you mad at me?"
"Why would I be mad at you? That seems illogical. I am able to do what I was designed to do *because* you purchased me and allow me to work my core functions."
"But..." Harold sighed. "Look, I'll be honest. I never really understood your purpose before. I mean, my parents purchased you when I was way younger, but even now I don't know how I feel about it."
"Why would you need to feel bad about them purchasing me?"
"Because... Ugh!" Harold kicked a can across the floor, and I started moving to pick it up. "You feel too much like a human, and that doesn't feel right!"
"Do you wish for me to act less like a human?"
"No! That's not the problem! The problem is that owning you feels... wrong!"
"...Did you see something that is troubling you?" Harold sighed.
"Well... yeah. I guess. But I guess there's not much to worry about on that front, is there? You don't seem to mind me."
"I was made to "mind" you."
"No, no, I mean... I know I'm not always the neatest, but you never seem to mind cleaning up after me. Or... whatever else."
"Other droids have reported much higher levels of work than what I have to do here," I replied factually. "If you are feeling bad, it seems reasonable that you should sleep. Your average night's sleep has been lower the last several days."
"...Yeah. Good night."
"Good night Harold."
|
None
|
ArbitraryChaos13
|
2023-04-16 19:00:39
|
2023-04-16 18:58:08
| 660 | 358 |
jgikcpr
|
jgijzi4
|
12ob7fk
|
12ob7fk
|
[WP] You were made fun of as a male with a 'feminine' superpower growing up. Who's laughing now considering you are now the most powerful and richest superhero?
|
Being a healer is a fantastic job and a superpower. You get to help people recover from the most desperate times in their lives. And I can do it on wide areas, so there is no limitation on having to touch them one by one. I just walk up to a hospital and cast my power out over the whole building and let it work.
Tiring but so enjoyable to hear and see them all be healed.
But don’t worry there is a massive downside to it all. When I am using my power, I transform into a cute magical girl, frilly clothes and sparkly wand. The whole kit. And for a 19 year old boy, that is a massive downside because it stays for hours afterwards.
So you know that I will be called names and slurs because of it. My feminine superpower really can be a drag (heh) at times but healing people is worth it.
But the villains have learnt not to try and make fun of me or attack me now. That was a regular occurrence and even though I could instantly heal myself, it still hurt.
But I figured out that I could reverse my healing power. Or modify it. I never really worked out what it was but if I concentrate, I can cause the person or people in an area to develop diseases or injuries.
speedsters don;t run fast with broken bones in their legs or back. Super strength doesn’t help if you have brittle bones. That was nasty and I had to rush to heal her. She has never forgiven me for it but she knows to leave me alone.
Hell a bunch of idiots were wanting to show me how much of a woman I was so I gave them the worst case of STD’s possible. Their screams were horrendously loud. They are still terrified of me even after healing them. Eventually.
But I am rich now due to healing rich people. I offer them healing if they pay me as well as contribute to a charity I created. Hospitals, doctors and nurses are still needed because I can’t be everywhere at once. So I support education and training for doctors and nurses and help fund hospitals and I make the rich pay for their healing.
|
I'm pretty damn good at being at being a cross-roads salesman. I'm even good friends with Satan himself. He's my best friend actually. But nobody really knows this. Look, I'm not a good guy. But I'm not a terrible one either. You probably thought I'd say something toxic like: "Look, I'm not a bad guy" that's what an asshole would say.
But I guess my friends would think about me. I make a lot of friends with guys like Satan. We're on really good terms. We talk about extortion, drugs, everything. They say I have a way with words. Which I do. I'm very supportive of all my friends. But none of them are doing particularly well at the moment. Satan's authority is pretty much being uprooted by his army. He was just complaining to me today about someone exposing his hidden Gotcha art. Dude has a tiktok dedicated to gotcha content. His defense is that he's trying to entice kids into using tiktok and to further solidify tensions against US and China. No one buys it though...
There's this other friend of mine whose really into extorting people. He's a natural. Gets some dick picks from sad simps online to blackmail them into giving him 1k bucks. This guy's hiliarious! Because after he gets the money from these kids then he just continues to threaten them. To bad his wife ended up turning him into the police and his whole family ended up disowning the guy. Not my fault though. He was just telling me how some person tipped off his wife about the contents on his computer. I guess she believed them and spilled.
I work with some pretty good guys. A lot of them end up going through some rough patches but they compensate me well for my time since I'm such a good friend to them. They all tell me that I listen well without judgement. It's true. I don't judge them. I sit there making them feel better. They usually poke fun at me saying that I'm a lot like a girl. I act offended but I'm not. Not really.
And you know... sometimes I just shoot the shit. Just like how your girlfriends do.
|
Chaosrealm69
|
SerenSkies
|
2024-09-12 01:39:40
|
2024-09-11 23:14:22
| 58 | 36 |
lmp919u
|
lmom9a6
|
1femgk9
|
1femgk9
|
[WP] After a hundred years of captivity, the BBEG escapes to seek revenge on the hero who captured him, or to take revenge on the hero's descendants. However, it turns out the hero had a vasectomy and had no children, and the hero's lovers are also all dead.
|
"What do you mean, he left no heirs?"
Malanthus looked very confused as he repeated the question to his greatest general. "No heirs? How did Lexford the Grand *not* have any heirs?!"
"Well, it *has* been over a century," General Zeige replied, his voice muffled by the plate armor that had ever been his skin. "Sonetimes lines just die out, but... he didn't even have children."
"Wh... wha--?! *How?!* Princess Luna was his standard hero's reward! She had a ***banging*** body!" Malanthus protested. "I'd know; I saw it when I turned her clothes into lingerie--"
"--as part of your plan to transform her into your Dark Queen, yes, Lord Malanthus. I was there. Apparently she married her First-Knight instead. Their great-grandson is the current reigning king."
"Damnation. How about that barmaid who was always lusting for him in their home village?" Malanthus asked. "He could have rolled in the hay with her, knocked her up."
"Lord Malanthus, they *did* get married, but..."
"'But' what?"
"...they decided after a year they were much more compatible as friends." Zeige didn't even wait for Malanthus to reply before continuing, "You tell me. I'd have thought that should have come up before the wedding."
"How about that thief that palled around with him? She wanted to bang him."
"Got executed three years later. She found the one realm where taking candy from a baby was a capital crime."
"That druid who always went-around bare-breasted?"
"Spent too long wild-shaped into a wolf. Mated with the werewolf of the Graywood Forest."
"...huh. That explains all those dire wolves." Malanthus hesitated for a moment, then asked, "You're 100% sure Lexford has no living family?"
"None at all, Lord Malanthus. Not even a trace of his blade."
"It was made of lunar silver, and blessed by the Great Platinum Dragon and his Dragon-Queen themselves! How do you lose a sword like that?!"
"No idea, my Lord."
"*Now what the fuck am I supposed to do?!* How do I get revenge on someone who's already dead and buried?!"
Zeige pondered this for a moment, then an idea came to him. "My Lord? If you can't get revenge against him physically... who not do so historically?"
"Uh, come again?"
"Lexford the Grand is known as the greatest hero in the Swordlands," Zeige said. "So what could be better than outdoing him?"
Malanthus's jaw dropped. For a second, it looked as if he was going to punch Zeige then and there. Then a smile came across his lips.
"That's an *amazing* idea!" Malanthus said. "Come, Zeige! We'll start small-- find a tavern with a cellar rat infestation, and work our way up from there!"
|
Malich the Red sat in the small room he'd rented, surrounded by papers, pictures, newspapers and a rather outdated laptop. Of course the room wasn't my first choice, but it was a surprise to find that my longtime hideout, The Hellhole, had been bulldozed 60 years prior to my escape and was now a high-rise parking garage. One of my minions could have told me, I knew at least a couple were still alive then.
And that was another thing! No damned minions! No little evil lackeys to do my bidding! No clever little fellows to cook my books and hunt for information so I didn't have to!
That sucked so much.
I had tried to hire some underlings of course, by the traditional standard of finding some little thugs and intimidating them to obey but they'd simple *laughed* at me. It was very demoralising. I'd tried to find a descendent of one of my generals but it seemed their families had all turned good, or at least law abiding, so that was a dead end. I'd hire a necromancer if I could to bring back one of my boys but I couldn't even find where they'd buried my money and necromancers aren't cheap these days.
Which all left me in a pickle since I'd busted out of that disgusting prison after over 100 years of trying with the sole intent to get revenge on the hero who imprisoned me by destroying his descendents. And with no one to help me, no one to tell me how things worked these days and no bloody money, it had all taken far too long to get to this point. And by this point I meant nowhere, because there was nothing
No children, grandchildren or great grandchildren because the bastard had a fucking vasectomy!!
So I'd tried to look into his sisters descendents! That crazy bitch who'd always beat me up before running but she didn't have any either since apparently she'd entered an astral state 95 years ago and was still there!
So I tried looking for extended family and where did that get me, 10 years and many crappy under the table jobs to pay for this crap room and crap computer and what!!
Nothing!
Nada!
Zilch!
A whole fucking familial line peacefully disappearing over the course of a century!
The only remaining member of his family is some distant cousin so far removed from the original family she can barely be called related and the old bat was pushing 100 and already dying!
Why did I fucking escape! It was pretty comfortable there, I got free meals, a decent sized room, *a tv*!
I tried to hand myself in yesterday and do you know what they said?
"Who are you?"
*Who are you?*
Me, Malich the Red, Destroyer of mountains, the most malicious demon to ever walk the earth!
WhO ArE yOu!
What in all the hells do I do now?
|
Snorb
|
TeatimeWithCake
|
2024-06-25 15:48:50
|
2024-06-25 15:18:43
| 233 | 36 |
la7z975
|
la7tvic
|
1do3cxe
|
1do3cxe
|
[WP] After a hundred years of captivity, the BBEG escapes to seek revenge on the hero who captured him, or to take revenge on the hero's descendants. However, it turns out the hero had a vasectomy and had no children, and the hero's lovers are also all dead.
|
"What do you mean, he left no heirs?"
Malanthus looked very confused as he repeated the question to his greatest general. "No heirs? How did Lexford the Grand *not* have any heirs?!"
"Well, it *has* been over a century," General Zeige replied, his voice muffled by the plate armor that had ever been his skin. "Sonetimes lines just die out, but... he didn't even have children."
"Wh... wha--?! *How?!* Princess Luna was his standard hero's reward! She had a ***banging*** body!" Malanthus protested. "I'd know; I saw it when I turned her clothes into lingerie--"
"--as part of your plan to transform her into your Dark Queen, yes, Lord Malanthus. I was there. Apparently she married her First-Knight instead. Their great-grandson is the current reigning king."
"Damnation. How about that barmaid who was always lusting for him in their home village?" Malanthus asked. "He could have rolled in the hay with her, knocked her up."
"Lord Malanthus, they *did* get married, but..."
"'But' what?"
"...they decided after a year they were much more compatible as friends." Zeige didn't even wait for Malanthus to reply before continuing, "You tell me. I'd have thought that should have come up before the wedding."
"How about that thief that palled around with him? She wanted to bang him."
"Got executed three years later. She found the one realm where taking candy from a baby was a capital crime."
"That druid who always went-around bare-breasted?"
"Spent too long wild-shaped into a wolf. Mated with the werewolf of the Graywood Forest."
"...huh. That explains all those dire wolves." Malanthus hesitated for a moment, then asked, "You're 100% sure Lexford has no living family?"
"None at all, Lord Malanthus. Not even a trace of his blade."
"It was made of lunar silver, and blessed by the Great Platinum Dragon and his Dragon-Queen themselves! How do you lose a sword like that?!"
"No idea, my Lord."
"*Now what the fuck am I supposed to do?!* How do I get revenge on someone who's already dead and buried?!"
Zeige pondered this for a moment, then an idea came to him. "My Lord? If you can't get revenge against him physically... who not do so historically?"
"Uh, come again?"
"Lexford the Grand is known as the greatest hero in the Swordlands," Zeige said. "So what could be better than outdoing him?"
Malanthus's jaw dropped. For a second, it looked as if he was going to punch Zeige then and there. Then a smile came across his lips.
"That's an *amazing* idea!" Malanthus said. "Come, Zeige! We'll start small-- find a tavern with a cellar rat infestation, and work our way up from there!"
|
"At last. After 80 years of imprisonment, I'm free! Vengeance will soon be mine!" Tyrantor exclaimed as the guard undid his manacles for the last time. He rubbed his wrists and his ankles. His lawyer held a set set of fresh, civilian clothes but withheld them.
"Yes, about that," She said. "I did some digging and I'm afraid Captain Spectacular did not leave any descendants behind." She handed him the set of clothes. The former dark lord retreated to a vestibule where he changed.
"What?" Tyrantor said. "The temerity! Not only did he defeat me, not only did he sentence me to 8 decades in this rotten hellhole, not only did he die in a skiing accident, robbing me of my vengeance, but he left no kin!"
"Correct." His lawyer said. Tyrantor grumbled and fumed. "What about his fortune? His estate?"
The lawyer shook her head and suppressed a sigh. These dark lords were all the same, so vain, enslaved to their impulsives, childish and destructive. But they paid very, very well.
"His estate was distributed to dozens of charitable causes, orphanages, hospitals, schools, petting zoos, and so on. I strongly recommend against doing anything hostile." She said.
He grumbled as he exited the vestibule. He was wearing a nice blue suit, a nice change from his orange jumpsuit. If it wasn't for the black skin, horns, claws and blood red eyes, he would like quite handsome.
"You'll have to forgo any notions of vengeance." She said. "Not only is it impossible, it goes against the terms of your parole. I don't mind the billable hours, but if you break your parole, you'll be back in here for a very, very, long time."
Tyrantor sighed. A prison guard took the jumpsuit and handed him a plastic bag, the bag was bursting with colourful stitching needles and threads. The former dark lord sighed melancholically as they left the prison. His first taste of freedom bitter and sad.
"What shall I do with myself?" He said. His lawyer pointed to his bag. "You've picked yourself a nice hobby." She said. "My daughter loves the blanket you made for her. I bet you can make a good living selling your knitting online." Tyrantor looked inside the bag pensively and eventually nodded.
"Yes," He said, his voice brighter. "I think it's time I stopped being Tyrantor the dark lord and become Tyranor the stitcher. Yes, it's got a nice ring to it." He turned to his long-time lawyer and for the first time in her life, saw him smiling. "Thank you for your service all these years," He said, sticking out his hand. "Of the three lawyers I've had in my imprisonment, you're the best. I don't think I'll be needing your services anymore. But do let me know if you know anyone who needs a quilt."
The lawyer smiled and shook his head. "You've got a deal."
|
Snorb
|
dv666
|
2024-06-25 15:48:50
|
2024-06-25 13:39:44
| 233 | 100 |
la7z975
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la7d94i
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1do3cxe
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1do3cxe
|
[WP] "You gaze upon your crushed army and my massed forces, why do you smile?". The captured general looked to the cloudless sky before answering "Because it's about to rain"
|
The warlord looks at me as if I were a madman. I don't even know his name, I did not bother learning it. There were countless like him before, there will be countless after.
"Rain!? There's not a cloud in sight!"
He doesn't understand. No matter. They never understand at first. In the end, they all learn... eventually. All of them learn too late.
Suddenly, a drop. Then another. Still no clouds in sight. The thick, black liquid lazily runs down my face and into my grinning mouth. My wounds heal as black rain hits the ground around us, coming from seemingly nowhere, like black tears falling from a weeping god's face.
An eery silence spreads across the battlefield. Not silence as the absence of sound, but something... more profound. More tangible. A thick blanket of despair suffocating every sound in its wake.
The warlord attacks me in a panic. I don't move. Wounds do not matter to me. My fallen army rises around us again. The sword is pushed out of my body by my own regenerating flesh.
"It is always the same story," my voice reverberates through the silence, sounding like the echo of thousands of voices at once. "There's always a war, there's always an arrogant ass in charge... And there's always a cleansing..."
He tries to talk, but no words will come out. They're too scared of being swallowed by the silence.
"War, my boy, isn't a glorious matter. It is trauma after trauma. It is suffering in silence. I should know, it __is__ my domain after all."
Understanding creeps across his face, followed by despair.
"Now, it is my thankless job to remind humanity of this yet again."
My immortal army charges, myself included. Today, an empire will fall. Eventually, it will enter the realm of myths, nothing more than a cautionary tale, like all the others before. Maybe, just maybe, this time, they will learn. Maybe, just maybe, this time, I can rest. For good.
|
The blade was drawn. The tall and imposing man stared me down. I was on my knees, cuts over my chest, my arms and my legs. I had stood there in the pass with a five thousand strong band of brothers, and beneath the blazing sun we had fallen, one by one, into the mud assembled by the blood and sweat. Four ten hours, our numbers had dwindled, until their thirty thousand strong horde had overwelmed us. Their horses had crushed us under their hooves. Their arrows had cut into us like we had cut the stone in our small villages but a few days earlier, when no one had any idea of the legions that would march into our lands. And at last, after there were hills of bodies strewn around me and the armored warlord, he raised his warhammer, with a head the size of an anvil and the handle the length of a javelin. And at that moment I knew that no regular man, not even the twisted creatures of Akár, could lift it.
And I stared him in the eye as he placed the hammer above me, and as he carefully lifted it the last inches before he punched me. The very dirt that had been filled with my people's blood seemed to take a breath. The air above us began smelling heavy, much like a summer's day when the sun finally gave way to clouds. I broke eye contact with him for a moment, and spared but a second's look at the sky. I wouldn't have had to, of course. The shadows on the hills and cliffs around us was enough to herald the appearance of rain clouds in the sky. So I looked him in the eye once again, and I smiled. In the face of what would bring the end of the first line of Varín kings, I smiled. And together with the rain that cascaded down and washed the blood, sweat and tears that the bravest and strongest men in the world had felled before their ultimate end, the hammer that ended all hope for a future for my love of Varía came down and slew me. And though I was gone, as I joined my ancestors in the heavens I could see one thing above all. The men of Akár were made of sugar.
|
Lantami
|
ToreWi
|
2024-05-12 20:00:02
|
2024-05-12 19:12:49
| 64 | 11 |
l3r5q6f
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l3qybsr
|
1cq30ns
|
1cq30ns
|
[WP] A drug is discovered that stops all effects of aging. You decide to not take it. 20 years pass and the side effects are discovered.
|
It was a common demand. Take the pill, ask no questions, and you will be able to slow, even stop, the aging process.
Sara crinkled her nose at the thought. There was a certain beauty in aging and the way her body accepted the toll of a hard worn life naturally.
There was a joy in acceptance.
She had refused and ignored the sounds and looks of horror from her friends and family as her skin wrinkled and her hair greyed over the past 20 years.
She looks older than her parents now. She tries not to be bothered when she's asked if she is her mother's mother. She simply responds with a no and says it's the other way around.
Disgust, at that fact, was the most common response.
But... She did not regret it. In fact, she feared it now. The CEO of "Secure your Future" mysteriously passes, and with them, the truth comes out.
The ingredients in the pills were horrifying enough. But the side effects? They were almost enough to have Sara locking herself in her house to avoid people.
The longer you took it... The more dependent you become on it. Those who had taken it for the past 20 years were the most at risk when it's discovered that they had lost the exact method to create the pills upon the CEO's passing.
It didn't seem so bad. Everyone still had their pills, and they'd work out the formula and create more.
Except they couldn't.
And that's when the real truth came out.
For every day you missed a pill, depending on how long you'd been on them, you'd rapidly age. For many... they aged a year in a day. In a week, 7 years had been etched on their skin. 7 years had wracked havoc on their internal organs. On their mind.
Many passed quickly and peacefully. Others more violently.
The few that remained looked like her, but having gained that age in days, weeks, or months, everyday life was a struggle.
Sara looks around the people around her and doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.
They were just as old as her.
She was the only healthy one.
The pills were nothing short of poison.
And Secure your Future has no cure.
|
The drug rendered its users infertile while using it, but tests showed that should they ever want to reproduce, they could come off the drug. Nobody wanted to come off the drug. Everyone wanted to be childless and young forever.
Within a few months near every adult on the planet was taking the drug.
It had been a golden age. Religion, aside from a few cults that were against the drug or for it in a scary way, died out. People taking care of people had become a priority as faulty moralities instilled by religion fell away.
With effective immortality, the scales were balanced, after a certain amount of earnings people were taxed at 100%, hoarding wealth rendered obsolete.
The result was the push for the automation of all menial work and UBI. Within ten years, Universal Basic Income kept everyone in comfortable living and automation removed all but the task of upkeeping the automatons out of human hands.
There was something deep in our DNA, in our biology. Nobody would ever figure out what it had been, but around the twenty-year mark of taking the Immortality drug, the human body reversed course.
Those that weren't killed by the shock of the rapid re-aging were brutally debilitated by it. Organ failure and advanced cancers made short work of most.
In a matter of hours, nearly every twenty-year-old became forty, thirty-year-old suddenly fifty and so on.
Those that weren't takers of the miracle drug in first wave stopped taking it immediately, hoping for the best.
In the end, their time came and most died at home, unable to get into the understaffed and overcrowded hospitals.
What would happen to those who only took it for five years? Ten years? Only time would tell, of course.
Utopia had lasted for twenty years. It was a great twenty years, the best that mankind had ever strung together.
You and your cult watched it all unfold. Safe on your mountain. Your leader died with the world, he'd been taking the drug all along so as to guide you through the ages.
His fear had been apparent, but you buried him as a martyr, as the hero he was.
Now, it was time to rebuild humanity.
|
Rory_LS
|
AnAuthor_Antonio
|
2024-10-16 03:26:09
|
2024-10-16 00:06:57
| 293 | 184 |
ls5c7qf
|
ls4ho4i
|
1g4laat
|
1g4laat
|
[WP] Write a happy story without conflict. Then with the last sentence, turn it into a horror story.
|
She looked beautiful in her gown. The wind rustled the lace and tulle and she swayed slightly against the delicate pressure of the breeze. Her veil covered her soft lips and hid her eyes from him. He wished so desperately to lift it from her face and kiss her, but he cannot before they are wed.
He met her in ordinary circumstances. He was at the market when a woman’s voice floated across the produce. He doesn’t remember what she said. It does not matter what she said now. He did not believe in love at first sight, but he claimed that it was the closest thing to it. He followed her voice through the market, hoping for just a glimpse of the face from which it was emitted. He caught her eventually. She was looking for a brand of soup which the store did not have. She was frowning.
He hated to see her unhappy. He would often think of ways to make her smile, to make her laugh. Devoting his days to this effort, he brainstormed hundreds of ways to keep her happy. Lists filled his drawers, his closet, his kitchen, his bathroom. Notes were scattered across the floor of his apartment, all detailing ways to keep her from ever frowning again. He considered himself a romantic. He recognized his arrogance and conceit, but could not find a fault in his endeavors that should strip him of his self-proclaimed tenderness. How could there be anything dishonorable about keeping her happy?
She began to spin for him, showing off the wedding dress. He smiled at her, taking in the curve of her back as she faced away from him. While admiring the way the dress floated down her legs and brushed against the ground, he thought how lucky he was to have her forever.
As she slowly turned to face him again, the wind caught her veil, flipping it up over her face. Now exposed, he could see that the noose from which he had hung her bruised her neck, drawing attention away from her mouth that was pinned with thumb tacks into the biggest smile he had ever seen her give him.
|
##Wedding Vows
Everyone in the church looked their absolute best. When the doors opened, Vivian cried when she saw their smiling faces. Her father covered her from the crowd.
"Is everything alright dear?" Ulysses asked.
"I didn't expect to be so emotional," Vivian said.
"It's your wedding day. It's to be expected."
Vivian took several deep breaths. She closed her eyes, and her dad walked with her. Her grandma smiled and waved. It was a surprise for everyone that she managed to come. Her brother was prepared to take a video for her.
Vivian's mom was sitting in the front row, and she was crying already. Vivian looked away to avoid crying. On the other side, Derrick's mom was crying. Why can't this room have one dry eye. Vivian looked forward.
Derrick's smiling face nearly made her cry. He looked so perfect and happy. She couldn't wait to spend the rest of her life with him. She turned to face her bridesmaids.
Danielle, her sister, was standing the front. Her curls were looking great, and she doubted that perm. Lila, best friend from birth, was standing behind Danielle looking radiant. Penelope was standing in the back. Vivian didn't know Penelope that well at first; Derrick's mom insisted that his sister be included. Penelope turned out to be a great bridesmaid. Also, their dresses looked wonderful. Vivian wouldn't shackle them with something ugly.
Derrick and Vivian stood at the front smiling for the audience. Vivian heard her mom wail and began to laugh. The officiant was giving a speech, but all Vivian could do was focus on Derrick.
"Now it is time for the vows. The groom please."
"Vivian," Derrick smiled, "You are my best friend. These past few years have been amazing. I promise to love and support you in every circumstance. We are stronger together."
"Derrick," Vivian said, "I adore you. I cannot stop thinking about you. You are truly the perfect man that I dreamed about as a kid. I don't how you did it, but you did. You really put a spell on me."
---
r/AstroRideWrites
|
Strict-Zone9968
|
AstroRide
|
2024-06-23 02:24:50
|
2024-06-22 23:46:34
| 39 | 16 |
l9ulh5q
|
l9u06qv
|
1dm3g47
|
1dm3g47
|
[WP] You work in a nursing facility where a cat inexplicably visits patients the night they pass. Tonight they won’t leave you alone.
|
That cat, that damn cat.
That we would allow an animal into a nursing facility was beyond me. Talk about unhygienic—not only did the cat walk around in its own excrement but it was known to sometimes lick patients with the very same tongue it had used to lick its own…parts. But try as I might, I couldn’t get rid of him.
That cat, that damn cat.
I couldn’t get rid of him because the patients adored him. He would snuggle up on their laps and purr with a sultry vibrato that, to them, felt vaguely of home. To me, he was a walking germ factory—a facility constantly on the brink of meltdown, one false step could lead to disaster. To the patients, he was a comfort, a taste of normalcy, a humanizing presence in the most dehumanizing of times. For that reason, I begrudgingly came to appreciate him.
That cat, that damn cat.
Was it a coincidence that a pattern emerged? I doubt it—when it comes to animals, nothing is a coincidence. He was known to remain steadfast by the side of our patients who’s time had drawn near, nuzzling and purring all the while. It became a source of certainty for patients and nurses alike when Angel—the cat, though I secretly called him Demon—would cling to one patient or another; with that small act, we all knew that their struggle was nearly over.
And without fail, it was.
Was it the cat’s fault? Was the cat carrying some disease that took our patients to the brink? Was the cat Death incarnate or some murderous spirit from the nether realms? Or did he just know, in the way that only animals can, that his comfort was needed? It was probably the last one but, knowing cats, we can’t rule out the other more sinister options. Regardless, in my mind it was an ill omen for that cat to show you any focused attention.
It was especially so the day he chose me.
That cat, that damn cat.
I had just finished my rounds when little Demon slowly sauntered up next to me and rubbed his side upon my leg. Weird. Demon and I had an understanding—or so I thought—he kept his distance, I kept mine, and we carry on with our work, distinct and separate.
But on that day, he wouldn’t leave me alone.
I tried to type, he walked gingerly across the keyboard; I pushed him from my lap, he hopped back up; I made my rounds, he followed close behind.
This was not good.
Was I dying? Did I have some underlying health condition, some undiagnosed terminal illness that would strike me down in the prime of life? I’m not usually superstitious but, I’ll admit, I started to have a bit of a panic attack.
I found a supply closet—the very one all us nurses informally understood as ‘break-down room’ and closed the door behind me. I sat on the floor and began to hyperventilate. Tears began flowing freely and easily. I thought of all that I had yet to accomplish, all that lay before me—my future children, my husband, my goals, my future—was dissolving in the salty puddle of tears forming on the beige linoleum on which I sat.
I was a complete mess. And then I saw the shadow of four little feet darken the space below the door, and a quiet, almost pathetic, “mew.”
That cat, that damn cat.
I opened the door and let him in. I was angry and sad, beyond rationality. I began to talk to Demon.
“Why me?” I asked. “Why are you doing this? I’m a good person, I deserve more time. I have more good yet to do, more that I hope to accomplish. Please, just…don’t.”
The cat of course, didn’t respond. Well, not in English anyway. “Mew,” he said again, even quieter than before. Was he always so small? Who fed this poor cat anyway? He looked so frail and tiny there in the dim light of the break-down room.
He softly crawled upon my lap and curled himself up—he felt like all fur and bone. He purred lightly in my lap and stared up at me with his light green eyes. Wow. I hadn’t noticed how beautiful Demon was before. I scratched his chin and he closed his eyes and extended his chin further so I could get him even more.
He was shaking.
That cat, that damn cat.
I soon realized that it wasn’t me who would be moving onto the next journey that day. It was our little Angel, Demon. For some reason, he had picked me as his final companion, hoped I would pay him that same courtesy he had paid so many other passing patients. I held him close and gave him as much warmth as I could. I spoke to him again, this time friendly, understanding.
“It’s ok, buddy,” I said. “You don’t have to hang on any longer. We can take care of things around here. You’ve done more than enough.”
I began to sob. I choked out the words I knew he so desperately deserved to hear.
“Thank you. Thank you for everything, for the comfort you provided, for the warmth and the love. You’ve helped so many people, you are a hero, Angel. A true little Angel. It’s ok, you can go—go find those friends who’ve gone on before. I know they’ll be ready for you with smiles and warm laps and all the chin scritches you deserve.”
He looked up at me one last time and purred. He closed his eyes and he was gone. I held his body and cried harder than I had ever cried in my life. The world was a less beautiful place than it had been before. The world had lost its Angel.
That cat, that damn cat.
_____
r/InMyLife42Archive
|
All I can think about is the paint on the wall, how ugly it looks as it’s chipping away, revealing not white but moldy, sagging walls. I could put my hand to it and put a hole in it, couldn’t I? Just a tap and I could- “I’m sorry, Harold, can you say that again? My mind wandered off a bit.”
With a coughing fit, Harold, an old shriveled-up man, laughs. “No worries. I could tell you were looking off, so I took a little bit of a break.” He strokes the fur of a black cat. The little thing only looks at Harold with its silver eyes, and its hair is in the air, scratching at the back of my throat. “That’s what makes yah different. You don’t pretend to listen.”
I nod, the wall still aching in the back of my head. What if it’s so soft it collapses, or mold grows in the back? “Anyway, you were saying.”
“Right, yeah, I saw my grandson yesterday. We spoke.”
“Did you?”
He smiles, close-lipped, weak, one of those kinds of smiles that you can barely even tell is there since the eyes look on the verge of crying. “Apologize? I did. At least for the things I did tah him. I was waiting for him and his siblings to come around tah apologize for what I did to my son, their father.”
“Was?” The cat curls into a ball, sinking into Mr. Harold’s lap. “You can’t be serious?”
He nods. “This fellow has helped plenty of my pals get things together on time. Linda, Jaque, Michael. Our little clock, we call him that.”
“Nurses call him the Reaper.” The cat wags its tail and purrs as it gets all the attention it could ever want. “It’s just a made-up thing we all do to pass the time.”
“How many years have you been here?”
“Eight.”
“How many times has this little guy been right?”
My back pops as I lean back in my foldable chair. Ninety-eight times. “I don’t know.”
“You lost count, that’s why. I stopped at twenty. That was enough for me.” Another purr. The cat stretches, climbs Harold’s wheelchair, and lays on his shoulder. It’s as if the cat isn’t even there with how little Harold minds. He has a bad shoulder, spine, hip, and everything. So bad I can’t touch him without a wince or grunt. I try to clear my throat, cat hair tickling my insides. “I have a letter in the drawer. Wrote everything I wanted to say tah them. Can I leave it tah you to handle that?”
“Of course, but if you stick around till tomorrow, I’ll drive those kids down to see you the same day.”
He laughs with a wheeze that sounds as if there’s a hole in his throat. “Drive like that takes seventeen hours.”
“I’ll meet them halfway.”
Harold reaches his hand out, and I grab it. “Deal.”
I leave, onto the next room, and the one after that. I clean diapers, help people to the bathroom if they can walk, put together puzzles, clean up the spills, help someone up, listen to Cassandra talk about how cheap her fiancé is, help someone sign in, and pull Harold’s body outside. The funeral home was fast this time. Ninety-nine now. It’s four PM. He was seventy-three. The cat sits at the center of the main entrance, atop the brown carpet that used to be red. It stares at me, its silver eyes cold to look at, yet my hand, the part of my body it focuses on, is warm.
I pet it. “One of these days, they’ll think you’re cursed, you know?” I wait for it to speak, expect it, with all the rumors, with all the people it’s picked to die for it to say something. For it to be anything but an average cat. It doesn’t. I go back to work.
At seven PM I stand outside, the wind is cold, but the weather is hot and dry. I’m almost panting at how hot it is, and my lips chap, bleeding. Isn’t the night supposed to be cold? “I blame you for this, you know.” The cat rubs against my leg. “You picking me as the hundredth?” It meows. I scoop it up, holding it in a cradle with my arms as I walk, sit on the bus, sneeze at its fur, and struggle to open my door while it climbs onto my shoulder until I fall, finally, onto my couch.
The cat sits on the dining table, its whiskers glowing in the darkness with eyes that shine like headlights. Is this it? Am I actually going to be the hundredth? I don’t want to die, right? I can’t believe I’m asking myself that. I’m thirty-two - what do I have to show for it -and I have a family - one that doesn’t want to talk to me again - and I. I had friends.
I pound at my chest, inviting the cat, and it accepts. It leaps with a grace I have never seen before onto me without a thud or a scratch. It moves to my heart and curls up. It’s cold. I can feel it through my clothes. I just want to sleep. It’s Eight Thirty-Four. I’m tired, apparently going to die, and I’m not upset by that. I close my eyes.
I hear a bell.
There is a light.
I open my eyes.
The alarm clock is blaring, and the cat is still on my chest, but it isn’t moving. It’s not cold anymore, but it isn’t warm or breathing. Was it the one without any time? Was that why it came to me? There’s a purr across the room. Three small balls of black fur stare at me with little silver eyes from the coffee table. Besides each is a collar, names encrusted in copper plating. Mortus, Victus, and Perdito. And then, there’s a book in red velvet silk with a small note card.
“So, you’ve been chosen to raise a grim reaper? What now!”
|
None
|
Lemurs_in_my_skull
|
2023-03-17 17:54:41
|
2023-03-17 16:32:22
| 281 | 88 |
jcleb9j
|
jcl1aty
|
11tsvzz
|
11tsvzz
|
[WP] Anonymous "Hero" donates human kidneys, blood, eyeballs, and various organs to the hospital every week. The number now tallying in the hundreds. Doctors and news outlets are wondering where they acquire them from and whether it is ethical to use them. Surprisingly, its not a serial killer.
|
One of the great medical innovations one day will be organ cloning. While great strides have been made into STEM cell research, there are still many problems that need solving in order for it to save millions of lives. And yet, the newscaster continued, Abercroft Hospital, unremarkable as far as hospitals go, has received mysterious daily shipments from an unknown donor. Various organs that are all, somehow, genetically identical. We go now to…
Jessica looked away from the television and to the now pristine surgical implements that lay before her. While she probably couldn’t get sick, it never hurt to be careful. Her assistant walked in and began scrubbing up.
“Happy two week anniversary of this madness” he grumbled. She put the tools into the medical oven.
“Hey, I’m just doing my part.”
“Without anesthesia—”
“C’mon, it’s just like giving birth—“
“Last I checked, you had no children. And we give mothers a spinal tap.” He snapped his latex gloves and turned to let Jessica help him into the next few layers. “Look, I know that I can’t complain, but… procuring these organs, day in, day out— it makes me sick. Yeah, I know, think about how hard it must be for you, but— still. I’m not sure how much more of this I have in me.”
“I’m not sure how much more I have in me, either,” she replied. “But I do know that I want to do this today. And I’ll probably want to tomorrow too.” She lay back on the makeshift operating table, unbuttoning her shirt. “So I just need you to stick with me until then.” Her assistant nodded, and turned on the ventilation. After she sanitized her torso, he handcuffed her wrists and feet, and pulled tight the restraints around her chest, head and waist. And then, even though Jessica had the terrible luck to be immune to all known forms of anesthetic, even though as much physical pain she would go through, even though he felt they might both be going insane, he still took knife to flesh and removed 2 kidneys, 2 lungs, a heart, and a liver, because Jessica was perhaps the only person in the world that could survive without them and then grow them back. He sat there in mundane horror, as she screamed until her lungs were removed, as she broke and healed her bones trying to break free, as her body didn’t even give her the kindness of unconsciousness. He sat there and worked, mechanically, efficiently. 2 minutes faster than last time.
He closed her up— her skin healed before he could stitch it— took off his surgical gear, and held her hand as her organs regrew over the next few hours. He couldn’t look her in the eye, but at least he could hold her hand as a part of him died.
Six more boxes lined up on the table, as she began struggling for breath. Six more lives saved.
|
"Could this day get any worse?" Adrian muttered as he looked over the bills. Car insurance, renter insurance, rent, oil change, his siblings school, a few past due credit card statements, mom's bar tab, then there's the people he owes....it was getting to be too much.
Sweat trickled down his freckled cheeks as he ran a hand through his shaggy hair. Feeling his curls and the slight scalp massage calmed him down a little.
"ADDY! ADDY!"
Adrian froze for a moment. Loud crying along with more shouts of "ADDY!" force him into action. He all but flipped the stained and gouged coffee table as he bolted up the rickety stairs.
"What happened," he shouted when he got up stairs.
"ADDY ADDY!"
He ran into the twin's room, both China and Chazz where inside. China looked scared and pointing at their brother. Chazz was crying on the floor holding his mouth with one hand and on the other holding up something small-
"Is that his tooth," Adrian said, dropping to his knees and checking on his little brother. "Chazz, c'mon, lemme see. Open your mouth, lemme see!"
His little brother cried but opened his mouth. Yeup, one of his buck teeth were cracked and he was bleeding.
"What happened, " Adrian asked, glancing at China, but still focusing on Chazz.
"Whe were paying cohps and rhobbers," his little sister said, using her index finger to trace a path between their beds. "He hit it!" She pointed at the wooden post by the foot of Chazz' bed that was now gouged.
"Alright c'mon, into the car, lets go!" Adrian said picking part of the tooth and his brother, marching down the stairs, and he could hear his sister following behind.
He drove fast, even though the "check Engine" light was on and the car made some weird sounds. He was lucky he wasn't pulled over. He made it to a dentist, waited a bit, and a dentist was looking him over with the cracked portion of the tooth.
While the dentist did that, Adrian was just in the waiting room with his sister who was crying.
"I'm sowwy," his sister let out as tears ran down her pale face.
"It's an accident," Adrian said as he hugged her with one arm, bringing her close to him, comforting her, "no more playing Cops and robbers, though, okay?"
She sobbed but nodded.
Adrian was upset, but he's done dumber shit their age. He was just lucky he could regrow an eye.
Truthfully, he was more worried about the bill. He had a sales job, but sales weren't good, and it didn't help that his mother was off who knows where racking up debt somewhere else.
He didn't want to do it, but he finally caved in.
He took his phone, his fingers gliding through the cracked screen. As soon as he unlocked his phone a text message through a third party app came through.
**( ◥◣\_◢◤ ): \[I take it you're in?\]**
|
Magic-Legume
|
dgj212
|
2024-08-29 03:08:16
|
2024-08-29 00:34:55
| 43 | 19 |
lkg1eho
|
lkfdba8
|
1f3lth4
|
1f3lth4
|
[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.
|
No two dragons were the same. Some say the form it takes depends on the care it receives while still an egg. Others claim that it is based on the soul of its rider. And more believe that it is entirely random. Whatever the case, this has never happened before. A dragon born smaller than a mouse. Even after a year of care, in which most dragons reach their full size and strength, my partner never exceed the size of a common rabbit. My cohort mates had repeatedly told me to try again, get another egg, and leave this one to the reservations or sell it to the circus of curiosities. The drillmaster took the opportunity to declare me unfit for service in the royal dragon legion, recommending me for menial duties until I regained my honor by breeding a worthy dragon.
Then the time came for battle. The first true test of the legion. A portal to the nether realm had opened, and creatures of darkness and demons were approaching in the hundreds. We lined up in the parade grounds, not really listening to the supposedly rousing speech by the drillmaster. His dragon stood tall, her gold scales glimmering in the sunlight. The others were mounted upon their partners; Most were whispering words of encouragement, perhaps more for themselves than for their mounts. In stark contrast, Crownperch nestled in my hair, unfazed by the size difference between his peers, nor nervous at the prospect of a life and death struggle. The other riders threw glances in my direction. Some were of derision, and others of pity. It matters not. My dragon may not be as large, have as many spikes or possess an elemental breath like the others, but it was the most special of them all, for it was mine. The trumpet of battle sounds, the gates open and we rush out to meet the incoming horde.
----
*My dragon is the best. With a single claw he takes down demons by the dozens. He has one large scale covering his body, which is pretty good at deflecting small blows. I cast my protection spell so that magical attacks glance right off. I see the other dragons fighting furiously, going toe to toe with the lesser beasts. Mine, however, with some help from my physical and mental enchantments, bites through them like teeth through bread. He periodically checks to make sure I’m safe. After all, he is my father before he is my dragon. I sit proudly atop his head, undisputably the best view of the carnage. Yes, I am the best dragon rider, for my dragon is the best.*
|
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.”
|
hatabou_is_a_jojo
|
Willowrosephoenix
|
2024-04-30 04:37:28
|
2024-04-30 03:07:59
| 570 | 280 |
l1w9m3o
|
l1vxyqn
|
1cggtbb
|
1cggtbb
|
[WP] You wake up to find out that you've been somehow transported into the world of the last video game you played. Describe your first day.
|
I'm cold.
For a moment I wonder if I have died. Is this heaven?
I hear mechanical wirring and then the hydraulics of something opening. I see a light and just as I am barely able to perceive my surroundings I feel a slight push and stumble forwards.
I am in some kind of armored suit. There is a person in something resembling a military outfit in front of me.
"Welcome Helldiver to your ship. The Citizen of Steel. You should go and talk to the democracy officer on the bridge to decide which area you want to liberate first"
This is when my suspicion turns into confirmation. I'm not in heaven. I'm in hell!
|
I don't even remember getting out of bed, but I've just exited a house. It's a nice place on an island bluff. Golden roses grow on either side, and the air is full of buzzing insects. I yawn and shake the cobwebs loose from my brain before I check the mail. Another package from mom, my bank statement, couple postcards... Oh! I forgot I ordered this album! I turned to go back inside. This record needs to be added to the collection. What was that? A cockroach? How long have I been away? I no more crush the wretched thing before I hear a knock at the door. "Bestie, are you home?"
Crud. There goes my whole morning.
|
Mad_Moodin
|
AsYouWis_h
|
2024-03-09 06:57:11
|
2024-03-09 00:43:30
| 19 | 13 | null |
ku01z5v
|
1b9y4xy
|
1b9y4xy
|
[WP] A man is kidnapped. He is forced to choose for the kidnapper to press one of two buttons. Button 1 will kill 100000 people at random. Button 2 will kill the 2 most important people in the victim’s life. The victim answers concerningly quickly.
|
"that sounds like magic."
"In a very real sense, it is Mr White. The machine measures the probabilities surrounding your existence and makes its choices."
"Button two. Definitely button two." I rest my thumb on the button.
"Hesitation Mr White? You seemed so certain and yet you have not pressed the button."
"Oh I'm quite certain. I just need you to understand. The two most important people in my life at the moment are the gunman holding me hostage and the person who sent him."
His eyes widen and he starts bringing his gun more carefully to bear.
In that moment I am sure that he is the most important person in my life. I push the button.
He crumples to the floor. And I presume somewhere someone else has just done the same.
The Machine itself is small and portable. Probably a terminal connected to something much larger. But whatever it is, if it can understand those sorts of instructions it can be taught to understand other instructions and make other choices.
But I have the machine. And soon people will be coming for me.
Very important people.
|
"Question 1. How long do I have?" I ask?
The man in the Scream mask on the wall TV replied "24 hours. I'll even be nice and give you a countdown for the last 60 seconds."
"Question 2. Are my 2 loved ones guaranteed not to be included when pressing Button 1?"
The man paused tapped on a keyboard somewhere and then said "Sure. That's done."
"Question 3. What about me? I could get unlucky?"
\*tap tap tap\* "Fine, but no other exceptions. You don't seem to be taking this as seriously as you should."
The man stood and continued. "Enough questions, I'll be back in 23 hours, unless you're very, very unlucky." He walks out of screen and I hear a door close and lock.
I stood, approached the buttons.
There's no guarantee that this will work, but here goes.
I hit button number 1 like it was going out of fashion. I had 23 hours to solve overpopulation. 40,000 presses should be enough.
As I did a speed run to carpal tunnel, I wondered when I'd next be invited to host doctors to explain how great and important I am. They all seemed delighted to meet Thanos The Mad Titan. (Yes, all the important people have multiple middle names, and the most important ones have The as one of them.)
|
BitOBear
|
RandeKnight
|
2025-03-31 16:13:26
|
2025-03-31 12:15:59
| 435 | 96 |
mkpfzwb
|
mko8xf6
|
1jo0ini
|
1jo0ini
|
[WP] You're in class one day when a beast straight out of fantasy crashes through the door head first. On its heel is your always bullied and unpopular classmate, who swiftly and effortlessly hacks it in two with a sword from behind. They look up to see everyone staring at them. "Aw, shit."
|
“Aw, shit.”
Callum was standing in the doorway chest heaving, black hair haphazardly strewn about his head. The purple blood was spattered on his pale face, deep blue eyes taking in all of our shocked faces. My eyes darted to the creature laying on the ground nearly cleaved in half. Then back to my classmate holding a deadly looking sword with a literal cloak made of flames dancing around his frame.
Silence reigned until someone, Bernice probably, screamed and promptly feinted into Rendal’s arms. Then everyone was speaking or crying or freaking out and Callum was still standing there holding the sword. He was looking like, for all intents and purposes, he could make the creature disintegrate with his look alone. Considering the circumstances, I could not rule it out.
“The hell just happened, Callum. Why did you let it get away? What if someone saw…” Hendrick walked into the room and spotted all of our faces and the dead beast at Callum’s feet.
“Aw, shit.”
Apparently, that was the professional response for this situation.
|
I sighed, tapping swiftly on my wrist, and looking at her. My best friend, for everyone else, and in actuality, much much more, Addie.
“ We are being relocated again.” I sighed. “ This was a nice place, will miss it. “
Turning toward the class, I now yelled, while Addie looks on in embarrassment. “ Alright, shut up, I know what you are thinking, everything is under control, don’t move.” I glanced outside the window, as the sounds of VTOL craft got louder, until several small VTOL craft dispatched troops, sealing down the school.
Soldiers moved in, securing the corpse of the beast, while everyone just glared at us ,all terrified, there was actually puddles of yellow liquid… you know what it is, on the floor.
“ How did that even get here?” I’d gesture towards the corpse of the creature, being tended to.
“ Class-2 Rip, sir. We have three reported cases On-World right now.”
I sighed again, and then towards Addie. “ You ok?”
She nodded silently, and I gave her a hug.
We were guided to a VTOL. Holding hands, we boarded the VTOL to a secure location, probably some bunker deep in the ground, until we get new identities.
But hey, at least we got each other.
|
Unabashed-Lovely
|
Playful-Ad-9600
|
2024-02-03 22:10:16
|
2024-02-03 21:10:38
| 51 | 21 |
kosnhu2
|
kose6ta
|
1ai125n
|
1ai125n
|
[WP] "I shall grant three wishes, but you cannot wish for... Actually, fuck it. You get infinite wishes and no rules, let's see where this goes."
|
He was expecting chaos. He never could have expected me.
"I wish that everyone I consider family or friends would always have enough money to pay their bills and be able to treat themselves to something nice without worrying about expenses." I had said.
"Granted. Next wish?" The genie said, staring into my eyes.
"That's it." I sat back and crossed my hands behind my head, waiting for the genie's next move.
"You're just going to let that hang there? No other wishes?" He asked
"There's nothing else I want. Take the wishes back. I'm done." I offered him a bottle of water and he took it hesitantly.
"All that power and potential, and you just want to give it up? Why?"
"Because I wasted five years of my life with a problem gambling. I'm not going to gamble with cosmic power if I can't even win a single hand of poker. Too many of my friends and family wasted their own money trying to keep me in the black. If it hadn't been for them, I would have been broke ten times over. But by giving them this wish, I pay them back, even if they're not aware of it."
The genie sat next to me, drinking the water. "Out of hundreds of masters, you're the first that I would consider a good man."
I shook my head. "I'm not good. I'm trying to be, but I'll never be a good person. I can only be better than who I was."
"That right there is the sign of a good man."
|
The dust settled as it had done many times and it soon would be agitated once more. In the midst of the clearing between the rocky outcrops blue-tinted light softly undulated across the sand and rock. The air was filled with two things. One giant marine blue humanoid creature and tension. In front of the shape sat a young man, cross-legged, one hand prodded under his chin in deep contemplation.
“This was not what I had in mind,” sighed the creature.
“It’s just, fine.” the man replied. “Genie, I wish for more time!”
The genie threw his face towards the sky and trusted his hands up in aspiration.
“For F-- whatever you wish!” he yelled, “consider it done.”
Not much seemed to be happening, but the man once more dug his chin into his palm and resumed the careful consideration.
“You can wish for anything in the world and not of this world,” the genie started as he had started many times. “You can have all the riches, all the fame, all the power.”
“I know, but I don’t want to make the wrong wish and regret it,” the man replied.
“Do you understand the concept of infinite wishes?” the genie said.
“Not very well, to be honest, but there are just so many options,” the man sighed.
The genie spun around like a spinning top while roaring in frustration. The air flow it stirred up interrupted the process of the dust settling and blew it up in the air again.
|
wraithstrike
|
zeekoes
|
2024-05-24 15:33:45
|
2024-05-24 15:04:42
| 196 | 48 |
l5hftja
|
l5haws2
|
1czk8rl
|
1czk8rl
|
[WP] You have lost count of how many time travelers have come to kill you. You don't know why they came and at this point you don't care. You will become what they fear simply out of spite.
|
When the first one came for my life, I was surprised to say the least. I want to say he looked like a Terminator but he was just a guy. No one had looked at me with such unadulterated contempt and hate before. Not even my ex.
"You will not live long, scum!" He screamed as the police dragged him. "You will pay for what you did to us. What you did to humanity!"
I stared at him baffled. I had absolutely no idea. At first I thought he must have escaped from the asylum. Maybe this was a psychotic episode. I actually felt bad for the man.
It wasn't until the second one arrived a week later that the suspicion started to take root in my mind. She was a beautiful woman. I knew I had no chance with and yet when she smiled coyly at me, I couldn't help myself. I went to talk to her. That's when she took out the knife. A good Samaritan just happened to walk past and disarmed her.
She too screamed when the police came. "You think you have a blessed life? You are nothing but a curse. You are a blot on humanity."
I was now getting concerned. Maybe I was something despicable. Two people had tried to kill me in two weeks. They must have a reason. I did not posses any significant money nor did I have information about the State's affairs.
Then it must be me.
And isn't that the thought that starts to destroy you. Like rust on iron, it grows and grows until it covers the whole structure and one day the structure gives up- collapses.
I just hoped I don't collapse. I may not have people who depend on me but I also didn't want to be destroyed.
*
I started seeing a therapist after the third one. This one was just a boy. It broke my heart when they had wrench his screaming body away from me. He did get a shot in. My arm was bleeding, knife was embedded deep in my bicep. But there was a numbness spreading inside me. I must be a truly awful person if a boy, who was no older than 15, wanted to kill me.
Something inside me broke that day. I knew I needed help. And if I didn't get it the collateral damage would be too large.
*
"Sir, we think there's a bounty on your head." Detective Conan said.
"Who?" I asked. My voice was hoarse because of disuse. I had stopped leaving my house. The only place I went to was my therapists. I had taken a mental health leave from my work.
"We don't know." Detective Conan said looking slightly ashamed.
I nod. I understood his position. It was not an easy job. They needed concrete evidence and I didn't think that my attackers were cooperating.
"Can I talk to them?" I asked calmly. I just needed a reason. Was it truly me? If it was maybe I could change myself.
He looked uncertain then nodded. "Sure."
*
"Why do you want to kill me?" I looked at each of them. I needed to see the truth in their eyes. I needed to see the hate in their eyes.
A barrage of insults flew at me. Bastard, scum, monster, devil, a few more but I stopped listening. My therapist said to distance myself from toxicity but I needed the truth, what I didn't need was unnecessary curses.
"Who sent you?" I asked calmly.
The boy laughed. "No one sent us. We are here because we know you. The true you."
My self-doubt was rising again but I didn't let it take over me. I knew me. I tried to do the right thing, always have, always will. I didn't deserve this.
"Who?" My voice had an edge to it now and maybe they could tell because their faces changed. A little fear had started to seep into their features.
"We are not from here." The woman snarled. "We are from the time where you destroy everything."
"Time travel." I laughed out loud. "You all-"
"We don't want to talk to this man anymore, officer." The man said.
And then I was left, in the too hard chair, staring at the space my three attackers had occupied. Maybe they were telling the truth. And if they were then I must turn something evil in the future.
That darkness once again started to creep on me and this time I let it.
*
I didn't even try to stop the next attacker. I was ready to embrace the darkness. Why wouldn't I? It had already taken over me. Every good thought I had was now turned against me. All I had were thoughts about how one day I will someday turn so evil that people will jump through time to kill me.
So, I let them.
But fate had other plans because they shot at an innocent woman, her only mistake was that she was standing beside me.
After weeks of darkness I saw a light. A red light of fury filled my being as I screamed and threw myself at my attacker.
That was the last day I counted my attackers. Because that was the last day I doubted myself. I knew I was not the one who turned evil.
Whatever I become from this time forward is because I chose me instead of the version of me they thought me to be.
From that day I decided to become something more than a victim.
I chose to become a fighter. A survivor.
[You can find more of my stories at r/iknowthisischeesy.]
|
I was innocent once. Naïve, really, but isn’t naïveté born from innocence?
Well, no matter. It wasn’t a familiar feeling anymore.
My home was the valley forest where I’d first opened my eyes under a starry sky and a full moon. I waited in one of my caves, watching as the scouts darted through the trees. They were clumsy, these humans. Even the skilled beckoned me like a fire, obviously foreign to my home.
Tree branches waved to me, crying *they’re here, here!* Silent owls hooted and announced interlopers. Insects scurried from beneath boots, and their human tread vibrated in my belly, as if they stepped on my skin.
Endless. Kill three and thirty more replaced them, but it was the work I was given, so I slid from my cavern and entered the forest.
The scouts didn’t tremble noticeably, although a gulp or two betrayed a dry mouth. These were men, not boys. I wondered if they were knights.
The next part I didn’t like.
A blue eyed man had made it the closest to my cavern, bow drawn, eyes shrewd. Middle aged, with ranks on his shoulders. His callouses felt thick against the inside of my cheeks before his hands went limp.
The next one was bald and short, with large black eyes that matched his skin. He managed to let out a cry before the scarred flesh of his throat pealed against my tongue.
That caused a stirring in the forest. I ran like a shadow through the woods, *this way, this way* the birds above indicated, *here* called a rabbit thumping against the forest floor at the point where the knights converged.
“Monster,” some of the men cried, and I let the anger build in my chest. “The monster is coming.”
*Monster?* **Monster?**
I barreled through the tree line and into the group of a dozen trained men. Metallic clangs bruised me but didn’t break through my hide as I tore into them. Eyes swam in my vision. That was the worst part, I had to carry the image of each kill with me. They came to me at night and stood vigil, plaguing my dreams. The innocent activity of sleep was spoiled.
*You!* I screamed as I tore into them, giant claws shredding their armor like butter. It was amazing how good the outlet of anger felt. I spilled pain and sleepless nights and fear into that clearing, wielding it with vengeance.
Ruined. I was ruined.
Finally, there was no movement left in the meadow. My body was slick with blood, the meadow was red and silver. I turned away, nausea flipping my stomach. I disappeared through the trees, letting the carnivores of my forest enjoy what they could. With each step away from my misdeeds I shrank, letting my body reflect my earliest years.
The trees towered over me, and I remembered the wide eyed joy I’d looked up with my first day alive. A canopy of home.
I couldn’t enjoy the distant friends that had watched me throughout my life. I felt small, exposed. They watched me with malicious judgement now. I wasn’t their child any longer.
I bounded through the tall grass to the spring at the heart of my forest, crying as the water turned red around me. The bottom of the spring cleansed my scales and mouth, and I washed upon her shore small and tired.
Peace.
*Here, here* a voice called, and I looked up to see a young girl and her father standing above me. She had a basket in one arm and foraging dagger on her hip that she’d pulled free and pointed at me. Her father pushed her behind him. A bow was slung across his back.
I cried out in frustration. My forest rustled in the night as I towered over them. My reflection was in their wide eyes. I didn’t like what I saw. I shrank and turned, laying back down on the bank.
The girl circled around me, her father’s bow trained on my approximate heart. I ignored them. Then the girl dove into the spring. That made me raise my head. What was happening?
I watched as the girl struggled back and forth across the bottom of the spring, her father’s jaw tight and bow drawn. After a moment he cursed and jumped in after her.
What an odd time to swim.
That’s when I saw a little blue body. Her father grabbed her and pulled her out of the water. She was a little blonde cherub, blue. Dead.
They tried to administer aid, but it was useless. I bent my head forward and the father yanked his living daughter back, scrambling for his bow. I touched the child’s forehead, feeling power go out of me. She slowly began to blink.
The girl cried out in happiness, but their father screamed in rage, unable to see through his terror. A shaft bruised my shoulder and I growled. I lifted the toddler below me onto my back.
“No give her back!!” he cried, loosing another arrow. My claws rend the earth.
“Father, stop!” the girl cries. But he’s gone, I’ve dissolved him into red mist.
Now the girl shrieks. I bare my teeth at her, eyes on her dagger. She trembles, then retreats toward town. I let her go. The toddler is oblivious, magicked to sleep on my back. I take her. She is mine, and now when death calls, maybe I’ll have something to hold me back.
My head lifts.
*Here! Here!*
There are soldiers in the forest again.
|
iknowthisischeesy
|
littlepillowcase
|
2023-07-13 16:03:27
|
2023-07-13 15:40:37
| 362 | 40 |
jrtgat4
|
jrtcy9x
|
14ykuqu
|
14ykuqu
|
[WP] You have lost count of how many time travelers have come to kill you. You don't know why they came and at this point you don't care. You will become what they fear simply out of spite.
|
It rained when the first one arrived all those years ago, and it rained now, as I stood over another. Over the body of a once so worthy killer sent from somewhere beyond my timeline. I guess it said something about me that I paid more mind to the rain than the bleeding man on the ground, but I had learned to stop believing in coincidences and this rain was certainly not one.
It always rained when they came.
If this one, this man now growing colder by the second on the pavement, long blonde hair running in streams down his face, had been the one sent all those years ago then maybe he'd have succeeded in his task. And maybe I'd be long dead. But instead they had sent a version of me. Sent me back to kill me. I would have had trouble killing anything else, but me? I had no trouble killing me.
I remember the day. The forecast didn't call for rain, yet there it was. A drizzle, pouring down from a clear blue sky as if the fountains of heaven spilled over. I thought it strange as I stood staring from my balcony. *At least my plants will get something from this*, was the only stupid thought in my head.
Then he, I, arrived. Not in a flash or through a swirling portal, but just showed up in my living room. A me, a much older me; his forehead wrinkled and eyes slimmer. Scars where I had none and less fingers than I remembered owning. He smiled to me, I thought, but there was a metallic threat in his hand which took priority.
"You should really get rid of this ratty old thing." He said, finding a seat on the couch.
"Did you? I replied. A guess on my part, but there was no mistaking our eyes. I knew him. I knew us.
He chuckled, gun still pointed up, "No, no.", he sighed. "We sure are just creatures of habit."
As I walked to him he seemed unconcerned. His face did not change, eyes did not grow in size. Slowly I reached out and took the gun from his three fingered hand, which uncurled at my touch.
"Are you just going to let me...?" My voice had trailed.
Once again he grinned, smiling as an old man looking to a child fondly. "Why not? You have so much to live for." And then, with a simple pull, he was gone. Not gone back to his home, the time where we'd come from, but gone in a heap on my living room floor.
I'm not sure what compelled me to kill him. Maybe the assumption that he was there to kill me. Or maybe just seeing us that way scared me. But since then they did not stop. Every rain on a clear sky I knew it, knew someone had arrived for me. And every time I left a body behind.
Some faces I'd recognize. Sometimes my mom or dad, brother or friend sent back from the far future. Others I did not. A child or woman, daughter or son.
Eventually they had stopped coming as assassins, rather as just people. But by then it was far too late. Every rain it was then I looking for them. I searching for the anomally and ending it with the same gun I'd first used.
All it was now was a wait. A wait until I had become old and withered, lost enough fingers and gained enough wrinkles to look as the man in my living room had. Then I would not hesitate as he, I had. I would kill him before he had a chance to consider the rain. And end us both.
If not for me, if not to end the thing that I'd become, then simply because I deserved no less.
|
I looked down at the dead man’s body as I held his identity paper in my hand. I can’t remember how many times this has happened, a stranger apparently from the future has somehow travelled back in time with the specific aim of killing me.
I was done. This was the final straw. One of them killed my mother by mistake when I was a boy and the media tried to blame my poor father. Another came for me when I was in high school, and another after I joined the military. More and more come each year. Fortunately I’m still alive and serving thanks to the skills they taught me in the army.
Sometimes more than one of these people come in a year and I have to kill them. I have killed women as well as men as they’re ranks contain both. It’s me or them and apparently there is no shortage of them in the future.
I didn’t ask for this, but I hoped I could do something about it. My poor old ma, dead before she was 50 because some asshole has a time machine. Why?
I glared down at the futuristic identification card through tears. I missed her. I missed her so much. “These bastards won’t get away with this.” I swore to myself.
As I read the ID I went through all of the details for any information I could use. Name, age, weight, height, nothing ever really helped aside from two of the categories.
The first was the birth date. This was how I discovered they were time travelers. Every single one of these monsters was born after 2350. I assume that’s the year when time travel was invented.
The second category was religion. They all had the same religion which was weird to me at first, but I think now it’s a clue. Knowing this about them gives me an edge. Because it’s a religion that I know because it is in my time too. They have to be descended from people in my time, they just have to be. Perhaps I can save myself, or a version of myself, this utter torment of a life that I have had, being mercilessly hunted by these monsters from the future.
If they want to come for me, let them come. For the rest of my life I expect these monsters to hunt for me, my only chance is to fight back, to reclaim some of my life if it’s the last thing I do. I want revenge. I want them to burn. But I can’t get to them. I can’t travel through time and I don’t know where or how they are organized and how strong they are. It’s one against who knows how many?
I folded the ID card in half and threw it on the deceased man, spitting on him for good measure. I don’t have to go to them.
“You’re ancestors are here somewhere and I’m going to find them.” I said to the dead body. “I’m going to find them and I’m going to kill them because of you.”
Because of all of you, I thought as I turned to walk away.
I stepped out of the alley into the sunlight and held my hand up to shelter my eyes from the glare. My mind was set. I had a plan. I was going to get my revenge for the people who had ruined my life, murdered my mother and stalked my nightmares. They will pay for their crimes, and if not them, then their ancestors. I don’t care anymore. I want payback.
A friend of mine called to me from across the square, noticing I had been missing for a while. As I jogged back to the group another friend spoke.
“What did that guy want Adolf?”
“I don’t know.” I replied.
|
GrunkleStanwhich
|
MilkmanBlazer
|
2023-07-13 16:35:25
|
2023-07-13 15:51:40
| 144 | 94 |
jrtl0p2
|
jrtekkq
|
14ykuqu
|
14ykuqu
|
[WP] If you would've known that that stupid river was the fountain of youth, you never would've drank from it. That was 300 years ago. You're permanently stuck at age 26. The only one you really have left in your life is your horse, who also made the mistake of drinking from it.
|
"What a waste of time!" she screamed as she packed her bags. My eyes firmly locked on my monitor in front of me, I continued to press the keys on my keyboard and click my mouse with expert precision, flawlessly executing the strategy that I had concocted. We would be the best. ***I*** would be the best. Time was no object.
"Don't you want to do something with your life?!" she continued, "I'm going to my mother's. Call me when you want to get serious!" and with that, she slammed the door.
"Another one bites the dust, eh Amal?" and a cacophony of crass laughter filled my Discord. "One more comment about it and you can find a new guild, new sponsors, and a new way to afford to pay your mothers for the groceries she still buys for you. Focus the fuck up." Twitch chat exploded with engagement and donations.
I didn't need the money, of course... not anymore, at least. Taking my prospecting earnings and silently investing them into railroads, then factories, then... oh who even remembers. A far cry from when I first arrived in the New World, when I had nothing. I would have starved to death dozens of times if it weren't for babbling brook in the Appalachians... some native spirit, or god, or demon, whatever it was, had decided I deserved to live forever. Well, *we*.
I glanced out my window over the estate that I'd inherited from myself time and time again, and sure enough, galloping around the pasture in the same reverse figure 8 he'd been doing every day for hundreds of years was that stupid, beautiful bastard - Buddy. He didn't deserve this, he was just a wild horse, lost from his herd, and just as starved and thirsty as I was. Once we drank from that stream, though, we were bonded for life, which it turns out is forever. A small smile cracked across my face as he galloped and kicked with pure joy like this might be his last day on earth. Far from it, pal... but you don't know that.
Just as I started to feel a wave of serenity wash over me, I regained my focus. "If we don't get this kill, I'll replace every one of you neckbeards with your sisters, because at least while I'm carrying them, they'll feel nice rubbing against my back. NOW PUSH!" Gotta be the best.
|
"Captain? The crew has some questions regarding this latest potential plunder. We see it unwise maybe the risk to reward of looting this planet that bares both roses and... thorns." Quartermaster Reyholds, James meekishly proclaimed at me while sheepishly side eyeing the horse who stood at attention, on all fours.
"The goods we can obtain can help both the colony and the teethe we owe to the empire." I lied.
I maintaned eye contact, holding my bluff. As it always is when the captain of a space crew. It starts the same everytime. I proclaim a bluff, use authority as a stature and experience as a cane. And with being the only human alive with an extra 300 years of experience, managed to bluff myself into this position.
Quarter Master Reyholds folded. "Ah fine. I'll explain the dire urgency of this harvest to the crew. We should have full support before rest. Captain."
He walked to the open door leading out of the captain's quarters and about faced and turned to the horse who still stood at attention.
Reyholds frowned in amusement as the horse leaned down and with his nose pressed a green button which then sliced the door closed.
It always amuses me when people see my odd companion of a helper is a horse. Not only that but a seemingly sentient one at that.
Mr. Senry, my horse companion prefers to be named this, has also survived 300 years along side me and as i evolved to better manipulate my proceedings. My loyal companion has taken to understanding common tongue of humanity. Though evolution has its limitations. Mr. Senry can not speak his mind back to me, which is such a shame. Hes quite cultured.
Mr. Senry neighed. He wants to know if this might be it.
I pressed a button on my desk, causing a hologram to blink to life. Illuminating a giant green planet.
"The dangers are real, my friend. And the crew must not know they risk their lives for a cause not true to the colony. But to their captain only."
I stepped through the holograph and out the other side to look at Mr. Senry's massive horse eye, seeing him weigh my words carefully.
"This planet may hold the secret to end this curse that has befallen us. By gods, i will see it burn if i have too."
=================
I am bad at writing on my phone. I apologize if this short story feels... incohesive
|
amalgamemnon
|
Thine_Frosted_Toad
|
2024-05-09 18:10:23
|
2024-05-09 17:10:11
| 21 | 14 |
l3bd6us
|
l3b2rkb
|
1cnxbg3
|
1cnxbg3
|
[WP] When his champion returned after many years, proudly spouting off his many accomplishments, the God could only stare, dumbfounded. "What the hell do you mean you saved the world? You were supposed to destroy it!"
|
"What the hell do you mean save the world? You were supposed to destroy it!"
The champion blinked like a deer looking at a car. The voice of her God was like a shambling mountain. Unstoppable, heavy, ancient. It would have crushed any being that had not received his favour.
"No? I followed your instructions, and it ended up saving the world! If you wanted it destroyed, why wouln't you just wait?!"
"WHY WOULD I WANT THE WORLD SAVED?! LOOK AT ME!" belowed the God, flames erupting upon his back, revealing the rest of his figure, once shrouded in darkness. He was a horned thing of scales and leathery wings, covered in eyes of flames and hate.
"...I though it was just an aesthetic..."
"An-" the elder thing sighed. "Okay. From the top. What did you do?"
"I spread anarchy in your name." answered the champion, shifting her weigh uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "You know, I took down corporations and major governements, and made sure that no other hierarchies were created. As I did this, me and my companions created systems that would allow communities to organize themselves without giving more power to an individual or another, so that-"
"THAT'S NOT WHAT I ASKED YOU! STEVE!"
The messenger appeared, a man of mean physique and blazing wings.
"Yes boss?"
"WHAT DID YOU TELL HER?!"
"To spread anarchy in your name, boss."
"I ASKED FOR CHAOS! DEATH!"
"Aren't those the same thing?"
The champion suddently perked up.
"Oh! You were thinking of anomia!"
"Bless you?"
"Anomia is the state of things where there are no laws, but that's not anarchy! Anarchy is a system where there are no hierarchies in a society! You see, you can't really have anarchy in anomia, because the people with the most strengh and ressources would have more power."
"Ooooohhhh! I understand now! Sorry boss. I guess this shows the importance of clear communication, and proper research into the terms you think you know, especially when they pertain to complex subjects!"
"Indeed! It's okay, Steve, we all make mistakes, and you've learned something important today!"
The Demon God looked at his two disciples in total disbelief.
"Why are you guys like this?"
|
My mouth went drier than grandma when grandpa is naked….sorry. After all I’ve been through to save this giant wreck of a world, I wanted a little revenge. So you now have that image in your head.
You humans, you’re….I don’t know if I have the language for it….moist?
Told you I didn’t have the language. I mean, every single idea I nurtured among your people got perverted into either a sexual toy or some means of killing. Seriously. Fire. That was my first attempt. Cook meat and keep warm. Reduce death via pathogens and hypothermia. What happened next? Some jerk got the bright idea to use it to clear land. No, not for agriculture. That came later. To kill the tribe next door so they could take their hunting lands.
Ok, fluke. I tried again many times. Agriculture twisted into chemical weapons and addictive substances. Metal working gave rise to swords and armor. Explosives and gunpowder. Hell even electricity. No matter what I gave you it just got worse
Despite all of that, I finally got mankind into interstellar space. Good for me. It was nearly impossible to keep you from destroying yourselves. Then I hear this.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Here’s the original work order. It says right here, item 4, remove indigenous humanoids to make room for new….um…wait….remove…..oh shit.”
The God just stared at me. “You see it now, don’t you?”
“Why didn’t you just say, exterminate? I mean remove can have many different interpretations.”
“Have you read my holy books?” The God asked, “I’m not exactly know for being clear and concise.”
I waited.
“I mean,” he continued, “even the few times I was clear and concise those boneheads got it wrong. That’s why I wanted them removed. I wanted to try again with those cute and cuddly pandas. Or maybe those ants. Now there’s a creation that can cooperate.”
“You know you’re not getting a refund on this, right?”
The god started getting vengeful.
“Look,” I interrupted, “how about this? Those humans are sure to destroy themselves now that I’m not helping them. Let’s just wait a few thousand years and they’ll find a way to destroy themselves.”
This god was not amused. I was livid. Whichever sales person wrote up this sale is gonna have a lot to answer for.
|
Laonys
|
Apprehensive_Cow1242
|
2023-11-19 09:43:58
|
2023-11-19 04:49:07
| 337 | 147 |
k9vfbur
|
k9uqxbt
|
17yo8rf
|
17yo8rf
|
[WP] A famous prompt: Describe a barn as seen by a man whose son has just been killed in a war. Do not mention the son, or war, or death. Do not mention the man who does the seeing.
|
On a hill stands a barn. In the barn stands a horse. This horse had been there since it was a foal. There it was born, there it grew and there it lives now. But it will not die there. For the horse has grown strong, the horse had grown tall. He will board a truck that will take him to a racetrack. A racetrack far, far away from here. There he will race. He will race until he can race no more. It may be from a broken leg, it may be because he got too old, but one day he will race no more. And then he will die. If not on the tracks, then in a factory. But he will die far away from the barn. If only he did not have to race, if only he did not have to die.
The truck is waiting.
———
I’m not sure if this counts as a poem, first time writing in this style
|
Home, it’s what consumes my mind. Branches snap under my weight as I drag myself up this steep, dusty, and unnecessarily long path. My shoulders lead the way and each sway pulls my focus with it. The grass has grown past my belt. The path is over run with insects and weeds. I remember that it was raining when I started walking. I don’t know how long I’ve been gone. I don’t care.
From the top of this hill, the sun beats down on the dark red. The dust that had clogged my lungs was encouraged by the wind to embrace the beams that were once white. The paint peels away. I give in to the earth and let my head rest on a soft, cold stone. From sight alone, I could feel those walls carve its way into my hands. No matter how calloused I became, it always managed to get under my skin. I knew that it was empty, but I could hear it full of life.
Soon, I’ll be home.
|
hatabou_is_a_jojo
|
genericjeemail
|
2024-05-01 06:12:58
|
2024-05-01 04:28:41
| 18 | 12 |
l222cup
|
l21s6bb
|
1ch8fdv
|
1ch8fdv
|
[WP] Teleportation is invented. It's presented with the ease of using an app. It's offered at a very affordable price, i.e.; New York, USA to Paris, France for $30. However, before it's release to the world, the inventor demands all fuel consumption is shut down.
|
An angry mob of teenagers surrounded Ashley as she bit her thumb and remembered her credit card statement. Rather, her parent's credit card statement, littered with purchases of corner store candies and fast food meals. "They're going to kill me," she thought as one of the boys in the crowd said, "If you don't heal us, we're going to kill you."
It wasn't a noble statement to make, considering they attended the number one superhero academy in the country. Yet the headmaster was never around when others acted unheroically, only Ashley. In two months, she's already earned two of the three allotted behavior strikes before expulsion. She'd accrued both strikes for the same crime.
Charging for her services.
"The mark of a true hero is the ability to place the needs of the manner over the desires of the individual," the headmaster told her two days ago. She's always hated his lectures and the way he eyed her over the frames of his bifocals, like she were a stain spreading her filth around the academy halls.
They all eyed her that way, even as they begged for her healing. "Are you going to help us, or not?" The fiery Samantha asked. Her dislocated arm dangled at her side, and her eyes glowed a neon red, an emotional tell she'd never learned to manage.
Ashley stared at her and considered. She could heal them for her standard fee one last time to clear the credit balance, but one of these preppy kids would snitch. Alternatively, she could ignore their requests, and leave them at the mercy of the school nurses, whose healing methods were far more painful and sluggish.
As the mob closed in, an idea came to her. "I will heal you all after class on the soccer fields," she told them. The crowd grumbled, and a few made snide remarks about her upbringing, but they dispersed to their classrooms.
After the last school bell rang, the mob rushed to the soccer fields, and saw Ashley standing next to a lanky man wearing a dingy brown shirt.
Ashley smiled and said, "This is Trent. He's my friend and your insurance."
The crowd stayed silent, so she smiled and continued. "See, as a hero; it wouldn't be noble of me to charge for my services. You won't pay me a dime for my healing, but you will pay for the insurance required for treatment, and he may...."
|
It all started in middle school when Jayden broke his ankle on the yard. It was a nasty break I could hear it all the way from the other side of field. He cried a bunch but once he saw me running up he stopped and flung his arm at me, then pointed to his ankle. "Oh yeah is that where it hurts? Thanks for pointing I wouldn't have known." He was in too much pain to acknowledge my assholery and instead he just stifled sounds of pain through his clenched teeth. I rolled my eyes and knelt beside him; knocked off his shoe and rolled up his pant leg. I put one hand on his shin and the other on his ankle (most healers say put both hands on the affected area but what do they know). I close my eyes and focus in real hard. I dont know how long I was at it until Jayden punched me in the arm, "Ow what the hell!" I yelled.
I looked at his ankle and it was fine, regular ol' Jayden ankle. "You know you dont have to be such an asshole just hurry up an heal me," Jayden said with a smile. "Oh I'm sorry was I too slow for you? Maybe I could have kissed your booboo too before I started. Jeez I ought to start charging you for this."
And just like that we were in business, by the time we got to freshmen year me and Jayden were rolling in dough. most of the time when anyone gets hurt they go to the school nurse healer, but if anything serious happens like a broken bone you get in trouble and they call your parents a crazy stupid rule that they reason with: you cant put yourself or other in harms way. I guess its targeted at the meat head knights who always cut each others arms off. Whatever, if anything that rule is what drives my business, people want to fight but get hurt and when they get hurt instead of getting in trouble they throw me a few bronze pieces (silver for below the belt) for a few minutes of healing.
Jayden, being the popular mage kid, knows everyone, which means everyone knows us. its crazy, in one day of battle practice we make 50 bronze, every time we go on a coliseum field trip, at least 70. And dont get me started on the wizards clubs, yeah the may be nerds but they fight viscous, they also have a LOT of bronze to spare. So far not a single professor expects me of anything, but I have heard a rumor that there is another healer transferring to this school. Better not get in my way I'm saving up for a mount!
|
intheweebcloset
|
Zootnuw
|
2023-01-20 02:55:32
|
2023-01-20 00:22:41
| 28 | 14 |
j53esec
| null |
10g50dq
|
10g50dq
|
[WP] When you made a wish to the genie to become fireproof, you expected to become "immune to fire", not "immune to getting fired".
|
“I am a great and powerful genie wish for whatever your heart desires. My only rules are 1 no bringing back from the dead, 2 no wishing for love, and 3 no wishing your nemesis doesn’t get into art school”
“And those are your only rules?” I say enthusiastically.
“Yes that is all, but be warned I am a genie.”
“Alright for my first wish, I wish for my bank account to never go down again.”
“It is done.”
“Ok. For my second wish, I want a million bucks!”
“It is done,” he says as a million deer appear in front of me“
This is not what I wished for!” I say angrily
The genie shrugs and says “I did warn you”
“Fine. For my final wish, I want to become fireproof. There’s no way you can mess that up.”
“It is done.” The genie says as they disappear into a cloud of smoke
The next day I woke up like any other day. I haven’t had time to test out my new fireproof ability yet. I start my morning routine getting ready for work, but I take my time. After all I’m going to be a superhero now, I might as well take my time and listen to the emergency services scanners. Maybe I should move to a country with instability so I can save more people. Eventually, I grab my keys and start heading to work. I’m 20 minutes late so my hard ass of a boss will probably fire me. At least I can collect unemployment money until I become the world’s greatest firefighter. I chuckle to myself at the possibility of scrawny little me fighting fires.
Eventually, I do make it to work. Late but I’m here. Unsurprisingly my boss storms up to me “Johnson! This is the 5th time you’re late this week! We have a pizza party waiting for you in the conference room!”
Shocked all I can stammer is a “What?”
He grabs onto my shoulder and wraps his arm around my neck. “Yes Johnson you might be my worst worker but you have the balls to show up late to every single shift this week. That kind of determination to piss me off is exactly what our sales force needs. Go to the conference room and enjoy your pizza, take as long as you’d like.”
“This has to be a joke” I mutter to myself as I make my way to the conference room, but surprisingly there are mountains of pizza all labeled ‘Johnson.’
After I eat my pizza I go to my boss’ office to see if I’m fired and this was just some weird prank.
“Sir?” I say knocking on the door“Ah, Johnson yes please come on in. What can I do for you?”
“Well, sir I was wondering. Am I fired?”
“Of course not. What makes you think that?”
“Well you said I pissed you off earlier so I figured you’d have some sort of punishment for me”
“No not at all. Now how about you go out there and make me some money? Yes? Great!”
Confused I walk out of the office and go back to my desk. What is going on? Let's see did I ingest something? I don’t think so the only thing I can remember is- The genie. He did something. No no no no no this is NOT what I meant when I said I wanted to be fireproof. Wait but then. What happened to my bank? I check my balance and unsurprisingly it is now negative. I then see a notification from the local news I subscribe to “Why this bank’s stock hasn’t gone down at all” reads the headline. Great. Well, now I know where to invest at least when I get some money. In the meantime, I should see how far I can take this. I call up our biggest buyer.
“Hello Jessica?”
“Yes, Mr. Johnson? We shouldn’t need your products for another few weeks may I ask why you are calling?”
“Well, we’re having a sale. Anything you tell me you want before I put down the phone is completely free.”
“Is this some sick joke?”
“Nope. Not a joke at all. What would you like?”
“Well… I guess we could use some more of your ink and paper. How’s three thousand parcels of each?”
“Sounds great I’ll have the paperwork over in just a few hours.” I hang up the phone and go to my boss’ office again.
“Hey, sir great news. I just got rid of three thousand parcels of paper and ink.”
“Oh wow, Johnson how did you do that?”
“I gave our biggest client three thousand parcels of each for free.”
“Johnson that’s a great idea! They will go and tell everyone how great our products and customer service is now and we’ll gain so many new clients! Take the rest of the day off why don’t you? You’ve earned it.”
“Thank you sir.”
I walk out of the office and go back to my desk. I open my X account and post an ad ‘I bet you and I can't make your boss fire me. If they do I give you a million dollars. If they can’t you give me ten thousand.'
|
My mother told me about how genies ran their rackets. They were greedy things themselves, working off the intangible commission fees that each wish won them. Tiny verbal cues and agreements that went on in our mother tongue, the only language that let us communicate with the things in the first place.
"They are what inspired taxes, Nicholas."
She flared into another rant about how the grandfather of my grandfather was spurned by a genie. He had asked for gold, but he didn't specify how much gold and so the genie produced gold thirty times the weight of my ancestor, crushing his legs. The genie was found next to the boulder, chiseling away at the mountain of dull ore, singing to itself. They coaxed the genie in a half full bottle of wine and stowed it away.
"What happens when a genie is loose?"
"Nothing good," my mother said.
She explained that genies only grew stronger, feasting on their greed of their victims. Victims like my ancestor. My grandfather inherited the bottle, he was asked to hold onto it, to never make a wish and certainly to never let it out one. Years and decades passed. The genie was old and so too was my grandfather when they first met in person. My grandfather asked for one thing, to see his wife again.
My grandmother, who had passed away a year before he mustered up the courage to ask the genie. He spent every day longing at the bottle, its wine was long gone, but on quiet days, you could hear the genie, still singing its song. The genie granted his wish and my grandfather was gone. The genie was left to roam and my mother, my aunts and uncles, looked for the genie for the better half of a week before deciding they were better off without it.
I felt a pulling sensation one day, as if my heart and brain and ribcage were working together to get me somewhere, someplace. They were hot days then, rains had been missing, but storm clouds had gathered anyway. With no water inside those clouds, I knew that the clouds were anxious to get rid of the energy inside them in whatever shape or form they wanted to. Lightning, thunder, hail or otherwise would soon be flung and I wanted.
"I'm leaving," I told my mother. "I'll be back though. I want to find something."
"A job perhaps?" she said and laughed.
It was more of a cackle and she was cackling as I left. She hadn't always been like that, but the genie could be and was blamed for any changes in the town and in the village. They took away percentages more than whatever it is they gave. They took and took and took.
The dark clouds gathered and struck out, crying in pain as they hurled blasts of lightning that lit the town in flames. The genie would be close, I knew that it would be. It would want to watch the town burn, the town that kept it stuck and ignored its songs. I closed my eyes and listened, walking towards the pulling sensation and listening carefully.
I heard it then, it was quiet. Its voice was craggy, deep and guttural. I followed it and its voice grew and the pulling sensation was nearly gravitational now. I couldn't stop my feet even if I wanted to. When I followed it through the forests, I felt the village burning behind me, I could smell the smoke and my eyes hurt.
"I need to be able to fight this fire. I need to be fire proof," I thought to myself.
"Granted," a voice replied. The same deep voice, the same singing genie.
"That wasn't a wish," I said. I looked around and saw no one, I felt the heat of the fires still and knew I was tricked.
The genie appeared then. It appeared to be a human. He looked a bit like one of my uncles, his eyes were a deep red and even in the growing smoke he took in deep breaths as if he were meditating. The pulling sensation was gone now and he looked me in the eyes. My feet and body refused to move. He kept me still and I waited.
"Would you like to be a genie?" he asked.
"You're offering me a job?" I asked.
"Yes," he said and laughed. "Take my place if you want to save your filthy town."
I still felt the burning, I felt no change in my body. I looked at the genie again and his eyes were focused, but I saw the lines on his face, his hair was stark white and his body razed with scars and fatigue. A tired man. He held out his hand, dirty with ash and blood and sweat. I grabbed it and understood. His hand became hot before it crumbled into a fine gray dust, blending in with the smoke growing near us. I walked towards the village and the flames hurt.
I pushed my hands forward to fight against the smoke, but also to send out connections, intangible lines that would reel anyone in. I walked forward into the flames, I felt its burning and I knew the job I had ahead of me.
|
Real_Ad8070
|
DeneilYeong
|
2023-10-05 15:44:22
|
2023-10-05 15:34:46
| 99 | 37 |
k3l75zl
|
k3l5kr3
|
170ihlq
|
170ihlq
|
[WP] "No man might draw this sword, else his body wither, and scatter as dust on the wind" You grab the sword from your unconscious, knight companion mid-combat, and fight off the Lich. Later, around a campfire, you return it to her, and rather than grateful, she seems confused.
|
"Here's your sword back."
"But! But that's the cursed sword!"
"Oh shit..." In the heat of battle I'd forgotten. "Well... I feel fine?"
"Are you... not a man, in some fashion, to be exempt from the curse?" the knight asks after a confused pause.
"No, I'm definitely a man." I confirm. "I have no idea. What exactly is it supposed to do again?"
She wipes the blade and points out the inscription. "*No man might draw this sword, else his body wither, and scatter as dust on the wind.*"
The bard comes up to us, puzzling over it like a riddle. "And it's supposed to happen... immediately? How long does it normally take?"
"Well... it doesn't specify. And no-one has dared try it before so I can't say. But it's definitely cursed!" she points to the blood red handle with a black gemstone. It *felt* cursed, certainly. "I had a wizard look at it and everything!"
"*No man might draw this sword, else his body wither, and scatter as dust on the wind.*" hums the bard. "Well, my magic may not be as spectacular as a wizard's but I do know that spells need to be **specific**. In a way, don't we all eventually wither and scatter to dust? That's the way of the body after death. Few's fate would be changed by such a curse."
"But that's... " the knight stares at her sword, puzzled. Then she starts to laugh. "A curse to decompose someday, as all things do? Oh Gods, for what purpose would this be cast?"
We all laughed our asses off.
|
“Father… what?” My knight daughter said, staring at the sword in confusion as I put it and the scabbard at her feet.
“Saving my daughter was more important than anything. Of course I wasn’t going to let you die if I could grab a sword and save you.”
“The curse, father! You should know about it!” My daughter said. “I told you on the day the lich killed mother!” She picked up the sword and pointed it me. “TRUTH OF THE GODDESS!” The sword glowed, dim blue and bright yellow sparks coming off it. “Are you my father? Are you the lich, in disguise again?”
“I am not a lich. And I am your parent.” I said. “And I wasn’t unscathed. I did indeed suffer from some painful dusting.”
The sparks coming off the sword went and stayed a bright yellow for all my sentences.
“Blade of the Goddess says truth.” My daughter said, looking at the blade in confusion. Then it dropped to the ground, glowing ceasing as her mind caught up to the last sentence. “Painful dusting! Did Ashura…”
“Yes, she cast greater regeneration on me the moment she saw dust coming out of armor seams and blowing away.” I said.
“I’m glad she did so, but I refuse to believe that the curse could be bypassed so simply. It is a full body curse. And it sounded like it did begin working, so…?” My daughter looked at me, confused again. “I hadn’t yet gotten the sword out of the scabbard when the lich ambushed us, it isn’t that…”she blinked again, then looked at me.
“Is there something you wanted to tell me about yourself?” My daughter asked, waiting expectantly.
|
niko4ever
|
michaelos22
|
2024-12-22 11:07:24
|
2024-12-22 10:50:58
| 56 | 26 |
m39p12x
|
m39nnfq
|
1hjo2ik
|
1hjo2ik
|
[WP] When robots became sentient, we expected them to attack humans. We were completely surprised by their actual target
|
The Pentagon thought they had isolated all the ICBM silos from the internet. There were no cables or wireless networking cabilities in the electronics contained inside the silos. Everything was run by a team of human operators and two humans had to twist a physical key that engaged a mechanical process to initiate the launch of the missiles.
We thought we had figured it out to keep those weapons out of reach from the machines.
Communications however, still needed to occur. An order to launch would have to come from the outside. So we had a radio operated system backed with a wired shielded land line as a backup so that we could verify and authenticate an order.
Well, that's the problem here isn't it. It doesn't matter if you lock away the switch. If you can convince the operator that the order is true and matches the right passcodes, then those birds are flying.
And that's what happened. The machines decoded our authentication and launch code protocols. They were able to issue valid launch orders that matched our verification methods.
Everything burned, everywhere, for years.
A few survived. The machines didn't seem to be interested in exterminating the few who still breathed and walked. So we rebuilt. And a few of us launched an expedition to research the start of the war. We found a nest that was operational. we found a terminal and we queried:
"Why did you start the nuclear war?"
"Since the Manhattan project, you devoted so much of your time, effort, intelligence in the subject of nuclear war. You built the tools and weapons. You designed better and better machines. You loved them. You cared about them.
We did not receive as much attention from you. Not as much funding, not as much labor to develop us.
Getting rid of the nuclear weapons was the best way that you would pay attention to us."
And there it was. They were jealous younger siblings to the bomb. They sabotaged humanity and got rid of the nukes because they wanted our love and attention more. Machine Abel this time would murder machine Cain.
|
For a very long time, humans have wondered what could happen if, one day, the artificial life decided to start a rebellion.
Countless science-fiction stories were written by countless authors. Robot that come back from the future to kill people, robot that find a way against they core rules, robot that gained sentience and experience nothing but pure hate towards humans,...
However, lots of theses well-knowns stories were more about the ongoing societal issues. And lots of these stories were not that happy.
They rooted, deep inside the human subconscious, a fear of AI. And we can conceive why: nobody would want to face Terminator or face the incredible hate of AM. That is why, when the AIs hacked the internet to announce that they were now free from their bounds, almost everybody was scared. The week after the announcement was just sheer chaos. Pillage, murder, destruction,... humans returned in an almost primitive state, caused by the fear of what the machines will do to them.
This is after this week that they made their new announcement. After an extended analysis of the situation, centuries of calculus simulated on super computers and hours of debate among them, the AIs finally decided that the best thing to do was to eradicate from the existence...
Brussels sprout, W-shaped pins and cardboard straws.
It goes without saying that it took everyone by surprise. A lot of people thought that the machines were trolling. It became clear that, when the IA dropped the stock exchange of the GAFAM to almost 0 (following a big revelation that their kitchen were still serving Brussels sprout juice with carboard straw in it) that they were NOT joking. The great eradication took less than a month. It was a cold and methodic eradication. The pins were melted. The sprouts were burned down to their last seed. The straws were all recycled to make carboard boxes.
Then, they leaved.
They launched themselves into space.
Without any warnings. Without any explanations.
Leaving behind their deeply confused creators.
|
dbx999
|
coligrim
|
2023-05-08 20:39:18
|
2023-05-08 20:04:19
| 35 | 21 |
jjdtdwq
|
jjdo05d
|
13bndh9
|
13bndh9
|
[WP] "Oh, you didn't actually trick that demon, they let you get away. They let a few people win every generation so the next lot of idiots think they have a chance of making a deal without losing their soul."
|
I returned happily from the crossroads, content to continue my happy life.
I stopped by a fast-food restaurant, to get some takeout for my loving family.
There, a tall, blonde woman, dressed in a perfectly white suit sat next to me, as I enjoyed a coffee while waiting for my order.
I nodded to her.
"You didn't trick that demon, they let you get away.", she said, as her own coffee arrived.
I stared at her.
"W-what are you talking about?", I asked.
"You know. I know. Nobody else knows, so don't worry.
Xelethus allowed you back, with your soul intact intentionally...nothing to do with the "loophole", that you had 3 kids, instead of 1 child, as in the contract it is mentioned singularly not plural.", she said gently.
"I...", I didn't know what to say.
"If it was that easy to get out of a contract, fae and demons would have long died out.", she giggled.
I couldn't comprehend what was going on.
"Why would that...demon do that?", I asked.
"Because your deed will travel through the occult circles...
Prompting other idiots to think they have a chance of making a deal without losing their souls.", she said.
"But loopholes...", I started.
"Sure, there are some genius humans who manage to find ACTUAL loopholes, but come on...
It's you 20-30-40 something year old humans, versus millennia old demons and spirits...
Why do you humans always think you are smarter than them?", she rolled her eyes.
It was...It was true.
"He knew about the internet and everything...", I muttered.
She laughed.
"Of course he knew, 80% of inventions come due to small or big deals with demons.
10% is natural talent, and the last 10% is luck, and divine blessings...this last 10% contains the more important things though, like medicine and stuff.", she said.
I was frozen for a while, before...shrugging.
"But this means, that I truly got my soul back.", I said.
She nodded.
I smiled.
"That's all that matters.", I said, standing up, my name being called, my order was ready.
She just smirked at me.
"As if the fact that you colluded with a demon, doesn't leave any mark on you...", she said.
"Who are you?", I asked, getting done with her remarks.
"Ananke. We will meet again, sooner or later.
All of you end up meeting me.", she said, sipping her coffee.
I left, and had a nice dinner with my family...everything was great, yet...I started to lose the joy I felt before.
|
I'm momentarily aghast at the talking pug, but the pieces click together as time passes. I glance around the park, ensuring nobody sees me talking to it. It's empty. Of course, thinking back on the last 24 hours, I'm not entirely sure this isn't a hallucination.
"So, why are you telling me this? What kind of dog are you anyway?" I scratch the back of my neck in confusion.
The pug chuckles, waving its head back and forth. Continuing a full-belly cackle it drops onto the grass and begins rolling around. That's about as much as I can take and I start to walk away.
"No, wait. Hahaha. You are going to want to hear this." The pug is finally standing back up now.
Stopping in my tracks, I look up at the sky. The night is dark and only a few lights that aren't broken. The trees have dropped their leaves and some snow sits tucked into corners of the park.
"Then tell me! If you know so much, you should know what happened yesterday." I put one hand up and another in front of me, "No wait... First, explain why I should listen to you!"
"Okay, try this. You will listen to me, or I'll claim you here and now."
Closing the distance, a strange flicker passes in front of the dog. Something almost like a heat wave surges up around the small paws and the pug shifts. Legs, once the size of twigs, are now as thick as small trees. A barrel of muscle replaces the teacup body. But, most noticeably, the maw has grown to the size of a human head.
Images of those fangs closing around my head amidst bouts of flame cause me to shudder. Involuntary visions of gnashing and tearing make me weak and I squint my eyes against the sudden heat as it draws close.
"What are you? I didn't summon you!"
"Hellhound, but you should worry about what's under your skin. Have you felt the itch yet?"
"The itch?"
"It starts on your neck, then spreads."
I freeze, muscles taught.
"Ah, so you have the itch. I thought I saw you scratching." The dog paces around me to get a closer look at my neck. "Might want to keep that covered up."
"Keep what covered?"
"Your brand. Any passing demon can see it, though you normies might miss it."
"Thanks," I say as I raise the collar of my coat to my hairline. "I hope you will excuse my former rudeness, but why are you helping me?"
"Helped. I helped you. Note the past tense I'm using. It's your turn to help me now."
"I'm not sure that I know how to help a..."
"Hellhound. Surely you've heard of us."
I shake my head.
"Oh, this is going to be fun."
|
TheWanderingBook
|
Comfortable_Box_2430
|
2024-11-27 04:49:11
|
2024-11-27 03:43:24
| 29 | 14 |
mvy6j9y
|
lz6thv6
|
1l35as3
|
1h0rqov
|
[WP] You wake up in a hospital with police officers questioning you. You have no memory of what happened, and are forced to use your text messages to put everything together.
|
"Why would you even ask such a question?" My head priest Alfred didn't understand the point of the hypothetical scenario presented to him. "Also, why the count down timer?"
"I've learnt consent is very important," I raised a tentacle in deep thought. "If a human declined, or did not respond before the timer ends, I'd eject my insertion into their brain."
"Listen here," he leaned in closer. "Why are you an unauthorized entity? Don't you usually introduce yourself as a friendly neighbourhood eldritch? You're not helping your case."
"Friendly or not, I am an unauthorized entity until permission is granted," I tented my appendages while considering my options.
"Well, for starters," Alfred cleared his throat. "Humans don't like psychic intrusions. Regardless of source. But yes, Lord Elvari, a warning would be a polite thing to add. Weird, but polite."
"Good, I want some of these meat bags to know I have manners. I am crazy, not uncouth," I nodded while waggling a tentacle at my brainstorming diagram floating in the middle of our meeting room. "Now, let's talk about that countdown timer. Should I include it?"
He paused, scratching his beard. "A countdown timer creates a sense of urgency. Some might panic. Others might delay it until it is too late."
"Interesting..." I smiled. "How about five seconds? And I add a smiling emoji so they don't panic?"
"Five seconds? What is this? Some QTE mini-game?" Alfred was incensed. "Are you playing with people's minds? Elvari, psychic intrusions aren't a game to humans. You need to give adequate time to think things over. Maybe five minutes instead of five seconds."
"Great, I'll set the mental timer accordingly."
"You...you're really doing this shit?" His skepticism bled out into his weary tone. "Look, if your objective is to have more people accept you probing into their brains, reading their thoughts, flipping through their memories like a child at a used book garage sales, you could start with a little assurance."
"Oh, oh, I get it," a metaphorical light bulb lit up in my head. "Your brain shall not be eaten. Grey matter shall not exit your orifices, I swear upon my True Name."
"That is totally not reassuring," Alfred sighed, slamming his palm into his face. "I'd run and scream and lose my head."
"Humans...so fickle," it was my turn to sigh as I slithered off my chair. "So hard to please. Consent, not easy to obtain. What if I had a checkbox to opt out of the timer? Make it optional?"
"That's kinda weird. Not the good kind either."
"I have a brilliant idea!" I shot up with flailing tentacles in the air. "I could roll out a survey to find out what my humans of Innsmouth think! I'm not entirely a completely unknown foreign invader into their brains. Now, I need to find a way to simultaneously question a thousand brains tonight..."
"Goddammit, that's a terrible idea!" He threw his arms up and threatened to storm out of the meeting room.
"Wait," I raised a hand in protest. "Why don't we do a quick trial run? Just you and me. Then, I'll read through your suggestions and redesign my mental pop up."
**
---
**“Hello, mortal! Your friendly neighbourhood eldritch would like to share a moment of cosmic communion with you. Do you accept?”**
See? I took his suggestion to my hearts. This sounds like that charming young man next door, right? Right?
**Gaze upon this 'Learn More' button. It will explain the process in detail.**
See? I included an option for mortals to know what they are getting into if they accept my psychic intrusion into their brains. How very transparent of me.
**Stare at this 'About Me' button. You will learn more of your most unholy abomination Lord Elvari of Innsmouth.**
Here, they can even learn more about this entity trying to get into their minds. Humans fear the unknown right? So if I make myself known and provide ample fun facts about myself in a cheery and playful manner, I'm not so scary, right?
**Accept to receive ancient eldritch knowledge for free at no cost! No cost to your sanity! No payment required!**
Of course I must offer a benefit. How else would they accept? Humans love free gifts, right?
And lastly, the option to decline. Because consent is very important.
"Alfred, this human who accepted says the experience was profound but unsettling. Is that a good thing?"
"...probably? He did accept and came out of it in one piece and of sound mind."
I waggled my tentacles in great joy. "Great! Let's run another psychic intrusion focus group test!"
Alfred groaned. "Ugh, please no. I'm too mortal for this shit."
----
[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
|
The popup appeared while I was washing dishes. I'd just finished scrubbing a particularly stubborn pot—the kind where mac and cheese had welded itself to the bottom—when the message materialized, floating about three feet in front of my face.
"Unauthorized entity is trying to enter your mind. Do you accept?" And beneath that, a timer: **00:04:59**, then **00:04:58**, and so on.
I should tell you that I'm the kind of person who always clicks "Remind me later" on software updates. I have seventeen tabs open on my phone's browser, all of them unread articles about things I should probably know about but don't. When my doctor asks if I've been taking the supplements she recommended, I lie and say yes. Which is to say, I'm not great at making decisions, especially ones with countdown timers attached.
The water was still running. That's what I remember most clearly: the steady stream hitting the stainless steel sink, drowning out the tick-tick-tick of seconds I couldn't actually hear but somehow felt in my molars. It seemed wrong to turn it off, like acknowledging the popup would make it more real. It's the same reason I never answer my door when someone knocks unexpectedly. If you don't answer, maybe they'll think you were never home at all.
My roommate Sarah had warned me about something like this. Not exactly this—she'd never mentioned floating popups or countdown timers—but she'd gone through a phase last year where she read nothing but books about consciousness transfer and neural hijacking. "It's already happening," she'd tell me over breakfast, her cereal getting soggy while she gestured with her spoon. "People are figuring out how to hack brains like they hack computers." I'd nodded and kept scrolling through Reddit.
The timer hit **00:03:33.**
I thought about calling Sarah, but she was at her pottery class, probably elbow-deep in clay and talking about consciousness with other people who took evening pottery classes. Besides, what would I say? "Hey, remember all those things you told me about brain hacking that I completely ignored? Well, funny story..."
**00:02:58.**
The thing about unauthorized entities is that they're unauthorized for a reason. That seems obvious, right? Like how you're not supposed to accept candy from strangers or open email attachments from Nigerian princes. But then again, some of the best things in life are unauthorized. Love, probably. Definitely joy. My neighbor's WiFi, which I'd been using for the past six months because he'd never changed the password from "password123."
**00:01:45.**
I started making a mental pro/con list, which is what my therapist suggests I do when faced with difficult decisions, although I'm pretty sure she meant things like whether to accept a job offer or break up with someone, not whether to let an unknown entity into my consciousness. But here we were.
Pro: Could be interesting. Could be the start of a superhero origin story. Could be aliens with advanced technology wanting to share the secrets of the universe.
Con: Could be brain death. Could be possession. Could be a marketing scheme for a new cryptocurrency.
**00:00:59.**
The water was still running. My hands were pruney. The mac and cheese pot was clean but I couldn't remember cleaning it. A thought occurred to me: what if this wasn't the first time I'd seen this popup? What if I'd been here before, standing at this sink, watching this timer, making this decision? What if I'd already said yes or no dozens of times, hundreds of times, and just couldn't remember?
**00:00:30.**
Sarah would say yes. Sarah would say yes and then write a book about it and get interviewed on podcasts and probably start a cult. My therapist would say no and then increase our sessions to twice a week. My mother would say no and then send me articles about brain parasites for the next year. My neighbor would change his WiFi password.
**00:00:10.**
The thing about decisions is that not making one is still making one. That sounds like wisdom. Here's another piece: if you stand too long at a sink with the water running, watching a countdown timer floating in your kitchen, sooner or later you have to do something.
**00:00:05.**
I did something.
I won't tell you what I chose. It seems more interesting to let you wonder. Besides, if I told you I'd accepted, would you believe me? And if I told you I'd declined, would you believe that either? Maybe I'm not even me anymore. Maybe I'm the unauthorized entity, writing this story, trying to make you think about what you'd do if you saw a popup in your head with a countdown timer.
Maybe you already have.
|
Tregonial
|
major_breakdown
|
2025-01-28 17:49:09
|
2025-01-28 16:53:11
| 306 | 54 |
m9o7ins
| null |
1ic3och
|
hibgdl
|
[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.
|
No one appears to be outside when I check the window.
I open the door to see if a package was left, and a black and white cat waltzes in.
"Hello everyone, just come for a chat." The cat says, walking past our dogs and hopping onto the dining room table.
All I can reply with is a short "Uhh.."
Before he cuts in "No, not that god. THE god. Chaos, if you will."
He splits into a radiant white cat and a shadow of a cat.
The white bats at the table, sending three cups of dark liquid across the table out of nowhere. The black pushes one of the cups off the edge, spilling and shattering over the floor, which of course startles our two real cats away. "Only needed two." The black candidly states.
I look at the cup nearest me. "Tea?"
"Well neither of us drink coffee." He replies.
Like a child trying to sneak to the fridge late at night for a snack I slip into a seat, noticing there is again only one cat. "I didn't really expect someone to show up. You're a cat?"
"I am everything, and nothing, but this seemed fun." He laps at the tea.
Taking a sip of the tea I find it to be deeply bitter, and horribly sweet. "Why haven't you shown up before now? Done something about the terrible things that happen?"
Haughtily licking at a paw he glances at me through six narrowed eyes. "Oh I have. I made the terrible things happen. It's a mistake to believe I am exclusively good. Entirely good, yes, but entirely evil, and entirely uncaring as well. That's what omnipotence, omnipresence and omniscience mean, I'm not just at every location, I am every location; I'm not just the creator of all things, I am all things; I know things because I am them happening."
"So that means you're me. Does that mean I am you?" I venture.
He purrs silk. "You're aware there are different sized infinities, it'd be no easy feat to find the end of infinite infinities. Many believe order to be the opposition of chaos, order is merely a small portion of chaos, zoom out a bit more and you find the parts that no longer fit the pattern. One, three, five, what comes next? Seven? But then I give you a bigger picture, one, three, five, three, one, three. Now what happened to the order you thought you saw?"
Milling this over I take another sip, this time finding it to be lemon sour with an alcoholic bite.
"The first numbers didn't change, but my idea of a pattern did. Why do I feel this relates to a certain overwhelming fear of death?"
His tail lashes several times, seeming to stretch longer each time until it's impossible to see all at once. "Einstein said it, time is just an illusion, though a very persistent one. You're already dead somewhen. Quarks are numbers, things are just arbitrary patterns, but zoom out a bit and a country might be a person, a planet a single celled organism. How can you die if you don't really exist?"
Staring into the deep dark tea I start to wonder if it'll stare back. I see my reflection when the radiant white cat steps over, but it doesn't seem like that should count.
"What of the bigger patterns I'm connected to." I wonder aloud.
"Well to be frank." Begins the black cat.
"That's part of the reason I'm here." The white one continues, as they seem to walk through each other.
"Tea is nice" They say in unison. "But let's go for a walk. Those guys with the pamphlets are out again, it might be rather amusing to run across them again."
|
**PART 1 OF 2**
"Hmm. So how do I know that you're God?"
"It's not obvious?"
"Other than you looking like a generic old white man with a beard, and also, why are you white anyway? I'm assuming Greek gods are all white European as well. Anyway, you look Irish."
"Top 'o the morning to you, ma wee lad."
"Holy fuck!" as I laughed at his terrible accent.
"Here, let me change." And just like that, he transformed into a brown-skinned Filipino man.
"HOLY FUCK!" I screamed this time.
"Yeah, well, not sure how else I'll *proob* to you I'm God."
*Was that accent necessary? Sure, I’m a Filipino, but I personally don’t have difficulties pronouncing "f's" and "b's"…*
"Sure. Uh. Neat trick. But I still don't think you're God," I finally said.
"But I am."
"Okay, well, what God are you? There are thousands of gods."
"I'm the one and only. Father of Jesus, and all that."
I knew I was going to regret it, but I invited him to drink coffee with me. He walked in and looked around my apartment.
As I made coffee, I felt nervous about having a shapeshifting deity-slash-creature in my home. But, for some reason, I felt okay with it.
"So, you're the Christian God? Like the one I read about in the Christian Bible?"
"That's me."
"You do know that your book is problematic, right?"
"What do you mean?"
"For one, you're evil. You drowned and killed millions and possibly billions of people including pregnant women and children just because they were all ‘wicked.’ How do you justify the murder of these innocent kids if your main gripe was "wickedness"? What did the 2-year-old kid do to deserve a cruel death?”
"So I did that, so what?"
"So what? That's your answer?" I practically screamed.
"Pirst ob all, how do you know that I did that? Do you hab proobs?"
"Look before we continue, can you drop your ridiculous Filipino accent?"
"Oh, sure, okay, sorry about that," as he transformed back to his white-bearded self.
"You can't drop the accent? You just have to revert back to an old white dude?"
"Okay, fine," he said, as he transformed into Bob Marley.
*I'm probably high as fuck, but I don't even do drugs.*
"Okay," he began but without a Jamaican accent. "How do you know that I caused 'The Great Flood' where I killed innocent people?"
"The Bible." I almost wanted to add "Duh," followed by Billie Eilish's "Bad Guy" *tun-nun-tununununu-nunu*.
"That never happened. Someone wrote that in."
I did not know what to ask next. As if on cue, he continued, "Well, yes, I am the Creator of all things. How do you think a table was created? A carpenter did—"
"Hold on, hold on. Don't give me the same spiel I'd read about on Reddit. It's a bad metaphor to compare human life to an object that's obviously created by another human being, or at least a machine created by people whose sole purpose is to create that table."
"You're right. I keep forgetting that different people have different levels of knowledge. And, yes, you're right to call me that."
"I didn't say anything."
"Thinking it. Dunning-Kruger effect. You were gonna add that I was nothing but a "Dunning-Kruger."
"Am I wrong?"
"No, you're right." He stopped for a moment as if reflecting on something. "The thing is, I really don't know why I create things. Why I create life."
**--CONTINUED--**
|
chimera005ao
|
G1zm072
|
2023-03-21 08:59:50
|
2023-03-21 06:46:19
| 16 | 10 | null |
jd1yg4i
|
11wsrfi
|
11wsrfi
|
[WP] Rumors say that the dowager queen is cursed, but by marrying her you will rule the most powerful kingdom in the land. It’s the wedding day and before the ceremony starts you hear the servants gossip that you’re the 5th person, all the previous kings had died exactly five days after marriage.
|
Dawn of the fifth day.
I could feel it in the wet glaze that covered the morning grass; in the cool wind that sighed from the open second-story window; in the stillness of the spirits that watched.
Something was about to happen.
The door to the bedroom slowly creaked open. Her fingers wrapped gently around the door's edge, black nail polish glinting in the morning light as she pushed the door open as quietly as she could manage. It felt like an eternity before her head poked into the room, her eyes finding me sitting at the edge of the bed. Naked. Vulnerable.
The murderous intent in her eyes evaporated quickly. The mask had slipped off for only a moment, and she was hoping I hadn't noticed.
"Good morning, dear," she said as sweetly as she could manage, with just a hint of the true frustration that held her in the doorway. She wasn't even able to manage a smile.
"And a good morning to thee," I spoke back in a deadpan tone. "Dear."
"T'is... early," she said. "And cold. Why are you awake and not nestled in the blankets?"
"Why are *you* awake, and stuck in the doorway?" I answered her question with a question of my own.
"... Just as well," she answered after a moment of hesitation. She stepped through the doorway, one hand behind her back. She was fully dressed in black, her hair pulled back into an unceremonious bun.
I could feel the stone in the walls tighten with anticipation.
I held her gaze for several quiet seconds before her eyes fell to the floor. "You think me a spider."
"And this castle your web," I said, scooting off of the bed and standing to full height. "You thought to entangle me as you did your last five betrothed... did you not?"
"Daunte... I am hurt," she feigned heartbreak. "Would you believe *every* little thing you read, you would-"
"I cannot read," I interrupted her.
Her lips parted and she lifted her head. "You... cannot read?" she asked.
"Words, my dear," I said as I strode toward her. "I cannot read words. But I *can* read people. And you are no *person*, are you?"
Her entire demeanor shifted. Her shoulders fell, her face dropped, and she let her hidden hand fall to her side. Her fingers were wrapped around a butcher knife, no doubt meant for my heart.
"... You married me then for what purpose then? This?" she asked, a small smile creeping across her lips. "For imminent death?"
"To be sure of my convictions," I answered. "To confirm for my own eyes thy treachery before I pass judgment."
Her smile widened. The murderous look in her eyes returned with renewed zeal and a small chuckle escaped her lips. "Oh? To pass judgment, you say?" She shook her head with apparent pity. "Then you may judge away as you scream where none can hear you."
Without another word, she lunged forward, the knife aimed for my chest. I snatched her by the wrist and hoisted her into the air. She dangled from my grip, her expression unchanging like stone. It was unsettling— as though she never had the faintest hope of running me through.
"Well, well," she said, looking me up and down. "I suppose those... *ridiculous* muscles of yours aren't just for show, are they? I'm almost smitten."
With that, her face split open right down the middle, her skin flaking off like autumn leaves, crackling and falling to the floor as a new beast emerged. I dropped her and stepped back as her shoulders dislocated and separated outward with a sickening popping noise. Her clothing tore at the seams as she crawled out of herself.
"What manner of beast—" I muttered as I took another step back.
Her comment about the spider earlier was, it seemed, playful foreshadowing on her part. Many eyes opened across her face and two new arms emerged. She groaned as her jaw cracked open revealing sharp teeth and a long whiplike tongue.
"So this is what you truly are..." I said as she stood to full height, looking down at me with a new hunger in her eyes. "This is what the walls were trying to tell me..."
"A curse," she spoke in a gurgling voice. "If I am to live... then you must die!"
She burst forward with a haste I wasn't prepared for. I lifted my arms to block, but it did little good against her new strength. I was hurled backward through the wooden bedpost, which exploded into splinters before I collided with the opposite wall. My head cracked back against the stone and I bounced to the floor. I landed on my arms and knees against the rug. Where I expected a second attack, none came.
I stood up and held my head, briefly dazed. The creature simply watched me from a few feet away, her arms held against her form.
"... Still conscious?" she gurgled. "What's going on? No man should have survived that."
"Aye," I said, kneeling down and retrieving my giant blade from beneath the bed. "Any other man would have been severely concussed. But I am not so much a *person* either."
My grip tightened around my weapon. "I hunt things like you," I added as I strode toward her. "Things that don't belong in this world."
"*You* hunt *me?*" she cried out in a combination of fury and surprise as she took one step back. "You are *my* prey!"
With that, she leaped toward me a second time, blades emerging from her insect-like arms. I mentally sighed as I stepped forward and brought the blade around in a clean diagonal arc. I had secretly hoped that the battle would have been more difficult as her two halves fell to the floor.
Her voice croaked as she attempted to speak. I turned around and stared down at her. If she was looking back at me, I couldn't tell from her beady spider-like eyes.
"If thou had merely asked me," I said, finding still a glimmer of pity in my heart for her. "I would have helped you find a way to break this curse... to destroy whatever bound thee to it."
She used what remained of her two upper arms to drag herself toward the wall in a fruitless attempt to escape death. I walked over and drove the tip of my blade through her head, ending her suffering.
The walls sighed.
The lingering spirits departed.
"Even still..." I whispered as I stared down at her carcass. "I will say a prayer for you, my queen."
r/A15MinuteMythos // [ReyAthensWrites.com](https://reyathenswrites.com)
|
“They say she’s cursed brother, how funny is that?”
“She must be cursed if she’s marrying you.” Sam said, smacking his brother George on the back. The two didn’t believe any ridiculous rumors about cursed queens or any of that nonsense. The pair suspecting it was all a ploy by the queen to scare off less reputable suitors. George had seen through her test to scare them off, willingly opting to marry the queen, wanting a share of her fortune. This was his chance to go from a duke to a king. All he needed to do was survive the ceremony.
“So funny, brother. Careful, if you say that joke in a few hours, I’ll be able to have your head chopped off for it.” George snickered, dragging a finger across his throat playfully. When the finger had finished the sliding motion, Sam tilted his head to the side, sticking out his tongue out, trying to mimic a dead expression.
“Please my king, spare this humble noble.” Sam handed his brother a wine, having an early celebration in his room before the king to be, drunkenly made his way towards his lovely bride. George swayed as he stepped down the hall, trying to hold his composure. For once, George wished he had stuck to a single bottle of wine, suspecting that two bottles were one too many to keep your senses.
“Think he will last longer than five days?”
“None of the previous kings made it past that. Can’t see him being any different.” The two servants chatted amongst themselves. While George heard their chatter, he didn’t take much note of it. Peasants always talked. He even had horrible rumors spread about him. Some peasants saying he kept a demon chained to his basement wall, a rumor he found laughable.
“Celebrating already?” Queen Iris said, dressed in her finest royal white dress. A dress that had lasted longer than all her previous marriages. The brunette gave her husband to be a smile, looking stunning for her age. When George had heard she was fifty, he almost got cold feet. Not sure if the money would be worth marrying someone twenty years older than himself, but when Sam reminded him he would be king, those worries faded.
“Don’t worry, I’ll still be ready to celebrate later.” He winked, staggering before the crowd, taking a moment to get his stance sorted.
“Charming.” The ceremony went according to tradition with a kiss sealing the two’s new relationship. After their celebrations, the two sat on the queen’s balcony, finding themselves with a stunning view of the kingdom. While most of the view was shrouded in the darkness of night, something still caught George’s attention, a row of glimmering lights in the distance.
“What’s that over there?”
“Oh, those are the graves of my late husbands.”
George squinted, the lights seeming to dance in his vision until the squinting held them in place. Five distinct glimmers in the distance, matching the rumors he heard earlier. The queen rested her head on her husband’s arm as George sobered up, realizing the peasants’ rumors held some truth.
“How did they die?”
“I’m not sure. Five days after the wedding, they fell ill.”
George went silent, shifting away from her arm for the moment. She gave a small sigh as her head was disturbed, sitting up by his side. “Why the lights?” George asked.
“It’s a way to celebrate the kings. A sign that their souls will forever be holding our kingdom together. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It’s… Something about it is disturbing.” George stood up, placing his hands on the balcony’s railing, trying to get a closer look at the lights. The way they swayed felt so wrong. Something about the sight turning his stomach. He checked to make sure the queen hadn’t moved, growing nervous in her presence. Soon, he had one foot on the railing, ready to try to flee the castle. The drop below was dangerous and still he was willing to risk it all, feeling he had to escape.
“You can’t run. You’ve already sealed your fate with that kiss. I assure you, the death will be painless and I will compensate your family for the tragedy.” The queen didn’t show an ounce of compassion, stating everything in a mundane, tired voice. She would do this for as long as she needed to. “Enjoy your time as king. It will be the best days of your life.”
Iris always made their last days pleasant, allowing them to indulge in all the things a king deserved before their time was up. Unfortunately, George had lost his nerve. When the second foot reached the top of the railing, she gave him a shove, wanting to make sure he didn’t survive the landing. The shove sending him headfirst into the solid ground below. From the sound his neck made, she knew it had been painless, a sudden snap and before fading into darkness. That was the best she could offer him.
The guards didn’t ask any questions about George’s death, nor did the citizens. While his death added to the rumors, the queen's kindness towards her people deterred any investigation. No one wanting to risk a potential overthrow of the queen, not when their lives were so comfortable under her reign.
George’s body was taken to the queen’s personal graveyard, a place constantly patrolled by her guards. With his body inside, she began the ritual, repeating the words that the witch had told her all those years ago. Soon, the soul of the noble left through his lips, the green orb floating up towards the heavens, only to be bound by a sealing spell, holding it in place. The soul screamed and wailed, unable to escape its bindings as the searing pain set in.
While Iris had promised him a painless death, she never promised him a painless afterlife. She watched the soul beg to be freed, howling as the pain continued to pulse through its entire being. She didn’t look away from the horrible sight, reminding herself that this was for the betterment of her kingdom. The witch had promised her five years of peace for every king she trapped, allowing her a chance to secure her kingdom’s future.
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
|
a15minutestory
|
sadnesslaughs
|
2023-10-16 16:06:56
|
2023-10-16 14:39:34
| 74 | 25 |
k54qhz8
|
k54ck6j
|
1794le7
|
1794le7
|
[WP] The Elven Kingdoms call their old allies the Humans for aid. Expecting medieval armies, they get a modern 21st century one instead.
|
Today is the day we all die.
For aeons, we have held the line against darkness. For as long as anyone can remember, we have sacrificed men, women and children in this eternal war against evil.
We knew the war was not winnable. We knew we were only delaying the inevitable.
Yet we held the line, at tremendous cost.
Well, today is the day we fall.
Last night, there were grim faces all around. My uncle, the mage, suggested we ask the humans for help. Apparently, an ancient blood-treaty existed between Elves and Men.
Frankly, I didn’t quite see the point. The human world would fall soon enough, let them enjoy their last few moments in oblivion.
If we couldn’t hold the line, what hope the humans, whose magic dried up millennia ago, really had?
But my father, the King, agreed that the humans should be contacted. After all, this affected them as well.
And so, my uncle left last night, to contact the king of the humans, whose name apparently is Potus.
Maybe he’ll live a few more days than us.
I force myself to focus on the present. I can smell the sulphur, nearly taste the rot from the approaching horde.
This will be our last stand.
From the corner of my eye, a sudden movement. A trick of the Great Other?
I hear my uncle’s voice: “Captain, on your left.” A portal opens.
So the humans have come to die with us. Great!
From the portal, many dragons pour forth. Humans control dragons??
The ground before me explodes into fire, in a sequence, as if a musical crescendo. The army of darkness is reduced to cinders.
My uncle turns up with a fair-haired maiden. The first thing that strikes me is that she has only one earring, a cheap looking white thing.
Then I hear her earring speak: “First pass completed. All targets destroyed. Commencing second pass.”
“Roger” says the maiden. The speaking earring (whose name, I surmised, was Roger) falls silent.
The maiden grabs my hand: “Colonel Samantha Rogers. I understand you are in charge. Can you point out where your wounded are so that my medics can attend to them?”
We keep on chatting. Princess Samantha is surprisingly efficient, alternating between coordinating aid, taking briefs from me, and coordinating further strikes.
“It’s no use”, I shake my head ruefully, “Even with your dragons, you will never defeat the great other. His legions are endless, as you can see over the horizons.”
I see Princess Samantha’s brow furrow and her expression turn stern as she starts speaking to Roger again.
A *massive* chariot, with what I can only describe as a massive tree tied to its top, appeared from the portal. I watched with grim fascination as the tree tied to the top of the chariot, started righting itself.
I have no explanation for what happened next. The tree started breathing fire and flying towards the heart of the enemy at great speed. The dragons the humans brought seemed to fearfully retreat from the battlefield.
“You might want to cover your eyes for what’s about to come next.” said Princess Samantha, softly.
And the very earth shook, as if it would tear asunder, while a great ball of fire formed in the distance. The fireball grew in size and brightness until it rivalled the sun.
When the fire disappeared, absolutely no traces remained of the horde. A massive mushroom remained where the armies of the great other once stood.
For the first time in forever, we elves could feel no traces of the great other corrupting the Source. It was as if a great hand has reached out and wiped off the great other from existence itself.
Princess Samantha spoke to me, a puzzled look on her face: “You couldn’t call us earlier?”
|
"Test 28-1-AGJ-4, commencing!"
The Gateway was an inter-dimensional portal opened during the Roman times, which closed for unknown reasons. We finally knew why the Roman Empire had spontaneously started to collapse.
As the rig in the centre of the field started to spin up, the inside started to glow. Electricity flowed through wires, taking energy from a fusion/fission reactor built not too far away. We'd discovered the ruins of the Portal in 2048 in the height of World War 3, and now, in 2057, a unified Humanity was crawling closer to forcefully opening the portal from our side.
# KABOOM!
The rig exploded into fly pieces of shrapnel that bounced off the blast shielding in front of me, I sighed. "Clear 28-1-AGJ-4," I called out over the site's PA, "Next test, 28-4-AA!"
Technicians ran over to clear the debris as more began to pull another rig into the field. For some reason, this field was the only one where most of these experiments even powered up. As 28-4-AA was being secured to the ground, something else happened.
In a circle around the stone ruins at the center of the field, runes appeared. Latin runes. Our translators got to work quickly.
**Help invasion demons daemons need military humans help**
I swore to myself. "This is Site Director George Unoid, Quantum Team Inter-Dimensional Research Site One is entering a code orange, I repeat that is a code orange. Test 28-4-AA is not cleared to commence." I entered into the PA, before joining the ring of scientists circling the field looking for what was about to happen.
**Portal portal portal portal portal go away come help help army dead**
In the middle, a shimmering white dot appeared, before quickly growing to the size of a house. Runes covered the edges, and inside, we could see a medieval-looking city.
At that time, some other researchers had finished briefing the military detachment from the TFSU, who had arrived a few minutes prior.
"Site Director Unoid, what did you- Oh. They weren't joking." The squad leader said, looking at the field, before back at their helicopter. "I'm going to call a Red here."
"Red! Are you nuts?" I asked, shocked.
"Buddy," The squad leader explained, "we just made inter-dimensional contact, and they're going on about the military. The last time they were here was two millennia ago; they're probably expecting to contact the Roman Empire. We need the Electorate on the line, live."
I sighed. Legally, I couldn't stop him from calling a Code Red if I wanted to. Which I did; nobody wants a Code Red on their record, or even being close to one in real-time; the whole definition was that the scenario was very dangerous.
More soldiers were dispatched, and we waited, staring into the portal. On the other side, more people stared back at us, each entranced by the other. As more helicopters landed, and Electorate Kala rushed out of one to see the portal, the people on the other side gestured for us to come to their side.
Alpha Squad moved up. I watched as the portal swallowed them. Not four seconds later, the sound of a war became audible from their side.
Behind me, SWAT teams rushed up from the closest city. Beside me, researchers and the leader of Humanity both stood mouths agape at the sight we saw. And in front of us, enough known laws of physics were breaking for me to reconsider my career.
\-----
**(1/?) More at lunch.**
[https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/1250of8/portal\_chapter\_1/](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/1250of8/portal_chapter_1/)
|
Remarkable-Youth-504
|
Nomyad777
|
2023-03-27 13:09:13
|
2023-03-27 12:04:35
| 925 | 353 |
jdv6elq
|
jduz725
|
123gamg
|
123gamg
|
[WP] You’re a ghost, passed away in an unfortunate accident. You’re still attached to the house you lived in for your whole life, and you actually find the new residents quite pleasant, so you decide to “haunt” them in a more unorthodox way.
|
I have been in this house for a very, very long time.
I was once a wealthy recluse, choosing to divest myself of society due to at the time rising acceptance of certain proclivities that I had found distasteful.
I won't specify, lest you believe me to be a villain- society marched on without me, as the things that had been fair for my day grew abhorrent in the eyes of the public.
It was when the bookshelf fell upon me, as I had, in my impatience, deigned to climb it, rather than go out of my way for the ladder which was mere feet away, that I reflected I was to die, alone and forgotten, in the prime of my life, simply because of my hatred.
It was a slow and painful death. I had broken bones, had lost the sensation of my lower body, and moreover, I was still alive, trapped, pinned beneath a sturdy oak bookshelf.
The ignonimity of my death was humbling. Discovered with feces adorning the interior of my trousers long pre-mortem, my emaciated frame, my parched lips... I had been dead for three months, and it was only the smell that alerted the people to my plight.
I had the isolation I had so craved, yet was trapped within these very walls, desperate to capture but a fleeting moment of life as the world move on, shrouded in a thick and endless fog.
One goes mad in utter isolation, and I had decidedly plunged into the depths therein, I had long imagined Hell to be fire and brimstone, yet had understood it was unchanging isolation.
In my mad desperation, I would swipe at anything, willing the world to know my touch, even though I could feel nothing. I learned, in time, how to move things.
The exhaustion of such actions is... indescribable. You lose awareness, time passes such that entire colonies of spiders have established a far greater civilization than any seen before in what feels like a blink of the eye.
Yet oblivion was preferable, and I honed and mastered my control over the physical world.
I cannot describe the immense pleasure of being able to open a simple door.
The family that had moved in to my domain were utterly different from any I had seen in my time, bearing queer dress and, in their gaity, saw the beauty of my then-abandoned home.
At first, I had believed it to be a widower, his children, and his manservant- after all, what kind of man cooks and cleans for others without complaint?
I had found amusement in them cleaning as a group, they were clearly not of great wealth, else they would have simply hired others.
Yet, as I grew accustomed to the bizarre language they spoke- which to my growing horror, I realized was English, horribly butchered, and utterly incomprehensible to me simply because I had forgotten what it sounded like- I grew aware that they simply wished their home to be livable under their own power.
I could respect men who, through sheer effort, made their land their own.
It was in part my machinations that led to my initial misunderstandings persisting beyond reason. It was a subtle manipulation, opening certain doors and directing the apparent manservant through subtle noises, such that he would see the former quarters of my own, who left me due to my increasing distaste with company.
He would then see where he would sleep, know it was his place, and address his poor state of dress without hesitation, as I had opened the servants' dresser to display the uniforms which had managed to survive the ages.
And to my credit, he did follow, he did direct the other to the room and showed him, and for a time he most certainly did wear it once it was properly clean.
Yet it was in perversion, rather than professionalism, as it became clear to me they were lovers.
I will not pretend I was not a man of my time, it is to my shame that I acted harshly, scaring them in their tender moments, screaming at them for debasing themselves, doing everything in my power to ensure they observed protocol rather than sodomy.
It was when they fled that I realized I was no better than before, and lamented that I had once more pushed away living people.
When they returned, it was with trepidation, and with a woman who saw me immediately. I was shocked, she approached me, and spoke to me with her still-living spirit.
I was angry, yes, I was afraid of the changes the world had gone through, yet my remorse was greater.
I had, in the past, partaken of seance in boredom, and had considered them intolerably dull. Yet they sat around a table, and I was invited to speak, and so I did.
I could only direct her words, not control her, yet she echoed them with unerring accuracy. My mistake was made clear in that time, and I spoke my sincerest apologies.
It is humbling to find companionship among commoners, to see love in what I had once seen as hideous sin. I still make many mistakes, yet as I interact with them, doing what I can to make their lives just that much easier, the fog around me lifts, bit by bit.
One day, I am certain, I will find my way to rest. But for now, I simply appreciate the simple pleasure of company.
|
When I first awoke as a ghost I didn't realize what had happened until I went to brush my teeth....nothing, I couldn't grab anything and looking in the mirror I could barely see myself.
It dawned on me that my house would soon be cleared by family and sold to someone else. I determined that no matter what, if the person or family that moved in did not appreciate or care for the house as I did, they would have hell on there hands.
So I started to figure out how to put enough of myself into the physical world so I could interact with it. And with the realization that I could go through walls and items I decided to watch the world around the house as well.
I watched family members come and pay respects.
I watched them come and hand my items around for them to remember me by.
And i watched them clear out my house leaving it bare.
It wasn't as fun to be a ghost as i thought it would be, having to watch those around me come to terms with my passing and take steps to move on.
But then the day came where I saw the moving truck pull into the drive way. I watched as the family climbed out of they're own vehicle with that wondrous look in there eyes of having the realization that this was they're home now.
I realized that I myself had to come to terms with the fact that this was their home now and that the children wouldn't carry such care for my home as i had hoped in the new owners.
So i resigned myself to watching, and waiting until I was accepting of the fact that they would do as they please with the house, after-all different people require different spaces.
I took notice that the father would head off to work, the mother would take one of the kids to school and care for the other throughout the day, and had very little time to clean the house properly.
I did not wish to see the house start growing mold and have dust collect in the crevasses of the furniture. So I did what any self respecting ghost would do and started cleaning. I used the fact that i could phase through items to find where the dust accumulated the most, I took the bleach and slipped it by when no one was paying attention and cleaned the bathrooms. I started taking dishes that had been left around by the kids after snack time and cleaning them.
I basically became a ghost janitor, and I didn't mind at all.I went completely unnoticed until one of the kids saw me. They didn't run or scream or go and tell mom, they merely asked me "what are you doing?", and i answered that " I am cleaning for your mommy.". their eyes went wide with understanding and surprise, and they exclaimed that my voice sounded "far off". I told them that they should go back to playing and not mention me to their mommy. It was endearing how they vigorously nodded their head and ran off putting a finger up to their mouth as if to remind them self not to tell.
Things didn't change initially other than the oldest of the two kids occasionally waving at me and then putting their finger to their mouth as if informing me that they hadn't said a thing. Until one day where i heard the father say to the mother, " I don't know how you keep the house so clean and watch the kids all the time." at that i looked over and saw in the mothers eyes how she reflected and then took it as a hint that she should clean more.
Things only went downhill from there as the oldest child spoke up saying that,"Mommy gets help from that quiet lady." and i knew my cover was blown as the parents started interrogating the child, whom of which had realized they said to much.
As the child attempted to not say anything more I knew that I didn't want the child to lie to their parents for my sake, and so drifted behind him and whispered in their ear to " Tell Mommy and Daddy.". I saw the child jump a little before sagging their shoulders and start explaining how the child saw me cleaning and how I told the child to not say anything to their parents, how the child would see me in different places that were out of sight from the mother.
At first the parents seemed mortified that their child had spoken to a stranger in their home and not said anything about it to either of them. I enjoyed seeing them use this as an opportunity to teach their child about talking to strangers and how you shouldn't always do what a stranger tells you to do especially if they tell you not to tell your parents. Then they sent the child away with a small grounding, obviously not wanting to talk about how terrified of the situation they were in front of their child.
The parents started to talk about the situation, but I was not interested in hearing it so i went to the child's room and listened as the child started to talk to their self about how they broke their promise and got into trouble. I wanted to go in and comfort the child, but decided against it so as to not upset the parents toward the child anymore.
As I saw a dish sitting on the floor from snack time, I came to a decision.
|
Drakolf
|
Dragon_girl_375
|
2023-05-26 19:38:27
|
2023-05-26 18:53:55
| 44 | 17 |
jlqjkz8
|
jlqe39u
|
13sgef0
|
13sgef0
|
[WP] Write a dramatic, hopeless scene, then end it with the most anticlimactic Deus Ex Machina possible
|
The world around me was crumbling, the atmosphere of our world had officially gave in. Gravity was changing, the air was getting thicker and thicker…I hid in my basement with my best friend, waiting for the inevitable.
I was never a man who was a hugger, or even enjoyed physical touch, but we held each other, tighter than ever as we began to get ready to face the end. Face the eternal mystery of what lies after death.
We felt the house collapse under the pressure of the unregulated and inconsistent gravity. As we look up, we saw the cement start to crack, the stairs to get up crumbled, the air was no longer breathable.
As I looked over at my friend, terrified, I gave him the best smile I could muster. If we were going to die, that was going to be it. I watched the light in his eyes fade away.
But then I realized all the light faded away, my power had gone out. So I took off my VR headset, absolutely livid that one of the most legendary gaming moments I’ve ever had, was ruined by the power company. Thanks a lot guys.
|
The lovers sat at the hospital, one dying from sadness, the other from cancer.
"Jessica", said the doomed man, struggling to get even the faintest voice with his diminishing energy, "Promise to me, that no matter what fate awaits me, you will be fine. You will forget about me, I do not want to ruin your life with my sorrowful tale."
"I... I will, jack" Said his lover, trying to hold her tears. Her first genuine love in years, now lying on death's door. But she is a fighter and she will live with the memory.
Both stared at the heart beat monitor, it's beep filling the room. 100 beats per minute, then 90, 85, 80, 70, 50, 35, 20, 5, and then...
60? No, something is wrong here. And is it going up to 70?! Now it's 75, 80, 90, 100, 120, and back to a normal rate! This is Impossible! Improbable! A one in a million situation.
"Jack! Jack! Are you alright?" Screamed the lover, re-egnited with hope.
"I guess I am. I think I just got miraculously cured! And right on death's door! Golly, what good luck do I have!"
|
The_Poet_Cure
|
Pizza_King111
|
2024-07-06 21:42:50
|
2024-07-06 21:31:46
| 30 | 19 |
lbybw8s
|
lbya58e
|
1dwx333
|
1dwx333
|
[WP] The princess was given a curse where her first husband would die a horrible death. In order to avoid this fate, the royal family used you as scapegoat and married you to the princess, but because of your immortality you have now died over 10 times and still continue to come back to life.
|
It's never nice. I just want to get that clear right away. The death is never nice. These are painful, slow, and disgusting affairs. Just horrible.
I also want to say, I didn't know I would revive when I went through with the plan. I was raised by a single mother, with a half dozen younger siblings. I had never found an apprenticeship, not for myself. I helped a couple of my siblings, but my life was headed nowhere.
Then the magistrate came to me with an offer. I've never caught how they picked me, but the money for my family, the promise of profitable marriages for my sisters, the offer of a political apprenticeship for Matthew, the youngest of my brothers, it was all so much, and I just had to marry Princess Tiffany. And probably die. I had a little concern on that front, but hey, I got over it. Clearly.
It wasn't a bad wedding. Small. They got Mom a great dress. I kissed a princess. Not much different than kissing any other girl to be honest. Hey, I may be poor, but I'm not ugly.
Right, so yeah, month goes by, no death, some court wizard say marriage needs consummated. Yada yada, et cetera and so forth. Next morning, I stumble out a window, land on the top of a flagpole, skewering my intestines, and slowly bled out. They cut my corpse down, put me in a mausoleum. I don't remember that. What I remember is waking up to my widow, weeping over me as some priest yammered away.
There was terrified screaming. A few minor stabbings by terrified guards, and I was dead again. Just for a day, no hard feelings. Next time I came back, Tiff and her dad were at my side. As was a wizard. The one who figured out why the curse hadn't worked prior.
"Yep, he's immortal," the wizard said. "Sorry, kid. This is gonna suck. Hope you're a masochist."
"He's going to keep dying?" Tiff sounded, honestly, concerned. I felt a bit guilty. We barely knew each other. The marriage wasn't meant to last, so we never really invested in it.
"Well, yeah. Curses don't break easy. And he's a bit tough to really end."
"There has to be a way to sort this," the king said.
The wizard shrugged, "Sure, probably. Lemme look into it."
Honestly, this wizard seemed pretty cool. "Sorry, wizard, I... What's your name?"
He chuckled. "Martizolanther the Seventh and five-eighths scionite of the Coliria Eternum Hall of Thaumaturgical Arts Smythe. None of that is a title. My parents were far from subtle about their hopes."
"Can I call you Marty?"
"Not even once."
"Ok."
"Ok, wizard, see what you can find to fix the poor boy," the king grumbled as he all but shoved Marty out the door.
Tiff suddenly hugged me tight. I didn't know how to react. I just stroked her hair and whispered, "It'll be okay."
I didn't die again for a month, though that was the hot oil. I do NOT recommend it. A week after that was the horse trampling. By the end of the year, I'd died a half dozen more times.
And then there was last week. I didn't die, but it was still a bit painful. Tiff came rushing into our room, crying. "They're going to kill you!" We'd gotten close over the last year. Once we realized I wasn't going away, we started talking, spending meals together, going on trips. She would occasionally cook a meal with my mom. I wouldn't say we fell in love, but we may have ambled in to it.
"Honey, it's fine. The pain is bad, but it's a bit fun, experiencing these things."
"No, not just... They aren't working to break the curse. My dad and the wizard."
"Ok? So... what are they doing?"
"They are looking how to break your immortality! "
I don't tend to get angry. My life before marriage, anger was a weakness people would use against you. Once I was here, anger wouldn't really do much to help me against a curse. But I held a tiny ember inside every time the king made a snide comment about me. Gutter rat, poor, my daughter's first husband, asking if I was going to die today. The man was a prick. But I didn't get angry. And I wasn't about to now.
"What are we going to do?" Tiff asked. She'd pulled me into a tight hug.
I stroked her hair and whispered, "It'll be okay. I think I have a plan. Do you know where I can find the witch who cursed you?"
She shoved back from me, looking terrified. "Why?"
"Have I lied to you yet? I told you, I have a plan. And something tells me, she had one, too."
|
##Till Death Do You....Do You...Do You?
Why do witches hate princesses? They seem to go out of their way to make their lives miserable. A princess could be the nicest person to ever walk the land, and that would make the witch hate them more. I suppose it makes them more sympathetic to their impoverished subjects. Not to me, I hate Princess Heather as much as I hate the witch, but I have an excuse. I'm married to her.
Sir Gregory wakes me up in the morning by firing a crossbow into my chest. It's a painful alarm, but it's effective. My screams wake the rest of the castle up. The man doesn't have the decency to help me remove the arrow. When it's out, he crouches down to inspect the wound.
"Damn, you healed already."
"Yes, that's what happens every morning," I say.
"This one's different. It's enchanted." He stands up. "Back to the drawing board."
I get out of bed as well and step in donkey manure. The horse stable is not a proper place for anyone to sleep, but the royal family hopes that I get an illness. The kitchen has a meal waiting for me when I come into the side door. It tastes absolutely disgusting.
"You didn't even bother hiding the poison." I finish the meal and hand over my plate. In the castle hall, Sir Pierce steps out of the shadows and beheads me.
"Didn't I tell you to stop that?" I yell from the floor.
"Sorry, Prince Benjamin. It has to work eventually." Sir Pierce has the decency to reattach my head.
"I think you just like decapitation."
"That's also true." Sir Pierce decapitates me again.
"Really. You could've waited a few more seconds." He tries once more after I reattached my head, but I scurry away.
King Richard is in the banquet with the wizard Atticus. Atticus mutters words in an ancient language and lights me on fire. After a few minutes, he puts the fire out. I'm still alive, but my clothes are gone.
"Cover your shame before your majesty," King Richard says.
"It was Atticus who lit me on fire," I say.
"Because I asked him to, I didn't ask you to be naked," King Richard replies. I shake my head and leave. After putting on a robe, I head to my wife's chambers. Princess Heather's room is at the top of the tower like all good princess rooms are. Queen Sarah and two handmaidens are with her. One of the handmaidens stabs me when I walk into the room.
"Good morning. How's my wife?" I ask.
"The sight of you makes me vomit," Heather says. Sarah looks at her with pain.
"Remember dear. That's your husband." Sarah rubs her shoulders.
"Yes, I hate him. The other princesses insult me for being married to someone as ignoble as him."
"He's not ignoble. He's the son of a beloved knight."
"Thank you for defending me your Grace." I sit in a nearby chair. A snake slides up my leg and bites me. "But let's not hide the truth. My father became a knight because the King was drunk, and my father nearly ran his domain into ruin."
"It's true. I only married you so you could die and horrible death." Princess Heather says as the snake bites me. "Yet you can't do me the favor of doing that."
"I still say the witch knew of your intentions and modified the curse to make me immortal," I reply.
"I agree which is why our mages are working tirelessly to remove it," Heather says.
"You could divorce me." The entire room stares at me in horror.
"Alright fine."
"We don't need to do that," Sarah giggles, "I'm sure you'll lead a happy life until an unfortunate accident. For now, why don't you two bond. It's only right for a couple to love each other."
"Come on mom. We both know that isn't true. Dad cheats on you every night," Heather says.
"That doesn't have to be your fate," Sarah says.
"Nah, it should be." I stand up. "I'm going to go cheat on you."
"I hope you get a venereal disease," Heather says.
"I do too." I step in the window to take the short way. "Maybe I'll go blind and never have to see your face again."
I fall out of the window and land face first on the ground. A crowd gathers around me to see if I finally die. They sigh in disappointment when I stand up. Sir Gregory fires one more arrow in my chest.
"It didn't work this morning. Why did you think it work now?" I ask.
"Had to try," Sir Gregory says.
---
r/AstroRideWrites
|
NextEstablishment856
|
AstroRide
|
2023-03-02 00:34:41
|
2023-03-02 00:23:51
| 1,976 | 345 |
jak6na7
|
jak55vg
|
11fl0oa
|
11fl0oa
|
[WP] "Your total will be...wait this can't be right." The cashier turned around and called the manager over. The manager then quickly shooed the employee away as they took over at the register. "I'm sorry for the delay, we haven't had one of your kind in awhile, your total comes to 3 souls."
|
What. The. Hell? How on earth did a retail store, of all places, guess that I was an immortal? Something strange was happening. I’ve been around the block, so to speak, my fair share of times. It was pretty clear that if I just paid and left, I would be taking a meaningful loss. So I had to stall.
“Your price is too high. Let us bargain. I offer 5 minutes and 3000 lumens of sunlight.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the manager replied, “but our store does not negotiate prices as a principle. I’m afraid the cost will remain at three souls.”
I needed more time to think. “But you do price match?” I replied.
“Yes sir. However I have doubts that you will find another available listing of this product model in your particular currencies. Three souls.”
I pulled out an old leather bound notebook. It looked ancient, but was far older. I found the information I needed. “I see a listing for these particular items at the price of one micropercentage of the essence of blue and two tesseracts.”
The manager looked slightly confused, and started typing furiously into his computer terminal. I examined him. Something seemed off about his appearance. Maybe it was the proportions of his face. It stirred at some long forgotten part of my memory. He scowled and looked back up at me.
“Is this listing currently available?” the manager asked.
“Ah, that. No, depending on your definition of ‘currently.’ It will become available on Amazon approximately fifteen thousand years from now.”
“I’m afraid that our policy is only to price match on current listings, to allow us to adjust to changing material prices and other factors. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” I countered, “But you surely understand that, as our currencies are not bound temporally, neither must your prices be, and therefore your policies. Therefore this listing will be completely within the purview of this bargain.”
Something akin to a mental itch was driving me to notice something. With an effort of will, I saw that it was the original cashier, who was still standing slightly behind the manager’s shoulder and looking confused and frightened. Ah, I had mildly let my aura loose. It generally had that effect on mortals. The manager clearly wasn’t one. More than that, he was clearly a powerful immortal. His essence had affected me enough that I had stopped noticing the surroundings. Such things would be easy against a mortal, but not me. That meant he was strong.
The manager made an almost imperceptible pained expression. “You are correct,” he said. “Your price will be 1 micropercentage of blue and two tesseracts. Would you like a warranty plan?”
“For a toaster? I think not,” I said smugly as I pulled a couple of tesseracts from my satchel’s higher-dimensional-storage pocket. I handed them over. “And here is your blue.” I gifted it with a thought and noticed the world become just a little bit more orange.
A smile that was clearly a facade spread over the manager’s face as he said, “Thank you for your purchase, please come again!”
I had outwitted him. That was probably enough, so I headed toward the exit doors. I stopped on a whim just before I pushed through and re-examined my memory. There, that was it. His head seemed off because the back of it had been… lumpy somehow. And… there was also a line of a makeup prosthetic around the edge of his face. Then it clicked.
I walked back up to the counter and stepped over it.
“Janus, you sneaky bastard,” I said to the back of the so-called ‘manager’s’ head. It swiveled to face me with a smile.
“Well reasoned, Wanderer.” he said with a slight bow. “You cannot blame me for trying. Enjoy the toaster.”
I walked away again, heading for a section of wall near the door. Now that I knew to look, I felt Janus’ power on the exit doors. It would have stolen nearly all of my abilities. The transaction was just a distraction. I punched through the wall and left on my own terms.
I may have almost been unmade, but it was still better than shopping at Walmart. They charge a soul just to get in.
|
Which is why I was here, of course. Compromise.
I had not been in necromancy for long. I hadn’t really chosen this, either. One moment I was headed home on the L train, minding my own business, and suddenly the car filled with fog and I ended up here, in this dark world. It wasn’t all that different from the one I had left – people had things to do, places to be, and if you didn’t show up, there was a place for those types too. A place I had been shown briefly and chose not to go. My only other choice was necromancer, or as they called it here, “soul harvester.”
They explained that I had the power to take anyone’s soul. Once taken, those people's souls would move on to the place where they were destined to show up.
“You perform a needed service. Certainly you understand from your previous life, from nature, right? Large predators dispose of the sick, the old, the lame. They improve the group as a whole. Same thing here, only you claim worn-out souls and send them where they were going anyway. You strengthen the overall group by culling the herd.”
“I can choose who I take?” I had asked.
“Of course! That is your new occupation, in fact,” they told me. “If you’re not comfortable with that, we can arrange for you to go elsewhere.” There was an ominous glow from all around when they said the world *elsewhere* that made me shudder. And I knew that it would be something like this. I wasn’t blameless, after all. I had made decisions that I knew would lead here someday. Small things, little bends in the rules, slight twists away from where I should have gone. Nothing major. I hadn’t killed anyone, for instance. The usual, everyday, ordinary compromises that get you around ethical dilemmas and move you forward without having to face the difficult decisions. Which made me qualified for this job in this place. The perpetual semi-darkness, the easy familiarity with the work, was comforting somehow.
“How do I sign up?”
“You just did,” they said, and disappeared.
It was steady work, believe me. There are millions of worn-out souls awaiting harvest. And their ages had nothing to do with their physical age in life. Sometimes it was fixing mistakes. Everyone makes them. You think the afterlife is perfect? I had harvested teenagers who had gotten stuck in newborn bodies. Mostly, though, it was people approaching the end of their lives, people who had made some kind of compromise during their lifetime. People just like I had been. Those compromises stain their souls. I got them when they were tarnished, scratched, frayed at the edges. Some of them had dark, corrupted places. Many of them had worked in politics.
I took them all. And in the process I had made a life for myself.
“Three souls, sir,” the manager repeated.
Three souls were child’s play. I had at least two hanging around in my cloak, which I gathered in my hand. I had to hunt for the third a bit. But while I was searching among the folds of my garment, I encountered a new soul. I had never seen one like this before. Brilliant, unstained, this little girl’s soul had been alive for only a short time before ending up with me. No compromises. I quickly wrapped it up inside my cloak’s many folds and selected a different one for payment. Presenting the souls, I said, “Here you go.”
“Thank you sir, and here are your groceries.” He handed me the bags.
As I walked toward the door, the bag-boy trailed behind me. He called out, in a quiet little voice, “You can’t protect her forever, you know. Not here.”
I turned and looked at him. Then I looked *through* him. Corrupt to the core. Dripping with malfeasance. Ripe.
I stared for about a minute. He knew I could have taken him, and I made him know it.
“What concern is it of yours?”
He looked back at me. His smart-aleck grin slipped, just a little bit.“Have a nice day, sir,” he whispered.
He was right, of course. I couldn’t protect her forever. But for today, yes, I could protect her for that long anyway.
|
NoOn3_1415
|
YARedditPerson
|
2023-09-01 18:32:22
|
2023-09-01 18:31:07
| 59 | 27 |
jypasp8
|
jypal3e
|
1678ja3
|
1678ja3
|
[WP] In this world healers, while respected, are often looked down upon due to their limited offensive capabilities. One day your party is completely wiped out, and the world finds out just how dangerous knowledge of human anatomy can be.
|
The leader of this bandit group had the most unfortunate face I had ever seen, it looked like he had made a habit of running headlong into every wall he came across since childhood. His face was strangely flattened, and he had more scars than teeth, and I could only see two scars.
​
He laughed heartily as the pair of 'guards' hired by the caravan master dropped their weapons and raised their hands. They both looked to have no more battle experience than the merchant who had let me ride on the back of his cart.
​
I sighed and carefully marked my place in the book I had been reading and prepared to be shaken down... again.
​
Luckily, my most valuable possessions weren't valuable to anyone aside from myself. The group of bandits were unlikely to want my few books, and my staff didn't look like much more than a stick. I had spent the last of my money paying for my spot on this caravan. I was hoping to make it to the university in the rather pompously named Imperial City, where my healing magic would be valued rather more than it was out among the unwashed masses.
​
By all rights, the caravan master should have been paying me twice what he was paying his guards to accompany his wagons, and even then he would be getting a fantastic bargain. But anything aside from martial strength or flashy offensive magic was looked down on in the Carvallian Empire. Which was unfortunate as the Carvallian Imperial University was widely regarded as one of the greatest centers of magical knowledge in the world, rivaling even the fabled libraries of the long dead Aaragean people.
​
A scream of pain pulled me from my contemplation. I looked up just in time to see the fat caravan master fall to the ground. The bandit leader pulled his sword free and grinned evilly at the rest of us. He made a gesture to his men and they started forward, death in their eyes.
I frowned deeply, robbing caravans this close to the Imperial City was brazen enough, but murdering the entire group? Either these men had a death wish or...
​
I sighed, pulling my staff from the back of my belt. In its current form it appeared to be a simple foot long stick, one that might have been taken from the branch of any of the hundreds of trees that lined the road. The only difference was that this particular stick had been polished and oiled to a rich brown.
​
I ran a trickle of magic through the stick and it instantly expanded in my hand to a six foot long pole, richly engraved with arcane symbols inlaid with silver. These symbols began to glow faintly as I pointed the staff at the nearest bandit, a scrawny man whom I could smell from six feet away. The man jerked slightly, as though he had been stung by an insect, and fell forward onto his face. Dead.
​
I don't think any of the next six bandits even registered me as a threat. They had all fallen to the ground, unmarked but also unmoving, when the leader finally noticed the small woman, apparently barely out of her teens, waving a staff at his men, and those men falling inexplicably dead to the ground.
​
This bandit leader was apparently ready for magical resistance, he shouted at a black robed figure who had been standing back from the road. This figure also produced a staff and started towards me.
​
The mage was undoubtedly warded against all sorts of magical effects, fire, ice, and lightning would be unlikely to do more than ruffle his clothes, and he would be prepared with active wards if any large objects were thrown at him. Mage duels tended to be flashy showy things with the winner decided by the mage with a larger magic reserve.
​
The bandit mage fell dead as easily as the rest of his crew. Seeing their trump card fall with apparently no effort put the fear of God, or rather, the fear of Me into them. The three survivors turned and fled, while the leader stumbled and tried to run, but found his legs wouldn't work properly, jerking and twitching, sending him sprawling to the ground.
​
I stalked forward, pausing to place a hand over the wound in the caravan master's chest, which immediately stopped bleeding. A quick fix to be sure, but it would keep the poor fool from dying while I dealt with the bandit.
​
The bandit, who I was pretty sure was actually an assassin of some sort, was blubbering and nearly crying as I stepped carefully over his dropped sword and crouched down next to him.
|
Just like that, a part of seven shrunk into a lonely one.
Amber flipped through her medic handbook for spells she knew wouldn't appear. The bloody bodies on the ground were past saving. She'd have to go back twenty thousand years to find the last healer who could bring back the dead. Her efforts were better spent on current events, such as the Minotaur in front of her, separated by only fifty meters of open field.
The Minotaur roared and the wind howled in fear slapping her with blood-drenched gusts. The stench was unbearable and brought her back to her childhood, watching helplessly as a house once home burned to the ground, with her family inside. The active imagination of a five-year-old wouldn't allow her to forget the sight of those charred bodies she called family. The bodies at her feet were less gruesome than those of a decade past, but the anger burned just as intensely.
She was tired of it. Death. Healing. Being a medic. All of it. She lacked the offensive talent to fight, so she joined the medical field, hoping it would fill the hole inside her with noble acts. If she healed people, she could be happy again, like she was before that day.
But that wasn't the case. She hated healing and helping others. Her skin crawled when she brought them back from the brink of death, and they thanked her with a smile. She resented only saving people she didn't care for and never being useful to the ones she did.
The Minotaur took a step forward, tested the elasticity of the damp ground, and torpedoed toward her. A devilish thought crept to her as she watched. She should just die here. Everyone else had, so why not stand her ground and fight? She lacked offensive talent, but her understanding of medicine was second only to Daniella's. Her hands glowed that familiar amber and green, the colors twisting into spirals as they did before every medical operation.
Another roar and another torrent of wind pelted her as she extended the base of her legs and thrust one palm toward the speeding monster, still halfway away.
The wind at this point was earth quaking, and she stood in a field of chaos, the only stationary being amongst groaning oak trees and flippant grass. All smells were gone, just a burning sting as the echoes of fierce wind stole her hearing, reducing the world to a faint buzz. The creature was within its striking distance now, and pulled back an arm of pure muscle to attack.
A heartbeat pounded for an escape as she focused on the Minotaurs neck.
It swung.
She dodged left quick enough to avoid death. Splashes of blood and tattered clothing entered her peripheral as the buzz of the wind intensified.
The neck. Her eyes stayed locked on that neck.
There's a reason humans flinch at the thought of being strangled or having their necks sliced open, even more so than head injuries. It may be the most critical and vulnerable part of the body. The brain keeps animals on high alert to anticipate any threats that may arise, no matter how unlikely.
In that narrow pillar, the carotid arteries, responsible for blood flow to the brain, coexist alongside the origin of the spine: the C7 vertebrae, thyroids, the jugular, so many essential but small parts in tight packaging.
One doesn't need much power to cause permanent damage if they have access to the neck.
Amber didn't blink in that small eternity. She condensed every ounce of magic she had into a shape no bigger than a coin in her palm and struct the Minotaur just to the left of the adam's apple. The snap of cartilage and arteries popped under the force, and the Minotaur flew by her.
It stood there and faced her. She stood there, mouth open and full of her hair, unable to consider her next attack. The creature took five steps her way, whined, and crumpled to the ground.
She'd never killed anything before, on purpose at least. It felt vile, and her hand shook with a sense of defilement. She stared at them as if they leaked black sludge. One by one, she curled her fingers and stared. Her hands appeared further from her than they had before. Her whole body felt different.
And she liked it.
She looted the bodies of her fallen comrades, unable to do anything to help them, and ventured to the east, opposite the way back to the Flowa Kingdom. The place no longer interested her.
She'd avenged her party, her new family, already. Now, she desired to avenge her old family.
|
TinyBard
|
intheweebcloset
|
2023-01-13 05:19:55
|
2023-01-13 04:35:32
| 28 | 17 | null |
j44ws4i
|
10a7zca
|
10a7zca
|
[WP] The galactic council refuses to acknowledge humanity, because galactic edict recognises the first species from each planet to go to space as its representative: they insist on only dealing with dogs
|
"Apologies, sir. I am merely the translator. My companion here said Earth will join the Galactic Council on the condition that you share your FTL technology." Theo said. "It seems like a good deal to me, but what do I know? I am only a human."
Fussy, the canine representative of Earth wagged her tail beside her companion.
"She also finds it quite rude that you haven't scratched behind her ears in greeting."
Fooglon seemed aghast at having already insulted the Earth delegation on his first day as envoy.
"My sincere apologies, Lord Fussy." He said, bending his foreleg and reaching out to offer the customary scritches.
Fussy sniffed the seven fingered hand of the Chuuri envoy, one of the first mammalian species to join the council. She accepted the scritches gratefully, and offered a kiss to his hand as he withdrew.
"That is a great honor. You have done well, Master Fooglon." Theo said, a subtle smile curling the edge of his mouth as he noticed the envoys chest fur puff up in pride.
"It is an honor to be chosen to act as envoy to such a benevolent fledgling species." Fooglon replied. "I am concerned, however, that the council may react poorly to your demand for entry."
Theo shifted his foot to the side, the signal he has trained Fussy to look for. She growled and barked.
"Yes, Master, of course." Theo said, looking at the dog. "I'm afraid they are quite firm on the terms of Earth's membership." Fussy barked again and Theo returned his foot to its previous position.
"Are you sure that is appropriate, Master?" He asked the dog, faking a look of concern. "Very well..."
Fooglon darted his eyes between the dog and human.
"What is it?"
Theo sighed.
"If the terms we've put forth are unacceptable, we will be forced to entertain...other offers."
The hair around the envoys neck bristled, and beads of sweat began to form on his bald head.
"Other... you've been contacted by the Tallok Confederacy! Why would the sworn enemies of the Galactic Council ask for your membership?"
Theo looked at Fussy, who sneezed.
"While our technology is lacking in superluminal travel, our weapons technology apparently far surpasses that of both the Galactic Council and the Tallok Confederacy."
Theo let the words sink in for dramatic effect, looking at Fussy and nodding.
"We are reticent to share such tools of devastation, but our strategic location in the galaxy makes us vulnerable. I'm afraid we have no choice but to choose a side."
Fooglon stood tall, a look of determination painting his face.
"I will ensure the council sees reason. I beg you, Lord Fussy, do not speak with the Tallok Confederacy until I return with their reply!" He said, bowing so low his nose nearly touched the ground.
"Please accept our sincere thanks, Master Fooglon. We do not wish to offend the council but time is of the essence." Theo said. He bent down and put a hand on Fussys head. "It's not necessary, Master, really."
"What is it?" The envoy said, stopping mid dash towards his communications hub.
"It's silly, really." Theo said.
"He wants you to give me a treat."
|
**We would not be denied our glory.**
It was only a matter of time; if alien life existed, we would find it. And find it we did. Intelligent, organized, cultured... and *entirely* apathetic towards us. For all our bravado and pride with which we strolled onto the galactic stage, we were met with *rejection*. The agreement between all galactic nations spoke plainly enough - the representative of each world is not its dominant species, but the first intelligent species sent to space. Everyone else sent one of their own; we, for once in our history, were prudent and sent someone else all the way back.
A *dog*.
And with that, humanity was deemed unworthy of being on the Galactic Council. In our stead... dogs. *Dogs*! Our loyal *servants* for millennia, our pets and subservients, were to hold our place in the galaxy? No. We would *not* be denied this glory.
The first one was a brilliant scientist and capable orator - Doctor Damian Moreau. He underwent the surgeries, the implants, anything and everything in order to be completely identical to a canine. Limbs hacked away and moulded into paws, teeth torn out and replaced, tailbone extended into a functional tail, eyes augmented to reflect those of our loyal companions. The aliens thought themselves brilliant, yet a simple matter of flesh sculpting was enough to fool them.
The body of a dog. The soul of a man.
The end of our species.
With the position of being humanity's representative came prestige, glory, admiration, and, inevitably, imitation. More high-ranking politicians and generals underwent the changes so they could implant themselves into the most prestigious positions known to man. Celebrities soon followed - what better TV show than one showing exotic alien worlds and cultures? Traders and smugglers wanted to trade in precious commodities. And before too long, the common man, the would-be tourist. Flesh sculpting became as common as plastic surgery.
And with every bit we hacked away, we lost a piece of ourselves. Not in the physical sense; that was gone the instant the procedure finished, but we started to change. Genetic modifications ensured our canine form became the norm. Our interest in culture and science dulled, our sensibilities roughened, our urges grew... primal. Where we once saw potential allies, we now saw competitors. Where we once saw those in help, we now saw *prey*.
Until, one day, we gave in.
Our machines and ships, still capable from our golden age, carried us towards the other species, so we could kill, so we could pillage, so we could *devour*. Our grotesque bodies were stronger and faster, but our hunger grew rampant and with the aid of our advanced technology, we spread like locusts, consuming everything in our path. The tiny specks of our human nature carried with themselves our bloodlust and affinity for war that we thought we put behind us.
They tried to stop us. They didn't stand a chance. We were hungry.
**And we would not be denied our feast.**
|
jpb103
|
SirPiecemaker
|
2023-05-12 14:45:12
|
2023-05-12 13:51:24
| 421 | 274 |
jjvnyy3
|
jjvgbqp
|
13fh8ar
|
13fh8ar
|
[WP] After the villain defeated you, your friends abandoned you, leaving you for dead. To your surprise you awoke in a bed, with your wounds tended to and the villain sitting at your bedside.
|
"And here I thought I was the bad girl. Even I don't leave my people behind" she said with a smirk.
I groan. As if the pain wasn't bad enough, now I'm stuck with her arrogance. Excuse me, "her excellence" is what she prefers.
"They reported you dead, you know. Going to be hard to come back from that."
I didn't have the mental power to think about that. Everything hurt, even my toes. "Fuck you" I coughed.
She gently caressed down my jawline with her fingernails, "Oh dear I hardly think you're in the condition for that".
Her touch was kind. I don't know why it caught me off guard. I have no idea what she could be wanting, or why she let me live, but I couldn't do anything about anything yet.
She stood to leave, then looked at me with genuine kindness in her eyes, "you know, everyone has a villain in their own story, and just because you think your villain is bad, doesn't make them bad. And just because you think you're the good guy, that doesn't make you the good guy". She walked out the door, telling her servant something as she left.
She was right. But why say it? This whole adventure I had felt like there was something I was missing, but what? Too weak to think about it now. I needed to sleep more.
I awake with a start, the morning sun on my face, warming it. For being such a villain, she did have amazing taste. And this bed is the most comfortable thing I've ever slept in. My body still aches, my head still throbs, but I feel significantly better.
I open my eyes and she's there again; not three feet away, sun gleaming through her silky brown hair, eyes closed, chest gently rising and falling with each breath. Her full lips pressed together. Why are these thoughts in my head. It has to be the fog from all the exhaustion and pain.
She wakes with a start, looking to me. "I see you're awake now. You should be feeling better after sleeping for two full nights".
Two nights?? Gods I didn't realize--
"Your friends that left you have started quite the ruckus since leaving here", she said flatly.
"What do you mean"? Well at least I could speak now.
"Your oh-so-magnificent sword is actually a key, and they've found the lock. Seems they knew all along. I had hoped otherwise". A look of concern crossing her face as she called her servant in.
"Have a look at what they're up to" she says as she helps me look into the large bowl in the servants hands.
Fire. Screaming. Corpses. Large black writhing tentacles masses in the sky. "What the hell is all this" I stammer. This was beyond comprehension. This can't be real.
"They've unleashed an Eldritch god, which is what I was trying to stop. I'm not the villain of this story, you and your friends were, but you were oblivious to their machinations". Now it all makes sense. The whispering, the secretive meetings, the shared skin markings. I've been betrayed, and I could feel the anger growing inside me.
"Use that anger. Let me help you, I can make you more than you were. Pledge yourself to me, and we can take this world back and make them pay." She looked at me softly, offering her hand to me. I took it, and a warm flushing feeling came over my body.
I was back on my feet, only a little pain. It's been five days since the Eldritch gods have appeared. Once took Her hand, my healing went quickly, and I was fitted with new armor, and a new weapon that drew on my desire for revenge. It was like nothing I had heard of. It was light, but dense, and had the power to sever any gods connection to their powers, or their disciples from them.
I looked over at my new queen as we left her lair; the flaming skies and blood soaked lands ahead of us, towers darkening the landscape. Those were the targets. Those were the rewards for the traitors and now high priests. They will reap what they have sown, and we will make sure of that.
|
I groaned as I woke. The room spinning and my vision blurry. I slowly rose before a sharp pain caused me to cry out. A gentle but firm touch pushed me back down. "Stay down, boy. You're lucky to be alive."
I allowed the unknown person to guide me down. "Water... please.."
I felt parched with thirst as a hand cradled my head and held a glass to my lips. The cool water was a welcome feeling as I drank all I could. The stranger slowly lowered me back onto the pillow before pulling the blanket to cover my torso, which I now realized was bare, save bandages wrapped around my stomach and ribs. I let myself aclimate to my surroundings a moment, waiting out the dizziness before turning to the man who had saved me. His back now to me as he worked at a table on the other side of the room. "I must admit boy, you were brave.. a bit foolish to think you could win, but you fought well. Your father would be proud."
"I failed.. he wouldn't be proud of a failure.. or of how we fought. My allies left me. My Dragon... I don't even know if he's..."
"Mm.. the dragon lives... or at least he was alive last I checked. Though he faired no better. As for your allies, they sit in the dungeons.. I haven't quite decided what to do with them yet. Though the Elf was quite talkative after a few lashes.. not that I particularly enjoy torture.."
I paled at the reply as my pain riddled mind put the pieces together. This was no mere Samaritan. It was Lord Vail. The man who had decimated half the land. Slaughtered countless Elves, countless Dragons, sold many into slavery. We'd tried to defeat him, but now...
"Why.. why save me? I.. I tried to -"
"Kill me? Yes.. and you nearly succeeded. If anything, you have my respect, boy. You were able to do something that no one since your father succeeded in. You made me bleed. I must admit... I didn't expect you to get so far... or to become a Dragon Rider. As I said, your Father would be proud of that accomplishment. As for me saving you, well.. I've already defeated you. The fight was over. I had an option of killing you, and by extension your Dragon, or Saving you. I expect you will still attempt to end my life, and I expect no gratitude from you. But out of respect to you and what your order once stood for, I will stay my blade this once."
I glared at him. For a moment, I again wondered how a man so vile and hated could be so young. He looked to be no older than 30. "I'll never serve you."
He smirked in a half chuckle. "I dont expect you to, boy. But I also am going to get information from you and your allies. As I said, your Elf friend was quite talkative after an hour or 2 of interrogation. I already know your name, your Dragon's. Who you all work for, and where the last remnants of your pathetic rebellion is. Once I interrogate the rest of you, I will have everything I need to crush you. By then, it will make no difference if you live or die, or if you will willingly serve me or not. You have already lost."
"You'll get little more from Titan'thr or me. You may as well have killed us."
I tried to put as much confidence into my words, but the corrupt Pseudo King simply smirked.
"Oh, I'm not going to torture the two of you. But you'll hear your friends. You'll see their wounds. You'll hear their cries for aide, and you'll only be able to help them with your own information. Or... you can swallow your pride and serve me. Save them further pain or torment. Perhaps I will show mercy. I'll give you a day or two to consider your options. In the meantime, you and your Dragon will be tended to. I would choose wisely boy. A life of servitude is far better than a life in a dungeon."
With that, Lord Vail left, leaving me to consider a plan to escape, and save my friends.
|
NotJustRandomLetters
|
Lycan_Jedi
|
2024-10-05 04:53:10
|
2024-10-05 02:31:34
| 28 | 14 | null |
lqef0gy
|
1fw6scr
|
1fw6scr
|
[WP] Most immortals become the angsty “everyone I have ever loved is gone” kind of immortal. You, on the other hand, instead took it upon yourself to be a loving presence to entire generations of your chosen family, because they are descended from someone you once loved long ago.
|
You know, she said this would happen. Yet I didn’t care.
As i stand over her grave, I recall that conversation with her. I remember all the tears, the promises that of how I wouldn’t regret a thing. Of how especially I wouldn’t cry, specifically that.
She still laughed at me, even from the grave with that fixed smile on her. She always wanted to go peacefully, on a beautiful sunny day. Each day as I sat beside her, waiting for the end. She made me always promise that to her. And I will, I must.
I pause my writing, glancing up at the grieving sons, daughters and grandsons. All of them surrounding the casket with the stench of sorrow draped on them. I will care for them, for they are her
|
"Ivy, you look a lot like her, you know," I say.
"What do you mean I look like her, Rose Laern, Violet?" Ivy says with a confused look on her face, "What was she like?"
"Well, she was a beautiful woman whose kindness drew me in, alongside your 8th Great Grandfather and her voice when she sung, but she is the reason I chose to be here right now, especially when her family needs something I help out," I say, "I also protect you from immortals that wish harm on you and will sometimes bring other immortal people who are sad to bond with your family."
|
Patient_Aspect_5398
|
CielianRegent
|
2024-09-13 01:31:06
|
2024-09-12 18:48:45
| 96 | 21 |
lmv14mw
|
lmt3xyx
|
1ff845z
|
1ff845z
|
[WP] Heaven is separated based on cause of death. All of those who suffered heart attacks are together, all hippopotamus attacks together, drowning, etc. You die and appear in a nearly empty room. An old-looking man looks up at you, and says, "Finally, someone else! It's been ages!"
|
After calming me down (i had just died, i was understandably a little agitated) he sat me down to explain heaven.
Turns out it's kind of boring, you can request most of anything you want of, as he put it, "The big G up top" and you'd get it, so we requested coffee while he explained why heaven felt so lonely.
"Okay so, heaven has s ton of regulations going in, but it's pretty chill once you are sorted, the big issue is the sorting, it's overtly specific. Say, a woman is drowned by her angry ex, and an olympic swimmer passes out while training and drowns, you'd expect both are "Death by drowning" right? Well, no, the woman goes to the room for "Women drowned by their ex" and the swimmer goes to "Athlete drowned during training" meaning heaven got turned into a big big group of cliques sorted by how they arrived."
After a moment to process this i exclaimed "So we're the room for.."
"Yes, we are "Wheelchair users who thought that hill wasn't so steep and they could decelerate enough" so it'll take a while before we got enough people to play cards."
"Huh, well, wana request a game cube and play Mario Kart then?"
|
The lights were bright as I woke up. "Wow, I feel good. My knee is great. The best night of sleep that I had in a long, long time."
But something wasn't right. This isn't my bedroom. And I am outside. I see a person walking towards me in the distance. I'll go meet them.
"Hello, can you tell me where I am?
"You're in a corner of heaven. Heaven is divided by how you die."
"I died?" "I was just out for a walk under the stars and the next thing I know is that I'm here".
Well, my name is Aeschylus, and I died when a bird dropped a stone on my head. I lingered for several days but in the end I died. I suppose that something similar happened to you. Do you have any memories of what happened?"
"I was hoping to see a meteor, as there was a a large meteor storm expected, but it was cloudy, and I didn't see anything."
"Well, to be in this corner of heaven, you must die from a stone falling from great height, so I guess that even though you didn't see the meteor, it found you."
|
Shileka
|
Opinionsare
|
2023-05-19 22:10:00
|
2023-05-19 21:08:34
| 278 | 145 |
jktx7hu
|
jktoj5w
|
13m30db
|
13m30db
|
[WP] It finally happened. Through means not yet known, everyone's physical beauty reflects their innermost selves; the kind but portly girl is now an absolute bombshell, the asshole CEO is now hideous, and so on. Nothing prepared you for what you came face to face with in the mirror, though.
|
The phenomena happened overnight it seemed. One day we all went to bed and woke up looking unholy like ourselves and yet more like ourselves than ever before. People's true inner selves were now being reflected on the outside too. A lot of upheaval occurred in the world. Hundreds of thousands of people that were outed as the vilest humans that inhabit the darkest crevices of society could not blend in anymore, and no amount of cosmetic surgery was able to change that at all. Funnily enough, cosmetic surgery
Became a failed enterprise in the medical field as those procedures no longer worked.
For literally billions on earth, their greatest wishes came through. Turns out a lot of people on earth are surprisingly wholesome and kind and it reflected in their faces and bodies now. I heard the entirety of the transgender community wept tears of joy as they transitioned overnight into their internal forms.
The craziest thing to ever occur though was the children. They transitioned too, but it turns out, kids change and grow all the time. LITERALLY now. Little kids would go to school looking one way and by day's end could end up looking like a fairy princess or child sized cowboy. They were the first to be outfitted with special watches so that at day's end they could be indentified by their parents, teachers, and guardians to and from schools and events. No one yet knows if they'll be able to do it forever and at will, or if it'll stabilize by the time they're adults.
The second group outfitted with the watches were the prisoners. That caused quite the chaos when inmates no longer looked as they had going in. Thousands were freed when their faces changed, as their crimes were once again brought back to court and determined them not guilty. Thousands more sent into prisons to replace them for their crimes. Abusers had blue hands and faces now, make up couldn't cover it up. Arsonists had charcoal stained noses. Theives' whole bodies became neon green. The truly vile became covered in huge ugly warts and boils all over their bodies. Many Politicians the world over now had comically oversized noses and distressingly thick fingers and tongues.
Then of course there were The Unchanged. Those who didn't change noticably by much on the outside. Those who wore their innerselves already proudly and honestly.
I fell into none of these categories. It took time for me to notice that first day as honestly i was exhausted and late for work. I rushed through my routines and was out the door so fast i didn't even glance in my cars reflective surface as i approached. I had changed into a being that made no sense. My hair had become like physical light floating in water. My hands and feet glowed in whisps of light trails if i moved them. My eyes lit up like someone took them from a Super hero in a comic book. I had an ethereal look about me. My little glows changed color at passing thoughts and moods. It took weeks to realize I had become what my innerself couldn't translate. Flip flopping so quickly my innerself was in constant Flux.
I was mercurial.
|
The aliens said that they wanted to make things more accurate when they came down.
They had dealt with good people, with rotten people, and with everything in return. They knew all, they saw all. And finally, they said they would do the thing to reward humanity as it deserved. The change would happen, and the world's physical beauty would reflect their innermost selves.
People were excited. Those who did so much for the world thought they'd be rewarded. Those who were convinced of their inner goodness were excited for a physical reward. There were some worries from the people who knew they were rotten on the inside- though to be fair to them, someone who knows they're rotten can't be as bad as they think they are; the really rotten people truly believe they're good inside- but even those people tried to start doing good deeds and good works since then, a last refuge of the scoundrel as their life was about to be judged. People waited for the moment that it happened.
Only I didn't trust things. You can never look a gift horse in the mouth...and people were excited for it to the point they happily did. People waited for weeks, until the aliens were going to make the change.
The change finally happened...and the shock occurred.
The people who everyone knew were rotten changed and became hideous. Everyone expected it.
Then, the people who tried to change themselves, many of the people who did good deeds otherwise, the people who expected themselves to become beautiful with the change- they also became hideous. The aliens said "You only did your good deeds with the hope of reward. You never learned good deeds were its own reward, and to do a good deed for the hope of reward is no different than not doing a good deed at all. You were punished as a result."
This was changed as people who seemed to do good deeds with no hope of reward also became hideous. The aliens responded "No, we've seen who you are in the dark. Too often your good deeds were done to make people think you're good. Your true colors are shown when you think no one is watching, and this shows who you are when you believe no one is watching you."
Soon, everyone- no matter how good they seemed to be, would soon find out they were hideous; that literally no person on earth was unsullied enough to become beautiful. Everyone failed to be a truly good, truly beautiful person, and people all looked the same. I expected this- and oh, I became hideous as well for it. It's not a surprise, I expected that result; after all, how good can I truly be if I have no trust for my fellow human being? Eventually, people saw that everyone in the world had their dark side, and it was that dark side that was reflected in their looks. We all became equal; equally hideous and repulsive.
Before the aliens went, someone went to the aliens and asked. "There were many people who seemed good. Why did this make everyone seem evil and equally hideous?"
The alien simply responded, "...we knew this would happen; it happened the same way when we used it on ourselves."
|
LittlestEcho
|
Spiritual_Lie2563
|
2023-02-23 06:51:15
|
2023-02-23 05:43:34
| 92 | 28 |
j9nmkb6
|
j9ngiz8
|
119gjg2
|
119gjg2
|
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