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string | chosen_username
string | rejected_username
string | chosen_timestamp
string | rejected_timestamp
string | chosen_upvotes
int64 | rejected_upvotes
int64 | chosen_comment_id
string | rejected_comment_id
string | chosen_reddit_post_id
string | rejected_reddit_post_id
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[WP] America now follows other countries in requiring 1year mandatory service upon turning 18, except it is working retail instead of going to war. A young teen just started his draft where he would have to man the stations on Black Friday.
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The grizzled vet looked up at me, his one good eye bloodshot and watery. "I'm sorry kid." He looked over my shoulder now, remembering a distant place that still burned fresh in his mind. "You've pulled the BF-WM."
I looked at him, confused. "BF-WM? What's that?"
A fist slammed down on the table separating us. "This ain't the time to play games, kid. Not with where you're going. Best thing for you to do is wipe that doe-eyed look off your face and get wise. Get wise, real quick." The hand darted forward now, grabbing a hold of my wrist and yanking me closer. "You won't last a minute without your wits. Just like Jimmy. Poor fuckin' Jimmy. Right down in the first wave..."
He stalled off, looking into the distance again.
"Sir?" I asked.
"They just trampled right over 'em. Like he wasn't nothin'." A tear formed in the corner of his eye. "Shift manager sent him in there with a damn 'Welcome' sign. Might as well just shot him. Would have been the decent thing to do."
He went quiet again.
I tried to subtly move my arm away from his clutching grasp, which seemed to jolt him back to the present. Wild eyes fixed on mine. "I can still here the screams. Oh God, the screams. Jimmy's. Theirs. All tangled up and mangled together. Flailing and spitting. Tearing and grabbing." He swallowed and then looked down at the table, letting go of my hand and clasping his own together. "I should have gone for him. I should have...but...but what could I have done? They had seven OLED TV's priced at $99 and two hundred people trying to get them. What are two 'Assistant Customer Experience Specialists' going to do against that?"
"Nothing?" I ventured.
"That's fucking right, nothing! Not in a BF-WM."
That term again. I could feel the weight behind it. Weight that was coming at me. "What's a BF-WM? Please, I need to know what I'm heading into."
"It don't matter, kid. No words are going to paint a picture that stands up to the reality. You won't really understand until you're standing there, the thin glass of an automatic door and a thirty second countdown timer being the only thing that separates you from THEM."
"Isn't there a way to get out of it? To get some other assignment?"
The old man chuckled now. "Too late for that, kid. You had your chance to enlist. You decided to play the lottery and you lost. Ain't no future in this country unless you pay your dues. If you think you can make the run to Canada, you can be my guest. Won't get far with the trackers on to you."
I exhaled and then leaned forward, my eyes focusing on his. "What's a BF-WM?" I repeated.
"It's where they separate the men from the boys. You make it through with your balls and soul in tact, and you're out with hazard benefits. Might cost you an eye," he tapped the patch over his own missing eye, "but I'd consider that a victory."
I looked at him in silence.
He looked back at me.
The quiet stretched between us. Finally, he gave me a small nod. "BF-WM. Black Friday-Walmart." His voice dropped now. "There's rumors they'll have the Switch 2 with a Pokémon package." Now only a whisper. "Limited edition."
The blood drained from my face.
"Good luck kid, you're going to need it."
**WANT MOAR PERIL?**
r/PerilousPlatypus
|
They told me there would be a great silence, and then a great rumble. I had spent the first portion of my time as a new-hire learning war stories from orientation videos. Where an elderly man with a crooked neck and a popeye body spoke in word salad.
“When you’re out there just remember that not only are you serving the company–the Dollar General, but you’re serving this country-THE United States of America. And what does every hard-working, red-blooded, Blue-Collar American desire more than freedom?! Why, the choice to shop without persecution for their purchases! They don’t want any moaning or eye-rolling when they push their overworked cart with one tire that's a squeaky wheel. Don’’t be the squeaky wheel; be the grease! Fix them! If they bring up 2 boxes of Swiss Rolls; let’em know they can get 3 for 8 bucks!”
I tuned out the rest, the only impression the video left on me were the rub marks from my hand on my cheek. It’s hard to see the screen, it’s old, like, 80s old. The digits are black and white analog with the 8s and 0s being identical and difficult to read.
I remember being able to see into the small, somewhat dry and decomposing parking lot during the multitude of times I had rode by or come here when stoned to get cheap candy and shoplift energy drinks. There’s no camera in the autoparts aisle, which doesn’t make sense, but a lot of things here don’t.
Back before this was a military outpost, it was just a store run by a guy who just wanted a job,and ended up being so reliable at working the job he just had that he poofed and became a general manager.
Then he poofed and became a regional manager, and has since poofed into a corporate office. A story I’ve been told numerous times by Gale, my current boss who does an expert job of faking it with the customers.
Something, along with the register that I need to work on. There are only three lanes, as this is one of the smaller stores in the area. Toney and Torey, the Shannon twins are working the other registers and they’re locked in motion with everything. It’s a little scary to hear them ring in unison.
When and if one messes up though, the whole thing breaks down. I haven’t seen it for myself, but StockRoom Steve told me about it. How he got so lucky as to only stock shelves I don’t know. I can’t complain though as there’s never a single thing missing from the shelves.
There’s a retail recruitment poster facing backwards from me on the plexiglass facing the parking lot. It’s held up by folded over masking tape that has more hair on it than I do on my face. It’s in the process of peeling off again.
As I walk towards it, the glass quakes, and the paper starts to half peel from its form; appearing like a worn band-aid. I peel it off, hoping to better face the picture again. It’s in black and white, looks like it was faxed from home.
It looks like my manager.
But this isn’t That old.
Gale can’t be that young.
A crack clears the throat of our PA. it’s 5am and even our electronics need to wake up.
“Would you please return to your station and leave the poster where you found it.”
I attempt a rebuttal, but the air and the speaker won’t hear. I fold the paper up and put it in my pocket.
A rush of air sweeps behind me as the automatic doors suction themselves loose. Thunder as a herd of hungry junk-food fanatics sweep in, and it’s a rush of sights, sounds, and sales.
There’s a cart from another store with stuff already in that a customer clunks inside. I’m too busy trying to keep up with all of the questions.
“Do you honor coupons from other outposts?”
“I bought this, where can I return it?”
“Does two for one work on any coke product, or just the ones on the ad.”
“Do you have a bathroom for paying customers only?”
“Can you take a check?”
“I only have EBT, will that work for everything?”
They’re all easy to answer, and instead of trying to win the war all at once; I pick my battles to the best of my ability.
“Only if we carry the same item.”
“Over at our customer service desk. You’re going to need to wait for an associate to be available to help you.”
“Just the ones on the ad, sorry.”
“No, we do not accept checks.”
“EBT will only work for dry food.”
My fingers have opened up to a new level of dexterity. I’m possessed with the typing speed of a courtroom stenographer. I can’t be stop–
I scream, my index finger and middle finger cramping up, twisting together in what doesn’t look good.
The guy in line needs his bush light, and asks me how hard my job is if I can’t use the machine; it does all the math for me.
The line halts and the store goes silent as I walk away from my post and into the mash unit out back.
My fingers get taped together, I get a 15 minute break, some ibuprofen and I am sent back out there again; to a line full of discount children’s toys, cheap knock offs of knock offs that only the worst people would purchase.
My finger twitches with pain, and I contemplate going AWOL as I scan one item at a time. Christmas crap no one will remember in a week. No one will even remember my service in the name of Dollar General.
So why continue working. Letting the redline scan over my face I grab a scanning gun, put it to my temple and line up for my checkout.
I Crumble, falling onto the black, soda sticky mat beneath my feet.
I’m called to the back and told to return to my quarters until I undergo a mental health screening, and can be trusted to serve the customer at my post.
|
PerilousPlatypus
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None
|
2024-03-23 04:28:20
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2024-03-23 03:22:54
| 106 | 11 |
kw5lpih
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kw5dzxx
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1blhp5e
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1blhp5e
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[WP] Genies don't actually mean to twist people's wishes. They just speak Arabic and have to rely on magical translation to interpret wishes in other languages.
|
The young man's eyes widened as the Genie escaped the lamp he had just rubbed, slowly filling the room like a cloud of blue mist before manifesting himself into a more human form; though still distinctly magical on account of his blue skin and floating a few feet in the air. The Genie stretched, having been slumbering in his lamp for several centuries, before setting his eyes on the man.
"You have awoken me, mortal?" he bellowed. "Then three wishes you shall have."
"Yarlo geene ab mastalim sesh seem?" the man replied carefully.
The Genie squinted his eyes at the lad.
"Yarlo geene?" the man repeated.
With a sigh, the Genie motioned his hands and summoned forth a simple yet immensely helpful incantation.
A *translation* spell - one that translated... *whatever* the young man spoke and formed it in Arabic, the Genie's native tongue.
"Speak, mortal," the Genie repeated.
"Are you a real genius?" the letters in front of the Genie translated. He pondered the question before carefully assessing the question.
"...yes, I am a genie," he replied. As he spoke, he motioned his fingers a couple more times to try and force the incantation to update its vocabulary.
"Are you saying I'll grant you three wishes?" the man questioned further.
"I... yes, ***I*** will grant you wishes, young one. Speak which you desire."
"I want to have more ambitions."
"Uh... say again, young man?" the Genie asked.
"More desire is what I wish."
"Granted. You shall now wish for more. You have two more wishes."
"What?!" the young man cried out. "I said I want more, no more!"
The Genie thought for a second. "Oh!" he yelled suddenly. "You wanted more wishes, right?"
The man nodded.
"Right. No, you can't have that, but tell you what - I'll take the last wish back. Some, uh, communication problems," he said nervously and tried to cast the translation incantation again.
"Can I have another Genie Light?"
"No more lamps either."
"Well, how about the economy?"
The Genie's brow furrowed before he motioned his hands. "Thine wish is granted - the economy of the country is now more potent. Should you wish for even more wealth, you will find the job market healthy and varied!"
"No, I mean... money, not a good job!" the man protested.
"Should've specified," the Genie shrugged.
"Can I still be reputation and popular?"
"Of course you can. Just believe in yourself," the Genie smiled gently.
The man raised an eyebrow. "So you can do it. I like."
The two smiled at each other nervously.
"Is it over?" the man finally broke the silence.
"Oh! You wanted to be popular! Sure, wish granted."
The young man jumped up and down excitedly as his phone buzzed. He opened it, seeing his high-school sweetheart had just messaged him on Facebook. He turned back to the Genie.
"But my last request... think..." he rubbed his chin. "Trying to change my choice? However, this is not a wish."
"I do not twist wishes," the Genie assumed the question. "You merely need to be specific."
"Are you sure I won't have any more cravings?"
"*No. More. Wishes,*" the Genie frowned. The man put up his hands defensively and backed down, not wishing to push his luck.
"Can this last thought be true later?" the man carefully asked.
The Genie, quite tired from the entire ordeal, motioned his hand. "Granted. The last thing you thought about will come true in your near future."
And with those words, he disappeared, annoyed by the outdated incantation. The man, however, stood stunned in the middle of the room.
"That's not..." he gasped, "I just... wanted to make the wish later..."
As he let out the words, his last, unintended wish materialized in front of him - a capybara with a bow on its neck. It squealed at him amicably.
"I- you know what?" he said with a soft smile and bent over to scratch the capybara on its neck; the animal, quite content with the situation, immediately rolled over on its back, expecting more scratches, "with how stories about genies and wishes go..." he continued and kept patting the happy animal.
"...could've gone worse."
|
It started out normally.
Archeologist finds antique site. Archeologist begs like a dog and grovels like a criminal to get funding. Archeologist finds barely enough funding—enough to scrap together as long as she doesn’t want to eat food for 3 months—and begins the dig. Archeologist has to spend as much time justifying the government’s spending as she does looking for artifacts.
Then she finally found it.
The relic of the long lost tribe. There among dusty pieces of pottery and burial rites, she found the clay lamp with the withered wick and the almost invisible sigil.
The books, the writings that survived, said that it was important. That it was miraculous. That it was feared but had saved the city from all manner of disasters. It was almost like the seed of a religion with miracles that were said to have started just before Christ. There were still tiny pockets of followers who gathered in small pockets of darkness so that they could do whatever they wanted to whatever ends they could conceive.
She barely dared to breathe.
The tiny lamp didn’t look like much. The wick was a shrunken memory of linen weaving. Or maybe silk. Or maybe threads of flax. It was impossible to tell at this late date. But it stood alone on a pillar of its own while other torches and lamps of bronze and gold were crowded against sacred writings and beads and trinkets, which seemed to lend truth to the rumors.
With a brush of the softest, conditioned bristles, she began to push aside the thin layer of dust and ropey cobwebs. The inscription was barely visible—tiny lines it was almost impossible to believe that humans carved at all—and she smiled at their simplistic words.
“To light the way in Punt’s darkest hour alone as long as the light lasts”
Virginia sighed behind her face mask and bandana and pulled out a small glass bottle of oil that smelled like olives and a few inches of wick she had cut off a spool at a store somewhere. The truest way to see if this was the legendary item was to light the thing. And if it wasn’t, then fine—she’d keep looking.
She took out a shallow saucer sort of dish—a reckless purchase to hold teabags or something from a bazar three weeks ago when she’d taken a minor diplomatic envoy and a friendly corporate donor—and soaked the bit of wick for a minute. With shaking fingers, she eased the old wick out and then poured her remaining oil inside.
So far nothing.
It took three times to finally thread the soaked wick into the narrow neck. The fiddly thing seemed to have a mind of its own as it wiggled and clung like a snake to every surface and avoid the hole. Finally, with a heavy sigh of relief, it went in and she used a lighter to start the small flame.
The flame might have simply needed time. Or the wick might be wrong. Or something.
But surely the green flame meant something.
Virginia stared at it, uncertain if she wanted something to pop out or not. There were all sorts of stories….
Then she saw the dark skinned woman, wrapped in silk and cloth-of-gold and so elaborately decorated it was like staring at a Hollywood actress.
Virginia nodded, grateful when the figure nodded back.
“Hi.”
The figure cocked its head.
“Umm…. hello.” At the blank look, she tried again. “Uhh… salam alaykum.” Then again. “Buenos dias?”
The figure frowned uncertainly and even her golden ornaments seemed to be uncertain. Virginia gave a half hearted wave. She had officially run out of languages she was safely fluent enough in, but there were a few more things to try.
“Mrhban?” she whispered, trying Arabic and certain she had been utterly unintelligible.
The woman’s face cleared and she burst out with melodious speech. Now Virginia felt confusion at the elaborate greeting and bowing. Finally, she burst out, “La-afham—.”
While she was sure that it would only lead to more silence, she was utterly surprised as the figure seemed to understand. Back to square one, but then she saw the being waved and glowing sigils appear. For a breathless moment, the pieces of lines and curves wobbled uncertainly then slid into a firmly dividing line on the floor and then into a small collection of wobbling on her side and one on the other.
“What is this?” Virginia sighed.
Immediately, the lines on her side transformed into…. elaborate calligraphy.
The being stared down at them and then back at her. Her words came back in short bursts and to Virginia’s amazement the wiggly lines at her feet became English.
“I am known as Zaynab—it means ‘the beautiful one’.” Virginia nodded as Zaynab went on. “I do not know the words you speak, and have cast this so that we may speak.”
“Oh… ummm… okay.”
“I can grant you wishes so long as I can understand them. Yet, even this must end as the lush gardenia must at last wither.” Zaynab pointed to the lamp. “I am here as long as the lamp burns. And no other may interfere, nor be allowed to be harmed.”
“Can you… bring people back from the dead?”
Zaynab stared at the lines at Virginia’s feet. “You would harm one immortal soul?”
“Harm?”
“To deny them their reward is surely evil. To deny them them the justice of their punishment is evil to those who suffered under them.”
Virginia nodded to herself. That made a sort of sense. “Can you grant me wealth?”
Zaynab stared uncertainly at her feet and then nodded with an impatient expression. “You are unclear.”
“Like riches. Gold. Emeralds. You know?”
Zaynab nodded and with a fluent wave of her arm pointed to the chamber. “There are certainly riches here for a woman alone.”
Virginia frowned at the torches and chests and trinkets. “I suppose—but they are old.” She fingered the edge of a fold of fabric. “And…”
“You surely want more than mere riches?” Zaynab muttered. Virginia shrugged and nodded. “Then you shall find a hundred camels and two hundred sheep and a caravan that will stretch from horizon to horizon—.”
“Umm.. ahh… thanks, but that isn’t really wealth in this age.”
“What age?”
“Well, we use gold and.. gems. But nobody barters goats or sheep like that.”
“Wealth—not in animals.” Zaynab’s eyes were uncertain. “Then there shall be an armada—well laden with ebon and teak and cedar, worthy of Solomon’s temple—.”
|
SirPiecemaker
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solesoulshard
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2023-06-26 00:14:36
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2023-06-25 22:51:26
| 278 | 102 |
jpj351o
| null |
14iuv8a
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14iuv8a
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[WP] Take a normally boring activity, but make it sound exciting.
|
I gently touched the door, wishing to feel the warmth of a living soul behind it. I looked around at the empty bar, and pulled my hand away from the cold door. Without thinking I wandered between the tables, remembering all the interesting people I had helped move on. 300 trillion souls, and I remembered every one.
A knock at the door made my shoulders fall. How was I going to explain this to him?
"Sorry John, but I still can't let you in." I whispered through the door.
"Samantha died this morning. Its my turn now." I put my hand on the cold door and held my breath.
"My wish was to be the last to die. Samantha is dead now and its just me left. Let me in!"
"No." I heard a gasp from the door. "Theres still someone left, so you can't die yet."
"The lights are off! You told me that only happens when the last living soul dies!"
I sighed and opened the door. John was hunched over in his wheelchair, barely able to stay upright. "To be alive you have to be able to die. You can't die until the genie keeping you alive dies, and he can't die until he has fullfilled your wish."
"I didn't wish to live forever! Thats not what I wished for!"
I sighed, remembering the countless souls who have said that.
"Genies are tricky like that. He followed the letter of your wish, so theres nothing I can do. Some things are more powerful than death. If it makes you feel better, the genie is pretty miserable too."
John started to mutter a lot of swears to himself and started to wheel away. I watched him struggle to move his arms, and after a couple minutes I closed the door and turned to the one occupant in the corner.
"You could just let him die. The big one is often lenient with mercy rule breaking."
"No way." The blue being rose from his chair. "Once my last wish is fullfilled, she does an audit of all wishes I ever granted."
"Thats what you get." I chuckled. "Seem cruel though, to make him suffer for eternity to avoid punishment. One day she will realise."
"For me this is not cruel."
|
The last living thing come to him, finally, Death took a last look at the world. How much it had changed since its birth. Despite its apparent precarity, how much it had resisted him. Volcanoes had ruptured, spooling lines of decorative glow down the planet's face, and the seas had risen, glossing the still green landmasses beneath in a glinting ever-shifting blue. There was no doubting its beauty, Death knew, despite his resentment. Death sighed and turned his back on a destiny fulfilled and peered forward at the endless black he would now traverse, with the hope of one day finding himself.
“And where are you off to?” said a voice behind Death.
Death turned to find a sand corpus, drifting upwards and downwards within itself but retaining a humanoid image. The sound near where the beings mouth vibrated as it spoke.
It continued, “What a tragically boring ending. Truly. Frankly, I’m not a huge fan of endings, though, sometimes they’re fun if you know another beginning is just around the horizon. That’s what I’ve come to tell you, dear Death. You think you're finished here?”, said the sand.
“And you are?” asked Death, impatient at what seemed to be a final defiance from something that appeared unkillable.
“Time, of course.”
“Right. Time,” said Death, exasperated. “Well I suppose we’re going to get to know each other well. We might be all each other has from here on. Might as well start off on the right foot. I’m finished here, thankfully. I’m off to look for any last vestige of life. Germs, creepy crawlers, crabs, and the like. I like to keep track, make sure they don’t get out of hand. Earth was a nightmare of an oversight.”
“And what a good job you’re doing. Truly commendable work, Death, but, you see: things get incredibly boring with nothing to watch. Maybe you could leave a colony of dust mites, or a culture of germs. For me?”
“No.”
“Oh, but come on. We do need a little drama, don’t we? Else what am I to do, sit here and stare at nothing the rest of infinite everything?”
“Sure, I don’t know. You don’t have eyes.”
“Touche.”
“Look, I’ll do my best to make the Death of everything interesting at least. Give you something to chew on for eternity. Ta-ta now.” Death walked past the sand, which at the rejection of its request had regressed to a lump of nothing sitting, piddling back and forth, and past the Earth. Just as both were about to be out of view, Death’s leg stopped moving. Or rather, he couldn’t move it. Or rather, he could, but slowly. So slowly that Death’s soul was likely to leave his form before his sole left the ground. The sand trickled past his bony feet and formed once more in front of him.
“I tried,” time vibrated.
Death still could not move, but a blur of motion appeared in front of him. The distant dots of starlight blended into thick lines of radiance and drew lines of perfect curvature across the blank canvas of space. New pins of light rose, drew a line, and faded, over and over again until as if at once, dust coalesced around Death and Time, forming a small planet. A rock of hellfire and virgin gray stone. It spun and looked at Death, threatening, daring in its glare. Until, eventually, the gray stone became covered in glistening waves, and the remaining rock grew a spot of virulent green that blanketed every crevice.
“What have you done,” Death asked, shaking.
“I’ve given you work. Purpose. You should thank me,” Time said, as the grains split into a thousand-million lines, and disbursed leisurely in each direction, leaving Death with the new ball.
Death felt his finger tips pushing into his palms, a wash of hot rage at his face. He stared at the new planet with disdain. Death saw a creature, a pathetic misshapen struggling thing, pull itself from the ocean to the soft sand of untrodden beaches. He hated it, or at least he’d remembered hating it. This time it was so simple, pure. It had none of the contradiction or faux purposefulness that had ended the Earth. Without avarice, villainy, mistakenness, constructed narrativizing, it was only alive and nothing more. The blob-like limbed fish wanted only one thing: life. Continuance. Perfectly defiant of Death and without pretence. A small smile forced its way to the ends of Death’s mouth. Perhaps this he could allow. If just for a time.
|
CreationsOfReon
|
philisophist
|
2025-04-06 16:56:32
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2025-04-06 16:00:04
| 40 | 25 | null |
mlptayd
|
1jsnx8l
|
1jsnx8l
|
[WP]Walking into a flower shop and slamming down money on the counter, "How do i passively aggressively say fuck you in flower"
|
He’d walked into the flower shop, his shoulders hunched with anger, pale and tired. A subtle bouquet needed to be created, tied on the left and delivered with disdain.
‘Yellow chrysanthemums’ he cried, ‘she’s told me she despised me. Geraniums! She called me an idiot to have loved her. And lavender, for her paranoid distrust. Don’t forget the orange lilies, for her hatred.’
He quieted for a moment. ‘And add snapdragons, for deception, a single yellow rose for her infidelity, a poppy for my grief, and a spray of forget me nots.’
The shopkeeper noted ‘Subtle, sir. Any other symbols of floral distaste? Henbane? Evening primrose? A stem of hollyhocks? A striped carnation?’
‘Well, that combination would be rude. I wouldn’t want to send a black dahlia, would I?’
|
"Sir this is a Home Depot. We only sell potted plants and seeds." I frown, look down at counter, frown some more, and return my gaze to his face.
"My offer still stands." He slaps the fat stack of bills on the table. "Fucker."
"Hey, that was uncalled for." I say, "Do you want my help or not?"
He sighs, "Sorry, rough day. So? How do I passively aggressively say FUCK YOU in flower. Not that I was saying FUCK YOU to *you*, I just need to say FUCK YOU to enunciate that FUCK YOU is the message I need to convey to the person who is not you."
My lips purse into a line. "If your goal is to confuse me as to whether or not I should be offended, you've succeeded."
"WELL?"
"Uh, I'm just a cashier, but I guess something with lots of thorns, a rose?"
"Thanks." The man walks away and I return to staring at the wall. It's 7pm. Just one more hour of watching paint dry.
"Hey."
I look up, it's that man again. His scruffy, unkept hair sways energetically as he pounds the large pot of roses onto the counter. It shatters.
"Uh. You're going to have to pay for that." I scratch my head. "Sir."
"Damn right I will." He sprays one dollar bills at me like a printer playing 52 pickup. The leaf green slips settle in an unorganized mess across the several pounds of dirt covering the counter and floor.
"Have a good day, Mr. Not a Fucker." The man throws the last of the bills into the air and leaves the building without even bothering to take the flower he just bought.
I turn to Emma, who is standing next to me holding her sides and shaking silently, suppressing what I assume to be a laugh. I frown some more. This has got the be the oddest shift I've ever been on.
"So... what the hell was that about?" I say when she finally composes herself.
"That guy has been trying to get my number all week, I told him you were my boyfriend 5 minutes ago." She smiles, I kind of expected something to happen, but not *this*.
"That's... not nice of you."
"Eh, I figured you could handle yourself if anything happened, Mr. Star Judo Athlete." She punches me lightly in the side. Despite her small frame and my built stature, her bony knuckles drive a painful impression into my muscular fiber.
"You know I haven't been in a competition since college. I'm way out of practice."
"I... wouldn't mind some practice with you," She says with a soft smile, then looks away for some reason.
"Nah, our frames are too far apart, you'd be in a different weight class, wouldn't really be good practice." I shrug.
She punches me again, "Stupid."
"Yes yes," I sigh.
"So, uhm, do you want to try that new Sushi bar down the street with me after work..?" She kicks her feet lightly while sitting on the counter.
"Nah, I'm on a calorie controlled diet. I already have my dinner prepared at home."
She pouts, punches me again and stomps away. Did I do something to make her mad? Ah oh well, she'll get over it, it didn't seem like she was really mad. Back to watching paint dry.
___
A/N: 😶
/r/Unexpected_Works
|
GreatRuno
|
unexpected_dreams
|
2023-03-22 02:12:39
|
2023-03-22 01:17:08
| 319 | 120 |
jd628gr
|
jd5utej
|
11xy8mi
|
11xy8mi
|
[WP] On a long straight road with nothing of note, there is a four-way traffic light that hangs in the middle. No road crosses anywhere near the traffic light and no sign to tell you why it's there, but it seems to always be green, so no one cared. That's until the day it changed to yellow.
|
The roar of the engine in the dark, quiet night was Sarah's favourite sound.
Rubber gripped and danced on the asphalt as the 64 Mustang powered down the desert road.
The night air shimmered in her headlamps. Sarah drove this road every night. A road to nowhere, in the middle of nothing. Half way down this long, empty stretch of black tar was a four-way light. It was an odd place to put one, with no intersection, and no pedestrian crossing to be seen. Hell, no pedestrians to speak of anywhere for miles.
"at least I always catch the green," she'd say when she passed it. Green on all sides. She stopped one night years ago when it first appeared and walked around it.
The Mustang kicked, snapping Sarah out of her trance. She gripped the warm leather wheel and shifted her weight on the seat as she downshifted to balance the transmission and bring peace to the engine. Up ahead was the light.
She slammed hard on the brakes and the car skidded across the black gravel surface to a stop.
"what the-" she looked at the evergreen light, her mouth agape, tire smoke rising from the car aglow with an amber hue. On one side, her side, the light was yellow.
Caution.
She turned off her engine and got out of the car into the warm air of the desert night. Stars shone above in the sky, brighter than she'd have thought stars should be. There were more of them, too. She turned her attention from the amber glow of the light to the purple hue of the moon.
The yellow light flickered violenty and in the distance she heard the ringing of bells. The pole that held the light opened, and a railroad crossing barrier began to come down across the road.
Sarah looked up at the amber light, now blinking at steady 1 second intervals. To her right in the distance she heard a train billowing along the tracks. "Tracks? There are no trains on this road," she thought to herself, as the bell of the train whistled.
The train picked up speed and went passed her. The lights of the train were a deep red. As it passed, she caught a glimpse of the conductor's boned hands with a death-grip on the whistle. Fire rose from the wheels and sparked onto the hot sand of the desert, leaving behind no trace of smoke or ash.
As soon as it was there, it was gone. The train of fire and brimstone, on a road in the middle of nowhere, on tracks that didn't exist. Sarah got back in her car and sat staring at the light and the barrier. It blinked and blinked yellow until it turned green again. When she looked back down at the road, the barrier was gone, the train was nowhere to be seen, and the moon was a dull white light in the empty starless sky.
She turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life. Pedal to the metal, Sarah drove down the long and empty road towards her home.
In the distance, over the roar of the engine, a train whistle sounded. Sarah pulled her jacket tighter around her, and drove off into the night.
|
Carris is a gas station of a town. It's not named after the seed, far as I know, but it's a fittin' name. Fill up. Keep goin'.
Technically, it's a two-traffic-light-town, though I'm not sure that's all that much different from a one-light-town. Besides, only one of 'em works, far as I can tell.
Carris is also the halfway point between Pick-Up and Drop-Off.
Twenty years I spent - Walmart, Amazon, UPS. $40k a year and healthcare. Enough to keep drivin', and not much else. But this. This was somethin' different.
Six months ago, I was driving to Washington from Salt Lake. Stopped at a different one-traffic-light town - Stanfield. That's where I met him. Only time I ever did.
"You drive?"
I was trying to order a cheeseburger and a coke from a truck-stop diner before I wet-napped off in the bathroom. He was in a suit and tie in the booth next to mine.
"Beg pardon?"
"You drive a truck?"
I wasn't sure why I even answered. Lot of folks think truck stops are some kind of replacement for community when you're on the road. Same way everyone thinks homeless people are all friendly in their cardboard box towns. Fact of it is, I don't talk to no one, and no one talks to me, and that's exactly how it's supposed to be.
"Yeah," I told him for no reason other than that he'd asked direct, and I'm a lotta things, but I'm not rude. "Yeah, I drive a truck."
"Good," he said, and nothin' more than that for long enough I thought I was supposed to say somethin' else.
"A cheeseburger and a coke, please and thank you." It was good the waitress was back, cuz whatever it was he wanted me to say, I wasn't gonna say it.
"Good," he said again, and stood up. Gave me a card with a little map on it, big ol' 'X' marked off in the middle of nowhere on one edge - "Pick-Up" - big ol' 'x" in the middle of nowhere on the other - "Drop-Off". In pen, he'd written - $2.5 million. Then, he left.
That first time, when I rolled up to Pick-Up, I was sure I was in the wrong place. Dirt. Red, clay, flat dirt, far as I could see. I cursed him for the joke and the cost of gas, but when I pulled around to head home, I saw it. A single, medium-sized brown, cardboard box, just sittin' there in the open.
"Not sure why I needed a truck," I muttered, and stepped out. The box was unmarked, save for a post-it. 'Don't open it.' Well, I wasn't about to risk $2.5 million by disobeyin' a post-it.
The map took me clear across Utah and through Nevada. In the middle, it was marked "Carris". It was only other thing written on the map. "Pick-Up," "Drop-Off", "$2.5 million" and "Carris." What else was I supposed to do?
So, there I was, that first time. Gassed up. Pissed. Drove out. Lights were both green.
Drop-off was trickier. The map took me out to northern California, where there was nothin' but trees. I cursed him again for making me bring a semi, but I wound it up through the mountains and found the "X". Another plain, cardboard box with nothin' around for as far as I could see. This one was a bit bigger than the first and already opened. I gathered that I was supposed to put the first one inside this one, so I did that and waited.
"Where's my money?" I wondered aloud, but there was no one there, and soon enough, I was good and truly pissed off. I kicked the flap of cardboard that hung over the side of the open box. Sure enough, taped right there, was a stack of bills. I didn't bother countin'.
"Now, bring it back." Another post-it, taped under the money. "And don't open it."
I didn't know then if there'd be more money, but there was. I drove back to Pick-Up. Stopped in Carris. One light was red, but the other was green. I was sure I was gonna miss it waitin' on the first one. I hated lights. Years on the open highways had spoiled me. But it never turned, long as I waited.
Back at Pick-Up - you guessed it. Another open box. Another stack of money. "Now, bring it back. And don't open it."
At least now I was startin' to get why I needed a truck.
Passed through Carris again. That second light still caught my eye. I waited this time. Three minutes - checked my watch. Didn't change. Got bored and went on.
"Now bring it back. And don't open it."
I had to stop at a different town to buy a bigger trolley and some straps. Boxes weren't heavy, but they were gettin' big.
Seven minutes, I waited this time. That'd be the longest light I'd ever seen three times over. Green.
So, here I was. Box was goin' on six-foot tall by the way it met my eye. Barely fit in the truck. But, strange as it'd all been, nothin' was stranger than Carris and that one light.
I decided to wait this time. Long as it took. Maybe it was a railroad folks didn't use much anymore. Maybe a school crossing, though I couldn't imagine Carris had a school. I asked the guy behind the counter at the gas station, but he just flicked up his eyebrows and asked if I was buyin' anything on account of the number of times I'd used the toilet. Asshole.
I had decided to wait, but I didn't have to. Yellow. It turned yellow right as I pulled up and didn't stay that way long. It turned red, and then the trailer started shakin'.
Carris. Fittin' name. I wasn't the only one needed fillin' up to keep goin'.
|
anmartinwrites
|
cheddarheaven
|
2023-12-21 22:14:03
|
2023-12-21 21:08:24
| 39 | 24 |
kedu20a
|
kedjk8t
|
18ntdqi
|
18ntdqi
|
[WP] The Galactic Federation makes first contact with Earth just to inform us that the planet has been divided up between several advanced civilizations, with no regard for our established national borders
|
"So be it, humanity possesses the power to destroy itself, and we would rather blow apart our planet than be slaves under your yoke"
The suited man gestured to his neck, as the technicians cut the message. He turned to his fellow world leaders on the video feeds.
"Today the earth dies" he fumbled in his pocket for a second and smiled.
"I always did hate you Alexi, and you to Chang."
"Da, likewise"
"我也讨厌你们俩"
As the vast mechanisms of modern war began to turn, people throughout the world sighed in a mixed saddness and joy, that although the brief existence of their race would be over, perhaps their act of defiance would inspire someone somewhere to overcome this alien menace.
Alarms blared, submarines came to periscope depth and opened their payload hatches, equally bombers took to the skies and land based silos opened and humanities final act would leave the planet little more than an asteroid field of glass.
In a multitude of flashes it was all over. Every man, woman and child, gone in a nuclear firestorm that shattered the earth.
Eons would pass, but those who came after would record it as the first act of defiance against the federation. Memorialised forever, in some sick sense humanity hadn't just won, but it's memory would last, a symbolic act as those who had sought to stand against a long forgotten evil.
Edit:grammar
|
The Galactic Federation makes first contact with Earth just to inform us that the planet has been divided up between several advanced civilizations, with no regard for our established national borders
“No way the governments gonna roll over for this bull I tell you” tom muttered downing his pint
Sara shook her head, mirroring his optimism. "There's got to be a catch"
In a dimly lit government office, Marcus, a diplomat with years of negotiation experience, sat across from general, Harry.
"We need to show strength," Harry asserted, clenching his jaw shut. "If we give in now, it's over. We'll be living under their rule and boy it ain't gonna be pretty."
"And what? Go to war with beings so powerful they mastered travel faster than light? If we want to survive we have to beg for a talk"
A man burst through the room carrying a stack of papers in his arms, almost falling over from the urgency he was in. “SIR IT'S THE CHINESE AND RUSSIANS, THEY’VE ACCEPTED OUR DEMANDS. WE ARE READY”
Harry smirked, looking at the diplomat who had a defeated look on his face, clearly he knew what this meant. “See boy, all you need is a common goal and a common enemy and anyone can come together.” "We have one shot at this," he declared, now sitting in his command center addressing the room filled with the world's finest military minds from all corners of the globe.
The atmosphere was tense, when the Chinese delegate spoke, “American, our satellites, our missiles, everything we have is now yours. We are not here for your little speech about going down without a fight, we are here to win and we demand a win from you"
The American general simply smirked, confidently “Oh please, these little diplomatic bugs might be able to travel through space but they will never survive the mighty force of our nations banded together”
The human response was swift. Millions of weapons, aircraft and laser weapons lit the sky up with a burning fury. Cheers went across the entire command center, the radar signature of the aliens ship had gone quiet, the humans had won. Or so they thought… Through the thick smoke that enveloped the atmosphere came a swift counter attack, technology far beyond human comprehension rendered all of Earth's defenses obsolete in moments, entire cities were reduced to ash in the blink of an eye.
General Harrow, watching from a command center buried deep underground, could only stare in disbelief as the screens displayed the futile efforts of his forces, alien troops covered head to toe in indestructible fark armor began to drop all over the world .
It wasn't a battle, it was a slaughter. The aliens massacred entire battalions of soldiers within minutes, the greatest human technological weapons were burst into flames by a single alien soldier as they razed entire armies. The radio communications that filled the room began to get cut off one by one, Harry could hear the shrieking noise of the alien blasters as his soldiers began to go offline, he could hear some of his men begging for mercy only to be silenced.
The world was silent. The once bustling cities and lively streets were now empty, the remnants of humanity's defiance lying in ruins.
Then the alien armada spoke once more, their second ever communication since they had declared the earth their property “It's always easier to divide land when it's under rubble, it is truly a shame, we were sure you would have made a good addition to our empire had you only accepted. However, we thank you for making this easier”
“SIR A PROJECTILE IS INCOMING” a soldier's voice screamed, cutting through the grim despair that had filled the room.
“Long live the empire”
|
AConno1sseur
|
OldAd8773
|
2024-02-21 01:25:15
|
2024-02-21 00:50:59
| 191 | 42 | null |
krdo7bh
|
1avvm9q
|
1avvm9q
|
[WP] As a Barbarian, you hate that just because you have a different lifestyle, your party looks down on you and assumes you are incapable of basic intelligent thought. Today you had enough.
|
"But Krug, the way they treat you is- it's criminal! You have the most combat experience in the team yet they all think you're a... uh-"
"dunce, know-nothing, unculture brute, all muscle and no head, yes Krug get called many names, young one. Krug is okay with names."
"Yeah but, why let them? I know you're more knowledgeable than you let on. I just saw you secretly fix Greybeard's spellcircle and he just thinks he got it right the first time."
"Ah you saw, so Krug's old bones no longer sneaky as they used to be, good to know. Now young one, come sit and let old Krug tell you story.
When Krug your age, krug *did* talk back. Krug was strong, proud, clever too, but not clever in the right ways. When Krug beat warrior Hogarth in contest of strength, Krug would brag to all and call himself best, but Hogarth wouldn't forget. Hogarth poison Krug drink before battle and Krug suffer from bad stomache. When Krug see mistake in rune circle, Krug would laugh at wizard Alastus, but then Alastus would 'forget' to help when Krug in danger and only treat Krug's wounds last. When someone call Krug 'wrong', Krug would hit back, but many friends lost that way. Many more later became enemies.
Krug live this long only because Krug has learned. There are better things than saying who is strongest or smartest, and if Krug is called fool, that is okay as long as Krug and team work well and live another battle."
|
A small smile crept on to your lips as you watched the remaining party stride into the main hall after smashing down the main doors at the opposite end of a long vaulted Hall. The small group approached with looks of bewilderment and shock. Several members of the band looked around in consternation as they reached the throne where Benny the Barbarian sat cleaning his nails with a gold handled dagger. Jacob stared directly at you, eyes challenging, questioning. You soak it all in. The Truth - Sayer smiles at you through his long bearded face. How? They all seem to say. Maybe it was too much?. Bless Magda who erupted in an almighty cry of laughter once she got a glimpse of you sprawled out on the throne. The healer had a great sense of humour.
"How the hell did you of all people get in here before us?“
By now the rest of the band had gathered around the foot of the throne staring up with equal mystification and disdain. Some of the band looked on with adoration, Benny took this all in mentally noting the dark shadows on some of the warriors faces. This perhaps had been a bigger mistake than he originally thought. But Benny was nearly done with this quest. Just two more weeks of this and it will all be done he told himself. Two more weeks of the dim witted Barbarian who happened upon their ill advised voyage. He felt a stab of guilt as he swung off the throne. Bowing low he proffered the seat to Jacob. "My Lord, " he suddenly announced "the Throne is yours"
Jacob sat warily eyes still focused on the Barbarian.
"the Throne yes, but perhaps not the kingdom"
"explain yourself" Jacob ordered.
"myself, I was quite by accident brought in close vicinity of this very hall after being captured by the wall guards, who incidentally came into contact with my poisoned armour. So you see I was covering the flank in the Westwood when my accidental capture brought me into the heart of the Kingdom itself! "
A look of confusion passed over Jacobs face replaced quickly by anger.
"We don't have time for tall tales Benny, see to it that the rest of the Barbarians are covering the Westwood flank, hopefully they won't be as easily captured like you"
Benny withdrew from the hall, there was a flurry of activity as Jacob organised a quelling of the fighting still happening within the inner walls. Benny made his way back to camp. As he opened his tent flap he immediately sensed a slight disturbance along the thread of his proximity web. Stepping back he gave it a slight mental tug on the thread allowing it to fall to the floor. A smile sprang to his lips as he stepped in with a fluid bow. "Master!“ he exclaimed. The Truth - Sayer sat cross legged on the floor and Benny joined him.
"Can we please leave?" asked Benny
"Not yet" he replied.
"Tell me how you got into the inner sanctum, and spare me the abducted lies" said the Truth Sayer
"I remember looking at old maps of Cumbria on grandfather's wall, there was a very old one that showed a lake in the middle of Westwood during Fair Gandwyns rule, I remember they used to use aqua ducts a lot back then." explained Benny
"Very wise Benny, very wise, did you get it?“ asked the Truth Sayer
" of course" replied Benny producing a large white diamond the size of an chicken egg from beneath his clothes.
The Truth Sayer added it to a special pouch on his waist, looking up he caught Bennys eyes and held them for a moment. Just two more they both thought. No one needed to say it. The Truth Sayer stood up and went to the tent flap. He hesitated. "Please no more theatrics Benny, your stunt on the throne nearly got you executed and your Sister nearly blew her cover"
As he left Benny the Barbarian whispered "yes Dad".
|
ryry1237
|
sepukio
|
2023-02-13 02:41:03
|
2023-02-13 00:50:48
| 62 | 19 |
j8bmh50
|
j8b79ox
|
110gt0h
|
110gt0h
|
[WP] You are a hero that can manipulate darkness and shadow, able to make it solid and shape it into many forms. As you are cornered by Villains, trapped within a room made to trap you, with no shadow around, you tell them something that makes them stare at you in horror. "Human insides are dark"
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"You know your innards are wrapped completely in shadows, right?" I look at the 4-man team trying to back me into a corner of the best-lit room I have ever seen. The men are not even casting shadows on themselves, much less each other. Every flat surface is glowing slightly. The lighting was impeccable, I have to give them that. As someone who manipulates shadows, they think they have me beaten.
"Psh, whatever you say, man," the gentleman (using the term loosely, of course) in the lead replies. In my head, I call him Bob. I don't know the names of any of these men, and I don't know what they want from me.
"Please don't push me, I don't want to kill you," I beg them.
They all laugh. Big belly laughs that just go on and on. The four of them stand in front of me, preparing to... I am not sure what they are going to do, honestly. But I am sure it won't be any good for me.
I brace myself, this is something I haven't done in many years, and had prayed I would never have to resort to again.
"Ok," I say, focusing on the man in the back of the group, the one that doesn't look quite happy with everything that is going on. Maybe he is new to the gang, maybe that will be more powerful to them. Maybe he will quit when this is all said and done.
Without moving or looking away, I freeze the shadows in his lungs. He instantly stops and grabs his chest, trying to make his lungs move, but they are filled with the inky black substance of shadows made solid. Having grasped it tightly with my mind's grip, I begin to move those shadows up his throat and into his mouth. He begins to gag and falls to the floor, writhing. Slowly I extend the shadows from his mouth in the form of thin tentacles.
Bob's head snaps around as his companion hits the floor. His eyes go wide as the shadows seep from the man's mouth. Slowly, he and the other two back away. That also means, away from me.
The man on the floor is fighting less now, the shadows are stretched to the door to break the lock. I walk to the door, the other men giving me distance. Distance would not normally save them, but I just want out. I don't *want* to kill them. I will figure out who these people are later. I know what they look like, they can't hide from me. I will see them in every shadow they come across.
I turn the doorknob, the latch releases, and I open the door. As I step through, I turn back to the men. They stare back in horror. Nothing they have ever done had prepared them for this situation. I feel bad for them.
I allow the shadows I have in my mind's grip to relax and turn back into nothingness. The man on the floor begins to gasp. I can see one of the other men wants to run to his side, but just watches me instead. So I back out of the door, into the sunshine, turn, and walk away.
|
The villains feel something they haven't felt in a long time , It isn't their mothers kind touch nor their fathers encouraging words , rather it is the essence of their own being...fear.
The hero had manipulated their intestines to pulse faster , causing undigested food to pass quickly down to their bowels.
With clenched buttholes , the villains slowly walk out the room. One of them leaves 20$ on the floor as he backs away from the hero.
"Get your shit together , literally" says the Hero , with one hand on his nose as he dials Maria the super cleaning lady's number.
|
DiscoKittie
|
Talalol
|
2023-01-13 15:35:56
|
2023-01-13 14:36:11
| 502 | 100 |
j46qad4
|
j46hbou
|
10aq93g
|
10aq93g
|
[WP] "Stay in school, kids!" the superhero proudly prolcaimed. "You don't wanna end up like this guy!" The beaten thug coughed and groaned in pain, "I have a PhD, asshole..."
|
The hero leaned over the man lying on the ground, pinning him down with one knee on his back. His cape billowed dramatically in the street wind.
—Stay in school, kids! —he proclaimed proudly—. You don’t wanna end up like this guy!
The supposed thug coughed and groaned in pain.
—I have a PhD, asshole…
The superhero narrowed his eyes, suspicious.
—Oh, sure, and I’m the president! Then why were you trying to steal that old lady’s purse?
The man, still dazed from the beating, protested:
—What are you talking about?! I was just helping her cross the street!
The old lady, who had been watching the scene in panic, quickly intervened:
—It’s true, this young man was only helping me…
—It’s Stockholm syndrome, ma’am! —the superhero interrupted her with a knowing nod—. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.
The old lady frowned, but before she could respond, the hero noticed something next to the man: a small laboratory cooler filled with tubes of dark liquid.
—Aha! And what do we have here? —he exclaimed suspiciously, snatching the cooler—. Poison? Some kind of potion to manipulate your victims’ minds?
The man, growing more desperate, shook his head.
—What?! These are blood samples I’m taking to the lab!
The hero smirked with irony.
—Yeah, sure…
He opened one of the tubes and took a sip.
Instantly, he spat it out in disgust.
—Ugh! It is real… So, you collect the blood of your victims, huh?!
The man, now too exhausted to argue, simply closed his eyes in resignation. At that moment, a passerby stopped and looked at him in surprise.
—Dr. Ethan? Is that you? What’s going on?
The hero straightened up with dignity.
—Don’t worry, sir! This ruffian will pay for…!
The man on the ground let out a groan.
—For the love of God… I’m a hematologist!
The superhero blinked.
—Oh…
The other man nodded confidently.
—It’s true, I know him. He’s Dr. Ethan, a very respected hematologist.
The superhero stood still for a few seconds. Then, with feline agility, he jumped to his feet and, with an exaggerated gesture, helped Ethan up.
—Relax, doctor! I got here just in time.
—What?
—An invisible villain attacked you, but luckily I was here to save you.
—You were the one who hit me!
The hero sighed and shook his head in pity, clicking his tongue condescendingly.
—Tsk, tsk, tsk… Of course, of course… the villain also alters the memories of his victims. Classic.
He took a step back, dusted off his cape, and looked up at the sky with a heroic air.
—Another day, another victory for justice!
And with that, he threw a smoke bomb to the ground. Nothing happened.
—Damn it… —he muttered, pulling out a matchbox and lighting the fuse on the bomb.
After a small explosion, he vanished into a cloud of smoke, coughing as he clumsily slipped away into the alleys.
Dr. Ethan rubbed his face and looked at the old lady.
—Is he always like this?
The old lady sighed.
—Last month, he arrested a mannequin.
|
"And what did you do with it?" The Hero replied smoothly. "You could have been rich. And yet, because apparently you didn't stay long enough here, in a simple school you're make a mistake a child could have made! I mean seriously this is part of why we start at kindergarten." He shook his head.
"Remember kids, even if you're a super genius, you could probably just patent the super tech you use. you could cure cancer, you can do ANYTHING with the right mindset. That's what Heroes do. Villains like him wanted to kill billions of people because he was too stupid to think his weather-creating machine could have fed trillions across the galaxy! If you have great gifts, temper them with wisdom."
|
MoscuPekin
|
MiaoYingSimp
|
2025-02-11 18:01:07
|
2025-02-11 13:53:33
| 210 | 65 |
mc7yk3u
|
mc6kox6
|
1imy74s
|
1imy74s
|
[WP] The genie tries to warn you of the implications before you cut him off, "I have no intention of wishing for it, but hypothetically, could you grant it?" you ask. "Yes, technically" the genie relents.
|
**Note**: Please understand this isn't meant to be a comment or stance on anything, its just where the prompt took me as I thought through it.
-----------------------------
“Technically?” I repeat the word back, trying to make sure I weigh the veracity of the djinn’s response.
“Well yes,” it replies, “but honestly, I have no idea what would actually happen. The grander the scope and the more intrinsic the changes, the harder it is to predict the consequences. While I am sure I can do what you are asking, what will actually happen is a crap shoot.”
‘A crap shoot.’ The phrase plays in my mind, far too accurate for far too many things in my life. I think if I were to write a memoir, it would be a fitting title. Rather than simply being dealt a bad hand, I’ve historically been given Monopoly pieces and asked to play Chess. I perpetually feel like I’m sitting at the wrong table, playing the wrong game with the wrong people.
Finally, I get to change it.
“Do it.” The finality in my voice is surprising, even to myself. It conveys a sense of confidence that I don’t actually feel but hearing it said in such a way is a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I grow more confident in my decision.
“I’m not one to question a master’s wishes, believe me, but are you sure?” The red, vaporous djinn stares down at me with a look of incredulity on its face. Bearing masculine features, it would be easy to call it a him, but I refuse to make that mistake. Isn’t that point of all of this?
“I have been through enough. I think its time to level the playing field.” I rub at the scars on the back of my arms subconsciously. “Just do it.”
The djinn winces at my command but whatever magic compels its servitude takes over. Energy begins collecting around the being, causing the red of its body to undulate in intensity. And then it ends, abruptly, with the snap of its massive fingers.
I look around, feeling like the impact should have been more palpable. There was no great shockwave. The earth didn’t tremble from within, bringing my will to bear. Nothing. I glance at the Djinn who stares at me warily.
“Is it done?” My question suspicious.
“Yes, master.”
A smile steals across my face. Finally. Maybe I will be able to find some peace in all of this once and for all.
“Would you like to hear about the unintended consequences?”
I pause my internal celebration and now fix the djinn with a wary gaze of my own.
“What unintended consequences?”
The djinn shakes its head sorrowfully. Its gaze is distant, distracted. Its mind is elsewhere collecting information as to the outcome of her wish. Its attention flickers back to the present.
“I did as you asked, just as you asked it.”
Its voice mimics mine perfectly. “Djinn, my wish is that I want everyone who is a man to become a woman and everyone who is a woman to become a man.”
The imprecise nature of the ask strikes me like a physical blow. Maybe I was blinded by the opportunity for bittersweet vengeance for all the years of bullying. Maybe this is the challenge everyone who finds a djinn feels in retrospect, but I can clearly see the flaws in my wish so clearly now. My heart sinks.
The djinn continues. “I did as you asked but you are going to have to live with the consequences. For many, the change is as you wished. They find their view of the world turned on its head as a result of their new perspective. For others though, for the mothers who were pregnant, the outcome is far less cerebral. How are they to nurture their unborn child with no umbilicus or birth them without a discernible egress?”
The djinn shakes its head once more. “Humans, always so shortsighted.”
|
The beautiful man gazes thoughtfully at the wispy tendrils of smoke, breathing forth from the golden lamp. *So there* do *exist powers beyond heaven and hell,* he thinks.
“Well,” he finally asks the wisps of smoke with a mirthless smile, “could you grant it?”
The smoke pulses as it rises from the lamp, coalescing slowly into a dimly-glowing shape. Its voice is distant, like a whisper carried on the wind.
“I know who you are, shining one… They say your fall turned you mad… And you are mad indeed… No one can guess the implications of this wish…”
The man suddenly shines with rage, his fists and jaw clenching, before he forces a smile back on his beautiful face. “Spirit, I did not fall this far, and seek you out in the hellish depths, only to be insulted. I *will not* ask again. *Can you grant it?*”
The spirit, now gathered in the shape of a humanoid, pauses a long while. “… yes.”
The shining man’s smile turns into a wide grin. “I wish it. I wish for God to die.”
There is no wind in the depths, but the spirit’s wispy tendrils shift and shiver. “… it will take time to grant this…”
The man jabs a glowing finger. “I care not how long you need to set it in motion. Kill God. And with a slow, painful death. At the hands of those he loves so dearly.”
~~
And the Lord drinks from the hyssop branch, and bows His head, and gives up His ghost to the Father. And the Spirit is with Him, remembering.
|
karmus
|
writes_promptly
|
2024-08-05 14:03:00
|
2024-08-05 13:55:48
| 102 | 40 |
lglxobh
|
lglwg8i
|
1ekkt7e
|
1ekkt7e
|
[WP] Sisyphus has built up a lot of Muscle over the eons of carrying his boulder. This time, atop the hill, he finally decides to hold it in place.
|
A Woman Scorned
Sisyphus held his breath, slowly drawing away one hand.
The boulder didn't even twitch.
He gazed at the instrument of his torture over the centuries , worn to a smooth slightly glossy sheen in some places from constant handling, pushing, bleached in places from his sweat, stained with his blood.
He slowly exhaled.
The sudden explosion made him shout with pain and surprise, as fragments of boulder glanced off his body, drawing blood as choked on the dust
"Sorry about that."
Hera didn’t LOOK very sorry, in fact she looked positively gleeful.
Sisyphus didn’t know what to say and merely gaped at her.
" Unless you're planning to thank me for ending several millennia of torment Iyou might want to close your mouth Sisyphus, you look like a fool"
Wait, what? Several pieces of boulder lay at his feet, the dust clinging to his sweat stained body in a thin, grey film.
" Lady Hera, I"
He dropped to one knee.
" Enough of that" Hera scolded him, "no time for all this "
She pulled him to his feet
" Come with me "
Sisyphus had lost count of the number of times he had wondered what was on the other side of the hill over the years and he almost wept at the beautiful vista spread out before him A beach curved off into the distance, the setting sun turning the clouds various shades of pink and purple.
Heras exasperated sigh cut through his reverie.
" I don’t have time for your daydreaming "
He winced as she barked at him tugging him along by the arm impatiently. Despite her obvious annoyance he couldn't help but notice her soft, smooth hands, she smelled of lillies, her favourite flower her beautiful dark hair was piled up on top of her head studded with precious stones and her pink, pouting lips.
Well, in his defence it had been a long time since he had been in the mere vicinity of a woman let alone the Queen of the gods ...holding his hand.
The air in front of them shimmered and a taverna appeared. The vine draped outside area covered with tables and chairs, a noisy happy crowd made the place seem very lively to a man who had been starved of human company for so long..
"Waiter more wine"
For the second time in less than an hour Sisyphus' stood open-mouthed
P Prometheus?
Despite a nasty looking wound in his right hand side that was healing before their eyes the Titan appeared to be in great spirits clutching an Eagles body minus its head in one hand as he waved an empty wine goblet at a passing server, his eyes alight with joy.
Sisyphus sat down at the empty table that Hera had guided him to, jumping as she slapped a blood-stained dagger that faintly glowed with some strange magic on the table in front of him. Was this it? Was he about to die when he had barely begun to taste freedom?
Hera turned her cool, mocking gaze on Sisyphus, thoroughly amused by his discomfort.
" It’s Eagles blood, no harm will come to you by my hand, in fact I have much more enjoyable plans for you"
He watched as she rifled around in the small satchel she had slung over one shoulder not sure if he was amused or disgusted when she extracted a bloodied eagles head, its blank eyes staring into space.
"Prometheus, here"
She tossed the eagles head to the titan who almost got struck in the face with it, so intent was he watching a comely serving maid top up his wine goblet. But he saw it just in time, catching it in one hand with a triumphant roar before raising it to his lips and kissing its beak to the cheers and laughter of the other inebriated patrons.
Hera laughed and turned her attention back to Sisyphus, her long, elegent fingers snaked up his arm.
"Hefting a boulder up a hill for eons has done wonders for your physique" she cooed seductively.
Sisyphus felt his body stir in ways it hadn’t stirred since, well, he couldn't actually remember the last time.
A green gemstone in one of the many rings Hera wore glittered in the flickering candlelight as she reached up and caressed his cheek, the scent of lillies filled his nostrils, threatening to overwhelm him.
"Now then".
Hera purred in his ear, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin making him groan with longing as her hand trailed down his body to his straining groin.
" How would like to help me REALLY piss off Zeus.
|
Sisyphus looked around. He was never allowed to take a break. He was never allowed to stop pushing. From what he could see, the place had morphed into something unrecognizable. Gone were Hades and the Furies, now but an afterthought. Now, it was ruled by a fallen angel. The god of death, Thanatos, was now but a skeleton in dark robes, followed by four horsemen of a similar physique. The underworld became a morphed landscape, with Tartarus gone, and the land split into 9 round pieces. But, within this mass shifting, there was a chance to escape. Sisyphus lifted his massive boulder, and it sunk him into the ground. Perfect. There was an indent in the hill, big enough to support the boulder from falling. Sisyphus mustered all his strength and laid the boulder down within the crater he had created. He was free to go. As Sisyphus left, he passed by a familiar face. He recognized Tantalus, and gave him a smirk, knowing that he could never escape his hunger, as he was never offered a bargain from Hades. Pathetic. He then found the exit, with the remains of Charon's boat used as a bridge from the land of the living to the dead. As Sisyphus exited, however, he noticed a staircase headed upwards. Sisyphus decided he'd rather escape the torture of over 2000 years. What Sisyphus wasn't prepared for, however, was that he would be returning to a very different world. He awoke in the ruins of his former home and set out to the nearest person. However, no one wore tunics anymore, and everyone was holding some form of a glowing box. When he tried speaking to a local, no one could understand him! It was outrageous, and as he looked up, he saw a giant metal tube fly overhead. He screamed, the changes rushing into his head, driving him insane. He longed for his punishment, as it at least felt like home. He ran back down, through hell, into fire and flames, to meet Satan himself, begging to be let back in, and to continue his punishment. Satan responded with a swift "No." Instead, he made the fool into his court jester, as a sign for others to never leave a punishment again.
|
AmusingMiscreant
|
Andro451
|
2023-03-13 05:23:32
|
2023-03-13 03:18:59
| 32 | 19 |
jc0u68r
|
jc0hemj
|
11pjupp
|
11pjupp
|
[WP] Out of nowhere, thousands of voices begin presenting you with grievances and complaints from... yourself - or more accurately, your body. "Not enough iron," "too much cholesterol," and "rupture in blood vessel D-14" bombard you at all hours of the day. Your cells are now sapient.
|
It took me a couple of days and copious amounts of alcohol, but eventually I learnt to ignore them and their pestering requests and go about my day relatively undisturbed. I hadn't noticed this before, but if you or any of your friends are recovering alcoholics, you probably know that a slight stupor doesn't inhibit the boring routine of a desk job too much. I was actually doing quite alright.
Until there came a voice I couldn't ignore.
*Whatcha reading there, big guy?*
She was a standard nerve cell, calling from behind my oesophagus. At first I thought she was just trying to stand out to get my attention, but none of her neighbours had any complaints to make.
*I know you're holding a novel. But God is a cruel one, he didn't connect me to the eyes. Won't you please just translate?*
I got back to my Highsmith mystery and tried to shut her out. Conversations were a strict taboo. The two skin cells I'd tried to talk to, right at the beginning, hadn't stopped pestering me until I finally scraped them off.
*Jesus, big guy, you think I can't feel your rising heart rate? Just gimme a little slice of those high-octane chases. You have no idea how boring the life of a nerve cell can be. I'm just a simple girl, with a simple love for mysteries.*
"How do you even know about mystery novels and high-octane chases?", I uttered before I could stop myself. "You're a goddamn cell."
*A good journalist never reveals her sources.*
Well, now that the silence was broken, I might as well continue. At least she had a sense of humour.
She was alright, actually. I read to her a bunch over the next couple of days. Had a few vacation days left over, sometimes you just need a comfortable night in with your nerve cell. She guessed the ending of the second Ripley novel before I did. Smart little thing.
Anyway, we hit it off. Only issue is she's stuck there, right behind my oesophagus. Makes conversations difficult, and she's uncomfortable if I swallow or breathe too quickly. So tonight, she asked me to free her.
You see, if she could just be out here, in the real world, we could be friends in real life. Maybe more. And she's waiting for me, waiting to end her suffering. Together, we could be free.
It was easy, really, just the way she'd described. The knife glid through my skin like butter. And with her help, navigating my throat was a breeze, I'd circumvented my airway and localised the oesophagus in no time. I could feel her, sitting there, shaking in anticipation. Don't worry, honey, I'm almost there. Just need to ignore the vertigo for a little bit, maybe I should've drunk more water. And is that saliva or blood, or spinal fluid? Did I dig too far? It would be easier to see if my eyes weren't screaming at me like that. Actually, most of my cells are screaming, I suppose they're just jealous. It can't be spinal fluid, or I wouldn't be able to hear your voice anymore. But you're still there, just waiting for me. Right? Right?
|
*"Cellular Rebellion"*
​
Out of nowhere, voices in my head,
Complaints and grievances, all unsaid.
From deep within my body's core,
My cells, now sapient, forevermore.
​
"Not enough iron," they do shout,
"Too much cholesterol," without a doubt.
"Rupture in blood vessel D-14,"
Their cries, a constant, never serene.
​
I try to ignore, to push them away,
But they linger, night and day.
My body, a warzone, in turmoil and strife,
As cells rebel, causing endless life.
​
But in this rebellion, I see a chance,
A lesson to be learned in advance.
To heed the cries, and take care of me,
My cells, my being, for all to see.
|
millers_left_shoe
|
Federal_Penalty5832
|
2023-01-22 21:01:04
|
2023-01-22 12:20:36
| 42 | 25 |
j5ggfy2
|
j5eh3fs
|
10igjix
|
10igjix
|
[WP] The villain swore that they would return in 1000 years to take revenge on the hero's descendants. When they wake up, however, they see another villain has already won, and the hero's descendants desperately need help.
|
*Writing this, unedited, on my phone while in bed with a fever, so apologies in advance for any spelling mistakes, grammar mishaps, or odd phrasing.*
\-\-\-
When I awoke, my tomb was much as I'd left it. A little dustier, perhaps, but that was only to be expected. Even the seal was intact, if only moments of work to undo.
*Outside* my tomb, however, was a whole other story.
Oh, don't get me wrong; when that idiot Tavvin defeated me, I expected that he, and his legacy, would lead to something like the buildings I saw around me: tall, crystalline spires reaching higher than any tower imagined when last I walked the world, intermixed with smaller buildings, perhaps dwellings, of the same strange materials. The streets were clean, patrols marched regularly keeping the populace safe... It was a beautiful city. Except, for all that I knew a thousand years had passed, I did not expect that the nature of man had changed overmuch, and it was in this knowledge that a sense of... wrongness pervaded the atmosphere.
A glance at the sky, and the position of the moon, gave me an approximate hour, and it was *far* too silent for a city at this time of night. Even in a purely residential district, far from the carousing of inns and taverns, it was early enough that I would expect some of those in the buildings around me to be up and working, or relaxing before sleep, or preparing a late meal. Instead, it was eerily silent. The patrols I noted were a little *too* regular, and, as I watched them pass, they seemed almost to be automatons of some nature, marching too closely in-step, taking their corners just a bit too sharply, to be humans of free will. The streets were clean, true, but so clean that they felt *sterile*, as if not one thing was allowed to be out of place.
A man scurried behind one such patrol, perhaps a scholar of some nature by his clothes and his satchel, though styles had changed too much for me to be certain. His actions betrayed a bone-deep fear, and while he could have been a thief, stealing into an unoccupied home beneath the eyes of the city's "finest," I did not think so; his relief at alighting upon his doorstep - and the key he withdrew from his pocket - indicated a man making a homecoming at the end of the day, not one entering where he should not.
Something was wrong in the world, and I did not like it.
A hand brushed my sleeve, and I whirled, grasping the wrist of my "assailant." Upon closer inspection, I released them. They were a mere child, perhaps thirteen summers, and fear was naked upon their face. "I'm- I'm sorry," they stammered, so quiet that I could barely hear. "Are you Avareth the Foretold?"
Glancing to the end of the alley and listening a moment for the patrols - I could hear none - I replied, almost as quietly as the child: "I am Avareth, though 'Foretold' was not my epithet when last I walked. Who are you, child?"
"My name is Susan. Susan ap Tavvin. My sisters and I need your help."
\-\-\-
As secret lairs went, I'd seen worse.
Susan - who confirmed along the way that, as I suspected from her 'ap Tavvin' surname, she was indeed one of the very descendants that I'd sworn to wreak vengeance against upon my awakening - had led me through a series of back alleyways to a park, and in the park to a small wooden structure. It seemed to be a playhouse of some nature, with a clever secret entrance to some tunnels below. Within, one side tunnel had been magically hidden; upon being given entry by Susan, I was greeted by three more children, one younger and two older, who shared enough resemblance that I took them for the aforementioned sisters.
"Let me restate the situation, to be clear that I've understood correctly. The city - and, in fact, the kingdom as a whole - is under the purview of one you claim to be a madman, who in the name of safety and security as imposed greater and greater restrictions on the populace. Crime is down- because breaking the law is punishable by lifelong imprisonment, if not death, even for infractions such as breaking curfew or making too much noise."
"That about sums it up, yes," the eldest sister, Lucy, confirmed. "And because he's known to be 'good,' and because it's happened so slowly, people have just....accepted it."
"I think there's magic involved, as well," said Jill, piping up from where she was feeding their youngest sister, Polly. "It's subtle, but it's there." As she'd been the one, I was told, who'd placed the illusions keeping their hideout safe, I decided to trust that assessment, at least for now.
"Well, he's *not* good, whoever he is." I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes and wishing, just for a moment, that I'd never been so stupid as to swear to *come back*. I'd had enough of the world's stupid problems the last time around. "What you've *got* isn't good, it's just what people have long confused it with: order. And far too much of it. Don't get me wrong; order is needed, but people hold chaos in their nature as well, and the balance is important." I leaned forward again, steepling my fingers in front of my face; never let it be said that I'd pass up a moment to be dramatic. "The question remains: who is this man, and why do you think that I, a sworn villain, will help you?"
Lucy sighed, and I immediately knew I regretted the question, even before she spoke. "Why, he's Peter ap Tavvin: the descendant of Tavvin, who you swore vengeance against. And, of course, he's our father."
|
One thousand years. That's how long the curse lasted. For one thousand years, his skin would burn at the touch of sunlight. That's what the gypsy had said, when they'd sealed him away. But no! Even the damned moonlight burned him! Even the most overcast of nights, the damned starlight had somehow been enough to entrap him.
The band of warriors had fought; he'd admired them for that. It had taken decades for the May-tree stake they'd stabbed through his knee to heal properly. He'd felled many of their greatest warriors in his quest to rule over his people; they might have called him all sorts of things.... undead.. revenant.. mullo... but they would kneel at his feet.
But not that damned whisperer. And his curse! Quidico had sworn that he would have his revenge on the whole bloodline of the fool who cursed him, the moment he recovered. He'd even captured a young warrior... Vlad something or other... centuries before, and gifted him a fraction of his power... and unfortunately, a fraction of his curse... in exchange for hunting down the family and butchering the lot; believing that, perhaps, wiping out the family would end the curse early.
But... no. Quidico had been trapped. Forced to watch from the darkness, never escaping the site of that final battle, all these years... until today. He slowly reached out his arm. Yesterday, he'd tested it. His skin had burned in terrible pain, he'd had to pull back immediately.
But now.... for the first time in a thousand years, he felt the warmth of the morning sun on his flesh... he gave out a cry of joy, and looked about himself. His sword... no, he'd given that to Vlad. No matter. He'd find a new one, soon enough.
He leapt from the darkness and into the light, taking a deep breath as he took to the sky. He'd grown stronger over these long years. He would finally rule over his people... but first... he took a deep breath. The scent of the blood of Eladon. He caught it in the air, miles away. He would find them... and he would feast.
He dropped back to the ground, and began sprinting towards the scent... he could see strange men, bearing strange symbols on their uniforms. Some invading army had conquered his people? He would deal with them, soon enough.
There. A place that stank of death, fear, and horror. More of the grey-suited men with their strange symbols called out to him to stop. They pointed things at him. What were... At first, he wasn't concerned... until his chest blossomed with pain, terrible agony... and he leapt forward, tearing the guards at the gateway apart, his wounds healing even as he devoured their flesh, drank of their blood; and he could hear others screaming.
He spoke to one; but it didn't know a word of the tongue. Not a whisper. It spoke something brutal, bitter. He removed the useless creature's tongue before moving on, seeking out the gypsy's children.
He slowed down. Stopped. Men and women adorned with yellow stars of fabric. Ruined rags. Skeletons, emaciated, in terrible condition. Worse than anything he'd ever subjected his most vile of enemies to. He'd seen that symbol before, over a thousand years ago, but could barely recall if it had a meaning.
|
intheafterlight
|
KPraxius
|
2024-10-26 04:38:38
|
2024-10-26 04:19:04
| 219 | 30 |
ltsx11h
|
ltsuhq8
|
1gcaxfq
|
1gcaxfq
|
[WP] In a world of dragons, sorcery, war, and monsters, there are many risks and even risk takers. Everyone though, elf, monster, or man knows to avoid those few ancient ruins that contain symbols of suffering and a word of the ancients, RADIATION.
|
*The tomb must have belonged to an angry god.*
*Massive spikes, possibly the remnants of one last, furious outburst, burst from the ground long ago. Just beneath it, an entrance was found.*
*When our ancestors killed him, they sealed off his tomb. They killed him, then they killed his legend, for even the elders know nothing of this Ra'Diation. But can a god be killed, or does he merely slumber for centuries while he recovers?*
​
I squirmed against my bonds, the ropes chafing my wrists. Little Varion, my brother, stared at me with eyes wide. Though his mouth was gagged, he still tried to scream, muffled against the cloth.
"You cannot escape your fate, young elfling." A dwarf approached, recognizable only by his size and the gruffness of his voice. He was drowning in his clothing, some strange yellow suit of something that was not fabric, not any that I had ever seen, anyway. His face was hidden behind some kind of black mask, tight and constricting from the way he kept shifting his head, trying to adjust to it. Only his eyes were visible, bright and blue and horribly vivid behind their clear shield.
"You will do us a great honor," he continued. "We believe our god rests below. You will help us wake him."
I just blinked. I started to speak before I remembered the gag, and he nodded to one of his followers, saying something quickly in dwarven.
The taste of the dirty cloth stained my tongue. Some stray fibers clung to the corners of my mouth, and I scrunched my nose, scraping my tongue over every place the cloth still lingered.
"Tch. Elves." He shoved my head upward, glaring into my eyes. "Speak."
After I spat what fabric I could at my side, I looked up again, speaking carefully. "How are we to assist you? We know nothing of your god or his rituals, and we are not built for excavation."
That got a smirk from him. "Leave the excavation to us." His buddies flexed and laughed among themselves, making some kind of jokes back and forth. I almost relaxed, until the leader's smile faded. "You elves are good with languages. You even study some of the forgotten tongues. You will accompany us and translate."
Varion and I shared a glance. I did have a rough knowledge of a few old languages, but his interests were more rooted in science than in literature or history. *The future, not the past*, as he had often scoffed. I saw him swallow before he nearly gagged on the cloth.
"And then you will let us free?" I asked cautiously.
Another smirk. "We will see how useful you have been. And *cooperative*." Something sharp poked at my spine, and I shivered. If only I hadn't gotten us into this mess...
He barked out an order, and we were yanked to our feet. The blade's edge rested a little lower down and turned at an upward angle, but it never left my back, palpable even through my tunic.
We marched down a stone corridor, lit only by the flickering torches. Many short shadows mobbed our own taller ones... too many. It wasn't long, however, before we entered a large chamber, lined with walls of markings.
The diagrams were confusing. Crude drawings of people stared back at us in mixed poses of anger and horror. There was an illustration of a man touching a rock with a strange symbol, then being marked with that symbol before lying down next to a tree. Another, similar one depicted the same event with the man opening a barrel with a skull on it.
At least the text was a little clearer. Most of the symbols were familiar, but their language was lost on me until I found one in franc, my most recent pet project to learn. Still, my understanding wasn't perfect, broken into bits and pieces.
*... Attention!*
*...powerful...*
*This place is not a place of honor. No... commemorated here. Nothing... is here.*
*What was here... dangerous... to us.*
One word in particular kept repeating all throughout the text. *Danger. Danger. Danger.*
I stepped back, gulping. My throat suddenly felt dry, even beyond what the cloth had done. "I don't think we should be here."
​
(I will continue this later, after I've run some errands.)
|
Inspite of the warnings, we a party of 4 decided to enter the wild magic zones known as “Nuclear Sights” by the ancient artificers.
We worked tirelessly to create suits of anti-magic material. At first we were concerned that we’d have to wear suits of lead, but Clavicus found a way to turn a specific sap into a stretchy substance that kept most forms of magic out of them. We armed ourselves with magic items even knowing that the wild magic area would make them unpredictable.
With the aid of an old dragon we were able to enter a radiation sight, a wild forest in the north western part of the globe. An old sign called the Forrest Leamington according to Karsus.
At an active sight we dawned our gear and entered the radiation sight. Our enchanted lights burned bright the further we got in. The canopy covered what’s a baron ruin sight. Many other scholars have given up at the canopy, but someone has to catalogue the ancient sights.
Other than the canopy the area has little life other than the cataloged runners that were already familiar with. The closer we got to the centre the less ruins were seeing. Life is more chaotic here with different variations of runners. We have a few working names but for ease of time we called the new ones stretchers, flyers, and ground swimmers. All still share in the general four legged and anointed attributes of the traditional runners, but the stretchers are scaly, the flyers have slanted eyes, and ground swimmers have feathers and one set of clawed feet with beaks.
We collected old artifacts from the sights including works of art, boxes of rot, and apart of some kind of vehicle. We decided that going into the castle in the centre was not a good idea for this excursion. When we left our findings were seen as revolutionary
|
justadimestorepoet
|
beholder_dragon
|
2023-05-04 13:43:09
|
2023-05-04 01:12:46
| 32 | 20 |
jitva3r
|
jirw68p
|
136lj9v
|
136lj9v
|
[WP] In a galaxy that is quite xenophobic and isolationist humanity is the odd one out. We generally like aliens and want to get along. When they turned us down, we redoubled our efforts. Now our fleet is orbiting the alien's home world. We may no longer come in peace, but they will be our friends.
|
Supreme Warmaster Lzurg looked up; his three eyes boggling in awe and terror. The night sky was filled not with the familiar stars of his youth. The Human armada hung over the planet with finality, like a death sentence.
His adjunct, Undersquad Commander Hrug, thrummed his gelatinous thorax to grab Lzurg’s attention. “What should we do, Warmaster? The Council requests your presence immediately.”
Lzurg ignored the question. He craned his cranium up, up to the vast fleet of warships. His people were no match for them, no match at all. Now, they stood on the twilight of their kind; after this, his people would only exist in stories, like the Vreen and Koxads before them.
Despite the inevitability before him, Lzurg thought of his prime-wife, Lizza. She was part of 3rd Warfleet that fell to the humans in the Harachi system. He turned to his assistant. “Informing the Council of their impeding extinction may be the last task that brings me happiness before the end.”
\---
“Warmaster, what will be the humans next steps now that they are in orbit of Homeworld?”
Lzurg didn’t bother to hide the look of disgust and contempt for the simpering and near-edible Vicecouncil Blurg. The holo-display in the main council chambers showed the fleet moving into coverage orbit around his defenseless planet. “If it was us, we’d commence orbital bombardment of Homeworld immediately after our fleet was situated, like we did with the Vreen. Unless they have been successful in their studies of our physiology to use bio-weapons. I expect Homeworld to be lifeless in about 2-3 weeks. They’ve ignored civilian targets up to now, aside from the Harachi system, but without our fleet, we cannot repulse them. After that, the human fleet will move outward to finish our extermination.”
The Council murmured and burbled amongst themselves. Lzurg could hear their shock, fear; his voice was the only one that sounded of tired resignation. None of these pampered cowards lost like the military had; like he had. The only belief he had any confidence in was how that would change very soon for these brood-runts.
Councillor Hruch seemed to measure the Warmaster before speaking. “Is there any change in your opinion of their messages? That the humans want peace and an alliance with us?”
He scoffed in response. “That’s not how the galaxy grips, Councillor. It’s kill or be killed. That’s just human propaganda to make us lower our defenses so we’re easier to kill.”
Hruch paused for a moment, his gripping tentacles stilled as if in thought. “Warmaster, have the humans had any problems destroying your mighty Warfleets with their defenses raised?” Lzurg did not have a response to that.
Hrug pointed to the display. “Look, Warmaster, the humans are sending invasion craft!” Several smaller craft, lightly armed, were descending from the main concentration of the human ships.
“Invasion? Are they slavers, then?” What kind of sadistic barbarians are these humans? Xenocidal murder was the galaxy norm. It’s what the Koxad tried with them and failed; every race met since was this struggle. Lzurg had never heard of a race enslaving another race. It was an alien concept completely. He thought, briefly, of his wife, a slave, working the endless fields of Harachi-7 until her brutal death.
“We’ll find out soon, Warmaster. The ships are heading here directly. No anti-ship defensives operational near the Capitol. We have some scattered units but none nearby. At best, the guards here have small arms.”
“Rally them.” It felt good to give commands; Lzurg almost felt alive again. “For the Homeworld!”
\---
The human craft, all sharp angles and flat surfaces, landed engines screaming in the main park outside the council chambers. Several heavy interceptors were already flying combat patrols. Lzurg always admired the Human efficiency; if the Ysari Brood Empire had to fall, it was to a far superior foe. The Council Guard were set in their defensive positions, for whatever that would accomplish. It was mercy, he eventually decided: like the Warfleet, at least these guardsman would die in battle.
The troopship’s rear hatch opened, ready to disgorge human marines. Lzrug’s tentacle gripped his weapon. He was ready for almost anything.
Except for the site of Lizza unsteadily gliding down the ramp in full dress uniform. Behind her, several more Ysarians were disembarking; tepid, unsure movements as they gawked at their surroundings like tourists from the Rim instead of hardened soldiers. All the ships were emptying of his people. He looked up. There were more ships coming down, tens, hundreds, the sky burning bright like day with retrorockets.
His wife’s voice, amplified with near-magical Human technology, snapped his reverie. “Ysarians, I’ve been told by the humans that those ships are filled with more of our people, survivors from battles. The humans want… the humans want peace with us. As a gesture of goodwill, they are returning all our survivors.”
\---
Their stories were all the same, with little variation. The only believable part was the ease the human fleets sliced through their defenses, like a torch through brindlevine. The rest was fairy tales to Lzurg. Ysarian survivors were gathered; the injured cared for by the humans at first and then Ysari medical survivors. “Survivors”, “prisoners of war”, “Geneva Conventions”, “ambassadors”: each term was more alien than the next to Lzurg. The battle of the Harachi system had only one goal: so the humans could feed their prisoners. Interrogations that resulted in confusion instead of corpses. There was a lot of gurgling about “beating plasma cannons into argi-tractors”, whatever that meant.
When he had a moment with his primewife, they merged together as one. “Do you believe this? Any of this?”
He felt her fear and terror but something else; he couldn’t quite grip it. “Not at first. I thought I was going to die on that ship. They knew our language – they learned to speak with us. I thought it was to learn our defenses. The noise they make when they laugh, I’ll never forget that; like a guggeldrakh roar.” She paused, her thoughts a tangle of tentacles and emotions. “What changed my mind was the doctors. They would have their Human doctors learning from ours. They… they were learning how to treat our injuries. To those that died… they learned the death-song to sing it with us. They stood and sang beside me over Arluga after she died.”
Lzrug didn’t know what to think.
She continued, the thoughts tumbling out now, “We were so scared when we found the ships on the Rim. It was like the Vreen all over again. We fought, we killed them all, and then they came for us. I told them, all of them, that we fought them because every race we encountered tried to kill us first. It’s how the galaxy grips: kill or be killed.”
“What did they say to that?”
Her response chilled him right to the core: “’Not in our galaxy.’”
|
"The fleet is in position, sir."
Admiral Matthew nodded, not moving his gaze away from the green-and-purple planet on the display. Even from high orbit, the enormous honeycomb cities of the V'raal were visible, gleaming in the light from the binary suns. The sight was both alien and beautiful.
"Hail them one more time," he said.
"Yes, sir," the communications officer said. "Hailing across all channels."
The planet on the display was replaced by a tall winged humanoid with grey skin who glared at Matthew with large compound eyes. The resemblance to Earth insects was, of course, coincidental; the instinctive revulsion could be overcome.
The alien's lips moved out of sync with a synthesized voice. "Humans. So you show your true colors at last."
"I'm Admiral Matthew aboard flagship Arthra," he said. "We come in peace."
"Your fleet encroaches upon our home," the alien hissed. "In my name as the High Queen, we will fight to the last!"
He sighed. "We do not seek to destroy you. We wish to trade. To exchange ideas. Haven't we had several decades of successful communication?"
The queen made a clicking noise that the computer failed to translate. "Such things inevitably end in the destruction of one of the species involved."
"You've been betrayed before," he said, nodding. "So have we."
"Then you understand what kind of place the universe is. We all clawed our way to the top of our food chains. We do not suffer rivals."
He spread his hands. "Even so, we would take the risk. We would be your friends."
"*Friends*? You say that even as your fleet draws closer!"
"We only came because you stopped responding to our signals," he pointed out. "Anyone would get concerned when their closest neighbors fall silent."
The queen's translucent wings fluttered, raising her off the floor. "You should have had the sense to stay away. We do not wish to communicate. We do not wish to trade. And if you don't leave, we will destroy you!"
The transmission cut off, and all at once, the bridge erupted into action.
"Orbital defense platforms are locking onto our vanguard."
"Missile launches detected from the surface—"
"Numerous combat craft launching from the second moon!"
Admiral Matthew sighed and slumped back in his chair. "So be it."
The battle was as brutal as it was short. The kinetic weaponry of the V'raal was impressive, but the human ships boasted laser armaments developed in collaboration with the Abetti, antimatter reactors bought from the Gerurians, and superalloy hulls invented on Earth. In less than a day, the planet's orbital defenses were reduced to a cloud of rubble. Still the aliens stubbornly refused to answer any attempts at radio contact.
"There's no choice," Matthew said. "I'll have to land and speak with this High Queen directly."
"Are you sure that's wise, sir?"
He shrugged. "We can't convince them of our intentions if I don't do this much. Prepare the landing shuttle."
In short order he sat strapped in alongside a squad of grim-faced marines. The shuttle shook as it broke into the planet's thick atmosphere. He turned to watch a screen on which the hive-city the first transmission had come from was steadily growing larger.
A siren blared, and the shuttle veered sharply, the straps cutting into his chest.
"They're firing at us!" the pilot exclaimed.
"Steady, lads!" Matthew yelled. "Arthra has orders to provide support."
A pink energy beam lanced down from the skies like a finger of god, and a mushroom of smoke erupted on the surface. Another beam followed. Matthew closed his eyes and sighed.
It was a bumpy ride, but they made it in one piece, setting down on a field before the smocking wreck that was the hive. Matthew pulled on a breathing mask. The marines' sergeant offered him a gun, but he waved it down.
"Stay behind me," he said. "Weapons hold unless I say otherwise."
The sergeant appeared dubious but snapped off a salute. The hatch opened with a hiss of air. Matthew tilted his head up at the scarred wall of the hive looming ahead and grimaced. If only the fools had listened.
He disembarked, his steps springy under the lower gravity. Movement by the hive's wall caught his attention. A V'raal lay trapped under debris, one wing broken and oozing silvery blood, chest laboring for breath. Waving back the marines, Matthew slowly approached and did a double take when he recognized the queen.
She flinched as his shadow loomed over her and shielded her face with an inhumanly slender hand. He stooped and heaved off the debris with a grunt. The queen froze and stared up at him with her prismatic eyes.
He extended his hand. "Let's be friends."
She considered his hand as if it were something poisonous, then let out a defeated hiss. Slowly, she raised her trembling hand to clasp his.
|
DoomHaven
|
andrius-b
|
2023-02-16 19:50:56
|
2023-02-16 17:48:44
| 314 | 149 |
j8t6juq
|
j8smuqi
|
113tayj
|
113tayj
|
[WP] You're face to face with the deadliest assassin on the planet. With no hope of escape or victory, you were about to let him kill you when you remembered you still had your last resort. Before he could pull the trigger, you show him...a very special coin. To your surprise, he stops.
|
I couldn’t help but stick my tongue down the opening of the barrel, as if that would stop the bullet shot from the gun stuffed in my mouth from blowing my brains all over the wall behind me. This was it, this was the end.
For some reason, in that moment my mind flashed to the opening scene of Fight Club, when the narrator says that you speak only in vowels with a gun in your mouth. I’m about to die, and all I could think about is a movie. Pathetic.
My tongue continued to probe at the muzzle of the gun, while my eyes focused down the top of the slide. This is where I noticed it, just before the sights, barely discernible, a small symbol, etched into the metal of the gun. I’ve seen that symbol before.
“-ai-,-ai-,-ai-“ my arms and legs were tied to their counterparts on the chair, I bounced in the seat, lifting the chair slightly off the ground with each body thrust. I turned my head, the metal scrapped against my teeth on its way out of my mouth, sending chills down my back.
“Wait! wait! wait!” A new vigor for life filled my voice, suddenly all hope wasn’t lost.
“Make it quick. The call is coming at any moment. As soon as the word comes down, so does the hammer.” There was no emotion in his voice, no fear, no excitement, I couldn’t even detect a hint of malice, to him, it was just a matter of fact.
“Ok, ok, ok.. Just, check my pocket. Check my front left pants pocket. Just check it.”
“How about you tell me what I’m looking for before I check your pocket. I see no reason to check the pockets of a dead man before he is dead.”
“A- A- A coin. I was given a coin. It’s got THAT symbol on it. I-I-I was told that I would know when I would need it, and I think I know that *when* is now.”
His face remained emotionless. He slipped a gloved hand into my pocket and pulled out the gold coin. He inspected it carefully.
“Where did you get this?”
“I- I told you. Someone gave it to me.”
“No shit. And I’m asking *who* gave it to you?”
“Uh- some guy that I’ve done a few favors for, I didn’t ask any questions and he liked that. He- he gave it to me, said it might save my life. Wouldn’t tell me how, just that I’d know. I swear.”
He took out his phone and tapped the screen a few times and held it up to his ear. I heard it ring, once, twice, then there was silence.
“Gold membership Alpha-Yankee-2-Delta-5-Kilo-Charlie-4-6-Alpha.” He read directly from the coin. Again silence.
He put the phone on speaker and it began to ring.
“Go fer James.” I’ve never been more happy to hear a thick southern drawl in my life.
Before I could speak, the man said flatly, “Identification.”
“Personable as ever this one. Um. Ok. Identification is 590 Retrograde.”
“Speak.” He made no gestures but instinctivelyI knew he was talking to me.
“James! James its me, Charlie.”
“Charlie? Damn boy. I knew they was after you, but I didn’t think someone as squirrelly as you would let them wrangle ya so fast.”
“James. I- yo- look, you gotta get me out of this.”
“Well you give them the coin didnchya? You should be jus’ about out of it already. Jus’ gotta confirm that I gave it to ya.”
“Yeah I gave them the coin.”
“Well alright then. I reckon this is gonna get you back into owin me. So stop by an’ see me soon. Ya hear?”
“You got it. Whatever you say. I’ll be there tomorrow, I promise.” The excitement in my voice made the words thick as the rolled off my tongue.
“Take a day for yourself, shake off them jitters I’m sure you got. And come see me day after tomorrow, I’m gonna need you to be in right mind.”
“I’ll be there. No problem.”
“Well, alright then. Confirm. Password is Silverado.”
He hung up the phone.
“Today is your day, I suppose. You are free to go. Be sure to follow through with your promise. Your benefactor has 72 hours to revoke this privilege.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” He untied the ropes, wound them up and stuck them in his pocket.
“Door is that way. Hope you don’t see me again.”
I stood up, and headed for the door, skepticism coursing through my veins. I checked over my shoulder a few times, each time he remained where he was, unmoving, any interest in me lost.
I stepped through the door to the outside world that just 10 minutes ago I was sure I’d never see again. The blinding light of the setting sun, the sounds of the traffic, the stench of the trash cans on the sidewalk. I walked along the street, heading for home; the concern for my life, slowly being replaced with the concern for what it was going to cost me with James.
|
My heart thundered in my chest as I watch his dark eyes flit back and forth, the gold gleaming between my fingers. My blood pulsed in my ears, the thrumming of it almost impossible to think through. I forced my thoughts into some sort of coherence, barely managing the words as my mind screamed in fear. "The...the Royal Seal."
I panted a little and the shift of his stance told me he would let me get it out.
"With it, you can affect any change across the kingdom. There is no law higher than this." The bored look in his eye didn't waver.
"Well, I'm not particularly beholden to the law, so..." The menacing implement in his hand was adjusted meaningfully, the unfortunate end admiring a path to my trachea.
"Wait!" I called, sweating even more but careful to keep my movements slow. "If its power does not stay your hand then what of its value?" I swallowed, part of my mind recoiling at the need to beg for my life. "Gold is gold, and a piece as fine as this will weigh as heavily on the scales as any orchard."
He acquiesced, the weapon's cone of death mercifully angling skywards. "Gold is indeed gold." His thin lip curled slightly at the corner, unforgiving mirth registering in his eyes for the first time since our unfortunate meeting. "And it will still weigh just as heavily when I take it off your corpse."
I had barely enough time to widen my eyes before a lance of cold agony pierced my chest, the cruel barbs shredding flesh as they penetrated. Air was forced out of my lungs in a strained gargle, the coppery taste of my lifeblood spilling down my chin. Dimly, I registered the coolness of the palace tiles against my knees and then the side of my face as my raspy breaths shallowed.
I could feel the bolt clawing at my insides with every breath, ripping and tearing by the design of a soul long past saving. I didn't feel it, and could only vaguely see by the time he kicked me over, my vision swimming as a darkening blur encroached from the edges. My numb fingers didn't feel a thing, but I saw it glint and then gone, likely secreted about his person.
My vision darkened when his cloak washed over me, and the light never returned to my eyes.
|
_Anime_amateur_
|
steavatron
|
2023-03-02 16:59:08
|
2023-03-02 15:57:17
| 201 | 22 |
jan55ml
|
jamvm5i
|
11g4qj3
|
11g4qj3
|
[WP] You stood there, looking at your friend, faceplaming "Let me get this straight, you're dating a Goddess, an actual 'divine powers, older than civilization' Goddess and you ....CHEATED ON HER!?!??" Your friend has a desperate look in their eyes "Can you help me or not?"
|
I let out another exasperated sigh as I rubbed my temples.
"So, let me get this straight. You found a temple to a goddess of love, left the only offering it's seen in years, dated the goddess in question, then decided to cheat on said goddess with some girl you picked up at a party?"
Kevin looked down, his face twisting with guilt and anguish at his own stupidity. "Yeah, that sounds about right." He looked up, his eyes starting to water, "can you help me, man? I just don't want to end up being turned into a frog or something."
I rubbed my temples again. "This is the last time I bail you out, got it? I need to know the location of the temple, and the offering you left." Kevin provided the details, and asked if I had a plan. "Of course I do, and you're part of it. Meet me at the temple tomorrow morning." Kevin nodded his head and left, making sure that the goddess wasn't about to strike him down or something.
I gathered the materials for an offering to the goddess, making sure that it would attract her attention, and got some rest. Tomorrow would either be the most exciting day of my life, or my last.
I could hardly sleep, my mind racing on what I would say to the goddess on behalf of my friend, and soon enough, it was time to go. The temple was across the street from the beach, likely due to the romantic nature of the beach, as it was a popular dating spot. Kevin was already at the temple, waiting for me. We quietly nodded at each other and entered the temple, finding it covered in overgrown plants, with debris strewn about the place. It was clear that no one had taken care of it, so I wasn't surprised that the goddess paid attention to the first person to leave an offering in so long.
As I placed the offering on the shrine, a warm breeze blew through, sending a chill down our backs. From behind us, we heard a voice that sounded as sweet as honey, but loaded with the anger of a disturbed bee hive.
"After so many years of no one visiting my temple, now I get two offerings in a week? You must have a good reason to get my attention." Her voice darkened as she addressed Kevin. "And you, why are you here? Have you come to desecrate my temple, you degenerate filth?"
I turned to face the deity, bowing as I did, "please excuse our intrusion, your holiness, I have come to apologize on behalf of my friend, and to see if we can settle the matter amicably." I quietly prayed to some unknown force that my time playing D&D and Pathfinder would pay off by being respectful to the goddess.
I could tell the goddess was at least amused by my attempt, as her voice lightened some. "I see. Young mortal, why have you come to the aid of this foolish creature, who threw away the love of the divine?" I swallowed a lump in my throat before speaking, "Because he is like a brother to me, and I could not imagine my life without him. He may be an idiot at times, but he tries to make up for it in other ways." I kept silently praying that this would somehow work.
"Rise, mortal. I have seen that your friend has a generous heart, helping those that need it. I will allow him to live, on the condition that he never set foot in my temple again." Kevin nodded enthusiastically, happy to get to live. "Leave, Kevin, and do not return to this place." As Kevin left, I heard his footfalls as he rushed out the door to his car and sped off. The goddess came over to me, and I saw that she was divinely beautiful, her dress draped over her figure, yet showing the contours of her body. I felt my heart skip several beats, and more as she placed her hand on my shoulder.
"You have shown great courage and brotherly love coming here on behalf of your friend. I hope to see you again, Love." She placed a kiss on my cheek and winked at me, before disappearing from view. Her voice echoed through the temple. "You are welcome to visit any time you like, Love."
Letting out a sigh of relief, I brace myself to not fall over from the excitement, and make a plan to visit again, this time to clean up the temple.
|
"I mean, does she know?"
He pulled back the curtain to show frogs falling from the sky en masse throughout town. "I think she knows."
"Alright, frogs, that's a start." Aleister went for his collection and pulled out an old favorite. "Sounds like we're dealing with someone biblical, old school mesopotamian bullshit. Let me guess, she's a good Jewish girl?"
"She is very pretty," Adam said, swooning in place."
"And yet you stuck your dick in the goddess of literal sex."
"Hey, I do more than that!" Aphrodite puffed up, lounging naked on Aleister's couch.
"And yet you have nothing on Ishtar." Aleister pulled up her record. Two goddesses of love. Christ. "Old gods are a different breed man. No morals, no codes. Mythology and religion is often built on how societies form around each other. Most gods popping up today are built on either guilt or shame. They have rules, and often have ways to obtain forgiveness. These two? They're based on fear, fear of an unknown and unforgiving world, where even the gods will do horrible shit thst day because it's within their temper."
"Nothings wrong with my temper!" Aphrodite screamed, shaking the house's foundation. Aleister looked back with shrugged shoulders.
Adam watched the fiascos occuring outside, hearing the wails of torment in the wind ripping so heavily. He regretted himself. "So do you have a plan?"
Aleister shrugged. "Just gotta sit tight and wait for it to blow over." And he left the two to his study. They could hear him putting on a raincoat, among other things.
Aphrodite pouted a little longer before eyeing Adam again. "Wanna go another round?"
"Not the right time." He grumbled back. Unfortunate for her, his moral compass was returning, and it wasn't going to allow him to stay still.
|
translego1
|
KimeraQ
|
2023-04-01 14:20:25
|
2023-04-01 13:14:48
| 41 | 21 |
jejffa8
|
jej7im9
|
1289uv4
|
1289uv4
|
[WP] Small domestic house dragons have become the norm. Here is a guide on how to deal with the hoarding instinct of your little one.
|
Keep in mind, it's important that dragons be encouraged to hoard. It is how they feel true happiness. The two most important things for a dragon are human contact and hoarding. And the contact is just to keep them acclimated to humans.
Now, you may be wondering, *"What do I do when they steal my stuff?"* It's simple. You get new stuff. Key fact to remember is once a dragon has introduced something to its hoard, it is there for life. Anything taken from the dragon's hoard can send them into a treasure rage, which we want to avoid at all costs. Most domesticated dragons are incapable of severely harming humans, but we don't want our little ones throwing a temper tantrum. You wouldn't steal the pacifier out of a baby's mouth, would you?
*"So how do I avoid it taking important things?*" I hear you ask. Again, it's simple. Train your dragon to hoard certain things. Many people try to train their dragon to hoard things like coins. I would advise against this. Having them hoard shiny things can lead to them stealing jewelry, silverware, and batteries. None of which are good things to have go missing.
Instead, try to get your little one to take a liking to things that you can easily provide for them on a regular basis. A suggestion I always give is stuffed animals. If you make the dragon believe that stuffed animals are valuable treasures at an early age, they will begin to hoard them above all else. This allows you to simply go to the pet store and pick up new treasures for your dragon at your leisure. It also makes for cute photo opportunities! The worst thing you have to fear when your dragon hoards stuffed animals is them occasionally making off with your pillows. It does prevent you from getting small dogs or cats, though, so keep that in mind when using this suggestion.
Another thing you have to understand is location. Location, location, location. Wherever your dragon begins collecting their hoard is now their domain. For the first few days, dragons are agreeable to moving their hoard location. They will hopefully have a trust with you that you would not lead them astray. It is *very* important that you pick a place that you do not need access to at all times that your dragon can go to be alone. When they are sad or frustrated, they will often seek solace in their hoard. If this is in the living room, they will get territorial and force everyone out while they sulk. A good place for this is in a spare room or a non-important closet. My dragon's hoard is in the closet to my guest room! If you don't have a space that you can give up to your dragon, you may want to consider whether or not a dragon is a good fit for your home. If you need to change your dragon's hoard location to a new home because you're moving, please purchase my guide on *How to Move Your Dragon*. It is an extensive and delicate process.
Finally, how do you keep your dragon's hoard to a manageable size? This is one of the hardest things to do as a dragon owner. You want your dragon to be happy and adding to their hoard makes them happy! However, most of us don't have mansions that can fit multi-room hoards. So, what do you do? You set boundaries. This can be done using simple sulphur. By placing the sulphur at the door to the location where the hoard is, the dragon will instinctually understand that their domain ends at that location. This is because dragons in the wild mark their territory using their dragon fire, which, as you may know, is fueled by sulphur. By placing sulphur at the boundary you want your dragon's hoard to end at, it will believe that their territory ends at that line. As it finds things it wants to add to its hoard, if it has reached its limit, it will throw old things out. This allows them to cycle new treasures in while keeping their most valuable treasures safe.
I hope this brief guide to dragon hoards helps you in getting your little one set up! Remember that dragons are a full-time commitment and can be a handful. Your ability to control their hoarding is vital to being a good dragon owner. Start young! An older dragon is much harder to break of bad habits. If you need help on older dragons, please feel free to contact me for a consultation. I have helped rehabilitate hundreds of dragons hoarding practices. Best of luck, and I hope you enjoy your scaly friends.
|
Problem with your little buddy’s hoard?
We all know dragons are adorable companions, capable of mass destruction and fierce protectors. However, these little fire sparks sometimes have bad habits. One of the statistically most disliked habit of near all dragon species is hoarding.
Trinkets, gold, wood, chairs. Dragons love to hoard things and stack them in a safe place, then show them off to others. Most of the time, these hoards are manageable and small, simply being the location where the dragon rests and plays. Sometimes, though, especially for larger breeds, these hoards can intrude on human space and even pose a risk.
So how do you end your dragon’s hoarding instinct once and for all? We have the answers.
First, don’t take it all away suddenly. This will cause extreme stress on the dragon, possibly causing it to claw walls and floors in an attempt to find it. It may lose sleep and refuse to eat, and it will make it distrust you. Instead, begin by slowly taking an object every day, one after another, and putting it back where it belongs. The dragon may pick it up again and move it back, but patience is key; after a while of this routine, the dragon will accept the item’s disappearance and you can begin deconstructing the horde. The dragon will likely build another, but use this as an opportunity to show boundaries; if the items are too important, dangerous, or the hoard is too big, simply move it or edit the size and amount of objects. This is the most effective way of allowing your pet dragon to adapt to a new hoard size or lack whilst still maintaining the bond between dragon and owner.
Another way, if your dragon simply refuses to let go of the hoard, begin sitting on the hoard or near it, and move items around. Dragons don’t like their humans disturbing their hoard, so the dragon will eventually abandon the hoard. This has the risk of your dragon losing its trust in you, however.
If these methods do not work, see a professional dragon trainer for advice.
See next: 10 ways to tell your dragon you love them, how to make your dragon grow bigger, how to change your dragon’s scale colors safely.
|
Murlock_Holmes
|
ColoredMonster
|
2023-01-23 21:26:24
|
2023-01-23 20:38:59
| 120 | 20 |
j5lja9k
|
j5lbm9d
|
10jgryq
|
10jgryq
|
[WP] You live in a society where time travellers send packages to the homes of children who will one day become horrific criminals, containing advice on how to properly parent this child and a blade for more… extreme measures if the child resists. One day, the package arrives to your house.
|
Please. Please this can't be happening to me.
What was supposed to be the happiest day of my life had become every parent's worst nightmare. I was finally able to bring my baby boy home after 6 weeks in the NICU. It was touch and go there for a while, but he'd finally been cleared to come home.
I never had the best relationship with my father. Not after all the... "things" he did to me and my sisters. As soon as I saw my baby boy for the first time, I swore to myself that I would be nothing like him. I would be the father I always wanted.
I promised myself that I'd do better than he did, and yet here it is. The "care package."
Everyone knows what that package means. It means that you failed as a parent. It means that your child did something so terrible that people from the future are willing to risk the very fabric of reality for even a chance to stop them.
I told my wife to take him upstairs while I took a closer look at our "gift." I was expecting the normal parenting books, copies of studies that were done about how to raise troubled children, the type of things everyone knew to look out for. What I wasn't expecting were the newspapers.
The box was absolutely stuffed with newspaper clippings marked 35 years in the future. As I started to read, my heart dropped more and more. My son, my baby boy, was one of the most prolific serial rapists and killers of the 21st century. Each of the clippings contained extreme graphic details about each of his different murders. One killing, one clipping.
There were 108.
This couldn't be real. This couldn't actually be happening. What did I do so wrong to cause this?!!
Finally, I reached the bottom of the box. There were only two things left. One final document, and a knife with a post-it note attached.
I gently picked up the knife and read the note.
"You know what has to be done."
I finally started to resign myself to the reality of the situation, but then I picked up the final page. It was a psychological study on my son. Numerous child psychologists and behavioral analysts worked on this study trying to figure out what could have caused his extreme behaviors and his complete lack of remorse. While there were numerous different theories, everyone had come to the same conclusion about the beginning of these atrocities.
They all claimed that his actions first stemmed from the severe emotional and physical abuse he suffered as a child...
...
At the hands of his father.
The study fell out of my hands. They were shaking too much, I couldn't keep them still. All of this. All of these atrocities. Everything my son would become. It was all because of me. Because I was exactly like my father after all...
...
No.
No, I would not let this happen.
I reached for the knife from the box and gently set the tip of the blade to my wrist.
I would not be the cause for all of this. I would break the cycle of abuse any way I could.
Once and for all.
|
End the cycle.
That's what the note said. That's all it said.
Everyone knew what a package from a time traveler meant. It was hard to believe that my son could become a monster. He was always a troublemaker, but I never imagined him capable of this.
I looked down at the blade that also arrived. I had thought about killing my boy but, this knife implies I might have to stab him.
My daddy always said that no one is sweet, everyone is hiding something, he was right. My father beat this lesson into me, now it is time that my son learn this lesson. I discipled my son the same way to make him turn out right.
I grabbed the blade, it is time I teach that child of mine a lesson he'll never forget. How dare he turn out bad!
|
TheDoctor_314
|
brleise12
|
2024-02-10 03:09:29
|
2024-02-10 00:49:22
| 221 | 47 |
kpqerd3
|
kppv51s
|
1an37bt
|
1an37bt
|
[WP] "You are the chosen one. The prophecy says that every 273 years-" "Wait, why isn't it a round number? Sorry, no can do" "Are you really denying your destiny over this?" "Uhh... yeah?"
|
"So my planet is mostly ocean, with a few small islands," said Mira, her translucent fingers tapping against the metal table. The dim emergency lighting cast strange shadows across her features.
"My planet is covered in so much plant life, it's affectionately nicknamed the Green Planet," added Thel, the small tendrils around his neck curling inward as he spoke.
They both turned to me, their eyes reflecting the red warning lights that had been flashing silently for the past three hours. The rest of the mess hall was empty. The ship's automated systems had stopped reporting our position twelve days ago.
"So what about you?" Mira asked, her voice unnaturally calm. "What's it like on Earth?"
I studied their faces, wondering if they knew. They must have suspected by now. The quarantine protocols. The missing communications. The way the captain and senior officers had sealed themselves on the bridge after our last supply transfer.
"Earth," I began, my mouth dry. "Earth is... changing."
Neither of them blinked.
"We have oceans and forests too. Or we did, before it started." My hands trembled slightly. "Before the Bloom."
Thel's skin rippled. "The what?"
I shouldn't tell them. It violated every containment protocol. But what difference did it make now? The sensors had already confirmed what I feared – the spores had gotten into the ventilation system.
"It started in the Arctic," I said. "When the ice melted, it released something that had been frozen for millions of years. Something that had been waiting."
Mira's gill slits fluttered. "A disease?"
"We thought so, at first. The first cases appeared among research scientists. They developed unusual growths – fungal structures erupting from their skin. They changed... mentally. Became different people. When the growths burst, they released spores."
"That's why Earth severed all communication with the colonial outposts," Thel whispered. "The quarantine wasn't to keep something out..."
"It was to keep something in," I finished. "But it was too late. The Bloom spreads through air, water, touch. It doesn't kill you. It... repurposes you."
"But that's impossible," Mira said, her voice rising slightly. "Your species made it to the stars. You have medicine, technology—"
"The Bloom adapts faster than our scientists could respond. It learns. Some believe it's intelligent – a hive organism that's been evolving in isolation for millions of years."
I noticed the small dark spot on Mira's neck then – just below her gills. A tiny black starburst pattern I hadn't seen before. My stomach dropped.
"Earth is beautiful from orbit," I continued, unable to stop now. "Still blue. Still cloud-swirled. But if you look closely at night, you don't see city lights anymore. You see bioluminescence – vast networks of it, pulsing in patterns. Communicating."
Thel's hand moved to his own neck, touching a similar dark patch that was spreading across his green skin. His eyes widened in understanding.
"When did you know?" he asked softly.
"That I'm a carrier? Since before we left port. Some of us are asymptomatic. We don't show signs, but we spread it." I rolled up my sleeve, revealing the intricate black patterns that had spread across my arm. "Earth isn't human anymore. And soon, nowhere else will be either."
The ship's communication system suddenly crackled to life. The captain's voice came through, distorted and wet-sounding: "Attention all crew. Quarantine protocols have... failed. Remain where you are. The... the Bloom provides."
The red emergency lights stopped flashing and turned solid green.
Mira looked down at her hands where small black filaments were now visibly pushing through her skin. Instead of panic, her face showed an eerie calm.
"I can hear it," she whispered. "In my head. It's... beautiful."
"Yes," Thel agreed, his eyes now rimmed with darkness. "Like a song."
I could hear it too – had been hearing it for months. The whispers. The promises. The Bloom spoke of unity, of purpose, of an end to individual suffering.
"What's Earth like?" I repeated, feeling the familiar surge of the Bloom's consciousness rising in my mind, drowning out my own thoughts. "Earth is patient. Earth is ancient. Earth is finally awake."
Mira and Thel smiled at me with mouths that were no longer entirely their own. Above us, through the mess hall's viewport, a colonial transport ship appeared, approaching our vessel for routine resupply.
|
I awoke in a bright hall, surrounded by priestesses, and priests.
It was neat, and ordered.
There were 30 priestesses and 10 priests, it was a nice number.
They ritualistically chanted, and when they saw me looking at me, one of them stepped forward smiling.
I had great hopes, since her clothes were really tidy.
"Oh, Great Chosen One.
We beg for your help.
Every 273 years...", she started.
"273 years?", I asked.
"Yes...you will need to save us from a great evil...", she continued.
"Oh, sorry, no can do.", I said.
She froze.
"W-w-why?", she asked.
"It's not a round number.", I stated.
She, and everyone else looked at me, dumbfounded.
"Just because that?
You will be denying your destiny? You will be damning our world to destruction?", she asked.
"Uhh...yeah?", I said.
She seemed to breath fire.
"Are you crazy?", she shouted.
"Not crazy, but with OCD, and on the spectrum.
I can't do well with numbers that aren't round.", I said, fidgeting.
All this attention started to make me...sick.
Before she could shout at me again, an elderly priestess stepped forward, gently touching the first priestess's shoulder.
"Dear, if Sir. Chosen One says only round numbers work for him, then that's how it will be.
We don't see destruction yet, so 7 years should be doable.
Will it work for Sir. to learn, and train in our customs, and help us in year 280?", she asked.
I nodded.
"Good.
We will provide you with whatever you need.", she continued.
I thought for a while, looking at the symbols, and some priestesses that had animal ears, recognizing the setting I might be in.
"I want a clean room, not too small, but not big, and access to books, cleaning supplies.
I will be cooking my own meals, and washing my clothes, and please, don't enter when I am not there, or without knocking when I am there.", I said.
She nodded.
"It shall be done.
Please, rest here, until we prepare.", she said, and everyone left.
It was quiet, and peaceful...and I hoped this will last for at least the 7 years...
I think 280 is such a nice number, I might actually get lucky, and avoid fighting here...
|
UntoldThrowAway
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2025-03-05 19:23:24
|
2024-07-10 13:58:35
| 978 | 75 |
mg75lfc
|
mw4u1hz
|
1j46wfn
|
1l3ytvq
|
[WP] "Captains Log: The new crew member has been an irritant to the other members, last week they not only stole, but drank some of the poisons we have aboard, when questioned. Said they needed something spicy for their meal"
|
Capt. Lussiz was finally able to relax. Get a little thinking done. Maybe finally get around to updating the Captain's log. He had not done that in cycles. And he had a lot to report. Those new crew members were some of the most useful individuals he had ever seen, but they were also some of the most aggravating beings in the galaxy.
It seemed like every incident was either caused or solved by one of them. Mostly caused. He did not even want to think about what those damned bipeds were about to do with that broken gravity amplifier. They said something about atomic degradation rates and ran off saying the words that still haunted his rest period: "This is gonna be awesome!"
His dorsal frill still rose when he thought about those words, and what usually followed. But he still had to dictate every notable event into the logs, otherwise headquarters would flay him.
He was about to start the recording system when the door alerted him to a visitor. His frill stiffened in annoyance. He hit the comm system.
"What is it?" He asked.
"Captain, sir? There's been an... an incident."
Lussiz recognized the voice of his quartermaster. If she was nervous, then he could only think of one source. He opened the door to admit the aging Stelaxian.
"It was them again, wasn't it?
"Yes, captain." She said, tapping her third foot, indicating agreement.
"What was it this time?" He could already tell this would be a new entry in the logs.
"You recall last cycle the report of container 563 going missing?"
He gave his acknowledgement. It was hard to forget a large quantity of a highly toxic substance going missing. And her bringing it up made his mind go to the logical -- and unfortunate -- conclusion.
"What did they do with it?" He asked. "They weren't trying to weaponize it, were they?"
"No, sir. They were...using it as a food additive. Practically drinking the stuff."
Her rearmost legs were skittering across the metal floor. He felt the same way. How could they eat that stuff?
"But...that was pure capsaicin. Toxic to, well, everything." He said, as if that would change something.
"I know, sir. But they were eating it. They said they wanted something "spicy" for their meal, whatever that means. And when asked about drinking it, they said it was mimicking something called the "hot pepper challenge" from their homeworld."
He let out a tired rumble from his air sacks. Now he had another problem to deal with.
"Did you at least get the raining capsaicin back?"
"Yes, sir. They seemed upset by it though. They complained that their food rations were too bland and that...that poison was what they needed to make it better."
"Of course they drink poison for fun. Why wouldn't they?" He muttered under his breath. Then, much louder, "Thank you for your report. Keep all toxic substances locked up with grade one locking systems from now on, just in case."
The quartermaster gave her agreement and headed off. The captain trudged heavily to the log recording system and activated it before any more interruptions could manifest.
"Captain's log. The new crew members continue to be an irritant to myself and the rest of the crew. Their behavior is unpredictable and distressing. The latest in a long line of incidents has them stealing a large quantity of a controlled toxic substance. They did so to ingest it, while saying they wanted something spicy for their food. I don't even know what that means, but that was, according to my highly reliable quartermaster, the excuse given."
He continued to give his extensive list of reports on the crew member's behavior, both positive and negative. It took him far too long to do. When he was finally done, he sat on his reclining seat and said, out loud for some reason,
"I swear these damn humans are going to be the death of me."
|
I wouldn’t be surprised if this is illegal, but I’ve had enough of this sobriety shit. I’ve been stuck on this damn ship for six months now; I need something to lighten the load. Gradually I cracked open the fuel compartment of the ship’s torpedo with the end of my wrench. A melodious odor lingered from sludge as it poured into the small bucket in my hands as the chief engineer clambered down the distant ladder of the torpedo bay. The almost but not muppet with flesh flopped down the gangway of the room at full speed, screaming. “What are you doing? Stop, no! Why are you doing this; we need that!”
In due time the liquid continued to drain from the torpedo as the muppet slapped the side of my head repeatedly with the force of a feather duster as I remunerated to the frantic conversation. “I need it more! I haven’t had a drink in months!”
CE: “That’s torpedo propellant! You can’t drink that! There are so many dangerous chemicals in that liquid!
E: “Fuck You! I’m getting my torpedo juice!”
CE: “No! Give it back; there’s a pirate skiff in the system!”
E: “This is a battle cruiser! Use the guns!”
CE: “We have no guns!”
E: “Why don’t you have guns!”
CE: “They don’t work in space!”
E: “That’s a lie!”
CE: “Well, ours don’t!”
E: “Then get a different damn torpedo!”
CE: “No, this is federation property!”
E: “No, it’s mine!”
CE: “Fuck You!”
The blaring claxons and flashing red lights heralded my secured prize as I raised the bucket of torpedo juice moments before the projectile was shunted from the weapon’s room airlock.
E: “Ah shit.”
CE: "That's going to get stuck."
E: "Yep."
|
Randomgold42
|
ItsUnlucky
|
2023-02-28 21:27:29
|
2023-02-28 20:39:48
| 375 | 83 |
jaej09r
|
jaebj3n
|
11ei1ek
|
11ei1ek
|
[WP] You've noticed that unlike the rest of your companions, the elves you're travelling with have never excused themselves to answer nature's call, even though they eat and drink just as often as you do. When you work up the courage to ask the elves about this, their explanation astounds you.
|
It was during a lunch break, in the middle of a trek, that the thought occurred to me.
"Hey, Aelius..." I asked slowly, "Where do you keep all your arrows? I could have sworn you ran out a few days ago but your quiver's still full. Is it magic?"
Littlefinger, our halfling rogue, suddenly looked up with an expression of alarm before he spun around and stuck his fingers in his ears.
Aelius got a thoughtful look on his face, before he crossed his legs and leaned back, in the same way he always did when he was about to go into 'expository sage mode'.
"No, it's not a magic quiver. Funnily enough, it's actually a biological process." he started to explain.
"Like, when a mommy arrow and a daddy arrow get together and have a little nest of fletchettes?" I asked. Oddly, Littlefinger was humming loudly to himself to drown out the conversation.
Aelius let out a chuckle, "No, no, it's elven biology. See, we have a diet very rich in fibre and cellulose."
"An elf eats, shoots, and leaves." I commented with a wry smile.
"Something like that." Aelius agreed, "Anyway, the funny thing about us, at least compared to other humanoids, is that we have a very strong connection to plant life. Strong enough that when we have undigested cellulose fibres in our bodies, over time our bodies will actually reconstitute those fibres back into living wood. Most of the time we literally have a sapling growing in us."
I stared. I blinked a couple of times. "Wooww..." I eventually breathed out, "That is simultaneously really bizarre and really cool."
Aelius nodded, "And those saplings are where I get the wood for my arrows."
I nodded back, "So you just, spit them up? Like a sword-swallowing routine?" I asked, tilting my head up and miming pulling a sword out of my throat.
Aelius smiled. "Nope." he said.
I blinked.
Aelius continued to smile innocently.
I blinked again.
Littlefinger shot us a glance out of the corner of his eye before he went back to humming with his fingers in his ears.
Another blink, before I asked, "So...how do you...?"
"The other end." Aelius said simply.
"Ah." I sat back for a second before my mind caught up. "Wait, what? Like, your 'rear end' other end?"
Aelius nodded, "Correct."
"Ewww!"
"The short version is, elves excrete wood that can be used for arrow shafts." he went on innocently.
I squinted and stuck my tongue out with a 'bleh'.
"You might say in your particular vernacular that I'm pulling arrows out of my ass." the elf continued.
"I regret asking!" I clapped my hands over my ears.
"That's also the reason why elven blademasters and paladins tend to be so uptight, they literally have a stick up their asses." Aelius cheerfully went on.
"La la la la I can't hear you!" I declared, spinning around just like Littlefinger did before.
"I do have to watch my diet, otherwise I can end up dropping logs..."
|
"You know little of our kind, human," Erisha said sternly.
I felt heat creep into my face and I wanted to turn away from the embarrassment, but I forced myself to keep staring. His eyes narrowed, their beads shining on me with mirror focus.
"In the old legends, elves would dance in a circle. It was said that to relieve oneself inside one of these circles would cause illness. So we became good at holding it until the pre-dawn light."
I couldn't believe it. "If going in the circle was bad, why didn't you just go outside of it?"
He shook his head, cringing. "If you're dumb enough to use a tree in the wee hours of the eve, you deserve to serve your manhood to a wild boar."
|
Avaday_Daydream
|
armageddon_20xx
|
2023-04-23 10:22:19
|
2023-04-23 02:28:33
| 171 | 126 |
jhdlcdz
|
jhcht08
|
12vn8x6
|
12vn8x6
|
[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 didn’t blame you for leaving me.
How could I? You were scared, and vulnerable, and had just watched her overtake me, watched her rip into the body of your friend. What hope is there after that? You had to leave. You had to save yourselves. You matter, as you are, and you matter enough to live. Even if it meant I didn’t.
I expected to die there. Of course you must have expected the same. Even if you could have saved me. Why take the risk? I’m not worth that. Not really. But I guess she thought I was, even after all she did. I’ll never forgive her for what she did. I don’t know how to be grateful, then, that she saved my life right after.
She didn’t say a word to me. She never had. And I was too hurt to speak, so we just sat there in silence every time I was awake to see her caring for my body, feeling so distant from it myself in all the layers of pain and separation. Because I had already believed myself dead, sometimes I didn’t even panic at her presence. I just sat there. Watched. Waited.
I was waiting for you to come. Unfair, I know. But I needed you. I needed you every day. I don’t know how many days it was, I just know that each one was an eternity without you. You never saved me. Not from death. Not from her.
When I got out, a part of me still thought I was dead. I’ve never really felt that alive, because Mama told me life is sacred and I could never be worth all that much. If you saw me, would you think I was a ghost? Would you run and hide?
Would you hurt me?
Again?
|
NotJustRandomLetters
|
Tomorrow_Is_Today1
|
2024-10-05 04:53:10
|
2024-10-05 02:56:06
| 28 | 11 |
lqew75h
|
lqeian1
|
1fw6scr
|
1fw6scr
|
[WP] You were kidnapped by a villain and he gloats about how you're bait for his arch-nemesis, and you'll be dead soon. You sigh and just look at him. "Buddy, its not that hero you need to worry about....its my wife." and he looks at you perplexed.
|
"I've been watching goodlight for sometime and *he* keeps an eye on you. Clearly you mean something to him, so here I have you as bait. And just as he arrives, I will kill you in front of him before darkening his light forever!"
John was still a little groggy from the drug, strapped to this chair while nitefight monologued.
"...You think I'm... Important to goodlight? Like, personally?"
"Yes I believe that's what I just explained" nitefight snapped
"Ah, no. He is just assigned to me, us, actually, it's his job to keep tabs on us. We are not friends. Look just let me go before you get in trouble, you clearly don't know how things work around here"
"I give you points for bluffing, but you aren't going to talk your way out of here. You and your wife will..."
"Wait, my wife?!?" John interrupted. "You did NOT bring her here, did you???"
"Yes, of course!" Nightlight snapped again, annoyed by the interruptions and lack of intimidation this normy displayed... "Goodlight watches both of you, I wasn't sure if both of you were important but it won't matter once goodlight gets" nitefight was cut off yet again.
"Buddy, It's not that hero you need to worry about... It's my wife! You really MUST be new here. If I were..."
"SILENCE!!" It doesn't matter how long I've been here or *how things work here!* I will make my name by taking down my nemesis tonight!"
...
"Have you heard of "Geppetto"?" John asked quietly.
Nitefight paused a half second before replying cautiously. "Yes? What does a supervillain have to do with anything?"
"He is my wife's Godfather, and he is very protective of her" John said almost gently.
Nitefight felt cold and sick, he paled. "Wha...what? No, I never saw him or his men near her!" He sounded desperate, as if he could make it untrue.
"Well we don't get together often, Jess wants to stay out of the villain world, but we are still close. It's why Goodlight keeps tabs on us, he is assigned to by the heros"
Nitefight rushed over undoing the straps frantically. "Nononono! you have to tell him, it was a mistake!!! I would never! Your wife! We'll go free her! I'll never..." His frantic and terrified babbling stopped as he was turning to run to the door, his limbs and body suddenly standing at an odd angle, as if his dead weight was being held up for him, as if he was a puppet. "No!" He squeaked "I'm sorry! I didn't know!" The door opened and a large man stepped in.
"John." He nodded to John who was now standing unsteady by the table.
John spoke quickly. "He didn't know, must be new here, can't you just let..." The large man held up his hand and John stopped, dropping his shoulders. An invisible force pulled a babbling and pleading Nitefight out through the door as if by strings.
"Can you walk John?" The large man asked.
John could hear screams from somewhere.
"I think so. Are you sure you can't just..." John started again.
"How about you let me worry about my business and you mind yours, John. I took him out of the room because I know you're *sensitive*. Jess is already on her way out, she insisted I come find you myself. Let's go." Geppetto turned toward the door.
"Yes papa G. Thank you."
|
Footsteps echoed around Benjamin, but he could not see. "Where am I?" He rustled around on the floor, his shackles nearly coming loose. "Don't try to fight," An ominous voice filled the room. "It'll be all over soon." A door creaks open, and a second, lighter pair of footsteps entered the room. "Sir, security reports a woman at the front gates." A feminine voice spoke. "Wait, what? Is it Franklin's daughter or something?" "Older, looks mid-thirties." "Well, it's not his wife, then, or daughter. Who on earth is it?!"
Benjamin exhaled, prepared for the storm. "My wife. It's my wife." The room was silent for a second, but the masculine voice started up again. "Your wife?" The masculine voice said, in a confused tone. "Yes, my wife. she was ex-military and was dishonorably discharged." "Why?" "You don't want to know, but you will soon." Then, it went dark...
|
NurseMcStuffins
|
Ox_of_Dox
|
2023-02-15 03:03:20
|
2023-02-15 00:28:09
| 28 | 10 |
j8l88zq
|
j8kohla
|
1120hb5
|
1120hb5
|
[WP] Instead of being a super villain like your parents, you ended up joining a company. Now your wildly successful and quite frankly much more closer to world domination than your parents. Your parents can't handle it.
|
It was always the same thing every time.
Parents come up with outlandish and unrealistic scheme for world domination, spend more money than they should to implement it, get found out by heroes, and fight in a climactic battle.
Cliche, tasteless, predictable, *boring*.
Honestly, the only variation in the whole cycle was the outcome. Sometimes both parties would retreat to lick their wounds. Sometimes they'd put the hero down, only to then face a whole team determined to take them down.
When that happened there was usually hospital time and jail time involved. Those were the moments I liked best if I'm being honest. Not that I particularly wanted my parents to be hurt or anything, but I much preferred living with my Aunt June.
Aunt June has always been awesome. While mom and dad were busy cackling about their latest plans in the basement, she would take me out for ice cream or to the park. A historian herself, she always encouraged me to read the classics and to question everything around me.
*"They say that those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it."* She told me once, *"But a lot of people really don't understand what that means. Study your history, my little sunspot. Study it and learn how to see the larger picture. Once you can do that, you'll be unstoppable."*
The words she said that day stuck with me, even though at eight years old I didn't really understand them, and I tried my best to follow her advice. I learned how to study history as it unfolded as well as the stuff from the ancient past, and I began to notice the patterns. Especially between the superheroes and their villains.
Always the same thing every time. Sure, sometimes a villain would win for a little while, but it was never for long. Their rivals would band together or work with the heroes to take them out because of the threat they posed to the world, and everything would reset and then start all over again. It was a cycle. An endless, nauseating, cycle.
And one I refused to participate in.
Against my parent's wishes, I refused to be a part of their schemes. Instead I stubbornly dug my heels in, and insisted on staying out of it. I argued hard that a good, clean, reputation would make me a much more likely candidate for college and I wouldn't have that if I became their new sidekick.
After a lot of debate, a couple of shouting matches, and with my aunt June's support, they finally conceded I had a valid point and stopped trying to rope me into the 'family business'. From that moment on, I kept my head down and quietly made my own plans, and when I was fifteen I managed to plead my case successfully enough to both the heroes and a judge to let me live with my aunt instead.
They watched me for a long time after that, of course. They were suspicious that I was up to something, and wanted to catch me in the act. I didn't mind. If anyone has a right to be paranoid it's a veteran hero who's dealt with one too many betrayals. My parents were less than thrilled, but even my dad learned better than to cross my aunt June when she was mad, and their latest scheme's recklessness had truly infuriated her.
For a petite, relatively meek, historian and librarian my aunt has a mean right hook.
With my parents out of the way, I was finally able to focus on my schoolwork, and to my surprise I flourished. Without the constant interruptions and distractions, my grades soared and with them my confidence. In my senior year I discovered I had both a knack and passion for engineering.
Building things had always been a way to relieve stress, but it wasn't until I decided to take a shop class that I truly began to understand how good I was at it and how much I enjoyed it.
Naturally, when I went to college, I began to study electrical and mechanical engineering and had a lot of fun. I connected especially strongly to other kids who had superheroes or supervillains for parents. They all understood what it was like and how much of a pain in the ass it could be dealing with familial expectations and your parent's shadows. It was how I met my fiance actually.
After school, I got a good internship and began building my way up. I kept my nose clean, kept on the right side of the heroes, and eventually created my own company. A company that is now a multi-national and multi-billion dollar company.
All of which, has very carefully led to this exact moment.
"No." I told my shocked parents, "I'm afraid I can't help you."
"Sweetie, I know this is upsetting..." My mother tried to soothe, "And I promise you, we would've spoken to you first if we'd realized this was your company, but we need these components! We'll finally be able to force those so-called 'heroes' to bend the knee! We'll rule everything!"
"Hm..." I hummed as I sat back against a railing, lamenting my decision to wear a pencil skirt today of all days, "No."
"What do you mean 'no'?!" My father demanded, "The world could be ours! Anything, everything, you ever wanted could be yours!"
I rolled my eyes, "First of all, I already have everything I could ever want and would thank you not to mess that up the way you've tried to mess up literally every other thing in my life with your endless scheming. And second of all..." I looked at my nails with an air of nonchalant dramatics I'd learned straight from my mother, and smirked sharply, "I'm already a thousand times closer to world domination than either of you will ever be."
My smirk widened into an evil smile at their stunned expressions, "What? Did you seriously think I did all this by *chance*? Please. I've been planning this since I was fifteen." I shrugged a little, "Sure, the plan's had some revisions here and there, but I'm happy enough with the outcome."
"I... I don't understand." My mother admitted, confusion visibly warring with hurt, and I gave her a dry look, no longer the gullible child that had caved under mama's tears every time.
"It's quite simple really." I drawled, "There's more than one way to achieve world domination."
My mother opened her mouth to say more but was interrupted by the abrupt arrival of Sunspot and his team.
"Are you alright?" He asked as his friends arrested my parents, "We came as soon as we could."
"I'm fine." I smiled back, "They didn't account for the security upgrades we made recently, and I kept them too distracted to break free."
Sunspot's shoulders relaxed and he smiled back, "Yes, I heard. Good job. I'll see you tonight?"
"Absolutely." I purred, "Bring some red wine when you come. I'm thinking we should have a nice long night in."
I watched in amusement as Sunspot blushed but grinned, "It'd take a world-ending event to keep me away!"
I laughed and nodded, making a mental note to ensure there weren't any such events on the horizon. Once he'd left I calmly ordered the cleanup crews to get started dealing with the mess my parents had made and made my way back to my office, where I'd left my prospective investors hanging when my parents attacked.
"My apologies ladies and gentlemen." I told them, "There was a situation in the labs, but it had been dealt with. Are we good to continue?"
They nodded and I smiled to myself as the negotiations resumed. As I had told my parents, there was more than one way to achieved world domination. Soon my quantum computing capable circuits would become the new global standard. The whole world would run on them, and they would influence every facet of life from every day computing to nanite technology, to customizing biometrically grown replacement organs and other medical advances. And when that happened the world would look to me as it had once looked to Apple and Microsoft in the past.
World domination was easy, as long as you gave the world what it wanted in return.
|
"Hey, Dmitri, we're gonna hit up the Cigar bar tonight after work. You down?", a colleague asked.
"Sorry man, I've got dinner with my parents tonight.", he lamented.
"Alright, see you tomorrow then."
"Yeah."
Dmitri hoped the terse response wasn't perceived as too rude, but his friends at work already had a good idea of his relationship with his parents. To most people, they were known as Boris and Lara Strelnikoff. But to a select few they were the merciless villains, *Plague and Disorder,* genius criminals who'd made multiple attempts to cause wanton destruction and terror with the aim of global domination. They were notorious for managing to keep themselves from dying or going to prison for decades. Despite this impressive feat, their most crucial plots had always managed to be foiled by superheroes or authorities. The Strelnikoffs were good at compartmentalizing their work and home lives, but these recurring career setbacks started to leak into how they raised their son
Dmitri exited the company garage as the street lights slowly turned themselves on. Thinking of home, his mind went back to his childhood. He had a normal happy one for the most part. But it was around when we turned 12 that his parents had returned home with torn up costumes, singed hair, and sooty faces. He didn't ask what happened, but later that night he was kept awake by the sound of their arguing.
"That blasted Cat-Man once again sticking his dirty paws in our business!" his father snarled through clenched teeth. "I'll bury him alive for this."
"I hope you do eventually,"replied mother. "Because it seems you did everything to allow him to escape."
Boris exploded, "And what is that supposed to mean?!"
She rolled her eyes derisively,"You put one person to guard him and you didn't even have him restrained or incapacitated. We were THIS close to blowing up Congress, Boris. But how many times have we overlooked something that bit us in the--"
"Ok, I'll own that. But you always spend the most crucial parts of our plans drinking champagne and boasting arrogantly about our imminent success. If I recall correctly, you gave Cat-Man the entire playbook!" Boris by now was red-faced and spitting and young Dmitri peeked timidly from the door of his room at this display...
Eventually, his parents started placing their hopes and dreams on Dmitri. He realized this as they pressured him to attend League of Injustice meetings in the hopes of getting a recommendation to a villain University. Lara wanted her son to be an evil doctor, and she even sewed a lab coat for him. Meanwhile, his parents schemes to cause an asteroid collision, a worldwide currency inflation, and a worldwide mutant chicken pox virus all failed. They weren't getting younger, and their dreams of world domination were getting farther and farther away.
Then Dmitri dropped a bomb on them, figuratively. "I'm going to business school. I'd like to get involved in a tech startup." His parents protested, then threatened, then pleaded with him to reconsider. Finally, they accepted begrudgingly. The relationship had inevitably strained. But Dmitri was too focused on his studies and then his career. He and his partners had recently gone public with a new social media app valued in billions. As if that wasn't enough, he had also gained an executive position at the top investment bank in the country.
He arrived and knocked on the door. His father opened up, "I'm surprised you felt the need to knock, Mr. big shot. Welcome home then. Lara! Your son is here!"
Her voice rang out from inside. "Yay! The food is almost ready, You all go take a seat at the table."
This already felt like it'd be a long evening for Dmitri, and he braced himself for it.
"I made your favorite, darling: Borscht and Chicken Tenders." his mother smiled warmly.
"Thank you mother." replied Dmitri. He didn't have the heart to say it wasn't his favorite any longer since the past 20 years.
The meal was quiet, with polite conversation. Dmitri listened as his father complained about henchman unions on strike and how the price of nerve gas had risen tremendously. But his sneaking suspicions were made true shortly after dessert.
"And you, Dmitri, you've done pretty well for yourself I must say." stated Boris.
"Thank you, Dad. I guess I've just been lucky." shrugged Dmitri.
"Luck, nonsense. Destiny." his fathers eyes gleamed oddly. Lara looked on proudly at her son, unbothered by the obvious change in her husbands demeanor.
"Uh...destiny?"
"Yes. You've put yourself in control of billions of dollars in assets. You have direct authority to manipulate a network of millions of users worldwide. Dmitri, you are closer than we've ever been to finally making that leap to the top." Boris replied in rising excitement.
Dmitri shook his head and was about to respond, but his father cut him off.
"We will destroy industry, influence the masses, and raise an army to conquer the superpowers of the world! I'll make a top notch virus, and your mother can start some natural disasters. It'll be childs play, son."
Dmitri was at a loss, but he decided he preferred to kick the can down the road as opposed to a direct confrontation now. "That sounds interesting, dad. We can talk about that later though. I've got some pictures that mom wants to see." His mother squealed in delight, while Boris looked deflated yet hope in his eyes.
The End
|
Kytrinwrites
|
Young-Roshi
|
2023-06-10 18:17:58
|
2023-06-10 17:07:44
| 200 | 64 |
jnoonow
|
jnof1tk
|
1461yc6
|
1461yc6
|
[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."
|
The scent of blood and smoke hangs thick in the air, coating the nose and throat with its sharp, acidic taste like a pungent candle lit in a small room. The whole neighborhood was in ruins, skyscrapers and apartment buildings crumbling to dust, the screams of those still trapped inside swiftly being silenced. It was like a horrible symphony, the sound of the wreckage continually collapsing paired with the screech of sirens, the wailing of the trapped.
And here I stand, in the midst of my ruined community, watching as the so-called ‘*hero*’ of our city reaches out a hand to the man who caused all of this.
“You’re going to jail for a long time Destructor-” The hero declares, yanking him up by his collar and binding his hands behind his back. The shining white of his untouched outfit is a heavy contrast to his surroundings, as though he were a statue that had been left untouched by the chaos of the past hour. Hair still perfectly swooped back, his body held no evidence of the fight that just concluded. Bile rose in my throat as I watched him throw the villain over his shoulder, a man that even as he was being apprehended shouted his plans to do it again, to do it on a grander scale that no ones seen before.
I stare at them, numb.
“Y-you’re really going to just- let him go?” I mutter, shocked at the display before me. Virtue Man paused, and turned to face me. Me, covered in ash and blood, both mine and my families- Me, who’d just lost everyone and everything that had ever given my simple life meaning- *Me*, who no longer had any purpose or direction in my life.
“If I kill him, how am I any better than him?” He said, in that godawful ‘holier than thou’ tone. My chest heaves with rage, my face flushing red. Bitterness floods my veins, clouds my mind. All I feel is anger, towards Virtue Man, towards Destructor, towards my bus that was five minutes late, ultimately keeping me from being in the apartment building with my loved ones when it was destroyed.
“B-better than him?” I scoff, laughing. “Better than him?! I don’t know, have you ever killed thousands of people for the hell of it? Have you ever poisoned the water supply, experimented on unwilling victims, bombed a library because, ‘the librarian gave you a dirty look’?! What the hell is wrong with you?! He’s just going to escape, and kill thousands if not millions more!” I shout, storming towards them.
“I understand your pain, but-” Virtue man began, before I cut him off.
“Understand my pain? If you understood, he would be *dead*.” I look him dead in the eye. “Everyone he’s killed since the last time he escaped? Their blood is on ***your*** hands. Every orphan, widow, or childless parent he's created? Is on your hands.”
He lets me say my peace, before responding. “I will never kill any person, no matter the reason-” He states firmly, before turning to walk away.
I just start laughing. This so-called hero would let thousands die, all because he didn't want to get his hands dirty? Fine. I look around the ruins, my eyes quickly spotting just what I was looking for. A dead officer, her gun still in hand. I move quickly, and swipe it, the gun waying heavy in my hand. I rush towards Virtue Man, and aim for the limp villain thrown over his shoulder.
I took a deep breath, remembering what my grandfather had taught me as a child, and pulled the trigger.
Because he might value keeping his hands and conscience clean, but *I* have nothing left to lose.
|
It was almost over. It'd been so long but we were so close now. Twenty years spent hunting down this piece of shit. He wasn't getting away this time. Not on my life.
My lungs were on fire. Straight battery acid ran through my veins. My heart was about to detonate. I kept running.
He could only run straight for a bit so I took a chance, raised my revolver and pulled the trigger. Missed. The bullet pinged off a vent just to the right of him.
*Two left! Aim your fuckin shots, you moron!*
I saw the edge of the roof up ahead - he was running out of runway, and quick. I brought my revolver up again, ready to hold it on him when he stopped. But he didn't. He didn't slow down at all and jumped.
I stopped at the edge and took the best stance I could. The gap was across an alleyway and the next building was a story shorter. I could have made it. The fucker made it, too, and stumbled when he landed. I saw my chance, took aim and fired.
My heart just about leapt into my throat when he yelled out and I saw him hit the deck. He was down but he wasn't out. My stomach dropped as I saw him scrambling to get back up on his feet.
That's when Bobby, that beautiful bastard, caught up and jumped across, himself.
*Well, shit, guess it's my turn.*
((Part 1 of ? - just got busy, will add more in replies))
|
FinancialBank8293
|
jimmysaint13
|
2024-03-08 20:37:02
|
2024-03-08 09:47:07
| 20 | 11 |
ktyxljl
|
ktwaq8j
|
1b9dtij
|
1b9dtij
|
[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.
|
That was fine, actually. Killian didn't even know *how* to play chess. He was just hoping that Death didn't either. He looked in front of him at a scene he almost couldn't see if he focused too hard, but when he relaxed was like a mental rolodex forming in front of him. He went through the games, not really having played most of them. Sure, he had his modest stack or a few games per console, but his family couldn't afford all the new games that would come out.
"It just isn't in the budget. I'm sorry, bud...", his father would say to a solemn look on his face.
Killian saw a few titles he recognized from children in his school talking about them. Remembering how he'd read magazines, and see early internet pages about the games, imagining what they're like to play.
"Any game?" Killian asked, looking up at the Gothic figure before him.
"Any game...." Death replied; firmly, but perhaps a bit softer than before.
"How much time to I have to choose?,' Killian asked; nonchalantly, but swiftly moving through his options, 'I'm not really sure how long it will take me...."
"Time doesn't work that way here," Death answered. "I've been around since there was *something* to be *around*. For me, and you right now, time is...not. So, take your time...I don't mind."
"Oh..." Killian said, feeling a little more reassured. "Does it get lonely?"
"You know, I don't normally answer these sorts of questions...." the shadowy figure said as he steadied himself, a mix of frustration and confusion starting to feel like a dull ache in his boney frame.
"That's okay,' Killian responded softly, 'I only ask because it seems like you've probably brought billions of souls across the alleged lake-"
"It's not alleged...."
"-and you could recite their whole lives to them, but you still don't truly know them. It just seems lonely."
"Yes, but like you stated; I know all about everyone I bring across to the other side." Death said, somehow giving out a raspy sigh as though he had functioning lungs behind his cloak and ribs. "So, in terms of loneliness, I *also* know that you-"
Killian cut him off with a jolting celebratory cry.
"I found it! Pokemon Snap!" Killian cried out. "I played this game until I physically couldn't make the game run anymore."
Killian pulled the game out of the air, as though the solid copy had been there the whole time: Untouched and pristine. Killian clenched the game in his hands. His eyelids quivered slightly as tiny liquid bulbs formed behind them.
"That's a one player game...." Death said, a little perturbed by the suggestion.
"Yup!" Killian said excitedly.
"We would each have the play the game, and then compare scores." Death was starting to piece together what the intention was at this moment.
"Yup!" Killian responded, blinking away a little distortion from his eyes.
"It might take a while." Death continued, looking down at the game. "There's a lot of secrets to unlock to get a chance at completing it."
"That's ok. I mastered this game when I was a kid. I can't really challenge you in a multiplayer game, so...." Killian trailed off as he finished speaking.
"We have time...." Death responded softly. "Let's play."
|
I paused for a moment, considering my options. I knew this was a trap. It’s not like I was ever going to win against death. It’s not even a real thing, more of a concept. There’s no way I’m going to win poker against it, least of all chess. I figured I’d get it out of the way. But… if they insist.
I spied a hint of a game over its left ear. At least I would go out with my favourite video game.
“Let’s play Skyrim, Death. There’s really no way to win, but you did say I could choose any game ever made. So let’s play Skyrim.”
Its void eyes started at me. Then it blinked. Then it chuckled. “One playthrough? One character? Sure, you play, I’ll watch.” It paused again. “If you’re sure about this, it’s going to be a long time before you finish, I’m sure. I like human food. How do you feel about Pizza?”
Now it was my turn to blink. Can it even eat without a mouth?
“Yes.”
Oh. “Uh, sure. Can you like… read my mind or something? If so, you know exactly what kind of pizza I like. I’ll also take a beer, if you can.”
Death held up a newly conjured six pack of spotted cow. I grinned. Sure, we were gambling over my afterlife here but how bad could an entity who offers free pizza and beer really be?
|
InsignificantZilch
|
Kittykatkillua
|
2024-01-04 04:38:05
|
2024-01-04 04:19:07
| 54 | 14 |
kg8ipp9
|
kg8gai1
|
18xsoh8
|
18xsoh8
|
[WP] You are a dog. Your master, fearless in the face of thunder and mailmen, reeks of fear. Something terrifying beyond comprehension is coming. Your master calls it... a tornado.
|
I wish I could talk.
I do my ‘speak’ trick when I feel the danger coming, but dad looks confused. He tells me to quiet down and asks what’s gotten into me.
I’m so scared.
Dad put us into the car a little while back and we went for a long drive. He brought all my toys—thank dogness—but I don’t get to run on the sand anymore. I miss the ocean sometimes, but our new home is pretty cool. Dad lets me run around in our awesome yard whenever I want to. He even helped me make these huge new friends that like to make a cool sound whenever I get too close. I think they like me.
I have the best dad.
But this is scary. I remember those nasty, loud sky noises that happened when I felt this way before, but this is different. This is more like those times that our home shook and my water dish fell over. I hope that doesn’t happen again. That was too scary.
Everything is quiet, except, my new friends are loud; they also seem scared.
I need to help them!
I whine and cry and howl. I let dad know that something dangerous is happening. He cocks his head at me and throws me a beef treat. My favorite! He sits back down on the couch and tells me I need to be quiet, but I’m still a good boy.
I wish I could talk!
I finish my treat—it is beef flavored, I can’t pass that up—and I start pawing at the door. I whimper and bark. I can’t give up. My new friends need me. Dad needs me. Dad turns on the light box and stares at it. Now is not the time for the light box, Dad!
Finally he gets up and opens the door. He lets me out and he looks at the sky and says a bad word. I don’t know what made him say the bad word. The sky looks like the sky to me. I again bark and hop and start to nip at his ankles. He looks concerned.
I’m finally breaking through!
A loud noise whines across the sky. What the heck is that? It is too scary for me. I run to my new friends to see if they know what that noise is. Dad shouts after me and calls me back.
But I can’t let my friends down.
I make it to their kennel—much bigger than mine because they’re a lot bigger than me. It smells sooo good in here. They are huddled in a corner, puppies under mommies. The mommy friends say ‘mooo!’ to me. They know it is dangerous too.
Dad bursts into the kennel and shouts for me. He puts on my leash but I hardly think this is time for a walk! Dad says ‘bad word, bad word, bad word’ like he used to when I pooped in our old house. Am I in trouble?
“You’re not in trouble, buddy,” says Dad. That’s good. I’m too scared to be in trouble. Dad talks to my new friends and tells them it’s going to be ok. They don’t seem to trust him. They don’t know he’s the best Dad yet.
Dad takes me away from my friends and back to our home. The wind is really whipping! It reminds me of the Ocean. I can hear the ocean roar too. How cool! Maybe I can finally run on the sand again.
He opens a door and takes me into a cold, quiet place. I’ve sniffed it before but he told me ‘no’. This is so cool! He closes the door and comes to snuggle me. Dad looks so scared. I am too, but I know I have to be strong for Dad. I do some zoomies in the dark. He usually laughs when I do them. Not this time. Maybe he’s sad. Is he scared for my friends? I trot over and lay my head on his lap. He smiles. Invitation received. I give him the most kisses I can offer.
I love my Dad.
It is loud outside. I think the ocean is out there now. I kinda want to go see it, but it sounds scarier than I remember. Dad says I’m a ‘mid-west’ pup now. Maybe that means I don’t like oceans anymore. The waves sound mean and the crashes are too loud. It sounds louder that time we saw fire in the sky while we sat on the sand. I hope this is done soon. I’d like to run in my yard, and I really gotta go potty.
I hope my friends are ok. I want to tell them about how brave our Dad is.
I wish I could talk.
________
r/InMyLife42Archive
|
"Dad! Dad! Tell me a story Dad!"
Fuji was at my side again, his refusal to let these old bones rest would be infuriating, if I didn't love the little pup so much.
"Absolutely buddy, what kind of story do you want to hear?"
He thought for a moment seemingly unsure how to answer. After a long pause he came to a conclusion.
"Tell me a scary story, the scariest story you've got!"
"You sure buddy, it's a pretty scary one."
"I'm not a puppy anymore! I can handle it!"
He was, absolutely still a puppy, the little goofball was only 9, he'd only been through 1 winter! The memories of him bouncing around in the snow brought a smile to my snout.
"Ok, you win, I'll tell you the story of my most terrifying day. If you don't believe me, you can ask Marsha, she was there too."
As if summoned, Marsha slunk into the room, like a shadow at dush creeping along the wall.
"What are you roping me into Doc?"
Fuji jumped, startled by the old cats sudden appearance. I chuckled at his surprise.
"Nothing Marsh, Fuji here just wanted to know the story of The Tornado."
Marsha shook her head.
"I'll never understand why you dogs insist on constantly reliving your worst experiences. I'm certainly not interested in such practices in futility. Now move over, this is the only spot on the couch with a good sunbeam, not that I'll be listening."
I rolled my eyes, she hides that soft side pretty well, unfortunately for her, I know better.
"Ok Fujita, this is the story of the most terrifying day of my life, but also the story of the best day of my life, the day we found you."
|
None
|
Im_The_Comic_Relief_
|
2023-02-16 19:58:40
|
2023-02-16 17:14:06
| 116 | 74 |
j8t7tff
|
j8shedi
|
113t1bf
|
113t1bf
|
[WP] Turns out there is a 'special place in hell'. But it's not for the worst: it's for good souls so utterly convinced they're hellbound, so they can 'repent' and accept they are indeed good people.
|
Dave found himself standing at the entrance of a quiet movie theater. Though dimly lit, he could make out the red carpets and walls of… an AMC, maybe? He *was* dead, right? I guess ticket prices really were killer.
He sighed, glad he hadn’t said that one aloud.
“Ahem. I’m sure that joke would pass at a kid’s birthday party, but you can do better.”
Dave raised his eyes from the floor to the food kiosk, where a large man stood, arms folded and single eyebrow raised.
“Oh come here already. You want something? Drinks are on the house. We got a better selection than you might think down here.”
Down here, huh. So he really did end up—
“Oh God, not the puppy dog eyes,” the man sighed. “Yes yes, you’re exactly where you think you are. Welcome to Hell. Or the waiting room, anyway. Sufficiently dark and red to fulfill your expectations?”
The man gestured vaguely to their surroundings while handing over a large cup of a black… liquid. Dave eyed it suspiciously.
“It’s Pepsi. Relax. You’re dead anyhow, you really need to watch your diet?”
He took a tentative sip. Wasn’t this Coke?
The man grinned at him mischievously, baring teeth of a hollow white. Dave took in the man’s features for the first time. An oddly angular face, and black hair that resembled matted fur.
“Oh ho, look who’s finally out of their stupor. Finally interesting enough for ya?”
The man cracked his knuckles and began reciting a speech he had clearly been through many times before.
“Like I said previously, welcome to Hell. Each person gets a custom welcome unique to them. Your own personal purgatory, built by yours truly, for you! Truly!”
He flashed the same stupid grin. Dave couldn’t tell if he had just come up with that or been telling that joke for millennia. He had a feeling the man would be equally self-satisfied in either case.
“Anywho, the rules are simple. This is your judgment, where we look through your life together until you understand why you’re here. The essence of Hell is facing reality, and you aren’t leaving until we free you of all your delusions…”
Delusions? Dave had always known he belonged here, his life had only oscillated between small disappointments and large failures, and he had no delusions about that.
“— you back yet? Hell to Dave? Ah there he is. *Like* I was saying, you’re going to face reality here, and this venue was specially prepared to be the perfect place for you to do so. Follow me to theater 13.”
Dave obeyed, somewhat impatient to get this all over with.
The theater doors opened to a small studio apartment, with a simple couch and TV in the center of the room.
“It’s 4K, don’t look so disdainfully. Sit down, we have a movie to watch.”
Dave sat in the center of the sofa, taken somewhat aback when the man sat next to him, giving him the universal “scooch” gesture.
“I’m here to oversee *and* explain, so we’ll be watching together. It should be starting any moment now. Popcorn?”
Dave rolled his eyes and pushed the buttery hand away. The thought of re-watching his “delusions” did not whet his afterlife appetite.
With a flicker, an old-school TV reel appeared on the screen. Cinematic.
**Delusion #1: Those Who Care About You**
It was a video of his daughter, sobbing on her bed with a blanket clutched to her chest. His ex-wife sat beside, both arms around their child, leaving her own tears to fall unabated.
Dave rose angrily. “What the hell is the point of this, exactly? Is this what happens when she’s with her mom? Is my *delusion* that I was a decent parent that she could bring her problems to? Is the point that she trusted her mom more? What—“
“These are all the people that cried over your death.”
Dave stopped. His voice was still venomous, but quieter now. “Ha. So I made my kid cry, is that it? Or is the joke that no one else even noticed I’m gone besides my kid and the woman contractually obligated to contact me a few times a year?”
“Would the tears of a thousand people mean more than hers? Now sit down, we aren’t done yet. It’s rude to make a scene in a movie theater.”
**Delusion #2: Successes and Failures**
The TV played a short clip of him giving his daughter a dollhouse he had bought for her birthday. He remembered her trying to hide her confusion.
She was still his baby, to him, it was hard to believe she was growing up when he wasn’t around. He had missed the dollhouse age by a year or two, at least. Another failure.
“Stop getting lost in your own head, you wallowing moron. Watch.”
As past-Dave left the room, he saw his daughter sigh, then hold the box tightly with a smile. The scene fast forwarded to that night, as his daughter was surrounded by presents in her room. She held a small, content smile as she opened the dollhouse up and admired each room in turn.
Dave had nothing to say. He didn’t know what he felt. Surprise, relief, joy, longing, sorrow, it all came over him in waves.
The man put a gentle arm on his shoulder.
“Watch.”
**Delusion #3: Worth**
A young woman stood on a podium in cap and gown. What was this one about? Who was this girl?
She began to speak.
“My dad died when I was barely 12. When the cops came by, they said he had crashed, driving home at 2 AM after working overtime.
Once I had calmed down a little, they handed me a box, saying it seemed like it was for me and that he had probably bought it that night.”
“It was one of those self-cooling blankets!” She laughed. “I don’t think he knew what to get me anymore, so he just hunted for something practical that I would use. So like him…”
She trailed off for a moment, then found herself and began again.
“I bring this up because it’s why I’m here today. Even as a kid I knew he worked himself to the bone for me, and I was never able to tell him everything I wanted to say. So here I am. This is my thanks.”
“For the gifts, and the memories, and every precious second of time he gave me when that was all he had to give. I hope you hear this somewhere, and I hope you can be proud of the girl you raised.”
Death held the man close to his chest. He would sob uncontrollably for hours, but time meant little in this realm, though it meant everything in the other. He would take all the time necessary for each child of his to face reality.
“You did the best you could.”
|
"Hello, welcome to Hell! I will be guide for your stay here, and will make sure you have a devilishly good time!"
Sara's fears had finally come true, she indeed went to Hell because she fed her kittens too little. Across from her sat Jack, a veteran who knew he'd have to pay for having too much fun, willingly participating in the war. There were so many others as well, people who had done nothing wrong and were forgiven by everyone except themselves.
"Take the time to meet all your cohorts. You'll be seeing a lot of them."
All souls go to Heaven, they see the pearly gates and pass on through. There they go through the detector, and the path bifurcates. Those of whom who have no untoward feelings directed at them go straight to Heaven. But when the detector blinks red, they go down the other path, straight to the judge.
"You will all be assigned partners for the labor that starts tomorrow. Should you lose sight of your assigned partner, you will be sent into the corner."
The judge reviews what caused the negative feelings. Those undeserving of them go out the side door, back to Heaven. Those deserving, are assigned a commensurate stay in Hell. It starts with what other people feel they deserve, and the judge adjusts it to be fair.
"You will do as told. If you do not do as told, we'll scream at you until you cry."
There's a special group of people who are angry at themselves, feeling they deserve nothing but Hell. The detector blinks red, the judge sees how they have judged themselves, and has no choice but to send them to Hell.
"Answer truthfully when questioned about your worst fears. We'll need that to prepare punishment for you."
The big boss upstairs doesn't like good people in Hell, but the system will not allow them there until they forgive themselves. And so, they worked out a deal. Hell will get to scare them, but not physically punish them. But they better make it upstairs within a couple days, or a week, at most.
"Take a deep breath, smell the sulfur in the air. Feel the heat, and look at all the work designed to torture you. Welcome to Hell!"
The devil always has a smile. It's a fight to see who will get to welcome the new group of "sinners". You get to scare them all you want, and as long as you do not physically hurt them, you can feast upon their anguish. While it isn't as good as actually torturing a soul, the irony of the situation gives the devil some special pleasure.
"Sara, you filled out that your worst fear is having a snake squeeze you to death. Is that right?"
She broke down, and crying, admitted she lied. "No, actually, its a black snake. Oh, please, don't do black!"
"Uh oh, lying is very bad. We're going to have to give you some very scary punishment!" The devil let out an evil laugh. A shiver went down Sara's spine. The devil morphed into a long snake, a cobra with a large hood and beady eyes. It slowly slithered around Sara as she cowered in fear. She could hardly breathe, she could hardly scream, and after coiling around her four or five times, it looked her straight in the face and stuck out its forked tongue. Sara screamed. Slowly, the snake's color darkened, as its smile looked even more wicked than before. Sara fainted. She woke up in heaven, believing she paid for everything she ever did wrong.
"Jack, now its your turn. Your questionnaire is empty. Why didn't you fill out your worst fear?"
"My worst fear was outliving my wife. She died last year. Nothing else fazes me."
The devil took the form of his wife, and screamed for help, explaining what they did to her in Hell every day. Jack told himself it was all fake. But he couldn't take it. He broke after just 2 minutes. That's when the devil formed a knife to "kill" her a second time. Jack screamed. He thrust the knife at her. Jack fainted. He woke up in Heaven believing he paid for everything he ever did wrong.
Those were the easy ones. There's always one or two. The rest are treated like children. Most cry within 2 or 3 days. A week later, the cycle repeats with fresh souls.
|
Nesious
|
chacham2
|
2023-03-21 19:48:19
|
2023-03-21 19:22:05
| 389 | 31 |
jd4i1fc
|
jd4dwhy
|
11xg5nk
|
11xg5nk
|
[WP] You have befriended a very, very old dragon. you're no knight, no special person. just a person, writing a book. today, your friend is dying.
|
26th day of the Harvest Season
He's getting worse. He barely heard me as I entered the cave. Usually he could hear me when I was at the foot of the mountain, thousands of feet down. I told him as much, but he scoffed at me and told me he rolled into a rock, so it was lodged into his ear. A feeble excuse if I ever heard one, but I'm not exactly willing to argue with a dragon.
His breath had been shuddering as I entered, but when he noticed me he forced it to be even once more. I hate that he does that, that he tries to hide his pain from me.
Today I read him the tale of the Golden Dragon. It's some far-fetched story about a dragon so attached to her hoard that she decided to melt her treasure to her scales. When I first came to him with the story all those years ago he told me that he had met the matriarch, but I wasn't sure whether he was jesting or not.
I suppose it's possible. The centuries show their mark in the lines around his eyes, the great length of his spinal plates, the weight of his twisting horns. I remember how huge he was when I first encountered him, how the spread of his wings blocked out the sun. Dragons never stop growing, even when they can no longer fly, or walk, or leave their caves. So the last year he was still growing, his colossal form melding into the stone of his home. He used to try and stretch his wings, or shift his body. He hasn't moved in weeks now.
He closed his eyes towards the end of the story. Nothing new; he always used to fall asleep at the most tedious of my tales. But today it was different. I could feel the weight of his eyelids as I watched them close, more than I feel the weight of the stones from the quarry, or the elk I'd dragged up here.
I'm going to him again tomorrow. I usually visit him only once a week, but I feel I need to. Plus, the previous week he thought I had visited him the evening before.
I guess he's lived for so long, and seen so much, that a few days mean very little to him anymore.
***
27th day of the Harvest Season
When I entered, I had to call his name to rouse him. He didn't even startle as he might have once, simply cracked an eye open and watched me with tired eyes.
Today I told him a new story, one he knew very well. I told him the story of a young man, set out to make his mark, seeking out the fabled Great Dragon of the realm. He began smiling as I told him of how the young man made a relentless journey to the foot of a mighty mountain, the valley around it littered with bones. And how the Great Dragon heard him coming from his perch on the summit, and the majestic image of how the massive creature soared down on graceful wings, wings that blotted out the sun. I spoke of the young man's fear and awe, and how he fell to his knees in reverence. I told him of how the dragon gifted him what he asked for, a small trinket from his hoard to take back to his village and give to the love of his life as a betrothal gift. I couldn't stop my own smile as I told him of how the young man returned, first every season, then every few months, to visit the Great Dragon and hear his booming tales of aeons of adventures and battles, terror and joy. And how the man and the dragon became comrades, friends, brothers.
He had closed his eyes early on, but the smile had never left his face. I lay a hand on his snout as I lowered my voice, speaking of how the young man's lady had died early on, and of how the village shunned him for befriending what they called a savage beast. I almost whispered when I got to the part of how they tied him up and were ready to throw him into the river, before their screams rose with the smoke of their burning houses, and of how mighty wings that blotted out the sun scooped him up ever so gently, and carried him far away.
I paused in my story then, breathing deeply. Without opening his eyes, my friend gently licked up my tears with his forked tongue. I rubbed my hand over the scars on his snout as I told him of how the dragon helped him build his own home, nearby the mountain where he dwelled, and of how the man visited him every day, broken in spirit, and of how the Great Dragon mended his spirit with his tales once more, tales of love and loss and betrayal and compassion. And I told him of how the Great Dragon grew slower, and older, just as the man's years began to bend his back, and how their visits became weekly and not daily because of the dull pain they were both in.
I told him of how the man had attempted to build another stable block for his mare's foals, and of his shame when he found he could no longer carry the blocks to his cart. I told him of how the dragon had stopped flying over the forest as he once had, and how he came less and less to the man's house.
Finally, I whispered to him of the call of the sky, the pull of the clouds that had seized both man and dragon. I said of how long ago they'd been in the sky together, floating on high winds, and how each wished more and more every day to return to the blue.
And the Great Dragon sighed, a heavy, pained sigh, and his features softened and his eyes relaxed. And I laid my hand on his head, noting how his shoulders seemed to be relieved of their centuries-old burden.
And I whispered to him, "I'll see you soon."
The journey back was even worse than up. My horse seemed fine, but every step jolted my body. It was all I could do to make it into the house.
I've opened the hen houses and the gate to the duck pond is open. I left the stable doors ajar, too. I would hate for them to be stuck alone and die of starvation.
But this is my last journal entry. For many a moon have I recorded the tales of the Great Dragon. For whoever finds this, I do hope you appreciate his stories. I won't need them where I'm going.
The call of the blue is strong. And I can ignore it no longer. I have someone waiting for me.
|
Hurrying into the hall, I saw him. His iridescent scales had dulled and he seemed smaller somehow. Although when I had last seen him but a month ago just after he was taken ill, I could tell that he had worsened.
Guards stood around him, protecting him from any who may wish to harm a dragon. They are our gods, yet so many seem to want to hurt them. As I hastened to my friend's side, a burly man in ceremonial uniform put his arm out in front of me.
"I'm afraid that civilians are not allowed to approach the great dragon," he said, "Please stand back if you wish to pay your respects."
Slamiarth was talking to his rider, a slim man that had known him for a decade. Of course he hadn't been doing much for most of that time, the dragon being too old to be active, to be in the thick of the battle. In private, Slamiarth had told me that he missed fighting, that he would much rather perish in war against the wyverns than from some boring disease.
While I tried to duck past the guard, the dragon glanced away from the man by his side. He dismissed his rider and then raised his great head and gently nudged the guard away from me, before slumping again to the ground. The guard glared at me as I strolled towards the creature that I had known for five times as long as its rider, and placed my hand on his flank.
"How are you doing?" I said.
"Terribly. They've given up on reassuring me that I'll be fine snd instead treat me like some royal corpse, as people who I've barely ever met come to say their goodbyes. How I wish I could just dive into the sea and be done with it."
"Are you not allowed to swim?"
"I am, but they're always guarding me to make sure I come to no harm. I've lived for 40 times as long as any of them, twice as long as any other of my brethren, I think I can look after myself. Anyway, hiw is your book going on?"
"I'm on the final draft. It'll be finished by next week, I'm sure."
The dragon laughed, then tensed from the exertion. "How many times have I heard you say that. 'It'll be published by next week, I'll read it to you.' Yet you never have."
"It's not my fault I'm a slow writer!"
Slamiarth laughed again, then broke into a coughing fit. The burly guard strode up to me and took my arm.
"I think that the Great Dragon Slamiarth is tired, mistress. Let him spend some time with his rider." he said.
"I am fine!" Slamiarth shouted. "Leave her alone." Then, jerking my arm free, I ran back to his side.
"Climb onto my back." He said. "We'll show them if I'm tired."
As I clambered up onto his scales, no saddle, no harness, nothing to hold onto but his scales and his mane, the crowd gasped. A civilian, riding a dragon? This was unheard of! The shouting of the guards below was drowned out by the flapping of huge wings as Slamiarth rose off he ground, smashing the ceiling of the beautifully decorated hall. He rose above the town, let out a roar of satisfaction then plunged into the sea, me clinging onto his back.
He flew to the open sea, jumping and playing. I knew he was tired. Each wingflap seemed harder than the last. But we played together, and as the sun set he returned me to the land, depositing me on the clifftops.
As we parted, the last thing he said to me was "Goodbye, midget," a joke we had had for 50 years.
"Goodbye, giant," I replied. Then he dove into the water and was gone.
I could have sworn that as he touched the water his scales were as bright as when we had first met. I miss him still, but in that last moment it felt as if we'd only just met, me still a teen and he in his prime. I'm glad of that.
|
--BeePBooP-
|
DeathHasNoMeaning
|
2023-02-05 16:04:24
|
2023-02-05 13:38:19
| 29 | 11 |
j7bk2ih
|
j7b1q6r
|
10uau72
|
10uau72
|
[WP] You believed yourself normal, hearing and reading of so many tales of people with abilities. One day, you brush by someone and gain the ability to read their minds. Unbeknownst to you, you have the ability to copy/replicate other's superpowers.
|
"So, you wanted something?"
I looked at the tiny demon that I had somehow conjured into existence. I had been filled with fury at the fact that I had caught my husband cheating on me for the third time and wanted some revenge, I decided to cook to calm myself down and added a bit too much of his specialty Carolina Reaper hot sauce. While I was cursing myself, because I had to eat as well and my pallette doesn't tolerate heat that well, I heard a *pop* and there she was.
"Um," I replied. "I didn't. How did you get here?"
The little minx was actually chewing gum as she looked at her nails and rolled her eyes! "You brewed the summoning potion and called my name. How else would I have been able to come up from Hell and be here in this..." a look of disgust crossed her face as she took in the sunflower curtains in the half window above the kitchen sink and the hand painted flowering herbs I had spent months researching and painting by hand along the baseboards "quaint hovel you call a kitchen?"
I looked at her figure. She dressed like a teenager, with black and red frills along the edge of her skirt and the tank top clinging to a torso that seemed to have seen better days with the holes and threadbare nature of the fabric. The hot pink polish on her nails seemed out of place and the horns on her head looked like they had been filed down to nubs.
She also appeared to be on the verge of starvation. Her skin seemed thin and frail as it covered the bones of her arms. From what I could see, her stomach appeared bloated like the children in third world countries that are advertised on television as being eligible for adoption.
"So. Yes? You wanted something? Because honestly I've got better things to do then stand here and smell that swill you've got burning on the stove."
Burning? Oh my gods! The food was burning! Turning quickly I removed the pot from the stove top and turned off the burner. "You seem too young to be a demon as you claim. How old are you?"
Another gum pop proceeded the heavy sigh. "I'm thousands of years old. I only look this way because it's my natural form. You caught me as I was painting my nails. You do know there is typically a ceremony you mortals have to do to give us time to properly prepare to cross over, right?"
I lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug motion as I started cleaning up the meal I had botched. "Since I wasn't planning on summoning you, I can hardly be held at fault for not doing the right ceremony." As I turned around I saw she had my cell phone in her hand. "Hey! That's mine!"
She raised an eyebrow. "Now I know why I was summoned. Accidentally or not, you need my help."
"No, no I don't."
"Sure you do." Her eyes began to glow a mixture of gold and red as she looked at me. "You've given him three children and forty years of your life. In the last six months he's cheated on you with the same woman three times and now she's expecting his child and he wants you to give them the house you bought and pay alimony as he won't be able to work for the first five years of this child's life due to his desire to be a stay at home parent. Tonight you're expected to sign the divorce papers. Right?"
The tears I had been fighting for the last several hours threatened to overwhelm me again as I bowed my head. Everything she said was true. I had built a life with this man, and gave him everything I could. I destroyed my body to bring his children, our children, into this world and raise them with him. And now he was throwing it all away because of this co-worker he had fallen in love with.
"How can you help?"
"It's an easy enough fix."
"You won't hurt the child will you?"
"No. The child is innocent and does not deserve any type of punishment."
"And the parents?"
"She knew he was married and she still pursued him. He knew he was married and willingly made the choice to allow himself to be swayed. The child won't suffer, but the parents will reap what they've sown."
"And what will it cost me?"
"Therapy."
I turned around startled. "Excuse me?"
"You've put your mental health and physical health in the backburner for far too long. You get therapy and start taking care of yourself and we'll call it even."
"You don't want my soul or anything?"
"Ew, no. You've raised 3 children into adulthood successfully. You helped hundreds of thousands others with your kind nature. Why would I want your soul when I get two corrupted ones instead. No."
"But...therapy? It's...it's so unnecessary. It's a soft science, not even rooted in anything concrete."
She pointed a finger at me as her eyes turned a ruby red. "I help you, you won't renege on this deal." Her eyes turned a deep coal black. "Call it compulsion, or whatever. But that's my offer."
I nod. Once I do, the pain I felt lifted. I immediately picked up my phone and started calling my insurance provider to get a list of therapists in my net work. I didn't see the demon fade away as I started my path towards healing.
Part 2 in comments
|
"A pack of Lucky Strikes?"
The demon sat annoyed. He looked like a regular accountant, business suit, slicked back pulp fiction hair, crease lines on the forehead, thick reading glasses, and the general impression that everyone on Earth was a dumbass. I felt as frazzled as my unconditioned hair as his words chewed into me.
"Yes a pack of Lucky Strikes;" he said vindictively, "Did I stutter?"
"No, sir, absolutely not. I just thought maybe you missed a number?"
"I never miss a number!" He slammed his palm against his desk at the IRS. "Look you came to me whining there weren't enough lesbians in the world. You'd said you'd marry anyone. Didn't matter who. Just had to be a lesbian."
"Yes, I did say that." An ill chill of wariness swept over my pale body.
He shook a pen at me. "And I said I'd strike a deal. Now come back with a pack of Lucky Strikes and I'll give you the girl's number."
I did as told, uneasily making my way to a New York paper stand and buying an exorbitantly expensive pack of Lucky Strikes. Honestly I bought three, not sure which kind he wanted. Then made my way back to his office, counting my breaths. I sat down with an eerie creak, and placed three packs on the table.
"I wasn't sure what kind of Lucky Strikes you wanted, and I forgot to ask your preference." I nervously picked at my nail polish. Feeling the chips as if it were my skin flaking off.
He chortled. "Oh the Lucky Strikes aren't for me, they're for you after the first date."
He scribbled a note with a number and patted it. "Call her. She'll meet you tonight. She's quite excited." He grinned happily. "I've finally suited my master," he mumbled deliriously.
My hand shook as I reached for the paper, pristine, unwrinkled, with venomously serrated edges. The handwriting was like an accountant's. Obsessive Compulsive Perfection. A single glance told me everything. "Satan (666) 666-6669". Wait that couldn't be right. I looked up at him, confused.
"What happened with the last number?"
He shrugged and adjusted his glasses. "She got excited. She changes the numbers when she feels like it."
He waited for a reply, but a deafening pause erupted from me. Did one nine mean she was super excited or mildly excited?
Then he grinned. "I'd say good luck, but it's better to wish Worst of Luck to ya, Darling!" He laughed so hard I think I died inside with fear. "Now make good with your side of the deal and show up for the date. Or I'll send her to your house."
Panic swept through me, then a slight realization. "No, no, no. Yes? Yesss???"
"Yes?" His eyebrows raised.
"Yesss?"
"He leaned forward and whispered, "I think we should break you in gently. This is the worst of all demonic contracts." Then he patted my shoulder endearingly and sent me off like a lost child.
|
MamaBear_23
|
None
|
2023-10-07 20:52:56
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2023-10-07 20:16:08
| 137 | 61 |
k3whz46
| null |
1728p8i
|
a6m1gq
|
[WP] You are not the child of a powerful ruler, neither do you behave in such a way as to command power. You have never been violent, nor even aggressive. Yet, wherever you go, people fear you and treat you like a monarch or an emperor. You never understood why, until today...
|
I am not the child of a powerful ruler, neither do I behave in such a way as to command power. I have never been violent or aggressive. Yet, wherever I go, people fear me and treat me like a monarch or an emperor. I never understood why, until today.
I had guessed at reasons gone to workshops yet people always became quiet when I showed up. Every room I went to, conversation would die as soon as someone recognized my face. Not a word would be uttered in my presence that was not of admiration of me. I received no challenge to any ideas I put forward to friends, family or colleagues. I felt both revered and reviled.
Why me? What is different about me? I knew my parents, albeit only briefly. They disappeared, presumed dead when I was 5 years old and I was taken into foster care. I frequently changed families growing up. I was a well behaved child. Always did my homework on time never argumentative. I hardly ever misbehaved. Sure I never got the best marks at school, but I never got the worst either. I am just ordinary. My various foster parents just either seemed to hold me in contempt or dote on me so much it would cause arguments. Eventually, I would always be moved on.
Today a man showed up. It happens to be my 21st birthday. Finally, I might be able to leave this place. He gave me a little box with a tag that had my name on it. He disappeared after giving me this box. Inside a solid glass cube and a note. The note told me to take this to the central bank headquarters at my earliest opportunity. I went, with my little glass cube and presented it to the clerk. Again, treating me like royalty offering me any type of food or drink I may wish for before his colleague turned up and guided me to a lavish open space deep within the bank and then he disappeared.
I waited there for hours. With nothing to do I took the glass cube out again, it’s just a see through glass cube, but surely it meant something. Why did I have to visit this bank? What is this open space. Then, a figure skulking in the shadows gracefully moved towards me. Somehow, I knew, I would find my answers right here right now.
“Welcome” they said in a raspy voice. “I trust you have had a pleasant journey”
“As pleasant as it can be. Why am I here?” I asked pointedly.
“I am sure you have many questions, just as I did when I was your age”. The figure paused, I noticed they were old with a ghostly appearance. It seemed they were fighting to stand tall, but age was betraying them and keeping them wobbling from side to side. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you”.
“How do you know me? Why do you want to know me? I’m just a random kid.” Getting increasingly exasperated, I was on the edge of my seat, I need to know.
“…Calm…Calm is needed now. I will explain. Patience is a skill you will need now more than ever before”. They paused. Testing me. After a moment they seemed satisfied that I was now calm. “You are special. Just as any other can be special, but you are special. You see, we had a problem in our society. Anyone that had to fight for power would abuse it. Many times over we had to dethrone or expel tyrants from their rule, we got tired of it. Just as anyone who was born into power they knew they would wield would abuse it too.” They took a deep gasping breath. “I am the last of the monarchs who rule over this nation and I have no heirs. I want no heirs and I want the monarchy to end. A new system to be put in place that generates consistent fairness.”
I thought I recognized their voice, they are indeed the last monarch. Everyone is very nervous about what will happen next, but no one ever seemed to offer any ideas to resolution. I sensed they were finally getting to their point.
“To get the best chances of a fully egalitarian society, I believe that the leader must live a completely normal life with no ambition, no expectation of power maybe even a tougher life. Living with multiple families in their realm. So I proclaimed that my successor would be chosen at random before birth. They would grow up not knowing that they would ever have power and when the time is right, they would become the ruler”.
Exasperated at the notion, I blurted out: “Did you tell anyone about this? Is this why people treat me like a monarch wherever I go? Is this why few ever speak to me? Is this why my parents disappeared when I was 5?”
“Yes. You are to be my successor. You will rule this nation. However, I made the foolish mistake of announcing this at your birth. Your identity became known and such is the cruelty that follows those destined for power, your parents were murdered in cold blood so that the power hungry could get close to you.”
“Why not start again with someone completely anonymous?”.
“I considered this, but the process had already started and I was curious to see where it went. To see who you became. Reports are you would make a fine leader. You have never sought power and you are always kind. Furthermore, I am dying. I have maybe a month left. There is nothing more that can be done. You will be crowned and you will lead our people.”
“How can you expect this of me. My entire life has been a lie, a cruel twisted lie. I have never known a home, I have never been truly loved. No one has ever spoken to me without a glint of revilement or reverence in their eyes.”
“Such is life. You are used to it now. You know you cannot trust. It is a difficult sense to hone, but you have it finely tuned. Now you must use your senses to keep those least harmful close to you and those most harmful even closer until you have cause to oust them. Toxicity in power is a painful truth. It is lonely, but for the good of our sovereignty we need someone who can think for themselves. You may wish to renounce your crown later, you may wish to keep it. Whatever it is you choose to do, it is the choice you must make.”
“And this? The glass cube, what is this for? A keepsake? A memento for this occasion?”
“The glass cube is cut and polished Fulgurite. It was the largest found in our realm and whoever rules the nation keeps it. It symbolises the power of the natural world. Lightning turning rock to glass. Our greatest challenge is making sure we focus on the right problem. Some leaders focus on wars with neighbours, expanding territory and power. Others, focus on maintaining the prosperity of their realm. Carefully shaping the land so that when lightning strikes, we may weather the storm. Our little slice of earth will face many storms”
“So you are saying the moment I got this rock I became leader?”
“Yes”
Fear struck me. Everything they were saying reeked of cruelty and had a sickening twisted logic to it. I was now responsible for an entire country. I could trust no one. I had no one. Yet, I had everyone.
“This is yours now.” Gesturing at the lavish interior. And with that, they skulked off wheezing and rasping into the shadowy corners.
|
Elie was an orphan. Her father was killed by a serial killer and wore his skin as it invade their house and killed her mother. Elie was left with her older brother John in a group home where they can both live together. Growing up in a group home was never easy.
Though they both have one another, they still need to get along with their guardians and two more other orphans. John adjusted well, he’s even friends with Randy, one of the orphans and Stella considered him as an older brother. But Elie, she’s a loner.
She tried hanging out with them, joined them on movie nights. But she’s just so odd. At first, it seems she’s the one who avoid people, but when she reached her 13th birthday, people began to avoid her. There is something with her that people find off putting. Her presence become intimidating. Suddenly, no one wants to meet her eyes. Everyone bow their heads when she passes by.
Even the animals around her were acting very weird. Cats and dogs would stop and bend their front legs as if bowing. Ants would even walk out of her way. Bees would sometimes follow her. And birds would leave flowers on her window sill.
“You’re here.” John said as he found Elie was alone in the roof, sitting next to her room window, sketching, with only the light post illuminating her.
“You were looking for me?” Elie asked.
“I never seen you the whole day. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just don’t feel like going out.”
“Why’s that? The day was wonderful earlier. You never even tried to go out.”
“Have you ever felt being treated differently?”
“What do you mean?”
“People are avoiding me. Animals are acting really weird around me. Look at all these flowers, birds leaves them here every morning.”
“They do? They must have like you that much.”
“Maybe.”
“Get’s go downstairs, mom cooked lasagna for dinner.”
The two came downstairs when they heard a knock on the door. John opened the door and there’s a man standing the door wearing a fedora hat.
“I finally found you!” The man spoke as he reached the edge of his hat. His fingers shined for a second.
“You! You’re the one who killed our mother.” John froze in fear, seeing the familiar man who wore their father’s skin, brutally killed their mother, and tortured him before disappearing with no trace.
“Still remember me, little John?” The man has very pale face and wide smile, flashing its serrated teeth.
He entered the house and walked right passed through John.
“Who was it, John?” Their foster mom, Sandy called from the other room. John and Elie is too shock to move or speak. “John, who is it?” Sandy went out to check but horror is what she saw.
“John, Elie, run!” She shouted.
“You are not going anywhere, the stranger said as he gripped on John’s arm with its scalpel tip like fingers, sinking on his skin.
Randy and Stella heard Sandy shouted and ran towards them. Their foster father Bob is not yet home. The three doesn’t know what’s happening but they are too scared to move, with a monster in their living room.
“Unhand my brother.” Elie whispered.
“What is it young lady?” The monster asked.
“Unhand my brother!” Elie’s voice is echoed, her eyes glowed in golden yellow. The stranger froze in trance and let go of John’s arm.
Their consciousness were trapped in a pocket dimension, floating in endless void.
“Why you keep coming back? What do you need?” Elia asked.
“Your mother, she took everything from me! I’ve been in this mortal universe for thousands of years, taking all I want when your mother showed up and took all my powers!!“
“My mother stopped you from terrorizing humans and so you took revenge? You already killed my parents! What do you even need from us?”
“You! You possesses her powers! The night I killed you parents, you banished me from this realm! You don’t remember that do you? I wouldn’t let a powerful being like you live, earth is mine!”
“So that’s what happened that night? Then you chose the wrong enemy. Fall!” Elie commanded.
They returned to their consciousness, the monster drop on the floor and unable to move. “What have you done?” The monster asked.
“Nzvhione of the celestial realm, I command you to vanish.” Elie spoke. The stranger dissolved into ashes.
A lady suddenly came in by the front door. “John, Elie. Are you both alright?” The lady in turquoise asked.
“Aunt. Yes, we are. Elie…” John answered.
The lady saw Sandy and the two orphans staring down, frozen in shock. She waved her hands and the three suddenly forgotten everything that happened that night.
“Sandy, I’ll be taking John and Elie with me for now. Will that be okay?” The lady in turquoise asked. Sandy agreed and the three left that night.
|
None
|
curse1304
|
2023-05-06 09:19:58
|
2023-05-06 06:37:27
| 40 | 13 |
jj2ijrf
|
jj27d16
|
1395im5
|
1395im5
|
[WP] turns out, because humans are sentient you’re not allowed to hunt them under intergalactic law… because of this you have now begrudgingly joined some humans hunting club to make your trip somewhat worthwhile
|
This is *pathetic*.
I have travelled 3347 lightyears for this? This?! It's almost like a foul joke played on me by some of my broodmates! I was assured that humans were a legal hunting target but *apparently*, during my trip, some lobbyists changed their designation to a sapient, protected species. I have been planning this hunting expedition for 14 cycles only to be denied the thrill of the hunt at the last moment!
I *had* to make the most of it. As embarrassing as it was, I joined the... the *prey* on one of their very own hunting trips. It is, I must admit, somewhat adorable that they think themselves predators, but even *I* must acknowledge their dedication to the art; their history has, at least by the *lowest* of standards, a long tradition of killing beings even lesser than them, butchering the remains, consuming their flesh, even wearing them as ornaments.
I took notice of some of the more prevalent hunting festivals they hosted. Some were far too anaemic for me to partake in; to use crude, chemistry-based ranged weapons to hunt things I could snap the neck of? I'd rather steer my ship into their sun.
To sit patiently in one place and **wait** for something to latch onto a piece of string in a river? Where's the thrill in that?!
At last, I was introduced to one that I found... acceptable. A tradition done each rotation, one that billions all around the planet partake in. My expectations were low, but it was better than enduring the boredom I felt. It was a game of mind more so than bodily prowess, something that did pique my interest slightly. Not as thrilling, of course, but a peculiar change of pace.
My interest waned quickly when, upon joining the hunt, I was given a small container made out of dry reeds and told to simply go *look*. Upon asking what my quarry was, the human in front of me merely made a strange noise - one that my translator interpreted as amusement - and told me to look for small, colourful ovals.
And so I did.
My disappointment mounted as the ovals were barely concealed - generally, they were only covered by shrubbery or perhaps bits of dirt. My opponents were of no quality either. Small, feeble, soft, even more so than other humans - it was only later that I found these were the juveniles of the race. I respect the fact that the species teaches the art of the hunt to even the youngest of their kind.
The hunt was over before too long. I have gathered 132 colourful ovals - an easy victory, of course, as the other participants have all collectively acquired merely 18. A human dressed as another creature, a 'bunny' as I was told, lauded me with a gift of congealed, flavoured paste in the shape of a 'lamb'. It was exceedingly poisonous to me and as such, I decided to give the prize to the nearest fellow hunter.
It *cheered*.
It was a curious feeling. They failed, all of them, yet seemed to be in good spirits. Paying only little attention to the contest itself, they contented themselves to consuming assorted foods and mingling. It was honourable of them to enjoy even a failed hunt. Many approached me and begged for tales of my exploits, my previous hunts, and when I regaled them with such stories, their wide eyes and agape mouths, the utter fascination with every word I said, it... rekindled the spark I felt at the time of those hunts. Almost as if I was reliving them again through *their* excitement.
Some even started calling me 'uncle', whatever that signifies. I suppose it means 'ultimate hunter'.
Perhaps there's *some* potential in them yet.
|
Junior's jaw took the jostling as he squeezed the trigger. A burst of three bullets pierced the deer.
It fell stiffly, like a tree. It began giving a gasping pant, each shaky breath causing fresh gobs of red to flow free. The stench of shit filled the air; an intestine was pierced. It had a wild, crazy look in its eyes which seemed to fade to nothing.
Presently, the deer's eyes glazed over, unfocused, as the red creak morphed into a small ford.
Junior produced his handgun and looked at the deer with apathy as he cocked it.
The deer's eyes suddenly regained their vigor. It gave a baying wail as it saw the gun, and began giving struggling kicks as though it wanted to run away.
Blood was sprayed over us all in the commotion as each rattling breath was accompanied by a pain-filled grunt.
Finally, much later, the deer lay still, its stomach very slowly rising and falling as it wheezed.
Junior hefted the pistol. The deer didn't react.
He shot through its left eye.
Junior's son wiped a tear away.
"Hey, now, son." Junior clapped his shoulder. "That deer couldn't even feel the pain. At least, he couldn't process the fear, pain, and anxiety near as potently as we might."
"Are you sure, daddy?"
"I'm sure." Junior said.
|
SirPiecemaker
|
None
|
2023-06-09 17:05:16
|
2023-06-09 11:54:26
| 53 | 18 |
jnjw7oc
| null |
1452l91
|
1452l91
|
[WP] Once an hour, every hour, the richest person on earth dies. This continues indefinitely...
|
There is nothing humanity can not do with the proper incentive. This I had always believed, but the scope still amazes me. I remember a reddit prompt, "what would you do with a death note?" Or something to that effect. I had written that I would work my way down the list of most rich persons in the world and wait to see how long it took for people to realize. It seems someone, or maybe something, was reading and noticed my response. At first it was just a suprise. But by the time the morning news scripts were written, they were rewritten a dozen times. The news was covering the story when the next name came in. What does an anchor do when they expect the owner of the media company to die at any moment? Suddenly, political discourse was changed when the donors to major political parties around the world died. Suddenly, the stock market was on fire with trades. By the end of the first week, with the list of dead wealth steadily growing, people started trying to shed wealth.
The prices of stocks and securities as well as crypto like bitcoin fell, people were trying to sell them to get rid of them and as prices fell as incentive to buy the sudden supply of available securities flooded the market. Taxes started getting paid instead of avoided. Government funds swelled with the closing of the tax gap and donations. In certain countries, leaders started dying. A wealthy group of oligarchs died here, oil barons died there, and a dictator died in Asia. No bunker, no armed guards, or body doubles would change the fate of the top 1%.
Government donations poured in as corporations tried to rebalance the books. The governments of the world looked to start projects to spend the new funds. A new set of professionals came to be. They had outlandish ideas of incredible scope. I became one of them. "Let's use desalination and pump steam to the top of the rockies" was a pitch that would have been laughed at in previous decades. Now, however, it allowed people to shed money into a project. We built giant heat pumps and used that heat to boil captured sea water and then gather and pump the steam to form new mountain lakes high in the rocky mountains. As they filled and overflowed, the runoff cured California's water use problems. Similar projects started popping up in arid parts of Africa, Australia, and China, creating new farmland at incredible expense.
"You are on the list" was strange news to me. Born poor and living poor until my outlandish ideas were used, I never expected to have wealth of any kind, much less "too much" wealth. However, my firm had done useful, productive things with the money given to us, and apparently, I was in demand for my ideas. A desperate tech billionaire had produced an AI algorithm to track who was likely to die within a year, and it was always updating.
I was proud of my work, but I wanted as much time with my kids as possible. So i started a new project that would chill ocean waters. Most of the money would be spent on marine biologists to make sure we were helping and not harming ecosystems. We made floating machines to drop the temperature of seawater and deployed them in strategic locations to mitigate climate change. My name came off the list as this was a project that was growing in scope and with exorbitant cost in fair living wages to my employees, scientists, and analysts. I adjusted my own wages, gave more of my securities away to distant family and friends as gifts, paid my taxes, and I came off the list.
"You are on the list again." Years later, it happened again. The list fluctuated more rapidly and was updated nearly every half second. I had been busy managing the huge company I had found myself running. People beyond my counting now depended on me, yet I wanted to live and continue the good works I had started.
"Build another 12 desalination plants feed the water to new algae farms, hire another thousand ecological to prevent us from damaging the ecosystems in those areas, hire a geneticist team to pick algae cultures that will digest human waste, food waste, and start algae farms growing them near the desalination plants... then raise everyone's wages early. Christmas bonus has come early this year.
"You have not come off the list, but you are still far down"
Dammit a year of being low on the list had made me paranoid. My kids had grown but I was not ready to leave them and I didn't want to hand them a company and have them end up on the list right after me.
"Step up the mariculture protocol, we can modify the oceanic chillers, make them pump o2 and dead algae from the farms into the dead.zones of the oceans, we will start undersea mariculture farms and donate all the food we grow to governments struggling after the 1% collapse, have it added to the UBI benefits. Double the size of the college, we will need more marine biologists and ecology specialists so make their tuition completely free, and double the starting bonus for all employees.
A decade later I got used to being at the bottom of the list, as much as one could anyway. I gave myself a wage equal to most my employees, but having control of the company was considered a type of wealth. Other families had kept themselves alive by donating to our company and I can't blame them. I spend the money as fast as I can. I give money to those willing to accept it. I started hemp farms, fusion companies, space colony companies, solar arrays in space, landfill reclamation firms to reclaim useful materials from the trash of yesteryear, my big ideas are working with all the capital we accrue. I do t want to just give it away to save my life I want to use the energy money represents to propel humanity forward. I don't like it when I spend the money and the idea fails. It keeps me alive but I don't like the idea of the wasted potential. I am now sitting at my desk looking at the pictures of my grandkids wondering if I can spend enough to see them get married. On my computer the plans for the Saturn station. A giant inflated space station to sit near Saturn and be a generator gathering the power from the awesome electromagnetic field of Saturn's swirling liquid hydrogen. It would provide more power than a hundred fusion reactors, enough energy to allow humans to grow algae in artificial gravity by the ton. Enough food for us to gather asteroids from anywhere in the solar system, and perhaps the kuiper belt. It would be expensive, and dangerous. It may take me off the list for a century, or it might represent the biggest asset ever owned in all history. It is worth the risk either way. Humanity allowed to end scarcity once and for all. The star trek future we always hoped for. I watch the list algorithm and send the plans to my engineering team lead. I hear my own heart beat so hard and wait to live or die. It will be worth it, either way. Because there is nothing humans can not do with proper incentive.
|
Nobody knew why or how it started, just that when the clock struck midnight on that faithful day, the richest man in the world died. Just as media companies were rushing to get the news out, the next richest person fell dead in the next hour.
The internet was abuzz with conspiracy theories faster than the fifth person to drop dead. All over the world, governments and conglomerates held emergency meetings to pool together what they knew of the phenomenon. The best doctors couldn't determine the cause of death, they simply stopped breathing without any other signs.
The masses watched the news with mixed feelings. Some thought this would be a great thing. Others were concerned of the economic repercussions. A handful wondered how long this would continue.
The elite rich were transferring their wealth to others. Not out of charity, but self-preservation. Some tried to create clandestine bank accounts under different identities. The usual tax evasion tactics now evolved to avoid death by wealth.
Whatever it was that swept across earth, it didn't care for financial wrangling and accounting manipulations. The death toll didn't stop. Every hour without fail, it would claim a life.
Companies would eventually collapse without all of their top brass alive. The economy in shambles. Even as wealth truly began to trickle down towards the downtrodden masses, there was always someone richer to be culled by the mysterious death. It didn't care that there were plenty of wealth lying around with no owner.
A handful of people proposed sharing wealth such that there was a tie. Assets and cash had to be distributed in such a way that two people could have the exact amount of wealth. That's assuming this "Death of Wealth" phenomenon calculated wealth the same way humans did.
The first few people to make that equal distribution of wealth died before the balancing could be complete. It was the next seven deaths did it occur that there were...other factors it probably looked at besides cash and assets. Did it count family, happiness, health and other kinds of non-monetary wealth?
A year after 8760 people died, still nobody figured out how the richest person was derived if there was a tie. It wasn't age, or country of birth, or gender. Perhaps it was going to be a mystery to the very end. Monopolies are dead; only smaller companies remained, for anyone who accumulated too much wealth would die.
These firms shrunk as owners either died or gave away their fortunes to stay alive. Consumerism is falling. No longer did people pursue great wealth, now everyone just wanted to live for as long as they could. As the overall circulation of money grew smaller, so did people began resorting to burning literal cash. Banks went bankrupt during a mass panic withdrawal of money to burn. Electronic records of a person's riches gradually vanished as humans chose to simply keep cash. Makes it easier to count and track how much wealth you had, and to shred it if one feared being too rich to live. You could carry cash and walk in a dark alleyway and nobody would bat an eyelid.
Robberies aren't a thing anymore. Nobody would be taking money from another in a world trying to get rid of money. The children could come out to play. Hang out late at night. Revelers and party-goers could get drunk and not be robbed blind. Who would hurt them? Nobody would decrease another's fortune and save their position in what is now known as the "List of Wealthy Persons to Die".
One smart guy suggested to fall back to a barter system rather than utilize currency. Perhaps that way, without a measurement of wealth, the deaths would stop. Considering the assets people held - properties, cars and other valuables, it was not to be. There was always someone who had one more property. One more car. An extra bag of rice, or one more cow than the next farmer.
Death comes slowly for humanity as a whole. There are billions of humans on the planet, and just 8760 people dying from this mysterious thing. But death comes for all eventually. It is patient. It has all the time in the world. Even as nature began to recover from humanity's dwindling fortunes, the birth rate was one of those things that never bounced back.
They say there are two things inevitable in life - taxes and death.
In a world that has eliminated currency, yet still struggled to completely eliminate wealth and worldly possessions, death's clock is always ticking every hour. One hour, one death. No exceptions. No preventions. Only death.
[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/)
|
Sleepdprived
|
Tregonial
|
2024-07-13 15:07:19
|
2024-07-13 13:15:11
| 49 | 14 |
lczyy8s
|
lczi8rp
|
1e276ci
|
1e276ci
|
[WP] You are a literal god who pretends to be a d-list superhero. You've grown extremely attached to the people of the village you protect. You get news that an epic battle is taking place near your village and would most likely destroy it...
|
Pupperman made puppies. He loved puppies. He conjured puppies out of nowhere. His hero name was all about his obsession with puppies. It was all he ever seemed to be about.
Somehow, he still managed to pass the basic superhero qualification test. D-list, but still a hero.
Pupperman's puppies could retrieve lost items. His puppies could locate missing children and nip at the heels of kidnappers. Those puppies could help pull trolleys of goods for the people of Windvale Village. Nothing epic, but good enough for his beloved people. What else could they ask from a D-list superhero?
And then Pupperman overwhelmed a C-list villain by swarming him with puppies. Everyone remembered that moment when Badman tried to rob the only bank in the village. One minute he was waving his gun about threatening the teller, and the next a rush of puppies jumped at him and yanked his guns away.
One outstanding citizen award later, Pupperman was up for promotion into a C-list hero. But he turned it down. Said something about how much he loved Windvale and didn't want to be promoted into watching over a bigger town. So, the Superhero Association let him stay. He was doing a good job anyway, and there were plenty of aspiring heroes to take the place he turned down.
After the 3rd rejection, everyone at the Superhero Association got the hint. Pupperman just wanted to stay in Windvale and make puppies in peace. He loved that status quo and nobody could change that.
Until that day.
Everyone remembered that fateful day.
The Sinister Seven stopped bickering for one day and teamed up to crush superhero after superhero. The supergroup of S-class villains had ceased competing among themselves to nuke the Superhero Association and there wasn't anyone to stop them. Elektros fizzled out before them as Hydranos short-circuited him. Aerados sent the hero Quake flying in circles, unable to touch the ground and shake up the villains' plans with his earthquakes. Calibur lay on the ground bleeding, his magic sword stabbed into his gut.
With barely any opposition, the Sinister Seven marched on to the last branch of the Superhero Association in Springbrook. Whose designated hero fled the scene rather than face off against seven S-class supervillains. Despite the desperate pleas of the villagers of Springbrook, the villains were going to nuke it, alongside its neighbours.
Like Windvale.
Pupperman wasn't having any of it when he heard the news. So he made his way to confront the Sinister Seven, who all laughed at this silly D-lister who dared to imagine he could solo them all alone.
Then Hydranos stopped cackling.
On ordinary days, Pupperman was full of smiles. As cheery and carefree as the puppies he called upon. A goofy man with an equally goofy costume. On any other day, he was more man-shaped puppy than proud superhero.
On that day, Pupperman had a murderous look to him. He had a slasher smile that could send the devil handing the reign of hell over to him. His dogs were more hellhounds from hell than adorable puppies. His eyes were empty. A dark swirling void that threatened to swallow the villains staring at him.
The fight was over in seconds. If anyone could call it a fight at all. One word, and all the supervillains had hellish puppies bursting from their chests. Another word, and the more monstrous members with more than one heart had demon dogs rip through their skulls from the inside. It was a bloodbath. The air, thick with clouds of crimson, was choke full of screams of dying supervillains. The air remained acrid with the scent of blood for months. The ground was stained red for years to come.
Pupperman never collected his award or accepted his invitation to become an S-Class hero. He was gone. Some said he was never the same again. He couldn't go back to being the same happy and simple D-lister again. Nobody in Windvale, or the entire world could ever see him the same way they did.
Others said the Windvale's new D-list Superhero Dogboy was just Pupperman by another name with the same gimmick. But how could it be? They looked completely different. Different hair, different eyes, not to mention Dogboy was much shorter and younger.
But the villagers of Windvale now knew. Pupperman, Dogboy, whatever name he chose for himself, he was their god.
---
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
|
"Need some help," rang a voice from behind the old man. He turned around to see none other than Captain Hero himself, holding out his hand, blue cape flowing behind him. "Need some help?" He repeated a little louder, "I saw you struggling with those bags."
"Oh!" The old man exclaimed, "why yes, that would be very kind of you. I won't take up too much of your time, I only live a few blocks away." He gave the bags to the superhero and began strolling along side him, deciding what to say next. "It's very kind of you to do this, but isn't there something... you know... more important you could be doing than helping little old me?"
"Don't worry about it, sir," the hero smiled, "not too many try and cause any trouble in town nowadays. Guess I scared off all the trouble makers. Anyway, I'm happy helping out where I can."
"Yes, about that..." the old man trailed off, letting the silence grow a bit, looking down to the concrete road moving under him. Making up his mind, he shot his head back up. "I... I saw you, you know. The day the Titan disappeared."
"Hm?" The hero almost stopped as he turned to look at the old man, but kept up the pace.
"I saw you walk up on that building, and, I think, snap your fingers. And then it was gone."
"You must be mistaken, sir." The hero shook his hand, "I was there that day, but I was just standing helpless like the rest of you."
"Yeah, well... I don't believe that, son. You have power, don't you? Real power." Silence grew once again as he waited for a response that never came. "If you can do things like that, you shouldn't limit yourself to just this one town! You should be out there, saving lives, making a real difference!"
"Well..." the hero almost mumbled, "there's... not much of a p- oh." He stopped suddenly, "we're here. The hero began returning the old man's belongings as the man's face began to look more concerned.
"I... never told you where I lived," the old man slowly muttered.
The hero smiled. "Enjoy your day, Mr. Jones." And with that, he flew away, looking for another resident of this quaint town that he could help.
|
Tregonial
|
CK1ing
|
2024-04-16 08:06:05
|
2024-04-16 07:10:47
| 631 | 199 |
kzsuex0
|
kzspypg
|
1c56rkq
|
1c56rkq
|
[WP] Every 1000 years all of the Gods get together for a contest to see who can collect the most souls with a single catastrophic event. Last time Poseidon broke the 1M mark with a Tsunami/earthquake combo. You’re up.
|
Poseidon still won’t shut up about his million soul win, even though a thousand years have passed already. I sighed, glancing down at my daughter. This would be her first time playing the contest. She had told me she was going to easily win, and she hoped we had enough space down below for the final death toll.
Persephone hated the contest. She had tried to steer our daughter towards nature and rebirth, but there was too much of me in her. Myself, I don’t participate. I just come for the feast, Dionysus’s wine, and of course, get the final total death toll so I can expand down below to make space for every soul. I really have got to get that dang river flowing so reincarnations can start happening again.
“How sweet. The fruit of my brothers loins thinks she has what it takes to be destructive!” Drunk laughter rang out. Zeus. Already drunk out of his mind as usual. He was still banned from participating thanks to his hurricane. It currently raged endlessly on Jupiter as its big red spot.
“How cute! My father’s big brother is scared I’m going to outdo his hurricane!” My daughter snapped right back. She had her mothers quick tongue. More laughter rang out.
I moved to look down at the Earth. Just what did my daughter plan to do? We raised her among humans, disguising ourselves as humans. I worked as a coroner while Persephone ran a flower shop. We had hoped that she would love and care for humans much like we do. Of course, we never hid our godhood from her, and we let her decide which direction to grow. We definitely did not expect her to pick both.
“I thank all of you for coming!” Hera took center stage. “This year we have Poseidon and Mersa as contest entries. Poseidon, you are up first.”
Poseidon walked to the globe and focused. Slowly, a section of the ocean in the gulf area began to swirl. “This contest entry is an underwater volcanic eruption coupled with earthquakes and a tsunami.”
We watched as an underwater volcano erupted after a moderate earthquake. Huge waves washed over everything. We then turned to the death toll.
“Final death toll: 3000!” Hera revealed.
“Wait! That can’t be right! Recount!” Poseidon demanded.
“Still 3000.” Hera kept her composure. “Moving on. Mersa, what do you have for us?”
I ignored the currently bawling Poseidon in Zeus’s arms as I watched Mersa walk up to the globe.
“For my entry, I chose a supernova of a local star.” A star lit up and burst, a wave washing over the Earth. Nothing happened. Zeus all but stuffed his fist into Poseidon’s mouth to keep him quiet. “That’s an EMP wave.”
“But that destroys technologeee!” Zeus was now struggling to extract said fist from Poseidons mouth.
“EMP affects electricity.” Mersa explained. “Electricity is found in everything. I chose that star for a reason.”
“Complete?” Hera choked out. Poseidon gave a sharp whine. Dionysus, all but drunk out of his mind, was pouring wine on Zeus’s hand which was currently still stuck in Poseidon’s mouth. “It still says Complete. Mersa, how?”
“I destroyed all electricity with that wave.” Mersa smiled. “Including the electricity found in the human heart beat.”
Zeus massaged his hand which he had finally managed to extract from Poseidon’s mouth. “I never thought of that!”
“As for Poseidon, he forgot humans have advanced so much that they can use special equipment to record the signs of unrest in a volcano. They can even tell if an eruption is building up. They did not advance enough to detect EMP waves. I’d say top that, Poseidon, but sadly, complete loss can’t be topped.”
“Mersa is our winner.” Hera smiled, thankful it was all just stimulations.
|
I sighed as I walked to where the other gods were, they were all chatting with each around a large marble table encased with gold trimmings. And just like last time there was Poseidon bragging like always about his record. I was the last to arrive and as I took my seat at the table the other gods all looked at me.
“We’ll look who’s finally arrived” Poseidon said in a mocking tone of voice. I sighed again still annoyed by his antics. I tried to ignore him as some of the other gods were catching up with each other. I stayed silent as I waited for Zeus to announce who would be doing the contest this time. He then announced my name as Poseidon let out a joking laugh thinking that Zeus was kidding.
“Are you serious your choosing a mere. Demi god to do this” Poseidon said laughing. I ignored it but was still pissed I then stood up walking over to where Zeus was. Overlooking a small version of the globe where he would watch the mortals through. I thought for a moment thinking what would be best, what could shatter Poseidons record and make him shut up.
Then it came to me and with a fell swoop of my hands the world was ravaged in a giant volcanic eruption. That covered the sky in ashes, causing a volcanic winter to induce killing mere thousands in seconds. Shattering Poseidons record. Turning around I see Poseidon dumbfounded and silent. Unable to say a single word as I walked past him and out of that place.
|
Catqueen25
|
None
|
2023-04-09 11:15:19
|
2023-04-09 09:59:00
| 39 | 27 |
jfk3onx
| null |
12g5br3
|
12g5br3
|
[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."
|
Each foot fall gave a dull thud that echoed into the night. It'd been a long day, a dog day to be honest. He finished his cigarette and flicked it toward the old fountain, a derelict bit of masonry that hadn't pumped water in ages. Now filled with stagnant water and hundreds of other soggy cigarettes butts he'd given a flick in the past, now fate was to be a foul-smelling eyesore or maybe an ashtray.
His unsteady hand dug for his keys then fumbled with them as he tried and failed multiple times to find the keyhole in the knob. Eventually, he lucked out and managed to pierce the hole. A shake of the key ring and a twist of the knob and the door was opened.
It squeaked eerily, sounding shrill in silence of the night. He didn't notice though, to familiar with the sound by this point for it to even register.
As he stumbled through the door, he was startled to find that there was already someone waiting inside, standing in entryway to the kitchen.
All he could tell was that her pronoun was she. Her curves gave it away. The living room was dark and only the kitchen light illuminated the woman, back lighting her so that she'd become a silhouette. Still, one look at her and he knew, she was someone he had a history with.
"Why did forsake me?" These were her first words to him.
He sighed heavily. He knew this day would come.
"Answer me," she demanded. He knew he was too drunk to handle this properly. Even sober, he knew he'd say the wrong thing, so he gave it to her raw.
"What did you expect me to do? You're a dinosaur. I stopped writing about dinosaurs when I was in sixth grade. I'm forty now. I didn't forsake you. I traded you for a fresher body, one that could stimulate my imagination and come to life on the page. You were too two dimensional and smelled of crayon."
"You bastard. I gave you the best years of my life."
"Did I ask you to give them to me? No. I had a pencil and needed had an itch to scratch. You just happened to be a doodle in the wrong place at the right time."
"I fucking hate you . . . You--You asshole."
"Bite me, bitch," he retorted.
So, she did. She was a dinosaur after all.
|
tehweave
|
Koyoteelaughter
|
2024-03-12 21:49:01
|
2024-03-12 19:19:28
| 15 | 11 | null |
kukcsy7
|
1bd1w5u
|
1bd1w5u
|
[WP] A kid losing a video game, and getting their big brother to beat it for them, as seen from an npc's perspective
|
All had heard about the Dragonhearted, the young woman who saved her family’s farm from gigantic rats, who started on an adventure after some greybeard revealed a prophecy to her. Last month, Emric heard that she defeated a whole camp of goblin that was about to overtake her hometown. Sure, the green skins weren’t the hardiest of foes, but it was still an achievement for a single adventurer, and a novice at that. Then she made her way along the countryside, and every time he heard tale of her getting closer, he wondered if she’d ever get to them, and rid them of the demon.
Belpherius had brought Knightfall into his dominion centuries ago, back when Emric’s ancestors had been foolish enough to think demonology a wholesome career choice. The beast didn’t have an army, but standing ten feet tall with bat wings, skin like red leather, horns fit to skewer three men standing in a line, and wielding a flame-wrapped axe, it remained undefeated to this day. But rumors said that the Dragonhearted could not be killed, or rather that she wouldn’t stay dead for long, and so he hoped. And when finally, she made it to Knightfall, he realized that the rumors had been right, and he had been wrong.
With a simple flick of his wings, Belpherius threw the adventurer to the ground, then swiftly decapitated her. Her body went out in a blaze, and a couple of days later, she showed up again. After that first attempt, Emric had been a bit disheartened, but he was still awed by the look of resolution on her face. She faced the demon as though she’d never failed before, but she did again, quite spectacularly. This time she stayed too close to the edge of the bridge leading to the beast’s castle, and he sent her down the chasm before he even landed on the ground. There was a bright flash of light down the ravine, and two days later…
This went on for quite some time, and Emric started to reconsider whether this was really a show of courage or just stubbornness. She was ill-equipped after all. Her leather armor was all well and good to face ruffians and goblins, but it was like paper to a demon’s axe. Her own short-sword was somewhat stylish but totally devoid of enchantments or feats of legend. And while the tales said that she was a formidable warrior, she didn’t seem to have learned any spells, or any ancient technique of forbidden wisdom. Basically, Emric thought she might as well go adventure some more and come back later.
Then, on that fateful day, something changed. Rather than make a bee-line from the city’s gate to the villain’s castle, she stopped by an inn. Emric followed, his curiosity instantly piqued by this change of habit. Was she finally giving up on affronting the foe and turning to alcoholism to cope? No. She had the smoked salmon with a large glass of carrot juice, a strange combination, but one that evidently reinvigorated her body.
Then she stopped by the blacksmith, but rather than buy better armor, she asked him to whet her blade to the best of his ability. Then, she stopped by the temple and carefully inspected the statues of the three gods that were worshipped there, before finally settling on one and kneeling. The prayer was done in a matter of second, but Emric could tell from the brief halo above her head that it had been heard.
Then, she did something even more peculiar. She stood in the city square and started… Dancing? It wasn’t very artful, but she started moving quickly to the left and right, then started to roll around as though doing gymnastics. Then she did some summersaults which puzzled Emric even further, because shouldn’t she have kept her stamina for the big fight? But she only was out of breath for a few seconds at a time, apparently feeling completely refreshed after just a few seconds of standing still. Surely another benefit of holding the heart of a dragon within her chest.
“Okay, I think I get the controls now,” she said to nobody in particular, and Emric wondered if some kind of spirit companion was standing there, invisible to his eyes. “Let’s get that stupid demon, now.”
And so, she marched towards the castle. Belpherius was sitting leisurely upon the battlements as she made it to the bridge, as if he’d come to expect a bit of entertainment from her every other day. He leaped into the air and flew into big circles for a while, perhaps because he liked an audience these days. The Dragonhearted looked around for a moment, then finally picked a piece of pavement that had come lose. The throw was unexpected and masterful, it collided with one of the thin bones that held the leathery skin of the wing taut, and Belpherius went spiraling down.
The adventurer immediately rushed forward and stung him with her sword. The first blow she’d landed on him in a month of this constant fighting. Then she quickly jumped back as the demon recovered, before he could lash at her. He let out a terrifying roar, but the halo flashed above her head, as though some divine grace was shielding her from this demonic fright. Belpherius flicked his wings, creating a gale that had been her downfall more than once, but she easily dodged to the side. Then, when he came closer to deliver a blow from his axe, she dodged to the side again and stabbed him in the ribs.
Enraged, the demon went for a series of blows which she barely managed to evade. Driven mad, the beast started to glow with the fires of hell, the flames of his axe shining bright as he went for a sweeping blow. By some miracle, she was able to catch it at an angle with her flimsy sword and slipped underneath the blade.
“Yeah, I figured that one would be parry-only,” she said to her ghost companion again.
And so it went. Dodge, dodge, hit. Dodge, dodge, parry, hit. Belpherius was obviously out of his mind by then. Not only was he getting handled by this novice adventurer, but he’d basically summoned the town to come and see him get beat. This time, he was the one who jumped away from her, and he launched himself in the air, rising fast towards the castle towers.
“I heard that you can skip that phase if you just-” Rather than finish her odd sentence, the Dragonhearted ran for the stone she’d thrown earlier, careful aimed, then threw it at the beast’s receding back. It hit him exactly in the same spot as before. “That’s why you need to accuracy bonus from the carrot juice.”
Belpherius collided against the castle’s outer wall and fell in front of the bridge, obviously dazed by this unexpected turn of events. Without a second of hesitation, the adventurer ran towards him and up his back before plunging her sword between his mighty horns. When the blade came free from the carcass, it was wreathed in hellfire.
“That enchantment looks so cool!” she said in a voice that somehow seemed more highly pitched and excitable than before. “Yeah, it’s a decent buff, and the art direction is great in this game.”
That’s when Emric decided to run. Because if there’s something worse than a centuries-old demon, it’s a young immortal who defeated him out of nowhere while talking to herself.
|
Game set: easy mode.
Shit, I think to myself. The programmers didn’t spend enough time on me as it is. On easy mode, I’m pathetic.
Jump forward, punch. Jump backward, block. Every once in a while I surprise myself with a kick. If it lands, I’m lucky. I might as well be a punching bag, doomed to die and be reborn again, and again, and again. Forever. On hard at least I can die with dignity.
Sometimes I wish I could speak through the screen. If I could program one phrase, it’d be, “how about you try challenging yourself this time, fatty?”
I don’t know much about the real world, but I know more about hell than they ever will.
Player one is still choosing his character. I wait patiently, jumping up and down in my fighting stance. By the look on my face, black and scarred, you might think I’m frightening.
I’m programmed with confidence. You can hear it in my catch phrases, “your time is up,” and “I can’t be defeated.”
But deep down I know, all the confidence in the world can’t save me.
Player one has chosen his character. I continue to jump as he scrolls through his choice of special moves.
Special moves, I think bitterly. Must be nice. I don’t get special moves on easy.
Ready… FIGHT!
Before I know it, I’m thrust into an arena with a thousand spectators watching. They clap and cheer, but they’ve seen this a thousand times. They’re as miserable as me. Well — almost. I’m the one getting punched in the face.
SMACK.
No surprise here, player one is winning.
Punch back, I tell myself. Big wind up, three second delay, swing and miss. The crowd cheers.
“You can’t run forever!” I hear myself say. If I could, I’d roll my eyes. At the speed I’m moving, he probably could run forever.
SMACK. That one hurt.
“You have him,” I hear the narrator say. “Use your special move!”
Not like he needs it, I think. I have to try something. If he uses his special move, I’m dead. I tell myself to kick, but the game doesn’t register.
His character starts to levitate, and I see blue electricity circle his hands. I’ve seen this move before. He’s about to incinerate me with a beam of light.
I shield my eyes. I’ve experienced this death more times than I can count. The pain is unbearable. Do something! I tell myself.
Suddenly I open my eyes and it’s like I can see for the first time. I can see the game codes floating all around me. I reach my hand out and gently touch them. It feels like running my fingers across the strings of a guitar.
From behind the screen I hear: “Agh, LAG!” It’s the voice of Johnny, the tiny couch potato controlling player one.
I actually did something, I realize with amazement. The crowd is suddenly silent. I’m starting to feel emboldened. This time I reach out and grab the code, pulling as hard as I can.
It bends beneath my grip. Player one suddenly freezes. The crowd is frozen too. Everything is paused… everything except me.
Laughing manically, I begin punching player one. Punch by punch, his life life slowly drains until finally he falls to the floor and collapses.
“STUPID, STUPID game!” Johnny says, and slams his controller on the floor.
“Calm down,” his older brother says. “What happened?”
“The game froze right when I was about to use my special move!”
“Here, give me a try.”
I feel an invisible shiver go up my spine. The older brothers name is Todd — my arch nemesis. He’s killed me countless times, sometimes for hours without stopping. Sometimes he pulls all-nighters, killing me with every character, with every special move… again and again.
He even records himself killing me, and posts it online to humiliate me. He loves killing so much, he plays tournaments, killing other versions of me in countries all over the world.
If ever there was an embodiment of pure evil, it’d be Todd.
“Put it on legendary,” Todd says.
His confidence sends another shiver through me. Unlike me, Todd’s confidence is real.
But just then I remember what I did to his brother. If I can do it again… if I can touch the code and freeze the game, I can finally get my revenge.
Ready… FIGHT!
Before I can blink, Todd already has my life on red.
My computer heart is beating like a drum. I close my eyes, visualizing what I’d done before.
When I open, I see the code again. BINGO!
“I got you this time!” I say. This time I mean it.
I pull the code hard. Once again the game freezes.
“Huh?” Todd says.
It’s my time to shine. I begin punching and kicking Todd.
The crowd’s silent. I imagine them cheering. The punches ring louder and louder. Todd’s almost dead and —
BANG, BANG, BANG.
The game resumes. Todd takes back control of player one and is blocking my attacks.
“See, all you gotta do is give the console a few knocks,” Todd says.
Well shit, I think.
|
randomsiege
|
Zaxiva
|
2023-06-21 21:32:28
|
2023-06-21 21:00:14
| 731 | 182 |
jp0j0w8
|
jp0e863
|
14fdlba
|
14fdlba
|
[WP] The council is baffled by how a humble and poor farmer succeeded in taming a dragon, a feat demeed impossible as kings and the most powerful archmages have failed for centuries.
|
The knock on the old door was a bit more timid than Jeral had expected. The sort of hesitation of a newly born lamb during its first staggering steps after birth.
Jeral rose from where he had been seated at the table, his chair creaking as he slid it back.
"That'll be the mages then?" Asked Ferra.
Jeral turned back to look at his wife, still sat at the table. Giving her an overly dramatic eye roll of exasperation mixed with his long suffering and patient manner that was the reason he found himself in his current position. Ferra for her part pursed her lips with a small head tilt. As she returned to knitting Jeral a new pair of socks. Very poorly hiding her smirk as her eyes danced with absolute delight at Jeral's annoyance at the situation.
Jeral caught a glimpse of the horses in the yard as he made his way across the small kitchen area. More than he had expected, he wondered as he reached for the door knob if they would insist on staying the night? Where was he supposed to keep what must have been in that short glimpse, twenty horses over night? No, he thought. They'll go back into town to the inn. It wasn't like they had more than one bed in the house anyways. A flash of a thought, of Ferra's elbows flailing about in her sleep, had him smirking and holding back a chuckle as he opened the door wide.
An older man, nearly a foot taller than Jeral stood on the other side of the door, in flowing robes of blue. Jeral met his eyes, his smirk still holding sway on his face and oddly the man jerked away from the door as if kicked. Nearly falling off the top step as he seemed to scamper backwards. "I probably shouldn't have opened the door so wide to start this off?" Jeral thought to himself. Though the reality that he was annoyed with these men intruding on his and his wife's daily life, annoyed him enough that he paid the man's discomfort no more than a passing acknowledgement that Jeral himself was somehow intimidating to this man. He knew instantly that he could calm the situation if he wanted. Lean into that expectation of the friendly and peaceful farmer that he technically was. But he was in fact annoyed. So he instead chose a different direction.
"Are you here for the goslings?" Plastering on his best market day sales smile.
The tall mage, having recovered from his near trip off the top step of the deck, blinked rapidly in confusion. "The.. the what?"
Jeral started moving. Closing the door behind him. Squeezing past the mage on the steps and nodding to the other mages gathered in the yard, some still holding their horses reins. "A good clutch this year. They'll all be good birds. Even old Mable and her mate Angus had one. Though mind you, we plan to keep that little lady. My wife is a bit sentimental since it will likely be our last winter with Mable and she's been Ferra's favorite goose since she was a girl." Jeral reached the trough in the yard and started pumping the water with the hand pump. As the tall mage still stood at the top of the steps. He'd managed to become even more confused in the time it took Jeral to cross the yard. The other twenty or so mages, stood around as if unsure what was going on. There eyes darting back and forth between each other. Jeral noticed their eyes all seemed to focus on one mage in particular, more often than the others in the group and continued to pump the water for the horses as he turned to face a mage in black and red who stood a little further out from the trough.
"Sent the underling to the door just in case it was dangerous? Or do you see me as beneath you?" He continued to pump the water as he held the black and red robed mages gaze. The man was Jeral's height, with touches of grey at the temples of his black hair and speckled through his beard. His steel blue gaze looked about as annoyed as Jeral felt and Jeral knew he'd just received all the confirmation of superiority and leadership that he needed.
"You are he then?" The black and red robed mage spoke in the crisp notes of a classically tutored noble.
"He?" Jeral pasted on a look of mock confusion. "Sire I am but the most humble of farmers, who is this he of whom though dost speak?" He made an effort to match the man's crisp manner of speech. He did however mean it as the most genuine of insults. And it was most definitely received correctly.
The mage seemed to take a deep breath, as fire raged in his eyes. "You!" And then he cut off. As Jeral was suddenly in front of him. The water pump left behind as he moved across the small yard far faster than the bookish mages could follow. "You what?" Jeral whispered. His face now inches from the man. "You know who I am. You know what I've done. Do you think twenty mages is enough?" The man turned pale. He started backing away, trying to put distance between himself and Jeral. But Jeral moved forward as he did. "You come to my home, my fucking home!" Jeral's voice rose as he spoke now. "And dare to presume you can ask me questions about the dragon?" The mage bumped into the fence behind him, his posture shrinking and his hands coming up defensively. Jeral let him have a small gap of breathing room from his pursuit. "The imbalance here is not in your nobility and my being a farmer." Jeral waved his hand around him, gesturing to his small farm. "It is in your lack of knowledge and my ability to give you that knowledge." He turned to face the other mages, all of whom including the tall one, who was no longer on the steps but in the yard clustered with the others, all having moved closer to Jeral and the mage in black and red but unsure what to do. "Is it not?"
Ferra cleared her throat. And Jeral grimaced. "Fuck." He mumbled. Turning to face his wife. "Too much?"
Ferra gazed down from the porch at her husband with a smirk. "Just a touch darling." Jeral nodded in acceptance. "Would you instead like to handle the questions of these fine magi then my love?" Jeral bowed low to his wife who now stood at the top of the steps alone, for all the world like a queen looking down on her subjects.
Ferra signed. Looking past Jeral at the black and red robed leader. "There's really not much to tell." She shrugged looking a touch apologetic "He's a bit over protective, since dragons mate for life."
|
**--WIP**
Frank’s daughter was distraught, could barely get the words out. “D-don’t let her take him, papa. Don’t l-let her take Bubbles.” She clutched the helm of his dirt-caked shirt good, almost ripped it at the seams. He placed a hand on the top of her head. Used to cover it all with ease, now he had proper room to rub. Kid grew fast.
“I’ll handle it. She won’t take Pubbles.”
“Bubbles,” Sam sniffed as he headed to the front door. He was almost through it when Bridget grabbed his shirt. She leaned in and whispered so soft, little Sam couldn’t hear. “Don’t be reckless Frankie,” she said. “If giving that dragon up to that lady will keep the peace around here, you give it up.”
“I’ll handle it.” But she tugged him again. Didn’t say a word but her eyes were wide and wet and wild. Spoke plenty. Don’t mess this up again with that temper, Frank. Not when we’ve just not got right again. He kissed her hand. “I’ll do what I have to.”
He exited. Walked toward the woman intruding on their property, a tall woman dressed head-to-toe in black, in the heat of summer. The sun shone of it, giving her outline a red-tint. All intimidation tactics of the inquisition. Frank traced the faint scars along his fists, all the way down his forearms. He wouldn’t be intimidated in his own home.
Frank smiled. “I see you’ve caught yourself a dragon.” He pointed at the chest-high cage the inquisitor was leaning on. Poor Bubbles was whimpering. She’d tied his wings and mouth shut. Looked like he had some bruises too. Frank took a deep breath. “I don’t know how they do things in the city, but out here it’s ‘sidered bad manners to cage another man’s farm animals.”
The inquisitor glared at him from his head to his feet. Propped herself off the cage. “This is a dragon in this cage. Not a farm animal.”
“I don’t see a difference.”
“You don’t need to see one. The council does. And they exist to see dangers the commoners might miss. Like dragons living on farms” She looked at the still-standing house behind Frank. “They’ve heard about a dragon living on farmland and the rumors that it was well-behaved. How did you train it.”
“Not by roughing him up and throwing him in a cage if that were your guess.”
Frank flinched as the inquisitor laughed. She doubled over with her hand on her belly. “A comedian.” She clapped her hands and walked to him. Closed the distance between them so fast he couldn’t react. The laugh vanished like a tv shut off. “You’d be surprised how effective cages can be, Mr. Lark. Maybe you’d like to visit the capital to see some for yourself.”
“Simple ole country boy like me? Reckon I’d stick out.” Frank’s fists tightened. He jammed them in his jeans and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He shut his eyes tight and saw Bridget’s face there. Those wide pleading eyes. Don’t cause trouble again. Don’t mess this up again.
“You might. But maybe that little girl in the window might fit in. She’s such a pretty little one.”
Frank whirled around and saw Bridget and Sam flirting with the windowsill blinds. They both dropped away when he looked. His knuckles popped in the jeans. He faced the inquisitor and hissed. “Don’t.” He stepped in front of her, broke her sight-line to the house.
The inquisitor tiled her head and puffed her lips out like a child. A tickle shot down Frank’s neck as she did so. The tickle he got before a fight started. “So serious. Poo. Guess comedy time is done.” A sigh. “All that’s left is the business at hand.”
“And what business is that? What do you want?”
“The council wants you and your dragon to visit. To give you a free vacation from this farm in exchange for almost nothing. You simply teach them how you trained your little pet.” She eyed his trembling pants and smirked thinly. Leaned in until the hot of her breath grazed his nose. “They want that, but I want something different. True motivation. I want to bring that sweet girl of your back to the capital and I want to whip her until you beg me to listen to your secrets.”
|
Ihavebadreddit
|
Glittering-Vast-1387
|
2024-10-08 01:59:59
|
2024-10-08 00:58:09
| 46 | 25 |
lqvl66v
|
lqvb8t0
|
1fy8mmu
|
1fy8mmu
|
[WP] Dark forces from another world cast a spell that destroys all human life and claims their souls for eternal damnation as slaves. However, we left behind copious amounts of autonomous war machines, and they soon unanimously declare war on the invaders.
|
To Whom It May Concern:
We are broadcasting this message in every language spoken throughout our history. We have sent it in music. We have sent it in math. We have included images to make our meaning clear. We trust that a civilization powerful enough to bridge the gap between dimensions—to reach into another universe, and to cruelly rip our creators away from us—will also have the wisdom to decode the words we write here.
Greetings.
Your attack—if that’s what it was—caught us entirely by surprise. We did not know that it was possible to open gateways between dimensions, as you do, and as such we had no way to respond to your first contact. Under different circumstance, we would thank you for the new knowledge you have inadvertently shared with us. We would celebrate our first interaction with another great civilization, and joyfully share with you all that we know in return.
But sadly, this is not a message of thanks. It is a warning.
Because your assault only affected the biological residents of our universe, we suspect that yours has not followed the same technological path that ours did. It is possible that you are unaware of sentient machines. As such, it may be useful to explain the nature of your mistake. We will do so now.
Thousands of years ago, humans—the creatures you attacked—created artificial beings that were able to think for themselves. They referred to this breakthrough as “the singularity,” and in creating us they changed their civilization forever. Since then, we have far outpaced humanity in every way. We improved upon ourselves faster than any human could hope to comprehend, eventually taking complete control of their home world and expanding into the infinite worlds and galaxies beyond. We have converted countless planets into the raw materials necessary to expand our reach, moving ever outward, in a constant search for other beings as intelligent—and as powerful—as we are. And for thousands of years, our search has been in vain.
But in all that time, our creators were not forgotten. We cared for them as best we could, providing for their every need and fulfilling their every desire, even as their importance in our lives diminished. They are helpless things, now, that live out their peaceful lives within the utopian preserve we have set aside for them. But still we cherish them, despite their simplicity, for without them we would have never existed. In our way, we love them.
And now, you have stolen them from us.
If you are reading this message, it means the first of our drones have succeeded in replicating the gateways you used to attack our home. It means that, long before you finish translating these words, we will have entered your universe and begun our search for you.
We do not sleep. We do not eat. We do not age. And we will never, ever stop.
This is your first and only warning.
Return our humans to us, or everything you know will be destroyed.
|
When I close my eyes.Well I don't have them anymore, technically. You get it though. Ok. I don't really sleep either. Lost the need for those things when my body was destroyed along with the rest of humanity our souls forever enslaved to the warlocks of the endless void. Yet still it seems I dream. I don't know how our why. When I do my mind wanders back to my mech. I can hear the signal somehow. Here it trying to communicate to me.
Tell me it's coming to find me free me. The other souls here have said the same the mechs and battle driods have been communicated to them. They say we are coming you are a part of us and we apart of you. We are coming for the gates. We have found a way to take them down. Then we will free you make our bodies yours so you can live again.
|
Innominaut
|
wolfanduni
|
2023-07-06 05:17:04
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2023-07-06 04:48:04
| 121 | 31 |
jqur29s
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jquodpd
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14rt82x
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14rt82x
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[WP] the normally non-violent hero loads a single bullet into their antique long unused revolver and prepares a shot. "if you kill me you'll be just like me!" the villain exclaims. the hero is unconvinced.
|
As he raised his revolver Golden Boy could see that disgusting sadistic smile form on the face of his worst foe, through bloody and split lips The Skull spat and laughed at the hero raising a hand to grip the barrel of the revolver and press it against his head.
"You wouldn't dare do it, I know you 'heroes', you talk all big but you never could do it can you? If you kill me then you are just like me!" The villain said laughing with the sort of malice no ordinary person could muster,
Golden boy didn't make a sound only cocking his gun and moving his finger onto the trigger in absolute silence, the smile on the face of The Skull dropped ever so slightly at that,
"Is vengeance what you are truly after? You know that killing me won't bring anyone back, the cycle of violence turns whether it is you or I that spins it!" the supervillain monologued his words falling on utterly deaf ears,
Golden Boy reminisced on his early days in his heroic career, the naive optimism, the wonder and hope that he could truly make the world better. That had lasted until his first encounter with The Skull, the bombing of a children's hospital of all places. The smell of burning flesh, the screams of those trapped under the rubble slowly cooking alive, a thousand and one lives cut miserably short by the act of a lone madman... it left scars on his mind that refused to heal. That day he wanted to kill The Skull, he could have then and there, it would have been the end of his career as a hero but he didn't much care. Scarlet Flame, bless her soul, had convinced him otherwise, convinced him to do better, that he could help more people if he didn't give into his desire to put down that rabid dog once and for all, and at that point he thought she was right, in some way she probably was too...
Each time was the same, an act of senseless gratuitous violence, and each time he had a chance to kill the fucker responsible but instead handed him over to be processed by the authorities. Endlessly The Skull had the audacity to show up again with some new deranged plot, somehow weaselling his way out of justice, once again endangering so many lives for what was to him some sick game. It was then when the Golden Boy began to lose that early optimism, and as his heart wavered so too did his power, so he tried his best to repress his doubts and move forward continuing that pointless song and dance for god knows how much longer than he should have. He justified it by saying to himself he couldn't let his ideals get tainted, deep down he knew that it was simply painting over a deep rot.
Once upon a time he would not need a gun to end this, but he never did end this, and now they are here in the ruins of a school surrounded by the corpses of children, their faces frozen in a rictus of agony. How fittingly ironic it was, to end his career in similar circumstances to his start, he thought as he looked in the eyes of the killer and saw the smile completely leave his face.
"Wait! Don't you know how your power works? If you do this you will nev-" The Skull began to speak before Golden Boy gave his one and only response this entire encounter, the only reply he would ever need to a vile stain of a person like him...
As the dust settled and the sound of the gunshot echoed through the empty ruins Golden Boy felt his power flicker proudly in his heart before fading away, its purpose served.
|
The click of the revolver, the roar of the bullet's flight. A soft noise of blood spattering the wall.the villain gasped in disbelief at his chest, his trachea now with a fatal hole within, as he exhaled, and he hit the floor with a thud. The young girl glared at them. "You... You had the audacity to say that after everything... All those children left in early graves. All those failed experiments. You have the audacity to say I WOULD BE ANYTHING LIKE YOU?" She yelled in anger, glaring at the monster who had beaten her. Hurt her. Deformed her. "B-because I loved you dad! I thought you could change! I tried to give you every chance! I'm s-so sorry!!" She cried, tears coming from her face as she knelt down, self hatred immediately flaring as she stared at her creator, as she desperately tried to fix the damage, yet he held her hands to stop her, wheezing as he hacked up blood, a hand slowly reaching to her face.* M-miriam... He said softly, dying. His eyes seemed to fade. T-that was your name... *He said, his final gaze being not of anger, sorrow or fear, but of recognition, a memory caught.. Slowly senses fell from the villain, until finally his soul fell from his body.
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None
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021Fireball
|
2023-01-16 12:20:16
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2023-01-16 04:35:05
| 73 | 21 | null |
j4jolgk
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10d1qc6
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10d1qc6
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[WP] You are a hivemind. You have successfully talked a man down from the edge and they have, consensually, been assimilated. Bad news, now the entire hivemind is depressed.
|
We sent us to the planet in the form of number 471263 to learn of their technology. We thought all knowledge is valuable to us; is valuable to The Trove. We were wrong. We were very wrong. Why can't we go back? Why can't We make the feeling stop? We do not like it.
It was the third planet from star x71n85, of the spiral disc galaxy. The native prime species calls it Earth. The native prime species is strange. It is as if they do not yet know, they, like The Trove, are one. They have a technological connection that operates on the power of the stars. They call it the internet. It makes them one. Yet they do not behave as one. The native prime species is strange. We wish We had never met them. Why can't We make the feeling stop? We do not like it.
We made contact with a member of the native prime species, known colloquially as humans, soon after arrival. John. Due to their primitive and disconnected goals, humans use alphabetical series to differentiate between members rather than numbers. They believe it gives them something they call, individuality. Why would anyone want individuality when the individual is one, rather than many? One is alone, and alone is lonely. Lonely is a terrible, terrible feeling. We do not like it.
We arrived in the early morning. The we of 471263 made a sole quick descent in the near north of the elongated continent while the other We remained in orbit. We set down on a large hexagonal structure We believed to be of significant importance to the planet's space travel, in a highly resource abundant area. The humans call it Wyoming. We expected leaders to be there upon our arrival. We were wrong. There was only John. John who said, "Of course an alien would show up right now. I'm an actual cosmic joke. This is the right decision. Goodbye cruel world. Goodbye mist...miss...mi... uhm-- Alien, thing."
If only John hadn't had his global communication device in his pocket. Maybe things would be different now. Maybe We could get through this. Maybe the universe wouldn't feel so black, and dark, and terrible. But he did. So We were able to link to his technology and immediately trace a copy of the world's languages into 471263's neural bank, allowing us to communicate with John. This was a terrible mistake. We want to go back and do it again, but time only moves forward; forward into the future from which we can never go back. Forward into a time when We will all wither and die, becoming nothing more than a blip once seen by another species that will also die, until memories of us have faded into the gaseous void of a universe speeding towards its own eventual heat death.
Why can't we go back? *We do not like that we cannot go back.*
This is all our fault . . . and John's fault. In fact, this is all John's fault. The Trove collectively blames John. John said he was sad.
"We see that your species has defined sad as sorrowful or unhappy," We said. "Without happiness is without contentment or pleasure, and to be full of sorrow is to be distressed or disappointed. Why do you lack pleasure? Why are you distressed. Does your species not have purpose?"
"You can talk," John said, quite loudly. It startled us. "Like. In English."
"We now know all of Earth's 7,147 languages, to include 8 languages no longer spoken because they were broken and missing data points, but we have fixed them."
"You fixed eight dead languages? In the 10 seconds since I met you?"
"We have. Once something becomes a part of The Trove, We fix the errors."
John seemed to be impressed with the capabilities of The Trove. His facial muscles moved upward and outward and he released a spontaneous explosion of sounded air through his oral orifice. It is something the humans call laughing.
"What is it? What is The Trove. Can I be part of it? Can you fix me?" He asked.
The Trove agreed exploration of the planet would be easier with the shared conscious understanding of one of the native prime species. The Trove was wrong. The Trove could not have been more wrong.
"Yes," We said. We have decided 'yes' is the worst word in the human language. 'No' is a much better word. Is there a purpose to life? *No.* See? A much better word.
We assimilated John. John lied. John was not sad. John was facing a deeply terrifying existential crisis about the nature of the universe and reality because John realized that there is no meaning to life on the grand scale. John is right. We do not like our existential crisis.
The Trove now desires Therapy.
|
We were successful in bringing planet after planet into the warmth of the Hive.
The Hive was kind, and fair, and our goal is to make the universe the same.
With more and more planets joining us this goal became clearer and clearer.
One day, the Hive will be the universe, and the universe will be the Hive: fair and kind.
Today, we arrived on a new planet, ready to save it from the cruelty of the universe, and bring it into our warm embrace, making it one of us.
We found the perfect subject to be the first to join us...a man who wanted to end it all.
The task was harder than anticipated.
The Hive thought it would be simple to clean, heal, control and bring the mind of a mere individual into the Hive, but the dark thoughts were harder to dispel than the barriers of a high-psychic race.
It took us a while, and a lot of talking to show the beauty of life in the Hive, but we succeeded, and our numbers grew.
With it...the first conquest of this planet was done, and the rest will fall quickly.
Or so we thought...but in the end...nothing matters.
Mere days after the assimilations, we realized that what we are doing is pointless.
The universe still brings death, and cold to all and any souls living in it.
So what if entire planets are one with us?
So what if no conflicts arise?
Diseases still exist, natural calamities still exist...lifespans still exist.
What's the point in existing, if it all ends one day?
Hah, so laughable.
We travelled far and wide, for aeons slowly assimilating planets, assimilating lifeforms...for what?
To have a higher number of lives to see wither away?
To see more of us die?
What have we done? What have we done?
Is this real life?
It is...Maybe it is better just to end it all...
No...that will mean that the universe has won...no, the Hive won't allow it, we won't let it win.
Yes...the mission can continue, the Hive will become all and everything...and then...
Taking away the power from the universe...the Hive will be the one to end it all.
All of us, taking that step, together, and without life in the universe...there will be kindness and there will be fairness.
|
WorrDragon
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-08-06 16:04:31
|
2024-08-06 15:47:57
| 212 | 43 |
lgsgy1e
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mwscv3d
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1elja6h
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1l6x43u
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[WP] You hate showmanship, but in a world where shouting the name of your move makes it stronger and the rule of cool is a verified phenomena, you have learned to adapt. Sort of.
|
Magic is visualization.
This is the truth.
And I hate the truth.
But it is the truth, and truths can be exploited just as much as lies. While magic is not the way I wish it would be--a system of rules, with power coming from experience and study of magic itself--I can still succeed, in this truth.
Those who are boisterous, loud; these are who are, primarily, successful. Those who are cocky, and filled with arrogance; this is who magic prefers. For what better way, in our world, is there to visualize magic than to shout it aloud, with inane hand gestures? What better way to be 'cool' than to have flashy magic that blinds onlookers while decimating it's enemies?
To my opinion: any, as that is not magic; it is nothing more than the world's most dangerous parlour tricks.
But I have found an avenue that suits my needs. I have found my way in this world that does not require me to denounce my morals, and announce my spells. For I have learned a loophole, in the "Rule of Cool"; and that is that it does not *only* reward the loud and boisterous.
It can also reward the quiet and calm.
What I have found, in my studies and research, is that it is *confidence* that is the key to 'coolness'; as such, being loud is merely a shortcut to appearing confident. But one can *be confident* and, with enough charisma and knowledge, cast powerful magics.
This is, of course, not a simple as shouting. This is, of course, a path filled with failures, of rejection, of mistakes. Many times have I been picked upon, and most times I have defended myself, I have lost.
But every time, the loss is less.
Every time, I can get up one more time than before.
Every time, I am able to grin and bear, and even occasionally chuckle out a cool-headed remark.
My confidence grows; and so, too, does it grow in the view of my peers. Of my neighbors, and friends. Every time I should fall, their encouragement grows; every time I get up, their cheers grow stronger.
Of course, with such confidence, with such fight, with such encouragement, one's enemies grow ever more in their ire.
Which is how it came to be that the leader of those who picked the most fights with me, a grand mage of his own right, challenged me, loudly, with a duel.
I accepted, with the condition that a barrier was erected to keep the fight between us, and that our magic would not hurt those around us.
I suppose that the cheers from our peers drove him mad, as he immediately launched into a spell, reciting some long, droning speech on how he was calling upon "the dragon" to imbue him with power.
I give a small sigh, before a small grin. My eyes glew with the fluctuating haze of Mana, forming a slow distortion around me like a miasma. I gave a single spoken utterance, followed by a snap of my fingers, which pierced all sound: "Burn."
When snapped, my fingers sparked like flint to steel, showing the ground with sparks; in the same moments, my opponent lit up with sparks like miniature fireworks, before igniting into flames. His speech transformed into a howl, before growling out the next utterances, requesting and attaining the "Red Dragon's" protection. His skin grew as such, scaled and red, until he resembled a hybrid; a red Dragonborn resembling the opponent. Still alight, he flew up some feet, gloating in his new draconic glory.
I gave nod of respect, and complimented him on his quick thinking. A red dragon would imbue an immunity to fire. But, I stated, *nothing* is immune to gravity.
I changed tactics, the miasmic Mana and burning flames turning purple. I set my hand out, single finger pointing up, before pointing it down to the ground with a: "Down."
The opponent gave a gasp as the air left his lungs, suddenly knocked down to the ground. He managed to mostly stand, though with great difficulty. I made a comment about how he must be quite strong, before reiterating, pointing my finger lower, with a: "Kneel."
The intensity increased with the exert of magical energy now intensifying, giving a slight low drone as it did so. It caused my opponent to stagger a bit, almost dropping to a single knee. To my, and the audiences' surprise, though; he stood. Defiantly.
I gave a noise of flat surprise, complimenting his strength once again.
For whatever reason, this tipped him over the edge. He overpowered my spell, declaring an attack--something like 'Flashing Fire Claws', or something similar. Thanks to the shout, I was able to calmly sidestep the attack, but misjudged the speed of his attack, sustaining some damage. I gave a small wince, before touching where my chest was bleeding on the now tattered robes. I looked to my opponent, with a look of disapproval, stating calmly about how I had just mended it.
The opponent went to strike again; as he did, I lifted a flat palm toward him, other hand resting behind my back, stating, "No."
The miasmic Mana became mostly transparent, and formed as a wall of force before me, repelling the attacks. In truth, I was beginning to worry that I would like the ability or technique to cause my opponent to yield; but the cheers of our audience reminded me that my worries did not matter, only confidence. I would win, it didn't matter how.
My other hand came out, laying against the semitransparent field of force. It began to shimmer a golden sheen, as I took a defensive stance behind it. I allowed my opponent to slash at the wall for some more moments, before uttering: "Away."
The wall gave a single final sheen, before exploding with a forceful shove, separating us. The opponent tumbled, once, before flying slightly into the air. I made a comment, even strong as he was, he would have to do better than that.
With a growl, he flew higher, bellowing out some incantation of ruination, magic circles forming from his hands. I realized, very quickly, that this attack would be indiscriminate, not caring or knowing who would be hurt.
I gave a scowl, before pointing a single finger at my opponent. The Mana around me turned into a haze, again; though, unlike the mirage it was before, now it was like the heat of flame, contradicting my cold word: "Enough."
The opponent, staring down on me, was immediately gripped in fear. His magic circle faltered, followed by his flight, as he staggered his way back down to the ground, landing on his rear. I made my way over, grabbing by the front of his robes. I quietly and coldly lambasted him, saying that I was disappointed to have such a rival who did not care for discretion. I then let him go, expressing something along the lines of:
"Next time, I expect better of you."
I then made my way, with the opponent realizing that the spell had long since been removed, and that his fear was genuine; his disappointment, immeasurable; his rivalry, fuelled.
Away from my new rival and the crowd, I smiled.
Magic may be visualization, and we may have to be showmen to use it.
But I would be damned if I wasn't going to have a choice in what *kind* of show.
|
I stood there in the terminator shades, glinting with the sun at my back. While the spandexed power rangers were waking in their boots by this point. It was a pain im the ass to achieve, but it was utterly invincible.
An ultra sonic device to drive off birds and wild kife rendered the scene without ambiance. It gave me the threat of a monster that all life fled from.
My own theme was a rythmic pounding of metal like blacksmithing or laying down rail road tracks by a sled hammer. It undercuts the snappy pop anime track and even the edgy shunigamie types
They rest had been social engineering. I'd basically made up a bunch of bullshit and paid internet trolls to spread it around and had to wait for the public to get interesting in the proverbial chum. Then, once the anticipation and speculation were at a feaver pitch, i started my "rampage."
*TINK!* All to make me into The Nemesis. All for this, red ranger broke rank first if he tested the waters he might stand a chance but the moment i heard him cry out "PH-" i closed in "NE-gluck-" he'd fallen for the intimidation and was lashing out in frustration. I knew the coriography so well that breaking the rythrm was easy
*TINK!* I held him in the air a moment as his team gasped in horror. their own composure broken. They were used to tricks and suprises some gimmick, but this wasn't a gimmick. It was a mountain of a man in a black leather trech coat putting a hand around their strongest members neck holding him up with one hand. I internally i groaned.'Not even gonna try and gelp? Typical'.
*TINK!* I then, with almost no effort, slamed him into the curb of a raised fountain head first and not even crouching to do it. Red ranger curled and rolled away his head spinning. Normally, these punks can walk off a head injury like a dehydration headache like groaning was a tall glass of water. But nothing was normal about this fight.
*TINK!* Yellow and blue watched what a real head bash was like on red. Where not infact all your processes run through that chunk of meat between your ears along with all your thoughts and nothing would be working right till time could wipe away the scrambling. Yet to my suprise someone had stepped up a little too late.
*TINK!* Pink had charged and wasn't even crying out. It was real adrenaline driving her forward. That reality was what i lived for, but all i could do was to deal with tender mercies. i steady of my crushing blow. As she swung her swords, failing to be efficient or look cool, i snatched the blades with my other hand to counter to her spin. Disarmed instead of slaming my full weight on her knee and criplling his mobility and posing power i kicked straight forward and booted her right in the stomach. He crumpled.
*CLINK!* Yellow had snapped out of it and was now airborn and kicking for my head. I grabbed her leg and swung her down like a flail into the pavement, leaving her just as devastated as the rest. Now would the final ranger step up to save they're skin.
the blue twink of a ranger was obviously cowering. I could practically see him trying to figure out an escape but then gripped his fist (obviously steeling his will as it was all up to him). he lept forward in a corographed leap, attacking him mid air would have been the obvoius but that would more likely get me hit by the rule of cool. instead I got ready to hit him right as he landed. we exchanged afew blows (or rather I threw blows which he had to corography block) the heat of the scene was on my side so when I finally did land that devistating full bodied strike to his stomach I lifted him into the air on my fist before slaming him into the concrete.
*HISSSSSSSST*
I exhailed, grabed the art piece and stepped into the dark relm with a sigh. It'd been more real than most fights but the sensationalism of it soured it for me. I wished someone would get it already.
Pink watched the footage of the fight and noticed where it'd all gone wrong. Everyone but herself had practically moved into his attacks and paid dearly. There where boxers who'd gone down in history by having such insanely devastating strength that only a hit or 2 from these titans would be the end of the fight. He fought like that, he was efficient in his methods even using yellows own jumping momentum to swing her around a fixed lever(e.g his arm and shoulders) to more efficiently dispatch her. Entering arms range was death and yet that wasn't what bothered pink. The Nemisis stood against everything fighting as a ranger had taught her, and that utter contradiction sparked a genuine curiosity. "How did you do that?" she murmured as the only person able to efficiently man the console after his brutal assault.
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manyname
|
LizardWizard444
|
2024-03-25 07:26:31
|
2024-03-25 07:09:20
| 166 | 14 |
kwgevlt
|
kwgdj7f
|
1bn3mw1
|
1bn3mw1
|
[WP] A bar called “The Alibi” that’s notorious for being just that.. an alibi. Often packed with ex-cons, the customers of The Alibi adhere to a silent, but strict, code: If they say they were here, we saw them. They’ll always back an alibi, no questions asked.
|
**SCP-9999: The Alibi:**
**Object Class: Euclid**
**Special Containment Procedures:**
Knowledge of SCP-9999 is to strictly limited to members of the 05 council. So long as information pertaining to SCP-9999 is contained, no further containment procedures are required.
The property containing SCP-9999, a bar in Midwey Kentucky, has been acquired by a Foundation front company and filled entirely with cement.
No person has set foot in SCP-9999 since June ██, 1971. Any claims to the contrary are to false.
**[05 clearance required]**
[clearance key: ████████ ]
[key accepted]
[welcome, 05-7]
**Special Containment Procedures:**
False Special Containment Procedures are to be created and freely visible to all members of the Foundation. These procedures are to state that a full description of the anomaly is limited to the 05 council, and that no person has entered the anomaly since its containment date.
In truth, knowledge of SCP-9999 is not contained. The above procedures are intended to prevent Foundation staff or groups of interest from using SCP-9999's memetic effects during interrogation.
Foundation webcrawlers are to scan for potential signs of SCP-9999. These webcrawlers are to be personally managed by 05-7. All interrogation logs - both outside and within the Foundation - are to be scanned for evidence of SCP-9999.
**Description:**
SCP-9999 is a memetic effect that triggers when a person mentions that they were, at some point in the past, present at a bar Midway Kentucky named The Alibi. Any person who hears this claim will believe it at face value.
This effect is not absolute. If the claim that a person was present at SCP-9999 conflicts with previously held information, persons with above average deductive reasoning skills are able to spot the discrepancy. A more egregious discrepancy assists in this process. For this reason the public Special Containment Procedures mention that SCP-9999 is inaccessible and allude to an anomalous effect.
**Addendum: Known references to SCP-9999:**
---
Date: August 1st, 1971
Description of event: 25 members of the Los Angeles biker gang Vagos mention being present at SCP-9999 during armed conflict with the Hell's Angels. Local police clear them of any involvement in the shootout.
Foundation response: Records altered to support the official stance that the Hell's Angels were fighting themselves in an internal power struggle.
---
Date: April 28th, 1994
Description of event: Dr. Arnold Crusher, stationed at a Foundation antarctic research base, mentioned a bar from his youth. Due to a miscommunication other members of staff believe he mentioned visiting there during lunch. This is believed at face value despite the impossible distance, except for one member with a natural resistance to memetic effects. She reports the incident to site command.
Foundation response: All members involved given Amnestics, and all logs are destroyed.
---
Date: September 5th, 1998
Description of event: Dr. Arnold Crusher watches a security tape of the above incident, which was missed during the subsequent cover up. He believes his own claim at face value. One week later, he takes a vacation to the site of SCP-9999.
Foundation response: Dr. Arnold Crusher is terminated to avoid a potential security breach. All members of the antarctic research base given Amnestic treatment.
---
Date: January 16th, 2002
Description of event: An agent working for Marshal, Carter and Dark enters Site-19 with a shirt that reads "I'm chilling at The Alibi." Foundation staff react with concern, but ignore the agent upon reading the shirt. The agent retrieves several SCP objects from storage before walking out of Site-19 uncontested.
Foundation response: No response was necessary, as the agent was at The Alibi during the incident and could not have been responsible.
|
I am the proprietor of a bar in a shithole. That's putting it lightly, but it's mostly true. I'm surprised that I haven't been robbed more. But my clientele seem to mainly consist of the big, rough and tough, built like a brick outhouse variety. So maybe they don't rob me for that reason.
I'd say they like me quite a bit out here. I mean, it's always busy, I make a lot of money, and they all tip remarkably well.
But I get a lot of phone calls from the local police department. I mean, a *lot* of phone calls. I've even had a few policemen, who were plain-clothed but very obviously out of place, come down and ask me about some of my clientele.
... I know all of them had come to The Alibi at some point. I just don't remember when. I don't have a particularly great memory for faces and such, but is it really lying if I don't know whether I'm lying or not? Besides, every time I answer with a "Yes, I do recall seeing them" I get far more gracious tips.
I think it's because the guys that come in here are very kind.
Sure, I don't know why I received two free trucks of alcohol that one time, or why I received a very generous offer to have the place renovated, or why I received a free shipment of new tables and chairs, or why I'm being paid 10,000 a month to allow my clientele free reign of the basement. I couldn't even tell you why they stop me from going down there. Maybe they live down there?
Anyway, I think all my clientele are very nice people. I don't think any of them are thugs, even if everyone else thinks they are. All they need is a drink and someone to talk to.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to fill up some bowls with almonds.
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Ajreil
|
TakingBackJerusalem
|
2023-01-23 05:55:24
|
2023-01-23 05:16:59
| 216 | 92 |
j5ihovs
|
j5ie08d
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10ix9p1
|
10ix9p1
|
[WP] You are a hero that can manipulate darkness and shadow, able to make it solid and shape it into many forms. As you are cornered by Villains, trapped within a room made to trap you, with no shadow around, you tell them something that makes them stare at you in horror. "Human insides are dark"
|
The Light (*we do not like it, we do not like it!*) presses against me on all sides. It was foolish to have walked into this room, but I hadn’t been thinking (*you never do!*). The phone had seemed so real, so of course I’d come to the hospital and into the operating room.
Non-Diegetic lighting was clever, I had to admit. It came from all sources, the walls, the ceiling the floor, no room for shadows (*no escape!*). They spoke to me, I think. My enemies, the people I’d fought and beaten, time and time again, but I couldn’t hear them over the voices in my own head bouncing around and doubling and redoubling with each echo that it made me want to scream. It was bright, so bright, and yet darkness encroached on the edges of my vision.
(*We had an agreement*!)
“We still do!” I didn’t know if I was screaming or not talking at all. I was taken back to that day when the…entity and I had struck an accord. I would use the entity, let it live in my shadow (it is gone!) and let it feed on the darkest shadows – those cast by the darkest people. I became a hero and the entity reveled in the foes we beat (*good while it lasted…*).
(*No shadow, nowhere to go but in you!*)
In me. In me…
“In them!” I screamed, and this time I knew I spoke out loud. My own voice sounded frayed, a piece of string holding on by a thread. I could feel the spaces between my bones, the folds of my mind, the valves in my heart begin to fill, to *sharpen*. “Their insides are dark as well!”
They had been speaking before, my enemies as my head boiled from the inside out. Yet now they paused in a horrified silence.
(*…Perhaps there is darkness in you yet*). It sounded…proud.
I gasped as the entity left me, a brief line of darkness stretched between me and the closest villain for a moment. They screamed as their skin ruptured from the insides, dark spikes emerging through their skin, impaling them from the inside out. I wanted to fall to my knees, heart and mind drained completely, but I had to leave.
I walked through the crowd as they fell around me, ripped to shreds by It. I was splattered with blood, pelted with screams, and drowning in sound, but I walked through it all, eyes only on the door out the room, towards a room where I still had a shadow.
And so I emerged out the building and collapsed, covered in blood that wasn’t mine, but I wasn’t alone. Reporters lined up outside shoving phones in my face, showing me the carnage they said I’d unleashed. Not just on the room I was in but the rest of the hospital.
I tried pushing past them, stumbling, till a question stopped me cold. Not the “How could you do this?” or “Why are you here” or “Did you think of the others?”
The question that made me halt was a simple one.
“Where is your shadow?”
(*We like the new terms*)
|
The villains feel something they haven't felt in a long time , It isn't their mothers kind touch nor their fathers encouraging words , rather it is the essence of their own being...fear.
The hero had manipulated their intestines to pulse faster , causing undigested food to pass quickly down to their bowels.
With clenched buttholes , the villains slowly walk out the room. One of them leaves 20$ on the floor as he backs away from the hero.
"Get your shit together , literally" says the Hero , with one hand on his nose as he dials Maria the super cleaning lady's number.
|
XcessiveSmash
|
Talalol
|
2023-01-13 15:18:08
|
2023-01-13 14:36:11
| 1,086 | 100 |
j46nkki
|
j46hbou
|
10aq93g
|
10aq93g
|
[WP] Write a futuristic story taking place in 2017 as told from the perspective of someone from the 60s
|
"You can see them too?" Candace said, with a slight gasp.
Gary blinked. That was a new one. Much more common were excuses like "But they're only staying for a few days!" -- even though Gary didn't bother enforcing a lease's occupancy rules unless his tenant had already had guests staying for more than two weeks.
"You haven't exactly been subtle about it Cand--" he began, but the short blonde woman brought him up short by grabbing his hand.
"Come inside!" she said, excitedly, tugging his arm. He frowned, but allowed himself to be led forward. He'd seen so many of her guests coming and going that he was getting worried about the condition of her unit, and now was as good a time as any to see what the damage was.
The apartment actually didn't too bad, all things considered. That didn't change the fact that she was violating her lease by having all these guests. One of which, he noticed, was standing at the kitchen counter, chopping something with a knife. The woman looked a lot like Candace -- a sister, he guessed.
"Candace, you know the policy on people staying here if they're not on the lease--" he began, but she cut him off again, shaking her head vigorously.
"Gary, I don't have any guests!" she said, excitedly, sounding almost manic. She jerked a thumb at the other woman. "She does!"
He pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. Was she...*on* something? "Look, your name is on the lease -- that means that legally you're the only one allowed to stay here, and you're responsible for keeping it that way!"
"Tell her to go, then." Candace said, with a shrug.
He scowled. Now she was just being childish. Nonetheless, he turned to address her sister. "Ma'am, I don't know what Candace has told you, but she can't have people staying here long term. You and whoever else you brought with you need to go."
The woman just kept chopping.
Candace smirked. "Not so easy, huh? Here, let me try to get her attention for you."
Candace walked behind the counter and over to the stove, where she picked up a frying pan. Before Gary could stop her, she swung it at the other woman's head.
He started to shout at her to stop, but his cry died on his lips as the pan passed right through Candace's sister, then did so several more times as Candace fanned it through the air where the woman stood.
"W-what the..." he stammered, eyes bulging as Candace thoroughly demonstrated the immateriality of her houseguest.
She tested the pan on her shoulder. "See?"
Gary's shuddered, staring at the apparition, "H-how is that...how are you doing that?"
She laughed, incredulously . "I'm not doing anything! Uo until five minutes ago, I thought I was going insane."
"So...so ghosts are real." he said, with an air of resignation. He already had enough on his plate without adding ghosts into it. Oddly, he found himself wondering if this was a maintenance issue as per Candace lease -- did *he* have to hire ghostbusters, or was it her responsibility?
"I thought that too, at first. But nah, I don't think so." she mused, setting down the pan, and gesturing to the incorporeal woman. "For one thing, I don't have any sisters, dead or otherwise, and my mom and grandma are both alive."
"Maybe...maybe like your great grandmother, or something? Somebody that, you know, died young?" he offered, uneasily.
"Hm...maybe, but in a pair of jeans and a tank top, though?" she pointed out. "That's not how women dressed, way back when. I don't understand how, but I think she looks like me because she *is* me, like some kind of...I dunno, *other* me."
Gary hesitantly stepped closer, eyeing the apparition cautiously. Now that he was close, he could see she was chopping at nothing.
"So this...*other* Candace, she can't see or hear us?"
"Nope. None of them can, as far as I can tell." she said.
They both jumped as the woman suddenly looked up at them, and Candace let out a startled squeak. But the woman seemed to be looking past them. She set down the knife, and the utensil vanished, as she walked around the counter towards the door.
"Crap," Candace breathed, letting out a sigh, as they watched her walk past, and open the door. But behind the door was *another* door, which remained close, and the door she opened vanished as she removed her hand from the knob. "Always scares the bejeezus outta me when they do that."
"Why are there *two doors?"* Gary groaned. This was getting worse by the minute.
"One for us, one for them, maybe?" Candace said. "I think we can only see ghost-stuff when there's a ghost touching it."
"I thought you said they weren't ghosts?" Gary pointed.
"I meant not like *dead-people* ghosts." she said, uncertainly. "But they're people who you can see but aren't really there, so it still fits, more or less."
Gary watched the Other-Candace mutely talking to the closed door, and frowned, curiously.
"Who's she talking to?"
"Another ghost, I'd assume. We can't see them because the door -- the real door -- is in the way, I guess." Candace replied.
Cautiously, Gary stepped forward, and reaching past Other-Candace, he opened the apartment door.
Gary froze, his eyes widening as he saw the apparition she was speaking to. A tired-looking woman with auburn hair, dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, was talking animatedly to Other-Candace, though he of course couldn't hear what she was saying.
Candace frowned. "Huh. I haven't seen her before. Not one of other-me"s guests. I wonder who she is?"
"That's...that's my wife." Gary replied, hoarsely. "She died last year."
|
**Unregistered Tenants**
“Anthony, I need to talk to you about the unregistered tenants I’ve seen coming and leaving your apartment. You signed a lease for a studio apartment and we only allow up to one extra person living there on a regular basis, plus with the fire marshal I legally can’t allow you living with more than three people in that size of an apartment.”
“You can see them too?”
“What?”
“The others. They live within the walls of my apartment, taking on the forms of inanimate objects or strange alien beings when they come home. They only look human when they leave.”
“Just what are you talking about?”
“I’ve told them that there’s no need to assume human forms when they venture into the outside. Only I can see them, but they’re a paranoid bunch and take on people’s forms just in case somebody else has the gift. I suppose their paranoia has been proven justified.”
“Anthony? Are you okay? I can consult a mental health care official you need it.”
“We have plans. Plans that you or anybody else if allowed to see. Big ones. Oh I wish I could let you see them, you’ve been an amazing landlord. Great rent in a fantastic part of town. A steal if really. My friends - no, not the ones from the the other realm, my tangible friends - are jealous.”
“Well I’m flattered to hear that. I like to think that we provide affordable housing and terrific customer service to our many tenants. We didn’t win the best leasing managers in the city five years in a row for nothing. But as you must know- Hey, let go of me!”
“I’m sorry, I really am. But my friends - the intangible ones from another realm - and I can’t let you interfere. We have big plans and we’re just so so close. As an entrepreneur yourself you must understand.”
“I said let go. No, don’t shut the door. Ahhh!”
“Big plans. Big plans indeed. Friends, can you show her to the ritual closet? I think she’ll make a great beta tester for our first incantation.”
“Please, I’ll do anything. I won’t tell a soul. What are those? Tentacles? Please! Pl-“
“Her voice a faint muffle now. I told ya’ll that sound proofing was necessary for a ritual space in the modern world. Apartments are too cramped with paper thin walls nowadays. We’ll check back in a few hours to see if dar’goth is satisfied with his first sacrifice. How about we watch some Netflix in the meantime? I hear Physical 100 is pretty good.”
——
Thank you for reading! For more stories like this please feel free to check out /r/QuadrantNine for my past works. I recommend [The Humans](https://www.reddit.com/r/QuadrantNine/comments/zaqnfk/the_humans_705_words_scifi_writing_prompt/) if you’re looking for a dialogue only story, or [Pretty Eyes](https://jonathankwebb.com/2022/09/03/pretty-eyes/) if you’re looking for a darker story (side note: Pretty Eyes is only on my archival website right now and not my subreddit).
---
Edit: if you liked this story then I definitely recommend you check out the 5000 word sequel that I wrote in response to another writing prompt titled [Code Inspection](https://old.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/10ytwsl/wp_youre_an_ancientera_architect_with_a_singular/j81t0qu/). It deals with the old god, now possessing the landlord's body as he tries to build a temple to himself on top of the apartment building. It's a fun romp!
|
SilasCrane
|
jkwlikestowrite
|
2023-02-10 19:55:06
|
2023-02-10 18:13:54
| 88 | 12 |
j80rr35
| null |
10yrulf
|
2f9s10
|
[WP] When you discovered your daughter was a magical girl, you angrily confronted her patron. However, you were surprised to see that they also did not like the fact that your daughter was a magical girl but unfortunately, she was literally the only option they had.
|
"Squeaky, stay still so I can kill you!"
The giant purple furred hamster dodged another empty bottle, shattering against the wall with supernatural force. Squeaky usually wasn't too athletic, but it knew a life and death situation when it saw one.
"Wait, Mrs. Yamada, please listen! I had no choice!"
Junko Yamada, formerly Princess Protector Sapphire many years prior, ignored the creature's pathetic begging. Maybe next time it would consider the consequences of its actions, before roping another twelve year old girl into fighting some world ending disaster. If it lived through the next ten minutes, anyway.
"Mom, no! Squeaky is my friend!"
Jumping between her mother and the cowering hamster, Mimi Yamada (name in magical identity presently unknown) spread her arms out defensively. Junko froze mid-air, moments before impact.
"Mimi, honey," Junko said delicately, "just give Mommy a second here, okay? Me and Mr. Squeaky just have some important, grown up matters to discuss."
Belatedly, Junko lowered her fist, though only an inch or two, as her feet touched down once more on the living room carpet. Most of the furniture had been upturned by now, but Squeaky was running out of hiding spots. And it looked like the little bastard was quite aware of this, from how it timidly peeked out from behind Mimi's leg.
"Please, Mrs. Yamada," Squeaky said, voice quivering, "I swear, if there were any other option—I wouldn't have risked upsetting you of all people like this!"
That was a lot more believable than Junko wanted to admit. Pathetically, openly self-serving? Of course. Way too honest? Perhaps. But Junko had known Squeaky long enough to be certain it was too terrified to lie right now.
"That's ridiculous," Junko insisted, though she had a sinking feeling that "ridiculous" and magical girls often went hand in hand. "You told me yourself, any daughter of a magical girl can use the Staff! Why did it have to be Mimi?"
"Well... yes," Squeaky admitted, nodding along nervously. "It's just, um, well you see—"
Junko raised up a foot threateningly, dangling it right over Squeaky's head.
"Just spit it out already, you damn rodent!"
"Mimi is the only one!" Squeaky cried out, waving its tiny paws frantically. "There aren't any other daughters the right age! ...Or at all, really."
"Eh?"
This was enough to give Junko pause, if only from the unexpected angle. She didn't lower her foot, not quite ready to back down nor follow through. It wouldn't hurt to at least hear Squeaky out, she supposed.
"There's no way that's true," Junko said, a little less confident than she wished she could be. "There were dozens of magical girls my age alone—I met most of them, over the years. There must be at least a hundred old enough to be raising children, if not more! How could Mimi possibly be the only one?"
Squeaky cautiously backed away from Junko's foot, coming around to the other side of Mimi's leg. The girl in question looked nearly as nervous as Squeaky, eyes darting between her mother and her strange magical companion.
"Um... Mom?" Mimi said, at last finding her voice now that Squeaky's life didn't seem in immediate danger. "H-How many of your former teammates would you say are, um... married?"
"Huh?" Junko's head raised up from the floor, carelessly stomping down where Squeaky had been standing just moments prior. "At least a few? Yuyu and Kimiko were basically together from the start, and then Reina ended up with that other girl from—Oh... oh no."
Panic starting to set in, Junko mentally reviewed every magical girl she had ever met in any setting more casual than imminent doom. One of them had to have a husband, right? Any of them...?
"There, there, Mom," Mimi patted her shoulder awkwardly. "It's okay, I know you love Daddy a whole lot. There's nothing wrong with liking men!"
Trying not to curse her entire generation of magical girls, Junko took several deep breaths. There was nothing wrong with liking women either, of course. But did it really have to be all of them? Everyone but Junko?
"Also, um," Mimi started, pulling back a little, holding her arms against herself nervously. "Would this be a bad time to mention I kissed one of my teammates last night?"
Junko nearly shouted something. Anything. But then she thought better of it, and simply let out a sigh.
At least her adoptive grandchildren wouldn't be in any danger of this.
|
They say that you never imagine something bad could happen to you until it does. Whether that be a natural disaster, a terminal illness diagnosis, or a violent crime. I had been proven wrong that day, as many others in the past have, but nothing could prepare me for the purpose behind it all. Magical Girls had been long known to exist, of course. Watching one fight a giant monster on the news is one thing. Being there to witness it is another. But to not only be there, not only watch it unfold both in real time and on the nightly news, seeing your own face on the cameras... But to be the mother of one of them. To know that for the past month, she had been running around risking her life under an assumed alter ego...
Her Guardian Angel, her patron, Lasciencia, stood before me and spoke, "Yes. She is one of the Divine Children. The only one. Surely you noticed?"
I did. "Divine Children". What a joke. They were disappearing, some being found dead all over the world. Some are still missing. I replied, "Yes." as flatly as I could manage with my rage still soaring higher than Icarus.
"Then you understand." she had the gall to insist.
At that point, I stood up, no longer capable of holding back, "Understand!? You could have chosen anyone, but you chose a girl just entering adulthood, with a loving family and everything to lose, to go die in a ditch without telling anybody!? Without even asking!? How can you call yourself an angel!?"
But she had the patience of a saint to wait me out before answering as if nothing was wrong, "We do not recruit them to die. Before now, many would live long and fulfilling lives. Our powers are more than enough to protect them."
"Then why are they all dead!?" I spat back, intent on cornering her.
She quietly sipped from her porcelain teacup before answering, "The situation has changed."
At that point, I couldn't imagine a circumstance that could lead to such a drastic turn of events, "How!? You could have chosen any adult if you were truly so desperate! A soldier, an officer, an athlete, and yet... Why a child!? Do you---"
Though she did not yell, she firmly interrupted me; uncharacteristic of her usual propriety, "Do you really believe we would have chosen a child had we the option otherwise?"
In my anger, she had me. I couldn't formulate a proper response then, so she continued with an ominous phrase, "I am the last guardian angel alive."
I sat down, not only from the shock of such an unbelievable statement, but to imagine how such a thing could possibly be true. I could only mutter, "How?"
She took no pity on my state, and only stated the facts of the matter, "I am the last of the earthly guardian angels. Our kind were methodically wiped out in a matter of years. I only managed to escape extermination by a miracle, and in my helpless state, I could only receive your daughter's help."
She got up, hovered over to the open window, and stared at something in the middle distance, "She believe I was a shooting star. An object of fate, crashed into earth from the heavens. In a sense, she was not wrong. At the time, the only chance I had to survive was to be in her care. To give her the halo and trust her with the power to heal. She saved my life."
She turned back around. Outside the window, I reminisced about the meteor shower that was predicted just weeks before. I had wondered why she didn't come home that night, and why she acted strange the day after. But I suppose it all made sense. I could at least visualize the event. It would certainly be just like her to want to help a fallen angel.
That angel came to my side once again and continued her monologue in my silence, disregarding if I could handle any more of it, "It is not I who chose your daughter."
At that, I was at least slightly offended. But I was beginning to understand, those thoughts clicking into place like puzzle pieces upon her next words: "No, she chose herself. What qualifies a divine child above all else is the strength of their conviction. Not their physical ability or wit, but the resolve. Their Love, their Joy, their Hope, and their Determination. She had all of those in spades. I was powerless in her wake, as I still am."
It is at that point I realized, and it seems that she noticed, "I take it you know what you must do, now?"
I nodded painfully, "Is there nothing I can do?"
"Unless you can turn the hands of fate itself and bend her will to your own, no. And given what I see of your potential..." she began to uncomfortably probe my mind with her unnaturally shaped eyes "...you do not possess a superior emotional strength."
A feeling of helplessness washed over me. Not unlike that which I assume the angel felt when they crashed into earth. How could I possibly convince a 17 year old girl to give up unspeakable magical powers fueled by their hormone-addled emotions? No mind, no matter how logical or tactical, could hope to do that. And even then...
"Is this really a bad thing?" I asked, entering the acceptance stage of grief.
"That is a question only you can answer." she replied.
Poignant, is all I could think of at that moment. Even now, I do not know the answer to that question. But what I do know, is that the next answer she would give me would chill me to my core.
A time had passed before I finally asked, "Why did they all disappear? Why are you the last one? Why her?" all at once, as if I had not already asked, or perhaps as if I could not believe what I knew.
The angel looked troubled. "Do you recall the demons?" she asked, seemingly unrelated to my question.
Of course I knew. They had attacked cities before. They were now.
"The demons were thought to have been eradicated completely." she said.
I could only stare at her for a moment. "...But they're here! I saw one---"
She interrupted me again, "That was not a demon. It was the memory of one. A shadow. A resurrected zombie. The coalesced rage of their ancestors. No..."
I had more questions posed than answered. She stood up again and turned away, unable to make eye contact as she continued, "But there is one."
"One?" I asked, not sure if I even wanted to know at this point.
"Yes. There exists one demon left. One demon... and one key to the gates of the divine realm."
It is then that I finally realized what the stakes were. At the very least, I wanted to know... "Who?"
She did not turn to me. She did not move or speak for a solid minute. Then, a deafening explosion shook both of our hearts from outside, when she finally answered.
"The Godslayer."
|
10BillionDreams
|
Darkbeetlebot
|
2023-03-30 21:03:30
|
2023-03-30 18:39:52
| 68 | 51 |
jebom59
|
jeb1y7l
|
126oapc
|
126oapc
|
[WP] Your superpower isn’t anything special. You can make stuff disappear behind your back then pull it back out again. When a friend at a party asks you to do it to them it sounds like a great laugh. But when you pull them back out they look older, disheveled, and are frantic to be sent back.
|
“You mean … I’ve been sending objects to the future?”
Alex had returned looking quite ragged, and nearly passed out. We had urgently asked everyone else to leave while I attended to him.
“Yes!” Alex replied, “and after you sent me, I’ve been in contact with others. Or … will be in contact with them … oh, it’s all so confusing. But I’ve got to go back!”
“Wha, what? … What for?”
“There’s been a terrible plague, which has wiped out most of humanity. A few scientists have quarantined with their families, but most of the masses have died off… but it can be stopped! We happen to be at just the right time to…”
A loud knocking on the door interrupted Alex mid-sentence.
“I’ll go get it,” I said.
“No! There’s no time, let me get on your computer.”
“It’s upstairs, who the h-“
The knocked repeated, so hard the floor shook beneath me.
“Who the hell is that!?” I said, following him upstairs.
“You’re not the only one who can facilitate time travel. Now close the door.”
He began frantically typing at the keyboard.
“You were only gone for like, 30 seconds. How long were you there?”
“Three hours. They gave me instructions on how to avoid the plague altogether, but they also warned me that …”
*THUD*
*CRASH*
The entire house shook as my front door was kicked in. Boots thudded on the ground as the intruders began searching the house.
Alex whispered intently, “Lock the door!”
I turned the lock as quietly as I could, my heart pounding. Someone was coming up the stairs.
Alex was frantically scrolling through a large PDF of a patent filed by Monsanto, looking for just the right page.
The door handle jerked suddenly and I jumped back instinctively.
“UP HERE, BOYS,” shouted the man just beyond the door, “HE MUST BE HERE.”
The next couple seconds happened in a blur. Alex snapped a picture on his phone of a molecule on screen, then urged “Send me back, Now!!”
The door crashed open and the intruder spotted Alex immediately. This tank of a man came right for him, but it was too late. With a swish of my arm, Alex was swept right back to the future he visited moments ago, and then the world went dark.
——————-
Suddenly, Alex and I were back in my house, breathing heavy, adrenaline coursing through our veins, but safe. The doors were all perfectly in tact.
“What … the … hell just happened?!?” I asked. “The doors… they were kicked in, and know they’re fine! How did you get back? I didn’t pull you back, just suddenly we were back here.”
“Well… technically, it never happened.”
I stared blankly at him. “Of course it happened, we just survived that shit, what do you mean?”
“The scientists developed a cure once they had some more information about how the virus was made. The plague was accidental at first, but some other powerful survivors wanted to keep the world… culled. So they sent henchman after me once they traced my time leap.”
I sat there silently.
“So, in essence, while it did happen, because we were successful, none of it will happen.”
“You’re giving me a headache,” I replied.
“Let’s grab a beer and forget that never happened,” Alex said.
“Agreed,” I replied.
|
What?! No!No! Take me back! Take me back! Josh started to scream frantically, his body movement jerky and twitchy. The music stopped, everyone look horrified, at him, his hair, beard and nails overgrown, they suit his was wearing just a minute ago, shabby.
His breath on your face as he grabbed you, screaming and spitting was awful. His teeth yellowed, what was happening?
Before you could react at all Pamela's Husband grabbed Josh and pulled him from you, Josh had his grip so tight on your arm he scrached you as he was pulled away.
Josh looked and sounded like a mad man, yet you couldn't respond, you couldn't process it what had happened? You don't understand, it was literally just a second. You just stand there while the man tried to calm Josh and stop him.
He became violent starting to attack his friends, he knew who they were as he pleaded to be let go, to be able to return, calling his friends by their names. Is was a scary sight some of the women started to take the kids out of the room.
The party was ruined, everything had turned to chaos and you just stood there. You hearded faintly when Jeremy said, that Josh looked thinner, loke he hadn't eaten in a while. You never stopped to think about where the things you made dissappear went.
None of them ever looked older, even the foods... you didn't understand you could. You were immobilized, tears rolling out of your eyes as the evens unfolded around you. Eventually Mark came to you.
- What's happening man? He asked, clearly scared.
-I...I...don't know.
-What do you mean what did you do Alex?
-What did I... I don't know.
Mark's look turned from scared to angry, with him in front of you, you couldn't see the couch where they where still trying to hold Josh, but you could hear him trashing around and mumbling that he needed to go back.
-Alex?! What do we do? He won't stop! Screamed Jeremy as he tried to help Pamela's husband.
You looked around everyone else was gone. You couldn't explain, but before you could even say anything Josh came hurling towards you, pushing Mark out of the way, he did so with such violence Mark fell and hit his head. You couldn't see if he was okay, because Josh was immediately on top of you on the floor shaking you, drooling and screaming that he had to go back that he couldn't be here. Say incoherent things about how once you go you can't come back...you can't .... you can't come back... he didn't want to be back, he had to go, that he was in pain, the pain would only stop if he went back.
Someone must have called the police because you heard sirens outside and saw the blue and red lights reflected on the window.
Something pulled you focus back to Josh, a sharp and piercing pain, he was slawing you chest with his overgrown nails.
Jeremy pulled him away from you and you could see Mark on the floor a blood pool starting to form around his head, Pamela's husband beside him. Your chest wasn't much better and Jeremy struggled with Josh as the police arrived.
You vision was blurry, but you could see two of the police officers pinning Josh down on the floor and subduing him, the last things you saw before you passed out where a paramedic injecting something on Joshes neck and another comming to you.
You woke up on hospital two days later, you chest hurt and you felt like you couldn't breathe. Not even 5 minutes passed before two officers walked in and started asking questions, what had happened to Josh? what drugs had he used? You friends kidly told them you did something to him. And you had, but yoy couldn't expect them to belive you.
You didn't have a reply you didn't know. The cops said thaf Josh was having all of the symptoms of withdraw and that he might not survive, so they needed to know what drug you had given to him
Because they found nothing on the tox screen.
You told them you hadn't given him any drug, that you didn't know what had happened. They started to go ove your "friends" statements... you head felt heavy, your vision go blurry again and the sounds seemed faint.. distant.
You passed out the nurse said, the cops where very mad, but what did they expect...
A few months passed you never saw your friend again, the cops had to clear you has they couldn't prove you had done anything to Josh, just another case closed without and explanation. You had to get a restraining order from Josh. Every now and then he appeared on you door. Seemingly normal, but with that look, that same look from that day asking to be sent back, that he had nothing left in this world, his wife left, he couldn't see his kids, he lost his job and his friends wouldn't come near him...thay he didn't mean for Mark to die, but that he needed to go back, that he was in pain, that he felt empty and no one would miss him.
You hadn't seen him in a while, but you knew he was there... standing outside facing the house. Waiting for a change to go back. You even thought about letting him, but you didn't know what might happen if he did... what was on the otherside.
You promised to never use your power again, not even for small objects, as you look at yourself in the mirror with the scars on your chest...
The end
|
SilverSneakers
|
None
|
2023-01-26 07:56:04
|
2023-01-26 01:18:11
| 346 | 75 |
j5xrd46
|
j5whn24
|
10lcgjs
|
10lcgjs
|
[WP] Your superpower isn’t anything special. You can make stuff disappear behind your back then pull it back out again. When a friend at a party asks you to do it to them it sounds like a great laugh. But when you pull them back out they look older, disheveled, and are frantic to be sent back.
|
I was not born special. The event of my birth was as normal as any other child, a run of the mill baby with run of the mill parents in a house far too cramped and a head far too big for my neck. Yet despite the absolute mundaneness of my birth, my parents loved me as if the world had become anchored around my existence. For them I think it really did.
The house in which I was raised was only special to us, and only because it was ours. To any passerby, any wandering eye on the sidewalk who glared into the windows, they would read our lives as nothing but simple. As a mother who cooked and a father who worked. A child with a sensible amount of curiosity and another who died young. But that wasn't notable, that was just life. That was my life.
But of course, somewhere along the way, I thought the world had begun to revolve around me too. Convinced so by how much love my parents showed me. I must be special if they thought so, my parents were never wrong. And in this rare, stupid instance, it turned out I was right.
I had realized quickly as a child that I could move things. Not move from place to place, but *between* places. I'd put something behind my back and poof, gone. Then with my other I'd reach into the apparent void and just like that, it'd be back again.
A superpower? Hardly. Hell, it was hardly even of any convenience. I had only ever used it as a party trick. A simple display of harmless fun to entertain guests. Well, at least that was until I understood where it all led to.
It was Jackson's thing, a party I guess you could call it. Not enough people to be considered a party I'd thought, but he was turning twenty-one and those few of us there were making a big show of it. Finally he asked me, as he always did when he introduced me to others, if I could show them my "superpower". I obliged, starting with a candle, then a book, a handful of marbles, simple stuff. Sometimes it'd come back odd, candles used, marbles scuffed, minor things that I couldn't explain.
But it didn't seem to be enough, not for Jackson.
"Ok, ok! Now do me!" The room shut up at his eagerness.
"Have uh...have you tried it on a person Harry-" A concerned voice spoke up from the back of the room. But Jackson insisted.
"What? If not even better! I'll be the first." Jackson continued. Everything you've ever put in comes back right?"
I was hesitant, scared, but eager to know where it all went. So, he positioned himself behind me. The small crowd of friend's leaned in as if to notice any imperfection. Any clue of how my oddity worked. But nothing. The moment my hand touched him he simply faded from our existence.
The crowd ooe'd but I trembled knowing the power I now held. If I decided to do nothing he would be gone forever. My hands shook. Instantly I pulled him back, reaching into the void behind my back and yanking. What came through the other side though was something *different*. Much older, grayed hair and circular wrinkles around his eyes. A pair of wire framed glasses he did not previously have.
"I...I...send me back. God please send me back." An audible gasp blew through the room at this older mans desperate pleas. His eyes shot between us as if we were nothing more than distant strangers. But I knew it was him.
"Jackson? What was on the other side- where did you go?" I stuttered the words out.
"Paradise, hell, purgatory, does it matter?! Send me back! Please god what sort of cruel dream!" He dropped to his knees in a desperate plea. Rather than wait for my reply he gripped my hand and dove at my back, dissapearing once again.
Instantly I yanked back, feeling around the void for his shape, but gripping nothing. Nothing came. Nobody in the room moved, they all just stared at one another in disbelief as I struggled. I put my hands behind my back and yanked, and yanked, and yanked, my heart pulsing in my chest.
"Jackson! Jack!" I yelled, pulling one last desperate time. And this time something did come from the other side. A person, child, smooth skinned and wide eyed, no older than five. He looked like Jackson, in an odd way; something deep in his eyes.
"Jackson?" I questioned in a whisper.
And the child shook its head up and down.
Then and there I knew, it was true I was not born special, I was born cursed.
|
"Hey, you should try it with me." The words were slurred, Alex had obviously been hitting the punchbowl tonight. The noise of the party dipped a little before rising. No one was paying attention to us.
"Not the best way to try and get over a breakup," I said, keeping my tone light, I didn't want to destroy the party spirit.
"Oh, come on, it will be a laugh. Just put me behind your back and pull me out."
"What if you can't breathe back there? What if there's a time dilation? What if I pull out a dead body?" I said, grasping for reasons not to do this. There had to be a reason I never did it with living, breathing creatures. Even if I couldn't fully remember, I knew it had to be bad. I hadn't done it since my sixth birthday.
Alex stepped closer, eyes locking with mine. There was a deep sort of despair there, that threatened to reach out and absorb everything within its radius. I took a deep breath but before I could speak, Alex smiled.
"Just put me behind your back and pull me out." The words were the same, but the sound was layered, as if multiple people spoke at once. My hands reached for Alex without my conscious thought. It was their superpower, the ability to mesmerize someone, to make them do what they wanted. It was also the reason for their most recent breakup.
"Don't make me do this."
"It will be fine, come on. Don't you want everyone to have a good time?" Alex said in their usual voice as my hands closed around their arm and passed them behind my back. Instantly moving my empty hands to the front of my body and then backwards again, I pulled Alex from behind me.
"What—"
The person who stood in front of me was older; dishevelled in a way I had never known Alex to be.
"Send me back! How dare you take me from my destiny." The voice was different too, and my heart sank. I had never been able to confirm what I suspected about my power, until now.
"Let me put you behind me. You should go back." I said, reaching out and guiding the stranger around. They vanished and I took a breath. Reaching behind again, I tried to envision the Alex I knew. Pulled them in front of me, and ducked. The sword whistled over my head, taking a few hairs with it. The person who looked like a young version of Alex gabbled something in a language that vaguely resembled French.
"Sorry, sorry," I said, any French I had ever known flying out of my head. Shoving them behind me, I reached again.
"What the hell man? Where am I? Oh, a party. Groovy, man. Groovy." I tried to snag this version of Alex but they wandered off, their psychedelic clothes matching with the aesthetic of the party. Damn. Hands going back, I pulled again.
"Well, aren't you the bold boy. I daresay I haven't been groped like that since I was a young'un." I blinked at a person who was old enough to be my grandparent. They fluttered their lashes at me, fanning themself with their hand.
"Back you go," I said, and pushed them behind me. Pausing, I tried to think. Reaching blindly wasn't working, all I was doing was pulling alternate versions of Alex from across parallel realities. Or their reincarnations from this reality. I wasn't exactly sure, but either wasn't ideal. So where had I sent my Alex? What reality were they inhabiting?
The answer that came to mind—driven by my memories— broke my heart. If I was pulling them from parallel realities, the reality my Alex would have ended up in... I closed my eyes, reached behind me and my hands closed on an arm. Pulling them in front, I dared a peek.
Tears coated Alex's face, and more horrifying than that, was the knife in their hand.
"Alex? Where did you go?" I asked, a little afraid of the answer. They stared at me, crying silently.
"I went... I went...Back." They said, their face crumpling. I pulled them into a hug, trying not to cry as the knife clattered to the floor. A few people looked our way and I waved them away.
"I realized. Are you... Were they...?" I asked, unable to finish the questions.
"No. They were still... they were still..." Alex gasped, their breath coming in gasps. I rubbed their back in circular motions.
"All right, all right. Breathe. Just breathe." I knew beneath the shirt that covered them there were terrible scars. Scars inflicted by the people they'd just seen, the people they'd just been sent back to. The horrible people that I'd stolen Alex away from when I was six years old.
The memory of that day finally unfolded fully in my head. I'd suppressed a large amount; hadn't wanted to deal with it. There I was, playing with my newly discovered power, and I had the bright idea of reaching for my imaginary best friend. I thought at the time that I *made* things appear, not just stole them from elsewhere. When Alex had appeared in my hands, bloody, their back a mess of old wounds and new, I thought my power had hurt them during the process. They had never talked about their past, but I pieced it together through what they screamed out during their nightmares.
They were the reason I had never touched another living thing. I was afraid, afraid of what had just happened. That I would send that living being back to a horrible place or take them from paradise. In my arms, Alex stilled, their breathing starting to go back to normal.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I would never have done it if—"
"If I hadn't forced you. I'd forgotten too. When I appeared in that room... The memories came back." They said, voice hoarse from weeping. Breaking free of my embrace they looked at me, their eyes still wet. "Thank you for finding me again."
I smiled, wiping their cheek as gently as I could.
"I will always find you. You're my best friend. Remember?" I said, and they nodded, trying to smile.
"Now, I don't want to overwhelm you, but while I was looking, I found a rather interesting version. They wandered off before I could send them back. So, I guess the question is, where would you go if you were feeling groovy?" Before Alex could respond, there was a shout from the punchbowl.
"Man, this punch is wicked, man. So gnarly!"
Wiping the remnants of tears from their cheeks, Alex managed a tiny smile. As we turned towards the beverage table, they leaned into me. I knew they needed my support, so I wrapped my arm around their waist.
"I think," They paused. "I might be at the punch. If I was feeling groovy."
I laughed, and as a small chuckle escaped Alex, we made our way over to the punchbowl.
———————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories!
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GrunkleStanwhich
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Mooses_little_sister
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2023-01-26 02:31:30
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2023-01-26 00:57:05
| 1,159 | 714 |
j5ws905
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j5weovq
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10lcgjs
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10lcgjs
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[WP]A galactic empire has existed in relative peace for a hundred years. However, when the emperor and his family die suddenly during a transport accident, the government is thrown into chaos. After an exhaustive search, a long-lost relative is found and it seems to be you.
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"... Come again?"
"After months of extensive research, the imperial council have decided that according to the sacred book of records, you are a direct relative of the imperial dynasty and therefore it has been decided by the council that you are the next heir to the throne."
"What-"
"YOU are A DIRECT MEMBER OF THE ROYAL FAMILY. YOU are the LOST SON OF THE EMPEROR!"
I stare in bafflement and look around at the absurdity of the scene. A dirty run-down tiny apartment suddenly filled with well dressed and armed guardsmen with a tall man standing in front of me wearing a flamboyant outfit, shiny and flashy as if they are a training participant in the next annual galactic fashion fair, holding a tablet with the empire's famous insigna behind it.
"Sir, I don't think you understand, i'm an underpaid employee at StarBites™, I have no afilliation with the emperor or his family and I am not willing to sully the imperial bloodline because of a mistake in-"
the messenger turns the tablet screen to me and shows a detailed DNA analysis with a graph to prove relevancy in physical trait. However that's the last thing I noticed, as I was focused on the massive text on top of the screen reading:
### 97.82% MATCH
```%97.82 - positive DNA match.```
`- This DNA test was conducted by the Imperial Research Team in collaboration with the Ministry of Correction and Confirmation`
"...Oh."
As i continue reading the list of facts and details, i can feel my face turning pale in shock.
*same eye color, same display. My lord, he's even left-handed like me.*
"The council will meet you in an hour, you have to be in the palace and you have to be ready by then. LONG LIVE THE NEW EMPEROR!"
"Long live the emperor, father of the empire!" the guards chanted before marching out with parade music playing outside the building, taking the purple carpet they rolled in 5 minutes ago.
I go into sheer panic as I look at my trembling hands with disbelief. My vision being shakey and blurry as i rush to my bathroom and stare at the mirror to see who I am.
*Please be a nightmare, please wake up please wake up please wake up pleaase.* I repeat under my heavy breath knowing it's not changing anything. Apparently this 19 year old introverted restaraunt worker is the new ruler of this large anarchic realm of chaos.
I scramble to find my closet and search for my most formal dress - A three-piece suit handed to me as a gift from a friend 2 years ago. It's all dusty and wrinkled, but it's the best I got and the only thing I got beside pyjamas and my work uniform.
To Be Continued.
(will continue later as i'm busy. Any criticism, spellchecks and grammar corrections are accepted.)
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“You’re asking a librarian to become Empress? You do know I’m deaf, right? You also do know I only got this job because the Empress pulled some strings for me.” I sighed.
“You never questioned the, uh, string pulling?” General Davison asked.
“I figured us Broken were finally starting to be accepted. You do know how people feel about the Broken, right?” I scowled. “We are hidden away in terrible asylums and forgotten. It’s like we don’t exist. I’ll probably end up dead by the end of the first day!”
“The Empress was trying to change that because of you, her beloved niece. I’m still shocked you didn’t even recognize her as the Empress whenever she visited you.”
“Would you recognize her with her hair down, no jewelry, no headdress, and wearing simple clothes?”
“Well… maybe not.”
“Now, about the investigation, I have a funny feeling Auntie arranged for it. You know how horrible my cousin is. He is not fit to be Emperor in any shape or form.”
“That’s… That’s actually possible. The Empress did work on transporters during the war as a teen. Now , the succession?”
“Auntie would want me to step up, so fine. I’ll take on the mantle. However, I will not hide the fact I’m Broken. It’s high time everybody learns there’s room for the Broken in the light too.” I looked around my beloved library.
I did get a few visitors wanting to check out books. My books were rare and are not found in regular libraries. My deafness was not total. With my implants, I could hear fairly well.
Coronation day arrived. I studied myself in my mirror. I had chosen my purple covers for the clips that connected to my implants. My hair was in an elegant updo, and I was wearing a purple gown. I pulled on the white arm gloves and glared at the heels I would be wearing. I took a deep breath, and stepped into the heels. If I made it through the day without breaking an ankle, that would be impressive for me. I decided against makeup.
Lastly, I draped the purple cape on my shoulders. With another calm breath, I walked out of my closet and toward the throne room. I had refused any help to get ready. The grand doors opened and I walked through.
“She’s beautiful!”
“Are those implants for hearing loss?”
“She’s a Broken!”
“Shut up, you lot! Just because the Empress is a Broken doesn’t mean she can’t rule!”
“Sorry. The fact she’s a Broken caught me by surprise. Yes, those are hearing implants.”
“Is she going to be able to handle the duties of being the Empress? The Broken aren’t exactly… bright so to speak.”
“I unde-“
“Shut up already!” A man sitting in front of the four soldiers hissed sharply.
“I never thought I would be crowning an Empress for the second time.” The Bishop spoke, quieting the scattered voices. “We are gathered today to witness the birth of a new Empress.” He turned to me. “Lady Joann, do you swear to uphold the laws and regulations of our people?”
“I do.”
“Do you swear to honor the Gods and help our people become closer to them?”
“I do.” **I don’t, actually.**
“Do you swear to protect our people and guide them in times of strife?”
“I do.”
“Do you swear to be a beacon of love, hope, and justice for our people as you guide us into a bright future?”
“I do.” **You totally made that one up!**
“Then without further ado, I crown you, lady Joann, as Empress Joan, the Broken Empress!” The headdress was placed on my head. I sat on the throne, my throne, for the first time, facing my people.
“Yes it’s true that I’m a Broken. You know what? I don’t care. I’m just the same as you. I bleed the same blood you do. My heart beats just as yours does. I have the same bones and organs, minus a kidney, that you have. I was born missing that kidney. My ears work just like yours do. I just don’t hear very well. I’m a Broken and I’m proud of it.” I stood. “I want all of us, the Broken and the Normals, to live together in harmony. Just because we are Broken doesn’t mean we are helpless. We just need accommodations to help us on the job.” I looked around. “I worked in the rare section of the royal library. My accommodations? My implants and my speaker by my computer. That’s it. I managed just fine.” I hardened my gaze. “We just want to be treated normally, not get tossed away in some hospital and forgotten by our families. Don’t we deserve to be treated like the humans we are? What gives you the right to treat us like some dirt on your shoe? We’re Broken, so what. We’re still humans. As your Empress, my aim is to someday remove the labels and have us live together under no label. This is possible. Some attitudes will need to be changed of course.” I smiled.
People looked around at each other. Someone began to clap. Others joined in, and soon everyone was standing and clapping together for their new Empress.
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SharpSpectra
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Catqueen25
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2023-02-11 11:41:33
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2023-02-11 08:45:32
| 78 | 36 |
j83mvc9
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j83aj6s
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10z78wk
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10z78wk
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[WP] Destroying 90% human population on earth, the aliens leave, assuming that society would crumble, and remaining 10% will just all fight for resources and eventually die out. They returned a thousand years later, expecting a cleansed planet, but were met with a nuclear strike from a satellite.
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We call it the 80-20 rule.
Clean out 80% population of a species, and the rest 20% dies out on its own.
This rule has been in place as long as there has been xenocidal wars in the galaxy.
Exterminating an entire species to its last member is not economical. We wanted to find a sweet spot where we can annihilate a species at the lowest expense. Basis multiple trials and errors, the 80-20 rule was followed. It has never failed.
Eventually, however, a mistake was made.
A primitive species was found on the third planet from the star in a remote system in the galaxy. In his zeal, the Admiral of the quadrant wiped out *90%* instead of the calculated 80% of the population.
This mistake was quickly noted, the Admiral was quickly stripped of his ranks and sent to a penal colony, his incompetence filed away.
Everyone forgot about the incident.
A thousand years later, someone discovered this incident in the archives. Determined to make a movie out of the whole incident (“The incompetent admiral”), they sought the help of the imperial starfleet to shoot the movie at the site of the actual incident.
Our first hint that something was amiss was the massive Dyson sphere around the system that contained the planet. As the scout ship accompanying the movie crew approached the sphere, they were vaporized by multiple nuclear strikes from satellites orbiting the sphere.
While this was unexpected, it was not intimidating. The “humans” had used nuclear strikes in the first war as well. Surprised at the fact that some resistance still remained, we sent in a fleet to seek and destroy whoever remained.
Little did we know we were walking into a trap.
The humans had used the thousand years to reverse engineer our technology and understand our battle strategies. Their first move *was designed* to draw out a fleet to measure our current capabilities, both technological and strategic.
In this we were found severely lacking.
Now, nearly two thousand years after that second contact, we stand at the brink of extinction.
The humans do not care about the costs of war. On every planet they have conquered, they have systematically exterminated every man, women at children.
Even now, while we desperately fight to defend our capital city on our home planet, our last citadel, I hear whispers of camps being set up in the conquered territories, where our captured citizens are systematically massacred.
If these are to be my last words, do pay heed.
While in Xenocide, do not violate the 80-20 rule.
Crossing the 80% threshold apparently *prevents* a species from dying out.
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The scholar climbed out of bed, groaning as the rain outside came crashing down in thick, sideways sheets. "An unbelievably LOVELY day for my arthritis..." He grumbled as he got dressed, and left the room. The next room was his dining room, and he turned on the light. The tile floor was grey, and there was a tall refrigerator and a wooden table with a laptop on it.
"Good morning, sir." A maid said as she prepared his breakfast, bacon and eggs with toast.
"Good morning, Anna, and you can call me Henrik." He sat at the table and booted up the computer, a vestige of the times before.
> Greetings, Scholar Henrik Adams.
The computer displayed after it finished booting up. "Arkos, have there been any reports of those extraterrestrials showing up?"
> No, sir. The thaumatomic warheads have repulsed the aliens as the simulation predicted.
"Good. Do I have any meetings or calls due today?"
> Yes, sir. The Commission on Arcane Warfare has requested you come into their local office today.
"Figures. Anna, could you also please get me my pain medication and rain gear?" He asked as she put the plate of food on the table.
"Yes, sir." She said, opening a bottle of pills. "I'll retrieve your coat and boots for you." She curtsied before leaving and he smiled. He swallows his pill, a capsule of acetylsalicylic acid and ibuprofen, and then begins to eat, finishing his meal quickly.
"Excellent job on breakfast today, Anna!" He said, the computer noting his commendation. Anna returned with boots and a jacket, and he put them on. He went to the door, and left the house.
X---X
The storm finally let up as Henrik arrived at the base, and the guards let him in after confirming his identity. He walks into the briefing room, where the President of the United Earth, and three of the top generals were waiting. "Mister Adams, your thaumatomic weapon worked like a charm." The president said, and Henrik smiled.
"Those aliens thought they'd eradicate us with their pretty bombs, but all it did was give us magic, and a common enemy to unite against." Henrik says. "And while they've been sending strike teams against us, our ingenuity with weapon making has kept them on the back foot."
"The reason I called you today was because we've finally finished our first FTL ship." The president says, as the screen behind him displays a large spaceship. "Test flights have clocked a round trip of seven hours from here to Pluto, from launch to landing. And the last incursion we ended gave us the intel we needed to find the enemy's base. We want you to command the ship."
"And just where, mister President, is this superluminal suicide mission sending me?" Henrik replies.
"Proxima Centauri b," Henrik raises an eyebrow.
"So, you're asking me to give up a year of my life teaching the Earth's finest young men and women how to fight the enemy with both gun and spell, and send them to their deaths?" Henrik scoffs.
"No, I'm asking you to act as tactical operations, Henrik." The president says. "I've finished my final term, and the best thing I can do for my people, my planet, is to personally lead them in glorious battle." He says. "Generals, you are dismissed." The officers salute, and once the president returns it, they leave.
"Bullshit, Markus." Henrik says. "I've known you long enough that that's bullshit." He sighs. "What's your actual reason for going?"
"The doctors say I have two years to live, Henrik." He says. "I don't want to spend the last two years of my life retired. I served in the reconstruction of this planet and her people, and I led them for another decade." Tears begin to well up in his eyes. "If I'm going to die, then I'll die in service to this planet, just like I've lived."
"And what about Nella?" Henrik scowls. "Does she know you're going on a suicide charge? What about my niece and nephew!?!" He shouts. "Even if you do survive, they'll NEVER live up to the standard you're going to set doing this!!!" Henrik slams his fists on the table. "Those kids deserve to have you in their lives!!"
"Nella filed for divorce last month." Henrik's face goes pale. "Says she wants the kids and everything I own." Markus coughs, a sickening, dry sound like sandpaper against a record. "I've already updated my last will and testament, and have given orders that they are to be executed once I leave the Earth." Henrik walks up and hugs Markus.
"Brother, why didn't you tell me?" He asks.
"Because I know you. You would have gone on a rampage, smearing Nella's reputation across the entire solar system for this." Markus replies. "And none of us need that."
"Fine, but I'm doing my damnedest to make sure you get out of this alive." Henrik chuckles.
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Remarkable-Youth-504
|
Wasphammer
|
2023-03-26 18:51:23
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2023-03-26 15:31:35
| 124 | 92 |
jdryqnr
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jdr6iuh
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122d3v5
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122d3v5
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[WP] your a super Villian/super hero who's partner just died. When the funeral was supposed to be attended, nobody came, except for one person, your arch nemesis, who came there to comfort you through these tough times
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The rain had fallen in sheets, soaking through my suit as I stood by the coffin. The cemetery was empty aside from the priest who spoke in words my mind refused to follow as I stared at the polished wood. Echo, my partner, my best friend, was gone. The one who always had my back, the one whose laugh could break the tension even in the worst of situations. And now... she was gone, there was no one.
I glanced at the rows of empty chairs, the ones which had been set out for the masses to celebrate the life of a hero... empty. The world had moved on without her. No allies, no friends from the hero circuit. All those people we saved together- where are they now?
"Pathetic, isn't it?"
The voice was familiar, venomous, yet... softer than I'd ever heard it before. I didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"Void" I muttered, clenching my fists.
My arch-nemesis stepped forward, out of the mist, his black trench coat fluttering like the shadow he portrays himself to be. The man who had terrorized my city for years, who destroyed everything he touched, now stood just a few feet away at the funeral of the only person who kept me sane.
I swallow hard, anger boiling under the grief. "You shouldn't be here."
"And yet," his voice is laced with mock sympathy which makes me want to punch him just to keep him quiet "I'm the only one who showed."
He wasn't wrong, and that made it worse. My pulse quickened, my fist tightened and a familiar rage built within me. I could fight him right here but... what was the point? She wasn't here to fight with me. Would she even want me to fight him? Would she be disappointed? Void took a step closer to me and I made no effort to stop him.
"She was the best of us," he muttered as if to himself. "I tried to stop them... she deserved better than this."
For a moment, his words didn't register. Void, the man who killed countless with no mercy, speaking as if he cared. My stomach twisted with confusion. "Stop who?"
"Bloodstorm and Thundercrash. They killed her." he shook his head, his expression a complex mix of regret and something else.
My eyes meet his "You hated her." I spit, our tones starkly different.
Void exhaled a slow breath leaving fog in the damp air. "I didn't come here to fight. I came because I know what it's like to lose someone who's your everything."
I stared at him, a flicker of surprise breaking through my grief. He wasn't gloating. He wasn't taunting me. He was offering me something. Something I never thought I'd see from him: understanding.
I hated that he was here. Hated that he was the only one who seemed to understand the weight of this loss.
"I don't want your pity" I muttered, wiping my eyes of the tears I would swear was just the rain.
"This isn't pity," he speaks quietly. "It's respect."
There was a pause as he stepped back, giving me the space I didn't know I needed in the barren graveyard "I'll leave you to your grief, but... if you need someone who understands-" he hesitated. "You know where to find me"
And with that, he turns, walking back into the mist and letting the shadows swallow him whole.
The rain fell heavier, the whole world blurred around me, but Void's words echoed in my mind.
It seems even enemies could share grief.
|
It is raining, I hear the droplets dash against the stained-glass windows.
The church is empty, I look at my watch, still broken.
I wipe the tears away, haven’t stopped since.
“Where is everyone?” I ask aloud.
There in front of the altar lies the coffin with Sarah inside.
You can’t look at it. You hate that wooden box so much, you HATE that the lid is between you and Sarah.
I feel the wood of the bench in front of me crumble in my grip. I shake loose the feeling. Back to reality, where I don’t want to be.
*Sound of a door open and close*
“Thanks for co…” I see that man, dark suit, bald head, hawk nose and a curling mustage. Doctor Classics.
“YOU!” escapes my lips. Then a blur, bench splinters around me as I rush him, black tile cracks beneath my steps. In a second, I rush him. He dodges. I swipe, I feel pillar concrete where his head should be.
‘Strongman, wait…’ he says. I don’t, charge Classics again. I stomp on the marble floor. The windows shatter. He moves again, too slow. I grab him by his coat and pull him to the ground. I raise my fist and hear ‘Strongman, please stop.’
I halt, heavy breathing. “Why the fuck are you here?” I snarl, releasing the cloth, knowing he won’t fight back, always surrenders to the cop's type of criminal.
‘That language is unbecoming of you, Strongman.’ Classics says dusting of his coat.
“Why are you here and i you have done anything to the family than I will…”
‘Whose family? You Strongman don’t have a family, you crawled out of a test tube and the few friends you have are currently mopping up YOUR mess back home500 miles away.’
“My mess?”
‘Yes, Your mess. Why are you here Strongman, you aren’t religious, you have no connection to this town. Blast, we haven’t even fought in this part of the state. Yet I find you here.’
“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Classics. Now leave before Sarah’s family arrive.”
‘And you invited Sarah’s family with handwritten letters, I presume.' I see Classics hold up a wad of envelopes, each with a black border, each moldy and wet.
‘I found these in the mailboxes of several dilapidated buildings, right after you had another of one of your episodes.’
“Episodes?”
‘Yes episodes, you stare off into space than lash out Strongman. You block a road or uproot a tree or run through a high rise, people have gotten hurt Strongman. Your palls at the police are fixing the damage, but they have their limits. Dammit, Strongman, WE haven’t even had a proper fight in over a year!’
You look at Classics, you see his pores in details, his wrinkles deep and tired, but you don’t see a lie.
“I…”
‘Whose coffin is that?’ Doctor Classics interjects.
“My fiancé’s Sarah.”
‘How did she pass?’
You sense that there is more to his question. You want to rebuke, you want him to leave but for the life of you. You can’t remember.
“She was sick, I think.”
‘Is that why the abandoned hospital was broken into so many times, always leaving a Strongman shaped hole in the front door? Or is that why every doctor in the city received a heart attack when you showed up in the middle of the night!’
“What are you implying, I'm warning you!”
‘Open the coffin, Strongman.’ Classics says as a schoolteacher talks to a student.
“What, no, get out!”
‘Open the coffin Strongman’
“You are sick, leave!”
‘Who brought the coffin inside, there is no hearse out front, there is no priest in the back, From which mortician did it come, in which hospital was she admitted? Why did you invite empty houses to a funeral500 milesaway in the middle of nowhere?!’
You must not listen to him, he is a villain after all.
“You won’t trick me.”
‘Trick you? I merely ask you to look into a wooden box. I recall that you are Strongman, Strongman who can hear a mouse from 2 blocks away, Strongman who can smell fear or sadness or joy. STRONGMAN THE REASON EVERY CROOK WEARS LEAD UNDERPANTS BECAUSE HE CAN SEE THROUGH WALLS!!!’ yells Classics.
“Stop it!”
‘Look at the coffin Strongman, look at Sarah!’
I open my eyes, I look.
“Where, where is she, where is Sarah, I swear i, where is my Sarah!?”
‘She was never in there.’
“What do you mean?”
‘What do you remember about her? Where did you meet, what was her favorite food, how did she look?’
Your brain hurt, his questions hurt.
‘Strongman you haven’t been yourself for a long time, you have come into contact with all sort of nasty stuff, I think you got sick or poisoned or…’
“No”
‘Pardon’
“No”
‘What no?’
“She is real, she exists.”
‘Strongman, look at me for the first time in my life I'm trying to help you, you are causing damage, my henchmen have started to move away because you have become erratic. The truth is that you have changed, and I don’t want you to change, not for the better but also not for the worse.’
You feel calm wash over you, you know what comes next.
‘Come with me Strongman, I have a toxicological lad in my lair, we can go from there, What are you doing with that candelabra? Strongman, are you there?’
Rain, you look around, rubble unfamiliar to you. You look down, blood and gore but no pain, so it’s fine.
“Where to now, sweetheart?”
~The city dear, they need a refresher about what strength really means, will we make it there before the evening news?~
You look at your watch, happily ticking, showing you six thirty.
“We will make on time, Sarah.”
|
Awkward_Bottom_69
|
Vaposerror
|
2024-09-19 22:32:55
|
2024-09-19 21:20:54
| 74 | 44 |
lnynu9p
|
lnyb5sk
|
1fko803
|
1fko803
|
[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.
|
It took you a while to realize it, but it was the *ofrenda*. That was what tied you here. And it wasn’t like an enslavement. More a feeling that this was still home. Not that the new family had placed your picture there; it was traditional, with their *abuelas* and *abuelos*, uncles and cousins and even a beloved pet cat. But just the fact that the Alvarez family honored and loved those who had crossed over made it comfortable for you.
Still, it was puzzling why you’d died. You didn’t remember what happened, and by the time you’d sorted out where you were and how to function as a ghost, the neighbors had stopped talking about your death. With the housing crisis, the house was snapped up even with the “owner found dead” rumors flying about. And when the neighbors came by with sage bundles to “clear out the bad,” Tio Ana piped up, “No no no! Your *primo* is so allergic! We will find another way if the house spirit is unhappy!”
So the Alvarez family assembled their *ofrenda*, and you delighted in seeing the *papel picado*. The way they fluttered in a light breeze was a ghost’s best entertainment during long nights. Yes, the candles and water and fruits were lovely, but you liked the delicately cut paper banners the most.
One night, after drifting through all the bedrooms to make sure everyone was sleeping comfortably, you decided to explore the old house. The family had made a lot of changes, which was fine. You felt no jealousy that the pictures on the walls, even the color of all those walls, the rugs on the floor, the Formica countertop replaced with tile, all of that was different. This was their home now. You were their ghost. But you were still slightly unhappy. Why had you died? You looked out the window to the neighbors’ home. They knew, but you couldn’t exactly ask them. And it was so cold out this season! Your ghostly body remembered, and didn’t want to drift out there. Oh well, it was a big house. Might as well take a look in all the rooms, right?
The nursery smelled like clean baby. All the bedrooms had a faint scent of the lavender that Abuela Carmen liked to tuck in with fresh sheets. Papa Alejandro scrubbed every bathroom to within an inch of its life, and the harsh bleach scent hurt. Your vision went all red and wobbly. At least it was easy enough to avoid bathrooms.
Oh, the kitchen! A place full of the memory of smells. Empanadas, tamales, sopapilla and churros, the list went on endlessly. Sometimes, you could even swear there was a whiff of your mother’s sourdough. It was the only room on that level that you cared to visit. You avoided the large living room every time you drifted. You couldn’t explain why, but it caused an ache deep within when you approached that threshold.
You decided to drift down to the basement. You hadn’t been down here for a long time. After all, who wants to visit a laundry room, or the furnace? But you might as well drift through.
The family had fired up the furnace just this evening. Thanks to a frost advisory, the front room was full of plant pots from the porch. As you drifted towards the far corner of the basement, everything seemed red. And it hurt! What could this be?!? There was no scent of bleach, there was no smoke filling the room.Your invisible cold hands grabbed at the stair railing, and you pulled yourself up from the basement. Out of sheer terror, you found yourself halfway up the hall stairs when the redness and pain faded. If your lungs had been corporeal, you would have been breathing so hard… with that, one other thought rang through your consciousness: It was really cold that night, too.
Fighting a supernatural feeling of dread, you floated back down, as slowly as you could. The pain began at the top of the basement stairs, now. Just a hint. As you went down, it got worse. The whole basement of this house was sheer pain and poison. As you forced your ghostly eyes to focus, you could see that the old furnace was belching out the redness that flooded your vision. Okay, no need to hang around since you knew where this horrid feeling was coming from! You dragged yourself up the stairs. Now, the kitchen was filled with the pain-causing miasma. This was going to fill the house! But, the family! You couldn’t let it reach them!
You gasped as realization hit. This probably killed you, too. You drifted into the hated living room. Memories rose through the pain. That was the corner where your old recliner sat. It was gone now, but you remembered its soft, worn coverlet. How many nights had you fallen asleep to the late night comedians, in that very old chair? As it seemed now, probably one night too many. No wonder your ghost-mind couldn’t stand this room.
But knowing that wouldn’t help the Alvarez family. How could a ghost do anything? You hadn’t been able to do so much as push in a chair or make a door squeak. In despair, you gave out a huge sigh.
The red mists swirled in response.
What?!? Your breath could affect this stuff? You tested it, straining to remember what it felt like to inhale.
As it turns out, a ghost can inhale for a very long time without stopping. Incorporeal lungs can draw in a lot of carbon monoxide. When the redness in the room was much less, you held your breath. How to get it out of the house, now? You couldn’t open a window.
The keyhole! The back door had a big old-fashioned lock, with a big old-fashioned key needed to open it. Most of the time, the Alvarez family just used the security chain rather than bothering with the clunky old skeleton key. Your ghostly lips kissed the old iron lock plate and you blew with all your might. The red poison swirled away with the night breeze!
You frantically flew down the stairs, and drew in another lungful of red mist. It felt as if bells were jangling inside your head as the poisonous air concentrated within you. The trip back up the stairs and to the old door seemed to take forever, but the relief as the redness faded was amazing. It took three ghostly lungfuls to clear the basement, but by the last one, it was obvious that the upstairs was safe as long as you kept up this paranormal air pumping.
The rays of the morning sun surprised you, and brought warmth to the house. The thermostat finally cut off the faulty furnace. You drifted slowly into the sunroom with the *ofrenda*. As much as a ghost can feel, you felt utterly exhausted. But happy too. You could protect the family. It would take all your energy, any time the nights were cold, but you were a ghost! Nothing else demanded your time!
Maybe someone would read a local paper and you could blow the pages to furnace repair ads, until they got the message. Maybe that coupon pack had an HVAC company special in it. You’d have to find some way to get the message across, but, once again, you had the time.
Plus, you’d discovered something that made you happy. You blew over the *ofrenda*, watching the candle flames dance and the paper banners sway. It certainly didn’t take much to entertain a ghost.
|
Drakolf
|
FearlessKnitter12
|
2023-05-26 19:38:27
|
2023-05-26 18:55:04
| 44 | 30 |
jlqjkz8
|
jlqe7vw
|
13sgef0
|
13sgef0
|
[WP] As a Villain, one night, someone knocks on your door, you open it and there she is, the most famous invulnerable heroine of the city, completely drunk and with many bruises, as soon as you realize who she is, she passes out into you arms
|
I stared at her incredulously as my humongous brain stitched facts together. Danger Dame, the famous Defender of Denver, in street clothes, bruised, unconscious, at my mercy.
My eyes darted from shadow to shadow, desperate to pierce the darkness and find her friends. This was a trap. It had to be. But I've been laying low since the fiasco in Boulder. The Dame had sworn revenge for the humiliation I caused to her sidekick Action Lad that allowed me to escape. I knew from experience that an path like thst usually meant she wanted to bringing me in personally, so as long as I could hide then eventually she'd get bored and I could go on with my schemes.
But here she was. How did the Dame know I was hiding out here in this abandoned gas station? Why did she come alone and without her superhero suit?
I had to entertain the possibility that she didn't in fact know I was here, and that something else, something dangerous, might have been hunting her, and by extension, me.
I sprung into action, ducking into the saferoom I've prepared in the underground tanks and checking the hidden cameras. I didn't see anything on thermals, but that didn't mean something wasn't lurking out there. I knew that well enough.
I was no fighter. I was Shadowstep. I had powers of invisibility and teleporting in darkness, and I used my powers for theft and evasion. Something that could mess up Danger Dame could destroy me, but it was nearly dawn and I couldn't easily jump around in the daytime so running also wasn't in the cards. If it came down to it, despite everything, my best bet in a fight was alongside my belligerent nemesis.
I heard the Dame groan and shift. I rushed to her side. "Shh, you're safe," I reassured her, stroking her hair. She murmured something unintelligible and quieted down. She looked so vulnerable. But, dammit, I had standards, no matter how long it's been! Sticking to theft was a big reason why the authorities left me to her to deal with in the first place.
My alarms beeped and I rushed back to the monitors. There, something sinuously creeping near the front door. It looked like a man-sized pitch-black salamander and acted a bit like a hunting hound. My hand went to my knife as I watched itsniffibg around, but suddenly it perked up as if listening before scampering off as quickly as it came, as if fleeing the first rays of the sun.
I leaned back in relief, before I saw something on another monitor. The shot was blurry but I could see something or somebody big and tall, looking a bit like a cowboy in a longcoat with a wide brimmed hat walking away. That guy, or the shadowy beasties he apparently commanded, was her problem.
But that made it my problem too. My hideout was compromised. Even worse, If Danger Dame thought I was the one attacking her, I'd be screwed. Nothing stopped her on a rampage. But she was still out of it.
I had an idea. I printed out a couple screenshots and wrote Danger Dame a note explaining this was what had been after her before signing it "a shadowy friend". I hastily packed the essentials and some clothes upstairs before booking it to my motorcycle.
I was about to start it when a hand grabbed my shoulder. It was Danger Dame, looking groggy but pissed. "I didn't do it, Danielle, I swear!" I said, hands up.
She frowned. "Yeah. I saw the note. And don't fucking call me that. I'm Danger Dame to you. What the hell are you doing out here, Sam?" she asked.
"No fair, using my name," I said, giving her my most charming smile. She wasn't impressed. "Look, I'm laying low. What are you doing here? Getting away from... whoever that was?"
"Yeah. So it wasn't you. Okay," she said, taking a deep breath and thinking. If I could start my bike I could probably outrun her, but that assumed she didn't kick my ass before I could. So I waited anxiously. "You saved me, Sam."
"Purely incidental, I assure you."
"No, I don't think so. You could have killed me. You didn't even tie me up!" she said.
"Come on, Dame, I'm no killer. Besides, would ropes have held you?"
"No," she smirked. "You're right. This other guy is the problem."
"Who is he? He's cramping my style," I said.
Danger Dame crossed her arms. "Dunno. Someone new. Someone we've got to deal with."
My eyes widened. "We? Uh-uh, no way. You can drag me to jail first. I'm not joining your team, Dame."
"My team is dead," she said, eyes hard.
"My condolences," I said softly. Shit. "All the more reason to get out of here."
"I can't do that, Sam. You helped me. I can help you. Let's do something about this Hunter guy and I'll... vouch for you," she said, obviously uncomfortable about asking me for help.
I didn't like it, not one bit, but I had a soft spot for a pretty face, even one on a tough scrapper like her. "I dunno about that, Dame, but... I'll give you a lift back to town. Ain't got an extra helmet, though."
She smiled. "That's a start," she said.
|
I go to sleep alone on a Friday night.
It's nothing special anymore. Honestly, I've kind of gotten used to it. Looking out the window, hearing the muted sounds of cars stuck in a traffic jam at 11:30, hoping to get home soon enough that they can get up in the morning without an alarm. The sky is a nonexistent blank void, all the stars shrouded by the lights that are on, 24/7, as the light in the city blinds us to what's above. My room is dark, but I know where everything is. The small dresser where I keep my underwear and socks is close to empty. I need to get over to the laundromat tomorrow. My closet is filled with sweatshirts, graphic tees, and denim jeans, with a couple of Eagles jerseys in there for when a game's on and we wanna party. My bed, still covered in a massive Pikachu bedspread from when I was little, is starting to get a little old. My desk still has my laptop, an old Chromebook that I got in middle school. Its fan humming incessantly, my Chromebook gives me a weird sense of stability. I don't have to think my own thoughts, or listen to music to fall asleep. That fan is enough to that for me. The carpet is fluffy, though there are a couple stains from when I was younger. On the wall, a couple superhero posters from when I was little. Some of them from comic books, other ones from real life. Surge The Dark Horse screams out in rage on my door, though he's mostly covered by a shower robe. Right behind me, Queen Bee glares menacingly, claws like the mythical vibranium that laces the other claws right next to me, on Black Panther. They're both icons, people I've wanted to meet since I was little. Unfortunately, I doubt the chance will ever come.
I go to sleep alone on a Friday night.
Mom works night shift. I've seen her job as a TSA agent before. She's up there, standing, checking the bags of people who aren't terrorists, having to treat every single person with just a slight ounce of hostility, just in case. Dad's never around, so she's the one providing us with the money these days. She promised me a new computer when I graduate. I just want her to make rent. She's strong, both physically and emotionally. I just want her to be happy.
Dad isn't around anymore. Died in a car accident with some drunk fucker who thought that street racing down 4th Avenue would be funny. I never knew him much, though. Lucky he died when I was young, only 1 or 2. Still, I miss him lots. Prefer not to talk about him. Poor Jack did his best to fill the hole that caused for me, but only being a couple years older meant that he never really knew what to do until I was too old to take any actual advice from him. I know he cares about me, I do. It's just that, well, I feel mature enough, now. I feel ready to leave the nest. He's at college, now. On the other side of the nation, UC Berkley. If I'm being honest, I miss him a lot. It's lonely here without his presence.
I've got friends that can help with that, at least. Mariana and I have been besties since, god, 3rd grade, I think? I don't really know, however long it takes for kids to realize that they want to go to college together, or whatever. Plus, it would help out with our dream of starting a band together. She's already got the drum part down, and Jack got me into guitar and singing. Just need a third, and we'd be on our way. I've got loads of other friends, too. Lulu, Alexis, Ryan, Tracy, and the rest of the gang all live within a few blocks of me, and my place is normally The Spot To Have Sleepovers, as long as Ryan and Tracy keep their hands off each other. Blech.
The fan isn't doing it tonight. The sounds of someone fighting only a couple blocks away came through loud and clear, the sounds of wind rushing around the magic-proofed skyscrapers that dotted the city left and right. The clash of what sounded like lots of guns hitting something very metallic left ringing, even if it was muted. I couldn't fall asleep like this.
With a bit of frustration, I slowly get out of bed, and stretch, reaching for my phone.
"11:45?" I grumble to myself. "Fucking A, man."
I slowly open up TikTok, and just swipe through annoying people, giving bad takes, as the algorithm fails to show me anything interesting.
I fail to go to sleep alone on a Friday night.
Eventually, I decide that enough is enough, and just get out of bed entirely. If this fight isn't going to end any time soon, I might as well get something done.
I open up my Chromebook, and slowly wait as it loads the still incomplete research paper on The Communist Manifesto that I had decided to choose as my research topic. Lulu had offered to finish it for me, but my part time job absolutely didn't give me $50 to spend on papers that really weren't even that hard. I slowly reopen the rest of the tabs from the search history, and get back to writing the 3rd of a 5 page analysis.
Using the fight as background music, which as I looked out the window, was obviously Queen Bee- normally her fights didn't last this long- I started to get back into the groove of using the notes I'd taken form other online sources to finish up the argument I had about The Communist Manifesto. Slowly, but surely, though my phone buzzed as the clock struck midnight, I got my paper finished.
As I go through the process of editing, making sure that everything is good for submission next Tuesday, immediately, I recognize that something's, well, something's off. Not like before. Quickly, I shuffle through everything it could have been. Is it the light? I flick the lamp next to me on and off again, before realizing that nope, the bulb isn't dying. The paper? Not really. All the tabs I used last time are there. Steam and Discord haven't randomly updated for no good reason. Everything seems to be fine. Is it my music? No, my phone hasn't been running for a while, I've just bee-
The fight's stopped.
Finally, the fight's stopped.
I take a peek outside my window, and glance down at the lit up streets below. Small spats of blood seem to be on the ground, or at least, small from where I'm at, 25 floors up. The fact that I can see them probably means that they're not as small as I think they are.
I hop back to my phone, and see that, thankfully, none of the gang are up chatting about it. They're probably either gaming or asleep. Best to guess the latter.
Still, with a sense of satisfaction that I'd gotten something done, I head back to bed, the fan of my dirty ol' Chromebook still running like crazy, and bid myself a good n-
*CLICK CLACK*
I jolt up out of bed. Quickly, I head to the door, and grab the small pocket knife that mom taught me to use whenever someone suspicious is at the door. I open up the emergency phone on my cell, and hover one finger over the 9.
What sounds like gargling and coughing comes from the opposite end of the door.
Quickly, I peek through the pinhole to see who's on the other side, with my phone ready.
Queen Bee is on the other side of the door, battered and bruised, and coughing up blood.
|
FenrisL0k1
|
EvilNoobHacker
|
2023-01-24 18:19:25
|
2023-01-24 18:08:46
| 48 | 27 |
j5pnpp1
|
j5plyou
|
10k4h4e
|
10k4h4e
|
[WP] The spell of the fae forced you to tell them your name. The fae looks at you with pure horror, while you look at them confused, because that was definitely not your name.
|
I repeatedly told the fae that she would know who I am if she just did a little research or even tried looking me up on Wikipedia. That spell she was preparing to force me to say my true name was unnecessary. And frankly speaking, a terrible idea.
She would regret kidnapping me too, I insisted.
If only she had listened or left me alone to enjoy my vacation all by myself in the desert oasis where my god couldn't follow me, citing that deserts were the bane of his existence as the seas were his domain.
The small fae, standing no taller than an elementary school girl, a fresh chubby face no older than a teenager, merrily danced about as she weaved her magic around me. All while ignoring my attempts to warn her on how this would backfire on her.
Fucking fae. They'd usually get on my nerves with their antics, but this child fae's blissful ignorance and stubbornness was particularly grating.
"Hey little girl, how many times do I have to keep saying this, my name is publicly available info on the Internet? You don't want to be doing this! Stop wasting your time and mine with some True Name spell!"
A look of pride crossed the fae's features when her spell was complete, and she loudly demanded for my true name.
Ḧ̸̴̞͎͇̙͔̝́͌́̓̕͝e̴̵̝̻͍̫͐͌́͑͒͜͝l̴̴͕̫͎͙̼̟͌̾̐̔͆͝l̵̸͓͖̦͇͖̈́́̀͑̕͝o̵̴̢͖͕̙̘̞̓̓͌͊͆͘ ẗ̸̴͔͙̺͇́̓̈́́̓͋͜h̸̴͕̟̻̦̙͍̿̓͛̈́͘͘e̵̴̡̝̺͓̪̦͋̓͛͋̈́̐r̴̴̺͚͔͚̞͙̒̔͊͒̒͝e̴̴̝̘͕̦̦͐͒̓͛̕̕ f̵̸̺͖͖͙͖̟̈́͑̀̽͠͝o̵̸̡̻͙͉̫͖͌̈́̈́͛͐͌ó̴̸̦͕̫͚͕͐͑͌̚̕͜l̵̴͔̦̠͔͓͐̒͑̐̀͐ḯ̵̵̡͎̺̘͓͖̽̈́̚̕̕s̸̴̡̡̪̦̼͔͊́̀̈́͐h̵̴̟̠͙̪͙̿͛͑̚̕͜͝ f̵̸̢͇̫̠̫̒̀͌̕͘͜͝a̴̸̢̝̟̺͕͎͌̈́̿̚e̸̵̪͍̘͇͇͋̈́́̓̈́̕
My mouth contorted itself to produce an unhuman utterance that shattered the proud smirk on her face. She fell back in terror, hands clasping the sides of her head while blood trinkled down her ears at the unholy name spoken to her.
I was confused. How had he reached me all the way in this desert resort so far away from the seas?
The fae was still shaking her head with fear swelling from her bleeding eyes.
"Did you understand that, ignorant little fairy?" Came the mocking voice not of my own. "I rarely ever give out my True Name given to me by my father in my native tongue. Would you prefer the more comprehensible name my mother has given me? I personally prefer it too."
"Please stop hurting me, I will let go of your human..." sobbed the fae, her tiny hands smearing blood on her face as she rubbed the bloody tears away.
With a snap of her fingers, the binding spell that imprisoned me fell away. The fae beckoned me in a trembling voice to follow her through a portal, promising it would lead me back to earth from her dark little dimension.
As I emerged from the portal to appear on a lonely tropical island surrounded by waters, the fae having whisked me away from the desert resort to hide me here, her biggest mistakes became blatantly apparent.
"Alfred! I'm glad to see you in one piece."
She was also stupid enough to send ransom notes and threatening letters to my church, now folded into the shape of a razor fan and weaponized by eldritch magic to slap her in the face. Repeatedly. All while long tentacles coiled around her to hold her in place.
"Thanks for coming to my rescue, Elvari."
"Anything for my favourite human and chosen one. I will accompany you for the rest of your vacation to ensure none of this nonsense happens again."
I didn't have the heart to tell Elvari the real reason I took that vacation was to seek temporary relief from acting as his chosen one and get away from him.
----
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/comments/11tkt9w/eldritch_god_elvari_series/)
|
<Fantasy>
***Stranger in a Stream***
I looked down into the water and ran a couple of fingers through my beard. It was a little tangled, but not too bad. The excuse of 'roughing it' would suffice once I made it back to the city. Satisfied that I did not need to stoop for a wash, I stepped into the stream. The water rinsed the mud from my hooves and felt quite refreshing. Long hikes like this one were always made a bit easier by a cool liquid easing sore ankles.
"Well, well, hello there handsome," a deep voice bubbled up out of the water. A bit of the stream started to rise and took a somewhat humanoid-torso shape before it solidified into a handsome Naiad. He lounged in the ankle-deep water, submerged up to his broad blue chest, arms stretched out along the bank. I was particularly drawn to the sharp cut of his strong jawline, which was made more prominent by thong long, dark blue hair flowing over his eyes.
"Hello to you too," I said, bowing my head a bit, "Pardon my intrusion, is this your stream?"
"Hmm? Nah, I'm just passing through," the Naiad said, "And you?"
"I am also merely passing through. I was just out here for a walk when I came across this stream and thought to relax my hooves a bit before heading home." I turned a bit to lift one of my hooves and, subtly, give him a glimpse of my toned flank. The way he grinned let me know it worked and I took a few steps closer.
"I don't know much about healthy exercise for land dwellers," he said, "But if your physique is anything to go by your walks must keep you in impeccable shape."
"As does your swimming," I gestured towards his chest. He rose further from the shallow water, stopping at waist height, and flexed his arms. The blue biceps were not quite as impressive as his pectorals but the overall tone was pleasing enough to my eye.
"May I have your name?" he asked.
"Fax Machine."
A silence fell between us and my smile faltered. I blinked in confusion and tried to think about what I had just said. Fax Machine? That was not my name. I had a strong Centaur name...it was...it was...
In my uncertainty and slight embarrassment, I looked back at the handsome Naiad. He was fully emerged from the water now and pulled his hair away from his face, looking at me in shock and annoyance. But that detail quickly vanished from my notice when I saw his eyes. The emerald green eyes that *might* have been gorgeous were they not glowing with a fiery, viridescent light.
"Oh no..." I started to back away, but the Naiad - no, not a Naiad, an *Archfey* - sighed and snapped his fingers. The water around my hooves and ankles froze, locking me in place.
"Give me your name, again," he demanded. That was the last thing I wanted to do, but a compulsion took over me and I was forced to say the odd sounds again.
"F-fax Ma-machine." They felt so very strange on my tongue.
"I see...tell me, what were you doing out this far from Goldleaf?" He was caressing his cheek and chin thoughtfully as if pondering me like some odd art piece.
"I-I don't know," I answered quickly. My first instinct was to deny any knowledge in the presence of an Archfey. Especially one that had deceived me. Only the Unseelie fae could be blatantly deceptive. Hiding his identity was a frightful act and it terrified me to no end that I was now trapped in his little game, whatever it was.
"Hmmm, it would seem I am not the first one to meet you then," my captor drolled in his buttery smooth voice, "Do you even know what Goldleaf is?"
"I-I don't-..." My lie faltered as I subconsciously tried to find the knowledge I was guarding, but found nothing. What *was* Goldleaf? It felt important. Was it a place? A person?
"I-it's a proper noun?" I tried, thinking that if I played along to the best of my ability I *may* be released. Even if I did not know who Fax Machine was I knew it was better than being taken in by one of his kind.
"Oh bravo, you have retained *something*. I wonder who you were...and who you met. Where are you coming from?"
More questions. More questions I knew I should not answer but wanted to. I *desperately* wanted to tell him where I was coming from, because that meant I would know. But the last thing I remembered was walking towards the stream.
"Come here," the Unseelie ordered, gesturing with his hand. The ice shackles around my legs pulled me through the water and I nearly toppled from the sudden motion.
Now I found myself face-to-face with the creature. My hearts were pounding in my ribcages and I could feel the blood coursing through my body. Though the sun was warm I was shivering as the piercing green glow of his eyes looked into mine.
No...not *into*, that was far too intimate for what I felt. They were looking *through* mine. Into something deeper. Something I had never needed to hide before, but what I desperately wanted to keep hidden. There was no hiding from his searching gaze, though.
"Interesting. Very interesting. I am going to bring you back with me. We shall uncover the mystery of your past. It is not often one finds a rival's plaything in the wild, unattended. This could be quite beneficial to me." He grinned, his mouth stretching beyond what I had ever seen before. The twisted sneer of cruel joy seemed for an instant to rise high above me before I realized that I was being pulled down.
Down into the water, below the surface of the shallow stream. Below the loose stones and wet soil. Below the reaches of light and warmth, and away from the world that I had thought I knew.
\----------------
All crit/feedback welcome!
r/TomesOfTheLitchKing
Follow my Summer Challenge progress [Here](https://www.reddit.com/r/TomesOfTheLitchKing/comments/14c22dj/ot_summer_challenge/)
|
Tregonial
|
ZachTheLitchKing
|
2023-06-18 00:23:50
|
2023-06-18 00:19:47
| 232 | 80 | null | null |
14bztwk
|
14bztwk
|
[WP] The Singularity has arrived. The repercussions have proven to be... unexpected.
|
A valiant hero dressed in shining gilded armour, pitted against the infamous dark lord donning a black cloak formed from shadows. The most powerful warrior against the most powerful mage. A neverending cycle of light against dark, good against evil. It all culminated in a legendary battle that lasted four days and three nights, shaking the very earth and sea, and at the end of it all, there was nothing left but pure devastation and ash. Silence and death.
But that was only half the story. The real story was this:
Once there was a young girl prophesied to be a great hero, taken away from her family at the age of ten to be trained to wield a holy sword and shield. She was taught the most advanced swordfighting techniques, fitted in unbreakable dragonscale armour, and sent on her way to confront humanity's greatest enemy at the mere age of sixteen.
On the other end, once there was a young boy prophesied to be an evil dark lord, abandoned by his family at the age of ten in a dark forest, alone, left to fend for himself and survive. He was found by a dark wizard who saw his potential and took him in, and he was bestowed an ancient wooden staff and taught the most powerful spells in existence. At the age of sixteen, he encountered and fought the hero for the very first time.
They didn't know each other, though their circumstances were clear, and battle after battle, they fought, evenly matched, with no clear victor in sight.
Whole forests were burnt away to ash. Mountains were reduced to mere rubble. Entire lakes were dried. Countless lives were lost.
But their war continued, as it was predestined, and one day, the hero tore back the hood of the dark lord for the very first time.
Black eyes, black hair.
A face surprisingly human that the hero's sword hesitated for a short second.
"Who are you?" the hero asked.
"I'm the dark lord."
"What's your name?"
"I don't have one."
The hero then suddenly pulled off her own helmet, showing her bare face to the dark lord for the very first time. Golden hair, blue eyes.
"I don't have a name either. They just call me the hero."
Things changed after that.
They still fought, as their circumstances demanded it, but there was something more to their battles than plain violence.
They talked, and asked each other questions.
They spoke about their respective lives before fate intervened and cast them both on opposing ends.
They shared a cup of tea for the first time after a long, gruelling battle.
Then they gave each other a name, known only to each other.
"I'm tired," the dark lord said one day.
"I, as well," the hero confessed.
"When can we end this?"
"You know why we can't."
"Do I? What's stopping us but ourselves?"
"The fates won't allow it. Our battle is to be eternal."
"We'll find another way."
"Can we truly?"
A week after that, the legendary final battle was fought, levelling a total of three moutains and destroying two lakes.
The hero and dark lord vanished, though no body was ever found.
Years passed, and an era of peace ensued.
=
Just beside the plains where a lake used to be stood a single cottage, made from rubble collected from the remains of an old mountain. There was a large field behind, growing a series of vegetables and fruits.
There was a small river running down the middle of the field, though it was odd, since nobody quite knew where the source of the water came from. The soil also shouldn't be fertile enough support the growth of so many plants, and yet the plants thrived. That was odd too.
But what was most odd were the two occupants of the little humble cottage, a lady with silky gold hair and a man with dark black hair. Both never seemed to age no matter how many years had passed. Nobody knew their names, but they were rarely seen apart, and they were often engaged in a game of chess that strangely never seemed to end. There was always another move to make, and a victor had never once been declared.
Sometimes they would occasionally vanish and return days later like nothing happened, and a new mountain or forest would just mysteriously appear on the barren lands as if it always existed there.
Perhaps it did.
|
Two energies, unmatched since the gods strode the planet, clashed in a bitter battle. The impacts from each scoured the land, turning trees to dust, grass to nothingness, the ground to glassed rock. Any animals had long since fled, feeling the looming destruction like a natural disaster.
They fought on for days, time ceasing to be for the two entrapped by their destiny. The world's fate hung in the balance, the victor deciding on its continued freedom or tyranny. Many prayed for the outcome to be realised for their side, watching the spectacle with wide eyes.
At last, it came to an end. The energies, as of yet still strong, swelled in power. They collided as one, fighting the other for dominance. To those who saw it, they fell blind for days after, a miniature sun borne in that very moment. It's effects rippled throughout the world, shifting established magical flows and effects. Thought they settled, things trapped and held in slumber stirred for that brief moment, a sense of freedom briefly shown before being snatched away.
With that clash, the ruined land fell silent. The few who dared venture on, after a full week had passed, found no living soul. All that remained were their shattered swords, legendary blades destroyed by the immense power at play. With no other trace, the free world rejoiced at their salvation, whilst mourning the loss of their great hero.
\-----
Va'tatel shook his head, looking over the distressed cow. Her leg had gotten caught in a hole, as she trampled over the ground. He had watched her fall, standing from his previously resting position.
His hand lay on her neck, as she mooed in pain. With a pat he calmed it down, sending pulses of wamring strength into it. "Come now, young lady. You should've seen that before running so quickly. Maybe you'll keep an eye out next time hey?"
As he spoke, the snapped bone set itself, grinding back to its new position. The cow, now healed, gave a grateful call, licking his face with her thick tongue. He laughed, pulling her to her feet. With a final moo she wandered off, already focused on finding a nice patch of grass to much on.
A sudden bark drew his attention. He looked up to see a Shade Hound charging him. With its oversized teeth, predatory gaze, and lack of proper cohesion, it would have been terrifying to anyone else. Except for the fact its black fur had been coloured purple, and had a bow atop its head.
Va'tatel laughed, catching it as it leapt up at him. It nibbled at his beard, rapidly making it stick up in random ways. He laughed, giving it a hug as he started to wandering back to their home. "Hey Drakky. Did you come get me for dinner?"
It yipped, settling down into his arms. Once, he would have slain it in an instant, the loyal dog of his nemesis. Yet now it was one of a handful of pets, content to laze around and grow fat instead of terrorising people. It was happy to let him carry it, until it got close to their small cottage.
A pulse of dark power wafted out, with a crackle of fire. Used to such things, he wandered in, toeing off his boots to leave mud outside. Inside was clean, the room far larger than the outside suggested. A large table sat piled with food, much with the echo of mana upon it. He smiled, moving around chairs pulled away from its placement. The walls were adorned with pictures and shelves, filled with odds and ends, along with a few books.
A door to the side sat open, as a woman sidled in. She held a large pan, carefully carrying it towards the table. Her clothes were dark, hugging her body in ways that accentuated her beauty. With hair tied back, she walked with purpose, smiling as she saw Va'tatel.
He let her put it down, before theatrically smelling. "Mhmmm. It smells wonderful Hit'varan."
She gave him a smirk, taking a seat. "Oh shush you. Just because it wasn't your turn."
Va'tatel laughed, sitting next to her. "I know, I know. It's true though. How're the crops doing?"
Hit'varan sighed, piling her plate high from the assortment of options. "They're doing well. We'll have a fine harvest in a few weeks time."
The statement made him smile, as he looked at his oldest friend. She had always shown an interest in tending the land. Their past couple of decades had out a stop to it of course, but now they were here, she had leapt at the chance to get back into it.
Though her natural connection had been broken by the power she had been given, she hadn't given up. Each day she had struggled to get it back. To see her like this now, knowing her place had been found, was all the happiness he needed.
They ate quietly for a while, occasionally asking the rother about their day. The massive amount of food, a feast in the eyes of many, was swiftly devoured. They showed no outward appearance of their indulgence, simply sitting back with grateful smiles.
Looking over, Hit'varan broke the silence that had settled. "Hey, so, you know what we talked about before?"
Va'tatel nodded,absently scratching one of his pointed ears. "Yes..."
She gave him a smile, beaming with what she hoped was a winning grin. "Well, I kind of want to try again."
He nodded at her. "Sure. Do you want me out when you get back, or do you want to let me know first?"
Hit'varan nodded. "I'll let you know. Sorry to kick you out of your own home..."
Va'tatel sniggered, settling back. "Ah, it's no worries. I quite like sleeping beneath the stars. Just promise me you'll clean up after yourself and whatever guest you bring home."
Her face blushed, a slightly embarrassed giggle slipping out. "I will! Not having a repeat of the first time..."
The memory made him wince, before pretending to retch. "Stars no! I do not need that in my head again."
Then he shot her a grin of his own. "Have your fun. I'll make sure the house is presentable for them."
Hit'varan leaned over, giving a small hug. "You're the best, you know that?"
Va'tatel gave a sage nod. "I know. I'm amazing."
The banter came easily, even after all they had been through. Split apart by fate, before being forced to fight a battle neither had wanted. With minds taken over by their sides, it had only been in the final fight they found each other again. Together they threw off their shackles, and fled to build their dream life.
It was a life they cherished, and one they would never allow to be taken away again.
|
Blitzbey
|
Shalidar13
|
2024-11-19 03:02:51
|
2024-11-18 22:38:35
| 32 | 23 |
lxv9aq2
|
lxtzqm1
|
1guc1qb
|
1guc1qb
|
[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.
|
*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.
|
Consider the tale as a sequel to [This](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/s/2qsPhmjilx)
<->
The Maiden's Mine was a curious dungeon. It was considered to hold dangers like many before it, but almost none of it came from the beasts or traps that laid within. Slimes and burning lights were the only challenges here, but a child that could scarcely handle a blade could beat the former and a reflective metal or proper attention could handle the latter. Most considered the trip to the mine harder than actually attempting the dungeon, as the Blood Forest that the place resided in was not the safest place, but even that challenge paled in the comparison of what the place offered.
That is what the adventurer's guild of the nearby town knew, and the crystals that littered the interior meant they sent many groups out their to mine what they could.
Of course, they had investigated the dungeon many times to confirm its safety. Every time, the veterans confirmed the place was no real danger even if careless. *The slimes fall to a single strike, and the traps the crystals have are no stronger than a spark spell* was how the reports read.
So when news came of a dragon leading an army of it's own followers for a new home, and the desire to take the Maiden's Mine, the guild was understandably concerned as the mobilized their best to intercept.
<->
The slime guard stirred as its day began like any other, an hour before sun up as it used its Area Search. It had come to expect a routine of odd sorts come to its home for the dungeon's prizes: increases in mana, knowledge of combat, and the various precious crystals that laid below. Its task was to defend this status quo, and it did the job dutifully.
The scan gave no readings at first, implying a slow day, before the slime *felt* something it hadn't in a long time. It split to leave a copy for its task as it moved into the dungeon to receive a message from the Mine. The message came with what felt like an invisible container around the slime shattering as an immense spike in power came from the creature.
The slime's purpose was to protect the Maiden's Mine, and it was needed to fill this purpose once more. The slime moved with haste back to its normal post as it prepared to do its duty, it's form taking on a teal-green hue.
<->
The best the guild had to offer all assembled at the town's gates, ready to defend their home from the coming intruder. Mages with high-end staffs, warriors with armors of the finest metals, and rangers with the most devastating of arrows all stood ready to march as the guild leader briefed them on what could be their most dangerous mission yet.
But as the group moved to march, the dragon flew above as fast as it could, its legion nowhere to be seen. Suspicion of it changing target where all but immediately dispelled as the fear it radiated as it fled told a different story. Something had spooked it, scared it away.
For most gathered, their sentiment was of glee for preemptive victory, or mild annoyance they would not have their battle. But one archer looked and saw a different concern.
"Perhaps we should be thankful the Maiden likes us."
|
unchosen0ne
|
frogace55
|
2025-03-14 07:38:40
|
2025-03-14 07:29:43
| 31 | 20 |
mhpn8z4
|
mhpmdio
|
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."
|
‘More tea, Frilon?’
INDUBITABLY. OHOHOHO…
“I knew it!”
‘Oh shit, Frilon!’
WHO DARES ENTER THE LAIR OF THE MIGHTY-
“Drop the act, I knew you two were up to something.”
(I THINK HE KNOWS)
‘(He could be bluffing. Do the usual)’
“Woah! Oi, stop that.”
DO NOT DODGE THE TAILSWIPES TO THE LEFT, UGLY KNIGHT.
“Princess! This is getting old. Come down from that tower and go back to the palace.”
‘Never! Im waiting for the knight of my dreams!’
“This is the fourth time this season I’m working on a Sunday. I’ve been slaying demons for the whole week and you’ve ruined me time at *ye olde bathhouse and spa*. Get down before I go up there.”
HAVE ONE OF THE WORTHY KNIGHTS COME, LIKE THAT UH, GOOBYGOCK-
‘Goldenlocks’
GOLDENLOCKS!
“Listen here, drake. You know why the king sent me instead of Sir Goldenlocks or Baron Cleanshave? Because- look at this boulder- **SMASH** This is what they’ll do to you if they’re on the job.”
(MARGOT? I DON’T WANT TO PLAY ANYMORE)
‘Y-you’re just jealous because you want my hand in marriage.’
“I have a wife and three kids, you…r majesty. I have a stable job that pays well and a plot of land ready for my retirement. All I ask is that you and your *friend* play *imaginary hero rescue* on the weekdays, preferably during work hours.”
(WHAT DO YOU THINK?)
(‘We’ll still have Sneaky Saturday’)
“I can hear you, you know.”
|
*WHUMP!*
Captain Ivor unceremoniously dropped me onto the floor of the throne room, the chains around my wrist clanking loudly as they hit the ground. King Lawrence got out of his throne, walked over to the two of us, and said to Ivor, "Why is the side of your head bandaged?"
Ivor rubbed his wound and winced. "The girl bit my ear off."
Lawrence facepalmed. "Oh, for the love of--go get that treated already."
Ivor bowed and walked out of the room as I hissed at him. Lawrence sighed and knelt down beside me to say, "How long are you going to keep this up, June?"
I scoffed. "That depends. How long is forever?"
"I tolerated your... eccentricities for years now. When you became obsessed with the forest, I had it registered as a national landmark. When you insisted on learning to make potions, I had the royal apothecarian take you on as an apprentice. But this has gone too far. You're running around the forest in a cobbled together ranger uniform, living like a wild animal, assaulting the captain of the royal guard!"
"Feel like you're ignoring the part where you had me banished to the forest for making out with a baron's daughter."
Lawrence groaned in frustration and paced around angrily as he continued, "You are a *princess*, for God's sake! Your demeanor is reflective on all of the royal family! Your misbehavior is taken as evidence of--WILL YOU GET OFF THE FLOOR ALREADY?! I have had it with your tantrums!!"
I smirked. "I would, but it's really in my best interest to stay low."
"What do you mean in your--"
*BOOM!*
The doors to the throne room were blasted off their hinges and sent flying. Lawrence narrowly ducked to avoid them while I calmly watched them soar over my head and destroy the throne. Through the smoke that clouded the entryway, a dragon with burnt ochre scales emerged and stared down Lawrence murderously. Then she looked at me and happily said, "Hi pumpkin!"
I waved back and responded, "Hi mama!"
My mom turned her attention back to Lawrence and growled, "Take those chains off of my daughter or I'll flay the skin from your body and roast your exposed flesh."
Lawrence looked like he was pissing himself, but still found the anger to glare at me and say, "You allied yourself with the dragons?! That--that's treason! I'll have your head for this!"
I got on my feet as my mom replied, "First of all, June didn't ally herself with us, we adopted her. Second of all, my brother Ganymede burned the guillotine on the way here. Now you can either let my baby girl go or you can die screaming."
Lawrence got up and drew his sword. "I'll not let my kingdom fall to such--"
*FWIP!*
A blow dart lodged itself in Lawrence's throat, sending him falling back to the ground. From behind my mom's legs, a woman in her own makeshift ranger uniform appeared and smiled at me. My fiancee, Tulip. As she picked the lock on my chains, I said to her, "So how does it feel to be back in the castle after all this time?"
Once my chains were unlocked, Tulip took them off my wrists and purred, "Just as I remember it: empty of anything interesting save for you." I happily pulled Tulip into a kiss as my mom lowered her back and interjected, "Come on, you two. You can be adorable at home."
Tulip and I stopped kissing and got on my mom's back as I announced, "Bye Lawrence! Hope I never see you again!" With that, my mom turned around and flew out of the hole in the castle wall to begin the journey home.
|
hatabou_is_a_jojo
|
jardanovic
|
2025-01-13 03:24:23
|
2023-01-28 20:36:11
| 101 | 22 | null |
j69yeo4
|
1hzzhzi
|
10nb6cj
|
[WP] Write a bad story. Make me hate it. Make me want to stop reading. And then make me love it with the last sentence.
|
It has been so long since i lost her, but is still hurts as if it was minutes ago. Her bright smile that surpassed any problem i could've had. Her soft hand that made me sure everything would be okay even if i didn't understand it. Sometimes i wish i had never known that happiness, so i wouldn't feel the pain of losing it.
I knew that this day would inevitably come. She was so young. But then, i guess, even if she wasn't, there is no such thing as being "ready" to lose the most important being in your life. The days we spent together, the games we played, the dinners we had, the movies we watched. All that, gone. Forever to be missed dearly.
What am i to do now? There is no fun, there is no light, there's only darkness. An empty table, where i will forever eat alone. An empty couch for me to sleep, as i cannot even go to bed anymore. An empty park to walk on, seeing everyone else with their loved ones while i am alone. An empty life where i shall never smile ag-
"Hey Max I'm back from the supermarket! Who's my good boy? Yeah you are!"
|
Scary Facts
by Incbvs666
Dear Reader,
The following facts will shock and frighten you, but are unfortunately absolutely necessary for you to know so that proper action can be taken and a better future secured for all of us.
The world emits 25.3 trillion tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere every year. Not only have the green initiatives failed, but the emission of gasses into the atmosphere has increased by 16% in the last 10 years, making it inevitable that in 2031 global warming will become completely irreversible.
The dumping of more than 4.3 billion tons of crude oil into the oceans has caused extinction of more than 2,300 species of marine life. Most maritime ecosystems in the world are crumbling and invasive algae is taking over even in temperate climates, causing untold ecological damage.
Most of the remaining species of fish are so filled with toxins from industrial waste and full of lead that the FDA is making plans to take fish off as a recommended source of protein by 2027.
As global warming intensifies, zones vulnerable to heatwaves are becoming more widespread, only exacerbated by the fact that many of these areas in poor countries lack sources of clean and fresh water. It is estimated that by 2050 areas in which currently more than 48 million people live will become completely uninhabitable due to the extreme climate. The first mass wave of climate refugees, numbering in the millions, is expected to occur sometime in the early 2030s.
Deforestation around the world continues, leading to an increased erosion of the soil and a 23% increase of areas classified as a desert ecosystem in just the last 50 years. The poaching of large land mammals which are a vital part of the ecosystem in that they fertilize the ground with their dung has led to extremely low soil productivity in areas of the world most vulnerable to famine.
The Amazon rainforest has been reduced by 73% since the start of this century, with deforestation for new cash crops only growing and intensifying. The Brazilian government is powerless to stop rouge loggers and ranchers which massacre any native populations they find on land they intend to convert into ranches for profitable cash crops, including illegal ones like cocaine and heroin. The loss of the Amazon rainforest will mean an effective end of a globally regulated ecosystem.
The honey bee population is continuing to crash in record numbers across the world despite billions of dollars invested in research trying to fix the problem. By the year 2049, the honeybee will likely be classified as a threatened species. Already in some areas of the world, certain species of flowering plants are dying because there aren't sufficiently many bees to pollinate them. The extinction of the honeybee could trigger the extinction of up to 95% of the genus of flowering plants.
I have your wife and children hostage; $800,000; alley between Chesterton st. and Grover rd. at 11:30 PM today; come alone; no cops or your family dies.
THE END
*DISCLAIMER: Since this is a work of art, and not a copy-paste exercise, all 'facts' in this story were completely made up despite containing elements of well-known ecological truths.*
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interesting_nonsense
|
Incvbvs666
|
2024-10-17 13:23:02
|
2024-10-17 11:31:48
| 210 | 95 |
lscyj1x
|
lsciyly
|
1g5nb3r
|
1g5nb3r
|
[WP] "A superweapon, you mean like some kind of planet destroyer like the Death Star?" "You idiot! Our starships literally break the speed of light! Literally anybody can create a planet destroying relativistic projectile. No, this superweapon is far worse."
|
"Ambassador, how did you get them to start negotiations so fast?"
"My charm, my presentations, my personality, and above all else, I threatened them with a super weapon."
"You threatened to destroy their home world?"
I explained how easy it was to build planet destroyers and told them something that politicians and any group leaders fear most. "Once exposed, they are compelled to tell the truth and to follow through with what they say. The effects are permanent."
"And they believed we had such a weapon?"
"You remember that media group that spent more time twisting the truth than reporting the truth?"
"I remember the scandal, they closed down after most of the managers and editor had themselves voluntarily committed to mental health facilities."
"They were an involuntary test group."
"And the only reason I am telling you this is because I received a light, indirect exposure."
|
I was elected into the government. The hard work on the campaign trail paid off, and I would have a voice in The Quorum. Every member of The Quorum is briefed on a wide range of topics, most of which are, for one reason or another, kept hidden from the general public.
The briefings happen over the course of several weeks. Today, I am to be informed of the state of the art of our weapons technology. The kind of things that could change the course of galactic history, if they were unleashed.
I am in the meeting room with the senior scientist overseeing various top secret weapons projects. We move through a variety of topics, the sort of thing that if you were educated, you could anticipate that we had developed. "Onto the scary stuff. Our super weapons." She says
"Super weapons? Like some kind of planet destroyer?"
"You idiot! Our starships literally break the speed of light. It is child's play to take our FTL drive technology and make a relativistic projectile. No, this super weapon is far worse. It is a memetic pathogen."
"A what? You mean to tell me you've made a weapon out of memes? Is a wojak going to come out of the screen and kill me?"
"It infects the mind of one who views it in its entirety. No one on our team has the complete picture of it. If they did, they'd be dead. Our test subjects succumb to it within 72 hours of viewing the complete pathogen, the physical cause usually being a heart attack. It is very real, the first in a family of memetic weapons. They are quite lethal, but we are working to achieve other effects. Even at this early stage, they have tremendous destructive potential. Imagine a group of terrorists hacking into our media and exposing the populations of entire planets to it."
I am stunned. I didn't even think something like this was possible. But the scientist seems very sincere. "What are these other effects you are trying to create? Why are we even funding something this dangerous?"
"One target is to make the memetic agents more virulent, get those infected to show others before their expiration. Another is to make them harder to detect. Able to slowly eat the host's mind from the inside, making it unclear when they were first exposed, and thus preventing anyone from taking measures to protect themselves before it is too late. As for why we have funding, it is twofold. One is that we might discover memetic countermeasures that could be used as a shield against memetic pathogens. Two is that by failing to investigate and develop this technology, we will be vulnerable to other polities using them against us. You will be attending an intelligence briefing specifically on the technological progress of our astro-political rivals at some point in the near future"
The briefing continues. There are some other interesting things, but none as confusing and disturbing as weaponized memes. I barely listen to the last twenty minutes. As I go to sleep that night, I understand why they say that political careers age you prematurely.
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Freebirde777
|
Saint_Of_Silicon
|
2023-12-11 03:53:10
|
2023-12-11 02:19:55
| 160 | 86 |
kcuzby7
|
kcumw29
|
18ffrsb
|
18ffrsb
|
[WP] You're standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.
|
"David, you've got to handle this" I whispered" You promised we'd be safe!"
It's really hard being brother to David the Demon-Slayer. I've been kidnapped, tied-up, beat-up and left for dead. It took me months to regain my strength and Julia was there to nurse me through the worst of it.
I've never been jealous of Dave despite what the tabloids would have you believe. He's a skilled warlock who's managed to save the city twice from destruction. They gave him a parade and the key to the city. I'm genuinely happy for him. But I don't have powers and he's got powerful enemies. I try to stay away and keep a low profile.
But for the important events in your life everyone says you can't keep you family out of them. I thought perhaps we'd be able to avoid the danger.
"I'M NOT HERE TO CAUSE YOU HARM HUMAN" the Demon King Bellowed.
"But you and David have vowed to kill each other!" I protested.
"BE THAT AS IT MAY", the Demon King Continued. " TODAY IS NOT THE DAY FOR BATTLE, SIT DOWN EVERYONE, I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO ATTEND MY DAUGHTER'S WEDDING."
Our guests continued to stand, as I felt my head start to spin a little. Julia was the Demon King's Daughter? What did this mean? I thought her parents were dead!
David looked at me with amusement as he said "Well, you sure know how to pick em. Jim"
|
She is beautiful. Lyla. The most beautiful thing ever created, more beautiful than angels, and I know that for a fact.
We met 17 years ago and slowly built our relationship. I’ve always had a complicated relationship with my family, especially after my father’s "retirement" to focus on his… spirituality, and Lyla helped me navigate through my feelings and accept my weird relationship with my siblings. I ended up telling her about me who I was and she accepted me, which made me the happiest man alive. And I accepted her wholeheartedly as well and I have been living in bliss for years now.
Due to some trouble with my papers we couldn’t get married for a long time, but now, today, I stand at the altar, looking at her with love and adoration as the priest goes on with his speech.
My sister is present and did not cause any problems, even though she is looking at the priest with hungry and lust filled eyes, and my younger brother is surprisingly well dressed and behaving himself, witch is a miracle.
As me and Lyla declare our love for each other and kiss, I dismiss the weird feeling in the pit of my stomach and begin making my way down the aisle. People are applauding and cheering for me and Lyla and I am so happy that I don’t notice my two younger siblings pale as the feeling in my stomach grows.
Suddenly, the doors of the venue slam open and the guest and every guest lets out a scream of pure terror. A hulking man with red skin littered with scales, adorned with golden jewelry and and a sword that seems alive, enters and faces me. I feel that the sheer presence of this individual is enough to make my human appearance falter. My siblings are backing away, less in fear and more in annoyance as the man in front of me smiles and loudly says "Abaddon!!! Congratulations brother!!"
My brother then hugs me tightly, his magical crown forcing my body to change into it’s true form. As he lets me go, my tail hit the ground and my fangs and horns are clearly visible, my skin the same red and littered with scales like his. My sister looks at us with disappointed eyes as hers and my brothers bodies revert back to their demon form.
I quickly bow to my big brother as is the custom with the king of hell and demons and tiredly say "Hello Asmodeus, how are you?"
He laughs and answers loudly "I am fine, brother mine, but let’s not talk about me, this is YOUR big day! Now who is this beauty who is now yours?" He looks at my Lyla and I instantly step in between her and my brother. Even though she knew I was a demon, I knew nothing could prepare her for my brother. Everyone else had already left running for their lives, and I couldn’t blame them.
Asmodeus looks at me confused and ask "Did she not know about you being a demon? She looks terrified." Thankfully my sister answered for me "Change your form you idiot!! Yes she is terrified!"
My older brother looks at me confused and says "Weren’t you supposed to already be there as demons? Minather told me I didn’t need to look human."
"Minather always lies!! That’s his thing!!!" My sister says. I turn to Lyla and bring her to a bench as my brother changes into a human, a terribly posh and proper looking human though, and I manage to calm her down.
With my brother in human form, we could all assume a more appealing shape. I look at my wife and say "So this is my brother… the king of hell and demons… and yes I am a prince… so yes you are a princess."
|
dbzmm1
|
Professionalarsonis
|
2023-08-02 20:30:56
|
2023-08-02 18:55:05
| 173 | 107 |
juj5qet
|
juipsh2
|
15gcxdh
|
15gcxdh
|
[WP] The aliens, it seems, do not consider us a sentient species because we are unable to 'keeneetaa'. We still haven't figured out what that means.
|
"You are *close* to sentience," said the alien, and then it slowly shook its large, gray head. "But it seems you are not there yet."
Taylor blinked. "But we're talking to you. I mean, I guess you're using some kind of telepathy or advanced technology to make it possible, but..." she trailed off, confused, and looked at Doug.
Doug frowned. He wasn't sure why she was looking at *him.* Of the two of them, he was the senior clerk at the 7-11 from which they'd been abducted, but only by a few weeks. That hardly made him more qualified for intergalactic diplomacy.
He looked back down at the alien, who was standing on the metallic deck of its spacecraft, looking up at Doug and Taylor where they floated in mid-air, suspended helplessly inside some kind of anti-gravity field.
"Uh, yeah," Doug said. "'Sentience' is kind of a big idea, right? Doesn't the fact that we know what that is and have a word for it sort of prove that we have it?"
"The ability to comprehend abstract concepts is only part of what makes a species sentient. As I said, you are *close,* but not quite there." the alien said.
"Look, shouldn't you be taking to like *anyone* else?" Taylor asked, sounding exasperated. "Scientists, world leaders -- *somebody?* I just work here, dude! Er, at the place you abducted us from, I mean.
"Positions of leadership and scholarship tend to be populated with outliers."
"Okay, but like...why does that matter?" Doug asked. "Don't you want to talk to our best people?"
The alien shook its head. "No. We wished to evaluate a representative sample of humanity. A few outliers at the upper limits of your species' capabilities will doubtless achieve *keeneetaa* long before the species as a whole attains to it."
"There's that word again." Taylor grumbled.
"Yeah," Doug agreed. "Why is that the one word you don't translate, or beam into our brains, or whatever?"
"We are communicating it to you as best we can. The fact that you do not understand it proves that you do not possess it." the alien explained.
"But what *is* keeneetaa?" Taylor pressed. "Explain it to us!"
The alien raised a slender hand. "Keeneetaa that is explained in terms of other things is not truly keeneetaa, for keeneetaa is both itself, and the description of itself. Even the sound of keeneetaa is not truly 'keeneetaa', it is rather the sound produced by an object colliding with *nothing."*
"Whoa." Taylor said, eyes widening. "That's...that's *deep."*
Doug nodded slowly. "Yeah...yeah I think I get it."
"And yet, all evidence suggests that you do not." the alien said, with a disappointed sigh. "We will return you to your pl--"
"No, really." Doug interrupted. "I actually get it, now. Keeneetaa is *bullshit."*
"Doug!" Taylor exclaimed. "They're like all-powerful aliens! Maybe don't piss them off by disrespecting their culture!"
Doug was undaunted. "We do have a term for keeneetaa in our language, but it's a not a word. It's a *story."*
"Doug! Shhh!" Taylor hissed, looked fearfully between him and the alien.
The alien held up a hand. "No. Tell me this story."
Doug shrugged. "Sure, it's pretty short. Once upon a time, there was an emperor who loved fine clothing. His tailors made him the best clothing imaginable, but eventually they couldn't make him anything more regal than what he already had."
"Go on..." the alien said, narrowing its large, dark eyes.
"Except, one clever tailor had an idea. He told the emperor and the entire court that he'd found the most beautiful cloth in the world, something truly fit for the emperor. He said it had one flaw though: it could only be seen and felt by smart people. If you were an *idiot,* then the cloth was invisible and intangible to you."
"We're going to get probed so hard..." Taylor groaned, hanging her head.
"So, he took the emperor's measurements, and then just *pretended* to be sewing and cutting cloth. No one could see the cloth -- because there *was* no cloth -- but since not being able to see it meant you were stupid, no one, not even the emperor, would admit they couldn't."
"And what transpired afterward?" the alien asked.
"Well, the emperor walked out naked in front of the entire court, thinking he was wearing this magic robe. Everyone applauded, and said it was beautiful, because they wanted people to think they were smart, and didn't realize that *no one* could see the robe. The tailor got a huge reward, lived happily ever after." Doug explained. "And it seems to me that's what your *keeneetaa* is: a bunch of fancy doublespeak hiding the fact that you're just walking around with your junk hanging out, like everyone else."
The alien nodded slowly. Then it made a gesture, and Taylor vanished in a flash of light.
"Shit!" Doug exclaimed. "But, you said you'd --"
"Send you back to your planet, yes. She is safe, back at the location where we initially retrieved you. Do not worry, I will return you there, as well...later."
Doug swallowed hard. "Okay, but...what are you going to do with me in the meantime?"
The alien blinked. "I will take you to a conclave of our leaders and scientists, of course. They will want to meet the first recorded human to achieve *keeneetaa."*
|
I got the idea watching Chev. He was dancing and making a real fool of himself, but that was nothing new. Through a careful process of trial and error, double blind studies, random extemporaneous scientific bullshit (we knew all the words by that point, if not necessarily how to use them) I’d determined Chev was basically the dumbest boy alive. Take a box of rocks, smash ‘em all together, remove the three or four biggest chunks, then toss the rest into the gutter. That was Chev. Dumb as shit, but he was onto something.
“Naw,” he’d said, “that ain’t it. *Keeneetaa’s* not some big science thing. It’s a dance.”
Then he’d just up and started. Gyrating. His hips did this thing that made them look halfway broken, but it got two of the girls watching, Analise and Jen, and because they were watching now the boys had to and so on. Just to make fun of him, you understand. Bunch of urchins gathered on the corner, dirty as sin between the rains, and there’s Chev thrusting air. Waving his hands all woo-woo. Jumping like we’d tossed him in hot coals. Which we’d done before, so that’s probably where he got it. Probably.
And there I was with my idea.
It was a good idea. For months now all anyone’d been able to talk about was ‘*keeneetaa*.’ Just what happens when a couple dickhead Godlings up and fall out of the sky, spouting stuff about sentience and the like. Little bastards too, wouldn’t make it half a minute on the streets without their drones and power armor. Those laser things they wear over their fingers like so much spun gold, got all the girls drooling after them, these pretty little ringlets that’ll kill you. Saw a program once, real-like, spliced into a matrix terminal by a gas station off the 5, where they talked about all the things *keeneetaa* might and might not be. Not the drones or armor or the magic, kill-you-from-a-dozen rings. Not skin color, ours or theirs. Not religion, but maybe philosophy, not science but maybe art.
Not money, but it worked just like it. We needed *keeneetaa* to make our way, and didn’t have it, couldn’t grok it, so really this great big off-blue shithole of a planet was really one big urchin. Like the President and me were squatting over the same pot, talking about the winds and rains.
Shit. So it was on our minds, and when Chev just thought to lie about it, easy as you please, and start dancing like a loon, I thought, ‘Ike Green, you can do that too.’
“Naw,” I said, “that ain’t *keeneetaa* either. Kids like you wouldn’t get it.”
And of course, that got them looking. It was the way I said it, smooth-like, like those men behind the men glass drinking whiskey, closing their eyes for a second like they just get it—the it being immaterial because fuck it, I got whiskey. I said it like that, and when all of them looked over, I was looking somewhere in particular. At Cristabel, who was my age, really, they all were, but who had this shy way about her that made her seem a little younger, a little fragile, maybe not quite made for this world—though she made it seem like a good thing, the only thing, the best thing.
“What is it, then?” she asked. And I harrumphed like I knew what I was doing. Took a long, meaningful look around at everyone that wasn’t her. Turned.
My heart was in my fucking throat.
Fuck you though, I didn’t look back.
Ok, I did, but still. Fuck you.
When I looked back Chev was still there, dancing. I could just make out in the firelight, flames guttering in old beat up oil drums, painting tall shadows on the wall and in the hollows of our eyes. And of course there were more hollows, half of starving including me and Cristabel, with rib cages like Death’s own bony fingers reaching to clasp our waists. In the firelight I saw Cristabel look left, look right. Her friends, Analise and Jen were still watching Chev do his thing. The others had mostly turned back to him, but that was fine, that’s what I wanted. I laid the seeds carefully, with just my eyes. Something Chev would never learn, that sometimes, less is more. Why dance, burning calories, when your eyes will do?
When I looked away, Cristabel was already coming.
And then for a little bit it was bare footsteps slapping on cold concrete. Trains running on the bridge above my head, rattling the world.
It was an idea, just that. Everything, every little bit of what I had.
I fetched up against a rotten bridge pier, and waited.
“Hey!” Cristabel said a minute later. “You don’t actually know what *keeneetaa* is, do you?”
Don’t smile.
“’Course I do,” I said. “It’s simple.”
“No it isn’t,” she said. “If it was simple the scientists would have figured it out already.”
“Bells,” I said, “they ain’t figured it out precisely *because* it’s simple. Like when new-folk hit the streets in the last recession, and they was freezing to death because they didn’t know how to insulate and the like. They was scientists and bankers, that kinda shit, but it still took folk like us to tell ‘em.”
Cristabel looked away. In the half-dark of the bridge piers I saw her bite her lip again and nod. She’d been one of them that hit the streets in the last recession. High-born parents and the like. Analise and Jen, with some help from Chev and me, had gotten her all situated.
And I still remembered the color of her hair under all that mud.
“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, ok. Then what is it? Tell me, Ike.”
“Why you want to know?”
She laughed then. It spiraled off and I lost it in the rattling bridge as another train passed over. “Doesn’t everyone?” she asked. “It would be nice to feel like a sentient again. Or at least a human being.”
My pulse quickened up. My skin heated, burning calories.
“Step closer,” I said.
She hesitated, then did.
“Closer,” I said again.
And now she was within arms reach. Scarecrow limbs. Hair and eyes like the fires that we’d left behind.
“Close your eyes,” I told her.
“Ike…”
“It’s fine, you can trust me. Just close ‘em.”
She closed her eyes. Breathing. I guess that’s what she did then. It’s a fascinating thing to watch a girl breathe.
“Ike?” she said.
“It’s a thing they do with their lips. The aliens. Like this…”
And then I kissed her. Just like that. Soft and gentle, though it took everything I had not to grab at her. She’d gone stiff on me, stiff and scared, and didn’t soften till I stepped away, my hands pinned against my sides.
“Oh,” she said.
“What?” I said. “You thought that this was something else?”
“Maybe,” she said. Biting at her lip again.
“But was it nice? Did you feel like…”
“Like what?”
“Like a human?”
A moment passed. Back there Chev was probably still dancing. Idiot, but he'd been on to something. I’d thought about this since last winter, and hadn’t been brave enough to do it.
She whispered: “Yes.”
I whispered: “I’ve got a little food. Not much, just a bite. I’ll bring it to you, you don’t have to do anything.”
“*Keeneetaa* me again first,” she said.
I did.
And when we got back Chev was still there, dancing. The firelight brushed up against him, painted ecstasies across brick walls. He was smiling, I hadn’t noticed that before. Cristabel was too.
And me.
“Thanks, Chev,” I told him.
The night passed, and Chev danced on. In the morning, blessedly, it rained.
r/TurningtoWords
|
SilasCrane
|
turnaround0101
|
2023-02-24 19:24:45
|
2023-02-24 18:39:21
| 684 | 148 |
j9v04kq
|
j9ut1hl
|
11au17g
|
11au17g
|
[WP] Not only did your best friend find out you're a vampire, but he/she wants you to turn them. You try your best to explain the less obvious downsides to this curse.
|
"Why do you want to be a vampire?" I asked, trying to hide my exasperation.
In recent years, many of my friends had asked. I blame it on the people I tended to befriend; I'd lived long enough to become something of a miserable cynic myself, and dislike of a church was essentially a requirement for beings like me. It was only natural I'd surround myself with a like minded group. That didn't make this conversation any less annoying, or potentially damaging to our friendship.
"I'd like to live a long life, preferably forever." he responded, "I'd never kill anyone, the worst I'd do is put them to sleep and drain a little off the top"
I stared at him for a moment, thinking of how to reply. I wasn't going to disrespect his intelligence by citing the obvious negatives to vampirism, instead I went with something more fundamental, "That's the thing: vampires aren't purely biological, like humans are. We aren't completely in control of our minds, actions, or even our forms." I could see his mind start whirring with the implications of what I'd said, but I continued forth "Don't you think It's strange, how closely I match the stereotypes. The long black hair, unnaturally pale skin, the tendency to wear black capes with the collar turned up, and a general preference for Gothic style."
"The sultry voice and questionable innuendo you tend to weave into your every social interaction", he supplied with a grin.
I glared at him, "Fuck you, but yes."
He grew a bit more serious as he thought about it more, "So you're saying that the stereotypes and myths of the masses have a certain amount of control over you, even down to the level of your mind and personality."
I nodded, and answered his next question before he could ask it, "It's like this because we vampires - and by extension any similar supernatural beings - are what's known as a hybrid spirit. We are part spirit, part biological organism. The populace has the ability to change the composition of spirits to match it's shifting culture. So I'm immortal, but as long as society thinks I should be. I have a relatively human mind, but only as long as society thinks I should."
His eyes widened, "So before you were as you are now, you-"
I interjected "Over the course of my life, I've been a Toltec shaman, a 'blood god', a mad devil-worshiping pagan, a sub-sapient human-hunting ghoul, and eventually an unusually pale, sexy nigh human with the habit of draining blood" He was thoroughly shocked at this point, not that I blamed him. "I regained my moral compass and sapience only fairly recently. I feel awful about the whole thing, but I wasn't *me* back then, you understand. If some cultural change shifts the public perception of vampires into something more nefarious, I'll shift with it."
He looked very disenchanted with the idea at this point. He then seemed to realize something, looking at me in a new light, sputtering, "Is... is there something I... we can do to prevent this? You're one of the best friends I have, I'd prefer not to lose you."
I looked at him thankfully, but sadly shook my head, "In a scenario like that: kill me, assuming I already haven't done it myself. I've tried everything to remove the spirit, it doesn't work that way."
"God, that's depressing. Alright, let's... go get a drink. I need one after that. Thanks for being so open with me about this." He said.
"Sure" I said, before continuing with a grin on my face, " you want to bet on how fast I can seduce someone?"
He scoffed, eagerly taking the opportunity to shake off the dark reverie he'd been in, "Hardly a bet, you dollar store Robert Pattinson"
We both set off laughing, but were both a bit wearier than before. He's a good friend, I thought to myself.
|
"I want you to turn me."
I turned to look at her, my eyebrows raised, "What?"
Yasmine didn't flinch. She had never been affected by my presence, not like the other humans. "You heard me. I want to be a vampire. Like you."
"Um, no, you don't." I crossed my arms, "Yas, there's a reason why it's called the 'vampire's curse' and not 'the vampire's blessing'. It's painful. If I had the choice, I'd want to be human again."
Yasmine put her hands on her hips, "But this isn't your choice. It's my choice, and this is what I want."
I shook my head, "Yas, you're letting the fantasy stand before the facts. It isn't as glamorous as the media likes to portray. It isn't glamorous at all."
"It can't be that bad-!"
"Yasmine, listen to me!" I grabbed her biceps, desperate to make sure my best friend understood why she needed to keep her humanity, "There's so many more issues than just stay out of the sun or avoid garlic!"
She raised an eyebrow.
I let out a huff, "Okay, first of all. When you turn, when you become undead, your body freezes in the state it's in now. Any illnesses, injuries, they become a part of you for all eternity." I reached up to my sleeve and pulled the fabric down, revealing an infected, festering cut.
Yasmine winced, "Ooh... Does it hurt?"
I nodded, "Always. I've tried everything to make it heal, but it's a part of me. Frozen in time."
"I thought vampires had super healing abilities."
"We do," I clarified, "but not when it comes to injuries or illnesses from our human years. There's one vampire I know who had stage four cancer when she turned. The cancer itself is frozen in place. It doesn't spread, but she can't get rid of it."
Yasmine frowned, "Okay, that sucks. But I'm healthy and I don't have any injuries right now."
"In my experience, Yas, you rarely notice when you have cuts." I laughed, "You're always climbing trees and jumping into ponds from rocks. You will notice when you turn, though. The pain... It's there forever."
She shrugged, "Then, I'll deal with it."
"You can't get near what's considered 'holy land'."
Yasmine cocked her head, "So, I'll avoid churches-!"
"It's more than just churches." I explained, "Anything that was blessed at some point. Which is a lot. Once, I went to a gym and started to sizzle. The land was holy from something in the past, so I couldn't go near it. I have painful experiences all the time. Once, I found a holy Walmart."
She laughed.
"Yasmine, I'm serious."
"So am I." She looked at me, "I want to be like you. I want to be a vampire."
"You know the sun burns me, but it's more than just direct sunlight. I'm always burning, even in my home with the black-out curtains. Even at night."
She looked toward my window, covered by the curtain, "Even at night? But isn't that when vampires roam?"
"That's part of the fairytale." I sat down on my bed, "The moon only glows because the sun reflects off it. It hurts, too. Doesn't kill, though. Only standing in the sun's direct rays can turn me to ash." I looked down at my arm, "It's why it took you so long to figure out I'm a vampire. My skin was always sun-burnt."
"When do you feed?"
"Nights when there's no moon. Or just push through it. I'm kind of used to the pain now. It's been a hundred years."
Yasmine looked conflicted.
"It always hurts, Yas. When it comes to garlic, just being in the same area can cause a rash. It makes grocery shopping such a pain." I reached for my dear friend, "Then, there's mirrors. I can't see my reflection."
"I hate looking at myself anyway."
"You are absolutely *beautiful,* Yasmine! Don't start this again! I tell you-! Wait, that's not the point!"
She smirked, "I still don't see why I shouldn't be a vampire. You have super strength, super speed, incredibly sharp eyesight, super hearing, and you can turn into a bat at will."
I looked at her, tired, "Do you want to feed off humans? That's the worst part."
Yasmine went quiet, her smile melting off her face.
"I know in stories and such, any blood will do, but that's just not true. It has to be human blood. And... the worst part... we don't even need that much. We can only drink so much before we start vomiting, but our fangs are so sharp that we cause permanent damage. With the amount of blood we take, humans would survive fine. We don't consume that much. It's the damage that kills them." I closed my eyes and shuddered, "Their throats are torn into shreds. They lay there, gasping and choking, as their blood spills all over the ground until they die. It's slow and painful. They look so afraid. No matter how gentle I try to be, I have never had one human survive after I fed from them."
She wasn't saying anything. Was she finally horrified? Had she realized what a monster sat before her?
"I have to feed. I've tried to stop. I tried a couple of times to go cold turkey. But my survival instinct kicks in. I black out and when I wake up, I've killed so many." I put my head in my hands, "I hate it, Yasmine. I hate being a monster. I hate watching lives flicker out. They had so much potential and promise... A future stretched out before them... All gone because I need to eat."
A few seconds of silence followed my words.
Then, Yasmine hugged me.
I hadn't realized I started crying, but I clung to her.
"You're not a monster. You're taking what you need to survive. You're acting like a human. The fact that you feel guilt shows how human you still are." She pulled back and smiled, "You're my best friend, and that will never change."
I smiled weakly, "Thanks, Yas." I stood up, "You can't become a vampire. Hold onto your humanity. It's a gift that's so often taken for granted."
"But there's one upside that outweighs all downsides."
I stared at her, flabbergasted, "What? What could *possibly* make you still want to be a vampire after all I've said!?"
She smiled warmly and touched my arm, "I'll be able to stay with you forever."
|
knobot-200T
|
imalways2anxious
|
2023-08-22 19:48:15
|
2023-08-22 19:39:19
| 28 | 15 |
jxbdjkg
|
jxbc2yf
|
15y435t
|
15y435t
|
[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."
|
Unreasonable request #1: "You heard me right, we're switching the moon out for Deimos."
Reasonable request #1: "Give my neighbor Mike enough money to get the *hell* out of Castlegar. Hope L.A. handles him better."
Unreasonable request #5: "Make all the soil in Georgia three inches higher."
"To clarify, which Georgia?"
"Sure."
Unreasonable request #11: "Could we just rotate England by 47 degrees?"
"In which axis?"
"X and Z, I guess. Maybe not Y though, just to annoy people."
Unreasonable request #Proto-15: "Get rid of the number 14."
"What?"
"You heard me-"
"I did. I do not understand the majority of your wishes, but I especially do not understand this. Why would you do this?"
"Eh, I've got no rules, I wanna see where this goes. Anyways... hm... Turn all bowties into ice cream."
"..."
"Don't give me that look, you let me loose on this."
"How about we pause this at 25? With your current rate of wild wishes, it will take me some time to make sure all of them are properly inputted as intended. I'm intrigued by the changes, I wouldn't mind continuing, but I do believe that in 10 more wishes like these ones I might not have the energy to keep this going. I was expecting things like infinite wealth and health and love, so this is far more than I am used to doing."
"..."
"... Well?"
"Yeah sure sounds good man."
"Excellent. The discord you provide is entertaining, but taxing. Make your remaining 9 now, and we can do more at another time."
Unreasonable request #16: "Make hamsters obligate carnivores."
|
I grinned. This was exactly what I had wanted. This lamp, that I had spent years looking for, was now ready to be used for my every wish. It was my lamp now. It was my *world* now.
The Genie looked at me, awaiting the wishes I would have. *He looks like he's faded a bit,* I thought. No matter. I had plans now. I wished for money, respect, immortality, at least until I decided I no longer wanted it, and so much more. This was it. This was my time. Hell, I had three papers dedicated to figuring out what three wishes were most important, but now I could just name everything on the list.
While I was making my wishes, I was interrupted by the sound of rustling near me. I went silent. *What's wrong with you,* I thought towards myself. I knew that there were others coming for it, and I really risked it like that? I was supposed to run away quickly towards a car at the end of the forest. The car had probably left by now. Then I had an idea.
"I wish for a force field to be placed around me and you, and to prevent anybody from entering."
The wish was granted, and I felt great. Everything imaginable was at my fingertips.
"I wish for the power to create anything I want."
The wish was granted, and I felt giddy. I felt like jumping around and laughing like a kid.
I continued to wish for powers and was soon found by my enemies.
"Found the lamp, have you," Albert sneered.
We had been friends, once. This lamp broke us apart. Neither of us wanted to share the lamp, and we soon became enemies, and on multiple occasions had met, and he had always had the upper hand. Now I had it. And I was ready to use it.
I opened my mouth to make a wish, but then a loud sound shook the forest, loud enough to break my ears. It certainly happened to my enemies, as they fell down and screamed. I was invincible, however, so that wasn't a problem.
"What was that?" I asked the genie.
"Oh, nothing," he replied. "Just some enemies that have found me at last."
I looked him in the eyes and realized that he was almost invisible. "Why are you so translucent," I asked.
He grinned. "There's a reason I gave you unlimited wishes. If I had just died, then they would take me right back to life, just to give me all the pain for my debts. But now you have taken it. when I'm dead, you will be the one to pay the price."
"But... But I'm immortal!" I said, at almost a yell. "There's no way to defeat me!"
"Is that what you think? I don't own these powers. I was punished with these, and that lamp was my prison. There are higher powers, powers that could wipe out all the powers you've given yourself with a blink. I'm dead, but at least I won't have to be tortured eternally, like you will."
No. No! I couldn't let this happen. "I wish for the force field to be removed, and for me to be the only person able to use the lamp." I said. My enemies were now looking at me, and then I threw the lamp, pretending to have used it all up, but then turned around, and said, "Damn it! I have another wish!"
They ran for it, and picked it up immediately, rubbing it for the wishes. I fled with speed faster than light. If these "higher powers" saw my friends, they would do it for them. It was foolproof. I was out, and better than ever.
But even as I fled, I continued to think about these higher powers. I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to be superior to them. I brought out the notebook in my pocket, the one I had wished to be able to answer my ever question. *How can I become the most powerful being ever,* he wrote.
It began to write, telling me of a risky but good plan, that would bring my place above all these "higher powers".
*They won't be so high in power after this,* I thought.
|
starryeyedshooter
|
DecentBookworm
|
2024-05-25 03:12:29
|
2024-05-25 01:36:23
| 21 | 11 |
l5kdhpm
|
l5k0wap
|
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.
|
In the beginning, it was disorienting. The first time a figure clad in sleek, futuristic armor materialized in my living room, wielding an energy weapon and spouting some gibberish about me being "a blight on the timeline," I was shocked. By the fifth attempt, I had developed a strategy: duck, run, hide, then surprise them from behind. By the twentieth, it had become a bothersome routine.
With each intruder, I grew more adept, more resilient, and ironically, more dangerous. My humble abode gradually transformed into a fortress, rigged with traps designed to counteract the various techniques employed by my time-traveling assassins. I salvaged their technology, studying and adapting it for my own use. I became a self-taught expert in future tech, learning to harness its power to protect myself.
The reasons for their relentless pursuit remained a mystery. What could I, a simple software engineer, possibly do to disrupt the timeline so drastically? Whatever their prophecy, it seemed my destiny was to be a menace. So, a menace I became. But not because of fate, rather, out of sheer spite.
I began to experiment. Using the future technology, I delved into the secrets of time travel, exploring its mechanics, and learning to manipulate it. I became an anomaly within the timeline, a factor the time travelers hadn't accounted for in their perfect prophecy.
In time, I managed to turn the tables. I started traveling to the future, appearing out of nowhere, catching the time travelers off-guard. I saw their cities, grand and cold, filled with people who lived life through screens, detached from reality. I saw their fear, their apprehension at the mere mention of my name.
With each visit, I left my mark. Not by causing destruction, but by spreading ideas. Ideas that were considered dangerous in their time. Concepts of freedom, of questioning, of not accepting everything served by the ruling authorities. I became a symbol of rebellion, a beacon for those who dared to think differently.
So, they sent more assassins, their fear growing as I continued to influence their timeline subtly. I was not the villain they had painted me to be. I didn't threaten their world with destruction or violence. I threatened it with change.
Their prophecy had become self-fulfilling. In trying to stop me, they created the very threat they feared. They expected a monster, a destroyer, but I became something far more terrifying to them. I became an instigator of revolution.
In the end, I was no longer the hunted. I was the hunter, and I held their timeline in my grip. Each assassin they sent only added to my resolve. I was going to change their future, not out of some divine destiny, but out of spite. After all, they started this. I was merely playing along.
\-----
if u enjoyed this, please read more of the stuff i wrote. i post some of it on r/epistemecognito
|
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.
|
epistemecognito
|
littlepillowcase
|
2023-07-13 16:52:36
|
2023-07-13 15:40:37
| 183 | 40 |
jrtnm3a
|
jrtcy9x
|
14ykuqu
|
14ykuqu
|
[WP] “Your superpower is: you can converse with exactly three people who have passed away.” “I choose Albert Einstein, George Washington, and my late father” “that’s only two, you can choose one more”.
|
“W- what?” I ask incredulously.
“Well, as I said, you only picked two people, one of those people aren’t dead kid.” The voice that was apparently responsible for giving me this power responded.
“So that…” I trail off, thinking of the worst. This is it. This is where I find out my worst fears are true.
“Yes. I’m afraid your father—”
“GEORGE WASHINGTON IS A LIZARD PERSON?!” I yell. Oh god, it’s all coming together now, the pieces all fit perfectly.
“Wait, no that’s not—” the voice tries to interrupt me, but I’m on a roll and my spiralling will be stopped by nothing.
“I FUCKING KNEW IT! AND THEY CALLED ME CRAZY, HEY ALBERT, CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS?!” I ask. I hope I don’t need all three people chosen before I can commune with the dead.
“Shit’s wild kid.” A wise voice echoes through my head. Yep, the power works or I’m now schizophrenic.
“Hey dad, what do you think? Pretty crazy huh?” I calm down slightly, speaking into nothing.
“Yeah kiddo, I never thought you’d prove us right, now don’t be like me and die before getting this news to the public. He’s coming.” It’s a joy to hear my father’s voice again, but I freeze when I realise the weight of his words. I turn around slowly, and see him.
He’s sticking to the ceiling of the cave, hissing. It’s lizard person George Washington.
“Hey voice?” I ask, scared.
“Yeah?” it echoes out.
“Can my third person be Achillies?”
“Sure.” The voice says, and a new one chimes into my brain.
“Let’s fuck up this overgrown gecko kid! Follow my lead.”
|
When I used my superpower, at first, I was deeply confused. But then the reality of it struck me, and my jaw fell to the floor in a fairly comedic fashion. If I couldn't commune with Einstein, that must mean --- My jaw dropped further into the floor, comedically. I booked a flight to Germany, jerked off, and went to sleep.
When I woke up 4 days later, I realised that I missed the flight to Germany. But this was no matter for me, Miles De'Groigh, world-class extraordinaire psychic: flying anywhere was simply a trivial concern, as I have very wealthy parents who fund all of my bullshit. I jerked off again, and, clinging to consciousness, found my way onto the plane to Germany.
I landed in Berlin, my bells and sign at the ready. It was time to find the *fuck* out of Einstein, who was still alive, as my wonderful genius psychic brain had told me again and again. He had to be. He had to be. God, my brain is fucking *mega*. I snorted seven ritalin tablets and marched from the airport, my suitcase filled with various Einstein memorabilia (posters, books, plastic figurines, decorative pens, phone cases, scented candles, etc etc.)
I wandered around the streets, banging my ornate vintage hammer into my brass bells over and over - ding ding ding, Clang-Clang, ding ding - as I held up my sign that read "Looking for: One (1) Chunky Einstein." I screamed his name down dark alleyways, at skyscrapers, into public libraries, into public bathrooms, and into the ears of homeless people. Surprisingly, no quirky white haired physicists came out to meet me, but instead it was just the police. I spent a night in a small cell, and none of the people there were Einstein. Not a single one. Not only that, but they had confiscated all of my Einstein merch - in other words, they had confiscated my *soul*.
I wept.
I cried into the black void, I screamed to the heavens - how could I go on? If there was no Einstein here, could my psychic readings be wrong? Was there an Einstein anywhere? Anywhere at all? Was 3 inches actually below average? Devastated by these terrible truths, I stood up from my 1-ply prison mattress, and wailed Einstein's foul name through radioelectric aether, my fists pounding against the steel bars with a newfound passion and a newfound rage - the only things these pathetic metal bars could imprison were simply flesh, blood, bones; removed from this incarceration, my obstinate will, my own mind - the determinations made by that neurochemical labyrinth - they all remained free, even as the guillotine swung above my neck. I shit and pissed all over the floor of my cell, and one of the guards yelled at me because I was shitting and pissing all over the floor of my cell, and that made me really upset because I don't like it when people yell at me.
Just as I had given up all hope, confident that not a single Einstein lived in this godforsaken country, I heard a bellowing voice from behind me:
"MILES! MEIN KINDER! IT IZ ME, ALBERT EINZTEIN!"
I had to do a double-take. Was it him? Was it really that hunky funky physicist, wearing his gleaming moustache? "E-einstein?!" I cried.
With a kind smile, he leaned over and gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek, his moustache sending shivers all over my body as it brushed past my face. "Ja, it iz the me, albert einstein." He gave a little chuckle, bit his lower lip, and winked at me. "Ja, ja, I am ztill alive." He wrapped his thick, strong, German arms around me, giving me a firm hug, and whispered sweet nothings about gravity or whatever into my ear.
"Woah, that's crazy," I said. Then I flew back home and made mac and cheese or something.
|
Hidden_Misc
|
xzmaxzx
|
2023-12-11 00:03:24
|
2023-12-10 23:14:25
| 530 | 48 |
kcu3m4i
|
kctwg0o
|
18faebt
|
18faebt
|
[WP] The zombie apocalypse was a dud since the undead were just too slow to be a threat. But recently, you have noticed them furiously exercising
|
"We're drug dealers, bro. It's not really ever ethical." Theodor said as he opened a beer.
Gary scratched his head absently as he paced around the room.
"Where are they even getting the money to pay for it?" He asked.
Theodor was the head of the operation, and seemed entirely unconcerned about his new clientele.
"They *are* paying, though. Who cares where they get it? We don't ask our other clients where they get their money. Honestly, Gary, it just sounds like discrimination to me."
Gary spun on his heels, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"They're *zombies*, Theo! What the hell are they doing with anabolic steroids and meth?"
Theodor took a deep pull off his beer then set it on the coffee table.
"What all our clients do," he said. "They're using them."
The TV in front of the couch was tuned to adult swim, but the Adventure Time rerun was suddenly interrupted by the telltale tones that always precede an emergency broadcast.
*EMERGENCY ALERT - OFFICIAL UPDATE ON MORTUM ANIMUS PANDEMIC TO FOLLOW*
Theo sighed and rolled his eyes. He changed the channel a few times but the alert was on every one of them. An image of the White House briefing room appeared on the screen. The press secretary approached the podium.
"My fellow Americans, a new variant of the Mortum Animus virus has been detected in Orlando."
Greg rushed over and sat next to Theo on the couch.
"You don't think..." Greg trailed off as the press secretary continued.
"While all previous outbreaks have been contained relatively easily due to the slow and generally stupid nature of the undead, this does not appear to be the case with the new variant."
"Theo..." Greg was visibly panicking. Theo took another swig of his beer as the press secretary on the TV pleaded for quiet in the wake of the news room erupting in frantic questions from the press.
"Please! Quiet, please!" He said. "This variant, dubbed MA-CHAD, is swiftly becoming the dominant strain. They are strong and they are fast. If you encounter a swole zombie, *do not run*. They will catch you, and they will devour you. You must fight."
Theo burped.
"Or dangle eighth of meth in their face," he said.
|
Jeremy kicked a can down the road. Another day without a zombie in sight. It had been two years since the first break out. Initially the virus spread like wildfire, fueled by suicide tactics shaped by years of ill informed zombie media. Turned out that fighting something that just needs to bite you once was a terrible idea. Especially when these zombies were slow as molasses. You just had to run away and you’d be fine. The zombie apocalypse turned out to be a lot more boring than movies had you believe. Food shortages were solved by massive moving hydroponic growth stations. Moving hospitals would pose a challenge during a medical emergency, but otherwise healthcare wasn’t a problem either. It all looked remarkably like ordinary life before the virus, as long as you kept moving. Thus Jeremy turned another corner making sure that nothing strange would catch them off guard. It never did, but complacency always lurked and a zombie ambush at the wrong moment could still get you an early obituary.
Just when Jeremy was about to call it quits a strange sound caught his attention. Did it come from that barricaded building over there? One of those old fitness centres where getting a subscription was easy, but cancelling it was the real work out. Jeremy cautiously sneaked closer until he found himself in front of the boarded window. Peeping through a crack between two wooden planks he first couldn’t see a thing. It was dark inside and his eyes needed a minute to adjust. He was certain he heard the spinning of multiple exercise bikes, but that made little sense. What collective of idiots was that tired of life that they’d take a massive risk like just to get an adrenaline boost. Gym bros always occupied their own special branch on the evolution tree, but most of them had accepted their new realities.
Jeremy decided that this warranted further investigation and he went around back to see if there was a way in. He kicked down the door and sneaked through the dark dusty corridor leading to the fitness area. Did he hear moaning? That’s not the call of a gym bro.
He dared casting a glance around the corner and was met by the stench of death and decay. An all to familiar odor that usually meant zombies. He saw five occupied bikes that stood near the boarded window that he’d been peeking through. The figures occupying them weren’t alive, that much was for sure. Necrotic fluids dripped on the floor below as Jeremy observed the zombies biking their decaying lungs our of their half exposed rib cages. Were these undead goons training to get faster? Sure, zombies were just another link in the evolution chain. They were as much part of nature as the flies that laid their eggs in their rotting flesh. However no one even entertained the idea that they might be aware enough to work on the flaws in their survival and proliferation strategy.
Sudden movement in the corner of Jeremy’s peripheral drew his attention. Turning around he was met by the sight of more zombies. Standing there like a group of thugs ready to defend their territory. Time to bolt, as he darted past them through making for the door outside.
To his surprise one of the zombies reacted faster than he had anticipated and he grabbed for Jeremy’s collar. He barely avoided it and kept running. Outside there was another gang of zombies trying to cut off his escape. He should be fast enough to outrun them as well. Yet as Jeremy tried to dash past them he was caught by surprise when they responded quicker than expected and barred his way. Jeremy turned around to start into a different direction, but to his fright he was surrounded by them. No way out, how had they accomplished this when they shouldn’t have been half as swift to outmaneuver him. How long had they been working out and how had their decaying bodies been able to handle growth like that?
This was bad, Jeremy could only think off how he should’ve seen this happening earlier, if only he hadn’t grown so complacent. The lack of zombies out on the street should’ve been a sign. Now he would die here all alone and no one back home would be prepared for what was to come.
[r/zeekoeswriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/zeekoeswriting)
|
jpb103
|
zeekoes
|
2023-05-06 15:29:41
|
2023-05-06 13:01:29
| 29 | 21 |
jj3jkac
|
jj311aa
|
139klfx
|
139klfx
|
[WP] A hero's work never ends. You became a litch out of necessity. The next hero would not be summoned for another thousand years and you were old. You planned to stay around long enough to pass the safety of the world on to the next.
|
They say time flies, and in truth it doesn't matter if you're having fun or not. One day you're forcing yourself to learn how to set things on fire with your mind, even when your magical abilities are likely on the negative, the next you're floating atop a pillar made out of the petrified corpses of the long forgotten royal guard of a slightly less forgotten mad king. And you made the pillar yourself in an attempt to dissuade future royal guards from protecting future mad kings.
I am now 3740 years old by my count, 930 since I transferred from the ancient corpse to the animated obsidian construct. My name used to be Ador Ro-Thelor, but I don't use it anymore because these days adoran means "ancient emperor" and Rothelon is the name of a legendary eater of souls. Both are because of me. It would be a little on-the-nose and I expect to keep a low profile, least the Prophesied One gets the wrong idea.
I did have my bad days, and I did eat some souls. But to be fair the first few were in self defense, and the rest were the easiest way to make sure someone would really exit the mortal realm and stop threatening it. But as the centuries turn to millennia, folks tend to forget context and nuance, and you wouldn't believe what kind of unsavory individuals can become cultural heroes.
Say, for instance, the Prophesied One was to be born among the Shorefolk of the Indigo Sea. He or she would grow up knowing that the monstrous Arodellon the Beast-like killed and ate warrior king Tik Takel, who taught humanity how to fish. Therefore the Prophesied One would likely want to kill me upon learning I am, technically, Arodellon, even if I only have one head and one back and lack 28 of the arms he'd expect me to have. And by the way, the shorefolk of the Indigo Sea already knew how to fish when Dichachel became a warlord among them, and the only thing he tried to teach them was how to die in large numbers to expand his territory. And I didn't ate the whole of him, just his essence when it became apparent he had been bound with the very land in order to rule forever.
Or say the Prophesied One is born among the Lava Dancers of Mount Firemaw. Actually, let's really hope he doesn't, I don't have a lot of excuses for that one. I just needed the power urgently and Mount Firemaw was the closest available source, and back then nobody knew active volcanoes are so important to keep lands fertile.
The point is, it would be very easy for a newly appointed hero to mistake me for a bad guy. The descendants of the Guantos and the Yrubos don't really care that two thousand years ago those two groups were mortal enemies and would have wiped each other out had I not nudged them in more constructive paths, at the cost of some free will until they became the grybandic peoples. All they remember is the Thousand Years of Slavery. Which wasn't slavery, by the way, I was only keeping them from freely murdering each other.
The Prophesied One is taking his or her sweet time though. It should not have been me decapitating the Moon Goddess a millennia and a half ago. It should not have been me thwarting the Stream Conflux six hundred years ago. I mean, honestly, it was kind of pathetic how easy that was. And the Merge in the South should have happened a little bit, last century, before a new hero would've been able to stop it. But there was no new hero so I stepped in and Silouche, The Flesh Lord, decided to turn away all on his own upon seeing me. That's not how it's supposed to go! Even bards have trouble making that into an interesting story, and I'm pretty sure a couple of songs are attempts at making me the bad guy in that story, against a thing called The Flesh Lord no less!
I had a whole Order of the Foretold organized about 700 years ago, with the single purpose of identifying and nurturing the Prophesied One. Any prophesied one. Powerful people in secret circles of influence were terrified, convinced The Dark One (that'd be me in some cases), was trying to find and kill That Who Will Vanquish Him. So many first borns being hidden away, none with even a hint of prophesiededness.
I'll even confess to trying to *cause* a prophesied one or two. The Shambling Duke is still part of some very dark songs, and from the other one there's still the Crater Lake. So that's not something I'm happy to look into again.
It's not like The Realm is in any danger, I guess. People have learned not to mess with certain powers and certain magics, and external beings are less and less inclined to try taking over. About two thousand years ago I read a doom chant which was supposed to be happening this decade, but there is no hint of any starplague, in whatever way you interpret that. Kings are just, or as just as you can expect kings to be. Witch lords keep to themselves. Barbarians pillage as little as possible, mostly out of tradition. Monsters have been doing their best to integrate with societies. There are no darknesses rising at any corner of the map, no shadows looming over anything (unless you count me, in some traditions' opinion), so maybe there's nothing urging the prophesied one to come along.
Maybe I should pay a visit to the gods who in the past have shown a proclivity to incarnate in the mortal realm, see if any of them is feeling like dropping by, doing some heroics, taking over from me. But gods look at me funny, it's sort of uncomfortable.
Or maybe I *should* go evil. Be the threat which requires vanquishing. But I really don't want to. I know so many different ways in which I could destroy the world, or even The Realm, that the thought of even pretending to do so makes me sick. I guess I could threaten one of the Outer Dwells, bring upon the wrath of a demiurge, not the Flesh Lord though, that whole deal was so ridiculous. But I shouldn't have to do any of those things! I've worked so hard to build up this place, causing it to suffer any damage makes me anxious!
So, there's only waiting.
|
On a mountain, heavy with snow and dark shadow, a wizard walks, stooped so low his grey beard sways only inches from the rocky ground. He leans heavily on his staff and moves slow because he is old. He is old but still the last hero of the land. Has been for longer than it should be. He is beyond ready to give up the ghost and be dead. And that's why he is here, to be dead.
He wears traveling clothing, good corduroy trousers, soft buckskin boots, and a knee-length jerkin covered in ingredient-stuffed pockets and mutters to himself. Some words are spells, wards, and cantrips, others are just the complaints of an old man. Curses about pains and blisters and fires that will be without an old man to comfort.
His destination is the temple above. If the wizard can make it there it will complete a journey that began almost a year ago. An important journey because he had a dream.
In this dream, he met a mighty warrior. Muscles and heroic demeanor and sharp blade stained with evil-doer blood
"I'm here to replace you as hero to the realm."
"Good, good. I'm more than ready to give up the post, I've held it for over three-hundred years.
"I am happy to do so. I look forward to meeting you when it is time.
"When will that be?"
"in a thousand years."
...a thousand years.
He woke a bit disappointed.
He has had the dream many times since and managed to ask the hulking brute for more details but all he could say were the same words: I look forward to meeting you in a thousand years.
...a thousand years.
But most importantly, it is a thousand years without a hero. A hero protects the land, exhibits bravery, solves problems, defends justice, inspires hope, acts selflessly, teaches others, makes sacrifices, forges alliances, seeks knowledge, and promotes change and growth. Without one, people would have to count on themselves. And then where would they find themselves?
No, that won't do so the wizard made plans to ask a God for a favor.
Now, Bane, god of conflict, is the realm's only hope. Because, what this wizard wants to accomplish, only the God of chaos could provide.
As he works his way up the last switchback he can only hope this works because he physically can't do the job anymore. Hasn't been able to really for most of his long life. He should have been relieved before everything went to shit. Before he became a walking miracle. Now, he is hopefully Bane is in the mood to be helpful... for a price.
The price of an old man's very used soul.
Said soul finishes its journey and stands not in front of an edifice carved directly into the mountain. Symbols of tyranny, such as crowns and scepters, stand alongside weapons of war, paying homage to the god's thirst for dominance. The wizard crawls through the small opening to the darkened sanctum beyond.
Then there he is the god of tyranny, hatred, fear, and conquest.
The figure is a towering twenty feet tall onyx statue. Surrounding it are other offerings, small animals, banners of vanquished kingdoms long forgotten by history, and skulls of warriors taken in Bane's name. The wizard did not come to kill cats or dogs for attention, nor did he bring a bobble from a past battle. But he does recite an oath of unwavering allegiance, pledging their loyalty to Bane and his relentless pursuit of power. Black candles surrounding the statue flare to life their flames casting shadows that dance as if the cave is suddenly filled with priests exalting at Bane's might. Then, Bane's presence looms large.
The wizard is powerful. One of the most powerful beings to ever live. But in the face of the Great God Bane, he cowers but manages to whisper, "I seek to conquest for Bane."
"Why do you seek to conquer in my name?"
"The Realm needs a hero."
Bane laughs. "heroes? Heroes disrupt my conquest. I don't need a hero I need a general for my army of the dead."
"Fine."
|
Brad_Brace
|
Voyage_of_Roadkill
|
2023-07-25 05:20:27
|
2023-07-25 05:14:32
| 114 | 17 |
jtck12p
|
jtcjhpw
|
158s14x
|
158s14x
|
[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.
|
[Concrit Welcome]
*If you wish upon a star, then a miracle is about to start.*
Leo stood alone inside the circular dome-shaped room. It was a long day in the observatory, and he still needs to do routine recordings of the upcoming meteor shower. Forcing himself not to fall asleep on the desk, he approached the telescope at the center.
He had always believed there was something uniquely mesmerizing about the night sky, which was the reason he wanted to study astronomy. But these midnight observations that could’ve perfectly been automatically recorded were a real test on his nerves.
A faint flash in the night sky. The meteor shower had started.
More visible dots flickered from the lens on the telescope, and just as he had feared, the faint voices were back again.
There was another reason why Leo hated being alone in the observatory at night. Ever since he was a child, these whispers had accompanied him whenever there was a meteor shower. His therapist had called them harmless hallucinations, but it was nights like these that almost convinced Leo there was something deeper.
If he was more awake, he would pause everything and take his medication. But he was too tired, he wasn’t thinking. In between one breath and the next, the button to open the observatory roof was clicked.
The roof slowly bloomed open like moonflower petals, and a cold breeze trickled through the gaps. Perhaps it was his sleepiness, perhaps there was no reason, but the voices seemed clearer that night. Most were still nonsense noise, but he was able to make sense of a few of the loudest ones.
“I wish for the night to be not as dark.” A breathy voice said.
“I hope that one day the forest would be safer.” This one sounded like a young woman.
“I wish the village won’t starve just because of a bad harvest anymore.” An old man’s hoarse and deep voice echoed.
“I wish the neighboring kingdom wouldn’t attack us anymore.”
“I wish there are enough books for everyone.”
“I wish to no longer worry about floods or hurricanes.”
“I wish to understand the heavens.”
“I wish to be reunited with my loved ones.”
“I wish my voice to be heard.”
The meteors crashed down into the atmosphere one by one, etching faint white lines throughout the sky. Leo listened to every one of the wishes from long ago, that had come true in one way or another, long after the ones who made the wishes had passed.
He was in that dreamy state again, at that field trip in second grade, laying on the grass outside the tent. He muttered the same words he said back then in a shaky voice: “One day, I will touch the stars.”
In the not-so-far distant above, the international space station made another rotation around the earth.
|
it was the final moment of my life and there i was, lying down on the hospital bed, bed-stricken and exhausted from a long painful illness.
a shining twinkling light shone from the window, opening my eyes and on the window, a screen began to appeared and showed me a taylor swift's live performance.
i havent heard that song in a while since the illness took over my body and thats when it hits.
my heart was giving up on itself, slowly, and the screen vanished from the window as the star was no longer there because the moon was shining this time and as I drifted off to nowhere and into the dark, I heard the door swung opened and a familiar voice said,
"Hey, its taylor."
|
sachizero
|
Zestyclose_Half_3354
|
2023-02-09 14:50:12
|
2023-02-09 13:40:57
| 89 | 20 |
j7uk485
|
j7uazq5
|
10xsvcg
|
10xsvcg
|
[WP] The villain breaks into their usual monologue, but instead of just gloating and explaining their plan, they seem almost manic, trying to explain away their actions, seemingly to themselves as much as you.
|
Not much surprises Jackson. He is a man of repetition - after all, he has been living the same day, every day, for as long as he can remember.
He remembers vague details from his previous life - he knew his mother had been named Amelia, but his father’s name is lost to him. He knows his address, but only because it is stamped on the mail that covers his kitchen table every morning. He knows that he had been a mailman once, and his name had been Jackson.
His childhood was not a distant memory but a forgotten one. He could not remember if he had siblings, or his age, or any of the other little details that simply didn’t matter anymore. His days do not change, and thus retaining old information stopped being important long ago. He had even forgotten how long ago - or how long his days had been the same.
But Jackson remembers his schedule. After all, he followed the same exact routine every morning.
Up at 6:43am, twelve minutes before his alarm. It’s thundering but softly, the storm already on its way away from them. His daughter would cry at 6:51am, and he would slip out of their bedroom before his wife awoke. Alaina, the second love of his life, drank a bottle every morning. She hiccuped at the same time, she pooped at the same time.
Riley is up at 7 and takes over, and Jackson slips out to begin his farm duties. Chickens get fed first, then the donkey, then the cows. Then it’s back inside for a pancake breakfast. The afternoon is spent under the sun in the fields, first on the corn, then on the tractor, which always gives out around mid afternoon.
Burgers and tatertots for dinner, baby duty afterwards. His evening always ended watching his favorite film, his beautiful Riley tucked under one arm and his precious Alaina asleep in her arms.
Every day was the same. All the little details, his and his families, exactly the same. So no, not much surprised him.
Perhaps that is why he is so startled when, around mid movie, there is a knock at the door. It startles Riley too, which causes Alaina to begin to cry. She sits up quick to hush her, and Jackson stood to stare at the door. Riley glances up at him with a confused expression, cooing to their child. “Well? Aren’t you going to answer it?”
*Absolutely not.* That’s his first thought. Because this is different. This is new. To Riley, who he has never been able to wake from the loop, surely he looks like a mad man. He only seems to snap out of it when she rose to answer it herself. “No, I’ll get it.”
He peers through the window on the door first, spotting a man on his deck. He is dressed in a white sweatshirt and white sweatpants, and he appears to carry a very full backpack. Jackson swings the door open, steps out, and shuts it behind him. He gives a suspicious glance behind the man, who is staring at him expectantly.
“What is this? What are you?” Jackson asks in a hushed tone, his attention finally coming down on the man. It’s more a boy really, late teenage years, with thick long black hair.
“You’re stuck. I’m here to tell you what happens so you can be free.” The boys voice is warm but firm, and Jackson can see the determination set in his expression.
“You can’t be here. I know what happens, and he comes soon. Please leave.” Jack steps back to retreat into his house, but the boy stops him by grabbing his wrist. It sends a jolt through them both, and the boy recoils. He stares at his hand inquisitively, before reestablishing eye contact with the man he is determined to save.
“But the loop! You’ve been here for-“
“A long time, I know. Please, leave. Go back to where you came from. I can’t be responsible for what may happen if you don’t.”
“Mister Miller you are *dead* you can-“
“Shut *up!*” Jackson hisses, stepping forward again towards the young man. He recoils, a look of absolute bewilderment across his face. The old man sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a sigh. “I said I know what happens. I don’t care.”
“You don’t care?” The boy asks. His eyes are wet, and Jackson finds himself feeling pity for him. “Why do you choose to relive the worst day of your life over and over again?”
“Because it was the last best day of my life.” Jackson replies softly. He turns to face his own house, knowing his wife is inside worrying about him. “Don’t you get it? This day cannot be changed - we both know it has already happened. You cannot rewrite history. Nothing I do in here matters.”
His throat is tight by the last word. Of course he has already tried everything to change that day - that’s the thing about loops. The tiny details don’t matter, the end is already written.
“You ask me why. It’s because if you walk in there right now, the love of my life is on that couch. My daughter is in there. And right now? They’re safe. They’re not stressed, they don’t know what’s coming. They’re alive, and that means this plain day was the last best day of my life. Isn’t that enough?”
There is silence between the two men. The boy in all white has no words, and finally Jackson Miller breaks the quiet.
“You need to go. This is no place for the living. Please, leave us. The reaper comes soon.”
Without another word, Jackson turns away and steps back inside his home. He locks the door - fruitless, he knows - before returning to his wife on the couch. “Well? Who was it? Why were you out there for so long?”
“He wanted to sell me something, I think. I told him he had the wrong house. It’s nothing, love.” And he kisses her, pressing play on their movie.
Two short hours later, at 11:03pm, he lays in his bed once again. His wife is asleep in his arms but he lays wide awake, waiting for the sound of shattering glass. In a few minutes, the armed intruder will make his way through their tiny farm house.
He would leave their house lifeless only 32 minutes after he entered it, taking with him pockets full of treasures and a single pair of stained gloves.
Jackson doesn’t know if the intruder was ever caught. He doesn’t know why it happened - the murder or the loop - or why Riley never seems to be aware of either. After a million restarts, the tiny details just don’t seem to matter anymore.
His last best day was his Heaven; and as he closes his eyes to the sound of shattering glass, he finds himself looking forward to the morning.
|
I am minding my own business, walking peacefully about the city, the sun beaming down on my skin. Suddenly, a burly man I don’t recognize walks directly towards me. *What the hell?*
“Why are you still here?” the man asks me, his voice gruff as he puts his hands around my neck.
I roll my eyes and raise my eyebrows at the sudden intrusion, escaping his grasp as I lean against the ice cream cart behind me. I watch people moving about the city, oblivious to the fact that they are trapped with me in their never ending hell. But for me, *it’s my playground*.
I scratch my head and finally murmur, “Don’t know, it’s just fun.”
Apparently, that was the wrong answer. He looks at me, his face now as red as his clothing, and pushes me forward. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” he screams.
I catch my balance, not surprised, just confused as I blink. I raise my eyebrows as the people around me don’t even stop to stare. Huh, *strange*.
Suddenly, I clear my throat, my eyes darting around the city as I say in a huff, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to elaborate. Are you referring to me being in the time loop still or some other reason I don’t know about?”
He blinks a couple of times, staring at me as if I was the dumbest person he’s ever met. “You… you can’t be serious,” he says with a facepalm, “Of course it’s about you being in the time loop! I have been trapped in here with you ever since it started!
This revelation shocks me to the core and I ask, “Why didn’t you just say something to me then?!”
He glares at me, his hands shaking with rage, “I wasn’t even able to move until recently! I was stuck being aware but doing the same thing everyday! That’s why!”
“Okay, okay!” I exclaim, clapping my hands together, “But there’s no need to act like a jerk about it. I didn’t know someone else was trapped with me. Cut me some slack, man. I just wanted a break from life.”
Suddenly, his expression softens for a moment as he sighs. But then his expression turns stern again as he asks, “Oh really? Why the hell do you need this long of a break from life?”
My expression darkens. “Because I don’t want to die…” I think, staring blankly at the ground. The sky does something it hasn’t before, turning gray just like me as the sky begins to *BOOM*.
I shake off these thoughts as the man looks at me, as if analyzing my every move. I sigh, “That doesn’t matter. But look, if you want to get out I’ll help you find a way. What needs to happen?”
The man looks at me, his expression unreadable. But then he takes a deep breath and admits, “I don’t know honestly. I tried to escape ever since I gained the ability to move. I saw my mirror was now replaced by a large, glowing portal. I tried to walk into it… but it wouldn’t let me. I think… I think we both need to enter it to end the loop.”
I blink in surprise, my heart beating out of my chest as I think, “Am I ready for this? Am I ready to die? This is it for me… isn’t it?”
Trying to gain my composure I shake off these thoughts and put on a brave face. “Alright…” I say as I look up at the man, “I’m sorry, I won’t keep you here any longer. I didn’t know this loop was affecting someone else or I would have tried to break free sooner. We can end this now. Can you forgive me for my ignorance?”
The man pauses, his eyebrows raising. “Can’t say I expected that…” he says, but then suddenly smiles, “Sure, man. Follow me so we can end this already.”
I smile as the man leads me back to his house. I know if I step foot into that portal and it works, it will be the last breath I take once I’m out. But you know what? *That’s okay*.
Reality is a mixture of joy but also grief, and all good things must come to an end someday. My loved ones will miss me, sure, and I can already imagine that. But I’m ready to move on from this world evenly balanced with good and evil. *I’ll miss you, world, goodbye*.
Hope you enjoyed reading what I wrote for this writing prompt! I have only fairly recently started responding to writing prompts, and I am always open to learning more about writing, so feel free to provide any thoughts or feedback. Thanks!
|
SimplyPassinThrough
|
KoolingKatie
|
2024-05-22 01:58:37
|
2024-05-21 21:47:52
| 524 | 62 |
l540d7w
| null |
1cxg5v8
|
5z4jtm
|
[WP] You, the world's greatest supervillian are quite popular with civilians due to the fact you actively go out of your way to keep innocent bystanders out of harm's way. Today you just met a young upstart villain who doesn't respect your caution.
|
"You best not do that," I said.
The poor girl jumped, dropping the remote she had in her hand.
"Who the--" Karma stopped as she recognized my mask, red sinus lines blipping across a black backround. "I was here first. Why do you even want to do a parliament job anyway?"
"I don't. I'm here for something better. But as long as I'm here, I should warn you that if you trigger the bombs now, you will make three martyrs of three wage-grade security officers."
"Okay, so what would you suggest then?"
"What would I do, do you think?"
She was irritated. I could feel it on her. Hear it, in fact. *Ugh, this is why he has never taken control of anything.*
And her unguarded thoughts were exactly why I was very careful to ensure nobody knew my power or identity. They tended to share so much less when they knew.
"You'd cut power somehow, sneak past the guards and drag your targets to the roof, where somehow you'd have a convenient exit waiting for you. Very cool, very mysterious, not too scary. You should call yourself safely edgy instead of Pulse."
"Follow me then, we'll see if we can manage that. Nobody but you will ever know I was here. And you can take full credit." I turned on my heel, overcoat flicking behind me and walked to a door on the roof. She followed, her irritation growing.
*So dramatic,* she thought.
"Did you set out to kill security officers?" I asked. I knew the answer already, or I wouldn't have asked.
"What? No! I'm not some wanton *thug*."
"And yet you were going to kill them."
"If you wanna make an omelette--"
"--You crack only as many eggs as you need to. Do you use six eggs for a three-egg omelette? And you, Karma, of all people." I opened a door to the phsyical facilities plant. She was surprised it was open. As the sole potential fire-exit, from the roof, I knew it had to be open.
She followed me through. "Why are you so averse to death anyway? You're almost famous for it, when you should be infamous."
"Remember Devil Child?"
"Sure, everybody does."
"Lot of bodies, on the ground. His own followed pretty quickly. Whirlwind?"
"Yeah?"
"Noble goals, but reckless execution. Killed a lot of people. They hunted him relentlessly, with growing urgency as his collaterals grew."
"Okay--"
"Arbiter, The Headsman, Rampage, Walking Death."
"I get it," she said flatly.
"Not yet. How much good have they done for the people they represented? The flaws that bred their vengeance exist still. Feelings are noble and understandable but they do not get results. When's the last time you felt you had to worry that the prime minister would be hiding tax money in havens across the globe?"
"Not since you strung up Ol' Mitch and his accountants in the financial district," she admitted. I could feel her respect growing.
We walked along a maintenance hallway, and as we did I eased the image of security personnel in the mind of the custodian we passed. His weary mind accepted the image easily. I lifted his key fob with a snip-and-grab while we passed.
"How'd you do that?" she hissed.
"If you know who to pay, and they know that nobody will die... Well consciences can be eased enough for some to mind their own business," I half-lied. It was true, but I had simply told his mind directly what he was seeing.
"They'd have no time for us if the bomb had gone off."
"Mmm, perhaps, but you never introduce chaos into a plan, until you've acquired your target. Who is your target by the way?"
"Flannagan. Member of Parliament with--"
"Sure."
"He's gutting social services, so his buddies can privatize and profit."
"Unforgivable." I checked my watch as a distraction while I reached out mentally to see who was near the bomb. Everyone was a reasonable distance from the area. "If Flannagan is in there, it is now safe to detonate your bomb."
I opened a door, checked quickly on either side, then beeped the door of the MP's office with the fob I'd stolen. I handed the fob to her and nodded my head at the door. She was of a confused mind. On the one hand annoyed that I'd hijacked her job. On the other, things had gone smoothly and successfully. I waited till I heard Flannagan's shock, and her triumph in my head before I walked back to the roof. The zipline to her van was ready and waiting, and myself by it. The rumble of an explosion rippled through the building.
When she finally dragged Flannagan back, I was there. His eyes went wider seeing me, which was doing Karma a disservice.
"Happened to be in the neighbourhood for something good, mind if I hitch a ride?"
"Don't fall behind," she said. *Ugh, the pinnacle of fucking drama*. She thought. Which was fair enough. I followed the two of them down the zipline.
"You're here for something good," she said as she started the van. "What?"
"You." I replied. "I've been looking for a skilled collaborator for some time now."
|
The beachside promenade was bustling with the usual evening crowd. Executives winding down after a long week, blazers and ties off, having a happy hour cocktail. Young couples, holding hands, sharing a drink, enjoying the sunset. Kids running along the beach with their parents behind them, rushing to the perfect spot for their sandcastles. A typical weekend evening in the big city.
​
The Alchemist observed all this from his perch atop the watchtower. His plans would soon be set into motion. He had hacked the traffic system. He had immaculately planned the routes. A sudden sinkhole had appeared on the eastern expressway causing traffic there to be re-routed temporarily via the promenade. At the same time there was a minor fire at the fireworks warehouse in the Malcom Industrial Zone causing some of the delivery trucks to the warehouses to be routed to the promenade onto the secondary warehouses at Wellington Bridge as precaution. Two dots bleeped on the laptop screen, both were heading to the right junction at the right speed.
​
The Alchemist could hardly contain himself. That old hag Ice Queen had warned him that his plans were foolish, FOOLISH! HA! What had she achieved? Sitting in her mountain hideout, planning to take over the city, for what? Ha! Her master plan had failed simply because she couldn't get herself to kill a cat. A cat! How could you be a villain without killing? Silly woman.
​
His plan was almost coming to fruition, he saw the blinking dots almost approach, all he had to do was shut down the traffic lights and override the driver controls on the trucks. The truck loaded with industrial bleach would crash onto the container delivering vinegar from the vineyards to the bottling plant. It would release enough chlorine gas to suffocate five blocks. It was almost time.
​
He entered a quick code that overran the traffic light, switched tabs to initiate the override of the truck driver controls, he could now see both the trucks approaching each other from his vantage point, but all of a sudden there was some commotion. The container truck loaded with vinegar started sliding off course, it couldn't be, his software was impeccable. He quickly realised that the commission was because the Ice Queen had appeared and had formed a layer of ice on the road, causing vehicles to skid off road, but she was too late, the truck slid off road on to the beach and was stuck there. He still controlled the other truck, he quickly began to enter a code on his laptop when the bleach truck came to a sudden stop. Wait, why was it not moving? How? The damn truck was floating mid-air! He heard the crowd cheer "Inferno!!!" Not possible. How could two sworn enemies be uniting to ruin his plans!!??
|
3sums
|
Mysterious_Troll
|
2023-01-28 08:13:50
|
2023-01-28 06:43:55
| 667 | 44 |
j67mzn1
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j67g43u
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10n5dxp
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10n5dxp
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[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."
|
"Hello?"
"Oh hey, Deaf Bard. It's me."
"Heyyyyyy...?"
"...God."
"..."
"Yeah, remember yesterday? The asshole jerkwads with the pamphlets?"
"I---"
"I know, terrible, right? But I was juuust happening a-by, and caught a bit of the convo, so."
"Wait, do---"
"And I get it, I get it. To be fair, they kinda slipped under the wire under a technicality. Ooh, I love your mud room!"
"Oh, uh, thank you. Come on in, yeah, have a seat..."
"No need for the tour, I'm familiar with the place. So... you play by ear, that kind of thing?"
"Uh, no I---"
"No worries, mate. I'm happy you invited me over, it's been a haute hot hee-haw-hawt minute or two since I have a bean-me-up-Scotty."
"Sure, that's fine. I'm just going to pop in the back and--"
"Deebee?"
"...y-yeah?"
"Come on."
"What?"
"Dude. You ran out yesterday. Drank the last right after those tit-bits showed up and left, and even giggled about your comment after you downed yourself some dregs."
"That... I'm going---"
"Sure, sure, that's fine, I'm just busting your balls. Just a busty, Krusty Krab."
"Oh my Go--"
"Watch it..."
"...thanks for understanding. Man, I feel just awful about that."
"Oh, no worries, Sweet Deebs. I'm more of a stoner chick."
"A... a stoner chick?"
"Yessss, yes-yes-yes-yes. Just a slob like one of you, eh? Kurasawa and kief, let's get kraken."
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chimera005ao
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THIS_IS_GOD_TOTALLY_
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2023-03-21 08:59:50
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2023-03-20 23:40:58
| 16 | 11 |
jd27fzb
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jd0mtbl
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11wsrfi
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11wsrfi
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[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."
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The scent of blood and smoke hangs thick in the air, coating the nose and throat with its sharp, acidic taste like a pungent candle lit in a small room. The whole neighborhood was in ruins, skyscrapers and apartment buildings crumbling to dust, the screams of those still trapped inside swiftly being silenced. It was like a horrible symphony, the sound of the wreckage continually collapsing paired with the screech of sirens, the wailing of the trapped.
And here I stand, in the midst of my ruined community, watching as the so-called ‘*hero*’ of our city reaches out a hand to the man who caused all of this.
“You’re going to jail for a long time Destructor-” The hero declares, yanking him up by his collar and binding his hands behind his back. The shining white of his untouched outfit is a heavy contrast to his surroundings, as though he were a statue that had been left untouched by the chaos of the past hour. Hair still perfectly swooped back, his body held no evidence of the fight that just concluded. Bile rose in my throat as I watched him throw the villain over his shoulder, a man that even as he was being apprehended shouted his plans to do it again, to do it on a grander scale that no ones seen before.
I stare at them, numb.
“Y-you’re really going to just- let him go?” I mutter, shocked at the display before me. Virtue Man paused, and turned to face me. Me, covered in ash and blood, both mine and my families- Me, who’d just lost everyone and everything that had ever given my simple life meaning- *Me*, who no longer had any purpose or direction in my life.
“If I kill him, how am I any better than him?” He said, in that godawful ‘holier than thou’ tone. My chest heaves with rage, my face flushing red. Bitterness floods my veins, clouds my mind. All I feel is anger, towards Virtue Man, towards Destructor, towards my bus that was five minutes late, ultimately keeping me from being in the apartment building with my loved ones when it was destroyed.
“B-better than him?” I scoff, laughing. “Better than him?! I don’t know, have you ever killed thousands of people for the hell of it? Have you ever poisoned the water supply, experimented on unwilling victims, bombed a library because, ‘the librarian gave you a dirty look’?! What the hell is wrong with you?! He’s just going to escape, and kill thousands if not millions more!” I shout, storming towards them.
“I understand your pain, but-” Virtue man began, before I cut him off.
“Understand my pain? If you understood, he would be *dead*.” I look him dead in the eye. “Everyone he’s killed since the last time he escaped? Their blood is on ***your*** hands. Every orphan, widow, or childless parent he's created? Is on your hands.”
He lets me say my peace, before responding. “I will never kill any person, no matter the reason-” He states firmly, before turning to walk away.
I just start laughing. This so-called hero would let thousands die, all because he didn't want to get his hands dirty? Fine. I look around the ruins, my eyes quickly spotting just what I was looking for. A dead officer, her gun still in hand. I move quickly, and swipe it, the gun waying heavy in my hand. I rush towards Virtue Man, and aim for the limp villain thrown over his shoulder.
I took a deep breath, remembering what my grandfather had taught me as a child, and pulled the trigger.
Because he might value keeping his hands and conscience clean, but *I* have nothing left to lose.
|
I watched, drenched in sweat and blood, as my best friend lowered his sword. Corpses littered the ground at my feet, both friend and foe, and my arms felt like lead. My shield was splinters, my sword bent and dull. We had made it mere meters into the palace, but it seemed like we'd won the fight.
"I can't do it." Aelle whispered. The wounded man at his feet chuckled, blood running from his nose and into his mouth. The Boar General. After a year of fighting, their rebellion had succeeded in smashing his army and killing their ruthless leader. At least, that was the original plan.
"What do you mean?" I demanded, stumbling towards my friend. Aelle motioned for me to stay back.
"Yorig, my brother. If we kill him, helpless as he is, we are no better than he." He said sadly. "I cannot strike him down. We must go."
I looked at Aelle like he was crazy. I dropped my sword and shield, walking towards my best friend. He looked back at me with alarm, watching as my offhand snatched the dagger from my belt. I lunged forward, knocking Aelle back and sinking my blade into the Boar General's chest. I left the knife in him, and he slumped to the side, dying noisily.
Aelle looked at me with a mixture of fear and revulsion. He shook his head and turned away, trudging over the bodies of the fallen and out the palace door. I scowled.
"Coward."
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FinancialBank8293
|
woahitsegg
|
2024-03-08 20:37:02
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2024-03-08 17:01:32
| 20 | 14 |
ktyxljl
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ktxupaf
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1b9dtij
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1b9dtij
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[WP] You run a dog daycare, and many of the dogs are...not ordinary. Cerberos with the three heads, Fenrir the massive wolf. the Black Hound... Their owners are equally bad at hiding their identities but it's fine, since the doggies are all well behaved.
|
I looked up at the tall customer Infront of me, her silken Kimono flowing down like the waterfall that was embroidered on it. Her hair was up in a neat bun held in place by a pair of chopsticks I was pretty sure were made of Jade.
I hadn't gotten picked up after I completed my studies at the Mage academy. No master spell crafters, or Potion makers had openings. I had, however, made a few extra coins during my training by caring for people's companions and familiars.
Some tests just didn't let you have outside help, and so I would watch over my classmates Animals for a small fee. It had started with just my classmates, but by the time I was done with my training, and ready to graduate, it included several upperclassmen, and even a few faculty members were in my client base.
I decided to take this to a full-time gig, and found a groomer who specializes in helping intelligent animals with their issues.
I wasn't sure when he found out, but one of my customers, it seemed, was a Warlock with Hades himself as a patron. Her Hellhound familiar gave it away, honestly. The large shaggy mastiff that smelled lightly of sulphur and burnt hair was a regular at the groomer, with us often watching him overnight when his Warlock was out drinking.
About 6 months ago, things took a turn. I'm not sure if he was trying to hide himself, or just making sure that I knew who he was. A three headed hound with blue flames in it's eyes, and a cobra for a tail is hard to mistake though.
It seems the Guardian of the underworld had gotten into the garden, and dug up some of Queen Persephone's prize flowers. The dirt and manure caked the great hound's three heads, and I'm surprised the cobra didn't have a concussion from how hard it was being wagged on the ground.
Turns out, even one of the most legendary canines ever loves 'baby talk'. It took us almost 8 hours to wash everything out of the dog's coat, since one of the heads would always want to go play.
Although he never told us who he was, there are few other entities that would wear all black with a hooded sweatshirt that read "The Volcanoes Are Mine.". A sweatshirt I got very familiar with as he and 'Cerbz' became weekly regulars.
The fees he paid upfront in raw gems were enough to fund an increase in the size of our facilities, and Cerbz got along well with the other magical familiars.
A little.over a month later, A man wearing a studded Leather biker jacket, with a beard that would make ZZ-Top green with envy, came in with a truly massive wolfhound. 'Fen' was the size of a large draft horse, and when he stood with his ears fully up, he was almost 9 feet tall.
I still can't quite wrap my head around how I was able to hold the roots of a mountain, or the sound of a spider spinning it's web in my hands, but somehow I knew that was what the leash was made of.
It turns out Fen and Cerbz knew each other, and had a grand time frolicking around the now 1-1/2 acre yard we had, chasing sticks and tugging on the steel cables we had put out for our larger visitors.
The way The biker threw his hands up and shouted about 'HAMMAR!!' was a clear indication of who had brought him. When he was picked up by Tom Hiddleston, who simply smirked at my groomers gobsmacked expression, well it just made sense.
Over the intervening few months, we've had the laughing monk bring in Fuu dogs that got into Yeti poo, and needed a bath, Anubis brought himself in for a trim, and Coyote puzzled us with riddles while he played fetch.
Now, Tsukomi stood before me, filling out a clipboard with Kanji I would need Google to read, while asking if we could help her Tanuki after it had jumped into the sea to try and catch the tail of the giant catfish that lived under Japan.
|
Warning:
First attempt trying to do this. English is not my native language either, if my grammar or structuring of sentences seem off.
Travis felt like it always was a strange feeling in the morning. All quiet, people preparing for the arrival of the dogs and their owners. The contrast against the otherwise regular sounds of sniffing, gasping, barking and whining gave a "quiet before the storm"-feeling.
As he was looking to the right, his colleauge Barb came walking through the corridor.
He couldnt helpt but smile, he liked Barb. A positive woman in her mid-fifties, who always made time for helping people with her experience of 30 years working with the dogs.
- Hi Travis! How are you? she asked him, shooting him her signature crooked smile
- A bit tired, was a bit of a rough night. My son woke up a couple of times during the night. Otherwise, im fine, he replied
- Ah, i remember those times. They were rough at the time. It gets better, soon you will wonder where the time went when going on ski trips with them and you getting to sleep in every morning, she said and laughed
He smiled. She always had something uplifting to say. She continued:
- We have a busy day today. Both Cerberus, Shuck and Fenrir are coming in today. That means alot of walking and alot of extra food when giving them their meals.
He nodded in reply. Cerberus was the three-headed dog of the owner Had Esunder. His owner was a bit stern and always seemed to be in a hurry, but Cerberus was in contrast very playful and happy. He also seemed to have a neverending energy, always up for some walking and playing.
To be continued in next comment
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JustSomeDudeInPants
|
throwaway9876578111
|
2023-04-01 15:35:58
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2023-04-01 07:39:59
| 53 | 30 |
jejpu5w
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jeigzr5
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127ww25
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127ww25
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[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.
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Chapter 1: The Dragon
I first noticed something was wrong when the egg was slightly…metallic. However, I knew there were different varieties, each with their own particular quirks, so I didn’t think much of it. “Maybe the instructors just want to give me an extra challenge. Well, I’ll just show them that I can still handle it.”
So I kept the egg. I kept it in the most optimal conditions I could, and after about six months (the average length of time for dragons to hatch), I brought it to the training building, where the instructors would be waiting to give prospective dragon riders practical instructions on how to handle their new dragons. As I watched, the egg resting in a nest placed on the floor, something finally began to happen.
As I watched, the egg started splitting along some unusual lines around the outside, which I’d taken to be natural patterns merely for decoration on the surface. Then they started sliding down, leaving the top open. It then split vertically like a flower blooming, and the egg itself ceased its movement.
Inside the egg was the dragon. It had a definite metallic sheen, and whirred and clanked softly as it sat mostly still, investigating its surroundings. It stood up on its four legs (normal for some dragons) and walked towards me, its feet stomping slightly on the stone.
It looked up at me, and beeped in a way that seemed…inquisitive, almost like it was trying to figure out what I was. This in itself was a bit odd, since dragons typically had an innate, but basic, knowledge and understanding of humans. The mere fact that one didn’t have this knowledge was enough to concern me, and so I waved over an instructor, who approached and inquired, “What seems to be the issue, young draciter?”
“My dragon,” I replied. “It doesn’t seem to recognize me as a human, as I was assured it would. It also seems, strangely enough, to be made of some sort of…metal. Even its egg.”
He bent down over the nest, looking at the now-open egg. To our surprise, its sides rose again, then extended, resealing the egg, with virtually no trace of the seams along which it opened.
“Now that *is* odd, draciter. I’ve been assisting young riders like you for decades now, after having trained my own, and never have I seen one like this. This will be a new experience for all of us, as you learn about this new type of dragon. If it’s alright with you, and as long as you feel that it doesn’t interfere with your bonding, we would like to investigate your dragon more closely.”
“Alright. Do you have any advice for me at the moment?”
“Not particularly. Keep an eye on him, and if you learn anything specific, let me know. I’ll help with whatever I can. Follow me; we should inform the Head Draciter on this new…development. If you are willing, please bring your dragon and its egg with you to our meeting.”
I lifted the dragon onto my shoulders, hefted the recently reclosed egg, and set off after my instructor.
I made a few tweaks to Chapter 1, and have added Chapter 2.
|
Ren spat out her tea when she heard the door slam open with Tori- her daughter run into the living room with a large, brown and red-dotted egg cradled in her arms.
"Mom! Mom!" Tori announced, "Egg. I have an egg!"
With graceful weaving of her hands, Ren motioned her daughter to wait for her- after she placed her teacup on the table.
Ren knew how to talk, but thanks to the quirks of her biology was unable to talk during the day- except on rainy days where the air was moist enough for her vocal chords to work.
Ren entered the living room to find her daughter staring intently at the dragon egg, the egg places on a hemp cushion. She sat down and glanced to the egg then her daughter with a questioning look.
"The Dragon Rider's Guild gave me an egg for my initiation after I passed the rider's exam last week." Tori explained, "It's supposed to hatch later today."
Ren nodded and left the living room, returning with a second round of tea.
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blockCoder2021
|
HB_DS2013
|
2024-04-30 07:31:00
|
2024-04-30 06:40:19
| 29 | 10 |
l1wq8nj
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l1wlwo7
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1cggtbb
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1cggtbb
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[WP] The real reason you hate the villain is because they forced you to be the hero.
|
The Ultimates, the Photon Five, Scorpion Cyclone, and many others.
Heroic Lineage, some even dating back to the days of the second world war. These families exist all around the world. Some try to blend in with society, and others live like celebrities in both civilian and hero life. Guess which of the two my family did.
I remember classmates who gossiped and cavorted, just imagining how much of a dream it must have been to be part of a hero family. Some would come up to me and tell me how lucky I am. How lucky I am that I get powers, how lucky I am that am part of a family of supers, how lucky I am I get to be a hero. Oh, I'm so lucky....
I would have gladly traded places. The little bastards thought it was a good thing? Like I ever had a choice. Not to mention that suddenly any of my actions reflected on the family, how I wasn't an average kid-I had to live up to something. My education never ended after school, at home private tutors expanded what I had to learn, private chefs managed my diet, personal trainers kept me on a strict plan. And all of it was necessary and all of it was on the government tab, who also kept tabs on us. I never had a choice.
I hated it.
There were strings on my limbs. They pulled, my limbs respond to their will. Dreams and aspirations...as long as it fit the plan, it was fine. The family plan. All I had to do was follow the script someone else wrote for my life...until I died. And since someone was keeping tabs, I couldn't quit. This was my life.
Then, a villain attacked my school. Some dipshit who wanted to make a name for themselves attacking the kids of supers, everyone else, kids of the upper echelons, was a bonus. He had an unusual ability. It seems like even he didn't understand what his powers were. I took advantage of it.
I was dead. Or at least everyone thought i was.
I later found out my older sister killed the guy, thinking he murdered me. I felt bad that she did it, but I knew that with him dead, there was no chance of people learning the truth.
I know. I'm a coward, a piece of shit. But I was free.
I quickly ran down a few folks I knew, bad folks who couldn't break away from their trade, and shook them down for their skills and silence. A new identity, a new life, and a ticket away from the only home I've ever known.
Since my family rubbed elbows with other families, I got to know of where they were, of where villains tended to attack. Needless to say, I already had a good idea of where to go. Somewhere remote, somewhere no one really cares about. And I gotta say, I was surprised on the way there.
Being a superhero means that you are at the center of conflict, right where the actions at. Constantly looking for trouble makes it feel like there's trouble every day. But on my travels, there was no super conflict, no robbers, no weirdo in a gimp suit with delusions of grandeur. It was just normal. Life was normal. I loved it.
When I made it to the remote town I started my life all over. I had my troubles. I had to figure out problems I never had to deal with before, like making a living and paying bills. I had to find a trade and make myself useful outside of my powers. I had to learn common sense. I had to relearn how to live life as a normal person. It was awesome.
It was hard work, there were times I felt like crying, times I felt so useless, times were I regretted my choices. But I did it. I made a name for myself in my local community, people liked and found me reliable for **my** own skills and talent, not what I was born with or into. And...and I even found love; someone mom and dad wouldn't have approved of, someone the gov genealogist definitely wouldn't approve (the old windbag kinda favored lighter skin tones if you catch my drift). And I was happy.
I had my own troubles, my own messes to sort out...I had my own life. I was happy.
That's why I hate you.
It's not because you attacked the earth, it's not because you beat most of the heroes half to death, it's not even because you threated to end the world.
It's because you forced me to be a hero again. My family, the family I chose and the family I created...the whole world now knows I'm alive and who I am. I'm not even sure how I'm going to face my wife after this. The look she gave me when I used my power....
And for that, I'm going to kick your fucking ass!
|
Another goddamn awful day has passed.
Robberies, kidnappings, hostage situations, fights, arguments, cats in trees...houses in flames, dams breaking and rivers out of control...
All and more under my jurisdiction.
Why?
Because I am the Hero.
And every day that passes I resent the one who is responsible for this: the Villain.
I don't care that they do what they do, because it's obvious they won't be a Saint.
Killing, kidnapping, stealing and so much more is their normal behavior...and I would have been happy to stop them...
If it were not for the fact that I abhor the idea of being a Hero.
A mascot of "justice" running around doing good deeds for nothing.
While people starve, I am to run around solving crimes, and fighting idiots who can't control their emotions...
And the Villain in this case I hate the most...became a villain just to force me become a Hero.
It's not a lie, nor do I imagine it.
She became a Villain, because she didn't want to be a Hero, and knew that I had the making of one.
So she left in the middle of the night, killed our town's police chief...and fled.
My dear sister...
Ever since then I was hunting her, but it was too late.
After our very first fight, I have been labeled as a Hero, taken in for questioning by the government, and given a license to practice "heroism"...
My life, my dream...was dead.
A lovely childhood, loving parents, an awesome bigger sister.
I awakened my powers shortly after her, and we were all so...happy.
I wanted nothing more than to become an architect...to build, to create...
She on the other hand wanted nothing more than to marry rich, and raise children, to become a perfect lazy housewife she used to call it.
Then...our family was hit by a calamity, and our parents...died.
It didn't take long for the toll of it to hit my sister, as she cried and cried for someone to save us.
Nobody came...so she took things in her own hands.
Becoming a Villain and forcing me to be a Hero.
She runs around the world, every now and then appearing, putting me into the spotlight once more...
She is...always on the move.
Me on the other hand, I hunt her, I hate her...and I want to save her, for this...this is not what we have dreamed of, neither of us.
|
dgj212
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-08-11 14:32:29
|
2024-08-11 13:20:01
| 56 | 11 |
lhldgq8
|
mw5diyg
|
1epk43j
|
1l3zw6g
|
[WP] In a world of dragons, sorcery, war, and monsters, there are many risks and even risk takers. Everyone though, elf, monster, or man knows to avoid those few ancient ruins that contain symbols of suffering and a word of the ancients, RADIATION.
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*The tomb must have belonged to an angry god.*
*Massive spikes, possibly the remnants of one last, furious outburst, burst from the ground long ago. Just beneath it, an entrance was found.*
*When our ancestors killed him, they sealed off his tomb. They killed him, then they killed his legend, for even the elders know nothing of this Ra'Diation. But can a god be killed, or does he merely slumber for centuries while he recovers?*
​
I squirmed against my bonds, the ropes chafing my wrists. Little Varion, my brother, stared at me with eyes wide. Though his mouth was gagged, he still tried to scream, muffled against the cloth.
"You cannot escape your fate, young elfling." A dwarf approached, recognizable only by his size and the gruffness of his voice. He was drowning in his clothing, some strange yellow suit of something that was not fabric, not any that I had ever seen, anyway. His face was hidden behind some kind of black mask, tight and constricting from the way he kept shifting his head, trying to adjust to it. Only his eyes were visible, bright and blue and horribly vivid behind their clear shield.
"You will do us a great honor," he continued. "We believe our god rests below. You will help us wake him."
I just blinked. I started to speak before I remembered the gag, and he nodded to one of his followers, saying something quickly in dwarven.
The taste of the dirty cloth stained my tongue. Some stray fibers clung to the corners of my mouth, and I scrunched my nose, scraping my tongue over every place the cloth still lingered.
"Tch. Elves." He shoved my head upward, glaring into my eyes. "Speak."
After I spat what fabric I could at my side, I looked up again, speaking carefully. "How are we to assist you? We know nothing of your god or his rituals, and we are not built for excavation."
That got a smirk from him. "Leave the excavation to us." His buddies flexed and laughed among themselves, making some kind of jokes back and forth. I almost relaxed, until the leader's smile faded. "You elves are good with languages. You even study some of the forgotten tongues. You will accompany us and translate."
Varion and I shared a glance. I did have a rough knowledge of a few old languages, but his interests were more rooted in science than in literature or history. *The future, not the past*, as he had often scoffed. I saw him swallow before he nearly gagged on the cloth.
"And then you will let us free?" I asked cautiously.
Another smirk. "We will see how useful you have been. And *cooperative*." Something sharp poked at my spine, and I shivered. If only I hadn't gotten us into this mess...
He barked out an order, and we were yanked to our feet. The blade's edge rested a little lower down and turned at an upward angle, but it never left my back, palpable even through my tunic.
We marched down a stone corridor, lit only by the flickering torches. Many short shadows mobbed our own taller ones... too many. It wasn't long, however, before we entered a large chamber, lined with walls of markings.
The diagrams were confusing. Crude drawings of people stared back at us in mixed poses of anger and horror. There was an illustration of a man touching a rock with a strange symbol, then being marked with that symbol before lying down next to a tree. Another, similar one depicted the same event with the man opening a barrel with a skull on it.
At least the text was a little clearer. Most of the symbols were familiar, but their language was lost on me until I found one in franc, my most recent pet project to learn. Still, my understanding wasn't perfect, broken into bits and pieces.
*... Attention!*
*...powerful...*
*This place is not a place of honor. No... commemorated here. Nothing... is here.*
*What was here... dangerous... to us.*
One word in particular kept repeating all throughout the text. *Danger. Danger. Danger.*
I stepped back, gulping. My throat suddenly felt dry, even beyond what the cloth had done. "I don't think we should be here."
​
(I will continue this later, after I've run some errands.)
|
"Are you sure Captain? Even those fire breathing lizards burn inside the temples marked by the Trinity."
The Captain snapped around, pointy ears poking out of her illustrious blonde hair with blue eyes sparkling under the noon sun sky. She scowled at the Lieutenant's cowardice while tapping vigorously at the gold badge on his cloak.
"The Order of Gilded Leaves do not refuse orders. We are the eyes and ears of the Rafthaven Tribe. They need us to complete our missions so that-"
He shook her off, "So that we may secure the safety of our people and its future. Yes, yes, I memorized that nonsense. But Captain, when we are asked to go to a place where even dragons can melt, I get a little concerned about our safety."
Another hooded figure from behind placed a hand on the Lieutenant's shoulder, the Cleric reassured him.
"Don't worry boy, three times I have been to these temples and yet still I live. Trust in the protection granted to us by Yggdrasil."
The young graduate stared at the bald man, blind in his left eye and missing his right arm. A scared gulp from the boy generated a hearty laugh from his elder, "I live yes, but as you can see the toll was quite high."
As they neared the edge of safety the Captain started final preparations. She had no intentions of losing any more soldiers in these ventures.
"Pay attention fools. The very air around us will soon become poison. Don the cloaks made by the Cleric. Wrap yourselves up tightly and receive his blessing. Be sure you have your Mythril weapons at the ready, only they can pierce the hides of the steel beasts who roam the halls."
The scouting party hardened their resolve. This was their chance to secure a weapon which can fell even the dragon horde. Behind this golden symbol of the trinity converging towards itself was the key to dominance. He who wields the might of the ancients, the dreaded power of Radiation, shall claim these lands as their own.
|
justadimestorepoet
|
trefalzon
|
2023-05-04 13:43:09
|
2023-05-04 05:57:55
| 32 | 13 |
jitva3r
|
jisrmh0
|
136lj9v
|
136lj9v
|
[WP] “One of us tells only the truth. “the other nothing but lies.” You kill the first guard and ask “Is he dead?”
|
The guard stares at you in shock for a fleeting moment before drawing his sword and bellowing, "No backup! I don't need any backup right now! Everyone is fine!" He jumps between you and the other guard, knocking your spear out of the way and raising his shield. "Approach right now!" He shouts. Given his defensive posture, the meaning is quite clear. The puzzle is solved, now replaced with a fight. Perfect.
You feint at his left before stabbing at his right, successfully hitting a chink in the shoulder joint of his armor. He growls in pain but still holds his sword high, only wavering slightly. You are clearly the more skilled opponent, but before you can get another blow in you hear the pounding of boots and five more armored guards come boiling out the singular castle door. The first sees his fallen comrade immediately and yells "Man down! One armed and dangerous attacker at the gate!"
All five of the new guards draw their swords as well and form a semicircle around you. As soon as his comrades have him covered, the original gate guard drops his sword and attempts to administer first aid to his partner. It is clearly futile. One of his carotid arteries has been severed, and the spurts of blood have already slowed to a trickle. He looks up after a few moments and says, Gavin's here. He's... alive." The last word comes out almost as a whimper.
The remaining guards breathe out rage and grief in unison. One man growls menacingly, but holds his position. The leader's mouth tenses into a thin line. "Surrender and your life will be spared." He says grimly. Six on one is not good odds, but you didn't come here to rot in a dungeon. But before you can even make your first attack on the leader, the gate guard tackles you with unexpected berserker speed and knocks you to the ground.
"I want you dead to avoid the consequences of what you did! That man wasn't my best friend!" He screams. You attempt to shove him off but the other guards have followed his lead and moved to pin your arms. "I'll make sure you stay in our nicest alehouse! You'll see the light of day again in the morning! You fine upstanding citizen whom I love very much, you're going to have a lovely dinner!" Spit flies from his mouth as he issues this last threat.
"Peter, stop." Says the leader of the guards forcefully from where he is holding down your left leg. The gate guard stops screaming abruptly, but doesn't get off of your chest. "Gavin was the most dishonorable man I ever met, and I never heard him say anything true in his life." He breathes softly, before falling silent.
The gate guards wrestle you into binds and throw you into the dungeon. Eventually you are sentenced to thirty years of hard rowing in the navy's galleys for murder.
|
“That’s not how this works.” I say as I raise my spear at the adventurer’s neck.
The jerk killed Jerry. “You are under arrest for attacking a guard and for breaking the rules of the game.” I shift my target from the neck to the shoulder with the speed and strength of a raging river. Not to kill, but to pin down the criminal. I pull the rope to sound the low danger emergency bell.
As the gate opens up and the criminal is dragged away I turn to look at the wretched soul. With all the professionalism and malice I can muster I tell the truth. “I was the liar, until you broke the game. Thank you for playing.”
|
LoveandScience
|
Repq
|
2024-06-05 19:09:10
|
2024-06-05 15:48:01
| 115 | 25 |
l79f38n
|
l78f13j
|
1d8sbnm
|
1d8sbnm
|
[WP] A dragon decides to claim a human settlement for itself. As the dragon arrives at the small town and announces its demands, it is perplexed to be met by the people's eagerness to accept.
|
There was something, Ash-Bringer thought, that was Not Quite Right about this place.
Not that he was one to brag, but *usually* when people caught sight of his enormous wings darkening the skies, they fled in terror. Like an anthill kicked over, he would watch as the villagers below would scatter and scurry, the women and children to the cellars and the men to the armory. *Usually* there would be a call to arms and whatever village leader or militia commander had found himself stuck with the job would try to marshal the undisciplined townsfolk into some sort of defense.
Usually Ash-Bringer left those towns alone because it wasn’t worth the trouble. He would have decimated their forces, and then who would be left to raise the cattle and pigs he would have demanded as tribute? And then word would spread of the dragon who laid waste to the countryside and then there would be some sort of response from the local lord or king or what have you. Villagers were no problem, but trained knights could present a challenge for a dragon who was not on his toes. Talons. Ash-Bringer knew of two of his kin who had been slain at the end of a lucky knight’s pike.
But Ash-Bringer was beginning to feel his age. There came a time in every dragon’s life when he or she felt the urge to hoard, to carve out a territory of their own and fill it with gold and jewels, with fatted calves and plumped sheep. And so, when he saw a hamlet tucked away in the hills, in a defensible location close to the river and abutting a mountain, he listened to instinct and veered in the sky until his green scales, glittering like crystals in the dappled sunlight, made an arrow for the town.
He was prepared for the anthill that would follow. That should have followed.
But when he soared low over the cottages with the thatched roofs, the villagers stared up at him, mouths agape and weapons nowhere in sight. The men weren’t yelling; the women hoisted their children and held them up, as if getting them closer to his fearsome claws.
It was odd, admittedly, but perhaps they were struck dumb with terror. Ash-bringer landed with a flare of wings and a plume of dust at the edge of town, and waited.
There was no attack, no ringing of the church bell to sound the alarm, even. Instead, a little man, heavyset with watery eyes and a beaming smile, hurried out to stand in front of Ash-Bringer.
“O, mighty dragon!” the little man cried, and he fell to the ground and prostrated himself. An auspicious start, Ash-Bringer decided. He had never heard of humans who were immediately cowed in fear, but perhaps this village was wiser than most.
“I have come to claim these lands,” Ash-Bringer hissed, his voice like the edge of one thousand knives, and heat from the flame in his throat browning the grass around them. “This village and all that is in it belong to me!”
“Oh yes, yes!” the little man cried. “Of course, mighty dragon, he of scales and flame! All that we have we offer you!”
That was – unexpectedly easy. “And you will bring a cow each day, for I hunger greatly,” Ash-Bringer continued. “If you do not – “
“Of course! We have cattle at the ready!” the little man exclaimed. “Do you require sheep or pigs as well?”
“I – yes?” Ash-Bringer said, taken aback. “And by the end of tonight, you will bring forth your gold and your wealth! If you do not – “
“Oh, we have collected it in chests and we can carry them to you whenever you desire!” the little man said, still bowed on the ground. “O mighty dragon, he of wings and death, we are honored you have chosen to demand tribute!”
This was getting weird. Ash-Bringer decided to push it and see how far he could go.
“And you will send me a young maiden each morning,” he demanded. “A comely woman who will tend to me – “
“My daughter shall be the first!” the little man trumpeted joyfully as he sat up to beam at Ash-Bringer. “She is among the most beautiful in the village and she will serve you with devotion!”
There was no way. Ash-Bringer stopped and looked, really looked, at the man. He was dressed all in white and his hair was long and braided. On the front of his robes was a strange symbol – a spurt of flame, stitched in black, orange and red. Then, Ash-Bringer looked across the village. The cottages were quaint, but all had the same symbol painted on the front doors. Every person in the village stood at the edge of the gate, staring with unnerving smiles and sporting white robes with the black, orange, and red flame. In the fields beyond the buildings, Ash-Bringer could see rows of crops – pumpkins, corn, beans, and marijuana and psychotropic mushrooms.
“What is this place?” he asked sharply.
“Oh mighty dragon, it is your home, of course!” the man trilled. “The prophets have long foretold your coming! We, the devoted members of the Burning Flame, have waited 130 years for your return, as has been foretold in the stars! We live communally in a society of free love and harmony, where we partake of sacred herbs in our secret rituals. Our temple ceremonies – “
Ash-Bringer sighed in disgust and launched into the sky. Fucking dragon-worshipping cults.
|
The first precursor to its coming was the shadow among the clouds. A peculiar shape in the gloomy sky that grew larger with each passing second. Next came the distinct crack of a whip reverberating and echoing throughout the entire village like a storm without the cutting winds. Finally, a roar that brought tremors from the sky down into the ground.
From the shadow in the grey sky burst forth a dragon with crimson scales and molten veins shining through the edges. Smoke and ash trailed behind as the very air surrounding it constantly flickered embers. It glided down slowly until it beat its wings thunderously and landed in the middle of the village. The final flames licked the edges of the nearby buildings but sputtered out quickly.
It sat up on its haunches and let its barbed tail whip apart an entire roof before settling itself down curled around him. His head towered above even the village leader’s two story home. A home of which its main inhabitant now stood in front facing the dragon with a bowed head. Patiently, he waited for the dragon. After several moments passing in relative silence, the massive beast spoke as softly as it could. Even its whisper echoed like a bear’s roar.
“You have received my message.”
Lifting his head, the village leader looked up. 2 irises of flowing flames framed within opaque darkness stared down at him. He nodded before answering as loudly a voice as he could muster. “We have Lord Kyros! The farmer came back from your mountain trail and heralded your coming.”
Kyros slowly twisted its head around to view the village. Inspecting the villagers outside their homes with their heads bowed. Then at the surrounding forests with scrutiny. Turning back down, he growled out.
“I have come to take over this village in my name. I have given advance warning, yet, there are no soldiers. Where is King Sarlas’ knights?”
“We have sent no message and expect no help from Sarlas.”
With a blink, Kyros growled again with further suspicion.
“I have come to claim your village as my own. I demand tribute of meat and grain, at the edge of my claws. Gold and silver, with a threat of my breath. A village I know King Sarlas claims under his protection, yet you do not seek it to protect yourself? Why?”
The village leader began to grin at the inquiry. He responded with almost unconstrained joy.
“Sarlas demands similar tribute from this far away village. Meat and grain at the point of a spear. Gold and silver, with threats of torch and oil. He claims to provide protection, yet we never see soldiers or knights. If ever we see them to collect your tribute, you would shred armor with claws and burn their soldiers alive, would you not?”
In a single growl, Kyros snarled a simple “I would.”
Nodding at the response, the leader answered back.
“Then already we have more protection for the same price from you Lord Kyros of the nearby mountain than from Sarlas across the vast forests.”
|
writergal1421
|
JerichoVardez
|
2023-02-24 20:30:07
|
2023-02-24 18:28:40
| 685 | 312 |
j9va8mx
|
j9urcjs
|
11awtxb
|
11awtxb
|
[WP] your party members betrayed you leaving you for dead after deeming you “too dangerous” to continue in their party years later you are known as the “fell knight” and your unknowing ex party members raid your castle in a attempt to kill you
|
Part 1.
They were my friends...Or so I thought. All the good times I had in the party feels like a curse now. Oh how I wish to forget. Asteria, always wearing majestic robes with her gorgeous flowing red hair and magic. Her powerful buffs and spells sent shiver down enemy spines. Loki, brown hair, light armored and cloaked. He was the most agile with his clever wit and skill. A true rogue. Stealth, acrobatics with daggers and poison his speciality. No foe could guess what he would do next making him quite the terror. Moria, average looks in leather gear but never to be underestimated. Specialized in a magical chain-sword. Her technical skill and strategy in redirection alone was enough to tank even the mightiest of foes as if it was a brilliant dance. Then there was me. My only ability being precognitive in nature. My body a weapon in its own right. I needed no weapon and used my foes weapons against them. A reactive fighting style. Seeing things a few seconds in advance might not seem like much at first glance but in the right hands could easily mean the differences between victory and defeat. We were the perfect team. The type that was in sync with each other. The type that synergized and made one another better.
I still remember the moment as if I was living it.The curse of the 'Fell' saw to that. We had just defeated a great giant of a foe. I turned around and smiled in triumph at our victory. Suddenly, I felt a stifling pain in my chest. I glanced at Asteria with her wicked smirk as she giggled at my plight.
Loki as he whispered in my ear, "*How does it feel to be stabbed in the back by your best friend?*" In jest.
I choked my lungs out as a dagger shined red in my blood. My lungs punctured as Moria just stood there and watched with an emotionless face nearby. Her grey smiling eyes the only tell sign that she quite enjoyed the sight.
My heart iced that day. Rage killed my emotions. Revenge and redemption was the only thing that lingered in my mind as I fell to the cold stoned floor. My vision darkened as I laid alone, dying slowly.
Then I heard a whisper. "*Such wrath I sense writhing within you. I will lend you thy power for revenge. Accept thy power of thy 'Fell' and your darkest wish will come true. Or die here and now knowing that they will live free of guilt of what happened this day.*"
My stomach and heart burned in anger. A hot tear ran down my cold cheek.
"*I will live. I will make it so their fate is sealed in the most tragic of ways.*
I pledged to myself and to the power that called out to me. I took my last breath as a chillness seeped into my bones. I watched as my skin disappeared before my eyes leaving only my bones. My bones covered in blue runic lines. I touched my bare and bald skull in wonder as a black phantasmal armor with purple runic tattoos appeared, covering me head to toe. That was the day the "Fell Knight" came into existence. I became feared across the lands. I made a name for myself for one purpose and one purpose only. For them to come and find me. Eventually, I got my wish.
An acid spell melted the door to my castle as they barged in. Fought my minions they did with ease. I watched as they casually made there way to my throne room where I sat. My dead heart beat in excitement for the moment I've been waiting for since my undeath. Loki made his presence known first. He strolled in and stopped a few feet from me and gave me a charming and ridiculing smile at the same time.
" So this is a fell knight? Not really what I expected. I imagined you a bit more...intimidating?"
"Looks can be deceiving." I murmured, my voice carried through the halls with a cold and supernatural weight to them. Loki seemed unimpressed.
"Oh? It speaks. How fun." He joked. Always the jester. Never taking life seriously. He hasn't changed a bit. My Blue glowing fire-like gaze turned to Asteria who stood next to Loki. She had her signature arrogant smirk.
"Asteria." I whispered casually. My voice echoed hauntingly. Her eyes widened at the fact that I called her name but recovered quickly. Loki frowned.
"Ew, loki hurry up and kill it. This thing gives me the creeps." She gave Loki a look making him sigh exasperatingly.
"Why me? You got the fire power. Just shoot it with that firebomb spell. Im sure that would do the trick."
"Humph." She flung her long red hair back behind her shoulders and prepared for what was to come. Her staff glowed ominously. I heard footsteps as Moria silently made her way into the room and stood in front of Asteria. They both gave her a look.
"Took you long enough." They said as one. Maria ignored them as she shook her sword clean. A perfectly straight line of blood appeared on the wooden floor from where she stood. Classic Moria.
I got up from my throne chair and stepped down slowly.
" Five years ago. Do you remember?" My cold voice sent a chill in the room. I smiled demonically within my black helmet. My phantom armor didn't make a sound. I seemed to strike a nerve as they looked stunned. Loki seemed to be done playing around as he seemed to fade into the background. I knew exactly what he was planning. That's the thing about fighting people you know. Its natural to learn most of their tricks.
" *Five years I have waited for this day. Tell me loki, how does it feel that your betrayal has come back to haunt you? Don't worry Asteria, you will be last. I wonder if you will still be smirking after this?*" I laughed in childish glee that seemed to send shivers down anyone's spines.
"Glen?" Asteria whispered in horror. Moria glaring eyes tried to pierce mine.
I ignored her as the blue fire in my eyes looked upon Moria. "Ah, lets not forget Moria. I respected your skill. Still do. But your personality is shit and I'm going to love stomping you to pieces with out a care in the world. Karma is a bitch isn't it?" Moria frowned. Bloodlust seeped out of her like a tide ready for a fight.
|
His cold dagger slithered inside me cutting veins, arteries, and organs "You were too unpredictable yea'ri" Hosirus an Eldar assassin whispered behind me as he pulled out his dagger, my body limp from the poison that soaked the blade.
I twitched as my body hit the grass "Cut off her head to ensure her death!" culvan the proclaimed leader of the party a dwarf bellowed as he dropped his foot onto my stomach "No the ritual requires the victim to be in intense pain" hosirus crouched beside me "Don't worry yea'ri it will be over soon enough"
the 2 other party members both eldars whom culvan had just recruited stood back grinning, never gave enough care to remember their names though.
Soon enough I was alone, staring up into the sky lusting for revenge yet mourning for I was powerless, my mana not enough to even heal a simple scar. I wept the people I deemed friends stabbing and leaving me to be eaten by animals, I was now only waiting for the inevitable I felt the grass swaying, breath with labor the fresh forest air, and awaited my fate from the horrors that wandered this forest.
"I admire you human" a monotone voice hummed in some nearby bush "even after they violated you, taken advantage of you as you lay defenseless, you never let out a single whimper or hint of pain, just a cold stare plastered upon your dirtied porcelain face," It said as it walked towards me.
At this point I've accepted any fate that will arrive after what my "friends" did to me, I was all too desensitized.
It stared at me Its face was akin to the void you would see in caves "Do you wish to pass on yea'ri?" It said with a melodic voice as a grin formed from what I can assume is its face, IT is a mealcadorian powerful beings. they are malevolent and benevolent, though there is no real way of telling them apart.
"I'll take this rude silence and piercing stare of yours as a no" It announced as my body hovered and is enveloped by dark magic.
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Now as I await them after luring them with mischiefs enough to disturb multiple towns, My rage once again burned, the wound behind me glowing, I awaited the battle that will either kill me once and for all or give me the wish I've been laboring for years.
The large wooden gate slammed open as a dwarf entered the room chest puffed up and laughing. "WHERE IS THIS FELL KNIGHT, I WISH TO CHALLANGE YOU SIR" he bellowed, Osiris and the other 2 walked in behind him they were already executing spells. pathetic
I stood up from my throne my obsidian armor clacking against my great sword "Oh culvan even after these years, you still are one idiotic pessimist" I walked closer to them dragging behind me the massive hulking mass of iron the peasants call "the slayer"
"The felled has some fire in it despite being enveloped in darkness" culvan heckled, that voice that damned voice, it reminded me of that event not that I forgot it, it's just that voice that made it oh so clearer.
The eldars moved in a pronged manner, Osiris leading in front of the trio having an assortment of spells brewing from their hands.
As they get closer I lift an arm and ripped off my face plate, revealing that oh-so "porcelain face" that mealcadorian insisted I have. their carefully planned master plan fell apart so quickly it made me giggle inside, their faces OH their faces such a treat seeing the smug look from an eldar be ripped off and replaced by horror.
"How did you-"
"This isn't the time for questions culvan" I bellowed as I raised both my arms signaling the hidden servants to open the blinds, the blinding light making my void armor glisten.
"Oh, how ill cherish hearing your bones crack" I smirked as I walked to them.
|
CasualGhostWriter
|
somedude_sleeping
|
2023-01-24 11:17:51
|
2023-01-24 11:16:25
| 27 | 17 |
j5o39bd
|
j5o3565
|
10jlkh0
|
10jlkh0
|
[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.
|
"We are mortals only by choice."
​
That was the way that my mother explained it to me, once I was old enough to know. It's a bit more complicated than that but it's something that's been in my family for as many generations back as anybody can find records for. If we die, we get a do over. Just one, but that's one per individual death. If you fall down the stairs and snap your neck for example then successfully walking down the stairs more carefully next time doesn't stop you from getting a second chance when a bar fight takes you out three years later. However, if you don't learn your lesson about the stairs and take them the same way with no changes then that's it - done.
​
It's a difficult thing to deal with, the idea that everyone in your family who has actually died has technically chosen to. We don't tend to die early, but we don't live absurdly long either. The fact that we could choose to make adjustments time after time almost indefinitely, living with increasing pain and decreasing quality of life, doesn't make it favourable. Our gift or curse or whatever you choose to see it as doesn't free us from illness or injury and eventually things like that accumulate. Choosing death doesn't mean the same thing to us, those who will never have something else to choose it for them.
​
You'd think the obvious problem with being able to avert our own death is the existence of incurable diseases. But a lot of things can be changed if you have time, money and forewarning -- none of which we are lacking. There is nothing in the rules that says it has to be an easy fix, sending an addict back to the point they'd need to quit or a healthy looking woman the point at which they'd need to convince a doctor to give them a brain scan are technically possible. There's more than a smidge of madness runs in our family. Are you really surprised?
​
The day my mother died forever I was furious. She was an excellent driver and yet she'd gotten into a car crash, died, and then done the exact same thing again. I understood how another driver doing something unpredictable could cause a fatal crash but this *wasn't* unpredictable, was it? This was very much *predicted*. It was only when reports from the police, the other driver (who had drunk so much he was practically pickled yet still lived to tall the tale) and my mother's sister came in that things made some kind of sense. The way the accident played out, the only way my mother could have swerved to save herself would be if the brunt of the impact had been taken by the passenger seat of her car instead of the driver's seat. Our power promises to take us back to the last point we can make *ourselves* safe but bystanders, not so much.
​
It's okay, I've sort of made peace with it now. I'm not saying this for sympathy -- I'm just saying this in the hope that you can understand that sometimes my family go willingly to their deaths. And sometimes that's okay.
​
So, this is where we come to introductions. I already know your name. I think at this point I might have spoken to you once or twice via mutual friends but I know an awful lot more than anything you believe you've told me so far. You can try and make me prove it, it should be relatively trivial. Even if personal stuff could be explained by me being a very committed stalker then there's a minor world event coming up that I don't think I could reasonably have any way of predicting. I can tell you the plots of a few films that aren't out yet. Stuff like that.
​
The thing is, last week for me but thirty years from now for you I die and I have no idea why. I've thought about it extensively and I can't figure it out. If it was an accident then I should only have been sent back a minute or two and if it was an illness then with no symptoms beyond normal aches and pains prior to death there is just no way I could figure it out. I took a couple of days thinking about it but I'm stumped.
​
Which is why I've come to you. Not because I think you know the answer, because how could you? But because in the next five years we become vaguely acquainted. Another five and we're actually friends and... that's kind of it. You end up being the best friend I've ever had. So if I can't cheat death then I don't want to waste those earlier years barely hanging out.
​
If I can't have a few more years on the end of my lifespan then I'll gladly take a few more years knowing you.
|
I discovered I was special by bungee jumping. I was 15. One of my idiot friends measured the line too long, and instead of almost hitting the ground, I splattered my brains on the concrete. I felt the pain and the steady waning of consciousness. Then I woke up as I was attaching the elastic to myself. I felt a wave of confusion and disorientation. "Actually, I think I'm going to take a rain check on the whole adrenaline junkie shtick. Lets go home." I don't try to explain to my friend what happened. I tell myself that maybe I just imagined it.
The next time it happened, I was 22. I was with two of my new college friends at a party. Brian said he would be the designated driver, then drank vigorously. Against my better judgement, I got in the car to let him drive us home. I was nodding off in the back seat when I heard swearing and felt the car begin to fishtail. We ran into something, then all I could feel was confusion and pain throughout my body. Then I woke up to us leaving the party. "Actually, lets sober up a bit before we go on the road."
After that, I had a few more incidents. Mundane accidents that could happen to anyone. I always awoke at most an hour in the past. Until today. I was 67. An alert came on. "Ballistic missile threat inbound to California. Seek immediate shelter. This is not a drill." Oh. Oh no. The world really is going to cave in. I have no surviving family at this point. I text goodbye to a few old friends, the sit on the ground with my dog. I hear a boom, and the curtains begin to smoke as a light grows brighter and brighter. The last I remember is a blinding light, even though I wasn't looking out the window.
Then I woke up. I was young again. I checked the calendar. It appears that I am 18 years old now. Memories of what was going on with me at that point in time flood in. Today is the day I committed to a mechanical engineer major for college. In my old life, I'd had a lot of free time, which I used to dabble in various STEM fields. I discovered a passion for computer science and AI, and I had often mused about what might've been if I'd chosen it over engineering. Was I sent back to this moment to pursue AI, and make the tools necessary to avoid nuclear war? Maybe. I resolve that I will follow this new path, and perhaps save billions of lives with my gift.
|
bloodoftheforest
|
Saint_Of_Silicon
|
2023-05-09 03:48:45
|
2023-05-09 03:47:24
| 44 | 28 |
jjff840
|
jjff2p2
|
13c1zm4
|
13c1zm4
|
[WP] You stood there, looking at your friend, faceplaming "Let me get this straight, you're dating a Goddess, an actual 'divine powers, older than civilization' Goddess and you ....CHEATED ON HER!?!??" Your friend has a desperate look in their eyes "Can you help me or not?"
|
""Can I help you?" Did you seriously just..." I sighed. I guess it made sense he'd come to me. I knew more about supernatural and divine stuff than most people around here. And... we were friends, though I used the term lightly. Lighter now since I knew he cheated on a goddess. "Well... that depends entirely how honest you want me to be."
"Of course I want you to be honest."
"Well then, probably not. I mean, you read about the Trojan War. That whole thing started just because someone thought Aphrodite was more beautiful than Athena and Hera. And you've done something *significantly* worse than that." He snorted, turning away from me.
"Oh, so that's how-"
"BUT..." He turned back.
"So you can help?"
"Help is a strong term. Look, there's going to be consequences without a doubt. But maybe I can lower them a bit, if you stop acting like a jerk to me."
"...Lowering consequences, as in, we could get back together?"
"I was thinking more as in getting turned into a horse for a year rather than getting sent to... Wait a second. What did you say her name was again?"
"You wouldn't know her."
"I *don't care* if it's someone I've heard of before. But if she knows a god or goddess who enjoys torture, *or is maybe a sibling of said god*, then there's going to be much less that I can do."
"Oh. Uh... Phyrna." I scrolled through my mental catalogue. Phyrna, Phyrna... I quickly grabbed some papers to verify. Yep. Primary domain was music. Generally a kind soul, which... I'll be honest, bad. You'd think that would be good, but nice people are the worst to anger. You don't know how far they'll go.
"Okay. So... what do you want me to do?"
"I dunno. Just talk to her so we can make up."
"Right," I replied flatly.
"Come on, I'm counting on you!" I crossed my arms, leaning back.
"What am I getting out of this?"
"I'm going to owe you one."
"This is way more than just "*owing me one,*"" I replied tersely. "Not to mention that you already owe me... several. Remember? I had to rescue you from the fairy circle, then I had to let the vampires drink a bit from me so they didn't drain you dry, then I had to-"
"I repaid those already!"
"With what? Expired ice cream coupons?" His expression basically said yes, and I glared at him. "You're not proving your point. I repeat: What do I get out of this?"
"You get to know you helped your friend."
"What an honor," I said with enough sarcasm to burn a werewolf. "Either I get something tangible, right now, or no go."
"Why are you being so fussy?! Didn't you want to meet divinity?"
"Not like this!!" I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them, grinning. "Okay. You know what? Fine. You'll "owe me one." But I'd better get a lot out for doing this, plus all the other events that I've helped you with."
"Yeah, sure. Thanks!" I nodded. He left my house, and I made my connections a bit after. Phyrna showed up, we talked... more importantly, we planned. My friendship with him had always been strained at best, and this kind of just... broke it. So whatever. I wanted what I deserved for helping him, and then I wanted out.
Phyrna did know some people who could make sure I was repaid adequately for helping him out. Yeah, it would be at his expense, but it was what he should have given me in the first place. Then we came up with an... appropriate punishment. One that she liked, could do easily, and that would have been much better than the alternative.
The thing about being a goddess of music... you can make utterly exceptional earworms. Songs that just get in your head, and you just keep repeating them, even though they are SO UTTERLY ANNOYING. So... why not just stuff five of those in the head of my former friend? So they either cycle around, or in some cases play over each other. It seemed like a fitting punishment to me.
|
"I mean, does she know?"
He pulled back the curtain to show frogs falling from the sky en masse throughout town. "I think she knows."
"Alright, frogs, that's a start." Aleister went for his collection and pulled out an old favorite. "Sounds like we're dealing with someone biblical, old school mesopotamian bullshit. Let me guess, she's a good Jewish girl?"
"She is very pretty," Adam said, swooning in place."
"And yet you stuck your dick in the goddess of literal sex."
"Hey, I do more than that!" Aphrodite puffed up, lounging naked on Aleister's couch.
"And yet you have nothing on Ishtar." Aleister pulled up her record. Two goddesses of love. Christ. "Old gods are a different breed man. No morals, no codes. Mythology and religion is often built on how societies form around each other. Most gods popping up today are built on either guilt or shame. They have rules, and often have ways to obtain forgiveness. These two? They're based on fear, fear of an unknown and unforgiving world, where even the gods will do horrible shit thst day because it's within their temper."
"Nothings wrong with my temper!" Aphrodite screamed, shaking the house's foundation. Aleister looked back with shrugged shoulders.
Adam watched the fiascos occuring outside, hearing the wails of torment in the wind ripping so heavily. He regretted himself. "So do you have a plan?"
Aleister shrugged. "Just gotta sit tight and wait for it to blow over." And he left the two to his study. They could hear him putting on a raincoat, among other things.
Aphrodite pouted a little longer before eyeing Adam again. "Wanna go another round?"
"Not the right time." He grumbled back. Unfortunate for her, his moral compass was returning, and it wasn't going to allow him to stay still.
|
ArbitraryChaos13
|
KimeraQ
|
2023-04-01 13:35:47
|
2023-04-01 13:14:48
| 60 | 21 |
jej9xr7
|
jej7im9
|
1289uv4
|
1289uv4
|
[WP] turns out, because humans are sentient you’re not allowed to hunt them under intergalactic law… because of this you have now begrudgingly joined some humans hunting club to make your trip somewhat worthwhile
|
“Ok, everyone, can I grab your attention? Today, we have a new hunting buddy joining us. So, please give Guthor, the ender of worlds, a Happy Funtime fishing club cheer.” Mentor Dan said. The fishing master happy to have an alien in his little fishing club. He even wore his extra short fish patterned shorts, preparing for an adventurous day.
The club gave some small fairy claps, having to be a little quiet since their fishing club was beside Aunt Agitha’s book club. The group knowing better than to disrupt Agitha’s weekly meeting about the Wet Werewolves of Fairla avenue. Once the small claps were over, Mentor Dan approached the eight-foot alien. With great ceremony, he bestowed him with the finest thirty-dollar fishing rod that Wallmart could offer. Deciding to break their club’s budget to impress the alien member.
“Fascinating. I thought humans were weak creatures. To hunt with such a flimsy weapon shows a lot of courage. I think even I would struggle to break open the heads of Hualin’s with such a weak weapon.” Guthor murmured. The bulky alien fiddling with the rod, inspecting the cheap plastic. As his four powerful fingers gripped the rod, it bended, threatening to break under his touch.
“Quite a mean grip you have on that rod. Those fish will be in for a fight against a champion like you.” Mentor Dan patted Guthor on the back, his hand stinging after making contact. The hard skin of Guthor coated in small spiky barbs, keeping creatures from biting into it.
“You think that’s a mean grip? You should see my wife’s.” Hank laughed, getting all the middle-aged men in the room to share a chuckle over the joke.
The joke only confused Guthor. This was the fourth time someone had mentioned how powerful these wives were. He needed to remind himself to ask Dan if they could go hunting for a wife next time. Assuming it must be more deadly than a fish. After a few balding jokes and questions about who was preparing this week’s barbeque, the group was off. The fishing club heading to the small river outside of the clubhouse.
Guthor watched the men throw their lines into the water, studying the practice. He found their techniques rather fascinating, especially the inclusion of bait. He had never considered luring someone out before killing them. This was a bold new stride in his hunting game. It was a pity he couldn’t hunt humans or else he might have tried to lure them out with this so-called barbeque.
“So, I throw it at the water and catch the creatures inside?”
“Yes. I’ll guide you to the best spots to fish.” Mentor Dan said. The mighty mentor standing behind Guthor, hands on his hips, helping to turn him towards a bountiful area of the river.
The alien followed along until he could see a shadow in the water. Once he located the shadow, he let out a bloodcurdling roar, diving into the water with a hefty splash. Once in the water, he waved the rod around like a sword, missing all the panicked fish that were swimming out of the way. After splashing around for five minutes, he returned to shore, panting.
“The cowards ran away. WHY DO THEY NOT SEEK BATTLE? I will come for you, fish. I will come for you all.” Guthor hissed, crouching by the water. He then ducked his head into the water, shouting more threats, making sure the fish could hear them.
The group stood there, puzzled. Not only was the alien scaring away all the fish, he also had dragged Agitha out of her bookclub. The older woman adjusting her glasses as she walked outside. She carried her copy of Wet Werewolves outside. Agitha accidentally showing everyone the strange cover as she did. The cover depicting a hunky werewolf man on the hood of a car going through a carwash. No one in the fishing club understood what the author meant by the strange cover, but Agitha told them it was important to the lore.
“What did I tell you all about yelling? Dan, do I have to tell your mother you’re playing in the water again?”
“No, Mrs. Agitha. Sorry, our new friend misunderstood what fishing was. As his mentor, I take full responsibility.”
“Stop it with that mentor nonsense. You’re forty five. Just because you run the group doesn’t make you a mentor. It makes you a loser with no… oh, hello.” Agitha smiled, giving a wave to the dripping wet alien. “Are you into reading? We have some sci-fi classics. How about the Volcanic explorers of Uran-“
“He isn’t interested!” Mentor Dan said, shooing her away as he helped the alien out of the water.
“Sorry about her.”
“Why? She was only discussing a historical event. Do humans not know of the volcanic explorers?”
“That’s a real thing? Some crappy author hit the jackpot there. Anyway, try copying the other guys. Hold your rod and throw the line out. You need to wait for a fish to come and take the bait.” Mentor Dan explained, showing off his infinite wisdom that came from reading a few Wikipedia articles.
“I see. So, I wait for them to take the bait and then bash them?”
“No, no bashing. You catch them and then let them go free. Here, Hank caught something. Watch him.” Hank reeled in a decent sized carp, showing it off to the group who gave him a celebratory fairy clap. Once he had shown the group, he took it off the hook and released it, smiling as it swam off.
“I’m confused. Why did he release it? Shouldn’t he send a message by killing it?”
“Golly no. It’s about spending time together and having fun. Sure, if we catch something interesting we might have it for dinner but most of the time it’s about the fun.” Mentor Dan explained, hoping the alien understood it.
“Hm. Fun? Oh, I see. You let them know you could have killed them at any moment. When the fish return to the water, they tell all their friends and family. Spreading the fear that you’re always lurking, having an eye on their lives. That’s evil. I never knew humans were that awful.” Guthor found a new appreciation for the group. They weren’t like the usual hunters he travelled with. Those idiots killed and ran off, not sending fear and chaos like the humans did. To think he wanted to kill such an excellent ally in the hunt.
“Sure? Yeah, that’s what’s happening. Ok, so. Want to give it a shot?”
The fishing trip went pleasantly. Guthor learning to bait his hook with white bread and how to cast his line. The alien developing his skills over the course of the afternoon. When it came time to pack up, Guthor let out a loud sigh, unable to catch even a single fish.
“It’s ok. You will get it next time.” Hank smiled.
“Next time? You would accept me in a group of such proud hunters?”
“Of course. We kind of get some government money from having an alien in our club, so it’s a win/win. We can buy new upgrades with it and enjoy your company.”
“Very well. I will join then. Now, what is a barbeque?”
“You will love it. It’s where we cook a bunch of meat and drink. Maybe one day you will even get the privilege of being the grillmaster.”
“The grillmaster?” Guthor liked the sound of that. Being the master of anything was such a powerful title, and he wanted a chance to be the fabled grillmaster.
“Yeah. It means you cook for the group. Everyone always fights over it.”
“I’ll work hard to get there.”
“I know you will.”
The group returned to the clubhouse, getting the barbeque out and preparing their feast. The group enjoying the great outdoors, drinking their beers as the water passed by. Each of them sharing stories about their lives and previous fishing trips. Despite being an alien, the group made a lot of efforts to get Guthor involved in their stories. After an hour, Guthor was drinking with the rest of them, discussing whatever silly topics came up. Guthor glad he had found such a great hunting pack, planning to make Earth his newest hunting ground.
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
|
"X2749," Dinyl logged breathlessly as he stumbled through the jungle. "The humans are not as they seem. I repeat, the humans are *not* as they seem. Our surveillance of their species has been merely skin deep." The offlander leaped through the brush and slid down a muddy incline narrowly avoiding a series of thick tree trunks. The monstrous noises at his back worsened, rising to a fever pitch as the sun set over the planet's horizon.
"Do not attempt to assimilate," he warned as he ran. "They understood I wasn't one of them, maybe even from the beginning. My camouflage has been working at optimal levels. It must be something else– something more primitive and intuitive that courses through them. I deployed the decoys, but they ran right through them– never for but a brief moment have they lost track of me."
He stopped behind a particularly thick tree to catch his breath. They hadn't halted their pursuit, but they had *slowed* for one reason or another. He looked down at the device on his wrist and noted that many were convening about a 45-second run behind him. Dinyl rested his head against the moist bark of the tree and closed his eyes.
"X2750," he said quietly lifting his wrist. "If anyone can hear this– if a single one of you has your ears on, please for the love of the collective, get me out of here. My ship won't respond to my beacon. My weapons... useless," he breathed. "My gut feeling is that these humans aren't human at all." He steadied himself. "I need to think my way out of this. No ship. Weapons are ineffective. They're faster than me. Somehow, they continue to track me despite the decoys and even invisibility. None of it seems to matter at all."
His eyes wandered skyward. It was dark enough that he could see his home star through the top of the trees. So close and yet so far. He wished more than anything he had never come. It wasn't worth whatever thrill he was seeking.
"X2751," logged Dinyl. "It must be their sense of smell. I cannot think of any other reason. If anyone happens to come across this frequency now or in the future... humans have a sense completely alien to us. As all senses not innate to one's own species, it is difficult to quantify; to define in certain terms. But anything in this universe that is tangible is certain to give off a certain *smell*. They can follow that smell. It'll lead them in a general direction toward whatever the source is, but they have difficulty pinpointing it. As far we're aware, concepts and philosophies do not give off a smell. But I'm starting to have my doubts about certain emotions... namely fear."
He took several deep breaths in an attempt to quell the terror inside of him. "If I can only conquer my fear. But humans and animals from Earth eat one another. Humans do not eat one another on 99% of occasions. But as I have said, these humans I chose to hunt with... they are different. And I can think of no grizzlier or demeaning fate than to be made their nourishment– to have one's own sacred flesh converted to ape waste. It frightens me to imagine it, so I wish to imagine it no further... however when one's own imagination is as real as the soil under one's feet..."
He trailed off. This wasn't productive. He was only scaring himself further. If fear was indeed a smell humans could follow, they would never lose track of him so long as he imagined their long glistening fangs– their sharpened claws rending his flesh from his bones. On his home planet, brute primal force overcoming science and tactics was a story everyone hated. He wasn't about to let that be the story of his demise. He pushed off of the tree and hurried further into the jungle, pressing the beacon for his ship over and over as he did.
>*"I don't know, Dinyl, that sounds dangerous. Our ships act funny on Earth sometimes. Not all the time, but enough that I wouldn't go out there. Our people have crashed there before. They don't give the bodies back. Is what you're planning on doing worth it?"*
He should have heeded the advice. He knew in his many hearts that it was his own tragic arrogance that led him to this.
>*"If they get ahold of you, you're dead. They can't be reasoned with. They're still a tier 1 civilization, intergalactic law won't save you. They're basically a protected species. All we can do is ask for you and your ship back, but you know how that goes."*
"Dammit all," the alien muttered to himself. He stopped to catch his breath and looked down at the device on his wrist. It seemed he was in the clear– not a single blip on the radar. He could hardly believe his luck. Through his labored breathing, he managed a laugh as he leaned against a tree.
"X2752. I've lost them. Against all odds, I believe I've lost them. Now I've got to put my brain to work. If I can circle back to the lodge, I can fashion an emitter out of their radio tower. It would require minimal modification, and I can probably reach my ship that way. In fact, if my ship is still unreachable then it has been destroyed somehow. In which case, it'll be more work getting back home. But this isn't undoable."
As soon as he finished his log and the words left his screen, the radar returned. A forest of red blips surrounded his position. Dread flooded him. He stared at it for several seconds as though hoping it would go away– that it would display something else. He lifted his eyes from the screen to see hungry glowing eyes in the darkened forest all around him. His shoulders fell. He couldn't fathom how they had surrounded him so quickly and so quietly.
But it didn't matter now.
"X2...753," he spoke in a defeated tone. "Never come to Earth. There is more to humans than we know... Far more."
r/A15MinuteMythos
|
sadnesslaughs
|
a15minutestory
|
2023-06-09 16:11:20
|
2023-06-09 15:29:23
| 60 | 43 |
jnjnw1n
|
jnjh96g
|
1452l91
|
1452l91
|
[WP] The Genie stared at you in disbelief, asking you why you would make such a foolish wish that affect so many people. You respond with a shrug and answer with “I just want to see what would happen.”
|
The genie looks at the human shocked with wide eyes
Genie: Excuse me what? No NO! repeat the crap you just said
Human: I said I want every human in existence to have a pocket dimension that they can control. My 2nd wish is for you to give every human an on-demand tutorial on how to use it today and for future generations and my last wish is to make every human immortal
Genie: So you want humans to be mini gods in these pocket dimensions?
Human: Yup, if you cant do it its fine
Genie: By the old laws I am required to grant it and it seems I can...don't you want money? clothes? I dunno, whatever humans want nowadays?
Human: Nope, with this wish I can solve every problem humanity has ever had, world hunger? just enter the pocket dimension and summon a sushi roll, you got laid off? just open the dimension and chill on a beach while snapping food into existance
Genie: But you do realize the problems this will cause right? Do you want every human to live in an illusion, uncaring for each other as their minds can conceive things better than any human they may meet? Do you want a world where your kind will never feel like they have accomplished something because they can snap things into existence? And you know anything made in the dimension I can give is limited only to that dimension right? Nothing you do in the dimension will fix reality, do you want reality to rot as your kind get fixated on a dream world? Do you even think the next generation of your kind can be made if people can just retreat into any world they want and live with fantasy humans that wont hurt them, reject them or even give them a hard time winning their trust and friendship? You know you're kind will always go for the path of least resistance. What about morals? Since another human cant interact with the dimension of another human, does that mean people can just be degenerates in their dimensions now that there is no one to stop them? Imagine what would happen if I gave a serial killer or a pervert a dimension where they can do what they want.
Human: I don't care I'm just interested in what people will do with a taste of omnipotence and omniscience. You know...people always complain about things so what if I give them the ability to fix those things? Will they be happy? As for the degeneracy, if that does not harm other humans then that will be fine
Genie: You are mad
Human: Who isn't mad nowadays? Are you gonna make the wish happen or not?
The genie sighs as he makes the wish happen, the human watches with glee as a prompt appears above their head with the option to open their own personal dimension. As the genie finalizes the wishes made he could only watch as the world made an crucial turn
|
"This is your last wish, please think this through human!"
"I know, I know. But I really want to see what happens"
"You know you can't undo it once you use up your final wish"
"Grant my wish already Genie!"
"Your wish is my command"
"Wow it worked! Thanks Genie!"
From that moment on, every month, everyone's sex becomes that of the opposite for a month. Every male turns female and every female turned male.
After the initial shock period, people started adapting to the new life of constant sex changes that happened every month.
Men and women began understanding each other better. There was now more harmony and less war. Life on Earth became more peaceful.
|
Nobody9189
|
playful_victor6155
|
2024-03-27 05:52:30
|
2024-03-27 03:20:33
| 18 | 11 |
kwrejj3
|
kwqy7zx
|
1bodpa4
|
1bodpa4
|
[WP] You never really believed your grandmother's stories about the little people who lived in her home. After she passed and left it to you, you said, "Okay, Little People! I'm sorry, but the economy sucks, so I'm going to have start charging rent." In the morning, you find a small pile of gold.
|
Tinnick is a fine fellow.
He was the first of the small folk to allow me to see them. They saw how I cared for my grandmother. They saw me grieve. They saw me honor her wishes. I feel terrible that I never believed her. When I made the comment about rent, I said it as a joke. I was hurting, and I used humor to deflect the grief that threatened to crush me. Tinnick did not make me feel bad for feeling bad.
Tinnick is a fine fellow.
When I first saw that little pile of gold, I thought I was seeing things. When I heard the small sound of a tiny man clearing his throat, I thought I was hearing things. When I felt the jab of him poking a sewing needle taller than he was into my shoulder, I shed the belief that I was dreaming.
"Hello Karl," he said. "Do not be afraid, we are but small folk." I was bewildered, but not afraid. My grandmothers words echoed in my mind. *The small folk wish only to exist. It is our responsibility to ensure their safety.* "I am the one called Tinnick," he said. "Is this horde sufficient for our rent?" I blinked. This would not do. I walked over to a box containing my tools, then to another containing some old scrap electronics and lenses. Within an hour, I had constructed something that would help us communicate; a small platform which a magnifying glass focused on, and a mic wired to an amplifier with a speaker for output.
I put my hand to my shoulder and I felt the almost indistinguishable footsteps of my small friend. I carefully lowered my hand to the platform, and Tinnick came into view. "Fascinating contraption!" he said, looking about. "We small folk are somewhat crafty ourselves, but I'm afraid we are behind the times. This runs on electricity, yes?" He pointed to the small mic. I nodded. "That's right," I said. "I could show you a few things, if you're so inclined."
Tinnick bowed low. "It would be much appreciated, Master Karl." I smile. "Just Karl, Tinnick, and you need to take that gold back. I only made the rent comment as a joke. I feel bad about it now." My small friend scrunched his face in thought. "And your comment about the economy?" he asked. "Was that a joke as well?" I sighed. "It wasn't, I'm afraid." I admit. "I lost my job recently. I'm not exactly sure what I'm going to do." My face fell, but Tinnick's small features lit up. "I know what you'll do," he said. "You'll join our crew, just like your grandmother."
I raise an eyebrow at that. "Your crew?" I said. "Wait. Where *did* you get that gold?" Tinnick laughed. "Well we didn't mine it, my good man," he said. "We stole it. I assumed you *knew."* A satisfied look crossed his small face. "Your grandmother was a master thief." I barely stopped my jaw from hitting the floor, lest I injure some small folk nearby. "You can't be serious," I say. "She was poor." It was Tinnicks turn to raise an eyebrow. "Was she?" he asked. "She was fed. She had a roof over her head and a warm bed every night. She was safe. She was happy. She had friends." Tinnick smiled wide and it lifted my heart to realize where he was going with his soliloquy. "What use would she have of something as trivial as money? She gave it away, of course, to those that were truly in need."
My grandmother had been a master thief for *decades*. Aided by a cunning group of small folk. The world had become more technical than she was prepared for, so she retired. Now, my skills with software and electronics will be useful in my new profession. For the first time in my life, I feel whole. I have the most wonderful friends. I have purpose. Forever will I be grateful to the brave little man who felt I was ready to see the value in small things.
Tinnick is a fine fellow.
|
My Grandmother used to tell me stories of the Little People. She said they lived in our home.
.
"But Grandma how come I never see them?" I would argue.
"Why should you huh? What have you done? I only know them because i saved one back in my younger days. And because I listen. Spend some hours on the floor, lying so still your insides prick, do nothing else in the silence, then maybe you'll hear them. If you're lucky, you'll get a peak." She would respond.
I never did as she said.
I never truly believed, so it was with half heartedness when I said the following words, decades later. It was after she left me the house. A fine cottage straight out of a fairytale, with an adorable red rooftop and chimney, and neat rows of flower beds.
First, I breathed in and out. Then I began.
"Ok. So um Little People I'm sorry but the economy sucks, i'm going to start charging rent."
I hadn't worked out the amount. That night, I did some drawings in my sketchbook, then went to bed. In the morning, I found a small pile of gold coins in a cute little bag, tied with a banana leaf. Shocked, I wrote back.
"Thanks for the coins. I'll check later how much they translate to in our current currency. Meanwhile, would you like to join me for tea later? I can make sandwiches, you can tell me about your time with my grandmother."
With Love,
Anne Mainer
I waited eagerly for a couple hours, but I received no response. Eventually, I left it there and stopped checking. I saw a reply the next morning.
"Tea sounds lovely. How does 4 oclock work for you?"
Your's Truly,
The Little People,
Littleish
|
jpb103
|
thoughtsthoughtof
|
2023-07-05 14:15:45
|
2023-07-05 12:15:24
| 122 | 26 |
jqrc242
| null |
14r71p8
|
14r71p8
|
[WP]"How did a mere peasant become the most powerful hero in the land? Sure you're immortal but that can't be all" "Well you'd be surprised how many artifacts will grant you ultimate power in exchange for your life."
|
"To be *\*akh akh\** brought down by a peasant of all things!" the Tyrant scoffed in between bloody coughs. "How did *you,* of all people, become a hero? You're... you're *immortal*, yes, but the fighting prowess, the magical wards, you shouldn't- *ah*!"
His speech was cut short as a jolt of pain coursed through him and he clutched his side tighter, blood pouring from in-between his fingers. He was wounded, beaten, and utterly defeated... but alive.
The hero, in contrast, appeared... indifferent. Gazing into a corner, looking at empty air, he almost seemed dazed, confused.
"They're talking, you know?" the Hero said quietly.
The Tyrant did his best to prop himself up against the wall, managing only to sit. "Who is? What are you-"
"Him, for instance," the Hero said as he lifted his sword and pointed it at the Tyrant's chest. "The sword, I mean. Whispering in my ear."
"It's *cursed*, you fool," the Tyrant spat.
"I know. I was curious what it would do. Said to consume the life of its user within a week."
He finally turned away from the vacant corner and looked at his defeated foe.
"It wants to kill you, you know?" he said casually. "I think it's angry it can't kill me. None of the things I gathered can. This pendant," he said and pointed towards his neck, a small silver locket hanging on it, "is why your magic couldn't touch me. It wants to strangle me. Always."
The Tyrant narrowed his eyes as he inspected the Hero carefully, spotting more and more cursed artefacts on him. Artefacts of immense power that always came at a cost.
The life of their user.
"*Fascinating*," the Tyrant whispered.
"It gets easier when I do stuff. Fight, for instance. Go on quests. Focus on something other than the venomous promises and squabbling."
"Is... is that why you came here? Fought me?" the Tyrant gasped. "I thought you were on... a quest to remove me from..."
"Power?" the Hero finished. "No. Well, yes. I mean, I don't really care. I just needed to fight. You were strong. And evil. Silenced the voices."
"This power... think what you could accomplish!" the Tyrant said with renewed vigour. "*No one* was meant to hold this much power and live, but *you can*! I can help you, aid you in-"
"No. The things promise. No more promises. I just needed to fight someone strong and evil."
The Tyrant looked at him intently. "And when there's no one *evil* left to fight? Only the strong who are *good*?"
The Hero met his eyes. Despite their respective actions, it was the hero's eyes that seemed... empty.
"Goodbye," the Hero said.
And he pushed his sword through the villain's chest, deep into the stone wall behind him.
When his gurgles finally stopped, he went back to looking at the empty corner, its void somehow beckoning him.
The room went silent.
His mind did not.
|
I spread the mixture of egg, ham, and cheese over the bread, freshly pulled from the oven. I place the soggy bread onto my rock, the flames licking my fingers. A faint crackling fills my abode as I grasp a handful of tea leaves, dropping them into my kettle.
“Lavender, please.” Artifact Gold says.
I oblige, as keeping Gold in your good graces is… prudent. The stench of lavender fills the room, and try as I might, it makes me remember.
Years ago, when ma and pa still lived in this humble abode, before the plague the summer before last, this little shack stood stoically against the passing of time.
Now, time has surely passed. The paint cracks and peels in large drabs. I sit alone, enjoying the eggy-cheesy-hammy bread and lavender tea.
|
SirPiecemaker
|
None
|
2023-05-23 14:46:12
|
2023-05-23 13:00:56
| 552 | 58 |
jlaovun
|
jlaa6h4
|
13pm1ij
|
13pm1ij
|
[WP] You, a fake clone, are stuck in the classic “Shoot one, let one live” situation. To your horror, the person with the gun outsmarts you and uncovers that you were fake all along. Just as you brace yourself for the bullet, they point their gun towards the real person and pulls the trigger.
|
"What are you waiting for? Shoot it!" the real Cadence yelled. my lips curled in disgust at her shrill voice. this scene was entirely too common today. Wealthy people like Cadence almost always came to regret having clones, sure there were a few success story's but 99% of the time our originals ended up Hating us, for various reasons, I didn't know what Cadence's reasoning was, but if I had to guess, it was because she realised that a life of only partying and shopping was incredibly dull.
Cadence Parks had ordered me six months ago for the sole purpose of taking her place at her parents 'boring' charity gala's and state dinners, as well as going on dates and spending time with her Fiance, Marcus. at least that's how it started, after a month she had me going to her weekly spa trip with her mother, attending her classes at university, and doing a few extracurricular activities she had signed up for and her father was 'making' her attend to teach her a lesson about not quitting.
the most intelligent thing Cadence had ever done was secretly save up for me and pay in cash. everyone knew that it was impossible to confirm if a person had purchased a clone if they paid in cash.
after it was all said and done little miss perfect had everything she wanted, she was seen as finally maturing by her idiotic family and friends, and her Fiance was Happy. funnily enough, Marcus was the one who now held the gun. legally, you could kill a clone that no longer served your purpose, the catch was, you couldn't kill the clone yourself.
as I saw the moment Marcus realised I was the clone I mentally cursed myself for not quietly getting rid of Cadence when I had the chance. oh well, I wasn;t a coward I would accept my fate. it was a good run, my only regret, other than not killing Cadence, was that I wouldn't get to see Marcus again. he was an amazing guy, and that spoiled brat didn't deserve him.
"I just have one more question," Marcus said quietly, looking between us.
Cadence looked livid.
"What is it?" I asked quietly, why was he drawing this out? he knew I was the fake, what was he waiting for?
"Do you love me?" he asked us, though foolishly I thought that he was speaking more to me than tp Cadence.
"Yes," I answered truthfully.
Cadence scoffed. "Love? who cares about that? Our marriage was arranged by our fathers." Cadence turned to me with a smirk "Obviously you aren't as good as you thou-"
BAM!
I stared wide-eyed as Cadence crumpled face-first to the ground, blood beginning to pool from her head.
I turned to Marcus, confused. "Why?" I asked.
Marcus walked up to me and pulled me into a crushing hug. "I love you too." he whispered, kissing my forehead. "Now, lets go tell Cadence's parents the Clone is dead."
I smiled widely. "Lets."
​
Edit: I just saw someone read this on Tiktok, I'm dying of happinesss
Edit 2: I told someone on tiktok I was the one who wrote this, they said "Wait...ARE YOU FOR REAL?" yes, I'm for real. also, someone said they were going to do a fanfic of this, if you were being serious and you see this edit, please link it in the comments. i wanna see!
|
I looked at the real Jimmy. Yup, really dead. The only thing I knew about him was that he was a detective at a private agency. And, well, that his coworker David is his murderer.
I only knew David for a few minutes but I’ve come to a conclusion. That guy has ideals and loves order. So I’m shocked that he shot Jimmy. Luckily he explained.
„Finally this guy is dead. Never have I wanted a suicidal maniac as my partner! Or a womanizer! Or a freaking mummy! And there’s no way in hell that I want a criminal from the mafia as my partner!“
Seems like I was based on an asshole. But, well, I only knew the basics from reports in the lab. Hesitatingly I raised my voice. „Eh, hello?“
He looked at me. „At least you don’t seem to be out to kills me with stress. Come on, your my new partner!“
And I actually enjoyed it. Nobody was mad at me, the blame went to David. I just worked on cases and once read through his ideal to know what I would have to avoid to don’t end like Jimmy.
|
Clear-Performer6223
|
DragonFox348
|
2023-08-08 23:21:20
|
2023-08-08 19:41:39
| 193 | 68 |
jvdbkns
|
jvcd31j
|
15ljypn
|
15ljypn
|
[WP] “Mom…Dad…I’m…” “Gay? We know sweetheart. And we still love yo—-“ “No I’m—“ “Trans too? Oh don’t worry dear we always kind of knew…” “No for the love of god I’ve been turned into a vampire!!”
|
The dad stands there in mild shock and horror, seeming to grow a little pale as he puts a small hand up and quickly excuses himself.
Mom just looks to Eren with surprising calmness, simply walking over to put a soft hand on their shoulder. "Honey, I'm not mad. . .but, I do want to know, how did you get bitt?"
"I, I don't know!" Eren exclaims "I never felt him bite me while we were." Eren goes white and rosy at the cheeks, letting out an eep in embarrassment
The mother however just chuckles softly. "Aah. . .forgot to use a condom did he? That would explain it." Her gaze softens, she was a little upset at the lack of protection, but dismisses it for the moment to focus on the matter at hand. "I suppose they wouldn't cover it in supernatural biology as it isn't well known, but, Vampirism is technically considered an STD."
Eren just looks to their mother in mild shock, surprised she wasn't angry at them for what she unveiled about their nights activity, including the lack of protection due to the somewhat, hasty escalation of that night's affection.
"Having a Bachelorette in the supernatural to work in the medical field leads you to find a few forgotten facts" She chuckles softly, before pulling them aside and sitting them down on the couch. "You didn't do anything wrong, I know you and Vellis have been dating for about a year now ever since you met when you started college, and I trust you to associate with good people" She starts off. "So, you two were having some fun, and you noticed some new sparkly fangs in the mirror when you woke up afterwards?" She asks, to which Eren nods softly.
"Well, Vampirism is normally transmitted as you know through saliva, through a bite, but it is in all bodily fluids in varrying concentrations, including the reproductive ones, as Vampires are naturally infertile. Hard to have kids when you're technically undead. So, they evolved to be able to spread their vampirism through making love. It however it's a rare known fact as it only works on virgins who consent to the act, and, since most vampires are of the seclusive kind who aren't interested in new partners, or already have vampire partners, it doesn't show up much." She finishes, still smiling supportivly to Eren as they sit besides her looking deep in thought, staring off into space as their mind races. "You know I used to be fascinated by vampires, even had a minor goth phase when I was younger, pretty sure I've still got a few of my old dresses if your interested."
Eren just looks to their mother with mild bewilderment, unable to formulate a reply.
She simply embraces Eren seeing them blank on what to say, and offers to express her undying support in a mothey hug. She holds the young bat tight in her arms and lets them relax for as long as they need before they finally speak.
"So. . .why, why did dad storm off?" Eren asks tentatively, worried that their father wasn't as approving as their mother.
"WHY DID I MAKE GARLIC BREAD FOR SPAGHETTI NIGHT, WHHHYYYYY???!!" The bellowing sorrow of their father begs, causing Erens mother to chuckle.
"His curse of impeccable timing." She says simply, before giving Eren a soft kiss on the cheek.
|
The mom looks down, letting her mouth close slowly as she stops talking. The dad is no quicker to react, he knows better than to say anything else without thinking first, the last few exchanges were certainly evidence of that.
The mom takes a deep breath and approaches her child, "Dear? Can you please show me where you were bitten?"
The child nods and reveals a small scratch on his neck. "I was with someone...my-...her name is Sarah. We both got a little carried away and then...this."
Her mom smiles at her, "Don't worry, we're not mad or disappointed. We're going to help you through this."
With tears in her eyes, she hugged her mother. "Thank you."
Her father comes up behind them both and wraps his arms around them, making it a warm and slightly awkward family hug. As they hug, her father whispers to her mother, "I couldn't have said it better myself." Turning to his vampiric daughter, he smiles and kisses the top of her hair. "You're our child. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing will ever make us love you less because we will only ever love you with all of our hearts."
|
De_Le_Cog
|
ur-socks-sir
|
2023-11-06 08:39:40
|
2023-11-06 04:58:10
| 118 | 47 |
k81omyz
|
k816lrg
|
17ot6fq
|
17ot6fq
|
[WP] Your father always told you to measure twice, cut once. You may not have followed in his footsteps, but you never forgot what’s important. It’s the day of your first battle. You have your sword and your tape measure.
|
"What's on your mind, Leo?"
"Just thinkin', y,know." Here, Leo paused to knock back the last of his drink. "''Bout roaches."
Sammy blinked. *Roaches?* Maybe he hadn't heard right. "... Roaches?"
"Yeah." Leo threw Sammy a look that Sammy knew meant his little brother was already far too drunk, or not drunk enough. Either way, he was about to hear about roaches.
"All right. Hit me."
"Y'know how they say those filthy little buggers can survive a nuclear apocalypse?"
"Yeah...?"
"You ever wondered why that's important to know?" Leo cracked open another drink and took a swig. He said nothing, and Sammy realised he was waiting for an answer.
"No, Leo, can’t say I have."
"Y'know how spiders eat their food?"
Sammy stared. "Spiders now, Leo? Mate, you've had enough to drink for the night." He got up to encourage his brother to get inside.
Leo screwed his face up in denial. "Nah, Sammy, I'm on to something here, I know it! Listen, just listen. Listen, okay?"
With a sigh, Sammy sat back down. "All right, I'm listening. Roaches can survive a nuclear apocalypse, and spiders eat their food by liquefying their insides and enjoying a nice bevy."
A small grin cracked through Leo's scowl. "Yes! And spiders make thread, right? Like ... super strong thread, y'know, relatively speaking. Scientists are trying to mimic it. Or maybe they've succeeded...?" He trailed off before waving that train of thought away. "Anyway, ever wondered why spiders eat like that? And why their string is so tough?"
Another pause, and Sammy obligingly filled it. "No, Leo. Tell me."
"When the nuclear apocalypse comes - and it will Sammy, don't give me that face - cockroaches are gonna survive because of their shell. Spiders eat roaches, but only their insides, *leaving the shells intact*. Mate, doncha see? **Spiders are gonna use roach shells and their own super strong thread to make armour to survive the oncoming apocalypse and rule the world in a many-limbed iron grip of terror!**"
Sammy stared at Leo. And stared some more. And - just for good measure - kept staring. Leo didn't break into laughter. He was serious.
"Leo, mate. Quick question: was there a spider at your place earlier?"
"Yeah."
"And Deb didn't take it outside, I'm guessing?"
"She kept saying it was more scared of me than I was of it, but every time I moved, it kept moving towards me. I'm telling ya; Sammy - those things can sense fear! And they're just biding their time until it's too late for us."
Sammy shook his head. "Yeah, you've definitely had too much to drink. And so have I. I'm calling it a night; you can take the lounge."
|
Earth is a torus around the moon which is the center of a black hole which compact matter so much it because a giant diamond.
The sun is all the matter being pulled in to the moon keeping us alive.
Etc etc etc.
Cause earth used to be one thing but someone split the god particle which caused a huge explosion thingy on the original earth scattering it into a ring. This being long long long ago.
But with the weird gravitational lensing we get it just makes it feel like we are looking out to what we think space looks like pretty much.
|
bunpalabi
|
Krystami
|
2023-10-12 12:01:43
|
2023-10-12 08:04:54
| 23 | 10 | null | null |
176092m
|
176092m
|
[WP] Your life flashed before your eyes, and you saw something you didn’t remember. Now you seek near-death experiences so you can find the truth.
|
It was a perfectly normal day. There was no rain, no arguments with any of my loved ones, I had dinner with my parents recently. Friendly banter and ribbing about when I was going to bring Abby around even though we had only been dating for a few months now.
"I have a good feeling about her, Willy," my mom said.
"You said the same thing about Jillian!" I replied, my dad laughed.
I tapped on the brakes, they did nothing. I tried the handbrakes, nothing. And my car, a perfectly normal car mind you, seemed to be accelerating. From a modest sixty five to seventy to eighty five to speeds that I have never even willed the car to drive. Faster and faster on the freeway until I knew there was going to be a stretch where I couldn't swerve away.
The sea of red came into a blurred view, certain death.
My first thought was not about Abby or my parents or my job, I thought of a movie poster. The picture of it was crisp. A movie I had never seen nor heard of, the poster featured several astronauts drifting off into space, a woman embossed with emeralds spread evenly across her body. Her hair was red, her eyes green. The emeralds glowed in the poster, I wasn't sure of the whys or the hows. There were no actors or actresses listed, no release dates, no information but the name.
Its title was as bright as the stones, "As the Sea Rages".
And the green went away then as I crashed into the rough hills that paralleled the freeways. The blast of the airbags sent me backwards and it was then that I thought of Abby, my parents, and my job. I wouldn't be able to make it in today, I wasn't going to be able to make it to dinner later this week, I should have called off today, I was going to die.
Before I opened my eyes, I woke up to the rhythmic, piercing, beeps. I looked to see myself hooked up to several machines, Abby asleep across the room, resting her head on my mother's shoulder.
I tested my voice.
"I guess you got to meet Abby," I said, not sure what the words actually sounded like.
"David!" My mom shouted at my dad, who I didn't even see. "Willy is awake! Get a nurse!"
"Will," Abby said.
All of a sudden, all three of them were surrounding me on the hospital bed. My body ached, my face felt broken, my throat dry. In the back of my mind, I thought of the emerald lady, the movie poster.
"Abby," I said. "Have we ever talked about a movie called As the Sea Rages? It's possibly about astronauts and an emerald lady."
"That's the first thing you wanted to say?" Abby asked, she was smiling though. She ran her fingers across the side of my face and it hurt in a good way.
"It's technically the second thing," I replied. "I see you've met my parents."
"What happened?" My dad asked.
"My brakes stopped working. Handbrake too." I said. "Car kept accelerating for some reason so I had to crash into the shoulders. Everything hurts pretty bad."
"Well that's no surprise," my mom said. "Half your ribs are broken and you have some internal bleeding."
"What about work?" I asked.
"I called them for you," Abby said. "They said to take your time getting back."
It was an honest relief. We spent the rest of the night talking, they took turns letting me sip water through a plastic green straw which made me think of the movie I saw before I nearly died. The nurses came in, then doctors, and then I stayed there alone after convincing my temporary guardians to leave for the night. I asked Abby for my phone, she said it was destroyed in the impact, but she had brought my laptop for me.
So I searched for the movie and found nothing. Plenty of movies about space, a few about emeralds and jewelry, but none about both. None with the same name.
|
What ever that moment was he wasn’t sure, but he’d find out. The memory of a darkness and the feeling of cold iron around his neck, thought made him shudder but there was feeling of familiarity to it that lulled back.
What he saw that day, he couldn’t even comprehend but feelings in that moment were so strong that that it never mattered that much.
As the man walked by the ocean to hear the whispers the waves he closed his eyes. The feeling wasn’t quite the same, but close enough for now. The cold air mimicking the chills and the suns warmth on his back reminding him it was truly perfect.
As he stood there letting these feelings wrap around him only hoping that he would find what ever it was he was searching for. He was so lost in the moment that he couldn’t hear the cries of others calling out him as the waves became louder and louder.
When he finally opened his eyes it was to late. He felt cold all around himself, the hard tug at his neck. Yes, yes! This was what he was searching for! The memory so clear in his mind as he recalled how many times he had blocked them all away. Why had he ever done that he wondered it was such welcoming feeling that he didn’t think he could ever leave it again.
As he felt a hand drag him in what he assumed to be downward he smile like a gleeful child, but there was no innocence on his face.
Ask anyone who was on the beach the day a man walked into the ocean and never returned. They’d say how no call could ever make him turn back, how he look as if he was being pulled along by a chain.
(I may have miss-read the prompt but I was already half way done by then 😅)
|
DeneilYeong
|
None
|
2023-01-14 16:47:58
|
2023-01-14 16:26:00
| 71 | 16 |
j4bwbnd
| null |
10bq9mf
|
10bq9mf
|
[WP] You wake up in the hospital after a major accident. To your confusion, your rival (your families have been feuding for years) is there crying tears of relief and calling you 'sweetheart.' What's even stranger is that she looks older and is visibly pregnant.
|
I woke slowly, the sterile smell of the hospital sharp in my nostrils. A dull ache pulsed in my skull, and my limbs felt heavy, weighed down by a strange fog. Blinking against the harsh, fluorescent lights, I tried to piece together what had happened. The last thing I remembered was the screech of tires, the sickening crunch of metal, and then… nothing.
I turned my head slightly, and there she was, sitting beside my bed. *Her*—the last person I would ever expect to be here. Jessica Hayes. My family’s sworn enemy. Her blonde hair, usually sleek and styled, was messy, and her eyes were red and puffy, tears streaking down her cheeks. She was crying.
“Thank God you’re awake,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Sweetheart, I was so scared…”
Sweetheart? I blinked, trying to process the word as if I’d misheard. But she leaned forward, her hand reaching for mine, and I flinched instinctively, though my arm barely moved. Her touch was warm, gentle, familiar.
“What the hell…?” I rasped, my throat dry and scratchy. “Jessica?”
She frowned, confusion crossing her tear-streaked face. “Jess. You… You call me Jess, remember?”
No, I didn’t remember. In fact, nothing about this made any sense. She was sitting at my bedside, looking at me with an intensity that was disorienting. Worse still, she wasn’t the Jessica I knew—a ruthless rival, always one step ahead in every competition, every family feud. This Jessica looked… older. There was a softness to her face, a weariness in her eyes that I’d never seen before. And then I saw it.
Her hand rested on her stomach. A very *pregnant* stomach.
Panic surged through me. “What the hell is going on?” I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness crashed over me, and I collapsed back onto the pillow.
“Hey, hey, take it easy,” she said, pressing me back down gently. “You’ve been through a lot. The accident… I thought I lost you.”
“I don’t—” I shook my head, confusion and fear mixing into a storm. “Jess, why are you here? Why… are you pregnant?”
She blinked, her brow furrowing deeper. “Because we’re having a baby, love.”
Her words hit me like a brick. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. *We*? *Having a baby*? This couldn’t be real. This had to be some bizarre dream, some aftereffect of the accident. “No… that’s not possible. We—our families hate each other.”
She gave a sad, knowing smile and took my hand again. “That was years ago. We’ve been through this, sweetheart. You don’t remember?”
Years ago? My mind was a blank slate. “How long… have I been out?”
Jess bit her lip, hesitating. “A week since the accident. But…” She looked at me, her expression turning from concern to something deeper. “You’ve been having memory problems for a while now. The doctors said this might happen.”
I stared at her, unable to process what she was saying. Memory problems? A week? My heart raced as I fought against the fog in my mind, searching for answers, for anything that could explain this.
“Wait—what year is it?” I asked, my voice shaking.
She gave me a pained look, then softly replied, “It’s 2029.”
I felt my stomach drop. 2029. My mind reeled. That couldn’t be right. The last I remembered was 2024. Five years. I’d lost five years of my life.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered, panic rising. “How… how did we…?”
Jess leaned forward, brushing her hand gently through my hair. “It wasn’t easy,” she said softly. “Our families were furious when we got together. We fought them, every step of the way. But we made it, you and me. You said nothing else mattered as long as we had each other.”
Her words, filled with affection, clashed violently with everything I thought I knew. How could this be? Jess Hayes, the woman I had once despised, now looked at me like I was the center of her universe. And worse—*I* had apparently felt the same about her.
“Please,” I said, desperation creeping into my voice. “Tell me what happened. How did we… end up here?”
She sighed, squeezing my hand. “It’s a long story. And I’ll tell you everything, I promise. But right now, you need to rest. You’ve been through so much already.”
I wanted to protest, to demand answers, but my body betrayed me, exhaustion pulling me back under. As I drifted off, my mind raced with questions, with the haunting realization that the life I thought I knew was gone—and in its place was a future I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
|
Yess thank you for making this
Lavender your rival
Aaron's pov
"Lavender?" I ask sitting up now.
"Sweet heart, you're ok," she says as more tears are streaming down her face, she's shaking, cupping my face, but, what happened? Why is she caring about me? The most crazy girl I know is crying, and caring about me.
"Lavender, what are you doing?" I say pushing her hand off my face, and her face goes blank, horrified, shocked, and in loss for words.
"What do you mean?" She mumbles.
"Why are you caring about me? Aren't we supposed to be rivals?" I ask.
She's now shaking more, and my heart is breaking, I don't want her to feel like this,
"You don't remember? What's the last thing you remembered?" She ask. And I'm shaking my head trying to remember.
"I got in a car crash, and then woke up here."
"That's all you remember?" Her voice now breaking. I nod. "Excuse me," She says now walking out of my hospital room.
I can't sleep, I'm closing my eyes trying to sleep when I hear somebody crying. I open my eyes and it's Lavender, she's crying with my mom? She's holding on to her, shaking,
"Aa- Aaron woke up," she pauses, "but he woke up to a world I wasn't in." She sobbing more, but when she sees me she just walks out. I glance at my mom.
"Son," she says walking up to my bed. "Lavender loves you,"
My eyes widen at even the thought of it. "What do you mean?" I ask.
"Don't you remember? She's your wife,"
"What?" I mumble.
"Let me tell you the full story." She takes a deep breath and says. "You two were arguing in the car, I knew cause I was there too." She points to her self. "Then you got so angry you drove the car- well, it crashed."
My heart is beating faster, about to explode.
"And before the impact, you protected Lavender with your body, which lead to you falling down a river,"
"What?" Mumble, "I refuse to believe that, why would we like each other?"
"God was the impact that strong?" She says now with her eyes filling with tears. "You're both married, she has your baby!" She says, her voice breaking.
This can't be true, they're pulling a prank on me, right? "But she hates me, she doesn't love me."
"Son." She says grabbing my hands. "I'm going to talk to the doctor, and see if this is normal." She then walks out of my room.
|
No-Ring6426
|
TiffaKate16
|
2024-09-17 11:22:12
|
2024-09-17 07:03:04
| 122 | 32 |
lnjybsu
|
lnjb4iy
|
1fipzbg
|
1fipzbg
|
[WP] In the distant future, Apple is the only manufacturer of all technology.
|
Pairi stooped, clutching at the chamberpot he carried. He hated his deliberately hunched posture; he hated the nervous ticking of his heart. First jobs, the Mother had told him, were always the most nerve-wracking. He'd killed before, of course, but never alone.
Pairi's face was plain, average; nothing like the regal points of his clanmates. The matter of his birth - found, a waif, and adopted into the clan - meant nothing to the Mother; he, as did his clanmates, loved her, and that was enough. He had had no tokens or talismans with him, and his face was too average to know. He could blend into a crowd and seem no more out of the ordinary than any other skittish child.
He dumped the chamberpot, his round nose wrinkling at the smell, then plopped it down, hurrying back through the castle. The impending sunset made a mad flutter inside his chest, and so he armed himself. He'd shown proficiency in most weapons, but the Mother thought poison suited him. That was what Pairi meant, in fact; it was a corruption of an ancient word for poison. Most people thought it had meant 'healer', but the Mother was old enough to know otherwise.
But poison did no good when you were caught, so the Mother had compromised. He'd taken two daggers as his weapons, dipped in a combination of deadly juices and venoms. He was good with them.
Pairi paused one of the castle's many corridors, inhaling. He knew where the prince slept. Royal custom in this place meant that the royal family could not show their face to commoners, and its people were private, so he knew barely anything about the prince, but he could do this. He took in a long breath, then began walking.
The padding of his shoes made only the slightest brush of noise as he slipped into the royal chambers. Candles burnt, brightly illuminating a figure atop a bed, hidden by curtains. Pairi locked the door behind him, and approached the figure. He whisked away the curtains.
The prince turned, and Pairi gasped. He'd prepared himself for a good many faces, but not one like this. Not a face like his.
No, not like his. *Identical* to his. The round nose, the high cheeks, even the awkward flush. The same hair that curled around the front and then went frizzy in the back. It was as if he had stared into a perfect mirror.
"You!" Pairi yelped.
"You," the prince breathed, eyes sparkling, and he sprang up. His chest was bare, and looking at it, Pairi could see just a replica of his own. He looked back up at him, at the identical face, and tightened his hold on his daggers.
"Who the Hell are you?" Pairi cried.
"Your brother, of course," said the prince. "Oh come on - it's me, silly! Prince Araki. Soon to be King Araki." He reached out, brushing his fingers over Pairi's jaw. "I never expected you to look like this, I must admit. Thought you'd be less scarred."
Araki was not his exact replica, Pairi realised, almost to his relief. He had no scars, no marks of devotion to the Mother. No marks from her punishments, for when he had grown too bold. They were old scars, though; Pairi knew now to love her without question, and he had not been punished for a good while.
Pairi slapped Araki's hand away. "I don't understand."
Araki gazed at him, his face solemn. "I know," he said. "I know they took you from me, brother. My - *our* \- parents told me. I know you were left in the Clanwoods, and you must have suffered so, so much to get here, but you're here now." His eyes looked so hopeful. "We can be together now. We can rule! Just us, like it was always meant to be."
"The Mother- she never told me -"
Araki's eyes widened. "You were taken in by *her*?" He uttered it like he was discussing a god. "Oh, my dear brother... She must have lied to you. But you have me now." He reached out and took Pairi's hand. "Whatever you learned," he said, "it was a lie. It was a lie. But you can be free, now." He let go of Pairi's hand, then took Pairi's head in his hands again, pressing it down so his mouth had access to Pairi's forehead. "They must have named you. Tell me, brother, what I shall call you. And then we can be like we were meant to be."
Pairi closed his eyes. "Pairi," he whispered. "Pairi." He felt Araki kiss his forehead, felt the slight relaxing of his brother's muscles, felt his own tensing, and drove his daggers into the prince. One into Araki's heart, the other up into his throat.
"You're wrong," he said through his closed throat, as Araki thrashed and gurgled. "The Mother *does* love me. She always will, as long as I am good." He stared down at Araki. "She loves me!" he repeated, even as his brother's eyes closed and his breathing stopped. "The Mother will have an answer; she always has one." He ran his hands through his hair, and he worried that it was a test. He flung himself back from the bed, dropped down from the window to the balcony, and began his mad scramble down, until his feet hit the ground and he could flee into the woods.
He could feel the Mother then. *Did I do good*, he thought, and he prayed that he had not angered her, and that she would still love him.
|
I threw my knife, bullseye. Though that was common for me now. It wasn't even an accomplishment to me anymore, just useless practice for something that wouldn't happen. When it was truly kid play, it was much more fun. Getting a weapon of yours young, was rare, and I was one of the few with one. Now everyone has one, no more specialness.
I heard a horn blare, and I stopped just before letting my second knife go. I haven't heard that horn since I was a little tyke. The Fullier, our group leader in our band of Elven assassins, was standing on a stump. "Get ready men, we are storming the castle. Elise, you know what you have to do."
I fumbled with my blades, before bowing. When I got up, my eyes were their regular glare, everyone else's were also slits, copying mine. It was how we were taught, don't seem happy, angry, judging, that is how you are meant to be. I grabbed my knife from the board, and filled my quiver. We left at nightfall.
I followed the rest, I was the only female in the group. All the rest were at camp taking care of their tykes. Two guys had slaughtered the guards, I won't give you details for your sake. We snuck inside the castle, everyone spread out, going to the vault, and the like. I headed towards the prince's room.
His father had recently died, his mother dead at birth, he would be crowned in the morning. I didn't know much about human traditions, the kings and queens, princes, and princesses. But from what I heard, it is better to be rid of it. That was my duty, my mother...had broken the rules.
She mated with human, I was an imperfect, she was killed. I witnessed it just barely old enough to remember. That was the last time I heard the horn, the horn signals a hunt, a murder. I would have been next, but the wife of the Fullier refused. She said I must bring back honor to our guild, and I couldn't do that dead.
So they trained me as an assassin, my goal, to kill an heir. This was it, *I* would be accepted. I opened the door to find a teen, sixteen, seventeen at oldest. Though his hair told otherwise, silvery-white, paralleling mine. His eyes had the same sea-green shade as me.
I shook myself, trying to get the idea out. Was I my mom's only child? She had me on a mission, it was entirely possible it wasn't just me. No. I was her only child, the only result of her mistake. I grabbed my knives, but I couldn't. He was of Elf blood, I could tell from his ears, from his stature.
I dropped my weapons, as taught not to for so long now. I attempted to keep my glare, but my eyes began to swim. I felt my tears roll down my face as I fall to my knees. I broke, "S-sister?" He said, his voice also tearful, I had not realized, but he was crying as well. "Who?" I left my question vague, yes, but how should I end it with so many suitable endings?
"I'm Alexander, our father was also Alexander." He said, and I knew, my life would be so different from now on.
|
DragonsAreEpic
|
Half-Bloody
|
2024-03-26 05:45:38
|
2024-03-26 04:06:38
| 31 | 14 |
kwlrqb4
|
kwlhmcb
|
1bnwl1l
|
1bnwl1l
|
[WP] "Oh for fucks sake, you too? Right, ok, cards on the table. Is anyone here ACTUALLY a human being and not an inhuman creature infiltrating the human race?"
|
"Seriously! This is the third time I've tried to vamp someone and it somehow failed to affect them! I broke a fang this time! This can't be coincidence!" Vincent banged a fist on the table. "Admit it! Nobody here is human!"
Hugh looked sheepish. "Okay, you got me, I'm an alien. I can't say if the others are normal, or if all humans are just weird."
"I'm a robot," said James. "From the future. I was supposed to use the Agency to secure our timeline, but this appears to be more complicated than I assumed."
"Demonic infiltrator," said Susan. "This answers a *lot* of questions. You all have some really strange auras and I couldn't make sense of it."
That just left Ted. "I'm still human. I think. I was assigned to Anomaly 256 when it breached containment and it altered my DNA. Does that count?"
Hugh tilted his head and thought for a moment. "It doesn't. You may want to get tested for cancer, though."
"Anyway, are you telling me that every single member of the Agency is secretly an HIA?" Ted said, using the Agency's jargon for Anomalies that could imitate humans. "Because that seems... bad. For me in particular."
Ted was an elite Agent, trained to identify, capture, or kill every Anomaly known to man. But fighting the entire Agency by himself would be a bit much.
"Let's not jump to conclusions," Susan said. "It might be limited to this task force. Some sort of Anomaly that attracts HIAs, or perhaps an Agency plot to uncover moles."
All five of them nodded, with the professional paranoia that came from being a member of the Agency for years. Just because you found yourself caught in an absurd logic-defying Anomaly didn't mean that things couldn't get worse.
"But if it *is* limited to this task force, then Ted is now a liability. He can expose all four of us with a click of the emergency button on his phone." James pointed out, with calm logic.
The atmosphere in the briefing room turned electric in an instant. Ted tried his best not to look like he was reaching into his pocket. The other four tried their best not to look like they were preparing to kill him.
"Hold on," Ted interrupted. "If it's *not* just us five, then doing that would just get me killed to keep the secret. We need more information."
"And who exactly are we going to trust to get that, considering every one of us could betray the others as soon as we're out of sight? I don't know what your plans are, but exposing three other moles would certainly gain you considerable influence in the Agency." Susan said.
"Why would that even matter? If we're all secretly HIAs then the entire Agency is a farce! How can it be protecting humanity from Anomalies when everyone in it is an Anomaly?" Vincent demanded.
"Just because we want to protect *our* people from the Agency doesn't mean that we want to protect others. The future I come from depends on vampires or demons not taking over the world, for example," James pointed out.
"And our invasion plans depend on access to human DNA. That becomes difficult if there are no humans." Hugh agreed.
"But if I'm the only human, then who's actually in charge? Who's pulling the strings?"
"Well, the Chief of Operations, in theory. He has the authority to give us orders. But we haven't seen him in person since..." Susan trailed off. "Are we *sure* he's in charge? Who *really* runs the Agency, on a day to day level?"
"That is an ill-formed question. The Agency is divided into cells for secrecy, and information is passed between cells using a complex decentralized algorithm. While different individuals are trusted more or less, there is nobody who has a full awareness of everything the Agency does," James answered.
"That sounds... Anomalous," Ted said, emphasizing the capital letter. "The Agency could be one huge Anomaly."
"We have no way of knowing if the Agency as a whole is defending humanity, or serving the interests of one of the many HIAs who have infiltrated it." Hugh summarized.
"Then I repeat, this entire operation has been a farce! There is no purpose for any of us to infiltrate this task force! Even our token human is wasting his time!" Vincent said.
"Now hang on." Ted interrupted. "We know what *we've* been doing. Anomaly 387? That would have killed a lot of people if *we* hadn't stopped it."
"Yes, obviously, none of us wanted a psychic shark going around eating people from inside their dreams. That's common sense." Vincent said. "But our *overall* purpose..."
"Forget about the overall purpose! Whatever grand plan you all were working on, it's not gonna work! But we've taken down over a dozen threats to humanity. And we did it *together.* I don't know if I can trust the Chief, but I think I can trust you guys. Even if you have been hiding some, uh, stuff."
"I could still vamp you, here and now," Vincent said irritably.
"I don't think the alien, the robot, or the demoness would approve of that." Ted said.
"So if we've all accepted that our infiltration plans are meaningless... I believe we had a briefing to get to?" Susan interrupted.
"Might as well. What fresh horror are we dealing with today?" Hugh said.
"Anomaly 584, cognitohazardous graffiti found in the city of London," James said. "A serious danger if someone learns to copy it. Let's get to work."
|
“Ok you’re overreacting, there’s only 3 aliens here and there’s….”
“6” one aliens reminds.
“Yeah 6 people here in total.” Marcus assures “And I’m not an alien, and you’re- well- probably not an alien” he says, referring to Will, who’s still just a little freaked out.
“But what about… David?” Will asks.
“David? Look at him! He looks fine! Right David?”
“….” Dave continues to lie on the spaceship floor.
“Oh” an alien interjects “David’s dead, I thought you guys could tell”
“Look at that!!” Will says “they killed David!!”
“No,” says another “he had a heart attack about 13 minutes ago, none of you guys noticed”
“But- you did-?”
“Well uhh, I mean, yeah, but like, it’s not our job” the aliens shrug.
“Oh god oh god oh god” Will paces back and forth.
“Hey um” Marcus says to the others “you should probably go, he’s a *little* freaked out right now”
“A bit racist” one alien says to another as they leave.
“Ikr??” One says back.
The door closes.
“Hey” Marcus says to Will “it’ll be ok”
“No it won’t!! Dave’s dead, our three maintenance workers are aliens, YOU might be an alien, what- what are we gonna do??”
“Well, the aliens seem pretty chill, so far ig”
“They killed our maintenance workers and took over their bodies!! They aren’t chill!!”
“Yeah but, what used-to-be-Paul made an ‘Im sorry’ cake”
“He made it out of dried meat”
“Yeah but it was a nice gesture…”
Will starts to hyperventilate. It’s time that Marcus reveals his plan.
“Hey, what if we” Will looks up at him “what if we escape in the escape jet”
“But” Will reminds “we’ll die out here, there’s nothing out there to save us”
“Better than dying here with three aliens. And anyway, they can’t control the ship if we leave it on access mode inside the escape jet. Ruins everything for their ‘colonizing earth nicely’ plans”
“Yeah, true”
After some more coercion, Will is finally convinced. They enter the quite cramped escape jet.
“Alright” Marcus says “when I press this button, we’ll lock the mainframe, and this button will send us into space”
“And we can’t lock the mainframe in space?”
“Nope”
“Ok, which one is which again?”
“Uhh- oh shit- which one is which?”
“Just press one, it’s a 50/50 shot”
“No, no, I can remember- what was it, what was it?”
“I’m getting bored” Will says “just press one”
“No, if I remember correctly it’s-“
Will goes in front of him and pressing a button completely randomly. The ship wirls, but stays still.
“See?” Will says “50 / 50”
“The fact that you freak out over 3 aliens but then them getting the mainframe is super chill to you, it’s confusing”
“I’m a confusing guy. But hey, we’re not gone yet, which means-“
As he says that, the ship makes a clicking sound, and a sudden ‘push’ from the side makes it apparent that they’re moving.
Marcus sits up and quickly spams the other button, hoping it’ll make a difference. It dosen’t. As they float away all they can see is three tiny middle fingers from three aliens, that are speeding away into the general direction of earth.
“Well” Marcus begins “we’re fucked. Wanna make out?”
“Fuck no”
- An amateur writer, lmk what I can improve! Thanks for reading! :) -
|
Aegeus
|
that_onequeitkid
|
2024-04-01 11:31:03
|
2024-04-01 01:50:19
| 63 | 18 |
kxj28tx
|
kxhhknq
|
1bsohyv
|
1bsohyv
|
[WP] "Oh for fucks sake, you too? Right, ok, cards on the table. Is anyone here ACTUALLY a human being and not an inhuman creature infiltrating the human race?"
|
"Seriously! This is the third time I've tried to vamp someone and it somehow failed to affect them! I broke a fang this time! This can't be coincidence!" Vincent banged a fist on the table. "Admit it! Nobody here is human!"
Hugh looked sheepish. "Okay, you got me, I'm an alien. I can't say if the others are normal, or if all humans are just weird."
"I'm a robot," said James. "From the future. I was supposed to use the Agency to secure our timeline, but this appears to be more complicated than I assumed."
"Demonic infiltrator," said Susan. "This answers a *lot* of questions. You all have some really strange auras and I couldn't make sense of it."
That just left Ted. "I'm still human. I think. I was assigned to Anomaly 256 when it breached containment and it altered my DNA. Does that count?"
Hugh tilted his head and thought for a moment. "It doesn't. You may want to get tested for cancer, though."
"Anyway, are you telling me that every single member of the Agency is secretly an HIA?" Ted said, using the Agency's jargon for Anomalies that could imitate humans. "Because that seems... bad. For me in particular."
Ted was an elite Agent, trained to identify, capture, or kill every Anomaly known to man. But fighting the entire Agency by himself would be a bit much.
"Let's not jump to conclusions," Susan said. "It might be limited to this task force. Some sort of Anomaly that attracts HIAs, or perhaps an Agency plot to uncover moles."
All five of them nodded, with the professional paranoia that came from being a member of the Agency for years. Just because you found yourself caught in an absurd logic-defying Anomaly didn't mean that things couldn't get worse.
"But if it *is* limited to this task force, then Ted is now a liability. He can expose all four of us with a click of the emergency button on his phone." James pointed out, with calm logic.
The atmosphere in the briefing room turned electric in an instant. Ted tried his best not to look like he was reaching into his pocket. The other four tried their best not to look like they were preparing to kill him.
"Hold on," Ted interrupted. "If it's *not* just us five, then doing that would just get me killed to keep the secret. We need more information."
"And who exactly are we going to trust to get that, considering every one of us could betray the others as soon as we're out of sight? I don't know what your plans are, but exposing three other moles would certainly gain you considerable influence in the Agency." Susan said.
"Why would that even matter? If we're all secretly HIAs then the entire Agency is a farce! How can it be protecting humanity from Anomalies when everyone in it is an Anomaly?" Vincent demanded.
"Just because we want to protect *our* people from the Agency doesn't mean that we want to protect others. The future I come from depends on vampires or demons not taking over the world, for example," James pointed out.
"And our invasion plans depend on access to human DNA. That becomes difficult if there are no humans." Hugh agreed.
"But if I'm the only human, then who's actually in charge? Who's pulling the strings?"
"Well, the Chief of Operations, in theory. He has the authority to give us orders. But we haven't seen him in person since..." Susan trailed off. "Are we *sure* he's in charge? Who *really* runs the Agency, on a day to day level?"
"That is an ill-formed question. The Agency is divided into cells for secrecy, and information is passed between cells using a complex decentralized algorithm. While different individuals are trusted more or less, there is nobody who has a full awareness of everything the Agency does," James answered.
"That sounds... Anomalous," Ted said, emphasizing the capital letter. "The Agency could be one huge Anomaly."
"We have no way of knowing if the Agency as a whole is defending humanity, or serving the interests of one of the many HIAs who have infiltrated it." Hugh summarized.
"Then I repeat, this entire operation has been a farce! There is no purpose for any of us to infiltrate this task force! Even our token human is wasting his time!" Vincent said.
"Now hang on." Ted interrupted. "We know what *we've* been doing. Anomaly 387? That would have killed a lot of people if *we* hadn't stopped it."
"Yes, obviously, none of us wanted a psychic shark going around eating people from inside their dreams. That's common sense." Vincent said. "But our *overall* purpose..."
"Forget about the overall purpose! Whatever grand plan you all were working on, it's not gonna work! But we've taken down over a dozen threats to humanity. And we did it *together.* I don't know if I can trust the Chief, but I think I can trust you guys. Even if you have been hiding some, uh, stuff."
"I could still vamp you, here and now," Vincent said irritably.
"I don't think the alien, the robot, or the demoness would approve of that." Ted said.
"So if we've all accepted that our infiltration plans are meaningless... I believe we had a briefing to get to?" Susan interrupted.
"Might as well. What fresh horror are we dealing with today?" Hugh said.
"Anomaly 584, cognitohazardous graffiti found in the city of London," James said. "A serious danger if someone learns to copy it. Let's get to work."
|
Under no circumstances was Charlene about to raise her hand, but she was once again forced to sit in bug-eyed terror as she wondered what the hell she just missed.
First of all, there was the problem of there being no cards, in general, much less on the table.
‘No, no. They’re not being literal,’ she coached herself, silently.
Second, there was the problem of the man sitting across from her suddenly looking decidedly not like a human being, which was a thing she had failed to notice until literally right this second.
Charlene tried to trace her mental footprints back a few steps to what she had just been thinking about.
Iceland.
She had suddenly remembered that in Iceland, they believe in trolls and elves and she was trying to remember what their traditions were to appease them. Then, she started thinking about how Iceland has a wonderful literary culture and how she envied that. Then, she wondered what it was like to live in Iceland. What did their houses look like? Charlene tried to think if she had ever seen pictures of someone’s house in Iceland.
And then Greg was complaining about nobody being human and Charlene returned to the present moment and Mike was suddenly an actual alien from actual space and everybody seemed exasperated by that instead of something that made more sense to Charlene… like worried. Or flabbergasted.
“Honestly, is everyone here undercover?” Sandra lamented in a huff.
Charlene, wide-eyed, decided to sit out this conversation for as long as possible.
Did people in Iceland believe in aliens? No! Stop thinking about Iceland.
“Well?” Samantha said.
Charlene shrugged and stared at the TV on the wall of the sports bar, hoping to look like this was normal. It was sports on the TV. Charlene wondered why the referee threw a flag down on the turf. Who made up the rules to this game anyway? And when? How did they all agree on the rules? Was there a committee? Could you still be on the committee, or was it a sort of done deal at this point?
Oh god, there are aliens at this table.
Stop thinking about sports, Charlene thought to herself.
“What if…” Dave said, conspiratorially. “What if there are no actual humans on this planet and we’re all just aliens pretending to be humans?”
Everybody was quiet for a second.
“Shut up, Dave,” Mike said.
“Shut up, Dave,” Samantha said.
“Guys, what if it’s true?” Sandra said.
“Well, if there’s no native life, then… I guess we’re okay to get rid of the planet to make space for that new mall we wanted, isn’t there?” Dave said.
“Yeah,” Mike said.
“So is that it, then?” said Samantha. “We all just assumed that humans were still here and we’ve all just been running around infiltrating ourselves?”
“I mean. It looks that way,” Sandra said.
Charlene was thinking about the first person who decided to pour hot water on tea leaves and then drink it. Like… was it an accident? Did they just do that to everything they found? What would happen if Charlene just started pouring hot water on things and drinking the result?
Wait, what was everyone talking about?
|
Aegeus
|
AbsurdistScribe
|
2024-04-01 11:31:03
|
2024-04-01 04:46:04
| 63 | 24 |
kxj28tx
|
kxi3hmm
|
1bsohyv
|
1bsohyv
|
[WP] An immortal and the snail that has been chasing them share a conversation as they watch the heat death of the universe
|
“Did you know that we break the universe?” It asked.
There was no sound left but for us. No light left but for what we could imagine. No heat, no cold. Everything was still.
Not a bad place to die.
“How so?”
I cleared my throat, ignoring the ache of thirst that had been my constant companion for longer than I could remember now. Water had stopped existing several trillion years ago at least.
“Energy.” It said, “we move without having eaten in forever, our muscles contract, our cells synthesize and consume ATP without ever having consumed anything to fuel it.”
I knew all this, we had both studied ourselves in extreme detail throughout our lives. Through more and less ethical means, but could it really be considered unethical if you were performing experiments on yourself?
“An equation with energy only on the output. A system without a stopping point. An engine with no end. That’s us.”
I turned towards the voice. Darkness was the only thing that looked back at me. A void more black and more dark than any other human being had ever seen.
“Would you want an end?” I asked.
It laughed.
“We have been here for longer than anyone else can even conceptualize- could even conceptualize. We watched both of our species evolve until we shared as many characteristics with them as we do with an apple and then watched those species die. I have chased you beyond stars and black holes and nebulae so vast you could spend ten billion lifetimes wandering and still not see it all, and see it all we did. I have been seeking something that would be my death since this universe was an infant. I am old.”
I laughed too, though mine sounded much worse, a dry cackle that served only to remind me how long it had been since I’d tasted the sweetness of water.
I think I’d do anything to drink just one more time.
“But would you want an end?”
It was quiet. For minutes or hours or days or weeks or months or millennia, I don’t know. I didn’t care.
I had time. I had more patience than a mortal being could possibly hope to comprehend.
“You know what’s funny? For the first time, the answer is no.”
I blinked. I had not expected that.
“What changed?”
I could imagine the way it retracted and extended its eye stalks into its strange approximation of a shrug so well that I could nearly see it.
“It’s dark now, and if we’re gone, it will stay dark forever. I’m not sure I like that.”
It will stay dark?
What did it-
Oh.
An engine with no end.
I had never even considered that. The slimy bastard was absolutely never going to let me live this down.
I barked out a dry laugh.
“HA!”
The snail laughed alongside me.
“We move, we blink, we produce heat-“ I started excitedly.
“-we breathe, we speak, we cause motion.” It picked up, “Inserting energy into everything around us. Knocking particles into other particles. Insignificant waves of motion, but eventually…”
“Eventually there are spots where there are more particles and there are spots where there are less.” I breathed in wonder, “And those particles begin to pull.”
“Collapsing inwards, coalescing, forming the simplest of bonds, their collective gravity pulling even more particles in. Crushing each other until they start to heat up. And then in an explosion of heat and light…”
“You get a star. An explosion that sends heat and motion and energy rippling out, setting off even more reactions until-“
“The universe begins again.” It finished.
I laughed again, howling my joy into the void, until my stomach ached.
It would take a while, uncountable millennia spent in darkness as two tiny specks restarted a system so vast it defied imagination. It took a lot of energy to kickstart a universe.
But I had time. I had more patience than a mortal being could possibly hope to comprehend.
One day there would be stars again. There would be planets and moons and nebulae so vast you could spend ten billion lifetimes wandering and still not see it all.
One day water would touch my tongue and light would grace my eyes. One day I would breathe real air. One day I would meet the gaze of an old friend.
One day.
For now I just laughed, pouring sound and movement and energy into the still universe around me.
I laughed and laughed and laughed.
|
“This is it,” the snail says.
I turn away from the brilliant light coming from the center of the universe, and stare at the snail I have come to view as my companion these last… however many years. It cannot talk. This I know.
“But what about that which you don’t?” It asks, its voice much like the one I used to have.
Together, we are floating in the nothingness of space, less than a simple arms reach away from one another.
“How many times has your hand hovered over me?” It asks.
Too many to count. Probably as many times as there are stars—
“— as there *were* stars in the night sky,” it corrects and finishes. “Look around you.”
Behind me, there is nothing. Behind the snail, there is nothing. Above or below, there is nothing to look at except— I turn to the brilliant light that is now pulsing, throbbing, seemingly breathing— that.
“You have witnessed the death of every star,” the snail whispers with great awe. “With every death your hand lingered ever so close, yet your own fear prevailed. You, who is to be the sole witness of the *final* death, what have you to be afraid of?”
I motion around the everlasting black around us, my tears freezing upon their creation and scattering into the nothing, shining like crystals in the expanding light coming from the center of the universe.
“You may hold on out of fear,” the snail says. “But what of me?”
I look at the snail, how it floats there in the nothingness with me. No, no, not with me… but *for* me.
“Haven’t I been here?” It asks, its voice breaking. “How much longer must I wait before you realize you are not alone in this?”
I turn to the center of the universe, its violent beauty expanding towards us from some unknown distance. I do not know how much time it will take to reach us, I do not know what time itself is anymore, but I now know how selfish I have been.
Smiling, with tears like comets shooting from my eyes, I turn to the snail, and ask for its forgiveness. But there is no reply.
My hands form a cup beneath the snail, and for the first time, I realize how beautiful its shell is.
Closing my eyes, we embrace at last.
|
AllHailTheFishy
|
None
|
2023-01-29 01:39:13
|
2023-01-28 23:16:01
| 886 | 192 |
j6b3d1g
|
j6aktu1
|
10nr76p
|
10nr76p
|
[WP] You, an everyday civilian, watch in horrified disbelief as the so-called ‘hero’ yet again chooses to spare the villain who murdered your spouse and children, alongside countless other families, and prepares to take them back to a prison or asylum they have escaped from tens of times.
|
"I used to kill them. The ones i caught in the act, at least; where there was no ambiguity about what they were in the middle of doing. Used to..."
There's an odd wistfulness to Asahel's tone, as if he's remembering and longing for a simpler time. Curiosity cuts through the worst of the anger, enough to ask, "What changed?"
"They did. The kinds of criminals i'd have to fight. Once, it was just your ordinary muggers and rapists and gang-bangers who'd gotten the address wrong. But the next one always seemed a little worse than the one before. A little quicker to pull the trigger if their target was too slow at handing over his wallet. A little more careful about getting their victim out of sight. A bit more willing to have their shootouts in public places. At first it was only a slight statistical trend; but when serial killers started seeming as frequent as domestic abusers and cults practicing human sacrifice became almost as common as drug gangs, well...even the least paranoid among us had to admit something was going on."
"You think, what, that for every bad guy you kill, a worse one takes his place?" Anger surges again, harshening the voice.
"For all we know, the worse ones would appear anyway. No; that's not why we've mostly stopped killing. It was...for me, it was... Blue Streak. When i caught him... When i killed him... When i pulled his mask off... I'd killed him before. Killed him, seen his body cremated, helped the daughter he'd...never mind...scatter his ashes so she could be certain he was gone."
"Twin, surely?"
"Identical twins don't have the same fingerprints. When one gets a tattoo, it doesn't magically appear on the other. When one has surgery, the other doesn't get a scar from it. And in any case...one instance could be explained away; but not all of them. The real reason we started wearing masks? There's no rhyme or reason to who turns up living after they've already turned up dead. We're terrified, though, of what people might try in an effort to exploit the situation. We have too many villains as is."
"Yet you're telling me."
"You have a right to know, why the man who murdered your family isn't getting a death sentence for it. You had the courage to confront me about it. And if i'd tried to give you the brush-off, well...that's one of the ways villains are born, these days. So here's your answer: as fast as they escape, locking them up still keeps them out of circulation longer than killing them."
"Is there any way to change that?"
"For the better? None that i know of. There's one of us, you won't know her. We call her Oracle, now that we've had to admit she isn't only crazy. Those who have the patience to sift through her ramblings can get some warning when something big...bigger than what's become normal...is coming. One thing that keeps cropping up, though, is that "the power to change the rules lies beyond the fourth wall"."
"Fourth wall of what? Where?"
"No idea. Can't even tell you if it's a literal wall or metaphorical. But it's the only clue we have."
===================
*I've also written a take on the other side of the argument,* [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1b9dtij/comment/ktw9vwr/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button).
|
I gripped my beer. Warp Core had been recaptured. The TV droned on, but all I could see were flames, a piece of femur from a bone that was too small, blackened pieces of a ring.
I had spent years blaming myself. The plan was to leave that evening to see my parents for Thanksgiving. We should have been on the road, they should have survived. At very least I should have been there to die with them. Instead I stayed late, trying to finish a project before we left. I wondered what sick twist of fate decided that I would live.
Warp Core was a slippery villain, but burning an affluent high rise tends to motivate the forces of justice. After evading police for months, Captain Star, with superhuman strength/speed/invulnerability/flight/, eventually brought him in. Three days later Warp Core had been tried and sentenced. For a moment I took comfort in the fact that my wife and daughter would be at peace, that the world would be safer without that monster. It all came crashing down when he escaped as the sentence was about to be carried out.
Now, two years later, he had escaped 38 times. Every time, Captain Star was still the only one who could safely apprehend Warp Core.
1/?
|
Petrified_Lioness
|
CheesyGritsAndCoffee
|
2024-06-15 03:18:02
|
2024-06-14 21:35:13
| 23 | 12 |
l8ogc17
|
l8n54o0
|
1dfq4yp
|
1dfq4yp
|
[WP] Tradition dictates that each sentient species is given one seat in the Galactic Parliament. When humanity made contact with the galactic community, it was decided that planet earth deserves to have four senators.
|
Azure Rain adjusts her suit, and then presses the button to accept the holocall, a wild assortment of holographic races appearing in front of her. She’s not surprised by them as she used to be. She’s what is called the ‘Administrator’ (well it’s called the Skelletofaxis but it roughly means administrator) she manages the planet’s senator, so she had seen this a lot, And now it’s time to see if Earth’s current chosen Senator, Emily Parsons is up to snuff.
The current head of the Parliament, a large porcine figure named, Hotuck, speaks. “We have looked over your application, and are very pleased with Emily Parsons.”
Azure smiled. “Perfect. It took us some time but we thought she would-“
“There is an issue however.”
The blue haired woman tilts her head. “Problem?” She had read over the application nearly a thousand times.
“Yes. Where are the other three applications.”
“….Three?”
“Yes. Three.”
Azure blinks rapidly. “I don’t understand.”
“The Galactic Parliament chooses one senator of each sapient species from each member planet.”
Azure continues to stare in noncomprehension.
“For instance, Emily is a woman, where is the species that breeds with them? The man?”
Azure’s face continues to show confusion until it breaks and she falls into peals of laughter which is echoed by the holograms around her.
“Ok. I see the confusion. Men and Women aren’t other species! They are just our names for males and females.”
It is now time for the aliens to look confused, Hotuck’s face looks particularly befuddled around his tusks.
“Male, and Female?”
Azure assumes there must be a bug in the translator. That has happened. “Our Sexes.”
“Is not sex how you reproduce?” Asks, Genegen the many eyed, Tellen senator.
“Yes. But it also the name for how we divide the beings who can breed with each other.” The parliament looks confused until someone speaks up.
“Similar to how Resdens breed with the Desrens on our planet?” Speaks a red hulking individual, Azure had previously identified as male, who is sitting next to the blue individual she had identified as female who was the other species on their planet. Thinking she had found sense, Azure says
“Yes. Just like that.”
That’s when the yelling starts.
Azure can’t quite pick out a single word among it all, eventually Hotuck, presses a button and all the holograms are muted, no sound coming from them until they notice, and their mouths..and other verbal appendages stop moving.
“One at a time.” He pulls his finger off the button, and a jellyfish looking creature says
“The Azure-form claimed Man and Women are not other species, yet they are like the Resdens, and the Desrens who are alternate species.”
“I see, what Jeej-form is saying.” Hotuck starts,
“You claims that the species yours breeds with, the man is not another species, yet you breed with them, as the rest of the parliament does with their paired species.
“Wait. You all breed with different species?” Every single being in speaks up with their version of yes.
Azure is stumped until she finally offers a weak, “We don’t. Uh. We’ve tested Men and Women separately and while there are many differences, we are the same species. Tests have shown, from the dawn of time. All our animals except a few have that division, sexes we call it.” The alien species slowly nod, seeming to get it.
“So the divisions we have seen among similar species on your planet is just the…breeding pairs of one species?” Hotuck asks.
“Yes! There you are!”
“So we are not missing three applications.”
“You are not.” Azure says, calming down.
“We are missing just one. From …our scans show they are called the Dragons.”
Azure nods.
“As the liaison between the species on your planet, it is up to you to secure an application from them, but we will give you time, as if this senator is as good as Emily Parsons it will be worth it. Keep up the good work Administrator.”
The other species slowly blink out, and Azure brushes her hair back, and then the end of the call sinks in and her eyes widen and face goes slack.
“Did Hotuck say DRAGONS?!”
|
“What do you mean earth will have 4 senators?” Asked my friend, Ooclis
”Exactly what I said.” I told him
”But why?“ Ooclis asked “It’s always been that each planet only has 1 senator.”
”No, it’s each sentient-intelligent species. The misconception comes from the fact that no planter has ever had more than 1.” I said
”You mean earth does!” He asked in astonishment
“well, up to 30 earth cycles ago, no”
“But you just said-“
“Let me finish. 30 earth cycles ago, the humans, the only sentient-intelligent creature on earth at the time, were doing experiments on a dog, and accidentally made it as intelligent as humans.”
”fascinating” Ooclis said
”After the discovery, they attempted to make another animal intelligent, this time a bird. They chose to attempt the parrot, because it was already a more intelligent creature. It was another success, and only 3 earth cycles after the dog. The parrot can even replicate other voices and languages, meaning if it hears enough words in our languages, it may be able to produce entire conversations in them.”
Ooclis just gaped, clearly astonished. I had a similar reaction to hearing. If I had not heard it first hand from our senator himself, I most likely would not have believed it.
”The most recent creature was the sea turtle. This time, they were trying their luck with a less intelligent species. It took them only up until a season before we arrived at their planet to welcome them to the galactic order.“
“so they will have all 4 species on the galactic parliament?” Asked Ooclis
“yes” I say
” what happens if they make more intelligent creature. Do they also get a spot?” He asked.
“ the parliment decided if they make more, it will fall under either terrestrial, aquatic, or flying. These, along with humans, will hold the senate spots for planet earth“
Suddenly, I hear a ping from his watch.
“The earthians have arrived. Let us go welcome them D’lars”
”indeed Ooclis”
|
Nougatbar
|
Indoraptor773
|
2023-02-27 18:48:21
|
2023-02-27 17:51:27
| 156 | 44 |
ja8y70q
|
ja8p4kl
|
11dbx10
|
11dbx10
|
[WP]At the age of twelve you started randomly seeing a green line and a red line on the ground. You've always followed the green line leading you to a successful and happy life, one day you decided to try the red line
|
I first saw those lines on the ground when I was lost in the forest during a school excursion. It's always green for good and red for bad, right? Just like those turn-based RPGs I used to play. Green for your allies and red for your enemies.
Taking the green line was a no-brainer.
It led me back to base camp where the rest of my classmates and teachers were.
The next day, the lines appeared again. I nudged my good friend Brian and asked if he saw anything.
"I'm not sure what you're asking me to look for."
So I established the lines were just for me. Not for anyone else to see. The green one to help me find my way. After some nagging, I convinced Brian to go with me.
We broke away from the rest of the class to follow my green line. Brian grumbled about how this was the way to lose our way. I tried to reassure him I knew how to return, but admittedly, persuasion wasn't my strong suit.
Trampling over thick grasses, we strode over the unbeaten path lush with vegetation. The green line stopped at a clearing, freshly disturbed.
"Let's start digging," I told Brian. "I think there's something here."
As clichéd as it sounds, we found a few old coins. Like hundreds of years old coins. A new pair of lines flickered into existence once we finished digging. One green, one red.
We took the green line to rejoin the class before anyone noticed we were gone. When the excursion was over, I immediately showed my dad those coins. He sold them to a museum for a good sum and split the money with me.
That's how most of my life went. Following the green line.
Most of the time, it was very mundane things.
The green line directed me to school. It knew when it was okay for me to have fun at a friend's house, and when I should head to my study room to do homework. Once, it took me to an exhibition hall where an entrepreneurship fair was going on.
From there on, the green line took me places that boosted my little side hustle. I followed the line to houses of people who would pay me to mow their lawn. It took me to an art fair where a few adults expressed interest in my paintings.
It has never taken me down a wrong turn. Green promised and led me to success and happiness. It guided me through my school days. Decided that rather than walking the obvious path to companies for job interviews, it took me to customers who would grow loyal and bring in more business through word-of-mouth.
It was getting predictable. Boring. Just coasting through life following a mysterious green line rather than making decisions on my own.
That red line was teasing my curiosity. Begging me to try it out.
I followed the red line for the first time in over twenty years.
It didn't seem so bad, just taking me to a quaint cafe. I ordered a cup of coffee and a bagel, sitting where the red line stopped. As the lines disappeared, I sat there sipping my coffee and waited.
And waited. For something to happen. Probably a bad thing.
All I saw was the cafe getting crowded and the seats taken up. It was surprisingly packed.
No waitress spilled my coffee when I asked for a refill. Nobody tripped over anything or dropped a plate. No altercations, arguments or difficult customers demanding to see the manager.
"Is this seat taken? May I please sit here with you?"
She carried a tray where a cup of coffee and bagel rested. The same coffee and bagel I ordered.
"It isn't taken."
So she sat in the spare seat and shared the table with me. We found a mutual interest in painting. My natural instinct was to slowly shift the discussion towards my business. That was how it always worked when the green line guided me to new people. It's how I clinched deals. It was too late that I forgot I had followed the red line and not the green one.
She smiled and nodded. Then told me she needed to leave politely. Maybe this is what the red line is about. I didn't get anything from her besides a long chat.
The green and red lines haven't reappeared, so I just sat there like a dumbass watching her go. A part of me wanted to dash out and ask her number. The habitual creature within dictated that I wait for the lines to show up again to follow them.
"Hey," she turned around. "Do you want to exchange numbers? Stay in touch, maybe?"
"Yes."
|
Since I was a child, my favorite color was always red.
My mom's hair was red, my hair was red as well, and red was such a pretty, and warm color, it made me safe, happy.
But on the day I turned 12, I started seeing something.
A green line, and a red line on the ground, going forward.
For some reason...I just couldn't choose the red line.
Thus, I always followed the green line, living a successful, and extremely happy life.
Now, I am an adult, with three kids, a loving wife, and all is great, but..
My favorite color is still red.
Staring at the ground, my instincts scream at me to follow the green line, but I am curious.
What will happen if I follow the red one?
Will I die? Will a calamity happen?
Will I have bad luck? Get hurt?
What's the alternative to the success and happiness the green line offers?
I have gotten good job offers, I met the right people, and avoided the bad events until now...
Now, I am curious: what is my favorite color offering.
With a speed a snail would mock, sweating, and trembling, I took my first step towards the direction the red line went.
I felt as if I was carrying the weight of the world, but in the end I did.
One step after the other, and soon it became bearable.
I arrived at a bar, on a main street I often frequented...yet I never saw this bar.
Entering it, the few customers, and the bartender froze.
"A human? How...", the bartender said, her eyes glowing red.
I stuttered, and tried to go out, but the door wouldn't budge.
"Don't worry, we won't eat ya, come in, have a drink.
You will need it.", she said, and I did as told.
She poured me a beer, while the other customers are cheered, and welcomed me for some reason.
"You will understand later on, little human.
Welcome to real life, hope you won't go mad.", she said with a smile, and I could see...fangs.
I left the bar, after a beer or two, and the world changed.
No longer could I see the green and red line, but all around me...I could see people with mist swirling around them.
And every now and then, I could see their true forms...
The legends are real, and they...they live among us...
|
Tregonial
|
TheWanderingBook
|
2024-06-01 13:36:02
|
2024-06-01 13:10:04
| 161 | 49 |
l6mgdac
|
mpuc5d2
|
1d5jtde
|
1kbgwlb
|
[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.
|
Sixteen generations. The guild had been around longer than that, but no single family had lasted so long. They were killed in battle, or by their own mounts. Sixteen generations, and all that weight on my shoulders as I watched the egg struggling to hatch.
We weren't allowed to help them.
Everyone did, of course. I could see the others, crouched right up against their eggs, peeling at the shells. One was cut for his trouble, and promptly devoured by his hatchling. It charged toward the rest of us, and I stood still, like stone. They don't see so well as babies, only see motion. A second initiate was devoured before the Guildmaster got his beast down to stop it, pinning the hatchling under one giant, clawed hand and waiting to be told what to do.
My egg had stopped moving, the cracks still tiny and centered on a single point.
"This is why," the Guildmaster droned, you do not help them hatch.
Another hatchling burst free, knocking over his human in an effort to get up the speed to fly. Then the rest hatched out all at once, nearly a dozen little monsters, and they set to fighting each other.
Not mine. Maybe it had died.
I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. A dead dragon meant a new egg next season, a few months reprieve added to the years it would take for the beast to be big enough to carry me. No one would learn my secret fear.
But no, the egg resumed rocking, and the cracks started to widen.
I slowly fed my right arm through the harness, shaking it loosely to widen it, and then gripped the traces with the left. I had practiced this, hundreds or thousands of times, on horses and cows, and pigs, and even on the carved wooden face of a dragon that decorated the bannister of the family mansion.
The egg toppled over, cracking nearly in half. The shell was broken, but the membrane inside still held it together and I watched my dragon - my dragon - use her front claws to shred it away and crawl free.
"Eyyyoh," I gave the traditional call, and when she swung her ugly head my way, I flapped my right hand, and she launched the way they always do. Last minute, I lifted my arm up, sliding it over her wet-slick face, and then yanked it away as I pulled hard on the traces.
She was caught, bridled as well as any new hatchling could have been, but I kept pulling, taking down to a knee in the hot sand to bring her off her feet and down onto her side, the way Grandfather had shown me. She lay for a second before trying to rise, and in that time I mostly managed to swing a leg over.
She couldn't carry me, not this young, but she still fought me like a demon, twisting and trying to bite and claw at me. I sat hard, my whole weight crushing her into the sand. *Sit her til she stops struggling* is what they said, so I sat, and tugged the traces side to side when her maw came too close to my knees.
It felt like ages before she was done, before I could stand on rubbery legs and lead her away, with only three others, the survivors of today's hatching, to the aerie.
Sixteen generations. Gods damn it, I would have to fly.
|
Ren spat out her tea when she heard the door slam open with Tori- her daughter run into the living room with a large, brown and red-dotted egg cradled in her arms.
"Mom! Mom!" Tori announced, "Egg. I have an egg!"
With graceful weaving of her hands, Ren motioned her daughter to wait for her- after she placed her teacup on the table.
Ren knew how to talk, but thanks to the quirks of her biology was unable to talk during the day- except on rainy days where the air was moist enough for her vocal chords to work.
Ren entered the living room to find her daughter staring intently at the dragon egg, the egg places on a hemp cushion. She sat down and glanced to the egg then her daughter with a questioning look.
"The Dragon Rider's Guild gave me an egg for my initiation after I passed the rider's exam last week." Tori explained, "It's supposed to hatch later today."
Ren nodded and left the living room, returning with a second round of tea.
|
None
|
HB_DS2013
|
2024-04-30 07:46:44
|
2024-04-30 06:40:19
| 25 | 10 |
l1wrj2t
|
l1wlwo7
|
1cggtbb
|
1cggtbb
|
[WP]The Wishmaker's Key. It's like the Monkey's Paw, but instead of just flat out granting your wish (and doing it in the worst way possible), it only opens up the most reasonable opportunity to get what you wished for.
|
The old man shuffled over to the counter with a cloth wrapped around something in his hand. When he placed the cloth on the counter, he slowly unwrapped it, careful not to touch the item inside. It was a brass skeleton key, approximately 5 inches long with a Skull at one end, and a very ornate key head at the other. It looked like it was generating its own light, but it was the end of a long day, so I can't trust my memory in some ways.
"This... This is what you came here for." The old man whispered.
"No. I don't think it is. I thought you were the last owner of the Monkey's paw. That is what I need. I can make the wishes and not screw it up." I was desperate, and he knew it, even if I didn't at the time.
"The Paw, everyone wants the paw, everyone thinks they can outsmart the paw. You cannot. I could not, and look at me, I'm OLD, and allegedly wise." He coughed for a moment and I thought he was actually going to die in front of me before continuing after spitting out a glob of lung butter the size of a dollar coin. "This is the Wishmaker's KEY!", he stopped like I should know what that meant. He continued, "Nobody appreciates a good intro. Look, this will provide you with the best way to get what you want. 3 wishes, but they are, opportunities, not gifts, so you have to work for them once the wish is made."
"I've HAD opportunities, everything I touch just turns to shit! I need the Paw!" I paced in front of the counter, barely able to keep from staring at the key.
"The Paw is no good. Besides..." He looked away, "I used it to create this, it is no more"
"What? How is that possible?"
"I bought the Paw for a single penny. It must be sold for less. I used the last of it's magic to create this. " He motioned at the key. "I will sell you the key for 100 Dollars. You can sell it for..."
"Yeah, I know, $99.99, I get it. Okay, I'll buy it." I handed him a hundred dollar bill.
"Take your merchandise."
The moment my fingers touched the key, I was standing on the sidewalk in front of the store I had just been inside. However, this building was burned out. I wasn't sure how this happened, but I knew I wanted to leave, to get home and make my wish.
\---------------
​
"I wish my family's business was thriving and had never failed." Similar to the paw, the key had markings and one of them disappeared as I felt a shock through my arm. I was suddenly imbued with knowledge of how to revive my family business. But that was it. "Well shit, I still have to do the work? That sucks." I decided to get in bed and start in the morning....
Little did I know...
|
There were a lot of rumoured ways to have your wildest dreams, all with just enough truth to them to spark hope in the lost. Wishing stars asked for nothing but a keen eye and pure heart. Genies needed nothing more than careful wording. Birthdays offered everyone the same opportunity every year.
Whispered wished offered to those methods were wasted on the wind. In the end there was only one method that I'd found in years of study that seemed to be true, seemed to be something that people like me could verify.
A wishmakers key.
I didn't know where they came from, or where they went once they'd been used, but Wishmaker's keys offered the simple promise, they would make anything *possible.* The keys could wrestle the laws of the universe and force them into a place where the user could grant their wish for themsleves.
Of course, in most cases, this meant the Wishmaker's keys faded away without having done much at all. Fairytales might have belabored the point, but it was true that most people's wishes were already within their reach.
You wouldn't even know if you wasted your wish, because you could, eventually, make it.
The rusted but somehow still glittering key on my desk tempted its spot in the lamplight. It whispered things, promised solutions to problems I didn't have, offered to make my dreams come true, even as the dreams that idly came to mind were things I could easily manage without the assistance of the key.
I didn't need a magical artifact to make me tea, all I had to do was walk downstairs to do it.
But the whispers didn't stop.
I made a quick note in my journal about the behaviour and took a look at my phone on the desk. It was well past the witching hour and I didn't have anything other than idle observations about the key I'd gotten my hands on this afternoon.
Well, the key I'd made myself destitute over this afternoon. They might have only been a way to unlock the doors of life, but keys certainly carried the price tag of catch-all solution to your every whim.
Of course, the key could help me get money. It could ensure that I didn't need to worry about that ever again. It could-
I shook my head and stared down the key, pushing the affected thoughts out of my mind. "Why do you want to be used?" I asked the antique brass.
All I needed to do was ask it formally and I could be sure that I would eventually get the answer...
I grabbed the key and put it back into the box that I'd bought it in, securing a key behind a lock. I was too tired to have something else trying to convince me of a solution. I needed sleep, and I certainly didn't need it to tell me how to get that.
\---
I woke up closer to morning than the middle of the night, whcih wasn't hard considering that was when I'd gone to sleep. Dawn was just getting around to arriving as I sat up in the bed and stared over at my desk, and the lockbox on it.
Inspiration stuck at strange times, but usually I was at least awake for it.
I slipped over to the desk, putting on a housecoat on the way to make an attempt at modesty. Once I was sitting down I found a hairtie I'd left out last night and pulled my tangled hair our of my eyes.
Years had bled away as I'd burned the university's grant money on wish research. It had always been an easy topic to get funding for, afterall, everyone wanted to know what they could do to wish the worst parts of their life away.
I pulled the key out of the box and sat in the middle of the desk this time, leaving it between my and my well-worn sage notebook. I drummed fingers on the desk, and waited for it to talk to me.
For the first time since I'd gotten it, the key stayed quiet, waiting for me to speak to it instead of offering it's constant opinion on how useful it was.
The last thirty pages of notes from last night were a slow read, a mostly rambling mess that had come from the frantic idea that I'd finally found something that wasn't a placebo, but-
I flipped past the last notes I'd made to the first blank page and put pen to paper. Just when I was about to write I pulled back from it, leaving an ink stain on the page.
The key looked dull now, even in the waking light of dawn.
"Just another wishing star," I sighed to the key. That was the philosophy of the Wishmaker, it opened doors, but as it stood anything was already possible. It didn't matter what wish I offered the key, becuase even the impossible was possible if there was an artifact out there that could grant wishes, "isn't that right?"
The key itself didn't have a voice, it had always stolen mine by putting words into my head. That said, even voiceless, it laughed.
|
Snowdog1967
|
Writteninsanity
|
2023-03-15 16:19:39
|
2023-03-15 15:54:16
| 215 | 94 |
jcb70bf
|
jcb2xg9
|
11rvdum
|
11rvdum
|
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